#Abandoned it for no reason WHOOPS

[sunsetsandsunshine]

~ 𝚈'𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠…𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛. ~

💙👻🩵👻💙👻🩵

(𝙰𝚛𝚝 𝚋𝚝 𝙶𝚋𝚘𝚢𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟾 𝚘𝚗 𝙳𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚝𝙰𝚛𝚝)

̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙻𝙴𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁 𝙳𝙰𝚈 𝟷𝟸: 𝙲𝚁𝙾𝚂𝚂𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 (𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑, 𝙸 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎 💗)

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟸,𝟼𝟷𝟾

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢🩵

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙻𝚎𝚘𝚗 🐢💙

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙻𝚎𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢’𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕…𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚢 𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔. 𝙰𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 (𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎’𝚜) 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎, 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛 𝙻𝚎𝚘 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚜 𝙻𝚎𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚘…𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔.

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚃𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜, 𝚢𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚞𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔 ☺️🫶🏾!!

𝙸.𝙸. (𝙸𝙼𝙿𝙾𝚁𝚃𝙰𝙽𝚃 𝙸𝙽𝙵𝙾): 𝚁𝚒𝚜𝚎 = 𝙻𝚎𝚘𝚗, 𝙼𝚞𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚑𝚎𝚖 = 𝙻𝚎𝚘!!!

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙻𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚢😙🩷🙌🏾˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

“Yeesh…you have a deeper Raph chasm than Raph himself…” The red eared slider lightly joked as he caught a glimpse of his smaller counterpart. 

The younger counterpart in question didn’t even seem…remotely phased by the remark, looking over the city of NYC like it was going to be his last time doing so. 

But the smaller turtle felt like he was being slightly watched…(which, he in fact was) he then looked up and locked eyes with his older counterpart. “…Huh? W-Were you talking to me?”

“Nope. I was just talking to my imaginary friend Mr. Snoozle— of course I was talking to you.” Leon said sarcastically, raising an eye ridge at the other teen. 

Leo blushed slightly at the elder’s sarcasm, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, “Sorry…I-I was spacing out…I do that a lot.”

“Yeah…no kidding. I’ve been talking to you for the past ten minutes and all I’ve gotten from you were six 'mhm’s', three 'yup’s' and seven 'dang that’s crazy's'.” The older one snorted, “If I didn’t know any better, it seems like you don’t wanna talk to me.”

“No! I-It’s not that!” The smaller turtle immediately protested, fiddling nervously with his fingers as he gazed at the streets of NYC once more. 

Which…was really the only thing he could do right at this moment. 

Besides…the city always looked so…pretty in the evenings. 

Well, if there wasn’t crime happening…

…Which was, like, a good 40-50% of the time but still.

“So…what is it, then? Why did you take me to a random rooftop in the smack middle of NY? 'Cuz, no offense…but I was having a nice first place winning streak in Fashion Famous before all of this.” The taller turtle said.

The honey brown teen raised a doubtful brow, “…You play Fashion Famous?”

“Psh…who doesn’t?” Leon scoffed, “But that’s a question worth discussing for another day…” He said as he leaned his shell against the rooftop guardrail as he looked up at the afternoon soon to turn to evening sky, “So tell me..what’s going on, dude?”

“…I…I needed to talk to you…” Leo mumbled. 

“I…can see that.” The elder giggled, “But, what did you wanna talk about?”

The younger fiddled with his fingers nervously again, picking at his thumb’s hang nail slightly as he avoided the other’s gaze entirely now, “…How���H-How do I become a good leader…?” 

Leon blinked in confusion, darting his eyes around the rooftop looking for someone else before letting out a humorless laugh, “Uhuh…whahahat?”

“I-I said…how do I become a good leader…?” Leo repeated, a bit quieter this time.

“…You’re asking me that?” The slider asked incrediously.

“Yes…!” Leo emphasized, getting off of the rail to look at the taller turtle, “How do I—”

“U-Uh…this is…flattering and all, b-but I reheally think you should talk to my Raph about…that.” The red eared slider interrupted, rubbing his arm anxiously and tensing up a bit as the other mutant looked at him with confusion and distraught.

“What? Why!?” Leo asked, getting up from the ledge to look fully at his older counterpart.

“Well, I’m not the oldest turtle in the family like you. I’m the second youngest. Raphalla has more experience, more wisdom and aaaaall that good stuff.” The lime green eyed turtle said as he grimaced awkwardly, picking at a hangnail as well.

Great minds think alike, I suppose…

The honey brown eyed mutant blinked, “I…so? Your still the leader of your team—“

“Welp…this conversation has been fun but I gotta go—”

“But—”

“I have a toooooon of stuff to do now that I think about it…”

“B-But I—”

“And besides, I’m sure your leadership skills aren’t as bad as you think they are—”

“PLEASE!!” The younger shouted as the older tried to leave, making the other flinch slightly at the sudden and random yell, “…Please. J-Just a small piece of advice! A-A hint…! Anything!” 

The taller mutant sighed inwardly, turning around as he crossed his arms— not in a malicious way…but it was really the only form of body langauge he could do at the moment other than picking more at his skin…

…Which, he promised Donnie he would try to stop doing…

“…Why do you want my input so bad…?” The lime green eyed teen asked, mentally cringing at how weak and fragile he sounded.

“I…I don’t know.” The younger mumbled quietly as he sat down against the ledge on the building, hugging his knees to his chest, “I just…figured you would know some stuff…”

“Some…stuff?” The other pressed.

Leo rolled his eyes, “You know what I’m taking about; being a good leader and all that shit!” 

“Pfft— HAH! Trust me, dude…I’m just as lost as you are with this whole 'being a good leader' thing.” Leon chuckled, sitting down next to his counterpart.

“…What are you talking about?” 

“I just became a leader, like…two-ish weeks ago? I dunno…the past weeks have been a complete blur.” The red eared slider explained, holding in an amused snort as he saw how genuinely shocked the other turtle was by his new lore drop. 

“My Raph was originally the leader of the team but after my family defeated the Shredder…my Dad was just all like: 'Blue, you’re the new leader now' and the rest was history…” 

“…Just like that?” The honey brown eyed teenager asked in pure surprise. 

“Just like that.” Leon confirmed. 

“Well, fuck me, then…” The smaller teen grumbled in defeat, burying his face in his knees as the other let out the amused snort he’s been holding in, “I’m good, thanks.” 

“You know that’s not what I meant.” The younger grumbled at the older’s immaturity. 

…He needs to make a mental note to himself to never let his own Mikey and Leon be in the same room with one another…

“I personally think you have nothing to worry about, though. You seem like you’re doing a pretty good job—” Leon tried to say. 

“But I’m not!” Leo exclaimed as he interrupted the older, mentally punching himself for making a loud outburst again, “I-I’m…not…”

“My brother’s don’t listen to me.” The smaller teen explained, his voice either demonstrating frustration or self-depreciation…

…Leon couldn’t tell.

“They always assume I want to be bossy or I want to be controlling but in reality I just wanna protect them!” The honey brown eyed turtle seethed, “I-I just want to be there for them a-and help!!! I knowthat we’re all the same age and I guess it seems like I’m babying them but I kinda have to because they aren’t responsible! They wouldn’t know responsibility if it walked up to them and punched them straight in the face!!”

The lime green eyed mutant rubbed his arm, tapping his fingers on his knees to try and calm himself down; getting overwhelmed was not a good look on him. 

Plus, it clashed with his autumn shade. 

“…Just, uh…trust yourself…?” The elder tried. 

“But I don’t!” The younger shouted, “I’ve tried and tried and tried to lead but they just. don’t. listen! I-I can’t lead people who don’t want to be lead!” 

“…Your Dad picked you to be the leader for a reason—”

“Well I don’t even know what that damn reason is! ” Leo seethed, burying his face into his arms, “My brother’s want Raph to lead…they don’t want…me. They want someone collective and strong and dependent as their leader; someone who they can be relient on…s-someone who they can trust…”

The smaller mutant let out a wet scoff, looking to the side of himself, “…I’m none of those things…” 

Almost on cue to the emotional moment, Leon slapped his younger counterpart upside on the head…hard. 

Leo let out a small squawk, rubbing the back of his head as he glared at the other. 

“What the freaking hell was that for?!” Leo seethed. 

“For saying a bunch of dumb shit!” The older seethed back, “Y'know that’s my job, right?” He said as he crossed his arms, glancing straight ahead as he saw the sun peeking out from behind a building….

…It was honestly giving the Attack on Titan intro and Leo wasn’t complaining one bit.

“Look…I’m not going to lie to you; being the leader isn’t easy.” The lime green eyed teen exclaimed knowingly. 

“Gee, I wonder what gave you that idea.” The other grumbled under his breath. 

“Just let me cook!”

“Well, right now you’re burning.”

Leon just rolled his eyes at the smaller’s sassy remark, continuing, “I get it, okay…? Being the leader is…challenging. Especially when you know the people your supposed to be leading don’t…want your leadership— or at the very least aren’t used to it.”

The lime green eyed teenager got up, brushing his legs off as he looked over the building’s rail, seeming like he was…trying to remember something, “It’s…a lot. Your still a kid but you’re literally forced to manage all of these responsibilities and high expectations everyone has for you…”

The older sighed, playing with his mask tails as he glanced at the ground, wishing it had an answer to his and Leo’s predicament, “A-And you don’t…you don’t know what those expectations are…” 

The taller mutant sighed, looking back at his younger counterpart, “But you just…gotta keep going…y’know? Your Dad picked you to be leader for a reason, I’m sure.” Leon assured. 

“But my brother’s—”

“'Want Raph?'” The red eared slider said, “Wehell, you aren’t Raph, now are you?”

“…no.”

“Exactly. So stop trying to compare. You’re Leonardo. Lead how Leonardo would lead.” The elder smiled softly.

God, he sounded so freaking…wise right now!!!

“But…I don’t know how Leonardo leads…that’s why I’m asking you…!!” The younger said. 

Leon snorted, “You gotta figure it out, then! Only you can determine how Leonardo leads. Yes…we’re both Leo’s in a sense but we’re different people…you feel me?”

“I…I-I feel you.” The honey brown eyed teen nodded slightly, “I just…I just don’t wanna mess anything up, I guess…”

“Hate to break it to you…but you 100% will. That’s the great thing about being, well…you. I don’t need to be an alternate version of you to know you fuck things up constantly.” The older Leonardo joked lightly, his soft smile turning to a smug grin as he saw how appalled his younger self got at the comment. 

“And you’re going to fuck up a lot of things when you’re leading your brothers…I’d be lying if I said you wouldn’t. But…overtime you’ll get better…you won’t be perfect…but you’ll get better.” The elder announced, looking over his shoulder to lock eye’s with Leo, “And sooner or later your younger brother’s will learn to trust you to lead them…but you have to trust yourself first.” 

Leo’s eyes widened slightly, looking back at his older self with nothing but…respect and compassionnow. 

His advice actually made…sense. Which is an actual shock because all the things he usually says is just plain old gibberish. 

“So, you gonna pay me?” Leon asked as he sat back down. 

“Huh?” The younger said as he tilted his head in confusion. 

“I said: Are you gonna pay me?” The older asked again, “Advice doesn’t come for free, y'know.” And in a result to the random question and statement, Leo scratched the side of his head, glancing away nervously, “I mean…I have some Jolly Rancher wrappers in my pocket if you’d like that.” 

The older Leonardo raised an unamused brow, biting back a genuine smile at the younger’s attempted transaction. 

“…I’ll…take that as a maybe…?” The shorter mutant quietly guessed. 

“I’ll pass…but I appreciate the offer.” The red eared slider laughed, wrapping his younger counterpart in a hug as he rested his hand on his side, squeezing it comfortingly, “With you and me as our brother’s leaders…there’s absolutely nothing we can’t solve!” 

The older mutant faltered, scratching his chin in sudden realization, “Besides girls…I still haven’t decoded them yet.” 

Leo randomly let out a laugh at the joke, shaking his head as a couple snorts and squeals followed. 

The older Leo raised an amused brow, chuckling lightly at the other’s giggle fit, “Ohoookay…it was never that fuhunny.” 

“Ihi nehehever sahaid ihat— snrt! Yohour hahahand!!!” The younger Leonardo squeaked, holding the other’s wrists loosely. “Oh.” The lime green eyed teenager hummed, his amused eyeridge raise now becoming…smug, “You don’t happen to be…ticklish, do you?” 

The smaller mutant gulped as his counterpart muttered out…the word; and so casually too?!

“N-Noho! N-Nohoh I’m nohot!” The honey brown eyed turtle squeaked out despretley, letting out a city-wide squeal as Leon pinched his hips with his free hand whilst still trapping/wrapping him in a hug. “Really? Well, last I checked, people who 'aren’t ticklish' don’t usually squeal when their hips are squeezed, bud.”  

“Ihihat’s— snrt! Juhuhust stahap!!” 

“If my memory serves me correctly, you said you 'weren’t ticklish', right?” The elder said as he wiggled his free hand near the other’s stomach. 

Which, in fact, was enough to keep the other boy completely howling with laughter. 

Leo screamed, twisting and turning to try and steer away from the tortuous fingers, “N-NohO nohOHO snrt WAHAIT-!!!” 

“Soooo…you obviously don’t mind this, right?” Leon smirked as he used his left hand to scribble around the smaller turtle’s tummy while his right hand wrapped around his shell and tickled his underarm. “IHI MIHIHIND! IHI snrt MIHIHIND snrt AHA LAHAHAT!” The younger mutant squeaked out in panic, flailing and shouting about. 

“But why~? You’re obviously not ticklish.” The red eared slider shrugged casually. 

“IHI SNRT SNRT AHAM!!” The smaller mutant suddenly confessed, pushing on the taller’s chest, “IHI AHAM SNRT  IHIHI AHAM SNRT SNRT IHI SNRT AHAHAM!!” 

“Oh! So…you lied to me?” The older mutant questioned as he clamped Leo’s thigh repetitively.

The complete audacity of this kid…

It was impressive, honestly…

Leo hiccuped, burying his head in the elder’s shoulder, “NOHO! IHI— snrt! GYAHAHA PLEHEHEASE!!” 

“Noho! You lied to me, you little twerp! Ugh…the betrayal! And here I thought we were having a nice little bonding moment!” The red eared slider cried dramatically as he stuffed his hands in Leo’s underarms.

The younger Leonardo loudly squawked, snorting up a storm as the elder continued to relentlessly tickle him to pieces, “L-LEHEEEEEEEHEON!!”

“Hm~? Yeah~? What is it, bud?”

“PLEHEHEASE!! NAHAT SNRT SNRT THAHAT!!!” The honey brown eyed mutant squealed, his yell bouncing off the walls of the buildings of New York. “Why~? Is it your tickle spot~? Your tickle tickletickle spot~? 'Cuz your tickle tickle ticklish~?”

“SHUHUT UHUHUP!!” The smaller turtle howled as Leon scribbled his nails along the other’s plastron patterns, “OHO MY GAHASH YOHOUR SOOHOH MEAN!!!”

“Mean?” The lime green eyed teenager repeated innocently, “I’m not mean~! I’m just asking you a couple questions.” 

“I-IHIHI CAHANT SNRT SNRT SNRT BREATHE!!” 

“That sounds like a yohou problem, but hey! That’s just me…” 

“OKAHAY!!!” The younger wheezed, happy tears pricking out of his eyes; awaiting to fall, “STOHOP! STOHOHAP!!” 

“Stopping stopping…” The elder teenager giggled, doing as he promised and stopping. He wrapped his younger counterpart in a hug, letting the shorter turtle snort and snicker in his shoulder once more, “You got this…okay?” He assured. 

“W-Whahat…? Whahat snrt snrt doohoo I snrt hahahave??” Leo questioned through his giddy laughs which Leon couldn’t help but huff fondly to, “The…Thehe leading thing, dude. You got it, okay? Just remember what I said and you’ll be fine.” 

“I dohon’t eheheven remember whahat yohou said toohoo beehee honest..” 

“I can tickle you again to help you remember—“

“N-NONOHO IHIHI’M GOOD!” Leo emphasized, hugging his middles and burying his head into Leon’s shoulder deeper. The elder just hugged him tighter, resting his cheek on the top of the younger’s head.

The two didn’t know a thing when it came to leading…

But they were going to try…they were going to try leading…

…Because that’s really all anyone could ask for…

Their best. 

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[poptartmochi]

suddenly thinking about the oracle again... idk if she would be so friendly to lana, if we're being fr

[autism-corner]

erm

[feirceangel]

Okay so you’ve written protective/possessive Feyd—what about protective Paul seeing his wife badly hurt or narrowly escaping an attack? I live for the “who did this to you” trope, got me weak at the knees 🥹

I sorta missed the whole wife part, whoops! But I hope you still like it!!

Imagine | Beloved (Paul Atreides)

Word Count: 1,820

Warnings: reader is harassed, I invented an OC to be the antagonist, protective! Paul, hurt/comfort

The halls of Castle Caladan are cold tonight.

Goosebumps are already forming on your arms as you walk through the dark.

Perhaps going for a late night stroll wasn't the best idea, but you just couldn't sleep tonight.

So you stroll instead, peering out of the windows to observe the rain clouds forming.

Castle Caladan has been your home for ages, even though you are not an Atreides. You've lived alongside House Caladan, having come from one of the lesser houses in an attempt to give you a better standing in society.

You're not angry about it.

In fact, you're grateful to live on this oceanic planet. And, you're happy to be alongside your best friend, Paul Atreides.

There weren't any others your age in Castle Caladan, so naturally you sought each other out early on.

Being friends came easily.

Paul has always been sweet, adventurous, friendly - and you are much the same.

Of course, you both had different teachings and priorities, but you always found each other whenever possible.

There was no greater joy than racing through the castle and playing near the waves alongside the boy with dark hair.

And now you're both older.

Life has intruded upon those times of peaceful play and brought forth more schoolings and politics that the young aren't susceptible to.

Although he has a higher standing in society, Paul always manages to remember you, make time for you. He vowed to never abandon you.

And you believe him.

But the subtle glares that Lady Jessica sends your way are not easy to ignore, nor are the signs that others in the castle are uncomfortable with the situation.

You try not to dwell on those things. Because the only thing that matters is being there for Paul. He deserves to have a friend that isn't a mentor or a parental figure.

As you walk though the sleeping palace, your find your mind troubled. Maybe that's why you can't sleep tonight.

Footsteps silent on the stone floor, you arrive before Paul's chambers. You hadn't realized you were walking here. Unconsciously, you sought him out in your time of uncertainty.

Resting your palm on the door, you close your eyes and sigh. You wouldn't disturb him at this hour- you know how bad it would look.

Before you can continue on your way, a voice calls out from the shadows.

"What are you doing here at this hour?"

It's a male's voice, one that you wish was unfamiliar.

"I didn't realize I couldn't roam as I please, Aric," you reply comply to the guard who walks closer.

His grin is wolffish, "I didn't realize you were stupid enough to come to him after dark."

"I was not going to disturb him."

"Oh no, I imagine he'd be excited to see you at this late hour."

"I don't like what you're insinuating," you start to walk away, hearing him continue after you.

He is right beside you, “I meant no insult, I assure you.”

“Your assurances are as empty as your head,” you retort, not even giving him a glance.

You’ve never liked Aric, so you see no reason to be civil with him. He’s always been an ass to you, finding any reason to make your life a bit more miserable.

“That was uncalled for,” he growls, grabbing your arm to stop you from walking away.

You fix him with an unimpressed stare.

“What do you want, Aric? It seems like you’re always following me,” you say calmly as he releases you.

He regains his composure, “I want you.”

You blink at him.

“I’m serious, I want you to stop fawning over Paul and turn to me instead,” his whisper is harsh and grating to your ears. “Be my wife. You’re of age now and I know you have no other offers.”

You can’t help but scoff. Stepping back from him, you cross your arms, “I do not fawn over Paul, and I am certainly not fond of you. I will do is both a favour and pretend you never asked.”

Rage lights up his features, his hand forming a fist at his side.

“I could give you everything you could ask for.”

“And you would take everything from me in the meantime. I know you, Aric. You are not kind,” you hiss, stepping back while he steps forward.

“Kindness gets you nowhere in this life.”

You shake your head, “Your actions in this life determine the outcome. And so far your actions are untoward. Cornering me at this time of night?”

“Paul will never marry you, you know,” he changes tactics.

You roll your eyes, “Admit defeat, Aric. I will never be yours.”

Suddenly, he is right in your face, sneering down at you, “I can take what I want. Like you said, it’s late, no one is here.”

“I will not let you.”

He laughs, grabbing your arm in a bruising grip once again. He wrenches you forward but you twist out of his grip and shove him into the wall.

He groans and recovers quickly, shoving you violently. You hit a corner and collapse on the ground, your arm dripping crimson.

Infuriated, you stand and glare at the smug bastard.

“Leave now,” you command him, using the Voice. You’re not a master at it, by any means, but you’re trained enough to get this brute to back down.

He leaves without a word, and you realize that you should have done that right away.

You grasp your arm and walk back to your chambers. Luckily, the wound isn’t deep and you’re finally able to sleep.

~~~

The next day commences as normal.

That is, until Paul appears next to you as you walk down the beach.

“I was looking for you,” he grins as he approaches.

His smile could brighten the darkest corner of space. His eyes are piercing and perceptive, you fear you could drown in their depths.

You smile back at him, “You found me.”

“I haven’t seen you in a few days, has everything been alright?”

That’s Paul, always so considerate of you and your wellbeing. The reminder of his care brings a softer smile to your face.

“I’m fine, just been tired lately.”

“Why?”

“Sleep’s been evading me,” you chuckle, bending to pick up a stone near your feet. “I’ll catch it eventually.”

A sudden tension fills the air, bringing you upright immediately. You look at Paul and see his gaze fixed on your bandaged arm.

“What happened?” He asks, concern dripping from his words like rain.

You move your arm from his direct view, “Nothing, it was an accident.”

His eyes flicker up to yours.

“You’re lying.”

You curse his Bene Gesserit training which makes it so easy for him to read you.

“I told you it’s nothing.”

“If it was nothing, you would’ve already launched into how it happened,” he points out. “Like that time you scraped your knee when you tripped down the stairs.”

You groan at the reminder, “You said you wouldn’t bring that up again!”

“Tell me what happened,” he reaches out to gently take your arm in his hands.

He examines the clean bandage before beginning to unwrap it. You shake your head but his eyes are pleading.

“Please.”

You sigh, unable to resist. He doesn’t even need to use the Voice on you, he controls you with his words, his eyes, his hands. You would give him everything if he simply asked for it.

He’d do the same for you.

“It was Aric,” you say, as Paul stares at the small cut on your bruised arm. “He got angry that I would never marry him in a million years.”

Paul’s expression goes dark, any mirth he might have had leaving him in an instant.

“Aric asked you to wed him?”

You nod.

“Then he did this?”

“Pushed me into the wall,” you confess. “I had ti use the Voice to get him to leave.”

You watch as Paul tenderly presses his lips to your arm, the contact warm and sweet.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“You can’t be with me all the time, silly.”

He shakes his dark hair, “I promise, he won’t do this to you ever again.”

“How-“

Paul turns in a flurry, stalking back towards the castle. You race after him, suddenly unsure.

You knew you shouldn’t have told him what happened. This isn’t the Paul you know, this is someone else.

“Paul!” You shout as you run after him.

He’s too fast, storming to where Aric stands in the hall. Before Aric even notices his presence, Paul has punched him clear across the face.

Stunned, Aric stumbles back with a curse.

Paul doesn’t give him time to recover, kneeing him in the stomach so that he bends over in pain. You watch as Paul kicks him down to the ground, standing over him with a furious expression.

“I heard what you did last night, Aric.”

Aric groans in response.

Paul continues, “I know you tried to harm my beloved, tried to belittle her. Did you think you wouldn’t be punished?”

“Paul, I think he’s learnt his lesson,” you try to calm him.

“No, no he hasn’t.”

Paul watches as Aric rises to his feet, mouth bloodied.

“I should’ve known that whore would snitch.”

You wince, not at the intended insult, but at the fury blazing in Paul’s eyes. This isn’t going to end well.

“Stop talking,” Paul uses the Voice, before punching him once again.

“Get on your knees.”

You watch as Aric drops to the floor.

“Beg for her forgiveness and I’ll let you walk away,” Paul says casually. “If you don’t, I think you know what’ll happen.”

Watching with a flicker of amusement, you incline your head, “Go on.”

Aric grits his teeth, “I’m sorry.”

“That wasn’t good enough,” Paul seethes, “Do it better!”

Aric slams his head on the floor, “Please, please, don’t let him kill me. I won’t ever speak to you again!”

“I know you won’t,” you nod at Paul. “I think all is well now.”

“Get up Aric,” Paul commands. “I don’t want to see your face again, you hear me?”

Aric nods and retreats with a burning face.

You turn to Paul, crossing your arms, “Beloved, huh?”

He rubs the back of his neck, averting his gaze, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Paul, hearing you call me that fills my heart to the brim. Your my beloved as well, you know.”

Paul bridges the space between you, clasping the back of your head and pressing his forehead against yours.

“I don’t think I could ever be without you. Even the thought of someone trying to take you from me, turn you against me…”

“Don’t worry, Paul,” you ghost your lips across his. “That will never happen, not as long as I have breath in my lungs.”

He wraps his arms around you, “I’ll cherish you always, protect you always.”

“I know.”

[A/n - It’s my first time writing Paul so I hope I did ok!]

[opbackgrounds]

Before driving deeper into Usopp’s side of thing, I want to focus a little bit on Luffy, because as I’ve mentioned previously, this fight between has a bit of a different flavor from other Luffy-centric battles, but what I haven’t mentioned yet is how public all this is. The final battles with big bads like Arlong, Crocodile, and Enel were all away from other people, but not here. The shift of Luffy becoming a more public figure started with his ass whooping of Bellamy way back in Jaya, but even that was only in front of a bunch of pirates. Showing up to rock Enies Lobby is what’s really going to launch him into the public spotlight, and so it stands to reason that this final stand against Lucci is seen by both the marines and the Straw Hat Pirates.

So far he and Lucci have been on pretty equal footing, but Lucci managed to save his last big trump card until this moment, and seems to have Luffy beat when Usopp shows himself for real. Oda puts a ton of emphasis on Luffy’s expression, this panel alone taking up 3/4 of the page.

And, like, imagine Luffy’s shock. The gag of him not recognizing who Sogeking is turns on its head and is instead played for the deepest, juiciest drama. Usopp isn’t a Straw Hat anymore. He had no obligation to come to Enies Lobby. But he did.

All throughout Enies Lobby there’s been this running thread of the Straw Hats helping each other out of situations they couldn’t handle alone. Nami saving Sanji, Sanji saving Usopp, Usopp saving Robin. Hell, Robin not trusting her friends to keep her safe from the World Government is what kicked off this mess in the first place. The whole reason Luffy was so adamant about going against Lucci was because he recognized him as the strongest threat to the crew, and it’s Luffy’s job as the captain to protect those under his leadership from that kind of danger.

But right now he can’t. He’s not strong enough. And it’s not until Usopp threatens to put himself in harm’s way against an enemy they both know he has no chance about that he stands up and finishes the fight. Because even the captain needs to be propped up by his crew once in a while, and Luffy would rather die than have one of his crew get killed.

Do you remember now the fight started between Usopp and Luffy in the first place? Usopp argued, using the Merry as a proxy for his feelings, that Luffy would leave behind and abandon the weakest members of his crew to further his own ambition, and here, now, Luffy is showing in a very real way that that’s not true. But even if Luffy is willing to put his life on the line to protect Usopp from people like Lucci, he still needs Usopp’s help. He still needed those words from his best friend in order to stand up one last time. 

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 12

Lena's entire body seems to buzz as they hover in the wings offstage, waiting for the cue to proceed. She bounces on the balls of her feet, fingers twisting together with uncharacteristic nerves, completely unlike the staid presence she'd run into under the National City arena.

"You okay?" she asks hesitantly.

"I've never shared new music live before," Lena confesses. "What if they hate it?"

"Nah," Kara dismisses. She smiles. "They'll love it, cuz its you."

If nothing else, the novelty-- the privilege-- of witnessing a live performance of a never-before-heard song would ease any negativity the song itself might earn down the line. Even Kara herself hasn't had a chance to hear it.

The nearest stagehand motions one minute to go. Finally, Lena stills, taking a moment to breathe deep.

"You've got this," Kara promises, before stepping away.

The lights dim, then go out entirely as the pre-show music quiets. In its place lifts a deafening roar from the crowd. Its so dark Kara doesn't see Lena move into position. One minute she's there, and the next an overhead spotlight snaps on to illuminate Lena centerstage, arm stretched high.

She waits for the din to just start to fall away, and then she's off without a single shred of her anxiety from just moments before. Her movements are strong and confident as she strides across the stage, playing to the crowd in just the right way to get them pumped and engaged for the next two hours.

Her first song is the same from the National City show, as is the second, and third. Kara doubts anything has changed, no doubt so rehearsed Lena could do it all in her sleep, singing included. But watching it again feels an all new experience.

It steals her breath away, and she only comes back to herself when Lena slows, reaching for a mic stand. This is it.

"I know you guys came here prepared to sing along with every word," Lena begins, even her speaking voice rich like velvet. "Which I'm sure you can sing better than I can at this point."

She earns a raucous burst of laughter, and prompts a giggle from Lena.

"But I'm afraid this next one is going to be all me... cuz I've a little something new for you tonight."

Kara thinks she might have lost her hearing, ears ringing in the answering explosion of cheers. Lena patiently waits for the opening to continue, grinning all the way.

"It's pretty self-explanatory once you hear it, but here's the thing: you know that ex who keeps reaching out? Believe it or not, I have one."

Another round of laughter, and a little bit of hollering.

"I thought I blocked him on everything, but I must have missed something, because guess what I got?" Lena pauses for comedic effect. "A cashapp payment for three dollars and thirty three cents."

Laughter fills the arena, and Lena joins with a delighted giggle. "The note of course asked me to call him, but... I don't know. What do you think?"

Cries of No! and Don't do it! echoed from various areas of the audience, and Lena nods.

"I think we're on the same page then. Three dollars and thirty three cents doesn't earn you a phone call..." Lena leans in close to the microphone. "But it might just earn you a song."

The audience laps it up, eliciting even more whooping cheers. Lena nods, half to herself, and half to the audience.

"Let's hit it!"

As soon as the music starts, Lena shifts effortlessly back into performance mode. Kara listens, bopping along to the bouncing beat and playful lyrics. Playful but scathing, it turns out, listing off all the reasons this mysterious ex will never see her again.

From her spot in the wings, Kara sees the crowd dancing, not singing but cheering and spinning and bouncing and absorbing it all with reckless abandon. She registers Lillian's approach beside her, but doesn't so much as glance at her. Whatever Lillian thought about Lena's plan, it was working. Tomorrow, all the world would care about is getting their ears on this new song-- and they would love it.

"You have no idea the bullet she just dodged for you."

Kara does look over at that. Her brow furrows sharply, and Lillian smirks as she watches her daughter perform.

"This time tomorrow, the world is going to be so busy sleuthing out which of her ex's this song is about, they won't even remember your name."

Onstage, Lena finishes her song with a boisterous laugh, letting the fresh cheers roll over her. Lillian turns to Kara, leaning in close.

"So when you ultimately decide this fantasy isn't for you, remember that a twenty four year old is the reason you'll still have a real life to go back to."

[the-booty-crusader]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE!! ANOTHER YEAR OF BEING 17 WHOOP WHOOP!

I’ve only known he existed for a little over a year but Tim Drake as a character very literally changed my life.

I was in a rather weird place in my life, stuck in a job I felt nothing for and no real interests besides the usual (gaming, anime, you know the drill) and a comic I felt no real joy in making at the time. Then I got into the Danny Phantom fandom. While there I realized A LOT of the fics were Batman crossovers (which, at the time, was my least favorite superhero of all time believe it or not). Reluctantly I decided to read it and had some funny first-time misconceptions (Nightwing? Is that a nickname for Batman? Wait but Nightwing and Batman are talking to each other here, let me google— who is this latex wearing man. Wait the FIRST Robin? THERE WAS MORE THAN ONE?!)

I remember slowly getting more interested in the whole thing and even writing a crossover myself that got wildly popular for absolutely no reason (well it did play into every at-the-time popular cliche lol) and then…. i realized this Red Robin kid fit my usual “favorite character” mold. Spent long amounts of time being incredibly lonely, mentally unstable, covers up likely depression and parent issues (abandonment) with whackiness. So I started reading and reading and reading and (comic nerds will get so mad at me for this) fell platonically in love with (fanon) Tim Drake! I just wanted to dissect his mind, figure out why he was just…. Like THAT.

So reignited my interest in psychology, which, after an injury made my work unfeasible for me to do for a long time, I decided to pursue.

I decided to go for applied psychology too, although it did not exactly pan out… so instead I went for Social Work which I will be starting in September.

Without Tim Drake, I would likely have stuck with my old job even though I was injured, and probably made it worse.

I made friends in this new community I found and have been creating many fun stories!

All in all, thanks Tim Drake for being an unhinged, lonely little shithead, and thank all of you for being a wonderful community!

[pumpacti0n]

We should always be aware that it isn't some innocent mistake that authoritarian "leftists" have constantly failed to acknowledge systems of power other than a vulgar "anti-capitalism" or "anti-imperialism", like they've carelessly left out an ingredient in a cake recipe.

"Whoops, we've acknowledged one abusive hierarchy, but the other ones slipped through our fingers, silly us!" Nope. The reason this analysis of power isn't included in their ideology and praxis is because they consider these hierarchies useful to their projects.

This is why they'll mock or ignore discourse related to youth liberation, disability justice, gender self-determination or anti-patriarchal struggle, for example, or engage in apologetics for capitalist regimes in other countries -- they want to "have their cake, and eat it too".

A key reason why "the left", as some might call it, is not as powerful as it could be isn't because of some lack of discipline (or "degeneracy"), but rather a lack of intersectionality, a criticism that many of those within the black radical tradition, (black feminists and transfeminists more specifically,) have been highlighting in one way or another for at least 50 years.

Authoritarian "leftists" don't want to sacrifice the power that these hierarchies afford them, which explains why they're largely not opposed to prisons, borders, police, the enforcement of gender roles and even capitalism itself, if it's under the purview of the "socialist" ("workers") state and its bureaucrats.

And this is why I keep putting "leftist" in quotes...We're not free until we're all free, so the implication that we should settle for addressing one or two systems of domination while allowing all the others to flourish until we address them in some vague point in the far future is a distortion of what truly radical liberatory politics should entail.

It's simply a myth that we can address capitalism while leaving racism, ableism and misogyny etc. intact, as if they aren't mutually reinforced by one another, as if fascists and reactionaries will forget that they exist once capital is abolished. This is a fantasy, a delusion.

Authcoms love to pose questions like "without a state to enforce class rule, how will the proletariat defend itself?" but a better question would be: "if we fail to acknowledge the hierarchies that atomize and disempower the masses, how could we ever be a threat to capitalists in the first place? how would abandoning the most vulnerable populations serve the interests of the "working class" and "anti-imperial" struggle?

For example, (cis) women make up approximately 50% of the world's population -- so if women are still subjugated by patriarchal rule and the gendered division of labor, how will we have the numbers to fight?

Similarly, a significant portion of the world's population are currently incarcerated. If we don't abolish prisons, allowing the State to continue extracting labor from prisoners and destabilizing untold millions of social relations in the process, how can we hope to match or exceed their powers?

If we do not challenge the capitalist, productivist logic of endless resource accumulation, with its constant pollution of the environment and the displacement and erasure of indigenous peoples and non-human animals, there will be no habitable planet left for us during this "revolution", because we will have destroyed all of it in the name of profit...so what would be the point?

These aren't minor concerns that we can put off indefinitely, and it isn't some innocent mistake that they are left out of the discourse, but are instead deliberate attempts to co-opt liberation struggle for the sake of advancing counter-revolution and authoritarian projects.

It's no wonder then, that they are eager to dismiss any criticism of their projects the result of "western propaganda", as if these same critiques aren't leveraged by very people belonging to populations they constantly tokenize whenever it suits their agenda.

They'd much rather treat every marginalized community as some monolith or as primitive victims in need of saving and representation by a vanguard. This chauvinist, colonial, assimilationist, antisocial attitude is endemic in (often white,) authoritarian circles, because it forms the basis of their position towards racial and gender hierarchies, that they are a natural and inevitable factor of organization itself. They are wrong.

In this sense, they aren't meaningfully different from the capitalists they pretend to hate so much. In truth, they are just jealous and greedy for more cake.

[yaut-jaknowit]

Hello:D

Okay but MxM: imagine there’s like a ‘peace’ treaty between humans and Yautja and some interspecies programs are set up, and a Yautja and a human who absolutely despise each other get teamed up, absolutely bully each other and then one begins to realise it’s sexual tension not hate and they just end up fucking on the job🗣️🔥

Thick As A Knife

Pairings: Celtic (Male Yautja) x AMAB!Reader

Word Count: 6300 (Whoop! Ten pages)

Summary: This was all your friend's fault. Sign up for the treaty, he said. It'll be fun, he said. It's not like you would've gotten picked. Until you received a phone call one day. The only reason you don't say no was the fact of the pay. The pay.

Author Note: This... this unfortunately isn't one of my best works. I don't feel very proud of it but I can't find the energy to redo. I'm so sorry, dude, I tried my best. I hope it still works for you though! I tried to make it decent by using your favorite man's.

Masterlist

Ao3

Out of everyone that was offered as a sacrifice, er, sorry. That was placed into the program, you had been one that was chosen. One of your friends put your name into the gamble just for the fun of it alongside herself. Look at what’s happening now.

All of your stuff was pulled from your apartment and placed into a shipping container. Where it will be taken to an interspecies ship that was the first of its kind. Not only will that happen, but apparently you’re going to be placed with the species you hated. A species who was completely uncivilized. They call humans primitive but strut around half naked in fishnets. If there wasn’t a good amount of cash that’s being deposited into your account as you say, there was no way in hell you would let this happen. Not if you’re going to trapped in a space with the Yautjas.

A scoff left your lips, eyes rolling. This was unbelievable. Space travel wasn’t shiny new, but it’s not like you’ve been outside of earth’s atmosphere before. That’s when your leg began to shake, bouncing up and down in a rapid motion.

So far, there’s been no incidents. That included both the ship you’ll be residing on and with the new friendly Yautjas your government decided to friend. It was best to keep your enemies close, keep an eye on them. Yet, here they are, sticking you to a randomly picked alien as well. The two of you had one thing in common. Forced by your governments to follow their commands.

The door to the shipping unit shut before your very eyes and locked away all your possessions. Your lips pressed into a thin line.

Over on the street, a black car pulled into the parking lot. The windows completely blacked out. All you could see was your own reflection staring back at you. Then, the tinted window rolled down to reveal a woman dressed in a suit. She reminded you of the movie Men In Black with the black glasses. Once again, you couldn’t see here eyes.

She motioned towards the front see you were meant to take. With one more glance to what could be the last time you may see your apartment, you opened the door and slid in. The shipping container was left behind for someone to come pick and take to your new home. Thinking about it was making it more of a reality in your mind. Your leg began to twitch again.

All the way to the launch site, the driver kept silent. Her glasses provided the perfect barrier from seeing her eyes and getting a read on her. You wrung out your fingers while they sat in your lap the entire car ride.

About three hours had passed before she turned onto what looked to be an abandoned road. It was strictly gravel. This wasn’t what you were expecting to be the grand entrance to a new life in space. You watched as low hills passed on either side of the car. She wasn’t in much of a rush, carefully about how bumpy the backroad was.

The car came over a hill. On the other side sat a small, navy blue vessel. A vessel that resembled the ships many of the Yautjas used. Your mood soured immediately, ruined by the reminder of where you were going. Your muscles grew tense. Unsaid words entered the air and filled it with tension that the driver could feel.

When the vehicle came to halt, the process was swift. You were given a quick brief of how to act and what to do while on this ship. It practically went into one ear and out the other. Honestly, you tried to listen, tried to be a good sacrifice. But with the situation, you stopped caring. If only they were the ones going to be stuck with the brute of an alien for however long they pleased. There were no set times. Just a paycheck in the mail every two weeks you are there. A good paycheck that had you mostly compliant.

After everything was said and done, they ushered you towards this navy blue vessel. A ramp lowered down at your presence. It felt like a scene from Star Wars. The hiss of steam before a ramp revealed the inside of this ship. As a human, your curiosity was screaming at you, wanting to figure out everything that made this thing tick. You were becoming part of the first group of humans to enter space. Though, with the aid of another species. It was still a feat that wasn’t achievable in this manner until now.

They showed you up the ramp before leaving you in the middle of a small gathering room. The ship itself wasn’t massive by any means. Just a carrier ship for short travel.

Towards the front of the vessel was the cockpit. At first, you missed the figure but your eyes snapped back to him.

From limited pictures, you could still tell this was that Yautja, that unfortunate partner you’ve been paired with. They call him Celtic. It almost gave him a sort of human side to him but immediately narrowed your eyes on the figure. He was your ride? You internally scoffed and fought off the want to cross your arms. That would look bad on your part. And that paycheck was looking really, really nice.

The brute of a man stood up. Never in your life had you been around one of them before. They don’t come to earth. Not unless they hunted before the treaty. That didn’t happen much anymore, unless someone offered themselves up for the hunt. That was part of the deal the government made with the Yautjas.

And he was tall and thick. He had to be at least three times your mass. His sensor dreads weren’t extremely long. They were a dark black, signaling his young age. You were surprised his government had sent someone on the younger side to be part of the treaty. Yet, here you were as well.

A forced smile cracked at your features. It felt more like a grimace. Celtic stopped in front of you and tilted his head down, bright yellow eyes peering into your very soul. It became a staring contest, trying to find the weakness in each other. Whatever you could get to make sure you had the upper hand. He was a beast, a species that knows no mercy. You hated the fact that you had been roped into those by your friend. There was no backing out. All you could do was endure this for however long it was necessary. Get the money, get out. Simple as that.

His mandibles flickered, tongue darting out to taste the air. “You are not what I was expecting,” he speaks in a slower voice. A proper speech as if he just recently learned English. It took a lot of will not to cross your arms and drop the façade at his words. This is part of the reason you disliked this species as a whole. They were all the same. There was no difference between any of them. They all had that rude attitude. It irked you so much too.

Your hand curled into a fist at your sides. You clicked your tongue, eyes roaming from head to toe in a careless manner. “And you’re not as high skilled as I thought you would be,” your snarked and relaxed your grip. It would be best not show your emotions as much to these guys.

One thing you knew about these guys was where to hurt them. Their pride and hunting skills. Hit either of those and they will show they don’t like to be challenged. It didn’t matter what sex, both sex’s aren’t going to back down from a challenge. Especially one they know that could be won. One against a weak ooman that’s defenseless. You read up on some of their culture. To make sure you had everything in your power to survive this to the disastrous end. The people with the white wigs didn’t know a lick about what happens below their boot.

Just think of the money.

The way his eyes darkened, mandibles pulling tight over his alien mouth. Nothing needed to be said that you got under his skin. You held back a proudful smirk and kept your eyes narrowed on his towering figure.

Celtic scoffed then spun on his heel before strutting into the cockpit. You let the grin crack your façade wide open. Ah, that was lovely. You meandered after him and peered into the new space. It wasn’t spacious by any means, but it held the most important pieces to fly the craft. Despite your smug feelings, you were in awe at the incredible technology shift. You hid it before taking a seat to the left of him. The Yautja didn’t even glance in your direction.

Ah, you had really hit him where it hurt. Good. He’s probably killed one of your kind. He deserved it.

Underneath you, the ship rumbled, and the engines flared to life. It was powerful to be inside of such a thing. Your grin flickered onto your features for only a second. This wasn’t the time. You shoved it down to the pit of your stomach and gripped onto the armrests. This was your first time launching into space, leaving earths atmosphere. There was no way to stop the thundering of your heart.

Earth’s ground left the landing gear’s feet. You leaned forward in your seat to peer over the edge of console to look out the window. Once a hundred feet in the air, Celtic rapidly presses a few buttons then grabbed a lever. You had no time to react when he punched it. The force sent you flying back into the seat with a soft ‘oof’. The air in your lungs was pushed out but you quickly regained control.

He pressed forward and tilted the craft into a climb. Clouds whooshed passed the window. A sight you’ve never got to see before, even when flying. It continued to push higher and higher into the sky. Soon the day sky turned into night in a matter of a minute. Without light pollution of the cities, the stars were free to shine as brightly as they wished. You leaned forward in awe. The sight beyond anything you’d experienced before.

The craft leveled out without the fighting force of earth’s gravity to pull it down. The lack of gravity pulled at your stomach. Nausea washed over you for a few moments. Then, everything returned to normal. Your grip still clung to the armrests of the co-pilot’s chair. It would take an act of God to get you to loosen up. Fear wasn’t the contributing factor but the unknown of the whole situation made you feel unease. You’ve seen plenty of pictures and 3D models of the vessel you’ll be staying in. That’s fake over the rude awaking of the real world. It was really happening.

A moment passed when your gaze returned to the open vast space. In front of the ship, far away, was the forementioned ship. Your jaw slackened at the size. It rivaled a football field or cruise ship easily. Without any indicator, it was difficult to tell. There was nothing in space to compare it to, to see how big it really was. But it was huge.

That’s where you were going to be staying. A fact you didn’t have hit you in the fact until now. Celtic flew the ship closer to what’s called a mother ship. It’s a hub, per se. It’s where a clan would live and could maintain one as well. Similar to a tiny planet.

With practice ease, Celtic pulls the ship in the docking portion of the ship. He lands nearly perfect with only a bounce then shuts down all the engines. A new silence washes over the two of you. Celtic is up and out of his seat without a word. The lumbering form expertly spins on his heel once up and marches towards the back of the carrier vessel you were in. You jolted at the sudden abandonment and rushed after him like a stumbling fool. “What that fuck!? Wait up for me,” you yelled at him and barely made it to him when the ramp had touched the ground.

There he goes again.

Long strides take him down the ramp. You tsked to yourself and raced after his fleeing form. Clearly, he dislikes your presence. That’s makes two of you.

You ran into his back with grunt and stumbled back. Right as you were about to yell at him for that, a throat clearing stopped you in your tracks. You peered around Celtics form to find three well decorated Yautjas standing in front of him. An ‘oh shit’ moment slapped you straight in the face. Your lips pressed into a thin line.

To look like less than a fool, you calmly stepped out from behind him and stood with your shoulders squared. Four pairs of eyes were set onto your form. You recalled from the information given to you, to not stare into their eyes. It can be seen as a challenge. Something you would never, ever want to deal with. You respectfully bowed your head in their direction, understanding they are at least elders. A high rank amongst their culture. To piss them off meant a death sentence.

One of them called your name and drew your timid gaze to the trio. You are respectful to let your eyes flicker between them or towards the ground.

“We are pleased to see you’ve joined us,” the one to your left politely greets you, mandibles slowly stretching out. “This is a wonderful opportunity for both of our communities to learn from this experience.” You had to shut off your throat to stop a scoff from escaping in their faces. They learned plenty from all the times they visited.

The middle one, an earthy green tone, dips his head a centimeter. “Yes. It is a great experience for all parties. As for your stay, you aren’t obligated to stay. You are no prisoner but a guest amongst the Yautja. If an issue arises, don’t be afraid to reach out to the three of us. We want to ensure you make it off of the mother ship alive.” The joke is crude but seems a normal thing for them.

They all chuckle in a short manner. “Your quarters are different compared to normal ones onboard. You are stationed with Celtic here, as he is your partner for this. There are two separate rooms. He will be your guide throughout all of this,” the one on your right spoke up. “Your things shall arrive at the end of the cycle. We wish the best of luck towards the both of you.”

All of them glanced at Celtic for a fleeting moment before leaving you to him. Celtic watched as the elders left the docking area. The second they were out of sight, he started a fast pace in a certain direction. You were left to scamper after him all over again. You gritted your teeth and practically ran to catch up to him.

“Seriously, wait up! I’m not as tall as you,” you snapped at the still retreating frame. Your legs moved as fast as they could to catch up to him. Celtic didn’t even glance down at you and kept the same speedy pace towards a certain direction.

With the knowledge of how long it will take for your unit to make it up here, you were stuck with the clothes on your back and the phone in your pocket. Nothing else. You grumbled under your pants while forced to jog next to the strutting male. He was fast, you’ll have to give him that. Celtic walked with purpose towards an elevator. The doors opened at your approach. He entered and spun on his heel to face the entrance. His eyes didn’t even flicker in your general direction. They stared out into the open space of the docking port. You barely made it inside in time before the doors closed and sealed your fate with him.

All the way to the desired floor, Celtic was silent. The gears inside of his head were working overtime. You didn’t need to know him long to see what was happening. Not that you cared. There wasn’t a chance you would care about him. Not in a million years.

In a flash, the male was out the door and down the hall. A growl left your throat. You chased after him and slipped past other roaming Yautjas. Some gave you glares while other completely ignored you, unless you ran into them. Then, a threatening snarl would work its way to your ears. You were swift to get out of their way and flail to keep up with Celtic. He was doing this on purpose. There were no doubts about that. All you wanted was to go to the designated room and call it a night. Today’s been filled with plenty of excitement, including packing everything important to your everyday activities. You didn’t know how long you were going to be here. It was best to be prepared.

Celtic stopped in his tracks. Right at the moment you caught up to him. You bumped into his side with your shoulder. A pointed look was thrown at you. Instead of cowering like you would’ve to any other Yautja, you sneered and challenged him silently to do something. Sure, have this whole treaty situation go up in arms right off the bat. You didn’t care. There was a paycheck sitting happily in your bank account. One nice enough to keep you content for a while.

The alien paused his actions from entering the room and crowded into your space. Despite being one-third of his mass and weight, you kept up the challenge and rose on your tippy toes. His bright eyes darkened at the sight. The lower two of his mandibles twitched in thought. The upper ones were pulled tight over his mouth. Your muscles were locked, ready for whatever he decided to throw at you. You weren’t going to let him or anyone else push you around. Especially, him.

Even when he got so close his stomach pressed against your chest, you didn’t waver. Something in his eyes flickered but you held strong. Number one rule in their culture, don’t back down from a fight. Especially so quickly, it makes you look weak and pathetic. You weren’t either of those. You weren’t going to be that.

The two of you stayed like this for a long time. People passed by. Some glancing at the strange sight while other just ignored the scene as if it was normal. But, it was him who faltered.

His eyes rolled in such a human manner you did a double take. A grumble left his throat while he turned away and strolled into the room. You dumbly stood there for a few moments before rushing inside. Just before the door closed shut and sealed off your new space to the rest of the mother ship. You halted in the foyer and glanced around the areas you could see.

This wasn’t what you were expecting. Though, this was a treaty of alliance and such, you weren’t expecting just a large space.

There were at least three doors you could see from your stop in the main entrance. Everything seemed polished down to the modules and made everything perfect. You slowly meander further inside. There was a kitchen, a decent sized one. A dining room as well; as if you were going to have diner with Celtic, let alone share a meal with him.

All you could speculate about the closed doors were those were the bedrooms and a bathroom. There was also a living room as well. Plenty of space to house a party. You huffed and turned towards him.

“Have you chosen a room or…?” you trailed off in hopes of an answer from him. He blinked at you then disappeared into one of the bedrooms without a word. Anger flared to life. You wanted to wring his neck. Instead, you walked into the only other available room and sat down on the mattress. It was extremely low to the ground. By the looks of it, it almost seemed like it was sunken into the floor. Your legs were kicked out straight in front of you.

Out of everything, this wasn’t what you were expecting. From a life on a planet, you were content with the space offered to you. The people on the other hand. That wasn’t something you were fond of. In all honesty, you wanted to smack him so hard he could see straight. Yet, you refrained from violence on the first.

And the second. Then, the third. Until the days began to blur together that point.

It wasn’t hard to keep track though. Out of everything though, the only thing that was exciting or adrenaline pumping was being dragged to the front of the ship. Straight to the captains cockpit to do a video call back home. You preformed a few briefings with your agents or point of contact. Nothing besides that was entertaining.

Celtic was still pissed at you. He kept his distance far from you as much as possible. Unless the two of you are called upon to speak before the important figures of this whole operation. That’s really when you would only talk to each other and truly see one another. Any other time, he’s either out with his hunt brothers or in his room.

As the only lone human on this alien ship, you’ve cornered yourself into the room. The door was locked most of the time and kept you safe from the monsters you were surrounded by. Food was the only time you freely came out. The need to feed so you didn’t starve was a necessity. You would busy yourself during that time. Even if Celtic came in to the shared apartment, he would go straight to his space. Not a word even uttered in your general direction.

One day, the male came in. Unlike every other time he’s been here, he stopped at the island in the kitchen. Celtic bent over the island and rested on his elbows, eyes watching your every move about. You grew anxious, unsure whether he meant harm or not. Not that he ever has shown he wanted to cause you injury, but you couldn’t help this feeling deep inside of you.

After another minute goes by, you tensed up and spun around on your heel. “What in the world is your problem?!” you snapped at him and pointed the spatula in your hand at him. A brow arches. You motioned with the object in hand for him to move along. “Shoo, let me cook in peace.” He continued to stare at you. You narrowed your eyes at him and pressed your lips into a tight, thin line. Apparently, he didn’t have anything better to do at this moment. Your gaze flickered down his body, taking in the sight of the lack of clothes that adorned him. His muscular body easily on display without any remorse. Like the dumbass you are, you stared longer than you meant to.

Celtic just stayed there. A sigh left your lips. You grumbled under your breath before slowly turning back around to face the stove. It wasn’t like you could anything to make him move if he didn’t. The Yautja was three times your mass. It would be easy to figure out how well that would turn out to be without even needing to see anything occur.

The entire time, his eyes stayed on you. The hunk stood in the same spot, not even wavering. Just a predator watching… his prey. You shuttered at the thought and quickened your pace. The faster you finished the process, the faster you could get into your room. Away from him and weirdness happening right now.

Your food was nearly done. The burner was shut off. It smelled like heaven. If one thing about this time away from home has taught you something, how to truly cook. When you have nothing else to do, cooking is a great experience to have under your belt.

Large, warm hands grasped at your hips, nearly encircling your entire waist. A gasp tore from your throat. Your hands braced onto the edge of the stove when a weight pinned you in pace.

An inner instinct deep down commanded you to stay put. You gingerly peeked over your shoulder. Celtic, in all of his glory, stood there. A rumbling purr poured from his throat. A noise that had your muscles relaxing underneath him. You bowed your head and huffed. “What… what is your problem?” you grounded out.

Claws dented your shirt. “You.” The weight shifted. The stove’s edge dug into your stomach, further proving his strength against you. You gritted your teeth at the slight ache that gave you.

He bowed his spine to hover his mouth next to your head. “You’ve been my problem. This entire time. You’ve driven me insane.” The long, forked, pink tongue flickered out to taste the air. “It’s been impossible to keep my hands still every time I get a whiff of you. You’re ooman. I shouldn’t even like you. This is all for formality.”

The grip tightened. His face inched closer to the crook of your neck. “I’ve imagined plenty of times about how I should go about this. But I can’t take it. I need you, little prey.” You shuttered out a whimpered and clenched your jaw tightly. By god’s grace, you shouldn’t be entertaining this, letting him even touch you. The feel of his hands on you was amazing.

Then, you steeled your emotions. One of your elbows strikes him in the exposed side and send him stepping back away from you. A firm look graced your features when you spun around to face Celtic.

In his bent over state, he picked up his head to find your fierce gaze. You whipped out a hand. Your fingers encircled his throat. With whatever power that drove you, you pushed his form back. He was forced back until the couch caught his legs. The towering figure tipped over and landed onto the cushions you. A grin cracked your features. You climbed into his lap and straddled his large hips. Everything about him was larger than life. It would be a challenge, but you didn’t care. Not at this point.

Your hand still held tightly onto his throat. Celtic looked at your commanding form and let you take control. “Guess what, you’ve been my problem this entire time too. Being a bitch every time I do something.” You sat up higher and made him look up at you slightly. “I’ve wanted nothing more than to wring out your neck. You standing around like a weirdo, with this sculpted body.”

Bright, yellow eyes watched your every move. The Yautja was intrigued with what you were doing. Your other hand palmed at his abs to make your point to him.

A deep grumbled escaped his throat, vibrating against your palm. “And what are you going to do about it?” he challenged, a glint filling his eyes.

Instantly, your anger flared wider than a solar flare. You leaned in close enough to feel the breath of his. “I’m going to rip off your fucking pants,” you said more as a question rather than a statement. You wanted his consent, hoping not to be reading off the wrong signs of this whole situation. That would make this ten times worse than before.

One of his mandibles quirked up. “Best of luck, little prey.” Your teeth grounded against one another. He chuckled nonchalantly. You ripped your hand off his throat and used both to unbuckle his pants. It was easy to figure out how they open and tugged them down enough to expose the slick slit of his sheath.

This was something you weren’t going to admit but you did some research on their anatomy. They had a sheath compared to everything hanging out, including internal testicles. You were jealous of their anatomy and wish humans had that.

A smirk broke across your features. “What’s this I see? Mister high and mighty is aroused from a little human being dominate, isn’t that right?” you taunted the beast of an alien underneath you. Your thumb ran along the wetness of his slit and barely pressed against it.

Two hands grasped at your hips again and pulled you down to grind against his groin. You choked on a gasp and slapped your hands down on his shoulders. Celtic rutted his hips up against your clothed crotch. Immediately, your dick began to stir to life, hidden away in your pants. A bulge began to form at the stimulation.

“Does the little human think he can take charge? When I could easily pin you down and take you on the floor like some animal?” Celtic snarled and tilted your hips just enough so the side of your cock rubbed against his open pants. You bit the inside of your cheek to prevent a moan from escaping. Pleasure raced up the base of your spine. “Pants. Off. Now.” There was a slight hint in his voice that gave you the chance to back out.

You struggled out of your pants until they were on the floor. Your cock was erect and throbbing at the lack of attention.

The Yautja purred at the sight, hands palming at your exposed thighs. Long, black claws dragged across the skin and left behind red marks in their wake. He grasped the globes of your ass and lifted you up against his chest. You scrambled to hold onto his shoulders for purchase. The length of your cock rubbed against the muscle of his torso. Your toes curled at the feeling of pleasure again.

He used both hands to spread your cheeks wide. You were forced to lean against him for support and gazed down at him. “Now, do you want this knot inside of you or not?” You took the hint to reach down and encircled your hand around his pulsing cock. It was hot to the touch and wet from his shaft.

The pointed head poked at your exposed hole. You couldn’t stop the way you tensed at the feeling. He was large in stature and size. There was without a doubt this would hurt. But you wanted it. To teach him a lesson. Because fuck him. You were about to. You gritted your teeth then sank down.

Only the head was able to fit on the first try. Your body desperately wanted to curl in on itself when the ache hit you hard. It took all of your power not to. The beast snarled, claws digging into your malleable flesh and created dents in your skin. But, he didn’t notice nor cared. Celtic used his superior strength to force you down while also thrusting his hips up.

Skin slapping against echoed in the shared space around the two of you. A high-pitched keen left your cracked lips. You leaned back to rest your hands on his thighs and hold on. In his eyes, a dangerous looked entered them. You clenched around the intrusion inside of you. His irises darkened. His grip caused blood to trickle down your fragile skin. The pain of that was the last thing on your mind. You knew instantly by the expression he held you were in for it. Your jaw stayed tense, gritting your teeth against one another.

The slow drag of his cock out of your stretched, abused hole had you feeling more sensitive than ever before. Celtic slammed you down and kept the pace like that. You were being used as a flesh light for him. Every noise you made echoed back at you. It sounded like sin and heavenly sex at the same time. Your moans loud and needy as his entire length rubbed against your prostate, never leaving the pleasure spot alone.

Each bounce caused your cock to slap against each other’s stomach. The sensitive tip grew flush with blood. Pre leaked out and wettened both of your skins. It was dirty and needy all at the same time.

All you could do was brace on his knees and relax your muscles. Yet, when the pain finally waned, you pushed off of them and fumbled against his chest. The Yautja growled his warning. Not like you cared.

You were able to stable yourself on his torso before starting to meet each of his thrusts. He looked nearly as much as a mess as you were. “Can’t, ah, can’t handle it, Celtic?” you taunt him with an shit eating grin. Said male narrowed his gaze on you, thrusts messing up slightly. “Thought you were all, all game and whatnot? But, you truly can’t handle a human’s ass. Little bitch.”

His claws continued to draw blood freely from your skin. Celtic stopped. The only sound in the room was the combined panting from the two of you. His bright eyes were nearly a dark shade of yellow. It was scary.

“Oh, little prey. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.” He leaned into your personal space, panting hot air on your neck. “I have more stamina than you. You’ll be a whining, crying mess by the time I run through your ass. You won’t have anything left in your balls,” he challenged back, tongue flickering out again.

With an arm, you curl it around the back of his neck and tried to rise up higher on your knees. “I don’t think you’ll even last more than a round. You’ll be drooling by the first time you come. And, you’ll come quick. So pathetic.” His hands were so tight around your waist, it was impossible to move. Instead, you reached between the two of you and grasped at your own aching cock. You spat into your hand and started to stroke yourself in need of relief.

“Say’s the one-“ he lets you rise “-needily stroking himself in my lap.” He forces your form back down on his shaft. You screamed out and nearly pinched the base of your cock. The motion causes you to fall on to his torse, still pumping away. “See? Pathetic. Still jerking off with a cock deep inside of him. Such a needy, little ooman. Greedy little hole, needing my cock to fill it.”

The muscles on his stomach are chiseled. You pressed one side of your cock with a palm on his abs and thrusted against his toned muscles. A whined surged passed your lips. “S-shut up,” you snarked back weakly, not caring as much as before. Not with the edge growing near. “Fuck, yeah. Gonna come. I’m gon-gonna make a mess all over you. Teach yo-you a lesson.” It won’t work. You hoped it wouldn’t work.

Celtic grinned widely with his mandibles and angled his hips. Each thrust forced his length to slide against your prostate with all the strength he has. “Teach me a lesson? Sure. The lesson is how tight a ooman’s ass is. So fucking tight. I can’t wait to knot you.” You keened and quickened your thrusts. “There you go, desperate whore. Needing an alien to fuck you in the ass to get you to shut up.”

“I wish I had known that when I met you. Would’ve done it a long time ago,” he snarled, voice growing deep with each word.

At this point, you couldn’t think straight. The pleasure was rampant. It took over every sense you had. All you knew was the need to come. You came hard.

With a choked scream, head bowed down into his chest, cum spurted from the head of your dick and coated his entire torso. Each thrust only caused more to cover him. Your length throbbed hard, trying to soak Celtic. You mewled and squirmed in his hold, trying to get him to ease up. That only seemed to spur him on more. He somehow quickened his pace.

The skin on the back’s of your thighs and ass were going to be so sore tomorrow. You knew sitting down was going to be next to impossible. He held you place though, not allowing you any reprieve from his assault. “You’re going to take my cock like the good little prey you are. Fucking take it!” he snarled and grounded his hips against yours one last time.

Hot, thick spurts of cum filled you. A thick ball of flesh plugged you up, sealing every drop of Celtic’s seed inside of you. You were a limp mess on his torso, unable to even raise your head.

He collapsed against the couch with a deep, content purr that vibrated throughout his entire body. Strong, massive hands petted down your sweaty back. “Paya, I can tell it’s going to take forever for my knot to go down.” Shit, right… Yautja’s have knots. That’s why you felt fuller than normal. You groaned and rubbed your face against his similarly sweaty chest.

“Shut up,” you grumbled and stayed against him. It maybe sticky and a little gross. Yet, with his knot pressing against your prostate, you were trying not to go into overstimulation.

A chuckle left the creature’s chest. Celtic ran a hand from the base of your spine all the way to your neck. Said limb stayed there and cradled you close him. Your eyes shut, letting the dopamine fill your veins.

[lilyminer]

In Disco Elysium I’m fascinated by the role each of Harry’s partners (in the police sense, sorry Dora) plays in the narrative. As well as what both working relationships you witness say about Harry’s past and future.

Harry is one hell of a complicated character and it was such a smart decision to reflect who he is and who he can become through other characters perceptions of him.

Let’s go in order of when we meet them in game so let’s start with Mr. Kim Kitsuragi (pause for applause). No matter what you do throughout the game Kim can at least acknowledge one thing about Harry, he’s damn good at his job. Excluding any horrifically morally bankrupt playthroughs he slowly grows fond of Harry’s various character quirks and the little errands he runs around town to help people out certainly don’t hurt his perception of the man. Harry is still a mess but Kim helps you feel like you’re at least redeemable, that getting better is a journey worth undertaking. Kim is a logical man, he clearly sees that you’re a mess, but you’re a mess he can tolerate. In short Kim teaches you that Harry is a mess now but there’s hope he won’t always be a mess.

Then there is poor Mr. Jean Vicquemare. Jean’s perception of Harry is well supported in evidence, free of any illusions of optimism, and continuous for years before the time of the game itself begins. Jean is, by all accounts the narrative gives us, right about Harry. When I first played the game I saw him as kind of a downer, I just solved the case, found the phasmid, saved the day, yet this guy is still insisting I’m not good enough? But that’s just because I was still trying to see only the best in Harry. (I role played a bit too hard and ended up projecting a bit give me a break) Harry was horrible to the people around him for years before the start of the game. Jean is a reality check, he’s simply there to let the player know, solving this one case doesn’t fix how much Harry has hurt the people around him. And of course it doesn’t, it would be incredibly irresponsible for the game to even try to insinuate that.

But I really love how the game wraps this narrative dichotomy up. At the very end of the game (if you played in the exact same way I did. . . Whoops) you climb back into that cop car with both of these two men. You return back to the life you were living so destructively before with an embodiment of your past, your sins, your crimes, your cruelty which led so many people to grow sick of you. After all Harry will always carry the weight of the man he was before. But you’ll also return with the embodiment of your future, your hope, your skills, your virtues.

I think part of the reason the ending of Disco Elysium is so hopeful is that who Harry was before is not abandoned entirely. He has a past to answer for, you didn’t know that before but you do by the end of the game. But hope persists regardless. Whether that’s through the voice of Revachol itself or Kim’s endless patience with the mess he was assigned to work with. You need both, Harry needs both, and I think that’s kinda lovely to be honest.

[a-chaotically-small-lunta]

what is G/t

G/t is, in its simplest form, the size difference trope. Think of those episodes in shows where the characters shrink or grow. It’s one of those tropes that can be slapped onto literally any media. It’s one of the most common tropes tv shows would use, alongside things like time travel, alternate dimensions, gender swap, just space, and more! G/t stands for Giant / tiny, which is usually the main focus for most people. There are many different things you can find in g/t from soft and cute scenarios to more angst and horror-like scenarios. It just depends on the person. G/t is usually very safe for work with some getting close to the edge of nsfw but never fully crossing it. On tumblr there is a very clear difference from the sfw and nsfw stuff (With g/t being the safe stuff and micro/macro being nsfw, usually)

Now the main thing about g/t is the size difference. With characters interacting with differently sized items or people. The G is the giant which is typically used for whoever the bigger (literally) person is. So it’s not always gonna be a giant and will sometimes be a human. The t on the other hand is the tiny person, which just like the G, can include a human sized person. As long as the size difference is great enough (each person has their own thoughts on when size difference becomes g/t or is simply tall person with slightly shorter person) then it is consider g/t. Now a tiny or giant doesn’t necessarily need to interact with their counter part, it could be something simple like a tiny fairy exploring an abandoned house, or a giant roaming the country side. If the person doesn’t “fit” in the environment it can count. (Which is probably why a lot of us use it as a coping mechanism. Cause like you don’t fit in and it’s easier to imagine literally not fitting in)

There are many kinds of character in g/t too! Tinies and giants can range from “That’s a human who is big/small” to “that’s a person who is big/small, but they have some extra features (like wings or horns, etc) to “that’s a creature/alien…a big/small one…oooohhhh” Most people in the community usually vibe with one of the sides. Most people are tinies, some a giants, and then there’s people like me who couldn’t decided and liked both sizes for different reasons and said “SCREW IT! Sizeshifter time”

There’s a lot to g/t and it’s kinda hard to describe and yet so simple to describe too. Each person into it, loves it for so many different reasons. It’s basically the trope that me and many others really love to many unique degrees. It’s literally about new perspectives and seeing our world from them, in a very literal sense sometimes. When you know about g/t you start seeing it everywhere, commercials, movies, tv shows, games, etc. The stories may have the same trope but each delivers it in such a unique way that, it always feels brand new and like an amazing adventure!

If you have any more question, or if anyone else has questions about other g/t things I can try my best to answer them (I’m very bad at answering asks, sorry about that) I may not be the best at explaining things, but I can sure try my best to!

Also, if you want to check it g/t out more but are a little scared to explore websites, I made a YouTube playlist (that I randomly update whoops) that has a bunch of g/t stuff in it. If you want to get a vibe of what it is. It’s organized (kinda) so you can check out the movies, games, animations, etc. I suggest watching the movies first because they tend to just be fun to watch even if you aren’t into g/t. And no worries, it’s a pretty clean content wise.

[valkyyriia]

A Study in Green

Words: 2915

CW: Fingering, Artistic Liberties with History | NSFW

Pairing: Arthur Conan Doyle / Female-Bodied Reader

Prompt: Abandoned Mansion (caution!)

Notes: This is I think the third time I've ever written smut, so please bear with me. I also thought the title was rather cliche, but I liked it, so... I also think I got a little carried away. Whoops. And Mo, if you read this - I remembered that comment I left you on your fic about the Paris Green and MC freaking out and it immediately came to mind when I rolled this prompt with my dice.

Crossposted on Ao3 here.

Banners/dividers by @natimiles.

For @xxsycamore's event, Sexy Ikemen Summer!

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You asked, eyeing the abandoned building with suspicion. It appeared to have been an older, late-eighteenth century mansion. Ivy crept up the crumbling mortar like grasping tendrils, giving it a foreboding look. 

“It’ll be fine, luv,” Arthur said, a cheeky grin on his face. “A little urban exploration never hurt anyone.” 

“I would like to see the evidence to back up that stateme-” You were cut off by Arthur tugging you close and kissing you sweetly.

“Come now. I swore to protect you, didn’t I?” He tapped your nose with a gloved finger. “That includes the dangers of uninhabited, derelict places and all the things that go bump in the dark. You have absolutely nothing to fear as long as I am here with you, okay?” 

You exhaled shakily and offered a weak smile. “Okay.” 

“Besides,” Arthur added. “You do make a rather adorable damsel in distress.” 

You stuck your tongue out at him, and he laughed, taking your hand and leading you inside. 

One thing you had never quite gotten used to in this era was the sticky heat and lack of air conditioning. Even though the climate wasn’t too different from what you were used to, the fashion of the day was much more stifling. The summer sun was currently high in the air, beating oppressive rays down on the building. Fortunately, the mansion was still in reasonably good repair; the roof was intact everywhere except the far left wing, where the walls had collapsed in on themselves. It offered some protection from the heat, paltry though it was.

Arthur had, true to his word, faithfully stuck by your side. The vampire hardly even let go of your hand, giving you something to anchor yourself to. You were grateful for his considerate nature. 

The sunlight shining through the cracked stained glass windows cast glittering constellations on the dusty wood of the parlor floor. Furniture draped in age-stained cream cloth was positioned in key places around the room. If it weren’t for the thick layer of dust and the obvious smell of decaying wood, you would almost think the owners were just out on vacation. 

Arthur had done some amount of research on the building before bringing you here, aided by le Comte and his connections. As it turns out, the owners of this mansion had fled to America twenty or so odd years ago due to some sort of legal trouble. The Crown had seized the mansion to repay the family’s debts and it had remained uninhabited since. According to Comte, the left wing collapse happened a few months after the Crown took over the property, and they hadn’t tried to renovate or rebuild the structure. Ultimately, other than the left side, the mansion should have been perfectly safe - within reason for an abandoned building - for a first-time urban explorer. 

He grinned. “Look at this,” Arthur said, using your joined hands to point at the desk in the corner of the room. It was neatly organized, a couple of books stacked on the side. A half-written letter lay on the workspace. A quill pen sat in a long-since-dried inkwell, the bottom of it stained black with India ink. “They really were in a hurry,” Arthur commented, pulling his tortoiseshell glasses from his pocket and setting them on his nose. “Let’s see…”

He blew gently on the surface, scattering the dust. Your eyes watered and you cough into your elbow. “Sorry,” Arthur murmured, rubbing your back lightly as he looked at the letter. 

“To my love,

“I hope the day comes when I can see you again. Father says we must leave in order to stay out of prison, and I dread leaving you behind. I had desperately dreamed of the day I would make you my wife, but I fear we must place those plans on hold for now. Wait for me, my love. I will return for you.

“Forever yours,”

And then nothing. There was no signature. You frowned. “The poor dears.. I hope he was able to stay in contact. Or at least let her know what happened.” 

Arthur studied the paper intensely for a moment, before looking at the books next to it. “I can’t imagine she wouldn’t know what happened. These kinds of things are rather big gossip in the upper echelons of society.” The hand on your back moved to your waist and pulled you closer to him. “Her family likely refused any further contact with him or his family after they left. Even if he continued to write to her, she probably never saw any of those letters.” 

“That’s so sad,” you said, leaning into him. “It sounds like he really loved her.” 

“If he loved her half as much as I love you, he must have loved her a lot,” Arthur replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “If you would like, luv, we can maybe try to deliver this letter to its intended recipient. There’s probably some other correspondence between the two stashed somewhere here, if we look for it.”

You looked up at him in surprise. He had a kind smile on his lips, but his eyes were serious. If it were something you wished to do, he would make it happen somehow. “I would, but,” you started to say. “What if it opens up old wounds? What if she’s moved on and this just brings it back up?” You sighed and laid your head against Arthur’s shoulder once more. He ran his thumb up and down your waist in soothing motions. “I don’t want to make things worse.” 

“Even if she has moved on, it could give her closure,” Arthur pointed out. “But you are right; it could cause more trouble for them. Maybe we should leave it here?”

You mulled it over for a moment. “If I were in her shoes.. And you had moved away for some reason against your will, I don’t think I could really move on. Even if I was forced to marry someone else. I love you too much to ever forget you.” 

Arthur was silent for a moment. “Then we should do everything we can to make sure it’s delivered. Even if it is twenty-something years late,” he said, voice quiet and somewhat choked. You went to move away and look up at him, but Arthur’s hand kept your head against his neck. His free arm wrapped around you and he held you firmly to his body. You gave up fighting him, and just locked your arms around his neck. “Thank you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Arthur finally let go and stepped away from you, looking around the room once more. “Let’s see if we can find out who the lucky lady is, yeah? The game, my dear, is on!” 

The two of you went looking around the parlor for any other correspondence between the pair. Coming up empty handed there, you moved to other rooms. Normally Arthur would have been able to make an educated deduction on which room likely belonged to the author, but with the state of disrepair the house was in it was much more difficult. Or at least, that’s what Arthur said - but you suspected he just wanted an excuse to lead you around the house by the hand for a little longer. Not that you’d complain about that.

The two of you looked inside a bedroom suite on the second floor. The door creaked open, revealing a lavish room, covered in linens matching those in the parlor. A thick layer of dust coated the room as it did everywhere else in the house. You carefully stepped over to another desk, this one facing the window that overlooked the long-overgrown lawn. Spread across it were several letters in varying states of completion. Some were well-worn, clearly having been read over multiple times. Those ones appeared to have a different author than the one found downstairs. 

“Alyssa Bloodwell,” Arthur murmured. “That name doesn’t ring any bells for me, but Daddy Dearest knows just about everyone worth knowing among Europe’s elite. We can ask him when we get back. For now, though…” Arthur turned to you, a devilish smile on his lips.

“Arthur,” you warned him to no avail. He quickly stepped forward and grabbed you by the hips. Your arms snaked around his neck automatically. 

He grinned. “What is it, oh darling love of mine?” He gave you an innocent peck on the lips. 

“Oh, don’t even start, Arthur,” you protested, but made no motion to step out of his embrace. His lips moved to the side of your face and you reflexively tilted your head to give him access. “We can’t - not here.” 

“Says who?” Arthur murmured seductively, nibbling at the shell of your ear. “It’s not like there’s anyone here to stop us.” He walked you backwards to a sturdy chest of draws against the far wall, and easily lifted you up onto it. “You’ve been looking positively delectable all day. I can’t help myself from wanting a taste.” He leaned in and kissed you more insistently, his fingers dancing around the ribbon at the collar of your blouse. 

“You are incorrigible,” You responded weakly, already returning his kiss. 

“But you like it, don’t you?” Arthur replied, grazing your earlobe with his fangs. “You dirty little thing.” He ghosted his lips down the side of your neck, pressing a kiss right over your pulse point, before mouthing the spot and sucking hard. You cried out at the sharp pain of it. 

Arthur ran his thumb over the red blooming there. “Beautiful,” he said. “I would bite you, but then I’d have to carry you back to grab a carriage.” He ran his tongue down the column of your throat, his fingers gently setting the ribbon to the side and dragging the top of your blouse down. His other hand slid up your skirt, the thumb running back and forth over the flesh of your inner thigh. “And I really don’t want to have to explain that one to the constable,” Arthur whispered, his breath coming out in puffs against your collarbone.

The drag of his sharp fangs against the skin of your chest combined with Arthur’s fingers moving higher underneath your skirt caused your breath to hitch. His gloved hand pressed gently against your clothed sex, applying a small bit of pressure through your underwear. You let out a soft whine at the contact. He rubbed his fingers back and forth between your thighs while leaving love bites all over your exposed chest. 

His lips kissed back up your throat, and he pulled away to look at you. Smirking, he pulled his hand from between your thighs and took the glove in between his teeth. Arthur slowly, teasingly, pulled it off of his hand, the now bare appendage returning to its former place between your legs.

“Arthur,” you whimpered as he slid the material of your panties aside. He dragged his fingers back and forth through the wetness gathering there, circling the sensitive nub at the apex of your thighs. 

You threw your head back, a low keening sound escaping your lips as he continued to swirl his fingers between your legs. Arthur shot out his other hand to catch the back of your head.

“Look at me,” he murmured. You bit your lip but did as he asked, and he smiled. “Good girl.” 

Arthur’s thumb brushed against your lips and then he leaned in for a deep kiss. “You’re so cute when you come undone under my fingers like this,” he purred. “You’re normally so put together.” You probably were a sight to behold right now - skirt hiked up to your hips, blouse untied and loosely draped under your cleavage, chest heaving  - you were the very image of debauchery. 

Arthur leaned back in for another kiss, his tongue moving against yours in time with his fingers as they pushed inside of you. 

Your gaze drifted up, suddenly settling on the walls of the room. Your eyes widened and you broke the kiss. “Arthur,” you breathed, voice scratchy. “Is it just me or is that wallpaper green?” 

Arthur groaned and he pulled away with a discontent sigh, his lips forming a frown. “It is, and quite a lovely shade of it. But I don’t see how the color of the wallpaper is more important than my hand.” His fingers deftly continued their work, and you bit back a groan. “Unless you are unsatisfied, and want something more?”

“Because,” you breathed, trying to ignore Arthur’s actions and failing miserably. “Green pigments from around this time period are made of arsenic. It’s poison.” Your thighs trembled as he pleasured you. You were so close-

-and then Arthur suddenly stopped and looked at you, bewildered. You whined at the loss of stimulation. “Really?” He looked away from you, his gaze flitting all around the room that was blanketed in peeling green wallpaper. Arthur’s cobalt gaze met yours again, a light panic to his eyes. “And they didn’t know this?” 

“No! The paint was invented sometime in the early nineteenth century and fell out of use during the mid nineteenth century because people were getting sick,” you sighed, the ache in your belly slowly subsiding, leaving you feeling uncomfortable and wanting for more. “It was later used as a pesticide, until they realized that was dangerous, too.” You were somewhat regretting your choice to stop Arthur at this moment. Curse your brain for being safety-conscious even with an incredibly attractive man between your legs, who wanted nothing more than to bring you pleasure.

Arthur sighed, pressing a kiss to your lips. “We should probably continue this elsewhere, then,” he conceded, removing his hands from your thighs. You shuddered at the loss of contact and watched as he lifted his slick-covered hand to his mouth, sucking on the fingers. The lewd sight sent another flare of smoldering heat right to your belly. “When we get back home, you’re going to have to make up for leaving me hanging like this. I hope you’re ready for the consequences of your actions.”

Bonus:

After speaking with Comte about what you discovered while exploring (trespassing), you and Arthur found yourselves standing outside of a beautiful, well-kept mansion in the Parisian countryside. As you approached the gate, a butler, who was trimming roses nearby, placed his garden shears down and stepped over.

“Bonjour, Mademoiselle, Monsieur,” he greeted. “How can I help you?” 

“Is there an Alyssa Bloodwell at this residence?” You asked.

The butler frowned. “Madame Bloodwell does live here, yes, but we were not advised of any visitors today. Was she expecting you?”

“Not exactly,” you replied. Arthur then pulled a time-worn letter out of his pocket and showed it to the butler, explaining, “I shan’t go into the specifics on how, but we came across this letter and believe its intended recipient is your mistress. We simply wish it to go where it belongs.” 

The butler looked at the letter for a moment before nodding. “If you will, follow me,” he said and led you both into the mansion’s entryway, and from there to the parlor. “Please wait here, mademoiselle, monsieur. I will inform Madame Bloodwell of your visit and we shall proceed from there.” 

After a few minutes of waiting, you looked up to see a woman in her late thirties descending the stairwell. “I am Madame Alyssa Bloodwell. I was informed you had correspondence intended for me?” she asked. 

You curtsied and Arthur handed over the letter. She took it, eyeing it, and her hand dropped to her chest. “Where did you get this?” she said, breathless. 

“We recently came into possession of it,” Arthur said, smoothly avoiding giving the details. “We did some detective work, and determined you were the recipient.” 

Lady Bloodwell walked over to an armchair on uncertain legs and sunk down into it. “Louis,” she murmured. “I haven’t heard from him in twenty four years.” Her fingers caressed the fraying edges of the paper. “His family had been found to be embezzling money from one of the royal artisans and was disgraced. They fled Paris in the middle of the night and caught a ship to America. My parents forbade mention of him and the betrothal was called off. I ended up marrying a local lord, but.. I never did stop wondering what happened to him.” 

You smiled sadly at her. “I’m sorry that we didn’t come bearing current news, but I’m glad we could at least bring you the letter. It’s obvious how much he loved you.” 

“Thank you, cherie,” she said. “Please, is there anything I can do to repay you for doing me this kindness?” 

You began to decline, but Arthur cut in. “If you don’t mind, could you answer a question for us as payment?“

She inclined her head. 

“Did you ever move on?” Arthur asked, a serious look on his face. 

Madame Bloodwell shook her head. “I love my husband,” she began. “But no. Louis was - is - special to me. I never stopped loving him, and I doubt I will stop until the last breath leaves my lungs.” She looked between you and Arthur, a content smile on her face. “I see such a resemblance between you two and myself and Louis. Monsieur, whatever you do, don’t ever lose her.”

Arthur looked straight at you and squeezed your hand. “I won’t.” 

Taglist: @natimiles

[spacequokka]

Day 24 | Mistletoe

Pairing: Jisung x Reader Genre: f2l, fluff Rating: T Summary: Felix lays a trap for you two with a mistletoe. Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: Language, alcohol mentioned

Sometimes you have to be an emotional support human for your resident quokka. The same one sitting in your passenger seat biting his nails as he no doubt counted the cars surrounding Felix’s apartment building.

“Want some water?” You tapped his shoulder with a water bottle. “Bet it tastes better than your fingers.”

For the first time since you pulled up, he looked at you. “Doesn’t it seem like a whole lot more than ‘just a few?’” He turned back to the window. “What if it’s, like, standing room only? I haven’t been to a packed house party since uni and—”

You turned his face towards you and pinched his pretty lips shut. “It’s entirely possible Lixie’s neighbors threw a party too. And it’s a big building.” You let him go and turned the car off. “But if for some reason it’s packed in there, we can either hang out in his bedroom or I can take you home and we can watch a movie or something.” You patted his hand. “No worries, okay? He’ll understand.”

He grimaced. “But then you’ll miss the party!” He glanced at your outfit, a rendition of Santa’s little helper. “You were so proud of it.”

“Yeah, but it's just a Christmas costume.” You shrugged. “I mean, I got to wear it and it’ll be seen regardless. It’s not like I’m in a fashion show.” You shook you head. “Besides that, I won’t ditch you. You’re stuck with me tonight. Unless you finally get laid. Then you’re on your own, bud.”

That did the trick. Jisung’s head fell back against the headrest as he cackled, swiping at you playfully. “You’d abandon me when I needed you most?”

You made a face. “I do not need to guide you through dicking someone down. I know you have a general idea of what to do.” You opened your car door. “I saw that Amazon order of hentai.”

He choked on his spit and scrambled to get out. “You said you didn’t see what was inside!” He pointed. “You lied?”

“I see you’re not denying what it was.” It took everything in you not to cackle as his ears and cheeks flushed red. Together you made your way up two flights of stairs to Felix's door. As you entered the apartment, the sound of laughter and music filled the air, confirming Jisung's fears that it was indeed a packed house. Whoops. His hand wrapped around yours with a tight grip as he looked around for a familiar face. Just as you were about to say something, a loud voice called out your name.

"You made it!" Felix scurried over and pulled you both into a hug. "I was beginning to think you'd cancel on me."

"Oh, please." You pinched his side. "I said I was coming and I keep my word. However," you gave a pointed look around the room, "we didn't expect it to be this crowded."

At least he had the grace to duck his head. "My bad. I sent the invite to Changbin and he invited everyone he could think of. But!" He brightened up again. "Me and Jin made sure to reserve a room for you to chill in. There's a cooler with drinks, wings and pizza, and the PS5 is all set up with charged controllers."

Jisung pulled Felix into another hug, peppering his cheek with kisses. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Felix groaned, feigning disgust as he pulled away until something above your heads caught his attention. "Oh, well I guess it's okay since we're standing under the mistletoe." His expression turned devious as he looked at you. "You should get a kiss, too."

Jisung froze, stock still and unblinking. "Huh?"

You looked up. Yup, that was a mistletoe, alright. You had no doubt Felix was the one to put it there as Hyunjin wouldn't want people crowding the doorway. You looked at Felix, unamused. "You are so fucking corny."

"That is your personal opinion and quite frankly it's shit." He turned back to Jisung. "Come on, kiss her." He nudged Jisung closer. It wasn't until then that you caught the fear in his wide, brown eyes. He hadn't said a word and he had a death grip on your hand. But you couldn't figure out why. He'd just kissed Felix with no problem. Was it because of you? You knew your friendship wasn't on the same level as his with Felix or Hyunjin, but you thought it was at least somewhere near a playful kiss under a mistletoe.

Jisung shifted and avoided your gaze. You weren't going to make him kiss you if he didn't want to. You turned to tell Felix as much but the brat began chanting "kiss" triggering the party-goers to follow suit. “Lixie, you ass.”

It was too late. The chant grew louder and you noticed Jisung’s palm started to sweat. You knew the easiest way out would be leaving the party, but you didn’t want to do that. Part of you was a little jealous that Jisung would hesitate to kiss you. He’d kissed girls before, even fucked them. Before really thinking it through, you grabbed him by the chin and planted a three second kiss on his plush lips. The crowd erupted into cheers and went back to their conversations. Felix, the little bridge troll that he is, skillfully dodged your kick to his ass as he led you two to his room.

“You can be an asshole sometimes.” You mumbled once you were away from other ears.

Felix shrugged, eyes darting over to Jisung before a grin spread across his lips. “Just sometimes, huh?” He winked at Jisung prompting you to turn to him too. Jisung’s cheeks were flushed again and he pressed his fingertips to his lips. You’d watched enough anime with him to know that look and it confused you. Just a few minutes ago you were thinking he’d hate you for kissing him and now he—“Well, I’m gonna go check on the others. Don’t want anyone shitting in the dishwasher.”

And he was gone.

“Who the hell does that?” You asked yourself as you shrugged off your jacket and tossed it into a chair in the corner. You brushed off your skirt before kneeling on the floor and going through the cooler. “What do you want to drink, Sungie? He put both alcoholic and non-alcoholic in here.”

Silence. You bit your lip. If he wasn’t going to say anything about it, neither would you. It happened. Let it go.

“Fine. Here, take a Lime-a-Rita.” You held up the large can.

“Ew. You know I hate those.” He inched closer to look for himself. “Just gimme a Sprite.”

You mocked him under your breath and passed him a can. “So what are we playing first?” And just like that, things went back to normal. You went from game to game, plowing through the food and drinks. Nearly three hours later, he called for a break so you could use the bathroom and when you got back, you heard Felix’s voice through the door.

“Just ask her. She’s not gonna say no.”

“I don’t think she wanted to do it the first time. You put us on the spot.”

“Yeah because you were supposed to make your move.” Felix sighed. “How can things change if you don’t let her know how you feel? As much as you like to pretend, she actually can’t read your mind.”

There was a sigh and the door opened. Felix jumped back. “Oh! Can you not?” He put a hand over his chest. “Between the two of you, I’m gonna fucking die.”

You pushed him out the way. “It isn’t like you don’t deserve it.”

Felix snorted. “Oh, like I haven’t heard that before.” He disappeared down the hall.

You sat next to Jisung on the bed and took a chip from his bag. He licked his lips and swallowed. “So, how much did—”

“What is it you’re supposed to ask me?” You looked at him. “Is it about the kiss?”

His eyes widened for a second and he nodded, eyebrows scrunched together. “Did…did you want to kiss me or did you just do it to get it over with?”

You tilted your head and took another chip. “Both. I could tell you were uncomfortable. I’m sorry for kissing you without asking permission first, though. Thought it was weird you were okay with kissing Lixie but not me.”

He startled like you’d physically shocked him. “No it was different! I always kiss people on the cheek.” He touched his cheeks. “But usually mistletoe kisses are on the lips. And I’ve never—we’ve never, not like that.”

You sipped your soda. “So that’s why you froze up? Because it was something new?” You nodded. That made sense. If he wasn’t sure how you’d react and he’d never done it before, of course he’d overanalyze the situation. “I thought you just didn’t want to kiss me. I considered just leaving the party for a minute.”

He shook his head. “I’d never mind kissing you.” He lowered his voice and touched his lips again. “It was…nice.” His eyes darted over to you. “I—I keep thinking about it. It was kinda short.”

You nearly choked mid-sip. “What do you mean ‘short?’ I thought three seconds were long enough for a peck.”

“Everything happened so fast. Once second you were arguing with Lix then your lips were on mine then you were gone. I just, I really didn’t get to experience it since I was in my head.” He put the bag of chips to the side. “I want to remember the first time I kissed you like that, y’know?”

His words made your chest tingle as butterflies took flight. “I mean, I kissed you but I get what you’re saying.”

His gaze didn’t leave your face as you both sat there in silence. His hand found yours and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah, so…what I wanted to ask was if you’d let me try again? Lemme give you something to remember.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Unless you weren’t into it before, then we totally don’t have to—”

“Ugh, Ji. Come on!”

He startled but thankfully leaned close and brought his lips to yours. His hands rested on your shoulders, holding you in place as if he believed you’d pull away too soon. The kiss was slow and gentle, allowing you to savor every moment of it. Your heart raced as Jisung's lips met yours again and again, a soft and tender connection that sent sparks of warmth through your body. When he finally pulled away, both of you were breathless and wearing matching smiles.

“Better?”

His eyes lit up as he rubbed the tip of his nose against yours. “Impossible to forget. Merry Christmas.”

[lizardlicks]

Momo surprise

“I’m a little worried about Momo,” Aang said to his friends as they gathered around the morning campfire and started preparing for their day. “He’s been acting kind of off lately.”

The lemur in question was fussily nosing around Aang's abandoned bedroll in tight circles. As the group of teens watched, he laid down in a curl, chirped unhappily then got up and resumed tugging and scratching at the bedding. “How can you tell?” Sokka asked. He was by no means a lemur behavior expert. To him all of Momo’s actions were strange. It was possible that Aang's Avatar-ness gave him some kind of spirit connection to flying lemurs. Unlikely, but still possible.

“He doesn’t have as much energy, even though he’s sleeping more.” Aang explained, frowning. “You don’t think he’s sick, do you?”

“Maybe it’s the climate?” Katara offered helpfully. She wasn’t a lemur expert either, but she and Sokka had struggled the first few weeks with adjusting to the Earth Kingdom’s warmer weather. As far as she or anybody else knew, Momo has lived his entire life in the towering, windswept peaks around the Southern Air Temple, so maybe the sudden change had affected him too, she reasoned. 

“It’s because you’ve been giving him too many treats,” Sokka told Aang matter-of-factly. Lemurs were outside of his wheelhouse, but he'd helped the older boys with conditioning the polar dogs for sled pulling every fall. Spoiled pups turned lazy and fat, a hard lesson to learn for the littler children who only wanted to express their love.

“You think so?” Aang looked contrite.

“Yup,” Sokka said as he reached to snag a piece of star berry off the board Katara was using to prepare their breakfast. He snatched his hand back with a squawk when she smacked him.

“He is looking a little pudgy, Aang,” Katara said without taking her eyes off the food. Poaching brothers were too wily to be given that kind of an opening.

“Monkey feathers. I just can’t resist him when he gives me The Eyes.”

“I know,” Katara agreed. “He’s weaponized his cuteness.” “You’re going to have to.” Sokka nimbly dodged a sister elbow, but he still didn’t quite manage to snag any tidbits from Katara’s pile of fruit. “It’s for his own good.”

Momo, apparently noticing he was being talked about, finally abandoned the bedding to perch on Katara’s knee. “No, bad lemur!” She snatched her cutting board up and held it over her head. “No more extras for you!”

Sokka whooped in victory as he snagged a slice of moon peach and popped it into his mouth before Katara could adjust her defenses. “You’re on a diet, mister,” he informed the lemur as he sucked the juice from his fingers.

Momo chittered and pinned his ears back.

“Sorry, buddy,” Aang said regretfully as he scooped Momo up and tucked him into the crook of his elbow. “I already gave you a big handful of lychee nuts when you woke me up, you’re gonna have to wait until lunch time for more food.”

Aang could never quite tell just how much human speech Momo understood, but the lemur appeared to grasp something about the situation. He curled his tail around and grasped it anxiously, cooing at Aang with all the force of The Eyes that one tiny flying mammal could muster.

Aang held strong. For all of three seconds. “Okay... well. Maybe a couple berries wouldn’t hurt?”

--------

“AAAAAANG!”

The young monk bolted upright in his bedroll at the sound of his name, startled out of a sound sleep. Sokka was loud. Loud and very upset.

“What!? What is it?” He blinked several times, then rubbed at his face, trying to get his eyes to focus on anything distinct before he realized the reason he couldn't see anything was because dawn was still hours away. The moon hung in the sky, a crescent barely thicker than a thumbnail, with no light to offer. Hedgegoosebumps broke out across his arms. Aang hugged himself as the night pressed in, suddenly no longer a sheltering veil, but full of hidden threat from enemies he couldn’t see. 

The sleeping lump to his right rustled and shifted as Katara sat up in her bed roll. “Sokka-haaah,” her voice stuttered, breaking off with a yawn. “What's wrong?”

“What's wrong? What’s wrong!?” Sokka was rapidly climbing in pitch with each repetition. “Why don’t you look at this situation and tell me, huh?”

“Uhh.” Aang squinted into the dark and tried to make sense of their camp. Appa was still peacefully snoring several yards away, completely oblivious to the sudden chaos. Katara was wiggling and shuffling her way out of her sleeping bag, growling unflattering things at Sokka under her breath, and Sokka. Sokka was standing in the middle of their sleeping circle. He looked like he was holding something, but Aang could not for the life of him see what it was.

“We can't see anything without light, Sokka,” Katara groused. She finally won her struggle with her sleeping roll and started patting around for her bag. “You couldn't have lit a fire before you started yelling loud enough to alert the Fire Lord himself?”

“Oh, gee, why didn't I think of that! Could it possibly be because I'm dealing with Aang's mess over here!?”

Aang didn't remember leaving a mess. In fact he'd been careful to pack up everything before turning in for the night just in case they had to make a quick getaway. A few too many lost supplies had trained him quickly.

“What are you talking about?” He asked while stretching, less alarmed now that he knew Sokka was just. Well, being Sokka. They weren't being attacked, there was no life or death situation he had to fight through in the pitch dark.

Katara, having retrieved some kindling from her pack, scooted over to their banked campfire and began to poke the coals awake. She had apparently given up any hope of going back to sleep until her brother was sorted out. Even Appa was starting to rumble awake with the commotion.

“You said Momo was a boy!” Sokka hissed. 

Aang. Blinked. “Yeah?” he said, uncertainty clouding his mind. He must still be dreaming, why would Sokka wake up the whole camp to debate their pet’s gender?

“Then explain this!” Sokka shoved his cupped hands out, away from the protective shield of his body, just as the fire flared with a pop and Katara's satisfied grunt.

Cradled in between his palms, fur still sodden and sticking, was the teeniest, tiniest lemur Aang had ever seen.

[lynnzelds]

re4r leon kennedy x f!reader (kinktober prompt two - knife play)

resident evil kinktober masterlist

wc: 2,458 words

(tags: knife kink, p in v sex, unprotected sex, you and leon are enemies, quite a bit of bantering at the start bc that's just how i roll sometimes)

a/n: this wound up being a full length fic. whoops. i wrote most of this sleep deprived and it's also unedited. apologies for that in advance.

Oh, how you hate him.

He has you pinned underneath him, a knife pressed against your neck. You’re a mercenary sent to eliminate him–but you shouldn’t have underestimated the young agent. He’s already slipped out of your grasp several times, and now he has you bested in a knife fight. Your own blade lies abandoned on the concrete floor, just a few feet out of reach.

The cold, sharp blade digs into your neck, so close to breaking the skin and revealing the crimson that lies underneath it. With his non-dominant hand on your chest, he presses you into the ground harder. You squirm, and Leon instantly takes notice. But that’s the least of his concerns for now. “Who sent you after me?” he growls.

“Doesn’t matter,” you spit back. “Not when I’ll be delivering your head on a platter.”

He chuckles dryly. “Like you would.”

“Let go of me.”

“No, I think I’ll just stay like this.” His voice is gruff and deep as he shifts his weight so that his entire body is straddling yours.

“The hell are you doing?”

 He leans in so that his face gets closer to yours. His hips hold you down and he places his left hand on the ground next to your head while he keeps the knife against your throat. “I’m gonna stay put until you give me some information.”

You scowl. “Fuck you.”

He smirks. “Only if that’s what you want.” He slides the knife along your throat without drawing blood. The high-pitched whimper that leaves your lips afterwards is embarrassing, so much so that at this point you wish he’d just slit your throat and get it over with. 

“Now what was that?” he says with a laugh.

“Nothing,” you hiss.

“I think you’re enjoying this.” He continues to tease you with his knife, pressing the blade flat against your throat and watching how it makes you shiver.

“You think wrong.”

He chuckles. “It’s cute how in denial you are.”

“I’m not in denial!” you growl.

“You wanna test that?” he says, placing the sharp part of the knife against your throat once again. He applies pressure, and you moan as desire grows between your legs. 

Oh god. Why the hell is this turning you on?

“Told you so,” says Leon with a grin. “You’re enjoying this.” He removes the knife from your neck, and you nearly whine at the lack of contact. Your eyes eagerly track the knife as he slides it into the sheathe positioned on his collarbone, silently pleading to feel its sharpness on your skin again. You won’t say it out loud, though.

Leon is quick to notice the hunger in your eyes as you stare at his sheathed knife. He places his hands on either side of your head, kneeling over you on all fours, and that’s when you gaze into his soft blue eyes. This position seems a bit too intimate for your liking, but for some reason you find yourself unable to move away from him. 

“You want more?” he teases. “You greedy thing.”

“I hate you.”

“Not with the way you’re looking at me.”

“Go fuck yourself, Kennedy.” You use his last name because no way in hell does he deserve to hear you use his first.

“I could do that,” he says with a hint of a smirk on his lips. He leans in closer and brushes his lips against the side of your neck. “Or…” He lifts his knee and presses it against your clothed cunt. Your eyes widen and you shift around underneath him, trying not to make any noise. “I could fuck someone else. And I wonder who that someone could be.” He presses his lips to your neck, and your body shudders. 

You avoid eye contact, turning your head away from him. You’re not sure what scares you more–you not knowing if he’s joking or the possibility that he could be serious. You want it to be a joke, but the throbbing between your legs says otherwise. “Certainly not me,” you scoff.

“Yeah, definitely not you,” he responds as he pulls away, his tone thick with sarcasm. 

“Well, even if it was,” you say, despite knowing damn well he’s referring to you, “I came here to kill you, not for anything else.”

A low chuckle leaves his throat. “You’ve been doing a terrible job at accomplishing that. Makes me wonder if you’ve been letting me escape on purpose.”

That’s when you dare yourself to look at him, and you see a sly smile on his face.

“I think you want me,” he continues, pulling his knife back out of his sheathe and twirling the handle between his fingers. The blade catches the light as he does this. “I can see that look in your eyes.” Your breathing becomes more labored as you stare at the knife, anticipating what Leon would do with it. “I wonder…how would you feel if I fuck you senseless while I trace your skin with this? Bet you’d like that.”

Your eyes widen as heat washes over you. You involuntarily squeeze your legs together, hoping Leon won’t notice. But his eyes flicker to follow your movements immediately. His large, slightly calloused hands push your thighs back apart, his knife tucked between his right index finger and thumb. His thumbs trace along your inner thighs. You gasp and your body tenses, and Leon licks his lips at the sight as he leans in and whispers into your ear, “Keep your legs open, hun.”

He presses the knife flat against your crotch, then brings his face closer to yours. “Now let’s try this again,” he says, acting like he isn’t doing anything to you right now. “Who sent you after me?”

Keeping your legs spread open, he moves the tip of the knife along your clothed cunt. Your body reacts immediately; your fingernails dig into the cold floor, your eyes roll back slightly, and your lips tremble. “I’m not…telling you,” you breathe out.

But as he continues to tease between your legs with the knife, you find yourself becoming putty in the hands of Leon Kennedy. The name of who you’re working for slips between your lips like honey.

“Wesker.”

Ada Wong wasn’t the only one he had sent to this island. While she was tasked with retrieving the Amber, you had been tasked with eliminating the man who kept getting in the way of Wesker’s plans. Without Ada’s knowledge.

Leon doesn’t say anything for a while as he removes the knife from your body. He recognizes that name, having learned about Wesker during his time as an agent. He compresses his lips into a firm line. “Well, send my regards to that bastard,” he says, and he slides his hand under your head, lifts you up, and presses his lips to yours.

Your eyes widen as he holds the kiss for what seems like forever. You stiffen up, then relax as you allow yourself to close your eyes and return his gesture. He’s supposed to hate you. You’re supposed to hate him. You hardly understand why he’s kissing you in the first place, or why you’re kissing him back. All you know is that your desire for him boils deep in the pit of your stomach.

He sets his knife aside and undresses you while keeping his lips on yours. His fingers fumble with the buttons of your trousers. He slides them down, and more articles of clothing follow, the cold air on your skin as piece after piece comes off. 

“Already wet for me,” he whispers as he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and kisses your inner thigh. His hot breath near your cunt is enough to send your mind reeling. He pulls away to reach for his knife. You close your eyes and bite your lip, feeling vulnerable being completely naked while he hasn’t removed a single article of clothing of his own. 

The sensation of something sharp dragging across your bare stomach has you jolting your eyes open. You watch as Leon draws circles on your lower abdomen with the knife, not enough to cut into your skin. He moves it lower before dragging it back up to your belly button, teasing you over and over. You can’t help but whine.

“Do you want my cock now?” Leon coos, watching how each movement of the blade has you squirming. “Do you think you deserve it?”

You stay quiet for a while, since your ego is too damn big for you to admit that you want him. But he already knows your answer, and the more his knife travels across the canvas that is your skin, the wetter you can feel yourself getting.

“Please,” you whimper. 

He chuckles at how pathetic you look. “You’re gonna have to say more than ‘please,’ love.”

The pet name doesn’t bother you for some reason. What does is that he’s forcing you to beg. You open your mouth, the words nearly getting trapped in your throat. “Please…I…I need your cock,” you manage to get out.

“Attagirl,” he says, unbuckling his belt with one hand with keeping his knife in the other. He slides down his trousers to his knees, and you can already see how hard he is through his boxers. He eagerly slides those down as well, the head of his cock already glistening with precum. Your heart races at how big it is.

Leon smirks at your reaction. “Look at you, so needy for my cock.” He leans down and drags his fingers along your folds before he pushes two of them inside your wetness. Your body shudders with pleasure, and you push your hips up to meet his fingers without thought. “Such a needy girl,” he says in response to your movement.

He slides his fingers in and out of you, but the moment you think he’s going to make you come on them, he pulls them out and brings his hand to his cock. “Mmpf–fuck,” he groans as he slides your wetness over his length. You feel a heat burn inside you as you watch Leon jerk himself off, his cock stiffening even more as your wetness mixes with his.

He reaches for you again, bringing your leg back over his shoulder as his tip prods your entrance. You eagerly shift your hips forward. “Please, fuck me,” you whisper, having given up on resisting him. 

Leon smirks. “Who knew the woman sent to kill me was such a dirty little slut underneath the tough, cold facade?” He pushes the tip of his cock inside you, and you bite your lip in anticipation. “Need more, love?” he says as he sees the sulking expression on your face. “You’ll have to ask for it.”

You swallow down your pride once more to respond. “Please…give me all of your cock. I need it.”

“Of course you do,” he says, and then he pushes himself deeper inside you, bottoming out without slowing down or giving you a chance to adjust to his size. A series of whimpers leave your lips as you bring your hands to his hair, gripping it between clenched fists. He groans at the pain, pulling out a bit before snapping his hips into yours. 

Your eyes roll back at the sensation as a low moan leaves your throat. Leon takes the knife and brings it back to your skin, tracing the tip of it under your breast while he thrusts into you relentlessly.  Your body shivers. “Ungh–you feel so good,” he mutters, his voice coming out raspy. He focuses on bringing you additional pleasure, pressing the flat of the knife against your nipple. Its coolness has you whining out his name.

Leon raises his eyebrows. “Did someone just use my first name for once?”

“Shut it,” you grunt out. You can already feel that knot coiling inside you as he continues to slam his hips against yours at a steady pace. You squeeze your eyes shut so he doesn’t see you rolling them back again.

“I think you like me,” he concludes.

“No, I hate you,” you say, your eyes still shut. You shift your focus to the way his cock hits that bundle of nerves inside you with each thrust. Your walls flutter around him.

“Not with the way you just moaned out my name.” He moves his left hand to your hip, holding you in place as he fucks you. The pleasure gets to a point where you can’t hold it in anymore, and moans spill out of your mouth. Your mind becomes a haze, and the words he had just spoken don’t even process.

Your body trembles Leon moves the knife from your breast down to your abdomen, and your stomach tenses as it travels lower and lower, past your belly button and near your lower region. Your walls squeeze around him tighter this time, and Leon groans.

The words flow out of your mouth before you get the chance to hold them back. “Please–I’m so close—please.” 

At this, Leon digs the knife into your flesh, nicking you with it. The light piercing sensation is enough to send you over the edge, and you tug on his hair hard as you come around his cock. “Ungh, shit–you’re squeezing the fuck outta me,” Leon groans, the added sensation of his hair being pulled on pushing him to the edge, and he soon follows as he releases himself into you. 

He continues to move his hips until you’ve both come down from your highs. He sets the knife on the ground and pulls out of you, observing the mess the two of you had made just now.

“Are you okay?” he asks, dropping the teasing act and giving you a soft look. He looks around the empty room for anything he can use to clean you two up. 

But you scoff, moving yourself away from him and scrambling for your clothes. 

“Looks like we’re back to that, huh?” he chuckles. “Can’t keep hating me forever, princess.”

You set your jaw, picking up your clothes and putting them on one by one. You’ll have to find somewhere else to get yourself cleaned up. God, if Wesker finds out you had sex with the man you were supposed to kill, of all people… You try not to think about that as you slip your shirt over your head, the last article of clothing. You look over to the exit, deciding that you'll give Leon one more chance to live.

“Aw, don’t worry.” Leon pulls his boxers and pants up and zips himself up. “You’ll get plenty of chances to kill me later.”

“Look forward to it,” you respond dryly, and with that, you head towards the door. (i'm terrible at endings I'M SO SORRY :/ thinking about doing a part two to this- I really enjoyed writing Reader and Leon's dynamic :3) kinktober prompt list by @flightlessangelwings

[science-lings]

I've done this for Phoenix so now I have a duty to fulfill

Explanation of some options bc of the character limit under the cut

6- Mikotoba claims that his son/daughter adopted Ryunosuke as her sibling first and used his name as an alias but Sholmes argues that Iris also adopted him into their family and 'you already have an adopted son don't be greedy!' this all doesn't even matter because they are married and would share children anyway but its the principal of it all. Ryunosuke probably just asks for Kazuma's hand in marriage just to end the argument.

7- he's still a special little guy but not in the way that someone created by a deity really should be, he's pretty durable though...

8- you can't tell me that ryu doesn't have the vibe of a guy who was supposed to be the funny side character but then the real main character died and whoops you're important now have fun being subjected to the Horrors

9- get kung fu panda-ed idiot