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herearedragons · 8 months

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The Warden's New Clothes

As the glow of the healing spell subsides and Wynne removes her hands from the injury, Kyana dares to glance at her side once again. What was a miserable sight mere moments ago is now a perfectly healthy patch of skin, no trace of the burns left on her torso or left arm.

It’s not the first time she wishes Wynne had been there when they climbed the tower of Ishal.

There is, however, a problem remaining. Where skin can be fixed, fabric not so much; the remains of her sleeve are hanging in sorry tatters and the state of the left side of her robe is definitely indecent. Adding insult to injury, the enchantment has evaporated from the garment, the fabric hanging heavier and colder than usual.

“Blast it,” Kyana murmurs - and startles, suddenly remembering that Wynne is still there. Have her manners spoiled so much that she curses at a senior enchanter without a second thought?

To her relief and wonder, Wynne does not express any disapproval, simply nodding:

“We should get you changed. Boys - “ the enchanter steps out of the corner they had retired to so that she could heal Kyana with some privacy - “One of you should go back to the mages’ quarters, see if there are any clothes intact in the wardrobes. We need a new set of robes, as close to Kyana’s size as you can get.”

It’s a strange experience, hearing Wynne give out orders to… yes, to her team; Kyana has to admit to herself that she has come to view them as such. Even Zevran, new as he is to the group. He had sworn his loyalty to her, personally; surely that counts for something?

Speaking of the assassin - it’s his voice that she hears answering Wynne.

“What about this one? There’s barely any blood on it - “

“Maker, ew. Really?”

The second voice is Alistair. At that point, Kyana decides to see what the fuss is about and joins the rest, holding the left side of her robe together with her hand.

The scene which appears before her is self-explanatory. Zevran is pointing at a corpse on the ground. Wynne and Alistair are looking upon it disapprovingly.

The body belongs to the blood mage they just fought. Her clothes are… unusual, definitely not of the Circle, and yet familiar. It takes Kyana a moment to place the image, but then she remembers: the vault. There was definitely a robe of a similar design in there, hanging in a glass case. Was it the same one, or just a similar item? Either way, if she’s right, it’s old, it’s from Tevinter, and it probably bears a powerful enchantment.

Kyana reaches for her magic, just slightly, but enough to confirm one half of her theory: the dead woman’s robe is very enchanted.

She definitely wants it now.

“Zevran is right,” she says. “We don’t have time to search the rooms. This will do.”

With that, she begins to direct her magic further. The force of telekinesis lifts the body up from the ground; Kyana lets it rotate mid-air for a few moments, getting a feel for the object she’s about to manipulate. Then, the same telekinetic force begins undoing buttons, buckles and clips, pulling elements of clothing off of the corpse.

Part of her is glad that Wynne is watching; she’s been honing her precision telekinesis for a while. Nobody in the camp, not even Morrigan, seemed to appreciate it much - but, surely, the senior enchanter understands the work that has gone into this.

Another part of her wonders whether she’s supposed to be more hesitant to undress a dead body, but it’s not a very useful thought, and she lets it go fairly quickly.

If Kyana had to guess, she would say that the whole process takes less than two minutes; definitely less time than it would require to search the living quarters again.

The new robe fits tighter than the Circle one, mostly due to panels of some stiff material sewn into it in several places. It's definitely more restricting, though Kyana finds that she doesn't mind that much; it feels almost like wearing armor, or, at least, what she imagines wearing armor feels like.

It is strange, though. She somehow feels more dressed than she ever was before; the Circle robes were so familiar that they were almost a part of her, but this... this is alien, a tangible barrier between her and the rest of the world.

“Well… You know, it is quite pretty,” Alistair says. “It’d be even prettier if I could unsee you taking it off of a corpse.”

“Shall I remind you where your armor came from?” Kyana asks dryly.

“That’s different! The armor’s not touching my skin. Also, I cleaned it before putting it on.”

“I also cleaned it! Who do you think I am?”

Alistair raises an eyebrow.

“Cleaned how?”

“Magic.”

“Well, I hope those spells were effective, because otherwise - that’s pretty gross.”

“If I may, Warden,” Zevran pipes up, “Please do not take this the wrong way, but… may I have your old clothes?”

Alistair gives him a look.

“Is there a right way to take this?”

There seems to be some kind of lewd joke implied - she’s been getting better at noticing those kinds of things - but presently, Kyana doesn’t have time to unpack the exact meaning of it. If Zevran wants the rags, he can have them.

She uses a small burst of telekinetic force to pick up the robes and toss them to the assassin.

“Many thanks,” he says.

The sound of tearing fabric follows immediately after. It takes her a moment to understand what he’s doing, but when Zevran tears a narrow strip of fabric from the robe and starts wrapping it around his right hand, Kyana finally notices:

“Your gloves are ruined.”

They’re in a similar state to her old robe; the top part is almost entirely burned away. Was he the one to finish off the Rage demon? Likely so, considering the singe marks on his arms and the rest of his armor.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Zevran says. “If you see nice leather gloves on someone here, do let me know.”

He finishes securing the remains of his right glove to his hand and prepares to tear off another strip of fabric.

“…Wait.”

Kyana opens one of the pouches on her belt. There, nestled alongside a few healing potions, is a rolled-up pair of leather gloves.

“Here.” She holds them out. “I bought these a while ago, but didn’t end up wearing them that much. They’re warm, but not that good for spellcasting.”

Zevran stops mid-tear.

“You’re… giving me gloves?”

“Well, I don’t use them. Do you not want them?”

“No, no - I did not mean to sound ungrateful. I’ll take them.”

As he approaches to collect the gloves, something about them seems to catch his attention; Zevran lingers for a moment before finally taking them from her hand.

“These are Dalish, are they not?” he asks.

“Yes. I bought them from a Dalish craftsman.”

Zevran turns the gloves in his hands, runs his thumb along one of the stitches - appreciating the craftsmanship, maybe?

“No one has simply… given me a gift before,” he says finally. “I shall treasure these. Thank you.”

It didn’t occur to her to think of it as a gift, but technically, he’s correct.

It’s just as well. If they’re of a better use to Zevran than to her, he should have them.

“It’s nothing,” Kyana says. “I hope they fit.”

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hapuriainen · 1 year

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Ash and friends.

#pokemon #the! set! is! complete!#all the 'all of ash's pokemon and friends cheer for him and then he becomes world champion stuff' felt like narratively there's nowhere #else for the series to go and I dared to hope that we'd finally be free of ash #and my hopes were rewarded... I might even watch a pokemon episode for the first time in like a decade #it's not that ash was the worst character I just don't think he's interesting enough to be in 1200 episodes #pokemon chibis #my art

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commander-rahrah · 7 months

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Firsts

Pairing: Astarion (non-ascended) x GN!Reader Word Count: ~1200 archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

Summary: Post ending of BG3, established relationship. GN!Tav/Reader having a bit of self doubt and worrying that Astarion fell for the very first person he met once he realized he was free from Cazador and that they would understand if he someday decides that he wants to go explore or meet new people or fall in love more then once. Astarion’s reacts to this worry.

Note: I haven't posted any BG3 fics yet, but I just couldn't resist writing this little scene that's been bouncing around in my head this past week! I wrote it originally for my Tav named Olympia, a tiefling bard, but I changed it to second perspective for this post.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*

Astarion’s eyes were trained on your fidgety movements. You were picking at the blanket as you sat on the edge of the bed, your hand shifting anxiously back and forth as your brow was crumpled in thought.

Something was eating away at you. He just wasn’t sure what. You two had a seemingly normal day, not starting until well past sunset (your new adopted routine just for him). The both of you had done some research and shopping before returning to the tiny rooms you were calling home for the time being to relax for the remainder of the night.

But now that he thought about it, you had barely touched your meal tonight. And were much quieter than usual, not as optimistic or positive during the research that had once again been futile. Perhaps you were being plagued by nightmares again — images of the horrors the party had faced just a couple months ago were resurfacing.

A flash of anger coursed through him at himself for not noticing sooner. Taking a breath he didn’t really need, he strode over to you and joined you on the edge of the bed — the mattress sinking slightly with his added weight.

“Copper for your thoughts, my sweet?” He asked with a tilt of his head, before tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“I— I was thinking…,” You were quiet, and stumbled as you opened your mouth. He’d very rarely seen you like this — you always had a way with your words. You could be more poetic and flowery than even him. “And— and I understand if you do end up feeling this way.”

Confusion spread across all of Astarion’s features, “What in the hells are you talking about?”

You finally looked up at him, your eyes big and crinkled with worry, “I was the first person you met when you realized you were free… from him.” The pair of you had silently agreed to never mention that name again. “The first person you’ve been with. If you… if you decide you want to go see the world, experience new things, new people… I would understand.”

His jaw clenched together, “What?”

“I feel selfish keeping you all to myself. When there’s so much of the world you’ve not seen, so many other people you could be with that I—“

His red eyes blinked at you, before his lips turned downward, “You’re being serious.”

“I—“

He cut you off abruptly, waving his hand dramatically and pressing it into his chest, “Do you think that’s what I want? Have I told you that’s what I want?”

You shook your head, lips creasing, “No, I just want you to know that it’s ok if—“

“What, if I want to leave?” He stood up from the bed, looming in front of you as he spoke, “If I want to go galivant around to meet mysterious strangers, have a tryst or some torrid affair? I know that I am capable of making my own decisions. I know that darling, and I chose you. I choose you. And you reciprocated that.”

“I did. I do, I choose you. But I’ve—“

He interrupted you again, “Let me ask you something. Do you love me?”

“Of course. With all my heart.”

His heart still swelled with your answer. It did every time you admitted it to him. To hear it put out into the universe. That a tiny corner of it was indeed intended for him and you.

He pursed his lips before asking, “Have you loved people before me?”

“I—yes.” You admitted, looking down to your fingers that had become a twisted knot on your lap now.

“And did it feel the same? The love you shared for those other people.” He asked quietly, stepping closer and leaning down to undo the knot of your fingers. Instead threading them through his own pale, cold ones. “Did your love for them feel the same way you love me?”

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed, squeezing his hand in confirmation. “No. Not even close.”

“Exactly. You explored and experienced… and it still led you here, to me now. To your version of a first, yes?”

You nodded, the bottoms of your beautiful eyes starting to form with water as you tried to keep your tears at bay.

“I don’t need anybody else, or anywhere else.” Astarion sank to his knees in front of you, keeping his hands intertwined with your own. He dipped his head so he was looking up at you, his red eyes soft and tender. “Look… yes, you may have been the first person I stumbled upon after that damn ship. The first person I met once I realized I was free from his grasp. But you are also the first person to treat me with kindness and compassion. Respect. You’ve fought for me, protected me, fed me, been patient with me. You were the first person whose touch doesn’t make me feel ill, the first person who’s brought me to a blissful euphoria. You’ve given me peace. Autonomy. Safety. And love. No one has ever done that for me, not in my whole existence.”

His half dead heart was thundering in his chest. He had already declared himself to you once before, yet his whole body was shaking with emotion right now.

“And how dare you think so little of yourself. You aren’t just some notch in my belt, not a stepping stone in my life. You are everything.” Astarion used his thumb and finger to push your chin up, forcing your eyes to stare up into his. “I love you. No on else. And there will be no one else.”

The tears that were welling in your eyes finally broke free, rolling down your freckled cheeks. “I love you too. Irrevocably so.” Your voice was a raspy whisper.

“Oh my lovely moon, I wish you could see yourself how I see you.” Astarion’s voice was a gentle whisper.

He pressed a soft kiss onto your lips, both of his hands moving to grab the sides of your face. His pale thumbs wiped away the tears. “I surely hope these are somewhat happy tears now?”

You nodded profusely in his hands, a breathy laugh escaping you. “Happy, relieved.”

“Good. Now, no more of this talk alright? There is only room for one person to be filled with self doubt in this relationship and that position is currently filled by me.”

You frowned, “Starry, don’t jest about things like that.”

“Old habit.” His smirk pulled up enough that his fangs poked out. “No more stewing with your anxious thoughts. You’re going to come and join me on the balcony. Come on,” He stood up and held out his pale hand for you before he gently tugged you to the small balcony attached to your rooms.

The pair of you looked up at the inky black sky, glittering with the sprinkling of stars you could still see in Baldur’s Gate. They were blinking and swirling around the glowing, full moon. A sigh of contentment left you both as you stood in comfortable silence and basked in the light.

“What would the stars be without their moon?” He whispered in your hair, wrapping his arms around your waist as he gathered you into him.

#bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion/reader #astarion x tav

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tgcg · 2 months

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this is my element (+ album)

asking me to pick my fave album is like asking an orphan matron to pick her favorite baby boy

thats some weird and cruel circumstances to put upon me i feel like it changes every damn week like a rota

i mean what if my beats misbehave and i gotta put 'em in time out i cant play permanent on that theyre too cute

but yknow what i can show you one thing thats been on my mind lately

===

so when i was a kid we had this skateboard vid by "element skateboards" on DVD

they were this skateboard kit slash apparel company that was all about progressivism and shit and they did these much lauded comp tapes of dudes riding around on their boards and doing the dopest of macho tricks on the shit

flipping it turnways

putting the rock in the house like a big man

we had some of their merch actually

===

so anyways the one we had back then was This Is My Element

released 2007

mostly clips from cali i think and i mean the camerawork is fucking insane on some of those shots

this is gonna sound lame as fuck but i prob spent so many cumulative hours just peelin through the footage and ogling the shit outta it

that framing was tight

===

so you may be asking yourself or me

dave you genuine dicksucker i asked about your fav album not your favorite sordid ass display of smooth dudes hardcore riding and grinding them boards in public dude you have a problem

ok well that wasnt a question first of all so jot that down

but anyways to THAT i say

listen to the music

the whole thing has an original soundtrack of ambient beats

got some abstract hip hop jams, got some more indie stuff, lots of acoustic sampling

HELLA underground

and basically every track minus one is done by sampler beast david p. madson AKA "odd nosdam"

dude is my hero seriously

he is the master of the beat machine i shit you not hes always been kinda my idol on this stuff

aside from bro obviously

===

obviously.

===

anyways he had an E-mu SP-1200 which is a really oldschool sampler invented by dave rossum in the late 80s

revolutionary to the hip hop scene

nosdam had this mega distinct sound to his music that i always wanted to replicate on my own beats

still do

i dont know for sure if he used it on T.I.M.E. but he uses some of the same samples from "vol. 9" which was exclusively SP-1200 so im gonna get a lil j’accuzi on that

it couldve been a boss dr sampler SP-202 though idk

he had one of those

===

so aside from beating the shit out of the pause/resume button to flip my whole cranium at the cinematography or whatever i would also kinda play it on loop to listen to the soundtrack and space out at 2am

the lonely broner seemed to free his mind at night

ok shit broner is good but i didnt mean it like that

that was goofy lets just keep movin

it was the only way i had to listen to it back then but i mean the video is 50 mins long so its basically just an odd nosdam album with accompanying ambient skater sounds and random expletives and whatever

random car sequence

yknow what i dont think people respect enough?

the dude who catches all the "mad stunts yo" on camera

i swear to god at least half the time hes ALSO on a board and that shit is bananas to me

bros gotta be on some whole other level of zen to skate good AND catch all them glamor shots of his fellow skater

thats like an express ticket to the ER imo

the ambulance is already on the scene watching you like an eager crow watches a half dead dog

===

ok gonna go ahead and lay it out flat

not great on a board myself

kinda dogshit at it actually

so maybe im not exactly an arbitrator of skateboard heinousness

but i always kinda liked watching THEM do it i mean who doesnt?

whats an even crazier layer to stack on the "dave" cake is

and dirk told me this because unfortunately it kinda happened post-2009

he would do all these collabs with one of my childhood favorite underground rappers david cohn aka serengeti

surrounded by daves left and right dude even before all the time travel horseshit

thats like

serendipitous as fuck i think!

===

if sburb was just a revolving door of artists called dave that i could bump fists with

instead of other mes in various states of aliveness tending toward extremely dead

i wouldve probably given it something higher than 2 stars on my TGN review

===

so yeah you ask me my favorite album its T.I.M.E. by odd nosdam i guess

bump that shit on a walk your mind will go places unknown to man

#dave strider #homestuck #comix #this is my element #the way i drew dave posing here is rly heavily inspired by askinsufferableprick btw #welcome to strider infodump hours

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dcxdpdabbles · 6 months

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Phantom's Number 1 Fan Part 3

John Constantine calls a joint Justice League and Justice League Dark meeting.

It's not something he wants to do. He barely works with the LJD, but at least that lot understands his work and knows what to do and where to go.

The JL members always ask questions and forget proper manners when working with the paranormal- John isn't the most well-mannered bloke around, but even he knows to permanently say goodbye to ghosts so that they don't follow him home- and it's like trying to teach an intern while dodging bullets.

He prefers to avoid the whole origination, especially since Bruce's death; everyone has been walking on eggshells, and there is a sense of disorganization drenched in grief that John breaks into hives just thinking about, but this is big.

Bigger than he can handle it on his own or with just the JLD. Even if the whole group gives the bats not-so-stable glances as they filter in.

John notices that one of Batman's brats is missing- the smart one- but he has heard that the kid suffered some kind of psychotic break from his father's death. It's sad, really, mainly because John used to believe that the third Robin was the one with the good head on his shoulders.

What's worse is that the Third Robin up and ran off, having gone off the grid when he refused to accept Batman's death. The boy hadn't said anything besides, "The portraits told me!" after having a miniature breakdown in his home.

It didn't help that around this time, the boy teammates had all dropped like flies except for one. So yes, John knows it wasn't a big surprise that he lost it, but it was still sad to see. Kid is only seventeen.

He hopes they find him soon to give him the help he needs. John would offer a spell to try and find him, but he needs to learn about the kid better, which means his spell can only point in a general direction.

Nightwing looked downright ragged, but losing a father on the battlefield and a younger brother to his grief did a number on anyone.

John hates himself just a little for dragging the grieving family here. He does, but again, this is bigger than all of them. This is a matter of life and death- literally.

"Listen up. We have a bloody level ten on its way to Earth if it's not already here." His words cut through the muttering crowd, shutting everyone up. A level ten makes even the big, lousy Superman sweat. He snaps his fingers, allowing his magic to shift into the image of a King Phantom sitting on his throne- painted in the early 1200s and the picture that can be used to identify him.

The art style would have been almost modern if it wasn't for the unease that the painting could cause due to the glowing green from his majesty's portrait. They say the green was ectoplasm from the king himself- and that alone should warn others to not mess with him.

Everyone Justice League Dark member hissed through their teeth, sitting up straighter and a few even pale. John is once again grateful that they understand just how deep in shit they genuinely are.

"This is the Ghost King. He is not to be confused with a god or king of gods. He's something else entirely because he makes gods nervous. He is on his way here to kill whoever is dumb enough to threaten his pregnant fiancee, and I fear the rest of Earth will be collateral if we don't prepare-"

"That's Danny Phantom," A young voice cuts John off. He is surprised someone would talk over him in a level ten briefing. All eyes turn to Robin- er, the new Robin.

The kid is frowning at the image, his signature scowl already deeper than usual. He's also heard the new Robin was a spoiled boy who was not a team player.

"You know King Phantom?" John asks.

Robin nods. "Placeholder is obsessed with him. Half his room is covered with King Phantom's heroics."

"Do not call him that.," Nightwing hisses a second later. He frowned when Robin ignored him but returned to the room without further comment on the boy's cheek. "Danny Phantom is a low-level search and rescue hero. He pops up around the world but only sometimes interacts with people. Robin- Young Justice Robin- was obsessed with him."

The room gains an awkward weight as no one is willing to bring up the mentally unsound MIA teenager.

It's too bad for them. John has never cared about making anyone comfortable. "You said his room is covered in images of King Phantom?"

From the corner of his eyes, John catches sight of Zatanna's face. She's pale white, with a horrified expression as if though she was standing before the grim itself. Every other member of the Justice League Dark is in a similar state.

"Yes, he has a whole wall of posters and stuff." Nightwing conforms, and shit John knows who Phantom's after now.

The thing is, one just doesn't have pictures of King Phantom. No one knows why, but the Ghost King can not be documented. Not without having some kind of connection to the King.

Throughout history, the only ones who have ever had even one solid picture of the king- John's magic doesn't count cause he can't well hold the thing up forever- usually meant that the King would appear before them at one point.

There is also a myth if one could beat a member of the royal ghost family, then one wish is granted to them. If one can kill a royal ghost member, death can be overturned.

It's not true, obviously, for death is not easily beaten like that, but John knows that as an expert, would a mentally unwell teenager know the same?

It was also known that if the King appeared before you, something terrible would happen. The sighting of King Phantom often came as an omen and usually right before a terrible disaster.

In the last disaster, they lost Batman, and if King Phantom had shown up, where the Third Robin have spotted him? Where the Third Robin have thought the King could return the dead?

Not to mention the rumors!

King Phantom was hunting down a group of humans known as "The Bats." John hadn't put that much stock in that rumor simply because it could have been anyone- hell, when he looked up the bats seven different groups appeared, varying from boy bands to zoologists.

But if he placed the name "The Bats" next to the Third Robin's psychotic break, his obsession with King Phantom, and his intertwined fates...well, shit.

There is a slight chance that the Third Robin's fate could be intertwined with the Ghost King in a positive light, but John has learned to not be optimistic in his line of work.

"I think the Third Robin is gunning after the Ghost King's fiancee and unborn child in a misguided attempt to bring Batman back to life. He may have kicked started a war that humanity can not win," He announces. He hates to say. hates to even suggest it, but the needs of the many outweigh those of the few. "We have to find the Third Robin and attempt to stop him. If we can't reason with him, we must put him down."

Wonder Girl gasps a sob, pressing her hand against her mouth.

John hates himself a little more as she sobs; a few rushes to confront her, but no one is unaffected by the news.

"I'm ordering a hunt for the Third Robin," Wonderwoman speaks up to her steady leadership, returning everyone from their despair. "Every available hero will help. Do not use lethal force unless there is no other choice. We may be able to find him before King Phantom's armies arrive."

John just hopes they are not too late.

Meanwhile, across the plane of existence, unaware of the manhunt for his head, Tim Drake is trying to stare down a Yeti, attempting to put him in silk clothes that are just fabrics held together by strings.

"No."

"But-But- but you have such a flattering figure! You must flaunt it! The Great One will barely be able to contain himself if he sees you in this!"

"No. It looks like something you wear on a honeymoon to seduce your spouse. I'm not walking around in that."

"Well, you don't need to bewitch his majesty. You already have a child on the way." The Yeit mutters, considering the fabric in his claws with a frown. He is Frostbite's royal tailor and has been attempting to dress Tim for over an hour. Everything he's suggested so far looks like it came from those romantic fantasy games.

It's like they want to make him a sexy consort or something.

Tim's teeth grind against each other. He hates how often his role is reminded, how casually the yetis mention that Ra's expects a child from Tim.

He doesn't even know how that child will come to be, and it makes him sick. He's been bidding his time, waiting for his wounds to heal and to find a weakness in the frozen fortress, but so far, he is unsure how he will escape.

And Bruce is still out there, waiting for Tim to get him. He can't waste any more time here.

"How about this cloak?" The Yeti offers, holding up a dark metallic fabric that reminds TIm of his Robin cape. "If we are going for a more conservative look, something that screams power is just the way to make the masses wild!"

Ugh, he really needs to think of a plan soon.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Phantom's number 1 fan #Part 3 #The Justice League made the wrong conclusion #Or John made the wrong conculsion #Tim is still being pampered but now they want to show him off like a trophy husband they think he is #Danny is vibing while new Ghost King Lore is dropping

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sacharinee · 11 months

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pairing: bestfriend!peter parker x fem!reader

sypnosis: after peter misses his chance to ask you out to the homecoming dance, he has to suffer the consequences of his own actions

wc: 1200+

a/n: hiii!! i have the urge to write again bc im bored and i dont wanna do my summer course work. this prompt is based on this post and loosely based on that one scene in the movie ladybird when she gets picked up by her date. i wrote this super quickly so not the best but i hope u enjoy :)

peter had it first. he had the idea, the flowers, the poster, your favorite chocolate strawberries all ready for you. until brad davis came in and stole everything.

now he has nothing. he’s on your bed munching on the melty strawberries as he watches you get ready for the dance; you’ve asked for his help in choosing which dress you should go for.

“okay how ‘bout this one, pete?” the boy glances up at you, mid-chew with his mouth open.

his eyes snake over the outfit you’ve chosen. you do a swift twirl to show off the pretty soft blue satin dress that falls down to your mid-thigh with an open back. the skirt of your dress rides a bit high revealing a little too much. peter gulps, running his hands down his legs, immediately your sweet honey perfume floods his senses, his brain feels a little fuzzy, and he thinks the room gets smaller while his pants get a tiny bit tighter.

however, your eyes are what he takes in the most. you look eager, nervous about his approval, and hopeful for his admission.

his eyes widen as he gives you a soft nod and a pursed smile, “super pretty.”

you stare back at peter, his hair is flared, and you see chocolate smeared on his bottom lip. his posture looks defeated and you can’t help but wonder what’s wrong with him.

you give him a sour yet confused face, “why is your face like that?”

peter’s eyebrows furrow at your expression, “my face- why is my face like what?”

“like…” you take a moment to think, “like- you look like that chef in that one movie with the rat, he’s got that same awkward funny looking face.”

peter barks out a laugh in disbelief, “alfredo linguini?? from ratatouille?!” “yea! that guy.”

the boy in front of you offers you a pout and rubs his eyes, “thanks.”

“sure thing.” peter glazes over your seamless makeup when you take a seat next to him, “so, you’re really not coming? why not? it’ll be fun, plus all of our friends are going” you whine.

peter kicks himself every day since you got asked out to homecoming by brad. he knows he should have made his proposal to you sooner, but now that he missed his chance, he feels like he’s lost you.

“oh, so brad’s our friend now? and nah, it’s alright. i’m just gonna go patrolling tonight, might get some good action.” his eyebrows suggestively

you muster up a smirk and breathe out a laugh, “right. maybe you’ll find your own ‘cupid of crime’ that’ll show you a good time.”

peter groans at you, “oh my god, margot robbie is so-”

honk!

“oh,” your ears perk up at the sudden interruption, “i guess that’s my date.” you quickly stand up and straighten your dress, taking nervous breaths.

“i’m good right? my dress? face? hair?” your fingers run through your shiny locks, “its- i’m, i’m okay?”

peter has an indiscernible look plastered on his face as he gazes out the window and back at you. he’s shocked you’d settle for this, and even more appalled at you’re excitement to go with a douchebag who can’t even meet you at the front door. he knows you deserve better than this, and he knows he would treat you so much better with much less than your date. his stomach turns upside down and he feels his face get hot, breathing through his nostrils as he struggles to control his disbelief. he slowly stands up and meets your anxious expression peering up at him.

“you aren’t gonna get in a car with a guy who honks, are you?”

it’s almost as if the entire atmosphere shifts. peter studies your appearance. your face shimmered sanguinely regardless, brighter than the glitter that sparkled atop your eyelids.

it was safe to say you were excited to go to the dance, even if your date wasn’t your first choice. you had been waiting endlessly for peter to ask you to homecoming. you were almost depressed at the thought thinking your crush didn’t like you back, but even more upset at the fact that your best friend didn’t even want to take you as his date, romantically or not.

you remembered the feeling of delight swirling through your body as betty gushed about ned asking her to the dance, and mj agreeing to harry’s proposal.

you only wanted the same for yourself. the same thrill and warm feeling of someone wanting to take you as their date. you wanted more than anything for it to be peter, but you figured he simply didn’t think of you like that as empty time and hopeless anticipation went by. so yes, you did settle for brad davis. he’s only ever been sweet to you, with harmless flirting and sultry smiles in the halls. plus you had a hunch about peter’s displeasing stance on the man, and presumed this may have tipped peter over just the right amount.

you simply blink at his desperate eyes and nod, your adamant expression not wavering, “i think, yes, i am.”

you offer him a wistful smile when you brush past him, grabbing your purse on the way.

“y/n, stop.” peter’s finger’s wrap around your small wrist, your charm bracelet dangling against his hand.

“are you serious? what, the shithead can’t walk a few feet and knock on the door like a real man?”

“peter!” you snatch your wrist back and his hands rise.

you feel heat rushing up your neck and settling behind your ears. you had wanted a reaction out of peter when brad asked you out, yes, but the entitlement he has to mention about the manhood of brad angered you.

“i’m just saying,” he steps back from you, licking his dry lips while he chuckles back at you. “a guy who doesn’t have the balls to greet you at your doorstep isn’t worth falling for.”

you scoff at him, he was so sweet and now he’s only taking his anger out on you. “well it’s a good thing that he’s just a friend then. what’s it to you anyways?”

peter disregards your last statement, “a friend?! y/n/n, listen to me. you’re being naive if you think he just wants to be your friend.”

another honk outside pierces your ears, yet you can’t seem to shake your stare on the boy before you. you narrow your eyes at him.

“you sound jealous.”

peter sputters nonsense out and breaks his eyesight away from you, nervously running his hands through his curls.

“jealous? me? pfft. never. i’m not jealous, i’m- i’m being absolutely reasonable.”

you keep your eyes on him as he looks down at the carpet floor. he sighs and drops down at your chair, scratching the wood on your desk. his head shakes and ever so softly murmurs, “seriously, why are you going out with him?”

peter continues to stare at the rotten wood he’s chipping, “brad asked me to be his date, so i’m going whether you like it or not. unless,” peter glances back up at you.

“there’s something you’re not telling me.”

hope bubbles down in your stomach, and you anticipate his confession, waiting to hear the words of his true feelings that you know for certain are deep down inside him.

except, he doesn’t.

the boy only blankly stares at your desk, clenching his jaw, and drowns everything inside, letting you down yet another time. you turn away, disappointed in peter, ready to leave him alone for all the false hope and hurt he has caused you.

“right, well, when your balls finally drop, let me know. i’ll be at the dance with my date.”

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kozachenko · 3 months

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I swear to god, Zanmu has just been on my mind recently, she's taking over my fucking brain please send help

Artist's Note:

Why is it that everytime I do a drawing of Zanmu I always make the canvas size fucking huge and it ends up being a living nightmare to fucking export. I swear to god I had to go from 1200 DPI to 600 to 350.

Exporting hell aside, I loved working on this piece. With Zanmu's design, I wanted to combine all the design details that I love and have seen in other people's drawings of Zanmu and give them my own personal touches. First of all, her sleeves were inspired by @amemenojaku's design for Zanmu, and I absolutley love that detail because not only does it make her feel more regal, it also can be a callback to Satori and old hell, and also gives me the idea that Satori's fashion sense was inspired by Zanmu because IRL a lot of historical fashion was inspired by what the nobles were wearing at the time, and since Satori was around since when Old Hell used to be Hell, she probably took some wardrobe inspo from her (or it could be my headcanon that Satori could've been Zanmu's royal advisor or she was in her court or something but that theory is kinda grasping at strings from other headcanons I have, but that's for a different post). Also, the eye makeup she has was inspired by @jothelion's drawings of Zanmu, and like, I fucking love that detail because it just adds so much like omg I just love it sm.

And now for the design details I put in. I gave Zanmu tassel earrings because I think they'd look great on her. I also really like to exaggerate her hair and really try to make it look wild, as well as having little grey hairs here and there. I also try to add some wrinkles to the corners of her eyes, but TBH I don't know how visible that detail is, since the image is pretty fucking big. I also really exaggerated the tassles/strings on her outfit, since I really wanted to play around with the potential flow they could have. Also, big fan of giving Zanmu longer sleeves and pants. IDK why but I just like how it flows better. Also big fan of making her taller, idk why a lot of fanart makes her short. Also, I placed her horns closer to the front of her head as I just think placing horns in that position looks cool.

Also, if you're wondering about the halo, I took some inspiration from a few of Caravaggio's paintings where he often depicts saints with this very thin halo around the top of their heads. I just liked that detail a lot so I thought I'd include it.

Fun fact, I was originally gonna make the four skeletons Chiyari, Biten, Enoko, and Hisami but I didn't like the prospect of having to draw four more characters, so I chose to replace them with skeletons (if you wanna get silly with it, Zanmu got Hisami to kidnap Aya, set up some skeletons with bones from her bone collection and told her to take a picture of her).

I kinda gave up on Zanmu's feet and the one skeleton's hands (as if drawing hands normally is hard enough but NOPE, HAD TO MAKE IT LIVING HELL FOR MYSELF BY MAKING IT A SKELETON) and the quality of the image may suffer because of how much I had to fucking compress it (Zanmu's presence alone was enough to make the computer lose all of it's desire and motivation to export the drawing of her lmao), but I have been hacking at this piece for a while now, plus I need to learn when to call it quits when it comes to drawings). Also as I was fixing up the hands there was one spot where I forgot to clean up with the sketch and I can't fucking unsee that now and it's going to fucking bother me until I fix it but fixing it requires going back and putting my computer through hell so yeah.

So yeah, that's about all I have to say with this drawing, it was fun but also a nightmare lol

#art #touhou project #fanart #touhou fanart #touhou 19 #unfinished dream of all living ghost #zanmu nippaku #touhou #東方project #東方

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digital-domain · 6 months

Text

edging w/ your jjk men

a collection.

total word count: ~3.8k (1200-1300 each)

pairing(s): gojo x reader, geto x reader, sukuna x reader

content tags: all nsfw (obviously). Details for each ⬇️

Gojo: choking, biting, a lil bit of begging, whole lotta teasing, eating out, simultaneous orgasms

Geto: slowwww teasing, bondage, bit of slapping (thighs), eating out + fingering through panties (and then eventually without them)

Sukuna: ok so - fingering, eating out, heavy degradation, honorifics, begging, biting, choking, dacryphilia, throat-fucking, facial, orgasm denial, literally stepping on you, i think that’s everything??

been working on this for a while, hope you enjoy...

GOJO.

He’s almost always sweet to you, precisely because he knows how powerful he is. He shows it off to the rest of the world, but with you, he doesn’t have to. He wants you to feel good, wants to make you cherish every second you spend alone together, wants to make you come, sometimes multiple times in a row, until you have nothing else to give - and like everything else, it’s easy for him. He’ll wrap his arms around you when it’s all over, bury his face in your hair, tell you that he loved every second of it just as much as you did. Almost every time, that’s how it ends.

But then there are the other times, when you see that feral spark in his eyes, and realize that you’re about to be his outlet for everything that he’s been holding back. It starts with the little things - instead of caressing your face, his hand curls around your neck, and his kisses are rough, his teeth sinking without warning into your bottom lip, his eyes still open, shining far too bright. He unbuttons his shirt and undresses you in seconds, plunges his hand between your thighs, grins when he realizes how wet his onslaught has made you, cackling at the shock in your eyes. He throws you onto your back, and for a moment things are just the same as always - he’s eating you out like he’s starving, and you know that it won’t be long before you finally get the release you’ve been craving - it never does take long with him. Not unless he decides to drag it out. He’s not dragging it out today - you can already feel your body tensing, preparing for the wave of pleasure that’s about to roll over it -

He moves. Unnaturally fast. His mouth is at your neck, instead of between your legs, and you’re confused, disoriented, crying out in pain as his teeth sink into your skin. He pushes himself up on his hands, hovering over you, and that wild grin flashes across his face once again.

“Satoru…”

“Yeah? You want something?” His face is so close to yours that your eyes cross trying to look at him, and he cackles again, his tongue darting over his lips. “You gotta ask nicely if you want something. How am I supposed to know otherwise?”

You glare up at him - there’s far too much pride in his voice. He’s so pleased with himself, and you think you might hate him for it.

“What? You mad?” He bites his lip, and slithers back down between your legs, tracing a single finger up your inner thigh. “Want me to make it up to you?”

You stay silent. Inside, you’re burning, desperate for him to finish you, but you can’t tell him that. You’ll never hear the end of it.

“No?” He sighs dramatically and rolls over your leg onto his side, smirking slightly as you gasp at the sudden pressure. “Guess I’ll just leave, then.”

You stare, horrified, as he stands and does up the buttons of his shirt. He slowly makes his way towards the door, not throwing so much as a glance in your direction. Without thinking, you sit up and call out after him. “Satoru!”

“Yeah?” He turns his head over his shoulder, smiling innocently. “You wanna kiss me goodbye?”

“No.” You mumble something unintelligible, and he crosses the room in an instant, diving on top of you and pinning you to the mattress, wrapping his hand around your jaw.

“Hm? I didn’t hear you!”

You take a deep breath, your eyes still narrowed in anger, resenting the firm grip forcing you to look at him as you speak. “I said, I want you to make it up to me.” He tilts his head, waiting, and you grit your teeth. “Please.”

“There you go.” He twists his free hand through your hair, holding you in place as he kisses you, sloppily, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You can feel his hard cock pressing through the fabric of his pants, and you can’t stop yourself from grinding against it, although you’re all too aware of the effect your desperation has on him. The hand grasping your face slowly slides down to your throat. “You want me to make you cum?” He effortlessly flips you onto your stomach and falls upon you, one hand undoing his trousers while the other stays firm upon your neck. His cock brushes against your inner thigh, inches from slipping inside you. With his trousers discarded on the floor, he slips his hand under your hips. His fingers circle your clit, making you gasp and squirm beneath him. He leans in close, breathing heavily in your ear. “You wanna cum around my cock?” He’s teasing you, stroking his cock slowly over your entrance, sighing tantalizingly as he feels how wet you are, how ready you are for him. His hand tightens around your neck, urging you to speak before he squeezes the breath out of you.

It’s all too much for you to resist. “Yes,” you gasp. Your voice muffled by the sheets beneath you. You raise your voice. “Yes. I - I want you to fuck me. Wanna cum for you. Please, Sato-“

The last of the air leaves your lungs as he thrusts into you, ravenously, as if he’s been waiting for hours instead of just minutes. His fingers stroke at your clit as he nips haphazardly at your neck and ear, sighing with pleasure as he pounds at your cunt, and you suddenly realize that he’s been just as desperate as you this whole time - he’s just much better at hiding it. Good enough to make you beg for what he’s wanted all along. And you don’t care - what he’s doing to you feels far too good for you to think about it anymore. You can feel yourself practically drool onto the sheets beneath you, surges of heat sweeping across your skin as he presses into you, somehow touching every inch of you at once, from your hair to the edges of your thighs.

“Talk to me,” he whispers, urgent and intense - this time, you don’t hesitate for a moment.

“‘S so good - please keep going. Thank you…”

He’s so satisfied by your response that he practically hums in your ear, his hips driving into you with such force that you cry out in pain-and-pleasure, your hand scrabbling desperately at the sheets, a fresh thrill of heat spreading through your core. “You’re gonna cum with me,” he whispers. "Yeah?"

“Y-yes. Thank you. Yes.” Your legs twitch beneath him, and your orgasm radiates through your body, lingering as his cock spasms inside you, his grip tightening - he groans heavily, and you take his cum inside of you, basking in your own afterglow as he finishes and collapses over your body, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You stay like that for a long time, pressed up against each other, uncharacteristically silent.

“Worth it,” you murmur, half hoping that he won’t hear you. Of course, he does.

“I know.” You can practically feel that self-satisfied grin spreading over his face. “We’ll do it again.” His voice softens. “You did good for me.” He nuzzles his face against your skin. “Did I do good for you?”

You sigh, sounding nearly as dramatic as him. “Yes. But don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.”

You groan, and half-heartedly try to push him off of you. He doesn’t move an inch.

“You just say the word when you want it like that again,” he murmurs. “Until then, I’ll be sweet. I swear.”

You believe him. After all, this time has ended just like all the rest. Whispered reassurances, his arms wrapped around you, fingers stroking through your hair. You could never really be mad at him. He’s far, far too good for that.

GETO.

He knows how to take his time. There’s no reason to rush - he knows that he has you for as long as he wants you. He’s slow to undress you, running his finger up the side-seam of your shirt before pulling it over your head, tracing a hand over your stomach just above the waistline of your jeans before he even undoes the top button, running his hand up your thigh and teasing you through the stiff fabric, daring you to grind into his palm. He lays you down and kisses you slowly, but not gently - his tongue probes into your mouth, and he tugs at your bottom lip with his teeth as he pulls back. As he finally takes off your jeans, you become very aware of the fact that he’s still fully clothed. His hands slide under your back, undoing your bra, but he keeps your panties on - for now. You squirm, restless, unable to hide your eager anticipation of his next move.

“Be patient.” He’s exploring you at his leisure, kissing your forehead, your lips, sucking at the side of your neck. You involuntarily writhe beneath him - you can tell that this is going to leave a mark, but you don’t care about that right now. If anything - it’s not quite enough.

“Be still.” His voice is utterly soft and controlled, starkly contrasting with the whimpers that escape from your mouth as he kisses your breast, flicking your nipple with his tongue, and slides his hand between your legs, teasing you over your panties - you’re wet already, and infuriatingly, his touch seems to lighten as he realizes this.

You reach up, desperate to touch him, to see more of him. But he catches your wrists and pins them above your head. “Still having trouble, hm?” He smiles condescendingly, shaking his head. “I thought you would’ve learned by now. You’re only going to draw this out even more.”

He kisses you hard, swallowing up the protest about to issue from your mouth, his grip tightening around your wrists. As soon as he lets go, your hands jump to his hair, and again, he catches them. His eyes narrow, his voice deathly quiet. “What did I just say?”

Sometimes, you just can’t resist making a bad decision. “That you’re gonna draw things out?” Your voice is too loud, too defiant - and far more confident than you feel. “As if I mind spending more”-

He slaps his hand over your mouth. “You don’t mind yet.” There’s an unusual smile on his face, unlike any you’ve seen from him before. It’s almost scary, the way his dark eyes seem to pierce right through yours. “But you will.”

You cringe as he reaches for the drawer of his dresser and pulls out a couple short lengths of cord. He’s tied your wrists before, and not being allowed to touch him is always agonizing. But you can handle it. You have before. And the emergence of that rope usually means that the teasing is nearing its end. After all - even he can’t hold out forever.

But to your surprise, it’s not your wrists that he takes hold of. Instead, he grabs your ankles and effortlessly folds you in half, pulls your arms up to meet your legs - you struggle, slightly, but not nearly enough to give him any trouble. In an instant, two tight loops pull your limbs together, pressing your forearms to your shins, your feet in the air, the ropes tight enough that you know they'll leave an impression when he removes them.

But that won’t be any time soon. You can barely move, can’t keep yourself upright on your own, and you know better than to speak again. He steadies you, wrapping his arms around your legs, parting them, and drags his tongue carefully down your inner thigh. Then, finally, over your cunt - but the lace of your panties is still in the way, and you grind desperately into his mouth, only becoming more desperate as he smirks up at you, his nails digging into your vulnerable skin. “So worked up already…I think it’s a good thing we kept these on. Wouldn’t want you getting overwhelmed.”

You whine pathetically as he presses his face into you once more, continuing his slow tease, his hand slipping from your thigh to circle your clit, tugging back and forth at the thin fabric covering you, refusing to push it aside. There’s an awful heat growing inside of you, begging for more. It’s not enough - but at the same time, entirely too much. You’re falling apart in his hands, his tight grip the only thing holding you together.

The worst thing - you might be able to come like this. Without him ever touching you directly - it could end. He has that much control over you. If he wants it to happen, it will - the realization only drives you closer to the edge.

“Pretty girl,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to the top of your thigh, his hand still tormenting you with its slow, delicate strokes. “You’re close, aren’t you? I can see it in your face.”

You don’t doubt it - you can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks, flooding every inch of your skin.

“And I can feel it.” He slips a single finger under your panties, sliding over the mess beneath, drawing a sharp gasp from your mouth. “Do you even realize how much you’re shaking?”

You hadn’t - your attention is entirely on him. “Please…take them off…wanna cum…”

He laughs softly, eyes darting to the place where your wrists meet your legs, your hands curling white-knuckled around your ankles. “How would I do that?”

“Then…pull them to the side…”

“A much more reasonable request.” He adds a second finger to the first, and curls them inside you, that strange smile spreading once again over his face as you squirm and sigh in a mixture of desire and relief. After so much denial, it’s not going to take much - you can already feel yourself clenching around him, his fingers working you up to the point of no return. “But then again…” He drops his gaze, following the line of his wrist, and - without warning - completely stops what he’s doing. “I’m not always inclined to be reasonable.”

Your mouth falls open in shock as he pulls back entirely, the gathering pleasure inside of you replaced by a stinging pain as he strikes the back of one thigh, then the other. His other hand holds your legs together, securing you by the ankles. He presses on, scattering red marks across your thighs, until he finally gets the satisfaction of hearing you cry out.

“That’s right.” He trails the back of his hand across your skin, then finally grabs the scrap of lace between your legs, yanking it up just enough for him to drag his tongue over you, luxuriating in the shuddering breath that seems to ripple out across your entire body. He’s not teasing anymore - he’s relentless, and you melt completely, only praying that he doesn’t stop again before your mind goes entirely blank.

He doesn’t stop. Not this time. Before long, you’re shaking again, only aware of his tongue, and his hands gripping your thighs, and -

You tense one final time, and then the wave comes crashing down over you - and he doesn’t stop, even as your head falls back into the mattress beneath you, a glowing sensation spreading over you from the inside out.

Only when he’s taken everything you have out of you - only then does he sit up, untie you, and flip you onto your side, wrapping his arms around you, pressing his face into your hair. He doesn’t say anything - and you don’t feel the need to, either. Like with everything else - you know that there’s no need to rush.

SUKUNA.

Oh. You poor, sweet thing. You’re so fucking naive. Sukuna doesn’t give a shit about your pleasure, but he’s going to act like he does just so he can rip it all away. You’ve been so good for him today, on your knees, taking his cock down your throat over, over, and over, and when it’s finally finished - when your face is such a sloppy mess that you can’t tell whether it’s spit or tears or his come running down your neck - you’re sure that you’ve finally earned the orgasm he’s been denying you for days. And he’s being so much more generous than usual - he pins you to the ground, wraps his arms around your legs, and buries his face in your cunt, tongue finding your clit, sharp nails digging into your thighs, sending you hurtling towards the most intense climax of your life. You grab his hair and grind into his mouth, wanting more, more, more -

And at the last moment - the last possible moment - he stops. He stops, and he smiles. Ferociously. Teeth bared. His hand wraps around your throat - in a second he’s on top of you, the tip of his cock teasing you open, his face hovering menacingly over yours. “You want me to do it again.” It’s not a question, but you nod as if it is, and his fingers tighten dangerously against your neck. “You want me to make you suffer.” Again, you respond, this time with a fervent shake of your head. “Hm? Is this too much for you already?”

If you tried to speak, it would come out as a wretched gasp, so you wait in silence, your entire body tensing in anticipation of his next words.

“How unfortunate. I didn’t think you were that weak.” He presses his lips to your ear, and jabs two fingers into your mouth, laughing cruelly as you gag and writhe beneath him. “We’re not done. Not even close.”

His body glides slowly over yours, and this time, you feel a sinking feeling of dread as his tongue brushes over you. “Please…”

“That’s right.” He looks up at you for a moment before sinking his teeth into your inner thigh, and you hear yourself wail in shock and despair. “Beg me. Tell me how badly your worthless little cunt wants to cum.”

“Please…Ryomen…”

As soon as his name falls off your tongue, you know that you’ve made a mistake. He revels in it, doubling his assault on your thighs as he slides his fingers inside of you, their every twist and stroke bringing you closer to the precipice you know awaits you.

“Use my name again, and I will make sure that you spend your entire life like this. All pent up with absolutely nowhere to go.” Your cunt clenches around his fingers, and he pulls back a second time, running his knuckles over the dark marks slowly forming on your skin. “You have one more chance.”

“Master…” You feel like your mind has been ripped away from you. And it doesn’t matter - your fate will be the same no matter what you say. “I - I can’t…”

“Such a shame.” He reaches up to your face and parts your lips once again, forcing you to taste yourself on his fingers. “Little brat can’t even do the one thing she’s supposed to be good at.”

This third time, you wonder if maybe - just maybe - he’ll make you cum by accident. You’re so worked up - it won’t take much. But he’s going so slow, alternating between his hand and his tongue, not giving you nearly enough of either. You can feel tears welling up in your eyes, and he seems to sense them, pulling away from your thighs for a third time, suspending his face over yours, staring intently, a cruel smile spreading across his face.

“It’s so easy to make you cry.” His cock teases over your cunt again, and you sob in desperation, closing your eyes, trying to shut out some of the stimulation that’s coming close to driving you insane. He cracks his hand sharply against your cheek, and your eyelids flutter open. “Don’t hide. Even you know better than that.” He pushes himself back onto his knees, straddling your chest, and wraps his hand around his cock, his grin widening as you instinctively part your lips.

“Please…master…”

He strokes his cock over your face, taking immense satisfaction in the desperation written across it.

“Please. Fuck me. I…I need you.”

He tilts his head for a moment, like he’s considering, his hand slowing but never stopping. Your stomach sinks as his tongue flicks over his lips, exaggerating the ferocity of his smile. “No. You’ll cum if I fuck you.“

You whine - it sounds pathetic even to your ears. “Why won’t you let me?”

His eyes narrow, and he spits in your face, his grip on himself tightening as he watches it drip down your cheek. “You exist for my pleasure.” He hurtles forward, and his nails twist through your hair and dig into your scalp. You open your mouth without a thought, and he thrusts deep into your throat - you try to bolt backwards, but his grip is firm, and your weak efforts to struggle only drive him deeper into you, the sounds escaping from your lips only spurring him on. “For all I care,” he hisses, “you could go the rest of your life without ever having that release again.“

At the last moment, he lets go of your hair, and as the back of your head scrapes the hard ground beneath you, his cum spurts across your face - before you have a moment to breathe, he’s flipped you onto your stomach. Your clothes are lying discarded somewhere nearby - he rips a strip of fabric from your shirt and ties it tightly around your wrists, securing them behind your back.

“You exist for me,” he murmurs, his voice so low that it sends a fresh shudder through your body. “Not for yourself. When you’re not serving me, your fragile little life is worth nothing at all. So…” He rises to his feet, and presses the sole of his foot into your back. “You’re going to wait here until I’m ready to use you again. I suggest you spend that time thinking about what you’ll say when I return.” He steps over you, the weight of his body pressing into your spine as his sole pushes away from your body, and he laughs again as you squeal in pain. “Such a pathetic little creature. You’re lucky that I’ve found such a good use for you. Maybe I’ll even fuck you next time, if I like the way you beg.”

He retreats into the shadows, leaving you face-down, face ruined, still squirming, thighs clenching around nothing, your entire body still burning with desire. You’ll be good for him when he returns. He says that you exist for him…. and after this, you have no choice but to believe it.

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #jjk x you #sukuna x you #jjk #gojo satoru #geto suguru #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen

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such-a-fellow · 1 year

Text

Testing more illumination-style drawing with this!

—

Yde et Olive is a french narrative poem written in the thirteenth century. It’s a section of a larger cycle of poems that are sequels to the legend of Huon de Bordeaux, and may have been an adaptation of the myth of Iphis and Ianthe, though that isn’t known for certain. It hasn’t been studied much in English, but there’s a great translation by Mounawar Abbouchi here, along with analysis and in-depth translation discussion! It tells the story of Yde, the daughter of a king who disguises herself as a man to escape from her father and becomes a renowned knight before gaining the favor of a king and marrying his daughter, Olive. In a very unusual twist for this type of story, when Yde confesses the secret of her identity to Olive, Olive brushes her concerns off and vows that they will be happily married regardless of Yde’s biological gender. Like in the story of Iphis and Ianthe, their secret is found out and Yde is transformed into a man by divine intervention before he can be prosecuted for his transgression of gender.

it’s not an unusual story in itself (a young woman disguising herself as a man, doing brave deeds, and being transformed into a man so she can marry a woman in love with her is a familiar formula!), but its handling of Yde’s gender is striking, both in Olive’s blithe acceptance and in the combination of feminine and masculine language used to refer to Yde throughout. Stories of same-sex romance that end in transformations like this are often written off as heteronormative and of-their-time, and while obviously that’s a necessary lens to apply given the religious and social context Yde et Olive was written in, I don’t think that’s the end-all-be-all of what this story can be. The transformation allows this, a story from the 1200s, to contain both a sympathetically portrayed story of sapphic romance and a wonderful, nuanced tale of a transmasculine character who grows into himself through the story. Yes, this is applying a modern lens to it; we don’t know what the author of Yde et Olive intended when they wrote it and these aren’t terms they would have had or used. But regardless, in a time when being trans is day-to-day becoming more and more difficult in many parts of the world, I think it’s comforting to find glimpses of joy in stories from the past.

#yde et olive #literature #artists on tumblr #queer literature #leigh art tag

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ranoutofficssoiwritemyown · 7 days

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Rindou x Reader

wc: 1200

angst, fluff

not edited

Rindou loves you. You know he does, but he has this annoying habit of not listening to you sometimes. Especially when it comes to recommendations. You recommend him food? Yeah, he'll try it. spoiler alert: he forgets. what about a movie you watched the other day and liked so much that you told him to watch it immediately? "Yeah, when I have time I will" is his answer. However, he'll only watch it if someone else recommends it too not even remembering you mentioning anything about it. And then he has the nerve to tell you all about it while you listen to him unimpressed. Sometimes it makes you feel like your opinion matters very little to him but you've never told him this. Part of you doesn't want to seem like an insecure girlfriend while the other part thinks there is no deep meaning to this.

This war in your mind ended when you entered your bedroom after having a bad day and saw Rindou sitting on the bed leaning his back on the headboard and "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest" in his hands. You remember telling him how you cried reading it. However, you're surprised he's reading what you recommended. sensing your presence Rindou removed his glasses and looked at you.

"Tired?"

"Exhausted" you sit beside him "Do you like it?" you ask indicating the book.

He shrugs

"I've only read 20 pages yet. But Kakucho said it's really good"

You roll your eyes. thinking that you should've seen this coming you mumble "Of course he did" which wasn't as quiet as you expected because Rindou turned to you with a confused hum. You just shake your head as in "nothing" and try to get up but Rindou grips your arm and makes you sit back down. You sigh not having enough energy to deal with this.

"What is it?"

"Are you mad at me?"

"Should I be?"

He closed the book setting it aside as he turned to me with narrowed his eyes as if sensing the trap.

"I... don't know. What did I do?"

"It's nothing Rindou, let me go"

Your words had the opposite effect as his grip tightened.

"That's not my name" His voice got low

"Uh it actually is"

"Not for you. Did I fuck up that badly?"

Now that you think about it no he didn't. It's probably you who's overreacting and creating a problem over nothing. You sound ridiculous even to you and you hate yourself.

"It's really nothing. I've just had a bad day so... I just wanna sleep"

After a moment of hesitation, Rindou let you go, his eyes following as you got changed and got in bed turning your back to him. As you lay in bed your overthinking got worse. The fact that he doesn't know what he's doing affects you this badly means that he's not doing it on purpose. But that's even worse. Does that mean that he doesn't even value your opinion enough to think about how neglecting it would affect you? Maybe he thinks you don't care about it so he doesn't too. Or maybe he just forgets. This also means he doesn't care. Every version you think about leads to you thinking he doesn't care and that feels really shitty.

On the other hand, Rindou was watching you lying silently with your back to him and he knew then he definitely did something wrong. You get in bed and do not snuggle up to him planting your head in his neck? Yes, something is terribly wrong.

"C'mon love, tell me what's wrong" he snaked his arm around your waist, and turns out this is all it took for your tears to run free. You bite your lip to stop it from trembling feeling so stupid for crying over something so trivial.

"And don't you dare to say it's nothing bec- are you crying?"

Rindou could swear he heard his heart crash. He turned you around to face him. tucking your hair behind your ear he quickly wiped your tears.

"Hey, don't cry, i- I'm sorry okay? Whatever I did, I didn't mean it just don't cry"

Even though he thought, and has told you this plenty of times, that you looked pretty when you cried, he hated when you cried. Even more, when he was the reason behind those tears.

"Talk to me please?"

Looking anywhere but at him, you opened your mouth to speak.

"It's really stupid"

"So stupid that you're crying over it? I don't care, tell me."

You don't want to.

"It's just... sometimes you don't listen to me"

Rindou was confused. You sound so crazy to him right now. He doesn't listen to you? You have him wrapped around your finger. Your word is a fucking law to him and you have the nerve to say that he doesn't listen to you? He only listens to you.

"What do you mean?"

"Everything I suggest you just forget until someone else suggests the same thing. Like-" You sniffle between speech "Like this book. You're reading it because Kakucho told you, but I told you to read it weeks ago"

The more you talk the more you want to shut up. Dreading seeing Rindou's expression you focus on your hands.

"It feels like you don't care about my opinion. It's so stupid I know..."

"I don- What?" Rindou couldn't help but exclaim. His mind processing thousands of thoughts right now. You think he doesn't care? How long have you been feeling like this? And you didn't tell him? Is there anything else you're not telling him because it's so "stupid"? "Listen, love, I'm so sorry, I didn't know- Of course, I care, Who do you think I listen to if not you? Ran? Fucker used to think Julius Caeser was named after the salad."

That made you chuckle and it was like a rainbow after the storm for Rindou. A sound he never wants to stop hearing. smiling at you he continued.

"I do listen to you okay? I remember every little detail you tell me. Starting with the shows you watch to the drama going on at your work. By the way, Rika got what she deserved, she was being the bitch first."

"That's what I'm saying" You exclaim and Rindou was so happy he could see you smiling again.

"I don't want you to doubt your value in my life okay? You're the best thing ever happened to me and I'd be a dumbass if I didn't appreciate you. And don't ever try to hide things from me again. No matter how stupid you think it is. Nothing is stupid to me when it comes to you. So no more tears, alright?"

You nod scooting closer.

"alright"

Rindou wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you against his chest, kissing the crown of your head.

"By the way, I started reading this book because you suggested it. Kakuchou saw it in my car when I bought it and told me it was good"

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Sleep now"

"Goodnight"

"Goodnight, love"

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

got the idea from modern family's one episode

might delete this one too later, not sure. just felt like sharing

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #rindou haitani #rindou x reader #rindou haitani x reader #haitani brothers #haitani x reader #tokyo revengers rindou

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brainlessrot · 1 year

Text

Penguin Pebbling

Involves collecting and giving small objects, like pebbles, as gifts to people you care about.

because i do penguin pebbling very often and i wanted to indulge myself a lil bit 🤭

also sorry for disapearing for like... 5 months!!! requests are now open again <3

Characters ;; All of the students (grim included)

Contents ;; could be seen as either platonic or romantic (except ortho's and grim's!), GN!reader, no beta read‼️around 1200 words total, 50~ words per character

Riddle ;; i think he would see it as weird and although he would keep it he doesn't think it to be sentimental, for him its just some random rock you randomly gave him, may give you some trinkets (no rocks :( ) as payback (prolly roses or rose themed stuff)

Trey ;; he wouldn't understand why you chose to give him a... rock? probably put it in some drawer in his room and forgot about it unless you explain why

Cater ;; doesn't understand but will keep the rock in his bedside table, may understand that its a sentimental gift from you and if its pretty enough he will post a pic of it!!!

Ace ;; throws it away. Nah but hes similar to trey, confused abt why would you give him?? a rock you found somewhere on the floor?? would prolly make fun of you if you told him why (but the way his face lowkey matches his hair is proof that hes gettin flustered)

Deuce ;; HE GETS YOU!!! will absolubtely cherish the lil rock AND give you some in return, you two may start a rock gifting competition to see which one of you gives the prettiest one to the other

Leona ;; "...what is this". will throw it away (this time fr) unless you specifically tell him its a sentimental gift, then he will throw it in a drawer and forgets abt it (man does NOT care abt a rock sorry :/) but if you are especially close to him and the rock is pretty he may send it back to his brother for it to be made into some jewelry... but DO NOT mention it if he wears it

Ruggie ;; if its pretty enough he will display it in his room, if not, he still puts it carefully in a box with other trinkets, may also find you one for yourself (my man gets it!!) and may even give you some dandelions he was saving for a quick snack if he finds you while out (doing Leona's work) walking

Jack ;; super confused but lowkey touched, will put it with his (many) cactai, if you do it multiple times, he will start giving you some he found on a run that he thought you would like

Azul ;; if he likes you hes giggling and kicking his feet, will put it in his desk at the VIP room, no matter if its just a broken brick or a cute crystal you found, the tweels make fun of him for this

Jade ;; probably has gifted you some by himself that he found on his lil mountain treks, may put whatever you give him in one of his terrariums as decor

Floyd ;; loves it a normal (crazy) amount, cherishes the rock SO much, probably gives it a small hat and face and brings it around the school, will loose it and demand you find another one for him... he might throw it at you to get your attention

Kalim ;; definition of !!!!YIPPIEEE!!! puts it on his bedside table and stares at it while giggling before going to sleep, beware, you will find boxes of gemstones (not the cheap ones!!!) in front of your room at any moment now

Jamil ;; may try to hide it but he finds it cute, covers his face before accepting the rock, leaves it on his desk for when he goes back to his room to give him a small boost in mood, doesn't reciprocate the rock giving but isn't against receiving more from you

Vil ;; what. what the hell is this. unless its throughly clean and has some interesting colors/design/it's pretty he will throw it away woops, doesn't understand the appeal but if youre sad he threw it away hell ask you for "the prettiest rock for him, the prettiest person you've seen"

Rook ;; now youre inexplicably finding rocks EVERYWHERE, your pillow is lumpy? rock! you wanted cereals for breakfast? filled with rocks! went to put on your socks? why is there a rock?! he may even throw them at you from afar!! (believe him he didn't actually think it through he just wanted to surprise you)

Epel ;; kinda gets you!! may not reciprocate the rock giving at first (he prefers personally carving you some apples as a gift) but will if you explain to him the sentimentality behind it!! will save any rock you give him and maybe even send one back to his meemaw if he deems it cool enough

Idia ;; Doesn't really?? get it at first?? but when he was (forced to be) outside he saw a cool rock on the sidewalk and went "oh hey they would like this one!... Oh damn." a light bulb went off of his head at that moment, he wont really give you any rock bc he simply doesn't go outside, but will put the rocks you give him between his idol merch and figurines

Ortho ;; the epitome of just there for the vibes, doesn't understand jackshit of why youre doing it but if youre happy he's happy!! will test the rocks to see what compound or kind they are and tell you funfacts about them

Malleus ;; OH LORDDDDD hes kneeling down and holding his chest the moment you open up your hand and present him with the rock, A GIFT??? FOR HIM?? FROM YOUUU???? hes a very shinnies boy so be prepared to find anything gold anywhere in your dorm/room, he actually gets you from the start and is so happy, like straight up giddy, cackling in his room as he makes a small altar for the rock (half joking)

Lillia ;; also very giggly and understands the act of gifting rocks as a show of friendship (or more) will also leave small trinkets on your way (some of them are hundreds of years old... be careful)

Silver ;; hes used to small animals also giving him offerings and trinkets, so he understands the sentimentality behind the little rock, will also give you some shinny stone he found while resting in the forest, look it has the shape of a chipmunk!!

Sebek ;; he doesn't understand, he doesn't care. nah but seriously he really doesn't get why even if you explain it to him, no "it reminded me of you", "i though you would like it", "its pretty tho!!"s will make him understand, but please do ignore how close he set it to his Malleus' altar

Grim ;; acts like he doesn't want it and might even throw it away in your face, but the moment you turn around hes running back and searching desperately for it, he wont ask for any but if you give him more he aint complaining, hes like the

+"do you like it?

-"no"

+"then ill take it"

-"BACK OFF, NO WAY!"

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sirfrogsworth · 1 year

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Help Save the FrogFamily Home

This community I’ve built has been so incredibly generous to me over the years. Part of me feels I don’t deserve to ask for another thing. But I am facing desperation and I don’t know what else to do.

I’ve had a rough couple of years. First, my beloved corgi, Otis, passed away. Then my mom’s health took a turn. I had to take care of her all on my own. And eventually, COVID took her from me. Then my dad’s body began to fail him. I had to be his full-time caretaker. I had to watch his body and mind slowly deteriorate until he finally passed away in March.

I wish I could just take some time to mourn my parents and heal my soul…

But life decided against that.

We tried to make plans so that I would be taken care of after my father’s death. That I would be able to stay in our family home for as long as I desired. But those plans are falling apart at the moment.

Lawyers and probate and debt collectors, oh my.

There is a chance we can get everything sorted, but all indicators show that it could take a while before that happens. Possibly a long while. And my disability payments aren’t even enough to cover the mortgage–much less all the other bills and expenses.

I need to buy time.

Literally.

I need to extend my financial runway long enough to get things sorted. The longer that runway, the better the chances are I can figure all of this out.

I need time to sell all of my parents’ valuable belongings. I need time to fix up our very large separated garage so I can rent it out as a workshop or storage. I need time to fix up the house so it is suitable for a roommate. And I need time to work with social security so I can possibly find financial independence for life.

Unfortunately, without that time, I could face homelessness. I’m sure I could find a place to stay for a while, but I would lose the only home I’ve ever known. The home my mom and dad spent a lifetime fixing up and perfecting. The place in this world I feel most safe and comfortable.

I’ve already lost so much recently. I’m not sure I could bear losing my home as well.

If I lost my home I’d probably have to live on couches for up to two years until government housing was available. And then I’d have to spend the rest of my days in a small single room apartment. I know there are people who would feel lucky to have that, but I’d really prefer to stay in my house if possible. And I don’t think anyone would blame me for wanting that. Especially when all I need to make that happen is a little time.

So I am asking all of you to help buy me some time.

Every $1200 equals another month I have to sort things out. I honestly don’t know how much time I need. I would hope 3 to 6 months would be enough. But the wheels of bureaucracy can move frustratingly slow. So the more time I have, the better the chances are I can save my home and secure my livelihood.

Thank you so much for reading this.

Check out the GoFundMe page here.

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caliblorn · 2 months

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I promised to make this post months ago and completely forgot about it until the last few days (a classic!), so here I am now. Making it. And with silly art included. Yay!

As many of you know, Mannimarco and Vanus Galerion in Elder Scrolls Online are portrayed as 2E contemporaries who mirror each other journeys to leaders, out of the Psijic Order and into their own groups. ESO makes it clear that they're meant to be similar in age as well, and it does so both by de-aging Mannimarco's model for the "Half-Forming Understandings" quest, and by making it say by Vanus himself in Artaeum Lost.

BUT! If you have played Morrowind or Oblivion, you might already be familiar with Where were you when the Dragon Broke?, an account of different people's experiences during the Middle Dawn, the 1E Dragon Break. And oh! Look who it is.

(notice also he says God, not King) The Middle Dawn happened between 1E 1200 and 1E 2208. Time fuckeries as much as you want, but nonetheless, 1E ends in 2920, and we know FOR SURE that Vanus was born the first years of 2E and that he joined the Psijics as a 11 yo. So, even if we took into consideration ONLY the latest period of the Middle Dawn, Mannimarco would have been a... 700+ years old novice when he met Vanus. Very funny to think about, but an old mer having an intellectual rivalry with a teenager doesn't really scream "brilliant" to me.

I'd say the retconning of his age is also supported by Worm Saga, were he doesn't mention at all his period in the Maruhkati and makes it sound like he was either born or taken to Artaeum at a very young age.

Plus, both in Worm Saga and in the Vault's flashbacks and in every other source ever (WRITTEN FOR ESO. AHEM.) we see that his "discovery" of necromancy happened on Artaeum. Like, it's screamed into our ears a couple of times or more in the game itself.

The problem with all of this? The book that implies he lived through the Middle Dawn is still present in ESO.

Which is to me one little example of a bigger issue with ESO writers rewriting/retconning things without taking away/trying to somewhat link the original sources. But I digress, there are different ways to make this work but since some are too complicated to be discussed now, I'll just share with you what I usually go with;

Mannimarco is a great liar. Not only a liar, a politician. A sales man. A guru. He knows how to give himself prestige. What "Where were you when the dragon broke?" is to me is either fake accounts fabricated by the Cult themselves, or stolen accounts (probably from Artaeum's archives!) where his false experience was added and then sent around Tamriel.

If I had to make a TIMELINE for all the pieces cited, I would say the publication order would be "Where were you when the dragon broke" (used as propaganda by the Cult to make Mannimarco's figure important)-> "Artaeum Lost" (disproves what was fabricated about Mannimarco)-> "Worm Saga" (new attempt to give himself prestige with that "aldmer, scion of et'Ada").

#mannimarco #king of worms #god of worms #artaeum lost #where were you when the dragon broke #worm saga #eso #tes #im sweating #feel free to add stuff. There are other sources to cite but i think these are enough to make my point #tesblr #doodles #by the way fuck you Kirkbride this is your fault

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kiaxet · 1 year

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Sooooo y’all see the latest @somerandomdudelmao comic update? Because once again it is living in my head, which means once again my brain has generated fic. This one’s ~1200 words and slightly less tragic, depending on whether or not you take dramatic irony into account.

~~~~~~~

It starts fairly innocuously.

One of the surviving technicians monitors a computer as it finally, finally boots up successfully, whooping when the Genius Tech loading screen pops up. He grins and pats the power cable. "Thanks, Raph!"

It catches on.

A water purifier, disconnected to save a struggling power supply, gets plugged back in. It chugs back to life, and the kids responsible for its upkeep cheer and high five. One of them waves at the ceiling, where a power conduit runs overhead. "Thanks, Mister Raph!"

And it spreads like wildfire.

Every time something works the way it's supposed to - every time a much-needed device pops back to life, or the emergency doors close correctly, or a dying lightbulb flickers on one more time - they thank Raph. In gleeful shouts and careful whispers, they show gratitude for the person who gave up his life - and his second chance at life, at that - to keep them safe. It makes the emergency base, ramshackle and barely held together as it is, feel a little more like a home. A little more alive.

It doesn't take long for a few unspoken rules to develop.

They never say it in front of the metal shell. It's one thing to say it to the walls, the cables, the electricity; it's something else to say it to a figure with a face, seated against the wall like a sentinel that will awaken and protect them when danger arises.

(Nevermind that they've been in danger, constant and unending, for decades, and that this sentinel is already protecting them in smaller, everyday ways.)

They learn very quickly never to say it in front of Raph's surviving family, either. Master Leonardo gets angry when he hears it. It's an anger born of grief and loss, painful but not dangerous to allies, but given how terrifying Master Leonardo can be on the battlefield or a bad day, nobody really wants that anger directed at them. Master Michaelangelo just stops when he hears it, lips curling up in an expression too devoid of life to truly be called a smile. It's almost worse to witness than Master Leonardo's anger. No, they learn to watch themselves in front of the family, carefully taking their gratitude towards a dead man elsewhere.

Until the day someone forgets and says it in front of Casey Junior.

The kid looks up at Roger with wide, almost hopeful eyes. "Why did you- is he here? Can you feel him?"

Roger stares back at him with equally wide eyes. He'd just been grateful the computer had booted correctly for his monitor shift, and he hadn't been looking, and now he has to try to explain this to a kid who's never known a life outside the apocalypse. Oh boy. "No, uh- I mean- I don't have magic like your dads do, Casey, I couldn't-" He sighs. "It's just...a thing people do, when things work. Before the Krang, we had all sorts of machines that made life easier, and...we'd talk to 'em. Thank 'em when they worked, yell or beg when they didn't...I remember threatening a fax machine once, not that that made any difference. I think that just...kinda carried over here." Wait. "Not that your uncle was a machine or anything-"

"His body was a machine," Casey says simply, with a pragmatism that Roger hadn't been expecting. Apocalypse-raised kid. Right. "That wasn't what made him Uncle Raph. He was- it's-" Casey falters, expression starting to crumble. Pragmatism be damned, the kid is still grieving-

Rem, just coming off her shift, steps in smoothly. It's not the first time she's saved Roger's ass, both on and off the battlefield, and it won't be the last. "We know," she says gently, putting an arm around Casey's shoulders. "What Roger means is that we're grateful he's keeping us going, and that people like to bond with machines even when they're too simple to bond back. We all used to name our cars - can you believe it?"

"I named mine Red Rider," Roger says wistfully. He still misses that car.

"And I used to sneak out of the Hidden City with my cloaking brooch and go joyriding outside of human cities," Rem says, a grin splitting her feline muzzle. "I named every car I stole Phantom, like I thought I was cool."

Casey smiles - small and watery, but there nonetheless - and Roger breathes a sigh of relief. "What else did you name?"

"I mean, it was mostly cars, but some people named their computers."

"I had a friend who named her phone and just kept adding numbers when she had to replace it. It was Duchess O'Brien the eighth last I'd heard."

"I know some Yokai named their weapons, but I never really kept track of those. It was more of a Battle Nexus fandom thing."

Another Yokai leans in - a four eyed lizard whose name Roger could never remember no matter how hard he tried - and Roger shuts up. She's in charge of security now, and honestly she intimidates him. She looks around - at him, at Rem, at Casey - and then intones seriously, "I once named a kitchen appliance Toasty McToastFace."

There's a beat of silence. Casey has a lopsided grin growing on his face, like he doesn't get the joke but he knows it is one, and that's enough to lift his mood.

And then Rem doubles over, cracking up, and Bob smiles carefully. "Really loved that toaster, huh?"

"It was my closest friend," the lizard Yokai replies, deadpan as hell, before leaving the conversation.

Casey turns that confused grin on Roger. "Was she serious?"

"Kid, I have no idea. Some people are just really into this kinda thing."

Rem finally straightens up, wiping a tear from her eye with a paw. "Ohhhh boy. Oh, I needed that." She turns her smile back on Casey. "Point being, naming something makes it a little more real, and makes you a little more likely to take care of it. The system here...already has a name. We're just saying thank you, you know?"

The grin on Casey's face settles down into consideration. "Yeah, I think I do. I- Thanks. I'm gonna-" He waves at the door to finish his sentence.

"Go for it, kid." Roger waves him off as he departs, then sighs once he's gone. "God, that kid is just hemmhorraging family, isn't he."

"We all are, Roger, it's the fucking apocalypse." Rem flicks an ear.

"Yeah, but still. It's rough." There's a second or two of silence. "Also, if he says it in front of Master Leonardo, I'm denying all knowledge of this conversation."

"Spirits, same."

Roger learns a few days later - from Rem, of course - that Casey has named his chainsaw hockey stick Killer, because it's what his mom used to call him. Well damn, if kids like him are gonna be the future, then maybe they have some hope after all. He raps on a wall lightly, just below where the power conduit is mounted. "I know you didn't have a lot of time with the kid, but you did a good job." He can't help but smile. "Thanks, Raph."

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt casey jr #rottmnt raphael #if you squint #cass apocalyptic series #somerandomdudelmao #writing #fic #no gods no betas we die like RAPH APPARENTLY GOOD GODDAMN #I've been in IT for a decade #and there's something to be said for the human propensity to name machines #and other objects of personal value and use #and talk to them like they're capable of listening and responding #no way that died in the apocalypse #I have never named my phone #all of my computers have been named after musical terms #and my cars have been Chupathingy and Puma respectively #because some fandoms never fucking die #there's another story here I didn't write #about how some places seem to develop a personality and a presence all on their own #and how this makeshift base is literally powered by someone else's life #and in a world of magic and monsters #how does that affect things if it does at all?#is it a haunting or a mystic residue or simply something that has power in the minds and hearts of its occupants?#I love this shit #by the way #Duchess O'Brien is not a reference #Red Rider definitely is though it's not referencing what you think #Toasty McToastFace is the obvious one

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