#if any of this is your squick then move on please

[scythemichaelfaraday]

DAJALR Kiddos

Sitara Phoenix Dwicky

The oldest of the wee ones (not counting Cal and Chance). Biologically Dwight and Johnny's. They were not planned nor expected at all.

Quick aside: My version of Johnny's creator (an evil System-running, wastelock-experiment-making au version of Edgar Vargas) created Johnny from dead Meekrob DNA and my hc for Meekrob is that they are genderless/sexless beings that can carry offspring and generate the organs to do so. Johnny has that ability too originally for very unsavory purposes.

They were conceived right before Johnny was taken away by Vargas back to the System to be tortured into submission. Miraculously, they (and Johnny) survived. Johnny delivered them (and the rest of his biological children) via Caesarean section.

Johnny had them right before being hospitalized for PTSD amongst other things, so their and Johnny's early relationship was a little strained due to the accompanying trauma. It was only when Johnny started healing that they formed a healthy and happy parent/child relationship.

Sadly, due to the torture and stress that Johnny underwent while Sitara was in utero, they did not inherit any powers from either parent that later children will end up having.

They share Johnny's creativity and affinity with the stars and space in general. They are stubborn much like both parents, but especially Johnny. Dwight passed on his social awkwardness (which honestly both parents have), love for animals, and persuasiveness manipulation. They hold fast to their beliefs and values and do end up being the debate team type of kid.

Their hobbies include drawing, building with legos, and playing with the various pets around the Dwicky household, including but not limited to: two guinea pigs and their extensive family, a supernatural sable, a robot bunny, a robot cat, chickens, horses, and a singing plant. They end up becoming an interstellar veterinarian.

They also are rather gender variant at a young age. They like wearing gnc clothing. They ask to start being referred to as they/them as early as six years old.

They have Johnny’s facial structure with Dwight’s nose and a pretty equal mix of their skin tones leaning more towards Johnny’s complexion. They have Johnny’s hair color. They have brown eyes mainly because it’s a dominant gene and more common than Johnny’s black eyes.

Finally, their middle name is in honor of Johnny’s niece (and a dear friend) Addie Denivar’s title of “Phoenix.”

Bellatrix Usagi Dwicky

One of the three Dwicky triplets. She is biologically Johnny and Leera’s daughter. Leera was kind of feeling left out and missed being pregnant when Dwight and Johnny found out they were having twins. Despite being conceived at a later date as the twins, Bellatrix was delivered the same day as them and thus they are considered triplets.

She is the most mischievous of the kids with her first word literally being ‘fuck’ said with such joy and passion. When they start growing up, Bellatrix will be the “leader” of her siblings and get them into heaps of trouble.

She takes on Johnny’s gothic style, literally dyeing her hair black later as a teenager to “match her soul.” She loves black as much as she loves pink. Loves Sailor Moon as much as she loves Kill la Kill (much to Johnny’s dismay). Loves tea parties as much as she loves mosh pits. One thing remains constant and that is she’s the life of the party.

Even as a young girl, she is known for biting other kids who pick on her or her siblings (and she inherited momma’s sharp teeth), her eccentric and constantly changing personality (which later ends up being parent’s inherited borderline), and her ability to charm.

She later develops the power of pyrokinesis with a strange twist, instead of being a source of warmth, it is cold like ice and has a strange effect of burning, but in the same way that frostbite and liquid nitrogen does. She refers to it as coldfire.

She has the facial structure and skin type and tone of Leera with big ol eyes like Johnny and a surprising appearance of a recessive gene of blue eyes. She gets her nose from Johnny. Her hair is a literal blended mix of Leera and Johnny’s. Her ear shape is pointed like Leera’s. Her teeth are pointy and sharp like Leera’s.

Her middle name should be quite obvious- but just in case, yes, it is based off of Sailor Moon’s name. Her parents watched a lot of it while pregnant okay! Also her twin bangs remind her parents of a bunny’s!

Lyra Eileen Dwicky

One of the three Dwicky triplets. She is biologically Johnny and Dwight’s. She, like her sibling Sitara and twin, Artemis, was a surprise as well. But not quite as much as a surprise since Johnny is now aware that he can conceive.

Lyra is a “weird” kid through and through, from a very young age she has had various imaginary friends that she speaks to (that gives Johnny a heart attack every time), never talked much with other kids, and is in her head most of the time.

She prefers to spend her time in the vents in the ceiling of the Dwicky space station, listening to classical music and talking with her friends and reading.

She loves all things supernatural and is not afraid of conventionally spooky things. One of her first toys was a radio with the ability to pick up changes in the environment including EM field , temperature, etc. that turns these changes into words to “communicate with ghosts.” Sadly, she loses the ability to use it.

However, this leads to her power showing up: clairvoyance. It starts with her animatedly talking with people who aren’t there, like full-fledged conversations and continues into her trying to convince her parents to help the lost souls or at least to communicate their feelings. And ultimately comes to a head when she talks to Dwight’s dead spouses (long before Leera and Johnny): Mooshy and Spoopty despite never meeting them before or hearing about them.

She has a button nose that is different than Dwight or Johnny’s probably coming somewhere from Johnny’s mixed Filipino - Spanish Indigenous (Mexico) side. She is a little on the lighter side but has a darker complexion than Artemis and Dwight. She has Johnny’s pupil shape and black eye color. She has a mix of Dwight and Johnny’s hair colors. Her ears are rounded like Dwight’s.

Her middle name is Dwight’s mother’s name.

Artemis Edgar Miles Dwicky

One of the three Dwicky triplets. He is biologically Dwight and Johnny’s, and as mentioned before, he was a surprise.

Artemis is the entertainer of the family. While Bellatrix likes to be the life of the party and is quite dramatic, Artemis takes that on and makes it a performance. Where Bella and Lyra are two different sides of the chaotic spectrum, Artemis is right in the middle. He knows how to have a good time, but he also knows when to stop.

He has loved making his parents laugh since he was a little boy and puts on concerts in the lounge where they all sit together. He starts taking guitar lessons at the age of eight and has started his own band by thirteen.

While he loves to party, he has a very limited capacity to his social battery and it drains very quickly. When he’s not performing, he’s cozying up on his bed and watching tv or playing video games. He’s a sweet boy at heart who just really likes to make people happy.

His power manifests as the ability to cast spells using specific rhythms on his guitar and sometimes vocally in a siren-like manner. He can cause a riot with his music alone and also put a crowd at ease with a single chorus. He isn’t aware of this power until his angry, angsty teenager lyrics started a full-on brawl in the restaurant he was playing at.

His complexion is Dwight’s. His face shape is more angular and heart shaped than either Dwight or Johnny and likely came from Dwight’s mother. Another thing he inherited from Dwight’s mother is his bright red hair, being that she is of Irish decent. His eyes are gray, taking on an almost mix of Dwight’s clear blue and Johnny’s black. His ears are squared like Johnny’s. He has Johnny’s nose.

His middle names take a little more explaining. While Vargas was an asshole abusive creator, there is another alternate dimension Edgar that enters the picture and becomes Dwight’s friend over the course of the three years that Johnny was captured. He helps Dwight through his grief and gets him to do the next right thing and be there for his wife and kid after (seemingly) losing Johnny. He is now a family friend and frequently comes over for game nights and chess matches with Dwight. Thus, Artemis’ first middle name.

… The other middle name is Miles as in Miles Prower as in Tails from the Sonic franchise. Another form of media that the Dwicky household got into around the kids’ development.

Also, as a quick little side note: Johnny goes by Renny (as in parent). Dwight goes by Dad, Father, Daddy, and Papa. Leera goes by Mom, Momma, and Mommy. They also use Spanish and Tagalog (the languages of two major parts of Johnny’s human DNA) terms of endearment.

Tagging a friend: @messinwitheddie

[quinloki]

Birthday Request Event v2024

Alright let's start off with the primary points:

1 - You do NOT have to give to get.

2 - You do not have to get to give.

3 - Read everything, there's quite a few moving parts =D

Things You Can Do During This Event:

1 - Request a story from me (see the end of the post for the format!)

2 - You can give me a gift! (see "Gifting Quin" below!)

3 - Reblog this post to be entered into a raffle!

Details below the cut!

Raffle Prizes!

-:- 1,000 words of anything you want (within reason) - can be a one-shot, can be a demand for a specific title (make me work on that title you've been dying to read more of). Just has to be One Piece related.

-:- OC Cameo - I'll plunk your OC/self-insert into a story (that is not the Host Club AU ^^; )

-:- I'll draw something for you \o/ I'm not great, but hey, free art xD

Gifting Quin!

❤️ - Pin 5$ to my shirt - it's a local-ish birthday tradition.

❤️ - Share one of my stories and leave a comment \o/ You can do this whenever, but it really makes my day, so have at!

❤️ - Gift me a story, or some art 😳🥰

Ideas (please do NOT send me saucy stuff on anon or if you're under 18):

1 - Draw a scene from any of the stories you've liked! 2 - Draw Quill - by themself, or with you and/or your OC, or a One Piece character \o/ Quill can be a boy, girl, or whatever mix tickles your fancy. Have fun =D 3 - Draw what you see when you think of "Reader" for any given story. 4 - Re-write a scene for a story =O How would you tell me that scene? 5 - Write me a one-shot using the prompts below 😇 6 - Free form a ficlet, drabble, head canon, series of bullet points with ANY anime character and either a "Reader" or Quill =3 Spread your wings beyond One Piece (Wind Breaker, YYH, FMA, MHA, Habin hotel, etc - go wild 🥰)

Feel free to ask me ANYTHING if you're unsure of something

Birthday Bash Requests \o/

Finally, the part you've all been waiting for XD

*** Anon Requests Will be SFW only ***

-:- Give me some reader vibes as applicable (gender/height vibes) -:- Give me a blorbo (or blorbos) - One Piece only please ❤️ -:- Pick something from each of the lists below and then submit your ask! (any items not specified in the ask will be my choice 😇 cause it's my birthday celebration XD )

Pick 1 Vibe: SFW SFW dark SFW Yandere Blorbo NSFW Consensual NSFW dubcon/dark NSFW Yandere Blorbo NSFW noncon Writer's Choice (please include squicks if you pick dark or dub/non con options)

Pick 1 AU: Canon Universe Mafia AU Fantasy AU Cowboy AU Government Mandated Marriage AU Soul Mates AU Modern AU Hallmark AU Mythical Creatures AU Vampire AU Coffee Shop AU A/B/O AU Monster AU (you can say what kind of monster you prefer) BDSM AU Host Club AU Grandline Metro AU (Quicksand, A Light Touch, Heart of Gold, Thrice Prophesized are set in this AU) Writer's Choice (spin that wheel!)

Pick 1 Prompt: Angst / Bad End Aphrodisiac - sex pollen, drugged food, struck by needle, devil fruit Bath/Shower/hotspring Body writing (icing, ink, blood, etc.) Caught in the Act Contractually Obligated Creature x Human Date / First date Dungeon Erotically charged fight Experienced w/virgin Forced Proximity - box, flight, cell, bondage, get-a-long shirt Friend’s hot older sibling Fuck or die Lazy morning sex Long-Term Established Relationship Only One Bed Outside Pliant When Horny Role-play Roughed Up Size Difference (I write this a lot, but I do love it.) Soft/Comfort Sugar daddy/mama The hat rule They were… coworkers/neighbors/etc. Trapped in a Room Trying Again (exes getting back together) Unresolved sexual tension Wounded Writer's Choice

***Requests will be accepted from 6/1 - 7/10 - and posted from 6/1 - 7/31***

Gifts are accepted from 6/1 until whenever \o/ Don't feel pressured to get them in by 7/20 🥰

[sencrose]

-- WHY LET THE OFFAL GO TO WASTE?

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader

tags: DEAD DOVE, NONCON, noncon groping, choking, dacryphilia, hospitalization, injury, multiple/forced orgasm(s), power imbalance/dynamics, praise, psychological trauma, restraints

wc: 6.3k

a/n: title from butcher vanity. tagging this as dead dove bc it feels darker than the stuff i usually write? might also be bc the choking kinda squicked me out while i was writing this lol. anyways please read the tags and proceed with caution! ao3 link here.

summary: After a harrowing battle and a self-proclaimed failure of a first mission, you land yourself in the hospital. Your vice captain is adamant in playing a starring role in your rehabilitation.

It’s taking everything to keep your breathing steady. Even though the van sits in a heavy silence, you can feel the emotions radiating from your fellow combatants. Through the nervous shifts, shaking legs, and meditative rituals.

Some are itching to get out on the field to show off how far they’ve come, others are doing their best to calm their nerves. 

You fall somewhere in the middle.

Training module after training module, you’re all too aware of where you fall – last. Dead last. And not by any close margin; the gap between you and the next combatant is astronomical. It’s a miracle you even made it into the force, much less the third division. 

You come into your first mission with something to prove: your competence. Delusions are better left untouched, and you don’t have any expectations of being an overachiever. You don’t need to be number one, nor do you need to set any records. It’s simple: don’t come in last. 

The van slowly comes to a halt as you make it to your destination.

“Third division, rollout!” 

A chorus of ‘yes sirs’ ring throughout the van before you’re deployed into combat. Your team quickly splits off into their assigned positions until you’re alone. The once booming cityscape hangs in an eerie silence. No conversations to eavesdrop in, no cars rushing to get to their next destination, no music from local businesses trying to attract more customers. Just the sound of the occasional gunshot in the distance.

You hear your first Kaiju before seeing it, the sound of cement and plaster crashing into the ground. Thankfully, it’s not as large as you thought it’d be. However, it is more grotesque than you expected — the smell of rotten fish invades your nostrils. It vaguely resembles an octopus, or at least that’s the best guess you can muster with its tentacles thrashing about. 

You steel yourself, the temperature of your suit steadily rising as you focus. You steady your hands, aiming to shoot the core in one shot. In the scope, the creature’s eye swiftly meets yours. You press the trigger, the recoil hitting you harder than you anticipated – the butt of your gun strikes you hard in your chest, you nearly trip over your feet from the impact. Shakily, you find your footing and look out into the distance, waiting for the dust and rubble to clear.

Shit.

Your aim was just slightly off, only hitting the tip of one of its appendages. The creature’s tentacles flail wildly, but with a precision to its movements –  reaching out to nearby structures to pull its body towards, making its way to you. Your fingers shake around the trigger as it approaches.

Deep breaths.

Your heart races as you aim through the scope again, but it’s hard to focus on a moving subject. You shoot again, a bit too hastily still. The bullet hits another one of its appendages, slowing it down for a moment before it starts erratically scurrying towards you again. Your suit starts to heat up a bit more, devouring you in its all enveloping warmth. Sweat pools at your temples, beads sliding down the side of your face as you aim again. Your finger floats carefully in front of the trigger, waiting for the right moment to strike. With each street pole, building, car, the creature takes into its grasp, the more dust and debris clouds your vision.

Your nerves only build on top of each other, an unsteady tower of blocks threatening to fall, heart racing, as the crashes get louder.

There’s a miraculous moment where the dust settles, your reflexes taking over and shooting it right in the core. It falls, crashing into the building next to it.

Your breaths are heavy as you look over to its corpse. A dead kaiju smells even worse than an alive one. How do the cleaners deal with this on a daily basis?

With a soft buzz, your earpiece comes alive with a message from HQ.

”Congrats on your first kill!”

“Thanks,” you answer, trying to hide the shakiness in your voice. That was too close for comfort.

”Are you still in condition to fight?”

”Yeah, should be.” 

”Alright, make your way to N-3, they could use the backup.”

”Roger that.”

Just as you turn around to make your way to the next battle, the hairs on your neck come to a sudden stand, as you sense an overwhelming aura behind you. Chills run down your spine despite the suit running you warm. Dread swells in your chest and lead fills your legs, planting your feet on the ground.

By the time you turn around, it’s too late.

Everything happens too fast. 

Something pierces into your shoulder.

Warm crimson seeps out of the wound, drenching part of your suit. You don’t even register the pain at first, dazed from the scent of copper filling your lungs.

When the searing burn of having your flesh punctured finally hits you, you do your best not to cry in pain because that’s not what a proper combatant does. They produce results. (You do not have any notable ones.) They neutralize kaiju. (You’ve only neutralized one by the skin of your teeth.) But another is right in front of you, a golden opportunity. You can turn the tides.

Intent on revenge, you swiftly change hands with your gun, firing another shot at the kaiju. You step back, shooting another two bullets, the heat in your suit shooting to unbearable temperatures. Then you’re on your feet, and the only thought in your head is run, run, run.

But you’re not fast enough. It lunges towards you, its tentacle stretching and grasping your arm tight, too tight, too much. An unfamiliar and sickening crack rings in your ears, and you can no longer hold back your screams. They’re short lived, not through mercy, but through the kaiju flinging you to the floor like a ragdoll. You’re sure you hear another bloodcurdling crack when your back crashes on to the cement. Air is choked out of your lungs as you try to steady yourself, but your arms are in no shape to lift yourself up. Blinding pain sears through your body, and you start to lose track of where your body ends and the suit begins, engulfed in an all-consuming heat.

Before you even have the chance to recover, the creature’s tendril wraps tightly against your neck, the tight pressure cutting off your ability to breathe. Your mouth drops agape, desperately attempting to suck in air only to let out repulsing coughs and gasps before you’re left with nothing, a fish out of water. How ironic. Willing to take the risk of shooting yourself as collateral, you aim your gun point blank at the appendage, just for it to be smacked out of your hand before you can pull the trigger.

Panic and adrenaline rushes through your body in droves, limbs desperately flailing about to release yourself. It only makes things worse, the grip around your neck tightening. It feels horrid. The way your face numbs, your lungs burning with the desperate need for oxygen. Everything gets just a bit lighter, your vision, your head, your body. The pressure in your head builds and builds, an over pumped balloon just waiting to pop. 

Everyone always says it’s a possibility, but no amount of training could have prepared you for death. Part of you wishes it could’ve happened a bit more heroically, but that’s foolish. At the very least, you can take solace in knowing nobody’s around to see you at your worst, in your final moments.

With a sudden puff of wind grazing your cheek, you drop to the floor, sputtering and gasping for air. You look up to see a miracle in the shape of your vice-captain bestowed upon you.

Soshiro Hoshina arrives in silence, utilizing his blades to take down the monster. You’re barely able to keep up with his movements – he bounces from place to place without delay. In a moment’s time he’s already slayed the creature that put you in such a miserable state. 

He takes a moment to flick his blades, kaiju blood and bodily fluids splattering on the floor in a neat line before he sheathes his swords.

“Can you stand?” Hoshina’s hand reaches out towards yours.

“I think so.” You balance yourself against his body, wincing as you sling your arm around his shoulder, taking it one step at a time. Your body still burns from your injuries and the overheating of your suit.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ll do better next time.”

The guilt of inadequacy and inexperience come to a breaking point as tears well up in your eyes. You try to hold back your sniffles, but with how close your face is to his ears, you know he can hear them.

“Yes sir.”

—

Hospitals suck. Unfortunately, you’ll be stuck here for the next few weeks while you heal from your injuries. On the bright side, your squad has been very kind in dropping you ‘get better soon’ cards, small gifts, and catching you up on all the drama happening within the organization. You’re truly thankful for them. And while visits from your fellow peers are expected, visits from your superior officer aren’t.

Hoshina knocks on the doorframe in his civilian clothes, a black t-shirt with a pair of sweats. You can’t help but notice how the fabric of his shirt clings to his body, showing a sliver of his muscles. In his hand, he holds a bento box wrapped in a fabric cover. If you’re being honest, you’re blown away by his kindness. 

“How’re you feeling?”

“I’ve been better,” you joke, “the doctors here have been really nice though.”

Hoshina unwraps the fabric, and uncovers the box, revealing a portion of curry rice with a side of steamed vegetables. 

“You didn’t have to go out of your way for this sir.”

“I’m just looking out for my cute junior.” 

The unexpected descriptor sends heat to your face and butterflies to your stomach. Did you hear him right? You sit in silence, unsure of how to respond back.

Hoshina breaks the silence, taking the reins on the conversation. “Have you eaten anything yet?” 

“Not yet, haven’t had much of an appetite.”

He grabs a spoonful of the curry, bringing it right in front of your mouth.

“Here, open up.” 

“Is this really necessary?” “Just open up. That’s an order.” 

His words aren’t anything you haven’t heard before, but they have you squirming in the bed. 

You hesitantly separate your lips, as the spoon enters your mouth. Hoshina’s hand hovers under your mouth in case any crumbs fall. You swear his fingertips just ever so slightly graze against your chin. Then again, maybe not.

The curry’s a bit hot, you move it around your mouth as you blow out some air to cool it down. It has just enough kick, the pieces of vegetables melting in your mouth with little effort. Salty, savory, with a hint of sweetness. It’s delicious.

“How is it?” Hoshina asks.

Your mouth is still full of food as you rush to finish it in a gulp.

“It’s great.” 

“That’s good to hear.” 

“You’ve got some on your lip.” Hoshina licks the pad of his thumb before using it to wipe the excess off the corner of your mouth. The heat in your face ignites, burning unbearably with embarrassment. 

“Sir, you don’t have to do this.” 

“The doctors said you should rest your arms. I don’t want you straining yourself,” he responds, continuing to wipe the mess off your face.

You’re not sure how to argue with that, nor do you feel like picking a fight with the vice captain.

“Alright.”

You sit in awkward silence as your superior officer continues to feed you. It feels far too intimate for your relationship – you wonder if he does this with the others. He brings the spoon up to your mouth again, gesturing you to open. Before you know it, you’ve gotten used to it, complying as if it’s an order in combat. 

“How long are you out of commission?”

“A few weeks, fingers crossed I’ll be out sooner though!” you say in between bites.

“That eager to be back out, huh?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

“Catching up? It’s only been a couple of days.”

“Well…” you hesitate. If you could, you’d be twiddling your thumbs. “I’ve been falling behind everyone else. I mean, I barely did anything before I landed myself in the hospital,” your voice nearly breaks, and you can feel tears forming, threatening to fall if you so much as blink. That all too familiar ugly ball forms and makes itself home in your throat. “Pretty pathetic, don’t you think?” you scoff, voice wavering. 

“Everyone gets injured at some point. Nobody’s immune to that. That includes all your peers and your superiors as well,” he states matter-of-factly.

“I guess so.” Tension gets tighter in your chest as you prepare for a lecture. 

“You come back faster from injuries when you’re younger too, so don’t worry too much about it. You did well.” 

The last thing you were expecting from Hoshina was praise. If anything you expected him to reprimand you more. Your heart beats a bit harder, a bit faster, and you hope Hoshina hasn’t noticed the climb in your heart rate on the medical monitor next to your bed.

It seems like it went unnoticed as he simply brings another spoonful to your mouth only for some of the curry to dribble down your chin.

“You’re a messy eater,” he teases.

“It isn’t intentional. It’s a bit hard to use my arms right now,” you joke back, head gesturing towards your arm sling.

“I’ll get it then.”

He licks the pad of his thumb again, wiping gently against your chin. He licks it again, this time brushing against the swell of your lips. You’re pretty sure there’s nothing there, but you remain silent. His finger scratches against the corner of your mouth, before tracing your lips again agonizingly slow, as if he’s committing every crevice to memory, his eyes half lidded with an expression you don’t recognize.

“Sir?”

“Yes?” His fingers pull away from your face, his head tilting to the side inquisitively, as if his actions a moment ago weren’t anything out of the ordinary.

“Never mind.”

—

The other day floats through your mind more than you’d like to admit. The warmth of your vice captain’s fingers as he caressed your lips, the way butterflies fluttered in your stomach as a response. 

He called you cute too, right? It probably doesn’t mean anything, you assume he’s like that with everyone. But it plays in your head on repeat like a broken record, and you have to think about kaiju guts to calm yourself down.

While you appreciate his penchant for lunchtime visits, you’re equally perplexed by it. There has to be more important things to do, especially as a high ranking official. Yet here he is again, preparing to feed you lunch by the spoonful as if he isn’t your superior officer with years of killing experience over you. 

“How’s the recovery going?”

“It’s going well. Things aren’t hurting as much anymore.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Hoshina unwraps the bento he’s brought in for you. It’s a bit more extravagant this time, soup, rice, and a variety of side dishes embellish the box.

Hoshina starts with the soup, lowering his spoon until it fills, before bringing it to his mouth. He blows on it with a gentleness that almost feels uncanny of a high ranking military officer.

“Careful, it’s hot.”

You open your mouth expectantly, obediently.

“Ah!” you yelp in surprise as the spoon of soup spills onto your chest, seeping into your gown.

“I got it.” Hoshina grabs a napkin and dabs it across your chest, but there’s something strange to his motions.

His fingers linger a bit too long after each press, as if he’s searching for something. It almost feels like they’re massaging into your skin, which feels excessive just to clean up a small mess. You’re all too aware of the heat surfacing to your face the longer he touches you. 

“Um sir, I think you got it.”

It’s as if he doesn’t hear you, intent on his mission of cleaning up his mess. His fingers dig deeper, kneading your tits over the thin fabric of the gown. Your breathing becomes more jagged the longer his touch lingers. You swear his finger grazes over your nipple, sending a rush down to your core.

“Sir,” you attempt to sound firm, only for your voice to come out in a shaky breath. 

He casually takes the napkin back and crumples it.

“No harm in being thorough,” he responds with an attempt at a reassuring smile.

You nod cautiously, questioning whether that really just happened.

“Yeah… Thorough,”  you quietly repeat to yourself.

—

It feels like months have passed, though it’s only been a handful of weeks. As time passed, visits from your peers have petered off, and all that’s left is the droning hum of the hospital equipment and your own thoughts. It’s the perfect storm to send anyone spiraling, to have you questioning whether you really deserve to have such a coveted spot in one of the most elite squads in the defense force.

So, you find yourself thinking about Hoshina. It happens more often than you’d like to admit. But it’s a natural progression, isn’t it? When he’s the only one who visits, who packs lunch for you every day. Sometimes you think he’s the only one who cares.

You don’t want to ruminate on it too long. But, you like him – or you think you like him. That’s why he has such an effect on you, right? The reason why your breath hitches, your heart skips a beat when his touch lingers a moment too long, even when his hands are in places where they shouldn’t be. A light bulb flickers on in your head.

Maybe he likes you back.

A knock on the door frame shakes you out of your thoughts, and you greet your regular visitor with a warm smile.

“How are you feeling today?” Hoshina asks, smiling back before taking a seat next to your bed.

“I’m doing great.” You rotate your arms before giving it a performative flex. “I think I’m just about ready to get back out there. The doctor even said I’ll be discharged in a couple of days.”

”That’s great news.”

Hoshina unveils the bento, even more spectacular than the last. There’s at least three tiers and you lose count at how many slots are in each tray. Each slot contains a side dish, many of them resembling fine art pieces rather than something to be consumed.

”Sir.” You pause, contemplating if you should reject his offer, “I can feed myself now.”

“You should take advantage of resting while you can.”

”Sir, it’s ok, seriously-”

”Are you talking back to your superior officer?” he interrupts with a seriousness to his tone you aren’t expecting.

You sit as straight as you can, caught off guard by his sternness.

”No sir.”

”Then open up,” he says with a smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. So you do, taking the offering cautiously, chewing thoroughly before swallowing. 

“You look like you have something on your mind,” Hoshina states.

You do, and he’s at the forefront of it – not that you would dare tell him. So you divert over to something normal, safe.

“How’s the squad doing?” you ask.

“That’s new.”

“What’s new?”

“You asking about others.”

Maybe the topic isn’t as safe as you thought it was.

“You calling me selfish?” you snap, a bit more accusatory than you expected. 

“You’re putting words in my mouth,” he says, arms raised by his head in an act of sarcastic surrender, “I said nothing of the sort.”

It’s your turn to say something, but it’s hard to get the words to leave your mouth.

“I haven’t seen a lot of them in a while,” you finally admit, “it’s been a bit lonely here.” 

“Of course, they’re being trained to the bone! Kaiju aren’t getting any weaker you know.”

What he says is true, but you don’t like that gnawing feeling of incompetence rising in your stomach. It’s been a bit rough for you these days, stuck in a never-ending cycle of bitter thoughts of your first battle, hyping yourself up to be better, and the inevitable ‘why bother trying?’ when you recall your hard work has earned you nothing thus far. Rinse and repeat. 

“I’m aware,” you say through gritted teeth, holding your tongue back as if it’s a dam keeping your self-deprecating thoughts at bay.

“You just gonna sit there and wallow in self-pity?” he asks, and his words hit you harder than you would like to admit.

“Self-loathing, actually,” you respond sarcastically.

“It makes no difference to me,” he sighs, placing his hands on the back of his head and leaning back into his chair, “but you want to get stronger, don’t you?”

“Yes. I do, sir.”

“Well I have just the opportunity for you!” Hoshina springs up from the chair with a clap, his sudden motion earning a flinch from you, “my schedule just opened up so I can train you.”

“I don’t want to waste any of your time, sir,” you reply softly, wishing you could just shrivel up in your bed. His offer feels unearned, the attention wasted on a poor performing combatant like yourself. You’re sure he has more promising things to do with his time.

“It’s not a waste of time to me,” he replies, “plus I get to spend more time with my cutest junior.”

There’s that special adjective again, the one that never fails to send heat rushing to your cheeks. It shouldn’t have you so visibly flustered, and you’re sure Hoshina notices your plight.

“A-are you sure?” you ask, nearly mumbling the words.

“As sure as this is goin’ in your mouth,” he says, picking up a piece of fried meat before bringing it towards you, “now open up.”

—

Once you’ve been dispatched from the hospital, it’s straight back into training. Nothing too intense, just enough to get you back into the swing of things is what the doctors said. Hoshina was ecstatic to look over your rehabilitation personally.

This has led you down an unfamiliar training room – cold, sterile, concrete walls resembling a brutalist dream. Something stands out like a sore thumb, an examination table towards the back of the room, and a medical monitor. Hoshina leads you towards the table, and gestures for you to sit down.

“We’re gonna start with some vitals.”

“Vitals?” you repeat, furrowing your brow. “What, am I in the hospital again?”

“No, not those vitals.” He waves his hand in front of his face as if to shake off the suggestion. “I want to see your unleashed power percentage. We’re going to try and test your endurance and get those numbers up. You were overheating pretty bad in that last battle, remember?”

It’s a sore memory you would rather forget.

“Yeah.”

“Then let’s try and get that number up,” he says while fiddling with the monitor, “you’ll need to strip.”

The last word sends a rush of heat to your face.

“Sir?” you ask, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“I have to attach these to get an accurate reading.” Hoshina smiles innocently and holds up a handful of wires and electrode pads connected to the medical monitor. So you did hear him correctly.

“Oh, right,” you reply with an uneasy chuckle, a rush of warmth to your face.  You take off your clothes, revealing your sports bra and underwear, feeling far too indecent in front of your superior officer. 

Carefully, you lie down on the examination table, the cold vinyl sending a chill throughout your body. Hoshina methodically presses the pads on various parts of your body, one on each arm, one on either side of your chest, two on your lower stomach, and one on each of your inner thighs. His touch lingers as always.

“Place your arms down.”

You obey, and feel the unfamiliar sensation of leather binding your wrists.

“Sir?” Panic rises in your voice as he tightens the restraints.

“Yes?”

“How long is this going to take?” you ask softly, attempting to hide your nerves.

“Shouldn’t be too long,” he answers, indifference in his voice, not acknowledging your very visible discomfort. His hand traces the leather around your hands before gently dragging down your forearm. 

“We’re going to get started now,” he says, his hand now tracing the inside of your thigh before stopping at your clothed slit, “you might feel some… discomfort.”

“S-sir?” Your breath hitches in your chest as you look down at his hand, the hand that wielded the blade that saved your life now looks foreign and distorted, mere millimeters away from your pussy. The hand that fed you warm meals and kept you company during your stay in the hospital, the hand of the captain you admired so much.

“You see that number on the screen?” Hoshina glances in the general direction of the monitor. It buzzes quietly, an ominous zero glowing in red on the screen. “It’ll show your percentage. Let’s get it to thirty today.”

Thirty? Dread swells in your chest, chills dancing on your skin when you do the mental math and realize that’s twice your personal record.

His finger twists around the edge of your underwear, pulling it down slowly, as if he’s savoring the view.

The number on the monitor goes up by one.

“See, this should take no time at all.”

Panic stirs and shakes violently in your chest like a carbonated drink on the verge of bursting as you come to the realization of what your vice captain has in store for you. 

Hoshina’s hand runs up and down your bare slit, sending a chill down your spine and a burst of heat to your face. 

“Don’t look so scared,” he says, his fingers rolling around your clit, “I’m no worse than a kaiju.”

You’re not sure that statement holds water.

His finger draws languid circles around your clit, a sensation that sends a warmth to your core, one you don’t want to indulge. Fear runs through you as you attempt to clench your legs shut, not wanting to give him any more than he’s already taken. 

“Keep these open for me, ok?” Hoshina teases, his hand pushing against your inner thigh to get a better opening. It’s not a fair fight. It was never going to be. His strength outmatches yours, plain and simple. With a carnivorous stare, he watches intently as he slowly pushes a finger inside of you, waiting for your reaction. You don’t want to give him one, but before you know it a high pitched moan escapes your lips as he makes it past the initial resistance of muscle.

Even in your state of undress, his eyes make you feel even more bare, staring hungrily at your figure, akin to a sculptor admiring a pristine slab of marble before the chisel and hammer makes the first chip.

“See? Nothing to be scared of,” he says, not that it does anything to quell the sick churn of terror and betrayal in your chest. In a moment’s time he finds that spot that has you writhing against your restraints, desperate to hide this side of yourself that shouldn’t be for his viewing pleasure. It’s just too much, the way his fingers press against that squishy patch, the way his other hand continues drawing lazy circles around your clit, sending jolts of ecstasy through your body you don’t want to indulge. It takes everything in you to hold back, not that tightening your muscles does anything to help. If anything, it just prepares you for the break to come. 

You knew Hoshina was talented, it’s all anyone ever talks about on base, but you didn’t think his talents would extend to something so lewd. His fingers knew just how to play with you, to keep you on the edge between anticipation and pleasure. 

Hoshina watches with a smile as you attempt to thrash your limbs and fail, only your back arching off the bed as you come undone. Tears prickle at your eyes as you gasp at the tension finally snapping, warm waves of pleasure washing over your core, spreading out to the rest of your body before fizzling out like seafoam.

When he takes his fingers away, you nearly mourn the absence of it. The way your cunt aches to be filled, the way the muscles flutter around nothing. You can barely make out the image of your vice captain in front of your eyes through your tears.

“Look, you’re doing great already,” he gestures to the monitor, glowing at a blurry six. How much more are you going to have to endure?

“Vice captain Hoshina,” you’re barely able to make out in between sniffles, “please let me go.”

“Why would I do that?” he asks, inspecting, admiring the mess you made on his fingers, “you’re making spectacular progress.”

It hits you then with absolute certainty. One, he has no intention of letting you go, and two, you’re going to reach thirty, one way or another. Before you’re able to lose yourself in your thoughts his finger grazes against your sensitive clit, bringing your attention back to him. 

“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” he mewls, fingers tracing your slick heat. You don’t want to admit to anything, don’t want him to stare at you so intensely. The way carmine eyes trace over your curves makes you feel small, a rabbit held up by the scruff of its neck, one bite away from being devoured.

He cuts you off before you can answer, his fingers making another entrance into your wet pussy. He starts building up that warm bubble in your stomach again, and you can’t bear to look at him. It’s embarrassing, lewd, the wet squelches your pussy makes for him, and it’s all out of your control. All you can do is lie there, take what he gives you. Like a good, obedient soldier.

He carefully inserts another finger and you wince at the intrusion. No matter how wet you are, the sensation is uncomfortable, fills you up far more than you’re used to.

“You’re taking it so well,” he croons, and you don’t want to admit the compliment goes straight to your core. After all, praise rarely makes it to your ears. His other hand grazes past your clit and you find your hips rutting into him, searching for the much needed stimulation. Hoshina is ecstatic to indulge you, drawing slow, loose circles around your bundle of nerves. He builds his pace again, fingers hitting deep into your g-spot, tighter shapes around your clit until the heat in your core builds, white hot.

“There, there, let it all out,” he coos, as if he knows you’re right on the edge, as if he knows your body better than you do, and your body submits against your wishes. That familiar warmth engulfs you again, washes over you until it fades as fast as it came. Everything aches –  you’ve never been so sore, muscles unable to relax with how the convulse around his fingers. You can barely register his fingers withdrawing, head too light and fuzzy from the aftermath.

You lie there, panting and drenched in sweat, reminiscent of those physical training modules you were so horrible at. You can only wish it was that.

“Keep that up and we’ll be done in no time.” Hoshina says, bringing you out from your post-bliss daze.

Hoshina hoists himself onto the table, lowering his pants and boxers just enough to show his cock. The sight of it sends a chill up your spine, has fear brewing a storm in your stomach. It’s just too big, there’s no way you’ll be able to take it.

But your superior officer is a man of incredible tenacity and talent. He’ll make it happen, whether you like it or not.

“No, no, no,” you instinctually attempt to bring your arms to your legs, only to be thwarted by the restraints, leather burning a rash into your skin the harder you resist.

He lifts your legs so they lay against his chest, the flushed tip of his cock now prodding against your entrance. The anticipation is worse, you think, your heart beating uncontrollably fast as you lie there, at the mercy of your vice captain. But maybe it isn’t. Hoshina pushes his cock into your cunt, pain piercing through your walls and he forcefully spreads them apart. He takes his time with it, savoring the changes in your expression with every inch pushed into you before letting out a harsh grunt once he’s fully bottomed out.

“Please, please, sir, too much-” You’re cut off by an involuntary noise from your own tongue, unfamiliar and salacious moans as he starts rutting into you harder.

“Show a little restraint, soldier,” he purrs into your ear.

It’s ironic, because you’re sure your he’s unable to hold any restraint as he fucks you, ruts into you like an animal in heat. His fingers press into your hips so hard you’re sure they’re going to leave bruises, and all you can do is accept his mark on you. It’s a side of your vice captain you’ve never seen before. You’re not sure if you recognize the man in front of you anymore.

“Sir, please, stop,” you beg, tears swelling in your eyes, a blink from falling.

“But you’re clenching around me so hard,” he replies, voice low and sultry, “bet you’re getting close.” 

His hand returns to your clit, pinching on it to coax a reaction out of you. And he gets exactly that – a yelp and your walls tighten around him and he groans. Cruel as he is, he draws languid strokes on your clit, and warmth bubbles in your core. His rough thrusts become more bearable, almost pleasurable, with the added stimulation. 

“Soshiro-“ you moan, his name slipping out of your mouth before you can catch it. It’s too late to take it back, a sly smile forming on Hoshina’s face as soon as it hits his ear. 

“Referring to a superior officer without their title?” he asks breathlessly, voice laced with poison.

“No, no, I’m sorry sir, it was an accident,” you plead, beg, hoping the desperation in your voice is enough to placate him. 

“Perhaps I’ve been too easy on you.” Hoshina’s hands wrap around your neck. “I commend your dedication to your training.”

There’s no room for the pressure to ease in. It hits you all at once. 

Adrenaline whirls and rushes right back into you, and your mind bloats with thoughts of running. But you can’t. Your state is close to that of a rabid animal, aggressively struggling against your cuffs, gritted teeth and all. The reflex to scratch at your neck, placated by the damn restraints. It only gets worse the more you struggle, your wrists rubbed raw from the leather. 

When his eyes glimmer at your pained expression, you realize Hoshina sees what that Kaiju saw in you. Weak. A plaything. Something to toy with and toss to the side once they’ve gotten their fill. 

“You can do it. I know you can do it,” he eggs you on with a smirk on his face. As if you’re an athlete and he’s your oh so encouraging coach. 

If the situation were any different, maybe you would be able to take solace in his words. But all you can feel is tension building in your stomach with each thrust, a sensation you don’t want to entertain. As it builds, guilt roars and churns like a storm in your stomach. 

It shouldn’t feel this good. It shouldn’t feel this good when the circulation to your head is cut off. When everything becomes numb except for the heat in your pussy. The longer he chokes you, the less your brain can stand to function and you’re just one step closer to indulging. 

Maybe you really are weak. 

”Is this what it felt like? Tell me if I’m getting it right,” he teases, his hands wrapping around your neck tighter, blood rushing to your head in a dizzying whirl. He thrusts into your pussy harder, striking a spot that only adds to your daze. 

You can’t bring yourself to look at him—not that you’re able to—tears blurring your vision until everything blends into each other.

“Cryin’ just for me? Can I ask for a bit more?” he asks, but you both know that you are in no place to refuse.

All you can let out are sad sputters and coughs, a sad attempt at a “no” that doesn’t reach his ears. 

Even through your tears, you can see the number on the monitor climb to the highest it’s ever been. Something resembling a choked laugh escapes your lips. Was it delusional? To think you had a seed of potential deep inside you, that your superior officer was willing to nurture it out of you?

Your train of thought is ripped from you, tension reaching a breaking point and you cum with choked moans and desperate gasps for air. Your body tenses, your walls clamping around his cock, gripping onto him like a vice.

Hoshina’s pace starts to slacken, his grip tightening harder around you until he slams one last deep thrust into you. Hot ropes of his seed shoot inside you, and you wince at the warmth.

Once his hands finally let go, it’s all wet coughs and desperate deep inhales. Once you have enough air, soft cries, much like the ones you let out on his shoulder just a few weeks prior, but now on a sterile table. 

The monitor hums quietly, a red thirty-two burned onto the screen.

“You’ll catch up in no time.”

[thesezombiestastelikeashes]

Normally I post about Dimension 20 on my main blog but a thing happened on Adventuring Party and I'm gonna talk about it

So watching through the Episode 2 Adventuring Party, something really amazing happened at 2:15 ish. And now I'm gonna talk about consent and content in Tabletop and how @quiddie and Izzy (and everyone else at the table) absolutely fucking nailed it

Edited because I cannot believe I spelled Aabria wrong so many damn times in a row I'm so sorry

Specifics below the cut for spoilers and content warning: parasites and squick

The notes for DMs (and players) to take away from this:

Look for soft no's, even if you know your players. Make space for a no, even if you are excited. Once the no has been said, move on and no complaining that someone's comfort level isn't the same as yours.

So Brennan asked a question about the parasites, Chipmunks, and bear in Adventuring Party to clarify if Chipmunks and Parasite were one in the same or different entities (it was just the chipmunks being massively fucked up)

Aabria, as DMs who put their entire heart and soul into making a campaign often do, went to start explaining the basis for the parasites (link to ribbon worms, very content warn, dead dove do not eat). The table reacted. Brennan does a very physical ick response, Erika's face was very "I am listening to something gross", while the rest of the table looked interested in that way nerds do when they don't know what they're walking into. And Izzy said "I want you to stop."

Aabria just said ok, told the camera/audience to google it, and they moved on.

And I wanna talk about what a baller move that is on Aabria and Izzy's parts. (And Quiddie if you see this please tell Izzy she's an inspiration and I adore her and all of the compliments)

So first and maybe least controversial: Aabria

-While giving the explanation of the fucked up thing she slows down her talking (I'm not sure if it was intentional but it seemed it so I'm gonna talk about it) Instead of rushing through the explanation the way people excited tend to do she said everything slowly, gave lots of pauses to be interrupted, and really took the time to let the party know what she was describing was icky

-While doing the describing, she looked around the table. Not just at the person with the biggest visual reaction, but you can watch her make the rounds with her eyes to look at everyone and make sure they all know she is still engaging with them and checking in on them

-Her "ok" is so pleasant. It's not just polite, it's not just kind, it's upbeat and pleasant to listen to. There's no judgement in it, there's no "but I wanted to keep talking about this thing" its just "ok"

-And that's the fucking hard part, letting someone know you've heard them without any judgment or disappointment when they want you to stop talking about something

And now Izzy

-Most people aren't going to applaud someone for saying "I want you to stop" to a DM explaining something but I will. A+ Izzy

-She found her boundary and enforced it and felt comfortable with it

-She did it in such a specific way "want" instead of "need"; "I want" instead of "You need", not to mention the full firmness of it where it couldn't be misinterpreted (A+, hardest part)

-The flick of her eyes to the rest of the table, I can't tell if she's checking in with other people's comfort level or just watching Brennan's arm thing, but the way she looks at her fellow players is just such a Thing that I cannot Words about, whether its checking in for their comfort or looking for support for hers its an important look that I might be reading too much into.

Now some other important beats

-No one comments that Izzy made Aabria stop.

-Brennan says he can connect with Aabria later about it, without mentioning any of the content, and Siobhan and Jasper make the note of "maybe don't google it" but no one mentions the content after Izzy says it

-They just move on. Like even if it briefly sounds like they might hit back onto it (we'll never know what Erika was leading to with their "I've always been obsessed with") they just move on immediately

It's a goddamned masterclass of consent at the table. Aabria checking in and looking for soft no's and giving space for hard no's and then once a hard no was thrown immediately shifting the entire direction of the conversation was amazing.

[chainsawcorazon]

August 26th - September 1st, 2024

Monday, August 26th - Rescue // Doppelgänger // First Time

Tuesday, August 27th - Moving in Together // Multiverse // Sex Accidents

Wednesday, August 28th - Scars & Disabilities // Ex's // Aftercare

Thursday, August 29th - Double Date // Phobias // Secret Rendezvous

Friday, August 30th - Superfam & Flashfam // Fourth World // Control

Saturday, August 31st - Realizations & Confessions // Only Lovers Left Alive // Fuck Nasty

Sunday, September 1st - People of Manchester, Alabama & The Ravers // Nightmares // Accidental Kink Discovery

Purpose?

Continuing to celebrate the BartKon Renaissance in the modern era. Since the ship has historically been a rarepair since its conception in the 1990's, this fanweek acts as both a way to celebrate the BartKon narrative in DC Comics, as well as engage new fans in our small yet mighty collective.

Why should we participate in this?

Because you like BartKon. Because you saw fanfiction and fanart and shitposts, and decided you wanted to see what's poppin' in the BartKonosphere. All creators are welcome. Our romcom lovers, the darkfic connoisseurs, and of course, our smut specialists.

So how does it work?

The release date for fanworks is from Monday, the 26th of August through Sunday, the 1st of September, 2024. 

You have four months to write, draw, and create fanworks. On top of fanfiction and fanart, we also encourage meta, essays, ship manifestos, playlists, and poetry.

This is also an opportunity for new fans to engage with an old ship with a robust body of work, hence why this fanweek is dedicated only to BartKon depicted in DC Comics from 1994-2024. This is not a YJ-centric week, nor it is a BartKon+third week, nor is it a my-ship-is-better-than-your-ship week. Please be courteous and treat each other with respect when engaging with fanworks and their creators. If you misbehave, I will be cursing you with ten thousand years of bad luck on top of car/train/transportation trouble every day for the rest of your life.

BartKon of ANY comic book universe is acceptable. If you want to spend the entire fanweek exploring Luthor-El and Bart because you love horrific love, then be my guest! If you want a crazed version of Bart to kidnap Kon from Gemworld, go for it! Let that imagination run WILD!!!

Both safe and not-safe-for-tunglr dot hell tropes are welcome. Just make sure that you post any Mature content on a landing page that doesn't restrict Mature content (like AO3). I don’t want anyone getting their blog banned. We cannot defeat our capitalist overlords, but we can definitely work around them.

This fanweek will not have a dedicated blog. These prompts are free for anyone to use. Because it is a non-traditional, non-monetized, and free-to-opt-in casual event, there will be no mods but moi, no advertising of paid services, and no ratings or participant restrictions. I will open a collection on AO3 in August for anyone who wants their work collated for this event.

In order to ensure that both creators and the audience are making informed decisions about what they engage with, all creators are encouraged to include triggers and any other squick warnings. 

Please utilize the read-more function for fanworks that are longer than 250 words. We're tryna read yer stories, not get spammed with a wall of text. Please Be Courteous.

And last but not least - if you are engaging with any of the fanworks, reblog, reblog, reblog! Share the work with your followers. Send all the love to the creators for crafting their masterpieces!!

What can I contribute?

Fanart (standalones, comic strips, etc.), fanfiction (one-shots, multichapter, etc.), fanmixes, gifsets, graphics, meme collections, fanvids, ship essays and meta, songifics, playlists, poetry, whatever your heart desires! Go wild!!!

Can I create/write not-safe-for-tunglr dot hell content?

Yes!!! All creators are encouraged to include triggers warnings, sub-genre specifications, and other warnings in their posts. I will not discourage you from writing your 16k Bart Goes Insane Over Kon fic, but please... Be Courteous and tag your fanworks appropriately so people can make an informed decision about what they're comfortable with engaging with.

What does (X) prompt mean?

Each day has three prompts!! You can either pick a prompt OR you can combine prompts in different ways. Although the prompts range from The Basics, to Things That Frighten The Barts and Kons, and end with They're Fucking Nasty in Cissie's Basement Because They Can't Afford a Motel, I challenge you to let your imagination take you where you want to go with each prompt!! If you want to explore all three in the same fanwork, then be my guest!! I will not stop you :'>

Mainstream Canon, Elsewords, and AU content is acceptable! Just make sure to stay within the comicsverse. We have SO MUCH BARTKON MADNESS IN THE COMICS, SO PLAY AROUND WITH OUR BEAUTIFUL CANON!!! Creativity is key! Have fun!!!

Can I crackship/multiship/harem/OT3/polyam the characters?

No. It's literally BartKon Week, Heart & Bones Edition. There's like six active fans left on this bitch of an earth. Don't do this to me :'<

Does this have a tag?

During release week, use the general “bartkon” and "konbart" tags to share your work with the wider BartKon fandom on tunglr. You can use whatever other tags you fancy. The best way to share, however, is to directly @ me so that I may reblog it.

I didn’t read a damn thing before this, Ava.

TL;DR: Nearly four months until the fanweek!!! For all fanwork creators out there, now’s the time to start thinking about what prompts you want to utilize for your creations. There are no creative restrictions, but I do ask that you follow these posting tips:

All fanfiction should be under a read-more.  

Not-safe-for-tunglr fanwork should be LINKED to whatever landing site the content is being hosted on (Twitter, AO3, etc). This includes both fanfiction and fanart. I don’t want your blog getting flagged bc tunglr hates gay people.

Provide content warnings for all triggers, squicks, and sub-genres. Unfortunately, in my ten odd years away from DC Comics, the fandom's seen a resurgence in puritanical behavior and tons of censorship and self-censorship. Please list content warnings on your work but do not be discouraged in sharing your work. If a fancop gets on your ass, block them. Please block as MANY as you can. They're like pests, they're always gonna be there, but their influence can be diminished by staunch blocking and reporting.

You can participate as much as you want!! Maybe you only wanna create for one day? Cool! Maybe you’re an overachieving corporate clown insomniac like myself, and wanna create for every day of the week? Go for it!!! 

The most important thing is to have fun :)

Closing Remarks

Like all my other events I host, this event, too, is entirely selfish. I've loved BartKon since I was a child when I was first introduced to it in the form of Bart/Clark on Smallville. Although I only recently came back to reading DC's mainline comics, BartKon still holds a special place in my heart even after all these years, and the few who still create and engage in their fanworks inspired me to host a little something-something for our small community.

Take your time, look through the prompts, and get your creative juices flowing! I will be sending out reminders until the go-live date.

For the people who showed interest during the initial interest check, I hope you're able to participate. To the people who hate me, your mom's a hoe. Thank you.

[peyton-warren]

Cavillrine with reader on her period.

Fucking her, not caring if blood gets on the sheets, he’s seen blood, fuck it he’s spilt blood before.

Thank you for the ask hon!! Yours was the first of the Writer's Block Party Prompts that I tackled, so thank you for sending me such an enticing idea! I hope this drabble fits the bill.

Characters: Cavillrine, Reader Fandom: Deadpool and Wolverine Pairings: Cavillrine x Reader Word count: 308 Gender/Ethnicity: Any. Reader menstrates Type: One-shot Warning: discussion of blood, hinting that Reader menstrates, Logan being Logan Author's Note: Thank you to @rosecentury for the prompt, and @ellethespaceunicorn for the beta! And thank you for those of you sticking with me through my horrendous writer's block. Tried to keep reader as Neutral as possible to be inclusive. Summary: You and Cavillrine hit an impasse, or did you? Ask Box: Open Masterlist

Your cheeks flamed as Logan looked at you like you had 27 heads.  “And?” he asked.  

You shook your head and sighed—damn near tears at this point.  “There is no ‘And,’ Wolvie.  It's just that.”

He still looked befuddled, his forehead wrinkled in confusion and his eyes darting between yours as if one would tell him something your lips did not.  Shaking his head with almost a snap, he started to smirk.  “You think a little blood is going to scare me?”

“It squicks some guys,” you tried.    His smile widened into an out and out toothy grin.   “”First of all I’m not ‘some guys’,” he assured you.  “Secondly, what the fuck does ‘squick’ mean?”  His lack of pop culture knowledge always amused you and this was no different.  Now you tried to hide your smile behind your hand but your giggle was unmistakable.  “Oh and now you are laughing at me?!?” he joked before opening his arms to you.  “C’mere, bub,” he stated softly.  

You step into him and wrap your arms around his solid waist, pressing your giggles into his chest.  “You are adorable when you giggle,” he informed you, his rough chin brushing your neck as he hugged you closer.  

“You’re pretty adorable all the time,” you affirmed.    

“I don't know that I’ve ever been called adorable,” he admitted with an amused tone.  “Can I get back to fucking you now?” he asked in the next breath.  

Lifting your head, you found his heated stare moving from your eyes to where you were biting your bottom lip, suddenly wondering why you stopped kissing him in the first place.  Without another word your lips found him in a hard kiss, reigniting the flames that you had briefly tried to douse just a few short minutes ago as his hand slipped under the waistband of your panties.  

General Tag List: @ellethespaceunicorn @littleone65, @mysweetlittledesire, @jvanilly, @identity2212, @avengersfan25 @foxyjwls007 @gummydummy19 @cynic-spirit @rosecentury HC Tag LIst: @m07belzen, @used-to-be-bourbonwithice, @hawklin, @geralts-yenn @summersong69,

@sillyrabbit81 @mistressmkay

If you want to be added or removed from my Tag Lists, please let me know.

[helluvasins]

This server is HELLAVERSE only. No crossovers from other places may be used here. So yes--you MUST convert your ocs/canons into Hellaverse to RP here! Keep in mind that this server basically acts as a hotpot! If your character wants to go to the Hazbin Hotel, the one they're referring to will always be the one in this server. This is to keep things in one place so confusion won't occur!

So yes--this means that this server is DUPLICATE FRIENDLY and DUPLICATE ENCOURAGED!! Have duplicate anxiety? Well--this is the place to get through that!

INVITE LINK: HERE - SERVER IS 18+ ONLY FOR MUNS & MUSES!!

REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED !!

SERVER LORE AND RULES UNDER THE CUT:

SERVER LORE:

DOUBLE TROUBLE started as two hells that have been combined into one. The original alts are the muses belonging to Rags & Zero. This means that the hotel--the one that muses frequent today belong to the alternatives, Ember & Poppy [Two Charlie alts belonging to Rags & Zero] - This does not mean that these alternatives are the /original/ versions of the characters, it just means that this is the SETTING of the server, and the origin of the Lore of the server.

Each time a new muse gets added, that hell combines into theirs, creating an expanding Hell & Heaven. Places like Hotel, Vee Tower, etc--get bigger to compensate for the new members who join the timeline. Whatever your Lore is for your Hell gets combined into this one, creating a giant super hell & heaven full of shenanigans.

OOC RULES:

This server is meant for muns and muses 18+ in age! No minors!

Fill in ⁠⁠mun-info so you will be able to see the rest of the channels. This is mandatory!! ⁠muse-info is Mandatory to fill in when rping here! Don't just raw the chats!! Fill in the pinned sheet!

Do not abuse the @ functions. Don't repeatedly @ someone OOCLY

If you are having any sort of discomfort or issues, please message a mod or message the person you're having problems with in private. We won't know if something is wrong unless you speak up. Keep drama out of OOC. And remember, IC doesn't = OOC. [ People can not read minds. /Please/ communicate if there are issues.

Please do not talk over others in the commentary channels when it's actively being used. If you have something to say that's not on topic within those channels, please use another one that's available, or talk to the mun through dms.

If you have art for your character that's not yours/commissioned, you MUST source the art. If the art in question is of someone's oc, you MUST ask permission for it to be used. In general, don't post unsourced art. That's not allowed here.

HellaVerse is a mature series that dives into topics that are uncomfortable! Be aware that if the topic is triggering, please censor and warn people of the topic before posting it!

IC TEXTING /F2F RULES:

Don't talk OOCLY in IC channels. If you have commentary, please use the appropriate ooc channels to ask questions.

The chats!! Move fast sometimes!! And it's okay, to not be able to engage all the time. Be aware that because things are fast paced, stuff will be missed, and sometimes assumed. Use OOC chats to settle things if people misstep. People aren't doing these things out of malice, and more so out of excitement and engagement.

IC Actions have consequences! IC ACTIONS HAVE CONSEQUENCES!! (I CAN NOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH.) If your muse acts or says certain things another character may disagree with, don't be surprised if they have something to say about it! Don't have muses start fights and engage aggressively with characters stronger than them, and act shocked when they get shit for it.

Violence is allowed. Suggestiveness is allowed to an extent. NSFW heading rps are to be done in private. Be mindful to use spoilers or warnings for certain triggers/squicks.

God-Modding, Metagaming and Power Playing isn’t allowed. Muses shouldn't know specific information unless they know each other/learned things through the muse. Please allow space for the other character to react.

NON-PLAYABLE CHARACTERS: Characters that can NOT be rped here due to comfort reasons:

God

Jesus

Ocs that belong to others without granted permission

Children Characters

Blatant fetish characterizations [ Example being you take a character like Moxxie, and hit him with a fat-fetish kink and try to get him bullied ic or oocly ]

Pedophilic Characters / Incest Characters

[the-path-to-redemption]

Long Post Ahead. Trigger Warnings: Suicide baiting mention, violence mention, encouragements of harm upon others.

I am incredibly disappointed and disgusted by Tumblr's report system.

Recently, I've reported a post encouraging suicide/death upon people (specifically those who identify as proshippers or have age gap ships), so immediately I've blocked and reported them.

I will show the post below, but please do not go to this person's page if you recognize them. I've deliberately cropped out their username, because I do not believe that engaging with them in anyway directly will solve the issue, nor will it differentiate their actions from ours. Please do not come to them for harassment or with any direct engagement, they do not deserve the negative attention they're trying to bait for. Report and block them, stay safe.

This post above is incredibly vile; OP in response to an ask has made their opinion about people very clear, they do not care about lives nor do they actually care about victims of CSA. Encouragement of suicide or extreme violence towards others over fictional contents should never be allowed or tolerated. The people OP mentions are real, living breathing human beings, yet they opted for the defense of fictional characters instead. Mind you, fictional characters who has been that age for nearly a decade.

This isn't me saying that you can't and shouldn't feel squicks about this type of shipping dynamic; I myself do not find it comfortable, but the right thing to do is to block the content and move on. This post is me saying that there is a problem online in recent years, where individuals such as OP will say loudly with their chest that real people should be dead over what fictional content they choose to consume, which is fucking disgusting. There is no situation where what OP and those like them advocate is acceptable. There should be no tolerance to this kind of behavior.

Therefore, I've submitted a report to Tumblr. But this is their response:

"The content you reported is not a violation of our policies."

I'm sorry, w h a t?

In what fucking world is advocating for living people's death not violating your policies, Tumblr?

This person, without any shame, believe that people should DIE VIOLENTLY, over FICTIONAL CONTENT no less. How is that in anyway acceptable?

No matter what stance you take on shipping contents listed above, TELLING PEOPLE THEY DESERVES TO GET HURT AND DIE WILL NEVER BE ACCEPTABLE. You are not better than anyone if you do this. Matter of fact, you are not better than dirt, because you are willing to wish real harm on others instead of actually doing better for victims of CSA/similar abuse.

And for Tumblr and its @staff, do better. I mean it. Actually look through the fucking post, evaluate the content, and do. Fucking. Better. This type of behavior should not be tolerate, ever.

[theclaravoyant]

love your d/s aos fic vibes but i haaaate d*ddy k*nk so i was wondering if you'd do 'rough kiss' or 'kiss after a bite' + bucktommy? *please emoji*

AN ~ it would be my pleasure! honestly the d*ddy thing squicks me super hard too so i'm happy to contribute to the pool of kinky goodness that doesn't involve that particular part. however! and this won't be a surprise if you've enjoyed my aos smut lmao but i got sidetracked by snuggles so this fic actually ends up filling 'kiss to the top of the head' instead of those other two... but will it be a series? don't tempt me haha prompt list

Relationships: BuckTommy Content: Oral Sex, Established Relationship, Praise Kink, sub!Buck, Dom!Tommy

Read on AO3 (1300wd)

take me by the tongue (Rated E)

Buck had always had a bit of a thing for Strong Independent Women in the bedroom. Sure he'd enjoyed broadening the odd horizon and showing them things their shitty boyfriends never did and all that, and he wasn't immune to the fawning groupie type either, but there was something to be said for the ones who knew what they wanted, stated it, took it. Save a horse, ride a cowboy. It was one of his favourite shirts.

So, suffice to say, he was having a great time with Tommy. A great time. He loved to learn. He loved to please. And both of those things were going, again, great. There was a give and take, there was a learning curve, there was the way his heart grew a few sizes when he could get Tommy panting and calling his name in the throes of it all but there was also an... itch, he needed scratching.

A raised eyebrow.

“It would be, 'okay'?” Tommy pushed back.

“Yeah. You know. If you wanted. To treat me a little... rougher.”

The trouble with being the fit hot and yeah, highly sexual guy in those relationships, is that being good at it was kind of all that mattered. None of them had been long or intimate enough for him to get much practice actually verbalising the specifics of what he wanted; their bodies usually did the talking, and there wasn't this getting-to-know-each-other, please-don't-think-I'm-a-freak period. The freak was laid out right there on the table, take it or leave it. Swipe left or swipe right. Plus, if you wanted to get sad about it, Buck hadn't been in much of a place to speak up for himself back then. If anyone had wanted more from him than he was comfortable giving he probably would have given it anyway. He tried not to think about that part too much.

But Tommy – Tommy wanted to an a frankly frustrating degree to make sure he felt happy and respected and comfortable, and as much as he hated to admit it, that was still kind of new for Buck.

“Is that something you want, Evan?”

Tommy's eyes, rock-steady, scanned Buck's face for any signs of what he wasn't saying. He sidled closer with the slightest salacious whisper of a smile and Buck wondered if maybe his eyes were giving him away. Screaming what his throat wouldn't. Fuck me, bruise me, pull my hair. Pin me down. Make me beg. As if Tommy could see right through to the visions playing in his mind, he pulled their hips together with a rougher yank than usual, and pinched Buck's quivering chin between calloused fingers. Buck took a deep breath, and it stuck to his tongue, and Tommy gently, firmly refused to let him look away as he read him like a book.

“Don't be nervous, baby,” Tommy purred. “Tell me. How rough do you want it? Just a little shove-me-against-a-wall action? Or... how about I pull your hair while you suck me off and I don't let you up til you're gagging for it-”

“Jesus, Tommy.” Buck's knees shuddered and his eyelids fluttered closed for a moment. Tommy made a deep, approving sound in his throat.

“That bad, huh? Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Hell yeah, it is. Tommy bit his lip, smiling; his eyes dark pools of desire that Buck wanted nothing more than to throw himself into and surrender. Slowly, torturously slowly, Tommy leaned for another kiss, and his fingers moved from Buck's chin to the back of his head, and he brushed gently at the hair there. His lips were just about to touch...

Then he grabbed. And shoved.

“Knees.”

“Yes!”

Buck let his knees fold. His heart thumped. Damn, but Mr Chivalry was good at this. Good at this, and turned the fuck on if the shape in his pants was anything to go by. Tommy yanked at his belt, his pants, his underwear, his own enthusiasm bleeding through in his desperation to take advantage of Buck's waiting lips. He didn't need the hand in Buck's hair to get the kid to take him as deep as the primal need for oxygen would allow. He was always an enthusiastic lover, but Christ, Tommy thought. This was next level. So he pulled his hair anyway, steering him, pushing him. He did love a challenge, and he rose to it – and he rose to it. And then, before Tommy could even make his mouth form the words to order him not to touch himself, he clasped his own hands together behind his back and just went even harder with his mouth. It gave Tommy all sorts of ideas.

“God, Evan, you're beautiful,” he growled. Buck moaned at the praise, and it sang through him. He knotted his fingers tighter at the back of Buck's head and thrust into his mouth. “Thank you – for telling me what you wanted. There's so much more I want to do to you. You're so good for me.”

Buck moaned in drunken, desperate pleasure. Tommy had to give the man's desire addled brain some credit. He knew what he was doing. Lord, did he. And to think he'd prepared himself at the beginning of all this to talk a baby bi through things. Now that they'd gotten to know each other a little better, he was pretty sure Buck knew and enjoyed things he'd never even heard of. Christ, but this kid was going to be the death of him.

“If it's too much,” he instructed, “say Maverick. Or tap out like I showed you in Muay Thai, remember?”

Buck hummed his affirmative, but he was so far from tapping out. His hands unclasped themselves and flailed in the air either side of them but it was only in search of friction – to grab his own swollen cock, maybe or Tommy's thighs to pull himself deeper, and Tommy growled - “No.”

And they went back, and Buck whimpered, but he did it, and the vibration in his throat was almost enough to send Tommy over the edge. He felt full to bursting and he knew Buck could take it – even if he was starting to shake and plead against him. He was making little hitching gagging sounds, wet and sucking sounds, and he refused to give up. And Tommy was only a man, and his hips were starting to shudder like bad brakes. The both of them were getting so close it was hard to harness his words.

“You- you like being told how good you are, don't you?” Tommy teased. “And I bet you'd make the most gorgeous little rope bunny for me. We should- We should talk about- ”

Buck made a sound that Tommy was pretty sure was something along the lines of Tommy, please!

He was so fucking full of cock and love and helpless base need that tears were starting to leak from his eyes. His own hips shivered and jerked and he was going to struggle to stay upright much longer.

“I hear you, baby,” Tommy assured him. “You're so ready for me, aren't you? Come with me, Evan. Take it, baby, take it. It's all yours. I'm all yours.”

He let go, and Buck did indeed take it and lapped him up like the fountain of youth until his own orgasm overcame him too and turned his hips and his knees into jelly. The only thing holding him up after that was Tommy's hand in his hair and eventually the man had to take mercy and let that go too. Buck melted into a puddle of bliss on the floor, beaming; his pupils blown wide and every muscle twitching with pleasure. He has the right idea, Tommy thought, and let himself flop down right next to him and pull him into the best semblance of a spoon he could manage with uncooperative cum-drunk muscles and a hard floor.

“Wow,” Buck mumbled. “This whole communicating thing is really hot.”

“No, baby,” Tommy replied, and planted a kiss on top of his wild hair. He'd really done a number on it, and it made him smile. “Pretty sure that's all you.”

[saturnine-saturneight]

Writerly Questionnaire

@davycoquette posted this up and it looks fun :)

About You

When did you start writing?

I started writing poetry somewhere in my early teens, then expanded to short snippets when my school had a creative writing workshop as part of a week long retreat. I did some minor roleplaying on the [Country redacted] version of Facebook, then started roleplaying on a fandom specific forum at 17... Started running with a group on Discord and Tumblr and learned how to write well with a dictionary always open in another tab. It's how I learned the majority of both my conversational and my writing English!

Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

There are themes I really don't like to watch or read, but love to write, for example medical horror and body horror. I get squicked out when I'm not in control of those. I also adore detective fiction, especially Poirot, but don't have an interest in putting together a murder mystery myself.

Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you’re often compared?

I think the way I write is very conversational and very stream of consciousness. I'm a child of the internet, and you could make an easy comparison to other people writing indie online, but I'm not sure the comparison is as easy when you're looking at bigger, traditionally published authors. I think about the way I write in comparison to the Realism art movement sometimes. I want to emulate how people really talk, and I want to get deep into the nitty gritty of a psyche.

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.)

Laying down ✌️

What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse?

Daydreaming! Dozing, napping, taking a walk, doing the dishes; anything that lets my mind wander.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

Not really. See above, child of the internet, but I'm also not sure I can capture what my country is really like. I never feel all that informed or all that "with it" here.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

Come back with a warrant, lmfao.

Your Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, etc.)

This is hard for me to decide because I really do love most of my characters equally when I just spend enough time with them. Of course it's Ron right now, I'm writing his story and he's living in a bigger corner of my brain than usual. I never really figured out what he had to say until pretty recently, he's always been a very taciturn narrator and loathe to talk about his feelings in dialogue. Throwing him into a fully moving plot and inflicting The Horrors on him really makes him react, and it's endearing him to me a lot.

Which of your characters do you think you’d be friends with in real life?

Matcha! She's goofy and sweet and she has a lot of things to talk about. We'd just need to set boundaries early because I'm not a fan of being flirted with. I also think I could get along with most of the rest, at least on friendly terms.

Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

Nat is an amalgamation of the worst traits and tendencies that I see in other people and myself. They're also a bully, which is something that personally makes me see red. They can go be a sympathetic villain somewhere else.

Tell me about the process of coming up with of one, all, or any of your characters.

So the very first one of the bunch was Teo. He was originally a pirate, and I made him to be weird and angsty and complex, but also kind of a liar who'd just boast about things unfounded. I thought this was easy to figure out, but I started noticing people taking him at his word, so I made Haru to call him out on his shit. These two were good foils, but didn't talk that much, so I made Rabbit who can never shut up to deliver some exposition.

When I make a character, they fill a niche in a dynamic, and/or have behaviors and beliefs that I want to write about. The rest is vibes.

Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

I try to make them pretty diverse from each other, but there's always a general sense of overcoming and survival that I think is fascinating and write a lot about.

How do you picture them? (As real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc.)

I don't have 20/20 vision in my imagination, things are pretty fuzzy. Real people, but stylized, I think.

Your Writing

What’s your reason for writing?

To create a space where I can really dig into the things I like and the things that are on my mind. I'm also pretty competitive towards myself. I always want to be better at something than I have been so far.

Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

I love comments that really pinpoint which moments or beats a reader enjoyed...

How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work? (For example: as a literary genius, or as a writer who “gets” the human condition; as a talented worldbuilder, as a role model, etc.)

Just some guy, please.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Character depth and dialogue.

What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others?

Dialogue also, and a certain sense of... chaos? Urgency? My longer form stuff has been described as 'one long rollercoaster'.

How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.)

Eh. I'm happy when it turns out well.

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

Oh that's a mean question. I do have a little bit of a "what's going to be my legacy" thing going on. Yeah, I think I would still write, though. I really do it for the fun of it as well. It's just a lot less fun when I can't bounce it off other people and see what it turns into where it meets their lives and their experiences.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence

On a line by line basis, I have an issue of trying to write to a worst faith reader that I'm trying to work through, but the larger picture is completely just what I enjoy and not written to a specific genre, reader, or market.

I am tagging @marlowethelibrarian @fortunatetragedy @paeliae-occasionally @lychhiker-writes @rotting-moon-writes and YOU 🫵

[chalkrevelations]

So, I had to go back and watch the forehead flick and Sailom’s little admonition of “no Thai” with his wagging finger about five times before I could move on, and part of that is because the comedy was on-point, but part of it is how much weight that moment carries. It really is so very reminiscent of correcting a recalcitrant puppy, while at the same time being very casually boyish horseplay and one-up-manship, and I think those things combined do a ton of load-bearing as we start moving into the next stage of their relationship. On a meta level, the comic aspect of it breaks some of the tension we’ve been carrying around about them and the previously established tone of the relationship between them. And it also really establishes that - despite the way what’s happened between them in the past can reverberate for Sailom – he’s not afraid of Kanghan, he’ll treat him casually, he’ll take the lead, and there can be some balance of power in this relationship, despite outside power disparities. This is an interaction of equals, and both of them are fine with it.

Kanghan has all his previously established socioeconomic power, sure. But here, Sailom has a kind of institutionalized power, as the tutor in the relationship. But also, that’s only because Kanghan has allowed it, has ceded power to Sailom. All Kanghan has to do is say he doesn’t want to do this, and it would be over, and there would be zero consequences for him - and on some level, they both know that, already, even though Sailom still doesn’t really know anything about Kanghan’s dad yet. Kanghan has clearly demonstrated that he could walk away, and the only reason he’s showed up – as far as Sailom knows at this point - is because Sailom insisted, and he maybe wants to make his Grandma proud of him, he guesses, shrug. Meanwhile, sure, Kanghan dragged Sailom into unfamiliar territory with the steak-dinner date, but he also demonstrates here that he’s perfectly willing to follow Sailom into Sailom’s own territory, onto unfamiliar ground, lit. and fig. He puts himself in Sailom’s hands, he follows Sailom’s lead – explicitly, he follows Sailom’s lead, instead of bribing the bouncer to let them into the bar/restaurant. Sailom just kind of casually takes Kanghan into his own world, into his own life, to the open-air market in an area where he’s done a lot of helping people with their English, and Kanghan just. Follows him. Doesn’t even think twice about it. (Except for complaining that he’d’a dressed up if he’d known this was a date.)

Plus, he then completely humiliates himself for no real reason other than to get Sailom’s approval. Come on, do any of us really think there would be any real consequences if he performed badly on his English exam? (NO.) But Sailom has set him a task, and by god, he’s going to do it, no matter how hard it is for him. (PRAISE KINK ENGAGED.)

And my god, Kanghan. Ohhhh my godddd. Nobody’s stomped on my embarrassment squick this hard in a long time. I’m literally cringing watching you try to pick up strangers get strangers’ Instagrams. I realize part of the bit is that your English is supposed to be bad, but could you not come up with some kind of cover story here, like, “ha ha, I made a bet with my friend, who could get the most Instagram connections, he’ll owe me a beer” – something, anything so you look the slightest bit less like you’re inappropriately hitting on every single person you approach? Or at least try to talk to them a little bit, first? MY GUY. PLEASE. You do approach this whole thing with the same determination and lack of reservation you used when you pulled a gun on the goons who were beating up your boyf bullying target, so I have to give you that, I guess – once again, your feckless, reckless rich-kid confidence carries you through. Or are you just determined to do a good job for Sailom so you can continue to get praise and belly rubs? Because I think that may be a big part of it.

[whumping-in-the-dark]

Introduction Post

Hey!! Just another anon lurker who decided to finally step out of the shadows. Probably a bit too awkward but that's a work under progress.

Here's some stuff I like (more vibes than anything here ig):

Intense shit (idk how to exactly explain it... just like no hope at the end of the tunnel kinda thing)

Claustrophobic settings (again can't exactly explain it-- it's like the atmosphere is kind of stifling?)

Noncon (arrest me ig)

Here's some stuff I don't enjoy a lot (doesn't mean it's a squick or anything [I haven't really encountered any squicks so far huh] maybe I just haven't found a piece I liked with these in it)

Lady whumpees (idk why)

Non human/robotic whumpees (vamps are an exception)

Fantasy settings (magicy stuff)

The sort of drugging in which whumpee can't move like at all (paralysis kinda stuff)

Stoic whumpers (like yes do the worst shit ever but like show some emotion while doing it)

Environmental whump (ig I need folks doing bad deeds)

May update this in the future. If I ever write anything it'll be tagged with #mewrites, all of my drawings will be tagged using #medraws, and all reblogs will be tagged with #reblog. Oh and if it's anything nonwhumpy it'll be tagged as #notwhump.

Always looking for recommendations (def recommend me your own writings too like yes please even if they include the stuff 'I don't like' because I wanna change my mind about that don't like stuff anyway so)

Oh and here are the whump blogs off the top of my head which I love rn (no I'm too scared to actually tag them):

@/darkthingshappen (bennyyyyyy)

@/lonewhumper (asaasasasasaasasasa)

@/oddsconvert (joshhhhhhhh)

@/whumpcereal (jackandjoejackandjoeja-)

[damnfandomproblems]

Rounding up a few responses to Fandom Problem #5347 and ensuing replies

Anon:

5347 seems to be getting a lot of really whiny people getting upset they dared complain about people not tagging things properly. Even people who agree it’s a problem are being like “well it’s your job to cope with it. Just accept it.” My brother in Christ, this is the blog where people complain about issues. That’s the point. People are saying “you signed on for this by following the main tag” and aren’t considering they signed on to see people complaining about things they’ve decided you should just grin and bear for some reason by following a blog like this.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Anon:

Yeah, not everyone is going to tag, but it should be expected Bring up the drunk driver point from earlier. People who don't tag should be treated similarly. There needs to be (social) consequences for fans who don't tag Yeah, there's always going to be drunk drivers but that does not mean they just get to do as they please If someone doesn't tag something, or they tag it incorrectly, kindly ask for them to fix it and if they choose to not properly tag, stone wall them fuck out of fandom. Report their un/under tagged posts for spam (or worse if it applies, e.g., sexual content if it's nsft), block them, get your friends to block them too, and make it so they no longer want to hang around because their rude ass is getting no attention. Fandom should be inhospitable towards people who can't take the three seconds to add a tag and show basic human respect for others Don't send hatemail, of course, or dox them or any of that bullshit, but drive them out through a mix of using the TOS and reporting and mass blocking. It should be expected to either tag or be ignored, just like how you should be expected to filter those tags as need be or suffer through being squicked/triggered with no one else to blame besides yourself and/or your guardian(s) depending on your age Everyone should drive with caution, but they shouldn't have to consistently expect drivers because people shouldn't be drunk driving, and drunk drivers should have consequences when they decide to drive drunk because it's both selfish and puts others at risk (Or, to translate the analogy for those not following along: everyone should browse with caution and have their blacklist up to date and be ready to block, but they shouldn't have to consistently expect to have to block people because people should be properly tagging their posts, and people who don't tag their posts should have consequences because they're being selfish and risking triggering/squicking people out because they want attention [if they have the time and energy to put it in the main tag, they have the time and energy to tag a few other things too])

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

Anon:

The solution to seeing content you don't like that wasn't tagged properly is to... scroll past it and move on. Trust me, I know. It's annoying when you end up seeing content you didn't want to, or when it ends up cluttering up what you /were/ looking for, but being outraged about it is not a good solution. If you fixate on it, then you'll remember it and think about it more. If you just go "oh, that's not tagged, I wish it was" and scroll past and focus on the content you /do/ want to see, then you'll eventually forget you even saw it (unless it's something particularly egregious, but it's an inevitability of the internet that you'll come across that sometimes). If you're not mature enough to handle the idea of sometimes seeing things that weren't tagged properly, than I don't think you're mature enough to be on the internet. Also the internet is not /for/ children, it is a place where children are /allowed/ to be. It is not an adults responsibility to moderate their online presense just in case a minor ends up seeing something that makes them uncomfortable. Especially on websites that allow +18 content. Obviously an adult should make it clear that they're account is not for minors, and try to avoid interactions with minors, but adults should be allowed to make adult content for other adults without having to think about the hypothetical minor that might come across it.

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

Anon:

May you explain me how to avoid a tag that's not here? Here's a silly example: I'm looking for #green, but I don't want to see #orange, so I filter out #orange in the contents and tags I don't want to see. Yet in the browsing results, it's still jammed with #orange, and most of the time untagged. How do I "not look"? Am I expected to block every single blog talking about untagged #orange? When I'm just looking for #green stuff?

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

Anon: (replying to this ask)

I'm sorry, but I can't take anyone who calls the person they're arguing with "sweetie" seriously. It makes it sound like you're about to try and sell me essential oils to cure cancer and depression. I don't know why people do this, but it always makes me laugh.

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

Anon:

"Your oh so precious "block button" could probably be effective if people TAGGED just like I block tags I don't like. Blocked tags won't work if they don't exist in the first place." Reply: Blocking tags is one thing, but can't you just block users? Sure it happens after the fact and you've already seen whatever it is, but you can't preemptively stop unwanted interactions every time. There's always going to be some kind of content you never knew existed and it will pop up and yell 'boo'. I feel like if you can't handle the risk of seeing stuff that grosses you out or annoys you (and that's fair, more power to you), maybe it's best you just don't go in those tags or subscribe to them? You have a right to be pissed off that people don't tag, etc, but if you constantly dwell on that and don't take measures to stop exposing yourself to that kind of thing (reasonable measures like not looking at or subscribing to certain tags), it's not healthy man.

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

Anon:

"People are going to drink drive anyway" is not a reason to remove legal consequences for drink driving, or to stop teaching new drivers why it's important to stay sober, or to ask anyone who gets hit by a drunk driver "What, were you too precious to just drive defensively?" "There will always be people who don't follow basic tagging etiquette" is not a reason to stop educating new fans about what that etiquette is, or to expect anyone not to get annoyed when a significant number of people cannot be bothered to follow very simple tagging courtesies. So many of you in the responses think everyone should be responsible for their own fandom experience? Then why are you coming to a blog that's specifically dedicated to giving people a space to complain about fandom problems that they find annoying, and having a problem with people complaining about fandom problems that they find annoying?

[blacknidstang]

Big personal rant

For the time i was logged out i learned this one thing that as great and peaceful and amazing as it is to be away from extremely ridiculous online, especially fandom discourse and have no argument in your head about some fictional character and feel squicked by dumbest shits possible, fixating on such thing is truly the brain's way to avoid colossally horrible real life situation and worries. Like i truly felt a sense of superiority not being bothered by any poll and bad fandom takes but you know what was on my mind when i woke up everyday? If the direct war actually starts here what do i do? How do i escape the country, how doomed i am, how much of my life is wasted. What am i doing. Even if i don't get bombed, am i in the right track of life? Is everything pointless? Am i wasted and done for?? What do i do with my anger, what do i do with my sense of being trapped because I can't find the independence and I don't where i should be right now and i dont know if someone i love would one day hate me so hard and i dont know my close friend even sees me as a friend and i dont know how to deal with the world that could never rise up to the bully who is committing most atrocious genocide and there's so much hopelessness and confusion in every inch of my life that maybe thats why i was feeling so much anger when i would see a dumb take about how straight sam is because, god knows that doesn't matter, but it's easier to be angry with and get over bc everything else is sooo impossible to move on from. Anyway sorry. my panic attack is over but the horrible mess in my head is ongoing and i cant stop crying so please forgive me and dont mind this

[bunny-extract]

I really hope I didnt squick you out with that bloody Konig ask. That's the last thing I'd want and I'm so sorry if I did. Instead I present for your consideration: Alejandro the king of inspections. You're his pet--his good little puppy--and you know he loves you but he won't settle for less than perfection.

Posture, presentation, and perseverance are the rules you live by in his bedroom. When he orders you to assume a position-at ease, bent double over his desk, on your knees-you do  not move. Squirming about earns you exactly one swat to the back of your thighs. If he has to warn you again, you get nothing at all.

He'll examine you thoroughly, looking first over your clothes. The most minor infractions earn you a slap: a crooked hem, a spot of lint, a hair out place. He expects an apology, one you gladly give, the sting of the slap and the humiliation of it all leaving your head fuzzy and your bits dripping. Only when he's satisfied with your penatence does he order you to strip, allowing youths honour of presenting yourself to him, head bowed, body pliant and willing.

Thats when he'd finally put hands on you, his rough palms all over your skin. He'd manhandle you about, appraising you as one might prized livestock. He'd spread you open with thick fingers, rubbing over your most sensitive spots, pretending not to notice how your thighs tremble.

Sometimes your sensitivity gets the better of you and you whine and push back against him. It earns your a volley of harsh slaps against your thighs and ass, but the groan that vibrates through his chest tells you it isn't entirely unappriacted.

By the time he slides his fingers into your holes, your practically vibrating, fighting to keep still. He spreads them wide, stretching you out and whispering filth into your ears: "Squeezing my fingers so tight, chachurro, I don't think it will fit." He'd stroke the side of your face, a loving gesture that ends in a harsh slap, "not that you deserve it."

You'd beg for permission to speak, beg for a chance to convince him he's wrong, but his patience runs shockingly deep and he's got all night to take you apart. You'll prove yourself to him no doubt, but on his timeline, not your own.

HI FIRSTLY, no you didn’t squick me at all, I just prefer having any touchier content to be of my own just to keep responsibly on me.

Secondly, PLEASE get ur little ass off anon and POST THESE. And then hmu, ur writing is sick. This made me feel all fuzzy and nervous holy fuck.

[imakemywings]

Sapphic Book Recs

Moving outside the realm of fanning out over characters we already know, here are a few book recommendations that feature or center F/F relationships. (Note: I am NOT including comprehensive trigger warnings--please mind your triggers if you choose to check any of these out!)

The Locked Tomb series by Tamsyn Muir - My personal favorite on the list. If you’re into the F/F lit scene at all, I’m sure you’ve heard of these. TLT is a masterpiece of modern fantasy and has enough moments where its glib tone gives way into something raw and real that it keeps the stakes high and the reader invested. The characters jump off the page and the worldbuilding is colorful and strange. However, if you’re easily squicked by gore, you might want to give these a pass--necromancy is a central pillar of the world and Muir does not hold back on the ick factor.

Recommend if you:

Like stories that keep you guessing

Like messy characters

Savor a bit of codependency in your F/F

The Burning Kingdoms trilogy by Tasha Suri - TBK is a fantasy series set in a fictional country inspired by ancient India. Suri weaves together the stories of several characters and does an excellent job of showing how her two main protagonists--Priya and Malini--are torn between their attraction to each other and the roles of responsibility they choose to take up. Suri also does an excellent job of allowing the female characters to drive the plot, even where they don’t exist in positions of power. (Longer review here)

Recommend if you:

Want female-focused fantasy

Enjoy the push and pull of “duty vs. love”

Enjoy multi-POV stories that unfold gradually

Fingersmith by Sarah Waters - Fingersmith is a period romance piece that involves deceit, heist plans, and falling in love with the mark. This is one of those books where re-reading it a second time will definitely feel different than the first go. Waters does a great job with the interplay of the characters’ motivations which are gradually revealed throughout the book.

Recommend if you:

Enjoy spy/heist stories

Love it when characters lie to each other

Are mostly looking for romance

The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon - An epic high fantasy novel clocking in at over 800 pages, Priory covers a lot of ground and a lot of fantasy staples. Ead, an outsider to the court of Inys, has taken it upon herself to secretly guard the queen for reasons of her own--with the results you might hope for as she gets closer to Sabran.

Recommend if you:

Enjoy a romantic subplot but don't want it to take over the action

Enjoy multi-POV stories that unfold gradually

Like the tension of "duty vs. love”

Want an epic dragon-on-dragon fight

One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston - If you just really want something lighthearted and if you’re a big reader of fanfiction, this might be your choice. OLS is a fluffy piece that relies heavily on the found family trope with just a dash of fantasy. The standout character is definitely love interest Jane, a suave, confident butch who sweeps protag August off her feet from day one. (Longer review here)

Recommend if you:

Are mostly looking for romance

Do not want lots of angst

Prefer a story where everyone gets along

Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See - I debated including this one, because it is not explicitly F/F, which is going to be a deal-breaker for some people. But honestly the romantic and sexual undertones of Lily and Snow Flower’s relationship come across so strong I’m willing to put it up here. This book is set in 19th century China and centers around the intense friendship of two women, starting from childhood and through their adulthood. This one will take you on an emotional ride for sure. A film came out based on this, but in short my review on that is: the book is better!

Recommend if you:

Are okay with ambiguous relationships

Like looking at what women’s private lives looked like in the past

Are looking for something dramatic/emotional