#’what no i just think it’s cool how he has huge wings and muscles’

[dirty-bear-rick-sanchez]

I know we all love to imagine Rick being a huge lovestruck simp for BP in the Flesh Curtains era but alternatively: completely clueless Rick who is still a huge lovestruck simp but doesn’t even realise what he’s feeling is a crush

Like he’s an emotionally constipated pansexual man raised in an extremely homophobic era falling in love for (probably) the first time since his wife was murdered, I bet he was repressing the hell out of those feelings for a long time

[tinartss]

some of tin's fav haikavetham fics (fic rec list!)🍓🍓

hello all i've always wanted to make a fic rec list and i feel like i've collected enough hkvh fics to make one now LOL most definitely i am forgetting to include a lot but here are a few of my faves!

notes:

check tags before reading👍

most if not all are sfw bc that is my vibe

sorted from least recent -> most recent

was gonna add little comments to each but i'm now realizing that would take up a huge amt of space so. just know that all of these changed the trajectory of my life. thank u fic authors for all u do🫶

then who? by heartslogos (T, 27k)

“Let me,” Kaveh would say with his eyes, his head, his hands. Let him what? Let him in, let him speak, let him stay, let him touch and see and listen — All of the above. Has it not always been so, the two of them like this, Kaveh and Al-Haitham? Kaveh: not quite asking, not quite taking. Al-Haitham: not quite answering, not quite offering. - Al-Haitham has been confined to bed-rest for a month. Kaveh assists. Al-Haitham recovers, they both do.

Asked and Answered by heartslogos (T, 55k)

It begins in the House of Daena, or at least, Kaveh thinks that that’s where it should begin. If one were to trace the flow of events backwards, it would lead to this moment. If Kaveh were Al-Haitham, he would insist on going further back. Further. Further. Further. All the way back, to the literal beginning of all of time and creation, possibly. But Kaveh’s brain only has enough room for so many creations at any given moment, and the works of others — while inspiring — historically don’t get students passing grades. Or even grades at all. When thinking about one’s relationship with their soulmate, it seems natural to think to a first meeting. A first introduction. Well. This can be said for any relationship. It all begins with that first brush — a name, given; a silhouette, glanced; a voice, heard.

the truest forms of love by heartslogos (T, 29k)

“Nahida said that the moment you touch the seeds is the moment you must stop speaking,” the Traveler says to him, standing between Al-Haitham and the door of the simple, small hut that is to become his and Kaveh’s for the foreseeable future. “Is there anything else you want to say?” The beak of the swan is foreign, cool and strange. Al-Haitham struggles not to flinch away from it as it slides along the side of his jaw, his cheek — imploring and fretful. One last and ineffective plea. Al-Haitham feels the warm weight of solid muscle around his neck, his shoulders — the fidget of wings, the beat of a heart. Al-Haitham’s fingers sink into soft feathers and the bones and muscles of a bird shift against his hands as he holds Kaveh close. What is there to say? Why bother to say something to someone who cannot say anything back? “Stand aside,” Al-Haitham says, slowly lowering Kaveh to the ground. “The sooner I begin, the sooner it ends.” - A story loosely based on the fairy tale of "The Six Swans".

house of cards by luminvies (T, 21k)

There is a scrap of parchment he'd created and abandoned all the way back when the two had been attending the Akademiya together. Sometime between then and the first month he has to move in with Al-Haitham, the list gets crossed out, scribbled over, crumpled up, carefully unfolded again, and revised. The working title for his tireless troubles: Ten Reasons You Cannot, Under Any Circumstances, Fall In Love With Al-Haitham.

…And how Kaveh falls anyway.

through the grapevine by katarasvevo (G, 3.8k)

Theories are passed around in the form of whispers: Professor Alhaitham probably said something that angered Professor Kaveh. Professor Kaveh, unable to let the insult slide, decided to take revenge by interrupting his precious class time. A prediction goes around that in less than ten seconds, Professor Alhaitham will proceed to offend Professor Kaveh even more with a tactless comment, which will lead to Professor Kaveh and Professor Alhaitham murdering each other. The whole class will walk out today without needing to write the test, having been traumatized by the tragic demise of the two professors. It is not a very pleasant line of thought, but it is sadly the only logical outcome.

In which everyone is convinced Professor Alhaitham and Professor Kaveh are sworn enemies, unaware that their relationship isn’t at all what it seems.

the kübler-ross model on romance by luminvies (T, 10.8k)

Kaveh smiles up at the stranger. "Sorry, he's right! I am taken. By him. But he doesn't know it yet." What. "Wait, what did you mean by that?" Al-Haitham asks faintly. "Oh, that?" Kaveh scoffs. "You're a little dense. Obviously, I meant exactly what I said. I wouldn't want to be kept by anybody but you." "But we are—" Al-Haitham trips over his words, trailing behind Kaveh as he walks purposefully through the city. "We aren't. Together. Neither of us has confirmed anything of the sort." Kaveh gives him a derisory look. "And what, we don't act like it? Some things don't have to be put into words to be understood. Ah, I forgot. Haravatat. You probably wouldn't accept anything else any other way." "It is not logical to make assumptions without empirical evidence." "You scholarly types," Kaveh mutters. "Always so particular."

So. Al-Haitham is in love with Kaveh. This has got to be somebody's fault.

Cue the five stages of grief.

The Fall by heartslogos (M, 131k)

In the third generation of Lord Sangemah Bays when all is but a dream, Lord Kusanali, from their divine seat in the Sanctuary of Surasthana stirs and reaches their hands to the sky. They arrange their fingers to capture a square of sky, humming and singing to themselves as they put the patch of star and moon and cloud through the divine calculus before they translate it into the tongues of men to be made knowable, and perhaps even understandable — and with great fortune, actionable. “Summon the court,” Lord Kusanali says, “The Third Face of God has spoken. Hear the Word through me and make your peace. For the God Kings only ever speak thrice on any given subject.” The court of Sumeru crowds the Sanctuary of Surasthana. “That which waits in the Palace of Alcazarzaray can only be absolved through a union of souls and an exchange of hearts, a lifelong journey that ends only in death.” Lord Kusanali translates. And then, beatific, “What you need is a wedding.”

set alight by celestialfics (T, 2.3k)

Since he was young, Alhaitham has followed a self-imposed, unspoken rule not to touch other people unless strictly necessary. Over the years, there have been two exceptions. One was his grandmother, whose side he would cling to as she read him books on the living room couch. She would pet his hair, and he’d lean into the touch, not unlike a kitten blissfully being groomed by its mother. The other exception was an Akademiya upperclassman named Kaveh.

transparent night by kurigohan_to_kamehameha (G, 9.4k)

“Sir, kindly do not obstruct us,” says the matra sharply. “We are in the midst of carrying out an arrest.” “An arrest?” repeats Kaveh, incredulously. “You’re arresting him? You’re arresting him? Why, what in Teyvat has he done?” The Archon Rescue Operation is going as smoothly as it possibly can — that is, until Kaveh returns prematurely from his desert trip, and runs into Alhaitham at the absolute worst possible moment. Of course he would.

this is what happens in the absence of small-talk by pencanze (T, 17k)

Haitham and Kaveh, whose travels are leading them in opposite directions, meet as strangers in a caravanserai—a travelers’ guest house. Because even opposite directions have a point of intersection or overlap, don’t they? Some might even call that point a headfirst collision. And another thing about opposite directions: they still run in parallel, even long after they’ve crossed.

trishna by kurigohan_to_kamehameha (T, 8.2k)

Down the seventh-floor passage in Vahumana, past the statue of the sage Zolfikar, and behind the third door from the left; inside a small, abandoned seminar room in the Sumeru Akademiya is a mirror cursed to show the viewer their heart’s deepest desire. Kaveh’s father smiles at him, slowly, so Kaveh can see it happen; the corners of his mouth quirk upwards and his eyes twinkle. He’s moving, alive. Kaveh hasn’t seen his father smile – not the expression itself, preserved in an old Kamera shot he kept in his sketchbook, but the very action of smiling – in almost ten years. An Alhaitham/Kaveh X Mirror of Erised AU

if they ask my gain from this world’s harvest by patchy (T, 16k)

In the silence that follows, Alhaitham seems to interpret the end of the conversation. He takes a step back into his bedroom and starts to shut the door. “I’ll pay you tomorrow,” Kaveh forces out, his voice cracking embarrassingly. The door pauses in its trajectory. Kaveh takes a deep breath. “But this is the last time,” he continues in a lower voice. “I’ll be out of your space by the end of the month.” Alhaitham pushes open the door.

The House, The Home, You and Me by sonotfine (G, 11.9k)

Alhaitham's books-hoarding situation continued to grow out of control. Kaveh magnanimously decided to offer to build a new house for him, with enough space for his ego and the books too. This was fine by Alhaitham. And, of course, he wanted it to be a house for two. -- On moving out of the old, moving on to the new, and moving forward together.

what it means to point true by luminvies (T, 9.8k)

It is biologically impossible for a man to replicate technological functions. As much as Kaveh (and colleagues) like calling Al-Haitham an index of niche and generally insignificant information on legs, he will never quite live up to the title. Here's a novel one: people must have taken to thinking of him as a human compass because they always seem to come to him when they're looking for Kaveh.

is that what I look like? by kurigohan_to_kamehameha (T, 3,8k)

Alhaitham grows a beard. Why? Who knows.

Three or Four (Or Possibly Five) Easy Steps to Living Harmoniously With Your Roommate by Bgtea (T, 28.7k)

The truth of the matter is, Kaveh has no idea how to read Alhaitham. He prides himself on being an expert at understanding people, his empathetic heart lending him the capacity to relate deeply with those around him (oftentimes to his detriment). But with Alhaitham, there is nothing for him to read; no clues from his cool expression for him to grasp. The man appears stoic all the time even during their petty bickering. Honestly, when was the last time Kaveh has seen the man do anything except smirk or frown? Does Alhaitham feel happiness? Has he ever seen the man laugh? Kaveh's mind is drawing a blank on the latter and it...bothers him deeply. -- Kaveh devises a plan to get Alhaitham to smile by being aggressively nice to the man (and also maybe if he makes Alhaitham happy, he can score a discount on his rent or something). Alhaitham thinks Kaveh ate some mind-altering mushrooms and is, understandably, confused and mildly afraid.

in weal and in woe by kurigohan_to_kamehameha (G, 26.7k)

“Oh, right – Alhaitham.” Kaveh claps a hand to his forehead. “Cyno, if you see him at the Akademiya tomorrow, don’t mention this to him, would you? I haven’t told him yet.”

“Told him?” Cyno asks slowly, a wary glint in his eye. “What exactly haven’t you told him?” “That I’m getting married,” Kaveh grimaces. “I wanted to tell him myself – I suppose I do want him at the wedding after all, you know – but I didn’t get a chance yet. You know what it’s like, trying to have a conversation with him.” It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. Kaveh is a single man. That's about it, really. or: the one in which Kaveh gets married, but not to whom you think.

the hypothetical shore by heartslogos (T, 10k)

When Al-Haitham was still a student in the Akademiya he wore his hair long. As long as Kaveh’s is now, perhaps a little longer than that, even. But unlike Kaveh's, Al-Haitham’s hair was just as quiet as he was, just as cool — like a stream of silver water, fresh from the mountain pass. To this day Kaveh remembers the exact moment he thought he might be falling in love with Al-Haitham and that, perhaps, it might not be such a terrible thing.

de insomniis by liyuen (M, 32k)

Kaveh and Alhaitham live together. Nothing ever happens. Nothing ever hurts. But sometimes, when Kaveh watches Nahida idly finish her homework, he gets the feeling that he’s forgetting something important.

Kaveh must have fallen asleep at his desk again, the morning light hitting his eyes like a slap. He blinked at the soft green blanket over his shoulders. When he stumbled into the hall, Alhaitham was sitting in the living quarters with his back to him, soundproof earpieces alit. He had a stupid moment where he wanted to call out to Alhaitham. What would he even say? ‘I’m having some trouble.’ ‘Is the blanket yours?’ ‘You were right, I’m in over my head.’ ‘Can you hear me out?’ ‘Help me. Please, help me.’ Stupid. He yawned and went to stumble his way to the kitchen. From his periphery, he thought he saw Alhaitham turn towards him with a look like he wanted to say something. But that, too, surely was just a very nice dream.

The Importance of Interruption by theSealby (T, 8.6k)

Years. It has been years, yet it could’ve been yesterday they were sitting side by side, thigh to thigh, eye to eye, filled with a contentment that their future selves have lost. Maybe it would be enough to have that again. Maybe correctness has no place here—has never been the ultimate goal between them—and Alhaitham finds himself asking a very different question than intended. “How would you like to come home?” ✥ Alhaitham loathes interruptions. (All except one).

To Dream in Shades of Green by Intensely_Reading (T, 55k)

“There are three suitors who you can romance in this game. You must complete all your requirements with one of them." “Who are the three potential suitors?” Kaveh asks warily. “Your three suitors are Tighnari, the blunt Palace Chamberlain; Cyno, the standoffish Captain of the Royal Guard; and Al-Haitham, the acerbic Duke of Vultur Volans.” There's a new invention from the Yae Publishing House that turns a user's dreams into light novel stories. Kaveh has the (un)fortunate pleasure of being one of its first users. Too bad it dumped him in a romance game.

The Theorem of Narrow Interests by lumielle (M, 36k)

Kaveh clicks his tongue. “Well, I hope you are also aware that with all these requirements, you don’t get a set (A+B), or even (A+B+C). Yours is a set comprised of the entire Sumerian alphabet!” Kaveh has had enough of Alhaitham always loitering around the house. In an attempt to get Alhaitham to go out more often, he jokingly tells him to start dating someone. Much to Kaveh’s shock, Alhaitham agrees—and promptly assigns him as his personal matchmaker. And even though Alhaitham’s requirements for his ideal partner are annoyingly specific, Kaveh refuses to back down from a good challenge. He’s confident in his abilities—that is, until his own feelings start getting in the way…

Precipice by viiparyas (M, 37k)

Lately, his heart staggers at a precipice, just one breath from toppling over. Into what, he doesn’t know. After everything, after everything… He can’t help but melt easily into the intimacy between them, whether it’s by his design or not.

Kaveh has won fame and renown through Sumeru, witnessed the dissolution of a corrupt government, traveled from the trenches of homelessness to the pinnacles of a fairytale paradise. And yet something deep between his ribs screams, more, more, more.

or, Kaveh discovering what he truly wants and finally reaching for it. (Spoiler alert: it's Alhaitham)

nazar by pencanze (T, 13k)

It’s like they’re in a globed world of their own, trapped within a glazed bead. Shatterproof, soundproof, impregnable and unbreakable to anyone else—anyone besides themselves. (On superstitions, friendships, and other things that shatter.)

case study of the scribe by Jazer (T, 25.5k)

"The consequences of obtaining knowledge is the overwhelming feeling of loneliness. "

In which Alhaitham realizes that a peaceful existence does not have to mean a lonely one.

People keep coming to Al-Haitham when they want to know where Kaveh is. Al-Haitham would be lying if he said he didn't know why.

silviculture by sunsmasher (T, 13k)

Kaveh’s face is bright, young, flushed, freckled, happy. He’s wearing an Akademiya uniform and is as tall as the last time Alhaitham saw him (fifteen minutes ago) which means he’s an inch or two shorter than the last time Alhaitham saw him, because the uniform boots are heeled. He’s staring at Alhaitham with the aforementioned flush spreading like dye over the silk of his cheeks. “Kaveh,” Alhaitham says. “Don’t freak out. I believe I’ve been displaced in time.”

spitefully yours by luminvies (T, 6k)

Dear Al-Haitham, I propose that we meet this Friday at sundown on the southeast edge of the city bordering Avidya Forest. This is a marital engagement. Please come prepared with your sword at the ready. With spite, Kaveh Al-Haitham sets down the letter, letting out a long sigh. After all, isn’t the answer to dealing with domestic disputes not marriage? Isn’t that entirely contradictory to the issue?

Kaveh sends Al-Haitham martial summons to sort out their issues. Unfortunately, he makes a small error in the letter.

The Art of Misunderstanding by Anonymous (M, 7k)

"Kaveh didn't consider himself to be vain. Yet he was becoming increasingly, upsettingly aware that most associates would disagree. Vanity, by definition, refers to an inflated sense of self-importance and pride in oneself. A vain person may believe themselves to be the best in the room. They may find it absurd that all eyes do not fall on them the instant they make themselves known. A vain person may put themselves on a pedestal, believing themselves objectively skilled in their field. And though Kaveh had trust and confidence in himself as an artist, he was caught entirely off-guard to hear that others thought of him as vain." ------ AKA, Kaveh misunderstands when he overhears an upsetting conversation between old classmates. His assumption is that they are attacking his character and commenting on his personality. In reality, they're talking about his looks. Everyone picks up on it, save for Kaveh himself.

Illness, Drowning, and Other Minor Inconveniences by EulerIHKH (G, 11k)

Faced with a uniquely difficult client, Kaveh is reluctantly forced to look for help in the one architect he considers more capable than himself: his mother. But soon enough, the turmoil of Kaveh's personal life begins to seep into their professional correspondence, forcing him to reevaluate his career, relationships, and identity.

love haitham and kaveh....love these fics....so many talented writers...thank you authors <33 def missing a bunch bc my organization on ao3 is horrendous but i can update this or make another list at some point....also i would highly appreciate any recs tyy🙏

( + bonus not rec but self promo of a hkvh fic i tried my hand at writing last summer but never shared oops. here she is if you're intrigued

a comedy of errors (T, 6.7k) )

[a-sin-to-be-rin]

Under the Light of Abafed

“‘Go to Abafar.’ ‘Go to Abafar.’ Everybody wants to go to this damn Abafar, but no one ever mentioned that - oh, yeah - it’s a huge kriffing desert!”

Cal doesn’t reply, not that Greez expects him to. The kid hasn’t moved a muscle since the dust storm. And with a busted leg and an equally-busted communicator, Greez doubts either of them will last much longer.

---

Greez never liked Abafar. He never hated it, mind you, but he never held contempt for it like he does now.

It was supposed to be a quick stop. Just a quick detour on the desert planet to refuel and tighten the bolts on Mantis’s upper right wing. Maybe pick up some real food so Greez didn't have to eat any more of those damned ration bars. Nothing major. Nothing that would take more than a couple standard hours. But it's been at least two days now, so what does Greez know?

“Greez, I don't… I think we're lost.”

“Y’think??”

Cal coughs. “Sorry.”

“Yeah,” Greez gripes. “I get it. We’re kriffed. No need to remind me.”

BD-1 beeps softly from Cal’s shoulder, barely audible over the wind. Sand glides across the dunes, drawing ripples in the ground. It’s almost beautiful.

Almost. Because the wind is also pelting the exhausted, hopelessly lost group with tiny grains of sand. Greez is mostly protected by his flight suit, but his bare head is taking a beating. Cal offers his poncho to Greez (why the kid is still hanging onto that damn thing in this blistering heat is a mystery to Greez), but the Lareto waves him off.

“I’m fine. Keep it.”

“It’s worse,” Cal says suddenly. “The wind, I mean. I think it's getting worse.”

“It's not getting worse,” Greez argues. “You're just paranoid.” He looks up at Cal for the first time in quite a while. But Cal doesn't look paranoid. He looks ill. Greez doesn't know much about human physiology, but he's spent enough time with Cere to know when something isn't right.

And the red face? The drenched hair sticking to Cal’s forehead? The droopy eyelids and the trembling hands?

Something definitely isn't right.

“What's up with you?” Greez demands, halting in his tracks.

“Nothing,” Cal mutters, throwing the poncho back on. BD-1 drops from his perch, buzzing angrily as his comfortable roost is upset by the constant removal and addition of the poncho. Unbothered, Cal draws up his hood. It's a fruitless battle, as the wind instantly blows his hood back down. “I’m alright.”

He obviously isn't, but he doesn't look like he’s going to collapse, so Greez lets it slide.

“Let's just get back to civilization, huh?” Greez returns to the task at hand, trying to block out his own aches and pains. Like humans, Laretos are not designed for desert life. The planet Lareton has a mild climate, and that's ultimately what Greez prefers. A comfortable temperature that neither boils nor freezes your blood. But even Lareton has its bad weather. To keep their bodies cool, Laretos exhale hot air. If hot enough, they might burn their tongues or singe their lips, but because of this, they can handle the occasional heat storm. It's painful and an overall unpleasant experience, but it won't kill them.

That might not be the case for humans, though.

“How do you humans keep cool?”

Cal doesn't respond right away, busy trying to coax BD-1 back onto his shoulder. The droid remains stubbornly grounded, darting around Cal’s legs. Greez almost asks again when Cal speaks up. “Sweat. Humans sweat this… well, sweat. Like water but sticky and smelly. It cools down our core temperatures. Or something like that.”

“Gross.”

Cal doesn't reply this time. Greez doesn't push it. The group just walks ahead in silence, the wind fighting against them.

---

The wind does get worse. It buffets them from all sides, blowing sand in their faces and ears. The heat only intensifies, and Greez spots flashes of light in the distance.

Heat lightning. Dammit.

They needed to find shelter now.

“Greez, something's… something's wrong.”

Greez stops, because when a Jedi says something is wrong, you better damn well listen. “What's wrong? This a Force thing or somethin’?”

But Cal shakes his head, looks down at Greez, and then collapses on the spot.

BD-1 jumps, its current grudge against Cal seemingly forgotten. It nudges the Jedi with its head, whirring in concern.

“Void-kriffing-dammit!” Greez hisses, hurrying to Cal’s side and shaking his arm. “Wake up!”

He’d been suspecting something like this. He’d just hoped that Cere would find them before it could happen. And now, trapped in a blazing hot dust storm, Greez is hoping even harder that Cere shows up. It's still just as unlikely for her to appear.

She's bound to show up eventually. We left days ago.

But she still isn't here, and Greez worries that the longer it takes her, the less likely she is to show up at all.

The wind picks up, and Greez has to cover his face to avoid a mouthful of sand. Cal, still unresponsive, can do no such thing. He just lies there and gets beaten up by a barrage of tiny daggers.

Greez gives up on trying to rouse his companion. Instead, he climbs to his feet and squints through the haze of sand. There has to be shelter somewhere. It's not a completely uninhabited planet.

Sand. Sand. Sand.

It’s nothing but sand! Damn dustball of a planet with nothing but heat and sand and wind and-

A rock.

Not a particularly big rock, but still a rock. Still something.

Greez doesn't waste any time. He grabs Cal underneath the shoulders and drags him through growing heaps of sand. His arms scream from the effort, but he keeps going. The droid follows along, taking large clunky steps as it tries to keep up.

They’ve nearly reached the rock when Greez missteps. He isn’t looking where he’s going (and how can he when he can barely see anything at all?) and he steps on something uneven. His toes land on solid ground, and his heel descends into the bodiless void of sand. He feels something snap in his foot and, in an instinctive attempt to reduce damage, he digs his toes into the solid surface and tries to pull his ankle free. But then the solid ground (an unnaturally stiff clump of sand, most likely), crumbles away, and Greez’s foot is once again yanked in the wrong direction. And this time, he doesn’t feel any snapping or popping.

This time, he feels something break.

Greez screams. He curses. He swears vengeance against the laser-brained piece of sith spit that invented sand.

For a long moment, and possibly longer than he even realizes, Greez lies on his back, eyes screwed shut against the weather. He breathes shallowly, trying to ignore the fire climbing up his leg.

“Cal!” he shouts, hoping beyond hope that maybe Cal is awake again. Maybe the kid will show up, laugh at Greez for worrying, and then carry him to safety.

But it doesn’t happen.

The droid bonks his head against Greez’s, but it isn't all that helpful. “You can't get us out of this, can you? Or build a shelter or something?”

BD-1 beeps out a denial.

Oh well. It was worth a shot.

“Okay, time to go,” Greez mutters. He takes one more breath, mustering the courage, and then sits himself up, doing his best not to move his right leg. Even still, the slightest jolt sends electricity through his bones. He sizes up the situation.

Cal, three feet away. Motionless.

Greez, with an injured leg. Sprained or (more likely) broken ankle.

BD-1, too small to carry anyone and so far unable to contact the Mantis.

Mother Nature, spewing sand every which way and already burying the wayward group in the dunes.

The odds are not good.

“C’mon,” Greez begs himself. “C’mon. Just… Just gotta-” He levers himself up but stops immediately, mouth frozen in a horrified “o” as his leg screams in agony. He breathes through the pain, once again thrown to the ground. BD-1 scurries over, but Greez barely notices. And as the pain slowly, slowly ebbs from pure acid to a mild bed of hot coals, the pilot realizes the truth.

They’re not getting out of this one.

He wonders how long it will take. Will they quickly get buried with the sand and suffocate? Or will they simply get trapped? Will they wait days - weeks - until they’ve starved to death? If Cal dies first, will Greez be stuck watching his crewmate - his friend - decompose until Greez can starve? If Greez dies first, will Cal wake up and realize what’s going on? How confusing and scary would it be to-?

Greez’s thoughts cut off when something jars his leg. His vision goes white as sudden pain overtakes him. It takes him a long moment to remember how to breathe. He needs another moment more for his vision to come back. And that’s when he sees it.

A pair of dusty brown boots. A pale hand gripping Greez’s jacket. The ground sliding past as Greez is dragged away.

“Cal?” Greez bites his tongue, struggling to ignore his leg, still getting jostled about. “Cal, ’zat you?”

There’s a grunt. That might be a “yes.” Greez can’t be sure.

Cal stops abruptly, and Greez realizes that some of the wind has died down. Or, not died down. It stopped completely from the east. They’re protected by the rock. Cal must have seen it too and dragged Greez the rest of the way.

Cal slowly kneels, but he falls halfway through, hitting the ground with a solid thud. Instantly, the droid, who had been content with trailing behind Greez, is scurrying past him, whining and beeping at Cal.

“Kid?” Greez twists to his right to see a once-again unconscious Jedi. Greez shakes him once for good measure, but, unsurprisingly, there’s no reaction.

But Cal did his part. Time for Greez to earn his keep.

Slowly, carefully, Greez drags himself backwards so he’s situated by Cal’s shoulders.

“Sorry, kid,” he says, wrestling the poncho over Cal’s head. It’s a tedious process, but once it’s off, Greez pins it to the rock with a climbing spike and secures the other side of it into the sand, forming a rudimentary tent against the rock. It’s the most reprieve they’ve had since the storm started, and Greez is grateful for the sand-free air.

Now that they have shelter, however shoddy and temporary it might be, Greez can worry about the next problem on his list:

Cal.

“Kid,” Greez calls, jostling Cal’s arm. Then, when he gets no response, he removes Cal’s armor, makes a fist, and jams his knuckles into Cal’s breastbone.

“Ugh,” Cal groans, blindly swiping at Greez’s hands. “In a minute, Master.”

Greez’s stomach drops to the center of the universe and is promptly sucked into a black hole. “Cal, it’s Greez. Remember? Ugly old pilot?”

BD-1 clicks, nudging Cal again.

Cal watches Greez with glassy, half-lidded eyes. His face is drenched in… sweat, or whatever Cal called it. His skin is bright red, though Greez isn’t sure if it’s from burns or illness. “Oh,” he mumbles. “Right. Hey, Greez.” Then he smiles weakly at the droid, who's now begging for his attention. “Hi, BD. Y’okay, buddy?”

Leave it to a Jedi to completely ignore the fact that they’re trapped in a dust storm, he’s probably dying, and there’s little to no chance of escape.

“How you feeling, kid?”

Cal squints. “Um… bad.”

“How very descriptive and helpful,” Greez grouses. “I was asking what was wrong, not if something was wrong. I already know that. Obviously.”

“‘m… ‘m dizzy. An’ I don’... I dunno where we are.”

“Abafar. We stopped for supplies, remember?”

BD-1 butts in, beeping its own version of events, but the droid says little worth repeating.

Cal seems to consider this. He’s working too hard to remember something that happened a few days ago, but he eventually comes up with a satisfactory answer. “Right. An’... Cere stayed back to… to do… somethin’? An’ then we got lost inna… inna storm.”

“Good,” Greez sighs. “That’s real good, kiddo. And now we’re trapped in another storm - wouldja believe that? - and you keep falling asleep on me.”

The Jedi hums. “Doesn’ sound like me.”

Greez snorts. “Just stay there, okay? I need to splint my leg.”

“Y’hurt?”

“Ankle’s messed up, yeah. But just… just stay there, alright? I got this handled.”

Cal gives a thumbs-up. (Greez finds it strange that so many planets consider that an affirmative gesture. On Lareton, it’s one of the more offensive hand signals, and every time he sees someone use it, he has to fight the knee-jerk anger it evokes.)

Content with the kid’s condition (for now), Greez addresses his rapidly worsening problem: his leg. As long as he stays still, it only aches and burns and throbs. But if Greez so much as twitches, his whole world is engulfed in pain. It takes too long for him to splint his leg. He needs to stop every few moments to recover the strength to continue. But once he has sufficiently bound a strip of leather from Cal's armor to his ankle, he can move a bit better. It's still incredibly painful, but it's no longer agonizing.

“Where’d y’learn t’do that?”

Greez looks over. Cal is watching him with hazy eyes, looking moments away from sleep.

“Flight school,” the Lareto replies. “There was a first aid class. But to be honest, I don't remember much of it.”

Cal hums. His eyes drift shut, and Greez has to shake him again.

“Hey, keep talking to me,” he insists. “What's wrong? How can I help?”

“It's… ‘s hot, Greez.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It's a desert. It's hot. My mouth is so burnt right now, you don't even know.”

“I… what?”

“You really know nothing about Laretos, don't you?”

“Didn’... didn’ have ‘em on Bracca.”

“Guess we're too smart to get into scrapping.” Greez shrugs.

And then an idea smacks him in the face, so obvious that he hates himself for not thinking of it sooner. “Hey, where’d the droid go?”

There's a beep, and BD-1 pokes its head out from behind Cal’s legs.

“You got any stims left, little guy?”

The droid whistles grimly.

“Oh. We used them all?”

“Ha-” Cal coughs hard. “Haxion Brood took ‘em. We were gonna restock at the plaza.”

Right. Great. So this is once again Greez’s fault. Perfect.

“Okay,” he says, trying not to sound desperate. “What about meditating? That fixes you Jedi right up, doesn't it?”

“S-sometimes,” Cal wheezes. His voice is getting softer, eyes losing focus.

“Can you try for me, kid?”

“Sure… sure thing, Master.”

It looks like Cal fell asleep, but Greez doesn't have much right now. He has to hope that Cal really is meditating. That he'll open his eyes in an hour, perfectly healthy, and get them all out of this.

Greez doesn't really believe it, but he tries to ignore his inner critic for the moment. Hope is scarce out here, and they need all the hope they can get.

---

When Greez wakes up, the storm is over. Sand is piled up on either side of their shelter, but the wind is gone. Sun burns through the gap between the rock and Cal’s poncho.

On reflex, Greez tries his communicator, but it's just as broken as it was before.

“Cal?” Greez sits up, careful of his leg, which has begun to swell up.

The Jedi doesn't respond, brows knit but eyes closed. He flinches every so often, like he's having a terrible nightmare. BD-1 is curled up on his chest, humming softly.

“Cal, buddy. Wake up.” Greez jars Cal’s shoulder, but all he succeeds in doing is upsetting the droid. BD-1 sparks in irritation, hopping down and scurrying out of the shelter.

Greez can't bother to care about the droid’s feelings. “Cal!” he barks. “Wake up!”

And then Greez notices it: Cal’s skin is dry. The sweat-whatever is gone. He must be meditating, because he’s getting better-

Cal’s skin is hot, though. Almost as hot as Greez’s mouth. Cal said the sweat was supposed to keep him cool, so why did he stop doing it? He’s clearly not cool.

A spike of fear runs through Greez. “Cal, talk to me! Open your eyes, dammit!”

The Jedi mumbles nonsense under his breath.

“Kid!” Greez shakes him. Slaps him. Pinches him. All he’s rewarded with is the slightest of whines, which only makes Greez feel horribly guilty.

Trill-beep!

Greez glances over his shoulder. BD-1 is hopping from foot to foot at the tent entrance.

“What’d you find?”

And then there’s the loud rumbling of thrusters. And not just any thrusters. The Mantis’s thrusters.

Greez breaks from Cal’s side, leaning as far as he can outside the tent. And sure enough, the Mantis is landing nearby, its turbines blowing sand in all directions. BD-1 beeps proudly.

“You flagged her down?”

The droid trills. If it could smile, it’d probably be beaming.

The Mantis sighs one last time before the hatch swings down. Cere runs out immediately.

“Here!” Greez calls, waving his arms. “We’re here!”

Cere sees them and hurries over. She’s far enough away that Greez has time to worry about Cal, trying yet again to shake him awake.

“Cere’s here, kid. You’re gonna be fine. Open your eyes for me, huh?”

Cal is arguably less responsive than he’d been before. He’s not even flinching anymore. He looks-

“Greez,” Cere places a hand on his shoulder. “What happened?”

“Damn sandstorm,” he huffs. “Broke my ankle, and Cal won’t… Damn kid won’t wake up.” He decides to be angry about this. Anger is easier than fear or grief or panic.

Cere absorbs this stoically, nodding. “Let me see.”

Greez awkwardly shuffles aside, and Cere kneels beside Cal, placing one hand on his forehead and the other on his arm. She closes her eyes, and Greez feels that strange air of calm. The odd rippling of the Force. Greez is no Jedi. He knows nothing about the Force, but he can feel when something is off. And right now, Cere must be using the Force, because the air feels off. Not necessarily wrong. Just… off.

After a moment, Cere opens her eyes again. Cal’s remain shut.

“Well?” Greez asks carefully.

“Heatstroke. We need to get him to the Mantis and cool him down.”

“Can’t you just… I dunno, fix it?”

“I’m no healer, Greez. I could barely figure out what was wrong. Trust me; you don’t want me trying to heal him.”

Cere retreats to the Mantis for a few minutes, during which, Greez simply breathes hot air and - try as he might to avoid it - worries. But Cere returns quickly with the old hover-bed from the Mantis’s tiny medbay. With Greez down for the count, Cere has to bodily wrestle Cal onto the bed, but she manages better than expected. Greez suspects Force assistance. Cere refuses to say.

“Here.” Cere tosses him a pair of crutches.

Greez scowls. “Crutches? On the sand?”

“If you fall, I’ll come back for you,” Cere replies, completely unbothered.

Greez huffs but doesn’t complain. He tells himself it’s because Cere is already out of earshot. The truth is that he can’t get the sight of a completely limp, completely unresponsive Cal Kestis out of his mind. By the time Greez actually makes it on the Mantis, leg elevated on the couch in the main cabin, he doesn’t even remember if he walked the whole way or not.

“Cere!” he calls out, hoping his voice carries past the galley and into the medbay. “He awake?”

Cere doesn’t respond. She hasn’t responded the last four times he’s asked either.

Greez groans and lays back, throwing one arm over his eyes. He wishes this day was over.

“Greez.”

The pilot lifts his arm, squinting against the artificial lighting. How long had Cere been standing there?

“You were gone for three days,” Cere says, helping him sit up and pushing a cup into his hands. 

“I know,” Greez grouses. “I was there.”

“What happened?” she demands. “You said you’d be gone for an hour!”

“Couple dust storms. Kid collapsed. And-” He nods at his foot. “Busted my leg trying to haul him outta there.” He’s quiet for a moment. Clicks his teeth on the lip of the cup and savors the cool water on his burning tongue. Then he swallows and searches Cere’s expression for answers. “How’s the kid?”

Cere doesn’t respond immediately, sitting beside Greez’s feet and cutting off the splint. “He’s… not great. I’ve got bacta patches on the worst burns, but he’s going to need a tank. And unless he wakes up, there’s not much we can do in the way of hydration.”

Greez tenses. He’d thought Cal wasn’t looking great, but he didn’t realize they’d need to find a medical center for him. Naively, Greez had assumed it was nothing more than a little fatigue.

How wrong he was.

“Abafar doesn’t have a med center, but Taris isn’t too far out.” Cere sticks a bacta patch to Greez’s sorry-looking ankle. “I assume you didn’t get supplies while you were wandering out in the desert, but I got the Mantis fueled up.”

“She’ll survive the trip,” Greez assures the Jedi, absently hoping the same can be said of Cal. “Let’s get out of here.”

---

They spent three standard days in the desert on Abafar. Cal spends one day in a bacta tank on Taris before they run out of credits, and then they’re forced to camp out in the Mantis. Two days after that, Cal graces his friends with his awareness.

“Ugh.”

Greez notices first, because he’s been at Cal’s bedside more than any of the Mantis crew. He jumps.

“Kid,” he says, patting the Jedi’s cheek. “Hey, Cal. Wake up, buddy.”

“Gr…eez…?” Cal cracks one eye open, frowning up at the ceiling.

“Hey, kid,” Greez greets. “You scared us.” He wants to be angry at Cal. He really, really wants to be angry at him for conking out at the galaxy’s least convenient time and leaving Greez to fix everything. But then Cal looks at him with those sad green eyes, and Greez just feels bad.

Cal blinks a few times, like he’s trying to shrug the grogginess off. Then he moves to sit up, failing spectacularly and falling solidly on his back.

“Whoa, relax, kid.”

“What… What happened?” Cal’s voice sounds like he was gargling rocksalt and blaster bolts.

“Got lost on Abafar,” Greez explains, helping prop Cal up and offering him a cup of water. “And then you passed out. Cere said it was heatstroke.”

Cal gulps down the water faster than he should, chokes on it, coughs up half a lung, and then sets the cup down in defeat. “That… makes sense. Feels like my blood’s on fire.”

Well, that can’t be good.

“Are…” Cal coughs on the water one more time. “Are you okay?” He nods at the pilot’s heavily-bandaged leg.

Greez smiles. “This? Gonna take a lot more than this to keep ol’ Greezy down.”

Cal smiles back, though it’s weak and watery. “Good. I’m… I’m really glad you’re alright, Greez.” He shifts so he’s lying on his back again, eyelids heavy.

“You too, kid,” Greez agrees. “You scared me for a bit.”

“Sorry.” And he looks so sad.

“No, no, don’t be-”

But Cal is drifting off again, eyelids fluttering.

Greez ruffles Cal’s hair and straightens the sheet lying over him. “Sleep well, kid.”

[safety-writes-noms]

I SAW DRAGON AND STARTEDNABRAGRHAHB

holding out my idea of wolfwalkers type shit but with dragons. im jsutbtrghgrhgbrjrghrgjngrughibkjfggfhbjgrfihdkjh SMASHING MY HANDS ON MY DESK. PLEASE.

just imagining big angry dragon miguel with gold accents trying his damn hardest not to snap as hes got a bunch of smaller dragons clambering on him and excitedly talking while waiting to be told what to do. being dragons and all they go around and make sure theres peace between kingdoms and stuff ....

sobbing into my hands. i need to see more dragon content im GGGGHR AAHHHHHH

YES OMG PMG I LOVE DRAGON AU’S (so sorry this is kinda late 🙏 school seriously beat me up this week. Also YOUR ART IS SO SO SO COOL!)

(Also also I’m so sorry but I’m not familiar with the wolf walkers series and never got the chance to watch it :(( but I absolutely love the animation style and premise from the ads I’ve seen)

THIS IS NOT NSFW AT ALL!!! KINK BLOGS AND NSFW BLOGS DNI

I can just imagine miguel grumpily walking around with all of the spider kids either nestled on his back or chattering somewhere in the cave, waiting to get assigned their missions. I am in LOVE with the idea of Miguel sending them out to keep the peace between humans since sometimes humans can be very… not wise. Idk actually, maybe the some of the spider kids are humans and that’s how they meet Miguel or peter and Jess (bc I’d love to see them as dragons theyre so cool)

imagine a human Hobie just confidently walking around a dragon’s cave/network society and just casually arguing with a giant dragon Miguel. I’m feel like he’d get in the dumbest arguments with him just for the giggles. I can see him also baby sitting a hatchling mayday, keeping her fully entertained while Peter goes off to finish missions too dangerous to bring her along. Their little interactions in atsv were adorable especially the little salute he gave her.

or the fight between miles and Miguel ☹️ even tho I love him (Miguel) and understand why he did that and his motives, I’ll always feel so bad for miles. I feel like it would even be worse because instead of having a 6’9 roughly judged 310 pounds of muscle man chasing after you and pinning you down, there’s a ten ton dragon hellbent on having your dad die for the sake of the canon, claws, wings, VENOM/FIREBREATHING. It’s pretty much game over at that point. Ofc miles is a resourceful amazing wonderful intelligent human so I think he’d be able to reason with him. Besides, even then I kinda doubt Miguel would want to kill a kid, even if they’re a human. Nurturing instincts don’t go away after ur daughter dies 😋! Actually Miguel might even nom miles in an effort to keep him from messing up the canon :( can you imagine being so so terrified of this huge creature and getting nommed and you don’t know you’re safe and you’re panicking and —

The hurt and comfort is strong here :o. And the guilt. So much guilt. Once they work out their issues (there are so so so many poor dudes) I’m sure they’ll be besties. But that’s for human miles au

dragon miles would definitely get the short end of the stick. Even if he’s a hatchling (kind of, he’s in that odd stage between adult and adolescent but on the younger side) he’s still a whole lot more durable than if he’s a human. Which means that Miguel won’t be nearly as cautious handling him physically. Ouch. Miguel genuinely wants to protect miles in the movie but does it in the worst way possible. That would probably transfer over to this universe too.

But still because I absolutely LIVE for found family, I want to imagine they work through their problems in a long and very very non linear path that has setbacks and leaps forward and minor changes and everything because I love all of these characters sm and without depth they don’t feel like people. Plus imagining sleepy spider kids/dragons stumbling into Miguel’s section of the cave system/lair and deciding to take a quick nap there because it feels safe and waking up with Miguel curled loosely around them, wing slightly shielding them from the chilly drafts and hsjskskdjskj they have my heart. (Miguel will deny it later.)

or peter b taking the human kids out flying to let them feel at least a little what it’s like to taste the sky while Miguel lurks in the background anxiously, crimson eyes tense just in case peter accidentally drops one of them. Not that he would, he may be goofy but he’s most definitely not stupid.

I can imagine Miguel trying his hardest to stop some of the kids from doing things that he thinks is wayyy too dangerous for them and just giving up and tucking them away in his brooding pouch. If they won’t listen to his very very valid concerns then he’ll just have to make sure they don’t go anywhere >:(. Plus it’s warm and safe and even though Miguel will never admit it, he feels calmer if they’re there, protected completely bc he’ll never let anything hurt them. At least not while they’re nestled in one of the literal safest places in the world. I can’t imagine anyone would have an easy time getting to them when there’s a very protective and vengeful dragon guarding his precious brood.

and I haven’t even really gotten into the other characters either :( especially exploring the relationship between Jess and Gwen or Hobie and miles/gwen and pav but I feel like I’m writing too much so I’ll end it here. If you or anyone else wants to continue this thread/au PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GIVE ME AN ASK! I LOVE THIS AU SM 😭😭

[aimfor-theheart]

cielo!!!! ur drabble game is so COOL!!! if i may send a character hmmm what about (fallen) angel megumi??? 😳 (doesnt have to be fallen too!!!) thank u so much 🥺

sel!!! hello my dear!! 💕 thank you for requesting!!! fallen angel megumi 👀👀👀 ohhhh i’m in love already. idk what this is….just go w it lol.

i hope you enjoy!! 💕

fallen angel!megumi

cw: blood

***

The shadow of wings; huge and all encompassing, an eclipse of your own world in the holy shape of him.

Half-holy. Once holy. What do you become after holiness? Deserted? Transformed? He’s still as beautiful as ever, perhaps more so; maybe it is your own sin to find such loveliness in the new raven shade of his wings.

And now you think, the dove-like wings never suited him anyways, even if they were grey and violet and twinged with twinkle, darker on him than most. No, you’ve never realized how stunning shadows were until they clung to him.

“What are you doing down here?”

“I found you—“ you breathe it out, fluttering to him like a bird.

“You shouldn’t have.” He’s terse and just shy of being too harsh.

“But I did,” you counter, “and I’m here, with you.”

“It’s dangerous,” he grits out and you see the barely-there flash of his teeth. The little growl in his voice. Has he already changed so much with the fall? You have a thousand questions for him—did it hurt? Were you lonely? Did you think of me? Did you long for me, a heaven away? You step nearer to him and he rears back slightly, wary of you.

But you can’t help yourself and now that he’s so close, in front of you finally. You reach up to touch him.

He catches your wrist before it can dip into the soft downy of his dark wings. He grips it tight, a low growl in his chest like a warning.

“I missed you,” you say softly, in the face of all his hardness, “Megumi, I miss you.”

His eyes, like the depth of the sea shift and shimmer, soften only fractionally.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he says again, breathes it now, harsh and desperate. “This world is not for you. Why did you come?”

“Because I missed you,” you say again and his grip relaxes enough that your fingers skim just the edges of the feathers. Silky on one edge, but going against the grain—

“Ah!” You gasp and your finger swells with blood.

And he goes to shift away from you, but in a flash, you’ve lurched forward. You can’t lose him now.

You sink your hand into the feathers, gentle, sweet as ever. You feel the warmth and the threat of them; you feel the muscle beneath. Strong. Glorious.

What do you become after holy? You wonder—something else entirely.

“You shouldn’t have come.” He says again and his voice hums and throbs around your temples like a stinging bee. When he grabs you tight this time, you feel the burn of his hands on you—it sears.

You cry out, high and sharp and scared. A squeaking bird in the talons of a predator.

You grip the feathers. Your hand darkens with rivers of blood that slip down your wrist, your arm.

“Megumi—!”

His eyes are depthless, unfathomable.

“I cannot let you return now.”

His wings flare wide and you fall into their shadow.

***

thank you for requesting!!! 💕

send me a monster and a character and i’ll write a drabble!

[casliveblog]

Custom Toonami Block Week 173 Rundown

The Witch from Mercury: Okay so I have a notoriously hard time of comprehending Gundam plots so if I get anything wrong… that’s just how it’ll have to be. So it’s the old chesnut Gundam franchise have been milking for forty years now… Earth vs Space, like seriously I haven’t even seen all the Gundam serieses and I am SO sick of setup and everyone philosophizing about how going into space gives people superpowers and shit like can Gundam as a series think of anything else to do? But yeah apparently in this verse they originally were making prosthetics for people that had muscle dystrophy and shit from being in space and then as someone always does they went ‘cool but what if we did WAR with it?’ and now regular mobile suits and Gundams are just quietly being built in the background even though no official war is going on and the Gundams make people fucking die from a combination of information overload similar to the Zero System in Wing and that shit in Pacific Rim that made it so you needed two people to coordinate motor functions of a huge robot. Enter Eri, tiny girl with a mysterious connection to the big Barbie Gundam being built by her parents who are definitely not surviving this episode. It’s her birthday because this backstory is REALLY gonna kick her in the metaphorical nuts and the Space People have decided ‘Gundams kill their own guys, I’M supposed to kill their guys, that’s not fair bro’ which, A+ politicianing, no notes, I’m sure that’d go over well with a CEO just shouting about how he wants to kill people on the battlefield before they can nobly sacrifice themselves and that’s why he has to shutdown the big superweapons will go over great, like anime politicians can just get away with saying the wildest shit while real politicians come under fire if you don’t say the word god enough in a speech. But yeah instead of just shutting them down and destroying their research they just fucking come out swinging and do a full Space Colony ARK and murder everyone in the station (I think these guys were Earth-Alligned despite being in a space station idk this is why I have a hard time keeping track of this shit) like I feel like that was overkill and just PR nosedive for no reason but Eri needs a tragic backstory. Like is there functionally any reason they had to go murder everyone instead of just going ‘your shit’s illegal now, hand over your research OR will kill you’ instead of going ‘hand over your shit AND we’ll kill you’? Like I guess they’re doing a scorched earth approach and wanting to make sure and are prolly gonna say the unarmed scientists resisted to a level that required lethal force but that really seemed unnecessary, like you probably could’ve tied that up in courts and had them hand over all their shit instead of murder. While all this is going on Eri’s in the Barbie Gundam and surprise surprise she can get it to work when no one else can, her dad and the random technician lesbian take out the non-Barbie gundams and murder everyone except for the angsty pretty boy in the obligatory regal-looking suit that’s fancier than normal but technically not a gundam to get around plot shit while Eri and her mom get away in the Barbie Gundam which I’m honestly kind of surprised Eri’s mom gets to live I was expecting a full familial wipe from a backstory going this hard on the trauma and eerie innocence of its main character.

Inuyasha The Final Act: After the events with Moryomaru, Koga’s joined the group and Shippo notes how it changes the dynamic now that he’s actively stoking the Inuyasha/Kikyo/Kagome love triangle and Shippo doesn’t like it but I kinda do, it’s kinda funny to have a party member that isn’t super friendly with the others. Meanwhile Naraku reabsorbs Onigumo’s heart, theorizing that if he can’t directly kill Kikyo without it, he can use the overt shittiness of humanity to corrupt the purifying light she puts into Kohaku’s shard to try and purify him. So that gives him the ability to shoot spiderwebs of bad vibes at people to corrupt them mentally since I guess Onigumo’s fine with mindbreaking Kikyo even if he can’t overtly kill her. Kikyo’s absorbed Miroku’s miasma and give her own was never fully healed she’s like 75% poison at this point and basically half dead so she has to ditch Kohaku so he doesn’t get corrupted, luckily Sesshomaru takes over the Kohaku Babysitting duties for the time being. Meanwhile Kagome is once again the only one who can save Kikyo and we have to play the song and dance of ‘does Kagome want Kikyo to literally die for a love triangle?’ again even though we’ve established time and time again the answer is fucking no, though this time we have Naraku actively pumping bad vibes into her to at least give her doubts while she goes to get the only bow that can purify Kikyo. This part’s kinda trippy since we see a bunch of illusions of Kikyo and Inuyasha and they keep going ‘no it’s real this time’ like an episode of Rick and Morty until we show that Kikyo and Inuyasha are still outside the shrine so absolutely none of it was real. Kagome has to AGAIN reject the idea of wanting her romantic rival to literally die though this time coming out on the side of her and Kikyo being equals because she’s sick of feeling like a Johnny come lately trying to vault over the First Girl and has a whole series of character development to relate to Inuyasha with so that’s a nice little moment of her in-universe being sick of the fucking endless tests of her heart, like Kagome’s fundamentally a good girl and yeah constantly getting asked this question has gotta be grating when it’s something she barely ever thought about.

Castlevania: We get Hector’s backstory now so we have all the pieces on the humans Dracula’s recruited while Carmilla’s still stirring the shit trying to get someone to go after the Belmont house and I’m still not entirely sure if she’s the one that will cause infighting that will ruin the bad guys’ plans or if she’s the more dangerous villain ready to take over for the more sympathetic Dracula The Rock style. Meanwhile Trevor’s group do come across the Belmon treasure trove and it is kinda sweet to see him reminisce over his childhood and family legacy despite how much he seemed to disown them in season 1. He gets a cool new weapon and Sypha gets to read books and shit but Alucard’s basically walking through the vampire version of the holocaust museum so he’s more than a little freaked out. Back at Castle Castlevania Godbrand’s a bit concerned that human genocide is kinda like cow genocide in that it makes everything kinda shitty on the food chain and Dracula just wants to be done with humanity. Their interaction cues us that Dracula’s actually kinda pulling a better-explained Raizen from YYH and slowly starving despite still being ridiculously powerful and may be plotting to let vampires die out with humans so everything’s just a quiet empty void (like I think vampires can still survive without humans but it’s a lot less pleasant so idk if a vampire genocide is really in the cards but it’s not something people are clamoring for). Still Carmilla’s just here to play the Starscream and take things over so I guess get ready for Carmillavania in Season 3.  

Jujutsu Kaisen: So turns out Megumi’s technique is like Pokemon and you have to fight the big monsters before you get to capture them and send them out for you and getting help means you don’t get the capture but you do get to try again if you need to and there’s a super secret legendary pokemon that no one’s every caught before and actually killed a Gojo-level guy in the past, though it obviously kills the person summoning it first. So much for Megumi being all ‘I’m not throwing my life away’ a few episodes ago because his first response to being attacked by a C-tier asshole is summoning the Ultra Necrozma nuke. I assume this is the technique that he’s been talking about all those times we’ve gone ‘oh he’s gonna do a big attack’ except probably the time against Todo because that wouldn’t make any sense but given the mass carnage here I’m kinda glad he didn’t pull it out until now because it definitely would’ve murdered a fuckton of people in the process. Sukuna steps in because Megumi doesn’t technically die until hand-hold guy dies so as long as he’s able to keep them alive while fighting Ultra Necrozma here everything’s cool. The rest of the episode is basically just a ridiculous slugfest between Sukuna and Ultra Necrozma because this guy’s like Amazo from Justice League and adapts to any and all attacks so the only way to beat it is to obliterate it on an atomic level with something it’s never seen before. Realizing and implying there is something sneaky about his ‘cut anything forever’ attack, Sukuna uses his Domain which is basically like sticking something in a blender combined with that glitch in OoT that’s just infinite sword swings and for good measure hits it with the fire arrow thing from last time to make sure it can’t regenerate. The end result basically turns Shibuya into Made in Abyss with a giant fuckoff hole in the center. He gets Megumi to safety and kills hand-holding guy FINALLY and then he just hands consciousness off back to Yuji who now remembers EVERYTHING from the past three episodes or so all at once and gets flashes of the hundreds of thousands of deaths his body is responsible for. So… yeah, that’s rough buddy.

Delicious in Dungeon: Just getting this out of the way but this is another of those ‘have you ever played an RPG before?’ anime that is ridiculously video gameified and kind of relies on all the tropes you already know about games for its worldbuilding and like luckily it’s charming enough on its own to not have that wreck the show for me but the over-reliance on making every fantasy setting a video game is REALLY a pet peeve of mine. But yeah, this series is rather silly, Laios’s sister Falin gets eaten by a dragon and there’s a medium-level urgency to get her back before she’s digested. Like the stakes are really confusing because several characters make it very clear how important getting her back is but part of the comedy seems to be how they’re not in a huge hurry and stop for food every five minutes, plus it’s not entirely clear if this is one of those video game fantasy settings that has no consequences for dying since they seem kind of chill about finding corpses and Marcille refers to a life-threatening situation being her ‘first time’ dying despite there being graveyards and shit so this is the kind of shit that really bugs me about video game-style fantasy worlds and I assume it’ll get explained later but it gets under my skin. Still the whole thing basically turns into a Food Wars episode as Laios is very passionate about monsters like in a Garou-level sense of just being hyperfixated but also has no idea how to go through the manual skill needed to actually cook them which is strange given he seemed to be kind of looking for an excuse to do this for years. Still, luckily they find Senshi, a guy whose whole deal is having already done this for years and basically treats it like a Martha Stewart show and it’s pretty funny watching them meet halfway between Food Wars and Toriko. Like there’s not much more to it than that, they make some scorpion soup and some vegetable tart and Marcille gets an obligatory tentacle scene though it’s not protracted and doesn’t have any fanservice shots so I get the feeling it was just something to fuel fanart as opposed to actually showing anything which is an interesting way to take things, let the R34 machine run itself without having to dirty their own hands. It’s fun, the setting is one of my least favorite things about modern anime and the tone is kind of confusing but I’m sure that’ll even out with time, I am enjoying it thus far.

Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End: The first bit of the episode is a little adventure developing the new group dynamic now that Stark has joined and Fern isn’t really sure what to do with him. Frieren gets to meet some more of the people touched by her adventure and the far-reaching festivals made in honor of their deeds. The real meat of the episode is in the second part though and we get some really good stuff here. The group enters a new town when Frieren senses demons and goes into attack mode, but turns out these demons wear clothes and shit and are all fancy and the like, being ambassadors to try peace talks with the village. Since Frieren just attacked a foreign ambassador they throw her right the fuck in jail and Fern gives her the scoop that one of the Demon King’s generals took over after he died and is now leading the charge but the ambassadors have decided that peace may be an option. Frieren is ridiculously racist against demons but also kinda describes how they kinda deserve it by telling a story of a demon girl that was trusted by a community only to murder more people and only using sympathetic words to save herself from attacks. Or at least that’s how Frieren sees things, the real story is the girl was taken in by the town and still hated for the people she had previously killed so in a truly utilitarian sense she stole a replacement child for the one she’d murdered just to get their racist asses off her backs and the evil Frieren sees in her is an ignorance of emotion, someone that’s not necessarily good or bad and is an alien to human connections acting in ways that appear horrendous to those that have them. Someone just like Fern. That’s kind of the part that gets me, like earlier this same episode we see how foreign basic social skills are to Fern and Frieren herself and granted they’re not murdering people but it’s the same kind of not fully understanding people thing that throws off the ‘measure of a man’ speeches because if you say someone that lacks compassion or social understanding is a monster what happens when a human shares those qualities, someone who’s antisocial or autistic and can’t be bought in by the ‘love makes us human’ answer to the kind of sentient being whose life we should or shouldn’t value, if that’s where we’re going with this I’m really excited. Still for the time being the demons are right dicks and manipulate the guards with all the right words of ‘oh but we’ve suffered too, let’s have peace’ that would absolutely wreck any Naruto-minded Talk no Jutsu protagonist despite demons literally not having families (and this seemingly crucial fact apparently not being widely known). Turns out the ambassadors’ plan is to make peace and then have the town lower its barrier so they can burn it to the ground which… doesn’t make any fucking sense like it’s not like you’re disarming a weapon you’re asking them to take down a purely defensive shield that can’t actually hurt anybody and promising ‘we won’t attack bro’ without giving any sign of good faith on your end, might as well ask them to tear down their walls like that probably protects them from non-demon creatures and judging by last episode is a crucial part of border control, like that’s a dumb plan. It’s frustrating because their emotional manipulation is ridiculously good but their actual plan doesn’t make any sense. Still this complicated situation is about to get a lot simpler because one of the junior ambassadors just fucking barges into the dungeon, kills a guard and is ready to kill Frieren, like these guys are so fucking dumb even if Frieren wasn’t a demi-god how are you going to explain a dead guard outside the cell while the fugitive elf died in the cell like you just blew your whole dumb barrier-lowering plan because you couldn’t think of a diplomatic way to get in to see the prisoner and had to kill her right fucking now.

Vinland Saga: Thorfinn and Snake continue their fight and are surprisingly evenly matched despite Thorfinn just using his fists and not being as small and nimble as he was when he first developed his knife style. Thorfinn isn’t defeated but does lose the battle of the terrain when Snake is able to move over to the cart and get to Gardar. He makes a good point that he can’t justify just letting Gardar go since he really cares about his whole crew and taking anything less than revenge would be an insult. Now obviously this is still wrong but making the ‘an eye for an eye leaves everyone blind’ argument is a little difficult when you’re in Viking times and have like five seconds before this guy stabs him. Snake starts making plans of what to do now that Thorfinn and Arnheid have disobeyed him and Gardar just… pops up out of the cart like a daisy and stopped the sword with his astonishing pecs or some shit because he gets Snake in a sleeper hold and knocks him out. Arnheid talks him down from killing Snake and Gardar’s still gonna die anyway so the rest of the episode is just a big schmaltzy sendoff for Gardar and all the regrets he’s had in his life and it’s a pretty cool sequence for someone whose character development mostly came from other people. Like just saying, Askeladd was basically the main character for a while and all he got was a final speech and Gardar gets a whole dream sequence of finding his obviously dead son. Still now we’re in the weird position of Arnheid being taken by Ketil’s guards and Ketil himself coming home to find his bottom bitch and his favorite slave tried to start a revolt over a guy he’s never heard of while war with the king is looming on the horizon, so… awkward, I guess.

[imagine-all-the-fandoms]

Summer Sun - Bucky Barnes x (fem.) Reader

A/N: So... this happened in my brain tonight, and I can tell you, that was a wild dream .. 

Now thanks to @buckgasms I had this written in a little storyline. Hope you maybe enjoy this one.. or not :) 

Warnings: Smut / Metal Arm 

Sun, sweat, blue sky and no cold breeze... this is what you get for Summer when living in a city like New York. The weather has been crazy like this for a few days now and there was no opportunity to cool down.

So currently you were draped over the huge couch in the living room of the Avenger Compound, you best friend a mini ventilator, which provided only a little of the much needed cooling. The pool was currently being under construction, so you had the chance to decide if either a ventilator or a bathtub with ice cubes were the better option.

You went with the little blower, as there were also some perks of being in the compound in the summer.

The first thing you noticed as you looked out the huge window was Sam being weird. He modified Redwing, so that the little iron bird blew cold air with little wings, Sam had attached to its normal ones. Sam enjoying the breeze from a sun chair underneath it. What else to say about this ?

Laughing to yourself, so realized how happy you could actually be right now. You had a family of all your best friends and colleagues around you, no missions in sight for a few days and the weather showing his best side. So you sat there and smiled in content while you let your eyes continue to wander around. In some corner of the huge green area you saw Wanda and Natalie laying around in their Bikini's. They asked you several times to join them, but you preferred to stay inside and not melt into a puddle of sweat.

The next thing that caught your eyes, made your breath hitch in your throat and the little ventilator nearly fell down, tangling your hair. But you could catch it in time, keeping the sight ahead of you in your view.

Steve Rogers was sparring with someone who you would never fail to recognize. This back, strong and firm, showing the outline of his defined muscles. Droplets of sweat rolled down his neck, along his spine, just to disappear in the waistband of his underwear, that stuck out just a bit of his shorts.

One arm holding Steve on a constant distance to him, the other, shining in the bright light like a flame cutting through the air, to throw punches at his childhood friend.

James Buchanan Barnes. A sight for the sore eyes, you can tell.

His long brown hair was messily tied up in a bun, only loose strands hanging out of it.

No shirt on, to impress with his massive built features. Pants hanging low on his hips, dangerously low to be honest. His defined V-Line just showing out a bit, if you keep a good look at it. And which is what you did.

This is not the first time for you to imagine running your hands over his torso, tangle your fingers in his locks.. or even pull his shorts even lower.

So here you were daydreaming of nasty things with this man in the summer sun, while he kept wearing out his body with his pal.

Unbeknownst to anyone out there of course. At least that's what you thought.

“You're drooling sweetheart”, a voice interrupted your thinking.

Natasha was standing on the counter behind you with a smudge grin on her face.

“I don't. I'm just laying here trying not to melt”, you shoot her a glance and act like you didn't know what the assassin was talking about.

“Girl. You might fool those idiots outside, but you cant fool me”, she said and grabbed a cool bottle of water out of the fridge.

“I'm sure Barnes would help you cool down.. or make you even hotter”, she winked and ducked down as you grabbed a pillow and threw it into her direction.

“Shut up Nat! I wasn't even thinking about anything”, you countered, but also knew she could read you like an open book.

It was no secret between you girls that you had a thing for the former Winter Soldier and she and Wanda encouraged you to talk to him about it more than one time. Wanda even offered to use her powers for support. But of course, you always denied and talked down your crush into something more simple.

“Yes, ANYTHING that includes no clothing. But seriously Y/N, talk to him. We all see how he's looking at you as well. Just like now for example”, she hushed the last part as her eyes flicked outside just as Bucky turned around to grab a drink.

You didn't think twice and also turned your head, just to see him indeed staring inside, giving you a full blown smile. You immediately felt like he caught you at doing something you shouldn't. Well you actually did, but luckily he wasn't the one to read minds.

So you gave him a small wave and turned your attention back to Natasha, who was laughing at you ,trying not to blush like a tomato.

“Ugh please shoot me already! I give up!”, you whined and went to hide your face in the pillows around you.

“Never doing that. This show is way to interesting for me”, the red head laughed and strolled out of the room.

The rest of the afternoon you switched between staring, hiding on the couch and getting something to drink. Every once in a while someone came up to you asking to join them outside, but you decided it would be for the best to stay inside. Or else your panties might explode if the guys didn't stop their sparring anytime soon.

You might have drifted off into a little nap when you heard the door of the refrigerator being opened and closed again. When you opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of Bucky emptying a lonely water bottle and a few droplets decided to slide down his neck and over his chest.. you dared yourself to keep staring at them, vanishing just below his belly button.

You hoped he did not notice you woke up and acted like you were still fast asleep.

“Doll.. I know you are not sleeping”, his deep voice startled you.

Great. So you obviously were not a good actor at all.

“I'm resting Mr. Spy”, you said, trying not to sound impressed at all.

“Do you want to know what else did I spied today? A certain woman stealing glances at me and Steve the whole afternoon”.

“What a nasty girl what do that? That's not proper at all.”, Bucky put down the bottle and starting coming closer to the couch.

“No absolutely not. She should be ashamed, indeed. Do you think she is?”, he was nearly there.

“I don't know.. Should I?”, too late you didn't realize your mistake when you saw his grin rising to his ears and felt the blush immediately start rising in your face.

“I didn't say that you were the one, doll”, he had you and he fucking knew it. “So, you accept the accusation?”

His face now only inches away from yours and you could already feel the heat from the previous training radiate of his body. You tried your hardest to not show how much he affected your body. How badly you wanted to grab his face, mold your lips over his and bury your fingers in his hair, pulling him even closer.

His evil grin, did not help the situation at all.

“I plead guilty at all points” you whispered, hoping you'd get what you wanted and thought you had him where you wanted him the most, as he came even closer. But instead of touching your lips, he went further and whispered something into your ear, which immediately caused goose bump to rise all over your skin.

“Why don't you join me in the shower? Then I might show you how bad girls are treated”.

You thought you were dreaming. Was Bucky Barnes offering you a shower with him? Naked ? Alone ?

Not believing what you just heard, all you could do was stare while processing the words in your brain.

He went to get up and leave, suddenly feeling he might over crossed some line as you didn't respond to his words.

After a few seconds your brain finally seemed to function again and you got up, following him further into the compound but he was already out of your sight. Damn you thought, those damn super soldiers.

You knew exactly where his room was, so it didn't take you long to enter his room, already hearing the water running in the bathroom. So you entered without even thinking, just to see Bucky getting undressed.

“Doll, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..”, he started but you didn't let him finish.

Before letting your new found confidence fade again, you walked up to him and kissed him. He did not waste any time to wrap his muscular arms around you and hold you even closer. The kiss grew hotter with each second and your hands snaked into his boxers, to let the remaining part of clothing he was wearing, fall to the ground.

You pulled apart, catching your breaths as you admired the god created masterpiece of man in front of you. Bucky was the one to break the silence first.

“You can't shower with that much clothing on”, he whispered in a husky voice and pulled your shirt over your head, ripping your bra with his metal arm and not even caring about it.

Your mouth found his again in another heated kiss, while he worked on getting your clothes off in a matter of minutes.

“God you're so fucking beautiful”, his words affected you in many ways. They made your heart flutter and beat even faster, but also they went down straight to your core.

Muscular arms snaked around your hips and he hoisted you up, without any effort. You both went into the huge shower, being welcomed by the warm water running over both of your bodies.

You couldn't believe that you actually found yourself in this situation. Sure, you imagined it many times, but now finally being caged in his arms seemed more like a dream..

Your fingers tangled into his wet hair, as he pressed you into the cold tiles, making your back arch into his chest. You could already feel his semi hard erection being present between your thighs and the only thing you could do was to moan into the kiss.

The kiss grew hotter with each passing second and then he let his mouth wander from your lips to your neck, pressing gentle kissed there and making sure to leave marks in his way, to mark you as his.

Your moans increased as he sucked on your delicate skin, and you felt your arousal increasing as he did so.

It's been ages since you've been with a guy that treated you properly and Bucky seemed to push at all the right buttons right away, leaving you a panting mess.

As he worked his mouth on your neck, you felt him balancing you out on his flesh arm and used his metal arm to grab your neck keeping you attached to him.

He then caressed down to your breast, toying with your nipples and enjoying the reaction he caused on you.

Your hand was still buried in his hair, while the other supported yourself on his shoulder to keep you steady. You wanted to touch him everywhere.. getting to know what his skin feels like, feel the way his muscles worked under your hands but currently you were too focused on the pleasure he was giving you.

After he made sure to treat each breast with the same attention, his skilled fingers went even lower and caressed your thigh in a way like he wanted to savor each moment.

Suddenly you felt his metal finger on your clit. And heaven, never did you felt anything like this before.

The firm metal, heated from the water was applying a gentle pressure on your bud he rubbed it just the right way to make you lose control. Your hips rocked on his finger, wanting more of him, but he kept you in place while continuing to explore your mound with his fingers.

“Bucky..”, you moaned out.

“Didn't I tell you that you're still need your punishment for staring shamless at me?”

His finger slid into your wet folds and you moaned out at the feeling of it.

Dangerously slow he pulled his finger out and slid it back into your heat.

The pleasure you were feeling was already incredible and you knew he had barely done anything.

You wiggled trying to get more friction, but still, his hold kept you in place while he added another finger into your heat, but not speeding up the pace.

He kept finger fucking you on a slow pace until he felt your walls starting to flutter around his fingers, just to pull them out when your moans increased as well.

“Bucky please.. I was so close”, you whined.

“I know.. that's why I stopped doll”, you heard him whisper and he pulled you in another kiss.

Then he let you down and dropped on his knees in front of you. Looking up at you like an innocent angel, he gently spread your legs and kissed your clit. Not sucking, just a single kiss that made your heart rate speed up. Your hands found their way into his hair again, trying to push him gently closer to your heat.

He let you do this, so he went straight to devouring your clit with his mouth, while his tongue played with it.

If that wasn't already enough to drive you crazy, you felt his fingers on the back of your thighs pushing you closer onto his mouth.

Your legs spread automatically and you tried to support you as best as possible, fearing your legs would give in due to the pleasure he created.

Sinful moans flooded the bathroom and echoed back into his ears, so Bucky let his metal fingers find their way back into your heat, just where they left off their unfinished work.

He licked you like there was no tomorrow and he never heard any more beautiful sounds as in this moment as you tried not to fall apart right now.

Once again, he felt you getting closer to your high as he speed up his fingers and his tongue working wonders on your clitoris.

You were just about to climax, when all friction was pulled away from you again.

Not believing, you looked down at Bucky, your wetness on his face and an evil smirk written on his lips.

You just opened your mouth to say something, when he lifted you up once again and entered you with his now very hard manhood without a warning.

The moan leaving your mouth was the most erotic sound he ever heard in his life and he was enjoying that he was the one causing it.

Your hands gripped his shoulders as you tried to adjust to his size. He filled you up perfectly, like his dick was only made for you.

“I only want you to come around my dick, you hear me?”, he whispered into your ear and the words went straight to your core as you nodded.

“Say it”, Bucky commanded.

“I only come around your dick Buck. But please let me come”, you sounded too needy but you didn't care.

Bucky started thrusting gently into you, after you adjusted to his size. No pleasure you received before, was comparing to what he did to you. Sure you imagined this in your head, but the actual feeling of him inside of you made you see starts and never wanting to feel anything else.

His lips captured your in a passionate kiss, while his hips snapped into yours, making your grip on him tighten even more.

The feeling of indescribable pleasure starting to rise in your body once again.

“I feel you getting closer doll. You want to come ?, Bucky knew how to tease you to no limit and he had you in the palm of his hand.

“Yes Bucky, please. You feel too good”, you moan.

“Let go doll, I know you can't hold on any longer”, he gently bit down on your neck and that was all it took for you to lose control.

The feeling of pure pleasure exploded and your walls contracted around his cock. Your back arched shamlessly into his chest and your moans came out uncontrollably.

You never came this hard in your life and it felt just perfect.

With the feeling of your walls faltering around him, it was hard for Bucky to hold on any longer, but when he wanted to pull out of you to finish, your legs tightened around him and keeping him inside.

“I want to feel you James”, you whispered into his ear, still in the afterglow of your own orgasm.

Hearing you say his actual name instead of Bucky, he fell apart and came right into your, letting your juices flow together.

Not being able to keep up any longer, he pushed you back into the wall with his body, clinging to you.

“Fuck..doll”, he smiled and looked at you. “I hope to catch you staring more often”.

“If that's my punishment, then I will gladly accept it”, you said and pulled him into another passionate kiss.

[sleepwalkersqueen]

Hawks is a chicken. Let’s proove it mathematically!

So, the weight of an male hawk is around 2,2 kg with a wing span of 89 cm. (Male hawk are smaller than females.)

So let’s assume Keigo’s bodyweight is around 66 kg, which is the male average in japan.

Now that’s 30 times more than a hawk, so: 89 cm*30 = 26 meters. Keigo’s wing span had to be 26 meters (over 85 feet)! [13 meters (42,6 feet) per wing! That’s fucking huge, guys. He wouldn’t even have the strength to move them.]

So let’s say his bones are hollow, like these of a hawk. (Means we can remove around 15 percent of his bodyweight, which is 11 kg; so 66 – 11 = 55 kg.)   So now Keigo weights 55 kg, which is 23 times more-> 89cm*23 = 20 meters.

That means 10 meters (32 feet) per wing, which is still incorrect.

So he has to be lighter. But… how?

We’ve to think about his body. He isn’t weak and has lean muscles – but muscles are heavy. So in order to make him faster and lighter, let’s compensate his muscle mass and assume his inner body is build more bird-like.

Let’s go in risky and give him, like a hawk:

-> Extremely fast digestion and metabolism with light inner organs.

This reduces his weight immensely. But it increases his hunger and body heat. It fastens his heartbeat and weakens is immune system. No accumulated fat also makes him endangered for Osteoporosis & Overfeeding syndrome etc. He would feel immense consequences if he only skipped a few meals.

(A/N: Even though it sounds bloody cool, I’m personally not a big fan of the ‘Hawks eats raw meat’-headcanon. It’s cool, sure, but raw meat is fucking inefficient in supplying your brain with nutrients. You’d have to eat a time-wasting amount to get nearly the same energy. And I seriously doubt Hawks can afford this risk. It’s actually a question of life and death for him. (‘Keigo mainly eating raw meat’ pulls me out of a otherwise good story. But you do you, if you enjoy it, go with it dude.)

-> A really thin skullcap

When you’re a bird and you fly against a window, you’d probably die. When you’re a human and you run against the same window with the same impact force, you’d probably survive. But when you’re a bird with a heavy human-build skull, it’d be way harder for you to fly. If we make your skull thinner well…  that’s dangerous, but efficient.

(A/N: Oh shit, I remember Dabi keeping Hawks’ head under his shoe.  Jesus fucking christ- Imagine he knew that Hawks’ skull was a fucking weak spot? Maybe not, but I’ll worship this headcanon till I die)

So after looking at him like a Hawk, we can assume a weight of ~30 kg, (which is really fucking light for a grown up male.)

Since he’s still a human, we can now just look at the wingspan of a heavy airborne bird, and we’ve his wingspan.

For example the Albatross weights 13 kg with 3 meters of wingspan.

Keigo’s only two times that weight! So 3 m*2 = 6 meters!

Which means one of Hawks wings in full feathers measures around 3 meters! (~9 Feet per wing)

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

So here is my personal little list of headcanons for Hawks:

-          He is really fucking light. [Around those 30 kg]

-          Like a Hawk, He’s most active at dawn.

-          Like a Hawk, he can see ultra violet.

-          Like a Hawk, his eyes will become darker as he ages. [Most young hawks (like him) have light yellow eyes.They only become darker (orange/red) as they age. [Imagine 30 y/o Hawks with red eyes.]

-          Hawks’ speed:

(If you don’t care so much for the math, you can just skip to the conclusion)

Thank god we got this panel:

Here we see, the building hast at least 15 visible floors. The average height of skyscraper floors is between 2,0 m – 3,20 m, so let’s meet in the middle at 2,6 m.

(The buildings of the street have around 32 f on average (I counted the windows) so let’s add 17 “invisible” f.)

32 f*2,6 m = 83,2 m. The skyscraper Hawks chills on measures about 83,2 m. But the beeline between Endeavor and Hawks is actually even greater. (We have a x here but Hawks still had to be out of anyone’s radius of sight, so under the conditions at least 50 m.)

The shown movement of Endeavor on the mainstreet is (measured by the cars lengths at least) 40 m, plus the side street which measures around 25 m, - so let’s add 65 m.  

(Just imagine a triangle with a 90 degree angle, which is the building meeting the street. c=65 m & b=83,2 m - so a has to be 105,5 m)

The direct distance between Endeavors attackers and Hawks measures 105,5 m.  

So, now let’s get salty…

Hawks defeats Endeavors attackers after Deku jumps but before Deku lands. The panels lag is (measured by Dekus position in the air) 0,5 seconds.

v = s / t  so 105,5/0,5 = 211 km/h.

-> That means Hawks can move 211 km/h (131 mph) without problems.(probably faster)

[In free fall, a Hawk can kill a target with the speed of 400 km/h. (They use the blind spot from above to their advantage.) I dunno if our bird is capable of this, but I’d like to.]

(If you liked this post give me your heart, your soul and worship me in a comment, because I’m a power-hungry individual)

What do you think? Any other cool headcanons I don’t know yet? Did I fuck up in my math? (I can sense it, somewhere up there I made one. I’m searching for my mistake. If you find it, please give it back)

Anyways, have a save day!

[gwynrielsupremacist]

CONSTELATIONS

Read at AO3

The sound of the Shadowsinger’s heavy breaths plus the splashing from the bathroom echoed throughout the room

Azriel was fucked.

But really, really fucked.

His hands felt sweaty against the cool and soft fabric of his bedsheets, undone after so many times he had shifted his position while he waited for his mate to leave the bathroom and go into bed with him.

They had discovered that they were mates a few weeks ago, and they had agreed to take things easy.

But, the progress that was to occur that night, it overwhelm him

He raised his body, supporting his elbow and extending his muscled neck, trying to see if Gwyn would appear through the doorway.

He still didn’t believe that such a female, that priestess, was his mate.

He still didn’t believe his feelings were reciprocal.

Seeing she wouldn’t show up yet, he flopped onto the bed, running the back of his hand over his eyes, sighing.

Shadows crawled up his scarred fingers, trying to soothe his nerves, but nothing succeeded. He glanced at the time in the clock that sat on his nightstand. She had been in the bath for 30 minutes.

“Has something happened to her?” He asked.

“She will come, Shadowsinger” The shadows reassured him. “She’s as nervous as you”

He stretched the collar of his nightshirt to catch some air in his lungs. He normally slept shirtless and in simple black shorts that left little to imagination, but he supposed his normal clothing would make the priestess uncomfortable, and he didn’t want to be the reason for her discomfort.

He looked down at his hands, scarred and burned.

“You don’t deserve her. You’re just the bastard of an Illyrian lord”. His insecurities told him.

“That’s a lie, Shadowsinger. She loves you, and you’re worthy of her, as much as she is worthy of you” His shadows answered, attacking his own thoughts.

“You’re a blood-thirsty bastard, when she knows all your secrets, she will run away”.

“Attack those thoughts, Shadowsinger, those thoughts are nothing but your insecurities” They fought back.

“I am worthy of her. She loves me and I love her” Azriel thought, closing the insecurities with a padlock and tearing them outside, destroying it.

He sighted, placing a palm in his heart, noticing how his heartbeat was normalizing.

The shadows started to move, heading to the arc of his wings, settling there and calmly observing their master.

Azriel shifted, lying on his stomach, no longer hearing the sound of his mate splashing in the tub.

It had all started when Gwyn appeared in the training ring, while he was performing his night stretches.

Apparently, she hadn’t been able to sleep and had grown tired of reading the book she, Nesta and Emerie had started to criticize it, and had headed to the training ring to perform dagger exercises, finding Azriel there.

They had started doing combinations of lunges and dagger blocks and when they were both satisfied, thay headed to their room, hand in hand.

She had gone downstairs to the priestesses’ rooms for a moment, looking for a nightgown to sleep in, while he took a quick shower, wiping all the sweat from his body.

When he came out of the bathroom, dressed in his pajamas, Gwyn was already there, looking around the room.

His room wasn’t one of the largest in the House. He believed that Cassian’s was the biggest, with all his gadgets and gadgets he kept there, but his was cozy. He doesn’t need anything else.

Well, maybe a priestess sleeping everynight in his bed, in his arms. He wouldn’t mind.

In one corner was a study with two chairs, next to a three-seater sofá with a tea table in front of it. In the center of the room was where the huge bed was located, next to which were two chests, one with clothes and the other with weapons, in addition to the weapons that were hidden throughout the room.

The moment Gwyn saw him, she ran into the bathroom, and there she is currently.

The sound of footsteps startled him, sitting up and searching with his gaze for the gorgeous priestess, finding her grasping the edge of her nightgown uneasily, in the middle of the bathroom door.

The nightgown was a simple cobalt blue negligeé, with lace at the top, running down her creamy neck to the V of her breasts, ending below her knees.

It was simple, but fucking sexy.

He would already thank Nesta and Emerie for the purchase, because he was sure as hell it had been the choice of those two. He gulped, avoiding thinking of the bulge already forming in his pants.

Azriel smiled at her, tapping the spot next to him, inviting her to sit down next to him.

She smiled back, blushing as she approached the bed, sitting down and smoothing the hem of her nightgown, placing her cheek on the Shadowsinger’s shoulder, revealing part of her whitish neck and the curve of her breasts.

He was very screwed up.

“Are you okay?” Az asked, grabbing her hand and kissing her knuckles.

She nodded, letting herself be carried away by her touch, as she wrapped her hands around her body.

They felt silent, staring at each other while innocent caresses were made.

“Do you want a particular side or…? She asked, laughing quietly as she grabbed his hand and traced the scars on his hand.

“I have no problem” He shrugged, caressing her hand as he pulled her into his body, sitting her on his lap.

Gwyn blushed, realizing where exactly she was sitting, but he brought his legs together, letting her not to be sitting right on top of his cock.

“Thank you” She said as she brought her lips to his cheek, kissing it slowly, then hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

Azriel wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her cheek and murmuring “No problem” in her ear, then kissing her lobe, earning a shudder from her part.

Suddenly Gwyn raised her head and started looking around the room, her face puzzled.

“Where are your shadows?” She asked, searching the corners to see if they were there.

“Hidden, apparently” He explained.

“We’re here” Answered his shadows. “We didn’t want to trouble our priestess” They said as ribbons of night appeared out of nowhere, approaching the Spymaster’s neck, some of them touching and licking the wrists of the female sitting in his legs.

“According to them, they didn’t want to appear in case you felt uncomfortable with them” He explained, noticing how the shadows hid in the arch of his wings, observing from there the scene between the two lovers.

Gwyn chuckled, reaching out to a shadow, letting it surround her.

“I don’t mind if they’re with us” She admitted, as more shadows joined the already present. “They have never bothered me. In fact, they’re a comforting presence.”

Azriel laughed. A noteworthy laugh, out of the stomach.

“Do you consider my shadows a comforting presence?” A low chuckle came out of him, while he brought his lips to her neck and arranged small kisses in the area.

“Sure” She emphasized, noticing goosebumps on her arm. “Why should your shadows bother me?”

Azriel was silent, preferring to keep kissing her neck.

He noticed how she smiled, lightly grasping his hair, entangling her fingers in the fine strands of his raven hair.

He slid down onto the massive bed, getting Gwyn to straddle his thighs, earning a punch to the arm.

He feigned pain, grabbing his arm and twisting carefully from his wings, while he listened to her laughter and the whisper of the shadows running through their bodies.

“Enough of teasing me!” She yelled, red with embarrassment, as she climbed off his lap and onto her side, ignoring his laughter and attempts to roll her onto her back.

Finally Azriel circled Gwyn’s hips, pulling her closer to him, spooning, entangling their legs under the sheets.

“I’m not making fun of you” He lied, peppering her neck with kisses.

Gwyn turned, looking into his eyes as she teased him.

“Be careful lest I remove your tongue with my teeth” He flirted, earning a blush from her part.

She turned back, ignoring him.

Azriel lowered his gaze from the creamy porcelain skin on her neck to the area where their bodies nearly collided. discovering that the nightgown Gwyn was wearing had risen above her hips, earning a switch toward his cock from the sight of her panties, watching her long legs and thinking how they would feel if they were tangled around his hips as he slammed hard against her-

He noticed that the female in his arms began to tremble, realizing in that moment he had screwed up more than at any other time.

“Gwyn. Gwyn I’m so sorry” He apologized, moving quickly and putting a good few meters between both bodies, noticing the strong smell of arousal that was in the room. “Love, are you okay?”

She nodded, turning to find Azriel staring at her, eyes filled with remorse and concern.

“I’m sorry” She said, wrapping her arms around her body, tears falling from her eyes.

“She’s not angry with you, Master” The shadows commented.

“Who is she mad at then?” He answered them.

“With herself” They replied. “She’s angry for not having control of her body and therefore not being able to be intimate with you.”

He was silent for a moment, thinking about how to tell her what she needed to understand without her freaking out.

He reached out his hand, asking with his gaze for her to grasp it, taking both hands and intertwining them. That was exactly just what she did-

“It’s okay, love” He confirmed hers, soothing her skin with his thumb. “Let’s go at your pace, there’s no need to rush.”

She shook her head, looking at both clasped hands: “What if we can never be intimate because of me… because of my trauma?”

“Then we’ll not have intimacy” He assured her, bringing her knuckles closer and kissing them carefully. “I’m not with you for having sex, I’m with you because I love you. If we can’t have sex, then we won’t have sex.

She nodded slightly, moving closer to her body until they were nose to nose.

“It’s… my body… the problem” She confirmed.

He cocked his head: “Why do you think your body is the problem?

How can she think that her body, her gorgeous body, is the problem?

“Because you have had a multitude of lovers, surely with a better body than me, who will know how to satisfy you better than me” She told him. “I have… scars on the inner part of my thighs and hips and…” She replied while shallowly crying that little by little were falling down their teal eyes. “I have freckles all over my body and…” She couldn’t finish the sentence, preferring to hide her face on his neck while she tried to calm herself down.

He ran his hand across her back, making circles with his fingers to relax her muscles.

“Honey… Of course I have had many lovers, but I have only allowed one of them to know me thoroughly, and that’s you, my love” He replied, kissing the crown of her hair. “I haven’t seen your whole body, but I’m sure it’s just as breathtaking as I imagined it to be.” He murmured. grabbing her hand and kissing it softly. “And why the hell do you think I would hate your freckles?

She sniffed, looking into his eyes as he brought his scarred fingers closer and wiped the tears that fell from her eyes.

“In Sangravah they always compared us… Catrin and me” Gwyn recalled. “They always said Catrin was the beautiful one while I was the… cute one. I always assumed that it was because I had this hair and these stupid freckles.

Azriel had a painful time trying not to rip the head off those who said that to his mate.

“Well, that’s a lie, because you’re fucking beautiful and I love those freeckles”. He recognized as he traced patterns on her cheeks, following their path.

Gwyn began to blush, placing her mouth on the corners of Azriel’s lips, giving him small kisses and then hiding in the hollow of his neck again, leaving kisses there alike, earning a shudder from the male.

“This female is going to be the end of me” He thought, as he arched his neck to give her more room to kiss.

She laughed lightly, looking up, meeting Azriel's gaze locked in her lips.

The atmosphere suddenly was charged with the arousal of both, him and her.

They began to get closer little by little. 

There had been very few occasions that they had kissed on the lips, and the tension of the moment could be cut with scissors.

They kept getting closer until there were only inches left for their lips to collide, breathing in each other's breath.

"Can I… Can I kiss you?"  He asked. Always asking permission, always the safety of his mate first. If she wanted to leave things right then and there, Azriel would be happy just holding her through the night.

Azriel didn't discover that he had been breathless until she nodded, until both lips met in a noteworthy explosion.

It was a simple kiss, Azriel knew he shouldn't push until she decided to, but they were both too tired to deepen the kiss.

Gwyn parted her lips little by little, silently demanding the kiss to be deepened, and Azriel was perfectly willing to make his mate enjoy the experience to the fullest.

He parted his lips, letting both tongues collide shyly, kissing and kissing and kissing until they had to part to breathe.

They both smiled, peaking at each other's lips, until Gwyn dropped onto Azriel's chest, visibly tired and with her eyes almost closed.

"Are we sleepy, Berdara?"  He teased her, kissing the top of her head as she nodded silently, burying her head deeper into his chest, inhaling the scent of cedar and night mist.

"Tomorrow we have training?" She asked him sleepily.

"Yes, we do" He replied, grabbing the sheets that had fallen by the side, leaving them on both bodies "I will wake you up, just sleep now, my love, you have earned it".

She smiled slightly, kissing his neck one last time as her breathing became more and more rhythmic. She had fallen asleep.

In his arms.

She had fallen asleep in his arms.

He smiled slightly, the only person who would allow to see that sensitive part of him.

"Good night, my love" He whispered in her ear, kissing the lobe and falling into the most restful and deep sleep he had in years.

——————————————————————————

Gwyn hadn't slept this well in a long time.

The morning sun filtered through the curtains of his mate's room, illuminating the entire room. She turned her gaze, finding his handsome mate asleep peacefully, with one arm under the pillow and the other resting delicately on her stomach, protectively.

She smiled slightly, her gaze running over the man who shared the bed. His hair was facing everywhere from sleep, her wings curled up behind him, the membranes catching the sun's heat and forming shapes on them. She perceived, not with a little joy and excitement, that part of his shirt had risen, revealing his tanned abs.

She didn't know what time it was, but he was supposed to wake them both up, so she decided to put her head back on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

She suddenly felt the arm that was on his stomach stretch, as did the other on the pillow.  She had woken him up.

"You look like a cat stretching" She laughed, brushing away the hair that had fallen over his eyes, meeting Azriel's hazel eyes staring at her, clouded with sleep.

He smiled slightly, leaving kisses on her neck, causing shudders throughout her body.

"Let me sleep" He replied with a hoarse and dark voice.

"We have to go to training" She counterattacked, trying to lift his arm that fell under her hands again, without success.

"Five more minutes" He murmured, yawning.

"I can't believe the brooding Spymaster of the Night Court is demanding me five more minutes of sleep" She chuckled, pounding her arm.

He growled, nipping her shoulder playfully.

Gwyn gave up, letting Azriel lightly bite as much of her neck as he wanted.

They did not know how long they stayed in that position, the Shadowsinger kissing and nibbling the priestess's neck and shoulder, while she allowed herself to be done.

Finally he got tired, raising his mouth to meet hers, giving her a kiss.

"Good morning" He whispered between kisses, biting lightly on Gwyn's bottom lip, causing a sensation of heat to settle in the lower part of his stomach.

"Good morning to you too" She replied, stroking Azriel's back, careful not to touch her wings, the shadows nowhere in sight.

Gwyn had already received that talk about Illyrian wings from Nesta and Emerie, who were the first to discover that the two were "together". She knew perfectly well that she shouldn't touch Azriel's wings without his permission.

Suddenly Azriel tensed, and Gwyn feared that she hadn't been careful enough and she had touched something she shouldn't have until a shadow came to view and settled into his ear, telling him something.

The Shadowsinger grabbed the sheets that had moved, covering both bodies at the same moment someone opened the door.

"AZRIEL, GWYN IS NOT IN HER…" Nesta interrupted in the room, almost ripping the door out of her place, Cassian behind her.

But while Nesta's gaze was concerned, Cassian was trying not to laugh at that very moment.

Cassian knew perfectly well why Gwyn was not in her room that night.

"H-Hi" Gwyn greeted, watching her best friend's reaction.

Nesta was speechless, staring at the Spymaster, then Gwyn, and then her mate, realizing why Cassian wasn't the least bit worried.

"You knew it! You knew where Gwyn had been and you made me scared about her safety!"  Nesta screeched, too loud for Gwyn's newly awakened hearing.

"I was imagining where Gwyn might have been," Cassian laughed, casting glances at Azriel, who growled menacingly at Cassian and Nesta, demanding that they immediately leave her room.

"See you at breakfast," Cassian announced, to which he was met with another higher-pitched growl from Azriel, closing the door and leaving both lovers in the room again.

Gwyn began to laugh, to which Azriel looked at her strangely, not understanding why his mate laughed when those two had caught them.

"It was very embarrassing" She said, wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes, getting up from the bed and approaching the leathers that she had brought from her room.

She turned to find Azriel sitting on her bed, staring at her with amusement in his eyes.

"Are you going to stay there all day or are you going to help me train?" To which she earned a crooked smile from her mate, getting up and heading to the bathroom to change clothes.

She left the room to change into another bathroom, meeting Nesta, looking at her with love, as if to say:

"I am proud of you, sister."

TAG LIST: @bookish-isha @imsointobooks @shisingh @feyretale @niaacotar @flora-shadowshine @tealnymph24 @trashforazriel

[copias-thrall]

Hi umm, I love you 🤭 love your blog.

Just wondering how does Aether jerk off.

Well, hello, nonny. Thanks for the love 🥰

Right backatcha (っ’-‘)╮ =͟͟͞͞❤️ﾌﾞｫﾝ 

Well, ok…how he strokes the salami all depends on the situation, you know?

When he’s on tour, he has to be brief. There’s only one shower on the tour bus, and unlike some other Ghouls (*cough* Dewdrop *cough cough*), he’s not about to beat the bishop just as everyone’s bunked in for the night. Even if he gets one goddamned moment at the venue, he’s got to sneak away from the pack into an accommodating broom closet (and hope it’s not already occupied with one (1) lascivious Copia or two (2) other Ghoul/ettes looking for the same privacy) to choke the chicken.

Sometimes just thinking that he’s about to jerk off gets his cock filling; other times, he gives a fast tease outside his pants—just light enough he can imagine it’s someone else. Once he’s hard, he gives a few slow strokes from root to tip—just to warm up—but the real money’s at the sweet spot on his tip. Using his sizable thumb and forefinger to caress his foreskin up and down the tip, he quickly jerks himself, arm a blur. Crunched over himself and panting heavily at the exertion, all that can be heard is the swish of skin on skin and the jingle of his bracelets.

When it starts getting good, his other hand slaps down on the wall before he rests his sweaty head on it, grunting. (It’s a good thing he’s built up muscles in his arm and hand from playing the guitar, because at the rate he’s going, a normal person’s arm would cramp!) His heart starts pounding, and he can feel it in the pulsing of his cock. He moans and bites into the meat of his arm as his hips try to fuck into the circle of his fingers.

Once his cock hardens into a rock, he knows he’s so close, and he speeds up to an inhuman pace—uncaring when the metal of his adornments bounces off him. When he feels the spasm at the base, he groans and curls his big hand there while he waits for the money shot. Feeling the warmth spread, he lets out a moan as the first kick sends the first wave of his climax through him and shoots his first spurt of cum out. He gives an involuntary jerk of the hips, and then his fist is flying up and down his length as he works himself through his orgasm. (He has to refrain from too firm a grip, or he’ll pop his knot, and then everyone will know what he’s been up to. Those suckers can take forever to deflate.)

When he’s done, he just leans against the wall, catching his breath and squeezing his softening cock. Sometimes, he’s aware enough to catch (most) of the cum in his other hand; other times, he just lets it splatter all over the wall. If he’s in the shower, it’s an easy enough clean up…if he’s in a closet, well—there’s usually a mop he can use. Just a quick swipe, tho—there are people waiting.

***

When he’s back at the Abbey—or has his own swanky hotel room—Aether likes to pamper himself. A steamy shower to relax his muscles and warm his bones, then straight into the fluffy nest he made with blankets and pillows. He’s got some mood music he likes (slow songs with lots of gasping) and some scented lube (strawberry). Occasionally, he’ll bring a toy into the mix (a bullet vibe for the tip or a vibrating buttplug—but those require cleaning and charging, so those are for really special occasions.) He can be a little shy when it comes to communicating his likes with his lovers, so this is a time he can really indulge and not feel uncomfortable. 

Aether likes to touch his body—light caresses on his inner thigh, barely there fingertips skimming down his arm, gentle rolls of his nipples until his cock is flushed and leaking. But he doesn’t reach for the lube just yet—his balls are sensitive and don’t get enough love (in his opinion), so he likes to trail a firmer touch along them as his cock twitches at the sensation. And while he’s down there, a few presses into his perineum really gets his motor roaring. (Occasionally, he’ll slip a finger into his hole, but usually the angle is awkward and can take him out of the moment just as he’s getting somewhere good.) He can’t mouth at his balls himself, but he can drizzle some lube on them before rolling them in his hand as he imagines it’s the spit from his lover.

Then, he’ll bring his other hand into play, stroking himself with a loose fist as a tease. He likes the way his cock twitches against his grip and pulses softly when he hits his sweet spot with the rough of his palm. This isn’t a time for rushing, so he teases himself until he’s finally trembling with need—his stomach tensing and his feet digging into the bed—before finally lubing up his cock.

The slick, wet sensation against his straining cock is almost too intense, and he bows off the bed with a breathy gasp before taking in great gulps of air so he doesn’t cum too soon. Despite his burning need, he still starts off with slow strokes in a firm fist. He sits up a bit so that he can watch the pink head of his cock disappear into his fist and the sticky drops of precum ooze out and onto his stomach. Chest heaving, Aether makes sure to twist his slick hand around his purpling cockhead and to coax the bump of his knot to swell with slow caresses.

But even he has his limits, and soon enough he’s got his head thrown back into the pillows while he jacks it like a man on a mission. He’s groaning and whining as his body twists back and forth with all at once the desperate need to cum and the desperate desire to draw out the pleasure a bit more.

Sometimes, he has enough self-control to stop before it’s too late—grasping his cock firmly as it throbs dangerously—and he can edge himself just a little before he lets himself cum.

Other times, it’s like Satan has possessed his hand, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it from flying in between his legs at the same speed as a hummingbird’s wings. As he feels the rush, he pauses just for a moment to savor the feeling of his hot cum pumping through his cock—his hips thrusting up violently—as his knot pops. He squeezes the swollen bulge, then he lets out a choked moan as his other hand strokes his kicking, sensitive cock through the pulses of his orgasm. 

His cock stops twitching before his knot does, and he brings his free hand down to add more pressure to it; sometimes, the firm hold is enough to give him an extra demi orgasm or two, but other times, he massages his knot back to a swell in order to coax it into another intense pulse.

Once he’s done, he just lies there—content in the warm glow—and laughs in the high of the moment. There’s cum everywhere—he didn’t even attempt to catch it—and he languidly swipes at it with his towel before rolling over and falling into a contented doze.

***

There is a third option: when his lover will ask him to masturbate in front of them.

Objectively, Aether knows it’s hot—he knows he enjoys watching his partners touch themselves—but he can be a little shy about the way his body looks when he’s lost in the throes of self-love. So, he usually employs a little help.

He’s got a set of tenga eggs—which he replenishes as necessary—that he uses as a treat…or in front of a partner. They give him that little extra stimulation that feels good enough to make him forget to be self-conscious and—unlike his hand—never lose their grip.

Usually, just having a sexy liaison is enough to have him revved up and cock filling, so he pretty much forgoes the sensual touching he does while alone—but this is still a show, so he does run his hands along his body, highlighting his pecs and the dusky arousal of his nipples as well as the swell of his…muscles. He bites his lip and gives a few good pulls to his cock to make sure it hardens enough to jut away from him, thick and proud.

He dribbles some lube (unscented) onto his cockhead with a flourish and shudders at the feeling of cool liquid dripping down his length. His eyes roll back a little, his toes kneading at the sheets, as he uses his fist to spread it evenly. As his pants—his blood quickening—he squirts a generous amount of lube into the egg, his heart beginning to pound at the expectation of remembered pleasure.

When the egg makes contact and slips over his sensitive cockhead, he lets out a little gasp and jerks at the sudden intense feeling. He steals a brief glance at his partner—who is flushed with mouth parted, their eyes huge and black with lust—before proceeding. Arching his fingers over it, Aether gives the egg a littles twist, then chases the sensation down to the base.

Letting out a little Mmm, he strokes the stretchy material up and down a few times before letting it spring back up so he can swirl it around his tip. He luxuriates in the feeling, his shyness falling away as his blood pools and his cock hardens further. His partner is leaning in to see, and Aether gives them a show of moaning and writhing as he massages his cock with the toy.

If he closes his eyes, he could almost pretend the pass of the toy over his length was the mouth of his lover giving him a lazy, sloppy blowjob…but the look on their face and the smell of their arousal has his heart thumping with excitement and his cock throbbing. His hand starts to jack faster, and every time the egg massages over his sweet spot, his breath hitches, and his hips fuck up.

Pretty soon, he tips his head back, letting eyes flutter shut, and he lets his hand fly. The squelch should distract—but it reminds him of…other things, and he growls a little at the memory. His partner’s arousal swirls in his nose, and he can’t wait to have his tongue all over their skin, lapping up the taste. His one hand fists the sheets as his other bounces off his pelvis on every frenetic downstroke.

His whimper turns into a low groan as he feels himself about to cum. It would feel better to shoot his load inside the egg, where the slick of the lube and the soft of the material could massage his too-sensitive cockhead, but he knows his lover wants to see his release. 

He trembles, his back arching, waiting until the last second to yank the toy off. He grunts and freezes as his cum shoots violently up his chest at the first intense spasm, and then he’s near-screaming and thrashing as his hand works the rest from his cock with each lessening pulse.

When he’s done, he’s bashful again, but content. 

Lazily, he stretches, then runs his fingertips through the mess on his chest…

…before quirking his finger for his lover to come get it.

[dreamingofaizawa]

Seraphim

This has been stuck in my head for days, okay? I know it's not MHA. But it's been plaguing my thoughts. My teratophilia is swirling like a hurricane with this man at the epicenter:

Anime: Blood of Zeus on Netflix

Yandere(ish) Seraphim x Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

Please make your way out of the current window if you are not over the age of 18. Thank you.

Warnings: Dub-con, body horror (?) he’s a fucking demon okay?, cumflation, overstimulation, belly bulge, creampie, size kink, kidnapping, kinda yandere-ish behavior if you think about it for a minute

Word Count: 2k

Author’s Note: Alright, this man is a mass murderer and a complete psychopath with horrid trauma. But he’s hot, and my teratophilia and size kink are THRIVING. I couldn’t find his height anywhere but he’s probably like 7 feet tall or sum cause he TOWERS over the other people in the anime. Idk what possessed me to make this so weirdly soft. Anyway, days of horny thoughts of this man have accumulated to whatever this bullshit is.

*Polis = A Greek city-state

Enjoy the filth~

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You'd managed to duck down behind a low stone wall gating off a farmhouse on the outskirts of the polis. The demons had appeared in the treeline when the full moon was high in the sky, flooding the land in cool blue light. There was no warning as people were either killed or gathered into the square, fear wreaking havoc on the minds of men and women alike.

You had to run, get to another polis and warn them of the oncoming bloodbath. But you needed to know what was going on. Quickly, quietly, you snuck past and through homes, sticking to the shadows and creeping up on the square. You were just close enough to hear the commotion among the townspeople. The beating of large wings and a loud ‘thud’ silenced the square, and a voice boomed out.

“I am Seraphim. Leader of the people of Melidoni, the people you call demons.” You listened as he offered strength and power to those who chose to convert to their creed, their species. Those who didn’t would be slaughtered. The choices were to convert, or die. You didn’t stick around to hear who chose which fate, instead beginning to move through the shadows again.

As you neared your previous hideaway, you figured you should try to pack supplies for your journey, especially considering you had no idea how long you’d be travelling. You slipped into one of the homes and searched quietly, gathering supplies as you loaded a burlap sack. You’d been so focused on your tasks, so convinced you’d been silent and sneaky and could slip away, that you were shaken out of your focus by a loud thud just outside the stone wall lining the yard.

You froze, heartbeat in your ears as you waited with baited breath. A loud crack rang in your ears, making you jump and cower backward away from the splintered door. The figure that stepped in struck fear into every fiber of your being. He was huge, having to bend down to fit through the entrance, his shoulders nearly too wide to fit in the frame. 

His skin was deep blue-gray, darker on his extremities and the horns protruding from his head and shoulders. Red marks littered his body like rivers of lava, and his eyes were pitch black with blood red irises. His left eye was different, a gold band in a strange shape surrounding the pool of red. Long white hair held with leather bands fell over his shoulder and down his bare chest, save for the leather strap holding his cloak on his back.

As he stood back to full height, your legs began to shake. If you weren’t paralyzed with fear, you’re sure your legs would have given out underneath you. The demon towered over you, all corded muscle and thick skin. Slowly, he lumbered closer to you, heavy footfalls vibrating the earth under your own feet. He stopped just in front of you, your chest nearly touching his abdomen as you looked up and he glared down at you.

A small smirk curved at the corner of his lips as he lifted a clawed hand, a thick finger hooking under your chin to keep your gaze up. “Hello, pretty.” His voice was deep, and you recognized it nearly instantly. This was Seraphim. The gods had forsaken you, and you’d been caught. You had a choice to make now. Convert, or die. A thumb swept across your cheek, swiping away a tear you didn’t realize had fallen. 

A sound rumbled in his chest, something between a hum and a chuckle. “Don’t cry, pretty. You won’t die.” His statement had your mind reeling. Was he going to force you to convert to a demon? He wasn’t giving you a choice like all the other townspeople? He bent down so his mouth was at your ear, his breath hot on your neck and shoulder. “You’ll live, pretty, as a human. So long as you give me what I want.” 

You were afraid to ask, but it was necessary. “W-what do you want?” Your voice was so quiet you almost thought he couldn’t hear you, but his pointed ear twitching next to your face told you he could hear even your smallest breath. A hot, wet tongue laved at your pulsepoint and travelled up to your jaw. Large hands grasped your waist, squeezing and gripping lightly as his voice sat heavy in your ear. “I want you.”

Tears fell down your cheeks at the realization of what was about to happen. You were going to give your womanhood to a demon. Though it was a small price to pay for your freedom and life. You were suddenly lifted off the ground, a gasp leaving your lips as you wrapped your legs around his waist and gripped his thick neck where there weren’t horns jutting from his body. His hands moved down to encompass your ass, squeezing the supple flesh as he moved and licked at your neck.

You were placed on the bed and he got to work undressing you, and soon your robes were a pile of fabric pooled on the ground as you lay naked before the demon. You grasped the pelts underneath you, shaking as his blood red eyes greedily raked over your form. You squeezed your eyes tight, trying to distance yourself from your current predicament, but a large hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed just lightly enough to be a threat.

Your eyes snapped open and Seraphim leaned close, his breath fanning over your face. “Don’t close your eyes, pretty. I want you to watch me take you.” With that, he released your neck and began to undress himself. Your eyes blew wide at the sight of him, a heat twisted with fear beginning to seep into your belly and between your legs. Was he even going to fit inside you?

He was as thick around as your wrist and nearly as long as your forearm, veins running up his length. Your body shook at the thought of taking him into you, afraid he’d split you in half. A deep chuckle bubbled up from his chest at the sight of your trembling. “Don’t worry, pretty. I don’t want to break you so soon. Especially since you are untainted, pure.” He lifted a hand and you watched as the claws shrank down and gray skin turned tan. His hand was now human, though no smaller than it was previously.

You didn’t know how he could know you were still a virgin, but at this point it didn’t matter. A thick finger teased up and down your folds, gathering the little slick there and moving to rub at your clit. The contact had you gasping and jerking, and his other hand gripped your hip, keeping you still as he rubbed that little nub. It didn’t take long to have you soaked, and he stopped his ministrations on the little bundle of nerves to dip a thick, long finger into your tight heat.

Even just one of his fingers was a stretch, and your walls clamped down around the intrusion. He pumped and curled his finger until you relaxed around him, then pushed a second passed the tight ring of muscle. Your fingers dug into the pelts beneath you and you clenched your jaw as you winced, the stretch burning for a few moments before you relaxed once again. His fingers curled up and hit a spongy spot inside you, making you let out a breathy moan. 

A third finger pushing into you had you squirming and whimpering, the burning stretch becoming uncomfortable, and the fourth was painful as he maneuvered his digits inside you, stretching your walls further than you thought possible. It took a bit for you to finally relax, chest heaving and sweat beading at your forehead, and he rubbed your clit harshly. It only took a few swipes for you to cum on his fingers, clenching down hard as your back arched off the pelts and your mouth fell open in a silent shout.

When you came down from the high he pulled his fingers from your core and licked his fingers clean, groaning as he sucked your juices off his digits. The feral look he shot you made your breath hitch. His hand turned back and he gripped the back of your knees, bending them so your thighs were pressed into your chest. “Hold your legs for me, pretty.” You obliged, and he lined himself up with your core before pushing into you slowly.

Even just the tip of his thick cock had you wincing, nails digging into your thighs as you tried to relax around him. He growled as he slowly pumped himself into you, bit by bit, until he hit your womb and you cried out. It hurt, but it felt so, so good. He stilled his hips, allowing your fluttering walls to adjust to his size. His large hands came around your thighs to cup your face, trailing down to your breasts and toying with the flesh.

The demon had far more patience than you thought he could possess, waiting until your cunt stopped clamping down on his length before replacing your hands with his to grip your thighs, pressing them into your chest as he pumped his hips into you. With every thrust his pace became heavier and quicker, pulling heavenly, sensual noises from your throat. Your voice rang out with every snap of his hips into yours, your body on fire as the pleasure washed over you in waves.

One of his hands pulled your leg and rested your ankle just beside his neck, then moved down and began rubbing at your swollen little clit. The knot in your belly tightened quickly, burning hot in your abdomen until it finally snapped and your legs shook with your orgasm. He slowed to a stop and pulled out of you, flipping you over and yanking your hips back, a hand pressing into your back so your face was in the pelts and your ass was high in the air.

He filled you in one thrust and began a bruising pace, bending over you and biting marks into your shoulders, claws digging into the flesh of your hips. Growls and grunts filled your ears, Seraphim’s deep voice harsh and heavy with lust. You were extremely sensitive from your orgasms, tears beginning to roll down your face at the pleasured pain wracking your body. His hand rubbed over your lower stomach, feeling his length pounding into you.

He grabbed your hand and held it to your stomach, his voice gravelly and heavy. “You feel that, pretty? I’m right here.” Feeling him through your skin had you falling over that edge once more, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull, mouth dropping open and drool falling to the furs below you as you came hard around him.

He thrust a few more times before halting completely, filling you up with a long, low growl into your shoulder. His cum filled you, your belly distending a little with the sheer volume. Slowly he pulled out and lay you on your back, smoothing a hand over your stomach and pushing down on the bulge. You moaned out and he watched his seed gush from your gaping hole, your body trembling with exhaustion.

Your breath was ragged as you tried to steady yourself, and Seraphim dressed you just as easily as he’d disrobed you. “Can I go now?” you asked, still in a bit of a daze. His laugh shook his chest and shoulders. “No, pretty. Of course not. Your fate lies with me now.” Your brows scrunched together in confusion. “But you said…” He lifted an eyebrow. “I said you’d live if you gave me what I want. And I said I wanted you. You’re mine now, pretty.” 

You resigned yourself to your fate, too exhausted to try and fight him. He lifted you in his arms and carried you out, mounting his manticore and lifting off into the sky. You rested your head against his solid chest, soaking up the warmth from his body as you drifted off. You vaguely registered Seraphim’s voice over the whipping wind. “That’s right, pretty. Rest up. You’re mine now, you’ll need all the energy you can get.” You didn’t let his words linger in your head before your mind faded to black.

[monstersandmaw]

Sleep paralysis demon/nightmare x reader (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This was begun on a Twitch writing stream, with lots of input from the chat, and while I did say I would post it straight to Tumblr, I ended up adding another 3k words to it, and a tiny bit of plot, so I figured I'd put it up on Patreon first. Since Patreon supporters voted so highly for a ‘nightmare’ on the 'next monsters' poll (thank you!), I thought it should go up there first too.

Our reader has been experiencing anxiety and insomnia lately, and this draws something to us... There's a bit at the start that's got creepy vibes to it, but the creature means us no harm. Because of the sleep paralysis element, I'm going to say watch out for non-con vibes, but nothing really happens without our consent first time round. Just putting it here in case that's a major issue for anyone.

Ft. dapper mothman landlord Reggie, and gnoll best friend too.

“You’re living where now?” Francis practically barked into his whisky as you sat together after work. The gnoll’s enormous, dish-like ears flicked forwards, dark and fuzzy and full of concern. “Seriously, you do know how shitty that part of town is, right?”

“It’s not that bad,” you growled, taking a sip of your own drink and leaning back into the soft leather back of the chair. You stifled a yawn and blinked, the exhaustion of a week’s worth of broken sleep catching up to you in one brutal rush.

Francis flicked an ear and levelled you with a flat look, dark eyes serious for once. “You’re kidding…?”

“Ok, fine, it’s not amazing, but it’s really not the worst bit of town. Anyway, it’s all I can afford right now until I find a new job.” That seemed to shut him up on the subject, at least for now. He couldn't argue with your dwindling bank balance after all.

“When’s your first interview?” he asked, raising the whisky to his lips and sipping it with surprising elegance for someone with such big hands and such a powerful jaw.

Taking a deep breath, you forced the nerves down and muttered, “Monday. I’m not prepared, but at least it’s something.” You tried not to think about the inbox full of rejection letters which, in a mere two sentences and with surgical succinctness, told you that they were not hiring, nor looking to hire, nor to take on any new staff just at the moment. Thank you for your interest.

It wasn’t interest; it was sheer bloody desperation.

“You’re not going to be at all prepared if you get mugged to death on your way home tonight,” Francis grumbled.

“It’ll be fine.”

He looked at you again and took another final drink of his whisky, long tongue lapping out the remaining dregs before he set it down with a clonk on the circle-stained table. “Please text me when you get there?”

With a solemn promise to do just that, you stood and he followed you outside into the cool evening. A scuffle of dry leaves drew your attention to your right, and the fleeting shadow of a cat projected huge along a brick wall made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Francis’ concern had got you jumping at the smallest things, and as you separated from him with a warm hug and the reiterated promise that you’d be fine, you gritted your teeth and told yourself in no uncertain terms not to flinch at the slightest sound.

To be honest, the neighbourhood honestly wasn’t that bad. There had been a few break-ins, and the police had conducted a drug raid a few streets over last month, but other than that, it was mostly just… tired. Perhaps it would be the subject of the city council’s next ‘rejuvenation’ scheme, and some commerce and life could finally be injected back into this wallowing, languishing, crumbling part of town. Still, the mothman who had let you rent one of the apartments in his old, converted town house had been very pleasant when you’d met to discuss rent, and that had gone a long way towards heartening you. Without his offer, you might not have had anywhere at all.

You tried to keep that fact in mind as you passed by the closed grocery store, the lights inside low, the neon sign flickering and drawing moths to it like supplicants to a shrine. For a moment, you caught the rapid drumbeat of footsteps behind you and tensed. In under a minute, they disappeared down a side street, and you let out a shaky breath. “Get a grip,” you breathed, reaching into one pocket for your keys all the same.

After fifteen minutes of striding at a quicker pace than was cardiovascularly comfortable, the old, slightly shabby, turn-of-the-last-century building loomed out of the gathering night. At the pedestal-base of the antique, cast-iron street lamp, a narrow pool of golden light shimmered and flickered intermittently, illuminating cracks in the pavement that seemed larger and more treacherous than they had in full daylight. Your imagination conjured black, coiling shadows creeping up from those dark cracks in the earth like smoke on a stage set, and as you paused a moment beneath it to sort your keys out, a breath of wind stippled goosebumps across the nape of your neck.

Glancing once over your shoulder, half expecting to discover someone standing silently at your back, you found nothing at all out of place, swallowed, and scuttled up the uneven garden path to the main door of the converted apartments.

No sooner had you put the key in the lock than the door rattled and swung open from the other side. Reeling away in surprise, you stumbled half a pace backwards and gasped as your eyes registered nothing but blackness inside the hallway beyond. From within the swath of darkness, two points of crimson glowed, then tilted slightly to the side, and you would have shrieked, had the entity inside not murmured your name at that exact instant in his deep baritone.

“Reginald!” you practically whimpered in relief, body going slack as you encouraged your heart rate back to normal with steadying breaths, and then huffed an embarrassed laugh. “You scared me… sorry. I’m just super jumpy this evening.”

“No, no,” the mothman purred, stepping delicately out onto the path and holding the door open for you with his lower right arm. His black fur rippled and shimmered in the soft night breezes and he buzzed his wings once. The fur around his nose was beginning to turn silver, and on his hands and around his antennae too. “I apologise. I felt you coming and I should have announced myself. How are you settling in?”

“Fine,” you croaked, equilibrium mostly recovered. The cool night wafted across your clammy skin and calmed your racing heart while you stood there making polite conversation with him until you yawned conspicuously.  

“Thank you for indulging an old moth, but I shan’t keep you up any longer. You look as though you could use some sleep,” he said, inclining his head in an old-fashioned bow, antennae dipping too and making you think of a gentleman dipping his hat at you. As you headed inside, fumbling on the wall for the light switch, you heard the distant buzz of his wings, and closed the door with a soft click as Reginald took off into the night.

The decor of the main areas of the building left a bit to be desired, with the odd peeling corner and scuff on the antique dado rail, but it was clean, which had set it well apart in the list of other apartments you'd scouted in the last month or so, and as you traipsed up the stairs to your first floor flat, the boards creaked raucously beneath your feet. No one was sneaking in or out of here without making a huge racket, and that thought provided a little comfort.

The interview on Monday loomed in your mind, ticking your resting heart rate up higher than normal, but after you went through the motions before bed with a strange sense of detachment, you let the weariness building behind the anxiety creep over your limbs and draw your eyelids down. Reginald hadn’t been wrong when he’d remarked on your appearance; it had been a while since you’d slept really well. So, it was with a familiar sense of dread that you let your mind slide away into unconsciousness, praying that the nightmares that had plagued your sleeping mind would stay away that night.

With a jolt, your eyes flew open to find the room dark, the street lamp outside extinguished, and a familiar sense of crushing dread weighing on your chest. Lying there, motionless, you breathed slowly, trying to figure out what had woken you so suddenly. Nothing stirred, and as you strained your ears, you caught no whisper of autumn leaves in the reaching branches of the walnut tree outside.

No sooner had you closed your eyes again, hoping to slide back into dreamless sleep, something touched your hair with a spider-light touch and you tried to scream and flail. Finding yourself utterly unable to move, you could only lie there as adrenaline flooded your whole body, your throat went dry, your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, and the sensation returned, stronger now.

Pinprick sharp claws - like a cat’s but much, much larger - raked through your hair, softly stroking your scalp, and you felt a silent scream tear itself from your chest. Something was there in the dark with you and you couldn’t move a muscle.

A shadow in the blackness of the room, a darker blur than the rest of the inky room, shifted along your bed from behind you in a coiling tendril, unfurling across the sheets and over your body like the root of a plant or the limb of an octopus, and your blood began to hammer in your ears. All you could do was lie there and gasp for breath.

Claws, long and glistening and dripping with darkness, scraped almost gently down your temple and as the entity moved into your limited field of vision, you felt another soundless yell rip itself from you. An involuntary trembling began in your limbs as a dark, black, skull-like face loomed over you, a wide maw stretching open to reveal rows of needle-sharp teeth.

You were going to die. If this was a nightmare, you’d probably be found a few days later, dead of a heart attack, and if it were real… gods above - the thought of being mugged was abruptly shunted to the bottom of your list of things to fear in this neighbourhood. The last thing you’d said to Francis was ‘I’ll be fine.’

The creature opened its mouth wider and wider as if trying to draw out your soul from your body, teeth glistening, breath completely silent, leaning in close to your face. It looked veiled, somehow, as if a wet, gauzy material had been draped over a skeletal form, which then stuck to the emaciated body beneath. With a jolt, you realised it looked like a shrouded corpse, wrapped in black fabric. The ragged shreds of material that floated eerily, slowly, as if the creature were underwater and the wisps were nothing more than kelp, and the tips constantly dissolved into fine smoke that curled lazily around the figure.

Was this Death itself?

Please… you begged silently. Please… I don’t want to die.

To your surprise, the creature tilted its terrifying head to one side in a motion that reminded you of a cat; as though it was curious.

Oh please don’t be something that toys with your prey first…

Fractionally, the entity drew back a fraction, though its four-inch long, sickle-claws remained at the side of your face. As you stared at it, wide eyed and sweating with fear, you got the fleeting impression of an emaciated torso and two equally skeletal arms beneath the floating veil.

In a moment of oddly detached clarity, you wondered if it could understand you.

It nodded.

The fuck?

That grin stretched wider. It had teeth like an angler fish, and the moment you thought that, all you could imagine was it lunging for you out of the darkness like a sprung trap, teeth sinking in, blood pouring, ending in nothing but pain and fear…

The creature nudged its clawed hand against your lips, and for a horrible moment you thought it was going to slice open the skin of your mouth, but instead, like anaesthetic wearing off, your lips began to tingle. You could move them again. Swallowing, you rasped, “Can… you understand me?”

Again, the entity nodded and retreated a little further from the bed. Like an aura of shifting mist around it, the darkness of the room rippled and moved, and you realised it really was floating beside your bed, one hand tethered to the headboard, the other near your shoulder.

“Can you speak?”

The creature paused, going still, and the air in the room thrummed with a sudden tension. Your lungs squeezed and your ribs creaked under the pressure of it.

Eventually the strain on the atmosphere snapped, and a rasping, polyphonous voice from somewhere to your right hissed, “Yes.”

Stunned, you could only lie there as it remained beside you, suspended and shifting like waterweed in a lazy current.

“What do you want?” you managed to croak. You still couldn’t move anything else but your eyes and your mouth. “Are you going to hurt me?”

Again, the air seemed to vibrate, and a chill ran through you.

“Is that you?” you asked. “Are you doing that?”

This time it took longer for the creature to make a sound, but it nodded slowly first. Its claws returned to your body and you gasped as the muscles unlocked and you found you were able to move again. Scrabbling to sit up, you blinked, and the creature twitched, lurching backwards away from you like a skittish horse.

“You can’t be… You’re afraid of me?” you blurted, almost laughing. It didn’t seem like it wanted to hurt you or scare you any more, but the surreal vision beside your bed was enough to keep your heart pounding. “Are you Death?”

Its wide maw stretched open again, revealing its mouthful of deadly teeth, and you balked, fear leaping into your throat again as you clutched the sheets around you like a child. Those claws could slice a sheet - or a body - to ribbons, and yet you clung to them.

It reached out slowly for your ankle, latching its long fingers around the joint, and you choked out a whimpering yell. Knowing you were alone in the house, with Reginald out on his nightly business and the only other apartment in the building still unoccupied, your fear crescendoed to a peak and your words failed you.

With what appeared to be a gargantuan effort, the entity paused, then inhaled, and then chorused, “Not. Death. You… fear… me…”

No shit, you thought. “What do you want?”

“Fear… is… all I… know… Without it… I am… nothing.”

Was that sadness that tinged its many voices? Was there more than just one entity within those constantly-twisting shadows?

“Just… me,” the creature murmured, half-turning away and releasing its solid grip around your leg.

The emotion in those two words made something crack inside you. “You’re lonely…” you breathed, and the creature began to tremble, glitching like a badly aligned SCART connection.

In that instant, your fear drained out of you to be replaced by a wave of compassion, and the tension left your muscles. Whatever this was, it was alone as well.

The creature’s form continued to flicker, and as you blinked in confusion, the misty veil covering them seemed to boil off, leaving nothing but the emaciated, charred-looking skeletal figure beneath, strangely vulnerable for just a heartbeat before it seemed to evaporate away altogether.

The stillness in the room left your mind reeling as you sat there. Had you dreamed the whole thing?

Scrambling, your fingers found the light switch beside the bed, and you squinted and scowled as harsh, yellow light flooded the room at the click of a button. Nothing was out of place beyond, and no hint of creeping shadows drew your eye.

“Are you still there?” you whispered, but after waiting for what felt like hours, you got no answer.

If you returned to sleep at all that night, it would be a miracle, but still you tried. Lying in the dark a good while later, and curled on your side with your eyes screwed shut, you couldn’t help straining your hearing for the slightest hiss of claws on fabric, but nothing came, and eventually, you must have drifted off into an exhausted sleep. Remarkably, no nightmares plagued you that night, and when you woke the next morning, you felt oddly peaceful and well rested for a change.  

You stretched and yawned, and only remembered about the strange experience from the night before when the soft weave of the cotton sheet snagged across your ankle and a sharp prickle made you frown.

Upon investigation, you discovered a long, thin scratch in your skin, as if a cat had nicked you with its claws in passing.

You froze.

It had not been a dream after all.

For the next two nights, nothing unusual happened, unless you counted the fact that you actually slept well for the first time in weeks. You found it almost physically impossible to make it past midnight, whereas before you’d frequently seen midnight tick by and vanish into the past as you lay there with prickling eyes and an exhausted, restless body, anxiety tingling along your nerves, counting the minutes as time ticked closer to dawn.

Astonishingly, as you faced the interviewer on Monday morning, you felt alert and almost chipper.

The naga smiled and held out a hand to you as she wrapped the interview up. “Thank you so much for your time,” she said. “You’ll hear back from us tomorrow, most likely, but let me say now that I was extremely impressed.”

Your brows rose and she laughed kindly at your evident surprise. “Thank you,” you croaked, and left politely before you ruined anything.

That night, you lay back alone on your bed after celebrating with Francis again, spread-eagled and stared at the ceiling. The old-fashioned plaster moulding made it look like you were underwater, especially if the huge tree outside swayed in the wind and cast shifting, kaleidoscope patterns on it. A cold draft prickled over you and you shivered. “Is that you?” you asked almost hopefully, wondering if the nightmare creature was back.

Nothing.

With a huge sigh, you looked around without moving, nervous in case you spooked it. “Listen, if you’re the one that’s given me such amazing sleep lately, then… well… thank you. I think I might have got the job…”

A movement in the darkest corner of the room caught your attention, but when your gaze landed on it, all was as it should be.

“Seriously, if you’re there, please… let me know.”

Again, you experienced that strange pulling sensation, like some kind of energy was being drawn from the room, and as you sat up, your bedside lamp flickered. In front of the darker form of your dressing gown on the back of the door, something had begun manifesting into a tall, slender figure. Shrouded as before in shadow, the creature glided forwards, every bit like a nightmare, and your heart thudded.

“Afraid…” came a chanting, polyphonic voice, “And yet not…? How?”

“Have you seen yourself lately?” you hissed. “You’re kind of intimidating. What are you?”

“Nightmare…” it hissed.

You blinked. “You’re a literal nightmare?”

Its claws glinted in the half-light of your small bedside lamp as it just hung there, swaying softly like a corpse on a gallows. “Yes.”

“What are you doing here? Does Reginald know you live here?”

It turned away and you saw a ribcage jutting out like a mummy’s fragile body, though every inch of them was a soft, matte black, pock marked like volcanic stone.

It shook its head. “I found you…” it croaked in its struggling, faltering voice. “Your fear… drew me… to you.”

“You vanished when I stopped being afraid,” you said and again, the creature nodded.

“I was using your fear to… manifest. Without it… I could not stay.”

“But you’re not using my fear now, are you?” you were excited, your heart was pattering out a wild rhythm, but you weren’t afraid.

It shook its head.

“How?”

Turning towards you, it brought up one lethally clawed hand and let a tendril of wisping black smoke play through its dead-looking hand. The fingers were longer than a human’s, and tipped in those sickle claws. “You sleep… better now,” it said, as if that explained everything.

Sitting there on the bed, you frowned. “Yeah, the nightmares have gone and — wait, are you… are you feeding on other nightmares?”

Slowly, the creature nodded. “I fought one that night, for you…” it rumbled. “I won. Now… they fear me.”

“And me? Do I have to fear you?”

The nightmare shook its shrouded head, the fabric wafting slowly as it billowed around the skeletal body beneath.

“So why are you here? Why me?”

“May I… come closer?” it asked.

“So long as you’re not going to hurt me,” you said in a reedy, weak voice. “A bit closer is fine…”

Hovering, the nightmare seemed uncertain, but then made up its mind and loomed a fraction nearer. This close, the glow from your lamp gilded the empty sockets of its skull and showed the stretching maw, and while you might not have been terrified any longer, it certainly made you wary.

“Will not hurt you…” the creature snarled. “I swear it.”

“Ok, fine, but you can’t blame me for being a bit… you know… I’ve never met anything like you before, and you are technically in my apartment…”

“Should I leave?”

Probably, but you found you didn’t want that just yet. “No, not yet. Can you answer some more of my questions?”

It shrugged. “I will try. Remaining here is tiring though. I don’t have much time left.”

“Where do you go?”

“There are many realms beside yours… Nightmares exist… in the cracks between, belonging nowhere, lingering only a while…”

“Sounds lonely,” you muttered.

“It is. That is why I stayed. You… You spoke to me, even when you were afraid. I have never had that before.”

The mist moved like snakes between its fingers and you watched, half mesmerised. “Your claws… are they why I couldn’t move?”

It nodded. “Sleep paralysis causes… much fear. I’m sorry I had to… frighten you to show myself.”

You snorted and pulled your legs close to sit cross legged on the bed, staring at the hovering nightmare in your room. It was so surreal, you wondered if you’d hit your head on the way home. “You tried to reassure me at the same time as scaring me shitless didn’t you?”

It flashed its claws again and swung a close to you. “Soft,” it purred, now mere inches from your face.

This close up, you found yourself frightened again. The horror of its empty black eyes, its gaping maw full of black, pointed teeth, the coiling shadows around it, its skeletal hands with tipped with onyx scythes… and yet, they smelled like the very best of winter nights; slightly smoky with a coldness that, as you inhaled, stung the back of your throat.

“Afraid, and yet not,” it repeated.

“Can I touch you?”

The nightmare clearly had not been expecting that, but nodded. Trembling, you brought your fingertip to its cheek. The skin was cool and hard like leather, but a fine mist floated around them, and you realised that the shroud wasn’t cloth at all, but intangible and made simply of smoke and shadow. The creature shuddered and you pressed your whole palm to their face as they leaned into your touch.

A moment later, they began to flicker and let out a broken moan. “I cannot stay.”

“Come back?” you whispered.

The mouth that held the promise of death, with all those teeth, suddenly smiled and they nodded. After that, they vanished.

Another week went by, but as you faced the fears of starting a new job, and the nearer that your starting date drew, the better you slept.

“It’s you again, isn’t it?” you asked the empty, black room on the night before you started work. “Come on, come out. You’ve been trying to manifest all week. I can feel it.”

Rippling out of the darkness, the nightmare swayed towards your bed and hung in the space beside it, drifting.

“Thank you,” you smiled and stood up. The nightmare didn’t move as you walked towards it, and this time when you reached for it, the creature did anticipate it, wafting closer, apparently keen for the contact. “I actually missed you, you know?” you said as the creature’s whole body quivered.

It brought its hand up to your face in a mirror of your gesture and brushed the curved back of its claws against your cheek. It tingled but you were still able to talk.

“You can touch me,” you whispered, drawing it back towards your bed by taking its skeletal fingers in yours.

Having its permission, the nightmare raked those claws through your hair with a tenderness that left you breathless. “Let me take the fear from you…” it murmured.

Examining your feelings, you discovered a small knot of anxiety about tomorrow, and smiled. “Leave me a little bit, ok? Trust me, a bit of nerves helps.”

Nodding, it leaned close and inhaled.

Standing there beside the bed, your body ignited with what could only be described as a deep and yearning lust, and you gasped, knees going weak. The nightmare caught you as you swayed, head spinning, and laid you easily down on the bed, despite the fact that it hardly looked strong enough to withstand a slight draft.

“What…?” you gasped, core burning.

The creature looked at a loss as it hung in the space beside your bed.

“I’m assuming this has never happened to you before?” you snorted, feeling a little recovered. “How lonely do I have to be to get turned on by a literal nightmare?”

A chuffing laugh made you look back at them.

“You find that funny too?” you asked and they nodded. “Well, if I’m honest… now that I know you’re not going to hurt me, I think you’re kind of beautiful.”

A soft, broken, crooning sound escaped them and they floated nearer, hovering over your bed and extending a hand to stroke talon-tips down your cheek again. “You are beautiful,” it murmured in all its numerous, whispering voices.

“Touch me,” you breathed.

“It will paralyse you,” they snarled, leaning backwards. “I can only… control it for so long.”

“But you won’t hurt me, and it’ll wear off, right?”

They nodded.

“Then touch me… please… I… I want your touch,” and you did. In a way you’d never felt with anyone else, human or otherwise, you needed them.

Rearing closer to you, the creature hung in the air above you like a cloud. It raked its claws down your body, but instead of shearing your clothes open, they simply evaporated, reappearing on the floor nearby in a tangled, crumpled heap.

“Neat trick,” you muttered before gasping as their hands landed on your bare torso, spreading their fingers wide and inhaling again. “Magic?”

“In dreams, anything is possible. We are not bound by your laws.”

“Of course not, but you’re —” you cut off sharply as they opened their mouth and a long, black tongue slithered free and coiled around your hardening nipple. You lurched and your back arched before falling back onto the bed. A tingling spread rapidly all down your right side as their hands gripped you more strongly now.

Working steadily first down one side and then the other, the nightmare scraped its teeth over you in a hundred scratching lines that made you want to yelp and buck, but their paralysis had begun to sweep over you. Every almost-bite it chased with its soothing, teasing, paralysing tongue and fingertips until you could do nothing but tremble and twitch beneath its touch.

A voice hissed, “I will know if you want me to stop,” and you let the last of your fears slide away, giving into the intense pleasure that their mouth offered on your body.

Finally, breath heaving, you felt your release crashing towards you. Never before had you been utterly immobile like this. You wanted to thrash and buck, to squirm and writhe - the pleasure was so intense and visceral that you needed to scream, but the nightmare held you in its grasp and wrung your release from you with relentless focus. Before you could recover fully, it demanded a second orgasm hot on the heels of the first and you thought you might shear apart with the force of it.

Gasping for breath, you begged silently to be allowed to move again, and as it sat back, that long, clever tongue lapping up the last of your release, it touched you once again and your body went slack.

“Oh my god,” you panted. “I’ve never come like that…”

“Your… energy,” they whispered, touching their fingers and thumb together as if their skin was tingling too. Something cool and dark slid over your leg and you looked down to find black liquid dripping from their robes, all over your legs from where they were hovering above you.

You had to laugh. “Don’t tell me you’re switching careers to an incubus now?”

The nightmare looked at you. “It’s just you,” they said. “I want only you.”

“If you’re going to make me come like that, I think we could come to an arrangement…”

The creature grinned, showing all its deadly teeth, and you lay back and stared at the ceiling for a long time, drained and tired but deeply satisfied. You didn’t even notice yourself sliding into a blissful sleep.

When you woke with your alarm the next morning, there was no trace of the creature, but on the back of the door as you were preparing to leave, you found the words ‘good luck’ scraped into the surface of the wood.

“You’d better come back and fix that tonight,” you grumbled with a smile on your face as you spotted it. Even as you stared at it, the wood melted back into the shape it had always been before, and in its place, a simple, line-drawn heart appeared.

You snorted. “See you later,” you said as you grabbed your coat and headed out. “And… well… thank you.”

___

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[kuromantic]

Tales of Zombish: Haikyuu Light Novel Translation

*This is my translation of the Zombie Knight Zombish snippets from the light novel. It’s split into 5 parts, and inserted between each chapter of the light novel. Don’t copy this to another site. The translation is under the cut!

Zombie Knight Zombish

 1: Zombish is Born!!

Nightfall. A lone swordsman wakes up. A swordsman that does not know of true death, because of experiencing a false death. 

“...Wait, it’s still evening, you stupid crow!” 

The man yells at the small crow beside him, having just woken up by a thin bush. The man’s body was wrapped up in an old, tattered cloth—which must have been a cloak some time ago—which covered his entire body. 

“I could have gotten burned by the setting sun…” The man blocks out the sunlight with the tattered cloth, and the crow caws apologetically. 

“Well, it’s okay. I don’t even have a body that can be burned.” 

The man laughs, and the crow flaps its black wings, flying ahead up into the sky. The man follows it with his gaze, squinting at the brightness. He stands up. 

“Oh, well. Guess I’ll go.” 

The man starts to walk. His frame was thin and delicate, which could be seen even when it was covered with the tattered cloth. And on his back, was a sword. 

The sword, which is large enough to not be recognized as one at first glance, does not suit the lean man. 

“Man, I wonder if a car will pass by… Eh, I guess no sane person would have gasoline now.” 

There’s no road where the man looks ahead. 

In the dead world where smokey, dried up wastelands stretch out for seemingly forever, the man continues to walk alone today.

“Yeah, isn’t this good? Isn��t this good? It sounds like the story’s just begun, right?” 

The rookie mangaka, Udai Tenma, stands up with an excited face and gets another drink from the self-service fountains. He returns to his table with a glass of cola in his hand. He continues working on his storyboard. 

The only equipment on the table is a notebook, a pencil and an eraser. On the open page, there are scribbles that nobody else could decipher. It’s the storyboard Udai made with all his effort. 

I wanna try and make a manga. I like it. With that, Udai had drawn a manga during his college years. And it had won an honourable mention in the rookie awards. He had gotten an editor and debuted as a mangaka. But the reality was, he wasn’t quite reaching serialization. 

But now, “Zombie Knight Zombish”, is being created in the restaurant. And there’s a confidence that hasn’t been there before. 

“‘Everything but death is nothing but a scratch’? He needs to get over himself… No, maybe ‘Mortal bodies, they make me jealous.’...” 

Udai mumbles dialogues to himself, changing his expressions to suit the main character’s. The other customers at the restaurant glance at him. 

But he can’t afford to care about those gazes.

Zombish needs to help the heroine attacked by the enemy, in an extremely cool and overdramatic manner. 

And the enemy has to be a fated opponent that Zombish has known before turning into a zombie. The heroine needs to be a key person, for Zombish to return from zombie to human. And of course, she needs to be cute, a little strong-willed, who tries to join in on the fighting sometimes. But also a girl who you just want to protect…

A flash. 

The girl’s eyes can only capture the white hand, emerging from the tattered cloth and gripping the sword on his back. 

She feels wind brush past her cheeks, and closes her eyes. She opens them again, and the bandits have already collapsed onto the dry ground. 

“Huh? What…?” 

As the girl struggles to comprehend what had happened, Zombish is already starting to walk away. 

“Hey, don’t leave me behind!” 

She grabs the knight. At that moment, the tattered cloth on him rips and falls to the ground. 

What appears is not the handsome knight she expected. Nor a fighter that’s big and well-muscled. It’s a skeleton. 

“...Wait, bone?! Why bone! Bone? Wait, do bones even talk?!” 

“Yeah, I’m bone! So sorry I’m bone, sue me!” 

The knight picks up the truly tattered piece of rag, and hides his body. It truly looks like a skeletal model. He turns his back to the girl. 

“Anyway, I’m bone. So I can’t go with you. Protect yourself, you’re on your own.” 

The “bone”, that had slain a crowd of bandits instantly, tries to walk away from one single girl, as if to escape from her. 

Staring at Zombish’s lanky, weak-looking back and the huge sword on it, the girl shouts over at him. 

“Hey, bone! Can you eat?” 

Zombish turns around, lifts the tattered cloth, and points around his stomach with a laugh. 

“You wanna see me eat? It’s hilarious.” 

“If you don’t eat… That means I don’t have to share my food or water with you, right?”

“Huh?” 

“It doesn’t matter if you’re bone or not, if you can defeat these guys. You’re pretty strong.” The girl points to the iron-clad, muscular bandit with a mohawk. “And I should sew that cloth I ripped back together…” 

Zombish laughs, his hard skull distorting a little. “I’m not strong. Those guys are just small fries. But I guess I’ll have you fix this cloth for me.” 

At those words, the girl runs up to him. 

In the dried-up world of death, two footsteps mark their paths. Up above in the sky, a crow flies around in circles. As if to watch over them. 

Zombish’s journey has just started!! 

“I wonder what my editor will say…” 

 The man, once the “Little Giant”, leaves the restaurant and returns home. And without changing his clothes, collapses into his futon for the first time in a while.

2. VS Editor A!! 

“Zombies aren’t usually skeletons, right?” Akaashi Keiji opens his heavy mouth, holding his coffee in one hand. It makes Akaashi heavy-hearted to meddle with a work an author brought to him. 

Kanda, Chiyoda City, Tokyo. 

In the editorial department of Weekly Shonen Vie, there’s an extreme lack of people in the afternoon. 

The rookie mangaka, Udai Tenma, freezes momentarily in the meeting space. And he attempts to brush it off with a laugh. 

“Yeah, I thought, ‘Is a skeleton okay?’ for a bit. But maybe a Japanese-style zombie would be new, and I thought I could pull it off. We all get cremated in Japan, too. Hahaha.” 

“I see.” 

Akaashi looks at the copy of “Zombie Knight Zombish” on the table, and Udai laughing in front of him. And he says one more time, with force behind his words. That this is the last time he’ll say this, and he won’t say the same thing again. 

“Zombies aren’t usually skeletons, right.” 

The question mark had disappeared. 

It’s not a question, but a confirmation of fact. 

“...Yeah.” Udai replies weakly. He drops his shoulders, and bites the straw of his cola. 

 It’s tough. 

It had been his best work. He had a confidence in it, that he hadn’t before with his other works. But his concept had been fundamentally criticized. 

The editor continues talking to the crestfallen Udai. 

“And one more thing.” 

“...What is it?” 

Udai hunches his shoulders, looking up at Akaashi like a scolded child. Akaashi sips his coffee, adjusts his glasses and lets out a breath. He opens his mouth slowly. 

“We’ve established that a skeleton is not a zombie. But I think this skeleton’s design is a little lacking, in the first place. It’s no different to any old skeleton. For the main character, I want a quirk that will tell you it’s Zombish with just one look.” 

“Any old skeleton?” Udai says, and draws a normal-looking skeleton into his notebook. 

“Yes. For example, he could be wearing glasses, or he could have a large scar. I want a unique design. Even if you draw him simply, you would know it’s him. If I were to ask for more, I’d even say make his silhouette recognizable. That’s how strong his design should be.” 

Udai adds a scar to his skeleton, and mumbles, “I guess it can’t be a scar, if his silhouette has to be recognizable.” 

“The scar is just one example.” 

“I’m sorry…” 

Udai slurps the cola at the bottom of the glass, which is pretty much melted ice. He laughs disappointedly. 

“I thought the skeleton was fine, since he was cremated. Like a Japanese-style zombie. Well, there’s no zombie-ness, I guess…” 

At those words, Akaashi’s glasses shine. 

“Then… How about you make Zombish look more Japanese? It could link with his sword, too.” 

“What?” 

“Well, this is just one what-if scenario.” 

“...No, I think it could work. I’ll think about it! Then maybe he can look different from any old zombie!” Udai grabs his pen, and draws a Japanese-style zombie in his notebook. “If it’s Japanese clothes and a sword, he’d just be a samurai… How do I give him the zombie knight feeling…”

Watching the pen move busily and create many versions of Zombish, Akaashi feels a weight lift from his heart. 

It makes him heavy-hearted to meddle with other people’s works. But sometimes, his words make the author take a step in a good direction. That must be why he can continue with this job. 

“So now, please brush up on the work. And, depending on the edited manuscript, I may bring it up during the serialization meeting.” 

Udai’s pen stops moving. “Wait, why?! You’ve been talking about my work so harshly and tearing into it this whole time!” 

“...I haven’t been tearing into it. It’s entertaining, so I just want to make the story even more entertaining.” 

Udai’s face crumples, as he looks up at Akaashi. “Akaashi-san, you weren’t just an unpleasant person, after all!” 

“I’m an unpleasant person…?” 

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean it that way! I meant it in an um, good way!” 

Akaashi doesn’t ask what exactly he means by that, and organizes the manuscript. “Zombish is very entertaining, compared to the works you have brought me so far. I think you have a chance.” 

“Thank you!” 

“Oh, and lastly…” 

“There’s… still more?” Udai tenses. 

 Akaashi chuckles, before talking. “I’ve been thinking for a while, but this bit on the edge of the page, saying ‘Zombish’s journey has only just begun!’. You don’t need to write that. It’s the editor’s job.” 

“...!!”

4. Get Serialized!! 

It’s just past noon. Noticing that the phone is ringing, Udai reaches out from under the futon. He checks, and realizes it’s Akaashi. He gets out of the futon in a hurry, and answers. 

“You were asleep.” Akaashi says, in the same straightforward tone. 

“...I’m sorry.” 

“No, I’m sorry too. I’m going to get into it. Your one-shot is well-received.” 

At those words, Udai’s hand begins to sweat. He had been told to make a one-shot for the extra issue, and had made “Zombie Knight Zombish” with everything he’d got. 

He had changed Zombish’s design into a young man with patchwork skin, after Akaashi’s critique. He likes the way the bandages show around his collar. It can’t have been a skeleton, he thinks. It’s hard to relate to a skeleton. 

The “recognizable by silhouette” task had been cleared with the axe on his head. The zombie knight element was incorporated, by making him detach his left arm to wield his sword. Maybe they’ll make a movable figure out of the character. 

Above all, it was a work he’d been confident in. If it had still been absolutely hopeless, Udai wouldn’t have been able to recover from it. 

“Thank god…” Udai feels the tension drain out of him, and Akaashi continues. 

“And now, I would like to brush up Zombish to prepare for serialization.” 

“Of course! With pleasure!” Udai answers with gusto, almost like an izakaya employee. 

“Firstly, your heroine.” 

“Yes!” 

I should probably fix up the heroine a bit more, Udai thinks. Make her cuter, better… But Akaashi doesn’t steer the conversation in that direction. 

“In the one-shot, Zombish saves her, and they decide to go on a journey together, and it ends there.” 

“Huh? Oh, yes.” 

“If the one-shot will be chapter one, are they going to be travelling together in chapter two and beyond?” 

It’s not anything fun, like about making the heroine have a good figure or about how revealing her clothes should be. 

And really, Udai hadn’t been thinking what would happen once it got serialized. Well, he supposes it would be like what Akaashi just said. 

“Wouldn’t the readers grow bored of that?” As if to read Udai’s mind, Akaashi says. 

“What?” 

“The main character and the heroine go on a journey together the whole time, an enemy appears, he saves her, he defeats the enemy, and then moves on. And they continue like that until the final boss.” 

“Yeah…” 

“Wouldn’t that bore people?” 

Wait, am I getting given out to? 

No, he’d only been thinking of the one-shot as a base, so he hadn’t set anything beyond that in stone. He had only thought that leaving the readers hoping for more would be enough. 

“...Um, if it’s possible, I’d like to talk about this in person.” Udai says, wiping the sweat off his palms with his t-shirt. 

“All right. When are you free?” 

And so, in the editorial department the day after, the brainstorming session in the meeting space had continued for more than two hours. 

“So then, instead of a heroine that just keeps getting saved…” 

“She’d be like a buddy that also gives witty comebacks.” 

Udai draws a bunch of expressions for the female character. Flustered, angry, glaring… He stops his pen, and looks at Akaashi. 

“Then maybe Zombish will have a goofy side, instead of just being cool?” 

“But please don’t make it into a gag manga. Looking at the survey results, there are a lot of people saying that the manga is interesting because Zombish is cool.” Akaashi answers, looking at the survey chart. 

“I see… Balancing it out is hard.” Udai draws out a bunch of Zombish’s expressions in his notebook, and laughs. “But it’s fun. It feels like I’m making a manga.” 

“It’s good to hear that.” Akaashi smiles for a moment, and continues. “And also, about the enemy. Instead of them being a group of bandits in the harsh world, making them an organization would add depth to the story.” 

“Oh, maybe they’re the reason Zombish turned into a zombie?” 

“Sounds good.” 

Udai’s mood lifts from Akaashi’s acknowledgement, and opens up a page earlier on in his notebook. 

“Look here! The final boss is a fated opponent from before Zombish turned into a zombie. And the heroine is a key person for Zombish to turn back into a human. So I thought right now, maybe the heroine is the daughter of the final boss.” 

In contrast to the excited Udai, Akaashi lets out a low groan of uncertainty. 

“...So what, exactly, is Zombish fighting for?” 

“You always ask questions that can make the whole thing fall apart, Akaashi-san.” 

“Well, isn’t that the most important part?” 

Expanding ideas simple-mindedly is fun. The more he expands, picking up the pieces and making the story coherent will be hell, though. But knowing that, talking about final bosses and rivals is genuinely fun. 

“Secret hideouts are great, aren’t they?” 

“If they’ve taken over this world, isn’t there no need to keep it a secret? Something that would display their power…” 

“A castle!”

7. Secret Technique: Bolster Up! 

Just after serialization, the response had been very good. It had been. Udai had been in a good mood, asking “This will definitely be turned into an anime, right?” 

But now, it had gotten to a point where they couldn’t let it get any lower on the survey rankings. 

“........” 

“Are you okay?” Akaashi’s senior sees him with his head in his hands, and speaks to him. 

“...Oh, yes.” 

“It’s about Zombish, right? You should bolster it up with something. Like, with a pretty girl or a handsome guy,” the senior says. “Well, I don’t know.” He returns to his seat, after saying his part. 

“Bolster it up…” 

Akaashi’s brows knit together. 

Would that be enough? Could such a hasty, superficial solution entertain the readers? Well, the current results point to the fact that they’re not entertained. But even so, shouldn’t they be charming the audience with the protagonist’s appeal, or how interesting the story is? 

“The protagonist’s appeal, huh…” 

But what are the features of a protagonist that will be loved? 

What kind of story makes the readers want to come back for more? 

“.....” 

It would be the anticipation the readers have for the main character. What will happen next week? What will he show us next? Expectations as such. There must have been a lack of absolute protagonist strength, if he thinks about it. 

But that was the result of trying to create a dark fantasy, painting a delicate picture of emotions. Precisely because it was an absurd world with a zombie knight appearing in it. Was that what they had done wrong? Was it impossible for his literature department-aspiring self to make an entertaining manga, after all…?

After pondering for a long time, Akaashi lifts his head with a start. 

“....!” 

Wait a minute. 

Am I making the same mistake again? 

Am I thinking I could control the author and the readers? 

“...No. Pour your spirit into each ball, pour your spirit into each ball…” 

Yes. Focus on the next point, the next ball. Focus on this week’s story, the obstacle the protagonist must overcome. 

His desk becomes messier each day, as if to reflect inside his heart. Akaashi closes his eyes, and focuses his mental state. 

“Don’t think about what’s easy, think about what’s fun. What’s fun…” 

The survey rankings going down, getting discontinued isn’t fun. Then what is he meant to do…?

“Give feedback… Connect it to the next step… The next…” 

The seniors look at Akaashi worriedly, in front of the printer. 

“Akaashi is muttering to himself again, is he okay? He won’t quit, will he?” 

“He always comes back to life afterwards, you can leave him alone.” 

“Yep.”

“I want an absolute, strong main character.” Akaashi says to Udai, during their meeting. 

“Absolute?” 

“Yes. Like a star that hits any ball with his utmost ability.” 

“Am I going to get discontinued?!” 

Udai stands up with a clatter, face growing pale. Akaashi shakes his head quietly. 

“...Please calm down. It’s not getting discontinued, yet.” 

“...Yet…” Udai shrinks, and sits back down. 

“It’s a tough situation, but let’s turn things around.” 

They’re burning their bridges behind them. 

On the walls around the meeting space, there are many posters of works that had been turned into anime and movies. And the cardboard boxes blocking the corridor are packed with samples of goods. 

They have to join the ranks of those popular works, at all cost…!

Akaashi brings his gaze back to Udai, and starts to summarize the things he had thought about for the past week. 

“The main character… Zombish is a ‘star’. The readers have expectations for the star. What will he do next? What awesome moves will he show us? What kind of crazy risks will he take?

“We want the main character to amaze us with unexpected, yet charming actions. Whether Zombish sinks or swims will depend on how he overcomes next week’s desperate situation.” 

Akaashi lifts the paper bag on the floor. “And there’s a favour I want to ask from you.” 

“What’s this? I was wondering about it for a while.” The paper bag handed to him is unexpectedly heavy. Udai glances inside. “A blu-ray?” 

“Yes. I picked out swashbuckler films of all types, that have useful scenes for composition and pose references. At this point, we should take in anything cool and flashy.” 

“Thank you!”

“Also, it will be hard for you to watch it all, so I wrote the times for scenes I want you to watch.” Akaashi gives him a note. 

“I’ll definitely watch it! I’ll use them as references!” 

“I’ll do anything I can as well. Let’s both try our best.” 

There’s no way Akaashi can control what story the author will bring to him, what the other works will be like, how the readers will react. 

So, he should think about what he can do, what he should do. 

Avoiding discontinuation— it’s hard, but it shouldn’t be impossible.

10. Our fight has only just begun! 

“Zombish is getting discontinued… You have seven chapters left…” 

After getting the phone call informing him of the discontinuation, Udai had gone outside. Staying in his room felt too painful. But why, and how he’d come to the editing department, he doesn’t remember. 

Akaashi had been taken aback, after Udai had come without contacting him. But one look at his face, and he knew he couldn’t leave him by himself. And so he had taken him to a nearby coffee shop to talk to him. It was just his luck that he hadn’t gone outside the company. 

“Please order anything you like.” 

Akaashi gives the menu to Udai sitting opposite to him, but Udai drops it onto the table, not having enough energy to hold it. 

Akaashi pulls the menu closer to himself, trying not to show his shock. “Is coffee all right, then?” 

“........” 

There’s no answer, but Akaashi asks for two cups of coffee from the waiter. He chooses his words carefully, and begins to speak. 

“We had unfortunate results this time, but…” Akaashi continues, to the dejected Udai. “And as a suggestion from me…”

“........”

“I would like to get a fresh start with a new work. We should solidify the concept more for your next work, and compete with a work only you can make.” 

“Next…?” Udai raises his head at last, only to slam it back into the table. “There’s nothing! There’s no such thing that only I can make!” He lifts his crumpled face, and yells. 

“That’s not true. There must be something…”

“It is too! There’s nothing!”

Akaashi can only bite his lip, while his assigned author descends into total panic. 

What should he do…

He can’t just say “Bye, then,” and leave him feeling downcast. He had wanted to part ways with him in a positive manner, connecting him to the next step. That might just be his own ego talking, though.

“...I’m sure there’s a good theme for you. Is there anything you liked as a child, or something you put your heart into?” 

“I’m just a jack-of-all-trades, average guy. I’ve just gotten by in regards to study, sports, art and music…” 

When Udai had been in good form, he had preened about it, saying “I can do pretty much anything!”, but now he’s totally dejected. Well, that can’t be helped. He’s getting discontinued, after all. 

The only thing Akaashi can do, is to tell him his completely honest thoughts. 

“I don’t think a serialized author is just a jack-of-all-trades, average person.” 

“I’m not a serialized author anymore, I’m a discontinued author…”

At that moment, the waiter arrives. He shows a slightly intrigued face at Udai’s words, but immediately puts on his professional face and turns on his heels. 

Akaashi takes the cup, and inhales the aroma of coffee to calm himself down. He thinks. Maybe he should make some small talk, and change the mood. 

What should he talk about? Not about his work, or about what lays ahead. Then, about Udai himself? He wonders what he had talked about with him recently. What club had he joined in college? Where was he from? 

And he remembers. 

“Udai-san, you told me before that you’re from Tohoku. Were there any unusual traditions there? That you can write a manga about.” 

“...Yeah, I’m from Miyagi. But I lived in a normal estate, it was all pretty normal.” 

Udai says with a hoarse voice, and absentmindedly puts sugar cubes into his coffee. Many, many sugar cubes. Akaashi thinks he’s adding a bit too much, but there’s an atmosphere around them that makes him unable to say that. 

“Well, maybe where I live is in the middle of nowhere in the countryside, to you. You’re from Tokyo, after all.” 

“That’s not…”

Akaashi thinks that Udai is getting a little too dejected with him, but he can’t be blamed. “Zombie Knight Zombish” is Udai’s first serialization, and his first discontinuation. 

Food, sleep… Udai had sacrificed such human necessities, and yet his work had not been well-received. Of course he would be dejected. 

And as a new employee, “Zombie Knight Zombish” was Akaashi’s first work that he had launched from nothing. Due to being emotionally invested in it, Akaashi had felt deeply disappointed about the decision made for Zombish. 

Which is exactly why he had wanted to end it on a positive note. Surely there’s something in common with them, that they can talk about…

Akaashi, feeling cornered, opens his mouth. And starts to talk about something unexpected, even to himself.

“...Actually, I have someone I know in Miyagi. It was in relation to the club I was in during high school.” 

“I see.” 

Udai stirs his coffee with lifeless eyes, not picking up the conversation at all. He doesn’t even drink the coffee that is surely too sweet. 

“........” 

Of course. Someone else’s high school years is the most irrelevant subject to Udai right now. But really, what should he do? Telling someone they’re being discontinued, and thinking of what happens afterwards, is a first for Akaashi. And it’s a big job. He isn’t sure what the correct thing to do is. 

Akaashi falls silent, and Udai opens his mouth. “...What club were you in, during high school?”  He asks, not sounding that interested. It feels more like he asked out of obligation, because there was a break in the conversation. 

Akaashi feels regret, after realizing he’s made Udai read the room for him. But at the same time, he feels relieved that some of Udai’s energy has come back. 

“Volleyball.” 

“I see. I did volleyball, too.” Udai says. “During my years, we went to the Spring High nationals, too.” 

At those words, Akaashi places the coffee he had lifted back onto the table. 

“Oh, me… too.” 

“Really?! That’s amazing, Akaashi-san!” 

“No, you too.” 

And with a light premonition, Akaashi asks. “...Which school did you attend in Miyagi?” 

“It’s not a powerhouse, so I don’t know if you’d know…” Udai laughs, before answering. “It’s called Karasuno.”

Please look forward to Udai-sensei’s next work, “Meteo Attack”! 

[thebonerpit]

cheerleader [FIC]

cheerleader

Rom Howney, 3896 words, [E], read on Ao3 here

A very seasonally appropriate fic in which Robert throws a Halloween party. Tom hates Halloween but decides to wear a costume he's wanted to try for years.

“I just don’t understand it.”

Tom frowns as he stares at the racks upon racks of zombies, clowns, vampires, and sexy nurses in front of him.

“I mean, to be fair, you don’t understand much of anything, do you mate?”

“Fuck off,” Tom says, whacking Harrison on the arm. “But seriously! Why do Americans go so absolutely mental for this stupid holiday?”

“Again, having trouble with the fact that you, an actor, who plays dress-up FOR A LIVING, doesn’t understand this. It’s not like this is any weirder than a fancy dress party. Plus, you get candy!”

Ok, he does have a point there.

Tom lets out a deep sigh. He wouldn’t even be bothering with all this if it weren’t for Robert. An invitation appeared in his inbox last week for a Halloween party, and when you’re invited to a Halloween party at Robert Downey Jr.’s house, you don’t turn it down. Even if Halloween is incredibly stupid. He shuffles along through the rows of costumes, rolling his eyes at werewolf masks and inflatable dinosaurs.

“This is ridiculous,” he mutters. Harrison groans, his hands already full of the various parts of a Mad Hatter costume.

“Just pick something, who cares?!”

“There’s too many options!”

“Ok, look. Halloween is the chance to dress any way you want to and have no one judge you for it. Just think about that. What have you always wanted to be?”

Tom immediately knows what the answer is, but instead of replying he just huffs and turns down another aisle that’s covered in fairy wings and glitter. He can’t possibly do it. Especially not for this party. For Robert’s party. It would be… inappropriate. He rounds the corner again and is faced with a shockingly huge assortment of superhero costumes. A foam version of Thor’s hammer sits on the shelf to his right, and he smirks as he picks it up and gives it a good twirl.

“In your face, Hemsworth,” he mutters quietly.

There’s a whole row of different Spider-Man costumes which makes him smile, especially when he sees a flimsy synthetic fabric version of the Iron Spider suit. And right next to that – a placement that thrills him even more than the suit alone - are the Iron Man costumes. Plastic faceplates, arc reactor gloves with LED lights, fabric onesies with fake, puffy muscles sewn in… it’s all there. Tom runs a finger along the edge of the faceplate before snatching his hand away like he’s been burned.

It’s all he can think about, even as they leave the store after Harrison buys his costume and Tom walks out empty-handed. He thinks about it on the ride home and through dinner until he finally makes excuses and runs off to hide in his room, laptop in hand, and puts on Iron Man 2. It doesn’t take long to get to the scene he wants. Tony Stark, diving through fireworks, landing on a flashy stage, surrounded by his Ironettes. Tom bites his lip as he stares intently at the bright red booty shorts, the long gloves, the crop tops… maybe, if he altered it just a bit, if he wore the mask… He can already feel his face heating up at the prospect of walking into Robert’s house dressed like that. Would he laugh? Would he be weirded out? Or… would he like it? Tom pushes the laptop off to the side and lets the movie play as he touches himself, coming to the sound of Robert’s voice in his headphones.

* * * * *

Tom is going to throw up. It’s inevitable, at this point. He’s in the back of a car squished between Harry and Harrison and he’s going to throw up. His stomach is in knots and he can’t remember ever being this nervous in his life. He’s used to the fluttering before a big stage performance or audition, but those nerves are more like excitement. This is sheer terror and he is going to THROW UP.

“Can you calm down? Jesus, you’re going to ruin my costume if you don’t stop squirming!” Harrison jabs a sharp elbow into his side and Tom jerks away into Harry who pushes him back.

“I just… I need some air.”

“The windows are all open! Take the mask off!”

That is the absolute last thing he wants to do. He was only able to leave the house in this costume with the mask securely over his face and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to take it off. He must be red as a tomato.

“Look, we’re here!” Harry crows. The car finally comes to a stop and they all pile out. Tom wants to collapse on the soft grass but he’s pulled along by four strong hands.

“Maybe I should… Look, I’ll just wait out here for a bit, ok? I just need—”

“Nope, absolutely not. Look mate, we already told you, he’s going to love it. Maybe not in the way you want him to-“ Tom punches Harry in the arm for that “-BUT, regardless, he’ll love it. You look great. And this is coming from someone who never turns down an opportunity to tell you you’re an ugly twat.”

“That was… almost sweet,” Tom says, and then yelps as they both drag him inside.

The party is in full swing and is absolutely packed with people. Small groups are standing around chatting, all in costume, and a live band is playing in the huge backyard to a crowded dancefloor. Tom recognizes only a few people – it’s hard to miss Scarlett even when she’s dressed like Morticia Addams – but that doesn’t bother him. Normally he loves mingling and meeting new people, and even dressed as he is it’s still exciting. It’s even easier after he quickly downs a few strong drinks, careful to only pull up the mask as far as it needs to go. The urge to vomit has pretty much dissipated and he’s actually beginning to enjoy himself, twirling around the dancefloor like a maniac until he’s slightly sweaty and out of breath.

“Water break!” he yells to Harry and squeezes through the crowd of people to get some air and hydrate. He finds a relatively quiet corner where he can chug half a water bottle in peace and is enjoying the cool air on his skin when someone taps him on the shoulder. He startles and nearly drops the bottle but manages to save it before turning around.

“Nice catch.”

Oh fuck. It’s him. It’s Robert. He hasn’t seen him the whole evening and assumed he was off being a good host so the whole thing almost slipped his mind, but now it’s all rushing back and he has to grip on to the fence post beside him to steady himself.

“Love the costume. Not exactly how I remember the Ironettes looking but I gotta say, this might be an improvement.”

Tom nearly chokes. He decided he couldn’t pull off the real Ironette costume as the distinct lack of breasts made it look a little awkward. So, he improvised. The shiny red and gold booty shorts stayed, of course. They made his ass look incredible. He bought the long red and gold arc reactor gloves and the plastic faceplate from the Halloween store, and instead of heeled boots he found a pair of gold high-tops and knee-high red socks. The shirt was the most difficult part, though. He went through a few variations before settling on something cute and comfortable: a red, cropped tank top. It was a bit loose and thin, so it flowed around his chest nicely and was short enough to show off his abs and his tiny waist. He also managed to find an LED necklace to serve as his arc reactor. It glowed a soft blue through the thin fabric of the shirt. Overall, he’s incredibly proud of what he came up with. Especially for someone who hates Halloween.

And now, with the way Robert is staring at him, he’s VERY happy he was brave enough to wear it.

“Is there someone under that gorgeous mask? Or are you too shy to say hello?”

Tom steels himself, takes a deep breath, and pulls the mask off.

Robert’s face goes through a myriad of emotions almost all at once. Shock, delight, amusement, and what is unmistakably arousal.

“Well. Tom Holland. As I live and breathe.” His voice is lower than before, more intimate, and when he takes a step forward Tom swears he feels the temperature go up by at least two degrees. He also notices that Robert is wearing eyeliner. The black kohl makes his eyes look even more gorgeous, and then there’s the red glitter dusted across his cheeks and around his hairline that is giving him an almost eerie glow.

“What are you supposed to be, then?” Tom asks. Robert smirks and points to the two small horns sticking out from his hair.

“The Devil, of course.”

“Of course,” Tom repeats weakly. It was barely a costume, the deep maroon suit looking more like red carpet attire than anything else, but fuck it looked incredible on him.

“I am the purveyor of sin on this fine evening,” he says, gesturing to the party, “so I thought I’d play the part. But you… you look far more sinful than me.”

Tom squeaks as Robert steps even closer and taps at the arc reactor on his chest.

“Cute,” he murmurs.

“Just… just wanted to show you how much of a fan I am… Mr. Stark.”

Robert’s eyes snap up to Tom’s and he doesn’t think he’s ever been looked at so intensely in his entire life.

“Is that so… Mr. Parker?”

Tom whines, loud enough for Robert to hear it. His hand travels down Tom’s body to squeeze at the bare skin of his waist.

“I think—”

“Robert!!”

They both jerk back as if they’re waking up from a trance. Someone is yelling for Robert and waving him inside, and he acknowledges them with a quick gesture. Turning back to Tom, he licks his lips and leans in to whisper in his ear.

“I think we’ll have to continue this later. Don’t leave without saying goodnight. Alright?”

“Yeah. Yes. O-ok. See you later,” Tom stutters, and when Robert disappears inside he chugs the rest of the water bottle and collapses back against the fence to catch his breath.

* * * * *

All the telltale signs of a party winding down are there. Most people have left, the band has stopped playing leaving only some low background music emanating from the speakers around the house, and the guests that remain are splayed out on various couches and chairs, half their costumes missing and happily drunk. The kitchen is a disaster and Tom feels bad adding more bottles to the mess, but he’s on a mission and can’t stop to tidy. After his run-in with Robert he only saw him briefly a few more times, mostly through a massive crowd, but he didn’t forget his words from earlier.

Don’t leave without saying goodnight.

Harrison and Harry have already gone home. They tried to get him to come with but Tom pretended to be enthralled in a conversation and told them he’d catch up in a bit. Now he’s wandering the massive house, peeking into various rooms as he looks for Robert. He gave up on wearing the mask after they met in the yard so it’s pushed up on his head like some sort of strange visor, his curls a sweaty mess beneath it. The second floor is quiet and empty; no one really came up here during the party anyway so it’s also much cleaner. A set of closed double doors is in front of him, and it’s the only place he hasn’t looked, so…

Tom slowly opens one door and pokes his head inside. Robert is lounging on a massive bed, scrolling on an iPad, glasses perched on his nose. He’s still got the horns on his head, and when he glances up over the rim of his glasses to smirk at Tom, he really does look positively devilish.

“Found you,” Tom says, trying to appear completely casual when his heart feels like it’s about to explode from under his ribcage.

“So you did. Come in. Close the door.”

Robert makes no effort to move so Tom slowly walks over to the bed, suddenly very conscious of how tight his shorts are as Robert unabashedly roams over his body with hungry eyes. He stops at the edge and toes at the plush carpet with one foot.

“Have you been drinking?”

Tom nods.

“How much?”

“Not that much,” Tom replies, understanding what Robert is trying to ask. “But maybe just enough to give me some liquid courage.”

Robert raises an eyebrow but waits patiently for Tom to make the first move, only shifting slightly to drop the iPad and his glasses on the nightstand. Guess it’s now or never.

He kneels on the edge of the bed with one leg first, testing the waters. Robert stays perfectly still. A deep inhale to steady himself and then Tom goes for it, pushing up on the bed and straddling Robert’s lap. He hesitates for only a moment before settling right on the seam of those expensive maroon trousers.

A pleased hum rumbles out of Robert’s chest as he runs two smooth, warm hands up Tom’s spread thighs to his waist.

“My own personal cheerleader, hm? I always knew you looked up to me but I never expected this… Pete.”

He catches Tom’s eye and gives him a brief wink. Tom’s heart speeds up even more as excitement bubbles in his stomach. Playing. Robert is playing with him. He was desperately hoping he wouldn’t drop this, leave it as the brief tease it was back in the yard. Acting with Robert is one of his favourite things in the entire world, and being able to do it like this? God, for the first time he’s actually happy that Tony Stark is dead because he’s never going to be able to act across from him again without thinking of this moment.

Robert nuzzles into his neck and starts leaving wet, sucking kisses all along the line of his throat. Tom shivers at the sensation and then starts to giggle when the tickle of Robert’s beard is too much against his sensitive skin. Robert laughs into his neck and nips playfully.

“You’re so darn cute,” he whispers. Robert has always been free with his compliments, telling Tom he’s handsome or pretty or talented, but somehow it just hits different when his hands are also squeezing Tom’s ass.

“Want to touch you, Mr. Stark,” Tom murmurs into his ear, easily switching his accent to sound even more like Peter. He feels Robert shudder underneath him and can’t help the pleased smirk that crosses his face.

“Yeah?” Robert says, grasping his chin gently so he can look into his eyes. “Do you even know what you’re doing, sweetheart?”

Tom absolutely knows what he’s doing, but Peter…

“I… uh… I was hoping you could teach me. I’m a really quick learner, sir,” he says softly.

“Jesus fucking christ,” Robert mutters, breaking character for a moment. He collects himself quickly though, shifting Tom in his lap just enough so he can undo his trousers and pull himself out. Tom’s mouth literally waters at the sight of Robert’s dick and he uses every ounce of willpower not to just pounce on him immediately.

“Want to feel your mouth, Pete,” Robert says, rubbing a thumb along Tom’s lower lip. “You can go slow. Use your tongue.”

“Yes, Mr. Stark,” Tom replies, trying not to sound too eager. He shuffles down a little and purposely sticks his ass up in the air. The red and gold shimmer on the shorts catches the dim light and he gives his hips a quick wiggle when he sees Robert staring.

“Maybe I should’ve reworked the design on your suit, hm? You like wearing little shorts like this?”

Tom nods and presses his face into the curls at the base of Robert’s dick, inhaling the scent of him. He feels the thick cock jerk against his cheek and angles his head to lick up the whole length of it, swirling his tongue at the tip. The bitter taste of precome blooms in his mouth and he moans, forgetting himself for a moment as he starts to give a much more experienced blowjob than what Peter would be capable of. Robert knocks the mask off Tom’s head so he can tighten his hand in his messy curls.

“Jesus,” Robert groans, “you’re good at this, kid.”

“Mmm, just want to make you feel good, sir,” Tom hums. He manages to remove one of the arc reactor gloves so he can grip Robert’s cock while he uses his mouth everywhere he can reach.

“Well, you’re doing a—fuck, god—a damn fine job.”

Tom thinks he could stay here forever, on his knees, mouth stretched almost painfully around Robert’s cock. He explores up his chest with his other hand, rubbing at one nipple with his thumb which makes Robert jerk underneath him.

“Keep doing that,” Robert spits out as he pushes Tom’s head down even further. He gags a bit but the incredible sensation of being stuffed and used overrides everything else and he takes every inch Robert gives him while tugging and pinching at his apparently very sensitive nipples. He drifts for a bit, so content and fuzzy, and only comes back when Robert pulls him off and throws him down on the bed.

“Pull up that shirt for me, sweetheart. Gonna paint your pretty chest with my come.”

“Oh my god, fuck, yes, please, please, want it,” Tom moans, shoving the fabric out of the way as Robert jerks himself off quickly above him. He can’t decide whether to watch his dick or his face when he finally comes, thick and white all over his chest and the arc reactor necklace. Robert’s slightly red in the face and gasping for breath as he steadies himself with a hand beside Tom’s head. Tom leans to the side to kiss at his knuckles and then dares to run his fingers through the come on the necklace and bring it to his mouth to taste.

“You’re going to give an old man a heart attack,” Robert says. His pupils are all blown out as he watches Tom hollow his cheeks as he sucks. Tom understands the feeling. He’s so hard in his shorts that it’s painful.

“Please,” he whispers, biting his lip, “will you touch me, Mr. Stark?”

“It would be a pleasure, Mr. Parker,” he replies. He palms him over the shorts which makes Tom buck into his hand. “As much as I love these… they have to go.”

The shorts are so tight that they both struggle to pull them down but finally they’re tossed off to a distant corner of the bedroom and Tom hisses as Robert immediately get his mouth on his cock. It feels absolutely heavenly, especially after being trapped in the confines of that uncomfortable fabric for so long. Robert takes his time, licks and sucks everywhere he can, all the way down to that sensitive spot right behind his balls. Tom whimpers as his tongue gets so fucking close to his hole but then pulls away.

“Want to use my fingers… s’that ok?”

“Y-yeah, please, yes!”

Robert grabs some lube from the nightstand and even warms it first before sliding one thick finger over Tom’s hole, pressing just the tip inside. Aside from the thrill of having Robert’s finger inside of him, the most incredible part is that he doesn’t stop sucking him off. The level of coordination is astounding and Tom would have complimented him on it if he was able to speak beyond moans and pleas for more. A second finger quickly joins the first and Tom’s body accepts it without hesitation.

“Good boy,” Robert murmurs in between gentle licks, “look at you, hm? So pretty and pink.”

Robert shifts him down a bit more which makes his legs fall open even wider. He feels so exposed and whines a little, trying to draw his knees close without squeezing Robert too much.

“Aw, don’t be shy sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” Robert says. “You can put your legs up on me if that helps, ok?”

He hears the rubber of his high-tops squeak against Robert’s skin and somehow the sound is more obscene than anything else. He tries not to thump his heels too hard but fuck, Robert is doing something with his tongue that should be illegal and Tom can’t stop squirming. A low chuckle reverberates against his stomach as Robert pulls off briefly, his fingers still working in slow, gentle pushes.

“Aren’t you sensitive, hm?”

“P-please, Ro—Mr. Stark, please, need to come,” Tom begs, accent slipping slightly as he tries to shove himself down even deeper on Robert’s thick fingers. He’s held in place by the firm grip of Robert’s other hand on his waist and he whines petulantly.

“Anything for my favourite little spider,” Robert coos. He crooks his fingers and Tom arches up off the bed like he’s been shocked. He feels like he’s been on the edge since they first met in the yard and now Robert’s fingers are pressing right on his prostate and his hot mouth is back on his dick and he doesn’t think he could possibly hold off any longer if he tried.

“Gonna… gonna…” Tom’s whole body is taut, like a wire ready to snap, and when Robert takes him all the way down his throat he comes with a ragged gasp. Distantly he thinks he should be considerate and pull out but it’s like his body isn’t under his control anymore, and even though he hears wet choking noises it seems like Robert is just fine with him coming in his mouth. His fingers have stopped moving and he lets Tom clench around them for a few moments before gently sliding them out. Tom whines at the loss even though he’s so oversensitive right now he couldn’t possibly take anymore.

After taking a minute to catch his breath and regain any semblance of normal brain function, he finally looks down. Robert’s eyeliner is smudged and Tom feels a bizarre sense of pride about it. He can’t stop running his fingers through his salt and pepper hair which is also a complete mess.

“Just FYI,” Robert finally says, his voice a little raspy, “you’re going to be finding red glitter in every nook and cranny for about three years after this.” He punctuates that sentence by rubbing his cheek against Tom’s thigh, grinning as he does it.

“You’re a dick,” Tom says fondly, giggling even more as Robert continues to just rub his face all over his body. “But can’t say I’m gonna care that much if I’m being reminded about this.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” Robert says, that absolutely devilish grin returning, “I can give you more than just glitter for that.” Tom squeals as he starts sucking a deep bruise into the inside of one thigh, teeth marks and all, that Tom presses on every time he sees it for the next week.

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Fourth commandment: honor father and mother

Contain spoilers from the manga.

Old writing of mine. Thought about posting so here you go.

I recently find out that the majority of the fics I have more replogs and comments are avout sadness sooo why not shed sone tears for our bird man this time huh?

He smirked at hearing the sound of you singing in the shower. He had just arrived from work and was greeted by what he loved to hear the most, your voice, his dove's voice

The echo the bathroom made only made him smile more at being able to hear such melodies coming out of your sweet lips.

He would tease you now at them about it. But oh, how it ceased the anciety and pain in his heart on terrible days he would just swallow it up for your sake. Knowing very well that your family life wasn't the best anyway. Not perfect, but was good as you would describe it every now at then with a smile; despite his worried frown whenever that was a fight and affected you so badly to the point you cried over his shoulder at night or morning.

His ears pecked up when your humming stopped and smiled lovingly when the melody of your qorda started to come...

'You left and took, my heart suffocated, and it suppressed my pain, a subtle gesture of loveee~'

A chuckle left his lips. He would never learn where the musics you learmed came from. But it didn't meant it was beautiful no less. He stood up from the couch and took careful steps to hear it more without you knowing it.

'Father. Look at this rain outside ... oh my father, I think the time has come...

aandd dont just, sit there to see and vanish it

the chance that already weaves in the past, oh this little boy's soul just is begging it...'

For some reason... that part, made his heart thump hard on his chest... after all. It did reminded the hero of... him.

His father. The reason why his true name was hidden from the public view and completely erased by the comission. The one that constantly beaten up just for him going into the city just to help others. The man that was a thief, a murderer, a liar... a abuser.

Just when he swallowed up another part of your song came up.

"Oh mother, cover me up with your sacred embrace, allow me to be your son, recreate that thought of a shelter, just don’t leave me alone,

your memory is my calm, swords that pierce into my soul.

like the wind of the desert that is so cold...

How I miss your maternal love and your laughter.

the world only brought me slaughter, I lost that old hope of just being a child,

that the smile never fades, they made me just a weapon..

I am still in the quest to be loved~" the shower sounds stopped as you he heard you sigbh and without him noticing, he stormed out of the roon to close himself on his huge closet, a hand on his mouth as tears threteaned to spill from his eyes at the mention of only blinking them.

Keigo's past was never an easy one... his parents never should be used as a example. His mother did fell in love with a criminal, but that didn't make it easier... she wasn't warm, she wasn't the kind of mother that would just embrace him and help the poor boy feel safe, loved nor protected....

God... she made him go get some money and questioned what were the use of his wings, his quirk... what kind of mother says that to a child that was only trying to help dammit!?

Angry drops of tears strated to fall from his eyes as he controlled the harsh breaths and sobs that threatened to escape beforw his whole body tensed and stopped when he heard the source of his comfort on his adult life...

"Honey? Did you come home earlier? Where are you?" He heard you call and took deep breaths before putting on a smile on his face, a so fake smile that surely you would notice right away.

"Right in the big ass closet dove. I was planning to shower a-anyway." He cursed himself the moment his voice cracked as he desperately picked some clothes to wear as he discarded his hero costume with pure anger.

"..Kei?" He flinched at hearing your voice behind him "Baby is something wrong? Tough patrol, is that?" You carresed his feathers gently and he almost whimpered at how delicately your fingertips brushed against it.

"J-Just a bit. Nothing major." He shrugged and made bee line towards to the bathroom as you stood there in pure worry and confusion at the same time. Never Keigo refused your comfort when you two finally passed that time of getting to know each other in your relantionship.

Frowning, you decided that maybe just a time for himself was best as you picked your favorite and warm pajamas and started to get things started to see if Hawks's mood brighten up for just a bit.

Sadly you knew he was trying way too hard to hide the pain. But the echo of his muffled sobs and curses as he ounched the wall wasn't helping him at all...

Brownies on the oven, Fried chicken already ordered and the most you could do of a nest out of pillows and blankets on the living room right in front of the Tv, already open to choose a movie on your boyfriend's will.

The sounds of the water finally stopped as you mentally prepared yourself as you saw your boyfriend in grey sweatpants and red hoodie, wings and hair all dropey as well as his eyes, him rubbing the top of his hair with a towel until his honeyed orbs widened at the sign of the living room and you cursing yourself for burning your hand at taking out the batch of the brownies out of the oven without protection....

"Fuck..." You hissed in anger before a confused sound left you as a warm and bigger hand grasped yours with care and brought the place where you had burned on his oh so kissable lips.

"Maybe you should have waited a bit. Just saying though." He smirked, but not with the usual glint on his eyes as you frowned but playfully scoffed.

"Excuse me? I am Hawks's girlfriend!" You dramatically proclaimed as he snorted "'The young hero that is way too fast for his own good!', so yeah, I guess I have the right of being a bit too anxious to get the set of brownies I made out just on time, thank you very much."

"And burnt yourself along the way." He chuckled as you showed your tongue at him with a smile but his features soon dropped and looked away from you, in hopes you wouldn't catched.

But you did.

"Whats all this for anyway? Am I geting my ass beaten up for forgetting some day important?" You frowned with a smile as you carefully hugged him from behind, mindfull of his wings as his muscles tensed up a bit only to loose as his scarred hand carresed yours over his chest.

"Cant I just spoil my man for a bit? Especially after a tough day?" You sensed his shoulder getting up and dropping with a watery chuckle as he shook his head in disbelief.

"You didn't have to do all this you know? Is not-"

"Dont." You muttered sternly as you let go of him to get right in front of your boyfriend as you cupped his cheeks "Dont say 'is not a big of a deal' with me Takami Keigo. I know you more than yourself as you once said it. Dont hide things that bother you away from me when you help me just as much with my insecurities and problems, alright?" He looked troubled as his eyes dropped to the ground mainly controlling himself as always but you nudge his gaze back up rubbing your nose against his "Alright?" You asked for the second time as his mouth opened and closed like a fish before giving up and nodding, pulling you to him for him to hide his face on the crook of your neck as he hugged your waist tightly, shoulders shaking.

"Aw my prince..." you cooed as you hugged his neck and caressed his nape "What is bothering you, hm? Is it the comission again pressuring you?" He shook his head as you frowned... maybe it was one of his secret missions he couldn't speak about it...

The inter phone ranged, indicating that the food you ordered was here. Moving away from the hug, Keigo only pulled you back as you frowned but soon noticed a couple of his feathers working their way to catch the money and go pick themselves.

"Kei I would pay myself for those!" You poyted as he only tightened his hold on you.

"Is the least I could do dove... please just at least this let me do it."

"Well.. fine. But you have to get a cool movie to watch. No crappy ones."

"... yeah sure."

Now you were alarmed. Not even a "you're the one who chooses the crap one"s ?.... For All Might, what happened to him...?

"Kei..." you almost whimpered, which catched his attention as he looked at you in concern as he cupped your cheeks in worry which you quickly covered with your own "What's going on? Dont tell me is nothing...please, I can see right through you that something is not right..."

Hawks sighed shakily as his eyes looked at the other direction as well as his hands dropped into your waist to pull you close.

"Sounds stupid but... I heard you singing. Beautiful as always..." he smiled as you contained your urge to squeak in embarrassment "But... I dunno, the lyrics of the song catched me off guard I guess? Speaking of father and mother's love or some shit..." he chuckled dryly as you frowned, catresing the rebel strands of blong hair making their way into his face.

"So it has to do with them? Did they contacted you or something?" You asked softy as you carresed his cheek and was meeted with a shook of his head and a sarcastic chuckle.

"Why would I? She is happy with me far away from her, a nice home to live in... as far for the old man, he..." he sighed heavily "I could care less. Neither of them cared so sometimes I ask myself why the fuck they didn't used the goddamn protection if they didn't want a brat to "ruin" their lifes?!" He sobbed as he clinged to you "he himself made the favor of saying the freacking condom was beaides but he made the mistake of not using it! What kind of dad says that to their kid of six years (Y/n)?! F-FUCKING SIX YEARS! I KNOW I WAS A DAMN MISTAKE BUT DID THEY HAVE TO RUB IT ON MY FACE ALL THE FUCKING TIME?!" Your heart broke in more than two pieces at seing him in this state before you guided him to the make shift nest to pull him down.

"Stop this, Kei-" you shushed him softly as he gulped harshly, gritting his teeth to mantain his tears at bay "If they werent careful, fuck them, this doesn't matter to us. They dont matter. But what they done, it wasn't a fucking mistake. It was a miracle and a blessing. My hero, my boyfriend was born because of these two, so stop saying that you being born was a mistake!" You cried while he stopped grinding his teeth to look at you dumbfounded.

"Your wings saved more people than anyone can count." You whispered tearfully as your hands carresed them before cupping his cheek "You saved more people than anyone can count. You matter not only for me but for a shit ton of people!"

"... you're getting worked up because of this tantrum I threw-" he mumbled only fro widen his eyes at the how you almost screamed.

"Of course I am worked up! Who wouldn't be?! Whenever I have shit to deal with, you get angry at whoever hurted me, so damn well I will get pissed off with or who whatever makes you fell less like the shining bright passionate and beautiful hero that you are Takami Keigo!" You poked his chest angrily before breathing in and out to contain your tears as he finally cracked a toothless smile at your state.

"You... You're so perfect you know that?" You angry face soon vanish at the way he looked at you like you were the solution for all of his problems, like an angel that came to hush all of his dark voices that haunted him at night with nightmares... a look with so much love that almost made you tear up again as a smile cracked into your lips.

"Dammit... love im trying to stay serious..." you hugged and peppered his face with kisses all over until he was chuckling heartless and turning his face enough for your lips to land on his instead of his skin.

You both were breathless as you were on top of him and carresed his golden looks with heart eyes as he closed them with lopsided smile at the pets and all the sweet gestures you did for him, and him only.

"Kei.." he hummed "Seriously, stop thinking about what your parents thought or think of you. They opinion doesn't matter, specially considering who they are and what they done so far... but dont hold hatred either because it only prejudices you, not them." He opened his eyes slowly and stared at the ceiling.

"... i cant actually forgive them. I dont feel I could even if I tried..."

"Im not saying for you to forgive them Kei." You stared at him as he arched one of his eyebrows that you surely need to trim at least tommorow "They are the same thing as the commission if you think about it. Their feelings or opinions towards you doesn't mean anything. Because you, birdboy, are the greatest human being in all world and everything I could even ask for." You smushed his cheeks together causing him to chuckle watery.

"You're gonna make me cry again birdie.." he prosteted heartly as you kissed both of his cheeka then his lips lovingly.

"Then at least be tears of joy, hm?" You hummed as his gaze soften and let tou peck his lips "The food is going to get cold, Im going to grab the plates okay?"

He groaned(whined?) While hugging your waist tighter and pressing his head down on your collarbone "Dont leave now, you're warm..."

"Keigo, you're basically a walking furnace especially with this hoodie, you will live." You giggled when he huffed and looked up at you with a pout.

"My feathers can go grab it then, you stay right where you are. Arent this suppose to be for me after all?"

"You've been gotten lazier every day it passes huh chicken little?" You carresed the apple of his cheeks as he tsked.

"Lazy my ass, I almost never have a day off..." he mumbled before nuzzling on your neck and sighing in bliss.

"Maybe if I pester them enough you can get some... but for now lets just rest here and enjoy the peace and quiet eh?"

"Hmm..." he hummed on your neck, causing vibrations to tickle your skin as you laughed and grabbed the packet his feathers brought, taking a package of nuggets out and almost getting to eat one until a certain bird brain just looked up and opened his mouth.

"You're such a cutie brat you know that?" You plopped the chicken nugget on his mouth as he hummed lovingly before smilling at you one more time.

"First, yeah I think as myself as pretty adorable-ouch!" You snorted at his expression after you pinched his ribs "Second... I love you.. so much." He mmurmured, face getting back on the crock of your neck.

"I love you more..." you kissed tenderly his temple and carresed his back while laying down on the huge amount of pillows.

"I love you more." He grunted.

"Dont argue with me on this!" You giggled as he chuckled.

"But is true... you're my love, my home, my family... my world."

"Takami Keigo if you make me cry one more time I swear Im beating you out of our nest."

"WHa?! WHY?!"

"BECAUSE YOU DO THIS ON PURPOSE YOU ASS!"

"IM NOT EVEN DOING ANYTHING!" He laughed at your desperate laughter and just laying back on the safety of your arms as he breathed in and finally felt the anxiety of earlier completely vanishing.

Yeah... fuck what his parents thought of him. What matters to him is when he is finally popping the big question and making you oficially his.

==============

(A/n) if anypne interested, the start of "song" is actually from a brazilian rap dedicated for gaara, naruto and sasaku called "sem familia" or in english "no family"

[autisticandroids]

hi i'm trying to keep up on spn fandom drama without actually watching the 6 seasons I don't care enough to watch so could you tell me what on earth "why lamp" means? tysm

ok so this is a long one. 

so the way i see it there are three major pieces of evidence, in the last two seasons, that dean is going to reciprocate. 

i’m not talking about like, evidence that i would use as a textual analyst if the author was dead: if i use everything that looks to ME like dean being queer then i would have mountains. i’m talking three pieces of evidence which i am absolutely convinced were intentional on the part of the people who write the show, meaning that they suggest deancas might actually go canon officially. 

that’s also why i’m only counting the last two seasons; cas made his deal with the empty in early season fourteen and it was definitely intended to come off as romantic. why do i know this? because it has the same goddamn terms and even wording as angel’s curse from buffy: angel experiences “one moment of true happiness” and he loses his soul, cas experiences “one moment where he is truly happy” and he dies. on buffy, angel’s true happiness is..... well.......... sex with buffy. so when i heard the deal i was like hm. at the time i thought they were just fanservice/easter egging me, but now i know better: they intended that. so i think mr. dabb has been planning deancas endgame since at least them lol. i’m pretty sure they knew the show was ending at that point so they could do it.

anyway the first piece of evidence is dean’s michael fantasy in 14x10. this is imo the second strongest. in it, he’s a bartender, accompanied only by a woman he can never sleep with because she has a boyfriend. they flirt endlessly, and she comments “how come you only want what you can’t have” which is a mirror for what cas says in his confession: “the one thing i want, it’s something i know i can’t have.” she also later comments “besides, you don’t want me, you just like to flirt. i’m psychic, i know.” suggesting that dean is faking his interest in her, which could be normal but reads to me as intentionally suggestive that he’s either uninterested in women or simply hung up on someone else. like “dean pretends to be interested in women to show off his flirting game and flex his dudeness muscles” is a subtext that’s present in a huge amount of the show; like, there are a few female love interests he has chemistry with, but mostly his sexcapades read like i-need-to-prove-i’m-manly bedframe notching or showing off for his buddies. this is even explicit-ish a couple of times, like i said in this post here. but they’ve never explicitly pointed it out in words i don’t think. and like. “pretending heterosexuality” is pretty queer lmao (even if dean is bi he’s still faking ultrastraightness to prove he’s manly/straight). 

also, it’s weird as hell that they picked pamela barnes for that scene. she never had a particularly close connection with the boys or anything, why not someone else? but she’s 1) psychic, so she can say that line about dean not wanting her, and 2) much more importantly, she’s intimately associated with cas. like, she first appears in lazarus rising, and she’s the one who gets her eyes burned out looking at cas’ true face. like that’s her biggest deal: Woman Who Got Her Eyes Burned Out To Show How Dangerous Cas Is. and then she died off pretty quickly because she was a woman on spn s4.

also, in the scene, she wears an angel wing necklace and a shirt that says “to hell and back” (pointed out to me in the same post). plus the guy who wrote the episode also wrote lily sunder has some regrets which i hope we can all agree is an ICONIC destiel episode.

the second piece of evidence is the purgatory confession in 15x09. this is the strongest evidence. i don’t really have much to say about it because it’s so blatant? like, when i first saw it, i was literally like “this is intentional deancas fanservice jesus christ.” like i lean towards generally interpreting deancas stuff as an accident on the part of straight writers and the purgatory thing did not feel accidental to me. and then cas cuts dean off at the end of the confession, before dean can say some final thing, and dean looks devastated, and then we never find out what the final thing was. like, it’s pretty blatant.

the third piece of evidence is the lamp dance. this is the weakest of the three. basically, dean has a dream sequence in 15x10 where he dances romantically with a lamp. given that one of the things that’s going on in 15x10 is that dean is realizing that he could be allowed to have domestic bliss, the apple pie life, and still be a hunter. the dance with the lamp does kind of come off like it’s implying that there is a partner shaped hole in his life. he has no female love interest in s15 and he hasn’t for years. here is a really cool, if way too smart for spn, piece of meta about it, and here’s another which is less cool but acknowledges that spn is dumb and doesn’t think that hard and is therefore imo more correct. also, andrew dabb himself wrote the lamp dance episode, which makes it stronger evidence than it would be otherwise imo.

anyway when i was Feeling the Madness on saturday, i decided to make this joke post based on the format of that one alvin and the chipmunks meme, you know, “if women are oppressed then why ___” (i would not suggest looking at it on my actual blog because tragically that breaks the format, open it in dash). i was basically using the lamp dance as slightly-ridiculous synecdoche for all three of these pieces of evidence because it’s the weakest.

then later that day, because i treat my blog as a deeply self-referential internal monologue, i made this post documenting the madness i was experiencing, and i ended it with “then WHY LAMP” as a reference to my earlier post. that one got popular, and now “why lamp” is a common way to refer to the lamp dance meta.