#i really dig this trope any other animes that have it? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pedgito · 1 year

Note

Hiiiii, can i ask for one of Ezra with smut plsssss? i really loved the pre-outbreak!joel miller <3 thankssss

pairing | ezra (prospect) x fem!reader

content warning | 18+ content, dubcon (it's a sex pollen fic, so just to be safe) but it's fairly consensual aside from that, but read at your own risk! this is set pre-movie time, so the plot is pretty loose, mutual masturbation, unprotected sex [6.5k]

author’s note | smut starts about 3k words in if you just want the naughty bits! i wanted to try something new for the recent milestone i hit as a treat but if this flops don't look at me, i've never written this trope before forgive me

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3

The sky is a sickening yellow that burns in the daylight here, hand crowding over your face to block out the glaring sun as it beats down, sweating through the thick padding of the suit that acts as your lifeline. You hate these trips, the ones that are purely for scouting and not for the attempt at digging and coming away with at least something of value to keep for yourself. It seems pointless and reckless, always poised for an attack by rival prospectors threatening to lay claim to an area you haven’t learned much about.

Luckily, this moon was untouched. Nothing like the ravenous Green you were used to. It’s both a relief and a danger. There was something off about this place, the air, the ground, the foliage that surrounded, and the lack of active life. Not an animal, parasite, nor any other species, human or something similar to be found. It’s barren and eerie but full of energy, the plants surrounding breathing in the air as if they are the living beings of this place.

You’ve only ever heard about these places in stories; the moons that no one dared to visit in fear that they might never leave, that the ground would swallow them whole and feast on their bodies. No one that landed ever left, always mysteriously disappearing off the face of the universe.

Yet somehow, you still ended up here. Alone, completely alone.

“What a sight this is,” A voice speaks from a distant, head whipping around all sides to find the source, the bulbous helmet obstructing your view, “do my eyes deceive me?”

You left your gun on this ship–first mistake. But, you had the small knife tucked away in your pocket handy and ready for use if needed, fingers lingering around the pouch until your eyes laid claim to the person the voice belonged to. Helmetless, too.

“You stay–you stay back,” You warn, voice shaken, “why are you–how are you breathing this air?”

Almost for show, he takes a deep breath.

“Amazing, is it not?” He asks, shifting some of the tall foliage out of the way as he walked closer, following the make-shift trail along the dirt that threaded through the tall plants, encasing you in a small fortress. “I only found out a couple days ago. It is–quite amazing, you agree?”

“Why are you here?” You avoid his weird approach at an introduction, examining his features to assure he was human–it seemed that way, a small scar settled under his left eye that brought you more questions alongside the small patch of white hair hovering above his forehead. His accent was even stranger, from some far off area you’ve never heard of, the dialect all it’s own.

“I could be asking you the same thing, little bird.” He tilts his head curiously, tapping on the thick glass of your helmet as he approaches closer, “This is…high end. Interesting. What is someone like you doing out here, all alone?”

“My job. I'm here to prospect and harvest.”

It's what everyone’s job was now–digging for gems and valuables to make a profit, making a living, keep themselves alive. Wash, rinse, repeat. You did well, always came back with a plentiful bounty. But, something told you this time was different.

“So, you're a floater. Where do you reside?” He asks curiously. "If you even have a home."

“Doesn’t matter.” You ignore him, “Are you going to kill me?”

You can see the gun attached to his hip and loaded, just a small flinch and he could have you dead in a millisecond.

“Now, come on–give me some of the benefit.” He pleads, but takes a second too long to continue, his face quickly morphing into amusement, “Unfortunately, you’re right, birdie. I’m required to shoot on sight, protect the product, and wait for the arrival of my crew. Now, why am I telling you this?”

“You want me to leave.”

His smile grows wider, his body tilting into the movement as he dips into his next step, snapping his fingers in a ‘aha!’ fashion, proving that you were correct.

“Smart, I appreciate that,” He compliments, his face quickly washed of emotion when he sees you unmoving, the small knife now poised between your fingertips, lowered close to your waist, “heaven waits girl, flee or die.”

“You don’t scare me,” You assure him, flipping the knife in a defensive stance as he invades your space further, watching you, examining. Like a meal, “what are you protecting here?”

“Hmm, brave…” He ripostes, “What do you think?”

It feels like he’s fishing–for information or clues and it dawns on you, the small amount of hesitation he has for not killing you outright, almost like he’s afraid.

“I think you have no idea what this place holds,” You challenge him, “how did you find out this air was breathable exactly? Did you trip? Were you attacked? Or were you just that stupid enough to take your gear off on a hunch?”

The silence is long and telling, his demeanor changing on a dime again, eyebrows furrowing slightly in annoyance and…anger?

“Oh shit,” You huff out a laugh, “were you–you were abandoned weren’t you? Betrayed by your own men? Your filters junked and took your fuckin’ chances like a dunce, but man, people like you are hard to kill, aren’t they?”

“You don’t know what you’re walkin’ into,” He warns, “you wanna take them chances alone?”

Truth is, he didn't either. He hadn't stepped a few yards away form his camp until now, too terrified by what lingered come nightfall, the planet feeling like it might split under your feet.

You’ve met men like him before, scared little boys hiding behind their big man persona to fill their own egos, but when it came down to it, he was just as terrified in this world as you.

But, at least you could admit it.

“I came here alone,” You point out, “What do you think?”

He knows the answer but doesn’t respond and eventually, he retreats.

“Look, girl–there’s somethin’ out there and it’s...big, loud–whatever it is, it’s alive and if you’re not terrified to go near it, you’re insane. I hear it at night, it’s worse than anything you can imagine, even the stories your parents told you as a child. Something is hidin' here, waiting.”

You always knew that the real monsters were the people, like you, because they had motive and intent, which made them far more dangerous.

You grab onto the connectors of your suit suddenly, decompressing your helmet on a whim. The air is crisp and clean despite what you’re expecting–it doesn’t burn or constrict, rather it expands, breathing a new feeling into your lungs.

“Fear is a good thing,” You tell him, nicking his hand with the knife unexpectedly when he moves to close, a quick prick that catches him off guard as he pulls away, nursing his thumb between his lips as he sucks, “keeps us human, right?”

Because whatever fear you had felt earlier toward the man had quickly dissipated and shifted onto him, his eyes a little darker as he watched you pocket the knife, letting your guard down when you realize just how helplessly harmless he was despite how he flared himself off in the beginning.

“I’m not leaving here empty handed,” You take in the full frame of him, tall and lean but less intimidating now, “are you?”

It was a mistake, something you will soon realize. Most of the moon is covered in a deep foliage to thick to search through, but after what feels like a few hours of walking, some tense small talk where you find out that the man who so easily threatened your life was named Ezra.

In a show of good faith, you tell him your own.

He’ll be dead by the end of this either way, either by your hands or the blade of your knife after you use him to get what you need—he wouldn’t see it coming, not a chance.

And he’s older too, lingering somewhere near his early early 40s from the way he talks. He’s weathered and callous around the edges and he’s seen things, you can assess that much.

He asks your age but it’s quickly snuffed out by a, “Doesn’t matter,” still, it’s obvious you’re younger and a little more naive in your brevity and willingness to risk your life on a whim.

You stumble upon the cave after the sun has set, the sky a hazy purple that creates a soft glow over your skin and you lead into the cave with little trepidation, amazed by the sight before you.

“God, these are beautiful,” You spoke candidly, examine the tight cracks in the rock that were lined with an interconnecting of vines, an ecosystem growing inside this dark, dwelling cave and acting as a beacon of light as it thrummed alive, glowing bright before dimming gradually in a continuous manner, “you were scared of this?”

“Something lives here, comes out at night when the sky is black and makes the ground shake,” Ezra warns, careful to linger back toward the entrance, “we don’t have much time.”

“My—these are bioluminescent, right?” The flower glowing in your hand as you touch it, dragging a delicate finger along the spine of the stem, “I’ve only read about them, some of these carry healing properties. I should take a few, could make good profit from them.”

Your greediness tells you to harvest, keep some for yourself, but Ezra is on you in a flash, grabbing your wrist as the flower puffs to life, startling you as it expands.

“Get back!” He shouts, “Those aren’t—“

But, it’s too late. A puff of glowing powder filtrates the air and into your face, sucking in an involuntary breath as it nearly suffocates you, pushing you back onto your ass.

Ezra scrambles, wiping your face with a delicate touch despite his worried expression before he’s gripping your wrist and yanking you back toward the entrance.

“What the hell—what was that?” You ask raggedly, wiping your face of whatever substance had spewed itself at you.

“Only ones I’ve heard of are poison,” Ezra admits, “Paralyzing agents, slow killers, nothin’ good.”

You follow him blindly, a hand tugging on your suit as he drags you along, hearing the faint shake of the mulch underneath your feet and you both tense, a shared look of worry.

“Little bird,” Ezra tugs you hard, hoping his urgency is conveyed in his eyes as he locks onto you, “we’re not makin’ it back to your pod I’m afraid.”

The shaking grows stronger, paired with a low rumble that has you both stumbling to the ground, body jolting at the touch of his fingertips against your neck where he catches you, hands planted into his chest as you plant yourself above him.

“I know I’m not one to trust,” Ezra admits, “But, I’ve got a tent a few meters east, it might keep us safe ‘til daylight.”

You quickly shove his hand away, the touch burning your skin in an unpleasant way, a weird feeling coiling in your stomach.

“Might?” You seethe, eyes growing comically wide at his unsureness.

“I told you comin’ this way was a bad idea, you chose not to listen,” Ezra ignores the distaste for his touch as you wretch his hand away, “it’s up to you—run back to your pod and hope you make it or we can saddle in at my camp.”

You’re logical enough to know there’s only one choice.

Self-preservation.

You let him guide you upright before immediately separating yourself, following his quick footsteps as he led you back toward his sanctuary.

The difference in you, Ezra notices, is night and day.

Your eyes are scanning around frantically as he reaches for the cover of the entrance, mindful of his touch as he guides you inside, realizing the severity of the things you had encountered in the cave.

He’s never seen it for himself, assuming most of it was a myth. Some of it is collected and concentrated into a small drug that’s used in the places that are higher-up, living more luxurious, the people overflowing with wealth that have nothing better to do than get high and fuck—it’s that simple, a sex drug.

But from the source, natural—there’s no telling the strength. Even him, though not in the direct pathway and mostly by touches transferred between you two, has him feeling a little perturbed, his skin feeling itchy underneath the suit, like he wants to crawl out of his body.

The silence that settles inside the tent when you’re both seated, far apart and in the two separate bunks stationed on either side, the one full of his belongings shoved to the side as you sit, pulling at the collar of your suit desperately. It feels like you’re suffocating, drowning inside the suit while your skin breaks out in a sheen of sweat, eyes squeezed shut as you force out a shaky breath.

Ezra watched it all happen, pulling lazily at the fingers of his gloves before unzipping his own suit, kicking it to the side and leaving him in his normal undergarments; a fitted black sweater paired with some black slacks.

You glance over briefly, confused by his calmness, confused by your sudden affinity to be out of this suit and near him, needing the feeling of something other than this thing pressed against your skin. He looks eerily normal like this, dressed in his day to day clothes.

“I think I might know what’s ailing you, birdie.” Ezra admits, forearms resting on his knees where he’s bent them, feet planted on the ground in front of him, “can I ask how you’re feeling?”

“Fine,” You grumble, the poor lie slipping past your lips, “Just—need out of this suit.”

He nods, extending a hand that you quickly defer away, eyes growing wide, “No, don’t fucking touch me.”

“I won’t touch your skin,” Ezra assures you, “That’s what’s got you worried, right? Feels like you’re on fire?”

His description is perfect, somehow managing to convey what you’re feeling, desperately alone inside your mind with thoughts that shouldn’t be.

He shifts to move, walking with his knees until he’s by your side, hands held up in surrender until he’s close enough to you, undoing the bindings in your suit to let you free, letting them fall to the floor with a heavy klunk as you kick them away.

“What—what was it?” You know he knows. Or that he at least had some kind of notion, his eyes scanning you carefully. Despite the sudden coolness to your skin from the thin tank that you’re wearing, it feels like a heat is bubbling underneath the surface.

“I’ve only ever heard of these things elsewhere,” Ezra explains slowly, bouncing around the truth, “it’s a, uh—enhancement of sorts, a drug to most.”

“Ezra.” You grimace, pushing him toward the point. It’s the first time you use his name, acknowledge him, and it feels weird. He’s not used to hearing it, either.

“Sex pollen.” He drives it home, no more beating around the bush. “It’s why you feel like jumpin’ out of your skin, why you couldn’t stand my touch.”

“Fuck off,” You scoff out tiredly, a bitter laugh lingering in the back of your throat, “that stuff isn’t real.”

Ezra’s eyes narrow, pointedly on you as he examines your response to him coming near, extending his fingers out carefully, “Give me your wrist.”

You back away unknowingly, hiding your hand away and ignoring the insistent beating of your heart in your chest, the sound of your pulse in your ears, the slow churning in your gut now impossible to ignore.

“Don’t touch me,” You warn, “Is this how you approach strangers? Tell ‘em they’re high on a sex drug and hope they’ll believe you?”

He says your name softly, hand dropping to his side, seeming a little irritated himself, though less so than you.

“I’m tellin’ you because whether you want to be or not, you’re stuck in this tent with me until sunrise.”

You scurry toward the corner of the bed, chest heaving through deep breaths, brow furrowing as you stare him down.

“Keep to your side,” You tell him, “I don’t want you coming near me.”

Ezra backs away without argument—he may be something of a scoundrel, a murderer, but he never had any intention of hurting you. Not before, not now. He was good at playing it up, but he knew you saw through it.

“You’ve got about an hour,” Ezra tells you, “maybe less now, but eventually that fever is gonna affect your brain, just like any other sickness and you’ll be worse off than when you came here.”

“Are you some kind of doctor or something?”

“You learn a thing or two in this line of work,” He pulls haphazardly at the suspenders held snug around his shoulders, letting them fall loose to his hips, “I’ve never encountered it like this until now.”

“And you—you don’t feel…off?” You ask carefully, a sudden urge to squeeze your thighs together and soothe the growing ache between your legs.

“I didn’t inhale it like you, didn’t get as deep of a dose,” The contact with you initially was just enough to keep him on edge, the itch under his skin growing slowly, he felt it too—the need, “you sure you’re alright?”

It’s the first moment of vulnerability you have with him as you glance up through downturned eyes, hands gripping the thick, coarse material of your pants.

“It hurts,” You admit quietly, “like a—like an ache, almost. Are you sure it’s safe here?”

Ezra nods, “Believe it or not, I’m not interested in the business of killing you.”

Not anymore.

“Forgive me for not thinkin’ that’s true, considering you threatened my life the moment I stepped foot on this moon.”

Ezra shrugs, fiddling with his sleeve silently.

“You’re full of empty threats, aren’t you?” You patronize him, turning your back to him now, settling down on the bed in hopes to calm whatever feeling was spreading throughout your body. “Come near me and I’ll shove that knife into your chest, got it?”

“Sure,” He responds distantly, “sweet dreams, birdie.”

And he himself tries to settle in, allow himself a moment of rest, but just as he’s lingering on the edges of sleep he hears you rouse, letting out a small whimper of pain as you pull at your slacks in earnest, “God, it fucking hurts.”

Ezra rolls to his side, head propped up lazily in his hand as he speaks, “M’gonna be blunt with you—only thing that’s gonna help is sexual release.”

“Stop talking,” You groan, the sound of his voice a few feet away and at a much lower register, thick with exhaustion, “it’s not like I can just take care of it with you here.”

For Ezra, it’s more of an annoyance, the tingling underneath his skin, the filthy thoughts running through his mind despite himself—he’s not that type of person, never would be, but that sight of you, the curve of your body even in this light, it’s enough to keep the flame alive.

He can see you’re struggling, fighting away whatever you were feeling and denying it despite the horrible pain you were in.

“Let me step out,” It’s not a solution to the problem, “I can give you the room.”

And really, you weren’t sure it would even help. There was a need for contact, even as you wrestle with the button of your slacks and press your hands flat against your stomach in an effort to ease the ache, it’s not as satisfying.

It makes you feel rabid, wiping the thin layer of sweat from your cheeks as you take a chance to look at Ezra when you turn on your back—he seems relaxed, aside from the insistent fidgeting of his fingers against one another, clenching and unclenching his fist every so often.

“Be honest with me,” You plead, “you’ve seen this before?”

“Only heard things,” He admits, eyes dragging toward the flickering light placed between you on the central beam supporting the tent—he’s talking to you, but he seems distant, far away, “it’s meant as an aid for—you know—“

You feel the impending but coming.

“But, like this—I don’t know much.” Ezra breathes out a deep breath, adjusting the slowly growing tightness against the front of his pants. “Even a small dose like that can be hell.”

You sigh shakily, fingers drifting until they’re only a few centimeters under your waistband, noticing his subtle attempt to adjust himself.

“Are you—do you feel it?” You ask softly, hanging by a thread. “I didn’t think you inhaled it like me.”

Ezra clears his throat, trying to respect your boundaries by not openly grinding up into his own hand—he was a bad man some days, but he wasn’t a savage.

“Just being near you,” He assumes, “it absorbs into your skin or something like that and by touchin’ you I got a smaller dose. You’re hurting somethin’ bad, aren’t you?”

You nod jerkily, earlier disgruntled emotions toward the man forgotten. He’s proven to not be as big of a threat as he posed and he’s almost friendly now, keeping his distance and trying not to scare you. It wasn’t like you couldn’t handle yourself, but you hated how easily your thoughts betrayed you. You wanted someone near, didn’t matter who—you both just had the misfortune of being stuck together in a situation like this, dancing around the obvious.

��Maybe—“ You sigh softly, eyes roving his body for a moment, “if we just take care of it ourselves, just close our eyes and no one’s gotta leave?”

“I don’t think—“

You’re impatient, fed up, fingers dip until they meet your core, drenched in the sweet slick of yourself and painful to the touch, a moan blossoming in your chest involuntarily.

“Little bird, I am not so sure that—“

“Shut up,” You sigh heavily, rubbing insistently at your clit for relief, constricted by the stiff waistband of your pants as you flex your fingers to fit inside you, “just do it, get it over with so we can get some sleep and leave this place come—come morning.”

He knows you don’t mean what you’re implying; the off-chance you might take him with you after being abandoned, he’s not that lucky, he never was.

You gasp when your fingers breach your center, pressing beyond your tight opening and Ezra can feel the noises rattling him to his core.

“If I wanted to be treated like a lady I wouldn’t be doing this—in front of you, right now.” Ezra actually laughs at that, a small chuckle the rumbles from his chest. “Don’t worry, I won’t look.”

It’s the coyness in your voice that does him in, his hips rutting up into his palm slowly before he’s breaking that seal, assuming a similar position and hastily shoving his hands down his trousers, grinding down on his teeth to muffle the sound that escapes him when he feels the first touch, feeling everything more intensely now that he had given in.

“Better?” You ask curiously, voice still tight and ragged, the ache that was once dull was throbbing at your core and up your spin, growing the more your fingers dragging along your slit and over the small bundle of nerves.

It wasn’t enough. Didn’t feel like enough. Part of you knew that one simple orgasm by your hand wouldn’t solve this, but you remained naive, breath quickening as you shoved your pants down further, hastily, kicking them off the rest of the way.

Ezra hums a lousy response from your right, the soft shift of fabric against fabric, his movements quickening as he finds a rhythm, hand tightening around his shaft at the awkward angle he was forcing himself into with his cock still stuffed inside his pants.

Honesty would be good, right? Right now?

You let out an exasperated growl as you scramble upright, head hanging back between your shoulders.

“This isn’t fucking working,” You admit, “It doesn’t even feel good it just hurts.”

And the emphasis on the word is prevalent as you chance a look over at Ezra, his hand stilled underneath his clothes but his eyes wide, a little comical as he takes in the sight of you now, bottom half bare and visible under this light, the smallest sliver of your stomach peeking through your top that had ridden up.

So much for keeping eyes closed.

“I—“ Ezra stops himself, face scrunching up with a dilemma, “what are you thinking?”

“I’m not,” It felt like your body was working on autopilot, shifting your body to face him, “I need—god, I need more. Do you think, maybe—“

“Yeah,” Ezra answers immediately, already matching your thought as you scramble the short distance toward him, his palm pressing gently against your chest, “holy—birdie, your heart is racing.”

You nod absently, shifting his hand down abruptly to cover you cunt, a needy whine escaping your throat at the touch.

“I don’t have time to— talk this through,” It’s disjointed, voice airy as you speak to him, “help me, please?”

He’s never been more unprepared and unequipped for a situation in his life, falling privy to your motions as you grind against the heel of his palm, feeling his fingers explore cautiously.

“Whatever you need,” He agrees, nodding insistently as he winds his free hand around your waist, guiding you over his lap in a movement that has one of his fingers pushing past your entrance, fist clenching into his shirt tight, “tell me—tell me.”

He sounds wrecked, beside himself, feeling guilty for the circumstance and regretting having taken the risk to talk to you, letting his ego get the best of him. He would’ve never been in this situation, never have met you.

And somehow, you still feel empty, eyes brimming with tears at the discomfort, the neediness you feel across your entire body, the desire to be taken over and consumed by him—there’s a brief moment where you lock eyes with him, almost like a transfer of energy as he feels your pain.

The contact somehow managed to make things worse for him, or more equal on your level as his opposite hand grips tight on your hip, fingers working dutifully to keep you full as his head hangs, working with the little friction he received from his cock being trapped underneath the tight fabric as he followed your movements, pushing in when you pulled away, a messy dance of limbs as you clawed at each other.

“More,” You cry softly, “give me more.”

“Little bird,” He says as a warn, though his voice is nothing but comfort, “you don’t have a clue what you’re asking of me.”

You nod frantically, “I do, I do.”

His eyes pull to your lips, mouth hung slightly open as you gasp, feeling like you’ve been running for miles without doing any of the actual work, a type of primal desperation you’ve never felt before.

“We don’t have to—“ You squeeze your eyes shut, voice strained, “maybe if we just—“

Ezra understands without you asking, shifting his pants down hastily with you over him, briefs follow with before he’s just as bare from the waist down, kicking his clothes away mindlessly as you settle down against him without warning, the suffocating heat of your core drawing his attention back to you.

“You’re burnin’ up,” He notices, hands settling gently against your waist as he feels the hesitant tilt of your hips on the first drag, a deep sigh combining between you both, “does that—does that help?”

“Shh, shh,” You hush him kindly, hoping that focusing on the sensation and rather his voice—which was driving you equally as mad by how wrecked he sounded—would help, but it soon dawns on you that there’s only one way to satiate the ache, pushing at his chest until he understands, a slow fumble back onto his elbows as you grind against him more insistently, the excessive wetness of your core soaking him at the base, his grip against your hips tightening with every passing second as a groan creeps from his throat, paired with your own shaky sigh, “I can’t—can’t focus.”

Ezra feels partly to blame, too lost in his own head to realize the severity of the stage you’re in—most coherent thinking nearly gone and replaced with nothing but this, him, an eagerness to dull the painful ache in your body and by association, his own.

The lewd thoughts intensify with every pass of your center along his shaft, the head of his cock rubbing against your clit in an almost satisfying way, but there’s an emptiness that’s keeping you stuck, dangling over the edge.

You need him inside of you—want, as does he. He’s been picturing it since he saw your fingers dip past your core, since the strength of the pollen invaded his body and filled his mind with involuntary thoughts.

“Ezra,” You sound broken, tears having slipped down your cheek through the haze, “I need you.”

Ezra nods understandingly, his hand creeping up to cradle the side of your neck, your head lolling lazily into the touch, “I told you, little bird. Just tell me. Tell me what you need.”

“Want you inside,” You admit on a pathetic whimper, fingers slowly clawing up his clothed chest, fisting in the fabric as you move more insistently, “Ezra, please?”

In any other situation he would think this through, considering the consequences and ask you for reassurance, but he finds himself nodding before he can catch himself, guiding your hips up gently with his hand before you’re taking control and guiding the head of his cock to your center, seething him completely and to the hilt in one full motion, punching a strangled groan from his chest.

Ezra falls back fully with the force of your grip, huffing roughly with every eager bounce of your hips, watching as your eyes roll back slightly, feeling a slow sense of relief with how easily he fits inside of you.

If it weren’t for the thick layer of his sweater you would’ve broken skin by how hard your grip was on him, his own grasp teetering on painful but dulled by how badly you needed to cum, or feel any type of release for that matter.

There’s a soft repeated mumble of “please, please, please,” falling from your lips that doesn’t stop, not entirely sure what you’re asking for but Ezra soothes a comforting hand up your waist and over your shoulder as he watches you, slowly losing yourself to the sensation of being filled so fully.

“I’m right here,” He assures you, a faint echo in the back of your mind, “fuck—I’m right here.”

He soon feels suffocated by the thickness of his sweater, your body heat overwhelming him inside and out as he silently guides you up and quickly rids himself of the last bit of material he had left on his body, hastily helping you with your own when he sees your hand struggling to pull at the damp fabric.

But once he gets his eyes on you, taking in the rawness of you, all desperation and mindless need as your breasts bounce softly with your movements, squeezed tight between your arms from where they’re planted against his chest and all Ezra can think is touch.

He wants to touch you—and like you’re thinking on the same wavelength, bodies interconnected and driven by one thing, lust—so, you ask. Or more accurately, beg,

“Stop thinking,” You tell him, “touch me, it’s okay.”

Ezra feels pained by your response, your own voice riddled with the tears that kept falling, though the obvious lack of sadness behind them. He nods, lifting a hand to knead the soft flesh between his fingertips, your muscles clenching around him involuntarily and pulling a moan out of you that he mimics with the same fervor.

“Sweet jesus,” He speaks candidly, “you feel—“ Ezra doesn’t even have the words, landing on something that flashes through his mind quickly, “perfect, fuckin’ perfect.”

And Ezra can feel the intensity build as your hips falter, the brazen sound of skin slapping against skin slowing to a slow grind as you squeeze your brow line together, panting slightly.

“I got you,” He reminds you softly, slumping into him tiredly as he lifts his frame, flipping you over swiftly but carefully, settling your legs around his hips with a gentle touch, barricading you in with the taut muscle of his forearms, his hips moving slowly inside you still, “just focus, you gotta let go, birdie—only way you’ll get any relief.”

You nod instinctively, vision increasingly hazy as you pull him in closer, his mouth connecting with your shoulder in a wet press of his lips—not quite a kiss, but not subtle enough to be a touch and without even asking, he’s fixing a hand over your cunt alongside his cock from where he’s working you to a near point of something similar to an out of body experience, like you might finally lose your mind.

His touches are tender but pointed, his own moans increasingly debauched as he rubs your clit in messy circles, the wet squelch of you and him as you move together driving you closer to the edge, the intense tingling along your spine growing to the point of near unbearable, body shaking under his touch as he slips his other hand behind your neck, lifting your chin up as you gasp, clenching down hard as you came, body taking on a mind of its own.

The feeling is so intense you feel like passing out, spotting in your vision as you drift away for a moment, whimpering softly against his touch as the intense feelings you’ve been having dull for a moment, the torture of your body betraying yourself gone for now but still lingering dangerously close in the shadows.

“Fuck, fuck—” You hear his voice muffled over the ringing in your ears, staring blankly at the ceiling of the tent while your heart rate calms, your name falling from his lips like a warning as he feels that pull, low in his groin, shifting away hastily to work a quick, feverish hand over his shaft and spilling over your stomach in warm pulses, face slack with pleasure, eyes closed and drifting into a familiar feeling of exhaustion.

“I think–I think it’s over,” You mumble softly, fingertips dragging gently against his thighs, a contrast to the earlier hard grip you had on him as he drove you toward your orgasm, “Are you okay?”

Ezra shakes his head in disbelief, leaning back on his legs.

“For the moment,” He thinks briefly before nodding, noticing the worry in your face, corners of your mouth downturned in frustration, “—are you?”

And you would be, but even now as the exhaustion creeped in, that gnawing sensation was still lingering, leaving you wondering if this would last forever until you ended up dying some miserable death on this moon.

Ezra moves around slowly, reaching for one of the bags stowed away on the spare bed you were using prior and finding some sloppily cut cloth, he notices your weariness, “Just something to…” He gestures toward the mess of him on your stomach still, something you hadn’t really noticed until he pointed it out, his gentle assurance a comfort to you, “was usin’ them to keep clean when workin’ on my pod but…no pod, no reason to keep hoarding them.”

He leans back between your legs, cleaning you up without a word, silent as he drags the soft cotton over your stomach with a tenderness that shouldn’t make you feel that way. You barely know him and you’ll blame it on the ridiculous sex pollen filtering through your bloodstream, but he looks more docile now, like you might scare him if you move the wrong way.

He’s just as terrified as you.

“Ezra,” You call out softly, grabbing his attention, “can I be honest with you?”

“I would appreciate it, yeah,” He responds with a faint smile, “seein’ as the situation we’re in.”

“I don’t,” You blow out a tired huff through your lips, hands pushing away the wet, sticky hair from your face, “—it’s still there. Is that–normal?”

“Uh,” Ezra pauses, thinking, “I mean, I’ve heard a few hours, sometimes even a day. But, it should fade now, since you were able to—”

He couldn’t bring himself to say the words with your eyes staring him down so intensely.

You wouldn’t be able to sleep like this, the impending exhaustion come sunrise would make it nearly impossible to get home, thinking back to how easily you could’ve turned around and left and never put yourself in this situation. Choices, decisions, nothing good ever came from haste thinking.

“If–if it doesn’t?” You ask softly, suddenly feeling scared of the unknown.

“It will,” He responds calmly, nodding, “but how long…there’s no tellin’.”

An eerie silence settles between you two, aside the gentle hum coming from outside of the tent, a distant worry now–most places you were taught to be scared of the people you might come across, but here, inside this tent, you couldn’t feel more safe.

“Forgive me for being so forward but–it’s safe here, at least for a day or two. I’ve got the food, the water. We can wait things out until morning, little bird.”

You huff a soft laugh through your nose, moving your legs around him gently to one side as he adjust himself, draping the blanket shoved near the end of the bed over his lap and carefully covering your own.

“What would you have done if you never saw me?” You ask curiously, “Your people abandoned you, only a few days of supplies, do I want to know why you were stranded here?”

Ezra shakes his head simply, that answer being enough for you to gloss over the topic.

“So, is this the part where you ask to come with me?” Ezra’s shoulders shake in a silent laugh, hanging his head as he looks away, “What a fuckin’ day this has been.”

“You don’t have to drag me along,” He tells you, “doesn’t feel right askin’. But, since we’re stuck here for a bit, least until this shit wears off–”

He feels the sensation burrowing in the base of his spine too, the release of endorphins allowing you both a moment of calm before it ramped up again, undoubtedly. And there’s a sudden urge from you to touch him, stopping his palm over your stomach as his fingertips feel the material of the blanket.

“I can be convinced,” You tell him, eyes softening under his gaze, “It’s all I do for a living, bartering, trading–you’ve proven pretty useful, anyways.”

Ezra smiles at your indication, thumb rubbing along the back of your hand and reminding you that this wasn’t near over yet, his touch leaving a dull burn in its wake.

“Keep the pain away and I’ll give you a free ride,” You promise him, “no tricks, I swear.”

“Another one?” Ezra says jokingly, finding the smile that breaks out on your face a clear indication that it wasn’t too much of an overstep, adding a little light to the situation, “I’m honored.”

And even if it did takes hours for the pollen to leave your system, a few tiring orgasms later shared between you both in a very heated, messy exchange of bodies rubbing against each other or his head buried between your legs, there’s a clear indication to never come back here, leave this behind you, and try not to be hung up on the man you met on this moon as he parts ways with you not soon after you arrive back home. But, there’s a reassurance in his words as he leaves you, leaning against the open door of your pod as you restock for your next journey.

“Can’t keep myself in one place too long,” He says regretfully, “but I know where to find you.”

“Don’t get yourself killed out there.”

Ezra laughs at that, full-body and amused.

“Not a chance, little bird.”

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect x y/n #prospect 2018 #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #ezra prospect smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #my writing

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ms-scarletwings · 7 months

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A Messy, Sedulous Necropsy of Zib Membrane

That’s what we call him right? Not Invader Zib? Hell if I know, we’ll let the tags decide.

Whatever he is christened by his author, enemies, or fans, this titular villain of the Zimvoid is such a mind blaster to me. I wish we had more time with him within the comics. I wish he had been a concept explored in the show. I wish he had a movie. I am having fun with a little hyperbole here, but I truly do find him just as interesting and potentially pivotal of an antagonist as Tak was, if not even more.

Both, of course, were so badly underutilized for sake of the series status quo. To that, Zib was a much bigger threat than Tak, and especially to that of the comics’ own. He potentially changes everything, and somehow absolutely nothing by the end. The TV show always had a more overt tone of cruelty and the macabre floating about its themes. These print issues? I don’t dislike them. It’s still recognizably invader Zim, and the more the merrier, content-wise, but longtime fans can feel that there was this change of essence in the transition. More obviously, in the art, but more subtly, there was an audible softening of that bluntly darker, cynical tone the show was made iconic for. To put it very generally, they lean a little more into the whackiness of this world, there’s a lot more dark comedy to be found in what I’ve seen so far rather than in your face darkness, and in the absence of the ost and voice acting the show accustomed us to, the comics leave a lot more room to be read as you wile. To me, they’re goofier and more episodic in spirit.

This all is not a critique or rating on the comics.. It’s purely, I feel, why Zib stuck out to me all the more jarringly in his context. His reveal was a genuine twist that brought forth stakes higher than arguably any other threat in the entire franchise. He represents a plausible while horrifying prophecy of our main characters if only they made worse decisions. The most interesting of all, for every piece of amazing information he fed to us, he bred dozens more questions about everything than he answered, from Irken machinations, to his ambivalent backstory, to the secrets hidden by the sum of his parts.

Though he was left evidently alive at the end of his story, I don’t see any chance for him making a return, so he is memorialized as another defeated one-off the writers have brisked past and left behind for good. Therefore, I’m here today to take what we got and present it on the metaphorical autopsy table. I want to really pull apart why this character alone pulled me back into the TV series, really just flay open the bits I can’t get out of my own head and dig harder until we find something or we run out of threads to tug at. Starting with the one already hanging out of my mouth, but

• B.E.F

“Bad End Friend” is a term I learned the meaning of within the last 12 hours or so of writing this, and I’m exuberant over that discovery. It’s a niche trope i didn’t know ive been a giant fan of since I was a child. Summed up, fictional characters from beloved media, typically, animated child protagonists… given the worst case scenario treatment. Their “bad ending”, whether that means a corruption arc, demonic possession, a lovecraftIan tragedy… usually something that’s anywhere along the lines of a fate worse than death to a full villainous turnover. As a treat. The concept is strongly associated with fanworks and AUs of popular media, but just as often this is something that becomes explored in the source material as well. A couple great examples I know would probably be Ice Prince Finn from Adventure Time or what happens in Undertale when you decide you want to run the most depraved playthrough possible. From a more mature story, “Evil” Morty is another validly arguable sample.

Besides a bit of a fondness I got going for certain dark or spooky themes in general, what I REALLY love about canonical BEFs the most is their utility as characterization tools. They’re the “having your cake and eating it too” option! The perfect way for an author to explore certain things about any character without actually committing to well… a bad ending.

Almost always, they are necessarily hypothetical or reversible. If they’re not reversible, they go often hand-in-hand with a little universe tampering to make happen. Sometimes, this means the story goes the way of time travel and branching off butterfly effects. Sometimes it means confirming multiverse theory, which can be the same thing depending on your semantical position.

And Zib crossed off the BEF qualifications by far and away. His implications are extremely dark given any pause think about them, and he’s a living, disturbing tragedy in aftermath. If you want to view a rigamarole about that aspect of his characterization as he appeared in the comics, someone else long beat me to that and I’m enthusiastically recommending a peek at their own work. I’m thrilled to do so and build a little upon that with those extended what-if-wonders.

• Lessons From a Lost Episode

Elephant in the room I haven’t seen someone ask yet, uh..

By show rules, isn’t Zib supposed to be a clear case of the writers committing the sin of retcon? By show I’m including the unaired scripts, including “10 Minutes to Doom”. In that one we had what looked like the potential setup for a Zib case, and it was deconstructed across the whole episode.

In short recap, Dib learned the hard and reckless way about the true nature of what Irken PAKs actually are. This is not an inventory bag, it is not “gear”. It’s the actual Irken entity- at least, the primary component.

Detaching it from the organic shell essentially caused a temporary split into two instances of Zim, desperately trying to connect back together under threat of obliteration.

Like let me be very clear about this,

The PAK is an autonomous instance of Zim’s consciousness, and it’s the main one. We’ve seen it act to save his life when his body has been out cold or flatlined, and he doesn’t appear the least bit disoriented or confused once “he” wakes and jumps back into the action. There’s no known separate computer assistant AI or security autopilot in there. That code, that program, IS Zim. As Long as the PAK is active, he is capable of staying fully conscious and able to react to what’s happening around him, and that’s what we’ve been seeing, his own actions.

Zim proved me right when Virooz tried to replace him and detached the PAK. Take note of his phrasing after the chair event™.

“I” activated the protocol. Immediately after Virooz ran off with my shell.

“I” Voluntarily chose to do so.

I don’t remember it playing out like that in “10 Minutes to Doom”.

Attaching to a new host wasn’t the first reflex. Dib was not the least bit aware that that he has literally holding the actual Zim captive in sense, and the latter was fighting like a cornered animal to escape him. Failing that, alongside the distance between him and his original body growing fast, he made a last desperate gambit, and he willingly connected himself into Dib’s body.

I can see why he thought this was better than nothing, no matter how repulsive the notion might have been. If he couldn’t fend Dib off physically, he could incapacitate him in some fashion by trying to overtake his will. Maybe give the shell a better chance to catch up, maybe in the longshot hope of being able to pilot dib in order to become whole with the correct host again. And you can say he succeeded, at least in dominating bodily control away from Dib, but at the cost of his already tenuously held sanity. This could be because of the interference of Dib’s own mind still resisting to fully submit, or malfunctions because of the biological incompatibility; however, the thing that Dib mentally becomes is only the basic idea of what “Zim” is. Instead of remembering it needs to reunite with its shell ASAP, the PAK mistakes Dib’s body for its own and goes through the manic motions of following the Invader mission. And it does this, weirdly enough, with almost no regard for blowing its cover.

When things are set right again, Zim’s later words near the episode ending revealed that he knew that was an unsustainable state.

Such a risk was not just accounted for, he was actually banking on it if that clock had hit zero. If Zim had truly lost, if he was really doomed to meet his end on this nasty rock in the middle of Nowhere, Space, then by every damned circuit in his being, he was going to take down this insolent fool boy and as many other humans possible with him. A dying act of vengeful rage.

• The Exceptional… Exception

Now, wouldn’t all of this be the definitive reason for Zib’s existence to be an aberrant impossibility? Yes, but actually no. Fun thing about multiverses is if something doesn’t work in one setting, you can just tweak a few dials and suddenly you have a world where the impossible becomes possible. But that’s a pretty cheap answer, isn’t it? So, what exactly was that crucial difference?

What happened in Zib’s timeline that went down so, so divergently from the events of 10 Minutes to Doom?

Because the only one who was in any position to explain it for us was Zib himself, and he’s proven to be one of the most unreliable of narrators. It’s as @dana-chan-the-control-brain already spared no effort to demonstrate, when he does tell us something about his past, his story is pocked with contradicting half-truths or outright lies. Ergo it helps to break down each recount of events to pick out the real facts.

Version 1: This is an alternate version of dib who defeated his complementing Zim (logically sensible) and went on to achieve all of the success and respect he sought after in his timeline (absolute bullshit). He kind of gestures and only implies about what has happened to his body while explaining that he came to his current understanding of Irken technology by studying it through Zim’s lab (a partial truth). He lets slip in passing that he has in fact fused with the PAK in order to learn how to alter and reprogram its coding, lessons he has applied to Number 2 in order to have a brainwashed pawn (also apparently true).

Version 2, when cornered and red handed: This is an alternate version of Dib who managed to specifically stop Zim's mission (Again, makes sense) but somehow could not convince the world of his findings or his warnings about the Irken Armada (*VERY eyebrow raising). Frustrated with the people’s lack of cooperation, he decides he has no choice but to physically merge with Zim’s PAK post-mortem (concerning and evidently mostly accurate), dominate the Earth himself, and enslave humans to help him in his efforts (highly troubling and probably true). The construction of his EMP super-weapon is successful, but ultimately led to the creation of the Zimvoid when the device was field tested (self evident, absolutely horrifying).

You know what I noticed was missing from both of these accounts? Exactly how his Zim was defeated. Which honestly could have been some beyond useful wisdom to pass along to the main Dib??? More than anything else? I’m not going to fault our boy for not pressing that matter better under the awing circumstance; however, there’s an implication I’ve been reading between lines.

When Zib mentions “defeating” his own Zim, he’s talking about something different than ours.

When our Dib has always talked about “defeating” Zim, he’s meant incapacitation and capture. Throughout the show he explicitly wants to present Zim before an audience alive and whole. Yeah, he fantasizes about other people torturing or disassembling him for study, but HIS role was supposed to be reaping the fame for an undeniable, ground-breaking discovery. Conspiracies and cryptids are all this kid breathes and lives by! And as long as pop culture has always been fascinated with the paranormal, and he has to know this full well, people keep bringing forward hoax after hoax after scam. I mean there’s a freaking current one or few still going IRL about this exact topic. Dib would want no room left for being dismissed as another one of those con artists.

Nonetheless, I actually doubt this is the reason Zib couldn’t get through to the scientific community. A genuine alien lifeform, even a dead one, could still be confirmed by any basic medical examination. The world thinks Dib is too crazy to listen to, but his father is still Professor Membrane. In "10 Minutes to Doom" OUR Dib got as close as having Membrane literally analyzing a PAK, or at worst, preparing to. “Ultimate Dib” gets his hands on the same thing and pulls a move I’d expect from an HP Lovecraft Protagonist instead.

We’re assuming way too much to what these two Dibs have in common, because this ^^^ is really what made the Zimvoid an outlier in the multiverse. That world didn’t only have a very different, more threatening Zim from the main timeline, it had the Dib who proved even more formidable, cunning, and ruthless, even before the fusion.

He didn’t obtain that PAK ala the “10 minutes to Doom” accident, it’s a personal trophy. This is extra strange remembering that capturing an Irken is realistically more easy than killing one. They’re seriously more tenacious than kudzu and will even fight back in PAK form alone. I’m convinced that whatever sort of final showdown made the Ultimate Dib the victor, there are two optional endings on the table.

Option 1: There was not a body even left intact enough to bring in to research. Maybe Dib’s fault, maybe an accident, maybe even Zim’s own luck running out and his incompetent antics finally swallowed him (and possibly GIR). This theory assumes that the PAK was the only sort of remains to come into Dib’s recovery/possession.

Option 2: Curiosity Killed the cat,

but satisfaction brought it back.

Or, the one I personally headcanon. Dib… all Dibs, I assume, don’t just hate the Irken species. They are mesmerized by them, and all that they represent from his perspective. Firstly, the epic villain he gets to roleplay nemesis to in order to feel his own worth and importance. Secondly, an unknown wonder from beyond the boundaries of the cosmos. He’s not really a ghost buster or a Men In Black agent at heart, but a scientist, like his father. Underneath his contempt for Zim’s plans to destroy the world is a genuine and appropriately childish awe for alien presence, especially for Zim’s technology. His silent, dopey smile when Tak’s ship ended up in his backyard said more than words ever will..

Earlier in the show, a great deal of Dib’s time and effort was spent on trying to infiltrate the lower levels of Zim’s base. Sneaking into the house was hard enough, but the computer security can’t be bypassed like the gnomes. Not even by Zim himself unless he really is all himself. Perhaps you’re starting to sniff where I’m going with this one when I refer back to “Bolognius Maximus”. I’ve another reference that’s a little more on the nose, and a lot more… dark.

Were an expired Irken husk before you, you too might take your victory and cash in then. Still, who knows what sudden impulse may run through the head of a less humble version of yourself, one some could call greedier, obsessive to a fault, a screw or two loose, yet, a hell of a smart cookie. Smart enough to see it for what it actually was, the keys to a whole world of discovery that went so many layers deeper than they could ever imagine. It’s possible the Ultimate Dib already learned beforehand the same hard lessons about the PAKs that our own did, and took that understanding toward not repeating the same mistake this time. What happened to Zim? I think he was murdered in cold blood, body, and entity. “10 Minutes to Doom” showed us a fight between 2 brains clinging to one body, struggling until one overpowered another, but that’s not what this is. Through whatever means of science were available to him, this Dib has probably tried to “disarm” the technology by either erasing Zim’s consciousness out of it altogether, or by forcing the autonomous code into a kind of dormancy. His intentions were to render it back to its basic hardware without losing its precious knowledge and usefulness, something like the brain-filled tank that was wired into Skrang’s head. Zim’s PAK doesn’t cling onto his body like a parasitic teratoma this time; it’s merged in a literal sense with his nervous and circulatory system. As well, he has fooled the device’s ability to detect and reject a foreign host shell, the exact same way he deceived the the base’s security AI. If an Irken biology is what these measures authorize to command them and their secrets, then he had the tools on hand to give them just that- in an atrocity I like to call

the darker harvest.

Within this theory, there is not as much room to wonder exactly what became of Zim’s organic remains.

But where Dib fucked up was, for the second time, in his ignorance to the true nature of what he was even playing with. That was a mistake that even the mighty Elder Brains of Judgementia lost themselves to; How much more vulnerable was the weak, human mind? Though Zim can be devoured, he can never be digested. In that fact was born this aberration against nature, sanity, and humanity alike.

"Have you ever heard of insect politics? Neither have I. Insects… don't have politics. They're very… brutal. No compassion, no compromise. We can't trust the insect. I'd like to become the first… insect politician. Y'see, I'd like to, but… I'm afraid, uh… I'm saying… I'm saying I - I'm an insect who dreamt he was a man and loved it. But now the dream is over… and the insect is awake." - Seth Brundle, The Fly, 1986

By fusing what is half-mad and what is utterly mad, neither being was cured, only assimilated into the birth of a new madness. The madness of the creature that snickers behind the curtain in the Zimvoid. I rightfully fear that lonesome thing, but not I think as much as I pity him.

• Dejavu, or Re:Plagarism

One more thing about the Zimvoid arc I find curious is the way it makes you question more and more just how much of the aberration is actually still Dib, and how much of it is Zim's infection haunting him. He does nothing with all of his intellect, his resources, and his time in the void doing anything but surrounding himself in everything he claims he despises. He decries alien tyranny in one breath while lording over a homemade, cruel dictatorship in another. He calls for eradication of the very race who's technology and physiology he has thoroughly appropriated. He laments feeling unable to protect the Earth from the Armada alone, yet sneers literally through Irken teeth to insult humans as inferior and of no value to him any longer. Our Dib spent the whole damn show longing for the support of other people, but Zib pushes away potential allies in his arrogance. His broken timeline never became a Dibvoid instead because while only half of his mind can't stand Irkens, both of the souls inside him remember that they loathe and look down upon a Dib, deep inside.

The corruption goes as far as even subverting his own creativity. None of Zib's plans are wholly original. His anti-Irken weapon was already a concept blueprinted inside of that PAK before the merge. Our Dib has several times shown a propensity for some DIY ingenuity, sometimes dipping a toe into the supernatural. Zib entirely calls upon, scavenges and regurgitates Irken designs with a few modifications or upgrades. The Dib Virus, I think is his most uninspired creation yet, for it's original form was always something inside of Zim, even if the latter himself was not aware of the fact. Like all else, it is a weapon he has plundered, customized, and turned around on everyone else for his own selfish ends. This brief point I will end on one more reflection. The one kind of help Zim ever allowed at his side were the likes of GIR and his own creations. Unable to connect and cooperate with his peers and own kind, his ego preferred to be around those defective machines he related to- drones to be owned by him and always loyally at his beck and call. A slave to admire him unconditionally is the only companionship he's ever been willing to admit to desiring.

And what was Number 2's purpose again? What role exactly were the arena combatants auditioning for, when you think about it?

#iz #iz comics #zimvoid #dib membrane #iz zib #iz headcanons #invader zim headcanon #zib membrane #iz analysis #invader zim #iz comic spoilers #iz theory #scarlet talks about things #long post #absolute ramblings i mean holy crap #longass post

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willowser · 10 months

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For the trope mash up game, how about a 25. Fairy Tale AU and 39. Survival/Wilderness Fic?

interesting !!!! let's see, let's see !!

okay. hear me out. HEAR ME OUT FOR JUST A SECOND. you're a little village person, okay ? you work in an inn for your aunt; helping make food for patrons, cleaning the rooms, dealing with bards and other entertainment, making sure everything runs smoothly.

and one day, while you're in the kitchens cooking up a stew for dinner, this little — fox comes squirreling through the backdoor.

you're stunned. mostly because you've only known them to be rather evasive beasties, but also because it looks like a devilish little thing, inflicted with some illness, maybe, that has given it red eyes and a frightening aggression. it doesn't bite you or anything, but it cowers in the corner of the kitchen, baring its little teeth when you try to shoo it back out with the broom.

you smack it once on the head, effectively making it a little dizzy and then —

"knock it off!"

it speaks.

you nearly faint, watching with wide eyes as he shakes his little head, glaring at you in the best way an animal can. you keep the broom tight to your chest, holding it now like a shield instead of a sword, as he trots around the kitchen in search of — something.

the little fox sniffs here and there, digs in between two sacks of potatoes, even peeks his head out the door into the rest of the inn before turning to face you. he looks exasperated — as exasperated as an animal can — and sits down politely, as if he were a perfect gentleman and not a rabid animal.

you still don't know what to say.

""m lookin' for a shitty wizard," he growls, his fluffy tail coming to curl around his body like a cat. "looks like he's made of clouds."

you think maybe you're going insane.

all you can do is blink at him once again, the rough, raspy tone of his voice rattling around in your brain. the words he's saying are clear, perfectly understandable, and yet — you can't seem to make sense of them. of him.

the fox simply growls at you again before moving on, jumping onto one of the shelves as he trots up to the open window, peering out as if he's expecting some enemy to come chasing in after him.

wizard made of clouds. wizard made of clouds. talking fox looking for wizard made of clouds. you're trying to be helpful, but it's really a lot to process.

as would any animal, his nose twitches as he gets closer to the stew, interest in the outside world lost, and he even jumps from the ledge to trot on up to your boiling pot over the fire. you have half a mind to whack him again, but you're not sure you want him to talk to you anymore.

regardless, he turns to you and barks, "hey! i haven't eaten in days!"

and because you ARE insane and too committed to your job as a worker in the inn, you almost immediately turn to find a bowl to place on the floor for him when the backdoor comes flinging open. and in floats purple clouds in the shape of a wizard.

the little fox bares his teeth in an instant and lunges for him, and then —

you're being dropped a few feet in the air into the middle of a thick, dense, and dark forest. you're still not making sense of — anything, but you feel little paws bounding over your back before you roll over, the sound of his gnashing teeth echoing in the wildlife-sounds around you.

"god damn it!" the fox howls. "'m gonna kill that no good, shitty, portal bastard, piece of—"

he starts digging at the ground suddenly, like he's got to do something to get his little frustrations out, and he makes a decent size hole before he's running off again. jumping left and right. crouching down with his back arched, like he's ready to fight thin air.

it's the final straw; you roll over the forest floor once again, clutching your belly as you laugh out loud into the trees. it's high-pitched and ugly, a sound derived from madness, and tears spring to your eyes as a headache develops behind them; your brain is working too hard to make sense of what's going on.

then little teeth dig into the fabric at your shoulder, and you swat at the fox when it starts to tear.

"hey!"

"no, you hey!" he argues, jumping on your chest as he bares his teeth at you. "i gotta catch the son of a bitch so i can get my goddamn body back, and you gotta help me!" you start to crack up again, driven completely insane, and he yips loudly at you. "'m fuckin' serious! this ain't a joke, we're in the middle of a goddamn forest and i'm stuck as a fox!"

you giggle and wipe the tears from your eyes. "and what are you normally stuck as?"

"'m not stuck as anything, brat," and then he leans his little face down until his wet nose is pressing against yours, eyes red and furious. "'m a fuckin' knight, 'n i gotta get back to that damn idiot half 'n half prince."

something about his answer finally sobers you, the weight of it, maybe, to think of someone so close to royalty. you blink at him twice, and it's not until you nod that he finally leans back, tongue darting out to lick over his nose.

you ask, "how did you get like this, then?"

and he rolls his eyes, disturbingly human, before hopping off you and trotting ahead into the trees, calling out, "c'mon, and i'll tell you the whole shitty thing."

you've no choice but to follow.

✨️ trope game ! ✨️

#this. is probably not what you were expecting BUT #i think it's so funny LMAOOOOO #you and this little fox have to go on a journey to get yourselves the hell out of this forest LOL so he can find the wizard that cursed him #and then when he eventually DOES get his body back you're like 👁👄👁#LMAOOOO #this is so silly and childish LOL but i wanted it to see very fairy tale he he he #*seem #✿ willow writes #✿ ask willow #✿ thoughts: bakugou #✿ ask game

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sonicasura · 2 months

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My mind for the last few days: Transformers x Weretoons idea go brrr.

I have an idea for three specific iterations of the franchise. Those are Prime/Rescue Bots, Animated, and Bayverse. Although the latter two choices I can't really got into depth as there is going to be involvement with a Weretoon OC not designed yet.

Luckily for you folks, Prime/Rescue Bots aren't in that category since there's two perfect characters to experiment with! Who you may ask? How about Miko Nakadai and Cody Burns!

The reason behind it is I can give them two completely different backgrounds for their respective Weretoon sides. Plus both sides of the continuity get dragged into Looney Tunes style mayhem. Transformers Prime shall not escape the insanity this time.

Let's start with the female member of the Jasper Trio. Miko is an afflicted Weretoon as she gotten into an incident at 6 years old. She had to get a blood transfusion to save her life with everyone unaware of what the donor actually is.

Her toon has two sides to it. Miko's usual appearance looks exactly like herself as a cartoon but with obvious differences. She shrinks to 4'8 in height, her fingers are mole claws, a pair of little black bat wings, a pink dragon tail, sharp teeth with two peeking out her upper lip, and two little pink tipped black horns on her head.

Her secondary toon form is a MOLE DRAGON. This is because of Miko's trope: Beast Among Us. A toon who possesses takes a mostly inconspicuous normal form to hide their true monster nature. Miko is no exception either.

Her beast form has a 22 ft long Eastern Dragon/Mole hybrid with 7 ft long arms/legs. Miko's fur covered hide is predominantly obsidian in color for the hot pink scaley underbelly, pink tips on her mane, silver whiskers, light brown muzzle, black bat wings, pink bushy tail tip, salmon(color) nose, pink lavender antler like horns and red back spikes. Her muzzle alongside long arms/legs are mole like in nature.

Despite being able to fly, Miko's more dangerous in the ground. She can dig up to 75 mph and spit out blasts of sand like a cannon. A feat that made her first shift a sheer nightmare. Miko ran away from home and later found herself under the loving care of a demolition worker Weretoon.

Cody Burns is a natural born Weretoon from his mother's side and came into his heritage at age 4. (Got it from his great great grandfather with his mother not inheriting it.) Griffin Rock houses a few Weretoons as the place's secluded but also whacky nature keeps them safe from hostile Cartoon Hunters.

Cody's toon form is (ironically) a 6 ft tall bipedal gryphon. His bird half being a Laughing Gull but his arms are hand like wings similar to the Rito from the Legend of Zelda specifically BotW/TotK. Instead of a lion, Cody's lower half is a Pallas Cat with thick fluffy fur and surprisingly eagle feet than said feline's.

He can fly but not for long as his wings aren't fully developed yet. At most Cody can glide without straining himself too much. His trope is Understudy which means he can learn any skill extremely fast if he witnesses in toon form.

Kade, Dani and Graham are his half siblings as he was born from a failed relationship. They love Cody all the same but being left out of everything hurts much more thanks to this common knowledge. He unconsciously clings to the Rescue Bots once they arrive on Griffin Rock.

Speaking of the bots, both sides are in for a wild ride especially the Prime cast. (Rescue Bots got more available knowledge plus Griffin Rock is already insane on it's own.) Toons don't follow the same laws that everyone else does and Weretoons bask in this unique privilege.

Decepticons will not look at humans the same again once Miko pulls out an ink bottle. She can back up her sass as Starscream is getting stared down by a mole dragon straight from a cartoon. And quickly learns that explosions don't do shit either.

What can I say other than I like chaos?

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supernovafeather · 1 year

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No Future?

FO!Poe x Rebel!Reader

Content : enemy to less enemy, quick mention of sexual content (not explicit), only one bed trope and it's cold trope (?), angst.

Summary: Reader and Poe got stranded on an unknown planet and have been forced to cohabitate for several months and wait for a rescue team to help them out.

The cold attempting in vain to bite your skin refused to weaken and your own stubborness started to falter. After over a month spent at hiding in a lone First Order tent in the middle of a perpetual blizzard on this remote planet, you realized how much the microcosm constituting your present life had changed.

“I've known opinionated rebels but you still deserve to be considered as their queen. Congratulations.”

Poe himself wasn't the same anymore and despite his dark uniform that got affected by the frozen bitterness from the outside world a while ago, he could have passed for a tired – and tiresome – Resistance fighter that stranded with his co-pilot. But no, he remained the First Order guy that crashed down just as pathetically as you did. And whether he liked it or not, he didn't have the qualifications to keep on taunting you.

“At least I'm not the one on the verge of losing my hands with some stupid plan.” You spat at him as you watched the man digging on the hard and cold ground in a tent corner.

Over a month in his company in such a tight space could have driven you crazy much sooner. The only thing that managed to keep you sane enough to protect your survival instinct was the surprisingly good entente between the both of you. The dozen of blankets of different sizes you managed to bring back from hasted expeditions conducted in the nearby ghost town also helped a lot, even when it meant you had to cuddle with a sworn enemy every night.

“Here you go, another stupid plan of mine,” he grunted, “tell me when I get clever for a change.”

“I'm only human, I have to talk. I can't keep silent forever.”

“And then you complain whenever I say anything and yet you say something as blank and obvious as the mere fact that you are human.”

Discussions formed a seemingly eternal circle in such an uninteresting environment. The morning would start smoothly in a sleepy and warm atmosphere as you had all the time in the world to wake up properly. Then you would eat some animal hunted the day before and protected by a layer of snow right by the tent entrance as you complimented each other's cooking skills. Then you would complain about each other's cooking skills and how awful those kind of moles would taste like anyway. Then arguments would last for several hours as you tried to figure out a plan.

At last you would fall asleep both on your side of the island of blanket filling a good part of the tent before gathering at the same spot to share some warmth. That, every day without an exception for over a month.

At some point you started to pray a god you didn't even believed in to get a loophole even if that meant your new companion's death. After all he was a First Order pilot that killed countless of your pilots.

“Just shut up for five minutes, or even for the rest of the day,” you replied sourly.

“Then move your ass from there and come help me!”

“There is nothing to reach down there!”

This predicament was certainly starting to affect his sanity as well. For a few days he has had that weird obsession of using an old broken shovel to dig a hole big enough to create some tunnel. He never really explained anything but it seemed to be a matter of expending the living space in this recluded shelter.

“Do you have any idea of the amount of energy you are spending to get that done,” you asked with a sigh, “we are running out of meat and they're getting rarer outside, and you barely progressed.”

“Bad faith.”

Swallowing back the venimous insults that threatened to leave your mouth, you lied back into the blanket as you watched him digging desperately. After two weeks he barely managed to take off enough dirt for the ground to come up to his knee level. Poe's hygiene declined quickly between the sweat and dirt and lack of access to a shower, and fortunately you were starting to get accustomed to that part of him – not that you believed yourself to be in a better condition yourself and maybe he deserved some merit for his tolerance.

Instead of arguing any further, you did shut your mouth but his grunts and muffled swearings were getting seriously on your nerves. Sir Dameron woke up in a bad mood and got obsessed and frustrated even more than usual about his tasks.

“Going outside.”

The metal sound stopped as he watched you put some thick clothes above your own rebel pilot outfit. Two pairs of gloves, three pairs of sockets, a damaged woolen hat and some protective old school pilot glasses on and you were outside, crawling to the area preserved from the blizzard thanks to your two partially disassembled that took the shape of a wall surrounding the southern side exposed to the hostile elements. The noises it created worried you to no end during the first week, but despite the windy scream and the metal parts creaking and trembling you now felt relieved. Finally. Poe shut up.

It created some narrow court behind the grey tent. Cold, sterile if not for the tiny grass growing here and there under the thich layer of snow, but comforting. You gathered some to put it down all over the thent edges so the breeze couldn't infiltrate the gaps. Here you were getting too hot with your clothes but you had no will to go back inside.

You didn't hate Poe. It was quite the opposite actually but living the same thing without anything new to say didn't permit you to enjoy his personality at its full potential. Such a warm soul was surprising for a famous First Order soldier and it hurt. He would be the kind of guy drinking some strong alcohol with his friends while making fun of your brothers and sisters killed in combat befire falling asleep like a drunk baby with a stupid smile on his handsome face, maybe with a gorgeous woman by his side that found him amazing for being himself.

You couldn't believe it. Poe followed you and was now crawling against the ground to get out of the tent in his pants and shirt, his dark hair still wet with perspiration.

“Kriff,” you exclaimed with your arms crossed, “go dig your hole if that's so important to you but stop harassing me!”

“Please help I'm freezing.”

You did as asked because he remained polite, your teeth clenched as you got him back onto his feet. The poor bastard seemed to have been boiling inside and some steam spiraled up from his skin as he grimaced at the temperature difference, his hair covered in melting snow.

“Don't tell me I need to tell you to go back inside to cover yourself,” you growled.

“I saw you were consolidating that stuff so I wanted to help.”

“I don't need help to add snow. I just have to bend over and pick it up. Go back inside you're going to freeze.”

“No. I like quiet places,” he argued.

“Enjoy it then.”

You gave up and walked past the few chaotic layers of metal surrounding the tent and finally you reached your favorite place on this planet. The blizzard died down just enough so the violent twirling winds couldn't blind you completely, and the nigtmarish landscape beneath your eyes deployed its full beauty for you only. Around 9 miles high, the gigantic blueish and whitish cliffs dominated the desolated scenery where nothing could survive apart some resilient and almost unknown viruses you wished to never get infected by. Poe and you got lucky to crash so high and in a concentred spot, at around 8 miles high. Down there you would have died in less than ten minutes. You could distinguish some grass patches under the thick fog. You had no idea of where you were exactly. Gigantic frozen cliffs surrounded that place and the eerie atmosphere now started to freak you out. Maybe Poe wasn't such a bad company. You mourned your rescue a few days ago. No one could get onto that planet safely, and no one could get off of it, especially with no ship.

“Booh.”

The pair of arms snaking around your waist made your heart drop almost at the bottom of the cliff but at least got you rid off your anxiety rising at the view before your eyes. Poe put his own polar clothes on and held tight at you as he talked next to your ear.

“Come back inside, the radar warned of a...”

The sudden silence knocked the air out of your lungs and you followed Poe without complaining. Usually whenever a blizzard died down it was the sign of a bigger one coming, so intense that nature itself had to breathe in shortly to concentrate all its strength on this cursed planet. Breaks only lasted for a couple of minutes.

After a quick run you got to crawl next to each other to get some moles burried deep down, then gather snow to seal the tent entrance completely.

“Here you go, now that's better.” Poe sighed in relief as he lied down on the blankets with his clothes soaked with melting snow. “Now we only have to wait for it to end. Nothing like warm blankets and dubious squishy meat here.”

“It's going to be hard for a few days, there's not much.”

“Not that kind of squishy meat but no problem if you want some.”

It was part of your life now, to laugh at that silly joke while knowing that yes, you were going to have all the time in the world to warm up with him again. You were condemned on that cliff and didn't know how long that would last.

No one told you how long or short forever could be, especially without any hope for a brighter future.

- - - - -

Thank you for reading, please reblog if you liked it ! ☺️

@queen-of-elves @laura-naruto-fan1998 @thepowerthismanhasoverme @justmasblack

#oscar isaac #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #dark fic #fo!poe x you #fo!poe x reader #first order poe

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muffinrecord · 9 months

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Goodbye Storage was pretty good and I have some thoughts after finishing it-

First off, it's another example of how Magia Record will choose the most convoluted explanation whenever possible instead of doing something far more simple and understandable and SOMEHOW making it work. Additionally, it'll have like... a lot of exposition that you just can't look at too hard.

Like Mikoto starts off the first ten minutes with a billion revelations on how her new parasite-powers/witchdom stuff works. How the fuck does she know any of that. How did she piece that together while she's in a dark void. How.

But you know what? Once you get past those three minutes, it's all good. Hanna and Mikoto have such a good god damn dynamic, wow. There are moments with surprising heart and clarity. Moments that make you think, "someone writing this really went through something." Hanna and Mikoto feel like real people-- they go back and forth on things. Sometimes Mikoto will feel one way and then completely backtrack and feel another, and it's not in a character-breaking way, but it feels more like someone who is standing on unsteady ground, who thinks one way and feels another.

Hanna does the anime trope thing of "I will be a villain to prove that heroism is right" which tbh I kind of hate because who the fuck does that irl. No one.

But it's okay, because honestly-- Hanna is not in a good state of mind here at all. Girl is clearly going through it. She had a horrible start to her life, still going through the horrors, she made her first friend then that friend BECAME A WITCH RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER IN A HORRID PAINFUL MANNER. THEN THAT FRIEND BECOMES A GHOST??? LIVING IN HANNA'S BRAIN??? LIKE. BRUH.

It doesn't surprise me that she's made her plan all convoluted. She's clearly not mentally well at the moment. I don't mean that in a diagnosis kind of way, but like the girl is traumatized and not thinking straight.

There's also all sorts of ways that you can dig into the event. It's straightforward on some stuff so you have a place to latch on to but it's ambiguous enough on other things so that you have enough wiggle room to have interesting interpretations and variances. Like;

Is Mikoto's presence making Hanna do things that she wouldn't normally want to do? Hanna wants heroism to win out. She wants to lose. Is that because, deep down, she's doing something she doesn't want to do?

I mean, Hanna has never been the nicest person either. It's possible she would have done this anyways-- but it's also possible that Mikoto's presence made Hanna even more extreme than she was before, or pushed her more than she ever would have gone.

There's just a lot of good stuff in it.

If you haven't watched it, I highly recommend it. It does have weak writing moments sometimes but it also has really really strong ones. I think it's def up there as one of my favorites now.

It's kind of a shame that both of them are dead, cause I really digged their dynamic. It felt very... earnest. Sometimes they yell at each other, sometimes they disagree and misread one another. They both want to make the other one happy, but they go about it in selfish ways that the other one doesn't want. But that's not a bad thing. It feels like it's because they're young. Like they need to make mistakes to learn how to love the way they want to be loved and to love another.

But that's the whole problem, isn't it? Mikoto is dead. Hanna will be dead soon too. They're not going to have a future where those mistakes build a foundation for them. This is it for them.

IDK. It's good bro.

#Magia Record #Goodbye Storage #Mikoto Sena #Hanna Sarasa

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noa-ciharu · 11 months

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Stuff like this always make me laugh. Because at the end of the day:

Just what is "problematic ship"?

Now, on one side you have clearly messed up ships that involve incest, age gaps where one is a minor, grooming, any type of abuse, kidnapping etc. etc. - we all agree those are aspects that make ship "problematic"

But then, is ship between 20 and 30 year olds problematic? What if they've known each other for years but only started dating when younger one was 20? How about 25 and 45 year olds? How do I know someone with "dni if you ship problematic stuff" in bio won't bother me for something like that? How about 16 and 19? My best friend had that age gap with her bf back in the day, they're still together and one of healthiest couples I even had luck of knowing. And yet there are people online who adamantly insist such age gap make relationship inherently abusive cuz power imbalance induced by age difference. And yet I've seen a relationship between 15 and 18 year old where 18 year old guy had to escape from this possessive jealous irrational 15yo girl

What about all the action TV series or animes where characters are on opposite sides and tried to kill one another? Enemies to lovers trope? Or if just one side attempted to murder or harm other? That's still abuse right? Or if A murdered B's family member? Would you call shipper an apologist? Or if one of characters is a bigot? Is any fan automatically a bigot? What if two characters didn't have abusive relationships but mistreated someone else? What if they had a bad fallout and one character psychologically suffered because of indirect actions of another? Where is the line what amount of 'abuse' is tolerable in a ship?

What about those fandom made found family tropes where 'son' is 21 and 'mom' 29, do we get called pedos for shipping two adults that ain't even related but fandom views them as such? How about shipping characters that appear to be asexual or aromantic in canon? Do ace shippers get called aphobic for that? How about two characters that were shipped for years but only at the ending of the series author reveals they're related? Should we stop shipping them, delete all fics and arts of them? Or when both characters are 16 and there's fanart or fanfic of them doing something other than holding hands and kissing lightly (since y'know, kids those ages do experiment with each other irl)? Do we throw half of every shonen fandom for daring to ship underage characters? What about immortal characters? Who are they 'allowed' to get shipped with? Or if characters ages are never mentioned so we don't really know if they're around 17 or 23?

I could go on and on but naming every possible scenario isn't the point. Point is that for almost every ship in media that isn't made for small kids and isn't bland af there will be something "problematic" about the ship if you're persistent to dig deep enough. How do I know if you will? When I see "if you ship problematic ships dni" even if I don't have any ships that fit first category of ships I mentioned, I still don't know if you'd view one of "normal" ships I have as "problematic" because of xyz and attack me for that

#sorry for rant i just had this rant stored in my head for months #cuz there's such a gray area to whether ship is 'problematic' or not #so it's not so seldom to see people at same side of shipping dicourse at each ptjet throats cuz they don't agree if it's 'immoral' to ship #sometimes or not #this whole 'uwu im so pure i don't support anything problematic in fiction' thing in modern fandoms is so ridiculous #cuz it so insinuates fiction = reality kido plz go back to literature analysis class #cuz like possessivness and jealously are one of my fave trope but in reality i don't hate anything more than that #after both my fam memebers and I were subjected to negative sides of that #ship and let ship #proship

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letstalkwhump · 10 months

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Let's Talk Whump

Welcome to Let’s Talk Whump, a series of interviews that spotlight the amazing people in our whump community! I’m Malice and I’ll be your host today.

Today’s I’m talking whump with the amazing @lonesome–hunter!

(this blog and the recommended pieces contain NSFW and are 18+)

Welcome to Let’s Talk Whump! Would you mind sharing a little about yourself?

Howdy! My name is Sarah but everyone usually calls me Lonesome. I'm an elder here in the community lol. I love thrifting, smoking pot, birdwatching and Disney World (I live so close to it). My favorite colors alternate between black, various greens and burnt orange. I truly love all animals. There's no way I could pick just one. I am particularly fond of moths, owls, elephants and exotic birds.

I'm a big stoner goth aunt and I love connecting with people. So feel free to come talk to me anytime!

What does whump mean to you?

It's absolutely an outlet for me. When I was a kid I couldn't figure out why I liked seeing people tied up in people's basements in movies and on TV so much but it never left my mind. Those feelings are there, the excitement. When I started writing in fifth grade I realized I could produce those feelings by writing the stories myself.

And trauma dumping through fictional people is almost therapy lol.

And how did you find the whump community? What made you want to join?

During the first season of Supernatural I got on live journal and found other SPN communities. Then I fell down a rabbit hole that led me to whump. I finally had a word and a whole bunch of people who felt the same way which felt validating after being told I'm weird from teachers and family members.

During the pandemic I reconnected with it when I was in a dark place and really got into what everyone was doing. I thought "maybe I can do this". The rest is history.

Do you think your view on whump changed since you joined in terms of trope enjoyment or consumption style?

My view on whump has always been the same really. No one is hurting anyone and with proper warnings we can write the darker stuff some of us really enjoy.

I can't really say there are any I changed my mind over. Any trope can be good if it sucks you in with the writing.

And your favourite whump tropes because it’s guaranteed there’ll be more than one!

Ooh wee here we goooo lol. I dig dehumanization, whipping, sadistic whumpers, noncon, water torture, stress positions, begging. So many.

Time to share your awesome writing. Do you have a favourite piece you've written?

So my first main series “The Devil’s Highway” has been my baby for three plus years and I’m excited to rework it now that I have more tools at my disposal. That being said, I really am proud of what I did with “Bury Me Beneath The Weeping Willow Tree”. It features some heavy TWs so be mindful of that but that almost stopped me from wanting to do it. Would showing Big Boy and Darlin’s graphic murder be too far? Probably lol. But I really dug deep in and got emotional writing it honestly. And it shows Ezra that this weird love Josiah has for me won’t protect him like he thinks it will. It didn’t work for Big Boy. Those two guys are secretly my favorite and I’m most excited about reworking that particular story.

Your imagery is deliciously brutal and creepy. I’m obsessed with it, it’s that good! Do you have a writing routine or is it more when inspiration strikes?

Definitely a night owl. I can’t focus until it’s dark out. Gotta have water and a little sweet drink to keep me focused. I tend to write when something strikes, lately it’s been extremely dry for me creatively but I’m trying to stretch my legs again and get back into it.

And do you find that it’s easier to write some things over others?

I can write the hell out of dreams, surrealism and atmosphere. That’s always been my favorite thing to do writing wise. Also death fics are fun lol.

Dialogue is my least favorite and it probably shows but can’t get better without practice.

Is there anything you're working on at the moment?

Been working on the rework of The Devil’s Highway, started a fun little prompt series about a bunch of masked men and I have another forced to fight series with slow burn romance than I’ve ever done before.

Do you have a joke or pun you would like to share to spread some smiles today?

I wish I could remember the dad joke my customer told me last night that sent me into a coughing fit but I have another one for you.

"What do you call a factory that makes okay products?" "A satisfactory."

That got a laugh out of me! Is there any writing advice you’d like to share?

Just have fun. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself and just write for yourself.

And tag your stuff!

Shout out to your favourite writing/whump blogs, bffs or people who've inspired you. We're hyping everyone one up here!!!

Oh man there's so many I could be here all day but these folks have truly helped me so much over the years and I would die for them lol

@knivestothroats, @galaxywhump, @girlsjustwannadrawwhump, @evermetnotforgotten, @redstainedsocks, @coldresolve, @whumpshaped, @whumpfigure, @ephemeral-phosphorescence, @whump-me-all-night-long,

Anything you'd like to add?

Save Florida from Facists!

So good to have you here today, @lonesome--hunter!

And to all you folks at home, have a whump-derful day!

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azumasoroshi · 10 months

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guess who just watched summertime rendering (it's really good)

guys what the FUCK

(spoilery-review stuff will be below the cut but tldr: summertime rendering is really good, subverted a lot of my expectations, gorgeous animation, keeps you on your toes and has smart characters and good writing, just try not to cringe too hard at some of the haha boobs/haha panties jokes i swear there's not too many)

okay funny story. i got interested in this anime literally yesterday because one of my favorite channels was analyzing its ending song by chance

and i was like oh it's like anohana but a murder mystery? interesting premise. doesn't necessarily guarantee that it's good, the animation looks pretty at least, but it's 25 episodes and my attention span kinda sucks...

and i see the main girl in a swimsuit and im like alright. the second there's a really weird zoom on her chest im out

(my live thought process pictured below)

and the first shot or so was of the swimsuit girl (ushio) without any weird zooms so i was like okay hey we're in the clear so far

AND THEN

one minute ten seconds. dawg. that actually has to be a record of some sort

and i was 🤏this close to dropping the anime but i really wanted to see the dark horrifying stuff so i continued anyway

like. maybe that's a one off joke. maybe they wont do it again and that was just to get weirdos to be like AYYY and keep watching. maybe there is hope

there was no hope.

but i hung on anyway because right after that was the OP and it looked really interesting mostly because there were no anime visuals at all until the very end

which was. shinpei being a little bit silly. little but quirky. vibing persona 3 style baby baby baby baby baby baby baby

so yeah i decided to keep watching until the end of the first episode despite my apprehension because i just. wanted to see the dark shit go down. uaghhhhhh

and i kept watching EVEN THROUGH the clear insinuation that the mc's adopted sister was in love with him and that the mc was in love with his other adopted sister and the police officer was looking at porn in public and then FINALLY

FINALLY

(major + ending spoilers start here)

they killed my favorite character.

and then they killed the younger sister and then they killed the MAIN CHARACTER AND I WAS LIKE DAWGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

like i was expecting it to be dark but i didnt expect them all to straight up die on screen with blood splatters n everything :sob: wasnt expecting the time loop either

like. you gon have this gorgeous animation just to make the characters' deaths that much more brutal. holy fuck

i realized the other anime this reminded me of. this anime is a anohana x kagerou project crossover. thats fuckin crazy i kinda dig it

people also compare it to re:zero which is fair cuz it has the time travel, the unexpected brutality, the short haired girl who gets rejected in favor of the long haired girl (lmao) i just like kagerou project more

it somehow didnt connect the first time that it wasn't mio and i was like huh i wonder why they suddenly skipped time

and then when this scene rolled around for the second time i literally like. it hit me so fast and i was like FUCK. i was like genuinely terrified help

and then she started stabbing the ever loving shit out of totsumura and i was like oh okay! guess i dont have to wait in suspense for what she'll do at the very least

and then she stabbed shinpei in the throat and i was like OH OKAY

that scene also terrified me cuz like the phone call happening while the killer is nearby is a classic horror trope but like. i dont watch horror usually. that's my worst nightmare

it was on his third death that shinpei really started to shine for me as a protagonist because like. he's smart. notably so! it was really nice because the classic horror starts to fade away at this point and everything becomes a giant chess match

fair enough though cuz bro was like "LMAO NAH I REFUSE TO DIE AGAIN THAT SHIT PAINFUL AS FUCK" (and then repeatedly died a bunch more anyways)

it's interesting that his whole "take a step back" thing is like. a trauma response too. we love dissociation representation lmfao

shinpei was also really quick to adapt to everything and it took a LOT of shit going down to make him finally lose his composure, but he gets back in it and doesnt waste time and it was really refreshing because yknow anime (and the horror genre in general) with its overdramatic clueless protagonists

and also!!

i immediately pegged sou as the loud dumbass yosuke/ryuji type (i love them and their depth, im talking about surface level) best friend who wingmans for shinpei and immediately gets sus of shinpei and gets killed first n shit

but that was my bad like damn sou was a really good character

to be fair this was his first introduction

and the line "I should tell Sou everything" with a shot of the sky is REALLY FUCKING OMINOUS, so i feel like that was a bit of a bait and switch on the author's part lmfao

i stopped taking screenshots around this point so ill just talk about a bunch of parts that stood out to me pff

HIZURU MINAKATA MY BELOVEDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

she's so autistic and so smart and so just. god. i love her

AND RYUUNOSUKE IS BABYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

i literally wanted to cry seeing him in the ending like dawggggggg he's SO cute id marry him no questions asked

he and hizuru were my favorites along with nezu because badass old man SLAYS

i also surprisingly really liked ushio lmao i thought she'd be like the usual manic pixie dream girl and then just based on her being in a swimsuit but like. she was honestly a joy as a character lmfao

like. her being the biggest powerhouse next to hizuru? did not see that coming, we love a girlboss!! and she's also smart and forward-thinking despite the airheaded vibes so like damn. good character! i really liked what little we got to see of the real ushio interacting with her shadow too, it was a nice bit of character building + it was funny lmao

mio was the only character other than shide that i just straight up did not like lmfaosgkjhsjg the whole "im in love with my stepbrother" was just. fuckin. weird to me from the start and you have no idea how fucking relieved i was that shinpei didn't accept her confession or get with her at the end

of course it's like. not any better that he got with his other stepsister. but like mio was more annoying so it's fine (😭)

she ended up being a damsel in distress who didnt really do anything up until the school fight where she still didnt do much, and with how much ushio emphasized "protect mio" you'd think she' have some sort of plot relevance but nope she just. thought about her brother a lot and confessed after 20 episodes and got rejected and cried

it's like all the buildup to her confession was PURELY to buildup for the ACTUAL confession which was shinpei telling her that he was in love with ushio

which is lame

like jesus her shadow had more plot relevance than her. i literally liked her shadow more than her like ????????

tokiko was a good character though i liked the "i didnt dirty my hands for this" foreshadowing and also her being a lesbian was an unexpected surprise that i liked lmfao she's a fuckin real one for still encouraging mio to be with shinpei despite being madly in love with mio. what the hell was that "i want her to see all of me" line like girl????

shide was a good smart villain, he kinda started getting cheesy typical anime villain by the end but by that point the anime was pretty firmly in the action/strategy genre and relying a lot less on the horror/mystery part so it was alright

i did love the talk he and shinpei had about video games and the FF7 namedrop was hilarious lmfao

it was cool how they had the callback to him being a video game nerd during the first fireworks festival with that 2d 3d king thing

absolutely despise him for what he did to hiruko though like. ew.

i didnt really get why hiruko deadass reverted into this weird lookin baby thing at the end but like haise was cute i liked her

didnt understand how they literally changed history either but i guess the magic eyes are like "fuck time lmao all my homies hate time" so oh well, i guess it works

the ending was really a full on "everybody lives and is happy" type deal but like. i didnt even mind man i was literally ecstatic seeing hizuru's boobs again like holy shit. you know you're watching a weird ass anime when you start crying at the fucking fanservice scenes like ohhhh my god

and like goddammit they deserve happiness

although. i was a bit pissed that they brought ushio back to life. like yeah she deserved to be brought back and yeah i do love her but rip the themes of grief and regret i guess

the show was never really about grief so i get why she was brought back but like ueeeuueueuueuee the whole "i don't want to do anything i'll regret again (including leaving ushio before we had the chance to say goodbye) so i have to keep moving forward" was really good character stuff and hrekjajsghjhsg i guess it paid off at the end???

whatever ill take getting hizuru and ryuunosuke back no matter the narrative costs

anyway yeah really good anime, definitely exceeded my expectations (which were pretty low to be fair though), i did watch all 25 episodes within 24 hours so i might be a little insane

#summertime rendering #summertime render #summer time render #summer time rendering #god. i fucking knew the tags on tumblr would be a mess the second i saw the name #shinpei ajiro #ushio kofune #hizuru minakata #ryuunosuke minakata #tokiko hishigata #sou hishigata #ginjiro nezu #not tagging mio for any mio likers out there im sorry :sob:

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yagamimi-aka-mimi · 1 year

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I couldn't remember what your profile was called and randomly found you again digging through low poly stuff and am so so happy I did, your art is really rad and your models look so good! You have great taste in the best character tropes and Cool Shit, and manage to blend them into some wholly unique and sick as hell designs that are giving me a drive to want to make things again, so thank you! I wanted to ask if you had any other inspirations for your characters that you maybe hadn't listed or had wanted to elaborate on? I really look forward to seeing what you and those you work with continue to create!

Keiko Takemiya, Kentaro Miura, Hajime Isayama, Todd McFarlane, Katsuya Terada, Ayami Kojima, Masamune Shirow, Riyoko Ikeda, Yasuhiro Nightow, Kouta Hirano, Lee Bermejo, Yoji Shinkawa, Junichi Hayama, Hiroyuki Okiura, Naoyuki Onda, Jhonen Vasquez, Tim Burton, Tatsuki Fujimoto, Toshiharu Murata, and Tetsuya Nomura are all the most major influences that come to mind - They all heavily influenced the way I draw and approach character design.

I grew up with a lot of their media, so I've always pulled from them in some way. It's helped me to have a decent balance of very stylized to more realistic influences, so I think I fall somewhere in between. Very anime inspired but I feel I can call my style my own - I wouldn't consider my influences too obvious. The graphical styles that I try to mimic are more obvious though, especially Metal Gear Solid I think.

(A lot of my influences are Japanese, so I guess I'll put this in manga terms) Of the two project's that I'm working on right now, Zelda Retold and Revenant, Zelda leans more into my Shoujo influences while Revenant pulls more from all of the Seinen media I've watched/read, though they both share the same basic style.

I especially implore anyone else who reads this post and doesn't recognize any of these names to specifically check out Keiko Takemiya, Katsuya Terada, Riyoko Ikeda, Yoji Shinkawa, Junichi Hayama, Hiroyuki Okiura, and Naoyuki Onda's art and/or animation work. (Some of the others, like Kentaro Miura and Kouta Hirano, I'd advise checking out with caution)

edit: fixing typos because this ended up being huge sslkaklsgklsdgkl

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jemmo · 5 months

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for the ask game, 7, 12, 17! 💗🌼

thank you for the ask :)) and sorry its late i was gonna answer this at the bus stop yesterday but for once they decided to be on time

7. top 5 bl

man i had to stare at my mdl completed list for a while to decide this, but i'll preface that these top 5 are here both bc i have such a strong emotional connection with them and bc i want to scream about how actually good they are from a rooftop (also not ranked bc thats too hard):

utsukushii kare - don't know else i can make it clear how beloved and special this show is to me. an excellent story across both seasons and the movie with even better mains that are characterised to perfection, develop in the most beautifully human way and are performed brilliantly. and if i think about this show any longer and remember its over i will break so moving on

old fashioned cupcake - it was one thing to give me a bl starring THE og kageyama stage play actor bc those things were my life during the height of my anime phase, but to then have it be this good?? the story is beautiful, the fact they manage to do so much with such little run time amazes me, and to this day it has the most romantic line in any bl that always gives me goosebumps when i watch it. and i dont wanna talk like im that old, im only 25, but as someone who's barely had anything you can call a romantic experience, this show left me with the warmest sense of hope and comfort that beautiful love stories aren't reserved for high schools, and its never too late to find happiness

blueming - i havent rewatched this one in a while, or much at all, but i'll never forget the visceral response i had when i binged it all in one night. i adore the fact that this is just the gentlest story of 2 people falling in love and finding comfort in each other and just how naturally and simply it happens, and i think its portrayal of that specific family dynamic is phenomenal, bc for me at least its as much about that family being in the process of healing as it is about the love story, and the fact they go hand in hand is even better

bad buddy - what else is there to say. for the 12 weeks it aired, i ate, slept and breathed this show. literally did not even think about anything else. and this show has rightly been praised to the moon and back but as well as all that, its always gonna be special for me bc of the people and community i found and shared the watching experience with. what can i say, you just had to have been there, and im so glad i was

the eighth sense - surprisingly this was my last pick and i was debating swapping it for a few others, but it ultimately stays bc of how refreshing and how much of an emotional rollercoaster it was. i haven't ever brought myself to rewatch it, but i can vividly remember how enraptured i was by the sheer amount of tension they managed to create in those initial episodes, and how well they managed to maintain it. and i hope people take note of how much people loved its artful and kinda raw vibe and become inspired to do something similar bc i think it gives great balance to the genre (and i also, clearly, love it, just look at these pics. i promise i do love fun and silly stuff too)

12. most rewatched bl

i was debating putting this on my list but ultimately, while not being my absolute favourite, its my definition of a comfort show and that is my dating sim. idk what it is about the show, but ever since it came out i go back to it at the very least monthly. i think its the fact that when im really craving a good bl, it manages to not only hit all my favourite tropes (unrequited but secretly requited love, reuniting and digging up the past, that initial clash gives me a lil bit of enemies to lovers, plus it has enough fluff to make me all warm and giddy), but it also does them so well, and the story is so perfectly simple and succinct that i feel so content when the whole thing is over. truly the perfect show for when i wanna do nothing and feel happy.

17. best kiss

unsurprising but yes, it still is the bad buddy rooftop kiss. i dare not watch this kiss bc i know if the weakness ever overtakes me i will fall into a void that i will not escape for at least a week. and honestly, while there has been some good competition, idk if she'll ever be beaten, and idk if thats bias talking or just the objective truth, but i encourage all bl's to keep giving it their bests shot

❤️🧡💛bl ask game💚💙💜

#thank you again for the ask lovely #i always love an excuse to talk about my favourite things who doesnt #ask game

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quollstar · 11 months

Text

Like Animals; ch1

billy butcher (the boys) x reader

warnings: this fic makes use of the sex pollen trope later on, as well as including some the boys-typical violence/language. i'm not going to post the whole thing here because to be honest i really don't know tumblr's layout or rules that well so i'll drop the first chapter and then a link to the whole thing on my ao3 if anyone is interested!

notes: reader/you is a member of the team, an ex-vought supe introduced by annie. now you work with them to take down any supe you can (this is somewhere in between szn2 and szn3!)

The job was simple– well, as simple as it gets when you take down superpowered assholes for a living. Hughie had given your group the green light to take out some low-level supe after he gave a speech at an animal rights event. According to your digging, the supposed animal liberator was actually as fake as the rest, dealing in black market pelt and meat trading on the down-low and peddling the 'vegan, fish are friends, save all the creatures' story to the public the whole while. He got shipments of V to his zoos disguised as animal feed, then presumably used it on the animals in question, the 'why' of that was unclear. What was really fucked about it was the guy could understand and speak to animals. You weren't a crunchy vegan yourself, but damn, that was cold.

It was you, Butcher and MM in the field, while Frenchie and Kimiko did surveillance in the van a few blocks away; close enough that they could come in if things went sideways and you needed another supe. So far it didn't seem like you'd be needing them, but you never know. Butcher and MM spread out through the crowd, taking care to avoid the cameras above the outside venue so they wouldn't get tagged. You, on the other hand, were fairly new to the job, and thus hadn't had your face put up on any of the criminal databases yet, and since you were a rather unknown supe there was little chance of someone recognizing you. You got to claim front row seats. Hooray.

The event itself was cheesy. You were surprised at how many people showed up, considering how bland and boring it had been so far, but you figured any big event with Vought tied to the name was bound to attract a crowd, even if the main speaker- your target- had less charisma than the longhorn bull he was on stage with. You weren't sure which of the pair smelled worse. Internally, you cursed the fact that you were essentially untraceable, because you would have loved to be in the back like Butcher.

Subtly, you looked over your shoulder to find him in the crowd. He was already looking your way, and when you met his eyes you rolled yours, glaring. He sent you one of his patented cocksure grins and gestured back towards the stage.

"Keep your eye on the prize, love," came his accented voice through your earpiece (disguised to look like a regular hearing aid). "They'll be bringing the monkeys out next, ain't that exciting?"

As quietly as you could, you snarked back: "I'm thrilled." When all this was done, you were going to tear into him for insisting you showed up for the whole show, when you could have gotten in for the last 10 minutes and then done your damn job.

His responding chuckle sounded in your right ear and something in your lower gut twisted not-unpleasantly.

You just couldn't help it. The man was attractive, and his deep voice didn't help. When you'd first joined up with the boys, introduced to their movement by Annie, he'd gotten on your nerves immensely. Actually, he still did (all the damn time) but he was a lot more bearable after getting to know him. You realized that his rudeness was usually just a way to deflect positive attention off himself and that, while he called the boys 'cunts' every other day, he would do anything to keep them safe in the field. When you felt those feelings stirring in you the first time, you swore you wouldn't get attached, but it was no use. You really loved a misunderstood bad boy type.

Nowadays, when you caught yourself feeling things for him, you didn't try to tamp it down. You just reminded yourself that he was clearly not one for new commitments. He was torn up over his late wife and on a path of rage after what Homelander had done. He didn't need some 20-something d-lister supe pining after him on top of that. You were pretty sure he would be disgusted at the idea of the two of you together.

So you kept that shit to yourself. You were used to quiet pining, anyway, always being the single friend from the moment you realized you even cared about that. You could get over it. You could be content just to admire him from afar when he wasn't looking.

Your attention was drawn back to the gaudily decorated stage when, just as Butcher had said, they carted out some chimpanzees. You weren't even entirely sure what they were doing, having tuned out most of the things Monty Montgomery had been saying about his various animal guests up until this point. Your guess was some sort of informational show, but god was it bland, and you usually liked shit like this.

You checked your watch; 2:42. The show was set to end at 3:00, and then you'd follow Monty backstage and grill him on his sketchy side hustle before finally following Butcher's precise plan to take him out. You couldn't actually kill him- Hughie would have a fit- but knocking him out would be fun. You were considering giving him an extra kick in the nuts just for making you sit through this god awful stage show. Nearly 20 minutes left. Fuck.

The remaining time could not have gone slower, dragging on as the celebrity supe went on and on about how intelligent most animals actually were. Normally you'd find that to be a lovely sentiment, but knowing what Monty does after hours just made the whole presentation seem so fake. You weren't sad when it ended and you got swept up in the crowd of people leaving the clearing to wander around the booths or stand around in groups talking about whatever it was supe fans talked about. You made to follow the crowd, then broke off away from them at the last second to head towards the backstage area. Butcher and MM would be heading that way, too, and you could finally get to the fun part of your job.

You strutted past the security stationed outside the back of the stage, flashing them the ID badge you'd nicked from another guard earlier on in the day before sweeping past them into the much quieter halls of the building behind the stage. Nobody was around and you breathed a sigh of relief; standing among the throngs of chattering people for so long had left you socially exhausted. It was nice to have a moment of quiet.

Right on time, Butcher and MM entered through the door at the other end of the hall, spotting you and making their way over. You met them in the middle.

"You sure he's in?" you asked, placing your hands on your hips.

MM nodded. "We kept on eye on him after the show, he came right back to the room. You ready?"

You huffed. "Only been waiting for this for two hours, so yeah. Jesus, why did we have to watch the whole show?"

Butcher only grinned, amused at your annoyance. "What, you don't like animals, y/n? I'm surprised. I thought you were one of them sensitive blokes."

You bit your tongue to keep from getting pissed and saying something stupid. Your feet hurt, damnit, you were ready to go home. Exactly when you started seeing the dank cellar that was your base as 'home', you didn't know, but the dark concrete walls and suspiciously wet floors were sounding really welcoming about now.

Shutting your eyes, you dropped your hands from your hips and splayed your fingers out, using the dark and quiet to hone your supe ability. As powers went, it wasn't that amazing, but it was mighty useful for missions like this, where you didn't want to be seen. You felt out mentally, searching for cameras and anything else giving out an electronic pulse from behind the door marked "STAR". When you apprehended Monty, you didn't want it to be for an audience.

"Three cameras, and one shitty desktop computer- probably also has some sort of webcam on it. Plus his phone, I think," you muttered, eyes still closed.

"Fry 'em," Butcher said.

You clenched your fists. "Done." You opened your eyes in time to catch a look from Butcher that was almost, almost admiring. It could just have easily been mocking, but you'd like to let yourself believe for one minute that he found your powers useful. The prospect brought a little smile to your face.

MM leveled you with a knowing look, then took the lead, putting his ear up to the door for just a moment before throwing it in, catching the supe inside by surprise.

Monty Montgomery had been laying on a couch inside, worn out from talking for so long (you didn't blame him there; you were worn out from listening to him talk) but quickly shot up when the three of you rushed in, the guys holding their guns and you with your hands cockily stuffed in your jean pockets.

"What the fuck??" he sputtered, looking between the three of you angrily. "Who the fuck are you?"

Butcher smiled, taking a step forward, still pointing his gun at the supe. "We're your biggest fans, mate! We wanna ask you a few questions about your job- the other one. You ever feel bad sending your little buddies to their deaths so you can sell their hides on eBay or what have you?"

Monty balked. "I- I don't know what you're talking about, psycho. How did you get in here?"

While Butcher had his attention upwards, you noticed Monty's hand inching towards his back pocket. Whether it was a gun or a phone he was reaching for, you weren't having it. Your hand lifted calmly, and you pulled, the object ripping out of the target's pants and flying into your hand. A phone. Figures. He didn't know it was useless anyways after your powers got to it.

"Really? Who're you gonna call? You have an elephant on speed dial?" You glared, making a show of using your powers to crush his phone. It was overkill, but you liked the shocked look on his face. As it fell to the ground, Monty's eyes narrowed.

"What do you want from me?" He asked, tone guarded.

"Already said. We want to ask you about your side hustle, and what exactly you're doing with the Compound V you have sent to your place every month," Butcher said, gesturing towards the couch with his gun. "Now sit down."

end of chapter one!

please see here if you'd like to keep reading:

#the boys #x reader #billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher x you #self insert #ao3 fanfic #ao3

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