Happy belated birthday, early Christmas present my beloved, amazing, smut soul sister @sitp-recs. A toast to the soul I will dance the night away flinging our panties into the night! You truly inspire me, my amazing muse! May you receive all the kisses and love and smut you so truly deserve!
For those who are new, the obsession Liv and I have with the following troupes: semi-public smut, motorcycle smut, banter smut, hair pulling smut, lip biting smut…IFYKYK ;)
The dust hasn’t even settled, but there was a lull in between the action. Their fellow aurors were distracted enough after the arrests that Harry had the time to grab Draco and hide away in the darkness of the piss small alley where he had parked his bike several hours earlier. The stench didn’t last long, his senses overwhelmed by the rich musk of his partner, Draco blocking out everything but the heat between them. There was frenzied pushing and pulling, scratches that turned into bites and scrapes of teeth against skin. Even the cool muggy air of muggle London couldn’t make his skin shiver the way Draco’s fingers did. Harry’s ass slid up against the leather seat of his bike and he could feel the metal creak and moan. He muttered a stabilizing spell and vanished their robes in a single hurried breath
“Show off” Draco mutters as he hikes up Harry’s leg, pressing their heat together.
Harry grins, hissing as a stinging pull yanks his head back, his hair knotted in between vice like fingers. “Bet you can’t make me moan your name Ferret Face.”
Steel eyes narrow as Harry watches swollen lips hide behind sharp teeth, “That’s because I’ll have you screaming it, Potty.”
pretty boys in the different universes i have and not have lol
^ cannon design for roman (in a way, still not sure about it yet) and a little villain!virgil for my nonexistent soul :)
a random non-cannon roman design (human au ig?)
cheerleader!virgil my beloved!!
^ in this universe roman is the sort of “outcast” and virgil’s a cheerleader, i’m thinking remus would be a nerd, patton a jock, logan would be punk-like, and janus is the new kid
i’ll probably make a separate post of this au once i’m out of school (just one more week)
thinking about the dynamic between the self-made cynic and the bleeding heart
the self made cynic; created with bared teeth and bloodied knuckles. clawed their way out of hell and didn’t come out quite human. every thing about them is a carefully constructed persona - you can’t hurt someone who doesn’t exist, and they will never be hurt again. faithless through and through. the only savior they believe in is themselves.
the bleeding heart, on the other hand is fundamentally incapable of being anything other than themself. they love the way an open wound does. it’s hemorrhagic and contagious. faithful to a fault. they will jump without hesistation, though they’ll hit the ground consumed with guilt.
I haven’t been here in ages but I desperately need a place to rant right now. This is gonna be long, I’m sorry but I need to get this off my chest.
So, Bellamy Blake. This doesn’t make any fucking sense to me. Nothing about this entire season makes sense, but what happened in 7x13? That I just can’t get past. I genuinely can’t believe that the writers room thought that scene out, wrote it and then was like “yeah this is a good way to kill off the male lead who’s been with us since day one”. It makes zero sense that it is a thing that actually happened. I set the bar so low for them and stillthey manage to achieve a level of shitty, spiteful, senseless and absolutely horrible writing. And it’s not like I was convinced that Bellamy wasn’t gonna die, because deep down we all knew that in some way he was gonna leave us, and I would have been okay with that with time, but not even in my worst nightmares I expected this bullshit to happen on my screen. And I’m mad, I’m so mad right now because I never thought I would come to hate one of my favorite shows in the entire universe. It just doesn’t make sense to me, I still can’t wrap my mind around the fact that one of my fav characters is gone just like that, it completely clashes with everything that has happened and has been said in the past six seasons. He died in the worst way EVER, because I’ve never in my entire life witnessed such a horrendous death, killed by one of the people that meant most to him, a person he trusted, that he loved and took care of, and stood with, he died convinced all of his friends hated him, he died without any kind of redemption, without saying goodbye to his sister, he died on another planet, completely alone and abandoned by all of the people he considered his family. And the worst thing is that we saw nothing of him in season 7, he disappeared for most of it and when he got back they made sure he would be villainized, they isolated him and made everyone turn their backs on him without a second thought, without even trying to understand his point, his fears, his story. And then, 3 episodes after getting him back he’s brutally killed, just like that, over a book Clarke didn’t even get. And I know it’s more than just a book and that she wanted to protect Madi, and I absolutely don’t blame her for putting her daughter first, but that scene could have gone in like a thousand different ways, and still, she chose to shoot him, TO DEATH. She could have shot the disciples, and then him in the leg to get the book, I really don’t know, she could have done a million things to prevent literally killing one of the people she was closest with, and still she didn’t, and STILL she left that damn book there. This was just so fucking unnecessary and let me add, so out of character for her. I don’t care, the real Clarke would never ever do that, she couldn’t kill him to save the human race in s4, and I don’t believe for a minute that she would actually do that now, despite the betrayal she could be feeling over her best friend acting like that, she would never do that without thinking of another solution first. And that’s all on Jason’s spiteful ass, this is just a slap in the face of the fans who supported his show through the years no matter what. I knew he loved doing things just to spite us, just to make us feel bad and angry, but this is on another level. He literally killed off Bellamy, ruined one of the most beautiful and developed relationships ever and ruined his show in the matter of 10 seconds because he needed to make a stand and show that it’s his show so he can do whatever the fuck he wants. I still don’t get and will never get Jason’s need to cut Bellamy off like that, but what I know is that this horrible, dumb storyline they gave to the male lead is just because of his private matters with Bob, and that simply shows how disrespectful and unprofessional he is. I don’t give a fuck what their problem was, when you are on set, when you are working on your damn show, you put your differences aside, you try to make the best out of it, for you own sake, for the sake of the content you put out, you don’t just throw away an entire character, his development and his relationships because you are petty. That’s not how things work, but it’s exactly what jason did anyway, and for that I will never forgive him. He really managed to ruin his own show, everyone will literally remember the 100 for this, for his pettiness, for his constant need to bait and then let down the fans; looking back, despite all the fond memories I have of this show, my mind will always go there first. I’m just so ashamed, I feel so disappointed and so emotionally drained like “why did I spend so many years investing my energy in THIS?” and that’s the worst feeling ever in regards to a show, it just means that the story failed. I’ve never regretted watching anything before, even when things got bad and out of control, and now I just kinda wish I never put myself through this in the first place. I’m so sorry for what it has become, I’m so sorry for the cast who worked so hard for this last season to be a complete mess only because a childish, petty, ridiculous show runner made the dumbest decisions ever, turning his own product into a fucking joke of a show, solely to concentrate on a prequel project that’s not even assured to be picked up, solely to get revenge on his lead for who knows what fight they had in the past. But most of all, I’m so sorry for Bellamy Blake who deserved at least the chance to get his redemption arc, to work things out with his friends, to have them understand him, to reconcile with all the people he loved, to get a chance at happiness. He deserved so much better but he was left with nothing. As we are. And lastly I’m sorry for the fandom, we deserved so much better too.
Miko sure is feeling like she’s having a case of dijon mustard…
This is the latest drawing challenge on Twitter. Just draw your OC(s) wearing the Azu school uniform. I made an initial joke post with an older art of Miko and that’s what’s being referenced here.
Click the read-more to see a bonus sketch AND the original piece I was referencing~
Drew Yukina as a bonus because she’s actually the one bespectacled character in Raison to legit have the fogged up glasses look as one of her “simplified/silly” face designs (like Yomi)
And here’s the old art I did of Miko from her initial days when she was more Tomo-like:
(Brown is the only thing missing) So here we go, I was really itching to make a sans costume, cause whenever I play the game, I wanted to at least have a hoodie as a costume.
So here we go I decided to make a icon instead, you use this to your liking and pick within almost all of the colors, just do pls credit me. ;w;
in the dead of the night, often i think of missed opportunities. fantasies that could have been moments turned memories. a split second of doubt that erased a friendship, lost touch with a darling one, now a stranger and nothing more. if only i danced with fire, talks beneath the setting sun, silent walks with the words of the dead, our omission to companionship, and camaraderie, and love so severe, would appear apparent in sunken eyes. if only i leapt without thinking, for once, i could’ve known the secrets of the universe and be with a person that finally, only understood me.
Clark, to his knowledge, had never genuinely experienced silence, and part of him hoped that he never would. The absence of sound seemed impossible to him, more of a concept than something everyone around him had heard multiple times in their lives and actually seemed to enjoy. As long as he could remember, his ears and his head had always been full of noise, a million little sounds all blending together, canceling each other out and building each other up in an ever-shifting rush of white noise. It played underneath his thoughts and was present even in his dreams, a constant force that felt utterly untamable to a small boy of unknown origins.
Clark, at first, thought that everyone could hear the world inside their head and had simply learned how to tune it out, or at the very least learn to ignore when the sounds were so loud you couldn’t even hear yourself talk. That was why he had been such a quiet kid, and that was why his dad always had to call his name twice, and that was why his mom always caught his attention with a tap on his shoulder instead of her voice - it might have seemed like Clark was deaf to the world, but he was the exact opposite.
Clark, as he soon figured out, could hear everything… and he wasn’t sure if he liked it.
His mom had always known that he was different, but up until he was four years old, had never quite known how. He had simply been a hardy little toddler who cried at loud noises and occasionally struggled to breathe, startled at nothing, and absolutely hated being held by strangers. Martha would never have said that he was necessarily difficult to look after, though understanding her son became quite a bit easier once she understood that he could hear far much more than she ever could. She knew he would only hear more as he got older, so Martha decided to teach him a game.
They sat on the porch steps overlooking the south field, and she would have Clark focus. ‘Pick out a sound, any sound, and tell me what it is. Then I will tell you if I can hear it.’ It quickly became clear that her son was no ordinary boy, considering that the first sound he plucked from the noise filling his head was the neighbor’s hens nearly half-a-mile away. The game carried on as such: Clark would describe something that he could hear, like a mouse in the grass, the clouds overhead, or an airplane so high up Martha couldn’t even see it, and she would in turn tell him if that was something everyone else could hear. Yes, she could hear the car on the highway. Yes, she could hear the birds in the trees. No, she could not hear the tv whirring even when it was off. No, she could not hear the water settling in the boiler’s pipes. No, she could not hear her own heartbeat and she could barely hear her own breathing. That surprised him to no end, because Clark could hear everyone’s heartbeat and breathing - Mom’s, Pa’s, even Hank’s, and especially his own.
Martha told him to focus, to narrow down what he heard to a single, manageable sound so that he could hear nothing else. Once he felt like he had it under control, he could pick another sound and focus on both of them, and so on and so forth. Keep it simple, keep it focused, and if it gets too hard, then block the rest of the sounds out and only hear what everyone around him could hear. Clark likened it to drawing a circle - anything louder then the ‘click’ of the coffee maker turning on when he was on the opposite side of the house from it was allowed inside the circle of things everyone could hear, and anything quieter than the grass rustling in the wind was not inside the circle was to be tuned out unless he wanted to hear it. High-pitched sounds often got into the circle (unless they were too high, and if they were too high they were painful so Clark tuned them out anyway), and low-pitched sounds were usually allowed into the circle if whatever was making them was less than a mile away. Very small noises, like bugs and water and electricity, almost never went in the circle, but very big ones like cars and wind always did.
Clark got very good at listening, or at least listening to what everyone around him could hear and just a little bit beyond that. Most days he could tune out sounds even in his sleep, unless it was a very bad day or thunderstorming upstate, during which he would have a bit of trouble and either resort to borrowing the foam earplugs out of his dad’s tool kit (not that they did much), or lay with his head on Hank’s chest and focus so that all he could hear was the dog’s heartbeat as he brushed his fur.
There was never a time where Clark couldn’t hear everything going on around him - the only difference he ever heard was whether he was focusing hard enough on a particular sound to tune everything else out.
When General Zod’s ship appeared in the sky and the message of his intent broadcasted to every device on the planet, everything in the farmhouse seemed to go silent. In reality, not much had changed, but the blackout had shut off anything using electricity and the ever-present pressure on Clark’s ears lightened slightly when all he could hear was the wind and a few nearby heartbeats - especially his own. That was the third-closest he ever got to experiencing silence.
The second-closest Clark had been two weeks earlier. It’d been an accident really - he had flown high enough to enter the thermosphere where there were hardly any air molecules for sound to travel through, and hadn’t noticed the difference until he realized that it took more focus to hear than it did to tune out.
The closest Clark ever got was less than a day later. That wasn’t an accident, just an unexpected side-effect of being exposed to the atmospherics he had been designed to survive in - sunlight stopped affecting him, and Clark… Clark stopped hearing his own heartbeat.
When the airlock on the small dropship opened and he was able to step out into the Black Zero, the first thing he felt was a firm breeze and minute tightening of his lungs as he breathed it in, but he quickly dismissed it as nerves. It wasn’t until the lack of sound became nigh on deafening that Clark finally noticed: with each step into the monolithic alien ship and towards an unknown fate, surrounded by potentially hostile soldiers who were threatening everyone he cared about, the familiar white noise that was always ringing in his ears had been gradually slipping away like water through a sieve. General Zod’s commanding voice as he addressed him was a thunderclap that he could not bury or soften with any other sounds, and heartbeats he was used to hearing even subconsciously in the back of his head seemed to have fallen silent - if he had not been able to hear his own, faint voice and his heavy lungs struggling to breathe, Clark might have thought himself deaf.
He was deaf. He couldn’t hear, could barely see, could taste nothing but blood rising in his mouth as he tried to swallow it back, and he realized with sudden conviction that the world he was so used to pressing in on his ears was no longer there. It was terrifying, suddenly losing something that had such a large and almost essential part of your life for as long as you could remember. Clark might have compared it to losing a limb and wondering if it would grow back, if it could come back, if it had ever been there at all…
He wasn’t deaf. He could hear Lois whispering his name, or maybe she was shouting it from afar, and he could hear himself groaning as he struggled to breathe, his lungs filling with blood instead of air as he collapsed to the cold floor. It was a stark and sudden shock to feel cold when Clark had always been so warm-blooded, but the surprise he felt at the change in temperature was nothing compared to the absence of sound and overwhelming presence of silence. He was not deaf, but he could not hear either, and he dimly realized that this must be what it is like for everyone else on the planet below - sound is a viable, tangible thing that you can only hold so much of inside your head, and some fate had decided that Clark should be able to hold more. Except now, of course, he could hardly hold anything in.
Clark, as he soon figured out just before falling unconscious, could hear absolutely nothing at all… and he wasn’t sure if he liked it.
