#also I have all of them except for the icy looking one I don't know its name

[daflangstlairde-art]

"Extremophile" 3/4

Part 3 of ocean depths

Summary:

You drown every minute, every second, with every breath you take. You haven’t breathed for so, so long. The icy waters are inside you, deep, deep inside you. All you could ever feel is cold and colder. You haven’t seen the sun in... so... long. It was so far away from you that you couldn’t even picture it anymore. And here was the sun himself. Here was that gasp of air that burned. You’ve been so cold for so long, the warmth feels like death. — Alt summary: It's not easy but boy do I drag Killer (and everyone around him) kicking and screaming towards a healing arc

Chapter 3: "an orchid" 4293 words

—

Killer was bored. He was bored as hell. When wasn't he bored? 

“Hey,�� Dream greeted, with a small smile and a wave, “I guess I don't have anything to pass onto you today, so, I brought something of my own?” 

Luckily there was a clown here to entertain him. What a delight. 

“It’s also a bit of a... an apology gift?” Dream continued, rubbing the back of his neck. “Last time I was here, I... kind of freaked you out, and I didn't mean to,”

Killer shrugged. “Whatever,” he hadn't even bothered to stand up upon Dream’s arrival, why would he care about that? 

“Right,” Dream strode over, holding out... 

“...A russian nesting doll,” Killer deadpanned, though he did take the object to inspect it.

(Pointedly avoiding even the smallest point of physical contact with Dream. Not even a brush of their fingers.) 

“Yeah! I– Night told me about... your conversation, and... I agree with him,” Dream said. “Oh! Ink helped me paint it!” 

It was customized. As Killer opened it up, all the dolls had black eyes and a replica of his soul painted on. He snorted. This felt like mockery, honestly. And the thought of Dream of all people being a bully was very funny.

It was made from hard wood. Killer discovered this as he tried to crush one of the pieces with a hand and it didn't buckle. Shame. It would've been fun to watch Dream hide away the hurt that would've caused. 

“Well now that that’s out the way,” Killer stored the thing in his inventory, pushing himself to his feet. Dream stepped back to give him space. Or maybe he was (justifiably) scared that Killer would attack him again (he might). “Take me to– ugh, Underfell,” 

Dream blinked, confused at the changed topic. 

“Where Dust is,” Killer clarified for him. “I’m sick of this place,” 

Dream paused. Then, his expression brightened with a grin like a sunrise, though what that was for, Killer hadn't a clue.

“Yes!” Dream exclaimed. “I mean– of course I can,”

And in barely a few minutes, they were in Dust’s Underfell with Dream knocking at the door. Killer mimed rolling his eyes.

It was some time late in the afternoon. There was the sound of several locks being undone, and then the door opening. 

Red regarded them with a flat look. 

“What,” he asked. 

“Hello!” Dream greeted. 

“Hi?” 

“Here for Dust,” Killer cut in, directly to the point. 

“Right,” Red turned to the inside of the house. “EY DUST BUNNY! GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!” he yelled. Killer snorted. 

Dust appeared in the space next to him, a hand on Red’s shoulder. Already prepared with a glower, but it eased up when he saw them. Probably because of Dream’s presence. 

...Except he pushed Dream away. And stepped toward Killer. And put an arm around his shoulders, punching him in the sternum with no harmful intent behind the action. You could even call it friendly. 

“Finally decided to stop sulking?” he teased.

...What. 

Since when was Dust so damn touchy? Since when was he... what, affectionate? What the hell did this place do to him? Wasn't this Universe supposed to be, you know, rough around the edges or something? Violent? What? 

“I don't sulk,” Killer shoved him in return. 

“Sure, and I've never killed a soul,” Dust rolled his eyes, amused, though he did let go. “Seriously though. It's nice to see you here,” 

...What? 

This was like that ‘you're my friend’ bullshit that Dust pulled. 

Dream was beaming at the two of them. Killer stepped on his foot harshly, making him yelp and stumble away. 

Dust whacked him upside the head for it. Killer elbowed him in the ribs.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Red muttered, dragging a hand down his face. Turning around leaving them to it like he wasn't associated. 

“You’re as much of a freak as ever,” Killer replied to Dust’s comment at last. 

“And you're as much of a jackass as ever,” Dust replied, not offended even in the slightest, just grinning in amusement. Damn him. “Thanks for bringing him,” he turned to Dream. 

“Of course! Anytime.” Dream nodded, smiling still. “Will you be staying here, Killer?” 

“Sure,” Killer shoved his hands back in his pockets, “Beats being bored.” 

“I support your decision entirely,” Dream stated, and Killer narrowed his eyes, considering stabbing him. “In that case, Dust, you should expect to see us around occasionally, if that's okay?” 

“Sure,” Dust shrugged. “Just don't forget to knock,” 

“Of course,” Dream nodded. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it!” he waved at them with a smile, and in a flash he was gone.

“Come on,” Dust shoved Killer inside. “I wanna see you try Edge’s cooking,” 

“Not worried I’ll dust him on the spot?” Killer teased. 

“Good luck trying,” Dust immediately countered, closing the door behind them and redoing the locks. “If you're going to be an asshole I’ll just kick you out and back to your depression hole. Have fun being bored out of your mind,” 

Good point. Currently it would be more interesting to have people around. When they got boring, Killer would resolve to pain and murder, but he had no reason to waste resources right now.

—

The ‘fell brothers got him a mattress in Dust’s room. That’s where Killer spent of his time really. Just used to it. 

Except when Dust kicked him out of bed to do random shit. Like cleaning the house. Or watching television. Some of it boring, some of it a little less boring. 

At least there were things to do. Even if they kind of made Killer itch for violence. So far, the only decoration to his side of the room was grooves in the wall where he threw his knives in boredom. 

...And that stupid nesting doll from Dream. 

Well. Killer wasn't going to complain (that's a lie, he complained a lot) — at least it wasn't the emptiness. 

...In the dark of night, sometimes Dust couldn't sleep. Sometimes Killer was awake as well, restless with a craving for something to fill the void. And they... chatted. Like they did before, when they were both still with Nightmare. 

It was... 

...nice.

—

When Killer’s name was yelled from the living room, he already expected it to be Night or Dream. 

“Hello,” Night greeted passively. 

“Should've closed the door on his face, maybe a broken nose would make the sight nicer,” Killer commented and Red snorted.

“Hell no, I’m not getting involved with y’all,” Red didn't waste a moment to leave. Fair enough. 

“Test number one,” Night mentioned, lifting... a folded chess board? 

“All you'll succeed with that is boring me to death,” Killer pointed out, striding over to drag him inside because the idiot still hadn't entered. What, was he going to play chess from the doorway? 

Close the door, lock all those stupid locks because apparently this was just how Underfell is. 

“Well. Give it a chance,” Night reasoned. 

“Whatever,” Killer walked over, flopping on the ratty couch. Might as well indulge him so he leaves quicker. If Night wanted to sabotage his own stance by intentionally boring Killer, well, that was his business. 

There was no chair across the low table. Killer watched as Night, hesitantly, sat on the couch too. As far away from Killer as he could. Killer snorted. 

Night opened up the board and started quickly setting up the chess.

“You are familiar with the rules,” Night stated. It wasn't a question because he already knew the answer — Corrupted Nightmare had played with him once. 

“Nope,” Killer said, just to be annoying. “Never even heard of it,”

Night had the audacity to roll his eyes. He even looked amused. Where did all that guilt and hesitation go, huh? 

“You take white,” Night said before Killer could instigate his suffering. 

Killer sighed, and played some classic first move. 

He already knew how this match would go. It was obvious — chess was one of Night’s favorite things, the nerd, and he’s had decades to get good at it. Killer wasn't an idiot if he could say so himself, but chess? It never really caught his fancy in particular. He wasn't much of a strategist. 

They weren't even talking. Just sitting in silence, moving some wooden pieces around a checkered pattern. It was nothing.

Time ticking forth. The quiet sound of the pieces hitting the board.

As Night started snatching his pieces off, it was only being confirmed who’d win. And it wasn't even taking long. 

“...You’re not actually putting effort in, are you,” Night finally caught on. 

“I told you,” Killer sighed, lounging on the couch without much care, “it’s boring. And you’ll win anyway. What's the point?” 

“That’s unfair,” Night huffed, “You agreed to play fair. That was the deal.”

Killer groaned, letting his head flop back. 

“It’s stupid,” he growled. “This is a waste of time. I agreed to your damn bet, not to play pointless games,” 

“Yes,” Night reasoned, “and this is part of the bet.” 

“No, this is you being an annoying asshole,” Killer said cheerfully. “Haven't you learned? No one actually wants you around. At least when you were a mean asshole, you were an asshole with a personality.”

With how he was leaning back, Killer couldn't see the other’s face. But he didn't need to. The pause that followed made the hurt audible. 

Night quietly breathed in. Breathed out. 

“...You’re frustrated,” he stated.

Killer mimed rolling his eyes. “Fantastic counterargument, totally defeated my point,” he returned sarcastically. 

“No,” Night corrected, “you're frustrated. I know that because I can still sense the emotions of others. When you get bored, you get frustrated. That's an emotion.” 

Silence. 

“What a delightful existence,” Killer spoke slowly. Cold and venomous. Pushing himself to sit up so he could stare at Night. “Being able to feel either emptiness or frustration.” 

“But it’s a feeling,”  

“It’s torture.” Killer growled. 

“But it's a feeling,” Night insisted, and in a blink Killer threw a knife at him. 

Night yelped, but barely managed to dodge to the side. As if Killer could put a dent in his HP that mattered. 

“And when you’re bored, you want to do something!” Night continued, even as Killer got to his feet. “That’s a feeling too!” Night also scrambled to his feet to avoid the next stab, the blade sinking into the couch instead. 

“I’ll show you what’s a feeling,” Killer snarled, grinning. “Ever heard of pain?” 

But before he could throw the next readied attack, there was a ping! 

His soul was grabbed and he was slammed back into the wall. Not enough to be a killing blow, barely chipped anything from his HP. 

“Don't put holes in my couch,” came Dust’s flat voice from the stairs. “Do you know how hard it is to get furniture around here?” 

Killer breathed harshly, still glaring at Night. He dissipated his conjured knife, huffing. Whatever. 

Night was wrong. This yawning chasm inside him wasn't an emotion. It was a feeling the way hunger was a feeling. It was a desperation, a self-preservation instinct from the brain’s desire to not self-destruct. It was cold. 

“My apologies,” Night’s gaze had moved to Dust, a little wide eyed. “Dust– I–” 

“Yeah yeah, you already delivered your sorry’s,” Dust waved a hand dismissively. “Look, man, it’s not like you ever hurt me in particular,” 

Night’s eyes, perhaps unintentionally, flicked to Killer before returning to Dust. “But I intentionally kept you in the worst possible mental state you could–” he rushed out.

“Yeah, and I left,” Dust shrugged. “And you're not that guy anymore, right?” 

“Unfortunately,” Killer chimed in. “You gonna release me now?” 

“Are you going to damage more of my property?” Dust fired back. 

“I’ll damage your face.” 

“Oh you want me matching your ugly, Tar-Eyes?” 

Killer barked a laugh. “Damn you! I’m prettier than you could ever be,” 

“My boyfriend would beg to differ,” 

“Boyfriend?” Killer raised his brow ridges. 

Dust cleared his throat, glancing away. Killer started laughing. Oh now this was news, how interesting. 

Throughout their interaction, Night’s gaze had flicked back and forth between the two of them. Observing them with something pinched in his expression. 

“Game over, Nighty,” Killer stated as his soul was finally released from the directed gravity. “Pack it up,” 

“...But we didn't complete it,” Night pointed out. 

“And we aren't going to, because quite frankly? I cannot be bothered,” Killer nodded generously. 

“Better listen before he starts dishing it out again,” Dust chimed in, amused. “Trust me, he ain't scared to take it,” 

“Oh like you’d know, you can barely leave a scratch on me,” Killer taunted. 

“It barely takes more than a scratch for you to crumble,” Dust fired back easily.

“Wanna test that hypothesis?” Killer growled, grinning. 

“Yeah, let me go put my egg-handling gloves,” 

There was a quiet snort, and Killer looked over to see Night covering his mouth. Killer could still tell he was smiling, though god knows why.

“I’ll uh, leave you two be,” Night cleared his throat, back to awkward. Swiftly gathering up the chess pieces and folding the board.

—

It’s clear the ‘fell brothers aren't exactly keen on your company, but they tolerate you. Perhaps they even mildly respect you, if only out of fear.

...Dust... interacts so easily with them. It’s clear he cares about them, and that they care about him. 

(He’s been carrying himself so much more easily ever since he left Corrupted Nightmare’s whole operation. 

...Good for him.)

“Hey,” 

What’s more peculiar, weird even, is that Dust acts that way with you, too.

“You okay?” he asks, even though you've done nothing but lay in bed all day. Staring at the ceiling. Getting lost in the passage of time. The damn passage of time. 

“Couldn't be better,” you reply with a flat look, grinning. It is the truth.

Dust rolls his eyes. 

“Move over,” 

“Oho, baby want cuddles like the good ol’ times?” 

“Move over or I'll move you myself,”

“You know what they say, don't threaten me with a good time,” you tease and prod. Always pushing buttons. Always looking for a reaction. For something to fill the emptiness.

Sadly there’s no longer a Corrupted Nightmare to rip you apart and make you feel tangible enough to be ripped part. 

All Dust does is shove you to the side with a foot. You can't be bothered to protest. He flops down beside you, easy and comfortable. He isn't scared of you. He doesn't cower and cry like some frail minnow. It's what you respect about him.

“Found some books about ancient human philosophy recently,” Dust mentions. 

“Uh-huh,” 

“It's pretty interesting. Most of them say incredibly obvious things, just in a fancy way,” 

You both chuckle. 

“A lot of them are from this place called ‘Ancient Greece’ and stuff, a lot of what I’m pretty sure are the classics...” 

Aaand so Dust starts telling you about some ancient humans with different sorts of beliefs. How different schools of thought or sciences developed from their statements. 

It's... it's whatever. It's pretty boring really. Philosophy isn't your thing. Mostly because nothing is your thing. Nothing interests you. 

...But... 

The time doesn't pass as slowly, when it’s being used for something. The silence isn't as suffocating, broken by Dust’s... company. 

So. 

It's not that bad.

(...It’s nice.

...

...maybe you missed this.)

—

“Nothing? Really? You didn’t feel anything?” Dream was frowning at him where he sat across their impromptu beach blanket thing. 

“Nope!” Killer affirmed cheerfully. 

“Did– did you really have that bad of a time?” Dream’s frown was tinged with some sadness. 

Killer shrugged. “Not particularly, no. It was mostly just...” he flicked more sand off his arm, “...boring,” 

Dream’s idea was to take him for a ‘beach day’ for a couple of hours. His hypothesis being that if Killer was relaxed and in a very pleasant space, he’d feel... ugh, “safer and more comfortable” to... “express his emotions”.

It failed. Sure, the sun against his bones was pleasant sensation-wise, and so was the sound of the waves close by, but that was about it. The most Killer got out of it was relentlessly teasing Dream for “taking him out on a date”, trying to get a reaction from him. Dream was annoyingly composed and used to his bullshit. Killer ended up trying to manually catch fish by stabbing them with his knife. 

It lasted a few short hours. The sun was still high and bright. Killer’s jacket was off. They were basically having a beach picnic right now, how romantic! 

“Right,” Dream sighed, face in his hand. He always looked exhausted. He couldn't hide it even from Killer. It got better as the Stars slowly chipped at Corrupted Nightmare’s defenses, getting Dust and Horror to turn over a new page; and it got a lot better as Corrupted Nightmare was un-corrupted; but still. Killer assumed there was a lot of damage control to be done, even with the help of Night. 

That’s the prize you get for living like that. Dream does this to himself, in Killer’s humble opinion. 

“Well, thank you for giving it a shot,” Dream re-composed himself. Still trying to look on the bright side. Jeez, Killer was getting tired just looking at him, hah. 

He shrugged in response. “Just a waste of my time. Nothing new.” 

Dream studied his expression. Probably trying to figure out where he went wrong. Killer would advise him to look somewhere much farther, more along the lines of the distant past, such as: the moment he was born. Were these ‘guardians’ born...?

“...Aside from that,” Dream picked up conversation yet again. Maybe this was just an excuse for him to have a break. “How have you been?” 

Killer blinked slowly at him. 

“You know, the usual,” he leaned back on his hands, “Killing parents, torturing their children, that sort of thing,” he counted off casually. Even if he’d actually done nothing of the sort. He’s mostly been chilling with Dust. And when the itch to cause harm got stronger, when his soul began going crazy, Dust usually indulged him with a fight. It wasn't ideal, but it was keeping him more or less on his feet. 

There was a quirk to Dream’s expression that almost looked like amusement. 

“Right,” he nodded. “I... guess you want me to return you to your... fun activities?” 

Killer sighed, leaning further until he laid his back on the blanket thing. Watching the bright blue sky and the even brighter sun above. 

“...Eh,” he shrugged. “I’m not in a rush,” 

Dream chuckled. 

It seemed he was content to remain in... peace-adjacent silence. Listening to the timid waves sloshing against the shore, just a few paces away from them. 

As calm as it was, however, the minutes ticked on. Eventually, they started to grate on Killer. Silence was boring. 

“Why are you trying so hard to ‘help me’?” he brought up, since Dream had never properly answered. “You are aware I’m one of the worst people just in general. And I’m not “corrupted” like your brother.” 

“I’m aware,” Dream confirmed. “But, well, the whole idea of ‘I believe anyone can change and be good’ wouldn’t hold much weight if I didn’t believe anyone can change and be good, if they tried,” he pointed out. Killer could respect his integrity. 

“But that’s not really where the catch is,” Killer pointed out. He was pretty sure they’ve had this conversation before. “The catch is in the last part. Whether they want to. Whether they try,” 

Of course anyone had the potential to be just about anything. Willpower is one hell of a force. But pure potential wasn't the matter. That demonic god that destroyed his world over and over until they finally got to him could choose, at any time, to not do that. They had that power more than anyone. 

But they didn't. They made those choices. And so did Killer. 

“...Do you want to be evil, Killer?” Dream asked calmly, after their brief pause. When Killer turned his head to look at him, Dream was watching the waves with a tired expression. 

Killer scratched his skull. He shrugged. “It can be fun,” 

“Yeah,” Dream nodded, and Killer blinked. “That’s the thing. You don’t want to be evil for the sake of being evil, do you?” 

...Hm. Interesting that he thought so. 

“And I think,” Dream reasoned, “like Night also thinks, that if we figure out the core reasoning behind your actions, we can find what you really want. And we can work with you. And we can help you,” 

Fun theory. 

“That didn’t answer my question however,” Killer nudged the topic aside with a foot. “Why do you want to help me that bad?”

Dream huffed a soft laugh. “It’s what I do,”

“Oh please,” Killer scoffed, “Don’t give me that cop-out,”

“...Why do you want to know?” 

“I’m bored, sunshine,” as if it was anything new. 

Dream glanced at him. Again, that slight quirk to his mouth, like he was amused or something. 

“...You’re curious,” he offered a correction. 

“Whatever makes you sleep at night,” Killer shrugged. Curious, sure, why not? People are freaking weird. Might as well try to figure them out. It’s one of the few varieties in life. Better mental stimulation than the sameness of everything else. 

“I...” Dream looked down at his hands. “Well, you can look at it mathematically if you want. There isn’t much worth to just... hating you forever, punishing you for your actions. That doesn’t get us anywhere. But if a bad person becomes good, to use simple terms... that’s an overall net gain, isn’t it?” 

...Huh. Much more pragmatic than Killer expected. He would’ve betted on something a lot sappier. 

“And everyone has a will,” Dream continued. “It’s not that you can choose to do good at any time, sometimes it’s a little more complicated, but when you remove any external factors forcing people’s decisions... I do think they can choose to do good. No matter what they’ve chosen in the past.” 

“But why not just kill me? There, that removes a bad person,” Killer pointed out. It’s the solution he’d always utilized. Simple and effective. 

Dream frowned a little. “...Did Corrupted Nightmare prefer killing?” he posed a leading question. 

And the truth was... no, not really. He wasn’t against it, obviously, especially when the death of one person could cause the grief of many. He rarely stopped Killer from indulging in it. But he got all prissy when the gang would do nothing but murder (even if it was literally their speciality). 

“Do you expect a corpse to feel bad?” Nightmare had snarled. 

“If we go down that route, ad absurdum, it would just be... endless destruction until nothing is left,” Dream answered. 

“Which wouldn’t exactly give you an increase in positivity,” Killer finished. He supposed it made sense, if he was trying to understand Dream’s point of view. 

“...I wouldn’t say it like that, my goal was never to make all of the Multiverse wholly positive, but... yes, sort of,” Dream nodded. 

“Really?” Killer glanced at him. “I thought that was the idea. Good and evil fighting to win, blah blah blah,” he waved a hand. 

“...No?” Dream blinked. “Although I suppose I understand the confusion. Many people think that.” he reasoned. “...It’s what got Night...” he muttered quietly, trailing off. His expression pinching with a concoction of emotions unfitting for his title. He shook it off quickly. “No, the idea had always been about balance. That’s why I fought against the Corrupted Nightmare. He wasn’t negativity as it should be, he was more. He was an overwhelmingly consuming force, tipping the balance towards his extreme,” 

“And you’re not doing that?” Killer asked. “You don’t want everyone to be happy, Dreamboy?” he teased. 

“No!” Dream exclaimed, to his surprise. “That’s not good for anyone. I want to help people, not– people have a natural range of emotions for a reason. Negative feelings are just as important — sadness is essential to processing grief, anger is what tells you to defend yourself or what you stand for–” he began ranting, in a way that was clearly repeated many times for many, many years.

“Besides you of course,” Killer interjected, and Dream stumbled over his words. 

“What?” he looked at Killer. 

“You’re not allowed to be sad, are you?” Killer pushed at those buttons, grinning. “Because it’s all about mathematics, right? People need the Guardian of Positivity to always be positive. And you serve the people.” 

Dream stared at him, mouth flat, brow ridges pinched. 

Killer chuckled. He was so good at striking a nerve.

“You’re a liar. So desperate to prove your stance true, you’ll tear yourself apart for it and not even let anyone see,” he continued, until Dream turned away, unable to look at him. “And you’re cruel, to claim everyone is right to feel bad, but then turn around and never do that yourself. What sort of example are you setting, sunshine?” Killer mocked. “You want me to accept and show my emotions? Where are yours?”

Dream stiffened.

He was a fool if he expected this evening to go any differently, really. This is what Killer did. He was made of hurt. His own, others’, it didn’t matter. He was fluent in all the dialects. 

And so they sat in silence. Dream likely didn’t have much more desire to talk to him after that, which was fair. Though the conversation was a degree of... enlightening. Killer had discovered nuances to Dream’s thinking he hadn’t expected.

He also expected this to be the end of it. 

...So he was reasonably surprised, when Dream spoke up, quiet but steady, 

“...Yeah. I guess you’re right,”

(...They stayed there for a little longer.)

[httpiastri]

jack doohan x female reader, ft one lowkey 18+ joke

"don't you trust me?"

the question burns through jack's chest. the playful smile on your lips tells him that it's all just for fun, but still, there's something stinging about it. he wants to answer with an 'of course', or a 'with my entire life and heart', but he settles for something to match the tone of your voice. "do i have a choice?"

your answer comes in the form of a groan and an eye-roll, settling on the edge of the tub. "just lean back, loverboy."

loverboy. of course. how can he not follow your orders when you talk to him like that?

jack leans back against the wall of the bathtub, tipping his head back to rest his neck against the edge. it's much more uncomfortable than he'd thought, he soon realizes, but he hopes what's about to come is worth the pain.

your best friend has been sick for over a week now, with an annoying fever that seemingly just doesn't want to go down no matter what he tries. when you followed him to the doctors, they said everything looked alright and that he should be getting back to normal in just a few days. you're beginning to believe that that was complete bullshit, though.

you're pretty sure you're wishing for jack's fever to disappear as much as he is himself. not only do you not enjoy seeing him in such a bad state, but he also becomes such a baby when he's sick, as you've recently learned. it's not all that easy to take care of a tall australian manbaby, but someone needs to do it, you suppose. and who better than you?

the other day when you stopped by his apartment to refill his fridge with some necessities and cook him some soup, you just couldn't stop yourself from insulting the greasy hair he was sporting. he answered that he's not got enough energy to wash it properly when he showers, and in a moment of weakness, you found yourself offering to do it for him. so, here you are, showerhead in one hand as the other begins to slowly turn on the water.

you wait for the water to reach a good temperature, not icy but cold enough to hopefully soothe his burning scalp, before shifting to pour the water over his forehead and down over his hair. jack's first reaction is to let out a low hum, eyes fluttering closed at the chillness in comparison to his hot skin.

"you really are an angel, did you know that?" his accent has always had a certain effect on you, though you've always tried to deny it, and your heart skips a beat as he speaks again. "truly someone sent from above."

"shush," you say, shaking your head as you lean over to turn the water off, his hair being completely soaked by now. "just doing another part of my best friend duties."

"just as best-friendly as cooking for me for a week, and tucking me in for my naps, and..." he doesn't need to go on; you know how long the list is.

you reach for his bottle of shampoo – thankfully not a 3-in-1 type with body scrub and car wash included, but still a type that scares you a little – and pour some onto your hands, rubbing them together to spread out the liquid. "i'm just doing what i know you would do for me if i were in your position."

jack's eyes open when you start going through his hair, fingertips working their way across his scalp as you try to reach every inch of hair. he watches you with a thoughtful gaze, studying the concentration on your face intently. suddenly, he's reminded of why he's so goddamn smitten with you in the first place.

you're a total opposite of him – you're so soft. small, too. not just in size, but in personality as well. everything about you is warm and gentle; a huge contrast to his hard, rugged edges.

there's a feeling in his chest again. a tightening, fluttering sensation that feels strangely pleasant. one he's very familiar with by now, one that only appears around you.

it never takes much for your cheeks to grow red around him, and today is no exception. you think you've lasted a long time, though, with the way he's goggling up at you, but it's getting too much. "shut your eyes," you tell him. "you know i can't take it when you stare at me. i can't do my job."

he doesn't answer, and your heart flutters again. your fingers stop moving in his hair.

"i'm going to get shampoo in your eyes, they're going to sting."

"i don't mind."

it isn't until you tug on his hair, enough to go from relaxing to painful (though jack instead finds it quite arousing), that he finally obliges, eyes falling closed and a defeated sigh leaving his lips. "much better."

you begin to wash out the shampoo, and other than the sound of the water now dripping from his hair and onto the floor of the tub again, the room fills up with a hollow silence. he wants to speak up, but can't find any words – which are the right ones when the girl you like takes so much time out of her days to take care of you when you're at your lowest?

jack feels almost strangely... loved. the way that you're doing all of this for him, just because you want to make sure he feels good and clean. in reality, it's such a small gesture, yet it means something.

and a hint of anxiety settles into his chest at the realization that he's actually falling for you.

it's not just the silly little crush that's been brewing inside him for the last twelve months; it's something much more. and much scarier.

"are you kidding me? do you not have any conditioner?" your voice breaks his train of thought and he peeks at you with one eye, still slightly afraid of that whole shampoo-in-his-eyes threat. a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth when he sees the expression on your face, mouth slightly agape and eyebrows raised in pure shock.

"i guess you'll have to go shopping with me to buy a bottle, then."

anything to have a reason to spend more time with you.

[theyanderespecialist]

Touch Starved 1 (Scenarios) Yandere Upper Moons X Gender Neutral Prisoner Reader (Demon Slayer)

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am back with another request! This one is going to be a mini-series of the Yandere Upper Moons x gender-neutral human prisoner reader and what they do if they hugged them! Now let's do this! This will have at least Kokushibo, Doma, and MAYBE Akaza as well! I hope you all enjoy this chapter!]

(Disclaimer: None of the Upper Moons are Yandere, well except for Maybe Doma, that man is a kinda sussy! This is just for fun and Not to be Taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine, just do not be illegal or gross about it! You know who you are! You Dirty, Flaky, Biscuits! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life! Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon! Thank you!)

(Kokushibo, Upper Moon 1) (A Forgotten Fondness)

(Kokushibo's POV)

I have my human companion, their name is (Name). I take good care of them. At first, they would try and run. I caught them each time and would spank them. I would never cause permanent damage to my darling. I would not be able to live with myself. They did not like me touching them. So I never forced my affections onto them. Even though I wanted to hold them while they slept. I missed being able to hold someone in my arms. As demons we did not need to sleep, but like fish we could sort of rest.

So every night I would lay next to them, I would watch them as they fell asleep. Their back always turned to me. I am reading a book since I could read in the dark. I then heard them roll over and their leg was the first thing on me.

Their leg is draped over my two legs and they then slowly wrapped their arms around me and laid their head on my chest. I could tell by their heartbeat that they were awake. Their heart is racing and I can tell they are nervous about what I would do. I stayed still and then I wrapped an arm around them and pulled them closer.

They squeak, tensing up, but soon relax and they fall asleep on my chest. I forgot how much I loved this. They will be sleeping while hugging me from now on. I cannot let my (Name) go another night, not embracing me!

(Doma, Upper Moon 2) (Icy Hugs)

(Doma's POV)

It was hot, or at least that is what my followers were saying. I run cold, even more than other demons. When I was a human my temp ran a bit cool as well. I was worried about my little snow bunny. They were my human pet! They were the only one to make me feel. I adore them and so I kept them nice and safe with me!

Some would say that they are a prisoner! I disagree! I was keeping my snow bunny safe. Without me, they could die! I could not let that happen. Also, I adore being able to be near them and to love them! I love my snow bunny, I know they put up a fight, but I know I am also wearing them down! They are sure to fall in love with me sooner or later.  I finished my duties for the night and came back to see (Name) They were lying on the western bed and they were in absolutely nothing at all. They looked up at me and groaned as I walked in.  "Is someone not feeling-" I start and they Suddenly they got up into a sitting and pulled me down into a hug.  I feel my cheeks flush and my heart race.  "Shut up!" They whine into my neck. "Hold me... It is too hot... I don't like it." 

They needed me, they wanted me to hold them! Oh, Thank Lord Muzan. I climbed into bed with them and stripped my clothes. So my full cold body can press up against them.  They let out a happy noise and buried their face into my neck. I love them so much and I am NEVER Letting them go~ 

(Akaza, Upper Moon 3) (Deep Rooted Loneliness)  (Akaza's POV)) 

It sucked being up at the top. I wanted to have a friend, someone I could bond with and become stronger with. I had been lonely since I became a demon. Although I would never admit it to anyone. I was not going to let anyone know that weakness I had. Lord Muzan had made it clear that feelings like that were weak.  Then I met them, they were like no one I have ever met and I wanted them. When they refused to become a demon, I knew I could not let them go. So I kidnapped them and got Lord Muzan to let me keep them. They had been angry and fought me every day. I loved it! I love fighting them and them fighting back against me.  I would praise them every time they landed a hit on me! I felt so alive and I did not give up in asking them to become a demon. They always told me to fuck off.  Of course, it could not stay like this, after a while they seemed to give up. Their fire had been snuffed and they just sat staring at the wall. I had to force them to eat because I refused to let them die. I tried to goad them into fights, arguments, anything. They just stared at the wall, holding themselves.  This week was no different. So I left them alone to look for the spider Lily. It was the first time I had to leave them at all. I had a demon taking care of them for this week, and when I came back they had thrown their food on the ground and they tore up the room.  They saw me and I was certain they would fight me. Although they did not. They wrapped their arms around my waist and cried into my chest. I realized that this whole time I had been gone they had been alone except for food. They felt as if I left them and did not want them. They had missed me. 

They hug me tight to them and I rub my back. I was pleased that they needed me for emotions and physical touch. I also wish that I had not had to hurt them again. I know lord Muzan will make me leave them again for another mission. I hated the idea of them being lonely. Although... If they are willing to hug me afterward or maybe even more. It might be worth it~ 

I love holding them in my arms~ 

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS part 1 done! I hope you all enjoyed this! The next one will be Hantengu or his clones or all of them! So keep an eye out! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter here, and please Stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins!]

[perrywrites]

yoo, thoughts on bllk boys who'd probably be in a 'die for you' (by the weeknd) coded relationship/situationship? 👁👁

Oh, that's definitely the Itoshi brothers' anthem. From the vibes I'm getting from a cursory lookover at the lyrics (I've heard the song before, just never paid attention to the lyrics before) correct me if I'm wrong about what they mean lmfao. Very much Sae, and also Rin - especially Rin. The emotional constipation and communication issues paired with that kind of intense and desperate love... Yeah, that's definitely Rin.

But let's start off with the 'colder' of the two - Sae. You just know that he's not going to give you enough in the relationship, especially in the start. Honestly, I think in terms of attachment styles (if you don't know about those, look them up and take the quiz! very fun and illuminating experience... lol), he's definitely very much on the avoidant end. He comes off as icy and distant in the start, impassive and bored, and although most of the angst would be dealt with before entering into a relationship with him (hopefully...) that doesn't mean things become that much better when you guys actually become official. Not in the beginning, at least. He's definitely softer, noticeably. He teases you with that trademark dry and sarcastic wit, bestows you with lingering touches, rare and precious smiles, but that's not enough. It's just not enough. At first, you cling to every crumb like a rain-soaked shirt to skin, desperate and lovesick for any ounce of affection, and his acknowledgment of you as his girlfriend sends you soaring. But of course, as a relationship starts progressing, one would want more, and it's no different in this case. Except, trying to ask a stubborn man like him for more is difficult, and eventually, tiring. It makes you feel crazy, trying to beg him for more than the bare minimum he offers. It's not necessarily so much so that he refuses to give you more, but more so that he thinks it's pointless. He doesn't see the point in complimenting you often (that would dilute their worth and effect, he would explain), or telling you that he likes you, I mean, you should know that, right? Otherwise he wouldn't be dating you in the first place. So when you start asking him for affection and for more of his time (to go on dates and whatnot... what? You knew he was a busy guy, stop asking to go out so often especially when you know the amount of precautions he'll have to take) and all of that, he starts feeling annoyed and cornered. You're asking for too much. What, do you want him to change for you? Is what he's giving you not enough? And before long, your need for affection is dismissed as neediness by him, and he declares you to be clingy and suffocating.

And we all know Sae doesn't hold back with his words, he's harsh and cold with what he believes to be true, and although he doesn't think he's being mean he totally IS mean when he coldly dismisses you as clingy and tells you that he wants an independent partner. And when your face crumbles like that, hurt visible now where it had been brewing subtly for weeks, if not months, Sae feels something that makes him feel even worse. Guilt? Yes, guilt. But he genuinely doesn't believe he's at fault for this, for expecting you to not be so dependent on him and expect him to be the kind of lovey dovey person he just isn't. And so when you ask him if he even cares about you, in that kind of pitiful broken voice, on the verge of tears - he snaps. He tells you if what he's doing for you isn't enough, you can leave him anytime and go to someone else. Of course, that's not what he really wants. What he's really hoping for is that you'll realize what you're asking for is stupid and childish, so you'll shut up about all of that and just accept what he's giving you. And you do, you shut up. And you're quieter after that, not as affectionate anymore, withdrawing into yourself. And although he felt relieved in the beginning, soon enough your weird behaviour starts making him antsy. At first, you don't message him that much after that argument, and then soon enough, you're not messaging him first anyways. He's the one starting all of your conversations (and he realizes, then, that until then you had been the one initiating most of the conversations), and although you respond, they get drier and drier with each passing day. And now you're the busy one, and he finds himself doing the chasing - albeit subtly - for your affection and attention. He finds himself doing the exact things you were asking for back then, but it's like you're completely unaffected by it, numb to it, and he realizes with a kind of late desperation that he's losing you. And he doesn't want that - but at the same time, he doesn't know what to do anymore. I mean, isn't he doing what you asked for then? He's doing that, so what else can he do? He can't be vulnerable, so he doesn't know how to ask - beg - you to stay when he can feel you slipping through his fingers. And it kills him, to watch you grow cold towards him like this, as all he can do is seem impassive to it when he is anything but.

After all, don't you know? He might not know how to tell you that he loves you, but he would die for you. So don't just leave him like this.

Now, Rin... He's an interesting case, and he's definitely more attuned with his emotions (uhm... in a slightly twisted kind of way...) and more capable of being vulnerable than his brother (ISTJ!Sae VS INTJ!Rin). So he's definitely more introspective and willing to communicate, and if you tell him you need something/want more, he's willing to accommodate you (saying that like he wouldn't like giving you the affection you want, because he loves every part of it - although he would never admit that. Fucking embarrassing as shit) and listen to your feedback, honestly. He's even fine with a certain extent of behaviour that is very clearly and outrightly clingy or needy (in fact, considering Rin's abandonment issues and loneliness, it would soothe a large part of him even if he's a bit troubled by it in the beginning, in contrast to Sae where it would make him largely uncomfortable - at least at first. The way the two would approach affection they're not used to is very fascinating especially with the whole younger and older sibling difference - Rin wouldn't know how to react at first, but he would definitely love and crave it, since he did receive it in his childhood from Sae. Sae would probably feel more uncomfortable with it, and I feel like he's more of a giver anyways, even if he's not doing a whole lotta giving in the sense that you would want him to 💀💀💀). That's until it interferes with his soccer, though. Although I believe Rin is the type of person who would pick his partner over soccer any day if he had to, that would come after a bit of dating/a while of him being in love with you tbh. But anyways, getting back on topic.

This happy too-good-to-be situation can only work so long as you're communicative as well, though. Because as honest as Rin tends to be, blushing and glaring at you as he calls you an idiot comes more naturally to him than 'I love you's. So if you want something and you're unable to tell him, things are going to go sour quick. He's not a mind reader, so as much as he's able to pick up on your moods and so on, he doesn't know what's going on in your mind. So if you want more affection, want him to hug you and kiss you more, express his love for you more, want to go on more dates, tell him. If you don't he's not going to know that. And although he's constantly trying on his own, scheduling movie nights, inviting you out to places he thinks you'd like, holding your hand in public because that's about the only kind of PDA he's comfortable with, if you need something more, you need to tell him. If you feel lonely sometimes because he doesn't respond to you much on days with practice, that his responses end up being more dry on those days, that you want to see him more often, then tell him. Otherwise, things are going to start crumbling. Good for you, though, because Itoshi Rin is not the kind of man that goes down without a fight. If he notices you're not telling him something, as much as he'll be annoyed at that, he'll push that aside in favour of trying to get you to open up to him - after all, don't you know? How soft he is for you? He might not be all that delicate about it, but he'll try to probe and get you to communicate with him - and although he seems relatively calm and collected, you don't understand how anxious he feels, how scared he is that everything could fall apart like this. Don't you know? He'd die for you, if he had to. So stop it, don't put him through this, please. You're crying now, and it feels like his heart is being ripped apart, and all he can do is hold you gently, like you're so fragile, like what the two of you have is so fragile, and run his fingers through your hair as he calms you down. It's okay, it's going to be okay. You two can work this out - no, will, work this out. Because this has to work out, and he's not giving up without a fight. He's in your corner, he's your pillar, don't you know that? So just tell him what's wrong already, dammit. And when you open up to him about all of your worries and insecurities, that you're scared you're a burden to him and his career, or that you're a bother to him, or whatever trash you're spewing, all he does is hoarsely call you an idiot and hug you even tighter. He assures you how untrue all of your insecurities are, but he knows that's not enough, so he promises to do whatever he can to prove to you how wrong your own mind is. After all, you're unbearably precious to him. He's already so attached to you, it's too late. Whatever you need, he'll give it to you, so please, just don't leave him.

Honorary mentions; post-wildcard Kunigami, and Barou.

Post-wildcard Kunigami definitely has intimacy issues, and he'll be closed off and mentally retreat inside, making him distant in your relationship (even though he loves you so much).

Barou would be similar to Sae here, except he'd be a lot more gruff and blunt about it, although tbh if it's something he's not necessarily against (like PDA - no way in hell are you convincing him to do PDA unless you're, like, to the point of engaged or something, and even then only a little bit) you could convince him if you can make him see your point.

[kajilychnis]

Skrael and Mythology and Legends inspirations

Yeesss I did it for Bellroc, I'm going to do it for Skrael now! Well... we all know who Skrael is, he is a primordial demigod of cold, snow and icy winds and storms. He is sadistic and ruthless, he is a great manipulator, cunning and observant and strangely patient. He has the ideal qualities of a final antagonist, but in the series he comes across more as Bellroc's right-hand than anything else. There are several mythologies that may have influenced the creation of the character.

Of course, I'm going to talk about his Wendigo influence first because it's the most obvious and observed one. There are several similarities to the Wendigos and Skrael, firstly his black cloak which appears to be torn at the end of his cloak and with a long horned animal skull worn on his hooded head. The typical Wendigo appearance we all know, except Skrael has more of a humanoid appearance, the skull could be a wendigo he killed (potentially). But the animalized appearance of the wendigo is a creation of Algernod Blackwood in the 70s (thanks Until Dawn for this information). The true legend of the wendigos comes from the legends of the Anishinàbemiwin tribe, in these legends they were much more humanoid, skeletal with grey skin, bald, sharp teeth, terrifying and bloodthirsty/anthropophagous creatures. Which could explain Skrael's appearance under his cape and without his hood and his animal skull. However this is only physical, what could approach Skrael that is outside of physical appearance would be the fact that wendigos are associated with the sins of gluttony, greed or excess of any kind. They are never satisfied after killing a person to devour them, and they are constantly looking for new victims. You see where I'm going with this? Skrael is also power hungry, he wants more and more, he wants the world all to himself. He is also very sadistic and he likes to torment and torture mortals especially humans. So the wendigos fits him well. Aside from the fact that he seems to be a more civilized version of what a wendigo is… probably because Skrael is not just inspired by the legend of the wendigos...

This is where we come to the second part, the legend of Jack Frost. Another one that seems obvious, but I decided to start with the most obvious to the least obvious. Jack Frost is another legend that may recall Skrael, although his interpretation varies greatly between cultures and eras. In European and Anglo-Saxon legends, Jack Frost embodies the spirit of winter and frost, a mischievous being, capable of transforming landscapes into icy expanses and drawing frost patterns on windows. However, Jack Frost is not as jovial as some modern versions portray him, he is often a mysterious character, a capricious and sometimes cruel spirit, indifferent to the effects of his frost on human beings. Jack Frost is often depicted as a small elf, fast, mischievous yet innocent with a childlike character. He can also become dangerous and freeze people on the spot, if they anger him. His physique can have winter aspects: white hair, his eyes of the color blue, ice on his clothes. The two characters are very similar, much more in personality than physically. Physically we find the gel on the clothes, the blue icy eyes, the young appearance (most of the time Jack Frost is young in representations), the pale blue skin (yes Jack Frost has pale skin that looks almost blue) and the albino side that Skrael has but only on his eyelashes which are white. In terms of personality, they both are mischievous, they don't care how others might feel and they think ice/snow is better than anything. In folk tales, Jack Frost is a spirit who acts according to his own desires, without respect for humans. This indifference to the suffering of others is also found in Skrael, who sees cold as a means of purifying the world.

For the third part, I placed it here randomly, but I wanted to talk about Ymir even though there is very little to say. As we all know, Ymir is a primordial frost giant from Norse mythology. Ymir is described as one of the first beings in the universe, born from the meeting of the fire of Muspellheim and the ice of Niflheim, and he is the ancestor of all frost giants. This ancient and primordial nature is reflected in Skrael, a guardian who embodies an ancient and immutable force of winter, a power that seems to have been there since the beginning of the world. Norse mythology tells us that the gods killed Ymir and used his body to create the world: his flesh became the earth, his blood the oceans, his bones the mountains, and his skull the sky. I see this as some sort of proof that Skrael's titan is his true form and his first form, his separation from his original body makes him less strong. The giant that is Ymir must have been a potential inspiration for Skrael's titan, the fact that he is a primordial giant like Skrael is a primordial demigod titan. And the fact that they were both separated from their bodies as well, shows some resemblance between them.

Finally, I didn't think to add it in my "analysis" but… I will finally talk about Khione. Why Khione and not Boreas, the god of the north wind? Because apart from their title, their cruelty and their power I found nothing else to say about this charlatan who definitely does not know consent. To make the rest of my analysis more meaningful, I would like to warn you that I am talking about Khion from Rick Riordan's books. Like Skrael, Khione is a snow goddess, she masters snow, cold and ice. She is able to create storms, freeze objects and manipulate temperature, and she also likes to turn people into ice statues… like Skrael. Both share this feeling of indifference to human and other creatures, they are devoid of empathy, they are implacable deities, detached from human emotions and indifferent to the suffering or destruction they inflict. This lack of pity or empathy reinforces their merciless nature, each imposing cold without a soul. In Riordan's works, Khione aspires to power and the reign of winter. She is ambitious, seeking to dominate or make winter a supreme force. In a similar way, Skrael embodies this vision of eternal winter. Both want the cold to reign supreme and do not want a natural cycle where spring would return, but rather a world frozen forever under their icy control. Khione and Skrael are both beings of solitude. Khione, like a goddess of the icy heights, is distant from the world of humans and rarely interacts with them, preferring her solitude. Skrael, is a spirit isolated from any attachment and emotional warmth, he shares the same thoughts as Khione, he does not want to interact and mingle with other creatures and even less humans. There is also the connection between Khione and Gaia in Rick Riordan's universe and between Skrael and Nari which can present interesting parallels. In Heroes of Olympus, Khione allies with Gaia, the Earth Goddess, for her own ambitions of power and to bring about eternal winter. Khione sees Gaia as a primordial force that can help her impose her rule. Similarly, Skrael allies with Nari to wipe humanity from Earth and bring about eternal winter (although this is not explicitly stated in the series). Khione, though independent and ambitious, knows that Gaia is a greater power than she is, a primordial entity that surpasses other natural forces. She acts to serve Gaia's interests, even if she hopes to profit from them. Skrael and Nari are equals compared to them, but what does not change is that Skrael takes advantage of Nari, in order to achieve his goal.

The name of "Skrael" comes from Norse culture. The Vikings used the term "Skræling" to refer to the indigenous peoples they encountered in North America, including the Inuit and other indigenous groups of Greenland and "Newfoundland". In Old Norse, Skræling means "weak" or "barbarian" or "foreigner", with a connotation of "skin" or "bark", which could indicate a pejorative view. The term was often used to mark the perceived difference between the Vikings and the peoples they encountered. It is also possible that in "Skrael" there are cold or icy sounds. For example, "sk-" at the beginning of the name (like "skeleton" and "skull") may have a visual sound associated with something hard, bony, or cold.

Finally, to conclude, Skrael is an interesting antagonist even if we don't know much about him. He is ruthless, reckless, observant, sadistic and patient, the perfect antagonist inspired by legends and myths.

[icypantherwrites]

Hi!

I really love your works!

Especially those related to the Voltron fandom.

Unfortunately the fandom is a bit stagnant but it's nice to see how you keep it active. Just for Voltron I wanted to ask, what would you think of a Canon au where Lance is possessed by an alien god and the team has to save him, and in the process face the fact that they treated him poorly and were a mediocre team?

Aw, well thank you ♥ It's definitely a pretty dead fandom these days, but doing my best to at least finish posting Here and wrapping up that trilogy on AO3 :)

To your question, I will admit that I don't ever envision or write the team as ever purposefully treating Lance poorly as I don't think they are like that. I think they are human (or Altean or part-Galran ;p) and like all of us sometimes we can get so wrapped up in our own problems or concerns or even our own past experiences that we can inadvertently hurt someone we care about through our actions (or inactions). So that would not be a story I personally could write or design as it goes against how I view the characters.

That said, I've explored in a few of my stories elements of where members of the team have unintentionally hurt Lance. I think it's very reasonable to hurt someone you care about like that in the short-term (with the exception to this being Kuron!Shiro whose actions can hurt in longer term because he's not quite himself) when there are outside factors and even internal ones that can skew your perception of the situation and how it might affect another.

If you're interested, a few of those off the top of my head are:

Quiet Your Pain, Suffer in Silence

Summary: Lance has never liked the quiet and he likes it even less on this big, empty castle far away from home. He tries to fill it with stories and laughter so it doesn't feel quite as lonely.

But lately whenever Lance opens his mouth all he seems to do is upset people, annoy people and now… now he’s hurt them too. So there’s only one solution.

He just won’t ever talk again.

Icy Notes: This one is probably the most 'team hurts Lance' story on the list as everyone (save my sunshine boys Hunk and Coran) do indeed hurt Lance by their words and actions. They all realize though in the end what hurt they caused (thanks, Coran!) and resolve it.

The Poison of Deceit

Summary: This diplomatic mission is not going the way Lance had hoped. The diplomacy part on behalf of Voltron is going fantastic and Lance doesn’t think he’d be remiss in saying he had a large hand in that. But the whole impress Shiro bit is an epic fail as Shiro doesn’t seem to notice his efforts at all and it’s only worse with Keith showing him up at nearly every turn. The aliens they’re working on the alliance though have noticed his efforts. But as Lance stands here now, Shiro and Keith’s lives along with a vial of poison in his hands, he isn’t so certain that was a good thing.

Icy Notes: This one might be the closest take to your comment about the alien God in the sense that an outside party is also involved. This one is just focused on Lance, Shiro and Keith so not the whole team, but those two do get a very hard lesson in what it means to be a good friend and is definitely going to stick with them.

Feast

Summary: Lance is well aware he's the weak link on Team Voltron. He knows he's not the brightest. But he's not stupid. And he's always thought that even despite his shortcomings he had not just a place with Voltron, but friends who would look out for him just as he would do for them.

But that doesn't seem to be the case anymore. While there's no knife to stab him in the back, the ones his friends wield with their cruel, heartless words cuts just as deep. And by the time Lance realizes that something is wrong, that these people are not his friends, it's too late.

The feast has begun.

Icy Notes: This story has a lot of other plot points other than just team treating Lance poorly, although it is the most literal interpretation of the team hurting Lance (legit torturing him) even if it's not quite them... But it explores the show post Game Show and how those actions made Lance feel and again, unable to confide in his team and feeling like no one values him.

Worth(less)  (please note this one is rated M!)

Summary: On their journey to Earth, Voltron stops at a planet for supplies and finds that its inhabitants are not only incredibly generous but powerful and would make strong allies in their upcoming fight. In order to secure the alliance, the king assigns a member of his council to observe each Paladin and judge their worth.

Lance is delighted to find out his evaluator is the king’s own son, Prince Barin, who is a formidable fighter and pilot, and he’s determined to prove himself worthy and make Voltron proud, especially following the horrible game show experience with Bob.

Except Lance discovers that the prince isn’t interested in evaluating his worth as a Paladin; he's just interested in his body. And for the sake of the universe… Lance knows what he has to do.

Icy Notes: Like Feast above, there's a lot of other plot at play here and definitely heed warnings if you read it, but a large part of said plot is Lance's reactions and feelings from the Game Show where he felt like the team didn't care about him and so he's unable to trust them now. Horrible consequences for thinking so little of himself and unable to go to the team for support, but comfort and resolution at the end.

[bedtimescenarios]

Periculum in mora- Part 1?

CW: implied threats, mentions of past abuse, mentions of violence, implied stalking, living weapon whump

Emory clutches the piece of paper so tightly they aren't sure it's still suitable for the evidence bag. If it weren't for the gloves on their hands, they're certain it would disintegrate under their sweat. Their gaze continues scanning the handwriting, which is too neat to be arranged into a sentence so awfully terrifying that they kind of wish they skipped first grade reading lessons. The words seem to pulse on the page, and their breath hitches as a twig cracks nearby.

"You okay?" Lauryn's voice sounds from behind them, and their head whips around to face her.

Emory swallows. When they got this job, they were nothing short of ecstatic- a well-recognized, highly respected detective role at the PD was everything they'd been working for. And they certainly hadn't expected to get it, not with their past, not after the trial. But when they received the acceptance e-mail, they knew they had a shot at catching him. At finally putting that bastard behind bars and reversing the roles after all that time. Still, they expected it to happen on their own terms. Not like this.

For a moment, Emory stares at the body sprawled out on the ground, eyes fixed on the jean pocket where they found the note, surprisingly clean compared to the crimson staining the rest of the scene. To say these recent murders have been brutal would be an understatement. They were carried out with the raw violence of a rabid lion, yet at the same time with incredible surgical precision to ensure prolonged unbearable pain. When Emory was assigned the case, they instantly shut down the possibility of their tormentor being behind them, despite a lingering feeling in the back of their mind that transposed into their nightmares. Now, as they hold that damned piece of paper, that feeling is winning.

Emory's icy eyes meet Lauryn's warm ones, and they step around the pale body and towards their colleague. They don't speak as they hand her the paper, and watch as her eyebrows furrow in confusion- of course she wouldn't know its significance. Why would she? This is so much deeper than its spelling, than its meaning.

Lauryn looks up, and Emory can distinguish a hint of worry on her face. It's something they see quite often- Lauryn is an exceptional detective, perhaps the best they know, but she can get overly involved in cases, not to mention ones so closely tied to her co-workers. Her empathy felt surreal during Emory's first few weeks at the department, especially after what they'd been taught for so long. She showed them what caring truly meant.

"Periculum in mora." Lauryn recites the contents slowly, as if testing the way they roll off her tongue, and Emory's jaw clenches. "Latin. I'll look up the meaning-"

She doesn't have time to reach for her phone because Emory's mouth outpaces them. "Danger in delay."

Lauryn's head tilts to the left, and Emory knows she's waiting for an explanation. A moment passes before they're sure they've composed themselves enough to speak. "He used to say it to me after I tried to run."

Their mind automatically completes the statement with the sound of the whip cracking against their back, their strangled cries contrasting his laugh. They don't share that with Lauryn.

Either way, the woman's frown deepens, small creases forming between her eyebrows. She's trying hard not to show pity, they can tell- they've told her that it's pointless countless times- but Emory can see it flash across her expression. With another look at the note, her nose flares slightly, and she takes in a deep breath.

"Do you think Hayes has something to do with this?" Her words seem calculated, almost as if she's scared of screwing up.

Emory hates it. They also hate how the name alone sends a shiver down their spine. Aden Hayes. Infamous leader of the hitmen network registered in police records as responsible for more than 296 kills. A quarter of which were reported by Emory after they ripped that chip out of their skin and ran until the soles of their feet were nearly detached and half of their wounds re-opened. That man, he's still out there- Emory has known that for a while, since the investigation's leads suddenly started dropping like flies- and now he knows where Emory works.

Emory instinctively runs a finger over the ragged scar on their palm, almost absentmindedly. They try not to recall the memory associated with it. "This is him."

Despite their unfocused gaze, they notice their colleague's body stiffening. "This might just be a coincidence, you know."

They wish that was true. Hell, they wish they could at least believe it, embrace the sweet bliss that is ignorance. They wish their mind didn't flash with images of blood and death and loss and so, so much pain. But that note... it's a taunt, and they know exactly what it means.

"It's him. And he's coming after me."

Taglist: @sarahsbookshop

[mythosidhesdollhouse]

Morning, all! Just wanted to do another quick check-in as I continue to get caught up from the past few days. First of all, thank you and welcome to all the new followers! This is not something I was looking for or expecting, but is much appreciated. We've barely scratched the surface of my collection so far, so I hope you'll stick around for the rest of the excavation XD

A few points have been popping up in replies to my 'doll blog rec' post that I wanted to address:

Not sure what type of dolls you're interested in, but...

The short answer to this is all of them. All the dolls. I've been in this hobby a long time (I'm in my mid 40s and have been collecting seriously for 30+ years), and although the main focus of my collection has prodomentely been fashion dolls, I have at least an academic interest in many other types--antique dolls, vintage 20th c. dolls, porcelain dolls, BJDs, art dolls, haunted dolls--I love seeing and learning about all kinds of dolls, as I never know what might spark a new avenue of research or collecting (I have many of these other kinds of dolls in my collection, they just haven't made it onto the blog yet). So don't let the predominance of fashion dolls in my photos deter you from introducing yourself.

The only hard and fast exception to this is those hyper-realistic baby dolls. Keep those cursed things away from me.

I do a lot of reblogs, not sure if you're ok with that....

I am 100% here for your reblogs :) Not only does it give me a better idea of your personality and aesthetic tastes, it also gives me a chance to see content from other blogs I don't already follow (but may as a result of your sharing!). Reblogs have always been one of the best ways to build community on this site...and tbh if you look at my main blog I am the reblog queen, I'd be kind of a hypocrite for throwing shade on someone else for doing it ;p

I do mostly DIYs...

Here for that too! As a needlework enthusiast who is a mediocre seamstress and reasonably skilled at crochet I frequently dabble in making doll clothing and am always open to learning new crafting skills and techniques, including but not limited to various aspects of doll customization.

Ok I think that's it for now XD Things are still a bit hectic for me offline, but I will continue to catch up with your comments and messages as I can. New doll posts may be slow in the next few days, but once I get my display situation sorted (I need to box up some books to go into storage to clear shelf space) things should pick up a bit.

[Pictured above: ICY Blythe clone dressed in mostly Fashion Fever pieces; Cry Babies BFF Jassy & Phoebe from IMC Toys]

[romegaketh]

pocket outtake or whatever.

(m, seth/roman, orgasm control, on the mild side of fucked up for pocket content but established abusive relationship + dubious consent due to memory loss; roman's control + gender issues.)

-

Seth's hair looked very blond. Roman had left his card at the salon and strict instructions for someone, anyone, to fix Seth's hair so he could be seen in public. He was pretty sure it had done real damage: blond was expensive, way more expensive than you'd think if you were just getting Dean Ambrose to fry half your head off in a motel bathroom. But he had money now, and so did Seth even if he didn't remember it, and god knew he wasn't taking Seth back to the show to look a goddamn mess.

Also, it felt nice when he touched it, now. And he liked to touch it. Seth went appealingly agreeable when you pulled him by the hair.

Seth sprawled across his chest. His hair smelled amazing, like a bouquet. "I thought it was fine before." 

Roman smacked his ass - mostly gently, but with enough weight for it to sting. "'Thank you, Roman, that was considerate of you.'" 

Seth bit him lightly, just a graze of his teeth across Roman's shoulder. "Thank you, Roman, that was considerate of you. Want a blowjob?" 

Roman laughed. Kissed him. God, he loved kissing Seth. "I want to talk about something." 

Seth levered himself up onto his elbows, looking down at Roman. It was weird to have the hair around his face be all blond - and that a clean bleach, not quite Cody's icy cool, but not the yellowing mess Seth had historically tended towards - but he was beautiful, Roman thought about it all the time, it surprised him. "Okay."

Roman cupped the nape of Seth's neck with one hand and flipped them, so Seth was beneath him, ignoring Seth's startled, indignant squawk as he rearranged them to keep his weight off Seth's knee. "I want you to stop getting yourself off." 

"What?" 

He traced his thumb along Seth's cheek, his lower lip. When he pressed down Seth let him in. "From now on, you should only come on my cock."

Seth shivered. "What?"

Roman could feel him stirring against Roman's thigh. "Ideally, untouched. You shouldn't need anything but me to get you there. But we'll work on it. Together."

"I-" 

"I know it's not what you're used to. But I'd like it if you would try making sex special for us."

"For us-" But Roman knew when Seth was working himself into trouble so he shoved two fingers into Seth's mouth and let him think about it.

-

"Okay," Seth said. "What do I get in exchange?" He had dressed in a shirt Roman had bought him - a plain silk button-down, but it fit him well and made his eyes pop - and was cutting up salad ingredients for what was going to be their lunch. 

"In exchange?" Roman asked. He'd been at the kitchen island, reading the Financial Times on his tablet. "I thought we were a team, sweetheart."

Seth pointed at him with the knife he was using to slice a carrot into matchsticks. Roman had a meal service most days but he couldn't say he didn't like watching Seth in the big kitchen, bustling around; it appealed to something deep and reptilian inside him that made him want to hide all Seth's socks and shoes. "We are, babe," Seth was saying, "except that's a very skewed situation which only benefits you. What's in it for me?"

Roman laughed. He put his tablet down and got to his feet, striding across the kitchen tile to press himself up against Seth's back, settle his hands on Seth's hips to pull them flush together. "You come on my cock, little brother. You haven't complained about it before."

Seth huffed, tilting his head to one side so Roman could kiss his neck. "I could start."

"Sami and Kevin," Roman said. Nipped at Seth's earlobe, held him when he half-jumped. "You can have the house when they come by."

"It's a huge house," Seth protested. "You don't have to-" 

"You wanted something," Roman said. "There you go."

-

He didn't know why he wanted it so much. Enough to trade something like that - something Seth wouldn't have asked for but desperately wanted, that revealed something both of them were carefully avoiding. 

It was just that he hated the idea of anyone else touching Seth. Of anyone else making him come. And Seth was so experienced, and Roman was so - 

And it was hot, to think about it. To slap Seth's hand away from himself, to murmur, remember the rule even when he was the one going down on Seth and Seth was crying, huge wet tears down the side of his face from how bad he wanted it. 

"Roman," Seth said, yanking him up, trying to - he was uncoordinated, weak with pleasure, hands grasping at Roman's neck and shoulders with little strength. "I want, c'mon -" 

"Tell me how," Roman said. Startled by his own capacity. 

Seth knotted one hand in his own soft pale hair. "On your cock," he said. "Please." 

The only way you'll ever come again, Roman thought, pushing into him, thinking about forever. Seth was blood-hot, like silk, beneath him. Sometimes when he was fucking Seth he thought about God. 

"Roman," Seth repeated. When he said Roman's name it was like winning the title, lit up in front of all those people: the highest of highs but also so much responsibility. 

“I know,” Roman said. “You can have it now.” He pressed his palm against Seth, giving him the heel of his hand to rock against. “I love you.”

“Oh,” Seth said, startled, gorgeous, Roman’s -

-

"The blond cost you a grand, by the way," Seth informed him. "And I have to go back in three weeks for a deep condition before we try to lift it some more. My hair was extremely unhealthy." 

Roman slipped two fingers into Seth, fast and hard enough to make him yelp. "Okay," he said. "They can keep my card on file." 

[theamityelf]

Revisiting the AU where Izuru kidnaps memory-erased Makoto.

Izuru had been taught that the untalented are holding everyone back. He's introduced to the students of Hope's Peak, and he meets Makoto and pretty immediately goes "Luckster, average in every way, I can ignore him."

Except he can't ignore him.

He notices him. Makoto is friends with everyone in his class, including the more isolated in their ranks. He is many of the Ultimates' go-to person to chat with or ask favors of. Izuru would already have to upgrade him from non-entity status to entity status just on the basis of how gregarious and present he is.

But to add to that, he talks to Izuru. Often when he sees Izuru, he greets him and asks him how he's doing, even though Izuru's taciturn responses have done nothing to encourage the behavior. When Izuru tests him by actually giving an answer about what he's up to, Naegi gives replies like, "Whoa, that sounds hard! Is anyone helping you with that?" or "Oh, is that something you like doing?" and other things that are just bizarre from Izuru's perspective.

Naegi is untalented, save for his "luck", but he isn't holding his class back, and it isn't his luck that keeps him from holding them back.

And Izuru finds himself looking for Naegi when other members of the 78th class are present. Taking the extra millisecond to spot him in crowds. Tuning into his conversations in passing. He literally can't ignore him. His brain has become especially aware of him.

"He's dating Kyoko, you know," Enoshima says, because of course she notices even though Izuru hasn't mentioned Naegi to her once.

And of course he knows that Naegi is dating Kirigiri. The two aren't overly affectionate in public, but it's clear from the way they gravitate together, the things they say, the smiles on their faces when the other does something thoroughly in-character.

He wasn't thinking about being with Naegi in the way Kirigiri was, until Enoshima brought it up. Not consciously. He hadn't parsed his active distaste for Kirigiri, his mind's ungenerous fault-finding whenever she said or did anything, as related to his interest in Naegi.

Now that he does, he's relieved. He's identified the unresolved thing. He wants Naegi. It makes sense; Naegi is friends with every Ultimate, and Izuru is every Ultimate, in a manner of speaking.

As long as he wants Naegi, Kirigiri is inherently undeserving.

So he gets Naegi alone one day and explains things to him.

And Naegi gives him a sad smile and says, "Wow, Izuru, I'm really flattered! You're really great. But I'm actually dating Kyoko already..."

Izuru stares at him for a second, confused by the idea that this is at all an obstacle. He tries to feel out Naegi's perspective. "And...you don't want to hurt her feelings?"

Naegi looks uncomfortable. "I mean, that is part of it, but also I just like Kyoko, and I like dating her. You're really cool, and I like talking to you! It's just...Kyoko and I have been dating for months now, you know?"

"Yes, I know," Izuru answers swiftly. He feels dazed by the unexpected turn of events. On some level, it's a good feeling; he enjoys the unexpected, and he enjoys this new insight into Naegi's character, his wholesome loyalty.

Of course, he hates that it's being wasted on Kirigiri. He can be everything she is and more. But the fact that Naegi's loyalty reaches such absurd levels will make it all the more valuable when it is his.

Which means he shouldn't try to break it. Naegi's loyalty can't be the point of attack; he wants Naegi's full, unweathered capacity for attachment when they are together.

"Bummer," Enoshima coos. "You look so despairfully heartbroken!"

"I'm fine," he says. He knows that she will make her own assumptions about what his icy tone means. "I just need to end the world."

She grins. "Now you're talkin'."

He kills the Student Council, stokes the Tragedy. He goes along with everything Enoshima slides into place. When the 78th class is locked in the school, he isn't with them, but he makes sure he has plenty of eyes and ears in the building, even before Enoshima hijacks the airwaves for her killing game. He spends his time securing a perfect living space for himself and making sure it's well-equipped with everything he will need, which includes setting up a machine for memory erasure and, one can only assume, testing it on people.

(Because when he said "And the process won't hurt. I've made sure of it," in that one post, he must mean that something was done to ensure that the procedure isn't painful.

Depending on how grim one wants this AU to be, you could decide that the process didn't hurt in the first place and whoever he tested it on was completely unharmed. There's a somewhat comedic interpretation where after he tests it on someone he's got a little survey like "On a scale from 1 to 10, please rate your pain," and he gives them a treat on the way out.

Or one could go the grim route where people were in there screaming and he was just standing next to the machine, stoic, like "Not morphine, then. But at least in this subject the pain seems to stop after the procedure ends. Hmm. Not good enough for Naegi, but noticeably improving." The mental image of Izuru practicing mad science on other people like what was done to him interests me. If he is a more ethical and considerate doctor than the ones who made him, then that's a great break-the-cycle thing. If he's just as callous and dehumanizing as the ones who made him, or even more so, then there's a real feeling of misplaced retribution that is also fun. Like, he's not enjoying it as an act of revenge, but it's just a direct consequence of who they made him to be and the cruelty they showed him.)

Anyway.

After a year has passed, he returns to Hope's Peak. He slips in undetected by anyone inside or out.

He's a little early; he has to watch Naegi and Kirigiri continue to spend time together for a couple of days. But then, finally, Ikusaba drugs them all with a smoke bomb and they're dragged off to have their memories erased.

An hour later, he goes upstairs and finds Naegi strapped to a bed and drooling in his sleep, and he skims whatever monitors are present, to know that the procedure went as intended and his vitals are fine, and then he unstraps him and gathers him into his arms.

I'm torn between having Junko, Mukuro or both be the ones to try and stop him, but for the sake of this already-long post, I'm going to say Junko is in the Monokuma Control Room shooting Jin into space or whatever, so she doesn't know anything's amiss. Mukuro questions why Izuru is there, but he just warns her not to try and stop him or he will ruin her sister's game.

[50r-a]

;; Genshin Impact ! ··· ꒱

⊹₊ ⋆ Ganyu x reader . . . ꜜ

+` All is silent" · · · · ✦

`` ︵︵︵︵︵︵ ⋯ ⁺ 🎐 ”

warning(s); no mentions of pronouns/gender/yn, smut, first person, eating out, kitchen sex, first time, morning sex, body worship, milking, yk goats milk?, caught

SMUT BELOW THE CUT

It was a peaceful day at my manor. All of my companions were out and about doing their own thing. All except one, Ganyu. My Cryo archer and my beloved girlfriend. We had been dating for the past few months now. She is such a sweet girl; I can't say no to her when she asks me out for a date. Although it wasn't that often that we went out together since she was so busy with her training with Xiao and at her work at the Jade Chamber.

But now we're alone at my home. All is peaceful in this dewy morning. I was leaning against the white dry-wall of my kitchen, watching Ganyu clean the filthy dishes that we ignored last night from our dinner. Ganyu was looking prettier than ever. Her hair was still messy from only awaking from her sleep twenty minutes ago. She's not wearing her usual garb, she was wearing a simple plain white tee paired with small booty shorts that shape her hips wonderfully. The sun rays reflected off the silver spoon as she cleaned.

Her wide hips are so, so beautiful. Her thick thighs and her large bottom are so pronounced on those shorts.

Ganyu dropped the spoon into the sink and turned around to face me. "Good morning," she said with a smile. She always seemed happy whenever she first wakes up. I smiled back at my dear Ganyu. "Good morning.".

I love her sweet little smiles she gives me. I examine her curvy figure more. To the north of her thick thighs are her breasts. They're like mountains resting on her chest with how large they are. I take note that her nipples are harded slightly due to the coolness of the air from outside from the open windows. I felt myself getting excited at the thought of touching them. It strikes me that we had never made love with eachother. I had never even seen her naked not once.

I walked forth, I was now standing in front my my lover. "Hey darling," I said, taking her hand. She blushed bashfully and looked down at the dishes then up towards my eyes. We locked gazes.

"What’s the matter?"she asked me, noticing my eyes was on her delectable body.

"Nothing…nothing at all," I replied, trying to hide my erotic thoughts.

She laughed at that, "Well maybe you should tell me what your thinking."

I paused for a while, unsure of how much to reveal.

"It's just that I was thinking about finally making love to you. That's all. We haven't even seen eachother in the nude so…" I trailed off.

"Oh, oh!" Ganyu's face visually went red. "W-well, I've been thinking about that aswell. It's just, I was too scared to do so.".

"Why are you scared?" I asked.

"Well…umm," she stammered. "I don't know. I guess I'm still so fearful to actually to lose my virginity. And also, I'm afraid of what you'll think after seeing me naked."

"You have nothing to worry about. I would never judge you." I assured her. "And it's okay if you feel embarrassed, I understand."

She looked at me with a soft gaze. "Thank you."

We kissed passionately, I reached over and pulled her close to me. Our lips met in a deep passionate kiss. Her tongue slid across mine and she pressed her chest against mine. I could feel her now erect nipples rubbing against my shirt. Her hands ran through my hair and massaged my scalp. She pulled away from me and smiled, "I love you."

"I love you too," I said back before getting on my knees.

Out of surprise, Ganyu gasps at my sudden collapse. "A-are you okay?" She asked.

"Shh, I'm fine. Just, will you let me to do this?" I asked her before lightly tugging at her tiny shorts.

Ganyu blushed but nodded, "Y-yes."

I pulled both her shorts and her panties down her thighs. Her icy blue pubic hairs were trimmed short and she has a cute little tuft of hair above her pussy. I could see her pinkish clit poking out from between her outer pussy lips. Her inner lips were bright pink and glistening with moisture. I could smell her arousal.

My fingers slipped into her wet slit, parting her outer lips. I rubbed her clitoris gently while I continued to slide in and out her slick vaginal canal. My fingers explored every inch of her pussy, circling her clitoris and sliding up into her tight hole. I loved the feel of her velvety smooth insides. The slight resistance as my digits pressed deep within her.

"Mm, yes! Please touch me, please!" Ganyu begged me.

I smiled at her begging. "I'll give you what you want, my dear Ganyu.". I leaned forward and licked her juicy, engorged clitoris. She moaned in delight as I sucked her nub between my lips. I slowly moved my head back and forth, stimulating her clit with my tongue. Her thighs trembled as her orgasm grew closer.

Suddenly, her legs shook violently as her orgasm overtook her. "AHHHHH! YES! YYYEEESSSS!!!" She screamed loudly as her juices flowed freely from her cunt. Her body shuddered as wave after wave of pleasure rushed through her. Her hands grasped my head tightly as she rode out her blissful climax. She then collapsed onto me, using my body as a support. I leaned her voluptuous figure on the kitchen counter before my hands crawled under her white shirt.

I cupped her heavy breasts, my thumb running up and down the stiffened nipple. I could hear her ragged breathing as she caught her breath from her orgasm.

"Ugh, s-so good~" she whispered to me.

I leaned down and kissed her. I placed my hands on the sides of her white shirt, lifting it off of her. Her large tits jiggled as they hit the cold surface. I felt her smooth stomach and the soft skin of her belly button. I then buried my face between her meaty cleavage. Her huge mounds filled my mouth and I began to suckle on her large tits. I swirled my tongue around her erect nipples, flicking them with my tongue.

"MMM! Ahhh! Mmmph! AHH! AH! Ahh! HNNNGGGGG!!!" Ganyu moaned loudly, arching her back and pressing her tits tighter against my face. And then her milk from her breasts began to squirt out. I took it all in my mouth and swallowed. Her juices tasted amazing and I couldn't get enough. I sucked on her pink bud, trying to drink more of her lovely goats milk from her.

I was so focused on sucking the milk filled breasts that I didn't even realize the kitchen door had been opened.

"Oh my!" We heard a feminine voice yell out in shock.

I immediately stop sucking on Ganyu's tits, the both of us looked to see who caught us in the act of love. And it was Mona.

All was silent, once more.

[moochii-daisies]

2015.06.

- 18+, Minors DNI

Warnings - Content Contains: A smidge of blood, Lacey and MC fight (they are both mean tbh) JK and Yoongi fight, MC kinda mentions a hint of a flashback, drinking, smoking, cussing, angst - the usual. TW: SI mention, (+jk lost his v card at a young age mention) They continue going through it basically - but it won't be for long cause the next chapter is the 2015 finale!

Sidenotes: the only chapter "plan" note was "the fight". so, ta-da (pretend i'm doing jazz hands). if anyone tries the dance to amygdala please pls lemme know haha as always, thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy if you do <3

Find the rest here!

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

No matter what is written next, I want to make it clear that the 9 of us each have an almond tattoo somewhere on our body - and that we got them done together years after this whole thing occurred.

     But it wasn't like Jungkook came right back inside with a smile.

     And I didn't suddenly quit dance-crying because everything was actually, Totally Fine.

     What happened was more like this -

     I was just drunk enough that it was easy to follow Lacey and Jimin's movements. But the tears hadn't stopped streaming since Jungkook had gone out front.

     Jump, cross.

     Side touch- Turn!!

     Wiggle and then -

     Some part of your body had to look like it was head-banging.

     It was during the chorus of Amygdala, and it was fast enough to be an ambitious attempt. The living room circled around me until all of the separating lines within it dissolved. Dizzy.

     I felt my arms jostle but Yoongi's voice was trying to pin me down in place - a dead bug for decoration.

     "My amygdala (my amygdala), please save me," made the same sound as an arrow whizzing through the air. A metal tip speared it's way through my chest. And I could hear Lacey and Jimin sniffing, tugging at our joined hands to wipe at their noses. Shit, we couldn't all be crying.

     I'd halted after turning, and the boundaries that differentiated between everything and everyone were slow to come back. It felt like Yoongi was trying to tell me something about himself through his lyrics. Except - it also felt like it was something about the both of us. And my brain, even in it's inebriated stupor, warped its processing so that I couldn't make any sense of it. I could go anywhere else, I thought, but I couldn't stay there.

     "I'm gonna go smoke!" - I yelled the words out and mimed along with them. Two sets of big eyes and toothy grins gleamed back at me. Their heads nodded so quickly that it looked like they were being shaken. Or I dunno, maybe that was just how it seemed.

     The escape provided sweet but brief relief.

     My dream of fresh(-ish) air was stopped dead in its tracks, two steps past the front door. First, from the tiniest icy snowflakes that were fluttering down in thick flurries. It was the first time it had snowed there in 12 years.

And then, from seeing Jungkook.

     He was sitting on the front porch couch with his knees spread wide for his elbows to rest on. His hands were pressed together in a praying position, held underneath his lower lip. Two black circles were staring and unblinking straight ahead of him. Either at something or seeing nothing.

       After a rapid twist of his neck to crack it, Jungkook tsk'd to himself before turning to stand - hands clasped behind his head. The eye contact that we made once he was standing communicated more than either of us wanted the other to know.

     "I don't want you to be - anywhere around me tonight." Thumped behind my ears.

     Bass boosted.

Well fuck.

     There was a hitch in Jungkook's swelling chest, but he carried on as if I wasn't there at all. Exhaling in one sharp burst and then turning to pace away from where I stood.

      "Maybe you should -"

     "Don't tell her what to do." Jungkook's voice sliced through Yoongi's pitched up one like a knife.

     Wait - wasn't Yoongi inside? Up on the stage? The last thing I could think of was his voice and - that thought alone stopped the oncoming train that was full of them in its tracks.

For a moment.

Then it hurtled its way through, rejuvenated.

There was no correct choice. Someone would be upset no matter what I did and I -

And I didn't know what to do.

There was just - There was no...

No correct choice.

     It felt like my eyes were crossing the more that I tried not to look at either of them, but I would have rather passed out before looking at anyone's face. Or the expressions on them.

   

It was stuck somewhere deep down within me - what to do.

If we could all just hang on a second.

If everything could just slow down.

I know I'd have been able to figure it out. If everything hadn't been so loud, and fighting to be the loudest and it's like - hang on.

     Various conversations popped up around me, noisy flowers in a field.

     A little more than ten other people were also out there on the front porch.

     My jaw clenched at the awareness and I froze, like standing still enough could prevent anyone from seeing me.

     "Baby, go inside. Please.".

     Just one blink.

And Jungkook was standing in front of me, pulling me into a hug that he wrapped around my head. I was confident that as long as he didn't move, everything would be okay. And that I was able to blink.

     Toes wiggled underneath my own as a nudge to step onto his feet. I think some part of me felt embarrassed by it, but most of me was trying not to fall off of him once we started moving. And a lot of me felt loved.

      I don't know what I felt about the freeze-frame image of Yoongi though. And how he looked so close to bursting that I could almost feel the pressure of it. Like the cold had expanded everything he was keeping bottled up within him.

     The sensations that came from Jungkook however- as he guided me to step down off of him, were warmer.

     "Bunny.".

     "My bunny.". My response was immediate, and the surrounding walls suddenly looked familiar.

     "I need you to stay inside the house. You could even smoke in the ba-" "I'll stay inside. I promise." I cut him off before he could say the full word.

      An "I'm sorry." was muffled against the top of my head.

Then there was one kiss.

     Two kisses.

     Three.

     

Jungkook and I had a habit of spotting the same piece of stable ground. Nobody could calm us faster or rattle us more than the other. For this particular interaction - it was the former. And I almost couldn't remember how the evening had started.

     How he had been sitting on his mattress on the floor of his room. And the way that our nest of blankets was swirled behind him.

Where we had been woken up just that morning. And - Holy shit, this was all the same day.

     "Look, I should probably tell you that-"

     It was a good thing he told me, really, and I wish that had been what I expressed instead.

Instead of malfunctioning and forcing out a hum. Instead of twisting two fingers behind my back to stop visual "what if"'s from catching me off guard.

     Here's the thing: I had done my best to handle the feelings that came up from Lacey being there. I really had. And I liked her. I really did. Up until the words -

     "Lacey was the first person I ever loved. And slept with." Came out of Jungkook's mouth.

     I could have been told this years ago.

     But I didn't say that .

I didn't know what to say.

The recall of the evening made the arms around me feel chokingly tight. So I went with a nod, and began taking steps backwards through the front door. The same way I had at the beginning of the party - and the same way I had after hearing those words.

A pained expression twisted at Jungkook's face.

    

     "It's kinda fucked sometimes. You get that right? Like how you smirked when I told you I needed you and that you're leaving after I tell you this."

The words spoken in that safe space followed me out of his room. And stuck with me up the stairs. And had only been swallowed down with thanks to (funnily enough) Lacey and Jimin - who had shoved their drinks to my mouth after spotting me.

      But they were trying to force their way back up as I backed away from Jungkook at the front door.

     "You don't need me to- you're probably, um - you should tell Yoongi..." I was only half-aware that I was mumbling. At least until the bump from behind me erased any notion that I had opened my mouth at all. The person turned to look at me and their face was on the cusp of being familiar. Like someone I met at a game night or something.

     All of the blood in my body was turned into ice.

     I couldn't keep looking at Jungkook - and scanned for any of the other 5 faces I could trust. Namjoon was easiest to find, towering over most of the crowd with a leopard print bucket hat (borrowed from Yoongi).

     "Baby don't-" Was either called out after me or just wishful thinking. I couldn't get the nerve to check which one it was.

No. That isn't fair. It was more like I couldn't believe that he had said it with the way I was acting. I just couldn't -

i just couldn't.

Icicles in my bloodstream were now stabbing the fist in my chest. And when Lacey's shrill voice hit my ears upon arrival, the shards of ice felt like they grew three sizes. Just the worst kind of Grinch.

I hadn't seen her in the crowd - not until she was right in front of me. The back of her head bobbled as she prattled on to Jimin, whose eyebrows looked like they were trying to lift off of his face completely. He shook his head back at least three times within my minute of standing there. Fidgeting with a strange rhythm, almost like a foxtrot (slow, slow, quick, quick).

     "MINNIE AND LACEY ARE COKED THE FUCK OUT." Namjoon bellowed the words into my ear and I forgot why he needed to yell until my brain allowed Yoongi's music to be heard again. His words weren't sinking in. So I gave him a quizzical look, at which he pointed towards the two and mimicked a snorted inhale. Turned out the sniffing from earlier was -not- from all of us crying.

     Jimin was wearing a thin, long-sleeved white t-shirt, black jeans and Chelsea boots. The red heart that Tae had helped him embroider onto the shirt was matched with a single, dangling heart earring. It swung from his left ear with every scrambled motion. Glittering as he rubbed at his chin or whenever his head tilted back to take a swig from his cup.

I gulped to finish the rest of my own.

     Lacey, on the other hand, had gotten dolled up. Wearing a sequined body-con dress that was mermaid colored. The blue, jewel toned parts now matched all of her hair - instead of just underneath its top layers. Two sparkling seashell earrings followed the rapid motions of her head, she was following Minnie's darting glances. She was also gnawing at her lip the same way that I do. Fiddling with the sequins on her dress like I would.

It really felt like we understood each other sometimes.

     More than anything though - she looked beautiful.

I remember thinking that as she handed me her cup (presumably after noticing that mine had been finished).

     I tilted the rest of whatever was in it down my throat without as much as a wince. Extra bitter. It felt fitting.

Although, in many ways she had been so sweet. I hesitated at the thought initially but, she had genuinely become a close friend over the past year. Even after we stopped being able to see each other as much. And even considering that she had tried to punch me that morning.

     But I think that's why it hurt so much.

That nobody told me about her and Jungkook ever having a thing. She was included in that too. She could have told me. "Guess you still have a lot to learn about each other then." echoed in my head and left a taste in my mouth that was worse than the alcohol.

     "-So it's just funny if you really think about it, you know?? Like, if just ONE thing had been different then - then you would be making entirely different choices. It's fuckin' nuts! That's all I'm sayin'. Cause we, we can just - it just like, - it's just like, we shouldn't take what happens for granted. You know what I'm sayin'? Who knows if it's for better or for worse?" Joon hadn't stopped talking since he started. And a big hand was placed to palm the top of my head as he did. I felt like the joystick of a game controller whenever he flexed a wrist to (gently) pull it closer.

I wished I had been paying more attention to what he was saying, but one question begged to be asked at full volume.

     I yelled as loud as my body would let me project, "Oh Great Teacher!! Who gave these two the coke?" - Which got me a glazed over look of (perhaps) deep thought.

Switch gears then.

     "Ok! Like - what external circumstance provided the opportunity for them to make this choice?" This time, Joon nodded, like the change in my wording had been satisfactory.

     "Yoongs." Is the only word he uttered back at me. And the glow surrounding Lacey and Jimin evaporated - emboldened me to do something. To stop letting myself freeze up. To stop waiting for JK to carry me out and take my steps for me.

     "You're right Joonie. If only one thing had been different." I know I said the words, they came out in my voice and all that, but I couldn't feel them being said.

     Joon's baseball mitt of a hand slipped from my hair, letting me glide towards the amped up pair with ease.

     Looking back at it now - my timing could not have been worse.

     "Hey girl! So when you said, 'There's more to learn about JK', what you meant was- that you fucked him?" I snapped at her with so much force it almost sounded excited.

And I dunno.

     Maybe I was.

Maybe I had wanted to talk about this for a really long time. About Yoongi, about why she waited to tell him about JK and I dancing - all of it.

     Lacey gritted her teeth.

     And if she had remembered giving me the rest of her drink perhaps she wouldn't have - but she attempted to throw the drink she did remember having into my face.

     Jimin took a step back with a hand clutching at non-existent pearls, "My goodness ladies. Resorting to violence is -" "Oh shut the fuck up Minnie.". Lacey's lashing out caused a visceral reaction from Jimin. One that had "who the hell do you think you're talking to" energy taking over his angelic features.

     His expression distracted me enough that I didn't sense the front of my lacy black dress being wrapped up in a fist until just before it was yanked on. I remember thinking that eyes usually weren't so round once her hazel-green orbs were glaring directly at me.

     "Betcha didn't check what was in that cup before you drank it," Lacey's words were venomous and taunting, "I told Yoongs that such a sweet girl couldn't handle her pills.". The rest of her sentence was said in a hiss. One that was meant to make me scared.

     The thing about being scared is, that it has a threshold. There's how you normally react (which for me, was freezing up) and then there's how you react after being pushed. After you've gotten to a point where you kinda hope somebody tries to scare you. Because even you don't know what will happen.

Well, it's like that for me at least.

And it wasn't typically a good sign - for me to stop caring about what would happen next.

     But I had gotten beyond my threshold.

     And I felt myself giggling as I worked to remove her grip from my dress.

     And I saw a look on her face that I couldn't identify. It might have been on Jimin's too.

     Which would have been fair.

     I think they only ever saw me get to this point on three different occasions throughout the years.

And I like to think that I would've stopped at removing her grip, if I had been able to.

     If I had been able to refrain from stepping closer to loom over her. If I had been able to hold myself back from saying - "I'm clearly not the one who can't handle things.". If I hadn't channeled that anger into a sneer at the hint of her spite-filled expression wavering.

     If just one of those things had gone differently.

      "You gonna admit that it's all just an act? That you 'caring' about everyone else is a self-absorbed gimmick to help you hate yourself a little less? Like you, the poor little victim, could ever have some kind of grip on the world that's stronger than the rest of us?" Lacey was making zero effort to seem less enraged than she felt. And I remember that for the smallest second, I thought it was a good thing we were finally doing this. Getting it all out in the open.

It was a really short second.

     "You gonna admit that you tried going after JK last night? And that it's the real reason you lost it this morning?" I could tell that the words were said calmly, but that it only succeeded at strengthening their impact.

     Joonie, who had been grooving behind me, couldn't pretend like he didn't hear it. The feeling of movement against my back stilled, followed by a "Well, shit.". And Jimin began craning his neck to find the others - it vaguely registered that he wanted to let them know what was happening.

     Lacey could only gape at me in reply.

     What happened in The Backyard was assumed to be something strictly between Jungkook and I.

     But no.

     In The Backyard was where Jungkook told me about all the ways that Lacey had been coming onto him over the past year. And that the most recent time she tried, was last night.

     That she had been able to crawl into his lap and kiss him before he had been able to get her off. That she had said something about only ever feeling loved when she was with him. And how Yoongi had been so depressed since moving, that she was sure he had been making hers worse. And how it was something that only Jungkook could've fixed. "Only you can fix me", is what she said verbatim.

And you know what? I was not okay with that.

     Almost the entirety of what happened in The Backyard spilled out of me like a river that had risen to dangerously high levels. I didn't care what was knocked down or out or away as a consequence. But by the time I finished, I was nearly panting - and naively hoping that it was going to usher in an end to all of the drama.

     "At least I won't be the only one that wants to kill myself." Lacey was sardonic with her final response.

     Tae's face popped up behind her head at that, looking like a worried groundhog.

     Jin's voice from behind me let out a tense sounding, "psh".

     Hobi and Jimin had joined forces, both looking equally concerned and ready to fight. I didn't care where they had come from or when they had arrived, I'm just grateful that they did.

     With an assumed jerk of their heads, Jin and Joon moved from behind me to grab Lacey by the arms. Toting her off to some corner of the party with a bar station that was away from us. Jimin, Hobes and Tae closed in around me while they left.

     I knew they were doing this for our own good but at the time I could only scoff at the notion and promptly headed towards a makeshift bar. The one that Jin, Joon and Lacey had not gone to. Clearly, we just weren't drunk enough yet - at least, that's what some of us seemed to be thinking.

     I dunno what the hell was going through my mind once we got there though - and I tossed back every drink that Tae poured for me. Ignoring how strong they were and letting myself, for just a moment, enjoy the look of surprise on his face as I did.

     But then Hobi and Jimin - who had both done way too much coke at this point - both started "hm"-ing to themselves with their arms crossed. Wiggling their jaws. Swinging their hips back and forth. Staring me down like there was an unsolvable problem tattooed across my forehead.

     Rum dribbled down the side of my mouth and I wiped it away with a " blech" before addressing them with a sharp, "What?".

     "She took Kookie's virginity when he was 16 and she was 19 or 20." Jimin offered up without missing a beat, and earned a smack on the arm from Hobi.

     "That's so helpful Min. I'm sure that what she wants to hear right now, is MORE about how her boyfriend er, her...man! Her man, yeah, how he fucked the girl who is dating, um..." Hobi started off in a spitfire but trailed off as the effort to explain the situation grew.

     "How can all be fair in love and war? When love is an unfair game?" Tae had never sounded so apologetic in the entire time that I had known him. And they were good questions. But I didn't have an answer for either. Which made me start blubbering, letting the ticking time bomb at the back of my throat diffuse.

     "Did y'all know about last night?" I sniffled and made myself hack on phlegm. It wasn't dainty sounding and it made me feel -

    

     "Pathetic."

Hang on. I know that I thought it but -

     I whirled around to discover who it was playing mindreader and Yoongi standing there almost felt like a mirage. But the pointed stare and grimace pulling across his face were unnervingly real.

     "She said JK came onto her and that nobody would listen. Jesus. I dunno, maybe if you believed her? For fuckin' once? She wouldn't be moving out and I wouldn't be working on additional suicide prevent -" Yoongi's rant of justification dropped as quickly as it began. Realizing that he had finally admitted to not being fine.

One of Jin's hands was clasped over my mouth as soon as it opened. "Not now." were the words I think he said when I shot daggers at him. But I didn't get it at the time. It felt like when he was working on the floor at their last house. Why wasn't anybody paying more attention? He clearly wasn't ok! Or fine! He just - he wasn't happy.

     The thump of wood being hit is the only reason I didn't try to fish-flop an escape away from Jin to get to Yoongi. That's not right - the person that caused the thump was the reason.

A red-faced JK. Who had punched the frame of the entryway behind him.

     "Get your ass. Outside. Now. Please." Jungkook spoke in broken fragments. Staring at the ground like it was the only thing he didn't want to fight.

     "Maybe a Time-Up would -" "Dude, no." Hobi and Jimin's hushed voices felt like they were floating. Or rather - I felt like I was floating.

     Ducking my head down to find his blank stare, JK stirred slightly at the recognition. I didn't want to freeze this time.

     My questioning look was returned with a chin tucking into a nod. A signal that he did want me with him.

I need you too, can't you feel it? - I tried to send the message out through my fingertips, and any bit of skin that touched his. A single heart beat between the two of us.

     Being at each other's sides again brought relief to both of us. But it was only able to settle in our bodies for a moment because just as it did, we saw Lacey barreling towards us.

     "She keeps taking what's -", hands on one of our shoulders shoved us back, "MINE.".

     This irked me.

     "He's not YOURS-", I returned the shove without thinking, "And he was also just a KID!" She stumbled with an expression that did actually frighten me - but she decided that physically fighting was not the way for her to win. Aside from being bigger than her, I wasn't acting anything like the (mostly) timid mouse she had gotten used to.

     Smoothing down the sequins on her dress and shooting flirtatious looks towards the crowd of people surrounding us instead, the next words out of her were made of needles. Meant to inflict pain.

     "Babe? We should have coke at more of these things. Wanna bet that they'll be selling for us by the time I get back? Or - oh my god, what about a bet that those two, Little Kookie and his For the Minute-Maid, will be strung out little wrecks?"

     Yoongi looked like he had been shot at.

     Tae had his arms held out in front of Jimin and Hobi, who were both trying to throttle Lacey.

     JK and I were battling to stand in front of each other. The alcohol must've had me believing that I could kick anyone's ass to protect him. It got a small smile out of him - flickered it to life. And I forgot what we were in the middle of after seeing it.

Except - the shakiness that could be heard as he spoke sounded alien. It was anger that was scared of itself and trying to keep it together. I recognized it like it was my own.

"You told me. That it wasn't. Yours.".

Even without looking up at Jungkook, the way that Yoongi flinched made me wonder if JK had quit caring about keeping it together. And what that would mean for everyone.

Which also made me wonder if we should stop.

     Just stop.

     That phrase quickly became the only thing I was capable of saying out loud.

     Because after Yoongi failed to respond - JK grabbed him by the collar of his black button down and tossed him out the front door. The people on the front porch didn't stop partying, they only kinda moved to give them space. Chatting and smoking away as if they had gotten bored of waiting for an altercation to start. Like it ticked off a box of expectations for the show and was nothing more than that.

     But I was feverishly yelling the two words I could say at Jungkook. Watching as Yoongi did less than nothing to defend himself. Didn't raise his hands to block the punches. Didn't make an attempt to run away. He didn't even try to scold JK. He just...lay there. Taking it.

     The most that he did - was spit to the side, just once, after taking a blow to the face. After that, he simply resumed his still position. Giving no attention to the splatter of red that had fallen onto the fresh snow beside him.

But we noticed.

     The rest of us had gathered on the front porch except - nobody tried to keep them apart or stop them from fighting, like they had on that game night.

     "It's time." is all Jin said while toking away at his pipe. The ripple of nods made me angry at first but, I knew what they meant.

This was The Fight - the one we had anxiously prepared for all those months ago. The one that had been guiltily hoped for. The one we had even once (literally) dreamed would occur.

      I secretly wished that our past anticipation would make it easier to witness. That it would make the whole thing seem silly or -

Or less -

Anyways.

     It didn't.

[magixfairyix]

Trailer Analysis

"Analysis" as if I know what I'm talking about.

Basically, it's me droning on and on cause its fun.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

0:03

Bloom looks so cute on her bike ngl! Also love her outfit and the bike.

Also, the canal she's biking past looks cool. So yay, fun scenery.

0:08

Knut's design is pretty cool! He's still giving Knut for me somehow, even though he does look a lot different. I do hope we get to see a tiny bit of his personality.

Also, the scars on him! Yes!

(I gave him scars in my rewrite that he got from the Trix, cause evil villains. I'm just going to pretend that's why he has them. Let me be delusional XD).

0:14

Kinda wish Bloom's pink top over the mesh one was yellow, but eh, she can be a pink girlie. She still slays.

0:17

The stars on her pants remind me of the hearts in her season 3 top. OH WAIT! There were also stars on her season 1 pants.

0:21

The fire looks badass.

0:28

STELLA LOOKS SO PRETTY! Like, just her hair even is so beautiful!

Don't mind her sceptre. No big feelings on that, but glad she has it.

The outfits slay! Stella's back in orange!

I just love this frame. Stella and Flora look amazing.

"We're here for you," they say, and Bloom mentally being like:

'Am I getting kidnapped?'

0:32

Alfea is gorgeous! I kind of like it a bit more than the original (sculpted the original years ago, so this one is going to be a pain to sculpt, but aNyWaYs).

0:33

Glad to see crop tops returning.

Also, that blurry image of the girl with bleached blonde hair and black clothing slays. Don't know who she is but her outfit slays hard.

Also different fashion styles. Some people are wearing dresses, some crop tops and pants, etc.

0:35

That random fairy's fairy form is so pretty.

Also... THE GATES (I think they're the gates or a smaller gate to a field) are shiny and pretty and yes!

0:36

The library kind of reminds me of the library in Magic Guardians/Fairy Guardians (on Roblox). It looks gorgeous!

0:38

Flora's jacket is a NEED. It's pretty!

Also, love her accent.

0:42

Opinions on the Winx's designs, cause I never thought about this.

Tecna: 6/10. Pretty good. No strong opinion.

Aisha: 7.5/10. It really fits her.

Stella: 9/10. LOVE.

Musa: 8/10. Not perfect but I still like it a lot.

Flora: 8.5/10. Slays.

0:46

Hiking outfits/swamp outfits look so nice! Glad we'll see them in the swamp outfits again, so maybe it'll be a similar occasion to what was in ep 4 of season 1.

0:49

I'm guessing this is back in Gardenia. This doesn't look like the type of school gym Alfea would have.

So Bloom might go back to Gardenia after finding out she has magic, as she arrives in the gym out of a portal. A dark-looking one at that so...

An evil thing behind that, maybe?

0:50

THE TRIX YES MY DAY HAS BEEN BLESSED.

Okay, reeling in the gay panic. The portal they're walking out of looks pretty much identical to the one Bloom arrived in the school gym out of, so maybe the Trix are behind Bloom going there.

Icy: She's gorgeous. Nothing to say. Her initial fits so much into her hanging jewelry, and I love all the little shinies. Her hair is also so nice.

(Fuck I'm gay)

Stormy: Her dress and the design of it are SO good. The shape of it and the corset (I think) just slays!

I'm not a gold girlie except twice a month, so I'm biased as hell, but I feel like her jewelry would have looked better in silver or a grey pink. Icy's jewelry is more light blue than silver, while Darcy's is silver with a purple sheen (I think).

Maybe even a rose gold.

Darcy: AHH she pretty. Love her jewellery. I don't love her design as much as the others, but with seeing the pants as well I think I'll like it better. Her highlights seem really thick and I think they'd look a bit bitter thinner, but don't despise it.

(Also the Trix's evil laugh, like, have mercy on my gay soul)

0:52

Stella's sceptre slays. She looks like a badass.

0:55

Faragonda looks really good. I might even like her a bit more than the 2d, but more so on the same level.

0:57

The specialists are back!

Sky looks like he has a hairstyle more like in season 5. Just a helmet of hair, but then again, it's a blurry image.

0:58

Brandon looks pretty good!

Also (I think that's Riven) is here. But can't see much with the image and how he's tiny.

0:58

THE TRIX ARE SLAYING AGAIN.

Icy has her cape back!

OKAY! We can see Darcy's full outfit (a bit blurry but anyways).

Love her bellbottom pants and her outfit does look better when the full thing is visible. Her hair also looks better in this angle and a bit more natural.

Stormy has BOOTS. Also, her pink tights return.

Icy's ice attack looks amazing. I love how it looks.

1:09

Ahhh love this scene. Glad its in the reboot.

Also love the dragons on Bloom's jeans.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

All in all, I'm exited for this reboot and I think it'll be really good!

2025 here we come!

[whumble-beeee]

A New Enemy Has Entered The Arena

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 6

Content: disabled whumpee, trans whumpee, tied up/handcuffs, (brief) dissociation, noncon partial undressing, noncon touch, attempted noncon

* * * * * * * *

Except from: The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping; a self-help guide for villains and bounty-hunters Dr. Vaughn Verhulst

["Make them fear the wrath of god, then remind them the only god they should fear is you."]

* * * * * * * *

“So, this is the capture, huh?” The new voice drawled. Despite the exhaustion and the agony lacing throughout every part of his body, Stan's managed a look up at the new situation. Directly into a pair of steel blue eyes that made his breath stutter. “Not much to look at, huh?”

Stan scooted backward, but Deeby seemed to beat him to the same idea, stepping in front of the man and completely blocking him from view.

“There's no way you're the one doing the pickup. What are you doing here?”

The new man tried to side-step Deeby. “Don't worry, I'm not trying to interrupt your smooch-fest, just wanna make sure you aren't breaking our new toy–”

Deeby stepped in front of the man again, the man barely stopping short of crashing directly into him, just long enough for Stan to gather his scattered bearings and realize there was a new person here and all the distinct possibilities of what that meant for him.

And suddenly he felt lightheaded again.

“Dude…”

“What.” Deeby insisted slowly. “Are you doing here?”

This new guy… honestly, not much to look at himself, from what Stan saw. He couldn't have been too much older than Stan, fluffy light brown hair, an accent he couldn't quite place, but… probably European? He also wasn't wearing any sort of mask or anything to hide his face, which was only vaguely concerning, Stan decided to believe. Not to mention, this new guy had been wearing a knit sweater vest? It looked soft. Stan almost had to remind himself that the guy must be a threat, just like Deeby, or why would he even be here?

He just looked so corporate.

“I told you, checking on the capture, getting some intel. Making sure you didn't crap up the very simple plan, or kill him. It’s a real concern with you, I'm sure you understand.”

The man tried to side-step Deeby once again, and once again the mercenary blocked him. Stan started to scoot back away from the two, his ankle chain softly clanking as it dragged across the floor. Whatever was going on between them, he wanted no part of it.

“He's secure. And alive. Not fatally wounded, and will continue to stay that way.” Deeby stated. “You can leave now.”

Sweater-vest ventured an exaggerated glance over Deeby's shoulder, just barely giving Stan another view of his steel-colored eyes. Something about them made his heart skip a beat.

“You sure about that, big man? Kid doesn't seem to be doing so hot.

“Yup.” Deeby didn't even entertain a glance back. “Buh-bye now.”

Stan could practically hear the eye-roll that accompanied the groan that Sweater-vest let out. “Well excuse me for not trusting you as far as I can throw you. Look, I'm not just here to mess with you, I'm here on Lana's orders. She wants you to call her.”

Stan stopped scooting dead, an icy coldness surging through his chest, a sudden darkness swirling around his head. Lana. That sounded like a real name. Why was this man using real names? Deeby didn't use a real name, he was very dead set on that! Why was this new man using real names?! Real names were bad why was he using real names–?!

Deeby also stiffened at the name. He hand clenched for just a fraction of a second. Then he shook his head and brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Why didn't she just call me instead of sending your sorry ass to deliver the message?” Deeby finally seemed to settle on.

Sweater-vest's eyes flicked over Deeby, up and down, before an unnerving grin spread across his face. “I know something you don't know~” he sang slowly, like some sort of horror movie villain.

“You planning on telling me? Or you just gonna stand there like a skin-walker.” Deeby look just about ready to blow.

“Soon as I verify the little super lives up to our wildest hopes and dreams.”

“Y’know, technically we’re supposed to be on the same side.”

The man sidestepped Deeby one last time, and this time, the mercenary just let him pass by. Stan shrank back as the piercing gaze of Sweater-vest appraised him, looking him up and down as he slowly walked closer.

“A bit worse for wear, no?” Sweater-vest noted, almost to himself.

“Yeah, little shit tried to escape. Got pretty far too, he's stronger than I thought. Got me right–” Then he noticed Stan had backed up halfway across the room instead of stayingin place on the floor right behind him. And sighed. “Kinda a wuss though…”

“Die.” Stan growled, scowling at the mercenary even as he clutched his knees to his chest.

“Oooooh” Sweater-vest cooed, and Stan nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized how close the man had gotten to him. “Feisty little guy, huh?”

Stan kicked out at him and skittered back, only to realize he was almost out of room to skitter. So he reluctantly stood his ground. Well, sat his ground. “Get away from me!”

“He's mostly talk,” Deeby called again. “Mostly…”

Stan barely even registered what Deeby said. His vision completely tunneled on Sweater-vest as he slowly advanced on Stan, like a predator stalking its prey.

“Dang, Dick Biscuits, you really got a handle of him, don’t you?” Sweater-vest's eyes never once left Stan's. “Leashed and collared, like a little puppy dog… “

Stans cheeks turned a bright red. He glared at the man as hard as he could, jaw clenched so hard it could have broken, because honestly, how dare he?!

Deeby sighed, like he'd rather be anywhere but where he was now. Stan could relate.

“Yeah… It's necessary.”

“Oh, I agree wholeheartedly.”

The man crouched directly in front of the trembling Stan. “Hi,” he said softly, disarmingly, giving Stan just the slightest tilt of the head. “My name's Vaughn, its–”

“Christ man, would you cut it out with the names!” Deeby yelled, causing the both of the smaller men to jump as he marched over. Stan reflexively curled up into a little ball, gut swirling with a new and terrifying form of dread and suddenly very aware of his restraints once more, while Sweater-vest–... Vaughn… sprung up to face down Deeby.

As much as Stan was absolutely terrified of Deeby, he had to admit he agreed with the bounty hunter on this one. The way Sweater-vest threw out names like that felt… Dangerous. On a visceral level. He hugged his legs closer to his chest.

“Why?” Sweater-vest taunted. “It's not like he's gonna live to tell anyone.”

“Nothing's ever 100% with these things,” he growled. “Unless you want to get fifty to life here as well. You'd be doing me a huge favor, honestly, and bring Lana down with you while you’re at it. But leave me out of it.”

Sweater-vest hummed, considering. Glanced Deeby up and down. Then scoffed. “Don't you have an important phone call to get to, Deeby? I’d hate to have to tell Lana that her least favorite ex disobeyed her direct orders and needs to be dealt with.”

The mercenary stared down Sweater-vest. The intensity of it almost entranced Stan, it seemed to go on for an eternity. Then, finally, Deeby let out a small grunt, and took a slow, deep breath.

“Stan!” he yelled. Stan nearly yelped. “If he tries anything, kill him, he deserves it. And you.” he turned his attention right back to Sweater-vest before Stan could stutter out some sort of question or affirmation. “Don't fuck with him.”

“Aw, so protective, falling in love already?”

“I'll be back in a few, don't try anything!” He yelled as he made his way toward the door. Then, only slightly under his breath, “Pinche pendejo.”

The smile on Sweater-vest's face immediately dropped and he whirled around.

“Krijg de tering, vuile teringleier!”

The door slammed shut, the crack of metal against metal deafening in the sudden silence. And they were alone. Together.

Stan stared at the floor and clenched his fists, trying to calm his racing nerves. Did his best to keep his breathing even. Be still, not show weakness while also not challenging the man he was now alone with. He never thought he would ever actually miss Deeby's presence. But here they were.

“Brute.” Sweater-vest seethed under his breath as he sauntered back over to Stan. “Should've just put him out of his misery years ago, swear to God.”

Then his demeanor completely shifted once more as he stood over Stan. More professional, more cold, more demanding.

“Anyway, stand up, let me get a look at you.”

“Are you ‘The Guy?’” Stan blurted out before he had time to even realize he was doing it. Anything to break the sudden unbearable tension.

Sweater-vest tilted his head with a raised eyebrow and a small laugh. “The Guy?”

“Yeah…” Wow, suddenly he wished he never said anything. “The uh, the guy. You know the guy…” Stan's voice wavered as the man scrunch his nose at him. As if Stan was speaking an entirely different language. “Like. Like the guy. The guy who, uh, who…”

He took a deep breath, and blurted out “The boss guy who had me kidnapped!”

A brief pause. The man stared at him.

“No,” he snorted. “No, I'm not ‘the guy’, as you so eloquently put it. And your ‘guy’ is actually a lady, the lovely Ms. Lana who I mentioned earlier. And I'm Dr. Vaughn Verhulst, you can call me Vaughn. Pleasure to meet you.”

Stan shrank into himself slightly. “Oh…”

Again with the names. They made his skin crawl, like tiny ants crawling up and down his arms. The full name this time too, Dr. Verhulst. And Lana. Where had he heard that name before? Lana...

Stan didn't have time to ponder the question, though, as the man surged forward and reached down toward Stan's vulnerable neck, and Stan screeched and jolted back trying to get away.

But the man was surprisingly fast for a guy who could be mistaken for an office drone.

“Alright now, stand up.”

Then suddenly Stan was choking as the two fingers looped under his collar and dragged him upward, squeezing Stan's windpipe fully shut with Stan gasping and clutching at the collar trying to free himself and allow his body the sweet air it so desperately begged for the whole short distance up. And when he was finally standing and the collar loosened just slightly, Stan coughed and wheezed and tried to double over on himself to lessen the pain, if only the man wasn't still holding him straight up by the collar. He finally managed to get his own fingers under the collar just enough to pull it away from flush against his throat, his body shifting from world-shaking coughs and gasps for air to shuddering wheezes and shivers, and only then did he realize that Vaughn’s other hand wasn't just sitting idly by. No, instead it settled on his arms and ribcage, pressing into the tender bruised flesh that marred his entire body.

He felt a sudden sharp pain at his side and twitched away from it, only for a steadying hand to fall on straight onto another bruise on his waist and press in, clutch at it, holding him in place and sending jolts throughout his entire body that made him dizzy. All the breath left his body. He froze.

“What– What're you–?... Stop, let go…” It felt almost taboo to break the sudden stillness. He tried to pull away, but the grip on his collar just tightened, knuckles pressing harder into his neck as Sweater-vest continued to press into his side.

“Shhhhhh, dropje. Just let me do my work.”

“Your work?...” The hand pressed into his broken rib, and Stan yelped out and shoved the offending hand away from the tender area.

“STOP! Stop touching me! Stop!” Stan cried. This was too much. What was even happening here?

Vaughn's dark gaze fixed on the place that had made Stan cry out, calculating, jaw set. Stan withdrew into himself sightly before he remembered himself, and stared defiantly right back. Then the gaze drifted slightly lower, softening with an almost mischievous smile and a low hum before he finally, finally, looked Stan square in the eyes.

“Take your shirt off.”

Stan's heart turned to ice.

“WHAT?! No! You’re insane!”

Stan managed to rip free of his grip and launch backwards, only for his back to slam directly into the wall. Damn it. He saw stars, and the world rocked around him.

He pressed into it regardless, held his cuffed hands up in front of his torso as some sort of measly defense. “Get– Get away from me! I'm not taking my shirt off! You're crazy, get away!”

He scowled, then reached into his pocket with a deep sigh. A glint of steel gleamed in the light as Vaughn pull out a pair of very sharp-looking scissors and waved them lazily at Stan's chest.

“You are.” Sweater-vest stated simply. “I'm a doctor, dropje, I have to take a look at your body, make sure that ass didn't leave any lasting damage. You worry too much.”

Sweater-vest suddenly went to reach around his arms and get at the top button of his shirt, and Stan slapped them away, earning himself a glare from the man as he stepped closer once more and boxed him in completely.

“Stan… Schatje…” he spoke lowly, voice sickeningly sweet. The scissors drifted so close to his throat. “I'm going to make this so simple for you, yeah? I'm cutting your shirt off now. If you make things difficult, then your shirt won't be the only thing cut, got it?”

Stan squeezed his eyes shut and tried to become so small. Small enough that the threat wouldn't see him anymore and he could run away and never have to deal with it again. This was insane. This was insane, right? This guy was insane!

“No, no, no, no, no, don't, get away from me, get away from me.” He tried to inject as much hissing venom as possible into the words, but they still didn't come out much above a squeaking, shaky whisper.

Vaughn reached for his top button, and though Stan pressed into the wall as much as he could, arms up and ready to strike at any moment, this time his fingers weren't stopped from undoing the top button. Then continuing down from there. Then he gently grabbed Stan's wrists and moved them downward and continued unfastening, all the way down until the front of his shirt was completely open, the cool air giving Stan goosebumps.

“Oh.” Vaughn said, almost to himself, running his finger over the strap of Stan's chest binder. “I didn't realize you were transgender, Stan.”

The swirling mass of thoughts in Stan’s head finally meet the one overwhelming his gut and crashing down upon him, breaking the fragile spell keeping him paralyzed.

“DEEBY! HELP!!” Stan cried out, loud as he possibly could. As if Deeby would ever help him. As if he would save him. All Stan knew was that in that very moment, he would prefer the physically abusive mercenary a hundred times over this guy, the guy who looked at him like a lion at an antelope, the man who feigned kindness, whose smile seemed just a bit too perfect, who made weird cryptic comments and who threw names around as if it didn't matter whether or not Stan knew them. As if Stan would never live to escape. As if the horrors Stan would endure were cursed to echo the walls in which they occurred, never to be heard by another soul.

“Oh calm down, Stanny, he's not going to come save you.” Vaughn dismissed, quickly pulling down the sleeve of his shirt and cutting it open down the seam, the quick repetitive snip snip snip of the scissors filling the room completely. Stan's weak attempts to slap away the scissors or otherwise stop his disrobing were all but brushed off by the ‘doctor.’ A quick but very intentional blade to the neck was all he needed to freeze Stan up and allow him to continue.

Very soon, Vaughn had the shredded fabric that used to make up Stan's shirt sprawled across the floor at their feet. Stan didn't even feel the coolness of the room goosebumping his skin anymore, not with the burning red in his cheeks and the again wandering hands of Sweater-vest to keep him unbearably warm.

He could scarcely breathe. His brain started to feel farther and farther away from his body. His hair was standing on end, shivers running throughout his entire body making him twitch. And he wondered if he should even put in the effort to ground himself. Maybe it would be easier if he was far, far away for all of this anyway.

“It's not like I care, Stan. It doesn't matter to me. I'll even let you keep your chest binder thing on, if that’d make you more comfortable... Hey.”

He snapped a few times in front of Stan's eyes, and Stan despairingly snapped back to reality. So close too. Just for Sweater-vest to smile his weird creepy smile at him. There was no way to misconstrue the malicious gleam in his eyes, the one that made Stan's own eyes go wide and his breath halt entirely as he stared into them. His other hand was on Stan's back now. He was practically holding Stan in a facsimile of a hug. Pressing in his lower back. Lower. Just a bit too low for comfort.

“I'm serious, I can work with that,” he reassured, hand now dipping under Stan's waistband, and before Stan could react, he pulled the captive in close to him, pressing his pelvis securely into Stan's lower stomach while brushing to closed blades of the scissors along Stan's jawline and up his cheek. “It's not what I was expecting, but it doesn't change what I'm going to do to you.”

And that's when Stan pulled back and punched him square in the jaw.

* * * * * * * *

Next

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy | @pirefyrelight | @cakeinthevoid

[redfountainpostin]

Ficlet

It was over. Bloom defeated Icy, Darcy and Stormy fell against the combined efforts of friends- and one more. The barrier of dark matter that surrounded the realm died when the last of the dragonflame left the Trix, so no the schools had help of authorities to take care of the wounded, regroup, and handle all the dead bodies.

But for a certain team of specialists, they had a different task ahead of them.

Sky, Brandon, Timmy… and Riven, sitting in the empty classroom instead of an office, their teachers in front of them. Saladin and Javelin were sitting by the headdesk, while Codatorta was starring out of the window, not once having looked at his students.

"The question is simple. Do you three accept Riven to stay in your squad?" Javelin asked, while Saladin stayed quiet, watching the developing bruise on Riven's temple. That was not caused by any creature, no.

"Well we don't have much choice, do we?" Sky said, sharper than he meant to. He was furious at Riven, but he usually would still pay proper respect to his elders. "You're not expelling him, or you wouldn't be asking us this".

"No, we're not" Javelin conceded "But we won't force something that is doomed to fail. It would be detrimental to all of your educations. If you do not think you can work with Riven after all of this, even knowing that he had been under influence for the most of it, you need to tell us now"

Riven had not said anything, looking down at his hands instead. He knew what Sky was going to say.

"I say we can" Brandon blurted, causing Riven to look up at him in surprise- Brandon was looking right back at him.

"I say we can too" Timmy added after a moment "I do not think it is fair to hold everything that happened against him. I know he's not perfect, but he's also a victim here" he wasn't looking at Riven while saying this, worried he might loose his nerve. He didn't want Riven punished, but he also wasn't going to sugarcoat everything. Looking at him while proclaiming he found him flawed might lessen his nerve.

Javelin nodded. "I agree, but I need all of you to be united in this. Sky?"

"What will happen to him if I say no?"

"Sky!"

"No, Brandon, I want to know. Because no other team would have him, you know that right?" the last of the question was aimed at Riven, who was avoiding eye contact, much to Sky's anger.

Javelin sighed "There was a handful of situation in Red Fountain where a boy would graduate without a team. Granted, those were all exceptions, for kids who would only join is in their senior year, possibly halfway through. It's not standard, but we do have a protocol for it, and Riven's place in Red Fountain is not standard either, so we would make it work."

Sky paused to think. On one hand, he wanted nothing more than to beat Riven to a pulp and never see him again. On the other hand, he couldn't help but remember how it was before. He and Riven were never particularly close, but Riven wasn't close to anyone in the squad. He and Darcy got together early on and he spent most of his free time with her- but how much of it was his choice? How much of Riven's life was spent under influence while Sky and Brandon chuckled about how crazy about her he was, and admitting to each other wishing they too had such a relationship? Sky remembered the worry he felt when Riven, ever the idiot, went head to head with a minotaur, or the sheer cold dread he felt when he pulled him out of the river in the Black Mud swamp, the other boy not breathing- the relief he felt when Riven started coughing out the water after CPR. Granted, he'd be relieved to watch anyone not drown, but it was personal with Riven.

And the thought of the guy spending the next two year alone… Riven may be acting a lone wolf, but Red Fountain was a place for packs.

He unconsciously rubbed the scar on his forearm where Riven bit him during their first fight.

"Fine" he finally said, crossing his arms. "I say yes"

[hanako-arasakas-twink]

Hanako Arasaka: Jealous Headcanons

Pairings: Hanako x GN!Reader

Warnings/Tags: Fluff; light drama; Suggestive

A/N: My first and definitely not my last post about this corpo mommy ✊️😔

Hanako is composed, collected, and everything that screams stoicism and elegance. She's never shown any emotion in the public, but when she does, she does it smoothly—subtle, even. Most of the people around her won't notice it except for the specific person she's found to have become irritating in a way. She hated the fact that they can get your attention so easily—don't you know that she's the finest woman you could get in this God-forsaken place?

As one of the leaders of Arasaka, Hanako is used to getting what she wants. Never in her life did she have to work hard to get what she wants and it's a fact most people knew by now, and if it meant using that power to get you to focus on her again then so be it. She won't shy away from doing something petty like—give that person a somewhat disgusted look, makena subtle snarky comment about how they act, or even lowkey tell them that they're annoying. Hanako will not be direct about it, but her words will have a sharp edge to it.

If that person would still be persistent and decide to brush off her subtle warnings, she'll most definitely turn her focus to you—convincing you to go home with her and just ditch the event you two are attending. Hanako won't take "No" for an answer. Instead, she would just take you with her with a slightly gentle maneuver towards your awaiting AV. She would also throw in a little "I'm tired, let's go home" or "we've already gotten what we needed from here, I see no reason for us to stay longer" just to convince you to get away with her. Then, once Hanako's convinced you, she'll throw the other person a glare over her shoulder.

The AV ride would be hella tense, to be honest. It's more of her, just straight up staring at you with an unreadable expression on her face. You won't be even sure if she's just admiring how you look or she wanted to eat your soul—who knows? BUT, once you two have reached your shared penthouse apartment, she will talk to you about it. At first, she'll let you change into a more comfier clothes, but she will not bother changing just yet. All of her focus is on planning how to tell you about it, and she's most definitely constructing her words in her head already.

When Hanako finally decides to talk to you about it, unlike her cold persona in public, she will let her guard down here in private. She'll tell you about how she didn't like the other person eyeing you like some kind of meat, about how she didn't like their subtle advances to you, and Hanako would most definitely tell you not to be too oblivious sometimes. And if you decide to brush it off under the rug by saying that the other person was just trying to be friendly, it would most definitely make her senses flare up a bit. Hanako isn't new to things such as desire. She knew damn well that the other person had taken a liking to you, and she hated the idea of other people not knowing their place. She might approach you with that icy look on her face—uncaring even if you're taller than her, she'd straight up stand close in front of you and glare at you up close. At that point, you weren't so sure if she's hacking your system or just trying to take a look at your soul.

If Hanako were to be really intense with her jealousy, she might resort to physical contact. She might be all over you once you two are in bed—like resting her head on your chest while her arm is drapped over you, she might also plant kisses on you jaw and neck just to remind her that you're still jers and that other person is irrelevant. When she's feeling bolder, Hanako might be the first one to initiate a more intimate gesture like kissing you. When she does, her kisses will be slow and steady, she will be passionate about it, and she will savor the feeling of your lips on hers. Hanako doesn't rush things, and she most definitely enjoys the slowburn between you two. The corporate world had already taken so many things to her already, and she would not let her jealousy take her time from branding you as hers.

Overall, Hanako is more of an observer and someone who expects that the people around her would automatically know their place. If not, then that's the only time she would strike and make a subtle but sharp intervention.