#Their flaws are so fun to toy with

[nomsfaultau]

(Potentially) Daily ask №5

Philza edition!

Stares at him with a mix of hesitation confusion fear disgust respect and concern, hhhhhh I have some feelings about that guy. I put him off as the last character to get an ask cause I genuinely didn't know much about him and cause I didn't really like him either. But here we go!

I can't tell how powerful he actually is. Because the foundation has these things called reality anchors which it canonically traps the reality bending entities with. And Phil was still walking around freely and was powerful enough to make contracts with. But if the reality anchors didn't work on him cause he's so powerful, why didn't he just, yk, break his collected out immediately?

Does he genuinely not understand how traumatizing is a lot of the lovely murder sprees he goes on are, at least for Tommy from what I've read? Like, yeah he's a god but surely he must've researched psychology enough to understand that it's highly stressful?

Are there any repercussions to using his godly powers? Perhaps that's why he doesn't use them often. Loss of humanity?

Why does he actually cling to his humanity via collecting people? Seems like a very illogical and unproductive thing to do if you don't want to get manipulated or hurt in other ways over it.

..I don't have any gift for him but uh.. 👍 good job keeping them alive, dude?

Thanks! I wrote him to be a very complicated guy. This one will dip into some of the deep lore behind the magic system that isn’t entirely explored in Fault bc well the main characters have more pressing problems.

1 and 4 since theyre impossible to untangle. What scp lore I use is up in the air honestly, but Philza is not a reality bender. The Blood God would count as one, though that’s mostly in the ‘unfortunate accidents’ department, and Wilbur very much is a reality. Well breaker but still. Luckily the Foundation doesnt realize he’s an Apollyon since Wilbur keeps that thing locked down anyway. Creatures like Phil are what I personally call Conceptuals, which are personifications of two ideas. They get a lot of names in Fault tho, since it covers Philza, The Blood God, Wilbur’s voidlings, etc. These entities are not real* in the same way a person is, as they lack a body and usually have to anchor onto a vessel. They are beings purely made of a soul, and thus are more controlled by the components of a soul -Memories, Emotions, Name, Bonds. People and Real things meanwhile are more than their essence, and can do stuff like change, act out of character, and most pertinent to this question, break their promises. A person has a body to anchor them but an unbound soul is compelled to complete it be it a bargain, challenge, vow, pulled along by their Bonds. Voidlings to their bargains, The Blood God to his challengers, so on.

Philza is a special case, because he is an entity so powerful that he made himself Real. That’s not a vessel he’s using like The Blood God; he made himself into an actual person. And because he has made himself Real, unlike every other god/void/entity he technically can break his promises. But he doesn’t, because Bonds with his Collected chain him to personhood (and it would be a crappy ethical dilemma if he doesn’t have an actual choice). Philza is like actually billions of years old, and humanity is a blink to him if he doesn’t force himself to live in the present. He can’t care about everyone because they’re dead so fast, but he can become attached to a very select few to anchor him. It took millions of years to overcome his essence enough to even be fully sapient, let alone feel human enough to become one since his form reflects how he feels. Like imagine trying to get in the head space of an ant so completely that you become one. Without Collected, it’s harder for Phil to maintain his personhood though he can probably manage a couple decades without one. And having fought so hard to be a person, Phil isn’t willing to lose it, since again it took millions of years last time and humanity could be gone by that point. As a person he gets to be so much more than an embodiment of fire and fury, is able to change who he is, has purpose and goals and cares beyond the mindless rage he used to be. He gets to be real, all for the low low price of loving and being loved by others. Who the hell wouldn’t? So Philza would sacrifice anything to maintain the Collected system, his promises, and thus his personhood.

And unfortunately his current Collected are suffering for that long term goal. Philza made the Collected Contract with the Foundation because all his Collected were captured and short of setting the entire world on fire he couldn’t find them. Philza is a very destructive guy, but he adores humanity, so that wasn’t really on the table. So he made a promise to the Foundation, and had to follow it or risk unraveling himself. It’s a slippery slope fallacy, but in eternity once you’ve done something once you’re guaranteed to do it infinite times, or so goes Phil’s logic. In his own words: “Morals are a slippery slope. That’s why I made myself a ledge. A precipice so I can know where I need to stop before I fall entirely.” In his mind to snap even one promise gives him free rein to break the next, and the next, each easier to justify than the last until there really is nothing tethering him to his own sapience. The only tenet Philza has is to keep is promises, because he doesn’t know if he can remain a person otherwise.

He doesn’t break his Collected out. He can’t unless he breaks himself.

2. Philza has no morals because in his opinion an immortal can’t have any; what is considered ethical will only shift out beneath you like sand as society changes. He generally aligns with the ethical framework that his Collected have at the time, and Wilbur and The Blade are pretty fine with murder so he’s lenient on that front currently, whereas with his last Collected he was a clean and proper stay at home roommate, his white picket fence completely free of blood stains…until the Foundation ruined that. Philza personally doesn’t have much care for human lives beyond his Collected given they’re just going to die in not even a century anyway. That isn’t to say he isn’t aware of murder being bad/ traumatizing to some people. In fact, prior to the Foundation Philza and the rest took pains to sanitize themselves for Tommy’s visits, cremating the evidence, burning the blood off their hands, etc. They were being actively hunted down and are trying to protect themselves, but also letting a kid see what that life is fully like, all the fear and violence of it, is messed up. Perhaps they sheltered him too much. Tommy didn’t know how to recognized he was being followed.

Once in the Foundation, Philza is less cautious about it, though technically is committing far less murder due to the Collected Covenent. He’s practically behaving himself. Philza makes two mistakes in the Hallway Massacre: 1. Tommy’s killed like so so many people at that point so he doesn’t think it’s a problem, especially as he’s murdering Foundation workers who have hurt Tommy. 2. Philza thinks the Foundation has broken their promise and so he’s free. Technically he’s correct, but the Foundation lies well enough that he later regards the Hallway massacre as a mistake, mostly for political rather than traumatizing Tommy reasons. Philza views the Foundation as a far greater source of trauma for Tommy, and all the murder was for the purpose of breaking Tommy out and so justified to him.

In truth, Tommy had already caused as much carnage as he saw during the Hallway Massacre by that time, albeit likely in smaller, more spaced out batches. The reason that moment stuck with Tommy so much was because he saw it as the consequences of choices he made rather than something he was forced to do. Moreso, all his time in the Foundation he’d been told they were violent monsters that would slaughter humanity without reason. This directly conflicted with Tommy’s experience of being forced and forcing others to be violent; until, of course, Philza proved the Foundation right.

In Later massacres during the amnestic arc Philza wasn’t aware he even had Collected that could be traumatized, and anyway only Tubbo was really there to see it. Any later murders on Phil’s part are typically in battles. He does recognize that Tommy doesn’t prefer to fight, and honestly Phil prefers that he doesn’t too since Tommy getting captured mid battle is how the whole group got picked off one by one. Tommy tends not to see most of the fighting. Philza recognizes that Tubbo abhors murder and would ideally solve that through smoking them to sleep through battles so they don’t get traumatized via their partial omnipresence. But Tubbo refuses bc of moral principles or whatever, and so Phil can’t minimize much trauma there without acting against their expressed boundaries, and since the majority of his Collected want to fight and he refuses to let them be killed/hurt/captured, murder time it is. Potentially if they were on better terms he’d smoke Tubbo anyway on the grounds that it’s better for their mental health, but Philza feels ant present Tubbo wouldn’t understand he’s ‘acting in their best interest’.

3. One large factor is that it’s very hard to be a mile long dragon inside of a itty bitty room, although much like he pretends to be human Philza is likewise only pretending to be a dragon. And also it’s hard to hug his tiny little mortals when he’s big. Plus while his Collected are immune to his fire, the smoke generated from burning matter can be hazardous unless it’s hot enough to be a complete combustion.

And unless his human form is killed (which takes an awful lot of effort) Philza can only switch forms through reframing his entire mental schema. His inner world controls his body, and switching between believing you’re a human and a dragon is quite difficult, let alone reverting to his uncontrolled true essence which Philza takes great pains not to do. It’s a tricky balance between loosening his self imposed reigns and fully unbridling his self. Too much and he might lose sapience altogether. When feeling untethered to his humanity, he does also become more draconian. Philza finds it easier to go from dragon to human since all that’s doing is adding more chains, and you can’t really go overboard with that. Though it is certainly easier to go between a human and dragon, which are pretty similar if you think about it what with their brains and meat and what not, than between an animal and fire/fury incarnate.

4. Answered above. And yes it is all illogical to some extent, since love rarely is purely rational. But immortality would be hell without other people. Going insane is even less rational, so Philza picks the former.

5. Philza sweeps a bow. It is unclear if it’s sarcastic. He then pulls out a wallet, which upon opening dumps out long rows of photos, and tries to corner you to gush about his kids. He is a dorky dad first and a deplorable threat to society second.

[turtleblogatlast]

I love Raph and haven’t said that enough so to be more specific I love that Raph is a soft boy who loves bear plushies, a gross boy who eats an assortment of things that are definitely better left alone, a smart boy who is more than capable of taking down villains through planning and fortitude alike, a strong boy who is dedicated to training his muscles and fighting prowess, a teenage boy who loves his brothers but is more than happy to tease and roughhouse with them, an angry boy who sometimes lets his anger take a hold of him to cover the fear, a gentle boy who is generous with hugs and affirmations to those he loves, a capable boy who takes on more than should ever be expected of a teenager, a good boy who just wants to be a hero and slowly comes to realize the cost of that duty, a good boy who has no reservations about putting himself in the way of harm coming to his family, a good boy who’s a great brother and son and person and deserves only the best the world has to offer.

[itz-pandora]

Me: *sees a critical post about how some ships are overrated and therefore bad in some people's eyes*

Me: oh, I should stop doing ship stuff. It undermines individual characterizations and can flanderize characters. I don't need to make ship stuff

Me: actually. Whatever . I can do what I want with my time, energy, and creativity. I'm not being problematic and I'm just enjoying something

Me: ...

Me: MY SHIPS DON'T FLANDERIZE THEM

[sixeyesonathiel]

pairing — lost princess!reader x etiquette teacher!gojo

cw : fingering, light bondage, power play & dynamics, public-adjacent serting, mild degradation, mild brat taming. 1.5k wc, 18+ only, MDNI.

you were never meant to wear silk.

not with hands like yours—scraped and scarred, callused from climbing rooftops and snatching apples like survival was a game you always won. not with the way you sit, legs sprawled like you’re ready to brawl or bolt, no in-between. the palace maids hiss about you behind their dainty fans, calling you the filth the crown scraped off the streets.

but you’re a princess now. supposedly. last heir to some sunken dynasty, they say. so they drape you in pearls, douse you in rosewater, and call it destiny.

and they stuck you with him.

“good morning, princess.” his voice is velvet, each syllable drawn out like he’s savoring the chance to poke at you. satoru gojo, etiquette tutor by force, professional nuisance by choice. he lounges against the marble pillar in the lesson hall, arms crossed, lips twisted into that infuriating smirk he wears like a crown.

you hate how stupidly gorgeous he is. silver-white hair swept back, a few strands artfully loose, like he planned it. eyes blazing blue, always watching you like you’re a toy he’s itching to wind up. his uniform’s immaculate, tailored to his lanky frame, sleeves rolled up just enough to flash toned forearms, veins snaking like they’re showing off.

“sit properly,” he says, sounding bored of his own voice already.

you slouch harder into the embroidered settee, legs wide, one boot propped on the table’s edge. “bite me.”

he’s on you in three strides.

a gloved hand grabs your chin, tilting your face up to his. the leather’s warm, broken in, pressing soft but firm against your skin. you glare, but your throat’s a traitor, tightening as his touch lingers.

“princesses don’t sit like they’re about to pickpocket their subjects,” he drawls, eyes raking over you like he’s cataloging every flaw just to mess with you. “but i guess that’s your only skill, huh, street rat?”

you want to sink your teeth into him. not his words—him. that smug grin. the way he’s too close, smelling like cedar and something richer. the cocky ease he carries, like he’s never scrapped for a damn thing.

you loathe him. fuck, you do.

“and what do you know about being a princess?” you spit, smacking his hand away.

satoru doesn’t budge. doesn’t blink. just laughs. low. sharp. his voice dips, all honeyed mischief. “i know how to make one beg.”

you blink. your mouth opens to curse him out, but your brain stalls, caught on the way his words curl around you. your pulse jumps, and your body—damn it—heats under that piercing gaze.

he leans in, breath brushing your ear. “bet under all that grit and mouth, you’re just begging for someone to put you in your place.”

you’re up so fast the chair screeches, skirts tangling as you shove past him, storming down the velvet-lined corridor in your boots. your corset’s half-unlaced, hair spilling from its fancy braid, but you don’t care. you need out. away. anything but him.

but satoru’s not the type to let you win.

he catches you in the east wing, where you’re pacing like a trapped wolf. you whirl to snap something vile, but he’s faster, pinning you against the wall with a thud that rattles your bones.

your back hits the wallpaper, cool and smooth. his hands cage you, palms flat on either side of your head. not touching—not yet—but the air between you crackles, electric with his smug, teasing heat.

“lessons aren’t over, your highness.”

his tone’s all mockery, a noble’s drawl dripping with amusement, like he’s toying with you because it’s the best entertainment the palace has to offer. he’s the duke’s heir, dragged here to play teacher, and he’s milking every second for his own fun.

you bare your teeth. “fuck your lessons.”

his grin’s wicked, slow, like he’s been waiting for that. “oh, i will.”

he moves, one hand gripping your jaw, tilting your head back to force your eyes to his, all playful arrogance, like he’s enjoying how you snarl. the other skims down, knuckles grazing your bodice, then hooking your waist, yanking you flush against him until your hips crash into his, his hardness pressing through his trousers.

“we’ll start with posture,” he purrs, gloved hand sliding down your spine, teasing the curve until you arch instinctively, his touch light but maddening. “chin up. legs apart.”

you choke on a breath, rough fingers clawing at his shirt, your street-rat grit meeting his polished taunts. his lips brush your throat, a ghost of a kiss, all tease, all satoru—cocky and holding back, grinning at how you squirm.

“next,” he hums, voice thick with smug delight, “speech.”

two fingers slip past your lips, gloved and warm, testing your defiance. you try to bite, all feral instinct, but he presses down on your tongue, making you gag softly, a sound he savors with a smirk that’s pure, gleeful trouble. he watches your spit slick the leather, your eyes flaring with rage and heat, his fun fueled by your fight.

“speak when spoken to,” he murmurs, all aristocratic tease, like he’s sculpting you just to see how much you’ll snap. “or don’t speak at all.”

you glare, tears prickling—not pain, not fear, just the raw intensity of his game, the way he’s picking you apart with every smug touch. he’s in control, a noble toying with his prey, but it’s his thrill at your rebellion that keeps him playing.

“lastly…” he breathes, pulling his fingers from your mouth, wet and gleaming, his eyes dancing with cheeky mischief. “restraint.”

he yanks a ribbon from your corset, tying your wrists with a flourish, fingers brushing your scarred skin like he’s mocking your roughness. it’s loose enough to wriggle free, but tight enough to remind you he’s got you. it’s humbling, his way of saying he’s running this show.

“still think you’re in charge, little street rat?” his voice is a purr, teeth nipping your neck, a playful graze that’s all satoru—teasing for the hell of it, hungry for the game.

you can’t answer, thighs clenching, aching, your body screaming what your mouth won’t. he laughs, low and delighted, that deep-chested sound curling between your legs. then he mutters, “hold still.”

his gloved hand slides up your thigh—only to pause. he clicks his tongue, almost disappointed.

“can’t feel you like this.”

then, slow and deliberate, he brings his hand to his mouth, teeth catching the edge of his glove. his eyes never leave yours as he bites it off—tugs with a slow, flexing pull until the leather peels from his fingers. it drops to the floor with a soft thud.

bare fingers now, he lifts your skirt and slides his hand under, warm skin meeting soaked heat.

“well, fuck,” he murmurs, voice drenched in smug glee, “all this attitude, and you’re this wet for me?”

his fingers don’t hesitate, two sliding into you slow and deliberate, curling just right to make you gasp, your hips bucking against his hand. he’s relentless, thumb circling your clit with a precision that’s both infuriating and perfect, each stroke a taunt, like he’s proving how easily he can unravel you.

“look at you,” he teases, leaning close, lips brushing your ear, “all that fight, and you’re melting on my fingers.” he’s thorough, stretching you with a third finger, working you until you’re a mess of choked curses and shaky moans.

your wrists strain against the ribbon, the silk biting your skin as you twist, trying to keep some shred of control, but he’s too good, too smug, his fingers pumping in a rhythm that has you trembling, walls clenching tight.

“fuck, you’re loud,” he laughs, voice dripping with aristocratic charm, “gonna let the whole wing know you’re my little project?” he angles his hand, hitting that spot that makes you see stars, and you snarl—“you prick”—but it’s a whimper, and he’s eating it up, his grin pressed to your throat.

he doesn’t let up, fingers relentless, thumb flicking faster now, slick sounds filling the corridor as you shake, so close it hurts. “come on, princess,” he mocks, voice low and filthy, “show your tutor what a good student you are.” his free hand grips your hip, holding you still as you buck, and when you come, it’s with a ragged cry, legs giving out, only his body pinning you to the wall keeping you up.

your orgasm crashes over you, molten and merciless, clenching tight around his fingers. he doesn’t stop—just keeps moving with that infuriating, measured pace, coaxing every last tremor from your body. you're gasping, twitching, coming undone in his hand while he watches you like you’re more entertaining than any duel he’s ever fought, more compelling than the rarest blade in his private collection.

he pulls his fingers free, slick and shining, and pops them in his mouth, licking them clean with a grin that’s pure, cheeky bastard.

your breath stutters. heat floods your cheeks, your chest, low in your belly like a second wave threatening to drag you under. you should look away—but you can’t. not when he’s savoring the taste of you like it’s dessert, like he’s earned it.

your legs tremble where they’re spread, your hands fisting the silk under you just to stay grounded. somewhere in your mind, a fragile thought surfaces—you loathe him. but your body? your body’s already begging for more.

“lesson one,” he says, voice all noble-born taunt, “you’re fun when you break.” he unties your wrists with a flick, letting the ribbon fall, and steps back, leaving you slumped against the wall, skirts bunched, panting like you’ve run a mile.

you were never meant for silk.

but maybe you were meant for him.

[cheralith]

PLEASE MORE OF CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND KAISER 🙏🙏

childhood bestfriend!kaiser who, at age nine, manages to find a spare coin on the ground and decides, for the fun of it, to use it on a nearby capsule machine as he waits for you to finish up inside the convenience store. it contains mini capsules of what seems to be cheap jewelry, and though kaiser cannot be bothered to wear any himself, he decides for the fun of it to just give it a spin since the other machines don't seem worth his money.

he ends up with what looks like a cheap nickel ring with a plastic deep blue gem glued onto its little divot. it's... actually not bad for something so cheap, but it's still cheap enough to notice some flawed intricacies and some irregularities in its pattern surrounding the band of the ring. he attempts to try it on some of his fingers, but it refuses to budge past half of most of them.

you manage to finally finish up paying for your stuff at the register, meeting him outside where you find him squatting down in front of a couple of capsule machines arranging from some quick candy to disposable toys. he holds something shiny between his two fingers as he examines it closely, his concentration on the item making you giggle lightly. that's when he notices you and you ask him what he's holding as you shuffle up next to him.

"a ring," he states simply, letting you hold it between your fingers to let you analyze the toy. "i think it's a little small for me though."

you hum lightly before gently trying it on your left ring finger. to yours and kaiser's mild surprise, it fits quite snugly. "hey, look at that!"

you show off your hand to him, where the ocean blue gem glimmers along the silver band. kaiser stares at it for a minute, taking a liking to how well it goes together with your hand—like it's meant to be there.

he tucks his head away from you, the tips of his ears blushing a light pink. quietly, he mumbles, "... you can have it, then... if you want."

"really?!" you exclaim, clearly delighted. you grin widely, clenching and unclenching your fist when he nods shyly again in affirmation.

he watches you from the corner of his eye, witnessing you glimmer in admiration at the cheap ring, as if it was an actually well-crafted piece made with love and care and thought and not some mass-produced, cheap toy that would most likely break in a couple of days.

so it's surprising how long the little toy has lasted after all these years. there eventually came an age where it could no longer fit any of your fingers without it getting stuck, so you had opted for creating it into a necklace with a matching silver chain. when you had proudly showed off your creation to kaiser at age twelve, his lips purse in bashfulness fronted as confusion. he knew you had worn it for quite a while after he gave it to you, given how he always would steal a glance at your hand to see if you were still wearing it, but to see you go to a length to preserve such a small gift made kaiser feel like he was on top of the world.

you wore the simple necklace for a long time—essentially every day and never took it off unless you were showering or going to bed. even despite the strict "no jewelry" rule at your school, you always had tucked it inside your shirt in secret, feeling like you were carrying a piece of kaiser every where you went since you and him went to different schools (what institution he went to, you didn't know. every time you asked him what school to see if it sounded familiar, he'd just simply reply, "school.")

so when kaiser disappeared from your life for three years, after he had gotten arrested at thirteen for apparently robbing a store (you would shout at the others who rumored about the subject that he'd do no such thing), the piece of metal felt heavier around your neck at times. it felt sore at times, but you still insisted on wearing it every day in hopes that he'd still be somewhere nearby, waiting for you to hand him spare pieces of your dad's bread rolls behind his bakery.

you'd fiddle with it at times while waiting at his bus stop, while you waited on the swings at the nearby park, while you sat on the stairs of your father's bakery... just waiting in hopes of seeing a familiar blonde to hopefully appear before you. you don't know how much time you had wasted in the first year and a half attempting to continue a routine that you didn't know ended without your knowledge... just simply waiting and staring into the open distance while your fingers fiddled with the toy ring strung around your neck.

you stopped waiting for the figment of someone you used to know after the seventeenth month. winter was upon you now and you knew it was getting harder to withstand the chilled air as you waited, waited, and waited. as you swung lightly on the swings that you and kaiser used to eat too much candy with bought with your dad's spare cash, you eventually let the sugar dissolve on your tongue one last time before heading home as the snow began to fall.

you were eighteen, visiting home from the big city on a holiday weekend when you saw him for the first time in years. just shy of the end of your first semester at university, you saw a familiar head of blonde (with now blue tips) hair descending down to the shared tunnel of the subway, face just barely visible from the scarf he wore. you were on the opposite side and had just gotten off at the same platform, and the whiplash you had given yourself at the moment to double check if the person wrapped in a dark blue scarf was actually someone that had disappeared from your life years ago was truly there could've snapped your neck.

suitcase trailing behind you, you had forgotten all about your connecting train and swiftly trailed down the stairs in desperation to see a familiar face you yearned to see for the past few years. you probably looked like a psychopath, but you didn't care, not when you spotted the familiar choppy locks of white gold just a few meters away.

when you called out his name, you proved yourself right given how the figure in front of you freezes when you shout his last name.

kaiser remembers stiffening up at the sound of a melody all too familiar to him just before he transferred through the turnstile to the other station. he slowly turned around to see a face he had spent a good portion of the beginning of his life around, a face that unlike most people in his life, he didn't dread to see with a flow of contempt. but he still felt the apprehension fill his nerves, similar in the way that it did just before a big match.

and it felt nearly impossible to control such a feeling—especially when he spots the shrewd ring still hanging around your neck on a thin, silver chain, its dark plastic gem still glistening at him with a knowing wink in its glimmer.

a/n ; some more of childhood bestfriend!kaiser here, here, and here (yandere warning for the last one). comments and reblogs always noticed and endlessly appreciated :]

[urlocalfeiner]

is it selfish to want you? | neteyam sully

pairing: neteyam sully x omaticiya!fem! reader

warnings: so much fluff, swearing, heated kissing, bonding, mating, intimate

a/n: both neteyam and you are about 17 in this, as to my knowledge that is when na'vi are declared as adults and are allowed to find a mate. please correct me if i am wrong! REPOSTING

masterlist!

neteyam sully was a boy of many things, he was a mighty warrior, loved by most- desired by more. he was easily one of the most sought out na'vi in the clan, many women in the clan had their eyes on him. they would do anything neteyam asked of them in a heartbeat- all waiting in anticipation for the day he would pick a mate to help him lead the clan.

but neteyam paid no attention to any of them, he had interest in not one other woman in the clan, except for you. his heart belonged to you and you didn't even know it. to him no na'vi even held so much as a finger to you and your beauty, your strong heart and mind- he honestly couldn't pinpoint any flaw you had even if he was held at gunpoint because in his eyes you truly had none. you were completely and utterly perfect.

but the one woman he wanted was the one that wasn't chasing after him- what he didn't know if that you had been pinning after him just as he did for you, but you were sure he did not return the feelings you had for him. he had all these women wanting him, why would he want you?

"neteyam!" he snapped his head at the sound of your voice calling his name, watching as you approached him with a small smile on your face. he was sitting on the forest floor carving a piece of wood. "do you know where kiri is?"

neteyam would be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed when you asked him where his sister was, "sorry, i do not know." you sighed, plopping yourself down on the ground next to him- only now taking notice of what he was doing, carving something.

neteyam saw you were staring at what he was making out of wood with curiosity. "this is for tuk, lo'ak broke her other ikran toy." he tried to show you a bit better, removing his thumb a bit to make it more visible.

you chuckled- which brought butterflies to neteyam's chest. "poor tuk."

"i would say poor ikran, it got his neck snapped off." he joked, recalling how lo'ak accidently stepped on the wooden toy and tuk crying over the decapitated toy.

you laughed at his joke, "ah yes, poor ikran." he was not nearly done with carving the wooden toy, "do you mind if i stay?"

does neteyam mind if you stay? what kind of question was that? he did not mind, not one bit. with every fiber of his body he wanted you to stay- he wanted you to always be with him. "not one bit." he was excited that you wished to stay with him instead of finding the others which were probably doing something more fun than what he was.

you watched as his hands worked delicately, sure of every little move he made with his small knife when it met with the deep oak wood- your eyes slowly traveled up to his arms which were filled with muscle. it was no surprise, he was incredibly strong- his muscles just proved the point of it.

you admired his arms- as weird as it sounded, watching how the muscles tensed as he carved.

neteyam noticed how quiet you were being, turning to look at you slowly. realising you had your eyes trained on his toned arms, he felt a smirk coming to his lips- suddenly feeling confident. "my arm must be nice to look at, hm?"

you snapped your eyes away from his arm, heat spreading to your face- embarrassed you had just been caught staring at his arms. oh eywa, you have never wished to disappear more than you wanted to now. "uh, no?" it came out as more of a question than anything- you were a flustered mess.

he chuckled, shaking his head as he continued to work on carving tuk's toy. he felt proud that he could make you flustered- and was never more grateful for his toned arms. "right, that is why you were staring at them for so long." he teased you more.

"i was staring at them because of how dirty they are," you tried to regain yourself, rolling your eyes playfully- his arms did in fact have dirt on them from when he was out hunting that morning. "you need to go for a wash."

neteyam glared at you playfully, swiping his finger on his arm collecting some dirt and smeared it on your cheek. you slapped his finger away, groaning. "neteyam!- you skxqwng!" you rubbed your cheek in attempt to get the dirt that he had put on your face off. "i just cleaned myself!"

he grinned as he looked at your cheek- which was smeared with dirt, in your attempt to clean it you had made it worse- spreading it. "my finger slipped, sorry." he innocently said.

you raised your hand, slapping the side of his head harshly- making him shoot his hand up to his head that stung from your hit. "sorry, my hand slipped." you repeated his words, smirking.

but your smirk soon vanished as a smug look came to his face- you knew he was about to do something. and you were proved right as he stood up quickly, urapiductly picking you up, flinging your body over his shoulders with ease. you had not time to react with how fast he was at doing so and before you knew it he began to walk- your face being smushed into his back as one of his hands was holding you in place, the other holding your legs so you don't kick him.

"neteyam!-" you hit his back with your fist, trying to make him let go of you. "let go of me!- ugh, bitch!" he chuckled at the name you had decided to call him.

you continued to hit his back- your punches had no effect on him, his hold becoming tighter on you as you tried to squirm off his shoulders- having no success. you stopped fighting him as he suddenly came to a stop, hoping he was about to let you down. he let you down, just not in the way you had planned for.

he moved you from his shoulders, now holding you bridal style- he held a smirk on his face as he looked down at you. you were confused, looking around you. your eyes widened as you saw a large pond in front of you- knowing what he was about to do. you looked back to him, narrowing your eyes dangerously at him. telling him not to do it. "neteyam, let go of m-!" before you could finish your sentence you felt yourself get flung from his arms.

the cold water hitting your body as you landed in the water, as you resurfaced breathing heavily from not preparing yourself you looked up to neteyam who was standing on the dry grass in front of the pond, watching you in amusement.

before you could open your mouth to speak, neteyam once again interrupted you this time by jumping into the water right next to you- causing a large splash, the water getting in your mouth. you were truly done with this boy.

neteyam pulled his head out of the water, flinging his now wet braids away from his face so he could see you clearly- you had a sour look on your face as you glared at him. he was grinning widely, showing off his fangs. "what? you said to let you go."

"not like that!" you yelled at him, keeping yourself afloat. "i am going to kill you."

he raised one eyebrow teasingly, amused. "oh yeah?"

without a reply you swam forward at him, hitting him repeatedly as he laughed trying to swat your hands away- he quickly pulled himself underwater and before you could react you felt yourself being pulled under as well.

you opened your eyes under the water that you had just been dragged under, seeing neteyam in front of you grinning. you lunged forward at him in the water as he quickly dodged you- not fast enough though as you got a hold of his tail, pulling him back. you felt a smile make its way to your face as you saw neteyam's angry expression under the vision of the slightly murky water.

he swam forward to you, wrapping both his arms around your body, trapping you- pushing you both deeper under the water- as the two of you stopped fighting one another he admired how you looked. your hair floating above you, which looked almost magical- your white spots that couted your face glowing in the darkness of the water. ewya, if neteyam didn't run out of breath from being in water for too long, he was sure you would. your blushed as the two of you held eye contact- it felt so intimate, his hands wrapped around you gently as he floated just aboved you looking down at your face.

you seemed to have forgotten you couldn't breath underwater for a second, it finally registered to you that you were out of breath as neteyam pulled you and him back to the surface to breathe.

as you reached it the two of you gasped for air, regaining your breath. when you did the two of you bursted out laughing- you were suddenly glad he had thrown you in the water. oh how much fun you had with him, he never failed to put a smile on your face no matter what circumstances it was under.

as your laughter died down, you realised how cold you were- shivering slightly from the water. neteyam too realising the coldness, looking at you, “come on.” he softly said, pulling you to the edge were the dry grass was.

neteyam reached his hand out to help you up, you took it gratefully- you too now on the dry land. as you emerged small droplets from the water coated your body, dripping slowly into the soul beneath you. neteyam felt his heart pick up its rhythm, you looked like a goddess, you always did.

“i can’t believe you chucked us both in the water with nothing to dry ourselves off with.” you groaned, glaring at neteyam playfully who shrugged innocently- more time with you that meant.

you sat down on a nearby rock that was by the large pond, neteyam following sitting right in front of you. waiting for yourselves to dry off. neteyam looked at you, you were still shivering- hugging your legs for warmth. he slid forward on the rock a bit, sliding an arm around your should bringing you closer to him- he rubbed your arm in comfort.

you melted into his touch, how was he so warm after getting out of the cold pond?- whilst you were still freezing. “you’re warm.”

he chuckled looking down at you, “you’re cold.”

you glared up at him, rolling your eyes. “maybe because you threw me into a cold pond?” he sighed, playfully pulling away from you- you missed the warmth of his body as soon as he did so, “okay, okay i’m sorry- please come back.” he laughed sliding back over, engulfing you in his arms once more.

it all felt so right, you in his arms. you silently wished to stay like this for the rest of your life, in his arms. neteyam too wished the same thing.

he stroked your hair gently, running his fingers through its dampness- you closed your eyes slowly, enjoying the head massage. neteyam smiled as he saw your peaceful expression, all he ever wanted to do was make you happy- and he wanted to do that for the rest of his life.

he continued to run his fingers through your hair, a comforting silence falling over the two of you. the only noise coming from the flowing water from the small waterfall that lead into the pond.

“thank you.” neteyam suddenly said, breaking the silence- which you were quite confused at what he was thanking you about.

opening your eyes, looking at neteyam with a confused expression. “for what?”

for what? for everything you did, for being alive, for being you- there were so many things he could thank you about. “for being there for me like today. it’s good to have some fun, training has made me have less free time lately- it may be selfish but, i miss it.”

your face softened as you sat up, removing your head from his shoulder. you knew he his father had been going harder on him than usual as he was coming quicker to the age of where he would become olo'eyktan- you suddenly felt like he needed a hug, or maybe you just wanted to be close to him. you didn’t really know. you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him, holding his head with one hand the other around his neck.

neteyam hadn't realised how much he needed a hug until now, breathing in your scent that he knows by heart now. wrapping his own arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"i miss having you around too," you whispered into his neck, it sent shivers down his spine. you pulled away slightly so you could see neteyam's face, you pushed away a loose braid that always fell in front of his face. "and it is not selfish to want something, nete."

neteyam stared into your eyes, he swore he could drown in them and he would be completely content with going down like that. your words echoed in his mind, it is not selfish to want something- he wanted you to be his and him to be yours until the end of time itself- he yearned for you so much it hurt whenever he saw you speak to another male in the clan, he knew it was selfish of him but he only wanted you to speak to him. he wanted to be the one to show you the wonders of the world, he wanted to be the one who got to kiss your lips at night, he wanted to be the one whose name you whispered in the dark. neteyam sully wanted you and only you.

"is it selfish of me to want you?" his voice was quiet, in a whisper as the two of you held each others eyes. your mouth parted slightly, not sure if you had heard him right. had neteyam sully, the boy you had been in love with since young just speak those words? "is it selfish to want to be the only one that can look at you?"

"no." your voice was in a whisper, matching his. his eyes trailed down to your lips then back to your eyes- you had not missed it.

he reached out his hand placing it on your chin, gently pulling your face closer to his. you didn't fight it at all, you leaned in closer. your lips grazing each others. "good." he whispered against your lips, breaking the small gap between the two of you.

as your lips met his a spark appeared within you, whispering that this was meant to be. the kiss was short but was passionate, the two of your first kisses. neteyam loved that he was the one to be your first kiss and yours his.

the two of you broke away slowly, staring into each others eyes which were filled with desire and love. "you're so beautiful." he said as he pressed his lips to yours once again- this kiss was not like the first one, it was more messy, your lips chasing one another. he continued to kiss you, deepening the kiss as his hand slipped around your waist, pulling you onto his lap- now straddling him with your legs. "is this okay?" he asked softly, searching your face for any slight bit of uncomfortableness- but there was none.

you smiled, cupping his jaw in your hand, leaning into him. "more than okay, nete." was this what heaven felt like?- that is what neteyam was asking himself, because this was heaven.

his name against your tongue as you kissed him- eywa, it was enough to make him fall limp. his hand was on your lower back, supporting you so you didn't fall as he slid his tongue into your mouth. the other hand on your jaw softly. your hands found it way to his braids, tanginling your fingers in them- trying to pull him closer to you.

his lips began to trail down your neck, earning slight whimpers from you. it was the most beautiful sound neteyam had ever heard in his life. "keep making those noises." it came out without thinking as he continued to suck on your neck- you were embarrassed by the whimpers that escaped your mouth, but when neteyam said that you felt all the embarrassment slip away.

he pulled away from your neck, smirking as he saw the marks he left scattered across it. "neteyam," you hissed, "people are going to see those, you skxqwng." though, you weren't sure if you actually cared.

he grinned at your annoyed expression, "then they will see you are mine." you couldn't help but smile at what he said.

that was when you decided to make it official, it was the biggest decision of your life- you had been told that it would be a hard one to make as you would be with the one you bonded with for life. but, this was the easiest decision you had made in your life.

you slowly grabbed your braid that fell behind your back, bringing it forward to neteyam. his mouth fell slightly agape, looking up to you. "are you sure?" he asked, worried you may regret it later- he knew he would in fact never regret it, he didn't want you to though.

"neteyam, i have never been so sure of anything before." you smiled softly at him, that was all neteyam needed- he grabbed his queue and brought it forward with his hand your queues mere inches away from one another.

the two of you looked at one other, as you brought your queues to the other. the tsaheylu was formed.

both you and neteyam's breath hitched and pupils dilated as you looked from the bond to one another- you had never felt anything like this before, you could feel him, everything. his breath, heart beat, his feelings to you.

"i see you, y/n." neteyam breathed out, you swore you had never been happier- and neteyam could feel how happy you were when he spoke the words through the bond which made him smile.

"i see you, neteyam."

eywa had heard the two of your wishes and answered them. you and neteyam sully were now one, mated for life.

[uyinq]

THE CONTAINMENT INITIATIVE ☆ B.R

chapter 3 — is it really you?

[bob reynolds x AFAB! reader, psychic!reader, empath?reader,slow burn,fluff,angst,slow burn,eventual smut, messy co-dependent relationships]

❱❱ WORD COUNT ﹕4,025

❱❱ SUMMARY﹕ Things are getting tense in the tower. Sentry needs to be reeled back in after his first mission. And something starts to claw at the edges of your mind like it's toying with you.

❱❱ WARNINGS ﹕ profanity, violence, trauma, eventual smut, psychological horror, mentions of: needles, injections, torture, and human testing

❱❱ NOTES ﹕ i love the void he makes me clap my hands like a seal. anyway, this chapter was fun. sorry for the slight inactivity i have been very busy packing + preparing for college.

(divider from uzmacchiato)

★ chapters ﹒﹒ masterlist

★ tags - @coutureisart @jenneric2003 @tfamidoingwithmylife

(ask to be tagged!) ࿐

You feel them watching you more now.

Not just Valentina. But everyone on the team. Especially Bucky and Yelena.

Barnes has gotten tougher on you lately. If you delve too deep or feel too much, he grabs your hand and corrects you with a gruff reminder.

“No digging. Focus.” 

Yelena’s gotten snappier. She’s not as smiley and playful as she was before. She barks at you like some sort of mademoiselle commenting on a young ballerina’s form. 

“That was wimpy. You can do better.”

You try not to take it personally.

They’re trying to help. You know that. Bucky’s warnings, Yelena’s sharpness–it’s all training. All part of the plan to keep you from becoming someone they can’t control.

Still, it gnaws at you.

The way they flinch when you let your emotions spike. The way Yelena’s knuckles go white when she blocks a hit and feels something… more. The way Bucky looks at you, like he’s already bracing for the worst.

You lie awake at night now.

You’re trying to remember why you’re here in the first place. It’s not about you, and it never was about you. This is about keeping Bob safe and the Sentry sedated. 

The training isn’t for you. It’s for him.

So why does it feel like you’re becoming something dangerous?

The air in the Watchtower feels different the day Valentina finally lets Bob out.

No one says it aloud, but you can feel the quiet unease trickling down the halls. Ava’s unusually quiet. Walker is, for once, sober before noon. Even Yelena doesn’t crack a joke when she suits up.

You don't go to the launch bay. You watch from the control room, standing just behind the technicians as they monitor heart rates, vitals, damage readouts.

Bob’s feed cuts out ten minutes after they drop in.

You wait with bated breath, catching bits and pieces of the puzzle here and there. It wasn’t an overly complex mission. It was simple– a hostage situation. 

When the team returns, they’re a mess. Even Alexei isn’t his usual chipper self. 

While everyone else heads for the showers, you’re stepping into the launch bay. 

Sentry soars in like lightning, landing on the edge of the launchpad as the heavy metal doors begin to shut, blocking out the sunlight. Rows of dim LEDs flick on, one at a time, lighting the path he’s meant to follow into the Watchtower.

Bucky lingers by the door. He knows better than to leave you alone with him.

It’s the first time you’ve had the terrifying pleasure of meeting him. The golden god with a much more confident stride than you’re used to seeing on Bob. 

His suit is a bit scuffed, covered in soot as he pushes his hair back with one bloody hand. 

You’ve never seen him like this. But it doesn’t stop you.

He’s all swagger, slightly irritated with long strides, fingers clenching and unclenching. You meet him halfway, stopping a few feet away from him.

He eyes you once, twice. His jaw twitches. Then he smirks. 

His smirk isn’t Bob’s.

It’s sharp and knowing, like he sees every flaw you’ve tried to hide, like he could unravel you with a single touch if he really wanted to.

“You look absolutely terrified.” 

You are. You definitely are.

Despite the seriousness of it all– of how important it is not to piss him off– you chuckle. 

Then you quickly school your expression, eyes going wide as you realized you just laughed in Sentry’s presence. But he doesn’t soar into the sky or turn you into a pile of ash. He just smiles.

It’s not Bob’s easy-going smile. It doesn’t hold that same warmth. But, damn, if it isn’t reassuring.

He moves toward you, and you can feel an emotion stir in Bucky. But you don’t move.

He takes another step.

Close enough now that the heat of him rolls off his body in waves– tension coiled in every inch of muscle, shoulders drawn tight like he’s trying to hold the sky back from falling.

You don’t flinch. You don’t even breathe. You just look up at him.

“Why aren’t you running?” he asks, softer this time. Not mocking, genuinely curious. Like he’s testing the walls of a new world.

“Because I don’t think you want me to,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He tilts his head. The glow behind his irises pulses faintly.

“You’re not afraid of me?”

“I am,” you admit. “But I don’t have to be.” 

That earns you a twitch of his mouth. Not quite a smile. Something thoughtful.

Then his hand lifts, hovers inches from your face–he doesn’t touch, but the air bends toward you like it wants him to.

You can feel your abilities react to his, like your powers are already trying to slot into place, searching for Bob beneath the surface.

“I’ll admit,” He murmurs, only loud enough for you to hear. “I’m curious about you.”

His hand moves down, gently taking your forearm in his grasp. You’d be scared if it wasn’t so… tender. Not gentle. But not unkind. Not firm. 

He tilts his head, thumb grazing along your pulse. His forehead wrinkles with curiosity, and he chuckles, the sound low and dark.

“I can feel it… stirring under your skin like venom.” 

Sentry takes another step closer, and he’s far too close to you. 

You’re suddenly acutely aware of how you’re not scared anymore. You’re nervous. Not like someone worried about their own life. Like you’re being backed into the wall by a handsome stranger, and you’re stuck between fighting them off and giving in to them. 

He takes your hand in his own, fingers wrapping around the back of your own as he smiles. It’s not quite malicious– but it's certainly not friendly. 

“I won’t fight it, this time.” 

You barely have time to brace yourself before it happens.

The moment he says it, the tension snaps. Like a current arcing between two live wires. It rushes into your bloodstream like static. You can feel him everywhere–coiling around your spine, brushing over your thoughts with a wicked grin.

Your knees nearly buckle.

Bob flinches, like he didn’t expect it either. His eyes go wide for a split second, the golden shine flaring like a flare behind his pupils. But he doesn’t pull back.

Instead, he breathes you in.

Your powers flood into him–emotions, sensations, memories, fragments of who you are. And in return, you feel the Void lurch forward, hungry and ancient, drawn to the weakness you didn't know you’d left open.

‘I see you now.’

It’s not a hiss or a growl. It’s a sinister purr.

You squeeze his hand, hard, grounding yourself before it takes root. “Bob,” you whisper, voice shaking. 

His gaze flicks to yours, flickering with tension–Sentry still half there, trying to decide if you’re a threat or an offering.

“Bob,” you repeat, firmer now. “Come back.”

For a moment, nothing changes. Then, he blinks. And you feel him.

The part of him that aches. That’s tired. That wants so badly to be seen as something human.

He’s back. 

And right when he’s finally stable, you sway on your feet. You stumble, and he catches you before you can fall. Strong arms wrap around you and hold you upright, a mop of brown hair brushes your face as he pulls you closer.

“It’s okay.” He whispers, hands clinging to your shoulder blades as you gasp for air. 

It’s definitely not okay. 

But it feels that way when he whispers sweet things against your hair and holds you tight. Like he’s afraid you’ll fall apart if he lets you go. 

His grip tightens for just a second before easing, like he’s recalibrating his strength, like Bob is back in control. His voice is hoarse, like he hasn’t spoken as himself in hours. “You pulled me out.”

Your hands fist in the front of his suit, breath still stuttering. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I know.” He pauses. “You scare me, too.”

You lean into his chest, not out of affection– maybe it’s that, too– but because your legs still don’t feel real. Your thoughts are barely stitched together, frayed at the edges where something dark has pushed its way in.

He just holds you.

There’s no manipulation in it. No menace. Not Sentry.

Just Bob. Quiet and solid, pressing his cheek to the top of your head like you’re the one keeping him steady.

The walk back to your room feels like dragging yourself through mud. The walls of the Watchtower seem to pulse around you, fluorescents overhead flickering like the Tower itself knows something’s shifted.

You make it to your hallway before you stop.

Bucky’s already there.

Leaning against the wall across from your door, arms crossed over his chest, head low like he’s been waiting a while. He doesn’t look at you at first. Just breathes.

Then;

“You okay?”

It’s a stupid question. He knows you’re not.

You don’t answer right away. You step past him and rest your hand on your doorframe like it’ll keep you upright. Then you nod. Barely.

“Yeah, I’m… fine. It’s just really draining. It’s a lot to feel anyone like that. But Bob isn’t anyone. He’s three people, rolled into one.”

Bucky doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even smile. Just watches you, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re downplaying it for his benefit or yours.

You can feel it crawling behind your ribs still– whatever’s left behind when the Void brushes too close. 

“He’s three people,” Bucky repeats quietly. “And one of them wants to consume the world.”

You nod, swallowing thickly. “I know.”

“You didn’t just feel him,” Bucky says, his voice a notch lower. “You brought him back. That’s not just a connection, that’s control.”

You bristle, something flickering in your eyes. “It’s not control.”

“No?” he presses, stepping closer. “Then what would’ve happened if you weren’t there today?”

You glance down. Your fingers are still trembling. You don’t have a good answer.

Bucky sighs and rubs a hand over his jaw. He’s not trying to scare you. But he is trying to ground you in the truth.

You finally meet his eyes, and your voice comes out raw. “I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want to control people.”

“I know,” he says. Then, after a pause: “But you’re here. And you’ve got it. And whether Val knows how deep it goes or not, she’s going to want to use it.”

The hallway feels smaller. The light colder.

You blink, trying to shake the weight. “So what do I do?”

He steps beside you, close enough to touch, but he doesn’t. He just leans slightly, his voice low.

“You stay sharp. You train harder. You don’t let her manipulate you or Bob.”

You nod again, and this time, it feels real. A little steadier.

You open your door, but before you go in, you pause.

“Bucky.”

He glances down at you.

“Thanks. For waiting.”

His mouth twitches, almost a smile. “Just don’t make me do it again.”

But he knows he will. You both do.

You can’t sleep.

How could you?

He hasn’t spoke since you touched Bob. But you can feel him– wrapped around your psyche like a vine with teeth, pricking you bit by bit until you bleed out. 

You squirm– you toss and turn.

Then you throw your head back against your pillow at four o’clock in the morning.

“What do you want from me?” 

The room doesn't answer. Not with sound.

But it pulses.

A breath in the walls. A shiver under the floorboards. Your lamp flickers once– enough to make you leap out of bed, but enough to remind you that you’re not alone in your head.

"You already know what I want."

You huff incredulously at that response, throwing your covers off as you sit up. You stare at the wall, wishing your gaze would just will him to appear so you can strangle him. 

“No, I don’t. That’s why I asked.” 

The voice isn’t like before. It’s quieter now. More curious than cruel. Still wrong, still other, but not as sharp as when it clawed through you on the mat with Bucky. Not as overwhelming as when it tried to pull you under through Bob’s fingertips.

It almost sounds like it’s… thinking.

"You let me in. You didn’t close the door."

Your palms dig into the sheets as you slide off your bed. You wrap your arms around yourself, staring at the window with a sigh.

“I didn’t mean to.” 

"Doesn’t matter."

You exhale through your nose, steadying yourself. 

That makes it laugh.

You glance toward the window. The sky’s beginning to soften from black to navy. Almost morning.

“Bob wouldn’t want you here.”

A pause.

"Bob doesn’t know what he wants. But he likes it when you touch him. He wants it– craves the connection. So do I."

Your breath catches.

“I’m not helping you.”

"You already are. Every time you touch him. You’re just giving me more ammunition and you know it."

You stand, crossing the room with shaking hands, to wander into your bathroom and splash water on your face. It’s cold, grounding. For a second.

“I want to help Bob.”

"And I am Bob."

You grip the sink tighter.

“No. You’re what’s left of him when people peel back everything that makes him good.”

That quiets the voice. For a while.

Just when you think it’s gone, it brushes your mind one last time—soft as breath, cold as fog.

"We’ll talk again soon."

And then it's gone.

The connection severs cleanly.

Like a door slamming shut.

Your knees nearly give out. You brace yourself on the counter, breathing like you just ran a mile. The silence is worse than the voice. Because now you know it's waiting.

You know it likes you.

You don’t expect to see him the next morning. Definitely not this soon.

But there he is, standing in the kitchen with two mugs in hand, like he’s been waiting for you.

“Hey.”

That easy grin. Bob’s grin. Not Sentry’s. Not the Void’s.

It stirs something in your chest.

“I wasn’t sure how you like your coffee,” he says, holding out one of the cups. “So I guessed. And if I’m wrong, feel free to pour it down the drain.”

You take it gently, carefully. But your fingers still brush his. You flinch, just barely. 

He doesn’t notice it. Or if he does, he’s too polite to point it out.

He falls into step beside you easily as you walk, and it’s disarming how normal he is. No gold in his eyes. No stormcloud in his shadow. Just Bob, asking you about your favorite breakfast food, cracking dry jokes, nudging your elbow with a familiarity that shouldn’t feel this safe.

But it does. That’s the problem.

Because while he talks, while he smiles, something inside you tightens. Not because of Bob.

Because of him.

The one still watching. Still listening. Still waiting in the dark corners of your head.

You nod along, laugh where you should, but your grip stays tight on the mug, your pulse thudding louder in your ears than it should.

And when Bob asks, “you doing okay?” you almost fold.

But you lie.

“Yeah. Just tired.”

He stops in the middle of the hallway, and you stop with him. Your fingers tap your mug a couple of times, trying to shove your nerves down.

“Is it me? Did I make you tired?”

You hate the guilty look in his eyes, like a sad puppy dog that's been yipping a little bit too much.

“It’s not your fault, Bob. It just wears me out.” 

He doesn’t move for a second. Just stands there looking at you, like he’s trying to see something beneath your skin. You know the look by now– It’s Bob, but it’s also not. It’s the part of him that remembers too much. That feels too much.

“I know that I… can be a lot.” He whispers reverently, taking a half-step closer to you. A smile graces his lips– not the awkward one he wears to fill the silence or make a moment less awkward. A real one. “I really appreciate you. I’m glad you were there yesterday.” 

The words sting. They shouldn’t– but they do. 

Not because they’re untrue, but because they’re too true. You felt it when he came back, that silent awe. The thankfulness. It was far too genuine for someone with the physical embodiment of darkness in their mind. 

“You’re not a lot. You’re just… intense.”

His voice softens, so low it’s barely a breath. “You don’t have to do this for me.”

Your stomach twists. The coffee suddenly tastes too bitter.

“You’re part of the team,” you say automatically. “That’s why I’m here.” 

Bob hums, noncommittal. He’s still staring, and you don’t like how close it makes you feel. How warm. How exposed. How wrong, when something else is still coiled inside you.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs.

You look down. Your fingers are trembling around the mug. You didn’t even notice.

“I didn’t sleep much,” you lie again, hoarsely.

He nods, like he accepts that. But he doesn’t believe it.

He steps forward before you can stop him, reaching out like he’s going to touch your arm–then hesitates. Pulls back just an inch.

“Can I…? Or is it too much?”

Your heart thunders. Not because of him. Not just because of him.

But because the moment he touches you, it will know. The Void always knows.

You smile, brittle. “Another time, okay?”

Bob nods, stepping back, swallowing whatever words were behind his teeth.

You keep walking. You don’t look back. But you feel his gaze linger.

And when you pass by one of the reflective hallway panels, you swear–for half a second– don’t see just yourself walking.

You see something walking with you.

You try everything to sleep. Shower. Tea. Old music humming from your tablet speaker. You even open the window, let the rain slip through the screen, and cool your room until your skin prickles. Nothing helps.

You’re wide awake.

He’s closer tonight. The silence echoes in your room like cold laughter. You used to like the quiet in the dead of night, the way it felt like no one could bother you. But he’s invaded the one place you feel safe. Your mind. 

It’s not just a voice, not really. It’s more like… pressure. Like a presence waiting just outside the edge of your mind. And tonight, he doesn’t wait to be invited in.

The lights flicker. Then dim.

You close your eyes, try to ignore it.

But the shadows don’t leave with your sight. They thicken.

And then you hear him.

“You let me in once.”

The words crawl down your spine like spider legs. You curl into yourself and groan. 

“Stop.” 

“You felt what it was like. You touched me first.”

You open your eyes, brows furrowing at something that’s not quite there. Every shadow takes on his form. 

“You liked it.” 

Your heart thunders. The wall across from your bed breathes. Just once. Inward. Like it’s expanding to make space for something bigger.

“Stop running, sweetheart. You’re not scared of me. You’re scared of what you’ll become if you stop fighting.”

“Please, just stop.” 

You roll out of bed, moving to turn on one of the lamps– as if that will help.

The switch clicks, it turns, but it won’t work. You try two more times.

You huff in frustration, looking at the wall, as if it represents him.

“Seriously? Just for dramatic effect?” The air shifts, and it feels equivalent to a shrug. 

“Fuck you, too.” 

He chuckles. It’s low and smoky, like someone humming into your bones.

“Careful. You keep talking to me like that, and I might think you like it.”

You stiffen.

A breeze curls past your shoulder, inside your room. But the window’s closed, and the air doesn’t smell like rain anymore. It smells like metal and ash, like a candle that burned too long to be put out.

You swallow. “What do you want from me?”

“You. All of you.”

The floor creaks beneath your feet–except you didn’t move. Neither did the floorboards. It’s not sound. It’s sensation. Like the world itself is shifting underneath you.

“The part of you no one else understands. The piece that flinches when someone touches you too long. The edge in your voice when you pretend you’re not scared–”

You whip around suddenly, fingers curling around a shape. An arm– that was reaching for you.

Then you see it.

You see him.

The outline of his shape in the darkness– the light barely there. Two pinholes of light, staring right at you. You hate the way your stomach flips, curiosity crossing a threshold it wasn’t invited into. 

You don’t scream.

You should, but you don’t.

Because the part of you that wants to live is tangled with the part that wants to know. What he really is. What it would feel like if you let him all the way in.

The two glowing eyes narrow, and the shape moves closer. Not walking–sliding. Like shadow poured into a body that never learned how to move like a man.

“There you are,” he says, quiet. Reverent. Like a lover finding you in a crowded room. You step back, and his arm moves with yours, phasing through your hand so he can grab you instead. 

He’s cold. Not like metal or marble. Cold like a scream buried in snow.

You try to pull away.

“Don’t,” he murmurs. “You’ll only make it hurt.”

Maybe you want it to.

You push that thought away immediately. But he already felt it. He’s already tore your psyche apart, bit by bit– piece by piece. He laughs again, less sinister, like he’s sincerely entertained by your game of mental table tennis.

“There it is again,” he whispers, like you’ve handed him a gift. “That sharp little ache in your chest. Like you want to be ruined but taken care of at the same time.”

Your breath catches as you twist your wrist in his hand. He doesn’t let go. He clamps down harder.

“Don’t worry,” he says, brushing a thumb over your pulse. “I’ll always ask first.”

Your heart slams against your ribs. You don’t know if you’re more afraid of the words or the implication behind them.

“Why now?” you ask, voice raw. “Why are you doing this now?”

He leans in close, eyes glowing brighter as his mouth curls into a grin. His teeth are pearly white, one of the only discernible features of what represents his face.

“Because it’s so easy to get inside when you’re trying to save him. And yesterday?” His fingers tighten, just slightly. “You played god. Didn’t it feel good?”

You shake your head. You want to say no. But he’s in there already. Picking through every echo of that feeling you buried after bringing Bob back from the edge.

“It scared you. But it lit you up, too.” He breathes it against your skin. “That power. That closeness. You were mine for a second. And you liked it.”

You twist in his grasp, finally breaking free–but it’s like pulling yourself out of a freezing lake. You’re soaked in something invisible. Heavy with it.

“You don’t own me,” you hiss, stepping back.

He grins. Bright. Terrible.

“No,” he agrees, tilting his head. “I never wanted to.” 

And then–

A slam down the hall.

Bootsteps.

The Void fades so fast you nearly topple forward.

“Hey.” Bucky’s voice. Sharp. Right outside. “Are you alone?”

You look at the door. Then, at your shaking hands.

You don’t know how to answer.

Your feet are carrying you to the door before you can stop them. You press the button to open your door, and the hydraulics hiss softly as the metal slides into place.

He sees it in your face before you even say a word. Your eyes are bloodshot, wide, and frantic as you search for some sort of explanation. 

He stares at your wrist. It’s red. Angry. 

“I let it in.” 

[deer-diary-from-hell]

Redesigned all of the Dandy world (+my take on the game)

”But Liam/deer didn’t you alr posted these-“

you didn’t see anything.

HEADCANONING TIME WWOOOOO

I like to think that ALMOST all of the toons just think they’re just playing a game of tag while collecting ichor like it’s a “capture the flag” thing. It’s in their blood (or ichor) to just be a bunch of childish and playful creatures, they are MADE for kids so it’s not really out of character of them to NOT think that twisteds are dangerous let alone kill them which cause them to see things differently (literally)

(still talking about this👆) If you start the game at first it’s all bright and colorful like something you would see out of a kid’s show, there’s happy music playing in the background all fun and games! Until you get hit by a twisted and lose a heart. Thats when the reality kicks in. Music stops as the colors slowly go back to the sad reality of an abandoned studio/daycare. These twisteds weren’t playing.. they were trying to kill you. This effect is irreversible even if you go back to full health. The shine in their eyes are gone. They aren’t laughing anymore, this isn’t funny. They’re scared.

(Note to self, each toon will have a traumatized look on their face after getting injured and will stay traumatized even after being healed+also applies to a toon when they witness a death of another toon)

I like to think that the twisted are like a “Failed” version of a toon, a toon that wasn’t the exact replica of itself so, it was locked away in the underground as it contorts into it’s biggest flaw(s) might design the twisteds if I feel like it.

If a toon witnessed another toon getting hit they’ll still be oblivious but concerned for their fellow friend

The twisteds prob growls and snarls due to their throats being filled with nothing but ichor, constantly leaking from their mouths as they try to kill you out of jealousy that YOU don’t get to be thrown away like a broken toy and instead cherished by children while they were called a mistake and now you’re going to experience the same pain they went through.

on a lighter note, the toons stole the clothes they’re wearing from the lost and found shortly after being abandoned and threw away their old clothes.

dandy needs those tapes so he doesn’t turn into a twisted. He wants to protect his friends from himself.

Ichor while being dangerous can be used to bring back a dead toon, only dandy knows this. Fortunately (or unfortunately) the toon doesn’t remember how they died after being revived

All toons are asexual. (Gets booed off the stage)

Do you think toons are desperate for interactions after being abandoned for god knows how long.

Astro, Vee and Shelly are the ones who don’t have the “fake reality” sight going on and knows that they’re actually in danger although for Shelly she’s sorta in denial (and ig Teagan and Rodger too? But the both of them just thinks that the twisteds aren’t really that dangerous and thought they wont kill their fellow toons)

might add more hcs soon but prob in later posts

Guys please ask for hcs for any toons you like please I’m begging on my knees I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING.

[brights-place]

Can

Can u maybe do Sonic exe x reader please? 🥺

[Creepypastas] Sonic EXE x Reader Warnings: Gore, Cursing

A/N: Never in my life have I thought that someone would request sonic exe... BUT HEY WHATEVER YOU LIKE LETS GO the gender is not specified

Summary: Just headcannons of Sonic EXE the creepypasta which I never have thought I would do with an x reader character thats abit creepy

- There was many differences between you two in body and personalities mostly with him being a mass murderer plus the fact he's an anthropomorphic video game hedgehog and you're well a a human - He's a cursed item and a short one too - Short king who cares for his partner and would kill for her or kill her when he gets bored lucky enough he hasn't gotten bored of you he enjoys playing and toying with you - Sonic EXE can say some disturbing ass shit that will frighten or startle you or will say the most gruesome things about his recent victims out of nowhere but if he feels like he’s gone too far he will apologize to you but don’t expect him to do that for anyone else - When he first did that was when you were making him some chili dogs and he stared at the chili - "You know that reminds me of when I gutted this weird ass girl who were trying to get to me but i gutted her because she would always fail the levels ugh I should taken out her eyes too would of been fun to-" and here cues your horrified face staring at him - When he's running he enjoys you boosting his ego - He’s never encountered a human that had the nerve to challenge him actually he has but they all were too cocky but you? being aware of your flaws and using it to your advantage made him entertained - This hedgehog cannot die so every time you get so angered in a whole another level he watches as you lash out and for some reason he enjoys every time where you lash out on him - he loves suggesting for you to snap his neck or kill him a horrifying way that he loves to describe as you always say you'd never kill him - He comes back bloodied and would have you wipe away the blood dripping down his red irises and voidless eyes - you both had made a schedule for when he can come to the real world so you both can hangout and pamper each other or when he does his little sprees to kill victims - When he's in his little game hes always watching, making sure your okay you're happy, if there’s any sign you’re unhappy with a person they make you uncomfy they are dealt with personally - His god complex is high so is his ego you boost it for him a lot - Enjoys bringing back little items from his world to you though he enjoyed the face you made when he gave you a fluffy tail keychain that was quite big the yellow fur and white was beautiful - But when you noticed the dripping at the end where the keychain clip was pierced you pause staring at the tails cute fox videogame character missing one of his tails.. - He enjoyed pampering you he calls himself god he calls you his spouse - kisses are kind of hard to do due to his sharp teeth but hey it works for you both - Love language 100% would be gift giving and words of affirmation or 50/50 he's hard to understand - He does pull strings behind the scenes to keep you safe and make sure you are treated like the royalty you are - Even if he gets his hands dirty I mean he already has them bloodied with the past so whats wrong with another person who messed with you to be his next victim

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2024 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

[i-dared-myself]

Heads

Hyunjin x reader

Requested ‘sequal’ of this.

In which your hopeless romantic blunders come to an end

18+

After another terrible date, you stumble into your apartment. You barely manage to kick your shoes off before you sink to the floor and cry.

Is there really no one decent out there? Why do your dates feel the need to point out your flaws? Why are they all such assholes?

You dump your purse next to the door, along with your jacket. It’s future-you’s problem, and future-you is going to call now-you a bitch.

You remove your makeup, and return to your living room. Turning on a stupid romantic film is what you need right now, so you do it.

You gather your pyjamas and bring them to your living room, peeking at the television. The love interest has the protagonist in his arms, and this is what you need in your life.

But alas, you only attract morons, apparently.

“I could offer you a deal.”

You whip around, shrieking in alarm. The man grimaces, covering his ears with his hands.

“Who the fuck are you?” you demand. Your eyes flick to the kitchen, where your knives are (obviously) located.

“Hyunjin.” He offers you a small bow, lips tugging up at the corners. His dark red hair falls around his face before he tucks it back, eyes glinting. “Love god, at your service.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Really? Prove it.”

He seems taken aback, and frowns slightly. “Prove it? How?”

“I dunno.” You shrug and take a miniature step to the kitchen. “You’re the love god.”

Hyunjin rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek, considering your words for a moment. “I don’t need this contract.”

“Contract? Are the you devil or a love god?” You snort and shake your head. As you feign amusement, you continue to shuffle backwards.

Hyunjin entwines his fingers behind his back, cocking his head. “I’ve been called both. And I don’t think I need to prove myself to you. You’re the one who’s lonely and unloved.”

You wince. “Harsh. Okay fine, what do you have for me?”

He chuckles, gliding forwards until his chest is a hair’s width away from yours. If you take a deep breath they would brush together.

“I can give you undying affection and passion unlike anything in those… tasteless movies.” Hyunjin flashes the television a look of disdain before returning his attention to you. He lifts a hand to lean it on the wall next to your head, leaning even closer. “What do you say?”

You swallow thickly. What he’s suggesting is everything you’ve ever wanted.

“And what do I have to do in exchange?” You gaze up, right into his eyes. They’re half-lidded and his eyelashes frame his gorgeous eyes.

“Nothing.” Hyunjin smiles wryly. His other hand is brought up to gently caress your cheek. “Just a small, teeny-tiny, little thing.”

“What is it?” 

His lips part to speak, and you barely hear the words coming out of his mouth. But you do. And they cut through the haze in your head.

“You have to play a bit of a game with me,” he simply says. “Doesn’t that seem like fun? Then you can have your happily ever after.”

“What kind of game?” you ask him warily as he spins around and drapes himself across your couch. The knife is forgotten and the only thing at the forefront of your focus is what he could give you.

“We flip a coin. If it’s tails, you get your true love. If it’s heads, you die.” Hyunjin looks smug and pleased with himself. He holds a hand up, and a coin gleams between two elegant fingers.

“I… die?” you repeat. Suddenly this doesn’t seem like such a good idea. 

“Well, there’s a chance you’ll survive.” His expression shifts and he looks away. He’s still toying with the coin. “Anyone I kiss dies. It’s ironic, considering who I am. The only one that can survive, is-“

“Death,” you finish. “Love-hate relationship with them? I get it.”

Hyunjin blinks. “What? No. Don’t interrupt me, either.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, not wanting to risk his wrath. Does he only kill people by kissing them? Or does he also stab them? Either way, you don’t want it.

“The only one who can survive is my true love.” Hyunjin curls his fingers to get you to approach, patting the couch next to him. “Ready?”

You hesitantly sit, watching as he flips the coin. It lands on the table and you both peer down at it.

“Heads,” Hyunjin croons, slowly raising his gaze to yours. He scoots closer to you as your heart sinks.

“Get it over with.” You sigh and cast a hateful look at the coin.

Hyunjin’s hand comes to the back of your head, cradling it gently. He pulls you closer to him, his grip firm and his lips soft as they lower to yours.

You kiss him back, because why not? You have nothing to lose at this point.

His head moves and his lips part. You accept his tongue slipping into your mouth as he guides you down until your back hits the couch cushions.

Then he’s hovering above you, eyes wide. You’re waiting for the inevitable end. The last thing you’ll see is his stupidly pretty face, and you can’t be mad about it.

“You’re not dead,” he observes.

“You’re smarter than you look,” you tease, mind reeling with what this means.

If you’re not dead, and he’s surprised at this fact…

“I’ve looked for you for so long,” Hyunjin whispers and buries his face against your neck. His teeth graze the skin there. “Can I fuck you, please?”

Your breath hitches. “What?”

“Please?” he begs. “I’ll make it so no other man can pleasure you. None of those shitty men will make you happy like I can.”

You hum. Maybe this a little hasty, but you’re just glad you’re not dead.

“Words, pretty girl.” Hyunjin lifts you into his arms.

“Yes, you can fuck me,” you tell him. Then you’re being dumped on a bed of smooth sheets. “What the-“

“This is my room.” He gestures around to your surroundings. There are paintings hanging on the walls and big windows that overlook… clouds? 

“Okay then,” is all you can say. 

Hyunjin grins and snaps his fingers, and then suddenly your clothes are gone. His have been removed as well, and he crawls across the bed to stare down at you.

“No other men are like me,” he promises silkily. A finger is plunged into you, quickly followed by another. You fist the sheets at the stretch, feeling him scissor them out.

“Please.” You grind down on his hand. “Please, Hyunjin!”

He coos and runs his hands through your hair. “Oh, you’re not cumming until I say.”

“Why?” You gasp as his fingers in your hair tighten and wrench your head up. “Hyunjin!”

“Face down, ass up, pretty girl.” Hyunjin manipulates you into the position he wants. He sighs heavily and tosses his head back. “Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

You moan as he enters you, squeezing around him. You claw at the sheets as he rolls his hips experimentally. “Just-“

He shushes you as he thrusts. Strands of his hair stick to his face. “Gonna marry you and everything.”

You squirm back against him. “Y-Yeah?”

“Mhm.” Hyunjin reaches down to circle your clit. “I’ll fill you up anytime you want. You’ll be like this every day, just for me.”

“Just for you,” you agree. You can feel yourself flutter around him as he continues muttering. You’re getting closer and closer.

Hyunjin forces your back into an arch, at just the angle he wants. This way, his thrusts hit the spot that makes your eyes roll back, and you’re babbling out pleas to cum. 

“I wanna see that face as you cum.” He presses harder to your clit, grinding hard against you. “I bet it’s just as pretty as the rest of you.”

Your mouth falls open as you fall over the edge. He works you through it, thrusts stuttering until he spills deep inside you.

Hyunjin pulls out, smiling at you gently. His hair frames his face as sweat shines on his body. “I’ll clean you up, then get you some water.”

You blink dazedly. “Sure. And cuddles.”

He stretches out, waving a hand to form robes on the both of you. “Anything you want, pretty girl.”

Tagslist:

@velvetmoonlght

[walks-the-ages]

Nothing infuriates me more than seeing full grown adults disparage "Ipad babies" and feature characters who are "ipad babies" in the media they create and present these characters as though this is an innate flaw of the child and not something that parents actively push onto their still-developing children from an extremely young age as a "cheap distraction" to get a kid to 'shut up and stop bugging them"

Parents have been showing kids movies and shows for decades at this point.

The problem with parents now is that they're not even putting on anything even resembling educational entertainment, they're literally just loading up Youtube and letting their kid watch endless, endless nonsense built around clickbait and marketing which very very quickly goes from

"random but relatively harmless cartoon"

and then abruptly swerves into

"horrifying AI generated content full of things extremely inappropriate for children but presented in a cute cartoony way so the inattentive parents don't even notice what kind of fucked up shit their toddler is absorbing"

If you're going to hand your toddler a tablet to play with, you should, at minimum, have it disconnected from the Internet, and pre-load it with offline shows, books and music they can listen to according to whatever age they are.

Have a drawing app for them to color with, and get a bunch of cheap digital styluses to keep in your purse so they can practice holding a drawing/writing implement instead of just their finger on a screen.

Put a bunch of coloring book pages on the tablet that they can color in as many times as they want in a free drawing app.

Play a game where they try to draw the things they see, or practice their letters as you're grocery shopping to write out their favorite foods.

Have a bunch of children's books for them to read.

Have some children's audiobooks and radio plays on the tablet.

Have some fucking like. Bill Nye The Science Guy downloaded to the tablet that they can watch.

Have some normal kids cartoons and movies on the tablet they can watch.

You don't need to be shoving high-brow media at your kid every second but for gods sake, you shouldn't just be normalizing them mindlessly absorbing AI slop from infancy onward because you can't be bothered to interact with your kid. Give them things that, at the very least, have plot and characters and arcs.

Give them actual stories , not just things that are literally designed to train their brains into being more susceptible to algorithms and mindless content.

Give your kids things that are actually educational, actually fun, actually *engaging* digital content when you're out and about, and most of all, don't neglect to actually interact with your fucking kid and give them physical toys and books and play with them outdoors and give them physical papers to color you can hang up on your fridge and give them puzzles they can try to solve and just -- don't make YouTube Slop the only thing they know??

[sailorblossoms-rankane]

i saw this post on reddit and it made me really mad cause 1, you didn’t read the manga and 2, why would you say that?? i honestly hate reddit but i was looking up a question today and stumbled upon it. i just wanna know what you would respond to this 😓 these are the same dudes that call ukkyo and shampoo waifus

“Yep. Pretty, feminine, kind, admits her feelings (emotionally mature), can cook you okonomiyaki and other things, not crazy like shampoo and kodachi.

Vs Akane: rude, violent, canonically ugly (he doesn't mean it but ranma calls her ugly all the time so I'm rolling with it), can't cook at all, yells all the time, can't admit her feelings (emotionally immature).”

I'm gonna be real with you: I read this and felt so exhausted I thought "I'll reply later" and then blissfully forgot. I'm replying to you now, dear anon, not to fuckers who watch the old show using one hand to pause the screen and the other to grab their dicks. There's no arguing with them, you can see it when he says "he doesn't mean it but..." he knows damn well Ranma doesn't mean it. He just wants Akane to be ugly cuz he doesn't like her and decided to make it Ranma's problem (and mine, apparently, since I'm writing this). If the girl doesn't make them horny or inspires waifu fantasies, then she must be punished in some way. She has to be ugly.

This is going to get long. I'm not even gonna talk too much about Akane or else we'll be here all day.

First of all, nobody is winning any emotional maturity awards in a manga like this, where the comedy seeks to make everyone lose it. Nobody can't be above the craziness, if they are, they don't have much to do here. Akane loses it because she's specifically thrown into situations designed to have that effect, she's not made of stone. If your breaking point is tested constantly, you're gonna break sometimes. However, while Akane has flaws, the manga also sets her up as the better person when compared to the rest of the cast. (This is intentional. Give me the damn arc, try me. I'll tell you how) Part of why Akane and Ranma are compatible: both have good hearts and want to help everybody, but there's a reason why we get scenarios like this one in later volumes.

(In this arc, for example, Akane was going to take Ranma asking her to give up the power armor very well cuz she indeed doesn't want that to get between them, but Ranma had to be a dumb motherfucker and made her feel like he's just toying with her heart. She can be mature, but then she's tested, so she loses it)

(See the contrast here. Ranma is trying his best! but my guy just doesn't have the tools, so this is very, very difficult for him, which is why he might lead with an apology without understanding what he did wrong. Emotionally, one could say she has tools others don't)

One of Ukyo's strenghts, for example, is that she's reliable. She's a business owner, she can take care of herself! So much, in fact, that her romantic fantasies envision her as a provider. Ukyo is not your waifu: she wants a wife, while essentially filling the role of husband. And speaking of husbands: this is someone who will wear kimonos and look feminine and elegant, but most of the time, she's comfortable binding her chest and dressing like a boy. It makes sense for Ukyo to be like "this is fun!" upon learning that Ranma can switch between girl and boy, the "feminine" and the "masculine," cuz she does that too...

You don't define Ukyo with "feminine" (the old show is partly to blame... I haven't seen that filler where she wears a dress seeking Ranma's validation yet, I might prefer to be shot). She wants a traditionally masculine role: to be the person in charge, the breadwinner, while having someone that feels indebted to her (someone she will take care of) to take care of the house in a way that's usually a feminine role (It would destroy Ranma to be exactly what she wants and let her be exactly who she is, which is part of why they're not compatible for a relationship, and why the arc where she pursues him seriously has her giving up the passion that makes her herself... but Konatsu fits the bill)

Akane can get competitive in pretty childish ways (and she will match Ranma's childish clownery, you can't be too mature if you're gonna be compatible with him) but when she suspects Ukyo could have something on Ranma, for example, she just talks to her. In fact, she tried to talk to Ranma first when she suspected something was wrong (cuz she's not screaming all the fucking time) but the fool unknowingly made her insecure in his attempt to deflect and avoid responsibility. The shenanigans and misunderstandings in this arc wouldn't have happened if Ranma just talked to Akane when she asked him what the hell was going on.

Akane is quick to accept Ranma fucked up, because she actually knows the fool. When Ukyo suspects Akane has something on Ranma she just throws accusations, villanizes Akane and babies Ranma. In similar situations, Akane handled it with more "emotional maturity" (before the plot throws her something to make her lose her cool again). This is arguably the bad side of Ukyo's need to provide and protect, because fucking nobody is a flawless waifu here.

Ukyo is a very susceptible girl. She's not as crazy as Shampoo or Kodachi if she's on her own, but she's just as crazy when you put them all together, which is why they're grouped like this

You can actually see this happen in real time in the arc where Nabiki becomes a temporary fiancée cuz she was particularly bored that day. At first, she just wants to scare off Nabiki

But then Nabiki says "you can have Ranma if you buy him" and Ukyo immediately and enthusiastically agrees, she doesn't even question that shit is wrong. When Kodachi shows up, she immediately plays her game too.

Then, hilariously, when Shampoo shows up like "I'm not paying shit, I'm just killing you," you can see Ukyo in the background like "they do have a point, murder is a bargain." A true businesswoman.

You can tell someone you like them without being emotionally mature. Both Shampoo and Kodachi make it clear they want Ranma (or they think they do): both are many things, but "emotionally mature" is not one of them. You know what else doesn't show superior emotional maturity? being in cahoots with the lost boy to break up a relationship. Attacking Akane, with who she's usually pretty friendly with when it's just them, over the chance to basically "love potion" Ranma (when destroying the umbrella is indeed the right thing to do) it's not exactly a hallmark of emotional maturity either (and that's the point, can't have much of the humor if everyone is emotionally mature or if they are all the fucking time, if Ukyo was really emotionally mature she practically wouldn't show up in the manga) (iirc Ukyo is the only girl you never seen Akane toon kicking or sending flying in anyway mind you, like she does with Kodachi and Shampoo when they're crossing yet another line)

Calling Akane, who knows how doors work "rude" when every single girl after Ranma has destroyed other people's houses in some capacity is beyond unserious. (Shampoo practically never uses a door, the way the character is always bursting through walls is a clever way to portray how disruptive and destructive she is). Calling her violent, as if this was an unique trait in a world where nobody can share a page with Ranma without hitting, kicking or flattening him with their damn bike is being willfully obtuse. Calling her canonically ugly is just being stupid. Ranma insulting her is pigtail pulling because he likes her and he's very obviously attracted to her. You have an arc that ends a conflict with Ranma on the fucking floor because he's so disappointed he can't see Akane naked he momentarily loses his will to live.

Every single girl in that cast is meant to be very beautiful, but Akane gets "dream girl" framing, not just in covers, but also inside the story.

Stuff like this is the equivalent of a "glamour shoot," which is something you use to show a female character as gorgeous and desirable. The whole damn school was fighting for a chance to date this girl before Ranma arrived mind you

He has amnesia here, this is 10000% about her beauty, he simply saw her.

I'm probably forgetting stuff, but one more thing about violence: in situations when all the girls misunderstand the same thing, Akane's reaction is the most chill, in case you ever felt like the manga was too subtle about making this fucking point

[sociopathicartist]

NEED SOME MORE NIGHTMARE CRUBS, I AM EATING YOUR WRITING UPPP

here you go :)

PART 5 OF THE SERIES APRICITY

TW: MENTIONS OF TORTURE / ABUSE

Obfuscate - To throw into shadow, to darken, to create unsurity.

If someone asked Nightmare when he began to like you, he would laugh in their face.

Him? Like anyone? No.

It wasn’t just that he was self-absorbed and conceded, but he emotionally could not love people. He was made of negativity- evil. It consumed his being and made him crazy. Loving someone was impossible, and liking someone was extremely difficult for him when he sought out the flaws in everyone except himself. You were no exception.

He was merely… Amused by you. You despised him, and honestly? It pissed him off. But he was also intrigued by your confidence and persistent denial of him despite the fact that it didn’t benefit you in any way possible.

If you ran, he could cut off your legs.

If you talked back to him, he could rip out your vocal cords.

And you weren’t stupid, you knew how strong he was and that he could not only strip away any freedom you had- but kill you at any given moment.

But yet, you disobeyed his rules. You were clearly testing your limits on what you could get away with, and he had half a mind to smack you across your pretty face for being so difficult with him- but he was just so….

So…

…

Amused.

How could he not be? He was giving you a luxurious room, delicious meals, and comfortable clothes- you had your every whim tended to while you were in the castle. Anything you asked for you would receive.

And yet, the only thing you asked for was for him to let you go.

Weirdly enough, your refusal to give in to him and accept your life now reminded him of himself whenever he was just a child.

Stubborn. Arrogant. Looking up at the night sky and wondering if this is all that the world has to offer you. If being bullied, mistreated, and stuck was all you would know.

Fortunately, that was not his life anymore. It hadn’t been for five hundred and six years. But he had a good hunch that it was becoming yours.

It was almost like he was watching a rat in a maze. He was so intrigued by what you would try to do next in an attempt to set him off, and it was hilarious to see you try to make friends with the three idiots working for him. They were psychotic murderers who wouldn’t be entranced by your kindness. They’d murdered families, innocent people, and children, whose to say you weren’t next?

Not that he would let them kill you. He wanted you to break first. He wanted to see as you became apathetic and cruel when you realized that no matter how hard you tried- you would never escape. He could already see you beginning to lose yourself, it was apparent just by looking at your disheveled state, and god did it make him feel good.

He had taken you from his brother, removed you from the comfort of your home, and stripped your freedom right from your hands. Since you had absorbed his magic after he stabbed you upon your first meeting, his negativity didn’t affect you as it did most people who could feel. Every negative emotion that came from you was genuine and untainted, and that made you so much more fun to toy with.

So… he just couldn’t grasp why every time you looked at him seeking comfort, he felt… pity? He had grown to look at you almost like you were some pet of his that he could take care of.

Nightmare’s cruelty reminded him of how he was treated before he became corrupted, and it was baffling to him that you sought him out after everything he’s put you through. It didn’t make sense, and that was all the more of why he took fascination in studying you.

Nightmare had spent the past five hundred and six years curating his life. He’s built the luxurious castle he lived in, he had an outstanding staff, many allies up his sleeve- and not to dote- but extremely strong powers. There were no true multiversal gods, but he might as well be the next best thing. Anyone who denied those factors was just ignoring his potential, because, like it or not, Nightmare is all those things. The only real competition against him was the other guardian- Dream- and even then he still struggled to compete.

But despite being made of evil, Nightmare wasn’t all horrible. He didn’t like killing people, (it took away the energy he could milk out from torturing them), he wasn’t prone to lashing out or yelling very much, and he had some rather peaceful hobbies.

He didn’t know what you thought of him, but he had a pretty good idea.

For one, he saw your interest in him despite how much you tried to hate him. You had tried to picture him as some… thing, to de-personalize him. It was obvious to him how much you derealed him when he kept seeing the shock in your expression every time you found out about his hobbies or normal life. It was like it was incomprehensible for you to think about Nightmare doing things without it stemming from evil.

Yes, he liked to read. Yes, he was calm and composed unless provoked. Yes, he enjoyed small moments where he could be alone and listen to the rainfall. He had a personality, he was almost likable. He could see how frustrated that made you. You couldn’t de-personalize him no matter how hard you tried because, at the end of the day, he was still someone.

It was so fun to keep you teetering between hating him and loving him, he’d do something so horrible that it left you destroyed and speechless, and then he would win you over with your favorite flowers and the swear of a date as soon as the bruise on your neck healed.

Nightmare was convinced that you would keep him entertained until the day you died.

Just like he did once.

He hated reminders of his old life.

It was part of why he was a bit gentler with you. It made somewhere deep down in him feel like he was healing the part of him that died when you smiled despite how much he hated the positive energy. Not that you or anyone else would ever know that- he never shared anything personal about him with anyone.

He did, however, log down his personal feelings into a journal sometimes.

It wasn’t very often that he did so, maybe once or twice every century or so. He wasn’t too fond of the recreational hobby, but he did find that his isolation had consumed his thoughts, and since he didn’t like anyone enough to truly conversate with them, he journaled in a small, black-leathered book tucked away in the third drawer of the desk in his study.

There was this time when you caught him writing, now that he recalled it. Nightmare had been busy scouting the multiverse for a good AU to target and he hadn’t been at the castle for a few days. He came back at night, when everyone was supposed to be asleep in their quarters whether they were resting or not.

How long had it been since he’d logged down his thoughts?

The guardian sat down at his desk and flipped through his leather journal until he found a blank page with an old log next to it. He briefly checked the neatly printed date at the top right corner of the page, reading:

‘December 21st, 1732’.

Damn. His birthday two hundred and ninety-three years ago. Odd.

Nightmare wasn’t a sentimentalist, obviously, so he didn’t ponder on the date and he took out his favorite calligraphy pen and began to scribe down what was circulating through his mind.

Some details about the past two hundred and ninety-three years, some notes about the AU’s he’s discovered, some internal thoughts and questions he had. Writing once every few centuries led him to have a lot to say, so the pages filled up easily.

“Nightmare?”

He froze in his writing upon hearing your quiet voice call out for him. For the first time, you’d caught him off guard.

Nightmare didn’t even bother to look at you before he resumed his writing at a slower pace. “I didn’t give you permission to be in here.”

“I’m not in here.” You responded.

At that, Nightmare looked up from his book to spot you. Well, technically you weren’t in his study. You were standing just outside the entryway staring down at him quietly. There you go again, testing him.

“No, you’re not in here,” Nightmare remarked, capping his calligraphy pen and setting it down on his desk before he closed his book. “What do you want?”

You shrugged, fiddling with your thumbs out of habit. “I don’t know. Just to see you, I guess. You haven’t been around recently.”

To see him? You’ve sought him out before, but this was the first time you’ve openly admitted to wanting to see him. It seemed like the months in the castle had finally grown an urge for you to cling to the only constant person in your life.

Nightmare didn’t say anything at first, staring at you with an unreadable expression. If it was anyone else, he would have told them to leave and quit bothering him the moment they showed up.

But…

“Well, you can’t see me very well from so far away, can you, darling?” His words were an invitation for you to come inside his study, even if the nickname was said in a degrading manner.

You hesitated for a second before slowly stepping past the entryway and into the dimly lit room. Nightmare hated bright lights, so every room in the castle was dimly lit with ambient lamps or candles. It was aesthetically pleasing, really.

“I’ve been wondering where you went.” You spoke softly like he would get mad at you for saying anything, and you were beginning to inch over to stand in front of his desk. “You just vanished.”

Yes, the guardian of negativity did tend to do that. You were the only person who ever questioned it.

“I had some business to attend to.” Nightmare elaborated vaguely in a smooth and low tone. “I’ll be back out again by Tuesday and I will assign you to a new task.”

You didn’t say anything, and Nightmare was convinced that you weren’t processing what he was saying.

“What do you do in here?” You asked, your gaze wandering around his study.

“What?”

“You have an office and then a study, but I don’t see you here as much. Is this like the bedroom of your office?” You explained your question to him as you stepped away from his desk and went to look at his bookshelves.

Hm. You had such a weird way of thinking, but oddly enough, Nightmare understood what you meant.

He was silent as he watched you wander before he said anything else. “Yes, I suppose you could say that.”

His study was where he kept all of his things that he didn’t want cluttering up his bedroom. The room contained some books he liked, his journal, and a few trinkets he kept neat on a shelf that he’d collected over the past few hundred years. His study was a lot more comfortable than his office, which was used for more professional matters.

It seemed that you got bored of observing his books and trinkets, and you turned your attention back to Nightmare. “I couldn’t sleep… I saw the lights coming from here and thought I would say hello.”

So… You didn’t have a purpose to being here then. You were just making conversation so that Nightmare didn’t kick you out.

“Is that so?” Nightmare tapped his phalanges in a rhythmic order against his desk as he leaned back in his chair to get more comfortable. “Well, you’ve said hello to me now.”

That was a subtle way of his segway to kick you out of his study. He was in a decent mood so he was a lot more patient with you right now.

“I have.” You walked back over to him, but you were a bit bolder this time and you shuffled behind his desk, standing next to him just a few inches away. “Are you happy with what you do?”

Nightmare turned in his chair to face you, and he stared at you in silence, the only sound being the tapping of his phalanges.

Was he happy with what he did?

Of course, he was. He had been ringing up that sweet negativity out from people for the past five hundred years, he lived in a luxurious castle full of servants, and there were millions of people across the multiverse who feared him. He had rebuilt himself into someone different, someone better. Why wouldn’t he be…

Happy?

“I mean- you’ve just been alive for so long, and-“ You stuttered over your words as you tried to explain your question, but Nightmare cut you off.

“That’s enough.” He spoke sharply. “You can go to your room now.”

Well… He didn’t appreciate your question.

You turned to leave, exiting his study and going back to your room without saying anything else.

When the sound of your footsteps faded, Nightmare was alone again, and for a good while he just stared at the entryway to his study. Your question was somehow something he’d never asked himself before, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Was being happy important when he had everything he could want? Was it even possible for him to be happy with himself?

Nightmare uncapped his calligraphy pen and opened his journal back up, smoothing out the page he left off on before his pen hit the paper and he began to write about something outside of himself. Something he hadn’t done before.

‘ I don’t hate them like everyone else, and it sickens me. ‘

…

‘I’m beginning to feel something I haven’t felt for five hundred and six years.”

[gayestcowboy]

fantasy dildo recs please? im trying to find one that isnt like $100 but is still good and reputable and wont fill my body with microplastics. ive been looking at neotori and they look great but;; the price;;; anyway yeah recs please?

hi! i have a lot of information for you.

first off, my specific recommendations of fantasy toy shops i’ve bought from or know to be reputable: uberrime, wandering bard, twilight meadow creations, strange bedfellas, pleasure forge, pp sculptors, batbites, xenocat artifacts. all of these shops have toys under 100 usd. uberrime especially has a huge selection including non-fantasy, realistic, and dual density. my top 3 fantasy toys right now are TMC’s ambrose (mini), wandering bard’s shadow demon (x small), and uberrime’s ardor dragon (small). highly recommend ambrose to transmascs with bottom growth. also it looks cool as fuck. mine is bright green and yellow.

second, this google doc is a masterpost of fantasy and fantasy-adjacent sex toy companies (created as a list of alternatives to bad dragon) and is organized quite well, and includes some shops to be wary of. it was last updated in 2022 so it’s outdated, but it’s massive and still quite useful. safe fantasy toys dot com also lists body safe toy companies, although you should still check reputability of the company before you buy (some of the companies listed on the site should still be avoided for various reasons— try cross checking with the google doc, browsing reddit, etc). all of the specific companies i recommend in this post use platinum silicone only, but if you go searching for other toys make sure to avoid jelly and other porous materials because they cannot be sanitized properly and will store bacteria. just like with piercing and body jewelry (another one of my special interests lol), it’s always better to pay more for safety when it’s something going inside your body. reputable stores will always list the material, and tend to have pages on their sites with even more specific information on their silicone. shipping also affects the price, especially international shipping.

also, when youre shopping for fantasy toys, make sure you check the sizing. smaller toys are frequently under 100 usd. many fantasy toys tend to be quite large anyways, especially knotted toys (many small knotted toys still have diameters of 2”+ which is usually too large for me personally. for reference i think the average human penis is somewhere around 1.5” diameter.) there’s so much diversity in fantasy toys that you will probably be able to find toys that fit your desired length/girth and are still classified as small and therefore less expensive. if you’re new to fantasy toys or have trouble with insertion (or even just have an average sized vagina/rectum), small fantasy toys can be cost efficient and accessible and more fun than more standard toys. many stores will also sell b-grade toys at a discount for minor cosmetic flaws that don’t affect usage. also, there’s a pretty big market for secondhand toys/dong sales on twitter, reddit, etc so if you’re willing to buy secondhand, that can be more cost efficient. quality silicone toys can be properly sanitized by boiling and other methods. for more cheap options— good glass toys can frequently be under 50 usd, and are easy to sanitize. also, tantus isn’t quite a fantasy brand, but it’s very high quality and has some great toys on the cheaper side (i love the tantus magma). and if you want a really good cheap vibrator, the romp hype is amazing and only 35 usd.

i am by no means an expert, just incredibly autistic, but i hope this helps! i’m always happy to try answering questions about sex toys!

[luifaro]

uhhh ok so some loop and universe thoughts i've had... that i've been storing in my noggin... i just have a couple of things... (loop experts know you can legally kill me if i'm Wrong about them please don't hesitate)

so like. in my mind the universe is a genuinely caring entity yk? like it obviously is not without flaws that would be idk too idealistic and idk it weirds me out too much to do bc it would make me feel all weird and like i'm demonizing loop by making the universe some perfect angel when they hate it so much. it's not that deep but still i think it's just i don't like the trope of innocent well-intentioned person who hurt someone is portrayed as completely in the right and person who holds fairly justified grudge portrayed as actual monster because the person who hurt them didn't mean to :cccc... plus it's fun!!! i likeit bc it's fun to explore! it wants to help but it's also hurting them by helping! it really did try and it had a reason for putting loop through all of this. it wanted loop (and siffrin) to learn that their friends care about them at all costs because it's Very Important to them that they learn this.

but that's kind of offtopic from what i'm ACTUALLY here to ramble about, which is how i feel loop would react to the idea of like a genuinely kind universe. which is to say i think they would honestly greatly dislike it if not outright hate because. You Know How to be decent and yet. and yet you did this to me. you did this knowing you would ruin me, you had to know and yet you did it anyway even though you care about me. even though you love me you destroyed me and permanently Changed me and i didn't want this i never wanted this i never wanted this to happen to me why didn't you see that i never wanted this? do you even care about what i want? why can't you just leave me alone? why do you have to do this? why?

they'd hate the fact that they have to watch out, to think carefully to speak carefully. or else it will try to "help" them when they don't want this. they just want to left alone they just want to live. they're tired of it trying to help them they don't want help they just want it to leave them alone more than anything they can't stand that it loves them so much that if it physically could it would leave them alone. why them? why them??? why did it have to be them? why did they have to be the universe's favorite toy why why why why???? why???? why do they have to live this way when no one else does? why can't it understand that the only way it could make them happy is by never intervening again? by shutting up forever? by just stopping?

it cares too much and they can't stand that.

^ also secretly because i don't think they'd think feel like they deserve a loving god that cares about them too! this star can fit so much angst in them!!

[earphonejackx]

AN: I’m back!! I decided to make more makima fics cuz I’m crazy for soft makima :p this is a part 2 to part 1

⊂⊃ Soft! Makima x f!reader

⊂⊃ WARNING- slight manipulation, possessiveness

⊂⊃ Makima is an absolute baby when it comes down to you treating her as her lover more often, she likes to be babied by you! but somewhat likes to keep control

⊂⊃ When Makima finally starts warming up to you more she tells you more about her past. This is a completely new vulnerability she has showed you and she would like it if you’d do the same

⊂⊃ Makima has picked up a new hobby for watching movies every Friday night with you. After work she’d be right at your door ready to spend the rest of her night with you. “[name] what movie shall we watch tonight? I have so many recommendations.”

⊂⊃ Makima loves going grocery shopping with you! She loves helping you pick foods for you and her to cook. She likes having organized foods in her kitchen so it’s very interesting to see her picks of food

⊂⊃ Makima hates TV dinners. I’ve fucking said it, she refuses to eat anything that even looks close to sloppy food. When she first saw you eating a TV dinner for lunch she was upset “[name] you have very interesting picks of food for lunch, not very pleasing.” She definitely stopped letting you eat those T.T

⊂⊃ NOW obviously I like to make my girl Makima have some flaws so here we go.

⊂⊃ Makima still at times tries to control you or the people around you, unfortunately this is something you’ll have to get used to. She is a control devil, her main purpose is to control so she doesn’t really care if you like it or not that’s just how she’ll always be. You’ve learned to accept it overtime but obviously you occasionally need to have talks with her about it

⊂⊃ Makima doesn’t get social ques sometimes so she’ll be a little off put to some people or even you at times but that’s just how she is

⊂⊃ Makima has a very hard time expressing her feelings outloud so at times it feels like she doesn’t even love you

⊂⊃ This lady has definitely tried treating you like a dog once☠️ but she sometimes does it to fuck around with you or toy with you. It does calm down overtime tho

⊂⊃ Please expect Makima to go days without texting you sometimes, sometimes she’ll forget she even has a phone and leaves you worried sick!

(You) Maki are you okay I wanted to check up on you? | Today 6:40

(Maki) yes. | Today 12:00

Next day—

(You) good morning makima! Hru?? | Today 8:30

(You) Maki you wanna go to the store with me today?? | Today 4:00

(You) Maki wanna do movie night?? I have your favorite movie~~ :3 | Today 7:01

3 days later —-

(Maki) ah sorry [name] I just forgot I had a phone. I’m sorry I didn’t text you back. | Today 5:00

(You) seen…

(Maki) [Name?] | Today 5:07

(You) BLOCKED

⊂⊃ After you blocked Makima she tried to make it up with you with a movie night. She tried apologizing (which she’s very bad at.) and she said sorry once. maybe you could forgive her?

⊂⊃ Makima definitely starts to get possessive with you overtime. She wants you. She needs you. So please let her have you. You definitely have to stop her sometimes but it’s fun seeing her get greedy for something that’s hers “What? What do you mean possessive? Me what? No.” She still denies it.

⊂⊃ There are times where Makima wants to prove that she isn’t just some control freak. She wants you to trust her and love her. She wants you

⊂⊃ Makima definitely likes to keep you away from her work life. But if you work with her I’d be no secret if she immediately switched your division or lowered you down to safer missions with easy pay