#anyway this was drawn without references so if they look off that's why

[idanit]

what HO—

[soarrenbluejay]

Since I’ve been encouraged to actually share my funny little blorbo ideas here’s another one gang;

Danny moves to Gotham on scholarship for engineering, because the Fentons may be infamous but they’re also insanely brilliant and besides both he and Jazz are showing every sign of embarrassed child of a super genius syndrome, so while the bats are keeping a close eye on him Just In Case, duke is also thinking of introducing him to the Our Parents Are Maniacs But Anyway club maybe after the first month or so.

Gotham does not go for standard dorm living bc of his ‘condition’ and lack of wanting to constantly spook/gaslight a roommate. Besides, living with two small children is a dorm sounds like a disaster in action.

So Danny signs up as a mechanic in Crime Alley, buys himself a teeny weensy lil apartment and Makes It Work. He has been all year after showing up with a de aged Dani and Dan in Amnity after all, and that had gone,,, fine? (The entire town, observing how Danny had been getting increasingly more uncomfortable around his godfather prior to the cloning incident, then just dropped off the face of the earth for several months, the first two weeks stuck in Vlad’s basement enduring horrors and the next Too Many desperately fapping around in the Ghost Zone to get everything handled. All the clones live, all 13 of them. Bunch of them are stuck in the Ghost Zone due to constant need for ectoplasm, but eh, plenty of Zone born never leave, so. One, in the future, apprentices under a green warrior lady on Pandora’s suggestion, another is working in the Eternal Library with Ghost Writer, etc etc. so Danny eventually came back to Amnity with one small child under each arm very obviously traumatized by Somethingn with vlad and doesn’t like being alone with him,,, or touched without warning,, and immediately and passionately proclaims the kids his but struggles to explain how or why,, look some very reasonable assumptions are drawn okay. So the town does the very reasonable thing and does the midwestern equivilant of excommunicating Vlad, except it’s a lot more run him out with pitchforks vibes since he’s the Mayor. Anyway)

He is immediately loved, because while non Gothamites are usually more of a pain than they’re worth, everyone in a while someone even from out of town will just fit in so nicely it’s uncanny for everyone involved. Addams family vibes, it’s referred to as ‘making it home’, just personal hc. He is protective of all the kids playing in the parks and street girls that can totally take care of themselves on their corners but find it HILARIOUS when he just tackles a dick like a wild animal full force no warning. He can fix anything it seems, but refuses to work with weapons. Reasonable enough, people get twitchy about gangs sometimes. Danny mentions being not against Hood or anything, but he’s not going to work for him, littles to take care of and all, but had past experience with ‘Dora and that inheritance mess with her brother he was being a real prick about’ so everyone assumes it’s the equivilant of him having Done His Time and being plenty good for a life time and respects it as long as none of that petty midwestern small town hotshots bring any of that shit over here. And they don’t, because said individuals are on the other side of the mortal veil, so happy day.

See I really love deaged!Dan because he’s just a grumpy lil guy. But he’s also killed millions. He’s so protective of his loved ones, but held back by blending in and also being Smol that it comes off more bitey kitten than anything else. Dani, of course, is a terror, so she fits right in with the crowd.

And sorry gang, but a bunch of kids on their own in Gotham in a poor side of the city just isn’t going to get any attention: that’s just business as usual really. What first gets attention on Danny is not his ‘condition’ or being mistaken for a meta (which he legally probs has an argument for even without the gene bc like these bitches don’t know how metaism works anyway so) or alien (I’m 90% sure he’d be covered by the alien protection act by virtue of being half ‘not from earth’), but because Danny despite best efforts is a Weird Guy.

He grew up in what could only be described as a low level villain level and spent most of high school dealing with smack downs and spiritual invasion. He’s never really processed that any of that is not in fact Normal. Also, he’s capable of making Anything if given the insides of a toaster, blender and alarm clock, and could probably rewrite the circuits of the apartment blindfolded and improve them 1000% even if it ABSOLUTELY would not be up to code.

And sure, things slip every once in a while, bits of spectral ice here, small floating incident there, but everyone just Minds Their Buisness ya know? You really gunna mess with the guy that personally ensured that when your car got flattened by a fight with Killer Croc, you were still able to get in to work the next day by some wizardry? Really?

But Gotham is a city so cursed it’s probably in the exponents countwise, so of course there is a) a flourishing community of magic users and assorted supernatural weirdos and b) a whole lot of shit for Mega Overpowered Ghost King Danny to idly pick at day to day in order to help with his protecting other Obsession. Gotham has plenty of heroes, but by god do they need the spiritual equivilant of an electrician/priest.

Still, Danny, as a baby ancient under a facet of Kronos and KING OF THE DEAD is like, way, way out of their scope to be able to grok, so it mostly just comes off as you know, a family of banshees or something. When asked, Danny very haltingly says he was briefly dead but then revived, which neatly explains his Weird Ass aura and makes it SPECTACULARLY AWKWARD to ask further about. So everyone nods politely, and goes back to their lives after double checking no nefarious bullshit was being pulled.

Then, of course, Vlad finally tracks them down. The whole neighborhood is altered in short order because he doesn’t bother trying to hide being a Rich Bitch or how he’s sneering down his nose at people on the sidewalk. Every connects the dots when Danny paniks. Dani and Dan’s daycare are staffed with some extra, very buff set of hands within the hour. Jerry, Hood’s third in command, personally shows up to the garage Danny is working at to talk things out with him bc he knows he does t like the deal with this stuff due to past unspecified circumstances but well, they guys had already started fucking with him, you see. Stole his tires, spray painted the windows, pickpocketed him blind, and when he retreated tipped off the police to the drugs they’d planted in the glove box.

Danny might not have been born in Gotham, but he was one of them. And the Alley takes care of it own.

[solbaby7]

Make You Feel Something

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: sexual tension, some anxious themes, probably typos, some swearing, and two best friends—they might kiss

summary: You paint a certain Shadowsinger like one of those French girls

[ inspired by that quote “Art isn’t supposed to be perfect, it’s supposed to make you feel something.]

—

“Just stay still.”

“I don’t know—I feel like I’m not doing this right.”

You sigh, a soft smile stretching across your features watching Azriel attempt to stop his fidgeting. “You’re doing perfect, just get comfortable and lay there—I’ll do the rest.”

The paper was thick, a little yellowed but the charcoal in your hand seems to enjoy such conditions. Your back settles into the plush cushions on the couch, a throw pillow tucked against your thighs and every now and then you glance over the sketchbook to peer over at the partially bared body before you. “What’s this for anyway?”

“Practice,” You mumble, clearly distracted when roughly outlining the shape of him, the throne of a seat he was splayed over, shirtless with his fighting leathers hanging dangerously low on his hips and large wings shuffled behind him. “Why are you so nervous? You’ve been shirtless around me a million times.”

His left arm shifts again before you can draw the outline of it. “No one’s ever painted me before.”

“Technically, I haven’t gotten to the painting part yet. This will eventually become my reference photo for that.” The words don’t soothe him how you’d hoped and after a while Az is moving enough to have you settling down the charcoal, eyes sliding to his own. “What’s going on in your head?”

“I don’t know where to put my hands.” The shadowsinger sheepishly admits, looking more boyish than you’d seen him in centuries. Dark hair falls over his forehead and judging by the neat lines along the perimeter of his head, Az had recently gotten a haircut.

He attempts to hide his hands, tucking them behind his head or shoving them under pillow until you make a move to shuffle off the couch and finally it all makes sense. The fidgeting wasn’t because your best friend laid half-naked before you but the creeping insecurity of his scars ruining the final product. “Lay like this,” Azriel’s like putty in your grasp, malleable and easy to guide when you shift one leg to casually drape over the arm rest. He’s at a bit of an angle but the way you position him gives off attractive arrogance, effortless masculinity mixed with a boyish charm. “They’re beautiful,” Your voice is filled with uncapped love, lips soft when you take both of his hands in your own and press a kiss on the back of each. “Art isn’t supposed to be perfect—it’s supposed to make you feel something.”

Hazel eyes take you in, memorizing the slight furrow of your brow as you make a few final adjustments; his hands on full display while you mumble under your breath, something about the lighting and your nose scrunches a little when his shadows tickle at your cheeks. “What do they make you feel?”

There’s a brief pause and you can’t make eye contact for a few seconds, fearful that if you did your resolve would break and you’d be too busy trying to take his clothes off to worry about the poor beginnings of your drawing. “I couldn’t tell you honestly without ruining our friendship,” His brow quirks, throat bobbing with a gulp. “—but if I didn’t like them I wouldn’t have asked you to model for me.” Relief spreads when a smile tugs at his mouth, head dipping down to hide the warmth that blooms at his cheeks when you waggle your brows at him. He’s much more relaxed when you return to your seat, a slow breath releasing from you as you twist your neck, fingers gripping around the charcoal once more and Azriel can’t seem to take his sights away from you.

Painted toes wiggle softly at the edge of the cushions, bare knees drawn up and your hair is gathered in a ponytail. You hum when you focus, some song Azriel’s never heard of before seeming to aid in alleviating the self-consciousness and pleasantly distracting his brain. Five minutes turn into ten, then fifteen before Azriel breaks the silence, being sure to keep his body exactly as you’d placed it. “What’s that song?”

“Not sure,” His body was an artists dream, all hard lines and alarmingly perfect symmetry; the golden light casting through the room, scattering moody shadows along the angles of Az’s face and your thighs clench slightly when you’re forced to pay such close attention to the plush curve of his mouth. “My mom used to sing it when I was really little—can’t remember all of it but it calms me down.”

“You’ve seen me shirtless a million times, what’s there to be nervous about?” Your eyes roll at his harmless teasing, huffing at the way he’d thrown your words back at you and it’s become increasingly harder than you make it look to get a fucking grip on your body’s reaction to him.

The response is instinctual, fingers rubbing the page to soften edges and your brain wanders to what it would be like for real. “You’re not exactly hard on the eyes and I’m not used to having a reason for examining your body for this long.” The warmth of his skin beneath your hands. The free will to travel the contours of his muscles and kiss each and every scar, ripple and divot formed by countless hours of training and dedication. He’s easy to draw when you spend so much time oggling, bottom lip caught between your teeth when mimicking the lines of his abdomen, the inky trail of hair that disappeared beneath dark grey fabric. “It’s truly annoying how perfect you are—could probably get some sort of sexual gratification from how satisfying it is to draw you.”

There’s no room for embarrassment when Az is so easy-going, the same laugh you’d always yearned for pulling from his throat and you have to swat away a few creeping shadows from sneaking a peek before the final result. “I’ve never heard that one before.”

“It’s true,” The fireplace crackles behind you, a warm glow filling the room and kissing at the exposed skin of the model before you. Sharp jaw, soft smile; the hard line of his brows smoothed out by the light in his eyes—like sweet honey and sunshine. “I’ve never once drawn someone like you.”

“I’d hope not.” Azriel’s head tilts just a little, brows furrowed in thought. “Who else do you ask to get half-naked for the sake of practice?”

He’s fully aware of how it sounds—the jealousy lacing his tongue and you have to pull your hands away from the paper a moment before the slight tremble threatened to ruin the flow of the strands of hair you’d been steadily shaping around his head. “Not many seeing as I usually prefer painting models that are nude. I figured for the sake of our friendship I’d spare you.”

“Spare me?” He scoffs in a way that reminds you of Rhys, a little cocky and entirely too confident. “I’m not sure your heart would’ve taken seeing me nude. Certainly, it was me doing you the favor keeping the rest of my clothes on.”

Azriel’s skin goes hot at your lack of response, gaze sliding thoroughly over the length of his body from the top of his head to the very tips of his toes and a slow smile appears. “You sound awfully confident,” You shift in place, adjusting your legs and stretching out to see him better. “Take it off then.”

His mouth parts, words caught in his throat for a few beats of time before letting out a breath. His hands hesitate before untying the leathers and shimmying them down his thighs. There’s no hiding the desire that clouds your vision when taking in the simple black material that held snug against his cock. His thumbs hook in the waistband, shoving them down and tossing them aside.

It’s not the most simple task to tweak at the preexisting sketch, snuffing out dark lines and fading them into the background enough to make it easier to map out the thick lines of his thighs and calves—the generous length hanging confidently between it all. “I wasn’t sure you’d actually do it.”

“Should I not have? Are you uncomfortable?”

Your head shakes in denial, brows furrowed in focus and Azriel can’t place how it feels to be looked at as a specimen rather than a person. Your gaze is admirably respectful, quick glances with your tongue peeking through when perfecting soft lines and adding shading here and there. “Believe it or not, I couldn’t be more relaxed.”

He believes it too, your heartbeat is steady and controlled, limbs perfectly lax and Azriel is more than grateful for the view when you’re all laid out; sleep clothes shifting with each move and desire burns in his belly when you flick your ponytail off your shoulder, exposing the curve of your neck. “Where do you plan on putting this?”

“Nowhere, it’s private.” For viewing pleasure only, for those late nights when picking up a random male from Rita’s didn’t quite scratch the itch. “Once the painting is finished I’ll give it to you and keep the sketch for my portfolio.” You move on to his wings, tongue clicking against the roof of your mouth when you slide from the cushions, bare toes sinking into the throw rug when you stand before him. “Can you put those up higher?” Azriel complies with ease, craning his wings higher but the furrow of your brow doesn’t subside. “Spread them a little.” Your head shakes when he moves and you reach up, fingers millimeters away before glancing down at him. “May I touch?”

He should’ve said no—maintaining some sort of boundary because drawing him naked was one thing but standing before him asking to touch; all the resolve in the world wouldn’t be able to save him. Azriel’s mouth opens, intent on saying no but by some sick sense of self-indulgence he nods in agreement, eyes fluttering shut when the scent of your shampoo enters his space. Warm skin grazes his own and while the shadowsinger is a tense mess beneath you, you’re the picture of serinity, completely in your element when carefully adjusting the membranous wings how you pleased. He tries to hold it back but your hands are so soft and the rough groan that fills the silence has goosebumps raising.

“You can feel all of that?”

Azriel traces a finger up the outer side of your thigh, pausing at the hem of your shorts. “Can you feel that?”

“Right, stupid question.” Maybe you linger longer than necessary, tracing over a texture you’d never felt before; not leathery, softer than that but just as sturdy. Warm to the touch and they shudder when you smooth over the thin seam at top that fused everything together. “They’re beautiful.”

“I’m flattered, really,” His voice is strained, hands clenched in tight fists and when you glance down past inky strands, his cock is standing at attention against his stomach. “—but I think you’re overestimating my self-control.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Not unless you asked me to.”

The swallow you force down is audible, hands shaky when you tuck them back at your sides but you don’t make a move to step away this time. Instead, you stand before him, fingers coated in charcoal and there’s a little smeared at your collarbone. His hand is up and touching before common sense can deter him; pure fire burns beneath each fleeting touch, knuckles grazing at the curve of your jaw and there’s no hiding the rising beat of your heart when he wipes your skin clean. “Thanks.”

“You shouldn’t be thanking me,” His head falls back, words low and barely contained. The hands he pulls away keep drawing back like a magnet, touching greedily at the sides of your thighs and stopping at your waist. “I’m supposed to be helping you and my thoughts are not very helpful.”

Years of denying himself the simple pleasure of touch and the powerhouse of a male on the battlefield is reduced to a simpering baby, grappling for more touch, more of your silky clothes shifting against his skin and the sweet smell of vanilla and cocoa, sugar cookies and warm milk filling his nose when he pulled you in closer. Better judgement makes you wonder if you should pull away, find a way to comfort him and keep it friendly but the more distance that closes between you the more of that hard length you begin to feel against you. “Az—“ He doesn’t let the warning fully come to life, hands twisting behind the back of your knees until you’re sat above him, resting on bare thighs and your hands brace at his shoulders.

“I know,” Azriel repeats it over and over under his breath, face buried in the dip of your throat, mouth grazing at the sensitive skin there and the little whimper he draws from you has that hard cock between you twitching against your stomach. “I thought I could handle it but you just feel so fucking good.”

It was wrong.

So fucking wrong.

Shit like this never ended well; mixing fucking and friendship but while you kept thinking no your body stubbornly arched into his touch. You bared more of your throat to him when he buries his nose there, taking in your smell while he memorized the feel of you. The slope of your shoulders, the flare of your ribs and the soft curve of your stomach. You grind onto him, searching for more friction when Azriel follows the length of your legs down then up to cup the fat of your ass. “Take it off.”

You feel weak; too captivated to acknowledge your backbone when you tug the shirt from your head and throw it somewhere behind you. His mouth is insatiable when pressing kisses to every inch of exposed flesh, holding you closer with each breathy moan and whispered plea for more, more, more. Nothing could’ve prepared you for his mouth finally slotting over your own.

Azriel’s careful now, slow and attentive, maintaining a pace as you got to know one another in ways you’d only thought about when you’d snuffed out the fire for the night and shuffled under the covers, fingers hiked up your nightgown for a few minutes of uninterrupted pleasure. He groans into your mouth when tongues touch, fingers tangling in your hair to keep you close.

You hand slides between the two of you, wrapping around the stiff length of him and the moan he lets out has him sinking back into the chair. Preening under the attention you continue, gaze locked on the half-lidded hazel eyes before you, his arms flexing at his sides, hands holding onto your thighs for stability because your hands were so soft, holding him so firmly and the steady drags up and down was enough to have his thoughts muddled and hips bucking up into your touch. Swears spill from his mouth like prayers, pleading and begging for you to keep going and watching him crumble beneath you was a greater high than any smokes or powders. “Feels so fucking good.”

“You look good under me,” Draped across a throne like some entitled High Lord finally receiving his birthweight as promised. “You close already?” Azriel’s cock throbs in your hands, pre-cum oozing from his slit and the thumb that curls to swipe over it is torturous. “Poor Illyrian baby—I’ve barely even touched you yet.” A cruel laugh accompanies the choppy breaths and hazel eyes kept falling victim to the backs of his lids. “The High Lords spymaster. The feared Shadowsinger. A great warrior with seven Syphons to hold onto all that power and here you are,” Your pace speeds up, pure feminine satisfaction building when watching such manly power submit beneath a woman. “—falling apart just for me.”

You feel his release coating your palm and you use it for better slip when you keep going, riding out his pleasure until he’s pulling your hands away, chest heaving.

He watches you slip from his lap while he catches his breath, catching a towel tossed his way for the mess. “Clean up for me, I need to finish this before the lanterns burn out.”

Azriel doesn’t listen though, rising from the throne and clearing the distance between you in no more than three steps and his mouth is right back on your own.

Fuck it, some of the best art was left unfinished anyway.

[enha-hype]

who’s ponyo?

pairing : byun euijoo x gender neutral reader

genre : fluff, strangers to lovers, cafe au, bit of comfort at the end

warnings : kms jokes, mentions of a sad movie lol

synopsis : what happens when you run into the human version of your favourite studio ghibli character at the cafe you frequent?

w.c. : around 1.5k

a/n : ik i said i was gonna disappear for a bit but guys i can't get ponyojoo out of my head 😭 especially after the recent go one! ep where juju’s in the water and some of the teamies start singing the ponyo theme song sdhdjkdkdjdkdk

🫧 you meet him at a work/study cafe that you both happen to frequent

🫧 you both notice each other on your first week there and feel immediately drawn but you’re both too shy to approach the other and keep putting it off 😮‍💨

🫧 lots of stealing secret glances when the other isn’t looking

🫧 you’re a huge fan of studio ghibli movies and since you don’t know his name, you’ve nicknamed him ponyo after your favourite character from your favourite ghibli film so that’s how you refer to him when you’re talking to your friends about him: “guys you should’ve seen ponyo today, he must’ve been really sleep deprived ‘cause he kept dozing off and i swear to god he looked so adorable i think i was staring at him for 5 minutes straight before i realised,”

[more below the cut!]

🫧 your friends roll their eyes: “yeah yeah you find him cute no matter what he does. come to us when you actually do something about it.”

🫧 little do you know that euijoo’s been bugging his friends pretty much the same way. he’s telling nicholas how pretty you looked one day while you were concentrating on your work and his friend groans in exasperation. “oh my god euijoo, when are you planning to actually do something about this annoying crush of yours? because i swear to god if you don’t ask them out soon then i will,”

🫧 fortunately for your friends, an opportunity presents itself soon. that friday when euijoo is leaving the cafe after he’s done with his work, he forgets one of his books on his table.

🫧 you happen to notice and are halfway through calling after him when you realise that you don’t know his actual name

🫧 so yeah you end up going “hey ponyo! shit. uhh i mean...oh, hi. yeah, i meant you. you uhh left your book,”

🫧 in your defense,,,,why did he actually turn around when you called him ponyo lmao maybe because you were shouting in an otherwise quiet cafe?

🫧 anyway boi is super flustered and confused at first and when you point out that he left his book he’s like ahh thanks and comes back to pick it up

🫧 you’re super embarrassed at the fact that you actually called him ponyo out loud so you make yourself busy trying to ignore him and the eyes of all others around you

🫧 he seems to have been in a hurry bc he just grabs the book, yells out a thank you! and rushes out without pausing to clarify what you called him and why

🫧 the next day, you’re breaking your head over a particularly frustrating assignment so you don’t notice him enter the cafe or walk up to you until he’s pulling up the chair opposite to you at your table

🫧 which is new. you usually sit at opposite ends of the cafe and it’s usually not very crowded around the time you two visit so there’s enough empty tables around to not have to share with anyone. not that you’re complaining of course. you’re just confused

🫧 you look up at him questioningly but he doesn't say anything, just sits quietly and gets on with his work. you stare in bewilderment for a few seconds longer before you decide you’re too busy for this and resume your work, although your heart is racing

🫧 it goes on like this for a week he’s trying ok give him some time to work up his courage. it’s hardly his fault that you’re so annoyingly breathtakingly beautiful he just comes and quietly makes himself comfortable at your table and the two of you do your own thing

🫧 then the next day, he finally breaks the silence. “i’ve been wanting to ask....what did you call me the other day?”

🫧 you go red in the face. “oh um, ponyo. sorry it’s just that your resemblance to her is astonishingly similar and it just slipped out because i don't know your actual name haha,”

🫧 “ah. well i’m euijoo” he smiles, extending his hand. god he has such a gorgeous smile. you shake it, praying he doesn’t notice the slight tremor from how nervous you are “i’m y/n,”

🫧 “nice to meet you, y/n. but who’s ponyo again?”

🫧 wait, he doesn’t know ponyo??? “you know, from the ghibli movie....?”

🫧 he still appears clueless and jeez he really does look so much like ponyo with those adorable boba eyes widened in confusion and it’s so distracting and– anyway. “don’t tell me you’ve never watched a ghibli film before?”

🫧 he sheepishly scratches the back of his head. “no, i’m afraid not…”

🫧 you gasp. “ohmygod, are you kidding me?! you absolutely have to!!”

🫧 “okay, watch it with me then,” he blurts out. he’s honestly as taken aback as you are lmao - he’d been planning on slowly building up to it

🫧 your eyes widen in surprise, you almost choke on air owing to the abruptness of it. “like a date?” you ask before you can stop yourself. shit he’s going to say he never meant it that way and it’s going to be so humil–

🫧 “yes. like a date,” he confirms, grinning wide. you’ve seen him smile a handful of times before, but for some reason this one knocks the breath right out of you.

˖✩࿐࿔

🫧 you thought he was cute before? well he’s even cuter now that y’all are together and you’re pretty sure the amount of cuteness aggression he gives you on a daily basis is borderline unhealthy like you might actually combust at this point RIP.

🫧 you continue meeting up at the cafe regularly even if you’d just seen each other that morning. it’s a nice cozy place to study and besides you’ve both gotten used to it

🫧 needless to say you always sit at the same table. he has to be touching you in some way or the other - if there's not many people around and you’re sitting next to each other he’ll intertwine his fingers with yours as he reads, if your hands are busy writing or typing he’ll settle for having your knees/shoulders pressed together and if you’re sitting opposite to him then he'll do the feet thing under the table

🫧 you’re no better btw, just as downbad :

🫧 one day at the cafe you both go to counter together holding hands and the baristas are like omfg y’all are finally together?! took y’all long enough!!

🫧 you’re like ??? and they explain they’ve been shipping you for MONTHS ever since they noticed you’re interested in each other and were getting SO frustrated about the fact that neither of you were making a move that they were lowkey considering taking matters into their own hands lmao

🫧 you’re about to pay and they’re like “oh this one’s on us. consider it a thank you for finally putting us out of our misery” 💀

🫧 on days that he gets there before you, he makes sure to have your order ready just in time so that it’s the right temperature when you arrive <3

🫧 you’ve made him watch all your favourite ghibli movies by now and one day he suggests watching something you both haven’t watched. Grave Of The Fireflies is one ghibli movie you’d been putting off cuz you heard it was kind of sad but you figure, hey it’s a ghibli movie. how sad can it be?

🫧 BIG MISTAKE: IT’S NOT “KIND OF SAD”, IT’S DEVASTING

🫧 you and euijoo are a mess watching it, straight-up sobbing towards the end

🫧 you know that viral clip from the script reading of that kdrama The Midnight Studio where a lot of the cast members are crying while reading their dialogues cuz the story is supposedly that devastating and then towards the end two of the cast members sitting next to each other happen to make eye contact and burst out laughing seeing each other’s tear stained faces?

🫧 yeah basically imagine that as the credits roll - you turn to look at him at the same time he does and you both can’t help laughing at the sight of the other - a bunch of crumpled tissues scattered around both of you, your eyes rimmed red and faces blotchy

🫧 he opens his blanket and holds his arm out, beckoning for you to come join him, and you snuggle up close and bask in each other’s comfort

🫧 you still can’t stop thinking about the movie and tearing up though, so you get some ice cream and end up rewatching Ponyo

🫧 when the theme song plays you turn to him and sing along as though you’re serenading him, to which he chuckles and pretends to imitate ponyo HE’S SO CUTE UGH

divider credits : @saradika-graphics @cafekitsune

[mrsshabana]

gyutaro x reader, but... reader is secretly a eldritch horror. like if he asks a question (ex: where did you get that?) they'd be like 'don't worry about it, dear~' or 'That doesn;t reeeeeeaally matter, does it? I'm just happy you like it, love~' just reader giving the most the overly ominous vibes when it comes to stuff they do. and gyutaro hasn't seen reader eat like normal humans so he'd assume they too is a demon but noooo reader is SO much more

ya dig or no?

𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐄𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡!𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

꒦꒷‧₊ Summary Somehow Gyutaro piques the interest of an eldritch being. He has no idea what you are but he can't help but feel undeniably drawn to you. ꒦꒷‧₊ Content Canon!Gyutaro x ???!Reader, reader technically doesn't have a gender BUT reader takes on the form of a female. ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 2k words. I actually REALLY love this idea... I kind of just went on a whim and wrote this. It's very different from what I usually write and it's very mysterious. But I hope you like it anyway!

It was a foggy night.

Gyutaro stands in a pool of blood. Having followed a demon slayer out of the district and into the nearby woods. Ending his life as soon as he turned his back.

Nothing out of the usual for Gyutaro. But everything felt off somehow. The air was thicker, the dew on the grass felt damper, and the wind seemed to whisper to him. He could feel each individual speck of moisture hit his skin as the fog traveled through the air.

He stands there, feeling something similar to dread but also somehow comforting at the same time. Unmoving as he stares at the corpse before him, too overwhelmed by the environment to enjoy his meal.

He blinks.

"So... pretty you are," you stand inches from his face, caressing his cheek with a hand that feels devoid of life.

Gyutaro's body completely freezes up. How did you get there? He never saw you approach him. One moment he was looking at his prey, and the next there was a woman right in front of him.

He feels like he can't breathe, like the air left his lungs the moment your skin touched his.

You remove your hand from his cheek, "What kind of... creature may you be?" You ask as if you already know the answer.

And for some reason, Gyutaro feels compelled to answer you immediately, "I'm... a demon."

It's a similar feeling to when he's in the presence of Master Muzan. Like he has no choice but to obey. Like it's in his DNA to obey you. Or maybe there is another force that gives him no choice.

The corner of your lips slowly curl into a smile, "How lovely..."

For some reason, it feels incredibly difficult for him to avert his gaze from yours. But with all of his willpower, he manages to do so. Looking down at you, observing your form.

You look like an ordinary human woman. But your aura feels like something else, something that terrifies him to think about.

You're quite beautiful too. Having a perfectly symmetrical face, almost too symmetrical. It took him far too long to notice that you were completely nude. Your body looks ordinary as well at first glance. But when he looks closer he realizes that there is a fine, black dust covering your skin. He doesn't know what it is, but the smell of it reminds him of burning corpses.

But underneath that strange smell, he doesn't smell a human nor a demon. You don't smell like anything at all. Perhaps the smell of the universe if that could be described.

"Wh-Who are you...?" he croaks.

"Mm... You may refer to me as," you pause for a moment, "Y/N."

"W-Well Y/N, you must be very cold," his voice quivers, "Let's get you inside."

He has no idea why he would even suggest such a thing. Demons shouldn't fraternize with humans like this, but you just feel so different. He can't help but feel overwhelmingly drawn to you.

"Yes... let us do so... Gyutaro," you say while gently taking his hand.

Without thinking, he takes your hand and turns towards the district. Completely forgetting his meal.

And that's when he realizes, he never told you his name.

+:｡.｡　⛧　｡.｡:+

Gyutaro eventually stopped questioning what you were. Maybe you were just a very strange human? Or perhaps you were some type of other creature. If demons exist then it isn't out of the realm of possibility that you were some kind of creature similar to himself.

He got no answers to his questions about you, but all he knew was that he enjoyed your presence.

You'd come around often. Sometimes you'd stay multiple nights with him before disappearing. Most of the time you'd sit in silence together, allowing him refuge in your arms. You'll stroke his hair and comment how his birthmarks are "Atramentous" and "Abyssal yet prepossessing."

He loved the way you spoke to him.

And he'd gravely miss you when you'd leave. Sometimes for days on end, only to reappear again in a similar fashion to the first time you met. Nude and covered in a mysterious dust.

There were so many things about you that he didn't understand. Like how you seemed to always know what he was thinking. And how you would only blink if he noticed and thought about how you hadn't been blinking for too long.

Your movements, your speech, your presence - everything about you was alluring. He didn't know if it was because you were otherworldly, or if it was because he only saw you as such. After all, he loved you.

Maybe love makes you view someone in such a way? Like they are quite literally out of this world. He's never experienced love, so to him, it made enough sense to look past the strange things you did.

But Daki could not look past it like her brother did. She was terrified of you. You never did anything to her, but you didn't have to. She could feel something off about you, and it made her incredibly uncomfortable.

And every time she even thought about mentioning her discomfort to her brother, she'd be struck with immeasurable dread. She couldn't explain it, but it was enough to keep her quiet. So she lied to her brother and stayed out of your way.

+:｡.｡　⛧　｡.｡:+

It was a foggy night, almost identical to when you first met, when you asked him to follow you into the forest.

He followed you blindly. Not out of fear or lack of control, but because he trusted you completely.

You lead him to a lake in the middle of the forest. How has he never noticed it was here? He's explored the wilderness surrounding the district hundreds of times over the century that he's been alive. And he's never once seen this lake.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" You say with a smile, though the somber tone in your voice betrays you. You sound as though you're mourning something very important to you.

"It is," Gyutaro smiles despite noticing your tone, "I've never noticed it was here before."

"Maybe you have never noticed it because you didn't need to."

"Maybe," he grins, always enjoying the allusive way in which you speak, "It reminds me of you..."

"How so?" you cock your head to the side like you're surprised by his statement.

He steps closer to the body of water, looking down at the calming ripples on its surface. "It's mysterious and beautiful..."

For the first time, it seems like the words coming out of his mouth weren't what you were expecting. When you speak with him, it's as if you always know what he will say. But not this time.

"Thank you," you murmur. "Perhaps we are one and the same... this lake and I." You step closer to him, your shoulders touching as you look down into the lake as well. "Would you say... that you love this lake?"

His cheeks turn crimson as he nods, "Y-Yes, I do."

You smile, leaning your head against his shoulder, "It loves you too."

The two of you sit in comfortable silence, watching the water ripple and the moonlight twinkle on its surface. Gyutaro never notices how the ripples seem unaffected by the direction of the wind.

"Do you love it so much that you want to become closer to it...?" You whisper, looking up into his demonic irises.

His mouth opens for a moment, then closes momentarily before opening again, "I want to be as close as possible to it..."

"... to become one...?

He nods eagerly, "M-More than anything..."

"If it is your will... then it is ours." You leave his side and begin slowly walking towards the body of water, removing your clothes as you do so.

Gyutaro's eyes widen and he follows your lead, removing his clothes as well without question.

Once he's rid of his clothes you turn around and hold his face in the palms of your hands. Slowly pulling him into the water. He feels as though he's in some kind of trance as he follows you deeper, but at the same time, it feels like he's exactly where the universe wants him to be.

As the water surrounds his body it feels almost embryonic. Warm and comforting, like he's being embraced entirely by you.

He follows you until his feet no longer touch the bottom of the lake. The only part of him above the water is his head. He watches as you slowly descend into the water, it envelopes your face but you remain keeping eye contact with him.

You gently pull his face closer to yours until your lips touch.

Gyutaro's eyes close as his entire body feels ethereal. Light yet heavy, happy yet sad, alive yet dead.

His lips stay connected to yours as his head submerges under the water. Sinking endlessly into the lake, your kiss never breaks. He doesn't realize that he stopped breathing long ago. Nor does he feel any urgency to breathe or return to the surface. All he wants is to stay here forever, with you.

To his dismay, you break the kiss. Gyutaro opens his eyes and sees you. Yet it entirely isn't you. Or at least it's not the you that he's used to seeing.

You are everything yet nothing all at once.

In his eyes, you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

And as you pull him deeper into this seemingly endless abyss, he sees a flicker of light coming from the darkness below.

It gets closer... and closer... and closer...

His eyes widen when he sees what it is. A moon. But not just a moon, it appears to be the surface of the water.

Gyutaro wants to reemerge on the other side - to be with you. But he feels like he has an important decision to make. One he doesn't quite understand.

Feeling compelled to look behind him, back to the direction in which he came, he does just that. But he doesn't recognize the scene from which he left. It was a calm night, was it not?

Then why does he see fire and ash?

Why does he feel so sad? Looking back, he feels so many things. Like a complete failure, filled with so much self-hatred. Like every decision he made didn't make a difference. Everything he tried to do was for nothing because he couldn't escape what the universe had planned for him. He was cursed from the beginning.

He took and took his entire life, but no matter how much he took from others he could never have it for himself.

The scales would never tip in his favor. It was destined to be that way from the start.

But with you, his curse isn't ignored nor is it gone. It's celebrated and accepted. When he's with you, the scale is flipped upside down.

Gyutaro swims deeper and never looks back. Reemerging on the other side.

His head rises out of the water and he opens his eyes to see you. You look... normal? And nothing seems out of the ordinary. The lake and the forest look exactly the same as they did before he went under the water.

"How do you feel, my love?" you chime, holding his hands beneath the water.

"I-I feel... great," he looks around, sedately, "Perfect actually." Finally, he smiles.

"I'm so glad to hear that." With an elated grin, you lead him out of the water once again.

The two of you make your way out of the lake. And he sees his clothes lying on the bank, just where he had left them.

He bends down and picks up his trousers, but pauses when he notices something unusual. A fine, black dust on his fingertips.

"Are you excited to spend eternity together?"

[bookworm551]

Take the Edge Off | Part 4 | Jealousy

Miguel isn’t happy when he hears that you’ve been spending time with someone other than him.

A/N: do you smell that? I think there’s a plot around here somewhere. Weird… anyway! I’m back with more brain rot—enjoy :)

Warnings: smut, face riding, small sprinkles of denial, biting, p in v, MINORS DNI

Word count: 5.2k (sorry these are getting longer)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Today had not been good.

You had been on call all week, and you were finally needed to assist an ongoing mission. You had gone in and found the Scarlett Spider and a few others battling ferociously. It should've been a standard operation, but things quickly went south after the anomaly figured out the purpose of the watches you all wore, and after a nasty fight, he actually managed to steal the gizmo off of Ben Reilly's wrist.

You all stood in horror staring at the place where the portal had just closed after the anomaly jumped into it, taking it to an unknown dimension. Soon after, Ben started glitching, and the rest of you took him back to Earth-928 to get him a new gizmo and explain the situation at hand to Miguel.

Ben had been mortified and ashamed of losing his watch, so you decided to hang back and try to comfort him. It was an awkward experience for you, especially since he went on a long tirade about being a failure and recounting all of his harrowing life experiences. You were secretly relieved when you finally managed to escape back to your room for some peace and quiet.

Your suit had gotten a few nasty tears in the fabric, so you changed into your regular clothes. Assessing the damage, you sighed in defeat when you realized how much time you'd need to put into fixing your suit. Whatever, you had planned on going back home tonight anyway, and you could try to fix it then.

Without any warning, the door to your room slid open, and you weren't surprised to see Miguel's figure looming in the doorway. You sighed again. "Listen, I was fine with it last time, but I really need you to start knocking," you told him in exasperation.

"You weren't at the debriefing," he stated gravely, ignoring your comment. You shrugged indifferently. "I didn't really need to be," you muttered. "There were plenty of people who were there."

"So where were you?" He demanded, placing his hands on his waist as he stared down at you expectantly. You crossed the room to where your carry-on bag was sitting on the floor and tossed your suit in it. "I was with Ben," you said casually, your back still turned to Miguel. "I figured he could use a little companionship after what happened today."

You zipped up your bag and stood up. When you turned around, you were startled to find that Miguel had crossed the room, too, and he was standing directly in front of you. His expression was hardened in anger as he stared down at you with furrowed brows.

"Companionship?" He repeated slowly, his voice laced with aggravation. You looked up at him questioningly before realization dawned on you. You had made a passing reference, a joke really, to Miguel about seeking out Ben for a certain type of "companionship" before. It seemed like the comment must've stuck with him.

"Oh, please," you said with a roll of your eyes. "Don't let your imagination get the better of you." You tried walking past him, but he grabbed you firmly by the arm.

"Where the hell are you going?" He demanded to know. You scoffed indignantly and looked up at his face. Miguel's eyes were boring down at you with a tense glare, his eyebrows drawn in a scowl.

"Wherever the hell I want," you retorted sharply. "I don't need your permission." His grip on your arm tightened. "You're not going anywhere," he growled.

"And why not?" You snapped. "Because you said so?" You pulled your arm out of his grip, but he pushed you back up against the wall. You glared up at him, but your eyes couldn't resist glancing at his lips.

"Did you sleep with him?" He demanded to know in a low voice.

You blinked in surprise. "Ben?" You asked in a confused tone. Miguel didn't reply, he just continued staring down at you with a deep scowl carved on his face. After a silent pause, you couldn't help but laugh derisively at him.

"Oh wow, jealousy looks good on you," you stated after your laughter subsided, your lips still pulled in a smug grin. Miguel's eyebrow tightened slightly as he continued glaring down at you. "You think this is funny?" He questioned with a sharp edge to his voice.

"I'm laughing, aren't I?" You shot back.

"Well, maybe you'll find this funny, too," he said as he crossed his arms resolutely over his chest. "No more missions."

Your smile dropped instantly, and every trace of humor evaporated from your mood. "Excuse me?" You demanded in a baffled tone. "You don't get to run any more missions," Miguel repeated, his voice hard and uncompromising.

"And why the hell not?" You demanded to know. If there was one thing that he could've said to get you riled up, it was kicking you out of the Society.

"Because I said so," he replied arrogantly. "Not laughing now, huh?"

"You're grounding me?" You exclaimed in indignation. Miguel shrugged, still glaring down at you with an irritated expression. "Until you stop acting like a fucking brat," he retorted harshly.

"You're being absolutely ridiculous," you fumed. "All this because I stayed back with Ben?"

"Yes."

"Why does it matter?"

Miguel stepped forward suddenly, and he uncrossed his arms to slam them against the wall on either side of your head, trapping you between the wall and his body. "Because you're mine," he seethed in a low voice.

His response made your heart start beating faster in your chest. In the silence that followed, you couldn't resist staring down at his full lips. "There is not another person in the whole goddamned multiverse who can touch you," he continued in a deep, angry voice.

There was another beat of silence before you raised a hand up to his chest. You trailed it slowly upwards over his muscles as you looked at him through your lashes. "And if there is?" You tested, curious to see his reaction. Envy flashed across his face at the thought of you with someone else. He grabbed your wrist tightly and pulled your hand off of his body as he leaned over you.

"Then no more," he whispered.

You stared up at him for a moment before a sly smile began growing on your lips. His possessiveness shouldn't have surprised you, and you couldn't deny that the jealous anger on his face made you hot.

Without answering him, you pushed up on your toes and kissed him. He took a moment to relax, but when he did, he released his grip on your wrist and wrapped his arms around your body. Your hands slid behind his neck as you pulled yourself closer to his body. His knee pushed between your thighs, causing you to break away from his lips with a moan.

"There was never anyone else," you whispered, sounding slightly out of breath. "It's only been you." Miguel let out a hot breath against your neck before lifting his face to kiss you again, this time, with more eagerness and passion. His hands wandered down your body, over your ass, and gripped your thighs before hoisting you up. Your legs wrapped around his torso while your tongue moved impatiently against his own.

After a moment of him holding you upright like that, Miguel began stepping towards your bed. He dropped down onto the mattress, his hands immediately started moving under your shirt, all the while never breaking away from your kiss. He was eager to get you undressed, and it was only a matter of seconds before your shirt was off.

"Only I get to see you like this," he murmured. He placed kisses on your neck while a hand reached behind your back to remove your bra. You closed your eyes and let out soft, little moans with every eager kiss he pressed to your skin. After a few moments of blind grasping, he unhooked your bra and tossed it aside.

"Only I get to feel you like this," he told you, his hands gripping your breasts as he spoke. You hummed a quiet sigh as he kissed all over your skin. His tongue traced over your sensitive skin, and your fingers grabbed fistfuls of his hair in reaction.

You were growing restless with every touch he made and every word he spoke. You tugged at your pants with one hand, and when Miguel noticed, he was more than willing to help remove them. With you completely undressed beneath him, Miguel's kisses grew sloppy across your body. His suit finally retracted to expose his tanned skin and hard muscles.

"Only me," he murmured, sounding breathless. "¿Me entiendes?"

You let out a soft moan and nodded. You had never desired anyone but him since you first joined the Spider Society, and you doubted that would change anytime soon. He'd had your attention from the first day. In fact, despite his cold and reserved nature, Miguel always unwittingly seemed to draw people to him. You knew you weren't the only one who found him alluring.

With that thought, you placed a hand on his chest and pushed him off of you just enough to grab his attention. "And what about me?" You asked him quietly, staring straight into his lustful eyes.

His eyebrows drew together ever so slightly, and he didn't respond for a second. With a strong shove, you rolled him off of your body and hovered over his instead. Miguel seemed caught off guard as you straddled yourself across his torso, and when you grabbed his throat with your hand, he groaned softly and clenched his jaw.

"Am I the only one who gets to see you this way?" You asked softly, your innocent tone juxtaposing your domineering posture as you pinned him down firmly by his throat. Tracing your free hand across his chest, your fingers brushed over his skin with feather-light touches, making him squirm beneath you.

"Am I the only one who gets to touch you like this?" You questioned, bringing your face down to his and gently running your tongue over his bottom lip. His own tongue darted out and slid against yours, eliciting a smirk from you.

When you pulled back, you looked down at Miguel expectantly. There was lust burning in his eyes, and his hands slid up the sides of your thighs in admiration.

"Only you," he promised breathlessly.

You studied his face for a moment as a crooked grin grew slowly on your face. Your hand released his neck and wandered down to his chest, and you leaned over so that your face hovered over his. "Only me?" You repeated quietly, your nose brushing against his.

Under your hands, you could feel the heavy rise and fall of his chest. His head tilted upwards to try and kiss you, but you were just out of reach. "Only you," he breathed, and one hand came off your thigh and pulled you by the back of your neck down on his lips.

You smiled against his mouth and felt his hand return to your thigh. His fingers dug into your skin as he pulled your body upwards. You didn't realize what he was trying to do until he moved his arms under your thighs and hoisted you up toward his head.

You couldn't resist the giggle that sounded in your chest as he moved you upwards. "So impatient," you told him with a smile, his strong arms pulling you so quickly that you had to catch yourself from toppling over. He ignored you and kept pulling your hips toward his mouth, but you resisted, opting to see how he reacted to your denial.

He tried once more pulling you up to his face, but again, you resisted. His eyes flashed up to yours, and you could see the desire he had to taste you. His breathing was heavy, and he looked annoyed at your refusal.

"What do you say?" You asked sweetly, running a finger across his lips. Miguel's jaw clenched when he realized what you wanted him to say, and he closed his eyes for a moment to fight back his impatience. When he opened them again, you could see how his expression had morphed from frustration to restlessness.

"Please," he said finally, eyes burning impatiently. He didn't sound happy at all about having to beg, but you knew he was growing desperate to taste you. You smirked down at him and whispered, "Much better."

Miguel didn't waste another second before pulling you up to sit on his face. He pulled your hot entrance to his mouth and immediately began devouring you. A loud gasp was forced out of you by the hungry movements of his lips and tongue. You fell forward at the overwhelming sensation, your hands grasping the sheets beneath you with a vise grip.

He made you feel so good. His tongue moved eagerly between your folds before teasing your clit. Every time it brushed over your sensitivity, your thighs spasmed around his head, and you would quietly moan, "Fuck." Based on your cues, Miguel knew exactly where to focus to get the reactions he wanted. He would start building momentum with your clit, and just when your breathing started turning into panting, he would move his tongue further down your cunt to your entrance.

After the third time that he pulled that stunt, you realized he was teasing you. Frustration burned in your chest as he denied you yet again, and you released the sheets in one of your hands to grip his hair tightly. Tugging his hair harshly, you glared down at him and snapped, "If you don't stop fucking teasing, I'm getting off."

His eyes narrowed in displeasure. Before you could try to move yourself off of him, his hands tightened around your thighs, and he actually started sitting up. You gasped sharply in surprise as he lifted you up just enough to roll you over onto your back, your head against the wall so you couldn't crawl away from him as he trapped your thighs in his arms. Such a display of raw strength was both startling and incredibly arousing.

"You're not going anywhere until I fucking say so," he growled. Without another word, his mouth returned to your pussy, and he resumed eating you out like a man starved.

Any sharp retort you could have made was smothered as the pleasure you felt snatched the air from your lungs. Your back arched off the mattress as you gasped desperately, and your legs struggled against his firm grip in reaction to his mouth against you. His tongue moved so well against you, and between your gasps and moans, you could only whisper, "Fuck."

Miguel didn't seem so interested in his little teasing game anymore. His tongue focused entirely on your clit, and he experimented with his pace and strength. When he found the perfect tempo and pressure, the hand that was still gripping his hair would tighten, and a whine would rise up from your throat. Soon enough, your breathing was growing shallow, and every muscle in your body began tensing.

He could tell you were close, and it seemed to make him even more ravenous. His arms wrapped around your thighs to pull them open even further, and his whole body seemed to move in an effort to get you off. You blinked your eyes open to look down at him and saw that his dark eyes were staring up at you hungrily. His body was moving restlessly, and you realized that he was grinding his hips against the bed in an effort to give himself some relief.

That did it for you. Seeing him so turned on by eating you out that he was desperate for his own release tipped you over the edge, and your whole body began shaking as you cried out in pleasure. Miguel moaned against you as your legs tightened against his hands, the bass of his throat adding to the pleasure that coursed through your body.

Unlike last time, Miguel stopped right as it was becoming too much for you. He lifted his head off of you and watched as your body shuddered from your orgasm. As you started coming down from your high, Miguel started crawling slowly up your body while you recovered your trembling breath.

He trailed his wet kisses up your stomach with agonizing slowness. His hands were planted on either side of your body while he moved his mouth up your torso. You whimpered quietly when he placed his mouth over one of your breasts, running his tongue over your sensitive nipple. He continued moving upwards after a moment until his face was buried in the crook of your neck, and he took a deep breath as he inhaled your scent and sighed against your skin.

"Nobody can make you feel as good as I can," he whispered in your ear. Your ability to speak still hadn't fully returned, so you shook your head in agreement with his statement. He placed a kiss on your neck while one of his hands reached down to hold your thigh as he aligned himself to you.

You were holding your breath with eyes closed in anticipation as you felt the tip of his cock push just past the entrance of your pussy but not further. Miguel's forehead rested against yours, and he let out a small grunt as he restrained himself from pushing further into you.

"Look at me," he murmured, his voice deep and hoarse with desire.

With effort, you managed to blink your eyes open to look at him. Miguel's dark eyes were focused on your face with such intensity that despite all the sinful things you had done and were currently doing, you felt your cheeks grow warm, and you blushed. There was a moment of stillness between you with only the sounds of your quiet panting to fill the silence. Miguel was looking down at you with more than just lust. There was a softer element to his gaze, something like admiration or even adoration in his eyes. Whatever it was, it flustered you.

Then, that moment of stillness passed, and he pushed himself into you. A loud groan emerged from your lips as he stretched you out, and you squeezed your eyes shut again. Miguel exhaled a stuttering breath at the feeling of being inside you, and his head fell to rest on your shoulder.

"You always feel so good," he gasped softly as he started rolling his hips into yours. Your hands gripped at his back while you let out quiet moans with every thrust. His hand on your thigh drifted up your body to one of your gripping arms, and he pulled it off his back and laced his fingers with yours. He pinned your hand next to your head as he continued moving steadily inside you.

"Eres mía," he panted in your ear. "Solo mía." You understood the words he was saying, and they made you desperate for more. You are mine. Only mine. Fortunately, you knew exactly how to respond to him. Turning your lips to brush against his ear, you whispered, "Sí, soy tuya." I'm yours.

Hearing you whine like that in his native tongue drove Miguel wild. The grip he had on your hand tightened, and his pace quickened as he drove his cock deeper into you. Your head pressed back against the mattress with closed eyes, and a long, needy moan sounded from your throat.

Miguel's face was resting against your shoulder as he grunted with each drive of his hips into your pussy. His mouth moved restlessly over the skin of your throat, and his breathing was heavy in your ear. You could tell that even with his strong, steady thrusts, he wanted to do more to you. You knew it by the way he would place opened-mouth kisses on your neck and let his teeth barely graze your skin before pulling away with a muffled groan.

You turned your head slightly so that your cheek rested against his. "I know what you want to do," you whispered in his ear. "You don't have to hold back." Miguel's face turned, and his eyes opened to gauge whether or not you were saying what he thought you were. You pressed a kiss to his lips before turning your head away and exposing your neck for him.

Miguel didn't need any more prompting or encouragement from you. His fangs pierced your skin at the base of your neck, making you gasp sharply as his jaw firmly clamped around you. He moaned at the relief of being able to sink his teeth into you, and now that his restless desire to bite you was being satisfied, his thrusts grew faster and stronger. Loud gasps and long whines filled the air since his unrelenting pace made it impossible for you to be quiet. Your nails were digging into his back while your pinned hand squeezed his, and the combination of pleasure and pain left you unable to think straight.

You realized he was growing closer when he started making more noise. His hips were snapping harshly against yours while he was grunting and even moaning against your neck. His interlaced fingers tightened around yours as his body tensed and finally stilled with a groaning sigh of relief.

The stillness lasted for a moment as he remained on top of you with only the sounds of your accelerated breathing between you. When Miguel finally moved, it was to release your neck from his jaw. You were expecting it this time, but the sharp sensation of his fangs pulling out of your skin still made you flinch.

"Painful?" he asked quietly after a moment in a hoarse voice. You took a few breaths before admitting, "A little bit." He raised his head off of your neck, and you saw genuine concern in his eyes. You smiled softly and placed a quick kiss on his lips. "But you made me feel so good, it was worth it," you whispered to him.

He studied your face for a second before lowering his mouth back onto yours in a long, lazy kiss. He eventually moved his lips down to your neck where blood was beginning to bead up from his bite. As he kissed you, he let go of your hand and pulled out of you, causing you to groan quietly. Miguel pulled away from your skin after a few heartbeats and rolled over next to you with a soft grunt.

You both lay in silence for a little while as your breathing started to even out. Your eyes had been closed, but after after a moment, you opened them and turned your head to look at Miguel. He was staring up at the ceiling with a faraway gaze, and you noticed how his eyebrows twitched with a perplexed expression.

He knew that you were looking at him, and after a moment, he sighed and turned to look at you, too. "What?" he asked quietly, his eyes containing hints of suspicion. You paused, studying his face for a second. "I can never tell what you're thinking about," you said finally. Miguel turned his face back up to look at the ceiling before muttering, "Good."

You rolled your eyes with a little huff of amusement. "But I can tell when something is bothering you," you continued. "What is it?"

Miguel didn't respond for a while, and you were starting to think he wouldn't answer. Finally, he let out another sigh and stated quietly, "That anomaly is going to wreak havoc on the multiverse." It was your turn to sigh, and you rolled over onto your side and rested your head on your hand.

"If you get to have rules, then so do I," you told him. "My rule is that you are not allowed to talk about work while in bed." Miguel's face turned back to look at you, and a faint smile appeared on his lips.

"Alright," he conceded. "No work." You smiled in satisfaction and said, "Good," before rolling onto your stomach and resting your head on your pillow while still facing him. His eyes never left your face, and you saw a glimmer of amusement in his expression.

"Are you staying here tonight?" Miguel asked softly, shifting his body to face you better. You closed your eyes for a second and let out a short hum. "I don't think so," you admitted when you opened your eyes. "I've got things I need to take care of back home."

He nodded silently in understanding, his eyes looking away from you. "Plus, I need to fix my suit tonight," you continued, "and I never keep any of my supplies at Web-Quarters."

Miguel's eyebrows scrunched together, and he closed his eyes for a second. "Web-Quarters?" he repeated, sounding incredibly disappointed. You chuckled at his reaction. "Oh, c'mon," you laughed, nudging his arm with your hand. "It's funny."

"It's stupid," he countered flatly.

"You're the only one who thinks so," you told him. "All the other Spider-People think it's great." He raised an eyebrow at you. "You've called the compound 'Web-Quarters' to every single Spider here?" he asked doubtfully.

You rolled your eyes. "Well, not all of them," you admitted. "But everyone I've said it to thought it was hilarious." "Like who?" he questioned skeptically. You looked upward as you recounted everyone who you had shared your little pun with. "Jess, Pav, Peter B. from Earth-616, Peter from Earth-13122, Gwen Stacey, Ben Reilly," you listed out for him.

At that last name, Miguel's face darkened, and he let out an irritated huff. "I don't want to hear you mention Ben Reilly to me ever again," he told you in a low voice. You scoffed playfully and rolled your eyes at him. "I'm serious," he insisted in a grave voice.

You studied his face for a moment, and you could see just how serious he was being. After a pause, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows and moved closer to him so that your face hovered over his. You raised a hand up to his face to brush away some of the hair that had stuck to his forehead and asked with a smug grin, "Why does it bother you so much if I do?"

You knew the answer, but you wanted to hear it from him again. He didn't respond for a second, studying your face quietly as his hand slid under your stomach and snaked around your waist. "Because I don't want you to think about anyone else when you're with me," he murmured as his eyes fixed on your lips.

The corners of your mouth curled upward, and you ran a finger over the angles of his face. You noted how his dark eyebrows were relaxed instead of drawn in a scowl, his eyes were observant but not critical, and the shape his full lips looked more like a smile than a frown. He was at ease when it was only you, and that filled you with an unexpected sense of satisfaction.

"I already told you," you said softly. "There was never anyone else." He hummed, running his fingers up your back. "Good," he whispered before lifting his head up and kissing you gently. You smiled against his lips and savored the feeling of your body against his.

The quiet moment between you was interrupted when a yellow, holographic form appeared from Miguel's watch. "Aww, you guys are so cute," Lyla cooed. Her figure was postured on her stomach with her head in her hands and her legs swinging like a giddy schoolgirl.

You and Miguel both jumped and cursed in surprise. "Lyla!" Miguel snarled in admonition, obviously irritated and embarrassed at being caught in bed with you. You buried your face against his shoulder with an awkward laugh as you felt your cheeks grow warm in embarrassment.

"Aww, c'mon," she lilted in amusement. "You don't have to be shy. I've known since day one." "Go away, Lyla," he growled, pulling at the comforter of your bed to try and cover himself. "I just wanted to let you know that the anomaly popped up again," she explained, "but it's been tricky tracking him since he disengaged the homing device."

Miguel huffed an exasperated breath. "Can this wait?" He snapped, still pulling at the blanket beneath him. "Not for much longer," she told him with a shrug. He heaved a large sigh and ran his hand over his face. "Fine," he muttered. "Now, go away."

"Alright, alright," Lyla said dismissively. "And don't worry, your secret is safe with me." With a smile and a wink, she disappeared.

You and Miguel laid in silence for a moment until you broke it with your laughter. Your shoulders were shaking as you laughed out the embarrassment that had washed over you. Miguel sighed again and turned his head to look at you. Seeing your smiling face caused his to soften considerably.

"Remind me to reprogram her," he grumbled quietly. You hummed in amusement and placed another kiss on his lips. "I guess that means you should get going," you said. Miguel closed his eyes and pulled back his arm from around your body. "I guess so," he agreed reluctantly.

You moved off of his body to allow him to sit up. He rubbed his hand across his face and pushed himself up off the bed while his suit enveloped his body again.

"How is that not nanotech?" You asked curiously as you watched him stand up. "I told you, it's much cooler than that," he stated. You hummed indifferently. "Yeah, yeah," you mumbled as you stretched out on your bed. "You always keep the cool toys for yourself."

He smirked down at you before lifting his arm to type something on his watch. "Sounds like somebody's jealous," he commented without looking at you. You raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, I wouldn't say that I'm the jealous one out of the two of us," You shot back.

Miguel seemed amused at your comment but didn't respond to it. Instead, he said, "You're still on call, you know." You smiled while sitting up to get dressed again. "So, I'm not grounded anymore?" You asked teasingly.

He turned and looked down at you with a thoughtful smile for a moment. "Don't test your luck," he muttered as he turned and walked out, leaving you staring at the door and wishing he would stay just a little longer.

[newtthetranswriter]

FINALLY FOUND SOMEONE WHO WRITES FOR FAIRY TAIL!!!

Would you mind writing a Loke/Leo x Celestial Spirit!Reader? Maybe they're one of the Chinese zodiacs and they met because they both joined Fairy Tail!

The reader traveled to the human world to seek out a worthy person to have their key, and that's when they met Loke. They knew that he was celestial spirit, but kept it a secret. They ended up dating before Lucy came along.

Eventually, Loke became contracted with her while the reader got contracted to Angel. That was because she found her key before the reader had the chance to give it to Lucy.

For the scenario, can you write something during the fight with Lucy and Angel, where Lucy summons Loke and Angel summons the reader? I'd prefer angst pls!!! Thank you!!!

Word Count: 2328

Paring: Loke/Leo x Celestial Spirit! Reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence, mentions of feelings of abandonment, possible ooc Loke, use of the nickname 'kitty' for both reader and Loke, reader's gender is never mentioned

A/n: Hello, I’m thankful for the request. I recently started a rewatch of Fairy Tail in preparation for the new series and realized how much I like Loke, so thank you for feeding my need for him. Anyway I decided to make the Reader the Tiger Zodiac from the Chinese Zodiac because I thought it’s be fun to put the two big cats together. Also because they likely wouldn’t call it the Chinese zodiac I called the Eastern Zodiac because the more Asian inspired parts of Fairy Tail were referred to as being from the Eastern Continent, just so it makes sense. Well without further ado, I hope you enjoy and as always remember to hydrate or diedrate. 

  The Jade Zodiac Keys are much harder to come by as not many wizards know of their existence so for one of us to get contracted we have to do the leg work. I personally grew impatient and decided to go find my key and then find a wizard I trusted with it. So, I left in search of my key and wizard.

   It was long after I left, when I heard that one of the Golden zodiac spirits was banished from our home. Being the curious spirit I am, I went in search of the banished spirit. Eventually I stumbled upon a guild hall in the small town of Magnolia. Entering the Fairy Tail guild hall, I was immediately drawn to a ginger wizard surrounded by women. If it wasn’t for the familiar energy radiating from him I would have thought he was just another wizard, but being a spirit myself I was easily able to tell what he really was.

  I quickly approached the table, catching the attention of the group. “Excuse me but could I speak with you for a moment?” I asked, picking up on the fact that he was likely hiding his true nature from those around him.

  The ginger froze, likely figuring out what I was the same way I picked him out of the crowd. “Sure, who am I to deny a lovely creature like you, my attention.” His voice came off as flirtatious but there was an underlying hint of worry. He waved off the women, ignoring their whines, before standing up. “But, uh, not around here. Follow me.” With that he motioned for me to follow him out of the hall.

   After walking for a few minutes in tense silence we reached a small clearing just outside of town. “So, did the Celestial Spirit King send you to kill me?” He said, turning to look at me over the edge of his glasses. “He finally decided that it would be easier than having a rogue spirit running about.” He was stating it like it was fact.

   “No actually, I heard that one of the twelve golden zodiacs got banished and wanted to see if it was true.” I started earning a confused look. “So, what did the great and powerful Leo do to get exiled from his home among the stars?” I asked, while leaning against a tree.

   I didn’t miss the slight glare he sent at my mockery of his title. “What’s it to you? Do you think I would really believe you came all the way from the celestial world to ask why I got banished?” He now sounded defensive. “Also it’s Loke now, I left the name Leo behind.” 

  “First,I didn’t leave the Celestial world just for you. If I just wanted to know what happened I’d have asked around there. Second, The jade keys that are bound to the Eastern Zodiacs are nearly impossible to find. So, I set out to find my key. Once I do that I’m gonna find a wizard I can trust to make a contract with.” I explained to the confused spirit.

  He still looked confused but spoke up. “So, what exactly is the point of taking the time to find me? Just go find your key and leave me to enjoy what time I have left.” Loke said. “Why waste your time and energy to come talk to me, if it’s so difficult to find your stupid key.” 

  I looked at him shocked. “Put the claws away kitty. If I had any idea where my key was I wouldn’t be here. I came searching for you because I figured we could help each other out.” I stated.

  “How exactly can you help me? Once I run out of magic I’m dead, unless you can somehow convince the King that I didn’t do anything wrong, there’s nothing you can do to help me.” He turned away, getting ready to walk away.

   I nodded, moving away from the tree. “You’re right, I can’t convince the King you did nothing wrong. Because I have no clue what you did in the first place. But what I can do is share my power with you to give you more time.” I said placing my hand on his shoulder, demonstrating my proposal by pushing a wave of my own magic through him. He looked over his shoulder at me confused. “I can still return to the Celestial world whenever I need to recharge, you on the other hand won’t last much longer here without a supply of power. So, I’ll give you some of my magic every now and then, if you promise to help me find my key?” I asked hopefully.

   Loke thought for a minute, before responding. “Sure, I’ll help you. But once we find your key, I want you to forget about me, and let me die in peace.” He sounded like he already accepted he was going to die sooner or later, and he was just agreeing knowing I would be persistent. I nodded in agreement. “Also, no one knows that I’m a spirit, the guild thinks I’m just a normal wizard. I don’t care if they know that you’re a spirit but no one and I mean one is to know what I am. Got it?”

   “Whatever you say, Kitty. It will probably be easier for us if people think I’m also just a wizard, anyways.” I answered. “So, Loke, shall you introduce me to the guild I’ll be joining?” I asked, moving to walk in front of him.

   He just rolled his eyes. “Yeah whatever. Just stop with the Kitty shit.” With that we made our way back to the guild hall.

   Time skip to shortly before Lucy joins Fairy Tail.

   It has been almost three years since I joined Fairy Tail. Loke and I have spent the time going on jobs and becoming closer, while also searching for my gate key. Though somewhere along the way my priorities changed. I was no longer worried about finding my key, I instead was focused on keeping Loke around for as long as possible. We had grown extremely close fairly quickly.   

   After only three months of working together, Loke asked me out on a date. During which he told me about why he was banished and told me that if that changed how I felt he would understand. Though he had nothing to worry about because after he finished his story, I pulled him close and promised that I would stick by his side. I had told him that had it been me, I would have likely done the same. With our new found understanding and bond we became almost inseparable.

  Unfortunately for us, good things never last long. We had just finished up on a tough job and I had expended a great deal of my power. “Hey Loke, I’m going to return to the Celestial world for a bit to recharge. I’ll be back soon, Ok?” I said leaning on his shoulder as we sat waiting for a train to take us back to Magnolia.

  “Yeah, ok. I’ll tell the guild you aren’t feeling well and decided to go home.” He said with a nod. “Don’t take too long though, I don’t know if I can cover for three months again.” There was a slight chuckle in his voice at the reference to the one time I forgot that a day in the celestial world is three months in the human world.

  I laughed as well. “That was one time. Well I’ll be off. I love you and remember to stay safe Kitty.” I said placing a kiss to his forehead making sure to transfer the little extra power I had left, just in case I did take longer to recover than I planned. As I faded I heard a quiet ‘i love you too, kitty’ and couldn’t help but smile at our shared nickname for each other.

  After resting for a few hours and recharging my power I started to get ready to return to Loke. But I was stopped by a familiar sensation that I hadn’t felt in so long. Before I could even register what was happening, I was pulled through the gate and was now face to face with white haired woman. One hand was on her waist while the other held a familiar green key.

  “So you’re Y/n the Jade Tiger.” She said in a cold tone. “You are now my spirit and you will do as you’re told.” She said leaving no room to argue. Before I could speak she looked at me, noticing the guild mark on my hand. “Oh, you’ve been playing human have you? Well that’s over now. If I find out you returned to that reached guild, I’ll make sure you regret it.” It was clear from her tone that she was not one of the nice Celestial wizards. She viewed spirits as property and nothing more. “Now gate close, you better be ready to fight when I call you.”

   Returning to the celestial world after being summoned was an odd feeling after spending so long coming and going whenever I chose to. I looked around my small section of the Celestial world trying to figure out how to return to Loke. I was now contracted to a wizard and though I had no say in the contrat it was now set, I had to obey her wishes. If I went against them, I would be exiled for breaking the contract and then there would be no way to help Loke. So, I resolved myself to sitting and waiting to be summoned, hoping that I could convince my new wizard to allow me to visit Loke if only once to explain what has happened.

   Time skip to Lucy Vs. Angel

   No matter how hard I tried to convince Angel to allow me on final visit to my old guild, she would never let it happen. It was fruitless to try and argue with her, so I just hoped Loke knew I didn’t abandon him. I worried constantly that he would fade away while I was away and just hoped that one day I could see him again.

   My prayer to see him again was answered in a way I never expected. I had been sitting talking to one of the other Jade Zodiacs, when I was summoned. The trip between worlds always throws off my senses when I'm summoned, but once I opened my eyes and took in my surroundings I froze. Standing just feet in front of me was none other than Loke. His hair was longer now, and he was wearing a nice suit, but I could never forget those eyes.

   “Loke, you’re okay. I was so worried about you.” I said moving to get closer to him.

   I watched as a river of emotions flashed across his face. “I see you found your key, good for you.” It seems he settled on indifference for our reunion. 

   The blonde standing behind him looked at him confused. “You know this spirit Loke? Is she one of your friends?” She asked him.

   “I know this spirit, or at least I thought I did. And no she’s not my friend.” It felt like I had been stabbed in the heart, hearing the malice that laced his voice.

   Before I could speak again and explain myself, Angel spoke up. “Enough, I called you here to fight, not wallow in the past now take out Leo and kill that wizard so I can take her keys.” Her words caught everyone's attention.

   I turned away from Loke, looking to the wizard I was contracted with. “You can’t expect me to fight him, anyone but him.” I said, holding back tears.

   “You will fight whoever I tell you to fight. Now fight him.” Angel said clearly not wanting to deal with my defiance

   I was about to retort but was interrupted by a wave of yellow light washing over me. Turning quickly I saw Loke preparing to fight. “What are you doing Loke? I can’t fight you. I know it seems like I abandoned you but I didn’t I promise. Please listen to me for five seconds.” I begged, as I began deflecting the punches Loke was sending my way.

   “I don’t want to hear it. You broke your promise, you never came back. I almost died and you were nowhere to be found, had Lucy not been there I would be dead.” He spat as he continued throwing punches. I didn’t even have a chance to speak between deflecting his attacks and the words that honestly hurt more than any punch could. “I waited for you for months, saying that it was probably just taking longer for you to recharge. I waited in our apartment for you to show up and you never did. You abandoned me and now you’re contracted to this bitch, doing her dirty work. I thought you were going to give your key to someone you could trust.”

   He only stopped when I lost my footing falling flat on the ground. “I never meant to be gone for so long. I tried to come back but I couldn’t. You have every right to hate me for leaving you when you needed me.” I said, holding back tears. “I’m just glad someone was able to save you.” Sitting up slightly, I turned to look at the blonde wizard that held Loke’s key. “I guess I should thank you for saving Loke.” I finished with a said smile. Before I could say more or hear a response, Angel closed my gate sending me back to the celestial world. Back among the stars, I prayed that Loke and his wizard would beat Angel. Even if I know that Loke will likely never accept my apology, I hope that he will someday know that I never meant to abandon him.

EDIT: part 2 is out now

[zeninsama-moved]

pay up!

gojo satoru x female reader

satoru's poor time management has you working overtime, and this cheap bastard has something other than cash to pay you with (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

note from author mercury: this is my entry for our slimeball collab over on @bastardblvd , figured the host of the slimiest event on this corner of the internet should probably contribute a lil somethin. let's pretend like i'm not shitting bricks bc this is my first time writing for gojo <3 ending is a little abrupt but i needed to get this out asap or i'd be scrutinizing it for the next five months

content warnings: female reader, unprotected sex, oral and fingering (reader receiving), overuse of the word 'cute', praise and obnoxious petnames (reader receiving), needing to keep quiet, fucking on the couch while the kids are asleep down the hall so if that's a concern for you please don't touch, panty fetish if you squint, cumshot?, implied you've fucked before, unfair compensation for your labor lmao, multiple references to the slimeball au so that may be super jarring if you aren't familiar.

↳ word count: 3.9k

It's almost eleven, which means Satoru is... very late.

Shit happens, you get it. Maybe work ran later than expected, or the train hit a freeloader on the way back to Grimetown, but still. You can’t help but feel bothered by the lack of text message from your pseudo-employer.

You would never complain about Megumi and Tsumiki. They're absolute angels, and caring for them has never felt like work. Besides, your only other options were a waitressing job at Franky’s or the graveyard shift at the gas station, which you heard is filled with... interesting characters at that time of night. Caring for the coolest elementary schoolers alive seemed like a no-brainer. The arrangement worked out in your favor as well. Satoru ended up moving you into his apartment complex due to his demanding schedule, wanting you to always be close – like two apartments down the hall close.

Contrary to the name, the Luxury Condos on Bastard Boulevard weren’t much of an upgrade from your last apartment. The landlord must be loaded because it’s a miracle this place passed inspection, but you’ll gladly accept updated appliances and neighbors without a small army of pet rats. Even the offensively high rent doesn’t bother you because your pseudo-employer paid it all in cash. 

(You tried asking Satoru exactly where he got all this money from, to which he said, “It ain’t easy being the sexiest designer sunglasses model on this side of town. You gotta work hard to play hard!”)

Anyways, whatever is holding him, you hope it’s a good excuse.

In the meantime, you’ve taken up camp on his sofa, wrapped in a throw blanket that smells vaguely of Satoru's disgustingly expensive cologne. You were too lazy to change the channel from whatever cartoon Megumi was watching before bedtime, laughing through your nose every now and then. It’s not that bad, but still… You’d really, really like to go back to your apartment and hit the hay.

Maybe a little snooze won’t hurt, but of course, right as you close your eyes...

The smart lock clicks behind you. It’s a quarter past eleven when Satoru enters the apartment, looking gorgeous and unbothered, sunglasses low on his nose and DAISO cat-print tote bag slung over his arm.

"Daddy's home!" 

"Shh!" you're glaring from the couch, lips drawn in a frown. "Megumi and Tsumiki are sleeping! Where the hell were you? You couldn't give me a heads up?" 

"Sorry, babycakes. They loved what I was giving 'em, so the shoot ran overtime." Satoru grins at you, pulling the sunglasses off his face and ditching them in the catch-all along with his keys. His shoes are toed off and left by the front door. "Why, you miss me that bad?" 

You're tempted to throw one of the many decorative pillows right at his big, dumb head. Instead you sink back into the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around your frame, grouchy. "Whatever," you sigh. "You're four hours late, so you better pay up." 

Satoru sucks in air through his teeth. "Yeah, about that..."

You don't like where this conversation is heading. 

"Some big guy outside the train station jacked my wallet on the way home. You'll never believe it, he had this fuckin'... worm? On his shoulder? Shit, it was crazy. So I don't have the cash to pay you, but–" 

You glance over your shoulder at the man now rummaging through his bag behind you, eyes and tone full of warning. "Satoru..."

An opened package is waved in your face by a beaming idiot.

"– Ichigo daifuku! Your favorite!"

He's so full of shit. There’s one piece of mochi left, does he really think his already-eaten train snack will fix this? Probably, and as much as you'd hate to admit it, you do like strawberry daifuku mochi. Dammit.  

Despite your annoyance, you don't get up from your spot on the couch. You're tempted to storm out, blow past Satoru and grab your things, maybe give him a good shove while you do it. However, you're tired, and no grand display of your frustrations would change the fact that you'd be returning tomorrow to pick up his kids from school. Also, your apartment is literally two doors down, so you wouldn't truly be escaping Satoru – you'll still feel his annoying energy seeping through the absurdly large gap under your door while you sit there, in the apartment that he bought you, stewing in your annoyance and eating your feelings in a single daifuku mochi. 

God, you might hate this man. You don't even wanna look at him, but despite feeling this way, you let Satoru move closer, ditching the bag of sweets in favor of pinching your puffed-out cheek in his fingers.

“Aw, come on,” he pouts, redirecting your face towards his in an attempt to get you to look at him, but you don’t give him the satisfaction. You force yourself to look anywhere else but the man above you and stubbornly pretend you can’t feel the cool puffs of his mint-gum breath, or notice his devious grin from the corner of your eye. “Don’t be mad at me, babycakes. Is there anything I can do to make it better?” 

“You can go to the ATM and get me some cash."

“Yeah, besides that.”

On the subject of things you hate about Satoru, you hate how quickly he switches up on you. One minute, he's the most annoying man you've ever had the misfortune of knowing. The next, he's smooth and serious. The kind of man that confidently leans in and ghosts his lips over your neck, intentionally fanning his breath over your skin because you made the mistake of telling him you're ticklish there.

"There must be some way for me to make this up to you," Satoru murmurs into your neck, the low vibrations of his voice making you shiver. It's then that you finally cave, eyes slowly meeting his, brilliant blues hidden behind heavy lids.

Unfortunately, he's very handsome.

"Okay," you huff. "Fine."

He kisses your cheek, then your nose, and then he kisses you.

You hate to admit it, but Satoru knows how to kiss. His lips are warm and soft, meshing with yours with confidence, tongue easing into your mouth in a practiced motion.

He momentarily breaks the kiss to join you on the couch, kneeling on the cushion beside you and leaning back in, cradling your cheek in his hand, murmuring against your lips before kissing them again.

"Let me show you just how much I appreciate you."

Satoru reaches down and rests his hand between your thighs, cupping your pussy through the rough fabric of your shorts. You bite your lip at the sensation, stifling a needy whimper, but he knows. Your grouchy demeanor melted so easily for him.

How cute, his little tsundere.

He squeezes you softly, then rubs four fingers up and down, keeping his pace slow.

"You know I can't do it without you, right?"

Your hips lift off the couch, chasing his hand as it continues its unbothered pace. Satoru rewards you by focusing the stimulation on your clit, switching to tighter, firmer circles over the sensitive bud.

"You're just saying that," you mutter.

"Nuh uh," Satoru teases. "I've never seen anyone be so good with my kids. They love you, you know. Maybe more than they love me."

That's not too difficult, you want to quip, but opt to bite your tongue instead. Satoru's touch feels way too good, you don't want him to stop or risk having your orgasm put off just over a snark. Instead, you curl your fingers into the nape of his neck, fidgeting with the shorter tufts of hair there. 

Satoru kisses you again. His hand stops playing with your clit just to skim higher, unfasten the button and zipper on your shorts so he can touch you where you both want it most.

"And you know," he murmurs between kisses, fingers sneaking under the loosened waist of your shorts, then your panties, until you feel his fingers make contact with your bare clit. He watches your reactions closely, smiling when you gasp and buck up into his touch. "I like you too. How can I not? You're too damn cute."

His slender middle finger skims your folds, feeling the wetness there, letting it gather and get him all slick, making it easier when it finally pushes inside you. Just one finger already feels like so much, almost too much. He feels your walls bear down, his cock twitching lazily in his pants. How long has it been since he’s had you last? 

You let him have you once before, back when he spent the whole day helping you move into your new apartment, carrying all those heavy boxes for you like the gentleman he is – and you, being the sweet peach you are, insisted on making him dinner as a thank you.

You reminded Satoru of a cute little housewife, puttering around the kitchen in your apron, though nothing was cuter than the sight of you sinking onto his dick that night, your hands and pussy clinging to him like you couldn’t get enough.

Every time he jerks off, he thinks of that adorable, pinched look on your face when the fat head of his dick first speared you open. 

It's kind of embarrassing, the hold you have on him. 

When you're taking his finger with ease, Satoru presses a second into your cunt, further stretching it out. "Come on, baby, open up for me," he coaxes, voice low and sultry. "Fuck, you don't know how bad I missed this pussy. Gonna let me fuck it again? Hm?"

"Uh huh," you're nodding, dazed, and the sight of you makes Satoru grin. The heel of his palm presses into your clit, providing the right amount of pressure when combined with his fingers.

"Yeah? Gonna let me have this cute pussy to myself?" 

Cruelly, the motion stops.

The lack of stimulation makes you pout.

Satoru's fingers glide out of you with an embarrassingly loud squelch, intentionally brushing along your clit as they withdraw from your shorts and panties. His hand emerges, fingers glistening with clear threads of arousal webbed between them, and before you can think, he slips them past your lips and presses firmly on your tongue, prompting you to suck.

"Tastes good?" Satoru coos, delighted at your eagerness. "Let me taste now, okay, cutie?" 

Shyly, you nod. His fingers withdraw from your mouth, leaving a dribble of spit on your bottom lip. 

Satoru repositions himself to kneel on the floor in front of you, tugging you by the hips so your bottom half comes right to the edge of the couch, dangerously close to his face. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cunt, the sensation muted by your shorts, but it still makes you gasp. His fingers hook into your shorts and you lift your hips to help him pull them off, but he makes no effort to remove your panties with them. Instead, he fixates on the little wet patch right in the center, caressing it with his finger. Admiring it.

Fuck, you’re so cute. He can’t wait to get his mouth on you. 

"Need to keep quiet, okay?" Satoru instructs, peering up at you through his lashes, watching you take your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. The last thing you need is to disturb the two rugrats asleep down the hall, even if you could pry yourself off Satoru and pull your shorts back on in record time. You don't want this moment to stop, not when the promise of his mouth on your cunt is so deliciously close.

You look so sweet like this, he thinks. Chest heaving, eyes wide and eager, one hand fisting the hem of your shirt, holding it over your stomach for a better view. Satoru smiles up at you, maintaining eye contact as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh.

“What a beautiful girl.”

Satoru buries his face in the soft warmth between your legs. His nose presses into your clit, taking in your scent as his tongue ventures lower, finally getting a taste of your pussy and he shamelessly moans. It’s faint through the fabric. He knows he could taste you better without them, but something about eating pussy through a cute pair of panties never fails to get him so fucking hard. He likes watching them get wetter and wetter, until they're completely soaked from arousal and saliva and clinging to the shape of the pretty pussy underneath.

Your other hand flies down immediately, resting on the back of Satoru’s head to urge him closer, and of course he’ll indulge you. He’ll eat you just the same, dragging his tongue in broad strokes up to your clit, then sucking it into his mouth.

The muted sensation makes you whine. It’s not enough, yet so good. Enough to make your little pussy flutter under your panties. You push his head harder against your cunt, desperate to keep the kissing suction over your clit. You’re certain you could cum like this, between the pressure of Satoru’s tongue and the vibrations when he moans against you. 

A string of saliva connects Satoru’s swollen lips to your panties when he pulls back for air, but this time he pulls the soaked fabric aside, finally getting an eyeful of your pussy.

“Well hi, gorgeous,” he lovingly coos, pressing a light kiss over your clit. “Did you miss me?” 

Is he… really talking to your pussy? 

Scratch that, you hate him again. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, breathless. 

“What do you mean? We’re having a moment,” Satoru replies, voice still sweet and airy, the same way one would talk to a cute little pet. 

If you didn’t need him so badly, you’d kick him right in his dumb face.

Fortunately, Satoru cuts his little bit short and dives back in, tongue sweeping through your folds, finally getting his first real taste of your pussy. You taste even better than he could imagine. 

You release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, body melting into the couch. Your fingers tangle in soft white hair, urging his head deeper, wanting to feel more of his mouth and Satoru obliges. His tongue dips into your cunt, fucking you with it, then drags up to your clit to lick in slow circles.  

He really, really wants to be inside you right now. His dick is throbbing so hard, he’s amazed he hasn’t passed out yet, but Satoru’s always been a man with a sweet tooth. He doesn’t mind setting his needs aside a while longer if it means eating out some pretty pussy. 

Maybe not too much longer though.

His fingers join between your legs, still slick from your saliva and arousal, and slip easily into your cunt. Making you cum is easy for him, his fingers thrust deep with each lazy roll of his wrist, stimulating that spot inside you with ease. Though, he can tell you're craving more of a stretch, so Satoru, being the chivalrous, generous, oh-so-kind man that he is, gives you a third finger.

Your jaw drops at the intrusion, pussy now spread wide to accommodate the stretch of three fingers as they curl and stroke your sensitive walls, drawing out more wetness and arousal until it drips down his wrist in clear drops.

Satoru knows you're close when you let out a particularly desperate moan, your hips stuttering and walls fluttering so perfectly on his fingers, clit pulsing against his tongue.

"Satoru, I'm–" you warn, trying to keep your voice low.

"I know, baby," he coos in encouragement. "Feels so good, doesn't it? Go ahead, pretty baby. Cum on my tongue if you need to."

You don't need any further coaxing. When you cum, you cum hard, hand smacking over your mouth to muffle your cries as Satoru keeps fucking you through your orgasm, fingers thrusting and tongue lapping up every drop of arousal your sensitive pussy drools out, just for him.

He rests his head on your inner thigh, watching fondly as you come down from your high. His fingers still thrust into you but his pace has slowed significantly, working you through it until your walls stop contracting. Your arousal coats his entire hand when it withdraws from your cunt, even pooling on the couch beneath you. It'll be a bitch to clean, but Satoru can't bring himself to care about that now. His dick might explode if it's not buried in your cunt in the next thirty seconds.

Even as you lay there, chest heaving, you still crave more. Your hands are greedy, grabbing at Satoru while he makes his way up and eases you back against the couch.

“Easy there, tiger,” he chuckles, hooking his fingers into your soaked panties and peeling them down your legs. "Let's take these off you first."

Your panties are discarded somewhere – probably his pocket, that pervert – before Satoru goes in for another kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. One hand rests beside your head, supporting his weight. The other reaches down and palms his dick through his pants. "You need my dick that badly? Hm? Turn around." 

You oblige, rolling over to lay on your stomach and pretending the sound of his belt unfastening doesn't make you warm with anticipation. Satoru shifts to straddle your thighs, placing one of the cushions to rest under your hips, keeping you nice and comfortable while also elevating your ass to be closer to his dick. A win-win.

"Shit," he sighs, pulling his dick from his briefs and jerking it slowly, slicking himself up with your wetness. Precum beads at the tip and he rubs it against your folds, mixing your messes. "It's been a while, huh?" 

"Satoru," you whine, pushing back against him, wiggling your hips slightly in a silent request for him to quit teasing you and get on with it.

Maybe that makes you greedy. After all, he was just nice enough to let you cum on his fingers and tongue, but you don't care. It doesn't hurt to be selfish every once in a while, especially with Satoru of all people.

When Satoru finally presses the thick head of his dick into you, it feels like you’re being split in two. He's immediately met with resistance, your cunt bearing down, struggling to accommodate it even with all the prep he gave you. So he starts slow and shallow, dragging his heavy dick in and out, bullying your cunt into relaxing and letting more of him fit. He pulls out and taps the head against your entrance again. "Come on, sweetie, open up for me~" 

He eases into your cunt again, but this time Satoru leans in, his opposite hand settling on the other side of your head, smothering you with his weight in the best way possible. His body blankets yours, pinning your back under his chest and ass against his hips. His dick pushes into you with more persistence, inch after inch sinking deeper until he's buried to the hilt.

Your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open in a silent scream. You're probably drooling all over his couch, but it's hard to feel shame when he's filling you out so nicely. He's so deep, it's like he's forcing the air out of your lungs and replacing it with his dick.

His lips ghost over your shoulder, kissing it sweetly, then he starts to move. Slow, deep thrusts, only withdrawing an inch before he's chasing that warmth again. He fucks you as hard as he can without being too noisy, limiting the smack of his hips against your ass, even though he really wants to see it bounce from the force of his thrusts. If he could, he’d be making you scream right now, watch some pretty tears stream down your face because of what his dick does to you. Yeah, that would be cute.

Satoru ruts ruthlessly into the tight heat of your cunt, chasing the orgasm he’s needed so fucking desperately. Balls slap against your clit, heavy with all his pent-up release. He takes advantage of your open mouth and forces two fingers inside, pressing down firmly on your tongue and delighting in the way you slobber around them, in the way your cheeks subconsciously hollow and suck them deeper, still tasting your pussy on them.

Sucking on his fingers keeps you quiet, gives you something else to focus on if not the relentless pounding against your cervix, or how close you’re getting to snapping and cumming all over his dick.

“Shit, you’re so perfect,” Satoru huffs against your neck. "I can feel you squeezing me, baby, I know this little pussy wants to cum."

It’s hard to moan his name when his stupidly long fingers are prodding the back of your throat. You’re babbling, crying out for Thatowu to keep fucking you, it feels so good, and he’s grinning like an idiot above you. Yeah, baby? It feels good?

Satoru’s fingers withdraw from your mouth only to snake underneath your body and stake claim on your clit, massaging in slow circles, coaxing you closer to your orgasm. You can’t take it anymore. Your body goes limp, cheek smashed into the cushion, gaping mouth smearing drool all over the fabric while your cunt creams around his dick.

“Shit, that’s it, baby,” Satoru moans, feeling your cunt squeeze around his dick like it's trying to swallow him whole. “Shit, you’re gonna make me cum. Is that what you want, baby? You want me to fill this pussy up?”

You’re too fucked out to answer, but that’s okay, because Satoru wasn’t really asking. More like letting you know he’s seconds away from driving his dick as deep as possible and unloading right against your cervix. God, he’d really like that, but he can't risk having any more rugrats right now. Not when his career as the only sexiest designer sunglasses model in Grimetown is taking off.

Instead, he pulls out of your cunt and manhandles you onto your back, quickly stroking his dick, filling the living room with the lewd sounds of your wetness squelching around him. You're laying there, dazed, legs spread wide and pussy exposed, all swollen and leaky and clenching around the air. The sight of your debauched face sends Satoru over the edge. He releases with a groan, cum splattering on your lower stomach, inner thighs, all over your pussy, before pressing the head right against your clit and letting the rest of his load drip.

You both need a minute after that. Maybe several minutes. 

Blood still rushes in your ears when you come to. You push yourself up on shaking arms, Winnie the Pooh-ing it with your tee shirt and lack of panties. You're a mess, all sweaty with his cum painting your lower half, even parts of the couch underneath you. Maybe he'll offer up his shirt as a cumrag so you don't have to do the walk of shame to the bathroom.

You watch Satoru, who is already back to his normal, irritating self, snatch his bag off the side table, already craving a little something sweet. He chomps into the last strawberry daifuku mochi in the packet and you frown.

“Hey, I thought that was for me."

“We can still share,” Satoru teases, waving the mochi-half in your face with a grin.

Huffing, your eyes drop back down to the open bag on his lap and… wait a minute. Has that been here this whole time?

“Satoru, is that your wallet?” 

He looks down, a little rice flour on his chin.

“Oh, shit! Where did that come from?” 

[babydin]

Sex (With My Ex) 

Wrong place at the wrong time might've cost Javier his relationship with you, but he's as smooth as he is handsome and it isn't long until you fall back into old habits. He's a drug and you're addicted. - Javier Pena x f!reader - 18+, minors DNI! - Song inspo: Sex (With My Ex) - FLETCHER - References to cheating, alcohol, fingering, dirty talk, cursing, vaginal doggy style, light choking, biting, references to bruises - 1865 words -Comments/likes appreciated - A/N: There is Spanish in this and I am not a native Spanish speaker, it is something I am learning so please forgive me if my grammar or anything is incorrect! I'm still making my way through Narcos so I'm sorry if I don't have his voice 🥺 Also I figured out how to post this without splitting it or linking it yay me! 

I just had sex with my ex in a New York apartment.

“Do you want to come in?”   It’s been almost a month since you caught Javier with another woman’s tongue down his throat, it didn’t surprise you and you almost felt like you should’ve seen it coming. He had been spending more time on his case than he had with you, more time with his informants than he had at home, of course it was inevitable that she was getting to see him at his best and his worst, get take out with him, kiss him goodnight, suck his dick when he got praise from the boss. He told you that it was just a kiss, and it was just the one time but he came home to you and slipped into bed and turned his back to you most nights and it was that that made it hard for you to believe him.   You don’t know why you said yes, maybe it was those big dumb Bambi eyes he was giving you, or the way he smelled of lager and cigarettes, but you step into Javier’s apartment and give him a cold look as you brush past him and stares down at the ground like he knows he deserves it. You have a box of things he’d left at your apartment, and you drop it carelessly on the couch. It’s mostly clothes, a few tapes, a mug he bought you from a vacation to Cape Town last year. It had a crudely drawn pair of tits on it, you never did understand his reason for buying it for you but every time you drank from it you remembered spending an entire afternoon getting fucked by him under a mango tree. You both got sunburn. Javier comes to you with a glass of something over ice. It looks and smells like tequila, you don’t want it but you take it to be polite. “You look nice.” “What do you want?” You knew you looked nice. You had purposefully worn a skirt that showed off as much as your legs as you could get away with without getting a public indecency charge on you, and a shirt that accentuated the curves of your torso in a way that wasn’t so obviously trying to, but did anyway. Your hair was tied back, exposing your neck because Javi was a biter. “Babygirl, let me explain. Will you let me?” He looks pathetic; it’s a look you’ve never seen on him before. He’s full of apology, he’s full of regret, his eyes are wet, and maybe he’s terrified of losing you. You shoot the tequila in one gulp and set the crystal tumbler on the side table then take off your jacket and lean back against the back of the couch and raise your eyebrows, indicating to him to go on.  “I swear to you, it was one kiss. Once. She came onto me–” You scoff. “I know. I know that’s such a bullshit excuse but it’s the truth. Her mouth had been on mine for half a second before you showed up. I would never break your heart like that, mi vida.” He moves closer to you, “Come on.” You could’ve melted into him right there, his soft sultry tones and those puppy dog eyes, the smell of tobacco smoke burning in your nose, the shot of tequila burning in your veins. “No, Javi. You can’t just – You can’t just sweet talk me in Spanish and expect me to just forgive you. You really fucking hurt me, you pig.” Javier pouted,  “Soy un cerdo. Un cerdo podrido. Un cerdo muy apenado y podrido.” He reaches up and touches your cheek with his thumb, “Lo siento mucho.” It turned out he could just sweet talk you in Spanish and you would forgive him. The second that apology left his lips you grabbed the collar of his shirt in both your hands and pulled him into a heated kiss, surprised at how much you had missed the taste of stale cigarettes and beer. He pushed into you and forced you to sit on the edge of the couch, your legs wrapped around him and his jeans were so tight you could feel the outline of his cock against you, he wasn’t hard but he would be soon. That feeling alone was enough to get a pool of arousal forming in your panties. Your hips rut against him, desperate for some friction at your core as pressure builds. You haven’t had anyone inside you since Javier, you aren’t sure if anyone else can compare.   He feels your pleading movements and slips his hand between the two of you, it finds a home up your skirt and into your panties, the warm slick welcome he gets makes him moan into your mouth. You pull away slightly to unbutton his shirt, “¿Se besó como yo?” you ask, with the little Spanish he has taught you, you hope it’s intelligible. He spares you the struggle of having to translate, although hearing you speak in Spanish leaves his knees weak, and answers you in breathless English, thick fingers massaging your sex, “Gatita, nobody kisses like you.” You moan desperately and try to buck against his hand, needing more of him, all of him. You pull his shirt out of his jeans and make quick work of unbuckling those. Your trembling fingers are clumsy on the fastenings, but you can feel the ghost of his length as stiff as a board and pushing awkwardly against the already tight denim. “You’re so wet, kitten. You miss me?” “Fuck me.” You’re not above begging him. He doesn’t even have to ask you to, it comes so easily; the way he gets you so riled up so quickly, skilled fingers stroking your clit with ease as you coat them with your arousal, his softly toned chest heaving as he struggled to keep his breathing at a steady pace, of course you had missed him. You needed him. Nobody in the world had ever fucked you as good as Javier Peña.  “Please, Javi.” you get his jeans open and pull them down just enough to reach inside and pull out his thick cock, hard and twitching in your hand. He doesn’t give you any time to pleasure him though, he rips you off the couch and his hand pulls your panties down in one swift move, so fast you barely have time to register what happened, but as your underwear drops to your ankles you step out of it so you can spread your legs as wide as he needs them. Javi turns you around and pushes you back over the couch, his knee pushes between your thighs to nudge your knees apart and he guides his cock between your soaked labia, coating himself in your arousal, and you moan as you feel yourself around him. You suddenly wonder how it would feel to ride him like that, his stiff cock pressed against his stomach under your weight as you rub your clit on his shaft until cum oozes out of him. Your thoughts are disturbed when Javier presses his tip inside you, your sex is aching for him, already pulsating around him, welcoming him in, trying to pull him deeper as he stretches you with his girth. He doesn’t ease in tonight, he fucks his way in, each thrust has him entering you deeper until you have all of him, his hands on your hips pulling you into him and you know you’re going to bruise from the brute force of his pelvis smacking into yours but you will wear those bruises proudly. His fist twists in your ponytail and he pulls you up off the couch a little, leaning down to meet you. That was another good reason to wear your hair up, you thought. Built arms wrap around you, the one hand finding your clit again to rub rapid circles over it as the other holds your throat. You moan loudly without a care for any of the adjacent apartments. Javier’s teeth find your neck, just behind your ear, they sink in and they suck hard and he claims you as his own. You hear him grunting, feel the heat from his breath and the sweat from his brow, and it drives you insane. “Javi—” you gasp desperately, “Javi, ba–baby I’m—” You don’t need to finish your sentence, and he knew exactly what you were going to say. He fucked you harder, so hard it made your teeth rattle, his fingers launching a relentless attack on your clit, as if he was trying to start a goddamn fire down there. You couldn’t hold onto your orgasm anymore at this rate, and you mistakenly turned your head and looked at him, his face all twisted with concentration, tan skin flushed with a fire burning within him, glistening with sweat, hair sticking to his forehead. Each forward thrust of his hips forced a moan from you until you came hard. Both of your hands wrapped around his to stop him from rubbing you any more, and your thighs clamped together as the muscles of your sex ebbed and flowed around his cock, you moaned from deep within your throat and could not believe how sensitive you were. Despite your reaction, Javier did not stop pounding into you, fucking you through your orgasm and when you were coming down he took both your hips in his hands and continued, pulling you into him as he fucked you. You had barely time to recover from your first orgasm and you felt a second brewing already, your knees were weak and you gripped onto the couch for stability.   Javier’s teeth sank into your shoulder and his hand once again found your throat. “You got me so fuckin’ pussydrunk, kitten.” he purred into your ear, his breath heavy as he struggled to catch it between his harsh thrusts. Your eyes roll back into your head and you reach back to grab at his hair desperately, pushing back against him as your second orgasm washes over you so quickly. It’s so intense that your mouth falls open but no sound comes out, the walls of your core clamp down on Javier and claim him and it doesn’t take him long before his calculated thrusts become messy, then few and far between, and then completely still as he spills his orgasm deep inside you. His voice went up an octave as he released his thankful moans into your neck. The feeling of him filling you up made you find your voice, a strangled gasp filling the air as you tugged on his hair and forced him closer into your neck. Javier’s grip loosened on your body, his touch turned suddenly so tender but still he held you close, feeling your body trembling. “Missed you.” he whispered against the shell of your ear. You smile lethargically and try to steady your racing heart that seems to beat only his name Javier. Javier. “You’re amazing Javi.” You tell him. “Stay. Please?” You think for a second and then nod; how could you possibly say no? Nobody in the world is ever going to love you like Javier Peña.

[bozepomagaj]

ATINY/MOA/CARATS vs Made in Abyss was the last thing I expected and its hilarious

feel like I need to say something since twitter absolutely loves spreading misinfo and just accusing people of shit, how have you people not LEARNED your lesson yet? Since when is twitter such a trusted source, especially gossip accounts?

And before you braindead stans start calling me a d!ckrider, I promise you I do not care about these men cuz I've got better things to focus on and I'm making this because people are overreacting and it's getting annoying. It's so obvious 90% of you haven't watched the anime (and thats completely fine, I get you) and then ended up listening to someone who made stuff up and overexaggerated. I'm not here to defend the author because I hate him as much as you do and can absolutely recognize the dude is into some weird shit but saying people are ONLY interested in this series because of r@pe and p€dophilia is INSANE. So let me answer some questions as a Made an Abyss reader (not calling myself a fan because you'll catch me DEAD before you see me buying any merch or manga despite my love for the series), kpop fan second.

Does Made In Abyss contain p3d0ph1l1c themes, gore etc.?

There absolutely is because the author is a creep (refering to the nsfw however, most of the times it's very easily skippable. As someone who hates l0l1con cuz it creeps me out, I can tell you that I really didn't have a hard time skipping said scenes even in the manga which is far more explicit than the anime (Prushka asking about Bond's 'stick', Faputa looking into Regs pants, Vueko's weird comments) and sometimes, they're even added as extras (0.5 chapters) which certain sites that contain scans don't even include. I didn't even know about the existence about a few of these chapters BECAUSE they don't include them.

The OVA is a nightmare to watch and was not only unfunny but creepy as fuck especially when they try to boil down such an amazing character like Ozen into 'I like seeing little kids in pain'. Now I have no idea if this was made independently but I don't remember the author making any spin-offs that they could base this on so I can't tell you who wrote it but even then I doubt that the author minded it since the man himself had to include that Faputas behind smells like the 'Sun' so again, not here to defend him cuz he most definitely is a weirdo, no doubt about it.

Is Made in Abyss torture p*rn?

If MiA is torture p*rn then AoT is military propaganda and supports child labor, TPN is also torture p*rn, JJK promotes violence, Berserk excuses r*pe and Evangelion is also p*do bait. See how stupid that sounds? Just because an anime INCLUDES something, does not mean it necessarily supports it. Yes, r*pe is mentioned but it's not even SHOWN, and it's a cruical part of a characters backstory. The torture that happens, happens only once if we exclude Riko's 'experiment' at the very beginning of the manga. And Mitty's transformation can't even be classified as torture cuz it's a.... transformation. Prushka's death is very censored so its not like you can jack off to that anyways. Now the piss thing is something I have noticed but haven't really payed attention it because bffr why the hell would I so idk, maybe the author is trying to tell us something or the guy thinks pee pee poo poo funny🤷‍♀️.

Is there any plot besides the weird stuff?

See now this is the part that gets me most because the reason why a majority of people nowadays got into MiA in the first place is BECAUSE of the amazing plot. The world building, the mystery, the fight scenes, etc. It's amazingly drawn, nicely paced and unique in its own way. But of course, it's manga&anime and what's anime without fanservice? I already explained that in manga, said scenes can be easily skipped and the anime thankfully doesn't include a lot of these. I do have to admit thag I dropped the manga for now since the chapter where they were in a bath cuz it was another one of those 'here we go again' moments where it made me roll my eyes and just close the tab so I don't really know what's been happening recently and if things go weirder.

I'm also gonna tell you honestly that yes, the fandom is filled with sweaty dudebros itching to see these kids half naked and the author is aware of them and pondering to them because he too is one of them. But a large majority is back from when the anime originally came out and are mostly hiding on twitter so it's easy to avoid them and they've been pretty rare ever since people with actual interest in the series have begun watching it. A reason why back in the day I didn't wanna interact with the fandom at ALL was because the moment I tried to have a normal conversation about the plot and what might actually be going on, I instead get bombarded with "UWAAAA😭😭😭" and 'c*nny' comments. I also cannot defend and don't even plan on defending the fact that Faputa is pretty much naked the entire series. I get that she lives in the literal wilderness, but the very least you could do is put a cloth on her y'know. And mind you, I'm talking about the manga. The anime is a LOT more heavily censored, and from what I heard, even MORE censored in Korea.

To sum it up:

Do I think Mingi/Soobin/Woozi are p*dos cuz they watched the anime? Absolutely the fuck not. Considering Mingi is a big CSM fan, I can see why he watched Made in Abyss because I was in that same pipeline. I think some of you are going way too far with these comments, if you wanna call them weird, creepy, wanna unstan them for reading stuff like this go ahead, not gonna stop because in the end no one can but accusing people of crimes isn't funny and never will be. If they were exposed for watching shit like Kodomo no Jikan then that most definitely IS eyebrow raising. Maybe I'm slightly biased due to me only enjoying MiA for the plot so seeing people say the fans are p3d0s when the first time I watched this was when I was freshly 15.... yeah idk abt that one. Whether they liked the weird and questionable scenes, I have zero idea I'm just here to say that you can enjoy said anime without being a weirdo and you shouldn't begin jumping to conclusions and start calling people straight up criminals. If anyone wants to have a productive conversation and ask questions abt said anime cuz I doubt you're gonna go watch an anime over a Twitter drama, go ahead and ask. If you wanna insult me and call me a d!ckrider then go ahead and do that too, who am I to stop you?

[hopepetal]

My piece in the fourth edition of the @trafficzine! I wrote about Impulse's boogey kill on Pearl :)

(Spot the boatem knights au reference in the fic lol)

Read on AO3!

Enjoy! :)

--

The curse looms over Impulse like storm clouds over the sky, and he thirsts for time like grass for rain. He catches his breath as the curse settles on him, choosing him as the boogeyman. 

He releases the breath through his mouth, quietly forming the words “not the boogeyman” with his lips. It's not the truth, but it sounds enough like it for no one to suspect a thing. He's gotten good at lying, at deceiving and backstabbing, over the course of the life series. He and Skizz are different in that way. Where his friend remains honest and loyal, he weaves treachery and lies into his words. 

Impulse isn't strong enough to be honest. That, in his opinion, is one of his greatest flaws. He's too weak to hold any true loyalty to his team– he supposes that's why the thought of just killing one of them crosses his mind instantly. 

No, he rebukes instantly, if I kill too quickly, they might want to do a reroll. He thinks back to the first boogey, how Grian had claimed it wasn’t “entertaining enough”. How Skizz had died twice in quick succession, just because there hadn’t been enough suspense to make things interesting. 

Impulse joins the bad boys and Tango in teasing Grian– he’s well and fully asleep, passed out on the llama– and pretends that he isn’t thinking of killing every single one of them. He thirsts, thirsts for time in a way he knows is just beginning. It will get worse over time, so he’s been told, and that is not something he’s looking forward to.

They have a brief conversation about the bread bridge and gold. Jimmy’s upset with Joel, Joel is flusteredly trying to explain, and Impulse somehow manages to keep a pleasant smile on his face the whole time. He ignores how his fingers twitch, itching to grab onto his sword and swing it right into one of the bad boys' chests. 

Impulse and Tango manage to leave without spilling any blood, leaving the two bickering bad (bread) boys behind. The trek back to their base is mostly silent– Impulse is trapped in his thoughts for the most of it. He wonders once more if he should just get an easy kill on his teammates, or if he should tell them about him being the boogey. 

He almost does tell them. Instead, he innocently asks “anyone the boogey?” and feigns ignorance and joy when they all confirm that they aren’t. He supposes that’s one good thing about being the boogey; he doesn’t have to spend the entire session worrying about whether someone was lying to him or not, watching his back and fearing for his life.

Everything continues as normal. Skizz pulls Tango aside to talk while Etho begins placing red concrete in the water, watching it harden before mining it. And oh, it would be so easy to kill them– they’re not even looking! Their backs are turned! None of them even have their weapons drawn, so lulled into a false sense of security that–

No.

No.

He can’t do this. Not again. He won’t betray his teammates. He’ll just have to find someone better to kill.

There’s Scar, running over the hill and pulling Skizz aside. Impulse draws his sword but the other is too quick to disappear around the tower with Skizz in tow, claiming that it’s a “private meeting.” Impulse looks between Tango and Etho with a nervous chuckle that has no actual anxiety behind it. He knows Skizz is safe. Scar is green, after all, and the only one who could really put Skizz in any danger is Impulse himself. 

“Scar could be the boogey for all we know,” he points out, the smile on his face a contrast to the more serious words he’s saying, “are we sure we want to leave them alone?”

They leave Skizz alone with Scar anyway. If he was in any real danger, they’d get him out of there. There’s a team meeting (“Three quarters of a team meeting!” Tango jokes) and they begin to discuss skynet. Impulse makes his worry over falling off quite clear, and suggests that he goes and grabs some ender pearls. 

He does exactly that– the monotony of mining and healing and trading does enough to take his mind off of the ever growing thirst in the back of his throat. His communicator buzzes in his back pocket when he finishes up, Tango sending an excited response when the notification goes out. The communicator buzzes again as he begins to trade, and he wonders why in the void’s name did anyone ever think that achievements were a good idea. He gets what he needs, though, clutching eleven ender pearls in hand before returning to the surface.

And– oh boy, there’s Bdubs and Scar on the opposite bank, yelling about something incomprehensible. Things usually are that way, with the clockers. Cockers? Whatever they were calling themselves. Upon noticing Impulse, they wade through the water to join him, bringing their dogs with them.

“How are you, Impulse?” Scar asks in his pleasant voice, a smile on his lips as Bdubs helps him out of the water while rambling about something “blasting him all over the place”. 

“I’m doing great, how are you–” Impulse begins, but is interrupted by Tango falling from the sky and crashing into the water with a demonic sort of squawking. 

Bdubs is unphased by this, shouting out an excited “hi, Tango! That was cool!”

Tango clambers out of the water and immediately is staring at the small puppy shaking water out of its fur. “That dog’s head is way too big for its body,” he points out, and Bdubs shrugs and says something about the cuteness factor.

Impulse pulls out the ender pearls stashed away in his inventory. “Since you guys are friends…” He hands one to Bdubs before throwing one to Scar. “...do you want one of these?”

Bdubs’ eyes widen, and he takes his pearl with a grin. “Stasis chamber?” he asks enthusiastically, and Impulse smirks.

“You never know,” he says with a shrug, before turning and handing a pearl to Tango. 

He takes out some of the building bloodlust on the zombies that spawned in the tower (flamboyant, Bdubs calls it, to which Tango exclaims disbelievingly through laughter that it’s stone, one of the most basic building blocks). Impulse makes some joke about how Tango and Etho are competing for best accidental mob farm, and tries to hide how he relishes in the zombies’ demise. 

Monotonous work seems to help keep the murderous urges at bay, so Impulse volunteers to help Tango with the bubble elevator. Tango’s busy explaining to him what the plan is when Skizz drops into the water from above, splashing them both and spooking Tango. “Guy knows how to make an entrance!” Tango yelps, to Impulse and Skizz’s laughter.

“I hate to interrupt, but…!” Skizz makes his way over to Impulse, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Impulse! Do you have any ender pearls, buddy?”

“Oh yeah!” Impulse replies easily, and hands Skizz two ender pearls– the yellow name would need them. 

…not like they help much anyway, because not that much long later, Skizz falls off a ladder and dies. Again. There’s a brief discussion with Tango– how did it happen? Why did he die?– and then Skizz returns, yelling about how he doesn’t even know what happened. 

“Are you the boogey?!” he asks Impulse as they’re climbing back up the tower, and it takes everything Impulse has to keep moving up that ladder, to not freeze at the realization that Skizz thinks he did that on purpose. And, if he had, if he claimed it as a boogey kill– it would count! He could take this and the curse would break and…

No. He wouldn’t.

“I didn’t boogeyman you!” he insists over Skizz’s shouted accusations, “you fell on your own accord! Don’t you be blamin’ the boogey!”

“I’m gonna blame somebody!” Skizz spits, pulling himself up off the ladder. “What happened?! Why is this hole here?!” 

“It’s under construction–!” Impulse splutters– “I tried to tell you that!”

Skizz keeps yelling, and Tango’s laughter echoes from above. “Oh, I love the bickering,” he wheezes, and Impulse shoots him a glare. “Sorry, sorry, not helping.”

“I lost another hour, man!” Skizz cries. “I keep dying so much!”

Impulse gives him a weak smile, chuckling softly. “Okay, okay, but let’s talk. That was my fault, right? Because I’m the one that put the hole there?”

Skizz shakes his head instantly, dismissing Impulse’s concerns. “Nah, dude. Not at all. Of course it’s not your fault!” 

Impulse frowns, tilting his head slightly to the side. “But you just said it was,” he points out, and Skizz winces.

“Ehhh, heat of the moment sort of thing. Ya know?” 

Impulse laughs. “So if I happened to be boogey…” he trails off for a moment, testing the waters, before continuing. “...would that have counted?”

Something registers in Skizz’s brain, and he looks right into Impulse’s eyes. “I would’ve counted it. I really would’ve.” It’s an offer, almost. Skizz is giving him a way out of this. A way that Impulse has decided already not to take, but a way out nonetheless. “Are you the boogey, then?” Another offer. This time, it’s a chance to come clean and be honest with his teammates. 

Impulse hardly doubts that Skizz knows he’s boogey. They’ve been friends for decades now, and Skizz knows Impulse better than anyone else ever could. It’s part of the reason why Impulse is so glad Skizz is on his team and not an enemy; Skizz would be able to see right through him were he to lie or try and deceive anyone. 

“No,” Impulse practically breathes out, and tries not to wince when he sees the disappointment shine so briefly in Skizz’s eyes. “If I was boogey, I wouldn’t be going after you guys.” Relief swells in his chest when he sees Skizz relax and give him a slight smile. At least Skizz knows he can trust Impulse– the nice thing about knowing when someone is lying is that you know when they’re telling the truth as well. 

“I know,” Skizz tells Impulse, before weaving a little lie of his own. “I didn’t think you were boogey!”

Your ‘secret’ is safe. For now. 

They’re immediately distracted by Tango’s noisy complaints about how he built something wrong, his distressed sounds making Skizz laugh. Impulse joins in as Tango laments his mistake with a long, drawn out wail. Skizz’s laughter is infectious, and they quickly begin to tease Tango over the error. For the moment, things are fine, and Impulse almost forgets that he’s cursed. Doomed to either kill or die. 

Well, he’s doomed to die no matter what he does, but the game is all about delaying the inevitable.

When Skizz is gone, Impulse whispers the truth to Tango. He’s the boogey, and Tango laughs a little nervously at that before muttering that he’d figured, that question earlier had tipped him off. They joke about it for a moment before Tango confesses that he’s actually really nervous and Impulse is quick to reassure him that he has no plans of targeting team T.I.E.S. Tango nods, lowering his shield, and begins to figure out a plan. It ends up being quite simple– get TNT from Etho, then drop it from the sky and kill someone. 

They end up meeting Skizz on Skynet, high above the ground with a drop that would spell death for anyone unfortunate enough to fall. It’s dizzying, looking down at the ground, players like ants below them. So small. So fragile. 

Impulse wants to kill. 

“Why don’t you just do it?” he asks Skizz, voice quivering with barely held back excitement when his friend says he wants to blow someone up. Adrenaline is coursing through his veins, his blood turned to fire from the curse’s rage. 

Skizz can’t kill any yellows– that’s fine. Impulse will do it himself.

He lights the first block of TNT and watches it fall.

“...are you boogey, dude?”

Impulse is silent.

“You’re boogey.” 

“You knew that,” Impulse murmurs, and Tango and Skizz erupt into laughter.

“You are!” Skizz crows triumphantly, and Impulse can’t help but grin, expression turned maniac from the bloodlust. 

His eyes shine red.

The want becomes a need. 

“You’ll help me, right?” Impulse breathlessly asks his teammates, ignoring how his hands won’t stop trembling as he peers over the edge, gazing down at the drop that would sate his thirst, that would give him what he needs. All he has to do…

Skizz smiles, and he would’ve wrapped an arm around Impulse’s shoulders were they not in constant danger of falling to their deaths. “‘course, dippledop. What are friends for, if not to help a guy kill someone?”

…is kill. 

“Who do you want to kill?” Skizz asks, and Impulse considers his options. They’re allied with the clockers, and team T.I.E.S stays true to their allies. 

The bad boys, however…

“How about Joel?”

It’s perfect. He’s right beneath them, too caught up in his own duty of protecting Grian to pay attention to the sky. Impulse can hear his own heart beating, can feel the sweat dripping down his neck, can taste the blood as he bites down too hard on his cheek, can–

Footsteps that don’t belong to any member of T.I.E.S are picked up by ears far more sensitive than anyone else’s, and Impulse looks up to see Pearl running over Skynet with her diamond hoe in hand. “Pearl’s coming,” he warns, “Etho’s behind her.”

Now this…

This is his target.

It’s not every day the universe presents him with the perfect opportunity and means for revenge.

(Deep down, Impulse doesn’t really blame her for what happened in Double Life. But the boogey curse changes a person down to their very core, at least until they kill.)

“Let me shoot her,” Skizz whispers, and Impulse has to bite back a cry of frustration when he shoots. He misses, thankfully. Impulse has to do it, has to be the one to kill her. Otherwise, and this he realizes with growing certainty, he’s going to die. And soon. 

Pearl yelps as the arrow flies by her, wings fluttering behind her as she comes to a halt a few feet in front of them. “What’s going on here?” she demands, smiling, not taking her near death seriously whatsoever. 

“It’s not safe here,” Impulse tells her, and he knows the softness in his voice is only because of the bond they shared in their home server, only because he still considers her family. 

Family is not enough, and Impulse realizes this as bloodlust washes over him once more, the curse reaching its peak. He carefully steps forward, keeping an expression of concern on his face. Tango realizes what he’s doing and gives him the space to move around so that he’s face to face with Pearl. She still suspects nothing, her words lighthearted and posture relaxed as she banters with Tango and Skizz. 

It’s perfect.

Impulse takes the ground out from under her feet, and Pearl falls.

Maniacal laughter erupts from him as he watches her fall, listens to her rapidly fading scream of terror, and finally sees her die. “Boogey!” he cries, to the laughter and cheers of his teammates. “Done!” 

The curse recedes, Impulse taking a shaking breath as a weight is lifted off his shoulders. His hands still shake slightly as he continues to laugh, more out of relief now than from excitement and glee.

And Impulse…

Impulse killed Pearl. 

Maybe, in a world different from this one, he would've seen her fall and know she'd be caught on wings as strong as their owner's love for her. But not this time. Not in this world. 

As he drinks in the time– Pearl's time, ripped from her dead hands, quenching his thirst and soothing his parched throat– the vice grip of the curse over his heart fully lifts, and Impulse realizes what he's done. 

It's a necessary evil, he knows, and Pearl will forgive him eventually. She always does. But as he thinks back to the kill, back to Pearl's scream and broken, useless wings spreading in an attempt to catch her fall, Impulse feels... more than a little guilty. 

He doesn’t have time for guilt.

“Ohhh…” he breathes out, leaning against Skizz, “oh, that– I feel so much better. That feels so much better.”

Skizz helps support him, keeping him steady. “You all good, dippledop? Is the curse gone?”

Tango and Etho step closer as Impulse nods. Now that the bloodlust and adrenaline have faded away, Impulse feels tired, exhaustion settling in fast. “We’re all good,” he gets out, smiling weakly. “Though I think I’ve made a new enemy today.”

Tango waves him off with a grin. “Hey, whatever happens, team T.I.E.S will have your back.”

Skizz lets out a cheer, Etho nodding along to Tango’s words. “Yeah, man. Don’t worry about it. You just did what you had to do. No harm in that,” the masked man points out, and Impulse finally relents.

“All right, all right. Let’s get down from here, though– I still don’t trust myself up here.” 

Later, Impulse will apologize to Pearl and say that it wasn’t really him. It was the crazed boogeyman version of himself, his mind driven mad by the ever growing bloodlust and need to kill. He won’t truly mean it, and she won’t ever accept his excuse for an apology. 

In the end, that’s not what matters. The betrayal, the lies, the deceit and the fake apologies– none of it will matter at all. In the end, they will both fall. Nothing they do can stop the ever flowing river of time.

Time keeps ticking. Sand continues to fall through the hourglasses that measure their lives.

Impulse lives today, but tomorrow he will die.

[wildbluesorbit]

Wounded || JTK

…a continuation of London

18+MDNI

Paring: [drunk]asshole! Jakexreader(f)

LONDON SERIES MASTERPOST

A/N: Howdy, back with more asshole Jake today! I know the last part took a very sharp turn but I promise I am telling a story. It's darkest just before dawn and all that. might have even wrote in a little surprise This piece is inspired by this little diddy, please give it a listen as there are so many lyrical references. Everyone say thank you @tommie-gvf for editing! I hope y’all enjoy this chapter; I am very open to criticism so pretty please let me know what you think!

Summary || Time heals all wounds, yet a year’s passing begs the question if Jake and you are just too broken to ever put the pieces back together.

Content Warnings || toxic relationship, agoraphobia, haphephobia, mentions of nightmares, alcoholic consumption and inebriation, anger, brief mentions of physical aggression and bodily harm, verbal aggression, unsolicited touched, allusions to depressive episodes, allusions to sexual assault, [non-aggressive] attempted forced entry into readers bedroom

*disclaimer: I am in no way a mental health expert and google research can only get me so far*

Word Count || 4.8k+

You swear if the door could speak, it would mock you as you swarm around it. Like an impending predator ready to pounce on its victim; except that you aren’t and it isn’t. You simply stare at the ominous mass on hinges intent on boring a hole through the wood. For just maybe tonight, life would pour in through a glare-induced breach. For once, maybe the world would be kind and come to you.

You are drawn from your reverie by Jake calling your name, “It's okay, we don’t have to go.”

Already aware of the panic-induced rushing heat, you pull your insulative hair back from your flushing face.

You foolishly attempt to speak your courage-feasting fear out of existence, “Oh no, we’re going and we’re going to have a great time!” 

Jake, unconvinced, sleepily rubs his eyes and begins to slip off his well-loved vans at their perpetual displacement by the door.

“Really, it's fine, I’d rather stay in tonight anyways,” he huffs. 

You’re fidgeting alternates from your hair to the cold metal locks of the door, “Why are you taking off your shoes? Let's go!” 

He rests his tenacious hands on your shoulders as he starts to help you shimmy your coat off, “There’s no deadline, angel. It’s okay to not be ready. Don’t push.”

“I want to go out, I promise you,” childish pules make their way through your chest. 

You restrain yourself from stomping your feet like a restive toddler and blink away the unwelcome tears piercing the back of your eyes. 

“I know,” Jake’s voice echoes throughout the empty foyer as he hangs up your jacket, “but there’s no rush, I promise you too.”

It has been a year since London and Jake invited you to live in Nashville with him and Josh. At first, you had agreed only if you could help around the house just until you got back on your feet, but after a few weeks it had become prodigiously clear nothing beyond this point would be that painless. 

As soon as you made home in Nashville, you found yourself struggling to keep up with the world booming just beyond your bedroom. The look on Jake’s face when you were diagnosed with mild cases of haphephobia and agoraphobia almost made you dread you hadn’t stayed to wither away in London. On good days you managed a hug or even a car ride to the store but it was seldom, and only ever accompanied by Jake. You remained constant with your therapy and enervated yourself trying to break through life’s new barricades, but it proved a cheap fuel to get you through most days. 

You have lost count of the amount of nights you got ready for an evening out with Jake, in which he had to go on without you because you could not bring yourself to step beyond that petrifying threshold. So just like the many lost evenings before, you insist he go without you and, like always, you’d be waiting for him when he comes back.

“Fine, but not because you told me so,” you tease, “and put your shoes back on. You know the rules!”

If you couldn’t go out, you made certain you didn’t drag anyone else down with you. And if you are trapped inside, you make sure your weight is being pulled within.

As soon as it was clear you wouldn’t be leaving the house for a while you hunted for work you could perform from the comfort of your bed as a means to not sit idly with the demons trapped inside with you. Since you already had a business degree you landed on being a virtual accountant. But when you had free time you kept the Kiszka residence running smoothly.

Of course, they already had assistants and maids for domestic upkeep of the house and mostly everything was paid for, but you took initiative in commandeering any duties that slipped through those cracks. From taking care of plants and pets to ordering groceries, and even cooking some nights; responsibilities the twins claimed they wanted for themselves in an effort to stay grounded. Yet whether they accept it or not, they are rockstars with no time for such mundane tasks. 

The twins always make sure you know how much they appreciate you. You’d never admit it, but sometimes flowers or a cheesy note here and there is a small token that pulls you through the day. 

Danny and Sam also visit you when they have a chance. The boys always set aside a few minutes to catch up when they were at the house on a work call. Sometimes they’d take turns stopping by with lunch, checking in on your progress. They’d always tell you they miss you and encourage you to go out. Although, constantly being abraded by the same words can be challenging at times you never objected; you found their strategy endearing. It makes you feel like a princess; except for the days it made you sorely feel like a prisoner. 

Yet no matter what the other boys do, Jake is still the pinnacle of it all. The only one who understands the gravity of your experience, as he was there to witness it. He is the only one you feel you can talk to on the rare occasion you do want to talk about it. The only one who recognizes why you are the way you are and knows the tracks your mind runs on. The only one who truly knows how to take care of you when you don’t. Which means he is also aware you hadn’t found the mental capacity to figure out how the two of you fit into each other's lives.

Before the arrival of any real contemplation or diagnostics, you had tried a few times to rekindle the embers of your once-raging flame, but somehow everything always got put on hold or fizzled out. Some nights would consume you two. You’d imagine his pink plush pout everywhere and your touch seemed to send electricity through the man, but you always tapped out, neither of you addressing it. A few times you clung to the concept of Jake and you, charging through the strain of wanting to pull back and he was the one who would call it, consoling you when you hadn’t even registered you had started to cry or hyperventilate. That’s when you noticed Jake redirecting his time and energy into being your friend first and foremost. 

However, he never holds it against you as most nights are spent in your bed anyway. Sometimes he comes in to watch TV, read, listen to music, or just talk until he falls asleep next to you. Seldom do you pursue Jake’s touch, but there is an unbounded stillness about these nights; a safeness enabled by his giggles even breathing so close. These nights are your favorite, submitted to memory as long as fate will allow.

But more often than not, Jake’s nights start in his bed and journey to yours, pursuing his self-assigned task of soothing you back to sleep after a nasty nightmare would goad you awake.

You once asked him how he always knows; to which you immediately regretted as he responded sometimes he intuitively felt compelled to check on you. While other times you could be heard from down the hall; yet you secretly suspect he sometimes sneaks into your room to avoid nightmares of his own. Nevertheless, the last thing you ever wanted to become was Jake’s babysitting project, so you always make an effort to stay away from the phone when he is on the road. 

Days Jake was away proved bearable as many tasks around the house demanded your undivided attention. Yet evenings, when you stalled your mind long enough to fall asleep became excruciating. He’d usually check in after a show or drinks but the prowling monsters always came out of hiding as soon as he hung up. You almost always ended up sneaking into Jake’s bed, seeking comfort in the little strands of him living in his bedroom. You’d never confessed this though. 

Jake reels you from where you had been tucked away in your thoughts, “Danny’s here! Last chance to rescue me from this trainwreck and hog me all to yourself?”

He bats his long eyelashes at you and nods optimistically. 

“Have fun,” you giggle, shutting his whole pleading puppy dog act down. 

He grants you a bashful wave goodbye as you implore him to carry on his evening, as you would feel terrible if he stayed home just because you couldn’t leave. He agrees while perusing your eyes like he does every time before he parts from you. 

You had learned to read this signature appraisal as Jake’s silent survey as to whether he should actually leave or not. He never wanted to see you struggle to ask for something you needed if he found he could anticipate it. Though, It is always accompanied by one other departing look that you could never decipher.

That is until one day, compelled by your confusion that always follows, he told you he was fighting the urge to kiss you goodbye. He said it not to pressure you or coerce you into reciprocation, but just to be honest with you about what place you hold in his eyes. 

Jake whines one more time before you assure him he has no choice, “Do I have to go?!” 

You throw your hands in the air in an exaggerated dusting motion and feign a pestered grunt, “Shoo! Shoo!”

He notifies you he will be right back and his ringer is on if you need anything. You almost envy how gracefully Jake parts from you and vanishes through the door frame with no trouble at all.

— JAKE —

The music is too loud. The lights are too bright. The bar is far too crowded. The company your brothers force on you is nauseatingly obnoxious. You are decidedly miserable. You want nothing more than to crawl inside a cab that hauls you back to her bed. You’ve wanted nothing more for the past year. 

Instead, you endure it. Lead by example and don’t be an enabler. Your only comforting thought is that you don’t have to do it sober. You wash down your despair with the rest of your numbing elixir.

Reluctantly, you are pulled from your dissociation, “Jake?!”

You look up from your empty glass, flocking eyes of anticipation indicating they’ve reached a part of the conversation that requires your participation. You simply apologize and signal the waitress for a refill.

You feel your brother’s elbow gently prod against your rib cage, “What’s up?”

Josh means well, asking the question discreetly, but it still brings the pre-existing conversation to a halt. You wave him off, poorly portraying placidity. He doesn’t buy it, along with everyone else.

A girl you had met maybe a handful of times, you just can’t seem to recall her name at the moment, sat across the table from you. She had been tagging along recently and was particularly fond of Sam. You are clueless as to what purpose her next words serve or why they find you the way they do, just that she is illogically brazen as you don’t really know a thing about her and vice versa.

The nameless girl snickers unprompted, “Still couldn’t get your little puppy out of her cage, huh?”

The startling amount of intimate knowledge this stranger possesses is nearly paralyzing. Your eyes narrow in on a wide-eyed Sam.

Sam’s hands flail about as if he is looking to materialize a shield out of thin air to hide behind and panickedly begins to babble, “Wait- I didn’t tell- She wasn’t supposed to- She was eavesdropping!”

“I heard she won’t even let you pet her,” she smugly clicks her tongue.

All at once, the same raging fire that blazed within you that night in London lends itself to you once again. Painfully flickering in and out every so often, it never returns this lucid. 

That same destructive flame that scorched any and all sense of restraint to a crisp that night, roaring louder in your ears than any other voice of reason. The same seething blind red that found Hunter beaten beyond recognition, the only identifiable weapon being your hands bloodied and bruised and split. 

Like clouds catch the dancing auburn flare of a beaming bonfire, you question whether your face is a glowing ember reflecting your own raging flame. You aren’t certain you could say or do anything without completely losing your shit in this very bar.

Instead of fuming, you only finish your drink in an eerily serene manner. The only indication of rage being your knuckles wrapped white around your glass, your control alarmingly intact by a quickly unraveling thread.

You walk over to the bar to close out your tab. You refuse to give into the red haze as your brothers call after you, thoughtlessly beseeching for you to remain present and what that would mean for you. 

The bell above the door rings through your ears and the crisp chill breeze of night hits your face as you step through the exit, half extinguishing the fire lit by some loose-tongued stranger. 

You know you should go home but the last thing you want to do is further burden her in your short-fused state. You had been diligently adamant in keeping this monster carefully caged in her presence and weren’t about to let your hard work be tossed aside by some prick with a loud mouth. You can pretend to play it off, act like there is nothing wrong but that wouldn’t be fair to the both of you. She would see right through you. 

You decide you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here. You nuzzle into the warmth of your jacket as you wait for your noble rescue, via Uber.  

— YOU —

You vacillate between consciousness and void as your phone begins buzzing. Half asleep, you let it ring until the din resumes, fully pulling you from slumber. The unnaturally bright screen pierces through the dark room and Danny’s contact photo stings your adjusting eyes.

You force your slumber-frozen vocal cords to rasp out, “Hello?”

Danny’s tender voice sounds through the line, “Hey, sorry to wake you, hun. I just wanted to make sure Jake made it home okay?”

Still groggy from sleep, the question riddles you, “What? I haven’t heard him come through. He’s not with you?”

“Shit- He’s not at the house and he’s not answering his phone,” he mutters to someone on the other end.

Panic sets in and forces you to spring upwards, “Danny? What’s going on? Where’s Jake?”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” his uneasy tone and evasion of your question do little to console you. 

“Daniel-,” you don’t get the chance to finish before you hear Jake stomping up the staircase.

“He’s right here, Danny, goodnight,” you rashly exhale the update before hanging up the phone and tossing it on the bed, of which you’ve already vacated and are headed for the stairs. 

You rush out of your room to see a sloppily inebriated Jake oozing up the steps. You swiftly plod down the incline till you reach the same level as the teetering drunk, intent on assisting him in his expedition to bed.  

You frantically begin to ramble off questions, “What happened? Where were you? Are you okay?”

You pet the frizzy hair away from his face and into a ponytail. Taking care of Jake suffocates any hesitation from his heavy touch as you throw his arm closest to you over your shoulder and place your hands around his waist for balance, eliciting a lazy giggle from him.

“They cut me’off,” he slurs, “can you b’lieve that?”

You roll your eyes and mutter under your breath, “I can actually.”

Once he makes it atop the staircase he dwells there. You keep moving forward to allude him to follow but he instead crumbles into you.

Jake plops his head heavy onto your shoulder and nuzzles into your neck. His hands follow, wrapping around the dip of your waist to keep balance. It has been nearly a year since you last felt the weight of his warm skin press into you. The pungent smell of liquor offends your nostrils as his warm, heavy, drunk breaths tickling your neck become one of irrational remorse.  

Your first instinct to peel him off of you roars throughout every nerve ending of your body, but you don’t. After all he's done, Jake needs you now. Even if it's only to help get him to bed, you don’t mind being wildly uncomfortable for a few minutes. 

“I’m sor- I’m sorry, I just- then she said- I didn’t wanna ‘pset you- I’m so sorry- I just miss you, princess,” he babbles whined apologies into your clavicle, beginning to unnerve you.

You grunt trying to pull his limbs back into motion, “What are you talking about, Jake? Are you okay? What happened?” 

He resumes staggering forward on his own accord, even wasted he is much stronger than you. 

He giggles at your question, completely amnesic to his previous mystery guilt, “Am I O-kay? I’m doing… great! It’s you- Are ya’ O-kay?”

You answer the question simply to appease Jake and keep him mobile, “I’m doing just fine, let’s get you to bed.”

Together the two of you pad down the dark hallway. You make it in front of his bedroom door just before his fluctuating footsteps cease yet again.

He yanks his arms from your grasp in indignation, “Don’t lie to me! You aren’t- I know you aren’t!”

Frustration creeps in, and you take a deep breath. You return his hands to your own and soothingly run your thumbs along his knuckles. You patiently explain that he has had too much to drink and will feel better after water, pain relievers, and sleep. All you want is to help him get some rest. Yet he still refuses to move, a swaying brick wall.

“You know the guy who put his hands on you has got nothing to do with me,” he aimlessly blurts out. 

You wince, throwing your head up to the ceiling. This is the last thing you want to discuss, especially with an intoxicated toddler of a man.

You and Jake rarely talk about what happened that night. You’ve addressed it maybe once or twice when he approached you about seeing a therapist or when you seldom tell him what happens in your nightmare.

You drop his hands to mask your face with your own, struggling to remain in place and not flee from his sight, “Jake-”

The fast manner in which Jake summons sobriety in his next words is almost unsettling, still inebriated but much less so. Enough to have a coherent conversation now. Just enough to wage war with a cleverly choreographed army of words without any real contemplation or inhibition.

He curtly hiccups, “Don’t you think you’ve carried this weight way too far?”

He speaks as if you have any say in the matter. As if you are choosing to remain prisoner to the shadows in your mind. As if choking on paralytic terror and trauma day and night is the path of least resistance. You draw back from Jake in one large clarifying step and place your hands under your arms to conceal their tremors. 

You do your very best to plant your rising tone, “I don’t know what you want from me, Jake?”

“I want you,” he begins to storm, his hands sloppily flailing about to gesture his points, “I want your laugh and I want your smile. I want to knock ‘em down like we used to, you know? I want to kiss you and touch you. God only knows how much I would love you if you’d let me!” 

You know he is only drunkenly rambling but it doesn’t dull the gashes his words leave. How could he insult you to think you couldn’t possibly feel the same? That you don’t ache for times the two of you used to parade through the night, wading through trouble and chaos, spontaneity as your only navigation. How you tear yourself apart knowing you’re the reason it's all recollection and not an existing reality?

You routinely dwell on the former enamoring parts of you. You are a phantom. A mere fragment. A poor cover of an adored original. The waste of a girl everyone antecedently loved, including you. Only a spectator stuck behind a glass, forced to look in on your life being fucked up by some imposterous variation of you. Every element you loved about yourself had been stolen from you.

You raise your defenses, “You don’t think I want that too?! I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this! It's never been this complicated, Jake.”

Your appeal to his empathy goes void as he further scrutinizes you, “So what? You’re the only one who is recovering from that night?! And I'm just supposed to be cool with you doing nothing? You want me to be okay with you neglecting yourself? Let you walk around like you’re some wounded thing?!”

He dissects you, rendering you raw and helpless. You aren’t sure how to reason with him so you remain still, renouncing the idea of a clever rebuttal. He, a hostile beast, you don't want to spook. Yet it only seems to reload his fire. 

Almost repulsed by your lack of refutation, he reboots his one-sided yelling match, “You used to speak so easy, and now it’s like you're afraid to talk to me! When are you going to stop being so apathetic towards this and face your demons?! When are you going to come around again? You used to be this surge of energy- We all miss you- I miss you!” 

His words prick tears from your eyes but you fight them, swallowing the lump of self-pity in your throat. 

You poorly return fire with volume in an attempt to conceive a sob, “You just- you don’t get it, Jake!” 

Jake thrusts his head back in a growl. The sudden shift in his weight causes him to fumble backward, your hands automatically gravitating to his rescue in fear he might trip over his own footing. But you cross your hands back into your sides as soon as he catches himself, not even aware of his staggering he proceeds in his reprimand. 

“I don’t need to get it,” he mimics your weak excuse of a defense, “I just need you to be okay! I don’t expect you to be fine right now or even the same. I just want to know that you will be okay and I have yet to see any indication. You won’t leave this house and the only people you socialize with are my brothers and I. I’m convinced you don't want to grow! I mean- as soon as you start doing well again you shut yourself in your room, is this going to be the rest of our fucking lives?”

You let your mouth hurl words without any ideation of consequence, “I’m not one of your screaming fuck-dumb fan girls, Jake. I don't owe you a thing and you don’t get to speak to me this way. And I don’t expect you to understand but don’t worry, I won’t crowd you anymore. You’ve made it clear I’ve overstayed my welcome so I’ll be out the door.”

You press into the balls of your feet now, completely committed to bolting from any further confrontation but his next words make it nearly impossible to ignore.

His impudence is a cruel dagger, “Yeah, you know you have to actually leave the house first?”

“A colossal fuck you, Jacob,” you snarl.

“Just another thing you have yet to do,” he ruthlessly twists the knife yet again.

All emotion drains from your face completely paralyzed by his venom. You're convinced all the oxygen in your lungs has deserted your body, leaving you gasping and choking for any response. Not even able to make eye contact with him, your eyes swirl around the room; half an attempt to search for some indication this is all a dream, half an attempt to roll back the oncoming tears.

You are sick and tired of crying.

The one person you have trusted with your tears is now the one pouring them back into your crying eyes. Weaponizing your drops, he now trains the blade to your throat.

You hum a tune of uncertainty to cover the lump in your throat as you subconsciously slide your feet backward against the hardwood floor, “Um- Ja- I- You’re drunk, Jake, get some rest, okay?”

You can’t possibly stomach being angry with him any longer. You’ve had enough rage and hate for a lifetime. You don’t want to vilify or associate any of it with the man in front of you.

Though he’s not perfect, you couldn’t imagine asking for more. Jake has been so good to you in a season full of so many tears, panic attacks, mood swings, outbursts, meltdowns, isolation episodes, sleepless and nightmare-ridden nights. He is always there to make sure you are eating, and getting out of bed, and showering, and taking proper care of yourself. He is the one to organize your ground on days you’ve been so numb and dissociated you nearly forgot how to speak. He’s been there to take care of you when the day is so overwhelmingly amplified and intrusive it makes you physically ill.

Jake had placed his heart in being attentive to the little things. He knows when you are holding your breath. He sees when you are avoiding your reflection. He can sense when you are fighting to complete basic tasks. He recognizes when you put effort into something you have been struggling with. Jake makes sure to nurture signs of growth as they come but is always there to gather you when you relapse. He’s always been there to remind you of who you are and how much you are loved. 

This is the first time he’s lost his patience with you and he isn’t even in his right mind.

More than earned your forgiveness, Jake is the reason you can still forgive. The reason you aren’t as bitter and angry at the world as you’re justified to be. 

Yes, you decide that he more than deserves exoneration. Because even though it feels as if it’s millennia away, when you’re one day reunited with your smile, it will be Jake who brings it back to you. A sculptor slowly chiseling away at stone until his piece is restored to the beauty that lives in his memory. 

And though you let his trespasses go you can’t save yourself from the wounds his words have reopened. You scrunch your lips to the side to conceal their quiver. 

“Goodnight, Jake, sleep well,”  your words come out a whisper in an effort to not let your voice break.

Grief commandeers your limbs, immediately puppetting you on your heels and towards your bedroom. 

“Where are you going? Wait- no- I’m sorry- I didn’t- fuck,” Jake’s aggression seems to wilt away as he is swallowed whole by his own words, still thick in the air.

Jake’s pity would be the final nail in your coffin.

The padding of your feet against the cold floor hastens as you hear Jake pursuing behind you. You gracefully gap your door open just enough to float through the sliver and lock it behind you in time to hear Jake's foot and forehead clumsily thud against the wood. You step away from the door as he jiggles the rigid knob to realize it is no use. 

“I’m sorry that was-,” you can hear him running his fingers along the ridges of the door as he is trying to compose himself, “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean it- I just- please open the door?”

You only ever want to tell Jake yes, but what you need now is space. Denial of his plea nearly shatters you across the floor. 

“Please- I’m just- I’m so sorry,” you’d never heard him sound so small.

He never begs like this so you know he is still drunk. You lazily crawl into your bed deciding it is not a good idea to open the door. More mumbled apologies beg their way through the wood and you bury your head under your blanket to drown out the temptation. 

Jake turns his back to the barricade and slides down against it till he reaches the floor, a subtle plop as he takes a seat. His prayers and repentance flicker out until you realize he’s talked himself to sleep against your door. 

You finally let your feverish tears fall till they rinse you of your consciousness.

pretty please let me know what you think <3

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[maniculum]

Bestiaryposting Results -- Gligglae

Sorry this is later than usual; traveling for the holidays makes it difficult to keep up with this sort of thing. The smart move would have been to write it up a couple days ahead of time, then on Monday just update it with anything new that had been posted since, but see, what happened was that I did not do that. Instead, I tried to type this up Monday evening in between various family obligations, realized I didn't have time to do it properly, and just shoved it in my drafts. Then all of Tuesday was taken up with the long drive back home from where my family lives, and now you're getting it on Wednesday.

(Also, don't worry, I followed all CDC guidelines appropriate for someone who had recently had covid, and wouldn't have traveled for the holidays at all if I hadn't been without a fever for 48 hours prior to departing. Plus I drove instead of flying, didn't visit anyone but immediate family, and had a mask the whole time, so even if I am still contagious somehow, exposure was pretty minimal.)

Anyway, the entry that our artists are working from is here:

And, of course, all previous material on this matter can be found at https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting.

I think a larger number of people than usual identified the animal in question right off the proverbial bat, because this one has some pretty blatant tells, but as always I appreciate everyone trying to put it out of their minds.

So, anyway, in rough chronological order:

@coolest-capybara (link to post here) (thank you for providing your own alt text, I really appreciate it) brings us her usual impeccably medieval-stylized rendition -- the swirls and curves in this one give it a really interesting vibe, I think. We can see the Gligglae in full-body profile on the left there, and a group of them doing their cluster behavior on the right. The, like, griffin/cockatrice/vampire look is pretty great, also. I enjoy the overall design, which you can find some discussion of in the linked post. Gold foil also a nice touch.

Coolest-capybara also notes that the entry is very interested in the ways in which the creature is "almost, but not quite, entirely unlike a bird," and I can explain why that is. It is because this entry is in the Bird section of the bestiary, so officially this is a bird -- I mean, it flies, what else can it be -- but it's sufficiently un-bird-like that it really sticks out to the authors, so they need to explain the ways in which it's Doing Bird Wrong. Everything else in this section does X, so we need to point out that this one does Y, kind of thing.

@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) has drawn an absolutely adorable little Gligglae. (Adorable if you have my sense of aesthetics, that is -- I suspect if you're among the portion of the population that finds aye-ayes more creepy-looking than cute, that might apply here as well.) There's an explanation of design decisions in the linked post, including a number of references to real animals that provided inspiration. I like the decision to play up the "lowly" and "mean" part of the description by making it small and kind of scruffy. And the general concept of blending "gliding rodent" with "nocturnal primate" to make an arboreal mammal with elements of both really worked out well here, in my opinion.

@aethereaii (link to post here) has done this beautiful piece in a style that kind of gives "19th-century naturalist" vibes. (Actually, it makes me think of James Gurney, but I suspect that association says more about my childhood reading habits than anything else.) This is a great design in my opinion, and you can find some brief discussion on design decisions as well as an earlier version of the Gligglae in the linked post. The earlier design is also very good, but I agree with Aethereaii that this one is a step up, particularly with the Anomalocaris-inspired faux-wings. I also really like the inclusion of the juvenile Gligglae (Gligglings?) clinging to their parent's back in the corner there.

@karthara (link to post here) decided to go in a reptilian direction with this one, which (a) works well and (b) caused me to spend a chunk of time reading about flying snakes on Wikipedia just now. So in this version, the "rowing motion with its skin" is a description of the Gligglae flaring its ribs and undulating through the air -- which I genuinely think really makes sense. The entry seems to legitimately disagree with itself about whether this critter has wings (or, taking it entirely literally, it has wings but flies through a completely separate method that specifically does not involve said wings, which I think we're justified in deciding is Wrong), so I think going with such a non-wing-like flight method works here. Also like the concept of making these very cuddly (and apparently loving, according to our bestiary author) creatures into a type of animal that usually isn't seen that way. The linked post also contains some brief notes on design decisions.

@strixcattus (link to post here) has, as per usual, provided a really excellent modern-naturalistic description of the creature they've designed in the linked post, and you should definitely go check it out right now. I'll wait.

... back? Okay good. I particularly like their interpretation of the "grape-cluster" behavior as a social group that's specifically not a kin group; and also the fact that said group is officially referred to as a "cuddle". The choice to make it a whole genus and show us several different wild and domesticated species, also very good, love it. As with several of these drawings, Strixcattus's Gligglae (Gligglaes?) are extremely cute -- which, really, does also fit the description provided in the entry. They're like tadpoles crossed with sugar gliders.

@cheapsweets (link to post here) credits Ken Sugimori's Pokemon illustrations as a stylistic inspiration, which I suppose explains why the Gligglae cluster seems to be hanging from a Sudowoodo. The linked post also draws certain parallels between medieval bestiaries and the Pokedex, which I think is actually pretty insightful. There's also a breakdown of their design decisions there, go read it. I think this is a pretty good rendering of something that is like a flying squirrel but distinctly not a flying squirrel, and I like the shaggy look of the fur.

Also, thank you for providing your own alt text.

@pomrania (link to post here) is, I think, the only person to take the bestiary author at their word that this animal has wings but flies through some other, non-wing-related method. You can see the tiny useless wings at the shoulder there. I really think that's fascinating as a concept: what evolutionary pressures would produce an animal that (a) has wings and (b) flies but (c) those two things are unrelated? Although this many appendages on a fur-bearing creature puts us firmly in the "alien biology" territory, so maybe it's silly to expect it to make sense by the standards of terrestrial biology. Regardless, I like it, and I think the decision to run with the "rowing" description by giving it those oar-shaped appendages is a good & creative one. The post linked above contains a fair bit of information on design decisions and the drawing process here -- there are sketches and everything.

@vindikat (link to post here) has interpreted this in a way I find really charming. The art is of course excellent, very well drawn, and I appreciate the effort that went into doing these different poses. However, I really like it from a worldbuilding perspective: this gives me the impression of a small species of griffin that's adapted to urban living, more pigeon/cat than eagle/lion. (Come to think, both pigeons and cats are examples of feral populations finding a successful niche, rather than wild ones that adapt to a city, so maybe we can speculate that these guys are also descended from domestic ancestors.) Also the Gligglae under the eaves there remind me of pictures of chimney swifts that have made the rounds on Tumblr.

The design is also generally very appealing; I think the extra wings and the long tail really work here. The linked post includes an explanation of the design decisions that I think is worth taking a look at.

@moustawott (link to post here) has given us another very cuddly version of the Gligglae. I particularly like the wing design here, how it's kind of a mammalian version of a pterosaur -- Moustawott indicates that they were specifically trying not to draw the animal that they're sure this is, and I think the pterosaur-squirrel design here is a great way to make something that could fill kind of the same niche while being an unmistakably distinct creature. The little round head and eye markings remind me of a chipmunk, also, which is cute.

@rautavaara (link to post here) continues to do interesting stylistic stuff with their contributions. I like how the limited color palette here makes this look kind of like a single-block woodcut or similar relief printing. Like, you could plausibly see this as a design someone's carved into a wood block, then printed on mustard-yellow paper with purple ink. (I'm actually not 100% sure that's not what it is; I would just be surprised if someone actually went the extra mile of breaking out the engraving tools for my little bestiaryposting thing.) Very dynamic scene, also, and a charming creature design; love the huge mouths with pointy little fangs.

All right, these are all the ones that come up on the search; if I missed yours, let me know please.

(I have to apologize here for another delay that's absolutely my fault -- I would have had this out a few hours ago, but I got derailed by impulsively deciding to check out that Hbomberguy plagiarism video everyone's talking out, and... yeah.)

Anyway, as a number of this week's artists indicated, this one was really easy to guess, so the reveal seems a little pointless, but we have a format, so:

Obviously, this was the sheep.

What? Look, you can't make assumptions with these things. Some of these medieval bestiary entries are really counterintuitive. Medieval Europeans believed there was a species of small, highly-social, flying nocturnal sheep native to Ethiopia.

Really, it's in Pliny the Elder.

...

Yes, fine, I'm just lying to you for fun. It's the animal you all think it is, there are no flying sheep to my knowledge. Here's the Aberdeen Bestiary illustration.

Yep, it's the bat. Oddly human face on that one, and generally I don't think this was drawn from life, but it's definitely a bat.

I do kind of find the way it's described in this entry kind of interesting, though. The confusion about whether bats count as having wings (even after having been placed in the "bird" category) is kind of odd, and the "rowing" description is not one I would have ever thought of. I very much like the declaration that the way bats huddle together is "an act of love of a sort which is difficult to find among men"; it's a sweet way to talk about a creature with a generally negative reputation, which contrasts interestingly with the fact that the author also thinks of them as "lowly" and "mean". You kind of get the idea of a creature that's a bit wretched but in a sympathetic way. "Scrungly", one might say.

[thesweetestdevotion]

can you do sunghoon as a best friend? i'm curious about him because he's so reserved and seems picky thank uu

Hey!! He’s definitely all the above no shade no tea lolll

Sunghoon as a (Best)Friend:

Dice: 12th House, Moon, Sagittarius

Tarot: Four of Wands, The Sun, King of Swords, The Devil, Three of Cups, Page of Cups, Knight of Coins Reversed, Six of Wands Reversed, Ace of Wands Reversed, The Hermit Reversed, Page of Wands, Three of Wands, Ace of Coins

He seems fun! I think groups of friends really get him out of his shell, i also see he might like foreign friends? Or people who show and teach him things he’s not familiar with, maybe languages. This is because of his dice, which is Sagittarius 12th house energy, 12th house can refer to foreign lands and Sagittarius rules cultures and long distance travel. I think he likes to share ideas with his friends and learn a lot from them, as well as share his wealth. I think he’s the type to treat his friends to a meal or buy them a round of drinks at the bar. He loves to take care of his friends in this way. I think he might actually end up spending a lot of money on them hehe. He also feels invigorated with energy while around his friends, idk why but i think he may like groups more than one on one hangouts, unless he’s very close with that one person. I think he likes it because it allows him to blend in more, because he might have some insecurity about his personality or about how he shows up in other’s perspectives so he likes to play it safe and blend in, not stand out, so that he doesn’t say the wrong thing or mess up. I think he may be a normally quiet person, but also the type of person who may come off as judgmental or harsh, so he tries to limit his personality in order to not cause a bad or unpleasant situation. I think this is also why he’s so generous, because he wants to be liked really badly but just isn’t comfortable being charming or charismatic so he uses his wealth and privilege to be liked by his friends. It’s kinda sad because i think he’s too logical and analytical about it, if he’s just able to trust in himself a bit more i think he can be very funny and witty. I also see he’s probably been excluded or had failed friendships in the past so this sorta stuck with him. If he’s able to be more open i think people would really appreciate it, he shouldn’t be afraid of mistakes because i think he could just fix them lol, if he even makes any. I also think he’s very strict with himself, he’s very Saturnian (i think I’ve mentioned this about him before lol) but he may have a lot of Saturn influence because he feels so much like it in his energy. Maybe strong aspects or placements. But yeah he’s harsh on himself, he could be a perfectionist. I do also feel he could get small crushes on his friends lol so he wont want to look bad around them if that’s the case in anyway. I do feel that he likes to party and might really like social drinking and clubbing lol, but only with a friend group, he might not be drawn to it naturally without their influence. I think his friends are such an important part of his life, he really loves them even if he may not show it too much. I also do get he likes to learn languages from his friends so idk if he has many foreign friends, but he loves learning from them. He’s so sweet lol, id definitely wanna be his friend, and i think many people do too!! He just needs to let go a little and show off his fun side maybe.

Hope you guys like this!! <3

[masterjedilenawrites]

@dragonrider9905!!! I have sat on this prompt for way too long 😩 I almost let it go but I already had a few hundred words written out, so I went ahead and added a few hundred more to finish it. It's a lot shorter than it could have been but oh well... maybe it's something I add to later? Anyway, hope it was worth the wait! 😬

Tech x reader | 1.1k words

Content: references to reader being a little dumb/having bad ideas, descriptions of traps and peril, mostly comedic with some heart

Fact: Your family was missing, and the only hope you had of finding them was by teaming up with a group of tenacious clones called the Bad Batch. You were restless in your search for them, doing all you could to keep up with the Batchers as they chased after clues.

Fact: You were not the brightest star in the sky. At least when it came to mission plans. You'd led them on wild goose chases, miscalculated various risks, and almost burnt down the ship one time. To say it was fitting you be banned from any strategy meetings was simply a given after a certain point.

Fact: Tech liked you anyway.

He wasn't sure why, given the obvious differences in the ways your minds worked. He was methodical, technical, and realistic; you were hasty, abstract, and idealistic. He was content to work on plans until they were perfect, while you were quick to take action, even when you weren't sure what those actions were. He was intellectual, you were imaginative.

And yet, despite all these differences, all the ways you two just never saw eye-to-eye, he found himself drawn to you anyway. He got close whenever he could, picked your brain on whatever he could think of, just to see what your answer would be. He looked forward to seeing you each day and couldn't help but prioritize your well-being just a little higher than any others'.

The rest of the Batch didn't quite hold the same fondness. They were polite enough, and you did have some good times laughing around campfires. But they had drawn a hard and fast line around letting you call any shots on missions. Tech was fittingly put in charge of holding you back. He could listen to your dumb and silly ideas all day, but he would also know to never let those ideas turn into actual plans.

For a while, the arrangement worked. Tech kept you from interfering without making you feel bad. And the rest of the Batch was able to continue making progress toward finding your family.

But then one day, they got themselves in a mess so bad, not even their own bold strategies could fix it. They were on a rescue mission. A kidnapped senator held hostage in a mansion on an outer rim planet owned by Separatist sympathizers. Supposedly the senator had been the last person to see your family. You and Tech stayed behind in the Marauder, watching the heat signatures of the rest of the Batch make their way through the labyrinth of rooms in the mansion, coaching them around corners and keeping them one step ahead of any enemies.

They had made it to the senator easily enough, but then a whole slew of alarms and booby traps went off, a completely unaccounted for defense system. Every counter measure known to the galaxy seemed to be deployed. The holopad lit up in Tech's lap, while the comms link in your hand vibrated with panicked voices. Chaos.

Tech tried his best to get them out safely, but every new exit route he picked had a threat worse than the last. They were trapped.

"I'm trying Hunter, I'm trying!" he snapped as his fingers swiped back and forth on the holopad, desperately trying to find even the smallest chance of escape.

"I have an idea," you offered, but even if you had been allowed to have ideas, your words were lost amongst the chorus of yells and shouts through the comms.

"The hallway you came from is full of soldiers now, both stairwells are booby trapped with grenades, the back hall to the servant's quarters is on fire..." Tech was explaining as he did one more thorough sweep of the options.

What about the air vents? asked Hunter.

"They're being filled with venomous bees as we speak."

Jump out the windows? Echo asked.

"You're hundreds of feet up. No way to scale down. There's anti-air turrets that'll shoot down the Marauder as soon as I get it off the ground. And I'm pretty sure the glass is shatter proof anyway."

"I have an idea," you tried again, louder this time, but Tech waved a hand at you to be quiet.

The room's filling with water now! came a moan from Wrecker.

Hurry up Tech, Crosshair hissed. We're running out of time.

"I know!"

You'd never seen Tech lose his cool like this before. This really was a bad situation. It didn't even matter about the information the senator may have about your family. They could all die if you didn't act quickly. And seeing as Tech wasn't interested in hearing you out, you decided to waste no time arguing and just jump right into your own plan. You were fairly confident it would work. Maybe 60%. Which was better than your usual calculation of 50/50, and certainly more than anyone else was coming up with at the moment.

You jumped out of your seat and rushed toward the ramp. This got Tech's attention. He looked between your empty seat and the mayhem emitting from the technology in his lap a few times before finally running after you.

"What are you doing?" he asked just as you jumped onto the muddy ground of the forest you were camped in.

"I'm going to knock on the front door and ask them to stop hurting our friends," you explained, never breaking your determined stride. Thankfully you were parked close to the tree line, and then it was only a short walk across the lawn to the mansion.

Tech blinked. "What?"

You were already several paces away so he shook himself and ran to catch you.

"What?" he asked again as he spun you around by the arm. "That's your plan? Just asking them to stop?"

"I'll ask nicely," you shrugged. "They're not droids, they're people. So who knows, they might just listen."

"But that's not... You can't just... Wait..." Tech sputtered as you turned heel and began walking again.

"Or maybe they'll want to negotiate," you called over your shoulder. "It'd be better if you were there for that part."

You did pause, turning slightly to give him a questioning look, waiting to see if he'd follow.

Tech was dumbfounded. Asking the enemy to simply stop didn't follow any line of logic or reason. He looked down at the holopad he still had clutched in his hand, knowing it wouldn't show him any more hope than it had before. Five heat signatures - one for each of his friends and one for the senator - were huddled in the middle of a room that was trying every which way to kill them. And there was nothing he could do about it.

Nothing, except to listen to you.

"This is by far the stupidest plan you've ever had," he said, meeting your earnest gaze. He took in a deep breath, already picturing the lecture he'd get from Hunter for daring to entertain your idea. But what choice did he have? He cared too much to let them perish. And, if he was being really honest, he cared too much about you to really believe you were as dumb as they all said.

So with that, he turned off the holopad and squared his shoulders, ready to follow your lead, logic be damned.

"Of course I'll help."

Every Character Tag: @dangerousstrawberrypie, @justanothersadperson93, @arctrooper69, @sleepycreativewriter, @techie-bear, @theroguesully, @cw80831 

Bad Batch Tag: @kaijusplotch, @rebel-finn, @lucyysthings, @marvel-starwars-nerd, @nekotaetae, @severalseashellsbytheseashore, @lackofhonor, @flowered-bicycles, @foodmoneyandcats, @nahoney22, @dangraccoon 

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[theteasetwrites]

The Wrinkle

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 9/10 Interim (The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning series) ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: very vaguely sexual if you squint (just some kissing and a butt grab) ❧ Word Count: 1.3k

❧ Summary: Aging is a natural part of life, but when you notice a wrinkle, it's hard not to be a little sad. Your husband, however, reminds you that you're still just as beautiful, and so is your wrinkle.

❧ A/N: Another oneshot that takes place in the same universe as my series because I am procrastinating writing the last chapters 😀 (but tbh this fic also works as a standalone piece because I didn't really reference anything that happens in the series). I just want to keep writing for them forever, you know? Anywho, I was inspired by all the anti-aging talk on social media I've been seeing lately. People have always been obsessed with looking young, and skincare companies often profit off that insecurity, which is something I've been thinking about a lot. I haven't seen anything where the Reader is a little insecure about her aging, so why not write a comfort fic about that? Aging is beautiful, btw. 💕

Honey, olive oil, aloe, oats…

You’d tried everything, every natural ingredient you could get your hands on. Every moisturizer you made seemed to work on some level—your skin was always soft, at least. The dryness was quenched, and, most importantly, you were happy with your face, for perhaps the first time in your life. 

Happy, until one night, you saw it. 

“Oh, God,” you gasped, leaning over the bathroom sink as you rubbed in your moisturizer just the same way you did every night. Tonight, though, was different. By the light of the lantern you’d placed on the shelf beneath the mirror, you saw the smallest sliver of a… You couldn’t even bear to think of the word. 

It was a line, near the outer corner of your eye. It curved downwards slightly, representing the movement of your cheek when you smiled. Only now, you weren’t smiling. You were frowning in disappointment at the image in the mirror. How could you be getting crow’s feet at this age? You were still young, weren’t you? Aren’t I? 

“Everythin’ okay in there?” Daryl’s voice called out from the bedroom, just beyond the door. “Been in there a while, hon.”

“Fine.” Not fine. “Just moisturizing.” Lots of good it does.

“Well, hurry up, woman,” he teased. “I gotta take a piss.”

You scoffed, turning the copper knob of the door with a slippery, oily hand. “Come in,” you sighed. “I’m almost done anyway.” You turned back to face the mirror, dabbing another few fingertips worth of moisturizing cream. 

He shook his head as he watched you meticulously massaging the concoction until it was completely absorbed by your skin. It was always a fascinating sight. He never understood it completely, but just as you allowed him to engage in his interests, he allowed you yours. Still, he couldn’t help but think sometimes you cared too much about looking pretty, when to him, you didn’t need to put any effort in at all. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said, placing a rather drawn out kiss upon your shoulder, where the skin was exposed by your thin strapped nightie. His hand rubbed your other shoulder, taking his opportunity to feel how naturally soft you were, even without moisturizer. 

You offered a reluctant smile as you looked back at him in the mirror. “Thank you… I don’t feel like it.”

Now that baffled him. You’d never been very confident in yourself, he knew that. You were alike in that way. It was tiresome for him, though. He knew your beauty better than anyone, and for you to not see it was heartbreaking. Then again, you felt the same way when he refused to accept his beauty. You were both much too humble for your own good.

Still behind you, he swept back a handful of your hair, revealing the supple flesh of your neck. “Why not?” he asked, then gave himself the pleasure of tasting your neck with his gentle, slightly ticklish lips. That always made you feel better. Usually.

“I—I… just found a wrinkle.”

Detaching his lips, he looked up at you to furrow his brow. As he searched your face, each curve and line so familiar to him, he couldn’t see anything had changed. 

“What’re you talkin’ ‘bout, girl?”

You reached over to turn up the flame in the lantern, brightening the small bathroom. “Look.” You pointed to the spot just at the corner of your eye. “A little wrinkle, right by my eye.”

Squinting didn’t help. He leaned forward, still trying to see what the hell you were so worried about. Finally, he pinpointed the vague, shallow line, almost more like a little shadow that stood on its own. It was hardly anything to him.

“Pfft,” he scoffed. “That ain’t a wrinkle.” He ran his hand through the hair on his scalp to pull back his bangs, putting his face completely on display for you. “You wanna see wrinkles? Looky here.”

Only Daryl could make you snort when you felt like feeling sorry for yourself. “Stop,” you laughed. “You hardly have any wrinkles. Besides, you’re older than me anyway. I’m only thirty-two.”

“Yeah,” he said. “And you got no damn wrinkles. Even if ya did, you’d still be a stone cold fox, so just believe me when I say you’re the most beautiful damn woman in the world, okay?” 

Though you were sure you’d never believe that, it did feel terribly good to know Daryl still found you attractive. It was ingrained in you to want, to need, approval from men, and it took you a long time to get out of that mindset. Hell, it was still there to an extent, but Daryl was the only man whose approval you cared about now, only because you knew he’d never break your heart or take advantage of that trust you put in him.

“Daryl,” you laughed, your cheeks filled with a hot blush at his words. “Thank you, but—”

When his hands cupped your cheeks, his gaze softened, as if to make sure you knew what he was doing. Of course, you did. He kissed you, his lips enjoying the taste of your natural moisturizer. A small whimper from you melted into his mouth like candy on his tongue, while your arms tangled loosely around his neck, bringing him impossibly closer to you. 

You always loved the feeling of his warm, strong hands upon your hips, gently squeezing the soft flesh there. He’d often lower his right hand, using it to squeeze your bottom, always making you squeak softly against his lips. 

“Oh!” you laughed. He was so predictable. “Stop it!” You playfully slapped at his bare chest, with little to no strength in your flimsy hands. Because he knew you weren’t serious, he squeezed a little more, causing you to stand on your tippy toes and gasp a little more. If anyone could distract you from your little insecurities, it was Daryl. 

His lips poked at every little spot of skin on your face, which was scrunched up in faux annoyance. Your laugh, and your wide, toothy grin, were proof enough that his wild, impromptu kisses and less than innocent bottom-squeezes were working like a charm. 

“What am I gonna do with you, angel?” he asked, his lips becoming tired and his mouth beginning to downturn in a sudden expression of seriousness. His weather-worn fingers lifted your hair from your face, pinning it back behind your ears. There was an unmistakable hurt in his eyes. Only you knew the extent of his sensitivity, his ability to feel what you felt. When you told him that you don’t feel beautiful, it killed him. “What do I gotta do to make ya see how perfect you are?”

You sighed as you watched your own hands absentmindedly rub his broad shoulders, the smattering of freckles all over them always a comfort to you. Many nights you’d lay in his arms, just counting them as his low, gravelly voice lulled you into a deep, warm sleep. 

“Just hold me,” you said. “That makes me feel beautiful, being close to you.”

That smile of his always melted you, had you like putty in his hands. It was small and a little lopsided, and you could only see a sliver of his wide, slightly jagged teeth, but it was like your life force. Seeing him smile, seeing him happy, for just one minute, meant everything to you. Of all people you’d ever met, he deserved, more than anyone, to be happy. That was your job. 

“All right, pretty girl.” He pulled you close once again to press a small kiss to your forehead. “I’ll hold ya.” Just like he did every night. Still, you could never get enough of it.

“But first,” he added, letting go of you, “I gotta take a piss.”

He was always so romantic.

~

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