#that's not ALL OF MY OC's but my most important ones

[fluoresensitive]

it's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday.

I’ve been on Tumblr for a really, really, really long time. I joined back in 2012, when I was thirteen years old. Like pretty much every thirteen-year-old who finds themselves on Tumblr, I was closeted and depressed and lonely. I was so isolated from my peers due to my autism that I had been taken out of school and was being homeschooled. Other than church activities, Tumblr was my only way of looking out into a scary, “secular” world that I was shielded from.

It was bliss! The first blog I ever had was an Alan Rickman themed blog because I was obsessed with Alan Rickman. I liked reading about feminism from the massive amounts of feminist blogs there used to be, I liked seeing older Black people discuss racism, I liked knowing there was a place where it was okay to question my gender and sexuality and my upbringing.

 It rocked my world! I got into fandom spaces, I got into writing fanfiction and roleplaying. Some of my best memories are me auditioning for Harry Potter Marauder Era roleplay groups. And then discovering independent roleplaying, creating my own characters or roleplaying as my favorites with no group behind me. People who remember me from way, way, way back will know I used to roleplay as Hannibal Lecter, as Gustavo Fring, as my most successful and important OC I’ve created Agatha Garcia, a baking witch with a sad story. Even writing this now I’m beaming because despite the traumas of being in these kinda icky spaces. Tumblr was an escape, it was magical.

Of course, there were not-so-great moments. In 2014, I was angry about anti-Blackness and my God was Tumblr’s fandom spaces anti-Black. You couldn’t discuss real life issues without being accused of being a reverse racist, you couldn’t discuss the realities of being Black in America (especially, after Mike Brown’s death) without being shouted down about keeping the peace. I was not a peaceful teenager. I was angry, I was awake, and I was not going to take anything laying down. Because of my less than serene posting, I got callout posts, I got a reputation for being mean and a bully and aggressive. I took it as a badge of honor—of course these racist motherfuckers think I’m a bully! I leaned into it, I got angrier, but eventually, around 2016, I broke from the roleplay community, and drifted off into a world of my own.

First it was called musespiration, then blvckmuseum, a way for me to sit at the periphery of the roleplay community without interacting with it directly. I reblogged pictures of Black people that I hoped would be inspirational and inspire them to keep creating their awesome original characters. Late 2016, I switched to vaantablack—one of my greatest eras, I think at least. I started making moodboards and posting little bits of my writing. I got into “trouble”, again, for being aggressive about anti-Blackness but this time I was surrounded by Black tumblr users, people who were more than happy to stand behind me. It didn’t matter how many ugly asks I got, there were people who liked me! Who thought I was smart and creative and funny. People who stood by me when my family went homeless in 2017, who celebrated with me when we were housed in 2018. I remember watching Beychella with all of Black tumblr, all of us screaming about the iconness the moment. I remember when Black Panther came out and we lost our collective minds. Ugh, what a time!

Around that time, I changed my URL from vaantablack to the now very recognizable fluoresensitive that is my brand, I guess? I changed my aesthetic (still sticking to my eerie changeling vibes) and started to knuckle down with posting my short stories. I built a thing for myself, made a community of (dwindling) Black tumblr users. More and more of us were being ran off the site—some accused falsely of being Russian bots, some driven away by the Klan-esque hordes of white (and non-Black) users who did not want us there. People I ki’d with, iconic trans women like Silver and Rashida, huge blogs like lagirl and hundondestiny and so on, were disappearing. No one wanted to deal with cruelty outside and on the computer.  

I stuck it out. Call it loneliness, call it bailing out a sinking shit; I stayed on Tumblr. I liked sharing, I liked having a place where people listened to me and trusted me and thought what I said I had value. I thought I was, in my small way, changing the world.

Even if I haven’t exactly shaken the roots of the blogging world, I hope I’ve touched people. I hope you think about my vaantablack or fluoresensitive, and you smile. I hope when you find me on bookshelves, you can share an anecdote about something I’ve said or posted. I hope I’ve helped you see the humanity in Blackness, the beauty of being nonbinary, the joy of lesbianism. I hope I gave you good recommendations for movies and books, I hope you enjoyed the horror-posting. And more than anything, to Black tumblr, I hope you remember me.

This is my final text post. I’ll be clearing out my likes slowly and answering a last few questions, but as of Friday the 21st, this’ll be an archive. I’ll miss you all.

If you want to follow my career and adventures, you can find me on Instagram, my professional Twitter, my Patreon, or my Substack. Long time friends/mutuals, please ask for my phone and email, I never want to lose contact with you!

(And, of course, if you want to make this Juneteenth goodbye especially sweet, here are my money links. Very overjoyed to never have to beg for help after this again, but thank God for everyone who gave to me throughout the years. I swear you’ve kept my family from living on the streets!)

paypal.me/marsinaries venmo.com/fluoresensitive

[katyaromanoffpetrova]

Emoji, questionmark

Katya receives a special text from Natasha, who is very... appreciative of her muscles.

• Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC • Wordcount: 3.1k • Warnings: suggestive • A/N: thank you so much for your patience as I took a bit of a break from writing! I hope to post more now :) Masterlist

Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!

Katya

"Thanks again, Kat!"

The last of Katya's students left the training room, taking their water bottles and positive energy with them. 

It had been another good day at the women-only gym, and Katya lingered around to clean up, in no rush to get home. She looked up and smiled at the goodbye, giving a small wave to Sandra, who got more confident in her own skin every week. 

"Till next week!"

When the room was empty, Katya did a small lap around to look for any forgotten items or water spills, ending up where she started; at the portable speaker nestled in the corner. Her phone lay next to it, connected to the bluetooth device. 

Pulling the hair tie from her sweaty, oily hair, Katya picked it up. It unlocked to several missed messages from the last two hours—she rarely checked messages between classes, and not at all in classes. That's not the type of vibe she wanted to give off.

There were some notifications from her social media, a text from Laura thanking her for the flowers she sent for her and Clint's wedding anniversary, one from Maya saying she picked up cat food. 

And, of course, a text from her wife.

They were so… pathetically connected that they missed the other instantly when they were apart. 

Natasha had some errands to run in the city? Katya sat on the couch, sulking, anticipating her return. Katya was at work all day? Natasha texted her more often than usual about stuff that didn't matter in the slightest just because she was thinking about her the whole time. 

The only time they were ever fully at ease was when they were together. Maya made fun of them for it, but Katya was quick to point out that the past had given them enough reason to feel that way. Unexpectant time apart, years where they thought the other was dead. It left deep scars in their fragile hearts and separation anxiety in their stomachs.

For obvious reasons, Katya had message previews for Natasha's chats off, in case anyone needed to use her phone. She only saw what her wife texted her when she opened the chat. 

Katya snorted out loud in the empty room. Caught off guard by the embarrassed sound that came out of her own mouth, she quickly looked around, but the only one staring at her was the reflection of herself in the large mirror wall.

Smugness drew a smirk across her mouth, ego puffing out her chest. Natasha was the best hypewoman, even when her reasons were entirely selfish. Nobody loved Katya's physique more than her, and she made sure to let her know every chance she got, both verbal and non-verbal. The non-verbal worshipping was both their favorite. 

Natasha's message consisted of one emoji and one punctuation mark. Not an uncommon thing in itself. A food item with a question mark meant; can you pick this up, or can we have this for dinner? A cat or a ginger-haired girl with a question mark meant; where is the cat, and where is Maya? Any of those things with an exclamation mark meant; don't forget to pick it up. 

It was an important distinction. 

But there were no doubts on what Natasha meant this time. It was very, very clear what she wanted. Shamelessly too.

The flexed arm emoji combined with the question mark meant she was most probably horny, and most definitely mentally drifting.

Katya snickered as she locked and pocketed her phone, collecting the last of her stuff before closing the door of the training room behind her. Usually, she would head straight for the office or to the car, but now she took a detour to the machines. 

Smiling and greeting people, she did a few quick stretches before grabbing a set of weights. With no pre-workout taken, no warmup of any kind, she sat down and started a quick bicep and shoulder routine. 

The goal today wasn't to get a correct workout in. The goal was to pump her muscles so her wife could get her fix. 

She was barely sweaty by the time she stopped, but she had no patience to continue. By now, Natasha would have seen that she'd been left on delivered and would be waiting on what she asked for. The woman was a lot of things, but patient wasn't high up in that list. 

Katya was in and out of the machine room within fifteen minutes, hurrying to find a mirror before her hard work was lost. Luckily, there was another pro to an all-women gym: incredible bathroom lighting. None of that dark, mysterious stuff where you feel like you're in a cave. No, the mirrors on the walls were huge and lined with lights. 

Katya made sure the stalls were empty before propping her phone up on the sink, next to the gym-provided perfumes and deodorant. Quickly, she took her hoodie off and turned with her back to the camera, redoing her ponytail to ensure a maximal view of her shoulders and back.

It felt odd in the beginning to take pics like these, when Natasha first started asking for them. But Katya quickly found out that it wasn't very different from the nudes she sent her. Natasha found her sexy and hot no matter what pose or position she was in, as long as she could see what she wanted to see. Don't overthink it.

She snapped some pictures from different angles, capturing different muscle groups, and tried some new poses she found online from the fitgirls she followed. They didn't turn out amazing, but they would satiate Natasha for now. When footsteps approached the bathroom door, Katya hid the evidence of her activities by snatching her phone off the sink, but Brianna took one look at her and smiled knowingly.

"Documenting your progress?" She asked, picking the sink next to Katya's to wash her hands. Her hair wasn't in box braids this time, instead in a bun on the back of her head. She looked gorgeous whatever way she wore it. 

"They're not for me," Katya answered distractedly, flipping through the photos to pick the best ones, deleting some that were too mediocre. She had to admit, her body looked good.

"Ah." Brianna smirked, taking a quick peek at the phone screen. "What the wife wants, the wife gets."

"Exactly." Katya mirrored her expression and sent the three best pics off to Natasha without any context, then she pocketed her phone and turned to her boss. "I think this means I have to get home ASAP."

"Get some."

Katya snickered. "I think I will."

Natasha

Natasha had been feeling like this all day; clingy, needy. Usually, she was the first one out of bed in the mornings. Today, she wouldn't let Katya get up to go to work. It almost made her late.

These phases of hers came and went. One week, she followed Katya everywhere like a baby duck. The next, she sought out solitude in her office upstairs. 

They made it work no matter what mood she was in, but Natasha couldn't help but dread the moments she was alone when she felt clingy. With Maya at school, and no distractions, she started to think about stupid stuff, like if this was how it felt to be on your period. Emotional and needy. 

She just missed Katya. Like a dog misses its owner. She wanted hugs; a warm, strong body to nestle into. She wanted to be taken care of; for Katya to bring her tea and wrap a blanket around her. 

She would tell her all of this, but Natasha didn't like to bother her too much when she was at work. It was only eight hours, and she was a big girl. 

Nevertheless, after trying everything to put her mind off it, Natasha wound up looking through her camera roll for pictures of her wife. If anyone ever found or hacked her phone, they'd think she was a stalker. She had folders for everything, sorted alphabetically, and filled to the brim with pictures of Katya.

'Kat on holiday'. 'Family'. 'Kat doing stuff'. 'Kat candid pics'. Natasha even had a 'this is my wife'-folder, because she always managed to work Katya into any conversation and would then proudly show her off to anyone. This folder was filled with Katya's prettiest pictures. 

Natasha paused with her thumb hovering above the last folder, hidden at the bottom of the screen. Going into her camera roll, her goal was simply to daydream innocently and to fill that Katya-shaped hole in her day. But if she clicked on that folder, her brain was going to take a very aggressive U-turn onto a road that steered straight off a cliff.

Oh well, it'd give her something to do.

'Kat's muscle pics', was, obviously, filled with pictures of Katya's muscles; ones the brunette sent herself, posed, or quick snaps Natasha took. Most of them were lucky shots. Candid pics turned muscle pics. Katya's strong legs in shorts, her arms in a tank top, her abs in a bikini, her back in a strapless dress. Anything where her incredible muscles were highlighted.

If Maya didn't have the code to her phone, Natasha would have named the folder something more worthy. 'Muscle mommy', maybe. 

But the mediocre name didn't stop Natasha from enjoying the content thoroughly. She stopped at every pic, took her time, zoomed in, shifted in her seat if one really got to her. But they didn't seem to be hitting like they usually did. With a frown, she scrolled back to the most recent picture, finding the date to confirm her thoughts. 

It dated back 3 weeks. 3 weeks! Way too long. 

Upset—and a bit pissed—she backed out of the app and found her chat with Katya. It was truly outrageous that she hadn't been supplied with fresh content for twenty-one whole days. Shocking that she had to ask for it herself. Part of her was too proud to, but the bigger part needed new pics right now. 

Quickly, she found the arm emoji—which wasn't even in her recents anymore, unlike the peach and the scissors—and threw a big, fat question mark behind it. Only one, because she wanted to tell Katya in person how pissed she was. Then she sent the text.

Waiting was torture. Natasha even went on a run to pass the time, music blasting in her eardrums instead of the usual audiobook or podcast. But there were no notifications when she came back home, or showered, or made herself a snack. 

She was ready to throw her phone across the room and roll up into a blanket ball on the couch when the status of her text changed from 'delivered' to 'seen'. Hopeful and excited, Natasha sat up, intently staring at the screen. She wasn't disheartened when Katya went offline again without replying. Her wife never ignored her, so something must be coming soon.

She fumbled for her phone when it chimed, her heart racing as she opened the pictures Katya finally sent her. It wasn't just one. It wasn't two. It was three.

Saliva pooled in her mouth as she studied them. Closely. Every ridge, every rounding, every curve of Katya's upper body. Her phone was only inches away from her face, too scared to miss anything like she didn't have free access to those muscles 24/7.

The pictures were perfect. They were sexy, so sexy. They were feminine yet masculine. Elegant yet tough. The perfect combination. A woman who could rock a dress and be a gentlewoman, and strangle a man to protect her. 

The need to feel the muscles underneath her fingertips slowly grew. It was a weird mix of horniness and loneliness. To have those strong arms around her in a hug, or to desperately hold them as Katya ruined her? 

Liho meowed as she jumped on the couch, sniffing Natasha's phone as if she wanted a piece of Katya too.

"Look at your other mom," Natasha said to her in her baby-voice full of awe, showing the cat the pictures like Liho had any clue what she should be looking at. The animal just meowed again. "I agree, baby. So gorgeous. So sexy. And all mine."

Natasha's thumb drifted towards the call-button—she needed to hear Katya's voice. She couldn't keep staring at the pictures that were sent without any context. She needed more. Anything. But right before she tapped, three dots appeared at the bottom of her screen. 

Kat: Leaving now. See you soon x.

Katya

Katya walked into the house with caution like the spy she once was, dropping her shoes and bag along the way. 

When Natasha didn't reply to the pictures, she knew what time it was. Actually, she knew what time it was when she asked for muscle pictures. Only a needy Natasha would do that. And Katya knew, based on the millions of Instagram Reels her wife had also sent her today, that it wasn't just a regular horny episode either. Natasha was lonely.

The thought made her heart swell. They'd been together for most of their lives, yet Natasha still wanted to spend all of their time together if they could. Only then did she feel completely content and happy. She wasn't very good at verbally telling Katya that, but there were huge signs if you knew where to look. Like her behavior today.

Just in time, Katya stopped herself from chuckling when she stepped into the living room. Natasha sat on the couch like an angry child, scowling pettily and refusing to look away from the TV. She clearly wasn't happy with Katya's lack of attention today and wanted to teach her a lesson for it. Silent treatment was therein her lesson of choice.

"Привет, милая (Hello, honey)," Katya said slowly, crossing her arms as she leaned against the doorpost. The Russian was on purpose and came as a complete surprise to Natasha, who stiffened slightly. The words always hit just a little deeper if Katya switched back to their first language. "Почему ты дуешься (Why are you pouting)?"

Natasha looked conflicted, not sure what emotion to act on. One, anger; two, horniness; three, clinginess. She thought long and hard about her answer, not moving an inch as she did, pretending her wife was air. 

"I've been neglected," she accused Katya coldly. A good answer. It covered all three of her emotions.

Katya pushed away from the doorpost, slowly approaching her frozen wife. Like one would a scared cat. "I'm sorry, baby. That was never my intention." If Natasha listened closely—and Katya knew she did—then she could hear the amusement in her voice. That's probably the reason for the side-eye Natasha gave her when she sat down next to her. "How can I make it up to you?"

It didn't appear as if Natasha was going to answer. She stayed silent for so long, her steel expression directed at the TV, that Katya nearly gave up. A minute longer and she'd have stood up to prepare some sweet gesture. But then Natasha slowly leaned into her. 

It was barely noticeable if Katya wasn't hyper aware of her to begin with. But slowly, very slowly, her wife's body tilted her way. When Katya opened her arms, it went faster, until Natasha was fully resting against her chest. Eagerly, Katya wrapped her arms around her body. Natasha didn't fully relax; silent protest.

"For now," she said warningly, before Katya got too happy.

The brunette frowned. She was still happy, don't get her wrong, but hugs weren't exactly what she expected when she drove home. "Does—"

"Sex later."

Of course, Natasha read her mind. 

Katya hummed in acknowledgement, like it didn't make her incredibly excited. Natasha would push her off the couch if she set one foot wrong. Instead, she rubbed her shoulder carefully while Natasha kept pretending to watch the TV. If the redhead wanted to be stubborn a little longer, then Katya was going to let her. She could contain her own neediness for a long, long time.

Natasha's phone was safely tucked between her thighs, anxiously. How big were the chances that Katya's pictures would pop up if she unlocked it? She was too scared for her hand to find out. 

"Did you like them?" She asked, failing to hide the smugness in her voice. The thin ice she tread on cracked beneath her feet.

"They'll do," Natasha answered, uninterested.

Katya nearly snorted, but she settled for a half smirk Natasha couldn't even see. "You know, there's nothing wrong with admitting that you like them.''

"I said, they'll do," the redhead corrected sharply.

"Okay."

Natasha's scowl deepened when she heard how sarcastic that answer was. Anyone walking in would think the TV personally offended her. "Stop being so cocky."

"You don't think I have a reason to be?"

"I didn't say that."

"You don't like it?"

"You're putting words in my mouth."

"I wish I was putting something else in—" Natasha's death glare cut her off. It was brief, but powerful, and the woman settled right back into Katya's chest afterwards.

"You have the right to be cocky, but you still irritate me," Natasha mumbled through gritted teeth. 

Katya dared to smile after the fear left her system. "Why?"

"Because you know damn well what it does to me, and it's unfair to have so much power over me."

It took all her willpower not to chuckle. Katya magically managed to keep her body still too. But it was going to be her words that would trigger Natasha. "Aw, is this your power struggle-struggle again?"

It was finally too much. With an angry huff, the woman pushed away from her, a dangerous fire flickering behind her eyes that matched the fiery color of her hair. She was absolutely stunning. "I would be very careful if I were you. What you say or do next could determine your near future and if you'll still have one."

This would be terrifying for anybody else in Katya's position. Even Clint would think this was a good time to shut up, but it was Katya's goal to rile her up as much as she could. Because the only way Natasha was going to let it out was by destroying her later. In a good way. Upstairs. 

She shrugged indifferently, scooting to the edge of her seat. "You want to live the rest of your life alone? Okay.'' Before she could lift her butt off the couch, she was yanked down by the front of her shirt. One blink of her eyes and Natasha was on top of her, her fingers digging into the tight muscles of her arms. Katya bit back a smirk. She knew the pictures hit her hard.

''You're not going anywhere.''

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Hello, Mr. Monster 8

Summary: Eros and Psyche inspired Soulmate!AU, Morpheus x female OC/reader

Master list

Chapter Warnings: SMUT A/N: So... I did a sneaky in this chapter. First one to guess correctly gets a 500 word Sandman drabble (you can give me a prompt or let me go wild - your choice). This is the biggest tender!fuck I've ever seen. Like damn. It's an important beat between chapter arcs, and there are some themes/hints ya'll should really take note of. For reasons. All I want for my birthday are comments, my dears! <3 Thank you for your ongoing support.

8. Seal

What happened?

Creeping out of the fog, she swept together the distant pieces of her waking mind, looking for a thought, or a plan, or…

What happened?

She’d had a wonderful dream. Safe. Warm. Happy. If she could fall back asleep and drop back into that place – those arms – she would, but a sleeping mind never followed the same course. She was waking, and it was over.

But she didn’t remember going to bed.

That was all right. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten drunk or collapsed after days without sleep. Not a problem.

But –

She hadn’t set her wards.

Her eyes snapped open, and her hand sprang out, reaching for the bag of black salt she always kept near her bed in the van. Anything could come, anything could already be there. As she jerked to consciousness, full of half-remembered terror – the mirror, the unseelie, her skin, the dress – long fingers caught her flailing hand. They wove seamlessly between her own, pulling her attention down to starry eyes. Soft lips pressed to her knuckles, calling her back from the brink of delirium.

“All is well.” Morpheus’ thumb rubbed along her throbbing pulse, distracting her from her panic with tactile affection. He read the beat as her memory settled, as she recalled where she was and what they’d shared. He must have felt the spiking rhythm, too, judging by his smirk.

He was beautiful. And definitely naked under the grey silk sheets that gathered over his waist.

She licked her lips, at a loss for words as the butterflies she thought she’d banished sprang back to life in her stomach.

“Hello.”

Yes. Excellent. Definitely the most romantic greeting after waking up for the first time in a lover’s bed. In her fucking eldritch soulmate’s apparent love nest, actually. So far as she could tell, they weren’t even in a room. She could see him easily, but beyond the place where they were lying, she could only see vague, bushy shapes that could’ve been clouds or trees. Lights flickered in them. Maybe stars. Possibly fireflies.

No visible exits. Not even a floor, in fact.

Though it wasn’t like she was in a rush to leave.

“Hello.”

Following his gentle tug, she sank back to rest on her side, facing him.

He was so beautiful. She’d already thought it, but damn if it wasn’t worth thinking twice. With his disheveled raven hair and self-satisfied expression, he looked at least half as debauched as she felt.

Which reminded her.

Oh shit.

She was naked, too.

Her free hand moved towards the sheets that had fallen all the way to her thighs when she sat up, but his disapproving pout made her second guess herself.

Covering bare skin was instinctual. Especially after everything she’d suffered in –

No, no. Not thinking of that. She physically shook her head to banish the flashes of pain and fear trying to manifest.

She was safe. She was happy. Her Dream was real, and she could be vulnerable with him in this world apart. Nothing would hunt her here. Nothing would dare. He would avenge and protect her.

Carefully, consciously, she let her hand drift from the sheets, and Morpheus smiled in the wake of her decision.

“My love,” he purred, looping an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him, “I want you.”

He nuzzled into her neck, kissing under her ear and finding new places her blood pounded under her skin. She found herself trying to remember language, how to speak in anything but sighs. Prince of Stories. Right. Whatever. Prince of Carnal Brainmelt more like. He made it impossible to think, working little bites over her flesh as he continued his eager assault, leaving her squirming, and desperate, and tongue-tied.

Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, she felt them burning far below her skin. Below flesh and bone. Stars were only cold because of their distance, and she was much too close to see them as anything but suns. She knew it was reckless to look, to stare back and let the heat blind her, but…

She couldn’t pull away now, even if she wanted to. He didn’t need prison bars and pansies to trap her.

Panting, she finally strung together an answer. “I want you, too.”

Her words brought him back to her lips, and he wasted no time licking into her mouth, sharing his heated groans. One hand slipped around to cradle her head. The one he’d used to reel her in crept down, brushing along her waist, squeezing her hip, and settling on her thigh. Strong fingers pulled her leg over his hip, and she groaned back into their kiss as his clear desire brushed her clit.

He didn’t press, only dragging himself through her folds as he explored her mouth. When she stopped for breath, he kissed under her chin, palm flexing just over her knee. She writhed with his slow strokes, enjoying the moment but far from satisfied.

“I need you.” Kissing his brow, his cheek, his lips, she sang her yearning. “I need you, Morpheus.”

Her words found him and burned the way his eyes flamed in her soul. She saw them kindling in his gaze as he pulled away to watch her face, swallowing every flicker of expression as he teased her entrance. And pushed inside.

The world hummed.

It was all beginnings and endings and discoveries. Dream was himself, and she was with him.

He moved so slowly, and she clung tight, shaking as the pleasure built with the inexorable pace of sunrise. Clutching his shoulder, his back, she fought to keep breathing, to keep her head above water as he pushed and pulled inside. Gods. He’d drown her, and she’d gladly find death here in his arms.

“You asked what I want.” He wasn’t as helpless to his physical manifestation as she was to her human body, but his rough voice proved how she affected him, and a sunburst of pride glowed in her breast. “Perhaps I was dishonest with myself. I want the measure of your dreams and your waking hours, too.”

He hunted for her fear, waiting for the golden moment to snap under the weight of his confession. His searching eyes flicked over hers, desperate but guarded. She didn’t know what to say. If she could say anything. But she wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t threatening her – this was an invitation. And she could only invite him back, let him feel the truths she couldn’t name yet.

Her hands settled on his face, trying to soothe the needles of anxiety, his anticipated despair. She offered more kisses, pulling at his lips, welcoming and reciprocating each touch in an effort to reach deeper. Too feel even more.

His grip on her thigh tightened, and he rolled half over her, leaving his sedate, almost drowsy lovemaking behind. Still tender, but openly needy, he picked up speed, using the new angle to his advantage.

She thought she’d been breathless before – fuck.

“I want… a life. A story. You.” He was begging. Commanding. On the cusp of claiming his own dream.

He didn’t take. He shared. They gave and met in true union, tasting elements beyond bodies to melt through time embrace destiny. A snare of their wyrds. A welcome loss wrapped in discovery.

Her heart would burst. There wasn’t enough of her to hold the love for something so vast as her monster, her Morpheus, and as he hiked her leg even higher on his waist, she grabbed him by the hair. She needed him. She needed his kiss, his breath, or she’d fall apart. He obliged, but she knew she’d go to pieces regardless.

As his thrusts grew more erratic, she broke.

The most exquisite destruction.

He pushed as deep as he could reach as she pulled out his own end, but he didn’t give her space to breathe. Rolling again so she was half draped – entirely boneless – over his chest, he kept his defiantly hard length inside. She’d have rest, but no peace.

Stroking her hair, he murmured into the crown of her head, “Stay, my love. I’m not ready to let you go.”

[wis-art]

Gabi the angel, they're new

[moe-broey]

Alfonse King of Minding His Own Business. Kiran Monarch of I WANNA BE A FURRY I WANNA BE A FURRY I WANNA BE A FURRY SOOOOOOOOOO FUCKING BAAAAAADDDDDD

Kiran drop your fursona NOW‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[last-flight-of-fancy]

“Kingdom Hearts being an epic slow burn gay romance would be incredibly impactful to people both personally and as a landmark in queer representation by extremely popular and established characters. It has decades of legitimate buildup and has the potential to be both incredibly validating to queer fans everywhere and even possibly sway the minds of those who love the characters but may not have much contact or knowledge of queerness.”

and

“The Kingdom Hearts series is honestly kind of unique in its unabashed emotional sincerity. How it treats friendships and non-romantic bonds as being both extremely important and powerful, never giving the impression that friendship is lesser to romance, is depressingly still somewhat of a rarity in media. This is very important and validating to many, particularly aromantics but also most everyone who is just Tired of how friendships and romance are often presented in tiers of importance.”

are concepts that can and should co-exist.

[autoboros]

sO I'm curious..did you have any initial inspo for autos character?? What were ur thoughts while creating him

Auto was a weird one when I first made him- I made him when I downloaded the world premiere for Splat3, but he wasn't really "Auto". He wasn't even much of a character at all

Only after I got Splat3 did I begin to kind of make a guy. And this guy was like, who Auto would have been, but I really didn't have any ideas for him at that point (he looked rather different too so still barely "Auto")

And since he didn't really look right I decided I wanted to make a guy I felt like would resonate with me (in a sona way I guess) and changed up how he looked and gave him some personality. It might be surprising since Auto is like, a very polite dude, but at this point in time "Auto" was turning out to be quite the cunt of a character. He ended up getting the name Auto from my username

He looked then how he looked now, except for the outfit. He used to wear the penguin bolero, white 01sters and the white octophones and it got a little boring after a while. My favourite colour was (+ still very much is) red, so I decided I'd try throw together the most red outfit I could with what gear I had at the time. Then I began to project onto him, and he became less of a douche (in fact no longer a douche at all) and more of a nice dude cursed by resting bitch face

Then I gave him billions of lore and boom we have Auto as he is now. I have images of how he looked so I'll throw them here

1. Opening the game for the very first time

2. How he looked for about 2 months into the game (quite different) (not really Auto)

3. When I changed his design to be closer to how he looked in the Premier (though in that, he had the different yellow eyes)

4. Auto as he is now and forever yay

[esoraluco]

I like this design so im sharing it! feeling nostalgic about su these days...

A single gem who got inspired by Earth's 'impressionist' art. He's an artist that paints with liquid paint, as opposed to Homeworld's normalized digital art. He paints mostly landscapes, but occasionally has other gems appear in his paintings. He's always looking for inspiration and sees the beauty in everything. He has his own garden, full of aquatic plants similar to nympheas and trees that look like willows.

Inspired by this Black Opal! it made me think of Monet's Nympheas immediately, so i had to do a design about it!

[psikind]

shout out to the evolution of one's artsyle being a real true thing (redraw of my "first" dnd character 2019 -> 2023)

[luvsavos]

random vent(?) in the tags, feel free to ignore i just have a lot of pent up emotions to get out today apparently

[dimdiamond]

Haddock watching over a kid or Ange:

Modern Family S4 EP18

Thank you nonnie <3 sorry for being so late but here:

Haddock is a natural confirmed.

[raymurata]

❤️ ❗️ 🐞 for Oak and Tarylin

❤️ (heart) - Who is the most important person to your character? To what lengths would they go to protect this person?

In both cases, their family members!

Despite everything that family did to him, and despite questioning their methods on occasion, Tarlyn was loyal to his identity as an Icozrin and he lived in service of his den (as far as Oak remembers at least).

Oak loves their family deeply and can't fathom anything bad happening to them. They'd go to great lengths to protect them, including being away from them. This is one of the reasons they were itching to leave Jigow (so as not to risk the Icozrin coming after them there) and be on the move/adventuring.

❗️(exclamation point) - What was the scariest moment of your character’s life? Does it still affect them?

I'll keep my mouth shut abt Tarlyn for this one. 👀

For Oak, it was definitely when Ahlysaaria announced her plan to "return them to a worthy body." But being attacked by Anil and his goons was right up there too (and as far as they know, Anil was trying to get them to proceed with Ahlysaaria's plan, so it's the same fear again). I think that the attempted kidnapping marked the first time Oak's ever fallen in battle. I might be misremembering tho cuz my memory sucks for these things. I even wanted to ask @skullhaver if they remember exactly what the goons used when Oak went down. Was it the Gravity Stone? (😂 The irony of Oak falling bc of their own invention is truly something.) I'm not sure force damage would leave a scar, tho. It was probably internal injuries that Espen healed. But they sustained other damage in that fight. A lot of it. Some other goons stabbed them. Bad day. Not to mention the fact BOTH ESPEN AND MOXIE fell too!!!! If their friends had died bc of the Icozrin, Oak would have been so so so so sad. It was terrifying.

🐞 (ladybug) - What does a perfect day look like for your oc? What do they do? Who do they see?

For Tarlyn, the perfect day would have been the day Ahlysaaria said "You've worked so hard and you've truly honored your den, Tarlyn. I will always be proud of you." 🥲 Lmao I mean, that's the short of it. If you could have entered his mind and seen his daydreams, you'd have seen his perfect day looked a little like this: Some magical invention of his is the breakthrough that revolutionizes weaponry manufacture in the Dynasty and puts the Kryn army at an undeniable advantage against their foreign enemies. He stands before the Bright Queen in the Lucid Bastion, she thanks him personally and by name, and as a reward, he is granted consecution and Den Icozrin is elevated into the ruling class. Everyone he knows witnesses this. His friends are jealous, Ymril is furiously envious, Galsariad wants him so bad; even Essek Thelyss, whom he's clearly surpassed on this perfect imaginary day, notices and admires him openly. His mother radiates with unmistakable pride. She cups his cheeks and kisses his forehead and hugs him tightly and lovingly in private, and tells him she'll always be proud of him. "You were absolutely perfect, darling," is the only feedback she gives him. Poor guy (gender neutral). Every one of those delusions could have been reality and he'd still have been miserable.

Now Oak's perfect day would look something like this: They wake up well-rested and in a comfy bed, and they're somewhere with nature, so they get to spend time outside, maybe foraging for some herbs (as they used to in Jigow), or harvesting them from a community garden (I can imagine Rosohna having some of these). They have breakfast and smoke their pipe in enjoyable company (in Jigow that'd be their family, in Rosohna their roommates, and now it's the Moonlighters), and get "productive." While a perfect day could easily be a work day (especially if they get to learn something new or do something they consider worthwhile, such as investigating Ruidium/helping Alyxian with the Moonlighters), an ideal day is not too taxing (or deadly!) and they get time to dedicate to craft projects. They get really in the zone and they're proud of their own art! Up until 10 days ago in game, Oak would have pictured making dinner, playing games and chilling with friends or family for the evening of a perfect day, but right now they would picture a date with Gal, having deep and nerdy conversations over dinner, and then they work on a spell or puzzle or a magical item or some riddles together. They talk loads and Oak gets to see sides of Gal few people know. There's lots of kissing, and they play with his hair and he hugs them tight. They cuddle.😳😳 (Oak kicks their feet picturing it) No bad luck befalls them or their loved ones on a perfect day, and they try their best to live by their values (be curious, be questioning, be understanding, be compassionate, be kind and be true to yourself). They give plenty of affection, and they feel loved and cared for in return. ♥️

[coulrology]

Junebug postin' 🫰

[lilbugprincess]

Our final member of this romantic trio! And the OC who is nearest and dearest to my heart. Posting her is actually a lil embarrassing, like. This is INTIMATE posting.

Her name is Yomiko Yamada, and I created her in middle school. She was my main favorite OC for YEARS and YEARS, and her DNA exists in a ton of the characters I've rped over the years!

A little shy, a little bookish, extremely kind and empathetic. She had a difficult adolescence but grew into her own with the support of the people around her! She couldn't say anything to Shuuichi or Tsuchida when they were in high school, but is very happy to be able to live with both of them now.

....it's actually just a coincidence that she looks like Defiant.

[arolesbianism]

I need agent 4 to appear in side order soooo badly I do not care in what context I just need to put Jim and Mark in the same room please please I'm desperate

[moe-broey]

Felt. Compelled (to take a break and revisit some sketches 🫡)

The second pic is an older sketch, the rest are all part of the same sketchdump! And. I think it shows. How resting is always on my mind w them LMFAOO the curled up poses are damn near identical........ 🧍