#I’m emotionally attached to them it’s HORRIBLE

[havockingboo]

Oh my god the gaster hugging papyrus, I’m dying scoob

honestly, this rp would be a lot more devastating if I was steering the wheel LMAO

[banglatown]

.

[lot-of-nothing]

Entwined (Ch. 3)

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

You finally blow up on Melissa.

Warnings: Toxic Melissa, smut, and very veiled internalized homophobia

Author's Note: Okay so walking into this I had an entirely different idea, and then the fic just wrote itself. Thank you soooo much to @alexusonfire for betaing this <3

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2

While it had been weeks since you last spoke to or texted Melissa, she had been trying to contact you for weeks. You had received ‘come over’ texts, nudes, and lewd messages from the redhead - all of which drove you crazy. Sometimes you would find yourself staring at the past pictures she had sent, craving her. 

This craving felt immoral, especially now that you had been casually seeing someone you met online. 

Ericka had just about everything you were searching for in a partner - especially the way she responded to your texts and happily went on dates with you without you having to beg. She was kind and you were sure you both shared some interests (although you didn’t know what they were). You knew the bar was incredibly low for this stranger you met through a dating app, but you kept telling yourself anything was better than your dating life prior. 

--

Ericka stared across the table at you with her head resting in her hands, listening tentatively to your turn in the game you were playing. She always looked at you with a kindness that made you nervous. Her finger danced across the tabletop as she spoke softly, “Can we order dinner?”

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you opened the folder containing all of the apps for different restaurants and food delivery. You handed over your phone, your hand grazing hers made your cheeks flush. “Yeah. Take a look at what’s available and we can order something. I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

When you emerged from the bathroom, you would have never expected for Ericka to have her coat on with her purse hanging off her shoulder. She held out your phone to you with a dejected look in her eyes that made your heart sink, “Is this the same Melissa you used to see?”

“What?” You ask, chewing the inside of your lip and taking the phone from her hands. Your eyes examined the open text chain between Melissa and you with a new picture you hadn’t seen that had been sent mere minutes ago - a picture featuring the bottom half of Mel’s face and her open blouse with her breasts pulled from her bra. It was mesmerizing, but you tore your eyes away to make yourself seem like less of a terrible person. 

Ericka’s jaw was tight as she spoke, “She texted you.”

“Ericka-”

“No. It’s really okay. It’s better that I know you aren’t emotionally available now than later on when it hurts more.” She cut you off and gave you a pained look that cracked your heart in two. While you hadn’t grown extremely attached to Ericka, she was incredibly kind to you and you never wanted to hurt her in all of this. 

Her tone alone told you that none of this was open for discussion or explanation, but you tried anyway. “It isn’t like that.”

“Then what is it like?” Ericka gave you a few moments to reply, but when you couldn’t formulate an answer she gave a saddened nod. She left you in silence as she walked towards the door, only pausing when she had one hand on the door handle. “That’s what I thought… Have a good night. I hope you find what you are looking for.”

--

After everything happened with Ericka, you were feeling horrible about your inability to fully cut Melissa off. If you are unable to do that, how would you ever move on? Tears pooled in your eyes and you wiped them away with your sleeves. You didn’t feel you had the right to cry after what you did. And to make matters worse a knock came on your front door. 

You pulled open your front door with reddened eyes and you couldn’t believe that Melissa was standing on your front step. The redhead pushed past you with a huff, entering your home without giving you a sideways glance, “I thought she would never leave.”

“What are you talking about?” Your jaw tightened at the prospect that Melissa could have something to do with your date with Ericka going so poorly.

Mel stolled deeper into your home, dropping her purse onto a chair and perching herself on the arm of the same chair. She rolled her eyes as she described how she found herself outside of your home a half hour ago. “Well I drove over here to see why you weren’t respondin’ to any of my messages when I saw Ms. Sunshine pull up.”

“And that’s why you conveniently sent a picture while she was here?” It wasn’t hard to tell from your tone that you were becoming increasingly infuriated. 

“Well I thought it would bring you to your senses. I didn’t plan on her seein’ it.” Melissa flipped her hair over her shoulder nonchalantly. You couldn’t believe how unaffected she seemed by ruining this night for you. How could a person be so cold?

Her confidence made heat rise to your cheeks. You couldn’t remember a time when you were so infuriated by another human. You clenched and unclenched your fists, snarling at the redhead, “So I had a real shot at a real relationship and you couldn’t let me have that? I thought this was just casual, hm?”

Melissa looked down at the floor, speaking with a wavering confidence, “It is.”

“This? This is casual? Casual, Melissa? This has been going on for years! You keep me like a little puppet on a string, but are you ever going to give me a chance? NO! Because you keep telling yourself you aren’t even the least bit gay.” You shifted quickly into shouting, unable to contain yourself any longer. 

Melissa opened her mouth to respond, but you cut her off before the words could fall off her tongue. “DID YOU EVER THINK OF WHAT THAT DOES TO ME? WHAT YOU DO TO ME? You drive me fucking crazy! I had a woman here! A woman who wanted to fucking date me, but you knew how to fuck that up for me so you could be the only one, huh?”

Melissa moved off the chair and placed her hands on her hips, staring up at you in an act of defiance, “Don’t act like you are such a victim. I never forced you to be so goddamn desperate.”

You knew she was trying to intimate you, but you weren’t about to cave for this woman quite so soon, “Desperate? I’m desperate? Says you that sent me so many messages and pictures detailing how badly you needed to be fucked.”

Melissa paused, trying to find her next argument, but it had momentarily escaped her, “I-I-”

“Go upstairs.”

“What?” The redhead’s eyes opened wider, but her mouth still formed a scowl. 

“Go upstairs. I’m going to fuck you.”

—

You weren’t even sure how Melissa was feeling after you told her to get on her hands and knees. Usually you loved watching her face and breasts as you fucked her with the strap, but now you only wanted to get your anger out. 

With one hand you clutched her beautiful red locks, and used the leverage to pull her backward mercilessly onto the dildo. The other hand gripped her waist - undoubtedly leaving fingertip-shaped bruises on her skin.

Melissa’s jaw hung slack, tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she continued to will them away to not show you any weakness. She barely made any noise, however. The redhead had two orgasms which caused her senses to go fuzzy - a sensation she was growing to love. “M-more.”

“More? You think you’re in a position where you can ask for more?” Your voice was a low growl that sent shivers down Melissa’s spine. With a tug of her hair, you pull her backwards so she sat up higher on her knees. The redhead sucked in a breath from the pain, and instinctively you wrapped your spare arm around her waist to pull her down into your lap. 

The feeling of Melissa’s body pressed to yours had you feeling crazy. Slowly you released her hair, and slid your hand to her face, brushing the backs of your fingers across her cheek. Melissa was breathing heavily and subconsciously grinding down onto the strap. Your gentility ended after your thumb glided over her jawline and you dropped your hand to her throat, grasping firm enough to make her whine.

Your voice was merely a whisper as you began slowly rocking tantalizingly slow up into Mel, “You are an evil woman. Consumed by your own selfish pleasures…” 

The pretty redhead let out a meek whine.

Your hand remained steady on her neck while the other trailed down her abdomen, fingers slipping between her folds with ease. While the strap barely moved in and out, you were teasing her sore clit as you listed off Melissa’s sins, “You don’t think I remember all of the things you have done? All of the boyfriends you cheated on with me… Coming to my apartment the night before you and Joe got married… You were broken up with Gary only for a couple hours before you had me in your bed…”

Melissa huffed in frustration and wriggled in your grasp, failing to find the words to argue. Only if you could have seen the way her cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment - those were all memories she pushed deep down. 

“And you’re right. I am no victim. I let you do whatever you want because you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” You put a period on your sentence by catching her ear lobe between your teeth. Even while you wanted to punish Melissa and take all of your anger out on her, you avoided the hoop of her earring as you would never want to cause any real harm.

Flattery was truly the way to Mel’s heart no matter what she would say. Her groan in response was guttural and conveyed a desperation that was incredibly satisfying. She then began rutting against your hand, crying your name over and over again. 

“I wish I could hate you.”

And with those cold words, Melissa came hard enough that she doubled over out of your grasp. She buried her face into the sheets to hide the tears that involuntarily fell from her eyes. 

—

Once Melissa had recovered from her orgasm and moved off the strap, you slid off the bed. With your back turned to the redhead, you removed the strap in exchange for sweatpants. You refused to look at Mel when you spoke, “You need to go.”

“What?” She whipped her head around. Her brows were furrowed, and if you would have turned around, you would have seen the hurt in her eyes. 

“Leave. I can’t get over you if you are still here.” You cleared your throat uncomfortably as you pulled a shirt over your head. You weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or wretch - regardless you were in pain with the line you drew in the sand for Melissa.

Melissa’s voice was soft… softer than you had ever known, “Hon…” 

“Have mercy, Melissa.” 

Four Months Later

The bartender placed a drink on the bar before you, earning them a furrowed brow and questioning glance. They gave a toothy grin in response and pointed down the bar to your left, “It's from the redhead.”

Your stomach sank at the prospect, and the bartender noticed how your features drooped. With a sympathetic glance, they let you be with your thoughts. 

Melissa. It had to be her. 

You stared down at the wood grain of the bar, debating if you even wanted to open the wounds that were barely healed as it was. Even a glance felt like too much for you now. You weren’t ready for this after everything ended so terribly.

But it didn’t seem like Melissa was giving you much of a choice as her plump hand crept from your shoulder blade to your shoulder, “Long time no see.”

Link to Chapter 4

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta, @unicorniusfallapatorius, @sapphicxrat, @earpivore

[prince-liest]

was recently talking to a friend about qi rong which then lead to me going on a reread of my favorite qi rong fic EVER, and now I’m in my feels about him, his relationship with his family, and his relationship with xie lian and guzi.

I just love qi rong a lot. to be clear, he’s a horrible little gremlin and that is a lot of WHY I love him - but I also think that fundamentally qi rong is a character who is super traumatized but does not receive sympathy for that trauma because he is not traumatized in a “palatable” way which is a trend that starts when he is young and just never ends, canonically, at any point in his life

right from the bat: the first 5 years of his life, he's being physically and emotionally abused, he's cast out to live in a shed, his mom is forgotten by her family. by the time she finally escapes his abusive father and goes back to the palace, her elopement with him has been swept under the rug and most people don't actually know what happened - and are then weirded out by her and qi rong, causing all the children and even most adults around qi rong to basically refuse to interact with him. so he's abused and hated, then isolated to the point where nobody talks to him, nobody plays with him. the one time he thinks he succeeded at attempting to make some friends, it turns out that they tricked him into writing a death wish for himself and his mother on his lantern.

and all the while, he's watching xie lian and the adulation he receives, not understanding why xie lian gets those things and he does not. everyone always says he looks like xie lian. he’s even called xiao jing, like he’s a mirror of the crown prince. what’s the difference?

and then xie lian himself is the only person aside from his own mother to be genuinely kind to qi rong. qi rong is desperately lonely, envious and fixated on the cousin that nobody will stop comparing him to, and then said cousin is the only person to reach out to him with kindness. of course he wants to attach himself to xie lian and emulate him.

unfortunately for both of them, then his mother dies - not just randomly, but specifically in defense of xie lian’s mother, and having extracted a promise for xie lian’s parents to care for qi rong. however, things don’t actually change at that point. sure, they take him in and buy him whatever he wants, but as far as love and care are concerned, xie lian is really the only potential source of those things left for qi rong. xie lian is also a teenager with a lot of pressure on his shoulders and a lack of understanding of difficult situations. of course he doesn’t know how to raise his traumatized, misbehaving cousin! and nobody else bothers to. it’s deeply unfair for xie lian to be used as the singular tool to discipline and direct qi rong, and that directly contributes to their extremely soured relationship.

now that qi rong’s mother is dead, there is nobody left around that actually wants him or is willing to put effort into properly raising him. when a kid turns out as wild as qi rong - that's not just random happenstance, that happens because they weren't parented right (or at all). he acts out in increasingly insane ways for the attention everyone hates to give him - anyone's, but especially xie lian's, which sucks for xie lian because it should have been his parents providing qi rong with an authority figure and source of love, not xie lian's teenage self. and people respond by waving him off, giving him whatever he wants just to make him go away, and ignoring him, because he has a deeply off-putting personality.

and it causes everyone around qi rong to resent him in this vicious cycle that escalates his behavior because he doesn't know what else to do - until eventually even xie lian, the one person that he really looked up to, hates him too.

obviously qi rong is an awful person by the point we reach in canon, but I also think that if he had received regular hugs as a child and maybe some actual parenting from someone who didn’t beat him, instead of just being given a bunch of money and being told to fuck off

specifically because he was weird and traumatized and unlikeable

things would have turned out very different for him. because he very clearly tries - that’s one thing that’s very clear in the flashbacks and even continues to modern canon: qi rong really tries to get love and attention, and when that doesn’t work, he just escalates to “any attention, bad attention, attention that proves I’m worth something, proves wrong all the people saying the supposedly-amazing cousin that took away my only source of kindness when he started hating me, is so much better than me”. he starts out an awkward, off-putting kid and ends up the night-touring green lantern. of course he holds enough resentment to end up a calamity. his cannibalism shtick doesn’t even read as genuine to me, it just seems like he picked out “what’s the worst, most attention-grabbing thing I can possibly be to pre-emptively justify everyone’s disgust in me” and landed on that.

(see also: I think it’s hysterical that he has very strong opinions and abilities as pertains to gourmet cooking, and then just uses them to lure in victims so that he can have his meal of Raw Unseasoned Human Flesh. you can’t tell me he’s doing it for anything other than the bit at this point.)

and that’s also why I think his weirdly wholesome relationship with guzi also makes a lot of sense. qi rong is a shockingly decent father to him (eventually), probably in part because he overidentifies with guzi also being abused by his father, but also, because guzi is literally just a kid and therefore is not someone that yet has the capacity to have all these preconceptions about qi rong, nor for qi rong to read into his words and be insulted, because. that's just a kid. there’s nothing to read into.

I think his treatment of guzi (eventually) shows that he's capable of being at least kind of decent (or at least functional), he's just never been in a circumstance where his trauma and relationships let it happen. his material life was always supplied for, but his emotional and familial environment in xianle was invariably toxic for him.

anyway, I think qi rong needs a shower and a hug, in that order, and then to be forced to learn to interact with people who don't immediately assume the worst of him. thanks for coming to my TED talk, I know it was long as hell.

[therealdistortion]

I know I shouldn’t get invested in these characters because horrible things will undoubtedly happen to them but I’m already emotionally attached to Colin

[dailykafka]

Okay… here is what I meant about the "Franz Kafka night time fantasies" thing.

Ugh, this is going to obviously be horrible, but I just want to share it, get it off my chest.

Every night, for almost two months at this point, I’ve been imagining myself as this deranged, self-hating femcel who ended up swooning over Franz Kafka, simply because of his stories, to which I felt they somehow "touched my heart".

But because imaginary me is a femcel with lots of hatred towards men because of my supposed past, I do not like the fact that Franz Kafka is a boy. Oh—and also, in my head, Franz Kafka would also be a suicidal, self-hating, body dysmorphic hopeless romantic as well.

The reason why Franz Kafka agreed to date me is because he is a lonely touched-starved man, who desperately wants the touch of a woman, and I’m the only person who gives him attention. Also that Milena has not responded to his letters in 2 days, and it has caused him severe distress and feeling of great emptiness.

Because I don’t like Franz Kafka as a boy (imaginary-me has boy trauma), I would only give him attention if he were to metamorphosise into a girl for me. He agrees, though not without that timid hesitation.

But afterwards, I would go onto dress him up like he’s a pretty doll, let him wear pretty pink dresses, croquette butterfly hair clips, lace shoes, high white stockings, and I’d style his hair. I would tell people I’m a "lesbian" and let them look at my girlfriend, Franz Kafka. We would go out and picnic like girls, play with dolls, drink tea, lie in a field with lovely tulips, and giggle at our favourite short stories.

But all this, of course, would not go down without causing the author himself lots of embarrassment. His father reams at him daily for his sudden feminine metamorphosis, his sisters began to mock him, and people at his work make fun of him. Yet, Franz Kafka is far too emotionally attached to me to ever let go of me, or even let go of being a girl. though he does hate his life even more and wants to die. Clearly he is not mentally okay.

However, in these turn of events, his best friend Max Brod finds out about Franz Kafka sudden metamorphosis into a girl, and… falls in love with him. Franz Kafka is not gay, so he shyly rejects him, but Max Brod is insistent, and thus begins to stalk him, grossly infatuated with the feminine author.

It would come to a point where suddenly, as Franz Kafka walks down a street, all alone as a defenceless girl, suddenly Max Brod would come out to kidnap him, drag him into the basement and perform some terrible kafkaesque things to him. Kafka would plead and sob for him to stop, but the hell would not end.

I am in awe of your rich inner world…

Several responses that came to my mind while reading this:

Okay soo this is insane

Okay, this is fascinating

I think you should check your house for mold poisoning

[sorrowfulrosebud]

I-incorporating self care into Shiggy’s rules in your dom/sub dynamic 😵‍💫

It was no secret that Shigaraki had no concept of self care. Most of his waking moments were spent at the cruddy bar, often nursing neat whiskey or scotch with the ashes of dead heroes and civilians caked into his clothes. And, of course, the one thing that bothers you most; those damned nails writhing into his neck.

The sound was disgusting; layers of flesh being irately torn away by misdirected frustrations. Thick lines of crimson blood and scab contrasted harshly against his milky, skinny neck. You hated the tiny thin spider webs of blood that trickled down his wrinkles, embedding themselves deep into his skin.

As his dominant, you warned him about the consequences of him scratching his neck. You would give him a warning; then a verbal and then he would be subjected to whichever punishment you saw fit. You knew it would be difficult for him to stop; it was his addiction. It was the only way for him to cease the horrible itch inside him to kill, even if his master greatly encouraged him to do as he wanted. You needed him to take care of himself, even if if meant putting yourself at risk of his childish tantrums.

The faint glow of the bar lights was a sharp contrast to the scene inside. Dabi was leaning nonchalantly against the wall, passing comments about your submissive. The stapled man was bored, and he knew the best way to entertain himself was to stick himself in his boss’s sex life.

“Well damn, handjob. Who knew it took taking it up the ass to get you to shut up for a bit,” he smirked slyly, staples clinking at the action. Shigaraki glowered through Father.

“Shut it, patchwork. At least I get bitches and don’t stink like burnt flesh,” he bit back, hand slowly tightening around his glass. Dabi let out a dry laugh.

“Seems like you’re the only bitch here. What a waste; (Y/N) is far too sexy to be hanging out with a freak like you. I bet if I ask them nicely I can get some playtime,” he grinned, deeply enjoying pissing his boss off.

“You shut your fucking mouth now, and don’t talk about them like that,” he growled protectively. You were All For One’s gift to him; someone to keep him satiated and relaxed whilst AFO could teach him dirty tricks. Although you were a distraction for the young boss, you weren’t a big a distraction to cause trouble or throw a wrench into their plans.

Your rules caused pain and pleasure; AFO’s rules caused progress.

“Heh, I haven’t seen you so emotionally attached to someone, apart from that UA brat you keep tryna kill. I’m bored now anyway, enjoy your cock cage and leather harnesses,” Dabi waved his hand dully, walking away before Shigaraki could at least destroy his new coat.

Shigaraki was seething on the other hand. His chest raised and fell quickly, causing Kurogiri to look at him with slight confusion.

“Stupid fucking patchwork, talking about Mama like that. If he wasn’t integral to my plan, I would fucking kill him!” He glowered, eyes widening in his rage. The whisky glass disintegrated in his hand as he brought his hand up to his neck. It felt like his neck was burning; surely a single scratch would suffice? The thought of a punishment lingered heavily in his mind. He already had his warning, and his verbal. But you weren’t here, just one teeny scratch. Just to make the itching stop…

Kurogiri could only look away; he knew of your relationship and what time you would be back from your mission. It was up to his young boss to follow your rules.

Twenty minutes later and Shigaraki felt better. One teeny scratch turned into two… then 5… then the next thing he knew, he was writhing into his skin like he had fleas. He hadn’t scratched in so long; and now he felt like crying after his Mama’s hard work was ruined.

“Are you alright, young Tomura? Do you need your neck wrapping up?” He questioned, indicating to the blood dripping down his collarbones.

“Yes Tomura, do you?” Your voice cut through the atmosphere as Shigaraki’s head snapped to your frame in the door.

“M-mama, I-,” he starts, already trying to correct his mistake.

“Don’t. Go to the bedroom. Now. I need to speak with Kurogiri for a minute,” you replied coldly. Tomura whimpered, slowly leaving the bar stool and walking to his bedroom. Fuck, he was scared.

You entered the bedroom about 15 minutes later, ignoring Tomura as he perched anxiously on the end of the bed.

“Mama I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he whimpered, trying to tug the sleeve of your shirt. You looked at him with a malicious glare.

“How many times have I warned you about scratching, Tenko?” You asked coldly, grabbing hold of his wrist. His heart beat was elevated, thudding in his ears. His cock was twitching in his trousers, itching to be free.

“T-three times,” he mumbled embarrassedly, milky cheeks growing hot.

“Speak up, boy. Tell me how many times I warned you,” you demanded. Tenko looked you in the eye as he felt embarrassment wrap around his throat.

“Three times, mama,” he whimpered. You let go of his wrist before bending down to his face level.

“And do you remember what would happen if I told you a third time, baby boy?” You asked him, voice deadly quiet and yet Tenko could only hear your dominance.

“I would be punished,” he said nervously. You stood up before extending your hand out. Tenko looked at you before extending his back. Your hand wrapped around his, soft but firm at the same time. You led him to the bathroom, where you opened the medicine cabinet for the first aid kit.

“Sit on the toilet, brat,” you demanded. Tenko whined at the nickname, before shutting up at your harsh glare. He complied quickly, heart still beating quickly.

Red eyes traced your movements as you found the expensive creams, lotions and bandages to fix your baby boy up. Tenko hissed as the disinfectant burned his neck, before silencing himself at your pointed glare. The cotton pad tickled his Adams apple, eyes trained to the ceiling at your feather light touch.

“You have such a beautiful neck, Tenko. It hurts me so much to see you ruin it, because then I can’t mark you as my own. You end up hurting yourself, and put yourself at risk of infection. I knew you wouldn’t stop, so I’ve bought some special toys to hopefully get the message through,” you turned away to wrap a bandage around Tenko’s neck, feeling him gulp around the gauze.

“I warned you, baby. I told you what would happen if you disobeyed me yet again,” you scolded, holding out a pair of nail clippers and a file.

“It was Dabi, he kept on saying stupid things and pissing me off!” Tenko tried to defend himself as you glared at him.

“Tattle-tailing? Really? You’re having this punishment, brat. Understand?”

“Yes mama,” he whimpered as you took hold of his hand. You worked your magic, clipping the longer nails, smoothing and buffing them to just below the skin. You continued on the other hand, touch feather light but still grounding enough for Tenko.

A slightly cold cream was placed on his hands, making him shiver at the texture. You massaged it in expertly, before commanding him to stay seated. Tenko looked at you with slightly fearful eyes. Sensing his fear, you sighed before cupping his cheeks and kissing his forehead.

“I love you very much, Tenko. But, you disobeyed my rules and you must repent. Do you understand me, sweet pea?” You asked him, silently asking for consent. Tenko smoothed out at the affection, wrapping his arms around your midriff.

“I understand mama, I’m sorry,” he murmured into your tummy. You kissed his slightly perspired blue locks as you tap him to release you. You quickly trotted out the bedroom before coming back with a new box and his artists gloves.

“Put your gloves on baby, I can’t have you breaking our new toy,” you purred, a sly grin on your face. Tenko complied easily as you opened the box.

Inside there was a set of black mittens, thick and bulky. Tenko’s face immediately went a bright pink. Next to it lay a thick black collar, a soft black trim on the inside and a loop with a tag on it.

“Now, give me your hands sweetness,” you said, holding a mitten as he extended his hand. You slipped the mitten on, a small shiver going down Tenko’s spine.

“Good boy. And the other,” you rubbed his hand encouragingly. Tenko did so easily, feeling weirded out by the feeling of the mittens on his hands. The thick buckle was tight around his wrist, not so that he would lose circulation but there was no way he would be able to shake them off.

“What’s your colour, sweetpea?” You asked him gently. Tenko thought for a minute.

“Green, mama,” he mumbled shyly. He looked at the collar. Your eyes followed his as you showed him the name of the tag, his cock twitching at the name.

“Mama’s little whore. Fitting, right?” You giggled sultrily. Tenko’s boxers were becoming more and more snug by the second, pre staining his underwear. He fought a whine as you rubbed your thumbs over the protective gauze on his neck.

“If you can’t be a big boy and stop by yourself, you’ll have to do it my way.”

“P-please stop! Mama, it hurts!” Tenko sobbed as you continued spanking his ass. Mittened hands were rendered useless as you had them cuffed behind his back.

“No, that’s not what I asked. How many times have I spanked you?” You hummed as you pulled his hair back to look at him properly.

“F-forgot mama, I’m sorry,” he pathetically snivelled, leaky cock rutting against your legs. His brain was slowly melting into total mush.

“We were at 50, brat, now we have to start again,” you growled into his ear, carmine eyes widening as he struggled in your arms.

“Mama, no please! Hurts, anything else,” he sobbed, mittened hand squirming. Touch was a major part of his sexual preferences; it grounded him and soothed him.

“Such a whiny little slut, aren’t you? Can’t handle the consequences of your actions? Fine then, I know other ways to deal with brats,” you grunted, squeezing and slapping the flesh of Shigaraki’s ass once more.

Tenko’s muffled sobs echoed throughout the room as the steady rhythms of the fuck machine grazed against his G-spot. His cock was spent; 8 orgasms later and the boy was a babbling lunatic.

His mouth was stretched around his black ball gag, garnet eyes crossed and rolled to the back of his head. His nipples were hardened and red from your teasing. Each orgasm, he fought to hold your hand but let out sobs each time his knuckle grazed against the mittens.

“I told you, baby. Don’t scratch your neck.”

[the-au-collector]

Random Things I forgot to add in my braindump for my Radio AU:

Twilight is Time and Malon’s nephew. I think I’m going to make his relation through Uli, so that makes Uli and Malon sisters in this AU

Legend used to go to college in Mabe City, but moved away after his Koholint Trauma happened. He still has friends there, like Ralph, Din, and Nayru, but he rarely visits

Sun races cars. Not professionally or for sport, no. She’ll just drive at 80mph down some old country road for the hell of it. Sky and Groose often join her

Sky, Sun, and Groose all came from Sky City. That said, they somehow never met until college. They find this very funny and will call each other “strangers”

Legend and Fable’s biological father is Raven, but he was very inconsistent with his job and eventually left them with Alfon, his adopted brother (and I am realizing I need a family tree for this AU😵‍💫).

Time is an orphan. He was never adopted growing up, but he was closest to the Kokiri family. They had a daughter named Saria who he still calls his older sister. She’s an ecologist now

Time secretly spoils Wolfie

Twilight will take Wolfie for “walks” (aka, he will sneak Wolfie into his and Wild’s house despite there being a strict no dogs policy. Revali has tried getting them in trouble before but hasn’t succeeded yet)

Wolfie is the favorite whenever Wild hosts a party

Time has somehow become emotionally attached to these radio kids. He was not supposed to get emotionally attached

Sky and Sun hope to get married sometime after graduation, preferably sooner than later

First is everyone’s favorite when he’s around. That said, he’s still the oldest and most responsible when having fun.

Crimson swears

Ravio has tried reaching Sheerow to talk

Legend doesn’t drive (anymore)

Warriors has the gaudiest car, according to Legend. Legend’s right

Styla and Legend are like BFFs. They also met when Legend did Fashion Design. Styla often makes costumes for the school plays as well

Shadow hung out with a bad crowd in high school. He’s doing better now.

Where are the colors you ask? Four’s genderfluid so he uses them to indicate his gender. Vio = she/her. Green = he/him. Red = they/them. Blue= any, they don’t care.

Vaati is Shadow’s biological father, who married Four’s mom when Shadow and Four were 12. Four’s mom died when they were 14, then Vaati went into prison when they were 15 (they really are unrelated incidents). They began living with Grandpa Smith after that.

Yuga is Ravio and Hilda’s dad. He’s really strict and not a good person. He wants them both to go into business. Ravio is playing his hand until he can be totally independent. Hilda is a high school senior and wants to major in fine art. Yuga hates this. He especially hates that Ravio is completely supportive of Hilda… and also that Ravio never comes around anymore.

Hilda’s started being invited to Legend’s uncle’s house for holidays. She can’t come to all of them because of Yuga but she does come to Thanksgiving now

Alfon refuses to let anyone be alone over the holidays. He will force Legend and Ravio to bring their friends over if they have no one in the area or anywhere to go

Flora and Fauna grew up under a lot of pressure from their dad. Fauna feels it more since she’s older, but Flora definitely feels it too. They’re both perfectionists

Impa and Purah are Paya’s cousins in this AU. Paya’s very shy so they try to get her to go out more. Paya has a huge crush on Wild and is teased endlessly for it

Flora has this huge crush on this one guy in her anthropology class. His name is Tauro

Age and Wild didn’t get along for a long time after the house fire. Wild got his burns and amnesia from protecting Age but obviously doesn’t remember this. As a kid, Age thought Wild was purposefully forgetting everything. Wild honestly feels horrible for forgetting and is trying to get his memory back, but he hasn’t had much luck

Age and Wild are both named Link. It’s a family thing. They go by their middle names. Wilder is Wild’s official middle name. Age’s official middle name is August.

On the other hand, both Flora and Fauna’s middle names are Zelda. Flora’s full name is Florence Zelda Hyrule. Fauna’s name is just Fauna.

^ this is the same for Dawn and Aurora too

Hyrule, Dawn, and Aurora come from a very small town named Mido. Hyrule would play “Knights of Hyrule” with Dawn in the farm fields all around them. It’s where he gets his nickname from

Hyrule’s friends in high school were Bot, Error, and Bagu

[know-the-way]

The stages so far of me binging the entirety of Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries (spoilers if you haven’t watched it before):

1. “Yeah, the 1920s hasn’t ever really been your preferred vibe, but so many of your friends like this show, and you love ‘Clue’ which seems similar, so just bite the bullet and go.”

2. “Wait, they’re Australian? What? Did I know this before and forgot?”

3. “Ohhhh right, Miranda Otto was in this! I did know that. And she’s a cocaine lord?! Nice. Don’t get to see her in many villain roles.”

4. *first scene with Phryne & Jack* “Oh, he has a very nice deep voice, okay I see I see mmmhm okay. … Why is so he so sulky, though? Big ‘who hurt you’ vibes. Intriiiiigue… “

5. “OH dEaR oh mY, there is banter and cheeky looks, this is bad, coDE RED, pretty sure this is your LAST chance to exit before this becomes a #problem.”

6. *does not exit* *becomes a #problem*

7. “Oh, so she’s gonna be banging lots of men with no emotional attachment (when there is clearly some tragic past hiding under the surface as to why that might be)? So an emotionally damaged woman who copes with her traumas by deflecting said emotions through sex and other various reckless behaviors? Babe… *cups face gently* babe, babe, babe. You’ve made this beyond a problem now. Because every little glimpse of vulnerability among your extremely out-of-hand savior complex is gonna make me fall in love with you more and more… just like the tall, broody inspector man over there (who still has a very nice voice and sad, kind eyes and who you seem to be afraid of being smitten with for ~*some reason*~). Anyway, Jack and I, we’re both fucked.”

8. Wdym they both have traumas from the war & from past relationships, that they both witnessed an unimaginable amount of loss, and that both are broken so deeply that they built fortresses of ice around their hearts to protect themselves AND YET BOTH OF THEM THAW JUST A LITTLE BIT MORE WITH THEIR EVERY INTERACTION? Fuck OFF! This is not FAIR!

9. “Miss Fisher was actually on her way home.” He said that with a fully clenched jaw and a step forward. Fuuuuccckk, there’s gonna be smoldering jealousy, too? Just slap me in the face, the amount of longing I’m about to witness… Jack, it’s okay buddy, we’re in this together. There’s something special about you and she’s gonna figure it out… after what appears to be several seasons and perhaps a feature film. But she’ll figure it out! Stay strong, soldier! I’m rooting for you!

10. “Oh God, her little sister was murdered. As someone who loves my own sister dearly, that’s fucking awful, this is hurting me deeply, and I really do not like it. 🥺 … AND THE MURDERER IS DUE TO BE RELEASED? AbSoLUTELY not! … WDYM THERE’S ALSO AN ABUSIVE EX?! And he’s come back to MURDER HER over a naked painting of her younger self like a fucking CREEP?!*”

(*not a correct summarization of what happened, but not not correct)

Anyway, I found the tragic past!

11. “Abusive ex is played by Peter O’Brien? With a ‘French’ accent? *snort* I mean, okay, it’s a choice. Anyway… what a douche… moving on… “

12. Aw, they kissed! *claps* And so soon! I mean, it was under horrible circumstances, but it happened… and with lingering looks to boot? You know what, I���ll take it. ‘Cause, I mean, look at them… and like let’s not talk about the juxtaposition of Phryne’s panic over seeing someone who once hurt her being redirected by a kiss from someone who would never hurt her… and Jack subsequently lunging for an armed René to stop him from taking Phryne… we’ll just ignore that for now

13. Felt the “I am not afraid of you” in my bones. Good shit.

14. “You kissed me. … You kissed me back!” Children, please. This is a Wendy’s.

This is as far as I’ve gotten, but omg what a fun ride so far. Friends who tried to recommend this to me for YEARS, I am SO sorry I slept on it. I understand now and your taste is impeccable. *muah*

[mega-ringsandthings-world]

This could be a totally crack pot theory and you may bap me on the nose and point in another direction if so but..

Is the reason the Marines and World Government are so dogged about getting Shanks because he's part Celestial Dragon? I mean, he can totally be something else; our lord and savior, Oda sensei, has yet to say it’s gospel. But are the Celestial Dragons trying to bring this wild card back into the fold? I mean, he is also Roger's chosen to take the mantle of the Straw Hat, so that might be why. But they could also be like, "Oh good, former mentor out of the way now, come home now," or something? Could be a mix of both? Like, bring the baby Celestial Dragon back into the fold but also have this possible problem in the future under control.

Or maybe they want him to denounce his former captain use him as a propaganda piece. Like look Rodger stole an entire child and kept him as a slave on his ship. As the former Rodger pirates and Buggy see him slowly deteriorating threw the paper— You know Peata and Johanna hunger games type of situation—and God that would break Shanks.

Idk could be absolutely off base. I’m just shooting into shit into wind and hoping I hit something.

As you mentioned in the last question I sent, I’m very intrigued to see Mihawk break under these circumstances. I feel like it will be a very interesting character study. We don’t have a lot of that with his character in fic mostly, I think, because he's so solid in his older incarnation that it just seems almost out of character for him to fall apart. But younger and less settled, still haven’t reached the highest heights or lowest lows... It will still definitely be a challenge but not improbable. After you're done with this AU, I might write something about canon Mihawk meeting this version of himself- or canon Shanks meeting his version, that won’t end horribly. Especially since these two would be trauma-bonded and practically crawling into each other's skin type of close. While canon characters would have the luxury of non-vulnerability and emotional stability.

Also would you like art? Because I can make art? No promise it’ll be good but I feel like this au deserves some art!

One thing about me is that I love a good crackpot theory, lol. Give me a rabbit hole and I'll never come out. So, that could be! It is very, very compelling for Shanks to be a CD. And one of the big reasons why marines want Shanks is because he's basically the son/successor of Roger, in this AU they are taking the crackdown on Roger's line/crew/associates to the extreme. Shanks is the perfect target, because he's the successor/plus he's young, emotionally attached to Roger, and was at the heart of the Roger pirates' doings. All these things the marines intend to exploit for their own purposes. And they've been gathering intel on Shanks for a while, too. Propaganda purposes? YES. Also, all the pirates they've captured in Loguetown either know who Shanks is, or they find out due to the Marines. So, Shanks is going to be used to break the morale of the captives they have. And not just Shanks. What happens when you single out the greatest pirates in the crowd and systematically break them in front of everyone?(Shanks knows he should stay strong. he knows it. But after so much time has passed...he can't.) Who is going to resist after that? And love the Peeta/Johannna parallels!

As far as Shanks being a Celestial Dragon...hm, there's a reason Doflamingo wasn't caught. And also...the marines gathering intel on Shanks is important to that, because they are also gathering intel on everyone and everything in order to move towards ending piracy for good. No stone is left unturned. During this search they will find certain things, and origins of certain people. And Shanks being a Celestial will give them a good reason to not outright kill him after they do their worst. Oh, I'm eager to see him break myself! (I say that like I won't be doing the breaking, lol) "because he's so solid in his older incarnation that it just seems almost out of character for him to fall apart." One reason why I'm putting so much into this AU is because of exactly that. Drama and angst and hurt is my thing, but with the older versions of Shanks and Mihawk, there is not much that can phase/hurt them to the point of evoking severe drama/angst/hurt, unless it's an overpowered threat. With their younger selves, it's a different story. Their lowest lows lead to the their highest highs in this AU, the idea that marines attempted to wipe their enemies off the face of the earth and instead only created a monster for themselves is a driving theme. So yeah, that'll be fun. OOOOOOH, I'd read that in an instant! please, please do. The juxtaposition of the independent and powerful men the canon Mihawk/Shanks are against the glued-at-the-hip, jointly feared and entertwined Mihawk/Shanks this pair will be. I'd love art! Anything that gets made for this I'd eat up! Fire away! I actually have some sketches I've made too while writing, I'll throw those up pretty soon.

[eros-thanatos89]

This is a random, but I was listening to Sia’s “Chandelier” and thinking for the millionth time how well it applies to both Jesse and Nacho. They both have distinct ways of self-medicating and trying to party away their pain, but they’re very parallel.

Jesse experiences something horrendously traumatic? Time to fill his house with people, noise, distraction! And disappear into a meth-induced haze for days at a time. Until things progress from fun to dismal, destructive, and scary. Wash, rinse, repeat. He can never feel truly safe. Especially not in his own home where he’s constantly reminded of so many horrible things he’s had to do, including flushing the remains of his business partner and childhood friend down the toilet and killing his cousin in the basement (RIP Emilio and Domingo). He truly has nowhere to escape but his own altered mind state. Being alone in that house, haunted by its memories, would be enough to drive anyone a little mad.

Nacho is experiencing self-loathing and existential dread? Better populate his house with girls who are more like pets than true friends or romantic partners and with whom he can get high, get laid, and feel maybe a little less lonely and disconnected from who he used to be or wants to be. (Presumably, he’s smoked meth with them sometimes, since they offer it to him. I often wonder how and when he met them, since we don’t see them until after he moves up in the cartel and buys the big house and flashy new car. It’s almost like they came with the house. I wonder what club or party scene he ran across them in…) And buy a bunch of expensive stuff that he clearly doesn’t even want or care about. His Javelin seems to be the only thing he owns that he’s actually emotionally attached to. Everything else is a status symbol, which is a reminder of the “success” he’s achieved—probably everything he used to dream about—and now it’s all just a chain that weighs him down and reminds him of how trapped in the cartel life he is.

It’s amazing how starkly lonely both of their houses (and lives) feel, even with all the distractions they fill them with.

Anyways, what I’m trying to say is, there are so many parallels between Jesse and Nacho, including being sad party boys who want to swing from the chandelier so they can forget how sad they are.

I wish they could’ve met even one time as adults (I completely head canon that they knew each other as kids because of Jesse being friends with Emilio) and connected and maybe felt seen by each other, even if just for a moment. *big sigh *

Thanks for coming to my sad bois Ted Talk.

[prismartist]

when the end times fall (i'm standing right by your side)

Ao3

cw: swearing, alcoholism

---

“I don’t want her to go, Phil,” Wilbur whines into Phil’s shoulder, words lined with whisky and exhaustion. “I don’t want to lose her.”

Phil sighs for the umpteenth time that night, and pats Wilbur gently on the head. “I know, mate. I feel you.”

“She’s my niña,” Wilbur continues, “Mi niña pequeña. Mi niñita. Mia amata figlia. Mijn liefde.” He sniffs, lifting his face from its perch on Phil’s arm. “Why does she have to go?”

Phil can think of a couple reasons. The mom wants her kids back. This island hates us. They have to grow up. He’s sure Wilbur can think of more, and in a couple other languages no less. 

“I don’t know,” Phil replies. 

Wilbur doesn’t say anything back, merely tilts his head up at the moon and takes another swig of Lagavulin.

It’s a bright evening on the server, moonlight defining the two talking on a newly-built balcony. Wilbur’s taken to another night of drinking, as he has since he’d come back to the island. Phil isn’t sure if that’s normal or not, and he’s unnerved that he can’t remember. Still, he stays by Wilbur, making sure he doesn’t wander off and do something stupid like dying. He thinks perhaps by chaperoning he could ease Wil’s alcohol intake, but at the rate he’s going, that seems unlikely. 

“It’s stupid,” Wilbur gasps out as he removes the bottle from his mouth. Phil wrinkles his nose at the smell. “We have to get emotionally attached and care for them and love them, and then they go away? It’s bullshit.”

“Apparently we’ll get a reward,” Phil says dryly. He’s as fond of the idea as he is of Nightmare Stalkers.

“Tallulah’s reward enough,” Wilbur mutters. “Our children are reward enough, aren’t they?”

Phil grins. “That’s very sweet.”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Oh it is, it definitely is.” Phil tilts his head. “I’m glad you have something to care about.”

Wilbur scoffs. “I can care about things,” he defends. Phil wonders if they’re really just talking about Tallulah, but cannot for the life of him think of anything else they could be referring to. Instead he directs his attention to Wil, pouting and five seconds away from a complete breakdown.

“You are really similar, huh,” Phil murmurs. “You just want to be a good dad, she just wants to be a good daughter.”

Wilbur shakes his head. “She’s already a good daughter. She’s my daughter.” He tips over ever so slightly. “Mi- mi niña perfecta. La niña perfecta.”

“Oh I know that, mate. I’m just saying. She really does seem like she was made for you.”

Phil scoops Wilbur slightly, pushing him back upright. He’s reasonably anxious, considering they’re on a fifty-something foot tower and if Wilbur fell without a paraglider he’d definitely get hurt. Why the fuck did Wilbur pick this spot to chat again? Couldn’t they have sat on, maybe, the couch?

Wilbur huffs as he’s adjusted, snapping Phil out of his anxiety. “That’d be fucking depressing if she was.”

“What do you mean?”

“Imagine being made to be exactly like someone. Wouldn’t that be horrible?” Wilbur’s voice slurs when he’s deep in thought. “You’re just a- a clone. A mirror. Not a real individual.” He takes a swig. “Doesn’t leave much for free will, does it.”

“No, I guess not.”

“Besides—” Wil swirls the whisky lazily, “I don’t want her to be anything like me.”

“Aw, Wil,” Phil mutters. Wilbur dismisses him with a wave of the bottle. 

“I’m getting paranoid, Phil. I’m paranoid, and yet I’m absent. I don’t want Tallulah to become paranoid, or for her to… abandon everything.” He buries his head in his hands, fingers tightening around his curls. “But I’m scared. I’m scared for her. I’m scared of losing her. I need her to be safe, but I can’t protect her. Sometimes I think, ‘Maybe I should be stricter,’ and then I think, ‘No, that’s not the solution, of course that’s not the solution.’ But I want to keep her safe. I need to.” 

Wilbur sighs, tilts his head to peek an eye out at Phil. “You’re right, Phil. I do want to be a good dad. But hell if I know how to do that.”

Phil exhales. “I think you’re doing a fine job as is.”

“Yeah you’d say that wouldn’t you, you bitch.”

Phil laughs. “Shut up. I mean it. You literally stayed up all night building her a tower. You play her songs. She hasn’t even lost a life. You two are fine.”

“We’ll be fine when I kick that dragon’s ass,” Wilbur says. “Thinks it can just- just fuck off and then take our kids back, huh? Shouldn’t’ve left in the first place, that’s on them.”

“We’ll be ready for it,” Phil assures. “We’ll be ready when it comes.”

“Hell yeah. When it comes.”

He pauses.

“If it comes.”

He takes a swig. Phil can smell the roasted peat.

Wilbur whispers, “And if it doesn’t?”

Phil also has the urge to bury his face in his hands. “I don’t know.”

“We’re being a bit silly about this, aren’t we?” Wilbur leans on the railing, Lagavulin hanging just over the drop. He’s nearly at a ninety degree angle. “We- we’re tiptoeing around it like children. Like we’re five-year-olds.”

Phil can’t help barking out a nervous laugh. “What are you talking about?”

“It didn’t say, ‘The mother is coming back in six days,’ did it?” Wilbur sharply says. Phil turns quiet. “Didn’t- didn’t go, ‘Oh, in six days, the eggs are going away. They’ll be gone. Like your pet goldfish that your mum gave away. The eggs are going away.’ On what, a grand adventure?” He muffles his scoff with another swig. Phil still doesn’t say anything.

“It said-”

“I know what it said, Wil,” Phil says, a bit colder than he intends. 

Wilbur pauses, and Phil knows he’ll say it anyway.

“‘Your children will die.’” Another drink. “Sus hijos morirán.” He chuckles dryly and humourlessly. “Doesn’t sound a lot better in Spanish, does it.”

“It really doesn’t.”

“What are we thinking? Explosion, mobs, /kill?”

“I… don’t want to think about it.” Phil laughs despite himself.

“Yeah. I don’t want to either.”

“Then what the fuck did you bring it up for?”

“Don’t queshon the inber workings of my mind.” He’s getting drunker, leaning far over the railing now. “I just wanna be. Ready.”

Wilbur turns around, still slumped, and looks up. Phil follows his gaze; he’s staring at the window at the top, where Tallulah’s room is. He stares for a long, hard moment, eyes glimmering in the moonlight. Finally he looks at Phil, face blank but tight. 

“’m not a fighter, Phil,” he says quietly. He bows his head again, holding the bottle close to his chest. “But I want to fight for her.”

A sob escapes Wilbur’s mouth, and Phil suddenly realizes he’s crying. Tears drip down and land on the bottle, moonlight making them shimmer like pearls. 

Wilbur cries. And Phil lets him, leaning forward just to hold him.

Wilbur smells of whisky and poppies. 

They stay still for a while, only Wilbur’s shoulders shaking from his sobs filling the night. Distantly, Phil hopes Tallulah can’t hear. He rubs his back firmly. The bottle starts to slip from his grasp, so Phil slyly takes it from him. 

When Wilbur lets the last of his cries out and Phil wipes the last of his tears, he gently straightens him up again somewhat, and starts guiding him towards the door. “I think you need to sleep, Wil.”

“But head will hurty in the morning, Phil,” Wilbur grumbles between sobs.

“I’ll get you a glass of water, mate. But you need to go inside. You might fall off and fucking break your neck.”

“I’d be fine.”

“Yeah, but it’d hurt first.”

Phil is able to wrangle Wilbur into the couch with only a moderate amount of struggle, and twenty minutes later he’s downing a glass of water and groggily handing it to Phil, who takes it with a small smile. Wilbur fixes his gaze onto Phil, eyes wide and mellowed with alcohol, though the effect is starting to ease. He shifts so he’s laying on his side, hands tucked under his cheek. Phil tells him to go to sleep; Wilbur retorts that he doesn’t think he will. Phil snarks back as he heads to the front door, telling him to Go the fuck to sleep, Wil, jesus christ, what will Tallulah think? Wilbur says something about weaponizing his daughter against him, and promptly passes out. Phil laughs, and steps out the door.

The moon is still shining, but starting to dip beyond the wall. Phil takes a deep breath, relishing the absence of alcohol in the air. The first thought that goes through his head is, I should check on Chayanne. 

Did Wilbur get the drinking from him? He sure the fuck hopes not. Imagine if Chayanne started drinking too.

“What a fucking mess,” he says out loud with a bitter laugh, and he goes back to his child.

[astarab1aze]

✘✘✘ ⸻ ❝ Starlight, star bright, get fucked and die right. ❞

independent fandomless original multimuse blog. selective & mutuals only. multiship & multiverse. 18+, as blog can and will contain triggering & explicit material. please read rules & about before interacting ✦ est. 2023. burned by taro ⸻⸻⸻⸻ CARRD ✦ aesthetics ✦ aesthetics ii ✦ lore ✦ memes ✦ music ✦ opens for all muses & information, character-specific headcanons, and other things, please click here ; lore: main verse // fantasy verse ⸻⸻⸻⸻ homies & good blogs ♥ @maljefe / @sondrstory / @elysiumtouched / @gloryundimmed / @gyofukuki / @origami-assassin / @melancholymirth / @ofoccultism / @divinezenin / @stanislawkowalski / @elysian-noctuary / @lured-into-wonderland / @mamoritxi / @nvrcmplt / @malafxde ( rules under the cut for easy access. )

✾ Mun

hello.!! call me taro. my pronouns are they/them, and i am 25+. i’ve been roleplaying off and on for about 18 years. my waking life is busy, so i won’t always be here. i have 5 pets and a big family (i'm married + have children). i prefer writing original characters to canon characters. i live in the midwest usa. there are two things in this world i can’t live without: green tea, hot cheetos, and emotionally wrecked men. oh, and i’m nerdy as hell. if you have any questions or just wanna chat/plot, i’m always open, if a little awkward and slow at times.!!

✾ Blog

 ⸻Disclaimer.

mun =/= muse. writing about something =/= condoning it. i am mixed-race and lgBT, if that matters to you. otherwise - all of my muses here, especially loux and sortia, are horrible people and absolutely not for the faint of heart. loux and sortia are highly dangerous criminals despite outward appearances, and will likely not care about your muse(s) so as to further their own ends. loux is a bit more flexible, capable of kindness and attachment, but sortia is absolutely not - and both are unafraid of the consequences of their actions. vayn, on the other hand, is a sweetheart, but he's highly inappropriate, meaning he will probably try to come onto your muse(s). he's very flirtatious and a bit handsy. furie is a religious oracle, but he doesn't talk much - still willing to commit murder and blasphemy. hydre is a wild card, unpredictable, and is inherently cannibalistic as well as the harbinger of the wizard apocalypse. asuka is highly inappropriate, wild, and strangely pure, and will probably put up with anything your muse does to them except breaking their heart (because that will kill them, literally). kaede is a self-harmer and sometimes very difficult to handle, both emotionally and physically, and will often throw himself into danger. crovita is a government agent specialized in a wide range of things, and is probably the most normal of them all despite all the line-crossing she's done in her work. viresca, though helpful and generally good, is on a bit of a warpath herself and doesn't mind getting her hands dirty in process. interactions with them could probably go off the rails.  

important addition: as an aside, pop culture has a noticeable influence on my lore (ex. dumpster fairies from wwdits, beholders from d&d, botchlings & drowners from the witcher, arthurian legend, various mythos, the list goes on). i am not shy about this. while i do borrow, i try to put a little bit of my own spin on things, but there isn't much revolutionizing going on here. maybe subversion, maybe flagrant cliches, but everything on this blog is meant to have a sort of 'melting pot' vibe with both original and existing-in-media ideas all mixed together. the world itself is like... baldur's gate, the witcher, true blood, and hp had a weird baby together, best way i can put it.

 ⸻Content.

i don’t shy away from disturbing/gory/traumatic topics. i don’t see it as a moral failure to write it. fiction is the safest possible way to explore our fears, interests, catharses, and concerns regardless of whether it's done properly or not. that being said, there are some things i won’t write: minor/adult, graphic noncon, and incest outside of backstories and such. otherwise, i’m very flexible and find darker or taboo subjects worth exploring creatively - zero judgments here. all triggering content will be tagged as ’____ /’, and erotic content will be tagged as ‘nsft /’. needless to say, this is a 18+ only blog. i will not interact with anyone under the age of 18, 21+ is my preference. as an aside, a lot of my writing will focus on themes of immorality / amorality, drug use / trafficking, poaching, enslavement and imprisonment, murder, extreme ambition, tunnel vision, sex, gore, allusions to sexual assault (backgrounds), manipulation, general criminal activity, necromancy, blood magic, experimentation, cannibalism, human sacrifice, occasional body horror, negative & positive character development, toxic relationships, obsession, family trauma - things like that. but i’m more than happy to write silly and lighthearted things as well. i do love some sweet fluffy goodness! 

 ⸻Posting.

all interactions are mutuals only. i’m not the fastest writer, don't always have muse, and will take my time for serious threads. it may take me a few weeks to over a month, sometimes a fair bit longer, from time to time to reply to a thread or answer an ask. on occasion, i may go haywire on the dash and disappear into the night, but i will always be using my queue. i tend towards multi-para, but will do one-liners or simpler, shorter-lengthed threads. pretty sure i’m using the beta editor as well. oh! i regularly delete my OOC posts, so you won’t have to worry too much about dash clutter in that respect. i tend toward inbox memes, so you may see more of those than other things.

 ⸻Communication.

i’m just a little bit on the awkward & shy side and may have a hard time reaching out for plotting at first. what i do to mitigate this is generally interact with posts and send in icebreaker asks. i’ll also reblog plenty of memes and my interest check so that there’re always opportunities to get things going. that being said, much as i love, love to gush and plot and just overall have a good time chatting about our muses, it’s sometimes hard for me to maintain conversations or even start them, even if we've been writing together for a while or were just in the middle of a discussion as i get overwhelmed from time to time and need to take breaks; it is not intentional to leave anyone hanging. which i try to compensate for with other interactions (asks, comments, etc.) until i have the brain power. all i ask is that you be patient with me, because i certainly do not mean to leave you hanging or feeling like i'm not interested! you're free to poke me any time!

 ⸻Shipping. 

big fan, big time. you will see a lot of this on this blog and i make no apologies for it. i think it's weird that people hate shipping on the shipping website. i love complicated romances, desperate reunions, all things smutty, toxic relationships, platonic relationships, found family, mentor/student (platonic), plain old friendships - very open to the topic. communication but mostly chemistry are needed for romantic shipping, as i want my partners to be just as enthused as i am and for the muses to be on the same page. i’ll ship with anyone if the vibe’s right. if you want to ship, just let me know! i'm sure we can figure something out.

smol quick guide:

asuka: thoughtlessly dives into all relationships

crovita: one-night stands, slow-burns, high stakes

faith: all arounder, great for ONS, FWB, slow-burn, hurt/comfort, trauma bonds

furie: great for slow-burns and enemies/rivals to lovers

hydre: speedrun having your heart broken & eaten on nightmare mode (not impossible, but about as difficult as sorti)

kaede: great for slow-burns, one-night stands, really all relationships

keres: gentlemanly, hardwired for slow-burns & generally intense relationships

loux: great for one-night stands & casual relationships, though there is potential for something deeper

mharra: if you're into the mostly strong & silent types with attitudes, he's the guy for you; best for slow-burns

nishka: sort of a normie, just needs time and patience

rivyn: best for slow burns, enemies/rivals to lovers, high stakes

satra: lines between friend & lover are blurred; great for slow-burns, one-night stands, idiots to lovers, etc

sortia: extremely difficult to even get her to give the time of day; very picky

vayn: the sweetest of peas and will dote on your muse eternally from the word go

viresca: awkward and detached, but can be easily wooed; great for slow burns

⸻Verses. 

this blog is multiverse, though my original verses will be the primary so this blog will be mostly crossover. i like to try new things and plug my ocs into all sorts of universes - it broadens the understanding and depth of a character. i’m happily oc, crossover, au, and canon friendly, so if you want to do things in a different verse, i’ll make one if i don’t have one already! 

 ⸻Godmodding. 

so long as we talk about it before hand or it advances the thread, i don’t particularly care about godmodding or powerplaying. it just has to make sense for our plot. my muses are strong, but there are others who are stronger - and crueler - and i won’t ignore that if the power scale is such. your muse can overpower mine? dope, they should, actually! but by this same token, do not underestimate my muses or go in assuming they're weak.

 ⸻Drama/News/Triggers.

i block tags/posts. if there’s something i don’t want to see, i will simply not see it, no matter what it is, be it the news, internet beef, or things that make me feel like ass for one reason or another. i don’t engage with any of that stuff; i have a personal blog for that sorta thing. also, i do not have any written or visual triggers - except for maggots.

important addendum: do not approach me with anon hate, which i suppose is a moot point to make since people who send it in won't have looked at my rules anyway, but even so - do not approach me with such negativity. i will assume the worst of you and any point you're trying to make, however right or wrong you are, will be entirely discarded as nonsense. i do not care what your problem is; it's none of my business and i have bigger and more important things to worry about. speak to me like an adult or don't speak to me at all.

[neverkayzat]

Hey! I hope you're doing well. So basically, as I'm sure you've already seen, I'm playing Stardew Valley, and im VERY emotionally attached to Shane. It's ridiculous. Anyways, I want to know what your thoughts were on the parallels between Shane and Marc Spector because you reblogged a post of mine briefly talking about it. I just think it's interesting, and it's definitely been something I've put a lot of thought into as I've progressed through the game.

IM SO SORRY FOR THE DELAYED RESPONSE — this has been in my asks for DAYS but finals are coming up and I went to a pride parade today, so I’ve been a bit busy. Also, I’m writing this on my phone, so my grammar and everything about this response may be a bit wonky.

Also this is going to be kind of long.. soooo… I’ve been thinking about this for days, of course it’s long.

Both Marc Spector and Shane fall into the trope of the character knowing that their mental health isn’t the greatest and slowly becoming better through therapy. I love the trope, it has the ability to show amazing character progression and to raise awareness of how therapy can help someone. On the other hand, it has the ability to be completely terrible if done wrong.

I can discuss the “done wrong” aspects of this trope for Marc and the system (the number of therapists who’ve tried to kill them is high! Extremely high). However, when you look at Mackay’s run (2021-2023), you can see this trope done right. You can see him slowly becoming more venerable (Reese’s hug, Jake and Steven coming out more, apologizing to Greer—Hell, even apologizing to CAPTAIN AMERICA about the Age of Khonshu event and talking about his system in one of the Avengers Unlimited issues) over the span of Mackay’s run.

Now, comparing to Shane, the same is done here, but you’re seeing more of what has been happening to get him into the awful mental health position (compared to Mackay’s run, since you’ve seen it in Marc’s previous comics issues) and the drive to send him to therapy. You see it affecting his family and their reactions. You root for him to go to therapy! He begins going to therapy upon seeing Jas’ reaction.

However, Shane and Marc’s stories are extremely different, especially with the time constraints.

With Marc, we all know Khonshu, horrible childhood experiences, military/mercenary work, and discrimination has lead him to terrible mental health. However, he’s been here for decades, Shane has been here for a few hours at least (in game play time). In turn, Shane’s story is the more cut and dry alcoholism story than the healing from major mental and physical abuse that Marc’s story is. That doesn’t mean either story is more “valid” than the other. Both are extremely compelling stories and people do suffer with these issues every day. However, one is more easier to portray in a short amount of time due to the commonality of it—which, again, is sad.

Stardew Valley is a children’s game as well, which is why these stories differ so much. Shane’s story is easy—he gets better almost instantly upon going to therapy and everything lives happily every after (at least in my experience, I haven’t married him. Aromanticism for THE WIN! KROBUS I LOVE YOU). It’s easier to tell that to a child. It’s easier to show that in a small game. However, comics aren’t limited to time, but limited to how many sales they’re getting/how much they can cram into a run. They’re able to show the slow progression of getting better. Even if nobody lives happily ever, at least the person is the best they could be right now.

That’s my take on it, I guess. The comparisons are interesting though! They both fall under the same trope but executed wildly different due to various reasons.

Thanks for the ask! :)

[hikikomoriaesthetic]

˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ i feel so sick emotionally. i am too unwell and unstable to be dealing with this. why does it always feel like i’ve been abandoned without a care in the world? how can people find it so easy to ghost others without a sense of guilt after a normal conversation? i genuinely thought we were friends? i offer intense love and support that i thought they needed as a friend should and even tried talking to them about trivial stuff- am i too unlikeable? is it the fact that i easily cling onto people and get attached too easily? am i the problem? why am i always the second option or just not important enough for them to care? everyday my heart feels so damn heavy from emotions that i can’t understand. how i ache for someone to love me with so much insanity i don’t have to worry about them leaving me or finding someone better. it hurts so bad that i’m always alone aching to love someone i’m not sure exists. it got so bad last night that i fell asleep crying and the only way to comfort myself was to dream that a yandere fell in love with me so i felt comforted. i genuinely think this is divine punishment for being such a horrible person. i feel so sick and so very exhausted. i’m going to die as a virgin who never got into a relationship because of my horrible luck aren’t i? i want to die but i can’t, i have to be brave and at least try life but my heart and soul know i can’t do this alone but also know that because i’m too insane it’s probably best i have no one. this is torture.

[theworldsforgottenboy]

Oc questions (nobody tagged me) cause I’m literally in love with her

Hope ironwood, wood elf life domain cleric, she/they, 89 years old, romancing astarion

—————-

-what common/uncommon fear do they have?

Cats and cat like monsters. She was attacked by a feral alleycat as a child and has pretty deep trauma over it, as well as a few facial scars, though they’re faded. This is sad cause I think she would really benefit from the kind of love a cat provides, so she had to get the next best thing (astarion)

Other than that, her fear of commitment and ending up trapped in a boring life like her mother and father were while she was growing up drives her restlessness and wandering spirit. She’s broken a few hearts and has regrets about that, but she can’t allow herself to get attached to anything until she thinks she’s literally a day away from a horrible death. Further into the story, she starts to fear their feelings even more as they grow, and she only admits to herself that she’s in love literally literally right after the cazador fight, when the words force themselves out of her mouth while she’s trying to talk astarion down, the fear of losing him superseding the fear of having him in the first place. It’s all very dramatic and romantic and utterly ridiculous. Shadowheart will never let her forget it

- what’s a pet peeve of theirs

People trying to put her in a position of power and lauding her as a hero. No, she’s not going to kiss your baby or sign your armor, fuck off and let her enjoy her drink in peace. No, Just because she dealt with one outlaw who provoked her in your settlement doesn’t mean she’d make a good sheriff, find someone else.

-3 bedroom items

She travels doesn’t have a set bedroom, but in her tent you’d find:

random humanoid skulls, she just thinks they’re neat

a jar of all purpose salve she learned how to make from her brief stint as an apprentice in an apothecary, made of propopolis jelly olive oil and a little honey, a few of its many functions include ye olde Neosporin, moisturizer, sunblock and lube

their trusty strap on. it’s made of polished and carved monster tusk, by far the nicest thing she owns

-what do they notice first in a person?

Joke answer: Tits or ass, depending on the asset. Serious answer: clothing, hair and eyes in that order.

- on a scale of 1-10 what’s their pain tolerance

9 or ten for physical pain tolerance, has done surgery on herself while conscious before. However, she has limits, like falling two stories in plate armor and having most of the bones in her body broken and their face getting scratched to bits by gremiskchas. Emotionally though, I’d say about a 4. She hates having feelings

-fight or flight

Flight if they think she’s going to die no matter what, but their also very cocky and will overestimate her chances of winning 7 times out of 10

-big family?

Grew up as an only child, but her mom comes from a very big extended family. 60% of the wood elf’s in baldurs gate are at least a little blood related to her, and while she isn’t exactly keeping in touch with any of them she recognizes them from family reunions. She was closest to her 3rd cousin Gina, who grew up to be lady flux, one of nine fingers’s bodyguards, but they had kind of a grudging relationship that peetered out once they became teenagers.

She thinks she might be related to halsin on her dads side, since they’re both so gigantic and apparently the ironwoods and silverboughs lived relatively close.

Her parents had another kid after she left home that she only finds out about after dragging herself onto their doorstep after the elder brain goes down. Her name is Violette and hope tries to be there for her more but her version of that is sending presents on her birthday and a visit every 3-4 years. She functions as a cool aunt to her when she does come by.

She’s also never having kids of her own. It’s not that she hates them necessarily, it’s just that’s she’d be the ultimate deadbeat. Both her and her partner are sterile, her via magical tube tying and astarion by virtue of being dead (we’re not doing breaking dawn here)

-what animal best fits her

WYLD STALLYNS (insert bill and Ted guitar riff) no but seriously she was meant to roam free and ungovernable across the countryside. Their a total horse girl. She hasn’t had a horse for a few years since her last one Marianne died, but she’ll get a new one soon enough

-smell they hate?

Rotten food, she thinks it’s a shame that it goes to waste. She doesn’t mind decomposition all that much though.

-Have they broken any bones?

You don’t know the half of it. She’s broken most of her bones at least once, and then learned the hard way that healing touch and cure wounds doesn’t automatically set them. Without relying on her gods power, she’s somewhere between a gruff frontier doctor and a back alley surgeon, so she can set a bone ok but it will hurt.

-how would a stranger describe them

Strikingly tall and handsome, confident and steady, but at the same time very closed off from people.

-night owl or morning bird?

Definitely a morning bird but also there’s not really a difference?. As an elf she only needs a few hours of meditation, so she’ll go to bed at 10 and wake up at 2 every day to bathe, work out and do her laundry before everyone else gets up. On one of these nights early on she saw astarion chowing down on the boar but she decided not to mention it. Post game she gets accustomed to trancing during the day to maximize the night.

-what’s a flavor they hate and a flavor they love

Love: wild raspberries and cherries, Her blood tastes like raspberry liquor, sweet and tart with an acidic punch.

Hate: about the furthest a picky eater but never liked oatmeal, the texture and the taste puts her off eating for the rest of the day.

She’s also a fan of brown liquors and spiced ale’s, is neutral on red wine and hates white and pink wines a burning passion bc even though she has a strong constitution, a single glass will make her loopy and way too honest about her feelings.

-hobbies?

She’s picked up a ton of weird skills and hobbies over the years on her travels from apprenticeships and trial and error, but she’s particularly fond of embroidery. She started sewing because as a tall broad and relatively busty gender non conforming afab, it was hard to find reasonably priced masculine clothing that fit her body right. That grew into a self taught love of sewing honed over the decades. Her stitching resembles blackwork the closest but in a free moving and fun way. Astarion and her really bonded over this, and they’ll steal each others clothing and leave each other little messages through their mending.

-how would they react to a suprise party?

Not well. She rolls with the punches, but she isn’t a fan of big events. Literally only karlach can get away with it without getting yelled at.

-messy or neat handwriting

Messy, barely legible

-two common emotions?

Wanderlust and yearning (followed by immediate denial of feelings)

-favorite fabric?

Linen. Easy to wash, lightweight , and easy to dye and embroider. She’s also a fan of leather for its durability (and it’s cool factor, her devil may care vagabond image is highly curated) and wouldn’t say not to a nice brocade

-accent?

Very informal, she doesn’t have a baldurian accent anymore so it’s kind of an intoxicating mess of all the languages she’s learned and places she’s spent a significant amount of time in. I imagine speech patters and tones sounding like something like a cross between bones McCoy from Star Trek and wolverine from the x men movies, very gruff and dry and serious but also cocky and playfully dangerous when she wants to be. And the dirty talk? Whew, out of this world