Aka - Tumblr Posts

; a very tired ( for multiple reasons ) queer over here 👋

I’m ace, aro and tired

Reblog if you are also LGBT+ and tired

…previous profession. Right. Anne fights back a grin at that by tonguing her cheek to mask the expression. Right and wrong, really. Right on the one because she has experienced the sort of mischaracterization Shadowheart means, but wrong because she experienced it in her current profession. She’s glad to see Shadowheart on the other side of that darkest part of her, but Anne’s shadiest character traits where still very much a part of her. One cannot rise from the ashes of their demise totally cleaned of soot, after all. Anne’s proud of her decisions, even if perhaps she hasn’t made the one Shadowheart thinks she has.

“…about that. I’ve a big favor to ask ye.”

She hasn’t recruited anyone to her cause. Not yet. It didn’t seem relevant until the city’s gates were on the horizon and she realized, too late, that Jack probably knows she’s alive. Just like she knows he is, and he’s in the city, and people seem to know about their little adventuring party.

“I…haven’t been entirely honest. About myself. My goals. And with…actual, world-ending problems my, ah…petty drama, if ye will, has felt so insignificant to. Everything and, frankly, everyone else. But it strikes me now that there might be a problem,” Anne says slowly, figuring the urge to emphasize each word, “that we have yet to prepare for.”

Anne tries and fails to keep her voice from rising in pitch.

“Have ye a moment to discuss that?”

@sharransepulchre forgot that only sith deal in absolutes. Continued from ✨ .

Anne actually snorts when Shadowheart, prickly and defensive, tries to cast aspersions onto her. Here all she’s said is the world isn’t as against the cleric as she thinks, simply is not in love with her, and her hackles have gone up! What in the hells is in the water these religious types drink? Anne levels a look that says you really should have seen this coming before she replies.

“Oh, the world’s fucking against me, have no doubt! Hates me. Made me what I am and rejects me, don’t matter a whit. I live on spite and audacity alone.” That’s at least mostly true. Anne shrugs and falls silent.

They share an inability to express vulnerability, but Anne’s found that to be standard in those who would take on a life of adventure. The burdened few, ignoring their burdens by facing the burdens of others. Anne’s known their type, her type, all her life. She’s been surrounded by them since birth.

“I only meant to say that the world hasn’t proved half so hostile to ye as ye act it does. Just ‘cause the world don’t love ye don’t mean it hates ye.”

Home Invasion (Centipede!Sans)

So, I’ve missed writing about centipede!sans, he needs some love… so he’s here to pursue it himself by coming straight to you >:) huehuehue

TW: Bugs, beginning includes a nightmare where reader is covered in bugs (the first italics section), and centipede!sans being creepy and grabby with you

———————————

Legs, crawling all over you.

You couldn’t move.

A myriad of insects were wandering over your body, tickling you with their antennae.

There were too many of them. The sound was deafening. You could feel one start to crawl over your neck. You’re going to be buried in the mountain of them.

Your eyes widen as they approach your face. Your chest tightens, your mouth opens-

“NooooOOOOO!”

You sit up, gasping for air, sweat soaking your pajamas, heart beating a mile a minute. You swallow your spit, eyes darting everywhere, looking for those phantom bugs. You’re in your bed, and it’s still dark out. You let yourself smile in relief, laughing nervously. It was just a nightmare.

You throw the blanket to the side and lay back down, the sweat evaporating along with the fear on your forehead.

Just a horrible nightmare. You tell yourself, shivering. I hated that.

You sighed, and closed your eyes. Just go back to sleep now, (Y/n).

… You think you were in the middle of drifting off, when you heard the distinct sound of scuttling.

You blinked your eyes open, scanning the room, though it sounded like it came from outside. You were confused- maybe you were having a half dream and the nightmare was just going to continue? That was a terrible thought, but you had a creeping feeling that it might’ve been real.

Just to be safe, you kept your eyes open and quietened your breathing as you listened.

…

…

…

There it was again. The scuttling. And it sounded like it was shuffling over the floor, before it went quiet again.

You could feel a weight settling in your stomach. It sounded like it was out in the living room.

You stood up from the bed and tip-toed over to your door. You turn the key slowly so it wouldn’t click too loudly and… open the door.

Of course there’s not a lot of windows in the living room. The door is only open a crack, and you could barely make out your kitchen and table. You hold your breath, expecting something to move in the dark, but… nothing.

You don’t think you’ll be able to sleep once you find out what it is- maybe a cat broke in somehow or something? So, taking a deep breath, you turn on the torch of your phone and step into the living room.

Everything looks way more horrifying in the darkness. Why? The lighting from your phone is certainly giving your room a haunted house feel to it, which was doing wonders for your nerves. everything you shone your light on looked too bright and shiny while everything else looked too dark and shadowy. At least… so far the kitchen was alright. One knocked over can of tuna isn’t something to lose sleep over.

You find your way to the lightswitch and flick it on. Maybe it’s because it’s night and you’ve still got nerves from the nightmare, but it looked like a shadow moved- however there was nothing there when you looked. Instead, you find what looked like a dust explosion, trailing from a corner of the room, and you pause when you see where it comes from.

You feel dread forming in your stomach as you approach your cracked floor boards, snapped in half and splinters around a hole where a floorboard was popped off completely. There were suspicious scratches on the floor that… don’t look entirely unfamiliar. You’ve been finding random scratches on the walls and floor recently, and you just chalked it up as accidents you hadn’t noticed. Now though… there was a lot of them congregated around the hole and, hesitantly, you took a peek down.

And your blood. Ran. Cold.

Down under your floorboards- where you didn’t expect to have so much empty space in the first place- was a piece of centipede molt.

But it wasn’t really a ‘piece’ of centipede molt, was it?

No. It was a boulder-sized centipede molt. White, and crumpled, and- you don’t even know how long it’s been sitting there, but there was dirt and a bit of dust on it so it must’ve been sitting there for a while. And that was just its molt, how big was the beast that left it there?

Shit.

Monsters from the wild almost never break into homes- they could be aggressive and terrifying but most were ‘shy’ of humans. But then again, news of monster and human scuffles weren’t unheard of.

I need to call monster services. You thought.

You thought hear a scuttle from behind you, but no giant centipede to be seen.

I need to call them RIGHT NOW.

How long has it been down there? Is it there right now? Please be under the floorboards.

As you sprint your way back towards the bedroom, you thought of the nights before. This wasn’t the first time you heard sounds in your house. They started about a week or more ago, and yeah, sounds in the dark weren’t comforting, they hadn’t seemed substantial enough to be anything. You’re not the girl that needed to sprint to get to her parents room when she heard a scary sound anymore. You chose to ignore it and went to sleep.

But now, with the molt… you remembered a lot of the sounds did resemble scuttling. You thought it was something creaking. Something flying into the windows.

… Or maybe it had been  exploring under your floorboards for god knows how long…

Oh fuck, you thought. Please go back down there.

You slip into your room…

And freeze.

There was no point in you trying to sneak back into your room, because as you stand there uselessly, a mountain of carapace, legs and bones was circling your bed, making his mark on the sheets, clicking his mandibles as he rose into the moonlight.

You inhaled so sharply it felt like you swallowed a thorn. You could feel your legs tense when the monster turned to look at you, and you rushed back out the door-

“Ack!!”

You fall to the floor and your phone tumbles out of your hand. You could feel something sharp wrapped around your ankle, just shy of impaling your skin. Your nails drag over the floor as you’re pulled into the room effortlessly. You scream and yelp as a storm of carapace and legs flood your vision. You feel the clawed ends grip and drag over your skin all over where you were exposed, leaving little welts all over your body. You gain your sight again when you’re lifted right into the middle of his twisting, endless body; his coils shifting and scuttling around as you’re settled into him.

He wasn’t squeezing- not too hard, at least. But you could feel your chest tighten and you struggled to breathe- you were panting and groaning like you couldn’t catch your breath.

You tried to wriggle but that only made him tighten around you more- you couldn’t move. His long centipede body had you circled up to your shoulders, the only part you could move was just your head. You could feel more of those centipede legs shift and move all the way down, tickling your feet and making goosebumps form all over you. When you look around you couldn’t even… see where he ended. His entire body had completely filled your room, spilling over the bed and stacking against the walls.

Your heart was beating in your ears as you looked up at the monster watching from above. He wasn’t entirely centipede, it appears: his upper half was skeletal from the waist up, and even then he was still bigger than you were. He had thick bones, resembling muscle, and his hands were clawed. Despite that, that wasn’t what struck the most fear into your heart- it was seeing his face.

His skeletal face was fearsome, large mandibles on the side of a wide smile full of razor sharp teeth accompanied by two abyss-dark eyesockets. One single glowing orb sat in his left socket, glowing with the intensity of a red star. Up from that socket was a skull fracture that left a hole in his head- just looking at it made you hurt to think about. He must’ve been through a lot of fearsome battles. In addition to his skull crack, one tooth was missing from his arsenal, and when you look everywhere on him there were minute scratches, indents, and cracks on his bone.

You see the end of his mighty body shift to the side, leaning against the door, shutting it close. Your phone lay uselessly on the floor, the screen turning off just as a leg crawls over it.

You feel a hot breath brush your face.

You turn your gaze back to your captor and feel your heart jump at how close he’s gotten. In the time it took for your frantic brain to take in the monster who has your life in his grasps, he’s leant in- possibly doing the same to you. Sweat beads on your forehead as he turns and leans around you, staying silent the whole time. His wide smile was eerie. It felt like he was a predator playing with his food with his sockets crinkling like that, and his legs digging into your flesh like it was aching to rip you apart.

You lean as far as you could as he approached. Goosebumps formed over your neck when he pushes his face into it. … You could feel him taking a deep sniff, followed by a deep, rumbly purr. You let out a surprised yelp when you feel claws trace over your scalp, leaving tingles where they went. The monster pulled back a little and turned to look at your hair, caught in his fingers, letting it slip between. His red orb dilated and refocused like a camera lens, picking the locks apart, looking at every individual hair strand like it was a mystery to him.

You couldn’t help but cough. His presence was overwhelming already. Everywhere you looked was his sprawling, crawling centipede body. The sound of his multitudinous legs filled the air with clicks, so much so that you couldn’t hear your own racing thoughts. Carapace rubbing and gripping onto you was distracting. And now, this close to his bony body, he smelled like iron, and musk, the air thick with his magic.

It sounded almost like he was laughing, and you noticed he was looking at you this time. Perhaps… sadistically enjoying how you couldn’t escape him, that his mere presence was crushing you (or perhaps it was his body tightening around you again.) He leant back.

It was odd. He tilts his head to the side and starts clicking his mandibles at you. You aren’t sure why, but the way he clicked them at you didn’t seem aggressive. You flinch as he twists around you, a couple of legs menacingly tapping over your clavicle, nearing your neck.

The imagery of being impaled by one of them enters your mind. You shudder.

It looked like he was waiting. Like… he was expecting you to say something.

“U-uhm,” You stutter. You inadvertently whimper as his claws trace down from your ear down to your jaw, tickling under your chin in a distinctly gentle… almost wanting way.

“H… hello?”

He clicks again in response, flexing his legs. You could feel your eyes getting heavy as you withheld frightened tears while he brushes your hair with his other hand.

“W-w… what do you want?” You squeak, a giant thumb brushing your cheek. “Do you…” gulp, “do you want to eat me..?”

He twitched, eyesockets widening, all movement halting. Was he… did he understand what you were saying?

All of a sudden, his great ribcage started to shudder, the quaking spreading to the rest of his long body.

“m… mheheheh…”

You grit your teeth as you’re shaken with his mighty, convulsing body, staring up helplessly at the monster. Was… was he… laughing…?

His sockets were crinkled, and he had one fist to his teeth, like he was trying to get ahold of himself. He shook his head, then extended a claw at you.

“... like…” He growled, the power of his voice rumbling in your chest. “like you…”

“L-like…? What do you-?”

You squealed as the entirety of his body starts moving again and those ticklish, frightening legs started crawling around you as the skeleton circles around you more tightly, nuzzling your face and trilling. He pauses on your left side and you freeze as his fingers crawl over from the back of your head to grip your right cheek. It felt like he was looking into your soul, his face mere inches from you. You freeze, breath hitched as a long, red, glowing tongue trails from your jaw up to your cheek.

He licked you. You could smell his breath- that blood scent, of prey having fallen to the beast’s teeth.

You couldn’t stop the frightened mewls as he fusses your face, sniffing you and shifting your body here and there, until you end up with your back against his ribcage and your head under his skull. His hands seal around your chest and stomach, and though in his turning and twisting you ended up moving out of his encircling coils, his lower half had its legs clamped around your legs, keeping you squished. against him.

You stiffened as he convulsed and squirmed, settling over the bed, having you placed on top of the rest of his carapace. Claws started tangling in your hair, as he seemed to obsess with it, feeling how silky it feels against his phalanges.

You quieted your breaths, rapid and shallow like a mouse, freezing when the monster purrs, rumbling against you. You huffed, pressing your lips together.

So. It looks like he isn’t going to eat you. But as the monster relaxes, a hand slipping under your shirt, mindlessly caressing it like… like a lover would, you think you have a very different problem at hand.

He lets out a satisfied sigh, the steam of air brushing your face, and you shake your head.

I guess I won’t be sleeping tonight…

“You have greatness within.”

Full | jisung ✓

pairing: fem!reader x jisung

warnings: nothing really just some degradation, praising, slapping and getting caught by poor seungmin LMAO

just a few moments ago you and Jisung where in the kit hen making dinner for the boys when he started feeling needy and started needing you boobs and ass. You were slowly getting hornier was he keep going. "Jisung stop the boys could walk in at any minute" you warned.

"I don't care let them walk in, I want them to see matter of a fact." He said smirking. You rolled you head back so it leaned on his shoulder while he started making his hand go downwards to your shorts.

He started rubbing you faster and faster until you were over it with the teasing. "Ji please fuck me." You begged. He took his hand put.of your pant and flipped you over to were you were facing him now.

He watched your boobs shake from the force of strength he turned you around. He smiled " god ill never get tired of your tits".you blushed. He started pulling down your pants, and getting down on his knees at the same time.

He started licking your clit, sucking and fingering you harder. You grabed his hair making him moan in your pussy. You covered your mouth in attempt to make it not sound as load.

"no baby let them hear." He said. You just closed your eyes and started shaking all over his tongue.

You had heard a slight noise coming from the entrance. Your head shaped towards the door, and all you found was a poor seungmin with his mouth wide open.

"CHANNIE"

"sungie, my poor baby"

I was having visions of Harvey receiving and accepting treatment for his mental health issues, and during such, Bruce decides to invite him to his manor for, IDK, a date or something.

So Harvey's just standing in the manor's lounge, waiting on Bruce, and a curious baby-Damian decides to interact.

Image description: Fanart of DC's Harvey Dent/Two-Face and Damian Wayne/Robin. Damian stands beside Harvey, looking up at him, tugging on his trousers like a seeking child typically would. Harvey stands with his hands in his pockets, staring down at him. There is dialogue for them. Damian asks: "Can I see your coin?" which is quickly cut off by Harvey replying "NO." Damian then asks if he can shoot Harvey's Tommy gun instead. Harvey replies: "Yes. Just don't tell your dad." End of image description.

drawin my weird dynamics part one

the quality on this one is appalling

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But also I’m just saying, Scott McCall did not smirk like a smug asshole at the twins after taking apart one’s motorcycle to lure the other into getting caught with their motorcycle in the school hallway just for ppl to act like this guy was new to Shenanigans. Like. That was a Scott-Allison-Isaac group project, Stiles was nowhere near it, I know its been 84 million years since then but the myth of Scott having no sense of humor or prankster energy of his own will always make me itch irritably.

I've been thinking about Munroe and wondering what about season 6 could have been different if her supernatural trauma was related to the nogitsune and the oni instead like in the hospital attack. I think it would be make her hatred of the pack a bit more compelling because they, especially Scott, actually did choose to save and protect Stiles regardless of the danger to other people and they could do something interesting with Scott and Stiles' guilt over it all. I also feel like it would be more believable for her to have supporters if they were other survivors who saw what they thought was the sheriff's son do something terrible and then have it completely covered up.

Do you think that's something that would have worked? How do you think it would have played out?

I think that your musings are inadvertently neglecting a very key part of Tamora Monroe's story. Unless I am mistaken (and feel free to correct me if I am) you're arguing that if her trauma had been directly connected to something the pack chose to do rather than something that they failed to stop, it would have made more of an impact. I agree that it would have certainly made her hostility toward the pack more personal.

However, I consider the fact that it wasn't due to a specific decision is vitally important dimension to her story. As usual, I'm going to preface my remarks by making it clear that Monroe is a villain, and my exploration of her motivations should not be taken as approval of her actions in any way.

To me, the central premise to Tamora Monroe's story isn't that she experienced trauma. A lot of people in the show experienced trauma and reacted to it in ways both good and bad. No, Monroe's fury arises from the way the main characters reacted to her trauma. She may have completely recovered from the damage the Beast did to her. She may have mourned the friends she lost on that school bus. What she can't accept is how unimportant the reaction made her seem. Something terrible happened to her but it was a side effect, a background detail to a trap made by a monster for others she saw as monsters.

In a bit of clever meta-narrative (with a bit of clear social commentary thrown in), Monroe existed as a minor victim, an extra designed, as T. S. Eliot put it, "to swell a scene or two." Her words to Corey in Said the Spider to the Fly (6x11) establish not only things about Corey's character but also hers.

Tamora: Look, I understand the need to keep up, to be recognized or noticed. Everybody feels invisible sometimes.

What Monroe went through wasn't given any importance. The bodies in the school bus were bait and afterwards, they were carted away never to be mentioned or dealt with again. If she hadn't survived, no one would have given her a second thought.

But she did survive, and even though she did, she still wasn't given enough importance -- enough value -- to be told what really happened to her. She figured it out on her own, and that is where her anger comes from. Her life didn't matter. That type of dismissal can be enraging, and she takes out that rage on those who she sees as acting that way in Raw Talent (6x12).

Monroe: I'm sorry. I should've told you. It's wolfsbane.

When I first heard that line, I was confused. Why would she say that to a werewolf she was hunting? However, it's clear on reflection that this line speaks directly to her motivation. Wolfsbane is dangerous to werewolves, so she should have told Brett that there was wolfsbane in the lacrosse ball, just as the Beast was dangerous to her, and she should have been told about the Beast. She is claiming an eye for an eye.

Her speech to the Sheriff in Werewolves of London (6x17) is also worth analyzing.

Monroe: Understand each other. Do you wanna know what I understand, Sheriff? Do you wanna know what I see in your little show and tell?

She speaks passionately because this is what should have happened way back after she survived the Beast. She should have been allowed to understand what was happening. She should have been listened to, but she didn't have any power. Only now, when she has power, are the people responsible willing to talk. She'll say that exact thing to Scott in After Images (6x13). Now that they're listening, she's going to do the talking.

Monroe: I see a sheriff unable to control the violence in his own county. A county he's sworn to protect. I see the same sheriff in way over his head. And not ready to believe the truth that's been staring him in the face for years.

It's clear that she thought she feels that people like the Sheriff were operating under false premises. They were supposed to keep the monsters away from people who couldn't protect themselves.

Monroe: I was told I was the victim of a wild animal attack. A bear. I was lied to. You lied to protect them over us.

The attack itself doesn't matter as much as the disregard. She was treated as a second-class citizen as opposed to monsters who can heal from stab wounds in a matter of minutes and grow claws and fangs at will. She was made to feel invisible, powerless, and unimportant.

Until she wasn't. Until she had enough power and enough followers to make them treat her differently.

So, what pushed her into become the woman who callously ordered Edgar the Werecoyote disposed of as trash? Well, she wouldn't be the first woman in Teen Wolf manipulated and used by a particularly selfish man to further his own ends.

Gerard: Someone who has been doing this a lot longer than you, but also someone who recognizes raw talent when he sees it.

Gerard had obviously been studying Monroe and figured out what I argue up above. It's not the wounds, it's the lies. It's the ignorance. Notice how many times during Season 6B Gerard emphasizes Monroe's importance or emphasizes how much she needs to learn, or emphasizes that this is what happens when the supernatural is unchecked. He's honed in on her psychology and uses her as a tactical advantage, one he's more than willing to discard once she's outlived her usefulness. Just as he did with Kate. Just as he did with Allison back in Season 2. It's the same thing -- take their feelings and twist them into action.

Monroe fit into Teen Wolf perfectly.

he lived. served cunt. died. got resurrected. served even more cunt

Later:

Oops

i just…….. i love the perfect court so much………….. except riko he can choke

AKA

Another commission I just wrapped up for Lar-zen, this time of his O.C. Aka.

Elizabeth B.

I wanan eat a beutron star

drew aki :3

my friend who's not into zeno tried to draw haru and aki for me and it's beautiful ❤️😇

i hope you guys have a happy august !!!!<3

here's aki and fuyu dancing