#It's very hard to determine how resistant animals are

[ask-ozai]

Personal opinion on cats ?

I used to have one when I was a boy. My father gave it to me so I wouldn't bother him. His name was Fire Master. Azula also had one when she was four and named him Fire Master Junior. They are very honorable and very intelligent creatures. Definitely more than Zuko.

[arabella0001]

Missing you (Geto Suguru x Reader OneShot/Smut)

Pairing: Geto Suguru x Reader

Anime: Jujutsu Kaisen

Synopsis: Suguru Geto is your boyfriend and he can’t get enough of you

Warnings: praise kink, teasing, rough doggy,degrading kink, all characters are of age/aged up, dirty talk, missionary

It was after seven o'clock in the morning when Suguru appeared at your bedroom then go silently to your bed, lying next to you and leaving a soft kiss on your neck.

“Princess, you sleep like a rock, hm? He chuckle softly “Wake up..i miss you…”Suguru said against your ear in an attempt to wake you up, his arms making you warm and comfortable as you tried to wake up. Suguru knows he should be going to jujutsu school by now, but he missed his girlfriend and went straight to see her after finishing a mission. “Suguru…“ you whisper sleepy. Geto smiles softly as he feels you stir, his hand gently caressing your side through the thin fabric of your pajamas. He nuzzles into your neck, inhaling your sweet scent

”Mmm, good morning.Did I wake you? I couldn't resist coming to see you”. His other hand trails slowly up your thigh, squeezing lightly as he presses his body flush against yours.

“Geto's lips brush against your ear as he whispers huskily,I missed you so much,Y /N.Needed to feel you, taste you… “He captures your earlobe between his teeth, giving it a playful nip before soothing it with his tongue. Suguru's hands start to wander more boldly, slipping under your top to cup and massage your breasts.

Geto groans softly as he hears your needy moan, sending shivers down his spine. His hands knead your soft mounds more insistently, thumbs circling and teasing your hardening nipples. ´That's it baby, let me hear those pretty sounds… “he purrs, voice low and dripping with desire.

In one swift motion, Geto pulls your top off completely, tossing it aside. He takes a moment to admire your bare chest, eyes darkening with lust“Fuck, you're gorgeous… “

Leaning down, he captures one rosy peak in his mouth, suckling and flicking his tongue across the sensitive bud. His free hand continues its exploration, dipping beneath the waistband of your panties to stroke along your slick folds. “So wet for me already, aren't you? “

“Suguru, please baby… “ you plead sleepy but now very aroused.Geto gazes back at you adoringly, drinking in the sight of your flushed face and half-lidded eyes clouded with desire.

He smiles tenderly, cupping your cheek. “ Anything for you, princess. “Slowly, teasingly, he slides your panties down your legs, throwing them aside to join your discarded top.

Geto settles between your thighs, pushing them further apart to expose your glistening sex fully to his hungry gaze. “Look how ready you are for me, baby. Your pretty little pussy is just begging to be filled, isn't it? “

He leans in, hot breath ghosting over your aching core. The first swipe of his tongue along your slit has you crying out, back arching off the bed. Geto chuckles wickedly.

“Yes…she missed you“ Geto grins against your intimate flesh at your words, clearly pleased

“ Missed her too, princess. “He seals his lips around your clit, suckling the sensitive bundle of nerves as two long fingers plunge knuckle-deep into your soaked channel. Geto pumps them steadily, curling to hit that special spot inside you with each thrust.

“That's it, ride my fingers. “ His tongue swirls and flicks rapidly over your throbbing pearl while his digits continue their relentless assault, fucking into you hard and fast.

Wet, obscene squelches fill the air as he finger-fucks your needy hole, determined to make you fall apart. “Come for me, Y/N. “ As your climax crashes over you, Geto moans against your spasming sex, the vibrations intensifying your pleasure.

He laps up your pussy greedily, prolonging your ecstasy. “Mmm, delicious… You taste so good“. He works you through the aftershocks with gentle licks and slow thrusts of his fingers until you collapse back onto the bed, boneless and trembling.

Geto crawls up your body, peppering kisses across your skin before capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on him. Breaking away, he gazes down at you with dark, lust-filled eyes, pupils blown wide with arousal.

His rigid cock juts proudly from his hips, the thick shaft pulsing with need.Geto's eyes flash with primal hunger at your desperate plea. In one smooth thrust, he sheathes himself to the hilt inside your dripping heat, stretching you deliciously around his thick girth

“Fuck, you feel incredible… So tight and wet, like you were made just for me. “ Geto begin slows with his pace, savoring the exquisite feeling of your silken walls gripping him like a vice. He peppers tender kisses along your jaw and down your neck as he rocks into you with deep, languid thrusts.

His large hands caress your curves reverently, mapping every dip and swell. He cups your face, thumb brushing over your cheekbone as he gazes at you with open adoration. “You're so beautiful like this, Y/N - flushed and panting, taking me so perfectly. My good girl… “

He sets a hard, driving rhythm, pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes. The obscene slap of skin on skin echoes through the room, mingling with your wanton moans and cries of rapture. Geto captures one of your bouncing breasts, kneading the soft flesh roughly as he sucks a pebbled nipple into his mouth

“That's right, take every inch of my cock, princess. Milk me dry with this perfect little cunt. “He snarls against your breast, hips snapping faster.

“Suguru, you feel so good, oh m-“ you moan harder and he rewards your moan with a particularly deep thrust, hitting that special spot inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyelids.

Geto maintains his torturously slow pace, each roll of his hips stoking the fire building low in your belly. “That's it baby, let me hear those pretty sounds. Tell me how good I make you feel… “ He purrs, voice dripping with sinful promise. One hand slides between your bodies to circle your aching clit with maddeningly light touches“ Cum, Y/N. I want to feel this greedy little pussy fluttering on my cock as you cum apart in my arms.”

“Geto….more…please please… “And you cummed so much your vision turned white. With a wicked grin, Geto let you to breath for a second and suddenly flips your positions, pulling out and manhandling you onto your hands and knees.

He delivers a sharp smack to your ass before gripping your hips bruisingly tight. “This what you wanted, princess? To be taken hard and rough from behind like a bitch in heat?“ Without warning, he slams back into your sopping cunt, setting a brutal pace. The obscene slap of skin on skin fills the room along with your wanton moans. Geto leans over you, blanketing your smaller form with his larger one as he pounds into you relentlessly.

“That's right baby, take it just like that. Your tight little cunt feels fucking incredible wrapped around my cock. “ One hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back as the other snakes around to roughly palm your bouncing tits“ Such a good girl, taking me so deep. I bet you love having your holes used for my pleasure, don't you princess? “

“Yes yes i love it so much“ your breath hitches as Geto's hips snap forward almost violently, grinding against your cervix with each thrust.

The wet squelch of your arousal fills the air, mixing with the creaking of the bed frame under his powerful movements. “Cum for me, Y/N! Milk my dick with your pretty cunt until I pump you full of my seed baby“ groans softly as he feels your velvety walls flutter and clench around him, milking every last drop of his release.

´´Mmmm, that's it baby… Take every inch of me. You're doing so well, my beautiful girl. “

He peppers gentle kisses along your neck and jaw as the waves of pleasure ent, murmuring praise between each press of his lips. “My perfect girl, so responsive and eager to please. The way you squeeze me, it's like your body was made just for my cock… “

Suguru carefully pulls out once spent, immediately pulling you flush against his chest. One large hand strokes soothingly down your spine while the other cups your face tenderl.

Suguru wraps his strong arms around you, holding you close as you cling to him. He nuzzles into your hair, inhaling your scent mixed with the musk of sex. “Shhh, I've got you, my love. Just relax in my arms. “

His large hands rub slow, soothing circles on your back as he lets you bask in the afterglow. Geto presses soft kisses to your temple, your cheek, anywhere he can reach without breaking contact. “You were incredible, baby. I missed you. “ “I missed you too, Suguru“ you look at him with your eyes full of love, he shifts slightly, maneuvering you both to lay spooning with him curled protectively around your smaller form.

Wattpad link

[jokeringcutio]

Reader x Stepdad William Afton (Drabble)

AN: You got me there, ANON. All right, here's a very QUICK drabble for you, because I COULDN'T RESIST. MATURE THEMES/NO EXPLICIT SMUT. Just a happy family dinner (well....)

Also, I am overwhelmed with prompt requests and I love them, so do keep 'em coming. But if you want to help me out for reaching my goal to save up to commission a celebratory piece of artwork for this tumblr (as we've almost reached 1000 mutuals following this account :3 ) please feel free to donate me a little something on Ko-fi ♡ ︎.

based on this in my inbox: [ See Reaction to the post here x ]

The clink of silverware against porcelain punctuated the silence, a staccato rhythm that seemed to echo in the cavern of your chest. Across from you, William’s hands were steady as he cut into his steak, but there was something about the tightness in his jaw, the way his blue eyes didn't quite meet yours, that whispered secrets.

"Sweetheart," your mother's voice sliced through the tension like the knife in William's hand through meat, "it's time we talked about a paternity test."

Your heart stuttered in your chest, a wild, frantic thing eager to escape. You swallowed hard, the mashed potatoes on your tongue now tasting like ash.

"Whoever the father is... he deserves to know," she continued, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling beneath her words.

"Of course," you agreed, the word brittle on your lips. Your gaze flickered unintentionally to William, then quickly away, fearing what might be revealed in a single glance.

He cleared his throat, a sound that rumbled deep and low, a prelude to the storm you knew brewed within him.

"It's only fair," he said, but his voice was a masterclass in control, every syllable measured, every intonation practiced.

"You can ring up the boys... see if they're willing." She was all practicality, all motherly concern, not an inkling of suspicion clouding her features. If only she knew…

"Right," you breathed out, the lie sour and heavy in your mouth.

In your bedroom, Evan's chest rose and fell with the innocent trust of sleep. Unaware. Untouched by the deceit that hung thick in the air. The door ajar, otherwise he wouldn’t sleep if he didn’t hear that you were near. As if somehow, your tiny son was aware that he had been born in a house full of dark secrets and possible danger.

Your fingers curled around your glass, the cool surface grounding you. Water, while your parents were drinking wine. Wasn’t your mom still trying for a baby? Had she finally given up now that she saw how it was to be between diapers and the soreness of giving milk?

William's gaze flitted toward the open door where your son lay oblivious to the grown-up games played at his expense.

"Will do it tomorrow," you promised, your voice a whisper of determination laced with dread.

"Good girl," your mother smiled, contentment lighting up her face. But in William's eyes, the reflection of a different kind of pride—a dark, devouring satisfaction—flickered and then died.

You pushed your plate away, appetite lost. While inside your thoughts careened like a runaway train, you tried to remain your compose. Look and act normal. But what would happen when the truth came out? What would happen when the masks fell away?

What would William do?

Because in all honesty, it wasn’t your mom and her feelings you were worried about the most any longer. She had proven time after time again to be there for you, no matter what lies had been told about you. Her two-goody-shoes daughter, suddenly a wild partying animal who had gone and get laid whilst drunk – even if she bought it she faithfully helped take care of you and your newborn son. She was so – so darn sweet! Like an angel sent from the blessed sky. If she’d forgiven you this, then you wouldn’t doubt she would forgive you the truth.

But…

Could you bear her disappointment? Right now? Could you see her so crestfallen and betrayed? Did you want to break that dam and wait whilst pain raked through you both – a pain that only time could mend?

Beside you, William scraped his throat, his thick fingers scraping past your thigh underneath the table. The horny beast. Even now he couldn’t stop touching you.

Shouldn’t he be working on one of his new robot animals? Like that yellow bunny suit he was making to resemble your favorite plushie? With the only difference that it was ten times bigger and build for him to wear?

You tried not to glance at your stepfather, not even when his fingers reassuringly squeezed your already bruised thigh. You gritted your teeth at the soreness – thanks to his latest bout of fucking, of course. The man took his chances whenever he could.

No, the real problem here was your stepfather. William was a tall, strong and dangerous man. His mind worked in ways that only left you guessing. And you had no doubt that he had hurt others in the past before to get exactly what he wanted.

If you wanted to play this game, you had to play it right.

Silently, you vowed to protect Evan from the shadows that lurked behind William's aviator glasses, from the manipulations that twisted beneath his agreeable facade. You would stand between your son and the man who wore danger like a second skin.

"Let's finish up here," your mother suggested, unaware of the battle lines being drawn right before her eyes.

"Indeed," William agreed, and his smile was a predator's grin, hidden in plain sight.

The baby slept on, his dreams untainted by the turmoil that swirled just beyond his reach.

[fangsandfracturedhearts]

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 31: Ice Meets Fire

Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.

Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.

In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Word Count: 5.8k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events. Mentions of Astarion's Trauma.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ [Meant For Mature Audience]

Your fangs sink into Wyll's neck with a loathsome, satisfying snap, and the taste hits you instantly—hot, succulent, and metallic. Each mouthful is a tide of warmth you’ve been deprived of for too long and wakes the insatiable beats of your hunger with a ravenous growl.

You try to take small, calculated sips, but with each gulp, your body demands more. Astarion’s compulsion presses against your mind like a net thrown over a wild animal, pinning it down while it struggles. Even without it, the bloodlust roars louder than reason.

Slow down.

The words parrot futilely. No matter how hard you try or how tightly you close your eyes and will yourself to stop, the blood flows endlessly. You’re a starved animal finally sinking its teeth into prey, and restraint is a concept that crumbles under desperation.

It’s too much. It’s never enough. Every sip is like a promise and a cruel joke. Your hands tremble as they grip his shoulders, your nails cutting into his skin as if you could tear him open and swallow him whole.

Wyll doesn’t resist. His steady breathing brushes against your neck, an unbearable reminder of his trust. You hate it. You hate how calm and utterly unafraid he remains, even as you drain him dry. 

Your jaw tightens, a feeble attempt to break the rhythm, but the compulsion won’t allow it. More, it whispers. Take it all.

Stop. 

You scream it in your mind, but it’s a plea lost in the void. There’s no way out, no way to stop the frantic rhythm of your own undoing. You drink and drink, each pull dragging you closer to the point of no return.

You claw at the edges of Astarion’s compulsion, trying to wrench yourself free even as your mouth greedily draws more and more. Wyll trembles in your grasp. His skin grows clammy under your fingers, his pulse weakening with every passing second. A feeble push against your shoulder does nothing but fuel your shame. He’s trying to stop you; you’re too far gone to heed him.

“Alright, Illyria, that’s enough now,” Karlach interrupts, her tone light but strained. “You’ve had your fill, yeah? Let him go.”

Her words barely register. You feel Wyll’s body growing weaker, but you can’t stop. Astarion’s will is absolute, and even as you try to cleave it out of your mind, white-hot pain sears through your skull, a punishment for daring to resist. When Wyll sags against you, Karlach’s tone sharpens.

“Oi! Illyria! Enough!”

When you still don’t respond, she growls low in her throat and snaps her attention to Astarion. “Astarion,” she barks, “stop her. She’s gonna kill him!”

His laughter rings out, a cold, melodic sound that chills the air. “Oh, Karlach,” he drawls, amused and unbothered. “Why would I? She’s simply indulging her nature. Isn’t it beautiful to watch her embrace what she truly is?”

Karlach’s voice rises, anger threading through her words. “She’s not some bloody animal! If you won’t stop her, I will.”

“I wouldn’t,” he purrs, low and dangerous. “Let her finish. It’s been so long since she’s truly fed.”

“Damn you, Astarion!” Karlach snarls, her fists clenching as she glares down at him.

Your mind screams, your body obeys, and you drink, helpless to do anything else.

You hear Karlach’s heavy footfalls as she charges. There’s a sharp thud, a muffled grunt of pain, and then a scuffle. Karlach curses, her voice raw with fury, but the sounds shift too quickly for you to follow. 

Please, you beg silently. Tear me away from him. End this. Kill me if you have to.

She doesn’t reach you. Instead, Astarion drags her into view. His iron grip clamps around her chin, forcing her to face the gruesome scene. She thrashes, teeth bared, her powerful muscles straining against his unyielding hold, but it’s useless. His strength is far beyond anything mortal.

“Ah, ah,” Astarion chides with icy amusement, tilting her head to ensure she can’t look away. “None of that now, my dear Karlach. This is a lesson—one I think you’ll find invaluable. Watch closely.”

Karlach’s fury trembles in every word. “You twisted bastard. Let her go. Let him go!”

“Oh, Karlach, such righteous indignation! It is positively delightful, but you misunderstand.” His crimson eyes flick to you with a devious gleam dancing in their depths. “She doesn’t want to stop. Do you, pet?”

Your stomach lurches at his words, but your body betrays you, still locked in the monstrous act.

“You can fight,” he says, addressing Karlach now, “but it’s pointless. She’s mine, body and soul. And you—” He leans in closer to Karlach, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “—you get to watch your dear Wyll slip away, all because she is weak.”

He wrenches her head back, forcing her eyes to lock on you. Then his gaze meets yours, piercing and cold, devoid of mercy. “Look at her, darling,” he sneers. “Isn’t it poetic? The mighty Karlach brought to her knees, helpless as her lover dies in your arms. Does it not just… sing to you?”

Karlach’s voice breaks through the haze, trembling and raw. “Please,” she sobs, her gravelly tone cracking under the weight of her despair. “Please stop. Don’t do this. Don’t let him do this to you.”

Her pleas carve into your chest. You want to scream, tell her you’re sorry, and beg her to understand that you can’t stop. But no sound escapes you—only the low, guttural growl of a predator feeding.

The tears come, hot and shameful, clinging to your lashes as you try to blink them away. They blur your vision, turning Wyll’s ashen skin into a smear of pale grey, and still, you drink.

“Illyria,” Karlach chokes out your name, her voice softening, cracking under the weight of her grief. “I know you’re in there. Please, fight him. You’re stronger than this!”

But you’re not. You’re weak. Weak like Astarion said, bound by his will and the unrelenting pull of the hunger that consumes you. 

Behind Karlach, Astarion’s laugh snakes through the room. “Stronger?” he echoes, mocking her with a slow, deliberate drawl. “Oh, darling Karlach, how naive you are. She isn’t strong. She’s exactly what I made her to be. A creature of hunger and obedience.”

Wyll slumps in your grasp, his life slipping away with every pull, and the sob that builds in your chest dies unvoiced.

Karlach’s tears fall freely now, glinting in the dim light as they streak down her face. She struggles against Astarion’s grip, desperate and futile. “You bastard,” she snarls with anguish. “You’ve done this to her. You’ve taken everything she is!”

Astarion leans down to her ear, his voice a silken blade. “No, my dear, she’s given herself to me. Isn’t that right, my sweet?”

Your mind screams��no, but the compulsion twists your silence into agreement, and you feel the weight of his words like chains tightening around your throat. Karlach’s gaze shifts to you, her eyes red and brimming with pain.

And still, you drink.

The decision crystallizes in the pit of your stomach like a stone dropped into a frozen lake. You’ve avoided this, hidden it away in the recesses of your mind, locked tight and buried deep. The bond between you, that last shred of connection untouched by Astarion’s cruelty, preserved out of fear—fear of what he’d do if he found it, fear of what it would mean if it failed.

But now, with Wyll’s life bleeding away in your arms and Karlach sobbing in a mixture of rage and despair, you see no other choice. This is your only chance to reach him and find the man you married buried somewhere beneath the monster.

You hesitate. Opening the bond is more than a risk; it’s a surrender. Once the door is flung open, there will be no taking it back. He will know everything. Every thought, every emotion, every fleeting whisper of rebellion or resentment. 

Your lies, your hopes, your hatred, your love—laid bare.

If this doesn’t work, you’ll have handed him the keys to your soul.

Wyll’s pulse is faint now, fluttering like the wings of a dying moth. The moment stretches, endless and excruciating, and you realize you’re out of time. You take a shuddering breath, an act so unnatural it feels like a mockery of the life you no longer have, and then you let go.

As soon as the bond snaps open, raw pain floods you. It’s a cold pain, sharp and creeping, like frostbite gnawing its way through your skin, burrowing deep until it reaches the marrow of your bones. You feel it settle there, an ache so profound it almost suffocates you, but the worst part is the sound.

A symphony of voices—no, not a symphony, a cacophony—erupts in your mind. It’s endless and discordant, every note wrong and sharp, scraping against the edges of your sanity. The voices chant in a perverse harmony, a song of paranoia and malice.

You’re nothing. Weak. Disposable.

The words sting, but their tone is beguiling. They are contemptible yet tempting, each syllable laced with a sweetness that beckons you to listen, lean in, and believe. They promise power, freedom from doubt, and freedom from pain—if only you would give in. 

It’s maddeningly seductive, and you wonder how he hears himself think over the constant noise, but then you realize he doesn’t.

The voices swarm, and suddenly, you feel them notice you. They latch on to your thoughts, slick and insidious, winding through your mind like vines coated in thorns. They twist and tighten, infecting you with a venomous corrosion that eats away at the very essence of who you are.

Why fight? One voice coos, silk-soft and dripping with disdain. It’s easier this way. 

You’re not strong enough, hisses another, low and venomous, its words slithering into the cracks of your defences. You’ll never be strong enough.

Your thoughts start to warp under their influence, each one pulled apart and rearranged until you can barely recognize them. You try to push back, to reclaim control, but the voices are relentless. Their chant grows louder, a deafening orchestra. The pain intensifies, but underneath it all is a coaxing warmth, a vile comfort that urges you to let go. 

You wrench yourself free from the glacial pull, gasping as if emerging from freezing water. The pain lingers, an ache in every nerve, but you focus on what you must do. With everything you have, you flood Astarion with the only weapon you possess against this: your love, your light, the memories of the man he was.

You pour it all into the bond, a torrent of warmth and brightness against the cold, oppressive dark. You push in the sound of his laughter when it was soft and unguarded, the gentle brush of his fingertips against your skin when he thought no one else was watching. You show him his own humanity—the pieces of himself he would scoff at but that you know still exist.

Your eyes snap open, and they lock onto him. Astarion stands frozen like a marble statue come to life, his body rigid and trembling under the weight of your assault. His crimson eyes are round and unblinking, as if he’s seeing something he cannot comprehend.

You plunge deeper, shoving aside the frost-choked whispers of madness that try to devour you, wading through the virulent mire of his mind. It’s a labyrinth of jagged edges and venomous traps, each thought a barbed snare waiting to close around you, but you press on.

You sift through every shadowed nook and cranny, tearing through the layers of rot and cruelty, ferreting out anything—anything—that resembles your husband. You dig through memories warped by his ascension, memories drenched in blood and ash. The twisted delight he takes in control and domination rears up like a predator, snapping its jaws, but you shove it away.

“Come back to me,” you whisper through the bond, your voice trembling but firm. “You’re still in there. I know you are.”

The deeper you go, the more the cold bites, as though his darkness fights back. The voices return, screaming now, a cacophony of rage and hatred, but you don’t relent. For a brief, flickering second, something surfaces—a glimmer in the murk, faint and fleeting. It’s small, fragile, but unmistakable.

Him.

The ropes of compulsion shatter, and your body is finally yours again. You throw yourself away from Wyll with such force that you skid across the ground. 

Karlach, trembling with fury, tears herself from Astarion’s slackened grip. Her teeth are bared, her face flushed with a rage that could rival the Nine Hells. She hurls him into the nearest wall, the sickening crunch of stone meeting flesh ringing in your ears.

Before you can react, she’s already moving, stalking toward where her axe rests against the far wall. Her movements are swift and purposeful as she bellows, “That’s enough! You’ve gone too far this time, fanged bastard!”

Astarion collapses in a heap where she threw him, his body still as death. He doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, his eyes wide and vacant, staring into nothingness.

“Karlach, wait!” you shout, scrambling to your feet. Your voice cracks under the weight of urgency, but she doesn’t hear you—or doesn’t care.

Her massive hand grips the haft of her axe, and you see her muscles tense, preparing to swing it down on him.

No. No. No!

You don’t think; you don’t plan. You hurl yourself forward with every ounce of vampiric speed and strength you possess, slamming into her waist just as she lifts the axe. The two of you crash to the floor, a tangle of flailing limbs.

“Karlach, stop! Please!” You cry, your voice raw.

She struggles against you, her strength an inferno, each movement sending tremors through your bones. Her skin burns where it touches yours, the sizzling of flesh like acid to your ears. The smell of charred meat fills the air as your hands blister and blacken, but you hold on. You can’t let go.

“Get off me!” She roars, her voice filled with grief and rage, both directed at you and the monster you’re protecting. 

Her elbow slams into your side, and you feel the snap of ribs. Your vision wavers from the pain, but you cling to her, ignoring the agony, ignoring the smell, ignoring the searing heat. 

“Just a moment!” you plead, your voice breaking, your desperation bleeding through.

Even as you grapple with Karlach, wrestling her arms away from the axe, you push your focus back into the bond, back into the void of Astarion’s mind. The dying star you glimpsed is faint, but you rocket toward it.

Please, gods, please.

Karlach fights you with everything she has, but you hold on, your body burning, your concentration stretched thin. You press into the cold darkness, reaching for that light buried deep within the abyss. The moment your mind touches it, it’s as if the fabric of reality buckles and tears apart. 

Astarion’s thoughts unravel like threads pulled too tightly, snapping one by one in a chaotic cascade. Time feels loose; space dissolves. Your stomach churns as you’re plunged into a vortex of fragmented memories, cruel desires, and the frosted whispers of lunacy. You cling to the light, gripping it desperately, even as it threatens to slip away.

Then, a hand of molten fury seizes you.

You barely register the movement before you’re airborne, her throw sending you careening through a table. Splinters bite into your back as you crash through the wooden frame, landing in a heap amid shattered debris. Pain flares in thorny bursts, but you barely notice it over the chaotic pounding in your head.

The clang of metal echoes in your ears as Karlach hefts her axe. The heat of her wrath radiates through the room, and you can hear her steps storming closer, shaking the ground beneath her.

And then you hear it.

A voice. Quiet, like a long-forgotten melody. “Illyria?”

Your dead heart clenches with the phantom pain of longing. Astarion’s voice is no more than a whisper, but it’s warm, familiar.

Real.

Your head snaps toward him. He’s still crumpled where Karlach left him, his pale face slack, but his lips move faintly, shaping your name like a prayer.

“Illyria?” he repeats even softer, the first raindrop landing on thirsty earth.

Karlach doesn’t see or hear it. Her axe arcs high, the blade gleaming an angry red with the light of the fire. The edge looks sharper than death itself.

You barely think. The Weave rushes to your grasp, the familiar pull and snap of magic coursing through your veins. You cast Misty Step, the incantation escaping your lips as you vanish from your place among the broken table and reappear in a swirl beside Astarion.

There’s no time to check if what you heard was real. You throw yourself over him, draping your body across his in a desperate shield. Karlach’s rage fills your ears, a feral roar that shakes the walls. You feel the whistle of the blade through the air above you, its keen edge cutting a deadly arc.

Your fingers twist into Astarion’s clothing, clutching him tightly as you close your eyes. You don’t pray; you don’t plead. You brace yourself for the end, for the strike that will come—and hope it will be quick.

Astarion shakes violently, the tremors running through him like cold fire as if he’s been trapped in a block of ice for centuries, yet his skin burns with an intensity he can’t comprehend. His fingers claw at the ground, trying to anchor himself in something solid. Everything around him is nothing but a blur, a haze, his mind a tangled mess of thoughts that ricochet off each other.

He breathes in, trying to steady himself, but the air feels too thick in his lungs. His chest aches with the effort like he’s been holding his breath for far too long. Confusion—raw, brutal confusion—fogs everything else. His thoughts are disjointed, starting and stopping abruptly, tumbling over one another with no real direction.

Thunk.

The sound breaks through the pandemonium, and his eyes snap open. Everything swims in his vision, a sea of wind-whipped black spots dancing like a storm. He blinks rapidly, trying to clear the fuzziness that clouds his senses. It doesn’t work. The world still feels distant, out of reach.

Where am I? Why is everything so wrong?

He shifts slightly, disoriented, and his gaze lands on the floor where a blade is buried deep in the ground, the metal glinting ominously. It’s too close.

A spike of panic digs into his gut, and he forces himself to sit up, but his head spins as if the very act of thinking is too much. He swallows hard, pushing the blackness away from his vision, but everything feels… foreign.

Voices. 

He hears voices. They sound distant, muffled, as though they’re underwater, but he can’t make sense of them. His fists ball, and his body is trembling harder now as if his very being is being torn between two worlds. He needs to focus. He needs to remember. The last thing… what was the last thing he remembers?

His mind reels, but it slips away before he can grasp anything. It’s like trying to hold water in his hands. His memories dissolve before they fully form, slipping through his fingers, and his chest tightens as the pain in his head intensifies.

Nothing is making sense.

He tries to move, but his limbs feel heavy and unresponsive, like his body isn’t entirely his own. Every motion feels like wading through mud. His thoughts scatter, and all he can do is sit there, confused and trembling, searching for something—anything—to hold onto.

Astarion’s head throbs, each pulse of pain rebounding off his skull. The voices grow louder, each syllable incomprehensible, a maddening murmur that rakes at his sanity. It’s as though they speak in a language he can’t begin to decipher.

The wall finally presses into his back, but there’s no escape from the flood of confusion, or the warping, spiralling chaos. 

A song begins to play in the back of his consciousness—an earsplitting, strident melody that cuts through the confusion like a blade. It’s painful yet strangely alluring as if it’s coaxing him into somewhere deeper and darker. The sound twists around him like vines, burrowing into his thoughts. It feels like sinking into a hot bath, too inviting yet far too dangerous. 

His vision starts to dim, as though his very life is draining out. He shakes his head violently to dislodge the sensation. 

No. He can’t lose himself in this. He won’t lose himself.

The world shifts, and in the firelight, something catches his eye—a gleam of something metallic. He turns his head, his vision clearing just enough to make out the sight before him. There, through the gauze of confusion and pain, he sees her.

Illyria. 

His spawn.

No… No, that’s not right. 

His bride. His wife.

Yes. The memory is there, blossoming like a delicate flower in his fractured mind. He sees her walking down the aisle, her beauty illuminated by the setting sun. He remembers their vows, the promises made beneath that golden light. The memory is so vivid that it nearly takes his breath away.

But something is wrong.

Illyria looks… different. She’s thinner, almost gaunt, her skin stretched tight over bone as though the life has been drained from her. Her once radiant form is now emaciated, bordering on sickly.

Why?

The soft ache in his heart is foreign to him, unsettling. He doesn’t like it.

She grapples with Karlach. Illyria’s movements are sharp and frantic, her voice a mixture of hissing, growling, and pleading—wild, untamed, desperate. The sound of it grates on his senses, twisting something deep inside of him, but it’s when he sees her eyes—wide with fear, with rage, with something he can’t quite place—that it really hits him.

Astarion’s mind stutters. He doesn’t understand. None of this makes sense. What is happening? Karlach. Why is she here? He wants to call out to Illyria, but the words stick in his throat, trapped between disorientation and horror.

Gods, he just does not understand.

Illyria stands between him and Karlach, her presence like a beacon, something he’s lost but desperately needs to hold onto. The Weave dances around her, a radiant glow that hums with raw power. It is both beautiful and terrifying, crackling in the air like a storm about to break.

Why are they fighting? 

The question circles in his mind like a whirlpool. These people, these faces that once felt like friends—why are they at odds now? Karlach, with her rage barely contained. Illyria, his wife, standing in front of him, protective and fierce, as if she's trying to shield him from some terrible truth he can't yet grasp.

Illyria’s blood drips from her forehead, but she doesn’t seem to care. She wipes it away quickly, her gaze fixed on Karlach, unwavering and unyielding. The tension between them is palpable, as though the air itself could snap at any moment.

Karlach's hatred burns into him, cold and furious. It makes Astarion shrink inside, though he fights it, his body rigid, trying to hold onto some semblance of control. He opens his mouth to speak, to demand answers, but no words come. “Enough, Karlach!” Illyria snarls, but then her intonation softens. “Give me a chance to explain, please.” “It better be one Hells of an explanation, soldier,” Karlach spits, relenting though her anger simmers just beneath the surface.

Illyria’s stance softens, the dangerous crackling at her fingertips fading, but the tension in the air lingers. She doesn't fully relax, but she moves towards him. The weight of her steps feels like a relief, a return to something familiar and steady.

“Astarion?” Her voice is soft, uncertain, as though the question itself is a plea. She reaches out to him, and his heart, or whatever remains of it, skips a beat. 

Her touch—he's afraid of it. Afraid of her. Afraid of everything right now.

He recoils, a reflex so strong it feels instinctive. The touch, the closeness—his mind cannot reconcile it within the turmoil. The pain, the confusion, the disjointed memories, and now this, her reaching for him, her fingers outstretched like she’s reaching for the last thread of his humanity.

Illyria stops short, her hand wavering in the air before dropping. The silence between them grows thick, oppressive and filled with unspoken questions. He can feel her hesitation, the way she’s pulling back, trying to read him, trying to understand the distance he’s put between them.

But Astarion can’t breathe. He can’t think. His mind is a mess of shattered thoughts, fragments of who he was and who he is now.

“I…” His voice cracks, hoarse and weak. He tries again, but the words die in his throat.

Why does she look so different? The soft ache in his chest tightens, a strange, wrenching sensation that doesn’t belong.

Illyria watches him, her eyes searching as if looking for something in him that she knows is there but can’t reach. He feels like a stranger in his own body like a piece of himself is locked away.

Everything about this moment feels wrong. But she’s here. She’s real. She’s his, even if he doesn’t know what that means right now. 

"Astarion," she repeats, her voice quieter now, the question lingering between them like a breath held too long.

Astarion’s head spins, the world blurring as he stares at Illyria, her face so close, yet somehow so far away. Everything feels distant—her eyes, her voice, even the air around him seems hollow. His chest tightens, his breath coming in short bursts that make his ribs ache. 

What’s happening to me?

"Illyria," he whispers, though the word feels foreign on his tongue. He opens his mouth to say something more, but it’s as if the words are stuck.

His fingers twitch, reaching out toward her, but he hesitates, the distance between them like an invisible wall. He doesn’t understand why he’s afraid of her—why it feels so wrong, so unsafe. His mind is a storm, a mess of jagged thoughts, and his body seems to betray him at every turn.

“Illyria…” he repeats, a bit louder this time, but it comes out choked, like a plea. “Where are we? What happened?” He doesn't even know what he's asking or if he really wants to know the answers. He shakes his head, the effort making his skull feel like it’s cracking. “I don’t—Gods, I don’t understand. You—You’re not real, are you?”

Her voice comes soft and coaxing. “Astarion, look at me. You’re okay. You’re here with me.”

His eyes snap toward her, but it's like trying to focus on a dream that keeps slipping away. “No, no, no—I’m not okay,” he mutters to himself, more than to her—his head throbs, a pulsing rhythm that drowns out everything else. “I’m broken… I’m—what happened to me? Why can’t I remember? Why can’t I—think?”

Illyria’s voice softens, though he doesn’t know if it’s from pity or care. “You’re not broken, Astarion. You’ve just been through a lot. Please, just tell me what you're feeling."

His breathing hitches as he forces himself to meet her eyes, but it’s like looking into the abyss. She’s there, yes, but she’s not. How can she be here when everything feels like it’s slipping away? 

“I—feel... cold.” His voice cracks again, and he feels foolish. “Cold, and… so godsdamned hot, all at once. My thoughts are so loud, but they make no sense. They are screaming at me. All of them—every single one. I—” He stops himself, chest heaving. The words do not come out the way he wants them to.

Illyria shifts closer, her eyes searching his face with such intensity that it almost burns. “It’s okay. We’ll work through it. What are they saying?”

He flinches at the question, the voices in his head rising again like a tide. 

Lies! Betrayal! They’re lying to you, Astarion. She’s not really here. She’s just a dream. Don’t trust her.

Astarion clutches his temples, trying to block out the noise. “They—they will not fucking stop.” His voice is strained, shaky. “It’s all just... jumbled, endless screaming inside my skull. They keep saying things I do not want to hear, things I cannot—do not—understand.”

Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes, but he quickly blinks them away. No, he refuses to let her see him break. Not like this. Not when he can barely keep himself together. 

“I’m not… I don’t know what is real anymore. I do not know who I am.”

His vision pales again, and he can feel himself slipping under like quicksand. The warmth of her presence and her voice beckons him, but it’s like a distant lighthouse through a fog, flickering and fading just as he reaches for it.

“I don’t know who I am anymore," he repeats, the words coming out in a broken whisper. ”I don’t know who we are. Why can’t I just— Why can’t I remember?”

Astarion trembles in front of you. His eyes flicker, the depths of his gaze growing darker and more unfocused with each passing moment. His lips part, but the words he speaks are disconnected, like fragments of shattered glass struggling to find coherence.

“Illyria... you... you look...” He swallows hard, his hands trembling as they press to his temples. “You look... thin. Like you’ve been... starving, but I don’t—I don’t understand.” His voice cracks. “How did this happen? Why does it hurt to look at you? You're so... different. So faint.” 

He stares at you as though he doesn’t recognize you, his words more of a question than anything else. His chest heaves in desperate gasps, but the air seems to cling to him in suffocating waves like it’s both too hot and too heavy for him to breathe properly.

“Gods, this air... it is too thick. It’s... burning, but not—why can’t I breathe? It feels like the weight of everything is pressing on me, inside me. I can’t—I cannot breathe, Illyria. It’s too much. Too hot. Too—” He coughs a strange, choked sound that only adds to the disarray in his voice.

You instinctively reach for him but hesitate, knowing better than to crowd him too soon. You can’t force him to calm down; it has to come from him. Your fingers itch to soothe him, but instead, you will yourself to hold steady, to be the quiet within his storm.

You let your voice be the anchor, soft and steady, something to tether him to reality. “Astarion... I’m here. Breathe with me. Just breathe, okay? It’s alright.”

His eyes flash with an almost frantic energy as he seems to latch onto your words, but there’s a haunted look behind his gaze.

“I don’t know how... They... they won’t let me think. Every little thing just keeps... spinning. Illyria, make it stop. Make it stop... please.”

You steady your breath, forcing everything else to quiet inside you. There’s no room for your worries or fears right now. Not when he needs you more than ever. You push away the anxiety that rises like a tide in your chest, the unease that it could take so little for him to slip away from you.

“Astarion,” you murmur again, your voice a whisper but strong. “You’re safe. You’re with me, and I’ve got you. You’re strong. You just need to find your way back.”

He shakes his head frantically as if he can’t hear you; his hands clenched so tightly into fists that his knuckles are white. "I don’t—I don’t want this. I do not want to feel like this. I don’t want to be lost." His words crack as if he’s breaking apart at the seams. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

You reach for him slowly, your fingers brushing his arm with the gentlest of touches, just enough to remind him of your presence but not so much that you swarm him. “You’re not broken, Astarion,” you whisper, the words almost a mantra, though you’re not sure if you’re trying to convince him or yourself. “You’re not broken.”

His gaze snaps to your hand, and for a moment, his eyes soften—just barely, but it’s there. The tiniest spark of recognition. He opens his mouth as if to speak again, but the words die on his lips as his body shudders gruellingly, like even that tiny piece of clarity frightens him.

“I just need... a moment,” he mutters, his voice raw and strained. “Just a moment... to breathe. To think. To remember...” You stay on your knees by Astarion, watching him as he breathes deeply, his chest rising and falling in slow, deliberate motions. You don’t touch him, though the urge to do so burns at the edges of your mind. He needs space, space to breathe, to think, and to untangle the mess of his thoughts.

Behind you, Karlach calls to Wyll, shaking him, her desperate pleas cutting through the tension in the room. You don’t want to look or face what you've done, even if it wasn’t by your own choice, but the scene is too loud, and you can’t avoid it forever. 

You glance over your shoulder. Wyll’s slumped form in the chair twists something deep in your gut. You close your eyes momentarily, trying to drown out the noise in your head and focusing on the sound of beating hearts in the room.

Karlach’s pulse is loud, strong—like the whirring of metal gears. Astarion’s... it’s fast. Erratic. Thunderous in your ears, pounding with the chaos inside him. Then, there’s Wyll’s. It’s weak, distant, but still there—the steady thump of a life that refuses to fade.

It should be a relief. He’s alive, after all. But the feeling is sour, like something rancid eating away at your insides. The thought of the betrayal in his eyes, the shock that will surface when he wakes, makes your stomach tighten.

Astarion shifts slightly, but his focus is still on the shadows behind his eyes, caught in whatever has a hold of him.

“Wyll’s alive,” you offer apologetically.

"How do you know?" Karlach asks in a timbre strained between hatred and relief.

You hesitate for only a second before gesturing vaguely to your ear. "Vampiric hearing.”

Her eyes flicker toward you, searching for any glimmer of hope, any shred of reassurance you can give. “Will he live?” she presses, her voice low, fragile.

You nod, though doubt lingers. “He needs rest,” you say, and the words come out sounding more confident than you feel. “He’s strong. He will pull through.”

Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things.

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

Small Notes:

He's back!

Wyll's alive!

[aisclosed]

Match Found ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - 6. just one bite

Synopsis: Jungwon is sick of his friends' constant teasing over his lack of gaming skills. Determined to secretly improve and prove enha wrong, Jungwon sets out to learn to play, except he has no clue where to begin. Luckily for him, y/n is a girl with too much time on her hands, a desperate need for distraction and is more than happy to indulge him. Only, things are never that simple and Jungwon soon finds it difficult to explain exactly what the pair have become.

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smau + (1.2k) written work

warnings: cursing as usual, mentions of throwing up. uhh y/n's daddy issues. mentions of choking n biting (still not the fun kind :( )

“LoOK! I fucking hate this stupid pick me ass elephant. Like how selfish can you be, you little bitch!” You grumble for the nth time since starting Barbie as the Island Princess. 

“Are you really beefing with an animated elephant right now Y/N?” Jungwon smiles down at your aggravated face. Narrowing your eyes, you sit up from where you had been leaning against Jungwon, turning to give him a sharp look, “And are you really choosing to defend this annoying Miley Cyrus look-alike animated elephant Jungwon?” 

“No, no of course I’m not. You’re right she’s being very selfish and a terrible friend” Jungwon says placatingly, pulling you back down to where you had been laying in his arms. You try your best to ignore the small soothing circles his fingers are tracing on your waist and cross your arms with a huff. “I can sense your patronizing tone Yang Jungwon, I see where your loyalties lie.”

Jungwon simply snickers, pinching your cheek playfully, “Y/N I’ve been watching Barbie movies with you for the past five hours, you can’t be mad at me.” 

“We’re in my house, on my bed,eating my snacks. I think I have more than a right to be mad at you. Plus you owe me after telling my entire timeline that I smell like Velveeta cheese, you asshole,” you gripe, poking his chest accusingly. 

“Did I lie? At least I’m here taking one for the team, cuddling you despite the smell. I’m doing you a service really,” Jungwon teases cheekily. You gasp indignantly, trying to wiggle out of his arms but Jungwon just tightens his grasp on you, shaking you both with the tremors of his laughter as you fail to break out of your cage. 

Tired out, you yield, resting your head against his shoulder in surrender. A comfortable silence falls over the pair of you, only the faint sounds from the forgotten movie playing from your laptop. “I do not smell like Velveeta” you whine quietly. 

“No you don’t, but I had to keep your twitter dms empty somehow.” Jungwon chuckles, pushing your hair out of your face. “Come on, what do I have to do to gain your forgiveness, hm?” 

Jungwon gets a feeling he’s going to regret granting you this opportunity once he sees the conniving smirk spread across your lips. 

“Well since you’re offering so nicely, Sunghoon was telling me about how cute you were in highschool and about your famous baby pictures. I wanna see, now please.” You beam up at Jungwon smugly. 

With a groan, Jungwon fishes his phone out from his bag and unlocks it, handing it over to you. You cheer in response and immediately begin scrolling through his photo gallery. It’s hard to resist the urge to react to the numerous tempting selfies and pictures you pass by so you don’t, letting compliments and ‘damn you look good here’s fall freely from your lips. Jungwon rewards your praises with a bashful smile, burying his face in your pillows when he gets too flustered.

As you move further up into Jungwon’s gallery you note how his cheeks fill out more and how big and sparkly his eyes looked on his baby face. “Jungwon you were so fucking cute I want to gobble you up oh my god.” 

Jungwon rolls over to look at you in amusement, “I thought you still thought I was cute?” he challenges with a tilt of his head. 

You wave him off dismissively, “Yeah you're like, cute in an attractive way now but THIS? You were so baby girl, oh my god I want to keep you in my pocket.” You quickly send yourself your favorite pictures, ignoring Jungwon’s feeble protests. 

“Alright, that’s enough of me, let me see some of your childhood pictures too, I wanna see tiny Y/N.” Jungwon pinches your side, waiting for your response expectantly.

You rub the back of your neck in contemplation before picking up the neglected laptop and quickly typing in the search, pulling up some old articles. You turn the screen towards Jungwon who watches you curiously.

“Here. I don’t have a lot of childhood pictures, my dad wasn’t really around and my nannies obviously didn’t care about me enough to take any. But I do have these old photos from the occasional competition or recital.” Jungwon’s gaze softens, and he observes the screen silently, taking in your small frame and the stiff smile on your face despite the large trophy in your hand. 

“You play the piano? And the violin?” he asks with a raised brow. 

“Yeah, I-uh would try really hard at a bunch of different things. Singing, instruments, ballet, even archery. I thought that maybe I’d be able to win over my dad if I was really impressive or something. Clearly it didn’t work, lame, I know,” you admit sheepishly. 

“It’s not lame and it is very impressive Y/N, you must’ve worked really hard. I’m proud of you,” Jungwon says firmly. You stare back at him wide-eyed, struggling to swallow the lump that quickly formed at the back of your throat.

“Thanks,” you answer hoarsely and Jungwon nods in approval, facing the screen again to analyze your picture closer. 

“You really were cute and tiny, it’s a crime there aren't more pictures of you to see. Why does this dude next to you look so familiar?” Jungwon mumbles absent mindedly. 

“You can probably ask my friends for pictures of me in highschool,” you say, leaning in to look at who Jungwon was pointing out, “Oh, that’s Na Jaemin, you know him?”

“The Na Jaemin? Yeah, he’s always trending on the news, something about his company or volunteer work or donating to a charity. There’s no way that guy’s actually real, Sunoo thinks he’s a hiding a secret evil double life,” Jungwon scoffs with a roll of his eyes. 

You throw your head back in a guffaw, “Yeah it’s pretty unbelievable but Jaemin’s actually that nice in real life. He’s more Chenle’s friend than mine but he’s always been like that since we were young.” 

Jungwon hums in contemplation, noting the golden streaks casting a soft glow across the room and glances out the window at the darkening sky. “I should probably be getting home, I have some homework I need to finish before tomorrow.”

Slumping in disappointment you nod reluctantly, climbing out of bed and extending a hand to Jungwon to pull him up. He gratefully takes it and you walk him to the door, leaning against the wall as he pulls on his shoes. He straightens up and ruffles your hair, “Alright, I’ll see you soon okay Y/N?” 

You smile up at him teasingly, “ Aren’t you forgetting something Jungwon?” He stares blankly at you in confusion, before hesitantly pulling you into a hug and pecking your cheek, “Bye?” he tries. 

You burst into laughter, stunned by how he had reached the conclusion that a kiss is what you wanted. You pull out Jungwon’s phone from your back pocket and hand it to him, “This is what I meant, but thanks for that Wonnie.”

Jungwon flushes, hiding his face behind his hands and you giggle further at his mortification and choked out apology. Before you can let your nerves get the best of you, you tug Jungwon down by the collar of his shirt, planting a swift kiss of your own on his dimpled cheek. 

“Bye Jungwon!” you call out cheerfully, promptly shutting the door on his face. On the other side Jungwon laughs, dragging a hand down his burning face. Staring at the spot where you stood, he shakes his head in disbelief before turning and heading home.

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a/n: jungwon is so clingy w his members, one of his love languages is defo physical touch and it makes me want to cry. next chapter will be all smau (gasps) and the one after that will be hella writing jasd. anyways fuck tika all my homies hate that stupid elephant and I'm seeing NCT DREAM THIS WEEKEND!!1!! screamssss

special thx to my subak for encouraging my delusions and helping w this chapter <3

taglist: open! send me an ask to be added!

@woncloudie @itsactuallylina @ifearjwn @fadedluvv @mangowonyo @xiaoderrrr @shinsou-riii @aki1e @makiswrld @jaehaki @criyiy @ilovewonyo @zeraaax

[vintagepresley]

elvis and an inexperienced girl reader who is eager to try new things but elvis wants to take things slow w/ her so he always try’s giving her relief without going all the way when she gets too turned on.

Thank you so much for the request! I hope it's alright I made this big daddy. 🤭💗

Dirty thoughts always plagued your mind when you were around your boyfriend. You had been dating for a few months and he still hadn’t gone all the way with you. No matter how many times you begged and pleaded for Elvis to do so, he’d say no. You were inexperienced and a Virgin and he didn’t want to rush things with you. But you were always more than willing and ready, but to keep you satisfied he’d always find ways to give you some relief without going all the way. It was becoming hard for him to resist sometimes especially because you didn’t make it easy for him strutting around in your little babydoll night dresses, whispering in his ear and teasing him. But still no matter what he’d say no.

But you were determined to get what you want so when Elvis had invited you out to Vegas, you packed a few of your nightgowns that he loved and some cute lingerie that you had bought the day before. After the show that night one of the guys escorted you back to his suite and told you that Elvis would be up shortly. You quickly went to shower and once you were done you slipped a towel around yourself and headed to your suitcase and decided to wear the slip dress you packed. You dried off and slipped on your pink satin slip dress that hit right above your thighs so it didn’t leave much to the imagination, which you knew Elvis would love and you brushed your hair just the way he liked it. As you were finishing up getting ready you heard the front door to the suite open and close. "Y/N? Baby?" Elvis called out to you.

You smiled widely when you heard that southern drawl of his ringing out and you quickly made your way out to him and soothing out your little slip dress, capturing your bottom lip between your teeth at the sight of him, he always just looked so handsome. He taken aback by the sight of you and what you were wearing that he had to do a double take and he cleared his throat. You giggled softly to yourself noticing the way he was staring at you and you did a little twirl for him. "Do you like it?" you beamed happily. He was speechless and he licked over his lips as he stepped closer toward you to get a better look as he chuckled softly.

"Like it? I love it, baby. Uh.. W-Where'd ya get that?" He said softly as he did his best to not think the dirtiest things that came to his mind. You shrugged your shoulders, smiling up at him as you ran your hands along your body.

"I bought it before I came here! C'mon, I'm sure you need to relax after the show you put on." you hummed. You took his hand and led him into the bedroom. He smiled as he followed behind you.

"I am bit tired, baby. I can't wait to get in bed and cuddle my girl." he said with a smile, slipping his big strong arms around you from behind. He kissed along your neck softly and you giggled as you rested your hands over his and you smirked to yourself because you had other plans for him.

"Well you better go get showered if you want to cuddle because you smell, daddy." you said with a smirk as you tilted your head back to look up at him.

Elvis laughed softly as he kissed along your jawline. "I don't smell that bad. But okay, honey." he said with a grin before he pulled away and headed into the bathroom and as he showered you climbed into bed, soothing out your dress as you waited for him. You were determined to make him lose control with you tonight to do more than just touch you and tease you. You wanted him to make love to you to fuck you like an animal. Just the very thought of it turned you on. Elvis finally finished up in the shower and he came out in his robe and walked over to the bed, plopping down onto and laying back letting out a tired groan. You scooted closer to him and placed your hand against his chest that peeked through his robe and your brushed your fingers against his chest hair and you felt his arm slip around your waist and his fingers brushing up against your thigh as your dress rode up.

You bit down on your bottom lip and you leaned down to press a kiss to his lips as you caressed your hand against his rob and it lingered down his robe until your hand was placed right against his cock. He raised an eyebrow at you and he grabbed your hand moving it back up to his chest and he chuckled softly. You pouted when he moved your hand. "Elvis.. Please.. How long are you gonna make me wait?" you cooed. He smirked a bit giving your lips another kiss.

"I just want to take things slow, honey. What's the rush?" he mumbled against your lips. You let out a soft sigh and shrug a bit.

"I just want you.. So bad. I need you.." you whispered as you climbed on top of him, straddling his waist and he let out a soft groan. He smirked up at you and he shook his head a bit because of how desperate you were for him to fuck you.

"Honey, y'know I have other ways of helping ya.." He mumbled as he slipped his hand between your thighs and you let out a soft whine.

"B-But I want this..." you say softly as you moved against his cock causing him to let out another groan. "I-I know.. But..-" before he could get another word out you placed your index finger against his plump lips. "You know you want to.. I can feel it.." you hummed. He grabbed your waist and flipped you around onto your back and you squealed softly, biting on your bottom lip.

"Enough." he said sternly.

You pouted and folded your arms over your chest acting like a child. He shook his head and chuckled softly as he spread your legs open and moved in between them, kissing over your thighs slowly as his eyed your white cotton panties and he could see the wet stain on them, he licked over his lips. He was going to try his best not to go all the way with you, but you were making it very difficult for him.

A soft whimper escaped your lips feeling him kiss along your thighs. You always loved when he did use his other ways of getting you off, but you just wanted him inside of you. You needed him. You watched him between your legs as he began to slip your panties off and bit his bottom lip at the sight of you and you inhaled deeply watching him stare at what belonged to him. The moment his mouth met your pussy you let out a soft moan, he was always so good at this and he knew that it would make you forget about what you were asking for in the first place. Elvis slid his tongue up and down your wet velvety folds and he swirled his tongue around your clit, flicking the sensitive bud between his tongue. Your head tilted back against the pillows and your hands tangled into his dark raven hair as your hips lifted off the bed the louder your moans grew.

Elvis wrapped his mouth around your clit and sucking on it slowly and he groan softly against you. The vibration of his groan only through you over the edge. "Daddy.. fuck.." you mewled. Your eyes rolled back as he devoured you like you were his last meal and as soon as his tongue slipped inside of you the most embarrassing sound escaped you. He nearly made you forget how badly you wanted his cock inside of you. He always knew just how to make you feel so good. But the thought of fucking you never left his mind now. The way you pressed up against his cock and the very taste of you was making him feel all sorts of things he hadn’t before. He didn’t know if he could hold back. Control himself. Keep you his innocent little girl for much longer. But he was determined to.

Your thighs squeezed around his head as your toes curled against the bed and your back arched as your head tilted back further into the pillows and your moans louder than ever. But he soon pulled away and you looked down at him seeing him move from between your legs and climbed on top of you, the heavy weight of him only turning you on more. You loved how big he felt on top of you. The warmth of his body pressed against yours as his robe slipped open more and your nightgown raised higher. You bit your bottom lip wondering what he was doing as your legs wrapped around him and you whispered to him. “Fuck me.. Please.. I-“ but you were silenced by Elvis placing his index finger over your lips.

“Enough of that, little one… Daddy’s gonna make ya feel real good.” He hummed. You nodded slowly at his words knowing not to push the topic any further. You swallowed harshly as you watched the lustful in his eyes as his right hand groped your breasts through your nightgown and then traveled down between your legs. He teased two of his fingers against your wet folds and pressing his fingers between them and teasing the pad of his fingers against your clit which made you gasp softly and your breath to hitch and a soft moan to leave your slightly parted lips. His face drew closer to yours until you could feel his lips against your left ear and the feeling of his breath hitting your ear made a chill run down your spine. “You like when daddy makes you tingle down there, don’t ya? You gonna be a good lil girl and cum for me? Hm?” He cooed.

You felt like you couldn’t speak let alone form a sentence as your hips moved against his callous hand trying to gain more friction as quiet whimpers escaped you so desperately and needy for him. You nodded as a way to respond to him. You suddenly felt him shove his fingers knuckle deep inside of you which caused your eyes to widen and your lips to part further as you gasped loudly and moaned cutely. “Use ya words, little one..” he whispered into your ear.

“Y-Yes.. Daddy.. I-I’ll be your good girl..” you whimpered out softly. He had a pleasing grin on his face from the sound of your words and he pumped his fingers inside of you slowly, teasing your tight little hole and you whined needlessly when you felt him slip his fingers out of you. “Oh god.. Please..” you cried. But he lifted his head up and smirked down at you and he brought his slick coated fingers up to your lips spread your sweet arousal along your soft lips making them glossy with your own mess.

“Taste ya self, honey, taste what has daddy strugglin’ to hold back from fuckin’ you..” he mewled. You nodded at his orders and you slowly licked over your lips tasting the sweetness of your arousal and capturing your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked up at him innocently as he watched with delight. “Goddamn..” he hummed. Your eyes rolled back as soon as you felt him shove his fingers back inside of you and pumping them at a steady and fast pace. Your hands clutching onto his robe as you moaned loudly. You were already so sensitive from him eating you out that your body was so close to losing all control.

The faster he fingered you the more wet you were becoming and making such a mess all over his fingers, he smirked at the very feeling. “You’re so goddamn desperate to cum, aren’t ya? My innocent little girl..” he hummed as his fingers jackrabbited inside of you. Your whole body gave way as your eyes began to ring and you felt nearly lightheaded as your orgasm built up in the pit of your stomach and the noises you were making growing louder the closer your orgasm grew. Before you could even comprehend it all you orgasmed and came all over Elvis’ fingers making a mess on yourself and his bedsheets. “Fuck..” he murmured.

Elvis slide his fingers out of you and you watched through your hazy vision as he moved back between your legs and he lapped up every bit of your mess that clung to your pussy and your thighs and soft kitten whimpers escaped you from the exhilarating feeling. You were always amazed at how he could satisfy your needs without actually fucking you. When he finished he moved back on top of you, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. You moaned against his lips as you kissed him passionately, slipping your tongue into his mouth so hungrily. You pulled back just enough for both of your lips to hover over one another and you reached down into his open robe and wrapped your hand around his hard cock causing a low groan to escape him.

“It’s my turn now..” you said sweetly with a giggle. Elvis smirked and nodded at your words and he sat himself up opening his robe completely and you climbed off the bed and got down on your knees the shag carpeting rough against your knees as you placed yourself between his legs. Elvis licked over his lips as he eyed his innocent girl down on her knees for him. You wrapped your hand around his shaft and slowly stroked his cock in your hand as you stared up at him with your innocent doe eyes.

He let out a soft groan and he pursed his lips a bit before he spoke. “Mm.. Just like daddy taught ya, little one.” He mewled. You nodded and pulled back his foreskin as your lips parted just enough to take the tip of his cock into your mouth and your lips tightened around his tip as you sucked slowly on it making soft noises as you did. Elvis groan loudly and his right hand tangled into your hair clutching onto it. You continued to suck on the head of his cock and your suckling noises growing louder as saliva gathered around your lips and the head of his cock and as it slowly dripped down his shaft you carefully took more of him into your mouth that you could. Your cheeks hollowing as you sucked his cock faster and soft gags escaping you when he hit the back of your throat and you let out a soft muffled squeal. His eyes rolled back and he moaned loudly. “Oh god..Fuck.. S-Sorry, baby..” he murmured.

He was careful to not force you to take more of him because you weren’t completely experienced yet in giving him head. So he always took it easy on you as much as he could. You brushed strands of your hair behind your ears and continued to steadily suck his cock and you could feel him pulsing and twitching in your mouth and his groans were louder than before and now his hand tightened around your hair as he got closer to his orgasm and he bobbed your head just a bit on his cock causing more friction around him. “Y-You gonna let daddy cum in your mouth? Huh, baby?” He mumbled between his noises. You did your best to respond to him and you nodded with a small “mhm” escaping around his cock.

He smirked. “Good girl..” he hummed and as his orgasm drew closer and closer his groans turned into grunts and his breathing was heavier and he tugged your head back and wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking and pumping his cock rapidly as you sat there with your mouth open and ready to receive his cum as he continued until his breath got shaky and he mumbled the words, “fuck” under his breath. Ropes of his hot cum came spurting out onto your tongue and in your mouth and he let out a sharp exhale when he finished. You closed your mouth and swallowed his cum like a good girl and opening your mouth to show him. He grinned pleased with you as he closed his robe back up. “C’mere, baby.” He whispered patting his lap for you.

You pulled yourself up from the floor and climbed right into his lap, slipping your arms around his shoulders as you smiled happily feeling so relieved satisfied as you curled up in his lap. “You know, I guess I can wait a little while longer for the real thing.” You said with a soft giggle. He chuckled softly at your words as he kissed along your face slowly and gently.

“Ya better because you ain’t got a choice, baby.” Elvis teased with a grin as he held you in his strong arms. When the time was right he’d give you exactly what you wanted and teach you more than you could know.

*

Um, I got carried away with this.

@literally-just-elvis-fics

[lostsneeze]

Allergic To Love

It’s the hot new dating show fueled entirely by an obscure kink millennial post-irony and brand sponsors! A group of unrealistically attractive contestants, each allergic to absolutely everything, are brought to a luxurious mansion to court the host. A challenging game will face them each day, and during each night the host will award them a ragweed flower one at a time (which they’ll be expected to accept with a flirty, sensual sniff of course). Anyone who doesn’t receive a flower at the end of the day is eliminated, while the final contestant chosen will be starting their hopefully happy relationship together....and also receive a multi-year acting contract as the spokesperson for the sponsoring allergy medication.

Who will be the winner, and who will just be ✧˚₊Allergic to Love₊˚✧?

Day 1: Decorum and Originality

All the contestants settle in during the day and make a plan for the evening: a fancy formal dinner with every contestant (and the host) wearing a bucketload of sponsored perfume, where no tissues are allowed. Whoever makes the worst first impression (or just keeps their composure the worst) risks an early elimination!

Day 2: Kindness and Care

In support of an animal rescue organization, the whole day is spent with some new four-legged guests. In a surprise twist, nobody is eliminated this round, and instead the ragweed is given to whichever animal got along with everyone the best, adopting them into the house for the rest of the show! If anyone was particularly friendly with the winner, they might find they’ve got a new furry friend tagging along with them in future episodes.

Day 3: Diligence and Courtesy

Today is a field trip to a decrepit run-down house that hasn’t been cleaned in years. Contestants are broken into teams and assigned a half to dust and straighten, but given a very limited supply of tissues and effective cleaning tools. Whichever team cleans their side the best in the time limit spends the evening with the host, and in another surprise twist the team that does the worst will be anonymously voting on one of their own for elimination (unless they all agree not to). Hopefully everybody was civil about sharing those supplies!

Day 4: Allure and Determination

It’s another field trip; a hike up during a day forecast for insane pollen highs. Everyone will be carrying a bouquet to the end of the trail to present to the host, who will be walking up with the group but only return with whoever’s flowers are in the best shape. They’d better be conscientious of how much room they use in their backpacks for rations and spare tissues if they want to win that spot…although they could always just carry their bouquets in hand.

Day 5: Boldness and Persistence

After several days of hard work, it’s time for a more relaxing day at the house. To “help” contestants relax, the house has been absolutely littered with top brand scented candles. The lounge, where the host is, has the most, but each contestant can spend up to a full hour there at any time…if they can stand it that long, that is!

Day 6: Patience and Humility

The final field trip before the grand finale. This time contestants and the host will be performing chores at a farm, and only allowed one handkerchief each. Whoever has the cleanest handkerchief at the end gets to have dinner alone with the host. After their poor red noses have already endured so much this week, will anyone be able to completely resist the comfort of imported silk sitting in their pocket to guard against elimination?

Day 7: Love

In the final day, the host is brought to the center of an enormous garden maze blooming with flowers and given a bouquet of ragweed to present to their desired date. But the host will have to find them first: each remaining contestant is waiting at a different exit to the maze wearing a crown of flowers (and nothing else!), so the host will have to recognize the sneezes of their love and navigate to them by sound alone! To make matters more confusing, the eliminated contestants are brought back to wait in the dead ends of the maze. Who will end up with the prize, and will it be who the host was after?

[bluef00t]

Finally collecting these in a post—Atomic Robo robotswap ideas. This was more of a character design challenge than a real AU, but the concept kind of got away from me.

Rambling design notes + a couple panel redraws + some ideas I had for Helsingard and ALAN 1.0 under the cut:

This idea spiraled out of an old sketch by Wegner of real-boy Robo as a genetics experiment. I'm interpreting that as basically Wolverine minus the animal motifs (and generally much more well-adjusted).

I tried to mimic more elements of his bot design; for example the hair silhouette and the thick blue-tinted glasses, swapped for goggles as his lifestyle got more active. I guess sensitive eyes are a side effect of his mutations. (The classic superhero forehead curl on babyrobo has no design justification, I just couldn't resist.) His appearance would make the public of the '20s a little uncomfortable with seeing him as Tesla's son. Which feels very thematically appropriate.

I'm still calling him "Robo" because it feels weird not to, though it would be a nickname. Appropriate for a guy who never sleeps; plausibly derived from Robert/Ratko. (The American name would be how he's introduced to the public; the Serbian one used casually by Tesla.*) Honestly, it seems in-character for him to put down Robo as his actual legal name when he finally got that chance.

*Things I found out after picking these names for their superficial resemblance to "Robo": Robert means "famous, shining" and Ratomir means "defender of peace"; literally "war for peace". Definitely an affectionately ironic moniker for a son so determined to be an action hero. Though dear monolingual Robo probably wouldn't catch on until decades after Tesla's death... Well, now I've gone and made myself sad.

The action scientists are mostly an excuse to still draw robots. Let's say they're Robo's big midlife crisis project after realizing he was going to outlive his entire first team and not think about it too hard.

Vik (inspired by Robby the Robot) is the oldest of the models. He's optimized for processing power, which is how you get a robot that will try to suggest purely hypothetical (but mathematically sound!) solutions to urgent real-world problems. And enjoys TTRPGs of Turing-complete levels of complexity.

Lang (inspired by Robo) came shortly after, more optimized for the "action" part of action science. Being made of metal does wonders for your recoil management. (I know she hasn't had the hair buns in 10+ years, but that's what I was trying to do with the "antennae".)

Foley (inspired by Alan) is the newest model, optimized for human-robot interaction. Getting wifi installed in her head early on had the unexpected side effect of making her really good at understanding networks of all kinds.

BRN-3 wasn't built to be sentient. He's just a lab geological survey bot that began showing signs of sapience one day and attributes his own "enlightenment" to the "crystals" he'd been studying. This is obviously bullshit but nobody can give a better explanation, so...

Jenkins is literally just the Terminator, except his evil future is vampires instead of AI. He was sent back to kill Robo, which clearly didn't work, so they talked it out and now he just hangs around Tesladyne on high alert for anything that might kick off the apocalypse.

(I have no idea where Ada, Ben, and Koa fit in here, but I might come back to them later. Using their Agents of CHANGE power suits as android designs felt like cheating.)

Not included in these drawings are Helsingard and ALAN, but I'm considering switching around parts of their premises, too.

Helsingard was a Nazi supercomputer meant to calculate the perfect world-conquering strategy. Instead, it realized that Germany's loss was imminent and hid copies of itself around the planet. Every once in a while, someone accidentally boots up a copy and it tries to take over. In the modern age it's a total dice roll as to whether this will be horrifying (what major infrastructure isn't computerized these days?) or just kind of pathetic (it's too old to understand the internet and can easily get itself trapped in an office printer spitting toner and stacks of paper that read BEHOLD HELSINGARD).

ALAN (potential rename pending; the Turing connection is rather lost in the version I'm going with for now) is the world's second successful "unkillable" genetic experiment, a govt project during the Cold War to ensure that the last man alive in a nuclear winter scenario would be British. But it turns out telling a guy he's the next stage in human evolution and sealing him in a bunker for decades to await a chance to inherit the earth which doesn't come isn't great for his sense of compassion or morality. Eventually, ALAN decides to hurry things along before we inferior humans end the world in a less convenient way, and Robo has to... well, you know this part.

It turns out there was a secret phase 2 to this plan, which would have been to populate the solar system with perfect immortal mind-networked clones of himself. The single under-baked clone that it does manage to spit out before being shut down is our Alan :] He needs someone to look after him while his crazy healing powers fill in the missing chunks of his body and brain, and he didn't get a full memory upload from ALAN, so it's free son boy!

No changes were made to Dr. Dinosaur. He's already perfect.

[digenerate-trash]

I REQUIRE DOB YAN BAILEY HUNTING … with pc or something idk I am just here - 📖🎭

AMAV Bailey | GN PC

TW outdoor sex | TW biting | TW hunting mention

Bailey hates himself. He hates himself for lying. He hates himself for trying to impress you but mostly he hates himself for packing so much garbage on this one night out into the woods. Mainly the heavy rifle that hangs off his shoulder. He hates guns. They're so... impersonal. Usually, he likes to get up close with his preferred prey. But instead, he's hiking up a trail with you in the woods trying to track down a deer or some shit.

"Have you ever seen a bear out here?" You ask. But Bailey doesn't know how to answer. He's not really that good at hunting animals. But he lied to you and now he has to live out his lie.

"Sure-" he lies continuing up the trail. His chest heaves a bit with every breath. Maybe smoking every day and eating nothing but red meat and potatoes wasn't such a good idea...

Once you reach the top of the trail Bailey throws his bag down. He just wanted to cover his ass. Maybe see you naked in a river or something but right now none of that appealed to him as he sat down in the dirt and lit up a cigarette. He considered telling you everything. That he never hunted outside town. That he hadn't tasted beef or pig in decades. That he hurt countless naive people just like you. Or that he had done to you specifically... that he was still doing... And lastly, he was a cannibal. He craved flesh like water.

But as you sat down next to him he let that idea fade. It was just one night in the woods... just one. And he could tough it out for you.

You lean into him slightly soft and warm... Bailey can't seem to help himself as he pulls you into his lap instead. He leans against a tree and presses you firmly down keeping your hips pressed into his.

He doesn't know why but thanks to you he's got a lot of his energy back. Suddenly it's like he's in his twenties again. You can feel him get hard against you. You know what this means.

Bailey seems to be determined to fold you over wherever you two end up. The kitchen is his office. The hall one time. Bailey just can't seem to resist.

He pulls your waistband down exposing you to the outside air. It's slightly chilled but when Bailey undoes his belt and sticks his throbbing cock in you don't seem to mind the cold too much.

Bailey keeps you pressed into him tightly. Every once and a while he'll move your hips or thrust into you quickly. But mostly he keeps you still and enjoys the sounds of the outside keeping an arm around your waist as he smokes.

He likes you like this. Compliant and happy, you have no idea how dangerous Bailey is. Bailey rests a hand on your stomach his nails digging in. He loves your body. And how pretty you are. At first, he considered killing you. But that thought had slowly slipped away. Instead, now he wants a family with you... he wants a legacy that you'll help make. Just the thought of it is getting him riled up a bit and he grips your hips before thrusting into you roughly very suddenly. You're used to this kinda treatment by now.

Bailey is spontaneous. He'll do what he wants when he wants and the only way to get used to it is just to accept it.

Bailey pins your arms down to the dirt leaning over you and rutting in like an animal. You squirm a bit but you're mostly panting and moaning under him as he does. He's hitting everything right.

Bailey eventually grabs you by the back of the neck and presses you down further his hips slapping against your backside. He growls at you before leaning down and biting into your shoulder.

You know you're starting to bleed but you can't even focus on that as you start to cum. Bailey doesn't stop. He keeps pounding into you making you feel every rough thrust.

Eventually, he yanks your hips flush against his own as he finally cums. You can feel his seed coating your insides.

Soon after he pulls out before he pulls back up your clothes redressing you.

He sets up a fire and a tent while you lay there trying to recover. Before you're fully back to your normal self Bailey comes over and picks you up bringing you to the tent and tucking you in.

Bailey knows you're tired after all that. And it's best to let you sleep it off. And who knows? Maybe if he can fuck you again tonight he won't even have to go hunting tomorrow 

[theriu]

River Reads Midnight Sun

Chapter 3: Risk

In which Ed struggles with his Plot-driven feelings and Bella is almost squashed like a bug.

<-Chapter 2

(NOTE: So it occurs to me that I’ve not been clear about how hard Edward has been working to do the right thing these past couple chapters. While he has his faults, Edward and his vampire family have sworn off eating or killing humans, and he very much does NOT want to kill and eat Bella, morally speaking. He’s struggling against unusually strong vampiric urges her smell is setting off in his system, and the question of whether he should run away from his Found Family and avoid Bella for her safety, uproot his whole family from their current home if they choose to go with him, or face and overcome this trial, the face of whom the Plot has unfairly branded onto his brain. Also, Alice and Carlisle have been very supportive yet sensible, and I love them unironically.

Okay, got that off my chest! Now we can get back to mocking the teenage angst!)

So the opening scene of this chapter is genuinely nice, in my opinion. Edward and Dad Carlisle go hunting together (deer, because this family only drinks animal blood), and we get a little review of Carlisle’s concern and understanding a week ago when Ed had to leave (including how he let Ed take his car). Carlisle seems a genuinely good person (and a doctor) who fully supports Ed doing whatever is necessary to stay sane and keep from taking a life, even encouraging him to leave if that’s what it takes (despite how much they would miss him). He checks with Edward that coming back isn’t just about Ed’s pride. He’s even openly willing to go with Ed and start over somewhere else if it will spare a needless death while letting their family stay together. +100 Dad Points, Carlisle gets an award for top tier dadding.

Of course, Ed can’t quite put into words for Carlisle WHY he is now so determined to stay, other than it not being pride anymore. This is probably because it is difficult for a protagonist to describe the irresistible pull of The Plot on his affections and sensibilities. The scene changes as they go gallivanting into the woods, and Ed, now fat and unhappy on deer blood, chills by an icy river and spends more time pondering why he cares so much about this girl and why he is risking her life by staying.

I find it hilarious that HE keeps noting how his feelings make no sense. Why does he care about this girl? What about her draws him to her? Why is he unable to think about anything but her? GREAT QUESTIONS, ED! IF ONLY THE ANSWER WASN’T “YOU’RE IN A PARANORMAL ROMANCE”! The poor boy doesn't know what powers he is truly struggling against, even as he considers such self-aware drivers as his “obsessive curiosity” and “unsatisfied appetite.” However, he DOES decide he is going to follow Carlisle’s advice and leave after one more day, because he DOES want to be responsible and selfless! A fruitless determination, no doubt, but let’s give the guy some credit: That was a valiant effort to resist the unstoppable hands of plot-fate.

When he goes back to the house, he chats with Alice, who once again foresees him planning to leave. She doesn’t want him to, and NOT for romantic reasons but out of genuine sister/friend love. They have a moment of mental movie time watching her highly scattered visions about him, wherein she predicts his life is at a crossroads. He makes a joke about her sounding like a carnival fortuneteller, which is actually a good jab, well done Ed. He and Alice go get ready for school, with her still openly sad that he might leave again and making sure he knows she will miss him if he has to go. ALICE AND CARLISLE ARE REALLY NICE OKAY, HUZZAH FOR LIKEABLE CHARACTERS

Off they go to school! During which drive we learn Rosalie and Emmett are sickeningly in love, which…did NOT seem apparent in the first two chapters. Seriously, they've barely interacted onscreen so far, and Ed only mentioned that Alice and Jasper are a thing, so these two staring adoringly into each others’ eyes felt a bit outta left field. Turns out the other six vamps in this family are paired off in sweet adorable couples and Ed is the self-proclaimed grumpy old man, which amuses me greatly. Of course, Singleness Is Bad, so naturally Ed will find his soulmate, even if The Plot has to ram feelings of attraction for her down his cerebral cortex!

As the others head into school, Ed and Alice hang out by their car to watch Bella drive into the parking lot. Bella is obviously very nervous about snow-driving, which Ed realizes must mean she is Serious and Responsible. Ed finds her worry and Bambi-like clumsiness on the ice endearing, and notes when her snow tire seems to make her emotional. (???) 

Ed is working himself up to possibly go talk to her, which would be unwise and bad probably, when suddenly Alice has a VISION OF DOOM!!! In SECONDS, a van will come careening into the parking lot, and Bella will be CRUSHED LIKE A BUG!!! Woe!!! Calamity!!! Convenient!!! (Seriously, what are the odds someone would have a life-ending car accident in THIS school parking lot with ACTUAL vampire students watching, and of course the target is one vampire’s new obsession? I don’t care what the OC shows have taught us, fatal car accidents on school grounds are NOT common enough for this.)

So Ed ROCKETS into action, SWOOPING her out of the way in the nick of time! But oh no, the van is bouncing back towards them again! He’s risking exposure already, but dangit, this homicidal vehicle shall not take the girl! Edward grabs it and is slammed back, leaving a nice imprint of his shoulders on another car for his trouble. And NOW he’s stuck holding the van up because if he lets go, Bella will probably lose her legs under the tires.

Ed is so done with everything by this point, resulting in my favorite line of the book so far:

“Oh, for the love of all that was holy, would the catastrophes never end?!”

(Dangit, Ed, why can’t you always be this relatable)

Fortunately, between supermanning the van and Bella into safer positions and panicking over Bella having bonked her head on the ice, he’s able to resist his homicidal cravings, even when he tucks her neatly against him. Now he notices she is alert and seems mostly okay aside from the head bonk. To his consternation, however, she immediately asks how the heck he got over here so fast. Ed lies like a professional and badly wants to get her to Carlisle, who has ACTUAL medical experience as opposed to Ed’s “theoretical medical study” (so that answers the question of how useful Ed’s two medical degrees are). 

Despite them lying under two vehicles on ice (and Bella complaining that it’s cold when he won’t let her try and crawl out because she could have a neck injury, which YES THAT IS A REASONABLE CONCERN BELLA), Bella chooses this time to call Ed’s bluff. She is DARN CERTAIN he was OVER THERE and NOT right next to her, and Ed is NOT convincing her otherwise. He finally gets her to shush by promising to explain it later, all the while plotting to use her possible head injury to gaslight the heck out of her and everybody else into believing he was definitely standing right beside her and didn’t practically teleport.

People finally get the van away from the trapped duo, and Ed knows the registered nurse who pops up. He discloses Bella’s head injury to said nurse, and Bella acts BETRAYED, reminding Ed that she likes to suffer in silence, to which I say BELLA, POSSIBLE CONCUSSIONS ARE NOT THE KIND OF SUFFERING YOU DO IN SILENCE!!! The girl needs her head checked in MULTIPLE ways!

As Bella is humiliated over enduring standard medical care after an accident, Ed uses his foot to rearrange the reverse sculpture of his shoulders in the other car. Then Bella’s dad, the chief of police, shows up, justifiably freaked out, and Ed realizes how accurate it was when Alice said killing his only daughter would kill him. (AWW!!!) Ooo, ALSO, Ed notices Charlie Swan’s thoughts are a little hard to read! Not as much as Bella’s, but it seems this cerebral lead lining against mind radar is genetic? And here he thought Charlie was slow in the head! (Ed gets +2 points for noting that HE (Ed) was the slow one for assuming that and never noticing he actually just couldn’t hear Charlie’s thoughts clearly.)

Anyhoo, they get to the hospital, and Ed keeps a mental eye on Bella via the paramedics while he finds Carlisle. He’s ashamed he might have revealed their secret, but Carlisle is just proud of him for doing the right thing and saving the girl’s life. THEY HUG! Carlisle is the BEST, guys!!! 

After a chuckle about the irony that Ed ended up protecting the girl he was afraid he’d hurt (and Ed quietly angsting about how likely he still is to hurt her), Carlisle goes to check on Bella. Ed fidgets and watches Hospital Brainwaves TV for a while, so despite the agonizing wait, he has plenty of entertainment. Tyler, the van driver, is hurt bad and feels horrible that he almost smashed Bella, and won’t stop apologizing. To Ed’s relief, Bella is sticking to the story Edward gave about his standing right next to her, even though Tyler also didn’t see him. Ed hears Bella say his name for the first time, via Tyler’s thought-ears (???), and wishes he could hear it with his own ears! He also notices Tyler thinking about asking Bella on a date to make up for the near-death experience, and that is somehow so VERY dumb and also feels accurate to how some high school guys might think, so I can’t really argue with it. Ed, naturally, continues to struggle with the realization that his understanding of his own emotions is nowhere near as comprehensive as he’s believed for the past century.

Ed and Carlisle soon have a brief chat over Bella’s X-rays; she’s fine, although Carlisle notes how many healed fractures her skull has and jokes about how often her mom dropped her as a baby. (No, the jokes are too easy, I mustn't. He’s already claimed the best one anyway.) Ed goes on ahead to smooth things over with Bella, who is impatiently pretending to sleep in hopes Tyler will stop apologizing. She also manages to be pouty that Ed didn’t also have to endure the humiliation of a stretcher, be impatient about being asked about her head again, and deny to Carlisle that her head bump feels tender. Ed, who isn't at ALL influenced by his inexplicable sense of attraction to this girl, determines that because she doesn't like to show weakness, she is Brave. I might argue that she is showing more signs of being a self-focused pity-partyer who thinks she knows better than medical professionals and has low tolerance for petty annoyances, but who am I to disagree with the male protagonist?

Bella is released to go home with her dad, which she…doesn’t want to do? Is it going home or being with her dad that bothers her? Between being annoyed at Tyler for his understandable (if repetitive) remorse, being annoyed Edward didn’t have to be fussed over by hospital staff like she did, and apparently not wanting to hang out with her clearly concerned father, she isn’t doing the best job of earning that Selfless tag Ed gave her last chapter. She’s also highly embarrassed that, as Carlisle puts it, “most of the school seems to be in the waiting room.” Ed, on the other hand, is pleased he guessed her reaction correctly. (He’s also envious that Carlisle can touch her like a normal person and not be tempted to eat her like Ed is, but he doesn’t make it awkward. Apparently different vampires don't find the same human hyperdelicious, which is definitely a positive.)

Naturally, Bella is determined to talk about what REALLY happened before she goes home. Ed, once again gripped by the struggle of not eating her, agrees to talk it out in private. It’s time for Vampire Gaslighting! He’s determined to be mean and a jerk and make her disbelieve her own senses (despite aching for her to trust him), and then he will disappear from her life forever. It starts out pretty well, with him being cold enough that she drops her tough girl act. However, she’s still pretty dang determined and reveals just how much SUPER WEIRD STUFF she DEFINITELY NOTICED, like him leaving dents in multiple vehicles but being fine as sunshine!

Ed’s getting a bit nervous at this point and doubles down on the dismissive act, but then she startles him by saying she’s not going to tell anyone. Regaining his footing, he wants to know why it matters, then. She says she doesn't like lying, so she’d rather know the reason why she’s lying for him. I’m given brief The Princess Bride vibes as Ed essentially tells her “get used to disappointment.” 

They scowl at each other for a bit, until finally she, once again more annoyed than self-preserving, wonders why he even bothered to save her. To which he gives what he feels is his first honest reply of this conversation: "I don't know." With that, he ends the discussion by walking off dramatically, as one does.

AND SCENE!

I'd say this chapter was more interesting than the last two! Carlisle is a gem, I am ALWAYS down for a positive and supportive dad character and I will fight for this compassionate good-humored doctorpire. The exposition was SLIGHTLY less focused on Ed’s INNER TURMOIL thanks to the action scene, but don’t worry, there was still plenty of inner turmoil. Bella continues to act contrary to the definitions Ed labels her with, although I can kinda respect her refusing to be gaslighted and standing firm on what she knew she’d seen. Despite Ed’s numerous declarations that today would certainly be the last day he sees her, however, I do not hold out much hope for his success.

As we leave this chapter, here’s my recreation of the “small list” Edward is reportedly keeping of Bella’s character traits! I sure can’t wait to see what else gets added in the coming days!

Ed’s Questionable Bella Vocab List:

Advanced (See Also: Intelligent For A Human)

Selfless (See Also: Martyr)

Fascinating (See Also: Interesting, Not Like Other Humans)

Discerning (See Also: Intuitive, Perceptive)

Amusing

Serious

Responsible

Brave

Chapter 4-> (Coming Soon)

[yumeka-sxf]

To finish up my Anime Expo posts, here are photos of my SxF merch haul~!

There's no way I could resist this Yor & Anya keychain (there was also a Loid & Anya one...I kinda regret not grabbing that one too). I got the Forgers+penguins acrylic stands (each of which came with a matching button) at the Animate booth. And the stella pin was actually a freebie from Crunchyroll.

Adorable clear files, also from Animate.

A gorgeous playmat from Artist Alley, designed by CatCrossing.

A print by MakoHouse, also from Artist Alley.

Though not SxF specifically, I got this very nice ITA backpack from Aniji. I know smaller ITA bags/backpacks aren't hard to find, but the big, sturdy ones like these are much rarer. The one I had already was okay, but I never did like the flap design. I've been looking for one of this quality for a while! Not only does it have lots of pockets, but the panel part also comes off, so you can use it as a display as well as a backpack!

I wasted no time filling it up with my SxF pins and keychains!

While I didn't actually get this Anya & Bond figure at the expo, I had preordered it a few months back and it just arrived, so might as well share it here too. It's a very nice figure~ I like how you can change between Anya's happy and determined expressions!

[p5x-theories]

What We Know About Key

(last updated 10/13/24!)

Kiyoshi Kurotani, codename Key, is a first-year at Kokatsu Academy who seems to be a chuunibyou, talking about being a “chosen one” and having special powers. He joins the team as a “Phantom Idol”, or cognitive teammate.

Previously, in the second beta, his codename was “Kii”, however it was changed to Key from the third beta onward.

His All Out Attack finisher text translates as “We exorcise you.”

His Japanese voice actor is Yūsuke Kobayashi.

Kiyoshi is a Confidant of Wonder’s, and though it was added later in the open beta, it was accessible from the start of when Wonder unlocks Confidants in previous beta tests. His Confidant focuses on investigating (real or perceived) strange phenomena around the school/city. A fellow student referred to as Take-kun features heavily in it, as Take is being bullied by former friends and Kiyoshi becomes determined to help him; Take was originally planned to be another Phantom Idol, Cherish, but this was changed prior to Cherish being added as a teammate.

More information about Kiyoshi’s Confidant can be found here.

So far, his only appearance during the plot was seeing Wonder (with Ruferu hidden in his bag) pass by at the train station, and muttering to himself that despite obviously being one person, Wonder seems like two, before deciding it’s nothing and walking away.

Kiyoshi’s Confidant begins with Wonder approaching him in the school library, and Kiyoshi asking about him also being a “chosen one” and thinking their meeting may be fate. He mentions there’s some kind of secret “threat” that the two of them, the chosen ones, have to protect the other students from with their special powers.

While he seems like he kind of tries to play it “cool”, he’s easily excited by strange phenomena (including perceived strange phenomena, like the “threat”), becoming very animated and sounding earnestly excited when Wonder seems to go along with his chosen ones thing. It’s hard to say exactly how much he actually believes in the stuff he’s talking about (as opposed to just wanting to believe, or even being aware that it’s make-believe but playing at it anyway; it's likely a mix of all three), but at the very least, it’s extremely evident how excited he is to have someone indulge him and show even a little interest. However, he can also just as easily be spooked by his own perception of a dangerous or otherwise scary supernatural occurrence.

He later admits to Wonder that he was very sickly when he was little, and spent a lot of time in the hospital, making it difficult for him to befriend his classmates. He says he doesn't really know how to make friends, and spent most of his time reading books instead, which helped develop his interest in the supernatural and "chosen ones". This interest also seems to have been influenced by the below information:

Notably, his “special power” doesn’t seem to be entirely made up. He correctly identifies that Wonder wasn’t alone in the train station (as mentioned above, though it’s unclear whether he was referring to Janosik or Ruferu), even when no one else is around to hear him mutter his observation, and when Wonder later meets him in the library, he can immediately tell Wonder’s “power has grown” (as Wonder has been fighting Shadows in the Metaverse, so his level has gone up since Kiyoshi last saw him). After mentioning that Wonder has powers, Kiyoshi even says his own power allows him to see “multiple” of the protagonist, which very strongly implies Kiyoshi can see, or is at least on some level aware, of Wonder’s multiple Personas. Wonder acknowledges this seems to be the case, internally to himself, when Kiyoshi (later on) more genuinely mentions he thinks he sees things that others can't sometimes, but Wonder does nothing about it.

His Persona Syke (based on one of the Hamadryades nymphs, representing the fig tree) is categorized as a Fire type, and resists Fire while being weak to Wind.

Syke is a Surrender Persona, meaning he’s focused around applying debuffs to gain an advantage, and his trait gives him a layer of "Sacrifice" whenever he uses a skill, which increases fire damage dealt by the team, but causes him to lose health next time he casts a skill (relative to how many layers he has). He has three fire attack skills: the first hits one enemy and burns them, but if the target is already burned, it will instead give him an extra layer of Sacrifice, and damage and burn all enemies; the second hits all enemies, and if any are burned, Key will gain two layers of Sacrifice, while the burned enemies gain "Holy Fire", which damages them at the start of their turn for two rounds based on Key's max health; the third hits one enemy, doing extra damage if they're burned. His passive skills increase the damage of Holy Fire for each layer of Sacrifice he has, and increase Key's fire damage based on his max health.

In combat, his melee weapon is a push dagger, while his ranged weapon is a flamethrower. His Highlight is shown from 1:30 - 1:43 in this video, and damages all enemies, increases the fire damage they take, and burns them.

His recommended card sets are 1) 2 of Wands (Dominion) + Page of Cups (Awareness), 2) 2 of Wands (Dominion) + Knight of Wands (Departure).

The game recommends teaming him up with 1) Panther, Cattle, and Okyann, 2) Panther and Moko.

[josefavomjaaga]

Larrey about the Russian campaign and the effects of the cold

A book with letters from the Russian campaign 1812, citing and commenting on one by Larrey to his wife, has brought me back to Larrey’s memoirs. The passage below, as far as I can tell, demonstrates very well how medical knowledge of the time was still deeply stuck in medieval ideas and views and how hard it must have been for doctors to overcome that and to even question what had been assumed to be true for, like, ever.

Larrey in this passage from volume 4 of his memoirs briefly summarizes the effects the cold – in his opinion! - had on different soldiers, in particular on soldiers from different regions, and the supposed causes for that:

I noticed that dark-haired subjects with a bilioso-sanguine temperament, almost all from the southern regions of Europe, were more resistant than blond-haired subjects with a phlegmatic temperament, almost all from northern countries, to the effects of these rigorous cold temperatures, which is contrary to the generally accepted opinion.

Well, I can imagine that the generally accepted opinion indeed was different, because if blonds really were more susceptible to cold, Scandinavia and Russia should have been depopulated. But let’s hear him out:

The blood circulation of the former [i.e., the dark-haired type] is undoubtedly more active; the vital forces have more energy; it is also probable that their blood preserves much better, even under the influence of the most intense cold, the essence of animal heat identified with its coloration. By the same cause, their moral strength is more robust; their courage does not desert them; and, through a well-understood care for their own preservation, they are better able to avoid hazards than the generally apathetic inhabitants of cold and damp climates.

Larrey’s arguments here seem to come straight from medieval humoralism (humoral theory, or, in German, Vier-Säfte-Lehre, "Four-juices-theory" 😁). I understand the idea goes back to Hippocrates, was put into its final form by Galen in the second century and stood as written in stone until first doubts started to arise in the 17th century. But even then there only were slight changes and adaptions until it was finally openly called bullshit in the mid-19th century, with the discovery of cells and germs. Larrey in any case still seems to be firmly stuck in it.

Most people will have heard of this in one way or another as it’s still making its round in several esoteric systems. The general idea is: There are four different body fluids that determine the state of a human body’s health, connected to four colours and four human temperaments.

Blood – red – sanguine temper – hot/wet

Yellow bile – yellow – choleric temper - hot/dry

Black bile – black – melancholic - cold/wet

Phlegm (mucus) – green (?) - cold/dry

In order to be healthy, these four fluids needed to be in balance. If somebody was sick, the balance had been disturbed and needed to be reinstated. Which explains why conventional medicine for centuries consisted mainly of bloodletting, clysters and emetics - it's all about the fluids, after all.

This is what Larrey means when he associates the "brun", i.e. rather dark phenotypes from the south with a temper he calls "bilio-sanguine", i.e., dominated by the influence of bile and blood, whereas the blond types from the north are dominated by bile and phlegm. As "blood" is associated with "heat" and vivacity, whereas "phlegm" relates to "cold" and melancholy, from Larrey’s perspective it seems utterly plausible that soldiers from southern France would have a natural superiority in the Russian climate both physically and mentally.

And he has the (anecdotal) evidence to back it up:

Thus we saw the Dutch of the 3rd regiment of grenadiers of the guard, made up of 1787 men, both officers and soldiers, almost all perish without exception [...]; whereas the other two regiments of grenadiers, made up of men almost all born in the southern provinces of France, kept a fairly large proportion of their soldiers: it is also very true that, proportionally, the Germans lost many more people than the French.

I do not have any data to back that up but I am inclined to believe it, at least many German historians said the same. Though they tended to see the cause differently. Mostly they blamed French commanders putting their German auxiliary troops first when it came to sending somebody into enemy fire, while preserving the French, and putting them last when it came to the distribution of food and resources… Be that as it may, I would assume that the German vassal states, usually bordering on the edge of bankruptcy, simply did not have the military budget of France and that thus both military equipment and, most importantly, military training were of worse quality, resultuing in a worse physical condition of German conscripts, who were not very motivated to begin with when it came to fighting this stupid war for the gain of these stupid Frenchmen.

Several of our doctors, who had remained in Wilna, assured me that the cold had claimed more members of the coalition, in proportion, than of the French, as I have already said, although the former had far more means of protecting themselves from the effects of this destructive element than our unfortunate compatriots, who, stripped by the cossacks of their clothing, and forced to pass from one place to another in a state of more or less complete nudity, nevertheless for the most part resisted the insults of the icy air, and managed, by dint of courage and industry, to protect themselves from being completely frozen.

And here I’m actually getting angry. I’ll even ignore the racist tendencies in ascribing a natural superiority to a certain human phenotype; that’s just the thinking of the era, Larrey cannot help being part of that. But he is – and I can only assume: deliberately – being dishonest here. The Rhinebund troops having "far more means to protect themselves" whereas the French were "forced from one place to another" by the cossacks implies that the former stayed behind in warm and cozy Vilna, whereas the French had to go out and fight both the Russians and the cold, and denies that a good number of troops who marched to and from Moscow indeed were Dutch and Germans.

As to Larrey’s assumption that the dark phenotype was more prone to surviving the cold – he might have checked himself if he had taken the Italians (also southerners) into the equation: It is estimated that among the troops of the Kingdom of Italy only one out of 24-25 men came back home. Or as their viceroy put it:

Les Italiens meurent comme les mouches. - The Italians are dying like flies.

[cadabria]

Hunter Be Hunted (M!Wendigo x Gn!Reader)

Warnings: Gore,  violence, cannibalism, possessive behavior, probably yandere I think, not very fluffy nice stuff because my brain craves dark themes apparently!

It had been weeks.

Weeks of running. Weeks of hiding. Weeks of surviving in this goddamned place. This was never supposed to happen! This was supposed to be a vacation away from the stresses of your modern life, but now it was nothing but a living nightmare that never ends. How you eluded the bloodthirsty beast was a miracle to you, but the longer this went on, the more your sanity seemed to slip away into the crevices of this living hell, into the very soil of this cursed forest.

You were travelling with a couple of acquaintances you had met awhile back, enthused to test out your well-honed skills in the wild with them, as you have done countless times before. You loved a challenge, and were a survivalist of sorts, taught at a young age how to start a fire, catch and grow your own food, what plants are safe and which ones would make you throw up your insides, shit yourself and die in an unmarked grave. You became a very skilled hunter and loved being out in nature, and one thing your father always taught you was to never waste the animal. Each part had its own use, and that was something you always stuck with even to this day.

You never experienced what it was like to be prey, and now you had a whole new respect for the animals you hunted. It was bloody terrifying.

It started with members of your group being plucked off one by one, nobody seeing the creature itself, it was as if they had just disappeared. Vanished without a trace. It was only when you discovered the bloodied remains of one of your missing travelling companions, that things had really gone to shit. Voices mimicked the cries of their loved ones, and although you were not foolish enough to pursue them, others in your group were not so wise. And those who had half a brain were taken out in other ways, one of them eventually going utterly mad and killing off the rest of the members themselves, and much to your horror- tearing into their flesh like a rabid animal. It was as if they had became possessed by an unknown force, there were no warning signs. Their behavior changed just like a switch, and one of the machetes that was brought along made quick work of the rest of you. The mere thought of it made you want to wretch at the memory, but there was nothing you could do... So you had ran off before you'd became the next victim of that blade.

In just a week, you were alone, forced to try and escape this place by yourself.

As terrible of a mess this was, you were truly glad to have the set of skills you learned throughout the years. You were determined not to make yourself an easy target, but this thing had a way with messing with your head. Sometimes you swear you'd seen it... Antlers towering overhead, a looming black figure that almost blended into the trees, and a deer skull propped onto its shoulders. Cold silver eyes peering back at you, watching you, stalking you. You'd never seen anything like it before, but you recalled what someone had told you, just before they too were torn apart like the rest.

They mentioned a creature called the wendigo, a monster of insatiable hunger that couldn't resist the taste of human flesh. Apparently, it had once been human itself, but you find that hard to believe. Their description of the thing however, remarkably fit what you had seen. You were not one to listen to tales and legends, but when you were living in a literal horror story... It'd be rather foolish to deny what you've seen with your very own eyes.

The scent of decay wafted through the air, hitting your nostrils with its stench. Currently, you were trying to keep yourself sheltered from the pouring rain, which froze your skin to the very core. You shuddered, squeezing your arms closer to your body while you kept your fire ablaze. It was fortunate you started it before the weather had turned, or it would be utterly impossible to keep yourself warm. However, you were now becoming hyper aware of every noise you heard due to a certain issue with this small comfort: You knew the smoke would give away your location, and the light did not keep you exactly hidden from the beast that lurked these woods. There was no way you could rest this night, as you had to be ever wary of your surroundings. Luckily for you, you naturally had shifted your waking hours to the night, as that was the wendigo's primary hunting time.

That didn't necessarily mean it did not follow you during the day. In fact that was when you would sight it the most, though it seemed to prefer actively attacking you during dusk until dawn.

Taking a deep breath, you pull your bow closer to you, giving yourself reassurance. For all you knew, this creature might not be affected by anything you could fight it with... But that didn't mean the small bit of protection didn't keep your nerves at ease. "It'll be okay, Y/N... You survived this long, you can survive even longer. No buck headed bastard is going to get the better of you." You muttered to yourself quietly, glaring into the darkness. The surroundings around you were pitch black, making it impossible to see out.

But then you heard something that made your spine nearly crawl out of your body. A chilling voice you'd never heard before.

"This 'buck-headed bastard' can smell your sweet blood, little prey..." The darkness rumbled, and suddenly, a heavy gust of wind blew your entire fire out.

'It's already here!?' You thought in panic, eyes as wide as saucers as you glanced around, desperate to see your surroundings. The moon's light was blanketed by the clouds, plunging the world beneath it into obscurity.

"You have alluded me thus far, but our little game is coming to an end... Did you really think you could escape forever?"

Scrambling to your feet, and gripping your bow as tightly as possible, pulse quickening as you held your breath. You desperately tried to listen, to hear its movements, anything to indicate where it was, but the downpour drowned it out.

"And yet even now, you still wish to fight... How adorable."

You let out a strangled gasp, as one massive, clawed hand gripped onto your neck and the other grabs your wrist in a nearly bone-crushing grip. You were almost choking, but the beast released the pressure on your neck... Only slightly, though you were at the very least capable of breathing. Obviously, your first instinct was to fight back, and you twisted and pulled in its grasp violently. "Fucking... Let me go!" You shouted desperately, using your free hand to try and pry it off of you. It didn't seem to do anything, really. In fact the only result was a searing pain in your wrist as its claws dug deeply into your soft skin with ease.

The wendigo pulled you harshly back against it, a horrifying growl emanating from its chest as a response to your ceaseless struggling. It was nothing you ever heard before, no animal could be capable of creating such a horrific noise. Whatever this thing was, it was unnatural.

"I would so enjoy the taste of your flesh... However..." It whispered harshly, its cold breath brushing against your ear. It had a metallic scent to it, one that you knew was due to freshly spilled blood. "You've impressed me, prey. So I will allow you one chance. One chance to escape. Fail, and you will become mine."

Promptly dropping you to your feet, you nearly fell to your knees as you landed back on the solid surface. You managed to regain your balance, and twirled around to see the silhouette of the wendigo behind you. It hovered over you, at least eight feet tall and its silver eyes had a ghastly glow, piercing into your very soul. It leaned terrifyingly close, and you could see its gaping maw which was filled with hundreds of jagged, sharp teeth. How easy it would be for it to tear you asunder, to leave you nothing but a heap of blood and bone.

"Run."

And run you did.

You did not need to be told twice, and despite how hard it was to maneuver through the dark forests without a source of light, you weren't one to waste the opportunity. You didn't care if this was the creature's stupid little game, it was a chance to escape. A chance to get home. A chance to get out of here and finally, live a normal life again. The constant paranoia, the fear, it would all be a distant memory. This was what you wanted, more than anything.

Besides, you weren't exactly one for getting eaten alive.

Dashing through the trees as fast as your feet could carry you, you splashed through muddied puddles and tripped over a log or two. You couldn't really be at fault for that, but to your surprise after what felt like an hour of running... You came across a trail. A trail! You recognized it, as you had walked along this trail more than once in your life. Dozens of times in fact, but, you also knew it was stretched across miles of terrain. It went through the entire forest, after all.

'Could I really make it?' You thought, doubting yourself. You'd imagine the wendigo was much swifter than you, being experienced in hunting your kind... 'No, no more doubts, if I do nothing i'll just end up like the rest...'

Taking a deep breath, you shove yourself forward despite your aching legs, which cry for much needed rest. 'Endure the pain, just endure the pain... Think about the comforts of sitting on a couch again. Or sleeping on a goddamn bed for that matter.' You remind yourself, continuing onward.

You were walking for hours, and to your shock... You saw absolutely nothing. No wendigo breathing down your neck, no branches being broken behind you as an attempt to put you on edge, no voices trying to tempt you into investigating a secluded area... Only the splattering of rain against the murky soil could be heard, as well as the shuffling of your footsteps against rocks and the squishing of mud. Your initial pain had faded away, or perhaps you had gotten used to it at this point, and all there was was a dull, lightly throbbing and burning ache. You'd definitely be feeling this tomorrow, that is if you survive. As much as you'd like to be happy about not seeing that dreaded creature, this only put you on more edge.

This was too easy.

You saw how swiftly it had torn apart your fellow survivalists, how it made quick work of them with little effort... By all means, you should be dead by now. Something was wrong, and you could feel a chill creep deeply in your bones. Perhaps you had been out here too long, with no socialization and the stresses of sleep deprivation gnawing at your ever-deteriorating psyche. This all felt wrong... Wrong! Was it all a part of your imagination? Was everyone actually safe, and you had unknowingly wandered off on your own? But then the stinging of your wrist made you remember the cruel claws that sunk into it, like the blade of a knife carving into your flesh.

It was only after a few more grueling moments that you noticed... Hadn't you walked passed this spot before? No... No! You couldn't believe this. After all this time, all this walking, you were back at square one. Back at the same spot of the trail where you had started. Was this all a trick too? Had you gone truly mad!? Frustrated, you let out an anguished and desperate cry. You collapse onto your knees which sink into the slick earth, digging your nails into your scalp as you lose all your bearings, all your fight, all your will... You could feel the warmth of tears beginning to cascade down your cheeks, as a broken sob escaped your lips.

Finally, you came to the ultimate realization: You were never getting out of here. You were never, ever going to leave this place. And this had made your entire being shatter.

As if it had sensed that you finally have given up your run... You feel something breath down your back as something behind you blocked out the rain. You didn't care anymore, however, and accepted the fact that you were going to die at the hands of this monster. 'This is the end... But I don't give a fuck anymore. Death is better than keeping this up for the rest of my life.' You thought grimly, closing your eyes as tightly as possible. You didn't want to see your killer, and merely hoped that it would give you a quick death.

... But much to your confusion, it never came.

Once again, you feel yourself being lifted off of your feet, a familiar large hand wrapping around your waist and heaving you up with ease. But unlike before, this was much less aggressive, much less violent. It was deceptively gentle, terrifyingly so even. 'Just what is this thing up to?' you suspiciously thought. Was it going to toy with you first? Get your hopes up once again just so it could see your resolve shatter before it's eyes? You kept your own closed, you couldn't bear to face it, to let fear give way.

"Just... Just end me already..." You plea, weaker than you wanted to. You didn't like sounding so pathetic and vulnerable, but what else could you do? You were clearly at a disadvantage here.

You get no answer right away, instead feeling a clawed thumb swipe the fresh tears from your eyes. A strangely caring gesture, you thought. You didn't like it, didn't trust it. But when you feel something hard and solid press against your head, you finally mustered the courage to open your dampened, tear-swelled eyes. A yelp got caught in your throat as pure shock and fear struck through you, and you stared directly into those sharp, silver orbs. Its forehead was pressed firmly against yours, its stare intense and filled with a mixture of something primal and fierce. You heart nearly stopped when its low, powerful voice spoke through the eerie silence.

"I have caught you, my lovely prey. And now I'll never let you go."

[chidoroki]

182 Days of TPN - Day 130

Chapter 130: "Something to Report"

I love how easily Emma can now admit her feelings regarding the annihilation towards her family. From initially hiding her concerns, to opening up to Ray about them and finally admitting them to Norman himself and making her stance against the plan firm.. it's quite the improvement that she can talk freely about her choices without too much worry about how everyone else will react.

Probably the main reason why I believe that the hatred the GP resistance harbored towards the demons is more justified than the malice the Lambda crew feels. The poachers were all psycho and far from innocent, unlike those demons simply living in actual towns.

Definitely the best point to bring up in order to get the other thirteen escapees concerned, and I like how it's only them shown to react to the possibility.

I know it hasn't even been a full ten chapters yet, but it feels as if I haven't seen everyone else in ages. I suppose that's solely a me problem by going through the chapters on a day by day pace. (is Rossi raising his hand?? aww, precious boy has a question!)

She says it so proudly! And hearing her repeat Ray's advice to her makes me feel so soft. My boy has such intense glare though, as if he's just waiting to see if anyone is gonna really shut down her idea. Dude is giving y'all a warning to not challenge them after Emma's worked so hard to reach this decision.

Season two saw that comment of Ray's and said "alright, bet."

It's great that Sandy & Sonya recall that one brief moment with Nous mourning over Nouma, reminding us that even the real terrible demons do have actual feelings.

Getting the chance to see other people's reactions to this whole mess is definitely something. Gillian doesn't seem too thrilled to admit that last bit though. If I was in their place, I wouldn't know which side I'd be on at the start.

Oh Don, you wonderful supportive brother you. YES! These kinds of decisions is what Emma is best know for and no matter how risky they might be, the kids were able to come so far by following their highly determined and optimistic leader.

The advantage of being the main protagonist. Or disadvantage in this case. Take your pick.

Ahha.. wait til they find out Norman's life is actually in danger due to the Lambda experiments.

Mhhmm, can't say you're gonna escape with everyone when you let one of your besties go. Granted, they left the children four and younger behind but at least she made the promise to go back for them.

He said the thing again + double head pats.

Luckily for Gilda and everyone else, our girl keeps her promises. And remains quite honest throughout the series as well. (she may not tell the whole truth during the most crucial moment of the series but what can ya do.)

I laser focus on the GP trio every damn time I come across this panel without fail. Idc if they're just standing there, I love them.

You know Norman is so deep into the WM persona when he doesn't even bother to see RE off before they venture to the Seven Walls, like he knows how risky it would be to go there, if it even exists in the first place, and he just.. straight up lets 'em go without a proper goodbye.

Favorite panel/moment:

Big sis Paula is back with more hugs.

But more importantly, there's THIS. Ray calling her crazy and no one disagrees. Also, his comment about him not being able to see her pov is sorta foreshadowing to the Seven Walls and how Emma is able to meet the demon god and not him. Sure Ray might come to understand Emma's reasoning and how her mind works eventually, but not at first, hence why he was booted out of the Seven Walls.

Plus, I adore that face of hers. I'm very happy such a tiny detail made it into the anime as well.

I also.. forgot to cross check the anime with this chapter until now. Um, yeah, some stuff remains the same of course. Tons of people missing obviously. How RE invite Don & Gilda to help with their search of Sonju & Mujika is kinda reminiscent of their conversation from ch99 actually with them being thankful to finally help with something. The addition of Emma & Gilda's headbutt is cute.

I know this is already hella long and parts of this conversation don't even happen within the chapter (or at all in the manga) but screw it, my boy looks so handsome here.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Can I have the UT characters having a nice day near a big river? What do they do?

Undertale Sans - It's sunny, there's a big rock in the sun... Sans sits there for a while, trying to resist the urge to sleep, then he lays on his back, then he snores there for the rest of the day, only waking up when it's time to eat or when Toriel comes to check on him to make sure he's not dead from time to time.

Undertale Papyrus - He's having a sportive day with Undyne. After a several hours footing following the river, they decided to come back to their friend by swimming, which seemed like a good idea when Undyne enthusiastically proposed it, but actually, Papyrus is so light and can't float and he is instantly taken away by the flow. Undyne is desperatly trying to catch him as Papyrus is just: screaming.

Undertale Toriel - She's doing flowers crowns and checks more or less on everyone once in a while to make sure everyone is having fun. She even convinced Sans in the end to go swim with her, even if all Sans did was sit in her back and snore while she was doing all the work.

Undertale Asgore - He tried to fish with Gerson, but, uh... Neither of them are really good at that. No fish is biting, and they're kinda desperate, so they're sharing old memories together, hoping something will bite eventually.

Undertale Undyne - After losing Papyrus in the water, Undyne is determined to save him. But, uh, she actually swimmed in a very strong current and now both her and Papyrus are struggling to save their butts. They both fell silent when they heard a waterfall, before screaming like hell when they fell from 10 meters without any warning. After that, they managed to get out of the water. They spend the rest of the day trying to go back to the others... and ending getting both lost in the forest because they can't get agree on the direction to follow. They will for sure remember this day.

Undertale Alphys - She followed Mettaton in a cave exploration and she is regretting it so much. Mettaton kinda forgot her after some time and now she is lost, all alone. At least she found shiny weird pretty stones to gift to Undyne, but still, she has no idea how to get out of here. As she keeps walking for two hours, she finally find fresh air again, only to fall on two very wet Undyne and Papyrus, trying so hard to act like nothing is wrong and that they are not lost at all. She sticked with them the rest of the day as they're trying to find their way back to the others.

Undertale Frisk - They're exploring the forest, searching for cool animals to see. They then got abducted by a pack of wolfs who think they're a puppy, and they're surprisingly okay with that, wondering how the hell it happened. At least, they can pet the big dogs for hours so they are very happy. They're mad when Toriel says it's time to go and that they can't take their new found family of wolfes home.

Undertale Chara - They took a lot of books with them to read under the trees and gets inspired by the nature around. It was nice and relaxing, was because then Asriel challenged them to climb one of the bigger tree, and they both decided to do it, screaming taunts at each other. Funny story, they got stuck. They had to wait for Sans to wake up to put them down with his blue magic while he was punning them to death as a punishment. What an humiliation.

Undertale Mettaton - He thought visiting a cave would be entertaining, turns out there was nothing of interest and he got bored, so he left. He only remembered two hours later that Alphys came with him and panicked when he couldn't find her anyway. Keeping the brave face, he took out his phone and decided to stream his searches on Instagram so he doesn't panick all alone. He never found her again and was about to announce his defeat when Papyrus, Undyne and Alphys came out of the bushes. AH! SEE! He's a superstar, he found them all by himself, he is truly a legend. What would people do without him?

Undertale Gaster - He didn't come. He didn't want to die thank you very much.

Undertale Grillby - He made the food and he's making sure everyone stays hydrated. This is kinda a failure as after only a few hours, everyone went different ways and half of the group is missing, nowhere to be find. Oh well. At least he can enjoy some silence for once. But then he couldn't remember if he switched off the lights in his restaurants and couldn't think about anything but this the rest of the day.

Undertale Muffet - She came only to hire more spiders for her bakery and really doesn't care about all of the others. She's in the woods, somewhere, interviewing little and bigger spiders for the job. The other will sure have a surprise when she asks where she can put her 600 new spiders in the car.

Undertale Burgerpants - He can't believe he's having a day off and he's still passing it near his tyrannic boss. What is wrong with him? When he saw Mettaton go live on Instagram, he instinctively started to watch as he does usually and moderate the chat. When he realises he is working and won't get pay for this, he screams and throws his phone in the water. Before realising he just throw his phone in the water and panicks. He spends the day searching the water for his phone, and he doesn't even like water. It got worse when his pants got hooked by Asgore and he suddenly became a catfish for the king. He wants to cry.

Undertale Asriel - He had fun climbing trees in the forest, so he invited Chara to do it with him. That didn't go well, but at least he got his sibling all for himself for four hours to talk. Well, Chara screamed at him and his stupid plans for a while, and after that pout like a child, but eh, that's some sort of sibling hang out?

Undertale Gerson - He died of laughter when, after six hours of waiting awkwardly in silence, Asgore fished Burgerpants. That's it, this was the last part of his sanity. He's losing it. After that, he can't stop teasing poor Burgerpants to death by telling him very weird stories of his childhood no one wants to listen anyway. Damn, that's a pretty good day.