#i suck at picking out colors man tell me if they look weird

[chocottang]

they totally have friends besides each other

[solarmorrigan]

Saw someone mention how Steve tends to get defensive when he's anxious and it stuck with me, so here's my take on the "Steve breaks a dish and has a panic attack about it" trope

cw: descriptions of nonstandard panic attack, implied/referenced child abuse

-

The distinct sound of shattering porcelain is followed by a vehemently hissed, “shit,” and then silence.

“Steve?” Eddie calls from the couch into the kitchen. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve calls back, but his voice sounds tight in the way it does when something definitely isn’t okay.

Eddie pushes himself up and moves to the doorway, looking in to see what the trouble is. The kitchen of the house he and Wayne had been “gifted” by the government isn’t exactly huge, and he has a straight line of sight to where Steve is standing by the sink, eyes squeezed shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose, and to the red and white shards of porcelain on the floor by his feet.

“Hey,” Eddie says, but Steve doesn’t look up; if anything, his posture only gets tenser. “You’re not cut or anything, are you?”

“No,” Steve says, and his tone is still a little off, but he doesn’t sound like he’s lying.

“What was that, anyway?” Eddie asks.

Finally, Steve takes a deep breath in and opens his eyes, looking down at the mess on the laminate. “Mug.”

As soon as he says it, Eddie recognizes the colors for what the design must have been. “Shit, the Campbell’s one?”

Steve doesn’t say a word, just gives one sharp nod.

Eddie sucks a hiss of breath in through his teeth. “Shit,” he says again. “That was Wayne’s favorite.”

“I know,” Steve says tersely. “I’m sorry.”

His tone is definitely weird. “I mean, I’m sure it was an accident, Steve–” Eddie starts.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says again, almost snapping this time. “I’ll clean it up.”

“O-kay,” Eddie says slowly, watching as Steve jerks into motion and moves over to the corner where they stash the broom and dust pan.

“I’ll apologize to Wayne when he gets home,” Steve says as he starts sweeping up, even though Eddie hasn’t said a word.

“He gets home at, like, six in the morning.”

“I’ll make sure I’m up,” Steve says shortly.

“Steve, you can just tell him what happened later, he’s not going to stand around demanding an explanation. I mean, seriously, you think Wayne is gonna be pissed if you’re not there, immediately scraping at his feet when he comes through the door?” Eddie scoffs, but Steve remains silent. Eddie watches as he finishes sweeping in short, sharp motions, brows pulling together as Steve apparently fails to pick up on the joke. “…he won’t be, y’know.”

Steve shrugs. His expression has gone eerily blank, and he takes the dustpan over to the garbage can to dump it.

“Hey, don’t–” Eddie reaches out, and Steve jerks to a stop just in time. “You don’t have to toss it, man, we might be able to glue it back together.”

Steve sends Eddie a sharp look. “I’m not gonna be able to hide that it was broken, Eddie,” he says slowly, as though this should be painfully obvious.

“I’m not suggesting we hide it, I’m just saying we might still be able to use it,” Eddie answers in the same slow manner. “It’s not junk until you’re sure you can’t fix it.”

“Right,” Steve snaps, dropping the dustpan on the counter so sharply that the shards of porcelain clink against each other. “Can’t even clean up right.”

Eddie frowns, stirrings of defensiveness rising up in his gut at Steve’s continued sour mood. “I didn’t say that. I just said we might be able to fix it.”

“Fine. We’ll try to fix it,” Steve bites out, turning away from Eddie so he can put the broom back in the corner.

Eddie shakes his head, unwilling to engage with whatever snit Steve’s got himself worked into. “What happened, anyway?” he asks instead.

Apparently, this is the wrong tactic.

“What happened is, I’m too stupid to even do the dishes right,” Steve declares as he whirls back around. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“What?” Eddie is baffled, suddenly caught in the middle of an argument he hadn’t even realized was happening. “No! Why would I want to hear that?”

Steve throws his arms up, a demonstration of giving in. “Well I already said I’m sorry, and I am, and I don’t know what else you want from me!”

The heat of Eddie’s own temper is beginning to flare, but he does his best to shake it away because he still doesn’t know what the hell is going on and he doesn’t think getting angry will help. “I don’t want anything else from you! Why are you acting like I’m yelling at you? I’m not, I’m not even upset about the stupid mug, so what the hell is your deal?”

He takes a couple of steps into the kitchen, reaching out for Steve, hoping just to touch some part of him. Physical contact has always been grounding, has always been a comfort for them both; it almost seems like they can communicate better if they can just be in contact somehow. Instead of reaching back, though, Steve tenses up; it’s not exactly a flinch, but it’s as if he’s bracing himself, as if he’s waiting for Eddie to–

Eddie takes in the painfully blank expression on Steve’s pale face, the way his chest is rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths that he can’t quite seem to control, the way he’s angled himself just slightly away from Eddie, and suddenly Eddie feels cold.

It’s as if he’s waiting for Eddie to hit him.

Eddie wonders how the hell he hadn’t realized he was walking through a minefield until he was already standing in the middle of it.

(It still takes him by surprise, sometimes, that Steve’s anxiety, his panic, tends to look more like anger. That he tends to lash out like a wounded animal when he feels backed into a corner, hurt too many times in moments of vulnerability to do otherwise.)

(It takes him by surprise, but he’s learning.)

“Steve,” Eddie says softly, dropping his hand slowly back to his side, “I’m not angry.”

Steve stares at him, almost confused, like Eddie’s not doing it right, like this isn’t what’s supposed to come next. Eddie sort of wants to break something (he thinks, briefly, that he’d like to start with the fingers on Mr. Harrington’s right hand, and then move on to his left).

“It’s just a mug, Steve, it’s okay. No one’s upset about it,” Eddie says. “I’m preemptively speaking for Wayne, because I know he’s not gonna be mad at you. Seriously, getting upset over a broken cup? Does that sound like something Wayne would do?”

Slowly, once he seems to realize that Eddie is waiting for an answer, Steve shakes his head.

“Does that sound like something I would do?” Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head again, though he’s still watching Eddie with something approaching trepidation.

“I promise it’s fine. I’m not angry,” Eddie repeats, and chances a couple of steps closer to Steve.

Steve doesn’t react this time, no tensing, no flinching, no verbally lashing out, and so Eddie lifts a hand again, reaching slowly for Steve’s. Steve lets him.

When he gets his fingers wrapped around Steve’s own, Eddie can feel how cold they’ve gone, can feel the fine tremble of adrenaline working through them, and can’t quite choke down the noise of sympathy in his throat. He tugs on Steve’s hand.

“C’mere,” Eddie says, invites him by lifting his other arm, but leaves it up to Steve.

It only takes a moment for Steve to step in close, and when Eddie lets go of his hand to wrap his arms around Steve’s shoulders, Steve reciprocates by cinching his own arms tight around Eddie’s waist. He takes one sharp breath, and then another, and Eddie can hear the way they shake going in and out.

“There you go,” Eddie says quietly, rubbing Steve’s back.

“I just dropped it,” Steve says, his voice a little hoarse. “It was an accident.”

“I know it was,” Eddie assures him. “It’s okay.”

“It was an accident,” Steve says again, and Eddie wonders how often someone has believed him – how often he’d ever even been given a chance to explain.

“It was an accident,” Eddie agrees. “You’re okay, Steve.”

Steve lets out a little noise, like maybe he’s trying to laugh, but then he pulls in another shuddery breath and rests his chin on Eddie’s shoulder. “Okay.”

In a little bit, Eddie might lead Steve to sit down on the couch, or maybe just take them both up to bed, because fuck doing the dishes after this anyway; he’ll make sure to leave a note for Wayne about the mug (ask him not to bring it up until Steve does, to not even jokingly make a thing about it), but for now, he concentrates on holding Steve close.

He’ll stand with him as long as it takes for the shaking to stop, for his breathing to even out, for him to relax even just a little against Eddie, and he'll promise, as many times as Steve needs to hear it, that it’s okay. Things will be okay.

[Prompt: Embracing your partner]

[imdead770]

omg love the idea of steve x childhood friend reader!! could you do that for soda too

Sodapop Curtis x Reader - Childhood Friends

Authors Note - Slowly (but surely) getting back into writing. Fingers crossed I don't have another words aren't wording era. Enjoy!

▪︎ Dear, darling Sodapop

▪︎ I know exactly how you met Sodapop

▪︎ I'm third grade, you got paired up with him for some art project

▪︎ And he sucked ass

▪︎ This kid couldn't do anything

▪︎ He can barely read, his hand writing sucks, he can't color inside the lines

▪︎ But for some reason you liked him enough to stick with him all these years

▪︎ Maybe it was how he apologized at least 50 times that you were carrying the project

▪︎ Or maybe it was how he'd still try his hardest to comprehend the big words on the instructions

▪︎ One of the big words including 'instructions'

▪︎ I personally believe Sodapops dyslexic, you can disagree, go for it

▪︎ But the moment he realized he wanted to stick with you was that project

▪︎ How patient you were with him

▪︎ How you helped him read the instructions

▪︎ How you whispered in his ear whenever he forgot half the words to his presentation

▪︎ He didn't really know what love was, he was a kid

▪︎ But looking back on it, that's the moment he fell

▪︎ Fast forward a few years, middle school.

▪︎ I think around 7th grade Sodapop realized just how hot he was

▪︎ He could've pulled a sophomore if he wanted to

"Ya' see that! She was lookin' at me!"

"Every girl looks at you, Soda, it ain't a big deal."

▪︎ You two still did a lot of projects together

▪︎ Normally you did the work

▪︎ But hey, he was good emotional support

▪︎ Eigth grade

▪︎ Somehow both of you managed to have glow ups the exact same year

▪︎ With his jawline being as sharp as Micheal Myer's knife

▪︎ And your body doing its weird maturing thing

▪︎ Which didn't go unnoticed by Sodapop, by the way

▪︎ He fell for you all over again, only this time he had hormones and you had a body that could kill

▪︎ You hung out around the gang a lot

▪︎ Dallas flirted with you a lot

▪︎ Everytime Soda would butt in

▪︎ Everytime the gang teased him about it when you left

"Ya' like 'em."

"What? Na'"

"So can I date 'em?"

"I'll kill ya'"

"Told ya', likes 'em. Gimme that 10, Two."

"Aw, fuc-"

▪︎ Whenever Soda dropped out of high-school he was all freaked out your friendship would end

▪︎ He thought you'd stick with your school friends

▪︎ Instead you two just got closer

▪︎ You'd catch him up on what drama he was missing while he told you stories from DX

▪︎ It was a daily tradition

▪︎ If you were swamped with homework he wouldn't even try

▪︎ He'd still talk until his lips hurt though

▪︎ YOU COMFORTED HIM AFTER SANDY

▪︎ He came over to your place, all quiet and teary eyed

▪︎ That was the second time he cried in front of you

▪︎ The first being the time a bunch of socs picked on him in 6th grade

▪︎ Anyways

▪︎ Eventually the gang got fed up

▪︎ He was well over Sandy

▪︎ He was head over heels for you

▪︎ You went of your way to see him

▪︎ I think someone bet that Steve couldn't get Soda to date you

▪︎ And Steve went all out

▪︎ He practically threatened Soda

▪︎ Soda did it on his own but Steve takes credit

▪︎ He asked you on one of your catch up nights

"So, remember that sophomore gi-"

"I like ya'."

"What."

▪︎ You just sat there for a second, completely awestruck

▪︎ You were gonna say that sophomore girl that liked him got knocked up

▪︎ But that was pushed into the shadows of your brain

"Uh.. I like you too."

▪︎ This man smiled

▪︎ Like pure

▪︎ '😀'

▪︎ He didn't really know how to express emotions after Sandy

▪︎ So he just kissed you

▪︎ Flat out, lips on lips, kissed you

▪︎ After you pulled away he hugged you, smiling into your neck

▪︎ And you were smiling right back

▪︎ Not that he could see it, but still

▪︎ Took a second and ran to tell the gang

▪︎ They all either

A) Flipped out

Or

B) Expected it and didn't care

▪︎ Either way he was jumping up and down

▪︎ Dallas had to tell him at least 10 times to shut up about you

▪︎ He didn't let you go home

▪︎ Cuz like, he was your boyfriend now, he had to be within 10 feet of you

▪︎ After you two started dating he held your hand every single day

▪︎ Cuz like, he's waited over 5 years for this moment

▪︎ Other then the PDA and dates, nothing changes

▪︎ Yay

[theysaidhush]

Dear Christopher,

-> Pairing: Ex!Bang Chan x Reader

-> You write a letter to Chan one year after he breaks up with you, asking questions you wish you had answers to before he left.

-> heavy angst, bit of smut

I thought love was everything I needed. You said it was everything we needed. I believed it. Truly did. Because even if everyone likes you, even if I am everyone, everyone is not me. They don't get to see you when waking up, they don't get to touch your face like I wish I did, don't get to hold your hand or look into your eyes when we were dinning - that, I wish I did too. I'm just realizing that I might as well be just everyone, don't you think so too?

"I will love you, to the moon and back."

Was your trip to the moon too short that it did not last long? Was trying to reach out for the stars too tiring? It wasn't even what I asked for...

I met you on a sunny day, remember? I bet you do, because as much as I want you not to, so I can blame you, I know you do. You're just like that, so perfect that it's actually hard for me to write this letter. I want to point at your flaws and scream and screech at that blank, virgin piece of paper. But I can't. It holds too much meaning to me. I still have it. Why do I still have it? Ah, seriously...

So yeah, we met on a sunny day. I think it was holidays? At least for you. Those are rare aren't they? You were nobody, walking down the street. No holy glow, no charming or alluring walk. Just you, your cap and your way too baggy black clothes. I wasn't sucked it, did not look twice at that strange man covered like a person would if walking in Netherlands. And you came to me and told me a weird pick up line with that accent of yours that made me think about what you said twice just because I couldn't comprehend it. I wouldn't have answered if it wasn't for your giggle. You were giggling. Giggling for God's sake. What man giggles in 2022? But you sucked me in, just like that. With those charming dimples. Suddenly, the ocean wasn't enough to quench my thirst, no weight was heavy enough to hold me down and no colors was enough to paint you and picture you just like you were that day. It was so overwhelming I wish I hadn't met you, that day. I was a blushing mess (I still am when recalling that scene), my hands were sweaty and I was feeling dizzy. How dare you sounding so pretty? Because yeah, you made me realize that a sound could be pretty too. I fell in love for the first time in my life. I fell when I met you.

We met later. You were late. I did not think much about it. I am not one to care for those kind of things. Still am. How could I known it was a telltale sign? How would I known? You asked me questions about myself. You were the first to actually make me feel like an interesting person. Is it fool? I don't know. But I loved telling you about my life. You always hear, you always listen. I love that about you. I could have told you about how I saw an ant carrying another ant, how funny I thought it was, and you could have laughed like you were here to witness it, like it was actually funny. I could have told you about this really sad movie that I watched a few days prior and you could have scrunched your face and furrow your eyebrows as if you were trying not to cry. I could have told you about that stain on my table that I just can't clean and your fingers would have itched to do it for me. I fell in love a second time. I fell when I got to know you.

And then you left. I appreciated spending time with you. I appreciated the way you asked me if you could hold my hand. Just by that I could tell that your mother was a lovely and respectable person. I appreciated the way you were always trying to find something to do. I did not care about that suffocating thing covering half your face.

"I wanna see you do plenty of things so that I can know what you like and what you doesn't. I wanna get to know you when you are surprised, sad, happy, delighted. I wanna fell in love with every facet of your personality." you said. Was what you found not attractive enough? Was it not enough to keep you entertained, Chan?

Then you told me you had to leave. I hoped it wasn't just a summer fling. But you asked for my number, and we talked even after you left. Even in my sleep I was thrilled about waking up and reading your text in the morning, can you believe that? Who gave you the right to take my heart hostage and to care for it? Your texts were sweet, your voice in our weekly phone calls sweeter. And those pictures of landscapes even more. Got me thinking about how I wanted to be by your side. How I wanted to watch this sunset with you, how I wanted to hold your hand and kiss you until I can't breathe.

We never kissed. I regret that. I despise that. But maybe it is because we weren't meant to. And yet, in the darkest of night I was thinking about how I wanted to be next to you. How I wanted some warmth, some love. How I wanted to trace your body with my tongue. How I wanted to hold your hands while I'm making love to you. For the first time in my life I was horny. I wanted you to fill me up, to caress and to touch. I wanted to feel your fingertips on my body, to feel you fingers in my private part, to hear your whispers in my ears as you are delicately rocking my body. For the first time in my life I was a stranger in my own body. Touching and trying to please myself just like you would do if you were there. How funny, I'm sounding like a perv.

But you slowly started to disappear. Photos getting blurry. Texts getting shorter. Phone calls getting rare. Affection being yearned for.

And then you told me that you could no longer be with me. And that's when I fell in love for the third time. I fell because I realized how our one year relationship meant to me. You took everything with you. After that, the sun rays were burning flames, the smell of coffee was suffocating, the laughs of people was defeating, my thoughts were deadly.

You got me thinking about me. About I could would have be if I never met you. A happier version of myself. Confident and proud. But instead, you got me thinking about what was wrong about me. Was I not enough? Were my quirks and habits too weird? Was my voice and my laugh repulsing? Was my body disgusting? You got me dreading looking at my reflection, you got me dreading meeting new people. What if they didn't like me? What if I was not interesting enough? What if I was too loud? too obnoxious? too silent? too shy? too quiet? to weird? too ugly? too clingy? too distant? too mean? too nice? What if I was me? What if they didn't like me?

And I hate myself for saying this, because this is not all your fault. I was insecure before meeting you. But you gave me a taste of self-confidence, and it was like drug, addicting. But it was a you thing. The way you made me feel like we were on top of the world. You took it with you. I don't know how to go back to my old self.

I hope that one day I will heal feel again. But for the moment I will try.

It's been a year now. I still love you. I'll never love someone like I loved you. But you'll never love me like you love music. And I respect that. I only found out a few months after our break up that you were a world wide star. Mask and cap be damned, your voice is one that I can't forget. I think I understand now. Why you left. And again, I respect that.

I love you. We could have talked about it

I love you. If only you had told me

I love you. I'm sorry you didn't feel loved enough to tell me about your job

I love you, I wish you just told me why you left

I'm sorry. I should have try harder.

But maybe I was just that. Maybe I was just everybody. I'll try to forget because I genuinely wants to see you happy. Maybe one day I'll thank you for helping me growing up as a person. Maybe one day I'll tell about my first love to my friends. Maybe one day I'll write you another letter and write:

"And one day, your name didn't make me smile anymore."

To Bang Christopher Chan

From A Baby-Stray Stay

[usernameforaboredcat]

Pay Back, Pretty Boy (Law X F!Reader) SMUT

Law has always put his girlfriend through hell when it comes to their sex life, he is evil. The edging, overstimulation, the orgasm denial, cock warming. It was pay back time, and using a Devil Fruit against him was the perfect way how.

Warning ⚠️: improper use of devil fruit powers (F!Law & M!Reader), SPOILERS for later arcs, bisexual reader, talk about pregnancy (mpreg?), mention of belly bulge.

I would ask myself “how the fuck did I get myself into this mess” but I know exactly how. Motherfucking Blackbeard was the cause of it, turning myself, crew mates and captain into women. Oh wait, I am a woman! That’s right! I was turned into a fucking man! To be fair it wasn’t all that bad, finally being taller than everyone and…not gonna lie…I look really good for a dude. And…man Law was fucking FINE as a woman like damn! I could tell that Law hated himself like this, but personally I love it. His usual scary angry face was now a cute pout, his irritated glare was a flustered blush. Man was he fucking perfect.

~

I yawn as I walk into my shared room with the Captain, seeing him looking at himself in my vanity mirror. “Hey gorgeous, what’re you looking at?”. I ask him as I walk over and swinging an arm over his shoulder, still not used to my deep voice. “Don’t call me that”. He tells me, but in a cute womanly voice. “Aw but you are! You where always so handsome, now you’re stunning”. I tell him, nuzzling my nose again his cheek as I look at us in the mirror. “The most beautiful woman in the sea, Boa Hancock could never”. I hum, kissing his cheek.

His face turns a light pink color, trying to hide behind his hat. “God you’re fuckin cute~”. I coo into his ear, biting his earlobe and gripping his now thin waist. A tiny moan escapes his lips, I smirk at this. “You know~ “. “No”. He shuts down immediately. “Oh come on baby, I’d love to show you how you treat me”. I chuckle. “Absolutely not”. He shuts down again. “What’s wrong? Coward? Can’t handle it? Afraid to feel exactly what it feels like?”. I question.

His face reddens, turning his head away. I chuckle as I move to kiss up and down his neck, small whimpers escaping him. “A-alright”. He stutters out. Immediately, I pick him up from my chair and take him to the bed, laying him down on it with my hovering over him. “How does it feel with me on top?”. I ask him, taking off my shirt. “I prefer it with you riding my dick”. He snaps back. “Now that’s something we’ll have to try”. I snicker, causing his face to blush. The thought of Law riding my dick sent blood straight to my dick, the growing erection being a new weird feeling.

I lean down, pressing my lips against his as I use my dominant hand to grope his breast through his shirt. He moans into the kiss, his nipples hardening the shirt. I pull away, kissing and sucking on his neck as I pull my hand away and sneak it under his shirt to continue playing with his nipple. Instead of his deep gruffly and husky groans and pants, it’s high pitch moans and whimpers. “Music to my ears~”. I pur into his ear, nippling at his neck.

I snake down more pulling his shirt up to expose tits, taking one into my mouth and sucking on the hard bud. Law lets out a soft whimper. I use my free arm that isn’t holding me up to unbutton and shove my hand down his pants, running my fingers through his folds. “My my, for someone so hesitant you sure are wet as hell”. I comment, getting an annoyed whiny groan. His moan gets louder as I rub along his clit, his back arching. “Sh-shit~”. He moans out, causing me to rub faster. He moans louder, like a sweet melody.

I pop his tit out my mouth with a ‘pop’, leaning up more to kiss his ear. “Better not be too loud, don’t want the others to hear you”. I whisper into his ear as I rub harder. “Ah! F-fuck! Yoooooou~”. He moans out. I chuckle at his little threat. “Not yet baby boy, I’m not done with you like this juuuuust yet”. I tell him, causing him to whimper. While I continue to work on his clit, I move to a sitting position at his feet, my free hand on his knee as his legs start to shake. “That’s it, cum for me, captain”. I tell him. His moans get louder as his legs shake more aggressively, being seconds away from cumming. “Fuck! Fuck (Y/n)-Ya!”. He cries out, his back arching. Before he can cum, I pull my finger away.

Law pants as he sits up slightly to look at me, brows frowning as he looks at me with half lidded eyes. I chuckle as I lean forward, getting right to his ear. “See how it feels, smart ass”. I chuckle, kissing his cheek and leaning away. He sits up more, looking me up and down. “What? Want me to do something for you now?”. He asks in a snarky tone, still not pleased at what I just did. “Nah I couldn’t, I wouldn’t ask you to suck my dick when you’re not into it”. I respond. “Then…why do you enjoy this?”. He asks. Haha, ah fuck. “Is now a good time to tell you I’m bi?”. I ask with a sheepish grin. He just chuckles. “Yeah…could kinda tell”. He mutters.

“Enough about that”. I state, grabbing onto the hem of his pants and pulling them down along with his panties. “I’m not done with you~”. I chuckle, leaning down into his legs. Still sitting up, I look him in the eyes as I softly grab his thick thighs and and kiss along it. “Ya know, you’re pretty attractive for a guy”. He mutters softly. I crack a smile at his works. “Thank you, good to hear that my love still finds me attractive”. I chuckle. I use my thumbs to spears his folds, getting a small whimper. I lean towards him, taking a long lick up his dripping folds.

His back arches as he moans, throwing his head back as I start to suck on his clit. I move my hand to go down more, pressing my fingertip lightly against his entrance. He moans when I insert the tip of my finger inside, slowly thrusting it in and out of him. “Oh my God you’re a fucking tease!”. He cries out loudly, panting. I chuckle as I pull away, still fingering him with the tip of my finger. “I’ve heard that before”. I chuckle, then leaning back down. I suck and nipple on his clit, Laws moans filling up the room and bouncing off the walls.

He looks so beautiful, moaning and panting while I show him a piece of his own medicine. I pull my finger out, changing to my pinky and teasing his entrance with it, shoving my pinky inside him fully. He lets out a whiny moan, slowly thrusting my pinky in and out. I know he wants more, to feel more, to be filled more, I am a woman after all. He cries as his legs start to shake again, a sign he’s about to cum. I would definitely finally let him get the relief of cumming if he begged, but he’s too stubborn to beg. “Fuck, ah~ please let me cum”. He cries out in desperation. No I wouldn’t. Let him suffer. “Aw, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”. I ask, using my thumb to rub his clit.

“Yes, please!”. He cries, his legs shaking more. “You’re so cute when you beg like that, you know that?”. I point out. I feel him clenching around my pinky, moments away from cumming again. With that, I pull my hand away. “Nooo”. He cries, panting and trying to catch his breath. I sit up and sit on my legs, pulling down my pants and boxers. He looks up at me with a scowl, his pretty face filled with irritation. “I’ll…get you…for this”. He pants out. I chuckle darkly as I stroke my cock, god it feels weird. “Nothing you haven’t put me through already baby, I might have to tease you like this if we ever go back to normal”. I tell him with a smirk. “Not like I wouldn’t mind us staying like this, I’d loooove to get my handsome boyfriend pregnant”. I joke. His face drops, the thought of him getting pregnant sending a chill through his body.

I lean forward to hover above him, using one hand to grab his ankles and the other to line myself up to his entrance. “What’s the matter? Don’t like the pregnancy talk? How do you think I’ve felt during all those nights, you’d be pumping me full of cum and saying how cute I’d look carrying your babies. I mean I would look cute, you’d love it”. I lean in, my mouth next to his ear to let my hot breath brush against his neck. “But I think you’d look cuter with a swollen pregnant belly, carrying my babies”. I whisper, feeling him shiver at my words. I push his legs against his chest, rubbing my tip up and down his folds. Granted, my dick isn’t as big as Laws, but it is big enough to please a woman.

I slide my tip in, then slamming my whole length into his pussy. Law lets out a loud moan, his back arching at the stuffed feeling. “Shit”. I pant, feeling his gummy walls clenching around my cock. He’s so warm, sucking me in. His face is dazed, eyes looking back at the feeling. Oh am I excited to see his fucked out face, cock drunk off his girlfriends cock. I start thrusting my hips back and forth at a speedy pace, fucking into him with swift movements. His loud moans are so beautiful, his mind probably going crazy from the feeling of having his sensitive walls getting fucked. God, Laws pussy feels fantastic. But I do get how men act so differently during sex, and I know he knows now too. Maybe he’ll go easy on me for once, like back when we first started having sex. Maybe not. Only time will tell.

I lean back to sit on my legs again, holding his legs in place as I continue thrusting. I look down at where I connect to him, watching my cock thrusting in and out of his pussy. Man this is weird, but I at least now know why Law likes to have mirror sex or look at our reflection while having sex, it is really hot. But to be fair…he bulges more in my stomach than I do his. I reach my hand around to press down on his stomach, pressing down out his stomach. His cries get louder, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Fuck, he looks so good falling apart because of my cock. I start to feel a weird sensation start to build up in my balls. Shit, I was so focused on feeling his orgasms I never considered what it would feel like to cum as a dude. Weird how that works, women feel more but men cum more. Rude.

My breathing becomes more rapid, speeding up the pace and thrusting into him harder. Fuck. Next thing I know, a warm feeling shoots through my cock and empties into Law. I stop my thrusts, Law shuttering at the feeling of my warm cum and the sudden stop. “More”. I pant out. Without thinking, I pull out of Law and flip him onto his stomach, pulling his legs up into doggy style. I rise to my knees, thrusting back in. He lets out a yelp as I start thrusting again, hammering my cock into him. I grip his hips aggressively, slamming into him. He cries into the pillow, clawing at the blankets below us for dear life.

I lean forward, gripping his hair and wrapping my hand around his neck. I chuckle as his moans grow high pitched, squeezing me at the feeling of the new position. I nipple on his ear lobe, squeezing his neck and pulling at his hair. Now I really get how Law feels, the amount of power and dominance in my hands while all he is is a squishy pile of fuckable pudding. “What’s wrong? Big strong warlord can’t take his girlfriends cock? The feared and powerful Surgeon of Death getting drunk off my cock”. I whisper into his ear, his pussy clenching at my words. I pull away, pushing his face into the pillow as I thrust faster.

That feeling in my balls arises again, and it’s growing quickly. My speed increasing and feeling inhuman as I chase my high. “P-please…slow…dooooown~”. Law begs in a cry, finally getting a word out. I laugh at his cries. “I don’t think so, pretty boy. Not when I’m so close to cumming again”. I tell him. With a few more thrusts, I cum inside him again. I stop my thrusting, keeping my cock inside Law as I watch his legs shake. He’s so close, tears in his eyes from the constant denial of finally cumming. With ease, I pick up Law and sit us on the edge of the bed, facing my vanity to see his beautiful fucked out face in the mirror. I grab his cheek, forcing him to turn and look up at me with my free hand rubbing slow circles against his clit. “If you wanna cum, Captain, you’re gonna have to ride my cock. I wanna watch you use my cock to cum, watching yourself ride me as you finally chase your high”. I demand.

And he does that, lifting himself up and down on my dick. I remove my hand and lean back to rest on my elbows, watching him fuck himself on me with a smirk. “That’s it, handsome”. I encourage, placing a hand on his hip and rubbing his waist. He’s trying so desperately to try and chase his high. I don’t blame him for not knowing how to ride well, he’s never had to ride a dick before. Also can’t blame him, I’ve been riding his dick for a good 3 years. His bounces get more harsh, slamming himself down on me. His efforts are cute, in a way. He changes from bouncing to rocking, crying out moans to try so desperately to cum.

He looks over his shoulder, tears running down his cheeks as he looks at me oh so desperately. “Please…help me”. He begs in such a sweet voice. Fuck, I felt that go straight to my dick. “Alright alright, you got it, captain”. I sit up, standing us up still connected and pushing him against my vanity. “I still want you to see yourself cum all over your girlfriends cock”. I tell him, grabbing his hips and slamming into him again. The room is filled with the sounds of Laws moaning cries and the vanity slamming against the metal wall. I hope he gets so bullied for this. His head drops as he claws at the wooded vanity, his body swaying with each harsh thrust, his legs shaking and struggling to keep himself standing up. “No no no”. I lean forward and grab his chin, forcing him to look at himself in the mirror. “Eyes up, handsome”. I lick up his neck, biting down hard on his neck. He lets out a loud cry, his walls clenching and squeezing me. That aching feeling in my balls in back, getting close to cumming inside him again. I kiss his neck, then his ear. “Come undone for me”. I whisper into his ear.

As if on queue, Law lets out a loud scream as he finally cums, legs shaking and quivering as he finally experiences a female orgasm. I continue thrusting into him, over stimulate and ride him through his orgasm. With a last few pumps from me, I finally cum and fill him up for the last time. Laws body goes limp, I quickly scoop him up in my arms and hold him up. I carry him over to the bed, laying him down gently on the bed. I leave him to come down from his high, walking into the bathroom to grab a towel and a class of water. I walk out, placing the glass on the nightstand and cleaning up the cum leaking out of him. “Drink, your throat will thank you”. I tell him. Not like he hasn’t done the same for me, but it’s still good to remind him. In his still shaking state, he sits up and drinks the water.

After cleaning him up, I climb into bed with him and spoon him from behind. As much as I prefer being the little spoon, he’s small right now and all I want to do is hold him close. “You’re evil”. I hear him mutter out. I shrug at his words. “You love me”. I tease. I lean in and kiss the back of his neck, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him close. “And I love you”. I add. He reaches down and laces his fingers through mine. “I do love you, a lot”. He admits. “Thank you, for loving me so much”. He adds. I chuckle at his sweet words. “How can I not?”.

~

My leg hurts, my ankle is burning. The pain is unbearable. I shiver as I look down at my bruised leg, my ankle swollen. All I wanted was to play in the snow, I didn’t intend to fall down a steep hill and ruin my leg. I don’t know where I am. Am I lost? And I gonna die out here? The pain and the fear build up inside me, giving into my emotions and burst out crying. My face freezing from my tears, my wails echoing through the cold air. “Hey”. I sniffle, opening my eyes so see a group of young teens around my age. Three boys and a polar bear, their leader clearly being the kid wearing a white hat with black spots.

His eyes shift to my leg, then back to my eyes. “Your leg, can you walk?”. He asks me. I try moving my leg, getting a whimper of pain. I shake my head. “Please, help me”. I beg, starting to cry again. He walks over, picking me up into his arms. “Stop crying, I’ll help you”. He tells me. I look up at him with wide eyes, then smiling brightly and wrapping my arms around his neck, hugging him. “Thank you!”. I thank. “Don’t thank me”. He tells me. He starts walking, his friends following close behind. I smile softly to myself as I nuzzle up close against him into his neck. “What’s your name?”. I ask him in a soft voice. “It’s Law”. He answers. “Law…”. I whisper under my breath. I cling to him tighter, not wanting to let go. ‘Thank you, Law’.

[bonus]

Time has passed since the whole gender bent even, the guys seemingly not wanting to talk about their time as women. I sit in the kitchen with Penguin and Sachi, enjoying our morning coffee. The door creeks open, our captain walking in. “Looks like captain is joining us in the land of the living”. Sachi jokes as we watch him walk over and get his own coffee. “Shut it, it’s too early for this”. He sighs, filling up his mug.

Penguin snickers. “We weren’t telling you that when (Y/n) had you screaming a few weeks back”. He jokes. Law chokes on his coffee, Sachi laughing at his friends joke. Before Law can say anything, I cut in. “Oh quiet you two, maybe next time you two get turned into girls I’ll get you two scream”. I threaten, then taking a sip of my coffee. The room falls silent as I look at Penguin and Sachi with a wide smirk.

We turn when we hear Law chuckle, who then takes a sip of his coffee. “At least they’d get laid”. He comments, then casually walking out the kitchen. The two fall silent as I burst out laughing, putting my mug on the table so I can hold my hurting stomach. “Quit laughing!”. They snap at me, but all I can do is continue laughing at them.

[courtingchaos]

oooo but what about Doesn't-Know-He's-An-Incubus Eddie. like growing up his life was completely normal until he's older and starts having sex and he realizes he feels so.... strong.

This would be good too because the part I left out is him haunting comic book stores and tabletop game spaces because those girls are so desperate for a dude to not mansplain to them. They just want to be included and they know what they’re talking about and Eddie just loves teaching people. He’s like, the only dude who isn’t shooing them off or telling them they’re dumb. And it would get him so much ass.

Like picture it. He’s unaware of any actual power he might have. Probably got it from Al, that Munson charm he always wielded had to come from somewhere. Eddie would see these girls getting dragged around by boyfriends who could care less that they were there, if only to show the other dudes that ‘hey, I have a girlfriend and you don’t.’

He’d smile and ask them about their character sheet and next thing he knows he’s in the back of his van with her. He’s sliding into another random bed. He’s leaving after getting his world rocked enough that he feels like a brand new man. He’s finding people at the Hideout on terrible dates and suddenly he’s getting these little flashes of himself in the middle of getting his dick sucked. Nothing he’d ever seen, at least not from that angle, but they’re just brief rose tinted images.

It’d happen more and more, for longer periods. Someone’s babbling under him and he’s like, taken by visions. Sometimes it’s just him sometimes it’s someone else. Sometimes he’s just a polished version of himself, some kind of rockstar-model combo, but then he starts seeing it. That freak behavior.

“A tiefling? Really?” He asks mid stroke. He looms over her while staring through her. He can see the horns weaving through his hair. The deep purple skin and black eyes. A forked tongue flicks down at her with his grin bracketing it.

“Wh-what?” She’s breathless and gone. He shifts his gaze to catch her’s and he can’t. Eyes fogged over with lust, mist that settles over the color of her iris.

“Is this it, your big fantasy?”

“Uh huh.”

He leans in close pushing her knees into her chest. Spread open so vulnerably under him. He could eat her up and he doesn’t think she’d ever complain. Inches from her face he’s whispering to her, talking her to the edge of her pleasure. Writhing and shaking under him, nails digging into his biceps he barely notices the scratches or the draw of blood. He hasn’t noticed the change in his voice. There’s a baseline to it, something deep and reverberating and it almost strings her orgasm along longer.

When she finally comes down and unwinds from herself Eddie realizes he never came. There was a spell happening in the back of his van, something heady and new. He could snatch that image of himself out of thin air and tuck it away for later. It makes him chuckle while she’s trying to wiggle back into her jeans.

“So do you play as a tiefling or was that just something you came up with on the spot?” He’s buttoning his own jeans and doesn’t catch her giving him a weird look.

“What?”

“The…tiefling thing. Big purple guy?” The ‘me’ is implied but he doesn’t say it.

“I don’t-I’m not-“

“I’m not picking on you.” He’s quick to reassure but she looks confused, not hurt.

She shakes her head. “I didn’t think you were.” There’s a shy smile that she tries to hide. When he opens the door to help her step out she asks if he’ll be around for next weeks session. It’s unsaid but he catches the flash of the inside of his van.

“Sure.” He’s vibrating. His skin crackles and his blood sings. This feels better than any bong rip or bump he’s sniffed. There’s a tingling along his spine as he watches her walk away and he tries to figure out just what it was he was doing in the dark.

[cupidssweetheart0103]

sapnap nsfw and sfw head cannons?😣 istg that man is so hot I need him so bad

I have really long nails usually and I just cut em all off and now typing is really hard cause I’m not used to it so sorry in advance for any messed up weird typos and shit<3

WARNINGS: chubby chaser mention, face sitting mention, hair pulling, cum eating, praise, overstimulation, vibrators, buttplugs

SFW

Sap absolutely is the type of guy to lay on your chest when you cuddle, even though he puts on a tough-guy act

Which is why he loves cuddling on the couch the most, that way he can lay on your chest and watch a movie with you at the same time

Before you guys got together, he was very inconsistent about doing his laundry, putting it off till the last minute

But once he saw you wear one of his shirts, you bet your ass he was doing laundry every other day, making sure he always had a fresh one for you to put on when he saw you

Because there was no way he was letting you wear one that he hadn’t washed in two days

However, when you wore something of his he avoided washing it because he could still smell you on it

He’s horrible at cooking, but half of his love language is acts of service, so he always tries to make easy stuff look hard

Like making really elaborate sandwiches, that take zero skill but look like it took 4hrs

Or making you waffles or pancakes and pretends they weren’t made with the mix from a box by covering em in fruit and stuff to make me look pretty

Speaking of love languages, i imagine he’s pretty big on acts of service

Which is why I can’t imagine him ever letting you open your own drinks, like if you get a drink that’s got a tab or a cap he always opens it for you

And he has such a good memory for the minor things, but a garbage one for the major things

Like he’ll notice when you stop to look at certain types of flowers more than others

But if you tell him what your favorite color is he will have no fucking clue if you asked him five minutes later

But when he notices you always pick the same color character in a game, he’ll know it’s your favorite color

NSFW

Now listen as much as people wanna talk about Sapnap being a thigh lover and a chubby-chaser and a lover of having his face sat on, can we take a step back from that for a minute???

This guy would be the sweetest fuckin thing sometimes omg

And like don’t get me wrong i don’t doubt he loves having you on his mouth 24/7 and having his hands just full of your thighs

But I cannot imagine this guy being comfortable being rough with you until you guys have a sit down and talk about it

Cause I can totally see him having you sat on his lap, just sweet soft kisses while his hands are under the edge of your shirt, just brushing across your ribs

And he’d nip at your neck softly and just be absolutely addicted to the little noises you make

And I’m sure when you get down to it he won’t be all slow and gentle

But i can’t imagine him using your hair as leverage when he fucks you from behind until you’ve sat down and talked about it

And boy oh boy once you do, you’re done for

He’d have you bent over half the surfaces in the house, making you lick your own cum off the table when he’s done with you

He totally can be sweet at the same time tho, holding you close to him and holding your face in his neck as he praises you, telling you how good your doing when he has you pushing your fourth orgasm of the night

And his aftercare would be elite, not letting you get up for anything, and carrying you when you did

As much as I think he’s an ass and thighs guy, I think he has plenty of appreciation for tits too

Like he loves sucking on them, holding them when he has the chance

Which is why he likes cuddling with his head on your chest instead of vise versa, when he’s bored he’d just push your shirt up and lick your tits

And btw Sapnap would not be afraid of a little assistance

He’d probably be the one to recommend a vibrator, putting it on your clit when he’d eat you out, nearly moaning a little too loud when it bumps the tip of his dick when he lines up to fuck you

And butt plugs?

I think he’d love making you wear one even throughout the day, knowing you feel it every time you move, knowing you feel like a slut, would get him off

[cannibalizedlove]

hi hi! Could I request an Elio x ftm reader smut? One where reader has had top surgery but not bottom and Elio is expressing that he doesn't care, if anything prefers it for "convenience"? Just him being himself with a boy he loves, like causal dominance (making sure he's cared for 24/7) leading up to smut? I hope i'm not being too detailed 😭

Hi hi! Thank you for your request! You weren’t being too detailed, I enjoy more fleshed out requests so I can fully support your needs! This is my first time writing smut, so I hope it isn’t too terrible!

Just the way you are.

Information and warnings — FTM reader, fluffy smut, dysphoric reader, Elio being horny as always, soft dom/whiney dom Elio.

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” You asked your boyfriend, Elio. The two of you were laying down on his couch, cuddling him as he read his book with his free hand gently caressing your hair.

“Hmm? What’s weird, sweetheart?” Elio put his book on his leg, pages side down, turning his head to give you his full attention.

“You know, I have one of the surgeries but not the other? I just don’t feel like it’s very.. manly I guess.” You admitted, embarrassed about your body.

You had your top surgery done earlier in the year, and were extremely happy with the results. Your chest had always given you extreme dysphoria so having it done was like a weight taken off your shoulders. Elio was so happy with your new found confidence, and constantly reminded you how much of a handsome boy you were.

He made it his mission to make sure you were happy with your body, and would take you swimming just so he could compliment you on how sexy you were with your shirt off.

Whenever you were feeling dysphoric, he would always bring you a bowl of fresh picked fruit from the garden, and would tell you that you were the most gorgeous man he’d ever met. He’d play you gorgeous songs on his piano, and would always write you notes about how handsome you were.

“Amore mio, that’s not weird at all. If you’d like to have the surgery, I’ll be here every step of the way to help you recover, but it’s not a problem with me at all. If anything, I kinda like it, easy access.”

Elio added a wink at the end and kissed your neck, making your cheeks flush a dangerous red color. He recklessly threw his book on the coffee table and began attacking your neck with more kisses.

“Elio..” You whimpered out, earning a smirk you could feel against you. “Easy access? What do you mean?” You asked breathlessly, your body heating up by the second as he nipped your ear and sucked on your neck, resulting in a decently sized purple splotch.

“I can so easily take my boy whenever I want, you’re always soaked for me. I can bend you over whenever I want, angel.” Elio whispered softly, rubbing your hips gently.

As you whined, he looked up at you with pleading eyes, silently asking for your permission to go any further. When you nodded yes, he jumped for the opportunity like a hungry animal.

Elio had thrown his shirt off over his head, and crashed his lips into yours, biting your bottom lip in the process. You felt like the room was a hundred degrees, and you began to feel yourself soaking through your boxers.

He slowly snaked his hands into your swim trunks, rubbing circles around your clit. His lips moved down to your chest and left love bites all around your nipples, softly sucking on the both of them.

You felt like you were melting, you were moaning incessantly and tugging on Elio’s hair with enough grip to have him groaning along with you. Your back was arched, with your eyes screwed shut. Elio ceased all action just to take in the sight of you.

“Fuck baby, you’re such a gorgeous boy. My gorgeous boy.” Elio moaned out, undoing his shorts and sliding them down. He was now sitting in between your legs, with your ass on his lap, allowing your crotch to be on full display.

Elio hastily removed your boxers, practically drooling at the sight of you unclothed, just for him. He brought his thumb back to your clit, and you grabbed onto him, squeezing his forearm while whining out his name.

He took off his own boxers, his hard on hitting his lower stomach. “Is this okay? Are you ready?” He asked, cupping your cheek. Elio knew about your insecurities with your body, so he would always check up on you and make sure it was okay for him to go any further.

“Yes more than okay, please, I need you.” You pleaded, and with that, he pushed his entire length into you.

“Fuck, angel. You’re so fucking good.” Elio cried out, wasting no time and instantly slamming back into you. At this point you were an incoherent mess, you were babbling nonsense and all you could fully say was his name.

“You feel incredible baby boy, you’re so perfect.” Elio bent over and kissed you, only breaking the kiss to let out whiney moans and to whisper compliments to you. Your legs started to shake and you swore you saw stars, your nails dug into his back and released on his length inside you.

Soon after your undoing, his hips began to stutter, and his pace was becoming slower and slower. One last thrust and he had came all over the both of your chests. His curls were stuck to his forehead, and his eyes were half lidded. Elio took his boxers from the floor and wiped the both of you down, tossing them back down to wash later.

Your face was completely red, and your mouth hung open, completely fucked out, Elio’s favorite state of you. You pressed your forehead to his and held him close, panting together.

“You’re my boy, I love you just the way you are.” Elio said with a kiss.

[circuscountdowns]

Hi! Wanted to start off by saying that I LOVE your cotl art its such a huge inspiration to me :D! I recently picked up drawing again and I've unfortunately been upset? envious?! of others' skills and just wanted to ask if you ever experienced this as a fellow artist and if so how do you not do that lol. Sorry for the weird question. I just thought some insight and advice from a fellow artist could helo. BUT I hope you still have a nice day and look forward to any more cotl art or anything you draw really :D!!! (also is okay if you don't answer it is a loaded question I just be in a silly goofy mood lately okay bye!)

oh wow being on the receiving end of a question like this is surreal, I’m honored my work inspires you! Thank u, you’re sweet, it’s not a loaded question at all! Here’s my long reply sorry

so unfortunately that comparing yourself to others thing doesn’t go away ever asdfgjkl. I suffer it every day, it sucks, feels bad. I’ve had industry people tell me they feel this way and they’ll have some of the most gorgeous visdev/boards/animation I’ve ever seen. Disheartening to hear, But! I’m a big believer that comparing your artworks with others is best used as a tool and not a punishment to yourself!

When looking at art you like, try to turn thoughts of, “Man I wish my stuff looked like that, my shit sucks,” to, “What is it that I like about this piece? The line art? The perspective?” Sometimes I’ll see work with thin line art and I’ll get an itch, and I’ll draw something with thin line art. It’s a conscious effort of keepin emotion out of that itch, keeping it as, “I saw art with thin lines, I want to do that. Yay I did that!” Compartmentalize it, the itch was simply to do thin line work, not to remake the piece you were inspired by. And you got a piece of art out of it, and a single piece is progress no matter how small!

If you want to compare, do it methodically! Why does my work look different (never use the words better or worse)! Oh, I see my piece doesn’t follow the rule of thirds, so the framing is different, I’ll be aware of that next time if it bothers me. Or, Oh I see they shade by hatching along with the form, I’ve just been going horizontally, I’ll try that other way!

it’s a learning curve of training yourself, like all corrective behavior.

like, I kinda have the warning feeling of dread when I’m about to compare my work with something, so before the self-deprecating thought can even start I have to think What do I Like about this?

I’m no expert at it, though. Actually getting myself to think this way is a struggle, but I find when I make Thoughtful Observations I level up. Not by a lot most times, but yknow.

and this part is just my personal experience:

Fanart and the internet can be the biggest Art skill killer sometimes. Get offline and cater to the audience that Really matters to your passion: You! I improved the most by spending 2-3 years doing doodles/comics/models for my dnd campaign ocs because I was that obsessed and I simply wanted to have it for me!

and after all that, then there’s the hardest skill of just accepting your work as is.

like, to me, my work is just scribbles. I see other artists’ stuff and go “Man they’re so good at comics and colors, man, why can’t I color?” But do I need to??? I don’t like coloring, do I need to be good at it? This isn’t a career, this is supposed to be fun! I scribble because I like it! I’m glad this persons good at coloring, I don’t need to be! Yay!

if I Want to be good at it, I’ll take the steps to get there! But if not, my scribbles are just fine :) I love black and white and values

I’ve been having that one on repeat for a while. It helps

(acceptance and denial go hand in hand btw lol they sound the same)

I wish there was a little off button for envy, but ah well! I hope that you take comfort in knowing we are all feeling it, and find joy in even the smallest little doodle you make! Have fun stay goofy!

[cloudi-bunni]

Don’t take it personal

Summary: fem! reader plays the solitary confinement game

Ooc!Chishiya x manipulative! Fem!reader x ooc!Banda

Not edited!

Placing the collar on your neck, you adjust your clothing. Brushing of the invisible dusk. Sucking on the lollipop on your lips you wait until the rules are over with. “I have an idea! How about we get together and make teams to tell each other? So that way nobody can lie” a girl with a pretty youthful face Announced.

The blue frills of her dress, masking her in false innocence. Another few people agreed to this. Some asking to be able to join. “Of course the more the merrier!” She exclaimed. Your eyes washed over the room.

Calmly picking apart the people in the room. The first few seconds of someone tells you everything you need to know. The group following the girl around approached you. “Want to join? No pressure” you nodded lowering you head slightly.

“Y/n how lucky am I to be in your presence” you heard a cool deep voice call out. Looking behind you, you saw him. The bane of your existence. “Chishiya i see you’re already making friends forgot about me that quickly?” The man in front of you just smiled.

The boy behind him you saw a boy in yellow. The yellow made you assume he was a kind soul. The type to not want to die, but he didn’t want others to die either. This game would eat him up then spit him back out as if he was nothing. Your heart ached for him, you hated when the people most kind hearted got put in these types of games. They shouldn’t be here, the wicked and cruel should. Not the innocent.

“Oh come on no need to get jealous” chishiya retorted, that stupid smirk painting his face. “Hard not to be jealous when you replaced me chishi” you pouted before turning to the boy. “I’m y/n and you are?” “Ippei oki” The boy introduced himself. A small smile tugging at his lips. “I have an idea why don’t we share our symbols? You never know if the others could be lying ya know!” Chishiya raised an eyebrow at your facade.

He knows you taking a liking to already so what’s the point in this? Was it to simply make sure that everyone assumed you were this kind? Or was it because you wanted to gain the boys trust. When he saw you bowing in front of the boy he decided to ignore these thoughts for the moment.

“Let’s make this game fun yeah?” You’re faux cheerful tone. Almost had chishiya convinced, had he not known you before he would have believed you. “How can you be so sure this game would be fun?” “I don’t know…I just hope we all get out of here alive..you agree yeah?” The boy just nodded, “there’s going to be a bloodshed…you are aware of this are you not?” Chishiya asked attempting to pick apart your mask.

“Yeah I know…but as long as the three of us live we’ll be fine!” “How do we know you’re not the jack?”

He decided to test you, even if he knew you were not. He wanted to see you slip up, he wanted you to drop your facade in front of ippei. “I guess you’re going to have to trust me huh?”

You

Walking towards where the food was stored. You noticed a blue shirt man walking in at the same time. Spotting the snacks chishiya was mentioning.you make your way to it. Grabbing his preferred snack, Examining the colorful bag. ‘Weird taste’ bending over to grab your snack you felt a presence behind you. Standing up you turn around, face to face with the black haired male.

His blue eyes peering in your soul. You looked into his eyes, it looked as if he was attempting to drown you in them. You never attempted to look away from them. He was dragging you in them, just like he did with his previous victims. Reading him was like reading another language. His face Remained the same, it never changed once. Looked like one of those broken dolls at the stores you used to be afraid of when you were a child.

“Hi?” Your voice didn’t faltered. Not even when you noticed the shiny object in his pocket. It glistened in poor lighting. “You’re y/n” he stated as if he already knew, and was informing you of it. “Yep that’s me…do I know you?” Smiling softly at him.

Feeling a little threatened by the man towering you. Still not backing down however. “You’re like me Aren’t you?” His voice boomed in the room. His question Confused you. A small huh left your lips. Still keeping your eyes gazing into his. “You like these games don’t you? You look down on everyone here” you’re gaze harden but everything about your face stayed the same.

Your lips forming an ‘o’ as you borrowed your eyebrows. Taking confusion. “You’re playing every one here, you think you’re better then everyone here but you hide behind that damn smile. You’re an evil horrible snake..you believe your life is the most important one in this world.”

Your hands gripping the bags so hard one of them accidentally popped. Your smiled returned to your face. But your eyes reminded the same. They were filled with such annoyance. Your chest growing heavy with white rage. Spreading like a wild fire. Your eyes finally leave his. Now paying attention to your ruined food. That was laid out on the floor, the crumbs were there. “I am not nothing like you.” You laugh a bit at the fucking audacity he had. The rage you felt, it was a shock you didn’t kick him then and there.

“I knew it you’re just like me” before you could react he caged you in Between the surface of the rows. A blade reaching its way to your neck. Under normal circumstances you would have been scared, but the rules of the game rendered his efforts useless. “Go ahead do it pussy” the knife dug deeper, enough for a few droplets of blood to fall but not enough to cause damage. Hissing you looked at him once more, “fuck you im into this” he moved the blade away from you, shoulders shaking as he silently laughed. “I like you, we should be friends. I don’t think that guy you hang out with is trustworthy” his blue eyes peering at you once more. But this time it showed acceptance, as if you were now deemed worthy. Like you passed a test you didn’t even know you were taking. “…sure” turning around you lifted you hair. You wanted to know if he was truly being honest. You were curious, it was only natural. He leaned In despite not having too. His hands found their way on yours. A whisper let out “heart”

Tossing the bag to chishiya. “What took so long” he caught it flawlessly, ippei glancing up at you. “Made some new friends, he was such a hottie” you joked. The white male looking at you with a sense of seriousness.

He didn’t like that you were making friends with others. Much less calling them hot right in him. As if he wasn’t there. Af is the male who saved your life time and time again wasn’t in front of you. In chishiya’s eyes you should only look at him, it infuriated him beyond belief. ‘Why would you call this Guy ,who is probably an imbecile, hot?’ glancing at you he opened his bag.

“Oh yeah? Who?“ he asked poison leaking from his lips. The question was one he definitely didn’t want the answer to. “His name is Banda sunato recognized him from the news, if he wasn’t an absolute psycho I would have been all over him” That comment you added at the end didn’t help him at all. It only made the feeling in chest tighten ten times more. If it weren’t for his pride he would have shown it. “Psycho? He’s definitely your type then” he joked trying to hide the feelings that are currently plague him like a disease.

“You’re Right..he totally is my type” you joked leaning forward. Your low cut exposing your chest. Grabbing a biscuit from his hand. He didn’t seem to mind in fact seemed like he liked it. Peering down your shirt for at least a good minute. Ippei giggled before saying “see something you like chishiya?” Laughing at the joke you took a bite of the cookie. “You’re Right these are actually good” chishiya just gave a sly smile. The same smile he gave whenever he was correct. That irritating annoying smile…you can’t help but love it.

You felt a gaze behind you. As you were sitting with your team mates, there was the same male as before sitting on the floor. Legs pressed to his chest as he just stared at your group. The state didn’t feel like it was trying to kill you or like it was attempting to harm anyone in anyway. It felt curious, as if it was planning your next move. Ignoring the blue eyed male you look at the girl in the blue dress. Group following behind her, “I’m so sorry to bother you…but we need to find out our symbols so let’s go meet up!” Getting up you begin to follow her, smiling as you wave at the boy with his bangs covering his face. Surprised taking him he gave a slight wave back.

People yelling out symbols. There was sweat dripping down the sides of their heads. Your voice calling out the symbol just like the rest. When it was your turn you stood tall, shoulders relaxed. Giving the impression you Trusted them with all your being. “I’m next! Please tell me the truth” you said, parting your hair out of the way. “Oh y/n you’re a heart” you heard a small voice let out. Hearing a chorus of hearts leaving the lips of everyone. You walked back to your place, next to the cat like man.

“Mmm i kinda like urumia” you stated, as you begin to twirl your hair. “Why is that?” Ippei asked, his hands shaking. He looked like a puppy in the rain. “She’s smart I mean getting a leadership role this earlier on? It’s pretty smart I must say! Plus she’s really cute” you state, your pretty finger still toying with your hair. “Makes people more willing to listen to you, but it also makes you a target” chishiya added.

A small sound of agreement left your lips. You noticed ippei’s eyes Wandering everywhere. You figured he wasn’t good under stress, and you couldn’t have your teammate acting like this. Could possibly mess up the game in the long run, you were not risking it. You took his hand in your’s you started tracing his plam. “Hey ippei what did you do in your life before this” you asked suddenly. A distraction, granted one that’s not so helpful but one none the less. “Oh I used to be a student teacher” he replied, his hands still shaking. But it stilled after a while, “oh? What subject did you want to teach?” You asked a bit more interested. You loved teachers, “I want to be a teacher” the bottle blonde, listening in on the conversation. Adding his very important input, “you’d look the type”. You giggled slightly, looking at your newfound friends eyes. “You really do”

Walking into the cell. You shut the door behind you, the countdown started. “Heart” you said. Arms crossing over your chest. Not really giving it much thought. You waited for the timer to be done. Once it was done you walked out. Glancing around you noticed that everyone was there. Getting a glimpse of a yellow sweater, you skipped over to it. Every step you took bringing you closer to him, but it was short lived as one of your Wrist was in the hands of someone else. “I see you’re alive” the blue shirt taking up your vision. You remembered when blue used to be your favorite color, how the color would calm you down. The color used to make you want to paint the sky, the color made you want to jump in the clouds. But looking at him in it made the color leave an awful taste in your mouth. Knowing he killed those woman without a care made you boil with rage. “We are nothing alike… im fighting for my life…what are YOU fighting for?” a serious look painting your face. Turning your head back, to look at him in the eyes. Searching for an answer, hoping that this sack of shit had a reason. The more you looked in the blue you found yourself more lost then before. He only watched you. You pushed him away from you, walking away from the tainted blue back to the safe yellow and white.

[reel-fear]

Wow, so umm... This looks bad, not only is it inaccurate due to using the wrong ink demon design [unless this is confirmation BATIM Ink Demon has been outright retconned... Which would make me pissed enough to make a new post just about THAT] but from an art standpoint this is just... Confusing and poorly done.

I wouldn't care if this was fanart, of course you should support young, indie artists... But for a Graphic Novel making sure your cover doesn't look like something Butch Hartman shat out in an afternoon is kind of important. Remember they're going to be asking us to give money to them to read this. The artist likely won't see any of that money and neither do the authors most of the time, not to mention this art screams of the artist being underpaid and overworked.

Like they Had to get something on someone's desk and their boss said 'good enough'. A concept Joey Drew Studios is very familiar with considering the allegations of poor working environments that Kindly Beast. Not to mention Mike Mood admitting in a Reddit AMA that they did in fact rush projects like Showdown Bandit. [Which they sold at full price]

He also says they can in fact say no or yes to designs involving their IP. Either Mike or Meatly had to say yes to this cover, according to his own damn words.

And do you really think this company in particular would care enough about its fanbase to not sell them garbage? They have done exactly that on several occasions. It's not like they care particularly about art either, considering their previous use of AI Art. There was no apology or even posts addressing it... Instead, they just rushed out an archives update to their game to get people to stop talking about it... Even forgetting an entire character in it. Again

This company is [or at least SHOULD BE] on thin ice when it comes to being suspected of misleading their fans or rushing out crappy products to them.

So with all that context in mind, I'm gonna talk about why this cover sucks ass.

The light sources are all over the place? Why does it look like someone put maces or knight armor on his shoulders but it's just flesh?? It looks both gross and weird [not in a good way either]

To explain more I'm going on a rant below but sadly this seems to have been confirmed to not just be a rough pass but the final cover and man... I am not excited about this graphic novel just at all. This felt like it really drained any possibility of it turning out good for me and I already had expectations low.

Okay first point, the light sources?? And there is no consistency here with the shadows or lighting, it looks like there's a hundred light sources all at once but none of them are even consistent!

the arrows here represent all the different light sources I can make out and yet the the shadow clearly implies there's only one. I understand wanting to use highlights to give the character a more clear shape but then just give him one or two lights behind him or in front of him? No matter how u follow the light sources, the highlights make no sense and the shadows make even less sense.

Why are the shoulders like that? Like on the legs it's a little understandable, at least those are clearly very heavily affected by perspective, for me I think they are so exaggerated it makes it look like one of the legs is either huge or one is small but that's maybe subjective.

However, the shoulders are unjustifiable, what happened there, what did they do??

I could pick on so much more honestly, how the color choices of piss yellow with no other colors being used, and the harsh pitch black being used for every part of his body is weird. How it looks straight out of Butch Hartman's recent crappy art. But to put bluntly bad start! Also what the HELL is going on with this background??

Seems once again the Bendy team is fine with sending out stuff thinking it's "Good Enough" for Bendy fans and honestly the people trying to tell me to "Be Grateful" for this are just proving that no matter how many times you betray your audience some of em will defend you!

Which is sad tbh. If anything we should be putting MORE pressure on the Bendy team to do better. Cause we deserve better than this, honestly we do. There are amazing artists in the bendy community who could do so much better for a cover. They've employed their fan artists before... Wouldn't it be great to do that for such a lore important book? The book that gives us the identity of one of the main characters in BATIM? The character you spend the entirety of Chapter 4 fighting to save? Not to mention will give several major characters their human designs?

But I guess this is... Good enough...

[porchlightfairy]

Trailer Park Queen

eddie munson x older!reader

summary: Eddie is in love with the nice older lady and she asks him for a favor.

warnings: smut

wc: 1.8k

°•. ✿ .•°

“You guys want some popsicles?” A voice calls out to the kids playing ball in the grass field. It sends a tickle down Eddie’s spine and his head perks up from inside his trailer to the sound. He knew that voice very well, he studied it better than his own English teacher’s. He looks out of his window to see a beautiful woman with a bag full of popsicles and soda cans in her hair as rollers.

It was you, and to Eddie, you were the sexiest woman in the park. You were older than him, way older. Eddie knows it’s not polite to ask a woman her age but he would guess in his head you were in your forties. You had no husband, no kids, but when you moved in you considered everyone family. You fed the kids treats, watch them when their parents worked, you went over to check on the elderly man that lived in the far corner. Sometimes would even help people go to town to run errands with your dodge charger car. Was it weird for Eddie to say he gets aroused seeing you drive that car?

Eddie would have to admit, he had a big crush on you. You were beautiful with and without make-up. You were so nice, and it didn’t help that you had your tits out most days. Not that Eddie was looking or anything. He was a good boy, you would always make sure to tell him that.

“Gimme your wrappers when you're done, I don't want to see them scoured in the yard, ya hear me?” You nag. The kids say yes ma’am in unison before requesting a color and grabbing one. Eddie takes a breath before leaving his trailer and approaching you with the kids.

They all say hello and you smile brightly as the young man approaches, “Hi Eddie, would you like a popsicle?”

“Yes ma’am.” He says.

“Which color?”

“Your pick.”

You smile at him before reaching in the bag and hold out a red popsicle to him, “Here.”

“Thank you ma’am, want to split it? I think the two sticks are too much for me.”

“Such a gentleman. Of course I will, my mouth will match my lipstick now.” You each take a stick and tear the popsicle in half to share. Eddie sits in one of your lawn chairs with the other kids but his eyes are trained on you licking the popsicle. The sugary treat rests flat on your tongue as you drag it over your taste buds. You suck on the tip before putting it in your mouth to bite. 

Eddie swallowed harshly before focusing on his own treat. Soon the kids are finished and are off playing again. Eddie finishes soon after and follows you to the door. You stop at the screen and turn to him, “Doing anything today Eddie?” You ask. Eddie straightens up and shakes his head.

“My car has been acting funny, do you think you could check it out for me?” You ask.

“O-of course, let me get my uncle’s tools.”

“Thank you so much, always such a good boy.”

Fuck, you could be the death of him. He wouldn’t mind it either. He quickly rushes back to his house grabbing his uncle’s tools before coming back to your beautiful car. “Now I’m not entirely sure what happened to it but it makes a funny sound when it starts up.” You speak so sweetly as you pop the lock on your car and get in. You try to turn the car on as the engine starts there is a loud grinding sound coming from the hood. You shut it off and look out of the window, “See, I don't know what it is but I’m scared to drive it to the mechanic.”

“That’s alright ma’am, I can see what’s the matter for you.” He smiles.

“You’re the sweetest, Eddie.” You hug him tightly and peck his cheek leaving a red lipstick mark on his cheek. “Let me know if you need anything, I’ll be right inside.” You then scurry back into your trailer. The entire way Eddie’s eyes are trained on your butt. Lord have mercy on his soul.

Eddie works on your car all afternoon until the lamps turn on. The kids all scurry home for supper and Wayne goes to work. He finally finishes and knocks on your door, “All done ma’am” He says.

“Like an angel from heaven! Thank you sweetheart.” You open the door and Eddie stares in awe. Your hair is out of the can rollers now and you have reapplied your signature red lip gloss. You run over to the car and go to start it again. When there is no grinding sound you squeal and hope out. “You’re a godsend, you know that?”

“It was nothing really ma’am I’m happy to do the work.”

“Of course you are. Come inside, let me get my wallet to repay you.”

“No need for that ma’am.”

“Nonsense, sugar, you deserve something.” You pull him inside your house. He had never been inside by himself. The sweet scent of cookies and your signature perfume wafts the room. “I made some cookies for the kids tomorrow, want one?”

“Yeah, that should be repayment enough.” He says.

You tiptoe to the kitchen and bring back the plate for him to take from. He sits at your mini table and takes a cookie. The cookie was ooey and gooey, and had a mess of chocolate chips. “Mmm so good ma’am.”

“Always for you sweetheart.” Eddie nearly chokes at the statement. You clean up the kitchen as he eats, he watches you as he does. He could see your red bra under your white shirt. He was staring hard. You didn’t seem to notice too preoccupied cleaning.

“Are you going somewhere tonight ma’a?”

“Haha, is it a crime to not go somewhere lookin like this?” You giggle.

“Not at all, I-I just thought because…”

“I’m just teasing sweetheart.” You give him a reassured smile. “I’m not going anywhere. Just me on my own.”

“That’s a shame.”

“You think so?” You exit the kitchen and sit across from him at the table. “You trying to keep me company?”

Eddie’s breath hitches. He didn’t know what to say. Your smile was different than the other times you had smiled at him. This time it was less polite, it was more sultry. Before Eddie could open his mouth to speak you laugh. “I’m just teasing sweetheart. You look nervous.” You stand up and go back to the kitchen.

Fuck, he’s blowing his chance. He stands up abruptly and follows you. “What is it, sugar? Want another cookie?”

“I… I want…” He swallows his nerves, “I want to keep you company, ma’am.”

“Oh you’re the sweetest. You don’t have to do that.” You try to pass him out of the kitchen but he steps in your way. You look in his eyes as he stares intensely back at you. He steps closer but you don’t move away.

“Eddie…”

“I want this ma’am, more than anything you could know.” He leans in further and slides his hands over your waist. Your lips press against his and your hands move up and over his shoulders. Eddie moans as he deepens the kiss. Your tongue slides into his mouth, sliding against his. As he tries to do the same you suck on his tongue leaving the strawberry flavor of your gloss on his taste buds.

You’re both breathless as you separate. A sheen of your glass on his lips. You don’t say a word for a moment ass you feel Eddie’s firm hands at the small of your back. “There is a condom in the junk drawer next to the sink.” You whisper, your voice too weak to be louder.

Immediately, Eddie opens the drawer and grabs the wrapper. You start to undo his pants before he grabs your hands to stop you, “Fuck that.” He pushes you back against the counter before getting on his knees. He slides down your daisy dukes and lacy black underwear. He licks his lips before lifting one of your legs and goes down on your pussy.

“Holy shit~” You moan as you grab a handful of his hair and plant your other one on the counter behind you. “Fuck~ Eddie.”

Eddie keeps your leg up as he slides his tongue over your clit. You grind against his face and throw your head back, “God damn, Eddie, You’re so good with your tongue.”

Eddie moans in response as he keeps going. He didn’t want to do anything else. He just wanted to be under you like this. He rests your leg on his shoulder and dives further between your legs. “Eddie, if you don’t stop now I’ll finish.” You moan.

He pulls away and looks up at you, “That’s the whole point ma’am.”

You chuckle, “How long have you been dreaming of this, sweetheart.”

“Only since you moved in.” He pouts a little.

You laugh a little more, “C’mon up here sugar, I want cum around the cock of yours.”

He stands up and begins to undo his pants. As he does, you kiss his lips then his jaw, then down his neck. He moans as soon as his cock is free, he tears the condom open and slides on his dick. “You ready.”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, sugar.” You then moan out as you feel him shove his cock into your pussy. He keeps you at the edge of the counter as he thrusts into you. You tangle your hands into his hair and moan. “Eddie~ Just like that I’m close.”

And thank goodness for that. Eddie wasn’t sure he was going to last long after putting it in. “Me too.” He moans his thrusts slow down but push deeper trying to reach his finish.

You grabs his face and kisses him gently, “Such a good boy Eddie.”

That sets him over the edge. With one final thrust he cums. You think he’s finished but as you’re about to let him pull out he keeps going. “E-Eddie, you just came, sweetheart.” 

“But you didn’t.” He reaches for your clit, “I want to make you cum on my cock.”

You were surprised by his proclamation. You throw your head back in ecstasy. “Fuck fuck fuck~!” You shake through your orgasm.

After you both come down from your highs you separate. Eddie throws away the condom and pulls up his pants. You gets dressed as well and speak, “Thank you for keeping me company Eddie.”

“Anytime ma’am.” Eddie responds.

“Please, I’ll have to repay you for that too.” You say, “Maybe in the bedroom…”

“Yeah! *ahem* Yes, of course, whenever you’d like.”

You kiss his cheek, “I’ll let you know then. Goodbye Eddie.” You escort Eddie to the door and watch as he breaks into a giddy skip back to his house.

[its-still-cuppi-cakes]

A Sweet Surprise

An Alphonse x Reader (FBAB)

Art by Jackie Elenor Character by YuuriVoice

~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

!!!Content warning: Menstrual cycles!!!

Author's note: I'm not feeling good so this is how I deal with being stabbed lol (yes,, I'm okay/gen)

~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

Alphonse looked out into the world around him.

There was an old coulpe on their porch, drinking their morning tea. The old man waved at the young man, and bellowed a "G'morning!". They were pretty much one of the few people who didn't hate Al for the way he presented himself.

A stray black cat swayed across his path, tail perked up and ears alert. The pastel colored man knelt down and clicked his tongue, calling the stray to come to him. "C'mere, You lil shit." He never gave the cat a name. He didn't see any reason to. The cat is old and probably wouldn't respond anyways.

The cat purred as his hand groomed it's fur, warm considering the chilly, fall weather.

"You've been doing good? Not in any trouble," He asked the feline like it were a neighbor.

It meowed and purred more, and he just smiled. "Good. Now get outta here. Go catch a rat or somethin'," he said as he patted it's head, and shooed it away.

Al looked up to see a familiar house a few doors down. Your house. He thought to himself. "Huh.. Boo's been radio silent for a few days.."

Now that wasn't not normal. You forget to get back to him sometimes, and that'd be okay. What concerned Al was you not being active on any social media. Discord, insta, nothing.

"Eh, popping in wouldn't hurt."

Al walked up the stairs, and he saw your mail from yesterday still on your doorstep. "Huh.. weird.." He picked up the envelopes and rang the doorbell.

"Boooooooo! Mail delivery from a very handsome mailmannnn," Alphonse playfully announced.

He heard footsteps, and finally, after a few moments, the door opened.

"Heyyy, Sugarplum!! Ya neglectin ya mail now or what?"

"Hey, babe.." you yawned. You looked pale and tired.

Al walked in and looked at you, confused. "You feeling alright, Sweetie? You don't look well." He placed his hand on your forehead and cheek, seeing if you were raising a fever.

"Yeah.. I uh.. started my period last night. I've been sleeping on the couch since then. Sorry," you explained to your tall, pink haired boyfriend.

You and Al have been together for awhile now. He knows how bad your period can get. Hell, he's had dates before you. He knows having a uterus can suck, especially if it basically self destructs ever month.

Al shut the door, shed his baby blue jacket and hung it on the coat hanger. "Awh, I'm sorry, Boo. Why didn't you tell me earlier? You know I love couch snuggles," Al questioned, now holding your face with both of his hands.

You looked up at him, your eyes droopy from your recently interrupted nap. "Again. Been sleeping all day."

"Ah. Well, I'm here now, and Doctah Alphonse is in."

"Al, I'm shedding the lining of my uterus. Not coming down with a cold," You teased. "All I need is rest and more snacks."

The blue eyed himbo lit up. "I could get you snacks!! And we could get out the air mattress and sleep there in the living room! Oh oh oh! And we can watch all our favs on Netflix!"

"We can, but I'm not gonna promise I'm gonna stay up the whole time."

"That ain't a problem, Boo. You just sit back, relax and letcha boy take care of you." Al kissed your cheek and hugged you gently. "You make a list of things you need, text it to me and I'll get them for you, alright? I won't be long, okay?"

You nodded, nuzzled in your boyfriend's arms. "Can we stay like this for a few more minutes?" Al chuckled, kissing your head. "Yes, we can."

You both sway gently in the hallway in blissful silence for a few minutes, before Al left to go to the store to get you supplies.

The night followed with cuddles, snacks, binge watching movies and shows, and peaceful naps.

But before you could slip to sleep more, you felt your boyfriend kiss your forehead and rub your hair, whispering,

"Sleep tight, Baby. Let's hope you'll feel better in the morning."

~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

The End

[antiloreolympus]

9 Anti LO Asks

1. I know nothing about this, I just stumbled onto your blog and started reading, but I saw a post where (presumably) the author said that Aphrodite and Persephone... weren't skinny? They're tiny??? Wtf

2. I love long-haired men so much I never thought I would consider a long-haired man ugly. But goddamn, Hades still looks ugly even with long hair, even to me. That's impressive... are you, like, alive, btw?

3. You know, in the new currently fast pass chapter... Kronos takes over Hades and makes him say stuff to Thanatos? Right, but then he goes, "What's wrong, don't want Persephone to be your new mommy?" Which is terrible writing enough on it's own but then you HAVE to consider that PERSEPHONE HERSELF IS YOUNGER THAN THANATOS, SOMEONES WHOSE MEANT TO BE HADES' SURROGATE SON (who he treats like shit). Like, Hades is more than old enough to be a father but Persephone only JUST turned old enough to maybe be a mother! Which really makes you realize, Hades isn't old enough to be her dad, he's old enough to be her grandpa. Disgusting. Like, there can't be any defense for this 💀

4. tbh i think eris is a shit character and a hamfisted plot device. she could have been added so much better.

5. My personal criticism with LO has mostly to do with the art style. Like yes the writings kinda trashy but trashy can still be good if its coupled with great visuals and characters. The problem is that the arts just pathetically inconsistent. You can't even blame webtoon for it since she has a few assistants. I'm an artist myself and even tho I don't draw for a living, I know it's fairly easy to create simple character charts and reference sheets. Some people say it's not that bad but god the inconsistency in the characters appearances can ruin chapters for me.

For example, the fact that Persephone sometimes has siren eyes, doe eyes, full lips, no lips, extra body fat, less body fat, a button nose, or a longer nose is ridiculous. It drives me nuts when people call the art amazing, because it's just not. And it seems like all of her aesthetic details (IE wardrobe and colors) are all very surface level, aside from Minthe/Persephone and Hades contrasts.

Demeter being green and purple makes some sense, but then her daughter being neon pink ONLY is weird. Hades being blue and winter-esq makes some sense since there's no sun in the underworld, but the ENTIRE underworld being the same blue and black is just ugly. Zeus being a royal purple? Makes sense. Hera being gold? That too. They're the only color pallets that actually correspond with personality, yet they're wasted with basic wardrobes and character development.   Ares being gold makes sense GENETICALLY, but not in practicality. Same with Hermes being red. Plus, she seems to assign colors to characters at random without even seeing how they build off of each other, let alone their own personalities.

I don't think people really get how important color and wardrobe are in stories, especially visual ones. You should be able to look at a character and immediately understand what they're about, even if it's subconsciously. But Persephone is often in bright happy colors and tight clothing even in times of stress or depression. Artemis is always in workout gear or her uniform. Minthe is more in "sexy" clothing, which is fine, but her colors don't change with her mental state.

Another problem I have is again with Persephone. Her wardrobe isn't even picked out by her, it's always by others/magic. She never really gets to visually tell us how she feels other than her glaringly obvious vines and eyes. Like, I could deal with a visual crutch if the writing was good or vise versa, but when they're both lacking it just sucks.

I see a lot of people say the same things I wanted to, like how creepy Perse and Hades are, how Apollo wasn't handled well, yada yada yada. Anyway Hades is creepy and Hera, Minthe, and Demeter deserve the world ✌🏼

6. It's really funny bc I've been reading some of the scenes of Hades' problematic action (esp the latest fast pass) and he literally talks like my abusive dad and my ex groomer. Like hm maybe your male lead having the same verbal manipulation tactics as actual abusers isn't the best. But oh my bad Hades is still a perfect man /s

7. something that makes me angry about demeter is that we are supposed to see her as an abusive or controlling mother ( i know that controlling mothers is an obviously bad thing ) but all her reasons are a good part of the time valid?

Like:

She doesn't want her child dating a 40y + man who she knows for like 11 days +++ someone who was literally a horrible person with her until the point she cried .

And lets not forget about the slaver owner thing 🥺 demeter knows hades more time  than persephone, obviously. It's not something bad if you dont want your TEENAGER daughter next to a grown old man who the only thing he thinks about its her "small petite thicc pink body" 😁

8. i just wanted to say that i really love your blog, like whenever i look at it i feel better. idk if thats kinda weird since its an anti blog but it just kinda brings me euphoria. ty!

From OP: Thank you so much! I’m glad my blog can be beneficial for you. /pos

-----FP Spoiler-----

9. 220 spoiler: full fuckin disrespect, we all know Kronos wants Persephone rather than Hera as his “golden traitor”, because fuck every other god/goddess, the only ones that matter are Hades and Persephone!!

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

This Dark Thing That Sleeps In Me - a Magnus Archives AU, Chapter Three

This is a DARK AU; it is not a kid-fic, though Jon is young. Bittersweet ending ahead.

Spoilers for the whole show, though this is very much an alternate universe.

He knew this man, knew this man, as if from that past life, and with that undefined memory came only good feelings, and so, he did not struggle.

AO3

Art by @iiiumihottie

Martin sat atop the highest tower of the Castle of the End and watched the sun set in the sea.

He liked doing that. It meant facing away from London, away from the slowly dying world that trapped them all like fish in a net.

No, he thought, that’s a lousy simile, and he pulled out his notebook. “Like a,” he mumbled, tapping his chin with the pencil. “Like… birds in a net? No, the net thing isn’t dire enough. Come on, you can do this.”

His green-lensed glasses (which Sasha had made so he could see during the day) made his hair seem even more coppery, and brought out the rosy paleness of his cheeks. He was dressed head to toe in black (“A phase,” Sasha called it, and she was correct), and he felt properly dramatic. The outfit was pretty great, honestly. The fitted velvet coat with a subtle pattern of skulls, the double-breasted shaping vest (which Tim said he didn’t need, but he felt better wearing), leather boots up to his knees, and a puff silk tie… definitely appropriate attire for doomed words about a terrible world.

He hoped Mike was watching. 

Martin exhaled, puffing out his cheeks, and looked at the sea again. Mike probably was watching, but Martin couldn’t tell. Mike tended to do things at such a distance that even Martin’s abilities couldn’t pick him up. 

Whatever. Mike had weird hobbies.

Sasha and Tim really weren’t sure about him. Mike was weird; Sasha and Tim were right about that. However, they thought Mike just wanted to sleep with him. Which, fair. That was a very pleasant pastime.

Still. “I swear,” Martin muttered, tapping his pencil on the page. “The jealousy is just absurd. It’s not as though we all don’t share a—oh!” A memory surfaced of Jonah putting down one of the insurrections back in the day, and he scribbled quickly. “Tar unlike tar, sucking down and holding, // black around hands that pointlessly pierce // still pointed into fading air.”

Yep. That would do. Martin was proud of this one. Nice and gloomy, and with a historical reference Jonah would like, it also had a lovely rhythm; maybe Tim could put it to one of his little lute pieces, or—

Martin felt the tug. Like a hook in his heart, somehow unmooring his thoughts and physically lifting his head as though turning his face to the sky. That was Jonah, calling him; Jonah, exercising the power he had over all living beings (and especially whatever Martin was), ordering him to make his way to the throne room.

Martin sighed. “I was supposed to have the afternoon off,” he muttered, and tucked his notebook and pencils away. He stood, coat billowing in the wind, curly hair caught as if with fingers. 

The red, red sun really seemed to be swallowed by the vast and bottomless sea, not merely sinking behind it. He’d never had the courage to ask if that impression was true. It was… too much to think about the Vast swallowing the sun.

Tug.

Sigh.

Martin stepped right over the edge.

#

He fell the length of the tower, straight as his pencil. He fell, completely relaxed, other than one hand lightly on his glasses so he didn’t lose them (again) and make Sasha mad. And then he reached out, grabbed a thick, stone window sill, stopped his plummet, and pulled himself back up and through that space as though he’d landed on a spring.

He hurtled into the room, landing before the throne with a flourish and a heavy sound and his coat spread behind him like dark wings. “Ta-da,” he said, grinning.

As hoped, Jonah smiled. “Very nice.” A sucker for theatrics, was Jonah. He was all in purple again today, a color that somehow spoke of old corpses and the bruising of livor mortis. It fit him well, of course: smooth along his lithe limbs, revealing the power in his slender form. Eternally young, eternally dying; what a contradiction.

“I try.” Martin stood and tucked the sun-blocking glasses into his coat. It was nice to be able to see without pain.

The assembled Court were less impressed with his drama. Jared rolled his eyes and stomped off to the corner as though dismissed. (His latest suit was already straining at the seams; constantly changing, shifting, he went through more fabric than Martin thought a small country might need.) Jude shook her head and conjured tiny flames around her fingers, as though threatening to burn him. But she did that with everyone, all the time, so Martin didn’t take it personally.

Jane was here today. She’d been jockeying hard for a position in Court, and it really didn’t matter that they didn’t need another representative of the Corruption here. It wasn’t like Jonah would send her away—he loved infighting. She, at least, looked amused, though she crossed her hole-riddled arms as if disapproving.

Whatever. Martin hadn’t done it for any of them.

“I have a task for you,” said Jonah, rising from his throne, stepping away from the shiny black edifice with its eye-like rubies. The power wafting before and around him always disturbed, always made simple breathing hard. 

Martin would never be used to it. “Oh?” he said.

“Annabelle has had a vision,” said Jonah. “Would you do me the kindness of witnessing it, then acting upon it? I trust your judgment—however you choose to respond,” he added, and that wasn’t praise at all, but a threat.

Martin was deeply startled to find himself in trouble. Do this right, or else, is what that meant. Why? What had happened? Had he done something wrong? He knew better than to ask these things where anyone could hear. “Of course. She’s in the usual spot?”

“Naturally. Good luck.”

Good luck? Oh, boy. It must be really bad.

Martin was an expert at hiding when it was really bad. He smiled, bowed with a flourish, and walked lightly out of the throne room, performing for all the eyes on him. Jude smirked at him, smoke rising from her feet, but she didn’t make a move. None of them did.

They knew better than to try, even if Martin was in trouble for some unknown thing. Martin could defend himself, thanks to what Jonah had done to him. Still, he was annoyed that this threat should come out of fucking nowhere. He’d get to the source of it, even if he had to dig, and then he’d suck it dry.

#

On his way to the augury, Martin considered the facts.

He knew he was favored. He’d damn well earned it. His position as vampire (the only vampire) was an important one; Oliver had brought all the vampires to an end, long ago, and Jonah had created Martin specially as some sort of response. Martin was unique, transformed from mere mortal to serve Jonah and the End forever. 

Of all those who lived in this world, only he, Jonah, and Oliver lived past thirty. It was a wild thing.

Martin had earned that excision of humanity, worked his way up from fucking nobody to Jonah’s right hand. So most likely, this weird threat might not actually have been about him at all. Whenever Annabelle got involved, things were… squirrelly. Uncertain. Which was funny as hell, given that she was the most certain being in all of creation. Everything always felt pretty weird in the between-times, when she’d died and had yet to be reborn.

Martin was good at putting himself in other people’s shoes. If this was some weird, indirect setup to discredit Martin and then remove him, there was jack-all he could do. He couldn’t run; Jonah owned that part of him. He could hardly fight for the same reason; if Jonah really had decided it was the end, then only the lingering drama was keeping him alive. So, believing this was a step toward removing him would do nothing but paralyze him, helpless with fear.

If, on the other hand, he chose to believe that Jonah was scared (which the latter would never admit in a million years), that would activate moderately protective instincts on Martin’s part, and provide a path forward. It was a lot easier to be clever on someone else’s behalf. For pragmatism alone, it made sense to believe the second option. That settled, Martin stepped into Annabelle’s special space.

The augury was not his favorite area. It had no windows. Weird pillars loomed like trees, following no pattern he could understand. Between, around, threaded through them all was so much web that there was always only one path to walk. It was never the same path. It was never expected—but there was always only one.

Martin was a poet. He got the metaphor. He also wasn’t in the mood. “Annabelle, do we have to do this today?” he said, because the only path in front of him curved immediately right into wispy whiteness and went who the hell knew where.

In response, somewhere, she laughed. There was absolutely no way to know where that laugh came from.

Martin rolled his eyes. “Sure. Fire is a thing, you know.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy the game, Martin. He’s not here. He can’t hear you. He can’t… judge you for it.”

Martin was silent for just a moment in the wake of that. She never did that—just went right for the heart of things, for the key to his survival, for his position in the Court. For how he’d made his way with Elias, because he’d originally been of the Web. “Right,” Martin said, lighter than he felt. “So am I gonna have to burn the web, or…”

“So inelegant.” Annabelle lowered as though floating from the ceiling, materializing from a space where nothing had been before, her bulbous body graceful in spite of its proportions. “You can do so much better than that, Martin.”

He beamed at her. “Sure,” he said. “But you aren’t in charge of the bloody world, are you?”

“No,” she said, lightly. “And that is why we forgive you.”

Well, what the fuck. Wow.

She landed before him, towering overhead. All eight of her black, almond eyes crinkled, charmingly horrific, and her white fangs gleamed.

Everyone was showing off today. Martin wished he had a walking stick to twirl. “Look, what’s got him spooked? What on earth did you say to him?”

“You see he is afraid.” She sounded so approving.

“I see he’s going to be angry if you don’t show me whatever it is he sent me here to see.”

Annabelle smiled. “You are unique, Martin, among the End’s creations.”

“Uh-huh,” said Martin, who already knew that and was unimpressed with stalling.

“There is now another.”

He blinked. “Another… what, vampire?” he said, and could not decide in that hot second if he was pleased to no longer be alone, or frightened that he might no longer be of use.

“That would make neither of you unique,” Annabelle reasonably pointed out.

“Still stalling,” Martin reasonably pointed back.

“Very well.” She raised all eight hands.

Between her outstretched fingers, web formed from nowhere.

It grew and lengthened, stretched like dreams, and tightened, and spun, and suddenly, Martin could see. As if the holes between each strand led to another place, glimpses elsewhere in reality. Martin’s gaze flicked between the spaces in the web, focusing hard, working to pull the shreds of things Annabelle showed him into a single picture.

It was a run-down house, larger than most, clearly created before the Victorian era, and just as clearly inhabited by the Corruption. He was shown through the door (magically sealed), past a kitchen ruined with mildew and slime, sent left and right down narrow, stifling hallways wallpapered dark, past a living room (sealed, rotting), past a second (not sealed, filthy). Up the stairs, with all those rooms, every single one empty. To the attic, which contained a small collection of clothes and books, a somehow bright spot in this utterly ruined house.

And then the house collapsed.

Martin startled, unprepared. Chaos reigned, insane because it was shown to him in silence. Oliver’s Fingers swarmed the place, and there was fire, and horror, and violent death.

“Shit,” Martin said. “What the hell was that about?” 

“This,” said Annabelle, and the view between the webs pulled back, focused, and now showed him a boy.

It was hard to see the boy. 

Martin squinted, blinked, rubbed his eyes. “What’s that?”

“A child.” 

“Funny. Seriously, what’s that?”

“Can’t see him well, can you?” she said.

No, Martin could not. 

The kid was small and brown and scrawny. He looked maybe thirteen; he wore a weird combination of clothes—there were at least three eras of fashion involved here, which made little sense. His hair was long and wavy, but not in the way of intent; it just looked more like nobody had remembered to cut it in a while.

And he was oddly fuzzy. Martin couldn’t focus on his face. 

“I don’t get it,” said Martin.

“The child is foueteen years old.”

“Okay,” said Martin. “Still don’t get it.”

“He remains Uncertain.”

Martin blinked. The boy seemed to grow blurrier, and Martin had to squint to see him again—with his little green vest and his big wool jacket and his boots that seemed too large. “He can’t be.”

“He is.”

“What… no, he can’t be. The End would have claimed him.”

“It did not. The Fingers were there to take him to Oliver.”

“So… it did claim him.”

“Not for sacrifice.”

There was nothing else. “Okay, hold on. That’s not how this works.”

“Yet there he is. Jonah is frightened.”

At least this explained Jonah’s tension. Jonah hated the unknown; when he knew what was going on, he was all smiles and smooth control. When he didn’t….

Honestly, this was enough to frighten Martin, too. “How? Why? “What is going on?

“You’ll need to hurry if you want to get to him first,” said Annabelle. “Here is the part where you have choice: Oliver has dispatched his Fingers to find this boy and take him.”

“Okay,” said Martin slowly.

“You either let that happen… or, you bring him here, alive.”

“I really don’t understand this,” said Martin. “Does it matter if Oliver gets him first?”

“I don’t know. Does it?”

“Come on, Annabelle.”

“He frightens Jonah. What do you think?” she said with a sweet smile.

Martin sighed. That would definitely put the kid in direct danger—but on the other hand, he was fourteen and Uncertain, and he should already have been taken. None of this made sense. “What will Oliver do with him?”

“What do you think he’ll do with him?”

“Right. So you’re useless.” Martin frowned. “Wait. When did Oliver dispatch his Fingers?”

“Half an hour ago.”

So he had to decide right the fuck now. “Shit. Where?”

She gave him an address.

Damned Fingers. Martin could hold them off on his own for a while, but protecting a kid at the same time would be difficult. If he could at least slow them down… 

No, that wouldn’t be enough. No one in the Court would help him after Jonah’s little show earlier. Martin had no time to reach out to contacts, who could be anywhere this time of day. So few in London could stand up to the Fingers, anyway, and almost no one would. This was all on him. “Fuck!” Martin said, and raced back through the augury, back the way he’d come, in search of a window.

He found one and leaped.

Flight as a vampire was fast. Very fast. But even doing this, it would take him several minutes to reach London, never mind find this particular address.

He hoped Mike was watching.

He hoped Mike picked up on the fact that he was clearly in a rush—and possibly in trouble.

He hoped Mike would choose to do something about it and help. 

Martin had no voice to cry as he flew (his body went away when he did this, somehow, into another form he’d never seen but scared people plenty), but if he could have spoken, he’d just be shouting profanity on repeat.

#

Jon peered from his branch and tried to gauge if that particular bakery would be worth stealing from.

Two Hunt-Aligned people walked beneath his tree, their eyes yellow, their fingers crooked like claws. Both breathed heavily through clenched teeth, and one of them was frothing, but Jon paid them no mind. It wasn’t as though they would see him. Almost no one ever did.

Carriages and dead horses clopped by. People in fine clothes swooped here and there, laughing, talking; music piped out of shops, and the sun shone on the water so brightly that it hurt to look at. The alleyways had so much mud in them, but out here, it was mostly worn-smooth brick-shapes to walk on (cobblestone, he suddenly knew). The smells were fishy—the ocean was right there—but there were good smells, too. Like that bread.

“What do you think?” he whispered to himself, to his past self, to the Answers that sometimes came.

There were no answers today, but that was all right. Jon had it down to a science. He was good at stealing; not that he liked to think of it as stealing. He always helped out; he cleaned things, or reorganized bad shelving. It’s not like he’d ever stuck around long enough for anyone to complain.

Once he'd realized no one could see him, things... simplified.

At first, it had been just horrible? Frightening. Disturbing? And he still had yet to figure out why, but after a while, it was honestly a relief. No one ever chased him down or threw him out. No one yelled at him. He was never caught, or mistreated, or bitten. Fingers marched right past him on the street as though he did not exist. He’d gotten to the point that he wasn’t sure if he’d even be sacrificed at age thirty. Maybe he wouldn’t. What on earth would that be like?

Regardless, Jon liked living on his own, without Amherst or anyone to bother him. He liked sneaking into people’s houses and sleeping on their roofs or in their spare rooms, cleaning their kitchens for them and taking a little food. He liked the glimpses he got of their lives while doing so. Maybe it was creepy, he didn’t know—but he’d never met anyone else doing what he did, so he couldn’t honestly tell.

That bread smelled good. He licked his lips. Puberty (which sucked quite a bit more than books had warned him) had definitely increased his appetite, and he did not like that, but he sort of understood why. The body needed fuel to grow, and all. Logic said to wait until closer to day’s end, when he could slip inside and stand in an out-of-the-way place and go unnoticed while they closed up. To pass the time, he watched the sea. 

Vast. He knew; that water was owned, completely, and to step in it would be swept away. Some days, he was tempted, just because he wanted to know what it felt like.

Some adults of the Lonely spooked by beneath him, bringing cold like a cloud, and he shivered. The sun was low in the sky; he guessed he had an hour or so of daylight left, which meant he needed to figure out where he was sleeping for the night. Possibly the bakery, but he’d learned the hard way that bakeries opened so bloody early, so he wouldn’t get as much sleep as he’d wanted once he finished cleaning their ovens, or whatever, so—

Someone gasped. 

He looked. Ah; more Fingers. They didn’t mean anything. They were always here, marching after someone, dragging someone out of their homes or down the street. Except these ones seemed to be… looking at him? That made no sense. How could they be looking at him?

People moved aside. A couple of carriages stopped dead as the small contingent marched, their heads turned definitely toward him, and for the first time all day, his instinct (his past self, his Answers, his whatever it was) spoke up: Run.

His past self was never wrong. He leaped out of the tree and ran.

Jon wasn’t used to running. He was breathless almost at once, but joyful; it felt like flying to go and go and go without having to stop at the end of a hall or turn around, and he laughed, arms pumping, hoping they wouldn’t catch him just yet. Maybe this was it! Maybe they’d finally take him, and he’d learn what it was to die and be reborn!

But not yet! Not yet!

He dove through traffic. Darted between carriages pulled by dead horses, raced around ladies with enormous skirts and startlement, dodged away from men who nearly tripped over him as he raced by.

The Fingers kept coming, marching, and everyone who saw them got out of the way.

No one saw him, and he was slowed by their presence.

He was also running out of street. This road ended ahead at more ocean, and none of the alleyways would work—a dead end would be the end of his flight. Damn, he hadn’t been thinking; he should have gone south down Warminster. Jon didn’t know what to do, how to hide, where to go—

And a man appeared in front of him as if woven out of air.

The man was large, and handsome; he had a kind face, a face that made Jon want to smile, and red-gold hair that gleamed in the setting sun, and little green spectacles that hid his eyes. He wore what was, Jon already knew, the finest pieces of clothing he had ever seen.

The weird thing was… he was familiar. Weirder yet? He saw Jon. “Shit!” said the man, and grabbed him.

Jon yipped.

The man (who smelled so good, making Jon suddenly aware of his own less than great odor) put Jon down behind him, said, “Sorry about this,” and spun in place to kick at the approaching empty things.

They went down like a row of books pushed over from one end, and from them rose a weird, terrible moaning, a horrible, hollow sound that didn’t seem like it could come from throats.

Jon gawked. “You actually hurt them?” He’d never seen anyone do that before.

“Time to go!” said the man, and picked him up again like he weighed nothing.

“Wait, what—” Jon found himself tossed over the man’s shoulder like a sack of laundry. 

The man took off at a run. This was… far faster than anyone should be able to run. His stomach turned.

(Jon knew him. He knew this man, knew this man, as if from that past life, and with that undefined memory came only good feelings, and so, he did not struggle.)

“Sorry!” said the man, leaping between people Jon had already dodged, jumping over a carriage he’d already avoided, racing full-speed back the way Jon had come.

Jon couldn’t get his breath back. He never knew people could be this strong. “Are you Hunt?” he gasped.

“Nope!” said the man, and slowed just enough to glance behind. 

Lined by rowhouses and hungry sea, by streetlamps and stores, the street had finally emptied in the wake of all this chaos, and now Jon could see just how many Fingers were after him. There were a lot. More than he’d ever seen go after anyone. As he watched, more stepped out of alleys (presumably not dead ends, or maybe called off other missions), adding to the ranks. They came fast, fast as Martin could move, faces impassive, arms pumping hard.

Martin. That was the man’s name.

“Shit!” said Martin again, and ran faster.

This was like one of those crazy books he’d found in the closet, with princesses being carried off by ogres. “You can see me?” he gasped.

“Sort of!” said Martin.

“Am I being sacrificed?” Jon managed. His stomach felt awful, bouncing on this man’s shoulder; it definitely wasn’t great. 

“Don’t know yet!” Martin said.

It had been so long since anybody had spoken to him at all.  “What’s happening?” Jon asked between juddering footsteps, still catching his breath. “Who are you? Why did you attack them? Won’t they kill you? Why did you grab me? How did you actually damage them? Where are we going?”

“Hold on, chap,” said the man, and did not answer.

The smells were amazing, mixing at this speed. Salt and fish from the sea. Oil and perfumes from various shops, signs swinging as they passed. Blood from various bins, sometimes visibly stuffed with bodies. And however Martin smelled, which was really nice, though Jon could tell he was getting his own mustiness all over these nice clothes, and he felt sort of bad for that.

The man stopped running. It was very sudden. 

Before them stood a new guy. Jon knew what this one was without being told: Vast. He was right there, but seemed far away. A scar like lightning crawled up from his indecently unbuttoned shirt, clutching (caressing?) his throat. He had white hair and bright blue eyes, and he grinned at Jon’s rescuer (kidnapper?) as though walking around with smelly teenagers was a normal thing to do.

“Help,” said Martin.

“One date,” said the lightning man.

Jon wasn’t sure he’d heard that right.

“I already owe you a date!” said Martin.

“Right! You’ll owe a second,” said the lightning man.

(Mike. His name was Mike. How did Jon know his name was Mike?)

Jon twisted to look back. The Fingers were coming. He couldn’t figure out for the life of him what was happening. “Why are you doing this?” he asked again.

“Come on, Mike!” said Martin.

“All right, all right,” said Mike. “Backup or rescue?”

“Can’t risk him. Rescue, then backup?”

Mike eyed Jon. Squinted. “I can’t see him very well. That’s weird, mate.”

“Mike!”

“Sure. Rescue, then backup. With your weird invisible kid.”

Jon was thrown.

He gasped. Mike caught him (and he smelled so good, too, like soap and air and ocean and other things Jon couldn’t name, and he felt very self-conscious). “If you die,” said Mike, “I will dig you up and fuck your corpse.”

Jon twisted to gawk up at him.

Mike was smiling at Martin like he knew a secret. No indication he’d just said an absolutely insane thing.

Martin rolled his eyes. “Weirdo.”

So… Mike wasn’t serious? Who would joke about things like that? He wasn’t even Corru-

And suddenly they were high, higher, so very high in the air that Jon could barely see the black and copper spot that was his rescuer, turning toward the things pursuing him.

Jon gasped again.

Then they went even higher, and his rescuer was gone.

chapter four

[lateral-org]

1 13 and 18!

1) Is John misunderstood or a villain?

False dichotomy here. I think John is well understood by many fans in that he was a traumatized man and absent father who indoctrinated his sons into a brutal and violent lifestyle (raised them to be soldiers). Like Henrikksen was pretty spot on when he called him a cult leader. The demons just happened to be real.

It's disgusting to me how much John actively avoided his sons during season 1. They didn't even know vampires were still around! (???) John would just drop a pin at a location and send them on goose chases and maybe grace them with his presence if he needed them or they literally tracked him down. Despicable parent behavior.

I don't think this makes him a "villain" though. He's not actively antagonizing the boys (other than giving them soooooo much trauma that they aren't gonna work through). Arguably the most villainous he is is when he tells Dean he's gonna have to kill Sam, and then he dies.

So I don't know. I think he's a shitty dad who fucked them over at every opportunity, but in my head there's nuance between that and villain.

13) Leather jacket or Mary’s ring?

I'm definitely forgetting or missed the lore about Mary's ring, I'm assuming its one of the rings Dean used to wear before Jensen decided no he wouldn't. Or maybe it's from s12? Either way it didn't leave an impact on me (feel free to send me meta to change my mind 👀)

If I have to choose based on symbolism, leather jacket. The leather jacket is such a strong visual signifier of John's impact on Dean's life (your car is his your clothes are his even your music is his etc) AND the fact that he sheds it after a while demonstrates his growth away from being John's shadow. (I know they lost it but still it works for me in canon)

A ring just doesn't have that same (hah) ring to it, especially in a live action show where we don't get that many lingering shots of hands, or insight into how Mary affected Dean.

However. If Sam was wearing Mary's ring... That's something I could get into. Something about Sam latching onto a piece of the mother he never knew, wearing it every day (maybe on a chain so he could hide it under his shirt). Sam wearing the ring when he meets Ruby, wearing it on his hand after Dean goes to hell and staring at it when he exorcises demons (he's doing it for Her but really he's doing it for himself, just like John)

Agh I'm driving myself crazy with this idea actually, maybe the ring if Sam gets to wear it

18) When did Supernatural start declining in quality? (If it did?)

Hahaha well

I'm currently rewatching it so it's fresh in my mind. I've always said 4 and 5 are my favorite seasons but rewatching really cemented that for me. Supernatural is a show that varies in quality season by season, and after a certain point it varies drastically episode by episode. Seasons 1 and 2 are really fucking solid, but season 3 sucks a lot in a lot of ways due to the writer's strike. Then 4 and 5 come in and pick up the pieces pretty effectively.

I think if you're looking for a cohesive show with an ending that makes sense and narrative themes that work, you stop at the end of season 5. Season 6 is a huge dip in quality for me. The first half of the season is so fucking boring and confusing, and by the time it gets it's act together it's time for the finale. But that also makes it similar to season 3, just if season 3 had time to redeem itself.

But I love season 7. I love the new characters and the leviathan and the weird 2011 liberal sensibilities. Season 8 is straight up a vampire diaries soap opera.

Visually the quality declines drastically after season 5. Seasons 4 and 5 use a lot of interesting framing and visual symbolism which stood out compared to the rest of the show, and a lot of that is absent post season 5. A few episodes try to recapture it but the direction becomes pretty generic. The color grading too suffers a lot. There have been so many meta posts about it but truly why does the show get so bright and colorful. I'm not supposed to be able to distinguish dark green from black.

Character writing also suffers post s5. They put the boys through the same wringer over and over and Dean gets angrier and Sam gets quieter and that's it. Not that there aren't good lines or arcs, it's just that compared to the content of the first 5 seasons it's worse.

Notable exceptions, like I said I like season 7. I also think 11 and 12 are good. Season 15 is fucking crazy and evil but it also has like. A plot. Like it's doing season 5 again but at least it knows where it's going.

But yeah. Decline after season 5

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