#OR i got minor food poisoning! something i would not like to consider!

[keeps-ache]

genuinely nothing like being just a Little Bit Hungry

[wosoamazing]

Allergic?

Summary: You're sick and Alexia thinks its an allergic reaction.

Warnings: Vomiting

A/N: Decided to give you this tonight, I will also be releasing a fic tomorrow morning (the requested fic).

You were sitting in your room doing your school work, when you decided to go out to Alexia and ask her for some medicine as you felt kind of sick. You had felt funny for most of the day, however it got worse as time went on.

“Ale, I don’t feel the best,” you said as you walked into the living room, noticing some of your teammates were over. 

They all looked over to you, “Do you want some medicine Bebita?” you nodded. “Come on, follow me, does anyone want a drink while I’m there?” Mapi nodded and followed you and Alexia into the kitchen. 

“What’s wrong?” “I feel kind of itchy, and my stomach kind of hurts.” you replied to her as you scratched your stomach, Alexia lifted up your shirt which caused her face to drop in sorrow. You looked down to see your stomach was covered in big red splotches, “I think you’re having an allergic reaction, I’ll get you an antihistamine and then you should have a shower and we can put cream on the hives. Mapi can you fill up Y/N/N’s water bottle? It should be in the drying rack.”

“Si,” Mapi replied as she reached for your water bottle.

As Mapi was filling up your water bottle and Alexia was sifting through the medicine drawer, your stomach started upheaving its contents, out of nowhere. Tears started to roll down your face as your stomach continued to violently eject its contents. Mapi had moved by your side and was rubbing your back trying to comfort you. 

Alexia wiped your mouth with a cloth before pulling you in for a hug, “Oh Bebita, we aren't in a good way are we.” You shook your head, as a small whimper came out of your mouth, causing Alexia to pull you in closer. 

It was something she had realised pretty early on, the fact that you wanted to be with someone as close as humanly possible when you were upset, unwell or injured. When you got your first sickness while living with her, what could barely be considered as a minor cold, you wanted to be with her constantly, she was worried that you were sicker than she thought, so she called Leah. Leah told her it was normal, and to expect it, she had explained to Alexia that you would choose specific people to be with when you were unwell, some much more preferably than others, and that it sounded like Alexia had become your Spanish Leah. It wasn't that you were weak, Alexia literally had to stop you from going to training when you had food poisoning from Ona’s cooking, she had to pull over on the way to training so you could throw up, and then you got mad at her when she turned around to go back home. You just enjoyed comfort, and the sicker you were the worse it got.

You walked into the bathroom with Alexia, who saw the stream of tears on your face increasing, pulling you into a hug before you gagged. “Okay Bebita, it's okay.” she said as she turned you around and shuffled you over slightly, so that you were in front of the toilet. You emptied more of your stomach contents into it, and Alexia constantly rubbed your back as you did, trying to provide you some form of reassurance and comfort.

“Oh Bebita, how about we get you into the shower and then you can lie down and maybe try to sleep, see if that helps.” “Will you stay with me?” you asked softly “Of course Bebita, does that sound good though?” you nodded, “Okay, I’m just going to grab some clothes for you, just stay here.” she rushes out and returns very quickly. She had Leah’s hoodie in hand along with a pair of Peter Alexander PJ shorts, they were the Australian Vegemite ones, a gift from Sam and Steph. She chose the hoodie as you always wore it when you were down, she also thought it would be a good option as it had been worn heaps so it was soft and also hadn’t been washed recently-ish, as she did not know what you had your allergic reaction too yet, so she was being cautious.

You stayed in your crop top and undies whilst you showered, Alexia didn’t want to leave you alone so she got you to keep them on, you were glad she stayed when you started throwing up again. Just after you stepped out of your shower, you collapsed down in front of the toilet, heaving more of your stomach contents into it, Alexia wrapped a towel around your body before rubbing your back. As your stomach continued to violently eject its contents your body began to shake, and hot tears pricked your eyes, she helped you up and changed, before directing you out of the bathroom and into her room, sitting your shaky body down on her bed and crouching down in front of you.

“Bebita, I’ve booked a doctors appointment for you for tomorrow, I’ll come with you and stay with you the whole time,” you nodded slightly, before the tears that had been threatening to fall for so long started to stream out and down your cheeks.  You felt really really sick, your body was shaking, your whole torso was itchy and hot, and your stomach was churning, “Let's go out to the living room, you can lie down on the couch, the girls are out there but I can get them to leave if you want,” you just shook your head.

Alexia walked you out to the living room, there was a spot on the couch already set up for you, with your pillows, some blankets, and your water bottle, it looked very inviting, so you laid down, Alexia continuously had a hand on your back as she directed you out to the living room, however you lost contact as you started lie down, seeing her leave.  “Stay?” you said weakly, Alexia was going to get you some ice packs for your torso to help but you were clearly very unwell and you needed her.

“Of course Bebita,” she said before sliding in behind you, her legs were stretched out in front of her, so you shuffled back towards her for more comfort, she put a hand on your upper arm and you closed your eyes, to see if you could fall asleep, hoping that you would feel better after you sleep.

 Her hand lifted off your upper arm and you let a small whimper at the loss of contact. “It’s okay, I’m just going to put an icepack on your back okay, it’s going to be cold, but hopefully it helps.” She placed the ice pack against your back, it felt cool and stopped the itching a bit, and Alexia saw your body relax slightly. She put her hand back on your upper arm, moving her thumb up and down to help comfort you, before she spoke “There is a bowl on the seat next to you if you need it, and I think you should sleep Bebita, it would help, I’ll stay here with you the whole time,” “Th-thanks” you said before drifting off to sleep.

_____

You woke up and it must’ve been much later, the girls had all gone, it was dark outside and Olga was sitting on the couch in front of you, you couldn’t feel Alexia behind you anymore and so you were confused.

“Ale,” “She’ll be right back Bebita, she was just going to the bathroom, do you need anything?” Olga responded to you, you didn’t say anything but sat up and shuffled closer to Olga, who realised what you were trying to do and opened her arm out for you. You decided to move and sit in her lap, she always had her legs crossed, so it made things easier. She welcomed this action and helped you into her lap before she wrapped both her arms around you, you leant against her with your head resting on her shoulder. 

“Are you feeling any better?” “I guess”

“Olga Babe, I think we should wake the Bebita up and-” Alexia was cut off as she walked into the living room seeing you awake sitting on Olga’s lap.

“Yes?” you ask her.

“Are you feeling better?” “Kind of” “I was thinking maybe we head up to bed, it's getting kind of late, do you want anything to eat Bebita? We didn’t wake you up when we had dinner as we thought you needed the rest." You just shakd your head, feeling nauseous at the thought of food.

You all head up stairs and get ready for the night, Alexia told you to sleep with them tonight so you crawled into the middle of their bed, falling asleep almost immediately, Alexia and Olga weren’t even in their PJs yet, they both sent you a sympathetic look.

_____

You woke up during the night and suddenly felt the need to be sick, you bolted upright, frantically looking around, with a hand over your mouth, Alexia was a very light sleeper and so she woke up from your movement, she grabbed the bucket and placed it front of you, before you started to gag, your body was shaking and your eyes were watering. You had been gagging for the past 10 minutes but nothing had come up, Alexia had continuously rubbed your back and whispered reassuring words to you. After you had finally stopped gagging,  Alexia sighed before she pulled you into her chest, lying back down, you laid into her, you felt so exhausted and so sick. A few minutes later you started to gag again, so you tried to sit back up and grab the bucket but Alexia’s wouldn’t loosen her grip on you. “Bebita, it’s okay, I don't think you can be sick, your stomach is empty. But if you are sick and it does get on me and the bed it’s okay, it’s nothing we can’t wash. Let's just try and get back to sleep.”

[kimbapisnotsushi]

hi! please share your headcanons about jay. thanks!

ooooooooh sure thing let's get it!!

(also please keep in mind that soke was literally my first time dipping back into dc after a LONG while, so i have a bit of catch-up to do in terms of characters and stories, and thus some of my knowledge might be outdated!!! also i love jay but i do consider myself still very new to understanding him and thus most of these will be silly fun :333)

damian makes fun of him for that all-black ninja-esque stealth suit he wore to sneak into star labs because there was literally NO POINT in jay trying to disguise himself like that when he didn't bother covering up his BRIGHT FUCKING PINK hair

yes i'm still mad about yes i would like to know his thought process

is it natural btw??? i've seen different takes around where people think it's dyed bc of his other version in aos:jk, but i feel like that's pretty unlikely considering it was shaved all the way down when he got taken prisoner and experimented on and it grew back exactly like that

for the record i'm not a hater i'm just saying 1) it made him a walking beacon and 2) it being natural is so fucking funny to me since he clearly didn't inherit it from his mom, which begs the question:

who the fuck is jay's dad

while jay does care for all of the revolutionaries as their ally and everyone at the truth as their boss, and as an overall friend, i think that wink and the aerie are especially close to him and they consider each other family. they were pretty much the closest thing to adult supervision jay had for a while, and he relied on them a lot when he was settling down in metropolis and figuring out how to live alone

this meant that he called them for stupid things like "if something explodes in your microwave do you call the fire department", and not-stupid things like "help me open a bank account because metropolis bank has laws that won't let me do it by myself as a minor"

they were also the first people he came out to

jay loves them even if they CAN be really annoying

jay: "are you—are you guys ACTUALLY planning on shovel-talking superman" wink: "technically, he's superman's son" the aerie: "and if he's late to the coffee shop, i'm taking points off"

i think jay would get along with tim actually

the dude is an underground hacktivist refugee, investigative journalist, and a former president's son. he's probably used to always looking over his shoulder, ready to be jumped at a moment's notice. he's got a plan for everything but the plans only exist inside his head because he can't risk hard copies being found or digital ones being hacked. he's memorized them all. they're either alphabetized or mentally color-coded. we're talking levels of elaborate just-in-case getaways and meticulously planned investigations that would get a normal reporter killed if they asked the wrong question. it's dedication to a terrifying degree

yeah tim would definitely rock with him

jay has this neat little trick where if he's in a situation in which someone's poisoned his food and he has to eat it/can't let them know he knows, he just partially phases his organs so that the food falls through his body a little bit at a time and never enters his digestive system

jon is HORRIFIED when he finds out. damian is really fucking impressed

does gamorra have its own language???? i feel like jay would be fluent in it if so. of course he would be. he'd do anything to keep part of home as close to his chest as possible

oh that's another thing i'll probs mess up on btw i am legit so confused on gamorra considering it's apparently in asia and i would assume has its own distinct culture? but jay's surname is japanese and that random kid on the boat has a japanese name so are they like. japanese-adjacent??? or is gamorra made up of multiple asian identities blended into one (read tags for clarification)

i should probably read absolute power shouldn't i

okay sorry that got WAY off topic but yeah jay is definitely someone who loved his home despite not being able to go back and did everything he could to maintain his ties

ALSO can we talk about jay being a student at metropolis college at seventeen???? did he skip a year of school when he got to the u.s.??? did he lie on forms or something??

like i don't think he's taking extra credit classes as a high school student because he was also advertising the media department when we saw him, and i don't think he'd be doing that if he was in high school

jon makes sense because he had a fake identity which COULD put him in college. but jay???

honestly lying on paper is such a jay nakamura thing to do if he doesn't want people tracking him down by cross-referencing his birthday with government records

jay nakamura's number-one tip of running an anonymous underground activist stream: hide all identifiable information from the government

(this does not work when you are widely recognized as superman's boyfriend)

also now that dick is backing the truth can we PLEASE get tim in on it. i think it'd be so fucking funny. i think he and jay would have a grand old time breaking into firewalls and digging through internet archives and exposing corrupt people

tim is like "FINALLY i have something fun to do at all those fucking galas bruce makes me go to" because jay needs some rich guy's vacation itinerary so he knows the prime time to break into his house and gather evidence for something

i just have so much appreciation for jay nakamura you guys i love him so much

[shams-of-the-wild]

Cooking Prep with Wild.

———

| [Ao3 Link] |

The preparation of food, especially of breaking animal carcasses into edible meat for cooking, is something that is consistent across all the eras of Hyrule.

Time, as a farmer, is more than familiar with this process.

Wind is not.

Wild, is arguably, even more familiar with this process. What he considers edible meat, however, is not just limited to animals.

Time and Wind, have questions.

{Written during the hour long, first sprint prompt of the Linked Universe discord — Prompt: Cooking}

Word Count: 646.

Warnings: Non graphic descriptions of processing a (monster) carcass into meat for cooking/mentions of monsters being eaten as food, mentions of blood.

A/N: Honestly this was not going to be the first fic I was going to post for LU/LoZ but as soon as I saw the prompt for the sprint, I immediately knew I had to put my niche knowledge of unusual medieval—victorian era cooking knowledge to use. And since technically consuming monster parts is both canon and a viable option in BotW/TotK, I couldn't resist the urge to take some creative liberties and add a little dungeon meshi vibe to Wild.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this very short oneshot.

———

“Wild?” Time asked in a tone, that Wild had roughly worked out was meant to express resignation.

 Wild hummed in response, too busy focussing on carving into the bokoblin. Well carving off parts would be the more accurate description but waste not want not! It had been ages since he'd had the chance to do this since there hadn't been a chance to test the edibility of the monsters from the other eras yet. The fights had been far too efficient and destructive, sure part of that was his fault with his improvised time bomb arrows and whatnot but he was hardly the only one with bombs or bomb arrows!

 Wind scrambled over the broken monster fortifications to reach him and Time, immediately attempting to poke the bokoblin with a stick as soon as he was in range. “Whatcha doing?”

 Huffing, Wild finely sliced off the ears of the bokoblin, inspecting them in the dying light of the sun. “Harvesting.”

 “For your potions?” He eyed the monster parts curiously. “So you were telling the truth, potions are really made of monster parts?”

 “Elixirs. And no, this is for dinner.” Wild grunted, snapping his carving knife into its skull and cracking it like a palm fruit, before scooping out the brain.

 Time stared unimpressed at Wild.

 “The guts and horns are for elixirs because they contain higher quantities of malice which means they have to be boiled thoroughly before they're consumed, otherwise you risk getting minor gloom poisoning.” Wild explained, grinning slightly, as he chopped off the nose. “Nothing some sunshine or sunny foods can't fix, of course but it's inconvenient if you're regularly travelling, like us, and can't set up something like a Hunter's pot to stew them until they're safe to eat. Besides, usually these parts are kept for emergencies because elixirs can't use any old monster part so it's better to save them in case you need to whip up more elixirs, or if there's a particularly bad farming season and you have to make the most of what you've got. Which is usually when the community comes together with all their saved offal and bones, and whatever fruit or veg can be spared to build a perpetual stew.”

 Time pinched the bridge of his nose. “Usually people don't use monster offal or bones. They're not considered safe, or clean, to eat. It's only game or livestock that we use all the parts of.”

 “Well that's a waste!” Wild grunted, scooping out the bokoblin's eyes before eyeing the rest of the battered head as he crossed his arms and grumbled slightly. “Monsters are an excellent delicacy in my Hyrule, in fact since the end of both the Calamity and the Upheaval we've had flocks of visitors from our neighbouring countries eager to taste our unique cuisine.”

 Wind poked at the skull with the stick again. “Yeah but they're probably there for your recipes like pizza! Or the Goron curries! Or the weird purple monster foods you can make!”

 He paused, eyes lighting up. “So what do you do with the head? Do you use the skull as a goblet filled with blood?”

 Wild made a noise between a cough and snort. “Nah, blood's better used for making blood sausages but this guy's lost too much for me to get any worthwhile amounts from 'im. Better to let his blood fertilise the soil instead. Besides I'd need someone else to hold the cooking pot beneath the monster whilst I slit its throat.”

 “Ooh! Next time you find one with enough blood, can I help!” Wind pleaded, eyes widening as he pouted at Wild with his classic puppy dog eyes.

  Wild thrust his fist towards Wind for a fist bump. “Of course! It's been ages since I had a chance to make them!”

 Behind them, Time groaned, he hoped next time wouldn't be any time soon.

———

Thank you for reading! Hopefully you enjoyed this short oneshot!

Likes, reblogs, replies/reblog comments, and asks are all much appreciated!

I shouldn't have to say this but due to previous comments I've received in other fandoms: — Criticism and/or rude comments are not welcome regardless if you try to soften them with compliments/compliment sandwiches. I write and share my fics for fun. Not to be degraded or criticised as if this was homework or literature coursework.

Otherwise, I'll be over the moon to receive any comments, whether it's as short as <3, emojis/kaomojis/emoticons, extra kudos, or as long as a whole fic reaction comment! No matter the comment, you'll have my undying love and gratitude.

Also, if you'd like me to write some more cooking monsters with Wild fics, then just yell down in the comments!

[eightsisterofmatariki]

Shazam!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

!! TW: child abuse !!

Billys P.O.V

I walked home and sighed in relief that the guy who owned the house was asleep, he was supposed to be my new dad and he was failing, hell even ignoring the abuse I didn't even know his name! I sat in my 'bedroom' and sighed. I wanted to run away, forget this place, welcome the streets.

And it's not like the guy upstairs would even notice until he missed a child support payment, but once CPS was alerted I was screwed. I doubt I could run form CPS for long as Billy and Captain Marvel would have no means of making money, at least as Billy I could beg which got me the food I needed. And here, when I was lucky, I could sneak a microwaveable meal, they weren't that bad raw, really.

Okay, that sounded pathetic even in my head. But another -more solid- reason was that the basement didn't freeze, even in winters, even if I was stuck awake I wasn't going to die from the cold, and most of the year it stayed warm enough that the abuse wounds healed by the time I went on patrol. Even ignoring what abuse wounds would do to my public image, I don't think I could deal with two sets of injuries. I was sure heartless muggers could and would replace a nameless drunk.

I sat down in my bed and my stomach rumbled, I ignored it, it was stupid that I was hungry. I could survive of meals from begging, the watchtower, and if desperate the cupboard. I snuggled into my jumper, pretending that there was someone in it, someone who cared enough to lie still of me; and if I cried myself to sleep that night, well that was none of your business.

I woke up with a sigh and as I sat up Phantom appeared "Why are you here?" I asked, Phantom held out a meal, a warm meal which varied from ration bars

"You can't check if it's poisoned." Phantom offered gentely, I took the food and ate it happily without checking. I was sure Phantom could've killed me by now, poison would be a waste. "I promise I'm here to help." Phantom said

"Why?" I asked suspiciously, something broke in Phantoms eyes

"Superheros- esspecially minors, often value their jobs above their own well being; and while I can't say that's bad even more hours for begging could change your life from what I've seen. I've never been in a situation like this but I know that presure and limited time can have effects, I just want to help." Phantom exlained, I hesiatated and Phantom opened up his... soul? Emotions? Mind? What ever it was it radiated safetruthcareprotect worriedconcernrelate helpnurtureteach protectsafe childghostlingbaby

"Okay," reliefhappydetermine "But nothing too big, I don't want to owe you or anything."

"Don't worry, I'm not a rope into deals kinda guy." Phantom said "I'll get you some food and heal what inguries I can." Phantom explained,

"If you're not lying... thanks." I said.

That afternoon I walked downstairs and found another meal, I ate it slowly and savoured the taste of actual warm food, I slept with a full stomach for the first time in a while that night. Next morning I woke up to the smell of another meal and relaxed when I realised it wasn't a dream!

-

A few weeks later when I walked downstairs Phantom was sitting there, "Uhh, hi." I said, he handed me a plate of food and I started eating,

"I looked you up, you have wisdom of soloumon-" I winced at how bad his pronunciation was "-or something. Does it apply to homework? For example can you know which one is the right answer on a multichoice math quiz?" Phantom asked while glaring at a book, I laughed

"I don't think so, I'm not going to be much help with math considering I dropped out before primary even ended." I mentioned, Phantom gave a long suffering sigh

"You know how to spell right? All my friends are busy and Clockwork's dealing with all the knots your speedsters keep making in time and Frighty and Pandora keep saying my grammars incorrect and suggesting words like 'twas' and 'shall' and stuff that belongs in a medieval movie!" Phantom complained, I made a mental note to look into Clockwork and tell Flash that he was pissing off someone powerful enough to have at least some control over time and know the ghost king.

"I can spell, just not really big words." I confirmed, Phantom gestured for me to sit next to him

"Great, you're helping me with my english homework." Phantom informed me

"You have to do english homework?" I asked in shock

"Yeah, I kind of want to strangle the guy who said that death is like sleep right now. Mr Lancer is relentless, oh and he doesn't know I'm dead yet." Phantom mentioned, I choked on the mouthful I was trying to swallow

"What?" I asked, Phantom gave me a small smirk

"What summoning book about me did you read? I'm a halfa, half human, half ghost," rings of light wrapped around him and showed me a very human looking teenager, almost 20, black hair that no longer defied gravity, teeth that have sharp canines but to a convincibly human level, freckles that were the same shapes as constellations but didn't glow, blue eyes that flashed green when the lights hit them just right, pink blush instead of green, a tan skin tone instead of a deathly pale, white and red socks, and a normal jumper and jeans with silver stars embroidered onto them. "I still live as Danny Fenton, not in this realm of course." Phantom said

"Wait, Danny Fenton, Danny Phantom... seriously?" I asked

"No ones put it together yet, I mean at the very start I looked pretty much like I do as a human only I glowed, and had green eyes, and white hair, and just happened to be wearing a hazmat suit. But I grew up within... two days I'd say, got a few more ghostly aspects, ghost instincts replacing or clashing with some human ones, and control over my powers. Then at two years of death I went through ghost puberty, Vlad is lucky, he just sped through it all in a hospital bed, I had to grow a mouth full of sharp teeth and deal with my nails turning into claws before I could control that stuff! Oh and get different forms and became way stronger but like, the teeth were really annoying and I accidentally sliced a door handle off when walking into class." Phantom ranted, I giggled

"That's gotta be hard to keep your secret identity." I said

"You'd be surprised what people are willing to overlook if you play it right." Phantom said, he waved his hand and a small portal appeared "Can you keep a secret?" Phantom asked

"Have you seen my secret identity?" I retorted, the portal cleared into an image of a guy with glasses opening a door and accidentally shattering the handle, another scene where the same guy pulled a different door off it's hinges, and accidentally lifted a weight which was definitely heavyer than most weightlifters could. "Is that... Superman?" I asked and I moved closer and sat down to watch

"Also known as Clark Kent, I'm the Ancient -which are... ghost gods? Kinda- of Space, Protection, and Heros. I have all of their moments." Phantom said happily, he pulled up a portal of some guy with spiderwebs in red and blue spandex swinging straight into a building, then a lamppost, then stopping while being chased by a giant man in a rhino suit to pet a cat. Then another portal of (IS THAT BATMAN!?) setting a pan on fire while trying to cook something, then deciding he could totally do that obstacle corse in high heels, then piercing his ear with a medical needle. I laughed as the scene changed and Flash ran into several walls, then managed to be late for work 3 times.

As I moved my hand up to cover my mouth it moved Phantoms bag and a few school books fell out, he sighed and closed the portal "Okay, okay, we're writing a novel on Frankenstein, how do we start this?" Phantom asked while clicking a pen

"Uhh, introduction, three paragraphs, conclusion. It should be TEXT, Topic sentence, Example, eXplanation, and then Tie back, you can swap the e's." I explained,

"Okay, uh, what about..."

-

The next morning I woke up leaning on Phantoms shoulder and curled into his hoodie, I sat up slightly and Phantom woke up

"Morning." Phantom said as he got up and stretched, turning back into the king he opened a portal "I'll get breakfast, take aways or cereal? The cereal might be slightly contaminated but it never really died so it won't come back to life."

"Your food comes back to life?" I asked

"That's not normal? I'll uh, get you a pastry and a smoothie." Phantom said, "I thought everyone's hotdogs unionised?" I heard him mutter as he stepped through the portal

[yandere--stuck]

Bad Blood - Yandere!Batman x Reader x Yandere!Joker

It wasn't just The Joker who had been watching you. And to a point, you were aware of that.

After all, that just came with the territory of being a minor celebrity within Gotham city. It wasn't often that those considered "famous" in Gotham didn't either have connections to the mafia or were locked up within Arkham or Blackgate. 

As a reporter, you were watched on the news, on the streets - occasionally approached by fans, at parties where you mingled with your peers or made connections. All rather normal, really.

But, there were times when you could just feel it in your bones. You were being watched.

Like in the dark of night, the moon following you on your walk home. Alone. When the light from street lamps bathed everything in orange. The streets empty, the occasional car zooming by. It was then that you had felt watched.

It was understandable, something innate in humans, to feel frightened of the dark and the paranoia of being alone. Our imaginations run wild, and we trick ourselves into thinking that there's something out there with us. Someone following our every move, hiding just out of sight. But, no matter how many times you swore you were being watched, nothing ever happened. No muggings, no stalkers, no threats. When you got back to your apartment, unlocking and then re-locking all six of the locks on your door, you were able to let out a sigh of relief - it was just your own paranoia getting the best of you. You weren't being followed. You could relax, knowing that it was all in your head.

But, it wasn't.

Your paranoia wasn't unfounded. The shiver of your spine at the feeling of being watched wasn't your mind tricking itself. But, of course, even when you'd turn around to try and spot someone, something, you hadn't been able to see him. He had hid in the shadows and crouched atop rooftops, keeping watch over you.

He had done so every night. The moment you left the studio, to when you started your walk, and then headed home. He even stuck around to peer through your window, making sure you were truly safe. It wasn't something any of the Robins or Oracle knew about - it wasn't something they had to know. Well… It's not like he exactly lied about what he was doing during the alotted time of your walk home. But, he also didnt want to admit it, either - not that he thought what he was doing was wrong, but… He just didn't want anyone to be worried. To get the wrong idea. And it rarely took time out of his nightly patrol, just fifteen minutes. It wasn't a big deal.

He was just protecting you. That was just his job. He was supposed to protect the people of Gotham. To protect you. He just had a… Fixation, that's all. And when Bruce gets fixated on something, it's like pulling teeth for him to keep away.

Bruce met you like he does with most reporters - at a charity event. He had seen your stories on the news a few times beforehand, and braced himself for the usual song and dance - Vicki Vale trying to score something on the record for something much juicier and personal than the cause he was donating to, or perhaps Jack Ryder trying to rile him up to get him to throw a fit for a story. He was pleasantly surprised, however, when you treated him like an actual person. Sure, it could be that you were off the clock - but really, when were reporters ever really off the clock?

Most people would bend over backwards to get themselves into Brice Wayne's good graces. But, you… You talked to him like he was no different than anyone else. Maybe a bit reserved, but you had only just met, after all. In spite of this, Bruce found himself able to relax, chatting with you about the party, about your days up to then, your different careers. Bruce felt like he could actually be himself. With you, he wasn't Batman, nor was he billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne. He was just… Himself.

Him and you.

He decides to stick by your side most of the evening, you and him talking long into the night. About your lives, your worries, your hobbies, your interests. It had been so long since he talked about such personal things with someone, even Alfred. And you understand. You understand his worries of responsibility, the weight of the world among his shoulders, you understand the suffocation of isolation, you under his inability to move on from the trauma of his past, try as he might. You understand. Of course you do…

You acted as someone to vent to. A listening ear. You offered up advice, even if you might not have the right answers to his problem. Sure, you might not know the full extent of his stress, but it's the thought that counts. It's almost like this night was made for you and him. 

Something like, fate - that is, if Bruce had actually believed in something like that.

After that night, he found himself making a point to watch you on the news. The way you talked on the television is how you talked with him that night. Personable, comfortable, familiar. You might not be talking to him directly, but it warms his heart and staves off the icy chill of loneliness.

He went out of his way to find you during other important, publicized events. Most likely, you probably thought it was a coincidence that you kept finding yourself in his company. You most likely thought him as just an acquaintance, nothing more… But, oh, you meant so much to him.

And, oh, when you talked about Batman? Knowing that it was him you were talking about (even if you had no idea)... He'd be lying if it didn't make him a bit flustered. Your praises, the way you saw him as an inspiration, hoping after every mission that he was alright… And when you look into the camera and say to him, to Batman, through the screen, that you wish him a nice night and to be safe…?

God. He was smitten. And, really, that was his biggest mistake.

Feelings just made things complicated. He had learned that a long time ago. That everything he touched and loved was inevitably destroyed. It's why he works alone more often than not. He doesn't want someone getting hurt because of him ever again. Bruce has enemies, and Batman has even more. 

Even if he had tried to reach out to you as Bruce, as himself, who's to say you would have wanted to be with him? Why would someone like you want Bruce Wayne - someone who most of Gotham portrayed as an immature playboy who never got over the death of his parents. While the second part wasn't exactly wrong, the whole playboy thing was just a diversion. But, how in the hell was he supposed to explain that?

It was easier to just let you go. You'd be happier, and more importantly, safer without his presence in your life.

So, he satiated himself on watching you, protecting you from the shadows, and kept himself sane by rewatching footage of you he's stashed within your home and around your apartment building. If he adored you from afar, that wouldn't hurt anything, right?

… But now, he's wishing he had just taken the chance. He had been good, had left you alone.

And he watched as the helicopter you were in was shot down. Watched as the recording cut off. Heard as you screamed at the top of your lungs. He replayed what he had seen over and over in his mind, losing himself. Bruce had gone so tense in disbelief and grief and rage that by the time Alfred had brought him back to reality, his nails had dug into the armrest of his loveseat.

He had insisted to himself later that night that  investigating the scene of the crime wasn't fueled by personal connection or any feelings he may have. It was Batman's job. And if he ignores all the other bodies in favor of one that is presumed to be yours, it's just because he notices something different about it from the other's, that's all.

The body was decomposed far beyond that of the others, and had been exposed to the elements longer than the others. And to add onto that, the DNA sample Bruce had collected was matched with a body that had been gone missing from Gotham General.

Bruce's heart fluttered with hope and relief. You were alive, you had to be. But, just as quickly, realization crashed into him. If you were alive, it's only because Joker wanted you to be.

... What was he doing to you?

---

You stared down at the meal the Clown Prince of Crime had prepared for you - well, if you could call heating up a frozen dinner "preparing". It's not like you were exactly in a place to complain, though, considering the predicament you were stuck in.

Counting the time you had spent unconscious and Joker getting you situated and up to speed, it was most likely a few hours since the incident. You were feeling rather hungry… But, in spite of all of The Joker's lovey-dovey talk, you weren't quite sure if you could trust him to not serve you poisoned food. Even worse, however, was that you were still tied up - meaning the clown had to feed you, and you were even more unsure that he wouldn't kill you if you refused to eat.

In spite of the circumstances, and the dingy place you were trapped in, it wasn't exactly the worst. Hell, Joker had even lit up some candles for some mood lighting. Not exactly the worst "date", you had been on, sadly enough.

"Ready for some grub?" The Joker lurched into view, straightening his tie as he shot you a grin. "You must have worked up quite an appetite by now, considering all the excitement!"

You smiled in return, hoping it didn't look too strained as you nodded. You watched as he got his utensils ready, cutting up some of the food into smaller bites. You kept especially close attention on the hand holding a knife - though, it wasn't like you had any way to flee if he had decided to turn it on you.

The Joker stabbed at the food with a fork, setting down the knife, as he moved to raise your meal to your lips, while you attempted not to turn your head away. The fork approached closer and closer, and you tried to rid your mind of awful thoughts, like an eye being ripped out of its socket, implanted on the fork's tongues. But, then, The Joker suddenly stopped.

"Oh, silly me! I almost forgot," The Clown Prince set down the utensils, digging into the inside of his suit. With a flourish, he unveiled a bright, colorful, and clearly plastic flower, holding it out to you. "A present for you, m'dear! Go on, take a whiff."

You shook in your seat. Oh, God. You knew exactly where this was going. He had played you this whole time, like predators played with their food. He had made you think he had developed this obsession with you and managed to lull you into a false sense of security. And just when you were sure you were going to make it out of this situation alive, he planned to hit you with his trademark laughing gas and watch as you died.

You held back tears, shivering with fear and despair. And The Joker looked so happy, so encouraging. You were going to die. You had hit the end of the road.

You leaned forward, taking a breath through your nose-

And jumped, letting out a scream as the ceiling caved in, a dark figure crashing through. You whipped your head to face it- and winced as a small stream of water hit your cheek. Blinking once, twice, three times, you slowly turned to the clown and the trick flower in his hand.

Oh. So, it was just a regular trick flower. Not a deadly one. Okay. Okay, yeah. Sure. Great.

Groaning softly, your whole body went limp. You hung your head, shaking it slowly. Whatever. Whatever happened next, you didn't care. You were too exhausted.

"Aw, c'mon, Bats! Don'tcha know it's rude to upstage someone's act?" Joker asked. "Besides, you weren't invited to our little date night..."

...Batman?

From your periphery, you could see it. See him. 

Oh, thank God. Thank fucking God. You were saved! Batman was going to save you!

All the tiredness seemed to instantly fade as you were overwhelmed with adrenaline and relief. You were saved. You were saved. Batman was going to save you. Batman was going to protect you and make sure you were all right. You didn't have to worry or be scared anymore. Batman would do all of the worrying for you.

"You broke out of Arkham, killed innocent people, and kidnapped the sole survivor after almost killing them, as well," Batman seethed, his voice a growl. "You're going back to Arkham, and I'll be taking them with me, where they'll be safe."

"Hey! First off, the whole helicopter thing wasn't me, it was one of my boys. Well… To be fair, I had intended on killing them when we downed the thing, but eh, two birds with one stone, I suppose. I wouldn't even have been mad about it, if my darling reporter here hadn't almost been hurt in the crash," The Joker moved behind you, making you seize up as he grasped your shoulders, massaging them slightly. "And really, Bats, if this is some kind of jealousy thing, you could always just ask to share."

"You're insane." Batman spat.

"Babes, you really need to get some better material," The Clown tutted. "And I was being honest! I'm actually trying to communicate here," You were suddenly spun around, locking eyes with your hero. You shuddered as the Joker nuzzled you from behind, unable to stop your face from heating up. "What do you think, darling? How's about a three-way date with me and the big bad Bat?"

"I… I-I-" You stuttered, unable to get a coherent thought put as you burned with embarrassment.

Could anyone blame you for having a little  crush on Batman? You'd bet a good majority of Gothamites felt the same toward their dear Dark Knight. Hell, you'd even bet that some of the Rogues that the Caped Crusader went up against had feelings for him. It was pretty obvious the Joker did, at least.

And the Joker… He was a monster. A criminal. But, the time you've spent with him… Well, you could better understand how Dr. Quinnzel fell for the man. Despite your knowledge of the horrible crimes he committed, the way he treated you so kindly, it was hard to not get flustered, to not feel special. It was hard to ignore his humor, his affection for you, his pet names, his sweet gestures- no, no. This- this was ridiculous. You had to stop. You weren't thinking straight.

"Get your hands off of them!" The Bat spat.

"But I don't wanna!" Joker let out an exaggerated whine, before descending into giggles. Painted lips brushed against your neck. "Besides, I don't think they want me to…"

You felt hypersensitive, the brush of the Clown's lips drawing a whine from your throat.

Your eyes shot open wide as a pained scream ripped from Joker. You turned as best you could, watching the man stumble back, clutching his hand - a batarang sticking piercing through it, blood bubbling up from the wound and dripping to the floor.

The Joker hissed, bristling with rage. "Bats, why you-!"

In an instant, Batman shot put his batclaw, the claw digging into The Joker's suit, before retracting. The Joker stumbled as he rocketed forward, his face immediately colliding with Batman's fist. Before he could fall back, the Dark Knight caught him by the throat and squeezed. The Clown wheeled and coughed in shock at the closing of his windpipe and his desperation to breathe. The Bat slowly lifted another fist - and hit the other man so hard that even you winced. You watched as Joker fell onto his back with a low groan. The Batman stood above him, glowering and breathing heavily as he looked down on his nemesis.

"Batsy, babe… Ya know I love it when you play rough, but Jesus, warn a guy first, will ya?" The Joker laughed wearily, seemingly in a daze. 

Sneering, Batman grabbed his nemesis by his coat, tossing him aside onto his stomach. His foot came down to stomp onto his arm, making the other man whimper, and the Bat reached down to rip the batarang free from his hand, and in turn, ripping a scream from Joker's throat. Pulling out a pair of batcuffs, the Caped Crusader roughly restrained the man's arms, before lifting him to his feet.

"Careful with the merchandise…" The Joker grumbled.

With a second pair of cuffs, the Bat attached one of the cuffs to the Joker's ankle, the Clown laughing as he attempted to kick at the Bat to heed his progress, and then the other to a metal support pillar protruding from the floor.

And then, in the next instant, Batman was at your side, diligently working to free you from the shackles that bound you. As the restraints loosened, you took in a deep breath before letting out a shuddering sigh. You tried to stand, only for your legs to give out from under you - you had spent so long in that position that your legs had fallen asleep - but it was okay. Batman caught you. He caught you and he held you and pulled you into a hug. A gloved hand petted your hair soothingly.

"It's okay. You're safe, you're okay," The Bat rumbled. "I've got you."

This. This was what you loved most about The Batman. As much as he was revered for the fear he struck into the heart of evil, how he acted as a phantom in the night, fighting back against the criminals that roamed Gotham in the night… What you loved most was what came after. Your interviews with survivors of criminal attacks are what made you grow a fondness for the Dark Knight. How comforting they said he was. How he reassured them, made them feel safe. When he was there, they knew everything was okay. They knew they were safe. That everything was going to be okay.

Everything was going to be okay.

And you melted into his hold.

He continued to murmur reassurances as he began to massage your legs until the static feeling went away and you found the strength to stand - and even then, he let you lean against him as you walked out into the night together.

"You'll pay for this, Bats," The Joker spat, expression dark… Until he locked eyes with you, and his visage softened. "How about same time next week, love?"

Before you could think of responding, Batman pulled out of the building and far, far away from the madman within.

---

Bruce had to fight to keep his driving steady. His body was flooded with adrenaline and his heart rabitted a mile a minute. His entire being felt electric.

He had touched you, held you. And you held him back, reassured and calmed by him. It was everything he had dreamed of. You had leaned against for support and let him help you climb into the batmobile.

He had managed to track The Joker down to one of his usual hideouts that he and Harley stayed at - an old, abandoned amusement park that had been sold to him. Well, would have been sold to him, if he hadn't killed the owner of the property before they could seal the deal.

He kept sneaking glances at you from the corner of his eye. You, resting your head against the window, eyes shut as you tried to get some rest after everything you had been through. You could rest for as long as you liked. He was here now. Bruce would keep you safe.

Bruce took his usual shortcut into the batcave, driving into a cave opening just outside the manor, and you lifted your head, startled by the sudden turn and shift in light behind your eyes.

"Batman, where are we?"

Home.

You gasped as restraints wrapped over your ligaments, tying you down to the seat.

Bruce knew this was wrong. But, after such a long career as the Batman, he had learned that he often had to do the wrong thing in order to get the right outcome. He really wished there was any other way… But, you had a target on your head now. You'd be safe with him. He'd keep you deep within the batcave and visit you often. 

You sputtered, eyes wide with shock and disbelief and… Betrayal. Bruce hated the thought of you looking at him like that. He leaned over, softly pressing a kiss to your forehead. He felt you shiver under his touch.

He'd get you settled and comfortable. He'd reveal his true self to you at some point, but that was for later. You had been through enough for one night.

"You're safe now." Bruce lied promised. "I've got you."

[starshiningsirius]

Attention seeker (Yandere Vil x reader)

The beautiful Queen's birthday, now if you'll excuse me I'm gonna go pull for his card.

Edit: I have failed and my disappointment is immeasurable. There's always Ruggie then.

A new first year to Pomifore who doesn't look like a potato face in Vil's eyes is rare. Something about her screams perfection and beauty in every way.

He never hears her talk much but she does as she's told. Her grades are always 100 marks never below that number. It amazed him how she didn't wear makeup but still looked like an angel sent down from above. When the freshmen were taught etiquette, she had no trouble at all.

What confused him the most was that she never mentioned anything regarding his beauty. Like maybe he had gotten some new makeup and graciously flaunted it to the whole dorm. She happened to be sitting in the dorm lounge and didn't bat an eye toward him, everyone else was mesmerised by his beauty except her.

Rook had to comment on his idol's sudden interest with the female.

"Roi de poison, you seem to be very interested in that freshman. She does seem like she's got something special to her doesn't she?"

"Yes, find out what you can about her." Vil was busy putting on his makeup but Rook noticed how his tone had shifted ever so slightly.

"As you wish Roi de Poison."

Rook only did as he was told though with an underlying excitement to it. It was for Vil after all and he could tell that this would go well in his twisted mind.

When Rook arrived back again, he had a surplus of info on her. From her favorite color to her daily routine. Vil noted everything he said to him about her.

She would cook for herself in the dorm's kitchen every morning for both lunch and breakfast. She never visits the cafeteria and always eats something healthy complimenting her physique. She even follows the facial routine Vil told everyone to do. When he mentions that she tutors Epel and she only spends time with him that immediately makes Vil's face turn into a frown.

He orders Rook to go and get Epel before he could even let him finish his findings. When he does come back with him Vil puts on a calm facade to mask his overwhelming envy toward the boy. He pretty much interrogates him seeing as Epel has no other choice he answers honestly.

Epel knows that charming smile on his dorm leader's face. He knew what happens when someone angers him. He could still feel the sting that had implanted itself in his memory after the blonde had slapped him for something minor.

All his questions pertained to his childhood friend. From her personality to what he knew about her that Rook didn't say to him already. He took in every bit of information. It only made him fall deeper into his obsession.

Though the fact stood out that Vil had fallen for a country bumpkin, he couldn't care less.

He just had to get her attention, after all.

* * *

"Vil senpai, is there something you need of me?"

He was outside her room door, one would say he was absolutely giddy at his plan he had concocted. Seeing her up close was even more exciting since he could take in every detail more than the pictures Rook had took of her.

"Seeing as you work so hard, I'm offering you a chance no one else gets you get to be my new makeup model! I need someone with your beauty almost as radiant as my own to test out some new makeup I ordered! I know this is such a gracious offer, so tomorrow at three after class meet me-"

"Excuse me, Vil senpai but I have to decline, it would be a waste of my time as well as yours. I ever so deeply apologize for wasting your time but I have to studying to do. Farewell." She shut the door softly leaving Vil shocked seeing as he was denied and put off to side like something to be forgotten.

That shock soon faded into pure rage. He was just denied with an opportunity as good as what he offered she could've become the talk of all social media with just one picture on his magicam page. Now that he thinks about it though, he didn't want that. All of your attention would be held up by strangers, your beauty would be flaunted off for the world to see. He's glad you denied before it could ever reach that point.

He still wanted your attention though. No, at this point he needed it. To just be forgotten just like when he plays the villain is not something he's fond of.

* * *

Y/n had been nervous as she felt like Rook had been following her for a few days and even though it had stopped altogether, she still couldn't help but be weary of her surroundings. Her vice dorm leader was always strange but it led to the question why was she the target of his interest now?

Vil had gained some strange interest in her as well and it made no sense as to why. She wasn't that special, certainly not at all in her standards. But at the present moment she didn't have the time to worry about that.

She had to go meet Epel again to tutor him in potions in the lab. They both grew up in the Village of Harvest together so they look after one another of course being good friends. Epel knows Y/n's reseved nature as well as how hardworking she is. She admires his determination just as he admires how she sees him for who he is which is thankfully not a girl. That's how the two have always been and now they both went to the same school.

She'd usually eat her lunch there before starting to mix any potions as to not accidentally mess up anything so she took a seat in the nearest chair that wasn't the teacher's desk and started eating.

Zucchini linguine was on the menu for today eating it slow with a fork not once making any slurping sounds. She noted that their was a slight difference in taste than what she was used too, considering she had made this before time and time again.

After awhile of waiting and already finishing her food she noticed that Epel hadn't arrived yet and usually he'd text if he were to be late. She found it strange, but something temporarily took her mind off it.

Her mind started to grow hazy and her eyes were growing blurry. Soon enough her body started to sway and the fork that was placed in the open container on her lap fell to the floor. Before she knew it she fell right with it feeling so dizzy all of a sudden. Her mind could process hearing for just a second, it sounded like the door.

Whispering quiet pleas was all she could do hoping it was Epel that could help him. She only saw a glimpse of purple robes, possibly nail polished fingers, and heard a few words as well as a pair of heels clicking against the floor before her mind completely shut off.

"You will give me your attention, even if I have to take you away."

* * *

Golden chains glittering, moved along with the captive that was awoken with a start.

The velvet sheets that had been neatly placed on her shifted as the chains rattled. She felt her wrists feeling the cold smooth metal on them. She immediately panicked even though she was usually calm and collected her mind just couldn't comprehend the situation. Never had she experienced anything similar to this.

She examined the walls and noticed that she was in Pomeifore, the elegant wallpaper had clued in on it. There was a dresser and a vanity next to it with all sorts of makeup neatly organized. It all looked so expensive just like the gold chains. The dread in her body had multiplied when she realized who it could be.

The room was much more luxurious then her own room. It could only be one person.

Vil Schoenheit.

As if on cue he walked in, with his manicured nails, crown on his head, and purple tipped locks accompanied by blonde roots. It only made him even more ecstatic to see her finally pay attention to him. He walked closer to her seeing her watch his every move for the first time since probably the day of the opening ceremony where he lectured the first years on Pomeifore etiquette.

When he finally reached her he lifted her chin and made her look him in the eyes.

"I want all of your attention to be on me my dear. I don't mind keeping you here to get it."

Masterlist

[scripttorture]

I'm trying to write a character who gets depression/anxiety after a few days of torture, but I'm worried that from an outside perspective the tiredness, lack of interest, and hyper vigilance are going to look like the character has been beaten down into meekness/compliance by the torture. Any advice on how to avoid the trope that this character was broken by their expeience when most days they're too tired to argue about anything and are slowly checking out of life due to the depression?

That’s a really good question. I think the best thing to do is combine several different approaches rather then relying on one particular thing.

 My first piece of advice holds true for writing any kind of minority experience. If you think you could be suggesting that an entire group has a particular feature/characteristic include another character from the same group who doesn’t. The more characters you have who are torture survivors the easier it is to show that they’re a diverse bunch with different symptoms and experiences.

 They don’t need to be major characters. They don’t need to be in the story for very long. But having them there makes a big difference.

 This is a lot easier if you’re talking about legally defined torture in a prison of some kind. But if that’s not the kind of story you’re telling consider bringing other survivors in during the character’s recovery. They could meet people while waiting to see the same doctor or mental health professional. They might be advised to join a group, either for group therapy or communal support. They might meet people while looking for financial support or jobs. If they’re religious they might be introduced to people through their priest or broader religious community.

 The next thing worth thinking about is: what can your character practically do?

 We have this tendency to conflate resistance with big, obvious, violent acts. Most of the time torture victims are not in a position to do that kind of thing. And in situations where people are held for a very long time (ie slavery, prisoner of war camps etc) what you tend to see are a lot of smaller or less obvious acts. Enslaved people did oppose slavery violently, with organised military action and with smaller acts of violence like poisoning slave owners.

 But they also did a host of other things. They sabotaged equipment or products they were supposed to produce. They broke valuable objects. They provided each other with material support and aid. They escaped and set up separate societies. They channelled resources into these societies. They aided others in escape attempts.

 It’s always worth thinking about what your character can actually practically do and what the risks or consequences of those actions might be.

 I talk about that in a post over here. Characters can take meaningful action even when they can’t take effective action. It’s worth taking the time to think about what would be meaningful to this character and figure out ways to show them prioritising it.

 It’s also worth considering what depression and anxiety can look like because yes, the features you describe are common in people with depression and anxiety. But they’re not necessarily constant and they’re not the only ways these conditions manifest.

 Depression can look like sleeping all the time. It can also look like not sleeping and a lack of sleep feeds into anxiety. Insomnia also causes paranoia after a while, makes it harder to interpret other people’s responses and can increase the risk of violent behaviour.

 Similarly depression can look like eating a lot, but it can also look like nausea, like being unable to eat full meals and struggling to keep food down. From the outside anxiety can be read as fear but it can also be read as aggression.

 It wouldn’t be unrealistic for this character to be more depressed at times and more anxious at others. It wouldn’t be unrealistic for them to be incredibly sleep deprived, paranoid and less able to see the risk in something like… spitting on a guard some days even if they’re generally incredibly tired, lethargic and apathetic.

 Basically even if this is the predominant way depression and anxiety manifest in this character there’s still leeway. There’s still moments when you can have them go against that. Even if it isn’t very often.

 The choice to use an outside perspective does make things harder. Especially if that perspective is a character who believes these kinds of tropes and has a poor understanding of mental health. One way to get around this is to have the point of view character’s perspective change with time and have them come to (and lead the audience to) the conclusion that they were wrong.

 But the character doesn’t need to reach that realisation if you work in enough signals to the reader that they’re unreliable. One way to do that is to contrast what the point of view character thinks with what the survivor character actually says and does.

 Let’s say the point of view character is having a conversation with another person who isn’t a survivor and they present the survivor as this sad case, broken by what they experienced because of a specific behaviour. Like sleeping a lot or being listless or not engaging with things in the way they used to.

 On it’s own that scene could easily back up these tropes (though it’s not an unrealistic scene because these tropes are commonly believed.) So let’s imagine the scene with the survivor’s response.

 They could respond that they sleep a lot because they have chronic pain or because their depression makes it hard to eat properly which leaves them exhausted. Physical symptoms like that are often easier for people to understand and it underlines the point that this is illness not some state where they’re permanently incapable. They can also respond with the steps they’re taking to try and make their life better. For chronic pain in torture survivors that can mean medication or physiotherapy. Perhaps they’re working on changing their diet or the schedule they eat at and sleep at, to work around these physical limits.

 You can apply the same kind of logic to the other points here, talk about why depression makes the character listless or stops them engaging and what they’re doing now. The aids that help them focus, how therapy is going, the new hobbies they’re exploring instead (perhaps because old ones contain triggers.)

 It’s harder to apply the same thing if the character is still imprisoned and still being tortured. But you can still do it. May be the dreams and plans the victim character had before seem meaningless now, but there will still be things they want to do and there will still be things they find meaning in.

 May be they don’t think they can be a Nobel prize winning doctor any more and may be to an outside perspective that looks like ‘broken’. But it’s harder for the audience to agree with that conclusion if the victim character is saying ‘My priorities are different now. I regret spending so much time working and I miss my family. If I get out I want to make them my focus instead of work.’

 A self aware character might be able to say ‘I don’t think I could achieve that dream anymore. But I think I could achieve this instead.’

 You can have other characters, doctors, psychologists or anyone who has worked with survivors for a long period, refute the idea these people are broken. Hurt, yes, but that doesn’t mean they’re incapable of living or of living well.

 If the perspective is more of an omnipresent narrator you’ve got more scope to show little acts of resistance the character might be engaging in. You’ve also got more scope to just straight up tell the readers what’s going on in this character’s head.

 It’s worth stressing that characters like this do still have and make choices. They are choices in incredibly awful situations and they are not free choices. But that capacity to choose is still there. And there are understandable, though not always rational, thought processes behind those choices.

 Depression doesn’t always mean checking out of life. I’ve known a fair number of people with depression who kept going with things they considered important. They just also… got no enjoyment out of it. They were miserable and in pain. But they were still trying to do the best they could for their kids or finish their degree. These efforts weren’t always successful. Depression makes most things more difficult.

 But a character willing to give up on themselves isn’t necessarily willing to give up on other things.

 At the end of the day the symptoms you choose for your character and how those symptoms manifest isn’t the problem. There’s nothing wrong with picking the symptoms that are right for your character and there’s nothing wrong with writing them in this way.

 The problem comes when we start telling people that there’s no hope, that nothing gets better. It comes when we imply that natural, physiological reactions to trauma are somehow the fault of the victim or that those reactions mean they are forever controlled by their abuser.

 Torture is an awful, effecting and life changing experience. It leaves lasting wounds.

 But humans are incredibly resilient, stubborn creatures. Our capacity for survival, to find ways to live well, is astounding.

 There’s room for optimism here and it’s worth making space for that in your story.

 I hope that helps :)

Available on Wordpress.

Disclaimer

[and-there-were-words]

A Spider Life: Slow days (Chapter 05)

I first wanted to write something out of the Spider Queen’s POV, but struggled to keep it within the narrative I am going for at the moment. I will write something for her after what’s show-canon though. A slow one with some more HCs, but I hope you still enjoy this chapter!

Also “Ask questions” had been enabled, I did not notice they weren’t before /o/

---

Taking place some time before “Minor scale”.

After the last two, rather smooth successes of gathering the artifacts, things had turned… slow. With everyone doing their best to busy themselves, Syntax makes some (for him at least) interesting observations. (Wordcount: around 2150)

---

With the mirror in their possession, the little lady had grown silent while working on the furnace. Aside from that whisper business of course, that had been a constant the last few days. And while nobody wanted to admit it out loud, it put everyone on the edge. Even the Queen.

However, nothing would stop Syntax from working on his spiderbots, even trying to improve the additional arms on his back. Not the easiest thing to do when you don’t have eyes on the back of your head, but making sure they just won’t snap in the heat of a moment felt rather crucial. The additional weight to this upgrade wasn’t exactly a worry to him at all, in the end he wasn’t one of the brawler types.

Something in the air changed, making him halt for a second.

“Yes Huntsman, how can I help you?”, he spoke without needing to look up. The other spider made a frustrated noise at being detected, he had been just mere inches away to give the scientist a poke. With an annoyed huff he turned around to stomp back to Goliath. Syntax would be lying to say if the other's frustration didn't plug on a string of satisfaction. This sort of interactions had been going on for a while now.

Leaning back, just to give his spine a proper stretch, the scientist couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud of himself. Just the progress he had made the last few days was satisfying, and not only the ones on his machines – but himself too. Huntsman had taken a sadistic joy in startling him whenever he could, and he was infuriatingly good at it. Though, Syntax started to pick up on the faint noises the hunter made when stepping on stone, the shuffling of clothes. Eventually he could catch him prior to a scare.

Which only goaded Huntsman to try even harder, becoming more and more silent and careful in his steps. Syntax had taken recordings to measure the changes of skill level (and for his own sanity) – by now, the hunting spider was so silent that even his gadgets could barely pick up the sounds anymore. Certainly a skill Huntsman had all along, but finally seemed to shake off the initial rust after his involuntary slumber. With the knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to catch him on that anymore, the scientist tried to focus on other giveaways.

What had started as an obvious attempt on grilling his nerves, developed into a near playful banter. Just the wordless back and forth to get the other to try harder. In an odd way, it almost felt like Huntsman was training him, but he was careful to keep that thought to himself. Syntax knew better than to read too much into the hunter's actions, as chaotic as they were.

Nonetheless, the scientist found himself trying to imitate the hunter now and then. Since the guy was going on about smelling all kind of stuff, he gave it a try himself. At first not picking up much more than the damp air in the cave, the metal of the machines. It took him a while to find stronger differences, trying to casually walk past Goliath and the Queen. He found it rather surprising that they didn't seem to do much to hide their presence, but maybe it was simply the comfort of the cave that allowed them to do so.

Picking up on Huntsman was an entirely different beast. The man always seemingly on guard, always ready to appear and disappear. However with time, the scientist managed to actually pick up on Huntsman’s scent, as faint as it was. Kind of earthy, a little bit mildewed, and Syntax could swear there was the ever lingering hint of fresh blood. Did this guy ever wash that pelt of his?

Of course, he would never claim that his own sense of scent was as powerful as the hunter’s, but it was enough to know who was currently around the cave. The little lady didn't seem to have any telltales like these, which usually would've raised red flags in his mind but… he didn't question it, nobody else did either. Anything else he came in contact with, the scents of the surface… became a mixed blend of too much too quickly. Maybe a task for another time.

Aside from that, scent and hearing weren’t the only senses he had noticed an improvement in! Their lair seemed to have become much less dark, he wasn’t as dependable on his goggles as he used to be anymore. What before had looked like chunky and random bits of webbing, now unveiled themselves as carefully crafted pieces with intriguing patterns, with uses he was still starting to understand. Goliath did his best to explain them in more 'common' terms, and it was always a pleasant surprise to see how excited the large spider became to share his knowledge. The more time Syntax spent within the Silk Web Cave, the more beautiful this place became to him. A pride welling up that he lived here.

However their hideout wasn’t the only thing that was much more layered than he previously thought. Turning around in his seat, he watched the other two henchmen going about their day. Currently sticking their heads together over something he couldn't see from his position. Still, he watched them a little, while he was sorting further observations in his mind.

...to no one’s surprise, when he wasn’t within the lair, Huntsman was hunting. Or at least, somewhere outside doing who knows what for days on end. Yet always coming back with some good pieces of meat, roots and berries (but mainly meat). The first time Syntax saw the hunter preparing food for dinner, he nearly refused to partake in it. Mostly because he couldn’t imagine his meals to taste anything but bland, or worse, be poisoned. Color him surprised, that stew was better than most dishes the Queen would concoct on a daily basis. Another thought Syntax would take to his grave before speaking it out loud.

When Huntsman wasn’t around for dinner, and everyone else felt too lazy to scavenge for some proper food options, Goliath and he would order takeout. The strong spider clearly intrigued by this concept, always wanting to try something new. Syntax often questioned the sanity of the cityfolk, considering that the delivery people didn’t had much care to come down near a spider den. The food from the surface world had something comforting to the scientist, as cheap and artifical as it sometimes was. Though he was really craving noodle soup as of late and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Syntax let out a little sigh while standing up.

This whole food thing had also shown an interesting side on Goliath. While the Queen and Huntsman didn’t seem to particularly care about human food (the latter even openly showing his distaste for it), the strong spider had taken a deep fascination. Especially sweets and candies seemed to have struck his attention the most. More than once did Syntax catch him just trying some new trendy food or colorful jawbreaker that he got from… who knows where. Goliath didn’t make any of this a secret, however he clearly wasn’t one with a rotten sweet-tooth as he barely finished anything. “For science.”, he once said with a wink and didn’t elaborate any further. Okay then.

“What are you two doing?”, Syntax casually asked as he wandered closer to the two. The strong spider looked up in confusion for a second before giving the younger man a smirk, “Secrets”. The scientist blinked owlishly, circling around them to look over the smaller spider’s shoulder. There were parchments of leather, deer if Syntax would have to guess, with Huntsman trying to draw squares and circles. Large black smudges here and there told the story of many previous attempts, letting the edges of the material look almost black by now.

"Get away from me.", the kneeling spider hissed, Syntax complying with an annoyed eye roll. Looking back at the larger man in an unspoken question. "We want to make a new robe for the Queen.", the giant almost beamed with excitement. Only for the big smile to water down in mild disappointment, "Buddy ain't good at designing though."

"If you wouldn't be just so damn picky!", Huntsman shot back, smudging away his latest attempt. "Just let me do what I do best, I know what I am d-"

"No!", Syntax flinched a little in surprise. It wasn't exactly an usual thing for Goliath to argue, or to even interrupt someone. "I want this to be special and you just can't get the patterns right! For the Queen's sake, just follow a plan for once!"

The scientist had to raise a brow. This was the first time he ever saw the two of them actually butting heads and… he had to admit, it was a little bit refreshing. Letting his eyes wander to some other pieces of leather, recognizing the sketches as copies from the patterns all over the cave. This one was a sigil of warding, as he had learned the other day, and a few were the Queen's own emblem. In case some other spider demon decided to come here, they would immediately know who's domain they dared to enter. The rest of those, he had not gotten an explanation yet.

"If I may.", mechanical arms shoved Huntsman unceremoniously to the side. Crouching down to pick up one of the charcoal, he started to draw. He was no expert on how to draw people by any means, but it certainly resembled the queen more than any of Huntsman's attempts. With careful strokes, he designed a fairly simple cut, working in the patterns on how he would think would look good on the Queen. It didn't pass him that the other two were watching with bated breath.

Once done, the scientist sat back on his heels, giving his creation a proper look. Not too shabby, if he may say so himself.

"Oh this is really good, Syntax!", Goliath cheered, looking like he wanted to touch the sketch but didn't dare to. On the other end of the emotional spectrum, Huntsman almost looked like he was about to explode.

"The fuck is your problem.", the elder hissed in dreadful silence, whole body tense and twitching. "What do you think you are!", he now became louder but Syntax did his best to just give him a neutral expression and not to budge. Which may not have been the best idea, as it only agitated the other further. The hunter was now standing, looming over him. "You really think you can just come in here and do whatever?! Think you can just be part of this??"

Large and sharp spider legs lashed out, in reflex Syntax let out a startled cry and raised his arms in an attempt of protection. But the pain didn't come. They hadn't aimed at him, instead… having shred the parchment with the sketches to bits. "I REFUSE TO WEAVE THIS."

Like an angry lion, the hunter had bared his fangs in a snarl. For a moment, Syntax was still prepared to be hit by the other, but the hunter suddenly turned around and just. Left. Goliath looked torn between the two men, mouthing a silent "Sorry" before hurrying after his friend.

A breath he didn't know he was holding, escaped his lungs. Syntax crumbled a bit to the floor, bitter thoughts flooding in. Just when he thought things were doing okay. Of course he had to step right into a sensitive nerve for the older spider. Heavy clicking pulled him out of his thoughts, but he couldn't care at the moment to look presentable before the Queen.

Spider Queen looked between the tired scientist and shredded pieces of leather, no apparent expression showing. But of course there was a glint of recognition in her eyes. "Why y'all causing such a ruckus?" Syntax sighed silently, giving a brief summary of the recent events.

The silence that followed was uncomfortable, the scientist not entirely sure how his Queen would react. To his surprise, she let out a little tired sigh. "Weaving is something quite personal to us. Especially if we do it for someone else.", she explained without really looking back at him. Instead giving the destroyed sketches another glance. "Just pretend this never happened. He'll get over it." With that, she simply left.

Syntax pulled his lips into a frown. Just ignore this all? If Huntsman got over it or not, it did not matter. His fists clenched a little, looking at the floor, choking and holding back bitter tears he could feel burning in hte back of his eyes. Syntax was more upset that he apparently wasn't allowed to be an actual part of this clan, no matter how hard he tried.

[wolf-zer0]

Ya want some WORLD-BUILDING????

Have some world-building!

*REMINDER* This is based on characters, not real people.  I’m not going to be writing any shipping/smut content, especially involving minors.  Please be respectful of content creators’ boundaries!

The Crystallos Empire (AKA the Antarctic Empire)

Largest the countries (takes up most of the southern half of the map) but agreed to stop expansion after a bloody battle with Valeriana 

Centered on a large snowy mountain in the middle of the tundra 

Mostly stays out of other countries’ business, but will step in as a last resort 

Has some of the most well-known citizens in the world because… they’re pure chaos 

Attack at your own peril 

Has vast deposits of ores and gemstones, and the metalwork from Crystallos (mainly weaponry, armor, and jewelry) is highly sought after 

The only known food export is potatoes.  Wonder why… 

Associated Colors: Royal blue, light blue, crimson, gold 

Aesthetic/Vibes: gothic vibes, white stone and large stain glass windows, not particularly opulent or extravagant but still impressively royal looking, think catholic cathedral but brighter and with less Jesus (can you tell I’m a recovering catholic yet?), spires shooting into the sky that’s visible even during a blizzard, cavernous halls full of sunlight and echoes, snow that can comfort and kill in equal measure

Notable Members:

Philza Minecraft:

Angel

Visible wings look like a harpy eagle

Probably the most powerful person in the world

Didn’t mean to start an empire it kinda just happened

Also didn’t mean to adopt kids but his Dadza alarm went off

Usually kind but will not hesitate to use violence when necessary

Technoblade: 

Is pig.  

With braid.  

At least 8 feet all

Extremely adept fighter, skilled in almost every form of combat.  

Not a people pig, prefers his potato farm to being a prince

Hella protective of his family but will not hesitate to bully when given the opportunity

Wilbur Soot: 

Muse who can influence people through song

Can’t totally control people (yet) but can subtly push them in a certain direction

The public face of the imperial family

Would rather insult than fight but can and will cut a bitch if he needs to

Because inspiration is fickle he’ll have some … strange episodes (see: the Sand Incident)

Tommy Innit: 

Child.  

Chaos incarnate.

Is he human?  Is he not?  No one’s sure yet.  

But he’s a gremlin and a hellion and willing to throw down at any moment.  

Has a surprisingly caring side, but no one outside his immediate circle has ever really seen it.  

The Kingdom of Valeriana (aka Dream SMP)

Oldest of the countries 

Located in the middle of a massive forest at the center of the main continent 

Home of the Fae Courts

Ruled by a single king who is chosen by a tournament held every 100 years 

Known for causing chaos in other countries, but after an Incident with Crystallos they have kept their meddling to annoyances rather than outright declarations of war 

Considered the most magical of all the countries, and traditional enchantments almost all come from Valeriana 

Associated Colors: neon green (duh), bright yellow, forest green, light brown, blood red (more saturated than Crystallos), rose gold 

Aesthetic/Vibes: spooky art nouveau (idk what else to call it), lots of plants and nature but with an edge of danger, poison gardens and carnivorous plants, hedge mazes that lead everywhere and nowhere, laughter deep in the forest, deer with eyes just a hair too human, Alice in Wonderland on steroids 

Notable Members: 

Dream: 

Current king of the Fae

As long as he’s touching the ground, he knows where everything and everyone is

Can terraform

Unlimited in the boundaries of his kingdom

Much more limited outside of his realm

No one has ever seen what he really looks like, even before he took the throne

Since people outside the kingdom don’t know who he is, he’ll wander the outside world and challenge random people to fights

Never says what happens to the losers

Only one person has ever beaten him: Technoblade

He might have a lil obsession around Techno, but it’s fine.  

A little competition is healthy.

Sapnap:  

High Lord of the Summer Court

Dream’s right hand man

Likes fire a little too much probably

George: 

Human that Dream took a liking too and yoinked from the mortal world

Dream and Sapnap made him immortal but he hasn’t realized it yet.  

Skeppy: 

Changeling who started growing diamond-like scales across his body

Is vaguely allied with Dream simply because he’s Fae, but is more loyal to BBH

Like a lot of other Fae, likes to make challenges but he makes them less deadly.  Not totally safe, just less deadly.

Badboyhalo: 

Demon who was kicked out of hell because he was too nice

Found Skeppy in the Overworld and the rest is history

Cursed by the Demon King that the moment he says a swear word, the entire world would end, but can never tell anyone that he is cursed

The Merchant’s Guild

Not quite a country, more of a international power 

Oversees the largest and most important businesses in the world 

Makes sure that no laws are broken between different countries and everyone gets a fair shake 

Has a very large reach, so some members have dabbled in espionage for various groups 

From the outside it looks like the whole thing is kept together with duct tape and hope, but its actually pretty functional

The main members are just… a lot. 

More concerned with keeping things working than influencing other nations (although there are still jokes about it) 

The most valuable thing they trade in is information

They have a lot of fingers in a lot of pots, but are trusted with their information 

Associated Colors: dark blue, teal, deep yellow, burnt orange, copper

Aesthetic/Vibes: art deco babie, angles and lines, very modern and streamlined, sleek suits instead of armor or robes, whiskey in a crystal glass, wars won by words not weapons, knowing when someone’s lying without them saying a word

Notable Members:

Schlatt: 

Ram-man with a plan

Not that bad of a dude, but is in a position where he is constantly in possession of highly sensitive information and that does things to someone’s mental state

Drinks pretty regularly but not a full blown alcoholic

Trying his best

Can be a snarky asshole sometimes

Quackity: 

Lucky duck.  literally.  

Duck man with an uncanny ability to absorb good luck from people (typically Fundy) and apply it to himself

No one knows when or why he joined the guild, but now he’s there

Pretty damn smart, but hides it behind humor

Fundy: 

FOX!  

With BEANS!

Trying his goddamn best but life (and Quackity) make it very difficult

Usually is stuck with the shit end of the stick when getting jobs/contracts/etc. 

Wilbur being his dad is an inside joke that’s gotten a life of its own.  

(No Fishfuckers Allowed!!!)

Puffy: 

Badass sheep lady who captains a ship and commands her own armada

Schlatt’s sister

Also part of Storm’s Landing’s council and acts as the main liaison between them 

Do not fuck with her she will kick your ass.

Storm’s Landing

Port city that became a country after becoming a safe-haven for seafarers

Led by a council of important people, with the head of the council known as the Admiral 

Closest ties to Crystallos and the Merchant’s guild because: 

1) Clingy supremacy!!!!

2) it’s a good idea for a guild to have good ties with a large sea power

3) all the dads for Tubbo

Associated Colors: navy blue, scarlet, white, brass 

Aesthetic/Vibes: Nautical (obviously) with heavy “Age of Exploration” vibes, barnacles crusted on treasure chests, think tall ships and pirates and shit, respecting the ocean because holy shit she’s gonna smash your boat to pieces on a whim because she can, has an edge of darkness because when you go deep enough who knows what you’ll find down there (maybe mermaids???) 

Notable Members:

CaptainSparklez: 

elected to Admiral after the previous Admiral went missing on a routine voyage 

(idk who it used to be, I just wanted to make him new at leading)

not 100% sure about the whole thing, but handling it pretty okay

still answers to “Captain” instead of “Admiral”.  

Niki:

If Storm’s Landing had a queen, would be it unquestionably

Never gets robbed even though there’s a well known “underbelly” in town

Could probably end wars with her croissants

Has a significant history of empathic abilities in her family, so she can tell how people are feeling at all times

Eret: 

Owns a magic store in town that really only shows itself to people who need it.  

Having a bad mental health day?  

He’s got a warm blanket and a cup of your favorite warm beverage waiting.  

Dysphoric?  

She’s got the perfect outfit and affirming words already prepared.  

Trying to find that specific book but can’t remember the title or plot, only vaguely know the color of the cover?  

They’ve got it.  

Ranboo:  

Not sure why he decided to move to a seaside city when he’s not chill with water, but now he’s here and he’s too anxious to leave

Known for teleporting around town randomly when nervous, and the people who find him are always willing to let a hand if he gets lost

Tubbo: 

This boi!  Has so many dads!  

Epitome of “Kindness does not equal weakness.”  

While a lot of people underestimate him, he’s not some fragile little flower

He hasn’t fully grown into his ability to speak to animals (he can only understand bees right now)

He’s just as much of a shit stirrer as Tommy.  

When they meet up, look out.  Something’s getting destroyed.

The Astral Academy

An independent university focused on advancing knowledge in the arcane arts and engineering 

Not a country, but has the political power of one due to their vast resources and building prowess 

People can’t enter unless they are invited or have been given entry as a student 

There are a bunch of potential doors scattered around the continent that could lead to the Academy, but no one is sure where the real entrance is 

Associated Colors: royal purple, lilac, sepia, sky blue, silver, bronze Aesthetic/Vibes: bright academia, massive libraries with bookshelves stuffed to bursting, workshop benches covered in scrap and prototypes, open air observatories, runes waiting to be translated, the crackling energy that comes from successful collaboration, falling down a research rabbit hole, bursting with pride after a project is a success

Notable Members: 

Sam

Purpled

Ponk

Punz

Antfrost

Jack Manifold

I don’t know much about these characters, so if you have any ideas please let me know!

Zero’s OC Land - The North Haven

Smallest and newest country 

Recently gained independence from under a cruel dictator (not schlatt lol)

Located in a pine forest at the base of a huge mountain range 

Has pretty good relations with the other countries, but outsiders don’t know much about them 

Main exports are wood carvings and leather goods 

Associated Colors: Maroon, dark brown, black, pewter 

Aesthetic/Vibes: medieval but with a modern twist, dark wood lit by a roaring fireplace, snow-covered woods without a living soul in sight, half timber houses and detailed wood carving, no outrageous ornamentation or extravagance 

Notable Members:

Tyr: 

Lord of the North Haven

trying to keep his people safe and protected

one of the few remaining Spirits (higher in power than the Fae, but lower than angels)

Spirit of Justice

lost a hand in the war for North Haven’s independence

didn’t want to become the leader but does a pretty good job at it

Adopted 5 kids and is trying his best

Bragi: 

Heir Apparent

24 year old human

can influence the world by speaking (not singing) but has to be careful about which words he uses

has a book full of phrases that have proven effects (a spellbook of sorts)

has a friendly rivalry with Wilbur

Freya: 

Spymaster

actually the oldest but abdicated because she feels she’s not the right person to lead a country

age unknown because she’s the last known [REDACTED] (it’ll be revealed, but I wanna build suspense)

has gyrfalcon wings and heightened senses

chronic insomniac

Forseti: 

Official Librarian

20 years old

hybrid with an unknown entity

has black fingers with sharp claws

always wears gloves to hide them

can create portals to places he’s been or to people he knows (the second is much riskier, but not impossible)

knowledge sponge

wants to join the Astral Academy but is too nervous to apply

Odin: 

Older Twin

The “Sensible One”

17 years old

Has an uncanny sense of direction

Can’t get lost no matter what

Can manipulate magnetic fields

Loki:

Younger Twin

The “Hot Headed One”

17 years old

can manipulate fire

idolizes his older siblings, particularly Freya

The Institute

Creeping around in the background

Up to bad things

Something’s going on in the world, but no one’s noticed yet

They will though… soon

Aesthetic/Vibes: minimalism (the worst kind of vibes imo), think laboratories or empty hospitals, harsh artificial lights and cold floors, labyrinths of monotonous hallways with no doors

[drawing-way-outside-the-lines]

Monique ‘Coco’ Sosa *Supporting character

Voice Claim:(Serayah) https://youtu.be/NlqPCzAQDVo?t=41

Partner(s): Single. Parents: Kerry & Leon Sosa. Kids: None. Siblings: Mekhi. Age: 24 (2021) Birthday: 19th of January. Height: 166cm (5.4ft) Body type: Curvy. Eye color: Gray/golden brown.

About: ~ Outgoing, Challenging, Confident, Independent, Creative, Loyal, Ambitious, Passionate, Adaptable, Proud, Experimental, Outspoken, Adventurous, Tough, Skeptical, Dominating, Protective, Athletic, Stubborn, Capable, Sarcastic, Playful and Competitive. ~ Professional rapper. ~ Sexuality: Straight. ~ Long dark brown - black curly hair. ~ Very confident, but parts of it is a wall she has build up to protect herself. ~ Acts tough, is tough, but also has a very soft center if you get close enough.  ~ Tomboy. ~ Born and raised in Jamaica, but moved to LA when she was 15. Then lived in LA til she was 22. ~ Great dancer. ~ Even better at graffiti ~ Sometimes speaks her mind a little too fast without thinking of the consequences. ~ Can’t cook. ~ Has been cheated on a lot in the past. It seemed to just come with living in LA. The men she dated always seemed fast to move onto the next best thing, if any minor issue/inconvenience occurred. ~ Has trust issues. ~ Pretty close to her family, specially her cousin Ebony, whom she lives with. ~ Addicted to Mango Chutney. ~ Has gold frame grills, as she got together with Ebony while they lived in LA. It’s one of her good memories, so she hangs onto it still. ~ The music is always pretty loud in her room. ~ Is pretty energetic when she does something with her rapping. ~ Very athletic, spends a lot of time at the gym, and does Kickboxing. ~ Very protective of the people she cares about. ~ Speaks with a mix of LA and Jamaican accent. ~ Smells like:  Dior - Hypnotic Poison. ~ Partied a lot in LA and things got really out of hands towards the end, so now she tries to live more laid back. ~ Enjoys meeting new people. ~ Would dip every food in melted chocolate, if it was considered a good diet. ~ Cares a lot about what she eats, but doesn’t get obsessed with it. ~ Considers herself permanent single, but if the right man comes around, she would definitely consider the option. ~ Will kick anyone’s ass, if they speak bad about her family! ~ Dreams of owning her own record label one day. ~ Likes trying new things in life, and rarely says no. ~ Is a good listener and always ready with a shoulder to cry on. ~ Hates slow drivers. ~ Obsessed with coconut, -hence her nickname Coco. ~ Will absolutely deny that she once ate a bug as a part of a bet when she was a kid. ~ She won the bet though and got herself a brand new bike! ~ Likes to loosen up after an intense workout with a joint and Mario Kart. ~ Is a very loyal friend. ~ Her closest friends often call her crazy. ~ 10/10 will tell you if you’re being an idiot. ~ Loves her family and friends, rap/hiphop, dancing, Almond Milk, anything athletic she can get herself involved in, coconut anything, Mango Chutney, Lobster, melted chocolate, foot massages, thunder, going to concerts, chili, olive oil, fresh Basil and Thyme, Bay leaf, garlic, sleeping late on Sundays, traveling, snow, horror movies and baggy pants. ~ Her style is hiphop borderline 90′s/early 00′s. ~ Skates in her past time.

Monique’s tag Monique’s house/home Monique’s moodboard Handwriting/ask answer pic:

One song to describe her: Kamaiyah - Go Crazy Personal Playlist: 1. Sasha Go Hard ft. Londynn B- No Hoe (Dir. by @PassportTrace) 2. Rico Nasty - STFU 3. Slowthai, Skepta - CANCELLED 4. OG Niki - Spit Your Game #2 5. Chynna - attention 6. Blackstreet - No Diggity (Official Music Video) ft. Dr. Dre, Queen Pen 7. Missy Elliott - Cool Off 8. Busta Rhymes ‎- Woo-Hah!! Got You All In Check 9. Snoop Dogg Feat. Nate Dogg & Xzibit - Bitch Please 10. Shaybo - Dobale 11. Mulatto - No Hook 12. The Game - Stainless [Official Video] ft. Anderson.Paak 13. Jucee Froot - Sidewalk 14. Connie Diiamond X Nyemiah Supreme ProdBy TylianMtB - Breach 15. E-40 "I STAND ON THAT" FT. JOYNER LUCAS & T.I.

[aprilsrant]

Praised be writer’s block | Young!Remus Lupin x Slytherin!Fem!Reader.

SUMMARY: in the midst of an upcoming war and worries about the future, (Y/N) bonds with an unexpected person, golden boy from gryffindor house himself.

WORD COUNT: 3,000, more or less…

A/N: this is my first time doing this, so if you have any suggestions please let me know! also, if you can, reblog so it can reach more people, it’ll help me a lot.

All of this wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for @peeves-a-legend​, which btw is an amazing writer. I can’t thank you enough!

Masterlist.

The gif below is not mine, credits to the original maker. And yes, I see robert sean leonard as a young!remus, but you can imagine whoever you want.

In one of the few sunny and warm mornings left of the season, (Y/N)’s mother had dragged her to Diagon Alley to buy her school’s supplies. The term for her sixth year was about ten days away from starting and going there didn’t thrill her anymore. She had retarded the visit as long as her mother’s patience lasted (which wasn’t a lot considering the woman had belonged to Hufflepuff), and no one had been succesfull on finding the reason, althought her mum suspected it. 

(Y/N) hadn’t felt the rush of excitement run through her body in a long time when she thought about going back to Hogwarts, and buying supplies meant she was only a step closer. Her first two years were more than she could ever ask for, but everything came crashing down on her at the young age of thirteen. 

(Y/N) had started to notice the repulsive look on people’s faces whenever she tried to help them, all looking down at her green robes as if she had grown a third arm or a second head overnight. She realised, with now a heavy weight on her heart and a new insecurity over her mind, that not all Hufflepuffs were kind and inviting. Maybe, she supposed, they were too proud to accept help from anyone else. 

Or perhaps, (Y/N) was too naive to think she could defy centuries of old stereotypes and unhealthy competitions while wearing a green and silver tie.

But the rude comments and weird stares had not affected her in such a long time. She didn’t show them how angry she got about those and how much she wanted to scream at those Gryffindors to get over themselves, because if she did, she was proving their point. All snakes, young or old, end up being violent creatures. Instead, a new feeling of uneasiness had settled in her mind, washing away her minor problems.

Peace no longer reigned over the Wizarding World. Rumors of a war were spreading like wildfire. Voldemort’s ranks got bigger and bigger with the passing time, and more muggle families and muggleborns were being wiped out, like they meant nothing. In those dark times, not having magic or being from a family with the wrong kind of ancestors, could determine your doom. 

In her case, she wasn’t at the top of the Dark Eater’s food chain as a halfblood, but that didn’t ease her nerves. She was more worried about her father, a muggleborn, her grandparents and several other friends. Many of their families wanted to go into hiding and she knew that this year and the others to come, Hogwarts wouldn’t be so magical.

Once they passed through the brick wall at the Leaky Cauldron,  their first stop was the Apothecary, which (Y/N) had refused to enter because of the disgusting smell of bad eggs and something more repulsive she didn’t identify. Instead, she decided to visit Quality Quidditch Supplies. It’s not like she played the sport, Merlin knows how awful she was at throwing or hitting things, and playing as Seeker was not an option. But she always attended the matches, channelling every single piece of energy her body had onto cheering for Slytherin’s team. 

(Y/N) made her way to one of the corners of the shop, wanting to see the newest Quidditch gloves her best friend had talked about so much in her letters. Maybe she could get her a new pair for her birthday, so she could start the season with brand new gloves. But looking at the price, she realized a cheappier gift would have to do. Her family wasn’t the richest and she knew her parents were struggling with money lately.

“Expensive, aren’t they?,” asked a voice from behind her. She turned around, one of the gloves still on her right hand, and noticed that the voice belonged to no other than Remus Lupin. She was lying to herself if she said he wasn’t good looking. Those dark brown eyes and soft hair had gotten to her when they were in their fourth year. (Y/N) had spent weeks, maybe even months, crushing on him and, of course, annoying her friends to no end about how perfect he was and how he was one of the few decent members of the lion house. But she never tried anything, she had a long list of excuses that, maybe, exceeded the many numerous reasons why she liked the Gryffindor so much.

“Definitely,” (Y/N) finally answered with a grimace in her face, “I thought I could get a pair for my best friend’s birthday since she’s a Chaser, but I’m not so sure now”.

Remus offered her a small smile and muttered something about how her best friend would appreciate anything she would give her. After that, neither of them said anything and only the noise of other people’s chattering could be heard. She looked around the store, trying to think about something that would lead to more talk, while Remus put his hands in his jeans’s pockets and changed the weight of his body to his left leg. 

A few more seconds passed and (Y/N), not tolerating the awkward atmosphere anymore, was the one to initiate the conversation this time.

“So, um, Remus, are you, um, planning on joining the Gryffindor Quidditch team? Since, you know, you are… here”. 

Merlin, her sister was right, she did need to start socialising more.

“Oh no, not a chance,” he answered letting a snicker escape his lips. (Y/N)’s mouth turned into a little smile because of the sound, not noticing at first. “I’m just here because of James and Sirius, they wanted to see some new brooms that came out this…”.

Remus words were interrupted by the same people he’d just mentioned. James Potter and Sirius Black, the most known students at Hogwarts, were walking towards them. (Y/N) tried to put on a neutral face, not showing her true thoughts on the two boys.

It wasn’t that she hated them. At some point, she had found her pranks on those horrible Slytherins funny, but after last year her opinion on them changed drastically. It appeared to be that they couldn’t distinguish who were the “good” Slytherins therefore they’d just played cruel jokes on every single member of the house. Or maybe, they didn’t think Slytherins could be nice and decent people, so all of them deserved to be made fun of.

“REMUS!,” they both shouted at the same time. Almost everyone in the shop turned to see them, and as (Y/N) moved uncomfortable with a scowled look because of the new, and unwanted attention, she wondered why they had to be so bloody loud all the time. “We were looking for you, but it seems you have found some company”.

Remus’s cheeks changed to a soft crimson after Sirius’s comment.

“Careful now, Rem, snakes tend to bite and some of them are poisonous.” James’s eyes shined with mischief as he spoke.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes at that, but instead of keeping quiet as she normally would, she responded to Potter’s remark, surprising the others and herself in the process.

“Excellent observation, James. Now, how much time did it take you to come up with that and for how long you’ve been wanting to use it? Perhaps, it was after that particular Quidditch match where Slytherin shredded you into pieces ”. 

His face no longer showed a fun expression, but, in it’s place, was a face with narrowed eyes trying to hide the fact he had been caught. (Y/N) smiled at that, she was not this kind of person but it was good to see Potter embarrassed after he had humiliated her in front of half the school just a few months ago. She knew Sirius wanted to say something to save his friend, but as his mouth was starting to open to spill some sarcastic or stupid comment about her house, Remus stepped in.

“Sirius, don’t say anything, just leave her alone,” he began, giving the pair a pointed look with his eyebrows raised, “we were only talking, there’s no need to start acting as if she’s going to bite my head off”.

Dumb and Dumber, as one her Slytherin friends liked to called them, stared at Remus like he had transformed into a Hipogriff. (Y/N), as surprised as she was, glanced at him with a confused, yet somehow grateful, look on her face.  In return, he smiled at her and grabbed his friends from the shoulders, making them walk towards the door while mentioning something about having to meet up with Peter at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor. 

Before reaching the door, Remus turned around, let go of Sirius for a moment and waved at her with a grin, one that made her cheeks blushed and her stomach flipped.

|||

It had been months since the interaction between her and Remus, plus James and Sirius. A small smile and a certain glow in her eyes stayed present on her face for the rest of the trip to Diagon Alley with her mother, who had not missed the sudden shift in her daughter’s appearance.

She hadn’t talked much with him again (only a few more times because of their prefect meetings), but the little interactions between them remained. Like the gentle and kind smiles they would send to each other while walking in the school grounds and greetings from afar with a short wave of the hand.

Winter break was just around the corner when they met again. Both wrapped around heavy coats, gloves and scarfs protecting them from the cold wind and the freezing fog. (Y/N) would have been pissed about her feet getting wet from the snow if it wasn’t for the outstanding landscape it created. A pure scenery, grounds and trees and roofs of the castle covered in white, in such terrible and corrupted times. 

“Lovely, huh?,” he mouthed. 

What is it with this boy and sneaking up on people?

(Y/N) nodded, still unable to tear her eyes from the view. When she finally did, she became aware of how close they were, elbows almost touching. Releasing a shaky breath, that quickly changed into what it looked like fog, (Y/N) peered at him. The end of his nose was red, matching his cheeks, while his lips were pale and dry from the weather. It was an adorable sight, perhaps even more worthy of her attention than the snowflakes falling from the sky.

“What makes you go to Hogsmeade on this particular frosty afternoon, (Y/N)?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Remus,” she exclaimed, the corners of her mouth quirking up as she mentioned his name, “but, if you really like to know, I’m heading there because I forgot about some Christmas’s presents. What about you?”

Without perceiving it, they had both started to walk towards the small town, making their way through the layers of snow. 

“I just, um, wanted to visit Hogsmeade one last time before, you know, going home.” For a moment, (Y/N) had the idea of hearing some kind of hesitation while he spoke, as if he wasn’t entirely sure of what he was saying. 

This time, (Y/N) would not let the conversation turn awkward so rapidly, after all this was her chance of having an actual opportunity with Remus. So she swallowed the majority of her nerves, which were quite a lot, and planted a smile on her face. But before the words could come out of her mouth, Remus himself had beat her.

“Would you like to come to the Three Broomsticks with me?,” he questioned. 

It took her a few seconds to understand what he had asked because of how rushed he’d spoken. Her eyes widened at the notion of going on a date with him. Was it even a date? A small voice wondered inside her head. Ignoring it, she replied with a short yes. His entire demeanour immediately transformed. Remus’s eyes didn’t hold too much worry now and a large smile decorated his face. 

The trip to the popular pub was shorter than it normally was, but (Y/N) guessed that had been for how much she and Remus talked while walking to the town. When they arrived, the warm and cozy ambient, although a bit smoky and crowded, received them like a bright lamp post in the middle of nowhere pointing out the pathway. Even if (Y/N) loved winter and snow, a hot butterbeer didn’t seem too bad after being exposed to the cold wind.

Sitting down at one of the tables from the right corner of the shop, right next to a large window and giving the back to one of the walls, she could see the entire place. But her eyes were now glued to the Gryffindor seated in front of her, who was trying not to look like he was going to pass out from the nerves of having a date (was it a date?) with the most gorgeous girl in Hogwarts, maybe even the whole world.

They passed the rest of the afternoon getting to know each other, chatting regarding the things they loved and hated from Hogwarts; complaining about professors and the amount of homework they sent; laughing because of some ridiculous story told by Remus (he swore his breath got caught in his lungs as he watched her throwing her head back while letting out a loud laugh, eyes shining with happiness and not caring, for the first time, about the looks from the people in the place). They discussed their favourite muggle authors, the most amazing films that had ever been made and their dreams after finishing their education. 

(Y/N) had felt herself falling all over again for him while watching him talk about how much he’d loved being a professor and being there for his students. The passion and shine in his eyes rivaled even the brightest star in the night sky. 

And Remus had seen the same expression in her face when she talked about becoming a known writer in both the muggle and wizarding world. Despite her excitement, he recognised something else in her eyes, perhaps uncertainty or even sadness. When he asked about it, (Y/N) confided in him the fact she was scared about trying it.

“What if it’s a waste of time? What I’m supposed to write about?”

“It won’t be a waste of your time if it makes you happy,” he reassured her, “and the ideas will come to you, don’t worry. You can even write about us.” (Y/N)’s eyes quickly made their way into his after hearing that. “I mean, about this part of our world”. She couldn’t help but feel quite disappointed. 

“Wouldn’t I be violating the Statute of Secrecy?”

Remus raised his shoulders a little as he pressed his lips together, clearly trying to stop a smile from forming in his face. 

“It’s not like the Ministry is going to find out,” he whispered, so only (Y/N) could be able to listen to him, “ who’s going to tell them about it? Me?”

A scoff left her mouth and she rolled her eyes playfully at him. Was this really happening? Remus Lupin, the boy she had a crush on in her fourth year, sitting in front of her, encouraging her to follow her dreams.

“Is the Golden Boy and Prefect of Gryffindor House actually saying that I should just break an International Law?” she joked while shaking her head in disbelief, “McGonagall would be so heart broken”.

Now it was his time to roll his eyes. Directing a smirk at her, he leaned back in his chair, more relaxed and with a new light glowing around him.

“Look, I would love to write about this world. But ambition is not the only trait that got me in Slytherin,” (Y/N) declared. She beamed when he furrowed his brows together in confusion, getting closer to the table and placing his elbows on top of it. “Violating that Law is having a death wish and self preservation is one of my top priorities”.

“I can’t help but agree to that”.

The hours kept running and people began to leave the pub, but not them. They had stayed until the owner told the teenagers he was closing. Not (Y/N) nor Remus had noticed where the time had gone. Quickly, they collected all of their belongings and left the establishment in a hurry. (Y/N) didn’t want to think about the punishment they’d received if they were caught.

Fortunately, they made it to the castle in one piece. Once they were a few meters away from the entrance, they started to laugh. None of them knew why, it just seemed like a good time to do it.

“What happened to you and your advice of breaking the rules?” (Y/N) said in the middle of a laugh.

“I hope this doesn’t become a tradition, Mr. Lupin, Ms. (Y/L/N),” a stern female voice said in front of them. Professor McGonagall was standing gracefully in front of the door, her arms crossed over her chest and a furious expression implanted in her face.

Remus and (Y/N) looked at each other, the same thought running through their minds. They were so screwed.

|||

December 25th.

Dear (Y/N):

I’m sending this letter to wish you a Merry Christmas and a great New Year, even though it’s not the 31st yet, but well… that doesn’t really matter right now.

I remembered you talking about how much you wanted to read more classics, and I couldn’t help myself. Inside the box, you will find Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley, and Wuthering Heights, by some other lovely woman named Emily Brontë. I’m not so sure about why you would enjoy them as much as I did, but maybe they’ll inspire you on your journey of becoming a writer. It won’t hurt visiting new worlds to fill your mind with ideas.

Also, and I hope this doesn’t bother you, the books are not brand new. They were read by me and have some marks on the pages, but I don’t like giving new books as gifts. I think that if they were used, they are even more special and hold more value.

Can’t wait to see you once the break is over.

Sincerely, Remus John Lupin.

|||

The grin on her face never abandoned her after reading Remus’s letter and opening the silver paper with golden stars all over it, in which he had wrapped the two books he had mentioned. In fact, it lingered on her for the rest of the day, accompanied with a special and renovated brightness in her eyes.  

Before letting the owl return back to its owner, (Y/N) gave her some food and water, and when it was ready, she attached a small box with red paper on the exterior and a green bow at the top. She had also prepared a gift for him, even if it wasn’t that meaningful (at least, that was what she thought). (Y/N) only hoped he would enjoy the chocolate stash, full with different muggle and wizarding ones she had thought he could try, while the owl stepped away from her windowsill.

Around eight p.m, she finally went to bed and despite spending the day interacting with her family, (thing that tired her out pretty quickly), (Y/N) was more awake than ever before. Laying down on her bed with a cup of tea and an old blanket that had once belonged to her sister, covering her legs, she grabbed one of the books Remus gifted her, ready to dwell in Mary Shelley’s world. 

[thewildwaffle]

Unknown Powers

Entry Log Post Crash: Day 1

In all honesty, I am surprised by the number of our unit that survived the crash. Thank the stars, though. It could have been worse, it could have been so much worse. When the ship’s engines took damage yesterday and we started falling from the planet’s orbit, I thought we were all goners.

I suppose our survival is largely thanks to Human Fatima who risked her life and grabbed everyone and yanked as many as she could reach into the nearest closet. Between her and Human James and Biet Kuhir bracing the walls, we made it out with relatively minor injuries. I mean, we were all hurting, our medic is busy as frewan, but we're all alive.

The humans showed us how to construct some "lean-tos" out of parts of the ship to sleep in tonight. It's not much, but it's better than nothing. Apparently survival training in the wilderness is part of human upbringing? Or part of their required disciplines? I’m not sure. Before, I would have said that such requirements would have been a bit excessive, but now? I and every other survivor are very thankful for their preparedness.

Hopefully tomorrow we can figure out the rest of what we need: clean water, safe food sources, etc. I'm just glad we have scanners. They could very well be lifesavers for those tasks.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 3

I said earlier that no one in our unit had sustained too serious of injuries. That's not to say anyone's in great condition, but we're hobbling around as best we can. The humans seem to be recovering remarkably fast. I know, I know, that may sound like their typical MO, but even medic Kippari Sefra seemed a bit taken back by their recovery and improved mobility. All's for the best, I suppose, the rest of the unit seems to barely be in commission. The humans have managed to forage and gather food and have been carrying water from a spring they found not too far from our site. They even gathered wood and started two fires in our camp yesterday. They left Kuhir and I and a few others to tend to them on shifts as they continue to gather supplies or construct better shelters. I don't know where they've found this newfound energy of theirs, but may the stars bless them.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 8

Humans are weird, but I don’t think even they are supposed to be this weird.

Our camp has transformed into a nearly proper little village with all the work the humans have put into it. And it’s just the two of them! They are tireless, I swear! But not in the way they usually are, no. Everyone knows humans have ridiculous levels of endurance. This goes way beyond that. They move as if their blood’s been replaced with trimethylxanthine, or as they fondly call it, caffeine. Our scanners have not found any trace of the poison in the air or in any of the plants we’ve been consuming, so it’s not caffeine. Even if it was, their levels of energy still go beyond that. I’ve seen a human on caffeine plenty of times, they took out a third of an enemy boarding party on their own with nothing but a bent pipe. They’re crazy energetic, but then they always crash and need extra sleep.

Humans Fatima and James just keep going though, at even higher and higher levels of energy. Medic Kippari has been monitoring them, but they seem fine. They keep telling us to stop worrying and that they’ve never felt better.

But that’s not even the weirdest part.

Since the camp has been coming along so well, and since I’ve been able to get some rest and healing, I volunteered to go out with Human Fatima to help gather food. There are a lot of trees nearby and many have fruits that our scanners have confirmed are safe for everyone to eat. We were gathering up as many foods as we could in the baskets we had woven from some sturdy grasses when Fatima spied some fruits. They were ones we had found early on to be safe and they were so good we had eaten as many as we could until they started becoming scarce in our immediate area. These were the first ones we had found in a few days. The problem was, they were at the top of a very tall tree. Humans, turriets, and even a few of the larger skeeps are pretty decent at climbing trees, but this tree had no good holds or branches low enough to reach.

Did that stop Human Fatima? IT SHOULD HAVE?!?!?!

She put down her basket, braced herself and jumped. And I mean jumped. Like, five times her own height!

Now, I can’t say that I’m a human expert by any means, but even I know that’s not normal! What in the shining light is going on around here?!!?!

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 9

Okay, still pretty freaked out from yesterday. No one knows how Fatima can jump like that, the gravity on this planet is normal. I suppose that’s a bit lighter than gravity on their home planet, but not by much. Certainly not enough for a 50 crute jump straight up! After we got back to the camp and informed everyone, especially Medic Kippari, who is getting more and more overwhelmed with trying to figure out all the strange behaviors and changes of our humans. As soon as Human James found out what Fatima did, he tried doing the same. The humans have gotten stuck in the tops of trees three times today alone.

The most confounding thing is that no one else in our unit seems to be experiencing the same changes. 

No one’s sure how to feel about this. Whatever’s going on with the humans, they still seem to be in a stable condition. Granted, it’s a weird and unprecedented condition as far as anyone here’s concerned, but it’s stable. Even if it wasn’t, it’s not like we can really do anything about it in our situation. 

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 13

We were attacked today. Wild creatures native to this planet were passing through and must not have liked that we were in their territory. They showed no signs of advanced intelligence or sentience, just feral hunger and viciousness. We could hear them braying long before we saw them. I’ll be honest, I was very tempted to hide myself in the rough shelters with the wounded - the beasts were terrifying! - but I knew I could never live with myself after such cowardice. I grabbed what weapons I could and waited. When the pack of them came into our little clearing, I started praying my last rites. I was sure this would be it.

The creatures were huge, hairy, and had wicked tusks and sharp claws on the end of each of their six legs. What really got me were the pale eyes though. Looking into them, I thought my soul would liquify into my toes. We stood there for what seemed like an eternity, just hoping beyond a hope that they would leave us be. They didn’t though, the breeze shifted towards them and they started approaching and snarling with what I’m sure must have been hunger.

Before they could get too far, Fatima and James jumped at them, yelling and screaming. This startled everyone, but the monsters seemed to recover quicker and weren’t happy. I know a lot of crews like having humans around because of their reckless bravery and fierce protective instincts for those they bond with, but in that moment, I cursed them. I thought for sure they would be ripped to shreds in front of our eyes.

Instead, as the beasts leapt, the humans would grab them right out of the air and toss them across the clearing like they were a pack of gooji fruits. Their numbers swarmed the humans, but beyond any scrap of logic or understanding, the humans kept fighting, punching, scratching, throwing, etc.

I’m not sure how long it all went on, I was too numb from shock to correctly account for time, but eventually the pack of creatures retreated, squealing in fear of the strange monsters that kept them from what should have been an easy meal.

We checked them over and couldn’t believe what we saw. They weren’t hurt at all. Those beasts had been all over them, cutting, slashing and biting, but the humans’ skin looked like they’d hardly been touched.

I don’t… I don’t know what’s going on. I… something is wrong, or… hhhhhhrrrrr… this is weird. This is weird and I feel sick with worry. What is going on with our humans?!?!

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 16

Okay. I’m going to be honest with you, entry log and whoever finds this. Things just keep getting weirder and weirder, and I fear I’m just starting to get to a point where I can no longer be shocked. That may just be a defense mechanism, after all, if I continued to freak out over everything that’s been going on with Humans Fatima and James, I think I would mentally break down.

I just… I guess this is just happening. … Anyway.

Developments with the humans since we crashed on the planet’s surface include: rapid healing, increased strength and endurance, nearly impenetrable skin (as far as we dare test), extremely high jumping, night vision, increased speed and agility, super-keen hearing, and apparently the radiation of the sun doesn’t bother their skin in the slightest (this is apparently a problem on their home planet), in fact being in the sun all day, hard at work I might add) they seem to end up all the more radiant and full of energy. *sigh* Well, at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if they started flying or whatever next.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 20

The humans can now fly. Well, not properly fly, fly. More like when they reach the zenith of their jumps, they can hover a bit and control their descent. Do you want to know what my reaction was when I saw that for the first time? I just said, “Sure. This might as well happen.” Because that’s basically where I’m at now. No one knows what the frewan is going on. Hopefully the Glip Unit will have some insight.

Oh yea, I forgot to mention, we got a transmitter to work from the ship’s wreckage. Um, yeah, that probably should have been, like, the first thing I said, but honestly humans are flying now so…

Anyway, we made contact with the Glip Unit, apparently they were able to survive as well. They suffered a few casualties and had more injured than our unit, but considering their unit is larger, the probability of that being the case was high. The section of the ship they were in must have broke off from ours when we fell. They’ve got some humans in their unit, so maybe they have some insight for us. They’re bringing their tech too, so hopefully we can build a transmitter strong enough to send an SOS off-world.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 25

The Glip Unit arrived today. They have four humans in their group. That’s how they were able to pack over what must have basically been half the wreckage from their part of the ship. As well as their injured, supplies, and important resources from near their crash site. Everyone carried as much as they could, but they, or I mean the humans, carried the vast bulk. They crashed over 40 PS units away from us. So obviously their humans are experiencing the same changes ours are. 

The ship’s chief science officer was with them though, and they did have a few interesting theories as to what caused these impossible changes. The most widely believed ones have to do with radiation. We’re not sure from what though, or why it’s not affecting anyone else. Human James brought it up that it was from the sun’s radiation. This planet is orbiting a blue giant. I think he was jesting because he also went on to explain about some “super man” who was from a planet with a red giant of a star who came to Earth and the yellow star’s radiation gave him incredible (and I mean that literally that they surely cannot be credible) super powers like super strength, x-ray and heat vision, super speed, and flight. Okay, that last one really made me stop and consider for a second. Well, those last two points actually.

But… no. That story is preposterous and obviously fictional. I’m pretty sure I even heard something about a “comic book.” From what I understand of human culture, I believe that means it’s just a fictional story made for entertainment or propaganda. Even the other humans, although more willing to entertain the idea, surely have taken it as a joke the way they are laughing and going on about it.

There must be some other reason. A logical explanation.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 38

I realize it’s been a while since my last entry. I had to share my “bunk” as it were with some of the newcomers from the other unit and somehow misplaced my comm device in the shuffle. I’ve spent the better part of two days looking for this flargin’ thing. Turns out I had left it by the meal preparation fire spot. How did I find it? I didn’t. Human Rafael of the Glip Unit did. How? Apparently, when he found out I had lost it, he tracked it down through scent.

I’ve read the human handbook. I know that humans don’t have the greatest sense of smell, especially not in comparison to my own. And yet, I couldn’t track down my own comm device, but a human could. I’ve added this to the very long and still-growing list of new and improved abilities the humans have exhibited since arriving.

Well, um, also there’s been a bit of activity in the past twelve days while my comm was missing. Like I said, the Glip Unit moved in. Everything has been very smooth with combining forces and resources. We managed to set up a transmitter that’s been sending out a signal and how to find us this last week. We haven’t had any feedback from it yet, but it’s only been a few days.

We had a few more native creatures visit our camp. None as scary as the first beasts that attacked us, though there was a flock of small flying reptiles that took to dive bombing and biting at us. Once they were scared off, we later found that Humans James, Mae, and Boris had caught a few and were attempting to keep them as pets. We had them release their “tiny dragons” as they called them.

They weren’t happy, but listened and followed. Honestly at this point, I’m just glad the humans are still respecting the established line of authority. This is a wild planet, after all. We’re surrounded by nature’s laws of the strongest doing as they please, and honestly, the humans are without a doubt the strongest here. I don’t think they’ll do anything, stars forbid if they decided to mutiny. I do believe in our bonds though. I have faith in their loyalty and our friendships. Humans, even before all the weirdness this planet has added to them, have always been renowned for their legendary familial ties and pack bonding. I don’t think these new powers can strip them of that.

And honestly, I hope that my faith is accurately placed, because if not, we are in trouble.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 44

I hope that our signal will be found, but no one knows how long that will take for it to heard and then send a response and for them to arrive to save us. It could be tomorrow, it could be… well it could be a long time from tomorrow.

The humans are concerned about food supplies. At first, many of us were confused at why. There’s plenty of fruit in the trees, roots in the ground, and non-poisonous wildlife to hunt. It was pointed out by some in my unit that such supplies could change. Their home planets, as well as the human’s planet experience what are known as seasons. It could be warm and plentiful for a space of time now, but it could rotate through times of cold barrenness that we are not currently prepared for.

We don’t know enough about the orbital path and tilt of this planet to know if such seasons could affect us.

Even though we’re not sure, the humans have been arguing that we should prepare for “winter.” They want to do this by reinforcing our huts for possible cold weather, gathering extra wood and storing it for fires, gathering soft plant fibers or tanning hides from some of the beasts that the humans and biets have killed for food, saying that they could make extra clothes with them to keep warm. For the most part, these actions seem pretty harmless, they are using the resources or byproducts of resources we’re already using. On some, the preparations are a bit time-consuming, but honestly, if it’s keeping the humans busy and occupied in their “spare time,” all the better.

The only real qualms some have with their preparations are the human’s requests to start planting seeds from the fruits and plants we’ve gathered for food. That would make sense in the long-run, but I had to voice my concerns with everyone - I know enough about human cultures to know that if they begin cultivating crops, the rest of humanity might view this planet as a human colony. It wouldn’t matter if the humans had only planted the crops for survival. Or if those humans were crew members of a Galactic Confederation crew. Similar things have happened with planets in the past, and the political disputes are still going on. I just… I don’t want to go there. The humans have argued that if they don’t do something to stock up for winter, we won’t even be around for such future disputes. I argued that we don’t even know if this planet will have a winter.

Acting Lieutenant Greetch decided that we would not allow crops to be planted. The humans weren’t happy, and honestly, I’m a little nervous. Not just because the humans are upset with the decision, but also because, what if they’re right? What if winter comes and we starve?

By the stars, I hope we’re found soon.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 50

We received a response to our SOS signal! It’s from a Galactic Confederation ship. They’re coming for us! We’re getting out of here!

Everyone’s thrilled. We’re preparing a party of sorts - lots of food and games. Might as well use up the resources we’ve gathered, we’ve got plenty and will be gone soon anyway. We’ll even have left-overs to bring aboard the ship when it arrives, barring no one aboard has any allergies to our local fruits.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 61

We saw the ship hovering in the sky this morning, high up in the atmosphere. By midday, several shuttles had been launched down to ferry us and our supplies aboard.

The Captain of the ship, Captain Benga, and a few officers and medics came down to survey our condition. They were impressed by our camp and even more so with the means of how it was put together. They’re just as baffled with the humans’ current condition as we are, though their medic did agree that some form of radiation did seem a possible cause. Captain Benga has asked that I turn in my entry logs once we get settled on the ESS Chickar. 

I thought the humans would be happy to leave. However, I noticed they were the last ones to board the shuttles. They wandered forlornly through the huts that we were leaving behind, claiming that they were going to give the place “one last check to make sure nothing important is left behind.” Human Fatima had to be ordered to her seat after the second “all aboard” call was given.

I have a sneaking suspicion, or rather, maybe more of a foreboding feeling, that humanity is not done with the planet that they now insist on naming Krypton.

***

End Entry Log.  Recording uploaded Galactic Stardate 208.147.4.2601 Data stored and copied aboard ESS Chickar.

Additional Notes:

Chief Medical Officer Squifra Gharti under Captain Liutan Benga. Concerning the humans found and rescued from the planet Tarsi 6 (Krypton) among Units Glip and Sen of the former ESS Luxena.

The six humans in question were found possessing awe-inspiring capabilities. From the included Entry Log, as well as from our own testing, we have listed their abilities to include prolonged stamina, vastly increased strength, agility, hearing, vision, smell, and speed. Healing speeds have been recorded up to 62 times more rapid than usual with certain injuries, though more serious wounds are unknown and will remain untested for obvious ethical reasons. Muscular structure appears to have remained largely unchanged from control group (humans assigned to ESS Chickar, as well as human anatomical information sources) and yet and capable of feats such as jumps over 67 standard miets, and are able to hover at the peak of their jump for up to a recorded two moortiks. Since the rescue, the limits of their new-found capabilities seem to be waning, albeit slowly. Time and additional study will be needed to know if the effects from the still-unknown source any of these changes on the planet will be permanent, or cause any additional side-effects in the future. Recommendation will include additional study as soon as we arrive at an appropriate facility. In the meantime, we are keeping the humans quarantined from our own crew’s humans in case any residual radiation affects them.

Many of the Luxena humans have shared insights that their changes were pleasant and wish to return to the planet. I would recommend keeping the information of all this within the Galactic Confederation confidentials for now. We do not need rogue humans or Earth agencies traveling to Krypton and then wreaking havoc on the rest of the galaxy.

[ask-impure-vessel]

I don't know if this will reach you at the right moment in time Vessel but, peace friend, The Wyrm has already shown he cares for you greatly and you have done him no disservice or wrong. This may simply a matter too important to discuss elsewhere and His Majesty may be too caught up in his own troubles to understand the affect he has on you.

[Note: Frank discussion of anatomy, anxiety/panic attacks, unreality, post-traumatic stress, past abuse, suicide, disordered eating, self-harm, stuff about the Abyss with all that entails and other such unpleasantries. Strap in, folks!]

The vessel felt like their body was somewhere a few steps to the right and back of them. Their father said nothing as he led them down to the workshop.

You don’t understand. You don’t-

There’s a distant panic in Vessel’s voice. They still keep walking, they must. The order was given. Despite what happened in the Abyss, control still belongs to the Pale King.

It was as if nothing had changed at all.

For the first time, they begin to resent that. The workshop is the last place they want to be, for multiple reasons besides the temple that was to become their agonizing grave. This is not a place that holds any good memories for them, not a single one. 

They arrive in that darkened place, the birthplace of moulds, all thousand of them-700 kingsmoulds, 300 wingsmoulds-where Wyrm's research led to the vessels that rested in the infirmary and that walked into the room. The king shrugged off his silken robe, leaving on a shirt that still covered what was considered a decent amount in Hallownest, showing off the truth of his form; it had been a while and Vessel Hallow was shocked by the changes to his father's form.

He was a being of pure white carapace, plates with softer flesh between, especially around the joints; his skin was sunken, his belly not just thin but almost concave instead of convex. He looked a bit muscular, but mostly because he appeared to be starving. He was dull in color, the white often not as bright as it could be, looking almost dirty with a lack of nutrients to look glossy and nice. 

Wyrm could subsist on soul like a vessel, but that didn't mean it was pleasant for him to do so. He was much like other bugs in physicality, fueled by food, water and having to use the toilet to flush out what his body didn't use of those things. His genitals were internal, just like any bug, his shirt covered where that was hidden. 

His secondary set of arms were more visible now, as was the lower half he usually ambled upon: multiple legs and a long tail that terminated in a pointed end. His tail was thin, almost collapsed with the lack of care.

What was more alarming were the splotches of black. His hands were absolutely covered in it, just beyond the wrists but the lines that raced upwards were far more concerning. Void taint was a part of Hallow's body but for a pale being, such a sight promised long, lingering agony. The absolute rigid calm their father practiced suddenly became a lot more impressive.

It left Hallow in minor shock.

Father, are you dying? Have you already assured your death? Was it on purpose that you inflicted starvation and void poisoning upon yourself? I can think of few less painful, lingering deaths.

"Come. Please kneel so that I can more easily examine you and the changes to you." He activated the door seals and waited in a clear space.

<Father, I-> The vessel walked and knelt, words cutting off with anxiety.

Wyrm activated and checked on the seal on Hallow's mask. "Interesting, joining with the Lord of Shades didn't disengage this? I hadn't expected that. It must have been greatly weakened over the course of my rule and being forgotten. I had thought them already dead." He muttered and began to ghost fingers over the notches Hallow had. "Where did the Kingsoul go?"

That had been a question Hallow had been dreading.

A hand touched upon Hallow's chest. "There it is, if changed greatly at your breast. It became your core? Brace."

It was more warning than Hallow usually got; sharp pain radiated through their being, as something touched their heart.

<Father, it. It hurts.> The vessel gasped out. They were not words sufficient, but they were descriptive enough for their use.

"Please bear it a little longer. This is a very beautiful charm that has become your heart even if it is taboo to my being." 

The pain grew to shocking agony, then to a fading sensation, Hallow felt like their body was a distant, cut off thing.

<Father, please. Stop!> The vessel spoke in growing horror, fear and concern.

The Pale King was faced with a decision then-and let go of the charm. Sensation slowly returned and the vessel gasped on the floor, curling in on themself on the floor as mind and body reconnected. It was painful as the disruption the Pale King had inflicted and the vessel would have gagged if they could on the feelings of revulsion they now felt.

They instead wept on the floor, black tears falling onto the ground as they shivered and their mind turned to things they did there, the pale Wyrm unheeding to a child's pain in the terrible silence; the screams that echoed only through the void, the vessel capable only of displaying stiff trembling to their master. 

They recall the efforts to ensure they could learn magic. The painful process of 'installation' over being taught the theory that took place here. The studies that involved dying here and their shade. When the various seals were made on their shell and mask, the burning magic that had kept burning on their mask for days from them. They had done nothing but suffer in this room and this day had proven no different.

"Vessel, I. I'm sorry, that went too far." The king stroked their mask, making a soothing sound, a purr that Hallow hadn't heard before.

Hallow felt the dam burst and sat as they cried, for all the things they'd wanted and had never had. That Wyrm was holding them now, comforting them now, touching with loving intention rather than with cold intent of science or with violence. The feelings were somewhat positive, but many were bitter, some even bordered on hate and disgust that they didn't know what to do with. They had so many things to say, for themself, for the things that had been done to them and the things they'd missed out on. For the way their father had run away the moment their emotions had become known like a damnable coward. That had been a choice Hallow had been denied, they couldn't say no-yet this day, for the first time, they had asked for their father to stop.

And he had listened.

The Pale King let Hallow get out everything they'd needed to, to calm down and recover from… whatever it was that he'd been doing to them. <This one doesn't want to be experimented on again, or studied. This place, it brings back bad memories for it.> Hallow spoke, in a shaking mental voice. <It is painful for this vessel to be here.>

"Oh, Vessel. I had no idea it was that upsetting. Let's go to my study, then so you don't have to be here. You never have to come in here again." The King promised and led the shaking knight from that terrible place.

They settled down in a chair this time, the king likewise going seated. "I will apologize. That was too far, I needed to explain what I was doing and why-to ask for your permission. It's not easy to break old habits. I noticed you dropped first-person pronouns in your stress." He spoke frankly with sadness.

<This one supposes not. It felt like it was… dying.> Hallow shuddered. <Did you pull this vessel away to speak, or was it to satisfy that curiosity?> They asked tiredly.

"A bit of both, admittedly. To ask you how you're feeling, but that's… obvious, right now and is very much my doing." He sighed and leaned forward. "I'll have to be invasive one more time, I'm afraid but perhaps not this day, to let you recover. I need to set you free and I intend to."

<You'll… free this one from its bondage?> Hallow rephrased in mild disbelief. 

"Yes. As my final order in that bondage, for the rest of your life should something happen and I am unable to undo that binding-I order you to act of your own free will and feelings, as you see fit and judge is right. I relinquish control over your will and mind. There will need to be magic done to completely remove the binding, but it will no longer function."

<It will thank you, father once this one is wholly free.> Hallow spoke diplomatically. They couldn't exactly forgive him entirely yet if the harm was still there.

"I understand. You are a higher being now, truly. While you could read the language of the gods and make things function that are for gods, you didn't have a few aspects that would elevate you from a child of higher beings to purely one yourself. However, you do not have worshippers and as much distaste as I have for the god that was, that will need to change for your own health."

<That must be why the Lord of Shades said they were very, very starved. Speaking of, father. Why are you starved?> The vessel spoke pointedly. <This one believes they can ask some pointed questions and get answers in return. You owe it at least that much.>

"I. Eating is a currently disgusting endeavor to me. Certainly, I did like it once and ate but. Since the vessel project started, my. My enjoyment became nil." He replied honestly. "My shame steals the joy out of anything I do."

<You regret the choices you made?> 

"I do not regret having you for a child. I regret that I killed so many and the crimes committed against the siblings who didn't make it. I regret how I've treated you. I don't know if I could make it up to the survivors but I will at the least try for the time I have and make sure your siblings do not go through the struggles you did." The king chose his words carefully. "I believed I had no other recourse. No other choice that wouldn't see my people dead or entirely enslaved to the Old Light-but I do not think I deserve forgiveness for being a kinslayer, for my mistreatment of you. I have been something to you for sixteen years. Would have been that for two years more, so you could have your final moulting and complete your training. I would have nailed that armor to your carapace and left you to her tender mercies. In that, I was wrong. I intended to kill myself once I was sure my people were safe and could carry on in my absence."

<It knows. It realized that when it went down into the Abyss before becoming the Shade Lord.> The vessel spoke, voice thick with pain. <You're dying, aren't you father. That's why you don't mind sacrificing yourself to the Grimm Troupe either. You are dying and you want to die.>

"I've done too much to live or to allow myself the pleasures in living. The situation in Hallownest is my fault. Your pain is my fault. The many, many broken masks in the Abyss are my fault. I am a kinslayer, who committed infanticide of his own children. Even a god doesn't get forgiveness for those kinds of horrible actions. I deserve the suffering you children experienced. I deserve the deaths I visited upon the children I deemed not good enough. Yes. I am suffering void poisoning, it is an agony I bear constantly. My light holds it at bay enough that I can live five more years without drastic actions." He spoke bluntly.

<Did you poison yourself deliberately?>

"Exposure to void with proper protections isn't deadly. A bug can be scarred by void without dying, in fact the exposure can have beneficial effects such as on the ageless mask maker. Void poisoning in mild cases caught early enough is treatable. So I suppose yes. I did that to myself deliberately." He spoke numbly. "It's… actually a relief to admit that. I wasn't expecting that."

<It's not treatable now. You're dying. How long do you have left?> Hallow felt like the ground was opening beneath their feet.

"No, even I will succumb to a case this severe having gone on this long. Five to seven years, depending." Wyrm spoke clinically. "Your mother doesn't know, but she's not very curious and finds my company odious these days. I don't want her to know."

<You aren't the only one. Would you die as a member of the Grimm Troupe?> Hallow pondered.

"No, time is frozen in a sense for a member of the Troupe. As a sacrifice, my original body would likely be immolated, the presence of void cast out as anathema to it as well. It's not got a will of its own so expelling it for the Nightmare Heart would be doable. It's just not for me between having a corpus much closer to mortal form and my diminishment as a god." 

Hallow rubbed a hand over their chest. <Father, please free this vessel today. Now.> It was firm. <This vessel just wants to love you as themself. Not as your property, as your child. Whatever you have done, it does not know if it can forgive, but love. Love is something this vessel has always been able to give.>

The first time Hallow had ever demanded anything for themself and only themself.

Tears came from the king's eyes. "As you wish, Lord of Shades my child."

The bindings lit up as the king touched, claws digging into the mask with a strange sensation that felt like it should hurt but didn't. The light burned, the mark burned. But the claws were quick, chanting even and fast. Soul pooled around the king's hands. 

The chains broke and Hallow felt a weight come off, something they hadn't realized had been there for a very long time. The remnants would be there, like an invisible scar until they moulted, but then-then it would be gone.

It would take time for them to understand what they'd gained and lost at once. <Today I learned that this one's father is not brave. Please. Please live. Even if your crimes are too much for your heart to bear. Stop running away. Please. Face what you have done, face us who you have wronged. It's not too late.>

 "...I can try. I love you, my child." He touched foreheads with Hallow, a familial kiss. "For all you vessels, I will try. I don't know how anymore, but I can still learn."

Hallow is not an adult. They are, however, now free of their father's chains.

[consumedkings-archive]

i. too close to stars ✤ wesley brooks x elliot honeysett

words: 1.7k

prompt:  “why are you looking at me like that?” taken from this list!

rating: rated p for Pining, lmao

warnings: mentions of blood, like blood being all over ‘em, uh. lots of elliot pining. and then ruining things for herself : ) wes belongs to @risenlucifer thank u for letting me love on ur boy!!!!  (ಥ﹏ಥ)

There’s blood everywhere.

It should be troubling. It should be—the taste of it floods her mouth and she’s wrenching her shirt out in the river, soaking wet and cold down to her bones. Late Autumn light kisses her skin where the blood isn’t smeared, and Elliot’s fairly certain she’s gotten a most of it out of her hair after an unfortunate plunge into the river.

“Ugh,” she says, dropping her shirt on the ground and wiping the back of her hand across her cheek. “I’ve got it in my mouth.”

Beside her, Wes laughs—the kind of laugh that’s a little hysterical, like they didn’t just plunge someone’s poor jeep into the river after barely scraping out of one of the Cult’s outposts with their lives nearly untangled. Nearly undone. Nearly—

“You’re gonna make it worse,” he tells her, hoisting himself to his feet and closing the little bit of distance between them. “Stop scrubbing. Give me the shirt.”

“I just got the blood out of it.”

“Honeysett,” Wes chides, and she huffs, holding the wet shirt out to him. He takes it, flicking some of the water out of it before he starts using it to mop the dried blood off of her face, one hand holding her jaw while the other works diligently.

This close, she’s reminded—painfully—of how handsome he is. His brows furrow at the center of his forehead, and then smooth out; the corners of his mouth tick upward in a smile whenever their eyes happen to meet, while she stands obediently by and lets him fuss over her.

Too handsome, she thinks, almost bitterly, eyes flickering down to the cupid’s bow of his lips for a second. For a place like Hope County. What’s a guy like him doing here, anyway?

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

His voice jolts her out of her thoughts, and she feels the flush immediately crawling up her neck and into her cheeks. Wes arches a brow, lofty and casual, despite the way his words are a clear call-out of her gazing.

“I’m-I-I’m not,” Elliot manages out. Fuck fuck fuck fuck get it together Honeysett, fuck, come on.

Wes hums. “You’re not?”

“L—” She feels her lip pout a little. He’s teasing her, she realizes too late, drawing a nervous little laugh out of her. “I’m not looking, I’m just—I can’t move my head, you know, your hand and—”

“Uh-huh.”

“—and you’re making fun of me,” she finishes after a second, watching the way the corner of his mouth ticks upward, his eyes glittering playfully. “Aren’t you?”

There’s something a little rueful about his expression. He finishes mopping the blood off of one side of her neck, his hand steady on the juncture between her shoulder and neck, calloused fingers spreading warm against her skin. She’d long ago shucked her deputy’s shirt in favor of something that didn’t restrict her with buttons, but now there’s more skin than usual available to be touched and she feels exposed.

“I’d never,” Wes replies after a moment of thoughtful respite, “make fun of you, Elliot.”

His eyes aren’t meeting hers, not quite, and she thinks it’s better like that because maybe if they were making eye contact she could be bursting into flames.

“Not true,” she protests weakly, watching him wring the wet cotton out, rivulets of rusty red sprinting down his forearm. “You make fun of me all the time.”

“I poke fun at you.” He lifts his chin a little in defiance of her assertion. “That’s not the same.”

And now he flashes her an actual grin, this one with teeth, and his eyes do lock with hers and—ah, yeah. The flood of heat straight to her face makes her quickly turn away, reaching down into the river to splash her face and scrub at whatever blood might still be in her hair. He seems content with her wordless response—perhaps because she’s sure her blush can be seen from space, it’s so nuclear-hot—and leaves her to complete the look of wet dog.

It takes about ten more minutes of dunking and rubbing before she’s sure she’s got most of it out, and when she trudges back to where Wes is sitting in the sun, he’s still wearing that expression of amusement.

“What?” Elliot asks, her mouth turning into a frown. “Deputy Brooks, mind sharing with the class?”

“Just think it’s funny,” Wes replies.

“What’s funny?”

“How you were like “I’m not looking”, as you were lookin’.”

“I—” Elliot stifles a sound of frustration, which only serves to throttle the sound on its way out, making it more obvious than ever. “Listen here, buddy.”

“All ears.”

She plops onto the ground next to him, wets her lips as she tries to think about how she wants to say the thing she’s trying to say. Easier said than done, as such things often go; it’s no less difficult with Wes’ eyes on her, landing heavily, but this also isn’t new. It’s always felt heavy when he looks at her—like there’s nowhere to hide.

“I can about hear the dial tone going off in your head,” he says to her, not unkindly.

“Well, look,” she huffs, wringing water out of her hair—it’s getting long, and she’ll need to chop it soon, but for now it’s just a minor nuisance—before she shakes the water off of her hands. “Maybe I was looking.”

He blinks, like her answer isn’t what he’s expecting. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” She kicks her legs out, propped back on her hands against the soft, warm earth, the sunk Jeep shimmering beneath the surface of the deepest part of the river. All things considered, the day is a pretty one—warm enough to get doused in river water, and quiet enough that if she closes her eyes she might be able to trick herself into thinking they aren’t in a metric fuckload of danger all the time. “Maybe I was looking, and—you know, I think that’s fine.”

Wes barks out a laugh and says, “So are you gonna tell me why you were giving me the big doe eyes?”

“I was not!” Elliot snips, but she’s smiling in spite of her embarrassment. “I don’t even know how to begin giving someone doe eyes.”

“You do it all the time,” he tells her, bumping her shoulder and tilting his head to look at her. There’s a little moment where his eyes flicker, she thinks down to her mouth, and the flush crawls up her neck and into her cheeks again. “Give me doe eyes.”

“Do not,” she mumbles, fixing her gaze elsewhere. On something, anything that isn’t Wes and his eyes and his Seeing.

“Do it to Joey, too. When you want her to share her food—”

“Um, that is strategy.”

“—but I like it best,” he continues, drawing her eyes to him again, “when you give them to me.”

Ell pauses. Her chest feels a little tight, and there’s panic rising tight and hot in her throat, but it doesn’t matter in any way that counts because she doesn’t think she could look away if she wanted to. And she doesn’t.

After a second, she asks, “Why?”

Wes exhales through his nose a little. “Feels like you want something,” he says after a minute, eyes searching her face, “from me.”

It’s a bad idea, continuing down this little thread, but the self-preservation is gone and Elliot plunges on impulsively, “What if I do?”

Maybe it’s the sunlight or the feeling of coming down from an adrenaline high or the taste of blood in her mouth, but her stomach wrenches with something red-hot and cruel when Wes looks at her and says, “You’d just have to ask, Ell.”

What do I want? She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know how to say it, or how to ask, or where in her mind to go looking for the things that would make her happy—

(Except she does, she does know what she wants from Wes, because it’s not the first time she’s thought about it and certainly not the first time she’s been caught looking—)

—and it feels a little hopeless, a little dreadful, to be sitting there and thinking that she could be so close to feeling a shred of comfort if she really wanted it and being unable to follow through.

There’s not a lot of time to dwell on it, not beyond opening her mouth and feeling her brows knit together, because the sound of distant gunfire and shouting has their attentions snapping back up to the road.

The moment is broken; the magic is gone; the clock has struck midnight. Wes pulls himself to his feet and then grabs her hand to haul her up, and he says, “No rest for the wicked.”

It’s hard not to feel the stinging realization she has done herself a disservice again, that her panic and pain have paralyzed her from something that could be good, but like any poison in her body she swallows it down and she smiles.

“Especially not for a couple of sinners like us,” Elliot agrees. They set off across the field, skirting the river and climbing up the slope to where the ground turns into black tar pavement, heat radiating off of it in waves in the late afternoon heat. When she looks down the road, she can see the source of the shouting; a couple of resistance members, and Eden’s Gate stragglers, tied up in a mini shoot-out of their own.

Wes rolls his shoulders and says, “I mean it, you know,” which pulls her eyes back to him.

He’s looking at her. Of course he is—in the way that he does, making her feel seen. It’s enough to make her stomach wrench with that feeling again, and she realizes that it’s longing she’s feeling, welling inside of her, filling her up like a wineskin.

You’d just have to ask, Ell.

“I know,” she says after a moment, a little smile coming onto her face. “I believe you.”

He nods once. It’s a short gesture—a brief end to the conversation that she imagines he will now leave for her to pursue when she would like to. Wes never pushes her, not really, not in the ways that would make her shut down; this time is no different.

“Alright, Deputy Honeysett,” he announces, attention razer-focused again, “what say you we get back to work?”

“That’s Junior Deputy to you.”

“Don’t you think you deserve a promotion?”

“I’d like to refrain from taking on more responsibility, actually.”

Wes flashes her a grin, bumping her shoulder playfully with his before he sets off. And for just a little while—for just a moment—Elliot feels like everything might just be alright.

As long as he doesn’t catch her looking anymore.

[unholyplumpprincess]

Of Flowers and Lust

Here is a kofi commission for @uhohko who I had the absolute pleasure of working with because they really said ‘hey Peach here’s all your kinks in one’ and so I kind of went absolutely bonkers with this. The idea? Sex pollen, Elliott getting a full whiff of it, Bloodhound getting WRECKED LIKE THEY DESERVE.

Summary: Bloodhound loves to collects herbs and natural flora for at home remedies and cooking. This can involve some things such as mushrooms that can calm down anxieties, to natural foliage that can help you sleep, or even to the pretty yellow flowers they bring home that are to increase sex drive and fertility. Elliott is always effected much harder, more intensely by these things for some reason. Yet, he never takes the time to consider that Bloodhound says 'don't touch this' was a demand, rather than the 'suggestion' he takes it as. Or. In which Elliott inhales sex pollen and wants to breed Bloodhound until the morning is night.

Reblogs > Likes. Age in your bio (18+ only) or be blocked.

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Mirage/Bloodhound

Warnings: NSFT/R18+, Bloodhound has a vulva and hella body mods (you can find my hc of them listed in my masterlist), Sex pollen BUT CONSENSUAL, copious amounts of cum, loud loud breeding kink, The term ‘mama’ is used for Bloodhound which is bc nb folk Can use gendered terms u know and I’m only putting this here bC SOMEONE IS GONNA CLOWN, Lots of dirty talk like filthy filthy talk, cum swallowing.

Words: 6.1k

__________

It should be best stated now that: Elliott did not take to listening very well.  

No, no, not emotionally. No, Elliott was a fantastic partner. He was kind and sweet, even going so far as to try with all his might to help with Bloodhound’s insomnia. Gods bless him, trying to stay awake with them through the nights, eyes fighting to stay open whilst Bloodhound cozily read up next to him. It wasn’t that he didn’t take to listening well in their relationship, no, Elliott was just as attentive as Bloodhound was to their beloved in turn.  

No. It is simply the fact of the matter that Elliott did not take to listening to things like ‘Don’t put that in your mouth’ as a warning, but more as a suggestion.   

For most things Bloodhound foraged, it wasn’t an issue. It would have minor side effects or Elliott would simply not enjoy the taste or smell of it. They did a lot of cooking now that they could cook for two- when they weren’t cooking with  Makoa  for the whole compound that is- and Bloodhound enjoyed finding fresh ingredients. Whether that was from the various plants they grew in their room, or what they could find on planet. Including meats that they’d hunt themself and Elliott would be ‘wowed’ by all the dishes they could create.  

They took pride in being able to cook for him, and in turn they watched Elliott light up when it was his turn to make something. Their two styles of cooking varied vastly, with Elliott leaning more comforting, filling foods. Whilst Bloodhound leaned more for spices and what would be earthier and slow cooked.  

With this, also came Bloodhound foraging for ‘alien plants’ as Elliott called them.

~Rest under the cut~

Nearing the arena was natural foliage and thick woods that weren’t recommended to go in, woods in which Bloodhound often found a creature to get meat from and organic vegetation. This could also lead to them going out merely to collect flora that they would crush and turn into salves, teas, medicines, various things that they must have learned from their uncle. Who Elliott only knew from Bloodhound gently opening up one night, but not a lot about him.  

Bloodhound was more reserved, and Elliott made sure they knew how proud he was of them anytime they opened up with one more little thing.  

It was the little things.  

Recently, Elliott had been staying in their room for longer periods of time. Going from hours to days to staying an entire week. Bloodhound didn’t mind, not in the slightest. Elliott had stated it was to help their insomnia at first, only to shyly rub the back of his neck with a soft laugh and say, “And, uh, I...I like your company at night- w-well, all the time, I mean, like, of course I love your company! All the time, I just meant like, when we’re sleeping together and- and-and--”   

And they’d let him talk it out of his system, hands moving only to slow down when he peeked over to see their patient gaze. He’d taken a slow breath, his cheeks flushed and a soft laugh bubbling from him when Bloodhound had smiled kindly and stated, “I understand, beloved. You need not to worry. I enjoy your company as well. At all hours.”   

Just the tiniest joke to ease his nerves and make that blindingly beautiful, dimpled smile split across his face.  

But, now that he was here more often, it meant he was curious in the flora Bloodhound always brought back. They had a thin cord run across their window to sun dry any flora. Always tied up and strung upside down to be dried and later crushed into powders or turned into various other things. Mushrooms were dried the same way and anything else they might try- however, Elliott was a curious creature.  

Bloodhound tries to teach him, explaining the properties and uses of certain things and why they collect them. The strange vibrant, violet mushrooms were to ease anxiety if used in a small dosage. Normally used in teas or to hold under the tongue until mush to spit out.  

They had started to explain that eating one, or not dissolving into tea, could cause a feeling as if being high. But when they turn around, they’d found Elliott already chomping down on one with a face of ‘uh-oh’ when they’d turned to look at him.  

It was amusing to watch him laze about and whine that he couldn’t move. It wouldn’t harm him bodily or mentally, no, but Bloodhound did mildly delight in watching Elliott roll around on their bed and chirp about how ‘soooft and waaaarm and great smelling’ their bed was. Although, even more delight arose when they realized he was practically humping their bed.  

Yes, it appeared Elliott’s body reacted more...acutely to certain things.  

Side effects that could be rarer, such as arousal from that particular mushroom. Though even more peculiar is when he’d cum in their mouth, only to sigh and thank them in a lazy tone and say, “Yeah, you’re WAY better than a pumpkin.”  

A response that had them quirking a brow, but never receiving an answer when they’d heard him snoring. Able to see him spread out like a starfish with a half hard dick flopped on his hip.  

Attractive.  

For most things, Bloodhound has learned that in the case of them bringing home foreign flora or vegetation, that by default Elliott will not listen. Thankfully they’ve never brought anything dangerous home, besides some poisonous bark that they kept AWAY from Elliott in another area in which he would not curiously bring it to his nose.  

Today, however, they’ve brought home beautiful yellow flowers. They’re small, almost budding open like a tube with its petals with cobalt pollen stems inside. They bloom in a group, almost looking like lavender on their trimmed stems to be able to fit into a tightly sealed bag.  

Bloodhound enters their room in full gear, shutting and locking the door behind them and finding their home cleaned up. With only just a jacket over the pile of cushions and furs that acted almost as a couch in the center of the main room.  

Different bones rest along the walls of their home, either from their own hunts or Artur or Munnin bringing them in. Picture frames that Elliott had brought them with pictures of them in more intimate scenarios like their first date, or a picture that just consisted of Elliott taking a selfie that he had given as a joke gift for their birthday that they wound up cherishing. To different potted plants that lined the open wall towards their small kitchen area.  

Elliott comes around the corner looking freshly showered. He’s got on a black t-shirt that’s a little tight on him and showing his midriff, most certainly belonging to Bloodhound, and some gray sweatpants. It’s casual wear, showing he’s already made up his mind on staying for a few days.  

A decision that Bloodhound gladly accepts.  

His curls are still a bit damp, it looks like, and as they start to remove their gear, starting with their respirator, they inhale and can smell the products he uses in his hair and the soaps he must have borrowed. Their full lips quirk up briefly, the idea that he smelled like them always irking a flicker of possessiveness in their stomach.  

Theirs.  

“Ah, hey, Houndie! Was wondering when you’d be back!” Elliott greets, coming closer as they start to remove their helmet, shaking their frizzy red curls free and pulling their goggles up and onto the top of their head.  

They greet him properly once he reaches them, gently cupping his cheeks and pulling him close to rest their foreheads together.   

It’s quiet and intimate, letting their breath mingle and noses gently nuzzling. Elliott would have never guessed for them to be so affection and intimate, not back before they were dating- or even friends for that matter! It had taken all of Bloodhound’s courage to even hook their pinkies their first date.  

Even now he smiles through it, keeping his eyes closed for the twenty seconds Bloodhound holds him before gently letting him go. “I apologize. It took longer to find than I thought it would.” Speaking as they move to remove their upper armor. Too heavy and hot to be worn indoors. They’re left in their long sleeved, tight black shirt, gloves, combat boots, and tactical pants.   

A look in which they know Elliott is graciously looking at their ass once they turn their back to him.  

Bloodhound moves around him towards their counter area they’d built. Set up with cutting boards to the side, herb separators, and various knives to help them with the set up. They set the clear bag full of flowers atop, feeling as Elliott curiously stalks behind them.  

With their hands still gloved, they pull out the flowers and set them on top of the smooth counter. Peeking around for their ribbon to tie them up and huffing when they find it not in sight. They can already feel Elliott hovering behind them, making that curious little noise he does in a quiet question of what they had.  

“They are called The Child Bestowers,” Bloodhound begins, watching from the corner of their good eye as Elliott shuffles to their side to peek around them. “They are for aiding in arousal, for those who need help, as well as providing a pleasant sensation if turned into lubrication. They are also said to help with fertility, if you are to drink them in teas or bathe with them. Or to increase sperm count, if the person having them has external genitalia.” They explain, gently aligning them into a bouquet to rest on top of each other.  

“Soooo...it’s a sex plant?” Elliott frankly says. A statement to which Bloodhound lets out a rushed breath of amusement from their nose.  

“I suppose, if you wish to be blunt, yes. Wait here, and do not touch them. Elliott, am I understood?”  

“Aw, c’mon, babe! What’s the harm? I just get horny? Don’t need plants to do that.” Elliott coos at them, making an obvious look back at their ass. But when they shoot him a look, he sighs, holding a hand over his heart and a hand flat palmed towards them with his eyes closed. “I, Elliott ‘Mirage’ Witt, will not touch the horny flowers. Scout’s honor.”  

There’s a strain to that word.  

Elliott was always good with his words; Silver tongued and quick witted, a trickster truly walking among the mortal plane. It is what attracted Bloodhound to him in the first place, besides his kindness. They narrow their eyes at his face, watching him peek open one eye and giving his very best puppy dog eyes when they look at him until it’s Bloodhound’s turn to relent with a sigh.  

He’s going to do something. They know he will. Always so curious about the effects. There should be nothing odd if he were to touch them, just that the pollen was potent as is and Elliott always had...new reactions to things. As if his immune system were built differently. He would most certainly become aroused, but they worried about what the full effect would be...  

They leave the room to find ribbon so they may string up the bouquets to dry. Finding the ribbon resting in the window sill where they must have left it absentmindedly. And in just maybe the minute they are gone, they return to Elliott who is standing perfectly innocent with his hands folded behind his back.  

Suspicious at his innocent looking face, his doe-like eyes fluttering at them, they narrow their own. Carefully coming around the counter and setting the ribbon next to the flowers. It’s with great attention to detail do they see the speck of yellow on his nose, “Elliott did you tou--”  

“I did not TOUCH the flowers, swear!”  

“Did you smell them?”  

That’s when Elliott’s lips purse, eyes flickering to the side away from their face as if a child who had been caught. He eventually gives in, sighing, “Yeah, but they smelled really good? And I don’t think anything is  gonna  happen! Look, no boner!” As if to make a point, he leans back and away from the counter, gesturing blatantly to his crotch. Their eyes briefly flicker down, quirking a brow to see the tent resting there and their own cheeks warming.  

“Elliott...”  

“What?” He blinks, looking down and then his own face flushes. It’s as if Bloodhound and himself had never had intercourse because both his hands fly to hide said tent, his face burning red. “Shit! I-I-I didn’t even feel it??? It just- it just feels warm? Like usual? Aw shit maybe it did do something? I’m not  gonna  die, right? Death by horny doesn’t really sound like an extrav - an extgan-  ext — a cool way to go .”  

Bloodhound sighs with an amused tone at his franticness, amused at how his hands had gone from hiding to instead gesturing like he normally does. Yes, it was supposed to aid in arousal, but it wasn’t supposed to have such a quick effect. Then again, Elliott’s body always seemed to experience the more intense side of things when it came to new flora and foliage.  

“No, there is nothing deadly within their pollens. However, you may be more difficult to satis--” They cut themself off then when Elliott lets out this pained whine, seeming to scoot closer to them until they’re backed up against the counter throughout their singular sentence.  

Their breath hitches, hands coming to rest on his waist in almost a comforting manner when he ducks his head down. At first, they think he’s going for a kiss, until he’s nosing at their neck, nudging their head to the side and pressing open mouthed, hot kisses up to their pierced ear.  

Bloodhound’s breath catches, squeezing his waist gently and running their hands up along his body until they can get to his curls. “Y-you may be more difficult to satisfy, when you are- ah- affected by the- the pollen-” They manage to breathe out, twisting their fingers at the root to hold him, a soft gasp leaving them when his teeth nip at their jawline.  

But, even through the haze Elliott must be feeling, he still manages to huff out in a strained tone, ”Do...Do you want to...? I can go to the shower and deal- ah- deal with this?”  

“I wish to aid in however you need.” Bloodhound responds honestly, pulling his hair gently when his teeth sink into their neck and they feel him sucking. Sensitive there, they let out a soft growl that only makes Elliott groan. His hands going from gripping the counter to hoisting them up by their thighs onto it, pushing the flowers to the side to get them out of the way.  

They know a hickey will rest over their flesh over the splash of lighter skin tone they had resting on their neck- one of Elliott’s favorite places to bruise them. Bloodhound’s breath hitches when his hands slide over their pants-clad thighs, up to their waist as he starts to leave another bruise just under their ear.  

Bloodhound snarls softly, running their nails over his scalp and one hand dragging down Elliott’s nape like he likes. He lets out the prettiest sound against their neck, his hips absentmindedly humping against them without thinking. They abuse this by dragging their nails down his back, grabbing his muscular ass and pressing him forward with each thrust so he’d properly dry hump them.  

It sparks the reaction they crave, where Elliott lets out this beautiful, shaky, sharp whimper. His mouth trails back up, pressing kisses up their jawline until he can press their foreheads together.  

Bloodhound takes the time to let their eyes remain half lidded to watch him. Elliott looked gorgeous, his hair a mess, brows furrowed and his eyes shut in concentration. His full lips are parted, letting their breath mingle in small pants puffing from his mouth. Something they can’t help but lean forward to kiss him to take his breaths.  

Elliott moans into their mouth upon contact, one of his hands pressing to the counter, the other holding onto their waist to drag them closer to the edge. His hips are frantic, pounding against them as if he could fuck them through both their layers of clothing. It feels like he’s trying to, really. Bloodhound can feel every grind up against them, making their own breath strain as wetness builds up between their own legs from the consistent pressure on their clit.  

Not to mention how much they adored to see him so desperate.  

Their hands drag back up to his hair, pulling on his curls to break the kiss and watching as he follows the motion beautifully. “Fuck, Hound, baby- God, fuck- it's really- ah- it's so hot, it feels so hot, he-heavy-” He’s sobbing out so sweetly, his hips stuttering when they go for his exposed throat, dragging their double canines over the side of his neck and lightly biting down on him to leave a bruise.  

Elliott sobs out, his hips slamming up against them and his hands falling to their ass. He practically yanks them to him, near making them get knocked off the counter. But they quickly figure out why when they’re halfway through sucking a dark bruise into his neck when they feel the wetness starting to seep into the front of their own pants-  

Wait why can they feel it through their own pants?  

Elliott’s still clinging to them, his body shaking and moans leaving his throat. His hips are still gently humping against them, his arms still locked, when normally by now he’d ease up and maybe be embarrassed.  

“Elliott-” Bloodhound breathes out in his ear, causing him to turn his face into their neck. He’s whimpering something, his lips moving against their skin, but they can’t hear him quite well.  

 Not until he’s repeating the same phrase, so shaky and high pitched of; “Still  cumming , oh-oh God, baby, fuck, s-still cumming, cumming, cumming, cumming-” In this string of desperation that makes Bloodhound’s breath catch.  

It takes a total of thirty seconds until he can finally stop shaking. Elliott is falling to his knees; His entire body trembling and Bloodhound can smell how strong his scent lingers on them. It makes their mouth water, but even more so when they look down to see him sitting on his knees, thighs apart and head back. His face is flushed, lips parted and panting and his doe-like eyes half lidded looking up at them like they’re the only thing keeping him grounded.  

If he wasn’t in such a desperate state, perhaps they’d toy with him like this. Make him beg for release. But as it appears right now, Elliott was cumming for a rather long time, and that alone warranted some looking into. And sadly, that did not involve seeing his resolve crumble and making him beg like a good boy.  

Bloodhound’s eyes trail down his body, noticing that the wet spot isn’t just soaking a spot on the front of his pants, but instead almost as if someone had dumped a bottle full of water on his front- and Bloodhound’s for that matter.  

Side effects-  

“Houndie-” Elliott whimpers out, stopping Bloodhound’s staring as they shuffle off the counter. He immediately seeks their comfort, wrapping his arms around their leg and pressing his cheek to their outer thigh. Their breath hitches at the sight of him so close, but they gently rest their hand atop his head, using their nails to massage gently at his scalp.  

“Shh, shh, you are alright, beloved, you are alright. Can you stand? Or crawl, perhaps?” Their last words are playful, warranting that beautiful smile to etch across Elliott’s face. More upturned on one side with his dimples creasing into his cheeks. And at first it seems he’s relaxed himself, especially when he murmurs a playful ’woof’ before his body trembles and a whimper erupts from his lips. “Perhaps I shall carry you?”  

“N-no, no, I can do it, just- God, baby, I’m...I hate to say it, but I don’t think I-I'm close to done?” Elliott manages to get out, his tone breathless, his pupils blown huge when he turns his gaze up to them. Their heart constricts at how helpless he looks, but unfortunately it only turns Bloodhound on further to see him so desperate.  

It’s a bit of a shaky walk back into Bloodhound’s bedroom. Immediately Elliott is flopped onto the bed, the furs cool against his overheated flesh. Bloodhound helps him to strip, removing their own boots and their ruined pants so they may sit in their boyshorts and sports bra with Elliott completely nude.  

Bloodhound’s breath hitches when their eyes fall to his cock, already hard again and pressed against his abdomen. The head was red, flushed and peeking from his foreskin, but what really gets their attention is his balls.  

They’re swollen, almost a handful each rather than as a whole. Gently, Bloodhound rests their cold fingertips over the flesh, their eyes flickering up to watch Elliott as he pants heavily and squirms like a dog in heat. Even going so far as to his hips humping upwards and a heavy glob of pre-cum to bead at the head of his cock.   

Oh, he was getting affected hard.  

Bloodhound had a feeling they wouldn’t be able to walk straight after this.  

Running their fingertips along his cock, Elliott lets out a sound as if they would have been grabbing him fully. Sensitive, it seemed. Bloodhound fights a smile, gently grabbing his cock beneath the head and smearing the pre-cum with their thumb with a soft coo arising from them, ”You are so wet, my love.”  

Elliott makes a strained sound in his throat, his hips thrusting up into their loose grip and sobbing out something incoherent. He’s a mess, panting and starting to look more flushed by the second. And judging by the way his abdomen is tightening, they can only guess how sensitive he was.  

Yes, this was going to be a long session. It appeared the pollen he’d inhaled worked more like a ‘sex pollen’ on him, something that should only effect beasts with outer genitalia that came across the plant. Working like an aphrodisiac, for beasts it made their stamina much longer, including their...their sperm count to be higher, resulting in swollen looking testicles and an insatiable need to breed their mates.  

Bloodhound swallows, their mouth already feeling dry at the idea of Elliott trying to breed them. It makes their thighs press closer together, a shaky breath leaving them as they try to compose themself in order to take care of him.  

They only get to pump his cock a few times before Elliott’s scrambling for them, whimpering about something frantically that sounds a lot like he’s mumbling, “Need to taste you, need you, baby, I need you-” But they can hardly make it out over the sound of their own yelp when he’s flipping them.  

He’s at least got enough coherency to pause when he hooks his fingers around their underwear, waiting until they give their consent before  he‘ s quick to tug their boyshorts off. He sits back between their spread thighs with this starving look in his eyes as they rake across their form. Flustered at the attention and control being tugged out from under them, Bloodhound’s face flushes and a soft growl of his name starts to arise as they bristle and lean up on their elbows.  

“R-right!” He manages to get out, immediately moving to lie on his abdomen, hooking his arms under their powerful thighs and nuzzling at their red curls between their thighs.  

Normally, Elliott was a starving man between their thighs, always a mess of humping the bed and moaning into them as if they tasted divine. And now is no different; His tongue desperately licking up their cunt to their fat, engorged clit, lapping at it and letting his tongue rest just underneath to feel them throb in anticipation.  

It’s with another snarl and Bloodhound’s hand pressing at the back of his head does Elliott wrap his lips around their enlarged clit, suckling how they liked and making their head toss to the side. A moan blossoms from their chest, their hips tilting upwards when his tongue frantically dips down to their hole to lick up the wetness seeping from them. But then he’s pulling back briefly, pressing his nose to their mound just above their clit and inhaling their scent, letting his nose nuzzle at their clit in a way that makes Bloodhound gasp out.  

“You smell so good, baby, can’t get enough-” Elliott is just about moaning into them, his words causing their ears to burn red and for them to bite their bottom lip at the attention. Bloodhound starts to growl out something in reply, maybe for him to focus on his meal rather than speaking, but then he’s continuing with a low voice, “Want to fill you full of pups. Would you like that, puppy? Want to be filled?”  

That...  

That is most certainly new.  

Bloodhound’s body betrays their thoughts when their clit jerks heavily and a fresh wave of slick seeps out of them. Their face burns, their body desperately aching in ways they didn’t think they’d ever experienced before. They can feel their pulse in their clit when Elliott lets out this low moan of appreciation, wrapping his lips around it and moaning into them as if even the thought of breeding them was too much to bear.  

Bloodhound cums in record time, fingers scrabbling to hold Elliott’s hair as huffing, small growls come out with every breath. Their brows are knitted, their head thrown back and full lips parted to pant heavily. They’re almost dizzy from the orgasm, managing to make enough sense to feel Elliott’s fingers pressing into them. Two fingers go in with ease, curling up expertly into their g-spot and making their head throw to the side with a cry of, “Elliott!” Leaving them in a desperate tone.  

“Fuck, yes, keep crying like that, sweetheart.” Elliott’s voice is thick with lust, something they think they’d only ever heard when he was on his knees and woofing like a dog for them.  

To see him- to feel him take control even in a state like this? Bloodhound isn’t too sure how to feel quite yet about their lack of control on him but oh, oh if he keeps  moving  his fingers like that-  

“Good pup, let me stretch out your sweet little cunt so I can breed you so full, you’re gonna feel so good on my cock-” Elliott breathes against them, his tone desperate and tinging on a whine, licking flatly over their clit and making their hips jerk. Bloodhound doesn’t think they can get any redder at this point from his filthy mouth. Even more so when they feel him nuzzle at their mound just to hear him inhale their scent as his fingers curl upwards and fuck into them.  

Their second orgasm comes quick, fit with them snarling and their eyes flashing a glowing red without their permission. Every sense is enhanced, the scent of Elliott, the scent of themself, the feeling of him touching their body, every sound made, their vision black and white and Elliott’s body highlighted in glowing red. The feeling of his fingers pounding into them is almost too much again, a whimper sharply leaving their throat just as Elliott pulls his fingers out and sits up.  

He uses their slick to lubricate his own cock, the sight sending a possessive feeling through their body resulting in a low, rolling snarl. They go to move, to maybe sit up and shove him down, to take back their control that they had lost- but that’s quickly cut off when he’s rolling them onto their abdomen. He’s yanking their hips up until they’re forced to brace their upper body by crossing their arms on a pillow and resting their head on their forearms.  

“Elliott-” They manage to choke out when he’s taking his cock and sliding the head a few times over their lower lips and over their clit. Bloodhound’s body is tensed, feeling the press into them and their mouth falls open to let out a cry when he sinks home into them in one, clean thrust.  

It’s as if Elliott’s body had only enough in of himself to remember foreplay for them before the storm hits. Because he’s grabbing onto their hips, tugging them back in a way he’s never done before, fucking into them with harsh thrusts. His balls, as engorged and heavy as they are, slap forward against them and cause consistent stimulation that has Bloodhound’s nails sinking into their own arms. They move their mouth to press against their own flesh, trying to muffle the pathetic sounds erupting from their chest.  

Normally, they had the control in the bedroom. Even in positions like this, they would talk Elliott through it, call him their dog or how pathetic he sounded. Or ride him and hold their hands over his throat, or yank his hair back and force him to cry out.   

The control they had was for their own comfort, always so nervous to give it up. On the nights Elliott could gently coax them to, it was with gentle words and nudges.  

They...they think they prefer when he just takes it like this.  

There’s no thinking as Elliott fucks into their body. He’s vocal, as always, moaning behind them and filth spilling out of, “Want me to cum inside you, baby?” Which Bloodhound keens in response to without thinking, their hips pressing back into a thrust and that seems to do it.  

Again, in record time, Elliott is cumming. His nails dragging into their thighs until he falls forward to hook his arms around them tightly. He trembles as he cums inside of them, and they quickly figure out that Elliott did in fact get the same results that a beast might. Because they’re feeling fuller...and fuller...and fuller by the second.  

So much so that when Elliott pulls his hips back in the slightest, cum comes spilling out and down their thighs messily. Bloodhound can’t help but lift their hips a bit to their best of ability, peeking down to watch it trail messily down with a low groan.  

It’s when Elliott runs his fingers through it and brings them to Bloodhound’s lips  do  they really think he’s being swayed even further by the pollen. When they don’t immediately take him up on the offering, his fingers grab their long hair into a ponytail, pulling it and effectively making their head come up with a matching snarl erupting from their lips.  

And that’s when they part their lips, allowing for him to smear his cum on their split, pierced tongue with a satisfied groan of, “Good dog.” Cooing from his lips. Fit with his fingers messily dragging down the corner of their mouth as if to smear it on their face.  

From there, it’s a blur. At some point Elliott’s managed to take off Bloodhound’s sports bra to leave them in nothing, moving them around again and again. So many different positions they wind up in- bent over the bed, on top of Elliott and riding him with his hips slamming up into them, to on their side with their leg thrown over his shoulder and their snarling and growling ending up slowly turning to weak moans and cries, their voice growing hoarse. To them riding him again, their arms pulled behind their back and angling their body just so Elliott could fuck up into them like a toy.  

They’ve both cum so many times, Bloodhound’s lost count. Only feeling fuller by the minute, the taste of his cum lingering on their tongue from  every time  he’s shoved his fingers into their mouth eagerly.   

Now Elliott has them with their back to his chest, one arm tossed around his shoulders and one of his own arms tucked around their waist to hold them. His other hand had been grabbing their jaw, forcing them to watch their own shaky body get fucked by him. “Look at you, Houndie, so good for me. My good dog. You're gonna be so cute all swollen, hm?”  

Bloodhound had sobbed out, eyes near about rolling as another weak orgasm wracked their own frame. The visuals and the scent too much, able to watch his fat cock slam into their cunt with their clit engorged and reddened jerking with each contraction. From this angle, they can see how his cock moves inside of them from the slight bump of their lower abdomen, to how messy their thighs are with cum and how strings of it are left connecting them to Elliott’s hips with each messy slap up against them.  

Elliott’s beautiful moans in their ear are low when he scoops up a glob of cum on their thigh, dragging it to Bloodhound’s mouth to smear it all over their tongue again. They obey near instantly, sticking out their tongue to let him do so before swallowing with a whimper. They must do it too soon, because Elliott’s smearing the rest over the corner of their mouth, moving to cup their cheek this time and smearing it over their cheekbone as well.  

“Nngh --” Bloodhound moans out, trying to turn their head to bury it into Elliott’s hair, but he quickly catches their jaw again, forcing them to keep watching as he fucks up into them.  

“That’s it, good dog, take it, take it-” Elliott near about growls out, moving his hand from their jaw when they finally stay put. He moves it to grab at one of their breasts, thumbing a sensitive, pierced nipple just to make their cunt clench weakly. Before he’s splaying his hand out on their abdomen and cooing through desperate little moans, “G- gonna  be the cutest mama.  Gonna  fill you fucking full, baby, make sure you’re full of pups w-with your cute little- ah- cunt--”  

Bloodhound doesn’t think that either of them have any thoughts left. He’s almost frantic to breed them, but there’s something loving about the way he speaks the word ‘mama’. It could almost make them believe the effects were starting to wear off with how tenderly spoken it is.  But,  perhaps that is merely their own secret interest in perhaps having a child with him trying to emerge.  

They must have turned their head, because Elliott’s got his hand back on their jaw to keep them watching. Bloodhound’s breathing so hard, panting and sobbing out by the time Elliott finally cums again. It must have been the twelfth time already, and they’d lost count of even their own.  

He groans so beautifully in their ear, burying his face into their shoulder and clinging to them as he cums. And dutifully, Bloodhound watches as he does, burying himself to the hilt inside of them and watching his balls tighten, how cum dribbles out of them because it’s too much.  

Bloodhound isn’t really too sure at what point they do finally pass out. But they wake up with possibly the most sleep they’d ever had in years, rested, sore, bruised, and...  

Clean?  

They’re still naked, a low groan leaving them as their eyes flutter open. They sit up to find their furs that had been on their bed are gone, possibly gone to be washed, and instead they are curled up in one of Elliott’s blankets that he leaves when their furs become too hot for him. Carefully, they roll to their side as they lie back down, finding said menace of a boyfriend passed out as well and cleaned up.  

He must have had the time to wash them both off before he’d fallen asleep. How thoughtful.  

Carefully moving once again, they scoot closer to Elliott to gently rest a hand on his head. Immediately he makes a soft, moaning sound, rolling over into them so he can wrap their arms around their waist and bury his face into their chest. Resulting in Bloodhound lying back on their back, playing with his hair in the morning light.  

Perhaps they could keep a sampling of the pollen for more...experimentation.  

If Elliott were to be interested in having another six hour long session.  

Bloodhound’s lips flicker up into a small smile as a thought crosses their mind.  

Perhaps Elliott would be interested in actually...trying for a child at some point. He had said he always wanted to be a stay at home father...  

When they hear him snore against their chest, nosing his way back in with a comforted sigh, they can’t help how bright their heart feels at the idea.