#some of these are very niche and some of them are not so niche

[minminbunny]

Stalker X Stalker AU - Photograph Lurker! Hwang Hyunjin/Monster Lover Gender Neutral! Reader

*smut part - AFAB/AMAB

*dead dove do not eat, very dubious consent/pussy_cock_rim pump

💕Drabble Masterlist

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

"I look crusty," you grumbled, turning on the filter. 'Snap' a picture was taken. It was cute. A cheeky duck face with the view of the window behind you. "Pretty," you thought, staring at the picture a bit longer. Your fingers grazed the window at the lurking figure at the edge. You wouldn't have noticed it if you weren't editing that one fine day, but since then, it has always attracted your gaze.

You licked your lips and took another photo, a casually up view with your lashes batting on the screen. You knew the figure could see the exact pose you were making, you wanted them to see. You sighed, wishing they'd be bolder, maybe show you a glimpse of their face but you knew that wouldn't happen. You lay in your bed, chest raising and falling at a languid pace, you wanted them to keep staring, keep watching your body.

One that you used to avoid looking at in the mirror until their presence made you feel wanted. You didn't care who they were or what they were. They could be a shadow soul, a perverted virgin ghost and you wouldn't give a fuck. You grazed between your inner thighs, purposefully sending shivers down your spine, you wanted them to know that your body was quivering for them.

Hyunjin gulped, watching your sensual grazes. In his eyes, you were an angel. Pure and devoid of all lust. In his mind, you're his little highness. A muse so regal that he wouldn't dare to breathe in the same air as you. He bit his lower lip, wanting to worship your body within his palm. Wanting to slick your skin in balm just to watch it glisten under the lights. His cock grew hard but he dared not touch it, his pleasures can only come from you.

An orgasm so pent up that he knew it was bound to break, but today is not that day. He can control his desires. You sighed, getting off the bed to switch off your lights. "For shame," you murmured, wishing the figure would just come in and rail you like in your fantasies. You have always had a niche for horror. Instead of fearing the monsters, you always wondered why the directors gave them a long tongue if not for eating someone out.

Plasmic ghouls, demonic tendrils, a dragon, or even Scylla from the Greek mythos. The rosters of monsters you'd easily give consent to are concerning. However, you're couldn't help but feel aroused. Imagine a monster beneath your bed, slithering up to consume your leaky slick or maybe a monster with the urge to breed your stomach full with offspring. It was endless and alluring. You burrowed your face into your pillow, clutching a plush between your arms as your mind filled with erotic wet dreams.

"I'm doing it," you huffed, grabbing your Polaroid camera. Today was the day you wanted to see if you could lure the figure closer to you. You stuffed your journal into your bag, pens, stickers, and glue all packed up for your little escapee. Hyunjin watched you leave the house, his eyebrow furrowed at your enthusiasm, "Are they meeting someone?" He murmured, following close behind them.

Hyunjin tied his hair back, his stray bangs framing his face perfectly. It was odd to imagine a man like him being a stalker but if you knew his story, you'd think otherwise. Hyunjin sighed, popping a strip of gum between his lips, "My angel, why do you keep me on my toes?" He chuckled, watching you go around and take pictures. He knew he'd be in some of them by coincidence, but he couldn't help but be proud whenever you would snap a picture with him directly behind you.

'Holy fuck, he's hot,' you thought, staring at the person behind you in the photos. Hyunjin looked nonchalant, his expression icy and cold but warmth instantly tingled between your thighs. You bounced on your heels, keeping the photos in your bag as you found a bench to rest. You looked around you and saw no one, you were sure that your privacy was secure when you opened your journal and started to decorate it.

Messy kiss marks, harsh scribbling of hearts as you portrayed your desperation onto the paper. Hyunjin stood behind you, his gaze glued to the back of your head. You continued your little scrapbooking before picking a flower by the side of the bench. "He loves me," you whispered, tugging off the first flower. "He loves me not," you said, tugging off the next. Hyunjin furrowed his eyebrows, 'Who's he? Do they have a crush on someone?' He thought, anger filling his senses at the thought of another person touching your skin.

Marking your flesh, he couldn't have that. You're his. "He loves me," you said, tugging off another petal. There were only 4 more petals left. You tug off another, and another and another until you reach the last petal, "He loves me," you giggled, taping the exact petal into your journal. Hyunjin clenched his jaw, his eyes empty and cold.

You held up and took a photo, you made a little heart shape when the camera took a loud 'Snap'. When the film was developed, you stared at it only to see the figure standing right behind you and his hands barely managed to wrap around your neck. Just as you were to turn around, Hyunjin covered your mouth, his palm laced with ground up sleeping pills. It didn't take long for the drugs to work and all you had to do was wake up.

NSFW BELOW CUT

AFAB

Pleasure coated your body the moment you grew conscious, your cunt felt full and tight, "What's happening?" You moaned, stirring awake. Hyunjin sat by the edge of the bed, your lower half bare to the chilling air, "Did you rest well, angel? I wanted to prepare your body for what's to come," he said, grazing your inner thighs. You stared between your legs only to see a toy you've never seen before.

Your cunt was so puffy and swollen that you almost didn't recognise it. Hyunjin grazed the pump, "This will make you sensitive, my angel," he said, staring up at you with a twisted grin. You arched your back, feeling the searing warmth of your cunt against your skin. It was wet, dripping and moist. You bit your bottom lip, "Are you the one who's been watching me?" You whispered, digging your nails into the sheets.

Hyunjin nodded, squeezing the pump in his hands, "You're such a beautiful person. The way you behave and smile and talk drives me insane. Everything about you drives me inside," he chuckled, gently kissing your thighs You clenched around nothing, your cunt plump to the brink of the pump, "Did you read my journal?" You asked, seeing the book wide open behind him.

He nodded his head, "My delusions crashed when I read it. My sweet little angel was so filthy. So deranged and corrupted. It was upsetting that I wasn't the focal of your desires until I flipped through more and saw picture after picture of a heart surrounding my figure. You wanted this, didn't you? I know you did. Your thoughts bled through the pages of that journal, angel," he chuckled, licking your inner thighs.

You mewled, gripping the sheets below, "Yes, I have. I craved you, sir. Please, break my mind?" You whimpered, your body tingling with pleasure you've never experienced before. Hyunjin moaned, "With pleasure," he said, his voice deep and primal.

"Fuck, hah, ah!" You screamed, the pump drove your sensitivity to the max with each thrust of his cock pounding your ribbed inner walls. You screamed into his shoulder, your nails digging into his back as you drew blood. Hyunjin hissed, your plump flesh engulfing his cock with a warmth he has never felt before. Your body quivered, mind barely coherent to think of anything else except the need to climax.

Hyunjin lifted your legs, forcing your body into a mating press as he drilled his hot veiny cock deeper and deeper within your gushing hole. Drool and tears coated your face so much that you couldn't tell the difference. Hyunjin growled, licking up your cheek in a sick desire, "Clench harder, angel. Don't hold back," he groaned, using his weight to thrust rougher at a merciless pace.

You screamed, clawing his torso as your body spasmed an orgasm. Hyunjin whimpered, biting his bottom lip so hard a trickle of blood dripped down his chin, "So tight, too tight," he gasped, holding back his pent up orgasm just to see you squirt. You sobbed out babbles of cries when he picked up the pace, utterly ruining your body and mind with the sheer need to claim you.

To etch this memory so deep in your head that you wouldn't to fuck any other monster that isn't himself. "Cum, cum, cum," he groaned, rubbing your plump clit in tandem with his through thrusts. Your jaw slacked into a silent wail as you squirted all over his lower half and yours. Hyunjin growled, his hands digging into the flesh of your thighs when his orgasm snapped within you.

Painting your ribbed walls with a thick heavy load of semen. Minutes go by and his cock was still pumping your canal full. A small bulge appeared beneath your belly button. A permanent claim over your body made his cock twitch in delight. You laid there and were satisfied with your sick fantasies coming true.

AMAB

Pleasure coated your body the moment you grew conscious, your rim and cock felt full and tight, "What's happening?" You moaned, stirring awake. Hyunjin sat by the edge of the bed, your lower half bare to the chilling air, "Did you rest well, angel? I wanted to prepare your body for what's to come," he said, grazing your inner thighs. You stared between your legs only to see a toy you've never seen before.

Your rim and cock were so puffy and swollen that you almost didn't recognise it. Hyunjin grazed the pump, "This will make you sensitive, my angel," he said, staring up at you with a twisted grin. You arched your back, feeling the searing warmth of your rim and cock against your skin. It was wet, dripping and moist. You bit your bottom lip, "Are you the one who's been watching me?" You whispered, digging your nails into the sheets.

Hyunjin nodded, squeezing the pump in his hands, "You're such a beautiful person. The way you behave and smile and talk drives me insane. Everything about you drives me inside," he chuckled, gently kissing your thighs You clenched around nothing, your rim and cock plump to the brink of the pump, "Did you read my journal?" You asked, seeing the book wide open behind him.

He nodded his head, "My delusions crashed when I read it. My sweet little angel was so filthy. So deranged and corrupted. It was upsetting that I wasn't the focal of your desires until I flipped through more and saw picture after picture of a heart surrounding my figure. You wanted this, didn't you? I know you did. Your thoughts bled through the pages of that journal, angel," he chuckled, licking your inner thighs.

You mewled, gripping the sheets below, "Yes, I have. I craved you, sir. Please, break my mind?" You whimpered, your body tingling with pleasure you've never experienced before. Hyunjin moaned, "With pleasure," he said, his voice deep and primal.

"Fuck, hah, ah!" You screamed, the pump drove your sensitivity to the max with each thrust of his cock pounding your ribbed inner walls. You screamed into his shoulder, your nails digging into his back as you drew blood. Hyunjin hissed, your plump flesh engulfing his cock with a warmth he has never felt before. Your body quivered, mind barely coherent to think of anything else except the need to climax.

Hyunjin lifted your legs, forcing your body into a mating press as he drilled his hot veiny cock deeper and deeper within your gushing hole. Drool and tears coated your face so much that you couldn't tell the difference. Hyunjin growled, licking up your cheek in a sick desire, "Clench harder, angel. Don't hold back," he groaned, using his weight to thrust rougher at a merciless pace.

You screamed, clawing his torso as your body spasmed an orgasm. Hyunjin whimpered, biting his bottom lip so hard a trickle of blood dripped down his chin, "So tight, too tight," he gasped, holding back his pent up orgasm just to see you squirt. You sobbed out babbles of cries when he picked up the pace, utterly ruining your body and mind with the sheer need to claim you.

To etch this memory so deep in your head that you wouldn't to fuck any other monster that isn't himself. "Cum, cum, cum," he groaned, rubbing your plump cockhead in tandem with his through thrusts. Your jaw slacked into a silent wail as you squirted all over his lower half and yours. Hyunjin growled, his hands digging into the flesh of your thighs when his orgasm snapped within you.

Painting your ribbed walls with a thick heavy load of semen. Minutes go by and his cock was still pumping your canal full. A small bulge appeared beneath your belly button. A permanent claim over your body made his cock twitch in delight. You laid there and were satisfied with your sick fantasies coming true.

[cissi-sh01]

Carlos and Coco seem to be wearing a ming/qing inpired hanfu pattern? But in a very modern "stylization".

okay imma nerd out about chinese traditional clothing a bit (a lot)

so here they are both wearing mid-late Ming dynasty (roughly mid 15th century - mid 16th century)style traditional Chinese clothing. in this period the economy was good so everyone were wearing pretty cloths with fancy patterns (in a lot of the times peasants were not allowed to wear bright colours and complex patterns), and the clothes and their sleeves were quite long and wide.

Carlos here is wearing a Ming dynasty style round collar robe （明制圆领袍）and I am quite sure that this one is of the mid-late Ming period because there are added pieces of cloth to hem of the robe which started to exist in mid-ming. also they managed to cover up his pants and made the whole thing look a lot more proper lol 😭 and carlos' robe has dragon patterning, which would be extremely bold of him if he wore that in early ming (in that period of time only the emperor or very important members of the government could wear clothes wth dragon patterns) but in mid-late Ming the economy was good everyone were quite happy so people didnt really care anymore. But! looking at the cloth and the pattern design and print the maker of this particular robe probably did not think that much about it because this one is probably from the average try-on-some-tradtional-clothes type of stuff at tourist attractions, and would cost around 300CNY if you want to buy one. The better quality ones can easily go 2000+CNY.

Coco here is wearing a stand-up collar side opening short coat （竖领大襟短袄）. yes there is actually a stand-up collar, but this type of collar is usually super tight and shes taller and more muscular than the average asian women so no wonder why she wasnt able to buckle the buttons up😭 this type of collar stated to become popular around mid ming dynasty too. she is also wearing a horse face skirt （马面裙）, which is essentially a really large piece of cloth (its actually two pieces sewed together but anyways) with a lot of pleats but three of them are super wide, and you wear it by wrapping it around your waist with the wide pleats at the front and the back of your body. its the standard lower body clothing for women through out the Ming dynasty, and were also quite popular in the Qing dynasty too. on a side note this thing is actually super comfy and easy to move around in, i some times wear mine on a normal day with a shirt or a sweater or any top and they go together quite well

to explain the two pieces sewed together part ⬇️

and im getting a bit unnecessarily emo over this because when rafa and jcf and moya did that very similar photo shoot in 2005 they were wearing very historically incorrect costumes because knowledge about traditional clothings of the Han ethnic group (ie the majority of chinese people) was largely lost because of several historical events and also people genuinely didnt care. from around 2010 people started to recover knowledge about our traditional clothing again and it started with a very niche group of people (including me) making, buying and wearing very poorly made, quite ugly and historically incorrect clothes lol😭😭😭 so its quite nice to see even though they just pulled out several pieces form the average try-on-some-tradtional-clothes at tourist sites type of collections, these pieces are more or less based on actual historical clothing (tbh the patternings are still kind of sus but its still a huge step forward 😌)

[greentrickster]

You know, of all the insane fandoms we have out there right now, you know which one always shocks me the most?

The Moomin fandom.

Which probably sounds like fighting words, but hear me out.

I'm thirty-six, and I did grow up with the Moomins. Specifically, I grew up with two of the novels - A Comet in Moominland (got when I was six or seven) and Finn Family Moomin (got when I was about ten). And I loved them. I still love them. I still have both books, and I know which bookshelf they're on in my room.

But, y'all.

That was my entire experience with the Moomins.

For around twenty. Years.

And when I say entire, I mean entire, the only other person I knew who had any idea what a 'Moomin' was was my sister, and that's because Mom read the books out loud to both of us. I thought that was it. I vaguely knew there were some more novels, because they were listed on one of the inside pages, but I genuinely thought it was just an old, obscure series of kids' novels.

Then, a few years back? I discover that

No.

That is Not The Case Even A Little Bit. The Moomin fandom is here and wholesome and HUGE. And there is so much media with it. And it has apparently Always Been Like this, I just wasn't ever in an area or era where I could encounter it when I was young.

And now I'm over here going, "What do you mean Snufkin's brunette? What do you mean he has hair? What do you mean he's human???" Because, to me, this is the first image I think of when I think of him:

That's Snufkin to me. And, given the context that he's surrounded by a bunch of critters, I just assumed that he was a fellow critter. His more detailed, coloured design is great, not gonna argue, but, even having known about it for years, seeing it is always very jarring to me.

And it's weird to realize that this is probably a pretty unique experience, not (just) because looking things up on the internet wasn't really an option at the time, not because I was in the wrong place, but because I just genuinely came to these stories and characters in an extremely strange way. Meaning every time I encounter the Moomin fandom, I get a small shock of, "Oh, right, this was not, in fact, an extremely niche series after all."

And no drama or toxicity or ground-breaking moment is ever gonna top that for me.

[deathdetermineslife]

Love how your ‘positivity’ post ignores Mlm and wlw.

LMAO ANON I HAVE THE FUNNIEST NEWS FOR YOU

1. I am mlm. so. that's crazy. I'm literally a gay man. 2. which positivity post were you referring to??? because I've made three, and the one was highlighting some of the niches of selfshippers (microlabel users, disabled selfshippers, objectums, whatever) and the one I'm pretty sure you're referring to I literally said in the tags I made it in the response to ppl disliking straight selfshippers ?? 😭😭 also the post was mainly about gender, but it seems you are incapable of thinking critically (or reading the part where I said "no gender is excluded from selfshipping" at the very bottom)

Tumblr anons are the stupidest people on the planet, actually. "you're highlighting this part of the community therefore you're ignoring us :/" let me make a post showing people love, you troglodyte 😭😭

everyone makes posts about mlm and wlw selfshippers, i guarantee you because I didn't mention them in a post I made in 3 minutes I'm not ignoring them, you goober.

[kagekitsuneoflight]

It’s kinda funny that Jason is, in every sense of the word, the most normal Robin. Unironically, there wasn’t anything uniquely special about him before he was Robin. He was a street kid. His dad was a goon (which makes sense for Gotham. It’s a goon breeding ground) and his adoptive mom was a girl who fell in love with the bad boy, got disowned by her upper middle class parents and adopted her boyfriend’s infant son. Even his biological mother isn’t anything special! She was just a doctor who ended up becoming corrupt.

Jason Todd was no circus kid who could do an impossible signature trick. He wasn’t being scouted by some evil hidden organization.

He wasn’t the rich boy genius who lived next door.

He’s not the son of a supervillain (as lame as cluemaster is, he still *counts*).

He’s not the secret son of Bruce Wayne.

And he’s not a metahuman, nor did he led a whole organization of teens to fight when Batman couldn’t.

He’s the most regular boy to ever enter become a hero in Gotham. He wanted to do good things for the sake of doing good. He grew up poor with regular parents, where bad things happened to them. The kinds of things that could happen to *any* person living in Gotham.

There is nothing about him, pre-Robin and as Robin, that makes him Not Like Regular Kids.

His dad was a goon (who, depending on the run, was either killed by Two-Face OR. Just sent to prison and killed in prison! Which makes his backstory even PLAINER-) and his mother was a drug addict with cancer. Jason ends up homeless, and almost steals the bat mobile tires. The only thing that makes him stand out from any other tragedy befallen kid in Gotham is the fact he was bold enough to do that, get Batman’s attention, and continue to be bold enough to go against a crime lord (who was apparently his grandmother, the most interesting person in his family, but since she’s almost never brought up, she’s likely no more significant than a one-issue villain in the crime lord power hierarchy). Batman realized that Jason wasn’t going to really stop, and honestly he kinda grew on him, so he decided to adopt Jason, and eventually allow him to become Robin.

There just isn’t anything amazingly special about his backstory. The few moments where something could have been done to make it more interesting (like his biological mother) but ended up taking the most boring option. You can’t do much of anything now to enhance his past without upsetting much more well established canon, and not without making people wonder “well if his grandmother was such a big name in crime, why hasn’t she been brought up before?”

Jason Todd was a wonderful Robin (providing that he actually has a writer who likes him). He has a golden heart, he’s the voice of reason. He’s everything that a Robin needs to be for Batman. But compared to everyone else, he was nothing special. In a way, his lack of Not Like Regular Kids makes him stand out in a much more subtle way.

As if someone asked the question “Do I need to be someone special to be Robin?” And the answer was “You don’t need to be someone special, you just need to be brave, like Jason Todd was.”

[tomaturtles]

IT'S KAWOSHIN DAY!!! As well as the last day of Kawoshin Week :') It's been such a blast, gonna miss it when it's over

Kawoshin Week Day 7: Cuddling/domestic fluff! + Sleepover and Spinoffs (again)! Based on the Campus Apocalypse sleepover chapter ☺️

[funeralprocessor]

I feel like the Primaris should have been the catalyst for like, an imperial civil war. At the very least, much unrest in the house of Guilliman. Their existence, let alone rollout/integration, should have had many chapters absolutely rioting. It should be beyond the pale by several orders of magnitude and be seen as an enormous overreach by the more autonomy loving chapters, a blasphemy by the more orthodox chapters, and an existential threat to chapters with geneseed quirks. Plus anyone with any awareness of the thunder warriors should take one look at them and recognize the writing on the wall. Guilliman should absolutely recognize what they represent, what they imply. Like they're the leading wave of a paradigm shift that doesn't bode well for what came before. And I say this as someone who's not averse to Primaris, I just think they could've, should've, been a waaaay bigger deal. I know they loathe changing the status quo and we're never getting rid of the posterboys but I think we missed out on something interesting.

[zombie-bait]

I was so ready to be constantly confused while playing Death Stranding cuz every article I saw about the game was like "Couldn't understand a single thing that happened 10/10" but I think speed-running The Locked Tomb series only a few months ago prepared me perfectly. I didn't get half of what went down in those books and I love them with all my heart. Turns out confusing post-apocalyptic necromancy with peculiar humour, life/death energies, splitting souls between body/mind, unique worldbuilding, cosmic horror and homoerotic vibes is the perfect niche for me

[bluevelvetea]

Satosugu 🤝 Hagimatsu

[icewindandboringhorror]

boy in silly sitting positions compilation

[ehlnofay]

Pax should have said no.

Damn it all, they should have said no. Should have said go to hell and fucked off back – stop contacting me, sort out your own shit – but they didn’t, fuck knows why, and now they’re stuck here.

(They know why. They know exactly why; absolutely anything would be better than fucking off back to Cyrodiil. What’s for them there?)

But there’s nothing worth staying for here either, and now she’s crammed in between strangers on a long table, everyone dressed in fabrics she’s never seen with dyes so saturated they seem almost gory, eating stuff that isn’t food and talking loud enough to make her want to hurl a glass into the wall. It’s bizarre. The woman next to her, ruddy-faced and bald, wears a headpiece that shines like the sun the Isles doesn’t have; the other side is taken up by a stranger in a bone-white porcelain mask who has not moved but to swill the wine around in their glass. There’s scarcely room for Pax’s chair. It all feels like such a baffling pantomime of aristocracy (she's known the real thing well enough – feasts and toasts and luxurious gifts she had no use for, and if she doesn’t stop thinking about it she actually will throw a glass), bright colours and rich settings and a god taking offerings at the head of the table.

At least, Pax thinks, no-one tries to talk to him; they’re too busy fawning over their lord. Which is probably to be expected; but it all feels so strange, so unsettling, the way they all lean in towards it like flowers turning to face the sun, like seaweed dragged at by the inescapable pull of the tides. They grow towards it through the cracks in the air, matter moving toward the inevitable centre, as if they can imagine nothing more than this.

(Even more unsettling is the way it responds in kind, listening attentively to anyone who speaks to it, leaning in as though to kiss them, as though to swallow them whole. All hell, why did Pax agree to this? Why did they come?)

(They should have told it to fuck off. Should have said no way, I don’t want to help you, don’t want to get involved in anything you’d need my help for. I don’t owe you anything. I don’t need anything from you. I don’t want anything to do with you. I’m done.)

(Pax is done. Pax is sick to death of all this shit; doesn’t want to deal with this, the vaguely described problems of a god that picks people apart like it’s unravelling a thick yarn shawl. Doesn’t want to deal with anything like this. He’s had his fill of gods.)

(Why is he still fucking here? Why did he agree to this? This is no better than eating in that weird fucking inn in town. This is no better than –)

(That’s a lie. It’s a bit better than Cyrodiil. Just as much a shithole, but it pulls the rug out from under him often enough that he doesn’t have time to think too much.)

“Not hungry?” says a prowling voice, coiling catlike into the plaits in their hair, and Pax jumps enough to jostle the masked bastard sitting ramrod straight next to him.

He looks up.

At the empty placemat across from him sits a figure veiled in gossamer, glittering in the glow of the lit-up lichen on the distant throne; the fabric of its endless shawls pulls apart at the ends, peeling away from itself, shedding patches like iridescent insect wings every time it shifts. If Pax squints, they can see through it to the grand marbled wall behind.

She glances back at the chair at the head of the table, where something lounges, eyes dripping gold, intricately carved cane laid across its knees; its too-many fingers are laced with the hand of a man whose gown blooms floral. Flatly, she says, “What the fuck?”

“Aren’t you hungry?” Sheogorath asks, pouting; she can hear it laughing down the other end of the table. “It’s a proper feast. We pulled out all the stops.”

Pax shifts their eyes away to peer down at their plate. “You have served me worms,” she says. She flicks the dish with a fingernail. “In jelly. With flowers.”

“Larva, actually,” Sheogorath replies. It’s still at the other end of the table. It doesn’t seem eager to explain this. When it smiles, the gossamer falls away; its whole face splits in half.

It’s all so fucking stupid. Pax takes a deep breath – in through the nose, ignore all the odd spiced smells, and out – and does not yell at it, or try to hit it, because she’s gotten herself into a situation where that’s not really an option, because she’s a fucking idiot. Why didn’t she just say no?

(She knows why.)

The Mad God’s teeth flash bright as the ornate silver cutlery. Its chair scrapes back from the table. “It melts in your mouth,” it tells her, eyes glittering, “but I won’t make you try it. Walk with me?”

The figure still sits at the head of the table, snatching something from someone’s plate, always, always laughing. Its limbs sprawl like tentacles, like the silken threads of a tapestry, to encompass the whole room. The dinner guests stare as though bewitched, bedevilled, beguiled. Not one of them is looking at Pax. If he were to drop dead with his face in the food his corpse would not be discovered until sunrise.

Pax sniffs and shoves his chair back from the table. He lets Sheogorath (the second Sheogorath – but it must be, what else could it be?) lead him through a narrow door into some winding hallway, the walls lined and rimed with ornate coloured-glass windows. (It’s so much quieter. Still as garishly bright, but Pax is getting the sense that that is inescapable, here; the clothes they wear, as crumpled and covered in travelling-grime as ever and startlingly out of place against the odd jagged finery of the dinner party, seem unimaginably dull in comparison. Everything seems unimaginably dull in comparison.) Outside the windows, they can catch glimpses of the city – its winding, lamp-lit streets, the jumbled mess of its architecture, the sky arcing above it like a child’s attempt at watercolours. Pax wants to smash it, tear it down.

There’s no sun here, but still it’s night. The sky has shifted to purple and black.

“Isn’t it nice?” says their companion; when they look back, it’s nothing more than a shifting impression in the stained-glass window, a series of hairline cracks. It still manages, somehow, to smile at them.

It’s not. The sky is a shadow and the flamboyance of the palace is scraping at their spine. “Sure,” Pax says flatly. When she flexes her fingers, the bruising staining the base knuckle of her thumb aches.

Sheogorath looks at her – an ancient man leaning on a stick, a flickering painting, a bloody corpse, a little girl in velvet-red skirts, a breath. In its mercurial shifting she catches the flowery blossom of the man at the table’s collar, an unpleasant glimpse of her own braided hair, the smell of sulphur. It tips its head. She can’t focus on it anywhere but for the eyes.

“You don’t like my dinner parties,” it announces, as though it’s a revelation, a tragedy; its body crumbles like sea cliffs slowly eroded by the ways. It’s annoying – bloody obnoxious, and incomprehensible, and kind of weird that it noticed, that it would even care. (She’s never liked dinner parties. Nobody ever commented on it before.)

I’ve had well enough of them, Pax could say, or no, I don’t like you, but it’s the fucking Mad God, Daedric Prince of – Pax doesn’t even know what, he’s never known much about this shit, only that it’s well worth avoiding. Prince of the mad and the missing and the foolish, of breaking and breaking and putting yourself back together backwards. She should have said no, but she didn’t, and who knows what would happen if she went back on that now?

It's slinking closer. All that stay static enough to make out are eyes and teeth.

“Pax, yes?” it says, soft-voiced – a hand lands on his arm, small and dry and shivering, the skin as thing as a mouldering leaf. “You have no obligations here. If you want to be on your own, be on your own. We’ve plenty of space for it.”

Pax’s eyes narrow. He does not jerk away from it.

In the light of the coloured sky, the coloured windows, its face is phantasmagorical. “If you don’t want to be here,” it continues – still so skin-pricklingly gentle – “then your hand will not be forced. I’ll speed your way home if you wish.”

They can’t help but twitch at that. It’s setting their teeth on edge. (It’s lying – has to be. After its ages of coaxing them in, meting out information, not telling them where they were until they were on its doorstep, it would not give them the chance to leave.) Rough, still covered in road-grime, Pax asks, “Why should I believe you?”

(None of them have ever given them the chance to leave.)

Sheogorath, a figure of hollow skin and bone, inclines its head. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Pax,” it says. Its eyes are wide and bulging, whites on full display like a frightened horse; it grins again. “Others might. But we’re not a monolith. We’re not even especially similar.”

Pax bites down on the flat edge of their tongue. “That doesn’t mean anything to me.”

The light coming in through the windows flickers. The Mad God turns to meet it.

“I’m the youngest,” it says, its voice glittering like mist on the air. “Did you know that? I don’t remember the world without you in it.” Its form spasms, volatile, wings and limbs and eyes like a snail’s on stalks sprouting and choking and subsiding back into its mass. “I’m closer to you than any. I understand, almost.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Pax repeats. She’s gritting her teeth, tonguing at her gums where two are missing. Are two devil-gods not enough to deal with for a lifetime? Is there really going to be more of this now, too?

Rolling through the air like smoke, the voice says, “It will.”

Pax presses purple-green knuckles to her mouth. Her teeth dig into the soft meat of her lip.

Sheogorath turns to face her, hair moving as though blown by the wind, as though tugged by the tides. It sighs. “You don’t believe me,” it says. Its tongue pokes through its teeth. “That’s perfectly fine. Clever, even. But if you want to leave, all you need to do is tell me so.” It pauses, then; the train of its strange, gnarled crown shifts over its shoulders when it moves its head. “Or just leave. The door is still open.”

“You’d be fine with me just leaving,” Pax rasps around his knuckle, “after weeks of not leaving me alone?”

(Of begging him to come, poorly-hidden agitation giving way to blatant franticness, half-swallowing the fear that choked its face in every mirror it spoke to him through. Of begging him still, after he got here, after he met it – begging in a roundabout manner, casual as anything, its every motion reeking of fear. Its abject terror when he turned to leave. You’ve come this far. Why not hear an old man out? Pax told it that it wasn’t an old man, that he didn’t give a shit either way, and it slid through a child, a monster, a sulphur-burned body coughing blood, his own shuddering form in armour he hasn’t seen in months, and it said please.)

(Regained its composure, its gentleman’s face, immediately afterward. But it – the Mad God, unknowable, inconsolable – said please. Pax still doesn’t know what to do with that.)

The Mad God, now, shrugs. Taps at the hairline cracks in the stained glass windows. “I’d prefer you didn’t,” it says, one pair of hands braiding something intricate into its beard. The hand on the glass slips down. “I told you. I do need a champion.”

“And I told you,” Pax bites, something aching and ugly surging in their gut, “not to call me that again.”

A smile, bloody-mouthed and beaming. “But we will abide,” says Sheogorath, and digs its fingers into the cracks of the stone. One brick slides loose, mortar dug up under its nails. It offers it up.

Pax licks their teeth and takes it.

The brick shivers, momentarily – crumbles, in their hand, like sand slithering through their fingers, and left in their palm is a hardy slip of bone. Spiked and sprawling, carved with intricate patterns; it arranges itself around an oval of empty space, the perfect size for four sharp-knuckled fingers.

“You can always leave,” the Mad God tells them, and for a moment it does look so very young and strangely, staggeringly hopeful. “But give it a chance. I think you could love the Isles, if you choose to.”

[fisheito]

Found a BL manga at the library (amazing. I'm living in the world of tomorrow )

The back cover goes "in a SCHOOL where BOYS are subjected to a TIER SYSTEM that forces MC to BE BOTTOM BITCH to all the TOP RANK DOGS" and I'm 😬 eugh no thanks

Notice MC kind of looks like nerdkumo Images flood my mind with deplorable despicable humiliating things being done to him

...

Yeah alright

takes the book to checkout

[mitamicah]

I guess today is a day of Micah drawing self indulgent art x'D here's Human!Frank with his little vacation boyfriend (x) :3

[gay-artificer]

I've seen people be like downpour ruined how people see five pebbles and im gonna be honest if you were here for any number of years pre-downpour the fandom was always god-awful with the nuance in his character. thats not a downpour thing thats a fandom thing

[mintjeru]

hop, step, ooh~ one more chance! 💔 i did an art collab with the talented pubbles!! we drew the seven's proud members masatoshi (me) and sueyoshi (pubbles) in the rabbit hole mv outfits!! when two artists with the exact same music taste meet, we go a little off the rails 😌

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