#and with two people fighting over how much they love you you still are not truly loved

[yaut-jaknowit]

How bout a human woman saves a yautja after he got hurt pretty bad or something. Over time they get to know one another…one thing leads to another and the bang. But the male leaves not long after to return home, unknowingly leaving a bun in the oven…only that out possibly years after…

-🥤

Left Behind

Character: Ahtaal (Male Yautja) x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 8895

Summary: A night that changed your life forever. You had to fight for survival and live to tell the tale. Ahtaal is saved only because of you. That leaves him in your debt. He heals you from wounds that will leave lasting scars. But he too leaves something else behind.

Author Note: I love the fact you call it 'bun in the oven'! Imagine saving a Yautja and then get the biggest dick down ever. Wish come true~.

Masterlist

Ao3

Blood burned through the skin on your arm. The pain a distant thought as you shoved the long spear into the chest of sickly, black monster. Black tendrils poured from its head. Four weirdly shaped mandibles. A long rigidly tail with a sharpened end made for stabbing. One that looked like it had crawled out of the depths of hell to come after anyone vulnerable. A demon in the flesh.

It almost looked like the beast you had protected a deadly blow from. But this thing… it was ten times worse.

The pain nearly grew to a point you couldn’t hold onto the spear for much longer. It slipped from your blood drenched hands. But, the point was still lodged deep into the chest of the screeching beast. You panted and backed away until the back of your foot met resistance. The creature you had just saved still lay on the ground, hopefully not dead. Or all of this would’ve been for naught.

Your arms stung with each passing moment, the pain mounting higher and higher. The adrenaline that once filled your system began to slowly deflate. You swallowed back the thick saliva in the back of your throat. Yet, not once did your eyes leave the beast as it backed away and clawed at the spear. Thankfully, it was barbed and refused to move from deep within it.

As if the life that once filled its body vanished in a second, it crumpled to the ground in a pile. A few twitches was all it gave before finally coming to still. Dead.

Everything hurt. Your chest heaved for air. Your mind tried to reel in every thought you had. Your heart thundered loud and clear in its bony cage. It took everything you had not to let your knees collapsed under your own weight. You slowly glanced at the down creature at your feet. His shoulder slowly rose and fell with each breath. A deep sigh of relief sounded from you.

Now, came a new problem. To move him. This place wasn’t safe. Other people would soon come. The government would easily snatch the two of you up in a heartbeat. One to silence you. He would become an experiment for whatever they wanted. You couldn’t have that. Not when he looks so sad in the state that he was in. You turned around and squatted at his side. A poke to his uninjured gave no results. Not even the next five. He was out cold.

This was unfortunately circumstances. He was at least seven feet tall and three times your weight easily. Deadweight was harder to move than someone giving some assistance.

With might and will, you used a tarp you had randomly found to hook under his arms. It was just strong enough to help you pull him through the foliage of the forest. After a hundred yards, you could no longer move. The exhaustion in your muscles, in your soul was far too deep. This all started this morning and it was deep into the night. The full moon shing ominously above the land. You collapsed harshly onto bruised knees and cut up palms. There was nothing more you could give to save him or yourself. You did what you could before the darkness consumed your vision and took away your conscious.

The gentle sway is the first thing you awoke to with a groggy groan. The crust in your eyes made it uncomfortable to open them. You rubbed it away with a shaky, weak arm before opening them.

Bright light blinded you from the first thing you saw. A groan tumbling out of your throat. Pain met you that same moment, racing up from your forearms. The rest of you throbbed with an ache that would take ten hot baths to finally chip away at it. You squinted through the sunlight and noticed a familiar red. Your hand reached up timidly and touched at the thick scales you could feel under your fingertips.

Big Red. The creature you had saved. You tilted your head back. He was facing forward, eyes hidden by the mandibles that covered half of his face. But the missing one was a familiar sight.

“Y-you’re al-ive,” you croaked out, voice harsh to even your own foggy ears. Your hand dropped down to your stomach, unable to hold up its own weight anymore. The grunt he made you felt it rather than heard it from his own mouth.

Your face cracked with a tiny grin. At least you hadn’t failed on that front while fighting something you didn’t know existed. A demon in the flesh. Your wrecked body trembled. A sight you hoped to never be face to face with again.

Through your blurry vision, he was marching quickly through the forest despite a noticeable limp to his gait. A table had been thrown at him, striking him direction on his shin when he jumped to block it. There wasn’t a loud crack of bone but it was possible it had only been fractured. You hummed and lazily drew patterns on his midriff, mind still foggy.

A rumbled vibrated through his chest and drew your attention to stop. That’s when the lightbulb above your head finally sprouted to life. Your lips pressed together while you looked away from him, eyes nearly bulging out. Heat flashed to life upon your cheeks.

Big Red moved across the forest, rarely taking breaks during the whole day. Only to stop at a creek and scoop water into his strangely constructed mouth. He would set you down and let you finally move around. It was hard at first, trying to get the blood flowing back in your limbs. Nor did your muscles want to listen. But, you did what you could and drank from the fresh creek. Anything to quench the dryness in your throat.

It was back to him carrying you in the bridle position and marching away. At points, you would take naps, needing the extra energy to recuperate from the days events.

At dusk, Big Red stopped and set you down. There was no creek or source of water. You had to lean heavily against the base of a tree with a shoulder. Your forearms were covered with scorch marks from the acidic blood that had landed on them. The pain from them was the only thing that kept you on your feet, giving you enough adrenaline to stay alert.

He limped away from you, leaving you behind. Fear gripped your heart that had taken you further into the forest only to abandoned you. After all you had- he stopped and pressed a button on the metal band that covered half of his forearm. You heard a hiss echo through the air and furrowed your brows.

Like a in a sci-fi movie, a large object revealed itself to your very eyes. Your jaw dropped when it came to mind it was a spacecraft. From Star Wars!

The creature came back over to you and easily scooped your weakened form up. Big Red carried you over where a ramp had come down. White steam came from the hydraulics in a dramatic manner. You tried to take everything. The information overload caused the pressure in your skull to tenfold. You groaned and curled up against his chest as if he’ll protect you from inward pain.

With your eyes closed, you missed all the important, interesting details no one has probably seen before. You whined and scrunched up your face as if that’ll push the pain away.

Warmth touched at your rear and brought you back to the present. You squinted and find yourself in a different room you couldn’t find a name for. Big Red had set you down on a table with many tools already on it. To which he was pushing off of the side to give you more room. He reached to the side and grabbed hold a box and set it down next to you. You watched as the box was open to reveal different items. None of them you could really figure out were for.

A moment of trust. It wasn’t like you could fight him in your circumstances. He could easily overpower you and subject you to whatever he wanted.

Instead, he grabbed some sort of gun with a need. You gulped at the size of the needle and strange blue liquid that filled the containment hanging off of the back. Either he didn’t notice or just ignored the fear gripping your heart. Big Red plunged the needle without hesitation into your shoulder. You grimaced at the slight pinched but otherwise, stayed still.

The needle was pulled free from your muscles and set off to the side. Next, he grabbed a white jar and untwisted the top. A sulfuric smell poured out of the jar. You gagged and used your shirt to cover your nose. “Oh my god, what is-is that?” you croaked out with disgust written all over your face.

Red stopped and tilted his head up. The golden mask on his features prevented you from seeing his true feelings.

“It is hurt,” he grumbled out, shocking you from hearing his voice for the first time. It wasn’t as deep as you thought but enough to send a tremble up the length of your spine. Your thoughts got you caught up in the moment before you shook them free. You cocked your head to the side. Hurt? Of course your arms hurt. They’ve been burned with acid.

White paste coated his fingertips before he slathered the burns in it.

The scream that curdled from your throat shocked him too. You jerked away and nearly slid off of the table before he caught you. Big Red forced you back onto the table and held you down. “Ooman! Calm! Calm. At ease,” his voice cut through the pain that burned through your veins. It was just enough to get you to finally focus on him again.

“I say it hurt,” he muttered then slowly let go of you when your muscles relaxed. Your body didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. Not even enough adrenaline could keep you going.

A fiery glare was set ablaze on the big, dark red alien. “I thought you were saying if I was hurting!” you yelled at him, arms drawn up to your chest. In case he may go for a second round without asking first.

A huff came from underneath the metal mask. “Paste heals but… hurts.” The words didn’t come naturally to him. He struggled to find them but you understood what he was getting to.

“Well, do you have something that doesn’t hurt like a bitch?” you snarked at him, in hopes to find a nice soothing paste. Not the one that made you feel like you were stepping on hot coals.

“No. Just this.” Ah, he didn’t get the sarcasm that was thick in your voice. You sighed, face scrunched up again from the pain this caused you. “Let me?” Big Red held out a waiting hand, letting you have the choice to either get an infection or deal with more pain. A groan sounded from your tired form before you roughly set one forearm in his palm.

“Better warning next time,” you mumbled and tensed up. An agony you didn’t want to experience but it meant for your life to survive. Then, so be it.

It was a pain you’ve never felt before.

The healing process took half as long as you thought. A couple of months turned into only a month until Dai’stbaen, the big, red alien, deemed you healed enough. Even letting you stay longer just to make sure you had no lasting injuries.

Today would be your last night with him. Dai’stbaen said he would fly you back to your home before setting off home bound. The last time you would see the towering beast in all of his glory. And you felt heartbroken to see him leave. You wish for him to take you but couldn’t go through with the idea of leaving everything behind. Not your friends or family who had to be worried sick about you at this point.

Countless times, he had made you promise and even created a mark on your skin to ensure you wouldn’t tell his secret. To let the whole world know that aliens, the Yautjas, exist. Dai told you it was against his code to let you live but you had saved him. That was a higher offense to kill someone who had saved his life. So, he had to slip out of your bed that night and back into his ship. Where he flew off into the stars, to never be seen again.

The ache he left you made it difficult to walk the next few days. All the marks he left on you a remind of what he could make you feel. A distance feeling after the days go by without him there with you.

After the first week back home, you had lost your job, finally calmed down your family and friends, and was barely able to skim on past in your lonely apartment. It felt better when Dai’stbaen was there with you, even if it was just for that night.

Things for first month was difficult, even after you were able to pick up a job that was remote work. It paid well enough to keep a roof over your head and food in your stomach.

Well until you missed your period. That’s when your heart dropped down into the apartment below you.

You raced to the nearest Walgreens and picked up a test. The cashier gave you a certain expression at the distant look in your eyes. All of your thoughts were running rampant through your mind. It had to be impossible. Truly, it really had to be. He wasn’t human!

The first place you went to back home was in your bathroom, tearing open the package. Then, you stopped just shy of sitting down on the toilet. Your eyes looked at yourself in the mirror. The distraught in your features from the horror of the situation. It had to be from the stressfulness of the situation you had just survived from. That what it had to be. But… even while in his care on his spacecraft, you had been hit by your period. God, that freaked him out when he smelt the fresh blood. Which… in turn freaked you out learning he could smell it. Like a dog.

Your hands lowered the unopened test to the counter. No. You shook your head. No, this wasn’t real. This was happening because of stress. It finally caught up to you. Your head nodded. Yeah, that’s what it had to be. You placed the unopened pregnancy test back into the box and shoved it into a random drawer. That would be needed at a different time. Not now. Because it was impossible.

Until you missed a second period. Even then, you tried to push off that feeling that there was something wrong with you. It was from stress. New job, new duties, new scars, new life. Everything to create a hell storm to recuperate from. Of course your uterus wouldn’t want to put you through anymore stress than needed.

At the same time of the next month, going into the wintery months, not a drop of blood.

That night, after work, you stood in the bathroom, hands holding the unopened test again. Your hands shook while looking down at the package. Every part of your mind tried to reason with all the other excuses you’ve given before. Stress. Job. Nearly being killed. Scars. Each one circling through the turn style until they fell away.

Just get it over with.

In front of the mirror, you turned to the side and lifted up the front of shirt. Your brows furrowed. There was a little weight loss when you first returned, eating practically just meat and little greens. Now… was that a slight bulge in your stomach? You could feel yourself on the verge of crying.

A child. There couldn’t be a chance you were pregnant with the alien you had a one-night stand with. He wasn’t coming back. You would be left alone to take care of the child. Then, there’s the fact it would half alien! How would they look? More like you or Dai’stbaen. There would be no way for them to live a normal life of going to school or having friends. And yourself. A child who could never step out into the light.

For the first time in the last three months, you plopped down on the toilet and took the test.

Each passing second, each passing heartbeat worsened everything feeling swirling inside of you. Every thought ran wild.

There were two sides to the coin. The more logical side. A hybrid alien baby couldn’t be possible. Let alone on the only time you were with him. It didn’t matter the three or four times he knotted you. That was a surprise. Very pleasant. Yet, there was also the fact you weren’t having your period the last three months. Surely, your body should’ve figured itself out at this point.

As the test did its process, you paced through the tiny bathroom squeezed into your one bedroom apartment. One of your hands ran through your locks, messing up the strands. It was all you could do to stop looking at the test every two seconds.

Two minutes passed until you took another glance and stopped in your tracks. Plus. A plus sign. You covered your mouth and backed into the nearest wall. Tears welled in your eyes.

Fear gripped your heartstrings. This was to be your life now. A mother with a hybrid child who couldn’t be normal. God, why did he have to leave!? Why did you have to fall for the alien?!

That night, you cried hard, curled up into a ball on the bathroom floor.

One good thing in your life was the fact your job just required you to sit in a chair and play customer service. There was no going out of your house and being heavily pregnant. To people wanting to know every single detail about the pregnancy and the child.

After the sixth month, you truly picked yourself up by your big pants and made a plan. It had to a home birth. No one could know. Not unless they take your child away. Over your dead body.

Supplies had been purchased, for the most part. Only a couple of onesies, a crib, some toys, and lots and lots diapers. You weren’t sure what to expect besides the normal stuff you researched for a human child. This would be a new experience for you and the whole world. A world that will never know what you possess deep within your belly.

This was all new territory to you. Of course it was. Who else has had an alien baby before?! Shit, calm down. You gripped the desk’s edge breathed through the unease in your stomach. From there, you were able to slow your pounding heart once more. Everything will turn out okay. It had to be.

By the beginning of the ninth month, you couldn’t go out. None of your family was allowed to see you, but that stemmed from the end of the seventh month. Where your bump was pronounced at that point. The questions and integration you would go through all for them to find out there’s no father in the picture. You could see the color drain from your parents face if you had to tell them.

The new job went well so far. An up in your unsteady life. You have yet to tell them about an unplanned trip that was coming up soon. Whenever your child decided to pop out. You didn’t even know if that was going to happen on time. Who knows if the alien genes have altered the time frame of the pregnancy. God, you didn’t know how any of this worked.

So far, the idea was when your water broke, you would use your vacation and sick leave to give a home birth. Hopefully from there, you can figure out a way to take care of the child while at home. All you prayed for was the delivery went smooth.

Two weeks later, while working away, a rush of water soaked the apex of your thighs. You were in the middle of call, pausing mid sentence at the feeling. A hand slapped over your mouth to stop any noises from escaping. There wasn’t any pain, just a feeling you had just wetted your pants. The person on the other end asked for you to repeat what you said. You swallowed down the lump in your throat and continued onward, barely paying attention.

It was about to happen.

When the work day ended, you threw down your headset and rushed to the bathroom. Supplies had been laid out in preparation for when the time came.

A blow up pool to lay in your living room was pulled out. A hose that could attach to the bathtub’s facet was connected then dragged out to the pool. An air mattress blowup machine was set down next to the deflated pool. The small hose was connect to the necessary hole before you turned it on.

The noise it created was uncomfortable to listen to. A headache began to form. Pressure created inside your skull and pressed against your eyes. You wanted to take some pain killers but was afraid on if that was the right thing to do. People get medicine at the hospitals but how much was too much. Would anything you’ve taken affect the baby? Oh god, you hadn’t thought about that! You wanted to smack yourself silly for not thinking about such a thing. Had you put the child in danger now?!

When the machine changed its tone, you looked down to see the blow up pool had been finished. It only took a single disconnected hose to seal it off. Instead of putting it away, you decided to keep the device nearby just in case. You wanted it be prepared at all costs since you’ll be doing this alone. Without anyone. No one to hold your hand. No one to make sure you’re okay.

Tears welled up in my eyes at those thoughts. All alone to give birth an alien baby. A mistake you had partially regretted. The night of throes was one you could never forget about. Your hand subconsciously rubbed against the lingering scar on your neck. A mark that he left in reminder of himself. Not the only thing he had left behind in his wake.

After all the supplies had been dragged out, you texted your boss you had an emergency and couldn’t be there for work. You were using the next three days to recoup from this. You wished for more but didn’t want to anger your new boss about the sudden leave. All you had to do was fake it until you make it. Pretend you knew everything about giving birth. It’s natural. Your body should know what to do and how to do it.

For the rest of the day, you simply walked around your small apartment. A sharp pain began over time to throb in your nether regions. It only eased up when you continued to walk around. Thankfully, it was manageable for the most part. No drugs. Just walking your way through it.

The night came. Your ankles were swollen beyond belief. The lower portion of your back ached. The throbbing never went away completely. It receded to the back of your mind then waned back into existence. You constantly gnawed on your bottom lip and tried to put on the T.V on something random to distract you. It helped little to draw your mind away from the different pains you were experiencing.

One look at the clock had you groaning. It was two in the morning. The contractions you were having only grew worse and closer together. That left you with no time to get any shut eye besides a five minute Power Nap every once in a while. You could only endure the aches as you rested in bed.

Night progressed onward until the rosy fingers of morning cascaded across the lightening sky. Any other day, you may have taken a picture at a sight so pretty. Instead, you scoffed at it and rolled out of bed.

Not once did you get more than five minutes of a nap.

The contractions had grown to a point where it made it hard to stand. Yet, you bear your weight against a chair in the small dining room. Standing it meant to help. Let gravity do its thing. Yet, with the lack of sleep made it hard to use what energy you did have to stay standing.

Then, the need to push hit you like a semi truck. You had to rush to fill up the pool with hot water. It was all you had left to do before everything would be ready.

All of your clothing had been strewn across the living room. All the towels you owned were set around in arms length near you. You sunk into the steaming water and groaned at the relaxing prosperities it offered.

It was time to push.

A day you knew you would never forget despite what you’ve read. The hormones in the brain could cause you to forget that any of it happen. The pain. The agony. Nearly shitting yourself. All variables to when your bundle of joy was freed from your body. Just a little thing that didn’t… look to weird.

He was so ugly he was cute in a way that only a mother would understand. He had the features of his father. Yet with a humanness to him you could see. Yet, your son could never step out into the world like you are able to. Unless he will be ripped away from you as you are dragged deep underground. Never to see or hear from your family again.

His face had only two mandibles. Bottom ones that were only nubs at this point with no sharp, deadly fang to taint the tip. He had no hair. That left you to wonder if he who’s hair he may take after. You hoped not the alien’s. Who knows if they have a routine. Not like you could have the supplies or knowledge to take care of such thing.

Thankfully, his skin mostly matched your own. There were hints of that dark red of scales that pebbled the tops of his forearms. You flinched at the sight and picked at the scales. But they didn’t come off. Your brows pushed up together as you worried the scales wouldn’t come off. They had to.

His first cry snapped you out of your stupor.

Since that day, living with a child you didn’t know how to take care of was beyond exhausting and nerve wracking. There was no time to yourself. Let alone, going out to see friends and family. You just used the excuse of work. It was always about work.

Your son, Austin, was different then research told you. From his ability to sit up only weeks after birth. He was able to speak at six months; crawl at eight before standing at eleven months. He pushed past each milestone with ease. You were proud of him, astonished he could perform each feat.

Days turned into months. Those milestone months turned into years. Before you knew it, your little Austin had turned five. A year he would have been starting kindergarten if he was normal.

One thing that changed about him was his hair. It easily came to you his hair was thin but like the rubbery dreads of Dai’stbaen. His scales multiplied across the tops of his forearms, growing up to his shoulders. Some peeked out on his chest and down his belly. The red was stark across otherwise smooth skin. He looked… not human. Only a mother could love. As harsh as that sounded, it was the truth. But, if anyone took him away from you, they would meet a mother’s fury.

During the night, you were curled around Austin. A protective shield to hide him away from the dangers of the real world outside the safety of your apartment. That was his one rule. All windows must stay shuttered and sealed off. No one could see in. No one could know he existed.

The time dragged on. Every second feeling like going over a pile of sharp rocks on the bottom of your feet. Nothing quelled the unease that sat in the pit of your stomach. The years may have passed well but you weren’t sure you were doing this right. This is a hybrid baby where the father isn’t in the picture. You didn’t even know if Dai’stbaen was still alive. All the dangerous things he lives to hunt for a passion, for a living. You shuttered at the reminder of all the skulls he possesses. Dangerous and lethal.

When sleep finally decided to drag you into its depths, you jerked up. Something in the back of your mind screaming to get up. Austin whined when you slid off the bed and rushed towards the bat you had close to the bed.

By the time your fingers curled around the bat, your bedroom door creaked open. Fear pulsed through your body like a powerful drug. Your hands trembled while holding onto the weapon. The darkness made it next impossible to see the figure standing in your doorway. That didn’t stop you from rushing forward and bringing the metal bat down with all of your strength.

Only for the bat to be caught mid swing.

It was tugged out of your grip and tossed behind the figure. The lights were flickered on, blinding you. You squinted through the pain the best you could only to see a darkly dressed figure there. More piled in. You stumbled backwards until your back hit the wall.

Harsh hands snatched at your wrists and smashed you nearly face first into the ground. Both of your arms are wrenched behind your back and locked into place with handcuffs.

Finally, at this point, your brain has finally caught up. But, it was too late to struggle. One person held down your legs. Other held various points of your body so it was impossible to move more than an inch.

The shrill scream of Austin had the fight in you restored to full power. A war cry thundered into the room, causing the people on you to tense. Your arms were already restrained with metal cuffs. Yet, your legs struck out and hit something soft underneath your foot. The tall tale sound of pain cut through the tense air. Someone fell down with a thud. You didn’t stop. Your legs continued to thrash until both of your wrists were being bent in a way that felt like they had snapped.

A scream of pain rang throughout the small bedroom before someone used some sort of cloth to tie around your mouth. It effectively quieted all of your screams. You looked up the best you could towards a masked face and swore you were going to hurt them all for hurting your son.

Austin had been pulled out first before they had painfully dragged you out of your own apartment. The entire time, you fought them. Each time, they either kneed at your ribs and tugged harder on your shoulders.

Then, you received a knee to the head.

.

Word spreads like wildfire. Nothing like this is common. The council is immediately called upon to set forth who shall proceed with the task at hand. But, when it comes down the finer details, Dai’stbaen is the one traveling through time and space. Back to a planet he has not seen in years. Where he wished to return for his own pleasure and time. To a ooman that… captured his attention.

This return trip wasn’t meant for time away from the hunt. A job had been handed to him. A very important job that needed to be completed before Cetanu could be released.

A hybrid had been spoken about on the rail. A ooman/Yautja hybrid. Dangerous beyond belief to let such a thing be in the hands of the oomans. Some call for it to killed. An abomination in many minds. It all came down to Dai’stbaen in the end. If he deems it mercy or an act upon the code, it shall be killed.

The ship softly shuttered when it came to rest on earth’s ground. All the engines slowly whirled down, powering off with a couple switches. Dai’stbaen unbuckled from the seat and stood up. His weapons soon adorned his frame before he headed out the hatch.

Pine and morning dew filtered into his mask. He took in the lungful, shoulders rising and falling. Then, he was off. Only a flash of dark red in the sea of green and brown.

Before arriving here, the Yautja had done his fair share of research. Many known places for ooman government settlements are pinpointed on a map. A map that Dai’stbaen currently was using to show him the right direction. Yautjas have been here for a long, long time.

His silent feet led him straight to building that wasn’t well hidden just deep in the forest. A helipad was the only way in and out of here. Whoever was here was all there could be. Backup, if he had been spotted, would take too much time to capture him.

A cloak covered him from sight. Dai’stbaen took roost up in a tree, eyes scanning over the decently sized building. Just enough to hold a small team. For whatever they were doing to the hybrid. The Yautja scowled at the thought of the nasty oomans. He only knew of one that was worth a blooding mark. One well deserved after saving his life. Death almost came to the ooman as well after the fight had finished. Wounds that one should’ve never survived from. Without him, the ooman would’ve passed. A strong, mighty soul lost to Cetanu. Dai will not allow for that to happen.

Weak entry points were easy to locate and mark mentally in his mind. No patrols wondered the outside perimeter. Oomans and their cockiness. No wonder they die so easily to his own kind.

With the other modes on his bio mask, he determined the easiest way to get into the complex. His feet were silent as he dropped back down to the forest floor and moved inward.

Despite the place being lack with its security, Dai’stbaen never once let his guard fall. Not all shall seem to meet the eye. Plenty of life experiences and past hunts have told him otherwise. The hunt may seem easy but may turn for the worse at a moments notice. Dai rather not be caught in trap so avoidable. Not like some past Yautjas have. A shame and board line dishonor.

To get inside the complex took little pressure. A certain wire cut had the door failing. It opened up and revealed an empty hallway. The cloak was still activated as he moved forward. He used his mask to look at patches possibly taken. Yet, the signs helped him the most.

Dai’stbaen stood in front of a door strong enough to hold back a Yautja at full strength. A grumble fell from his throat as he looked over the exterior. This wasn’t something he could strong arm the rest of the way. He was forced to look over the outside well, finding any weakness. Yet, it had been designed specifically to hold a Yautja.

Noise to his right had been side stepping the door and looking down the hall. A trip of oomans rounded a corner, deep in talk. White lab coats hung off of one of them. Others were dressed in pastel color of clothing. A brow arched from underneath his mask as he watched the three of them walk towards him. But, he wasn’t alert to them finding him.

All of them stopped at the door he once stood at.

“We’ve only been able to recently touch him with the mother nearby. Or else he’ll claw and bite everyone,” one said and rubbed a wrapped up portion of his arm. “I don’t know about either of you, but I’d rather not take another swing from the little twit.”

Mother? Was the hybrid young? And these oomans had taken a child and its mother.

Fire raced through his veins. A growl threatening to alert the oomans right in front of him.

One of them raised a plastic card up to the key pad. It beeped at the touch before the door opened up. The angle didn’t allow him to see inside the room.

But the smell. A smell he’d thought to never scent again hit him hard. Idiotic of him, he froze up long enough for the door to shut after the oomans entered. He had to close off his throat to stop a deep growl from erupting. It was his duty to get into that room.

It felt like he was a unblooded all over again, patient worn out long ago. The muscle of his jaw so tight it felt like it was cramping. His eyes never left the doorway, ears trying to listen in but found the walls too thick for him to hear through. Everything in him wanted to bust down the door to get inside. Who knows what those scum of oomans were doing.

The tension in his muscles turned complete rigid when the door slid back open. His body acted before his mind could complete a thought. Dai rushed forward and snatched the lab coat ooman up by the neck. She tried to scream for her life but he pinched off any access to air. Her face already turning to a shade of red he loved oomans to wear.

He entered the space still holding onto the soft meat. She squirmed and kicked at him, anything to get free from his grasp. The door shut behind him and locked him into the room that was filled with the scent of terror.

And yours.

A mixture that reeked. The Yautja growled lowly in his chest before plucking the ID card off of her. She could barely make a noise, face beet red. Dai’stbaen dropped the defenseless ooman back down onto the ground. She crumbled to the floor and choked and gasped for air. He barely gave her a glance and strode over to your trembling, slacken jaw form.

You never once thought to see this beautiful creature again. Not a single moment in your life. But, here stands Dai’stbaen in all of his glory. Biomask covering his features but you could feel the heat of his eyes on you. He marched over to you and ate up the space between the two of you. He fell to a knee and reached out to your chained form.

Metal wrapped painfully around your throat and hands. They attached to a bolt in the concrete wall. No ooman could break out of something with pure strength alone. Dai’stbaen lifted up the chain and felt its weight. Nothing to him but to you, red marks had been rubbed raw into your soft skin. A scowl hidden by his mask.

As if you saw a god, you reached up and brushed your fingers against the coolness of the metal of his face covering. A face you desperately wanted to see.

“Dai?” you croaked out in voice devoid of water for so long. You looked so lost, long without hope to fill your fierce eyes. The male himself was speechless. Why in the stars were you here? In a facility he was looking for a hybrid. He cupped your jaw in a massive hand, fingers curling around the back of your head. His thumb graced over your pronounced cheek bone. Your eyes had sunken in. The skin dark and lifeless underneath him.

This wasn’t the vision of how he left you. You had been curled up against him, soft, gentle features at peace. The marks that marred your skin. His eyes darted down to the bite mark he left in the heat of the moment. Had these scums taken you all because of a bite? Surely, they wouldn’t notice anything off with such a bite?

Clattering of metal skirting across the concrete floor snapped him back into his hunter mode. His head whipped around. One of the other oomans had discovered him, coming around a partition. Before the man had time to react, Dai was a red blur across the room. His hand curled around his throat and brought the person to him. You watched as Dai choked the unsuspecting man out until he no longer moved. He was released and flopped down onto the ground. His chest slowly rose and fall.

The person in the lab coat was able to regain her composer, head tilted up. Her dark eyes were trained on Dai. An accusing finger pointed at him. “You-“ she coughed “-can’t hurt me. Can’t hurt any of us,” she bit out in a nasty tone that twisted your gut. There was nothing you could do, still chained up to the wall. Your face morphed with anger. You pulled on the chain but it only rattled at the move.

Dai’stbaen didn’t stop marching towards her on the ground. She scrambled backwards and even kicked his shin. Yet, he didn’t even flinch at the strike. He bent at the waist and picked up the struggling woman with a single arm. Your jaw slackened again at the remind of how strong he is. The memories of the last night with him resurfacing at the wrong moment.

Not a word or sound utters from his vocal cords. One arm wraps around her neck and hold strong. Blood and air is restricted to her brain. It doesn’t take long for her to drop to the ground, chest slowly rising and falling.

Once the issue is solved, he strides across the limited space again. They weren’t dead. You were thankful he hadn’t killed them in front of you, knowing he could pull such a thing. Dai’stbaen returns to his position in front of you. A claw hooks into the unforgiving chain wrapped around your wrists. For a government facility, they didn’t have good restraints. Maybe… they weren’t thinking about capturing prisoners.

Not like yourself, at least.

His mask stares at the chains for a moment. Then, with both of his hands, he grips it at two different sections and pulls. The metal groans under his pure strength before easily giving way with a snap. The end hangs from your neck and pulled on the tender areas. Next, Dai’stbaen worked on your wrists in the same manner. He had left a tail end, unable to get so close to you.

Your legs strained to lift yourself off of the unforgiving, dull grey floors. The muscles have gone weak after the lack of use and proper food.

Before you could make it, Dai’stbaen easily scooped you up into his arms. His warmth easily washed over your numb frame. The air in the room was cool. It kept you shaking nearly all the time. They never offered a blanket or something.

He was able to transfer you to one arm holding you to him. His free hand grabbed the ID card he had snatched earlier. The male walked over to the closed door.

“Wa-it!” you hissed when he attempted to leave. Your body squirmed in his hold. Dai’stbaen grunted and pinned you to his warm body. “We can’t le-ave!” Austin. Tears were brought to your eyes at the thought of your son. You used a hand to pull on one of Dai’s tresses and directed him over to the partition.

Dai could smell another ooman and something else.

Your feet touched the cool concrete again. The strength in your legs was long gone and forced you to sit down. His gaze was set on what he could see around the partition’s edge. He stalked over then froze for a moment. In another flash, he lunged forward. You decided to stay where you were when you heard a thud smack. Another person choked out. Alive.

Soft, nearly silent footsteps alerted to Dai coming back. When he appeared around the corner, you scrambled to get to your weak legs.

In his arms was the limp body of Austin. “No!” you cried but unable to find the strength. After so long of fighting, you had lost the will. Even at the sight of your son limp in front of you. Tears brimmed the edges of your eyes as you clawed at Dai’stbaen. As if you could climb him to get to Austin. “Please, no.” Your whimper cracked at his own heart.

What had they done to him?

It was your reaction that had the dots clicking inside of his head. You… Oh, by Paya’s will! His eyes widened underneath the mask, muscles turning taunt. The hybrid… it was his. The red scales, mandibles, the tresses. Dai’stbaen could’ve smacked himself for how stupid he had been. How could’ve he not even thought of the possibility?! But… the idea was next to impossible.

Here it was though. In his arms. Softly breathing. The mother clawing at him, eyes balling with tears. Dai’stbaen knelt down in front of the ooman he’s come to know. You instantly tried to tug him out of his arms but it was nothing compared to his strength.

“Austin, honey. Oh god, no. Anything but him!” you sobbed and rushed your hands all over him. He was still warm. The first thing you notice; slightly taking you out of your panic. Then, your finger pads found a gentle pulse. Your saneness slowly coming back as you realized Austin was alive. You gave another sob. This time of relief. Your arms wrapped around him the best you could then slowly looked up at the Yautja.

The mask may hide all of his features… but you felt the heat of his stare. You pulled away and straightened your back, eyes casting downward. Not once did one of your hands leave Austin.

“Yeah,” you choked out and buried yourself into your shoulders. You didn’t know how he was going to react to all of this. Even yourself didn’t want to believe the pregnancy for the first six months.

His arm underneath Austin’s knees snatched the forearm closest to him. Dai leaned in close to you that your foreheads nearly touched. Your heart began to thunder loudly.

“Child? We have… child?” Words so unsure of the reality of everything. A feeling you felt so long ago in the beginning of all of this. You had been alone, terrified. To this day, you still are. Even before they had found out about Austin and yourself.

More tears stained your cheeks. “Yeah,” you sniffled with a nod. His hand twitched for a moment before letting you go. Instead, you carded your fingers through his, nails biting the back of his hand. “We do. I-I didn’t k-now how to-to tell you. You were… gone.” Words so important to you unaffected him. For the most part.

A huff left the alien. His head turned towards the door. The weight of the situation slammed down on you once again. Escape. This was your chance for escape. You couldn’t walk though. The battle had long left you after a lesson well learned. His hands were full with Austin.

You let go of his hand pushed at him. If one must be saved, it had to be Austin. Your son over yourself. “Go! Bef-ore they find out. T-take him to-to safety, please,” you pleaded with the male, face wet and sticky from the constant tears.

Dai snorted and scooted Austin more onto one shoulder. With his other arm, he wrapped it around your torso. One show of strength had you tossed over onto the other shoulder. A pained grunt surge past your lips when you landed harshly on your stomach. The birth had always left you scarred permanently. Then, the Yautja was on his feet and quickly stalking towards the door.

The stolen keycard was used to open the door and revealed an empty hallway. He peered out to look both ways before stepping out. Years of training aided him. His feet light despite the added weight of two people on him. Yet, he had noticed how much lighter you were compared to when he last held you up. Something twisted in the pit of his stomach. A need to end the lives for those caused harm to you.

There were more important things to worry about for now. Safety for one.

Like a skilled hunter, Dai’stbaen was able to slip out of the complex with little difficulty. The cloak had been rendered useless. He was forced to rely on strict listening and awareness of his surroundings.

Fresh air on your skin was heaven sent. You lifted yourself up with just enough strength to prop yourself up on his shoulder. The outside world was something you hadn’t seen in a long time. You could cry at the sight. For so long.

The Yautja carried you a long way. Not once did he stop for a break or rest. Like a freight train, he continued to move. The sway of his gait nearly had you passing out, ready to succumb to a sleep you weren’t petrified to never wake up again.

A familiar sight peered through the trees. The ship. Oh god, you were really free. Dai’stbaen had come for you to save the two of you.

How did he know? Words you wanted to ask him but your energy was dwindling faster than you could stop it. The realization of safety had you finally drifting in and out of light sleep.

The feeling of scales against your belly had your eyes flickering open. You groaned and found yourself on your back, looking up at the familiar face of Dai’stbaen. His biomask long gone at this point. The only upper mandible twitched when his bright yellow eyes found yours. A hand cupped at your cheek, thumb running over your pronounced cheek bone.

“Thank you,” you whispered in a hoarse voice. Water was instantly brought to your lips in the form of a waterskin. Every drop you took then licked at your cracked lips.

Something akin to anger swirled bright in his fierce eyes. His mandibles tightened over his mouth, nails creating divots in your skin. “You stay. With me,” he demanded.

Free from the mask, his voice was clear and crisp in the protection of his room. A space you had shared with him for that month.

Your brows jumped up towards the ceiling. How was that going to work? Humans… they don’t survive outside of earth’s atmosphere. And the creatures he hunts. They would think of you as a snack. Easy pickings. A full bottom shiver wrecked your poor frame.

“How’s… that going to work?” you asked, not opposed to leaving your life behind. All of your friends and family had been pushed away when Austin had been born. Your job must of fired you. Your apartment was probably been cleaned out. Everything you once knew was gone. All besides your child and his father.

His next words were thought over carefully. “You are ooman, weak and frail. Yes. But, I protect you. Like you protected me. We have child. He learn Yautja ways. Be hunter,” he explained to the best of his knowledge in English. Your eyes widened. He wants Austin to be like him.

Austin. Your head whipped about before Dai’stbaen caught it and directed your attention to your side. There laid your sleeping kid. He had curled up on his side, facing you. At peace.

You licked at your cracked lips and gaze back towards Dai’stbaen. “I named him Austin,” you said to him. Something flashed in his eyes, but he kept silent.

Everything he said though, you couldn’t completely disagree on. From the fact your life was ruined, to the fact Austin was different. It took so much to reel him in from going out the front door. Or, he loved to climb up on to of the cupboards. Even when he very young.

A hunter at his core.

“He’s got you heart.” You smiled at him, stars sparkling in your eyes. Then, you bowed your head and played with your hands on the blankets. “I… I agree with you. I can’t go back. And, I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel terrible that I’m probably not taking care of him right.” You peered at Dai from underneath your lashes. “I need your help.”

With his hands on your cheeks, he tugs you in a little closer. His forehead presses to yours in a soft gesture. “I help. We raise together.” Your eyes closed. You embraced the warmth blooming in your chest.

The tension in your chest loosen. You could finally breath normally again.

[icarusredwings]

Getting deep into the x men fandom means seeing ships I don't agree with, so I don't interact, seeing posts that mischaraterizes one of the deepest charaters possible, so I don't interact, Seeing people actively say things that are blatantly wrong, so I don't interact.

Getting a large following is also kind of frustrating (Im not complaining I love you guys!) But I've had to block 2 people already today because they keep leaving rude replies to my comments on OTHER peoples posts or purposly come to my blog to tell me that how I view a charater is wrong. Had someone tell me that the stuff that happens in MY au is dumb because "that would never happen" like yeah bud. The writers at Marvel are too much of cowards for it to happen, hence why i'm here.

So my thing is... if im chosing not to interact with all of this- why is it still on my feed?

I feel like the more I ignore it the more I see and I do not wish to be the type to block someone simply because they make one post about a ship that personally isn't my cup of tea.

Also- I think Im starting to see the different sides of extremes, especially when it comes to one specifc charater.

Logan.

I have seen dozens of lovely stories, lovely rants, lovely head canons about this man-

But something that feels weird (to me at least) is people who are 45+ yelling at people who aren't even 18 that their story/headcanons are trash because they've "been enjoying Logan for 40+ years" as if this gives them any right to tell a 17 year old that they shouldnt write a charater how they see them.

It's also weird to me that there seems to be two sides.

Logan IS an animal and that's perfectly okay.

Or

Logan ISN'T an animal, and everyone who headcanons him as animalistic is fetishizing his mutation and are insulting him.

I get not liking a certain trope, but sir, that person is young enough to be your child. You have to accept that we all grew up with different versions of each charater. I Personally didn't grow up with any and get the luxury of indulging in all sorts of media all at once- therefore getting to see him from multiple sides and pictures.

I completely understand if you grew up with the original series and are upset to see that kids are headcanoning your stone cold angst biker man as wearing bow clips and 'making biscuits' on a pillow while watching gilmore girl with his boyfriend, and wearing pink fluffy hello kitty pants and a tight shirt that says "Milk"

I completely understand if you grew up with the movies and see him as a sexy gruff hot buff man and you love to write lots and lots of steamy x reader about him.

I completely understand if you LIKE logan wearing hello kitty pants and don't agree with the idea of him being a dark edgelord, lone wolf charater.

Do you know what I don't understand? Fighting over a charater when different timelines have been canon since the 80s. The Time Variance Authority (TVA) first appeared in Thor #372 (October 1986) which means ALL of your logans are the correct logan. Just not all the same.

Do I think Wolverine Orgins Logan would wear pink hello kitty pants? Nah.

Do I know that Deadpool and wolverine Logan is a whole different universe then Orgins Logan? Yes.

That's why people tag different logans and different aus. So what is all the fuss about?? What happened to the more the merrier?

Theres so many different versions of comic book logan, too, so don't even go there.

Feel free to ask my personal opinions but as far as I stand I could never be foolish enough to seriously go into someone elses post and genuinely be upset at them for how they perceive a charater. I get second hand embaressment when ever I see ANYONE doing it.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk. I don't care if I lose followers for this. Let the door hit you on the way out. There aint no reason to be harrassing folks.

[mustainegf]

Okay, I just thought this idea was so cute so I wanted to share - cliff practicing on quieter and calmer songs on the bass while reader lays in bed, so sort of like a lullaby in terms i suppose, and when he climbs into bed she just tells him how good it sounded and which parts of his peices she really liked before they go to sleep

Thank yew elena!!💋

THIS IS SO CUTE AHH since its a short little plot, this is more of a drabble!

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 & 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 ¹⁹⁸⁴

Its late, and the sleep tugs at me. Only that soft glow of the moon creeps in through the window. Cliff is sitting on the floor beside the bed, his bass in his hands. I can hear the soft plucking of strings, the way he strokes the notes. He's practicing again, but not the heavy, thrashing kind of music most people know him for. It's softer, more melodic, something that feels like a secret, just for us. I can't see his face where I lie, but I know the expression he'd wear.

Concentrated, yet calm, as though he has slipped into some little world of his own. His fingers trace along the strings so incredibly easily, forming sounds that are calming and almost hypnotic in nature. It's pretty- the way he plays. I can tell even from half asleep just how talented he is. I always think no one hears this side of him but me.

The music floats through the room, slow and gentle, wrapping itself around me like a blanket. I listen with eyes closed, letting the notes sink into my skin. Sometimes I hum along, but I'm too tired for that tonight. The soft plucking of the bass, the buzz of strings here and there, makes some sort of lullaby. I am so at peace, caught in this particular sound and time.

Cliff never plays like this when he's on stage, and that is one thing I always loved about him. He's so different at home, as if there are two versions of him living in two different worlds. He's fierce, wild, and full of energy on the stage. But in the quiet of our bedroom, he's gentle and still. It feels almost like he's giving me a piece of him that no one else ever sees. That makes me feel so fortunate.

After a little while, the music starts to slow down, and I can tell he's winding down. The notes become more infrequent, softer now, almost like whispers. Finally, the music stops, and all I can hear is the quiet hum of the amp. It fades after a moment, replaced by nothing at all.

Cliff eases the bass down gently, oh so quiet, it would appear. I feel the bed dip as he climbs in beside me. His arm wraps around my waist, and I can feel the heat of him beside me. He smells of leather and smoke, familiar and comforting. I smile, even though my eyes are still closed. His fingers trace lazy circles on my back, barely touching but enough to make me shiver.

"You're so good," I mumble. "It was beautiful, like always..."

He laughs softly, almost incredulous. Cliff never takes compliments well, but I say it anyway, every time. He presses a kiss to the back of my neck and sends warmth washing over my skin.

"You really think that?" he asks softly, his voice low.

"Mmhmm, " I manage to get out, too exhausted to say more, but sincere in my tone. I always am. There's just something about the way he plays that feels so special... such talent. Like he's pouring his soul into the strings, and I get to be the one who hears it.

He pulls me closer, his chin coming to rest on my shoulder. I can feel his heartbeat against my back, the pulse steady and slow. It's moments like this that make everything else seem to fade away: long days, tours, chaos-all that seems so very far away when it's just the two of us like this.

I feel myself drifting off again, but I don't want to let this moment go yet. Sleep is pulling me under, and I know I won't be able to fight it for much longer.

"You're amazing," I whisper one last time before it pulls me under. Cliff says nothing, but I feel a smile against my skin as his arms squeeze tighter around me. And in that, I know he understands. He always does. In the dead of night, when the last sounds of his bass have died out completely, I fall asleep in his arms, and I'm at peace.

[fullmetal-scar-simping]

Remember that scene where Heinkel implores Alphonse to use the Philosopher’s Stone against Pride, arguing the souls within it would want him to fight?

That should’ve been Scar and his mentor. Those are Ishvalan lives, and while Heinkel at least wasn’t involved in the genocide and has also been dehumanized and experimented on by the system, he’s still a white man and a former soldier, imploring a white boy to use these resources to save Amestris.

Idk I think it’d be soooo much more compelling if Scar’s mentor went from being skeptical of his violence to recognizing the need. To see him remind Scar that he’s ultimately committing an alchemical taboo anyway for the sake of his fellow Ishvalans. Something about Ishvalan souls reclaiming actual agency via the mentor being a fellow Ishvalan himself, acknowledging they would likely want Scar to use them.

And not to protect Amestris, but to protect the Ishvalan refugees within the circle. That isn’t talked about enough, if at all; Scar says he’ll save this country so he can change it (so he can save his people) but what about the fact that we’ve already seen two communities within the border of the circle?

What about him doing this to prevent the remaining Ishvalans from being sacrificed into a Philosopher’s Stone, and how the lives of a prior stone would feel the same way? What about Scar recognizing that the Promised Day transmutation circle was what his people were slaughtered for, and so he won’t let anymore die in direct fulfillment of it?

And then when Scar is mortally stabbed by Wrath, whose mindless violence is contrasted with Scar’s meaningful, justified violence, he actually gets to use the stone to save his own life and live and heal. Because these Ishvalans would give up their lives to save their kinsmen. That’s exactly what Scar is doing. It would give them peace to reclaim their objectification as energy that is instead used to prevent further harm to their community. All while giving their souls peace by freeing them.

At least it’s not a white doctor who created this specific stone from their lives speaking on their behalf to a war criminal who’s killed more Ishvalans than anyone else, saying that Mustang needs to heal his eyes and ultimately use these souls for the good of the remaining Ishvalans so if you think about it this is what these Ishvalan souls would REALLY want. Because there’s no way Mustang could possibly give reparations to the Ishvalan community as a blind man who is still wealthy and with connections to the new Fuhrer (reminder that state alchemist payrolls are huge and there’s multiple jokes about this too).

Man I wish instead of Father talking hot shit about how life is unfair in a neutered take on Dante’s Equivalent Exchange is Bullshit speech, with Ed rebuking him, Father did the opposite; Contrasting Dante’s speech by suggesting this ‘injustice’ of Roy losing his sight IS the rightful toll for his genocide. Maybe even insinuating that Hughes’ murder was also justice, too, ever think about that human? Both villains in either version of the story having different takes on whether equivalent exchange is real, yet ultimately using it to deliver the same brutal wake-up call to our MC.

If this had been what Brotherhood served instead of the hot garbage that is its actual canon I'd have been over the moon. (Would still dislike a lot of other things, but at least I'd be able to say I enjoyed it enough to not want to launch it into the sun.) Seriously, I love this take on the last chunk of mangahood.

We were absolutely robbed of any opportunity for a dialogue between Scar, his Master, living Ishvalans, and the souls that comprise that particular stone. How that could have eventually led his Master to rigorously challenge both Scar's and his own clashing spiritual, culture-honouring, and political philosophies. Perhaps have some other monks of Ishvala (is there a specific way to refer to practitioners of the Ishvalan faith?) bring up their own shift in perspectives, some agreeing with the methods of rebel fighters and Scar's tactics. And contrast these opinions with those who are resistant to adapting their beliefs and goals (because of course some will not budge). The dissonance between passivity feigning as tradition, leaving Ishvalans at the mercy of Amestris and other powerful nations for the foreseeable future; versus an active stance of principled violence and land reclamation, that seeks to give Ishvalans a fighting chance against full annihilation/unending displacement/amalgamation. Coming to a head with the Master imploring Scar to use it as needed, in a form of restitution and ceremony that finally grants the dead to peace.

And man, how that would enhance Scar's battle against Bradley. (What you wrote about how this could change that showdown, and what that would mean for the transmuted Ishvalans, Scar, and his people-!!!! 🥹) That he has to allow his own people to heal him, while reminded that Ishvalans are actually in his corner. That he isn't doing this for Amestris, that countering Father's nation-wide circle is to protect surviving Ishvalans. Having the knowledge that if he is forgiven and cared for by his own people, then salvation need not come from prostrating himself to Amestris whatsoever.

All of this would of course require Scar to have never fully reneged on his own actions against the State, even after being cornered into agreeing to aid the military insurrectionists. Some part of him cannot swallow their chauvinistic idealism that still centers the protection of the existing imperial nation. Slowly returning to a rejection of this rickety compliance with the military writ large. And you wouldn't necessarily have to retcon the fuck-awful Briggs recuperation of Scar either. It just can't go from the canon bs "Woah yeah, being an Ishvalan ~changing minds~ in the military is so based, unlike me, who is shitbad," to a sudden "We need violence to upend Amestrian domination of our people". Some part of him, even with his coerced comradery, would have to be internally rejecting that premise, and increasingly so. Without that, the change wouldn't scan imo.

Scar and his Master actually tearing into the meat of Scar's and his brother's blasphemy; what Scar has seen in his path of vengeance, as well as what he's seen/overheads regarding the attitudes of the military members who wish to overthrow Bradley, with their obvious bid for self-serving power rather than seeing Ishvalans and other occupied peoples as anything more than bartering chips; the will of the transmuted Ishvalans pushing through the stone just enough to rally their wishes for liberation of their living kinsmen; Scar and his Master having to reevaluate some of their long held beliefs and their distaste for all forms of alchemy. Hell, getting to see Scar admit to his Master what his brother had been studying and what he discovered in the process when he was recruiting Ishvalan refugees for the coup effort would have been a huge character moment for them both!

We could have had it all.

Rip to what could have been, but bless those few fans with taste and the wide range of changes/ideas you all have shared so far! You guys make talking about mangahood far more enjoyable than it has any right to be.

With the Ishvalan stone, I wouldn't be surprised if Scar would have to reclaim it out of Amestrian possession secretly. Maybe, without yet fully tapping into the unheard voices of their souls, he could feel them resonate and rejoice being in Ishvalan hands. The weeping of the damned who cannot bare to be used by Amestris for one second longer stirring his (re)growing suspicion and anger against the people who forced him to ally with their cause at the cost of his degradation and threat of imprisonment (and let's be real here, the threat of execution by the State was guaranteed if he rebuked Miles and therefore got arrested). He could feel their storm of memories and regrets, their hopes and their sorrows. If the stone could have called for action against the homunculi, they would just as much call for action against the human monsters as well.

But no, instead of all of that we focused on the will and humanity of the Xerxian philosopher's stone exclusively.

(Super love the military getting to exploit Scar's deep-seated self-hatred and suicidality for their own gain. Cool moment all around. Awesome. Really good stuff there. Very reformed. Checkmate, Scar.)

Everything you mentioned re: Father, his neutered approximation of Dante's speech, and what you would have preferred his perspective to be is 💯💯💯. ESPECIALLY with how he would mock Roy for having his eyesight taken in order to fulfill his own plans for yet another nation-wide sacrifice. It would serve as a biting counterargument to the nonsense excuse that Roy and friends "had no choice in joining the military and killing Ishvalans". His choices led him to desecrate so many lives for himself, to transmute as much of a (smaller) country as possible for their own goals (thus having already served Father). How would this be any different then? Mustang can argue with Truth and Father that he was forced to perform human transmutation, but why did that ever excuse anything in the past? Did clinging to the nation "betraying" Mustang's naivete ever spare any suffering for anyone? He has part of himself nonconsentually sacrificed now because of his continued pigheadedness, suffering only a fraction of what he's done. And Roy thinks he's going to make reparations for so thoroughly incinerating Ishval by vying for the Fuhrership? The very system Father and scores of humans built? This is the toll for everything foolish people like Roy have done. It's not random or unfair insofar that equivalency can merely be another way of describing consequences. Survivors might interpret Mustang's maiming as justice, so why should he resist that when he still wants to hold the power that decided their fates to begin with?

Father could have been a more cold, conniving fucker who grinds Mustang's remaining fortitude into dust. From there Roy would either have to have the greatest reckoning of his life as the eclipse fast approaches and understand that reforming what Father and his legions have created is not worth it after all, or be a husk who falls crumbles under his desperate need for a seat of power that would never be his anyway. Buuuuuuuut that would ruin the big fun shonen fuck yeah humans rock we're all best pals slapping faux-god wowowowow action scenes and alchemic-jojo punching and our protags were always right and just and super cool finale that 99% of the fanbase has been fellating since 2010. So. 💩

Total aside, but the design for Father's humanoid homunculus form (when he sheds Hohenheim's appearance for the eclipse) sucks so much ass lmao

[jungkook2522]

Yandere Therapist x Reader

Warning: obsession, yandere tendencies, broken reader , depression, mentions of suicide, naive darling, mind control, mentions of shot, drugged, mentions of hypnosis.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

________________________________________________________

You were walking down the street looking around other people, everyone seemed happy, everyone seemed joyful expect you...

You were from poor family and started working in part time jobs at very young age. Everyone in the school bullied you, your parents didn't cared about you, relatives and friends were fake and hated you, long story short you had no one beside you...Here you are sad and depressed, with no one and no where to go. You wanted to give up already...

And that's why you're here, in the tallest bridge which located near the river, the place which everyone loves and takes photo of it. Even bridge is loved... It's ok, one jump and it's all over...

You closed your eyes and moved forward but something under your foot made noise... you opened your eyes and looked down. It was a paper... not ordinary paper...You reached your hand and took paper from ground. It was an offer note... An offer to therapist.

You carefully read what was written inside. There was written that if their first therapy is free and if in their second therapy the results not showing even slightly they'll give you money...

You wanted to throw it away but somewhere in your mind you wanted to try it, besides you had nothing to lose... Besides if it doesn't work you can give money to your debt of the rent to your renter.... Only two days and it's over....

Here you are... Sitting in the therapist room, looking at therapist speechless... How the hell he knew all your problems and that you had depression just from your look?.. Is it that obvious?... Well you think you can trust him with his therapies... for now...

He wanted to do hypnosis to you, he told you that he did that to all his patients and it'll work all the time.. You trust him because he knows all things about you... But oh how you were wrong...

Well you were really dumb for believing him... And the paper you found was expired like his license... You were like an innocent bunny that came straight to the wolf's den... Well don't worry though you'll never be alone or unloved with him... Never when you're with him...

_________________________Time skip: month

You don't know what's happening to you... You were in your therapist's lap and you were enjoying it... You were like attached to him and looking at him like a puppy... Like a lovesick puppy who seeked attention...

He looked down at you and smiled gently... He bring a hand to your head and started gently caressing it and playing with your hair... He kissed your forehead, cheek and crown and mumbled more like to himself..."It worked"...

"Hmm?"

"Nothing my darling, just know that you are mine and you're never going to be alone, because your always gonna be with me for forever and nothing gonna be able to separate us... For now rest well my princess..." he said while he get a syringe from his pocket...

"W-what y-yo..." he give a shot from your arm and you started falling asleep but you were fighting with all your might to not to...

"My princessa, give in to it, I promise when you wake up you'll love me that much that you even don't think of me letting you go... Because it's a love potion and after you'll wake up you'll feel so good. So now be a good girl and give in...''

You slowly but surely closed your eyes and your body went limp in his arms. He's one hand was still rubbing your back and other was playing with your hair when you fell into deep sleep... He kissed your forehead gently again and leaned down and whispered to your ear...

"Sleep well MY PRINCESS"

____________________________________________________________

[mooshkat]

anyways i refuse to accept that that's the final end of them so. here.

Two hours later, Buck finds himself on Tommy's doorsteps. There's still a pit in the bottom of his stomach, it hasn't left since the words "I guess I did." left Tommy's mouth, but now he's moved on to upset. He's angry and he's not going to let one of the best things that happened to him go without a fight.

He knocks on the door, harsher than he normally would, and doesn't have to wait long before his–before Tommy answers it.

"What–Evan!" Tommy says, startled as Buck pushes past him and barges into his house. Buck glances at him and finds him with puffy, red eyes and tear tracks on his cheeks. It makes him just a little bit more hopeful that Tommy isn't as over them as he initially thought.

"I heard what you said and I get you're scared, Tommy, but no. No, you don't get to end things like that. Not after going through the last six months acting like it was meant to mean something because it did. To me."

Buck stands in the middle of the living room, arms crossed tight over his chest. He becomes hyperaware of just how much their lives have intertwined over the last six months; bits of him are scattered all over Tommy's house, in the clothes he's left behind and the pictures pinned to the fridge that holds his keto snacks. The same kind of pieces that Tommy has at his loft as well.

"Okay, so what if you're my first boyfriend? That doesn't make how I feel about you mean any less. I don't–I don't need to go out there and find another guy I like until he's 'the one'. I like you and I don't need to explore my options, or whatever. It kind of makes it feel like you think I'm just experimenting with being bisexual, and that's not what this is. I'm not using you as some exciting new thing."

Tommy sighs and scrubs a hand down his face, his shoulders drooping. "No, Evan, I'm sorry. That's not what I meant."

"Good. Good." Buck nods, deflating a little bit. "I'm sorry you've had shitty experiences in the past, Tommy, but I'm not those people. I-I asked you to move in with me tonight because I could see a life with you, Tommy. I want you in my life."

He takes a deep breath, "You talk about being scared of having your heart broken by me? You broke mine tonight. I've been afraid to say it because I always–always–get in too deep faster than my partners, but I...I love you. I love you, Thomas Kinard, and I want a life with you. Please don't let your fear stop you from having that."

Tommy doesn't say anything. He stares at Buck, eyes wide, and doesn't open his mouth.

The pit in his stomach gets worse. The hope he had is fracturing apart and splintering into raw embarrassment instead, and maybe this was a stupid idea, wasn't it? It was a bad idea to refuse Tommy's boundaries and come barging into his home to yell at him.

"Oh. Yeah, okay. Sorry, this was stupid." He was stupid thinking someone would actually want to stay for once. "Sorry. Forget I ever came over, and I'll–I'll leave your stuff at Harbor later."

He ducks his head and tries to squeeze past Tommy so he can leave before he gets sick.

A hand wraps around his wrist and stops him. He doesn't want to risk it and see it in Tommy's eyes that they are truly done for, but he stops and glances up at Tommy anyway.

"I'm sorry," Tommy says, and fresh tears pool in his eyes. "I'm sorry I let old habits kick up and let fear run my life. I'm not really the best at talking about things, am I? If–If you'll stay, I want to tell you about it. I shouldn't have left the way I did, but I want you to understand why."

Buck pulls his wrist free from Tommy's grasp and for a split second, he sees the fear and hurt in his eyes, before Buck grabs his hand and squeezes it. "Okay. Let's talk. And...please don't ever call me Buck again."

[in-flvx]

Commotion, Chaos and Cacophony

(Sirius runs away. Regulus POV)

There is shouting.

There is always shouting. Regulus black is sitting at his gorgeous mahagony desk, precision scissors in his hand, as he cuts out the last article of today's Prophet which he was able to connect to the Dark Lord, and tries to ignore the ruckus going on downstairs.

It had started at breakfast, when Sirius once again brought one of his liberal flights of fancy. It is ridiculous. Sirius had always been an airhead, soft for lowlifes and vermin. And where Regulus had been sympathetic towards this, thought Sirius would grow out of it, become wiser with age, he had gotten entirely disillusioned to the notion of it. It's impractical and disruptive. Not just to society at large, but also, time and again, to Regulus' peace and quiet.

Two doors get slammed in quick succession, causing Regulus to let out a quiet sigh of relief as he gets up to pull out his sketchbook. 92 leaves out of 130, filled with cut-outs, and articles of his own, journaling the steady crawl to victory of the Dark Lord. Victory of society.

Loud foot stomps come up the stairs, and then the next door falls shut. Across the hall this time. This doesn't mean today's fight is over, of course. Often, Mother and Sirius take a few minutes, hours sometimes, to wind up their energy to the next round. Regulus wrinkles his nose in distaste, thinking about the early game of catch he has scheduled with Wilkes, Malfoy and the Lestranges tomorrow, which Regulus has been looking forward to for days. Should there be another round to this fight, Regulus will lose some sleep and possibly the game. Yet another way Sirius' childish ideations keep interrupting Regulus' life.

Instead of sitting down to continue his journaling, Regulus remains standing. Unsure about how to continue. He swallows, and then seizes the opportunity.

Regulus opens his door smoothly, and tabs over the heavy carpet to his brother's door. There is commotion in there, which is par for the course. There is always commotion in Sirius' room. Commotion, chaos and cacophony.

He throws open the door. The sight insults him. Red and gold, unmoving pictures of scantily cladt muggle females on those dirty machines Sirius is so infatuated with, pictures of Sirius with his gaggle of blood traitor and mud blooded friends. And between all of this childish show of rebellion, there is Sirius himself. There's an ugly look on his face, as he creates even more chaos in this dump of a room. Regulus has never understood why people in their school fancied him. Lips too big, and too red, quite like a girls in fact, a tan that betrays his noble heritage, and Sirius never bothered to get rid of the freckles, and moles, that marr his visage. Hair falling into his eyes, and a slump as if he had never learned how to carry himself.

"What do you want, Regulus?" Sirius spits out without even turning to look at him, as he throws his belongings around the room.

"Stop the fight for tonight, will you?" Regulus starts. Sirius throws his head back and laughs at that. It sounds hysteric. Cold. Regulus rolls his eyes. The hysterics of a woman. As much as he appreciates Mother and Bellatrix, they are still females, behaving as such. It does not stand for the eldest son to behave like them.

"Mother and Father are so good to you, can't you see that?" Regulus tries to ban the bitterness from his voice. Even with all the chaos and airheadedness, the parents still love Sirius. Regulus still can't shake the feeling that they love Sirius more than him. No matter how often show Regulus off, use him as the example of a good son to strive towards. They love Sirius so much. Adore him and his head full of rebellion.

"What do you want, Regulus?" Sirius asks again. This time he turns around and pierces Regulus with his too dark eyes. Even their regal silver is muddied by black, blue and grey. Sometimes brown in bad light. The mole on Sirius' lower lid always looks like dirt. Only now does he see that Sirius is holding his old quidditch bag. It's ratty. Kreacher and Mother have thrown it out several times, but Sirius has fished it out of the garbage every time. It's big. Roomy enough for the bat, and gear.

"Are you going somewhere?" Regulus asks back. Sirius let's out another hysteric laugh.

"Yes," he answers.

This might not be a bad idea. Life is easier when Sirius takes off. The parents get along, social dinners go smoothly, Regulus gets the sleep he needs.

Sirius has gone back to throwing things around. There is an order to it, he hadn't recognised earlier.

"Try and go quietly," Regulus advises. He prefers not to listen to Mother rant and cry over the loss of her eldest son when Sirius makes one of his dramatic exits. He will be able to make arrangements for the next days to avoid all of that, but tonight it would be uncouth.

Sirius snorts: "Whatever."

Regulus contemplates on what to say next.

"I won't come back this time," Sirius says. His voice is filled with many emotions which Regulus has no interest in.

"Good," he says instead. This takes care of all of Regulus' problems.

[buttered-milky]

Russingon being an incestuous couple is so fucking interesting to me for what it represents narratively. (Yes, I know they are not canonically a couple. No, I do not care, because I do believe the coding is on purpose. Even if it’s accidental, it’s still there.)

If you don’t have a lot of experience with incest in other fiction (for example: the staple gothic horror), incest usually represents deviance. That’s just what it says on the tin: diverting from norms. Usually in a bad way. Deviance can be narratively treated as bad or wrong, and there is plenty of deviance from our meta societal norms with these two, but I digress. I don’t want to talk about that today.

I want to talk about subversion, and the deviance that is sometimes good, actually, and the message that sometimes you must break norms to do good.

[PS guys if you read all this and want to add your thoughts please do! This is kind of half-baked and I’d love to see more opinions because I’ve not seen anyone talk about this much.]

They are so fucking fascinating, because they are deviant! They are! Their entire relationship is baffling politically because of the Finwëan house feuds. More importantly, they have individual deviances that this relationship is telling you to pick up on.

.

Maedhros is a Kinslayer. Maedhros is also arguably the most heroic one of his siblings.

.

No, we can’t burn the ships. How the fuck are we gonna get Fingon over here?

No, I have to go parley with Morgoth.

I have to abdicate the crown because I’m becoming something I don’t want to be.

No, I have to put myself in front of everyone else. I have to hold Himring so the rest of Beleriand doesn’t get nuked.

I have to summon everyone for the Nirnaeth.

.

And then after Fingon dies in the Nirnaeth, Maedhros (as we all know) goes fully off the rails—which is to say, he becomes fully Fëanorian. He goes back to the norm for his family.

There are more Kinslayings. He tries once to save two twin children, and that’s it. He gives up. There is no more hope. Maglor is responsible for taking in the next set. Maglor also wants to beg the Valar for forgiveness, and maybe Maedhros would’ve seen the sense in that once, but instead he becomes the second coming of his father and dies burning, clutching onto his Oath.

The deviance from Fëanorian standards was the only thing keeping him from becoming a monster for all that time.

.

Fingon is also (very likely) a Kinslayer. He’s also the family extrovert and hope incarnate.

Unlike Aredhel and Turgon, he does not seclude himself for his own protection. He does the opposite.

.

No, we can’t just stay here in Aman. We need to protect the other half of our people??

No, we actually have to get Maedhros. Fine, I’ll do it myself then. I’ll reach out to the gods while I’m at it, since none of you will.

Of course we’re going to join every battle. Of course we’re going to help hold down Beleriand.

If I have to face evil alone I suppose I will, then.

.

And he dies when he’s alone against those Balrogs. Fingon is also like his father in many ways—but in some ways he is not. He is brighter, sometimes. He is hope incarnate in the worst of places.

.

I’m far from the first person to acknowledge that what Maedhros and Fingon have going on is a very strong message to never give up hope. But like—not just that. What kills me is that, you know, the hope and the heroism and the goodness is the deviance.

They like each other while most of the Noldor are off getting doomed or fighting with their relatives. You get to those little bits where it mentions Maedhros and Fingon still keeping up their friendship and you kind of have to think “damn, at least some people still genuinely love each other in the midst of all this horror.” It’s sweet. And yet it’s deviant.

And that’s weird, right? Usually deviance is bad. But I think here it’s more neutral. Just presented as: this is not the common option, not the norm. It’s not the common option, but it leads to one of the kinder relationships in the Silm.

The Silm wants you, the reader, to take away that you should have hope and goodness, even when everything around you is hell. Even when it is the hard option. When it becomes hardest to hold up light and help others, that is when it’s needed most.

It will be scary sometimes to be hopeful, and that’s okay. It will be scary to extend yourself. It will be scary to trust and to defend others. That’s okay. Do it fucking scared and keep doing it.

[hanasnx]

because we get married super young like some kind of drunk and torrid marriage of a few months because we were so in love and thought we were gonna feel like this forever. we thought nothing could stop us and we sucked on each other’s tongues for a photobooth picture to commemorate our engagement.

then the honeymoon phase is over, the rose colored glasses tint, i see his flaws and he sees mine and we don’t have sex anymore. we’re too mad at each other, too resentful, there’s too much piled up. we’re fighting all the time it’s exhausting, i’m kicking him out of our bed because im so mad i can’t sleep next to him. we get a divorce to get away from each other but we never truly go no contact. he comes over to pick up the last of his stuff and we fuck about it for the last time. breaking that long standing dry spell and he breaks my pussy in.

everybody knows me as the crazy ex wife. everybody’s heard the exaggerated stories of how i threw a hairdryer at his head (it’s completely hyperbolic, yes i threw that hairdryer but he wasn’t even in the same room). people think i’m some toxic tyrannical nagging psycho who would’ve keyed his car if it wasn’t already such a shitty piece of junk. everybody rolls their eyes when jake talks about me yet again and about how if he was still with me he would’ve hung himself just to get away from me. he talks about my erratic moodiness and how nothing was ever good enough for me but the sex—god, the sex was amazing. best he’s ever had. best he could ever find. no one’s like me. you just can’t beat batshit crazy pussy.

the no contact of either six months to two years is broken, and we meet up against our better judgement. sparks fly. it’s like old times. easy conversation, stray looks, familiar touches. everything lingers, tensions rise, eye contact holds. suddenly i’m inviting him back to my place because why not? he’s an old friend. and then we fuck like old friends. we fuck on my couch, on my counter, on my glass windows, on my coffee table, on my kitchen island, on my bed, in my shower, in my bathroom. it’s like making up for lost time. it’s fucking disgusting. the place smells like sex. we barely take water n snack breaks and when we clean up we clean up each other in the shower and start it all over again. we can’t keep our hands off each other. like we’re two horny teenagers with libido off the charts again and the honeymoon phase is back for an encore. we do this little thing for a while, obviously the sex disperses but we still date, we still hang out, we still act like a couple. he buys me a ring and says “baby, i wanna do this right. let’s try again.” and i throw my arms around his neck.

“it won’t be like the first time.” we agree but by god it’s just like the first time. as if having a ring on my finger turns me into a bitch and being stuck in the same confines as that man drives me nuts. all those flaws i forgot about come back to bite me in the ass and he spends too much time at the bar to get away from me. i tell him to sleep there if he likes it so much, he says maybe there i’ll finally meet a chick who’s not fucking insane. then we get physical, then we get physical, on the floor like animals making half-assed promises to each other that i’ll do better, i’ll do better but we never really do. we fight about where to park, what to get to eat, about how jake doesn’t carry a key, and how i have a shopping problem. we fight about whether to go to mutual friend parties and if we can afford to dine out. we fight about how he’s bullheaded and i’m defensive and then we kiss like we haven’t seen each other in a while and i tell him i love how headstrong he is and he tells me he loves how smart i am.

then we separate—not quite divorce. but he moves out again. but he still calls me his wife. i still call him my husband. we miss each other. we call at night. we say “we’re no good for each other.” and we agree on that, but despite knowing that we still love each other. we agree it’s time to call it. we sign the official papers again. i still call him my husband, he still calls me his wife

need to get married to jake sully, get divorced, be known as his crazy ex wife, get married again bcos we’re crazy in love and can’t stop fucking like bunnies, constantly fight, and get divorced again, that’s how divorced i need to be

[elizabeth-dicewielder]

Having emotions about Naminé again

[thehighlordofspring]

Tamlin avoided eye contact for the rest of the walk, regretting saying anything. The silence had been nice. Now, she was holding back tears and he just felt guilty. The last thing Caiden needed was to see his two new parents fighting. Tamlin remembered being a little boy whose parents were constantly arguing. He remembered the fear. He still felt it.

It was safe to say that many of the things Briar said sounded much the way his mother had once plead his father for attention, affection, and kindness. All his father had ever done was take his wife when he wanted her, have his way, and leave her crying on the mattress.

That isn’t who I am.

Tamlin clenched his jaw, bracing himself for the wave of anger that usually followed memories of how his father had treated his mother; but nothing came. He just felt hollow, empty — a shell of the man he’d once been.

There had been a time when he’d loved to laugh, when the flowers in his garden had been the place that he whispered his secrets, when his heart was made of stone but still wild and carefree. There had been a time when he believed in love. Love which was redeeming, and powerful. Love strong enough to break the fiercest of curses.

His heart began racing. He inhaled sharply, backing away from the gate. Tamlin began muttering under his breath, pulling at his hair, and trying to relieve the pressure in his head. No, no, no, no. Not again.

The last time this happened — people had been hurt. Seriously, hurt. His control of his magic might be better now, but that didn’t mean it was not dangerous.

Belief seemed useless now and his hands were cold. He still lived with the silent wish that the grave had swallowed him like so many of his friends. Like Andras, who’d sacrificed his own life and his future with a family, for a single chance at breaking a curse. Like, Feyre — who’d broken it; but truly died, without her humanity.

Like Eiley.

Like Mama.

Why did he keep going when the entire world kept trying to swallow him beneath it? If he didn’t believe, why did he still try?

Deep down within him, tangled inside the webs of despair and anger — lived a quiet whisper.

You deserved better than all of this. What would you do if you could do it all again?

Would he launch himself into the great unknown and follow a love that he did not believe in? Could he truly learn to care about someone whose care for him was so loud that it deafened every doubt he had in himself?

I can’t. His eyes were spinning. His heart was pounding upon his chest like an angry fist. It hadn’t been the same since the almost wedding.

Broken heart syndrome.

Either way, Tamlin knew that no matter what happened between him and Briar, his heart would never be the same again. He’d let hope in and hope was a stubborn bastard.

The ache in his chest only continued to grow. He backed away, tripping over his own feet and retreating back into the forest. He had to get away from here. This kind of magic would terrify any human within visual distance.

Broken hearts were not beautiful when they barred their teeth.

This Life is Sweeter Than Fiction (ft. @springcourthighlady)

Daylight folded through the narrow window in the room of the inn and warmed Tamlin’s face, urging him to wake. He wasn’t a morning person. Given his proclivity to stay up late into the night, waking up was not exactly his favorite thing. He was used to waking up to a cold bed and sore body, pained from a night of thrashing through his nightmares alone. Instead, this morning, he woke to the gentle breath of a female on his neck.

Still sleepy, his dreams had a hold on him, and he remembered the early days before the mountain — before all hell rained upon his court, before he’d lost his faith in himself, and in love. Yet, he woke further and the body next his own did not line up with memory, only emotion.

The way he’d danced around the lines with Briar last night was not far from Tamlin’s mind as he woke. Mornings? Those, he didn’t like. Morning affection? Oh, how sweet it was to taste.

Still, the High Lord pushed a reminder of his boundaries into his view, forcing away the rose tinted glasses.

Sleeping together was different than sleeping together.

He carefully climbed from the bed and pulled the blankets back up to Briar’s shoulder. A shower would do him some good, but they did not need more temptation. Still, she tended to panic when he disappeared. Tamlin pursed his lips and entered the bathing room, locking it twice, magically and manually.

The cold water dripped down from the pipes and once again settled him back into a stern sense of reality. They had a purpose here. This wasn’t a vacation…nor a honeymoon. It was a rescue. At least one of them needed to keep their head on straight.

He pulled his clothes on and wrapped a towel around his long hair, leaving the bathroom with a toothbrush. Sure — he could use magic to power through these tasks; but apparently he needed to get better at being human. That meant brushing his teeth with a small, infernal, tickly device.

By the time he turned around the privacy screen and into the room, Briar was awake.

Well. She said she wanted him to practice being human.

He furrowed his brows, with a teasing smile. “Hush. High Lords have dental hygiene too.”

[fellhellion]

I honestly need to write the Gabriel blows up @ Miguel fic. Truly, write the content u wish to see in the world kind of shit.

[todayisafridaynight]

I just wanna say that I stalk ur blog a lot like I was already obsessed with Daigo and ur artwork tripled my obsession and I love every single one of ur posts <3

omg bestie !!!!!! tysm for lovin my posts im glad i can make stuff you enjoy (❁´◡`❁)

[shoveitevil]

god. why does no one care about me in this damned house

[bettsfic]

one of the best decisions i've ever made was to stop arguing.

i'd always been an arguer. i was defensive about everything and mindlessly contrary. it wasn't all my fault; i was (and still am) talked down to and patronized a lot, and when you live your life that way, you become kind of a raw nerve and dedicate a lot of energy to trying to prove yourself. someone even told me once, "it's just fun messing with you. you get so upset."

at 23, i was working in an environment where about a half dozen middle aged conservative men were always telling me what to do and explaining things to me. i either argued with them when they said heinous things or stewed about it for hours or even days. and so my new year's resolution one year was simply: no arguing.

it felt a little like defeat at first, like i was no longer standing up for what i believed in, even though no matter how right i was or how much proof i had for my claims, no one had ever been swayed by anything i told them. part of that was because they had no respect for me and didn't take me seriously; the other part was the simple truth that arguments are almost never productive. when someone says something and you immediately reply with, "you're wrong and here's why," a wall goes up and nothing can go over it.

i couldn't just let these men talk at me though, so i started asking questions. not leading questions, not with an intention to prove a point or walk them into a corner. i genuinely wanted to understand how they came to shape the opinions they held. i realized that understanding and agreeing are two different things, and just because i seek to understand doesn't mean i condone.

a truly fascinating thing happened: these men walked into corners all by themselves. it turns out nobody had ever actually tasked them with speaking their opinions aloud to a neutral audience. no one had ever been sincerely curious about them and their views. sure, their loved ones probably asked, "how are you doing?" all the time as a show of affection, but that's much different than, "what do you think?"

knowing what i know now, i think that's true of everyone. how many people ask you for your opinion and listen to what you have to say without speaking their opinion back to you? without judging you? how many people actively and intentionally try to understand you?

it's been over ten years since my resolution and i think i can count the arguments i've gotten into on one hand. one finger, even. it's amazing what happens when someone tries to rile you up, pick a fight with you, and your only response is, "can you elaborate on that?"

you can work someone into a very open and vulnerable state when you ask questions. they eventually run out of their usual talking points and move into the personal. when i do this, it's not like therapy; i'm not trying to help anyone. and it's not like teaching; i'm not trying to educate anyone. i just want to understand how people reach the conclusions they've come to. even after all these years of asking questions and not arguing, it still amazes me how few people in this world feel understood, and how easy it is to get them to open up when you say, "i want to know what you think."

[tender-rosiey]

“GOOD! NOW PUNCH HIS FACE!”

— when your baby and gojo, geto, nanami, toji, and sukuna get protective over you (f!reader)

a/n: I am alive!! as an apology here is a multi-character post 🙏 btw in toji's part, you're megumi's mom

GOJO SATORU:

two peas in a pod, twins, copies: these are all things people have called your husband and son.

honestly, they’re not wrong. your son has his father’s looks—satoru swears he has your nose and ears but anyway—and he carries the same protectiveness and love he holds for you, if not amplified.

you can’t count on one hand the amount of times the house has been turned upside down because of their fights for a cuddle session with you.

of course, you have always tried suggesting them simply sharing you, but these problem children would rather eat raw zucchini than ever share the cuddle time.

so while your son is barely six, you can still count on him to team up with satoru against anyone who wrongs you in anyway like what’s happening right now for example.

you’re out with your lovely family to buy some groceries, and since they both were whining about getting some sweets, you allowed them to go and snatch a couple from the next aisle.

on the other hand, you stayed to look for another type of detergent to clean the floor—especially since satoru got this new type of paint for s/n and it’s quite an endeavor to remove it with a regular detergent.

however, being in the cleaning supplies section never guaranteed the lack of filthy men who can’t take no for an answer. this one man approaches you, smug grin on his face as he leans on the wall, “what’s a pretty lady like you doing alone?”

“buying groceries like a normal person; now please leave me alone.”

he quickly frowns, “don’t be so stingy doll,” his hand extends towards your arm, “I can show you a good time; I promise—“

the man is swiftly smacked with an egg on his face, and he is left with the egg dripping down his face, “what’s your wrong with your kid, man?!” he yells at the person behind you.

he then grumbles, “ruined a potential good night.”

“my kid was absolutely right in what he did,” you hear satoru’s voice. you then feel a hand on your shoulder, and you’re pulled into a chest you’re all too familiar with, “’toru—“

your husband shoots a small smile your way, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, before looking at his son, “that last throw was very good, s/n! throw another one but just below his stomach."

a cheshire cat-like grin is plastered on your husband’s face as s/n prepares to launch another egg at the man.

there is a very evident scowl on your son’s face as he yells, “don’t you ever bother mama again, you stinky bum crumb!”

the man gasps and tries to make a run for it, but your son wouldn’t be the son of gojo satoru if he doesn’t manage to land the hit exactly where he wants.

the man quickly crumbles to the ground screaming and alerting literally everyone in the store.

so satoru picks both you and s/n and makes a run for it.

you hold tightly onto him, “wait, ‘toru, the groceries!”

“we can always order! saving my princess and son is more important!”

your son grumbles, “but I want to hit the rude man!”

“me too, champ, but—“ satoru sweat-drops and glances behind him, “I doubt the angry security guards would like that!”

GETO SUGURU:

your twin girls are one of the sassiest to exist.

in a way, they take after their father who is also pretty sassy but very low-key.

the sass of all three combined is terrible to be the victim of. luckily for you, they don’t dare direct their triple ray towards you, especially—in any argument—at least one will try to win you over.

if it’s suguru trying to stay on your good side, then he is hugging you from behind, pressing feather-like kisses on your shoulder and whispering about how sweet you are. if it’s the girls, then they cling to your legs and keep yelling about how much they love you.

so it is safe to say that you have a small squad to protect you from any potential “danger”.

“oh my, dear shouldn’t you focus on refining yourself a bit more?” you hear a woman say beside you.

you turn towards her, offended, “excuse me?”

“I mean,” her eyes scan you, disapprovingly, “you look average at best, and with that you won’t be able to find yourself a husband, let alone have children.”

you’re still processing her audacity as she continues, “but then again, it’s probably for the better that you don’t have children; you can barely take care of yourself.”

“can I help you?” your husband says as he approaches the woman.

she smiles condescendingly before chuckling, “I was simply telling this lady to take care of herself more; she hardly looks presentable.”

geto’s smiles tenses up as he is about to give the woman a calm peace of his mind, but his daughters beat him to it.

your older twin stands in front of the woman, scanning her with pure disgust in her eyes.

she grimaces and voices out her thoughts, “you are like a crunchy lizard.”

the woman gasps, “how dare you—!”

you cut off the woman, curious about your daughter’s conclusion, “why a crunchy lizard, sweetheart?”

your daughter looks at you with a small frown, shaking her head, “a crunchy lizard is an ugly sad lizard.”

a snort escapes your husband, and you’re barely able to contain your smile.

your other daughter follows up, looking at her twin sister, “the lady looks like that one green thingy we saw yesterday,” she taps her little foot, trying to remember and beams at the woman, “shrek! you look like shrek!”

then they both glare at her, frowning, “you’re a monkey!”

your husband doesn’t let it go as he deals the final—subtle—blow, “come on now girls; we shouldn’t bully the lady with the mcdonald’s like hairline anymore.”

it seems like the woman can’t take it anymore as she starts sobbing and running to the hills.

a moment of silence is shared across the four of you, before you carry both of your girls in your arms and start tickling them, “I don’t know whether to be proud of you or scold you, little evil girls!”

they squeal, trying to escape your hold and calling for their father.

geto chuckles and wraps his arms around the three of you, “let them have it for tonight, y/n,” he ruffles their hair, “they were brave and defended their mom, after all.”

“yeah, papa is right!”

“yes mama, please!”

you pout then smirk at geto, “well I don’t mind, and since papa is also very proud of you girls, he will buy any toy that you guys want today!”

the color drains from your husband’s face, and he watches motionlessly as his girls latch onto him, screaming about the toys they want.

you giggle at his expression and blow him a kiss. he reluctantly blows you one back, while the girls excitedly pull him towards the toy store.

NANAMI KENTO:

you and your husband were blessed with the sweetest girl as your daughter, and she was just recently joined by another sweet girl.

you can never forget the happiness on your daughter’s face when she saw her baby sister.

it also seems that no matter how many times you give birth, your husband can’t help but get emotional when he holds your baby. his hands are forever delicate as he cradles her to his chest.

you remember what he said during the birth of your first daughter.

“I feel like a piece of heaven has been plucked and placed in my arms.”

the way he always goes soft for the three of you is honestly adorable.

today, you were going on an outing with your—now 6 months old—baby and your older daughter who is almost six.

your husband never brags about his muscular form, but he never misses a chance to carry the baby or the baby supplies.

you have offered to at least carry the bag, but he always refuses, stating that ‘you already carried the baby for nine entire months in your belly; this is the least I can do.’

so yeah, sometimes you wish to smooch your husband till forever, but that’s not the point.

you’re walking hand in hand with your daughter as she sings her favorite song. you hear someone click their tongue, so you look to the side and lock eyes with an old lady. she takes the opportunity and approaches you.

“you should be ashamed of yourself!” she yells pointing at you, “your husband shouldn’t be carrying the baby supplies nor the baby itself for the matter,” she scowls, “that’s your job!”

“with all due respect ma’am, but that isn’t her job, and taking care of the baby should be something we are both responsible for.”

“yeah!” your daughter huffs, “and don’t take out your sad life on my mama!”

your eyes widen as you stare at your daughter.

on the other side, your husband is just as speechless. your daughter pays no one any mind as she continues, “mama works hard every day! you wouldn’t know that! you immature nugget!”

nanami frowns lightly, “d/n, that’s not nice—“

and for the cherry on top, your baby daughter throws the bottle cap she was playing with at the old lady, and frowns at her.

she starts babbling some nonsense that you're pretty sure are curse words in baby language.

having had enough, the old lady huffs, “the utter disrespect,” and starts walking away.

the rest of the spectators’ eyes follow her till she is out of sight. finally then, people start minding their own business, and you and your little family are left to the aftermath.

you giggle, “that was funny.”

“really?!” your daughter beams.

nanami cuts her off, “no,” he then looks at you with a small frown, a sigh escaping his lips, “y/n don’t encourage them—“

your baby daughter screams happily when she sees her sister smile. she starts kicking her feet with the biggest smile on her own face.

your older daughter starts laughing with her and tries to make her little sister laugh more—she was successful.

meanwhile, you chuckle, leaning on your husband’s shoulder, “admit it, kento; it was kind of funny.”

his resolve softens at the sound of laughter from all three of his girls, “okay, maybe a little, but—“

“yay!!”

ladies: 1

kento: 0

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

your husband and son are so alike, save for the part that your husband is a bit more shameless, and your son is more on the shy side.

however, they both have the same bluntness and the tendency to give anyone who they don’t like attitude.

for example, today, you were walking in the park with the both of them to unwind a bit.

not to mention that megumi wanted to walk his dogs which was a plus, since you would be able to watch your dear son play around with them.

it was all going great until you saw an old ‘friend’ who came running at the sight of you. he was someone who has always been way too touchy and in your personal bubble.

you have tried talking to him about it, but you’re confident that he does it to somehow force you into reciprocating the intimacy.

even if you’re a married woman with a freaking kid.

he giddily clasps your hand, “y/n, ‘been a long time!”

“h-hey,” you smile awkwardly.

he laughs, “I was passing by when I saw your figure, and I couldn’t help but come and say hi.”

you nod, “that’s great, but I am busy, so maybe later?—“

“you’ve gotten even prettier!” he exclaims, “I wish you would finally take me out on a—“

“can’t you see that she is uncomfortable?” your son retorts, “also, you should step back; you shouldn’t touch someone like this without asking them.”

megumi squeezes himself between the both you and glares at the man.

the guy was about to reply to your son, but toji pushes him back with ease, pulling you beside him and hand resting on your waist almost by instinct, “kid is right,” he tilts his head a bit, “ever been taught manners or do I have to do the teaching for you?”

the guy is taken back; offended, he snaps “you can’t speak to me like that!”

“and you can’t hold my mom’s hands like that, but here we are,” your son cleverly sasses him.

on the other hand, your—shameless—husband pulls you into one scandalous kiss and smirks at the guy when he pulls back, “and you can’t hit on a married woman, by the way.”

you hear your son gag in disgust at his dad’s actions, but you’re too busy burying your face in your husband’s chest, hoping that the guy disappears before toji makes even more of a bigger scene.

you also hope that the ground would swallow you, but that’s the alternative option.

the guy clutches his fist, before walking away, spewing insults at the sky—since he is too scared to cuss out your buff husband. once the man is out of sight, toji ruffles megumi’s hair, chuckling, “good job, kid.”

your shy bean’s cheeks redden slightly as he looks away, “…thanks.”

you’re still thinking about what just happened when you slap your husband’s chest, “toji, literally why?” you grumble, patting megumi who started holding onto your leg the moment you hugged toji.

“why not,” your husband shrugs with a small smile, taking pride in your flustered form.

“dad, I want ice cream.”

“no, you just want me to let go your mom, so you can hog her for yourself,” toji grumbles, staring down at megumi.

unfaltering, megumi looks up at him ,“dad, I want ice cream.”

“god damn it, listen here you—“

“divine dogs.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

there is no denying that both your son and your husband care for you very much, and they both—very aggressively—compete for your attention.

I am talking he literally throws the kid across the room kind of aggressive, and your son, in turn, throws whatever he has at him.

it’s eventful, but you would be lying if you said that it wasn’t one of the reasons why you will get grey hair earlier than everyone else.

so their very aggressive nature is also shown in their protectiveness over you.

a person doesn’t need to insult or even dare flirt with you for your devil duo to make their life a living hell; your husband and son don’t tolerate someone speaking to you if it causes you to ignore both of them.

for example, this one new servant was clueless to where the broom is, and unluckily for him, he saw you sitting with your husband and son in the gardens. he humbly approached you, “excuse me, m’lady.”

you turn to look at him with a smile, “yes?”

he clears throat, a bit flustered by the attention, “I—I wanted to ask where the—“

“up your ass, you disgusting fiend,” your son sneers followed by his father’s ever-permanent scowl.

“who gave you the permission to come and speak to her so casually?” sukuna presses, and the servant quickly falls to his knees.

“m-my apologies, my lord! I did not mean to disturb you!”

sukuna crosses his arms, “well, you did, and you also disturbed your queen and prince,” his eyes narrow at the servant, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

meanwhile, you’re watching all of that, mouth agape and trying to articulate anything to save the poor guy. you finally find your voice, “sukuna, it’s okay; he didn’t mean—“

your son hugs you tightly and glares at the servant, “to think he would so brazenly speak to you like you’re old friends is terrible, mother.”

you can almost see your son’s cursed energy flaring, and you can spot the small smirk on your husband’s face as he watches his son.

before it escalates any further and you find yet another dead corpse in your palace, you pick up your son, kissing his cheek which makes him flustered and causing him to bury his face in your neck.

you look at the servant, “you’re dismissed, and you can ask the head maid about anything you need, okay?”

“y-yes, m’lady!” he, however, stays glued to the ground, “may I have the permission to lift my head?”

sukuna grunts, “sure.”

“thank you, m’lord,” the servant says, before scurrying towards the gate, having secured his freedom after his little mistake.

or at least, that’s what he thought.

your husband slices his legs off with a flick of a finger, and your son, who has inherited his father’s technique, slices the head off.

and so the body falls to the ground, and the other servants hurriedly start cleaning up the mess.

you frown at your husband, “sukuna! he apologized!”

he rolls his eyes, and pulls you by the waist, “do I look like I care? he shouldn’t have interrupted our time together.”

“aww, you’re jealous!”

“no, I am not—“

“hands off, old man!”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported