#apologies for being so vague and mysterious

[bayofwolves]

I’ve been an SA fan for ten years, and the characters have not left my brain alone. It makes me so happy that someone as dedicated and talented as you is continuing to interact with and expand on the books. You rock and I hope you have a great day!

If you don’t mind, I have a path of the heroes question:

What’s Rollan up to? He was always my favorite, so I’m wondering how you’re going to approach him in the fourth arc. No pressure to answer! Have fun with your evertree reread!

This is so sweet, thank you! I appreciate you so much.

I can't say much at this time, but I can drop a few crumbs that hopefully don't spoil anything major:

The central conflict of this arc affects Rollan in a different way than it does the other three kids, due to his past;

He has a unique relationship to one of the antagonists, furthering an already complex conflict;

He's still going strong with Meilin (they've been together for around two years by now);

He and Essix are great, but Essix has now grown too large to perch on his shoulder, which she is not happy about;

He spends more time with Shane and the Redcloaks, though not as much as Abeke;

He sees his mom again and learns of some surprising developments in his family;

and he has a lot of fun with his bond token, Morningstar. Like really, too much fun.

[ddarker-dreams]

Understatement.

Wanderer x Reader.

Warnings: None. Word count: 1.2k.

Your bag carries plenty of essentials. 

Stationery, lip balm, keys to your apartment; stuff of that nature. Then there’s your personal favorite, a wallet embroidered with dandelions — your hometown’s flower — into the fabric. It’d been sent to you without a return address on your birthday, shrouding the gifter in mystery. All of these items accompany you on a day-to-day basis. 

That aside, this list has another unifying factor. Each object is inert. Completely still. Incapable of moving without an outside force. Now, this isn’t a revelation that’ll shift society and be recorded in history books for generations to come. It’s common sense. A concept children grasp before they even know what ‘gravity’ is. 

As for why you’re taking a lengthy mental inventory of your belongings… 

Well. 

Something in there is moving. Rustling about, the vague outline of its body pressing against the aged leather. 

Your response is slow. Cautious. You begin by pushing yourself away from your desk, creating distance between you and this potential threat. The Vision fastened along your waistband thrums, ready to act. Numerous theories whir around your mind like a sandstorm. Is this a prank in poor taste? Cyno had mentioned an investigation into scarabs being placed in student’s bags, although nothing serious had come from it. Maybe it’s a gadget or some elemental reaction— 

—Your cognition grinds to a halt when a head pokes out, undoing the bag’s clasp in the process. 

…

…

…

“Oh!” The creature exclaims while freeing itself. “Um… hi!” 

The room’s natural lighting gives you a better idea of the creature’s appearance. Its wings keep it suspended midair, each enthusiastic flap scattering your notes. Large, doe-like eyes consider you, gleaming with childlike curiosity. If not for the prominent horns atop its head, you might think it’s a bat, but that classification doesn’t quite fit. 

Whatever it is, you sense no hostility. 

“Hello,” is your hesitant reply. 

It looks around, fixating on the items displaced from your desk. 

“Ack, I’m sorry,” it apologizes. It lands carefully on your desk and lowers its head, as if ashamed. “I didn’t mean to make such a mess… I’ve just been excited to meet you.” 

“Don’t worry, this is nothing. I’ve been meaning to reorganize my stuff, anyway.” 

For some reason, you can’t find it within you to fault this seemingly well-meaning yet clumsy guest. Its naivete is reminiscent of a certain explosion-obsessed girl from back home. In truth, this entire ordeal doesn’t even breach the top five strangest experiences you’ve had in recent times. 

… Alright, perhaps it’s a contender for the fourth slot. 

Suddenly, your guest straightens up. “Wait! I haven’t introduced myself yet. We can’t be friends if I haven’t introduced myself… you can call me Mini Durin. And I already know your name. You’re [First].” 

“Yeah, that’d be me,” you cover a budding smile with your hand, not wanting your giddy guest to mistake it for mockery. “So, Mini Durin… you said you’ve been wanting to meet me? Why’s that?”

Mini Durin ambles his way toward the edge of your desk. 

“You’re important to my first friend,” he declares. “At least I think so. He only has the nicest things to say about you, like how you’re not ‘as insufferable as most,’ and that ‘your presence is tolerable.’” 

That’s what Mini Durin considers ‘the nicest things’ to say about someone…?! 

The conviction with which he speaks affirms his sincerity. 

“It sounds like you trust this friend a great deal.” 

Mini Durin nods. “I do. That’s how I ended up in your bag… I got separated from him earlier. Luckily, I spotted you. I knew you’d keep me safe. And now we even get to be friends!” 

That explains why your bag felt heavier coming home than when you left. 

“You got separated from him?” Frowning, you scoot your chair closer. “Where at? We can go looking for him, if you want. He must be worried.” 

“Oh. I didn’t think about that.” 

Mini Durin mulls over your offer for a few seconds, adding, “What if he’s mad at me? He was working hard on another gift for you, but I went and distracted him.” 

“Friends can sort stuff like this out,” you reassure. Then, a pause. “Huh. Did you say ‘another gift?’” 

Mini Durin tilts his head. “You didn’t know? The pretty flowers on your—” 

A rapid knock on your door cuts him off. 

You both turn your attention toward the booming sound. Huffing, you cross your arms over your chest. It’s late in the evening, who in their right mind would treat your front door like a drum? You shoot your unexpected guest an apologetic look, promising a swift return.

Some choice words sizzle on your tongue as you swing the door open, only to be met by an equally irate figure. 

Your eccentric classmate, the Wanderer, stands before you. There’s a slight flush to his cheeks like he’s been physically exerting himself. The telltale sign of Anemo settles down around him, his hat reappearing in the process. He soon mirrors your exasperated posture, one hand on his hip, the other readjusting the brim of his hat. 

“I could’ve flown to Inazuma and back in the time it took you to answer,” is the courteous greeting he goes for. 

“Hello to you too,” you greet. “Was there something you needed? Or are you just making your debut as a percussionist known to the entire nation?”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course there’s something I ‘need’, genius.” 

“And what would that be?” 

“I’m looking for a small, talking dragon,” the Wanderer deadpans. “Ring any bells?” 

You blink. “Are you referring to Mini Durin?” 

“Just how many dragons are you acquainted with?” 

“I mean, I am from Mondstadt,” you shrug. A realization then creeps up on you. “Hold on. Does that make you this ‘first friend’ I’ve heard so much about?” 

The Wanderer freezes. You observe as he processes this information in real-time, along with the implications that come with it. Though his muscles are tense, he keeps his visage impassive. The occasional twitch of his eye is the only detail betraying his panic. 

“... On second thought, you can keep him.” 

He swivels on his heel to make a hasty retreat. 

You lurch forward without thinking, your hand latching around his wrist. He snaps his head around to meet your gaze, almost knocking you over with his hat in the process. A well-timed dodge protects you from the potential headache. In the light of the setting sun, the Wanderer’s porcelain complexion is dyed in crimson hues. Though he’s maintaining eye contact, something tells you it’s a struggle. 

“Hey,” you use your free hand to poke his flushed cheeks, to which he grimaces and bats at it like a cat. “Come inside. I’ll make up some of that awful, bitter tasting tea you like.” 

He inhales through his teeth, likely weighing various excuses. You bat your eyelashes and offer your brightest smile. As the seconds pass by, you can feel his resolve weakening. With a scoff, he frees himself from your grasp, the ease in which he does so confirming he’d been your willing hostage. 

The Wanderer wordlessly strolls past you and into your home. 

Humming, you follow close behind him. 

Just ‘tolerable’, huh? 

[obsessivelullabies]

— being mafia!tf141's assistant.

warnings : possessive, yandere behavior. fem reader.

a/n : i've never written mafia before? i hope this makes sense?? i plan to write four different parts for each of them individually!

— in all honesty, your relations with the mafia were completely accidental. you were a naive young woman in search of work. being some rich guy's assistant sounded easy enough. you did find it a little funny how there was no traditional interview process, just a bunch of slightly sketchy paperwork sent your way. luckily for you, you got the job!

— you were told an address, so you showed up. it turned out to be a massive house, which was even more shady. as you stood outside the door, a little too frightened to knock, you realized how sketchy it all was.

as you were lost in thought, the door swung open, revealing a muscular, shirtless man. he was only adorned in a pair of black boxers, he looked slightly peeved.

"who the fuck are you?" he acknowledged you after eyeing you up and down.

your eyes gazed on his firm chest due to how he nearly towered over you with his height. "i'm the new assistant.." you practically squeaked back at him.

the man grinned suddenly, his demeanor changing. "come in," he stepped aside, allowing you inside their home.

— the place was slightly cluttered as he showed you around, he introduced himself as soap. you assumed, or rather, hoped, it was a nickname. soap was immediately very touchy feely with you, slinging his arm around your waist or shoulder, running his large hand down the small of your back, stopping at your hips.

— soap showed you what your jobs were, things such as cleaning, cooking and basically whatever one of the men needed at the moment. he told you about the three other men, gaz, ghost and price. from what you gathered; they ran some kind of business. every mention of it was vague, yet you picked up that price was the 'boss' of sorts.

— after a lot of chatter, soap left your side and allowed you to work. the next man you met was just coming home, he was dressed fancily, seeming to be in a rush. he was quiet and polite, taking the time to introduce himself. gaz. soap hadn't said much about him.

— gaz was a sweetheart to you, asking you questions about yourself, apologizing for the slight mess in their home. you were excited to work for the two; both seemed pleasant to be around.

— the first two weeks of your job went by smoothly, soap and gaz would often lounge in whatever room you were in, chatting mindlessly to you. you would even say you bonded with the two.

— soap adored how good of an assistant you were. he loved eating your cooking, how you always made sure he liked your efforts. you were so obedient. so perfect for him.

— gaz had grown attached to your pretty little voice. you were so polite. he found it so cute how naive you were, how you never questioned what he did for work. he had a petname for you, ‘gorgeous’. with how much he called you it, you wondered if he even knew your real name.

— when price and ghost returned from their ‘business’, they were both relived to finally have some help. they showed it in different ways.

— at the start, ghost basically ignored you. his skull mask frightened you anyway. he only spoke to you to give you commands, yet over time, your charm grew on him. still, he wasn’t very talkative. he’d request your silent company. something to make him feel less alone.

— price, the boss, was very dominating. he appreciated your hard work, which soap and gaz had told him about. price thought you were adorable as a small animal. something to be protected and pet. every morning when you first got to work, you would make his tea for him. these slowly became his favorite moments.

— the longer you worked for them, the more mysterious they all became. they were vague whenever you hinted at your curiosity. you decided not to pry.

— you were unaware how possessive they’d all became. how they vied for you and yours affections. when price practically demanded you work longer hours, you just assumed you were a super good assistant.

— the four men became obsessive over you after only a few months. your life had gotten.. complicated ever since. especially when you learned what they really did.

masterlist.

[paradlselost]

ATONEMENT —

noir x fem!reader x homelander

⎨ 𝐀𝐍 ⎬ based on this ask from a little while ago . sorry it’s taken so long , i got a second job and i’ve been really busy </3 . anyways i’m obsessed with this new layout ; sorry i keep changing it lol . reader is left intentionally vague on whether or not their a supe !

⎨ 𝐂𝐖 ⎬ set sometime in between s3 and s4 , earving lives au . smut : abuse of power , coercion (?) , degrading names used in and out of sex , p in v , oral ( m receiving ) , deep throating , m / r / m pairing , public sex , voyeurism , unprotected sex , cream pie . 2.2k words . NOT BETA READ

His tongue swipes over his front teeth, sucking on them sharply in an attempt to regain some composure. The corners of his mouth twitch back and forth between a pained smile and a deep frown. Hatred brews behind those blue eyes of his, no doubt crafting a punishment in his head.

Poor, stupid doll, it wasn’t your fault now was it? How were you to know the truth of Homelander being Soldier Boys son would send him spiraling? You’re just a girl, after all, naive and stupid. He can see what Earving likes in you, how you look up at him with those innocent eyes.

Corruption flows through his veins like blood, his hand audibly clenching in his glove. Oh, you’ll have to do something pretty sizable to make up for this fuck up, bunny. You’re lucky he didn’t reach in and tear out Noir’s heart, perhaps you would’ve seen the blood pumping to the sound of your voice, or how your name is carved into the organ.

Lucky you, Lucky Earving.

“Look I’m sorry okay? We’re sorry. But don’t you think Vought would kill us if we told anyone?” You still have a smart mouth even when faced with his power, you run your lips like you’re invincible, as if one laser won’t halve you.

“Well he managed to tell you somehow. What? Am I not good enough to have the one thing he knows I want more than anything in the world?” There’s laughter sprinkled into his words, hate-filled and angry. You should tread carefully unless you want to get your pretty self damaged.

Homelander tilts his head to the side like a curious dog, watching as you worry your bottom lip in between your teeth. What answer could you give him? Yes, Earving could’ve told him if he really wanted to; how are you meant to defend your boyfriend's actions?

“You could’ve told me, doll.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what more I can say, you know now and look how it turned out. He didn’t want you.”

“Don’t fucking say that. Keep your goddamn mouth shut.” He advances faster than you expected, gripping your chin to force your mouth closed. The red leather feels hot against your skin, as if he’s burning in rage, seething through every line he speaks.

You can only whimper against his glove, always having hated the nicknames he bestowed on you. Doll, Bunny, Sunshine, a slew of others that he pulled out when he was antagonizing you. Demeaning you. An ant beneath his heel, a weed he hasn’t plucked in his garden quite yet because, despite being a pest, you’re an awfully pretty sight to look at.

So how you got scooped up by someone like Noir is a mystery to him.

“You’re better quiet. ‘Should laser your damn tongue out, won’t be talking much then, huh sweetheart?” He grins, sadistic intent playing on his features as he forces you to shake your head, another whimper escaping through his leathered hand. “Maybe someone should keep it preoccupied, then. I bet you’d look prettier with a cock in your mouth.”

Oh, how his smile only widens when he sees your eyes dilate in fear. Your hands reach up to grab at the leather still covering your mouth; to try and get some words out. Maybe an apology, a pathetic beg, he only shakes his head in response as his other hand grabs the back of your suit, forcing you to walk with him.

“Don’t look so scared, bunny. I won’t do anything to you, dont’cha trust me?” Perhaps his hand over your mouth is a good thing, vile words threaten to fall from your lips - holding nothing but contempt and anger for America’s favorite supe.

At first, you’re not sure exactly where he’s taking you. The halls of Vought Tower are long and winding, and look especially so in the state after Soldier Boys destruction; rebuilding yet empty. Almost liminal. You only manage to get your mind out of shambles as you see the statues of the Seven in front of the door. It’s fleeting, and in a moment you’re pushed onto the cold tile floor of the meeting room.

Noir is beside you in a moment, crouching down to help you back up. He’s gentle as his gloves rake through your hair and gently graze over the little bruise forming on your skin. It’s a complete shift from the red glove that was on you moments ago. Earving makes you feel safe and secure in contrast. He’s your home.

You can hear The Deep suppressing a laugh from his spot at the table, then quickly silencing himself. No doubt getting a look from Homelander. How the mighty have fallen, another empty chair in this ‘team’ as Maeve had disappeared after the big fight. They were falling apart at the seams.

“Go on, put that body to use.”

You blink at the words that cut through the eerie silence of the room, your ears practically ringing trying to pick up on anything they could - so you felt stupid when your brows furrowed in confusion at his command.

“What?”

“You heard me, put your body to use and take Noir’s dick.”

“Huh? Why the fuck would i-“

“Maybe I should just rip his heart out, then. Or are you going to atone?”

Noir is quiet, as always, yet somewhere behind the black mask and balaclava he always wore you could hear his breath catching in his throat. The glove that had been on your face finds its way back, gently taking hold of your chin. It takes a pitiful amount of time for you to realize what he means, that he wants to go along with this. Above everything else, you know self preservation is the most important thing to him.

Again, Homelander could cream his fucking pants at the way you worry your bottom lip between your teeth. His fists clench and unclench at his side, desperate to be the one putting hands on you; running them over your body and tracing every curve and pattern your skin makes. Perhaps he could memorize your fingerprints if he tried hard enough.

“Do these assholes have to be here for it?” The Deep snickers a bit more, his chair moving from side to side as he got a bit more comfortable for the show. A-Train looks a bit mortified, you were never particularly close with Reggie and knew how much of a prick he could be, but every interaction has been at least amicable, so it wasn’t a stretch to say he was a bit uncomfortable being put in this position.

“I’ll leave-…”

“Sit the fuck down, A-Train. No, we’re all going to watch.”

A small yelp at a sudden grasp of your hips, the rough fabric of Noir’s gloves being ingrained in your mind. He’s as gentle as he can be in this situation, it’s not the first time you’ve been put in such an embarrassing position in front of the others. It seemed Homelander had a special hard on for making you the spectacle for the others amusement.

A sigh fell from your lips, partly all too used to this and also smart enough to know he wasn’t playing around. No, he was pissed, and like the man-child he is if he says he’ll tear out Earvings heart, you know it’s not simple empty threats.

It’s nice, regardless. Noir has a way of shutting everything else in the world out - of making it just you and him. His half charred and mangled lips feel nice through the balaclava, pressing gentle kisses against your pulse point as his gloved hands slip down your front.

God, what a whore, leaning back into him like that in front of two powerful supes. And the Deep. Homelander doesn’t bother suppressing his grin as he leans back in his chair. What a good bunny, maybe he’ll have to play this card more. Maybe, in time, that’ll be his hand against your clothed cunt, pressing a digit in and using the leverage of the fabric as friction to make you mewl and squirm.

He could clap his hands together at the sight, like watching an amazing performance. Black gloves travel to grasp at your hips, guiding you forward against the V-shaped table, folding your body over the cool glass. It’s not the first time he’s done this, not the first time the meeting room has been used for this reason; after all, you two have been together for years.

But it is the first time you’ve made eye contact with Homelander while your mute boyfriend rocks his hips forward against yours, grinding into you.

At some point between Earving fumbling to get your suit off and the asshole in the chair re-adjusting himself, the Deep and A-Train were conveniently called away for some reason. It wasn’t organic, part of you knew Homelander somehow told someone to call them, but did you really care? He was kind enough to give you some privacy, you should be grateful, doll.

In some way you are, more so as Noir finally manages to get your clothes out of the way and slots himself behind you. He won’t take off his own suit, you know this, not someplace someone else could see - and someone else is actively seeing, but you won’t complain. Not when the feeling of his cock trailing against your folds is a good excuse to close your eyes and block out the blue ones boring into you.

He offers no prep. It’s not the first time you’ve taken him without it; but it’s rare and still foreign to your body. He knows, being as gentle as possible as he eases himself further and further into you. The stretch makes it feel like the first time all over again, soft tears pricking at your eyes which makes Homelander chuckle more. What a prick.

But you. Oh, you. What a beautiful sight you are to him as he practically blocks out the fact that his only ‘friend’ in the seven happens to be fucking you in front of him. He can imagine it’s him, imagine how sweet you would feel around him. Your breathing picks up, sharp whines and mewls interrupting your panting as the thrusts become deeper.

God, he wants to taunt you. Does that feel good, bunny? Is he reaching that spongy spot? But from the wanton moans that fall from your pretty lips and the way you put your body weight fully onto the table he knows there’s no way he’d get an answer now.

That familiar red glove reaches to grab your hair, at some point the mighty Homelander decided he could no longer sit back and watch, but needed to be a part of your atonement. Eyes fluttering up to watch him fumble single-handedly with his suit, you bite at your bottom lip, stifling moans and whimpers from Noir behind you; threatening to roll your eyes back.

“Can’t let lover boy have all the fun.”

And he doesn’t. Managing to get that part of his suit undone and awkwardly pushing the slit of his red white and blue boxers out of the way, your lips are almost immediately pressed against the tip of his cock. Angry red and weeping, who are you to tell him no? It gets rid of the eye contact, at least; so your lips part to invite him in.

It doesn’t take long for the glass table underneath you to fog up, the sweat accumulating on your body making it easier to rock back and forth with the rhythm of Earving’s thrusts. His black gloves grip your hips harder, almost possessively as he leans down to press his chest against your back, helping to keep you in place. His balaclava is damp from his own sweat and breathing, dog-like panting ringing in your ears.

His hips are stuttering just as Homelander’s head lulls back with the hollowing of your cheeks around him, hands gripping your hair tighter and pushing his cock deeper into your mouth. He loves to make you gag, it seems, hitting the back of your throat as much as he possibly can, using you to milk his leaking cock.

It doesn’t take long, and maybe in some other position you would’ve made a snarky comment about how soon the mighty Homelander came in your mouth, but with your throat coated in white and Noir following not far behind him into your needy cunt, you’re naturally lost for words.

Earving lifts you up and off Homelander, burying his masked face in the crook of your neck and pulling his balaclava up just enough to kiss and mark you like he does after every passionate encounter together. He’s a man of romance, and it feels sweet against your hot skin.

Such a good bunny, so sweet as you lean back against your boyfriend, pretty eyes fluttering closed from exertion. You didn’t get to cum, but you don’t complain, he likes that about you. A good doll should know when to open her mouth and when not to, he just hopes you learned your lesson.

“We’ll have to do it again sometime, yeah sunshine?”

[jymwahuwu]

I was wondering. . What if scenario where darling finally escaped jing yuan by dying and jing yuan had felt all emotions at once anger, furry, sadness, despair, agony. He just cant move on from darling he waited and waited for her next reincarnation and. . Finally after so long of waiting she was finally here standing, breathing and alive

And his not so kind once he kidnapped darling once more and had locked her on his (their) shared bedroom then he just basically fucks darling to the hell and back after so long and he makes her cum and darling felt overstimulated and had kept crying to him to slow down and trying to push him away because who in the right mind would suddenly pull a strange onto some person's house then fucks them into oblivion?!

(Basically idk why im horny or maybe its because i have a period idk anymore-)

From Cloud anon!

thank you cloud anon<3 hesitant to write this…but i love the thirsty ending 🫣 for Jing Yuan, if his clingy and sweet side can't keep you… he doesn't mind getting rough…?

CW: yandere, angst, non-con, kidnapping, overstimulation, (mentioned) death in the past

(The relationship between the reader here and Jing Yuan’s past life is described in a rather vague way. Please DON’T send me requests and comments about angst and take revenge on yandere. I’m tired of receiving those 😭 Please read the rules.)

That's a really rare concept for long living species; life blooms in the spring and withers in the winter. Jing Yuan placed flowers on the coffin, and… still… worked and lived as usual, arranging Luofu's daily affairs at the seat of divine foresight. People whispered- they said, Look. The general is so ruthless. His only lover in centuries had withered like a flower, and he was unmoved.

Jing Yuan knows that he can still live as usual, but there is an empty gap in his heart, which often aches, but he still chooses to keep you in his heart instead of letting time pass by. No loss can cause Jing Yuan to stagnate, he just lives with wounds. He regretted not leaving more holographic records and replayed the few videos you had, over and over again. "mm- Jing Yuan-" Your lips parted slightly, a record of a time when you were so annoyed that you blocked the camera with your hands and giggled while eating ice cream. That was - that was when you liked him, right? The general sometimes wonders - are you tired of him pestering you like that? He apologized, apologized, apologized bitterly - but you wouldn't hear it again. In the end, he still couldn't keep you, you flowed away between his fingers like floating sand. What had hundreds of years left for him?

Reincarnation - Jing Yuan really found you, in another galaxy. In the dim light, you are standing on the street, laughing and chatting with your friends. A familiar frown and a sweet smile, and when talking about interesting topics, the clear and sweet laughter leaked out. Similar facial features, similar movements and expressions are the imprint of the same soul. Jing Yuan suppressed the urge to take you away immediately, knowing that he must first find out your identity in this life. He removes every possible obstacle and takes you away.

Locked up in a room, in the general's mansion. Since you didn't like being able to travel freely among the stars in your previous life.

To you, you who have no information, this is really the cage that abruptly descends. Be sent to the Xianzhou ship by the people of your planet. Your hands are locked with a bunch of locks made of solid space material, but they are wrapped in plush fabric as if to prevent your wrists from getting hurt. The burly man with long white hair, said to be a general named Jing Yuan, caresses your body desperately - desperately. Lots of sticky, dazzling kisses. His tongue dipped into your mouth to search. Tears…tears? This mysterious man doesn't shed tears when you look at him, it's like the tears have dried up. Your thighs and calves were tied together and spread apart, forcing you to expose your most private parts and squirt on his thick fingers for hours. Orgasm is no excuse to stop. After your struggles and twitches, those fingers didn't slow down at all. The cock is buried deep inside you without any suspense after the warm-up is completed. The tight walls contracted and the liquid spread outward.

You are confused - confused, orgasming in pleasure, wanting to push him away (but your hands are tied), asking who he is and why he treats you like this while still maintaining your senses, and all you get is silence. It was the silence of not wanting to repeat the old dreams. From behind, his entire crotch is pressed against your ass, and even your hands are pressed by him, rocking and pounding you back and forth, occasionally kissing your cheek in a daze. Face to face, staring into your eyes, the lower body is closely connected. On top, you were forced to ride him, swinging your waist. From the side, a strong arm lifts one of your legs and slowly inserts it. In front, sucking and servicing that cock for hours. Seed and fluid oozed from the connection. There are two trembling vibrators stuck to your nipples. What a mess.

After making up for some of the love he hadn't had in hundreds of years, the general felt more at ease. Jing Yuan's hands wrapped around your shoulders and waist. You wanted to hate him so much- hate him, but he read you bedtime stories and space. He prepares rich meals for you, toys to relieve your boredom, and kisses your forehead. He promises to take you out, but not now.

Not now.

[doin-just-fine]

MAJOR UPDATE: Questioning systems or systems in a doubt spiral pls read.

I recently told my therapist about potentially being a system. This was a scary move because she has previously had some iffy takes about systemhood. But I told her because I trusted that she would meet me where I was at and help me navigate , at the least, the general idea of not understanding my own brain if nothing else which I was ok with. I told her and it went as expected. I explained why I thought I might be a system but also the doubts I had about it and how it was distressing me to not understand myself. She agreed to use the language I was using for it and was happy to help me through (as is her job) and also because whether it was systemhood or not it was something in me that was trying to be seen and we would work on figuring out what it was.

Fast forward a few session, and I was going through another bout of "what the fuck even is my brain". I was starting to realize that my "systemhood" is very different from the things I've been seeing online. In the ways that it's different to other systems is: - I'm always in the front, always in the captains chair - I have no amnesia because I never switch out - My hyper-vigilance never lets me dissociate fully though i definitely "check out" in my own way - Head mates just feel like vague ideas or emotions

But the ways that are similar are: - These vague ideas or emotions have opinions and feelings that are different from my own. - Though they are vague, I can definitely tell they are separate from what I have come to understand as "me" - I become "a different person" in the sense of my attitude, vibe, behavior, and opinions change from where they were 5 mins ago, but I am still me, just a different me.

Anyway, I was already trying to make sense of all of this and was not planning on talking about it with my therapist because nervous... However, my therapist ask me about it first. She asked some clarifying questions about my partners system vs my own and how they are different. When I explained what I just wrote above to my therapist she said "Thats what I thought and I owe you an apology."

Basically, my therapist, like any good therapist should when confronted by something they don't know a lot about, had been doing research on complex forms of trauma and coping. Things in the same vain as CPTSD and Plurality including those two topics. She had specifically been reading a book called "The Body Keeps The Score" (TW it is a book about trauma and studies of trauma so it has details of case studies that some people may find incredibly triggering). I did some research on what exactly the book was talking about in regards to "systemhood" and from what I've found, chapter 14 at the end of a section called "Writing to yourself" and the first parts of chapter 17 have interesting information regarding systemhood and how its not entirely limited to things that are diagnosable like DID or OSDD. It seems to talk about how we all have several selves and trauma can get in the way of those selves communicating effectively. My therapist told me about this book and what she learned from it and apologized to me because the book made her realize that she was wrong and that I was in fact a system....

The session ended and I just kind of sat there... not sure how to feel but definitely feeling relief and validation.

After doing research on the book to write this I have some words of wisdom. If you are a questioning system or are doubting your validity remember this: The human brain is so incredibly complex and no one actually understands how it does anything beyond its basic physical functionality... the conceptual abilities of our mind are a mystery. How we define self is just theory. If you don't fit into boxes, labels, identities, or diagnoses that does not mean your experiences aren't real. You are going to be ok. Understand YOUR mind and how it works for YOU, not through a label or diagnosis. If those things come later, great! Do not let them destroy you just because you don’t fit perfectly. I am a system. Simply. No types, labels, or diagnosis. I am a system. I have a unique experience because my brain is no one elses. I am a system. I may not have people in my head in the traditional sense but I'm also not alone up here either. I am a system. I am a system. I am a system. Nobody has the right to deny me this for they do not live behind my eyes.

As I understand myself: I am a system.

[iifishizzleii]

a 141!fanfic, except it’s told from the point of view of the reader’s best friend— you. like, actual you.

(pt. 1)

btw this isn’t edited so 😛

simon

you, who’s listening to the reader whine about how they wished simon would just give them a chance. watching in mild horror as they gushed about how handsome he was, how his mysterious aura made him so sexy, and how older men tended to treat their significant others a lot more kindly and respectfully than the ‘boys and girls’ your guy’s age.

you try to be supportive, really, but bitch, what the fuck. it was like being attracted to a brick painted black, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was the kind of brit who enjoyed ‘a chinese and a chippy’.

and when you’re in the laundromats with the reader, folding their laundry while they stuff your load into the washer, it’s simon who suddenly walks in. he’s got his own basket of laundry, dressed in all black with a matching mask and he looms over the other washing machines like the grim reaper standing over a field of souls. dreary.

you side eye the reader when they turn around and nearly trip over themselves at the sight of the older man, their cheeks growing warm and a nervous smile playing on their lips. and while he creeps you out, you know how big the reader’s heart is and how deep their emotions ran when it came to crushes, no matter how fleeting.

so, you say nothing about it and continue folding, ignoring simon when he sets his laundry basket down on the table beside you (and you make a prayer to every god in existence for patience and not strength, because there’s so much more fucking space in the laundromat and he chose to be RIGHT by you. on you. fantastic. ‘might as well shove his laundry up my ass and pour detergent down my throat while he’s at it,’ you think as you begin to fold with more force than necessary).

the reader breaks the silence first by saying hi to simon, which he responds in kind although gruffly. but, he follows it with a token of gratitude for the dessert the reader had baked for him a few nights ago, his voice softening a touch in a way that manages to catch you off guard as well. you finally allow your gaze to lift from the pants your folding, your eyes trailing from the reader, to simon. they look like they’d been given their weight in gold with how wide their smile is, hands fumbling together and all. and it would have been adorable if you hadn’t turned at that exact moment to gauge simon’s reaction, only to see what his attention was on.

with a dark, heavy gaze, you catch him staring your portion of the laundry. specifically, your underwear. your eyes widen a fraction before you immediately throw the pants you were folding over it and pick the basket up.

“you fucking weirdo,” you bite out, catching both simon and the reader off guard as you grab the reader by their hand and drag them out with you. you miss the mortified expression on simon’s face and the way his ears turn red when he realizes you’d noticed what he was doing.

(at least you didn’t notice how he reacted, his pants growing uncomfortably tight around his groin.)

price

you, who’s helping the reader with grocery shopping and is currently scanning the cereal aisle when their cart accidentally hits someone else’s. the sound of apologies spilling from their lips almost immediately has you turning your head to see what the commotion was, until you notice it’s the man from the diner with the boonie hat. price.

the other guy isn’t here, but you vaguely remember the sharp look you got from him when you returned their apologies for spilling beer everywhere with a not-so-subtle middle finger. he’s assuring reader that it’s alright and that it wasn’t like they hit his cart on purpose, and the smile he wears reminds you of a quokka. a british quokka. he even goes as far as saying that a blow to the shin was his penance for spilling the beer the other day, and it makes the reader laugh.

but you don’t laugh. you just stare at him like a child staring at the friend of their parent that they just had to talk to in the middle of the store, forcing the kid to stand around and wait until the adults are done talking.

price and the reader do, unfortunately, end up having a conversation, but they’d just gotten done going through introductions when the reader suddenly gestures to you. “and this is my friend-” you cut them off and tell the reader you don’t want to be introduced, and an awkward silence falls between the three of you at your blunt statement.

slowly, the reader adds, “price mentioned that he’s a soldier. you told me your dad was a marine, yeah?”. and when price’s eyes visibly brighten with relief at having some kind of common ground with you, you shrug and look him in the eyes as you say, “he also cheated on my mom while on deployment. so.”

and you feel not an ounce of guilt when price’s smile dims, a flat look on your face as you begin to push the cart away.

gaz & soap

you, who’s helping reader learn to drive one afternoon. they’ve hit six curbs so far and ran two red lights on accident, and you’re gripping the jesus handle as you assure them “no, it’s fine! if it’s not progress, it’s a learning process!”.

you really hope you guys don’t get pulled over, because it’s your car they’re driving and you only now realize that your license is sitting in the pocket of your pants back home, something you absolutely cannot tell the reader or they’ll panic and drive you both off a cliff.

you guys are on the highway (much to your fear), and cars are merging left and right as the roads begin to split. and there’s a loop coming up when the truck in front of you guys— a black tundra— suddenly swerved from the road on the left to your guy’s section, and the only thing that stops your car from smashing into the back of that truck is the reader’s foot slamming on the pedal.

both of you go flying forward, jerked back by the seatbelts you guys wear, and you swear for a moment you see god’s hand reach out from the clouds to grab your ass. the people behind you two are honking for the reader to “hurry up and go!”, as if none of them had seen the way the tundra literally drove over the dividing lines to get on your road. what the fuck.

you stick your head out and shout back (“fuck you, you old bastard! i’ll hit your car next time! “yeah, fuck your kid, too!”) when the reader starts driving again, their hands shaking on the wheel.

it makes your blood boil how incompetent the person driving the tundra was, how their carelessness had nearly cost you and the reader’s life.

and when you eventually reach a red light, it’s that same fucking truck you guys drive up next to. you can’t help but roll down your window to see who it is, ready to tear them a new one until you recognize the two faces in the front seats.

it’s the fucker from the bar, soap in the driver’s seat, and a sheepish gaz sitting passenger. they seem to recognize you as well (if not you then your anger) because both their eyes widen when they see you and the reader of all people.

soap tries to calm you with a charming smile and a promise of making it up to reader over drinks, and while the reader looks enraptured by the handsome men in the truck, you’re about five seconds away from getting out of the car and slashing their tires. but with the limited time you have, you instead opt for the easier option.

“are you stupid?! are you fucking stupid?!” you exclaim, your anger reaching new peaks when soap has the audacity to look shocked by your outburst and quietly ask gaz, “is my driving that bad?”.

gaz is the one shouting apologies, over soap’s shoulder when the lights turn green and he starts driving again. and you’re still fuming ten minutes later when you and the reader have made it to your guys’ destination, your gaze turning to ice when they make a comment on how the guy’s were ‘at least’ not ugly. because, “i love you to pieces, but be so fucking for real.”

you, who the reader whines is so pessimistic about who they choose to fall in love with, but you guarantee they can do better. not knowing that it was those same exact men who’s attention was slowly turning from the reader, to you. like, actual you.

[presidentlokis-hornyhelmet]

Loki x wife!Reader Headcanons [throughout the MCU]

Thor1 Loki: He's so soft soft baby TM and caring and always so sweet to you, in private or in public. Love is overflowing! Always kissing you and spoiling you. Not handsy but is always hand holding, or wraps arm around your waist. 2x Verbal Admiration than when he courted you. Favorite thing in the world is your blush and your laugh. You make him melt and he worships the ground you walk on. Gifts, LOTS of gifts. 

"i don't deserve you, y/n."  "If You don't deserve me, no one else does." 

💕How is the love-making?: Soft and Full of emotion! Worships your body; worships You. He'll make you understand why it's called love-making. Frequent eye contact because he loves getting lost in your eyes. Asgard who? (Odin has to forbid you from seeing Loki at work hours because it distracts him😂)

Avengers1 Loki: won't even look you in the eye, ignores your presence like his heritage. When you do manage to get a word with him, he'll Loki-talk you (i.e. vague words with ambiguous meanings that can be interpreted any way) into thinking he's been cheating on you (LIES). Not even a decent answer. Refuses to give you anything but his ire. 

"You still think me a lovesick puppy, girl?"  "My husband is a God who's just deeply devoted to his wife! Who are you and what have you done to him!?"  "Tut tut, my darling Lorelei -oh wait, that's not Your name." *smirks evilly and vanishes* 

💕Um.. love-making..?: most probably not, he's busy being Villain TM. But if you do manage to, he'll end up leaving you unsatisfied or humiliated, tossing you away like a rag doll -anything to make you think he's a bad guy (He's not. But you have to, otherwise The Other might hurt you too.)

TDW Loki: he'd still keep up the A1 facade and if you still want him, he'll be mean and act borderline disrespectful, claiming it's your duty as his wife. But in reality, he only wants to hurt you because spending the rest of his life locked up will be easier with you hating him. Looks at you longingly from his cell with an inexplicable sadness in his eyes, but will aboslutely deny it. 

"I know you wouldn't invade Midgard simply for power. I know you are above that, Loki."  "It is 'my Prince' to you. And, I'd rather you stick to your duties as just my wife." 

💕Smut?: Sure, if you hide it from Odin's knowledge. Lots of degradation, though. You can see the apology on his face, feel the desperation on his touch and hear the veiled sadness is his piercing words. His body language is begging you to stay, yearning for you and hoping you'd understand. Once it's over, he won't even look at your eyes knowing if he does, he can't be mean to you. What hurts him should make him stronger. 

TR Loki: After he shockingly discovered his mysterious survival, he ran back to the palace in search of you. But got to Odin first and.. y'know. He's successfully avoided any romance with you thanks to his disguise, but yearning is on the double when he sees the depth of your devotion. 

"All-Father, I wish to petition a statue on my... late husband's behalf. Of him, of what he's done for Asgard."  "He's a traitor and a convict."  "Who gave his life in atonement. It was a misguided atte-"  "Misguided!? Is that what you call acting against the Hlidskjalf? He invaded Midgard and took innocent lives!"  "And paid for it with his own. I beg your reconsideration, All-Father."  *After a long, scrutinizing pause* "The council will decide." "T-thank you, All-Father."  *Loki as Odin looks at you bow and retreat, sadness in his eyes* 'Oh, my love, how do you still love me after all I've done to you?' 

After evading death by planetary destruction and back in the Statesman hale, healthy and alive, he makes up for earlier. You refuse to accept, still feeling bitter, but Loki has his ways ;) 

💕How so? 👀: As I said, making up. For dayyyys. Lots of apologizing, lots of begging and even the occasional spanking. Many, many rounds even. Thor is quite concerned. Wait, why is Loki carrying you everywhere, can't you wal- OH. 

IW Loki: If you thought you knew how much he loves you (in Thor1), oh baby, you're about to be proven wrong. F*cking killed Thanos in, like, 2 seconds max. All it took was Big Ugly Grape-head to see you and give a creepy smile, the next minute he's lying headless on the ground, his army dissipating into dust. 

"The tesseract or yo-" *gets decapitated by Loki* 

❓And the love-making?: .... uh, doubtful.. Thor is busy choking your husband about why the f*ck he didn't say anything of having the tesseract. (Seriously, Thor, how else did you think he survived a planetary level destruction!? *exasperated sigh*) 

And you lived happily ever after <3 

The end. 💚

[ky-yk]

delicate (hyj x f!reader)

genre: fluff || word count: 2.1k

author’s note: this is me trying (no pun intended) to manage my expectations and also stop my delusions in their wake, hope y’all enjoy ✊😔

war was over.

after fighting valiantly and shedding blood, sweat, tears, and your cold hard cash, you finally got to reap the fruits of your labor as you settled into your seat for taylor swift's concert in singapore.

you took it all in: the sea of seats slowly filling up, the excited chatter of swifties and casual fans alike, and just the entire scale of the production.

that didn't mean you weren't logical, though.

"goddamn, i'm far," you muttered to yourself in disbelief as you shook your head and took your phone out to pass the time. even while you were focused on your phone, you could vaguely make out the people settling into the seats around you out of the corner of your eye.

as time drew closer to 7 pm, you felt someone plop into the seat beside you, chest heaving and clearly exhausted from the rush. you turned to give her a once over: bucket hat pulled so far down her face you wonder how she even made to her seat, masked up to add to the air of mystery, but dressing to the nines yet so effortlessly. they're a swiftie, what'd i expect, you thought to yourself.

striking brown eyes, that's what.

your seat mate must've noticed your gaze on her as she looks up at you like a puppy, her eyes barely peeking out from under her hat. it's when she raises her hat up a little bit that you see her big brown doe eyes staring straight into yours, and you start questioning if you cured cancer in your past life because what do you mean i sit next to this beauty for a whole concert??

you notice that she’s trying to tell you something, but she might as well have said nothing because there was no way she could overpower the blasting speakers and the ruckus of the crowd. you raised your eyebrows as if to ask her to repeat herself. she shook her head with a smile as she leaned forward, which you took as a sign to do the same.

“i’m sorry for disturbing you, by the way,” your seatmate says sheepishly. but all you could do was stare dumbly at her as you try to process what the hell was happening.

okay what the hell not only does she dress well but she’s pretty AND she has a raspy voice?! lord god if you took me right here right now i wouldn’t be complaining, this is a lovely way to die.

“um, you alright there?”

“huh?”

you know maybe i should just die right here.

“oh! oh yeah, i’m alright,” you chuckled, trying to shake off the awkwardness. as she laughs along with you easily, you hope her pillow is always cold at night for choosing to ignore the awkwardness of being stared at.

“anyways, you get here safe?” she asks, trying to make small talk.

as you opened your mouth to reply, you both notice the crowd go wild as the lights go down and a video plays on screen. you look back at your seatmate with an apologetic look as she just shakes her head in amusement.

“looks like the show’s about to begin, huh?” she shouts at you while leaning forward to stand like everyone else in your section to get a better view of the stage. you followed her lead, but only after staring up in awe at your enigma of a seatmate.

you stood on your tippy toes to try to see what was happening on stage. your timing couldn't be more perfect since it just so happened that, at that moment, taylor finally came on stage, prompting everyone to holler and further blocking your view.

how'd you know?

your seatmate's screeches, that's how.

"OH MY GOD IT'S TAYLOR, TAYLOR'S ON STAGE!" she screamed at the top of her lungs as she jumped along with the rest of the crowd.

screamed at you, that is.

she repeatedly slapped your shoulder in excitement as your face morphed from surprise to exaggerated discomfort in a second and you doubled over.

"OW!" you yelled half-jokingly.

she looked at you with wide eyes as she ran her mouth off, held you close, and rubbed your shoulders while apologizing, but those went in one ear and out the other as you turned your head to get a better look at the girl.

her hat must've fallen off while she was jumping around, but you wonder why she was even wearing one in the first place because no one this pretty should be hiding themselves.

no one with long, black, and wavy hair that flowed well past her shoulders and framed her face perfectly should cover that up.

no one with big, brown, and expressive eyes that you could just drown in should have to shield them. they deserve to be put into a museum.

they deserve to be admired.

you snap back to reality when she drops her arms and moves to make some space between you two, and she realizes that you're staring at her, suddenly frantically looking for her hat. you try to stop her in her tracks.

"hey hey, it's alright," you reassure her. "you look really pretty, by the way." she seemed to be taken aback.

"wait do you..." she starts to question before catching herself and instead choosing to say, "oh, um, thank you! you do too, by the way."

"i'm just saying you don't need the hat. i mean, how would you even be able to see taylor?"

she picks her hat off the floor and stares at it long and hard, as if deep in thought.

"you know what? you're right."

she then puts her hat on her chair before turning her attention back to the stage with a smile -- right on time for cruel summer.

as soon as the telltale intro started, she grabbed you by the shoulders again and started jumping around while screaming the lyrics. your eyes widened and your shoulders stiffened at the sudden proximity before you relaxed and just enjoyed the moment, screaming at the top of your lungs with the rest of the crowd.

"I'M DRUNK IN THE BACK OF THE CAR, AND I'M CRYING LIKE A BABY COMING HOME FROM THE BAR, OH!" you both screamed at each other, pointing to each other while using your phones as mics at the same time.

"SAID I'M FINE BUT IT WASN'T TRUE, I DON'T WANNA KEEP SECRETS JUST TO KEEP YOU, AND I," you aggressively pointed at each other at every syllable. you were both stuck in your own little world -- as if you'd known each other your whole lives.

as the show went on, you'd sometimes sneak glances at the girl beside you and smile to yourself as you enjoyed the sight of her just letting loose.

on one occasion, though, she must've felt your gaze on her as she turns to meet yours. you didn't even bother covering it up; there was no saving yourself. you just mirror her bright smile that makes her eyes disappear, hoping this moment would last forever.

then again, all good things must come to an end.

the concert flies by, and the next thing you know, you and your seatmate are seated once again, trying to catch your breath.

you didn't even get to take many pictures because of how much fun you were having.

"wow," she said as she looked up at the ceiling. she then went quiet, as if replaying the events of the night in her head. she shook her head with a smile and turned to look at you before a phone notification soon caught her attention.

a whole slew of them.

you just looked on as she sighed, replying to only one of them before shutting her phone off and giving you her fullest attention with a smile.

"you're quite famous, huh?" you joked. her eyes went wide as the color seemingly drained from her face. "oh no, i just meant that because you had a lot of notifs," you said, trying to save face and reassure her. i wonder why she clams up randomly, you thought to yourself.

you then realize that you may never get the answer to your question. and the thought disappoints you.

what have i got to lose?

you got your phone and switched on your camera, pointing it towards the stage.

"hey," you say, trying to get her attention. you held your hand out in front of the camera in a peace sign, hoping she catches your drift. soon enough, you see another peace sign in front of your camera, and you start to snap away.

afterwards, you turn your peace sign into half a heart, and she does the same.

"let's take a pic together, you and me," you tell her. before she even got the chance to reply, you immediately followed it up. "only if you want to! i don't want to make you uncomfortable, seeing as we're strangers and all--"

she cut off your rambling by plucking your phone out of your hands and switching it to selfie mode. "it's fine..."

"y/n."

"y/n. lovely name for a lovely person,” she remarked. “anyways, you're good. now, come on! my arm's getting tired."

you got into the frame, posing with her and making funny faces before she chuckled and proceeded to airdrop the pictures to herself.

"let's get going?" she asks as she gets up from her seat. you nod and follow her lead out of the stadium.

conversation flows easily between the both of you as you slowly make your way outside, not wanting the moment to end.

soon enough, you made it outside. you turn to face her, bouncing on your heels as you spoke.

"um, i guess this is it."

"yeah, i guess it is."

you open your mouth to take a leap, to make the moment last, but of course it had to be cut short by the honk of a black van that pulled up close to you both.

she looks towards the van. "well, i guess this is me."

you knew you'd regret it if you didn't make a move, so you took your chances.

"wait!"

"hm?" she looks at you expectantly -- and maybe a little hopefully, unless you were deluding yourself.

"i...had a lot of fun tonight, and i'd hate if this were just a one night thing, you know?"

she chuckles in response. "i did too, y/n."

"so...would you want to meet up again soon?"

"i'm not from here, you know."

"neither am i, but who knows what'll happen?" you tried to reason out.

"you make a good point," she resigns.

"how about this: if you can find me after tonight, then we can go out."

"deal!" you replied a little too excitedly.

"alright, well, i'll see you around, y/n," she says as she moves to get inside her car.

"wait!"

"yes, y/n?"

"i don't even know your name."

"i guess you're right," she says.

she steps into your personal space, close enough that you could get a whiff of her perfume, as she holds your shoulders and leans in to whisper, as if only for you to hear.

"it's jen."

she then pulls away, but not after placing a peck on your cheek. she then steps back.

"have a good night, y/n. get home safe!" she says before ducking to get inside her car.

"bye," you whisper into the night as you watch the car speed off.

you turn around to make your way towards the subway. you check your twitter, going through your timeline before you decided to check the trends. one trend caught your eye, though. "JENJEN," it read. enticed, you clicked on it.

LE SSERAFIM's Huh Yunjin spotted at Taylor Swift's The Eras Tour in Singapore. attached to the tweet were pictures of your seatmate waiting in line and standing around in her bucket hat.

you stopped in your tracks, eyes wide, as you continued to scroll down, seeing tweets from what appeared to be kpop stan accounts.

so glad to see our resident swiftie enjoying her life AS SHE SHOULD

is she a ninja or smth bc how did none of us notice she was gone

why do u need to know where she is all the time smh 🙄

she looks like she had a lot of fun, thank u sg fearnots for not crowding her!

huh yunjin, huh?

you jumped over to instagram as you kept walking to the subway station to search her name up. clicking on the first account you saw, you realized that your seatmate was a celebrity.

you clicked on the big blue follow button and watched it turn into two separate buttons: following and message. you clicked on the latter button.

itsy/n: found you

itsy/n: 1 image attached.

[chocodile]

Apologies if you've answered this somewhere: for your Amaranthine 'verse, are there any "hybrid" animal folk? On one hand, kwillow's Theo has a rat and a stoat as parents, but Theo himself is a rat (with his mother's coloring, but still a rat). On the other, Ambroys very clearly looks like a cross between a horse (father) and Something Else (Celestial mother). In the middle is Hayden's one night stand with the cat barmaid, which resulted in a child with a bunny's snout/tail, a flatter catlike face, and bunny ears a biiiit too wide and pointed to be 100% "bunny."

I'm super curious about the genetics of it as well as the social aspect (i.e. is son considered a bunny/cat/both by his peers?). It's one of my favorite bits about anthro worldbuilding!

Hybrids exist, but are pretty rare!

Typically, children will just inherit their species from one parent or the other. Hybridization is very unusual and typically is limited to one or two very minor traits--like the child of a rabbit having slightly longer ears, the child of a weasel having a noodlier build, the child of a carnivore having fangs, etc. In almost all cases, the dominant species of the child is very clear, and the hybrid traits tend to be very recessive--rarely preserved beyond one generation.

Particularly in the Western Kingdom, though, hybrid children do have a reputation for being unlucky, an ill omen, or even outright cursed (depending how superstitious the person you're asking is). There are a few reasons for this… the simplest is that hybrid traits are sort of a "birth defect" that can sometimes present along with other health issues. Though not all hybrids are frail and sickly, any concern about a child's susceptibility to illness was a huge deal in rural peasant villages that already tended to have high childhood mortality rates.

Over time, the perception of hybrid children = ill omen became warped and exaggerated. Western Kingdom folktales sometimes cast hybrids as vaguely supernatural trickster characters, such as tales of mysterious changeling babies whose hybrid traits eventually revealed them to be half Infernal.

For this reason, the actual frequency of hybrid traits is probably greatly under reported… anyone who can hide or ignore or lie about their hybrid traits probably will. Though most Western Kingdom superstitions fell away after the collapse of the old kingdoms, some degree of stigma in Post-Fall society remains. No one seriously thinks a sheep with fangs is half Infernal anymore (most don't believe that Infernals and Celestials even exist), but it will still probably be passively assumed that a hybrid is less fit for difficult labor, among other things.

Half Celestial and Half Infernal offspring work a bit different… they're always technically "hybrids", but specifically hybridize in such a way that they take the form of mythological creatures (unicorn, dragon, cockatrice, etc). I'll let Kwillow talk more about this when she discusses Ambroys' mother since she's been the one working on this section of the lore, but Half Celestials are most certainly seen as a blessing. Half Infernals… well, fear of them is part of the reason hybrids are stigmatized in the first place, so suffice to say they have it rather rough. How severe the stigma is varies across cultures and tends to be worse in the rural West, better in cities, and pretty much completely absent in much of the Eastern Kingdom.

In the Post-Fall present day, nobody believes Celestials, Infernals, or their offspring exist anymore... aside from those who know about The Kingdom of the Sun.

Also, once in a while, a hybrid is born whose traits are so blended that their parent species are difficult to determine. These very unlucky individuals are referred to as "chimeras" and tend to have shorter life expectancies, among other things. We may be seeing a character who fits this description eventually. :P

[skyward-floored]

For IAU requests… anything Four related? Sorry if that’s too vague lol

Don’t worry about it anon, being vague is fine! Precise prompts are fun too, but having some more vague ones adds some nice variety. And gives me the freedom to do stuff like this, hehe.

(Set when they’re all a little older. Four is somewhere in his early teens).

————————————————————

“Hey, um... Link?”

Four startled, nearly banging his head against that of the girl leaning over him. She jumped back, and Four blinked a few times, trying to focus on her face. Freckles swam into view, and Four finally recognized the girl as his friend Dot.

Friend, despite how his brothers tried to tease.

“Ah, sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you,” Dot apologized, and Four waved her off, yawning.

“‘S okay,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Did you need something?”

Dot hesitated, something odd shining in her eyes. “You um, really seem tired today, Link. Are you all right?”

No. “Yeah.”

Dot studied him a second, then leaned down, and lowered her voice so the other kids couldn’t hear her as easily.

“I... I heard your brother was in the hospital.”

Four swallowed as the familiar ache in his chest came back, and he looked at his desk as he nodded.

“I’m really sorry,” Dot continued, her voice soft. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” Four mumbled, not wanting to think about Twilight, still struggling to recover after a hit from a mysterious weapon had nearly killed him. Hyrule’s powers had had almost no effect on his injury, and they’d exhausted every option they had. And though Twilight was finally no longer on death’s doorstep, he still wasn’t healing like he should be.

He could easily slip back to a dangerous level, and if that happened again he might not have the strength to pull through this time.

“...Link?”

Four swallowed. “Sorry. Thanks though. Appreciate it.”

Dot hesitated, but nodded, and patted his shoulder as the bell rang, signaling the start of class. She sat in the desk next to him like she always did, and poked his arm whenever he started to drift off, giving him a light shake when that wasn’t enough.

The school day dragged on, and dragged him with it, Four fumbling his way through his classes. Dot stayed at his side for all of them that she could, and the part of him that was awake enough to notice was grateful for it.

He’d barely slept the past few days, his emotions were a wreck, and on top of all that he’d had a nasty argument with Wild last night.

“He doesn’t need this right now!”

Four swallowed. All he really wanted to do was go back to the hospital and sit with Twilight, but instead he was stuck in school, currently learning about some math formula while his and Wild’s angry words rang in his head, along with the noise Twilight had made when he’d been hit and Four couldn’t stop thinking about how still he’d gone after he’d fallen—

“Mr. Forester, I asked you a question.”

Four blinked, and realized his math teacher had come up to his desk, arms crossed as her foot tapped on the floor. The classroom was quiet, and Four swallowed when he noticed everyone was looking at him.

“Mr. Forester?” the teacher reminded sternly, and Four swallowed.

“I’m... could you repeat that, please?” he stammered, and she sighed.

“I asked if you knew how to solve the problem,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “And I would appreciate an answer sometime this year.”

A few of his classmates tittered, and Four blinked the exhaustion out of his eyes, trying to remember if he’d actually heard her say the problem or not. His cluttered brain couldn’t focus though, too many thoughts and feelings clogging his usually sharp brain. The writing on the board blurred, and Four swallowed, looking at his desk.

He had no clue what he was supposed to be solving.

“I... n-no. I’m sorry,” he whispered, and to his horror, his eyes began to water.

His teacher sighed, and went back to the front of the class. “Disappointing, Mr. Forester. I expect more from you. Can anyone else tell me how to work these equations? Miss Castor?”

Someone else spoke up, but the words just buzzed in Four’s head, his throat tight as he stared at his desk.

His brother could be dying right now, and he was wasting his time sitting in a math class.

Four bit his lip as it trembled, flipping up the hood of his jacket. The argument with Wild wouldn’t stop replaying through his mind, the way he’d yelled and how Four had yelled back, and how he’d split in the middle of it and said things he knew he’d regret, but they’d felt so good leaving his mouth, and the way Wild’s face had looked so miserable as he’d run away, and how his father had just looked resigned to the fact that they were going to lose Twilight—

A hand squeezed his arm, and Four looked through his hair at Dot, her face sharply worried now. He swallowed rather thickly, and Dot suddenly raised her hand.

“Yes, Miss Gustafson?” their teacher asked as she turned around, and Dot stood from her desk.

“I think I need to take Link to the nurse,” she said firmly, hand still holding Four’s arm. “He hasn’t been feeling well all day, you can see for yourself he’s pale.”

“Are you certain?” their teacher asked, and Dot nodded, unwavering. Their teacher thought for a moment, tapping a finger on her desk. “Hmm. I suppose he has been acting unusual today... that would certainly explain some things. You may escort him.”

“Thank you,” Dot said with a nod, and she pulled Four out of his desk and out of the classroom before he could blink.

They didn’t go to the nurse’s office though, rather Dot pulled him to a small spot behind the stairs, one so small only a few kids could actually fit back here. Four and Dot fit fine though, and she tugged Four down to sit, rifling in her bag.

“Okay, go ahead,” she said, pulling something out.

“Go ahead?” Four asked, barely stopping his voice from wobbling.

“Go ahead. Cry. You were on the verge of breaking down in there, you’ve got to let some of it out or there’s no way you’re making it through any more classes today,” Dot said matter-of-factly. She held up a small packet of tissues. “So cry, please.”

Four let out a hollow laugh. “I’m not going to just start crying because you told me to, Dot.”

“It’ll help, trust me,” Dot urged, and her voice softened. “It’s okay to be upset, Link. Anyone would be with what you’ve got going on. Just cry for a bit, and then we can go back. We don’t even have to go to the nurse if you don’t want to.”

Four laughed again, but the sound was watery. “Dot, just because Tw-Twilight is in the, the hospital, doesn’t m-mean, I...”

For some reason saying it out loud made it all crash down on him, and Four’s voice broke.

He tried to keep talking, but his breath hitched, and suddenly he was crying instead, a sob hiccuping from his throat. Dot stayed quiet as she set a hand on his shoulder, and Four felt tears begin to drip down his cheeks.

She rubbed it a little bit, and Four hiccuped again, wishing in the back of his mind that he could split. Then only a fourth of him would be sobbing his eyes out in front of Dot, and this would be a little less embarrassing.

But his powers were secret, and supposed to stay that way. So Four continued to cry, Dot scooting over to sit more closely beside him, her hand warm on his shoulder.

He didn’t know how long they sat there, Dot patting his shoulder while he cried his eyes out, but it was long enough that he was sure their teacher would be suspicious.

“Y-you should go back,” Four finally said, shakily wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “You’ll be missed.”

“Oh don’t worry about that, I can just say you threw up on me and I had to clean myself up,” she shrugged, offering him a tissue. Four let out a watery snort, but took it, shakily blowing his nose. “Or that the nurse wanted to make sure you hadn’t infected me. Ooh, or maybe you were so delirious you begged me to stay at your side, and I was forced to forgo math in order to stop your feverish ramblings.”

“No way that would work as an excuse,” Four said, his voice still wobbling.

“It might, you never know.”

Four fondly shook his head, then sighed, feeling drained from all the crying he’d just done. He didn’t feel... better, exactly, but he felt less overwhelmed by it all. His head felt less cluttered at least, and he gave Dot a grateful look.

“Thanks Dot,” he said quietly, and she nodded, then gave him a quick hug.

“Of course. If you need to talk, or just... anything else, just ask, okay?”

Four nodded, and hugged her back. “Okay.”

They sat under the stairs a little while longer, trying to make Four look like he hadn’t spent the last half hour crying, and then Dot pulled him to his feet, and they went to the nurse’s office together. They at least needed an alibi for being gone so long, and it would be suspicious if Four was never seen going to the nurse. Even if he only felt sick because of worry.

Four sighed as they walked down the hallways, and Dot squeezed his hand, giving him a little smile. He somewhat succeeded in returning it, and his thoughts drifted back to Wild, and their argument.

As soon as he made it through the rest of the school day, he’d... try and talk to him. He owed Wild that much at least.

And... Twilight would want him to try.

[simplyreveries]

hewwoooo i was the anon who requested the trey + vil with plus-sized reader :3 i really love your writing!!!! so expect me to come back here pretty often :D you can call me 🫀 anon from now on hehe (and also expect all my requests to be platonic except for trey oop)

im here for another request !! may i request the shroud brothers, vil, leona and trey with an ignihyde!reader ?? my self-insert is actually an ignihyde student based on the fates so i cant really insert myself into twst x readers with yuu!reader lol. no pressure tho <3

here ya go!! I'm super happy you liked my other one, I apologize for this one's wait i got busy!<3

idia shroud

it’ll take a while for the two of you to become any sorts of close. i can imagine your meetings (even though he's your own DORM LEADER lmao) will be brief and vague, sometimes seemingly halfhearted when he is forced to tell his dorm something, to which he usually just messages.

you’ll find him lurking and leaving his room in the late hours to get something or go the sam's mystery shop if it's still open for instant food or stuff of that sorts. nevertheless, you still are an ignihyde student so you two do seem to get along pretty well. even in those short moments— he finds himself being okay around you.

i guess you could say he is relieved you're one of the few people who won't make idia feel utterly awkward or uncomfortable running into so that's definitely some sort of a relief for him. in fact, that usually entails you two ending up hanging out together or doing something stupidly fun together.

ortho shroud

aside from idia he actually did make an effort to get to know you in the first place and in his attempts to get idia out more, suggested you guys hang out at times! he’d claim and tell idia how interesting of a person you were— plenty of stories as someone who even has been or lived in their homelands, the shaftlands!! he wants to see everyone in the dorm get along well. so, you may see him actively trying to get you and idia to be friends as well haha

im sure you two did become unlikely friends though it's inevitable, especially with ortho. he is happy to see his brother get along with you, its very common soon enough that you guys commonly hang out together.

ortho is very sweet whenever you pass him by in the dorm or in school always saying "hello" or asking how you're feeling. he's happy to be able to get along with others in his dorm.

vil schoenheit

he's curious about you quite a bit considering he knows how the reputation of ignihyde students are well…. very reclusive and don't really interact much with others and other dorms. he has worked with ignihyde students in the past with favors and needing stuff for his film making club (like the magical wheel he needed for epel once) which usually makes him prompt to coming towards you a lot to inquire and get any tech and gadgets that could be used for films they're making… even if you may not be the most outgoing person, he’ll surprisingly feel quite easy to talk to.

if you tend to take on the habits of your fellow dormmates or your dorm leader, he will once in a while tell you to make sure you're taking care of yourself and make sure you're doing things like self-care or sleeping right. it's nothing harsh or anything but it's a small way he looks out for you as he gets closer to you throughout time.

you're like a favored student of his from that dorm, he has grown to be pretty fond of. you've piqued his interest enough and helped him out too that he does seem kinder to you in ways.

leona kingscholar

originally, he really had no interested talking to or frankly being around any of that dorm. besides like idia during dorm leader meetings, he barely even knew anyone there despite it being at least his 4th year in that school. he still finds it, unusual and even strange that you've become rather close to him (even if that may feel one sided but it's just leona ok)

he does tend to feel more content and okay with you if you’re more on the quieter side anyway. he does grow a small sense of fondness to you— he even finds himself slightly surprised as your the last person he expected to garner his attention. but nevertheless, you found yourself nicely close to him even if he doesn’t show it the best.

leona sometimes makes quips or teases about your own dorm, how considerably different the two may be. especially a lot at first before you two grew closer, he just found it strange almost, to find yourself close to him.

trey clover

its funny because besides like ortho or idia and maybe a few various students of that dorm here and there in the school— ever so introverted and quiet he doesn't see that many of your dorm. even cater himself admits he doesn't seem to really know or have any friends from that dorm and he's cater! trey will muse he’s beaten cater at that by dating one.

you may have to get used to his dorm being pretty social, considering all the events they hold whereas you’re probably used to the cold and quiet ignihyde dorms. you may have to even adjust whenever you decide to come over and see trey, especially with people like cater or ace who are heavily social.

he hopes you’ll grow and find yourself comfortable there, you’ll find him laughing bashfully when pointing out their antics in comparison to the dormmates you're used to. you'll find him chuckling asking how you manage to put up with some of them, he can only imagine how different it must be for you.

[ghcstao3]

apologies for inactivity here’s a vaguely ghostsoap oneshot w outsider pov from tommy. because ghost’s family is still alive because i said so. rest is below the cut. 1.2k words

-

Watching his younger brother fall in love was a strange thing.

Of course, watching him do just about anything these days was strange enough, but falling in love? For a long time, it had seemed above Simon.

Not once had Tommy ever seen him take time for himself, or let anyone new into his life so long as they’ve been on better terms. It never seemed like something remotely of interest to Simon, either.

Though God only knows how much he deserves to have someone to take care of him for once. From a shitty childhood only made worse by his shitty older brother, then for Simon to have to be the one to put Tommy back on track which led to him falling in love with Beth, and who knows what other horrors Simon would never speak about, it was finally time Simon found someone of his own.

That being said, Tommy hadn’t ever really, truly expected it.

It’s a slow process, but it gradually becomes obvious—to Beth, at least, who will point out signs Tommy hadn’t at all noticed that, when looking back, were quite clear.

Like the uncharacteristic softness in which Simon spoke the name Johnny. The shift in tone when talking about his sergeant though he attempts to maintain a front as to make a show that he knows better than to fraternize with a colleague.

(Though knowing a few stories of the things Simon’s captain has allowed within his task force, neither Beth nor Tommy think it’d be an issue for him.)

But all it had ever started with was a gruff, offhand mention of a new subordinate Simon was none too happy about, because the new sergeant was (and quote), “beyond irritating and without the concept of personal space,” and, “lucky he’s skilled enough for it to be overlooked on the field.” Both Tommy and Beth had tried to argue that surely it couldn’t be that bad, but Simon had only levelled them both a stare he had long since perfected to make even his own brother and sister-in-law look away.

The sergeant isn’t brought up for a while in calls or visits after that, and Tommy is progressively convinced Simon had meant what he said about his disliking. Then Beth asks about it, whether things have gotten better, and suddenly the sergeant becomes MacTavish and he and Simon are almost something of friends. Almost. And from their end of the phone, Beth gives Tommy this knowing look that takes him far too long to decipher, but eventually understands it as her noticing a fondness in Simon’s voice in his renewed opinion of Soap.

It’s odd, figuring these things out about his younger brother. It really, really is.

Then MacTavish becomes Soap becomes Johnny over the course of the next few months, and when Simon visits on one of his rare leaves, for once Tommy doesn’t need his wife’s help in detecting the unique sentiments reserved for this mysterious sergeant. There’s a palpable shift in Simon, a sort of emotion Tommy has never seen his brother express.

It’s unfamiliar, and sure there are things he would never know about Simon, but this? Nearly incomprehensible, at first. It’s new to Tommy as a witness, and new to Simon in general, and it’s all just some confusing mess that neither of them understand in their respective ways.

Though, thankfully, Tommy has Beth for that. Mostly. Whenever she doesn’t scold him for being such a stranger to his own brother.

The worst of the whole Simon-being-in-love ordeal is when Tommy is urged to broach the subject when it started to seem like Simon didn’t realize himself that he was… feeling. Tommy asks if Simon had ever considered that maybe he likes Johnny in a not-platonic way after his younger brother complains about the sergeant being on medical leave for six weeks while he was stuck with training rookies that are (again, and quote), “so green it’s a wonder any of them have made it this far in life,” however Simon only responds with a vehement denial and a quiet not like Johnny would feel the same if I did before he hangs up without a goodbye.

It’s at that point Tommy begins to understand Beth’s frustration with the obvious.

Since Tommy’s question, the ever-present Soap this, Johnny that disappears from conversation with Simon entirely until a month before bi-annual Christmas leave when a near-groundbreaking question is meekly asked—if it’d be alright for Simon to bring someone with him to family dinner. He never specifies who, but it’s easy enough to guess.

(And get it right.)

John MacTavish is somehow exactly and nothing as expected, and it catches both Tommy and Beth by surprise.

He’s talkative, is one thing. That isn’t to say it’s a bad thing, either—they’re both more than happy to finally have someone regale them with the stories that aren’t classified, and John seems just as happy to do so—but also having known Simon for just about all his life and knowing his aversion to chatty people like John, it seems odd he’d be so infatuated.

And infatuated is definitely the right word, when Tommy glances over to see the adoration in Simon’s face watching John speak with such liveliness, an adoration he knows himself guilty of when looking at Beth. It’s the exact same, or so Beth would later say.

Another thing is the touching. It’s subconscious, surely, whenever John reaches a hand out to connect in some way to Simon, but Simon just lets it happen. Leans into it, even. It’s part of what really solidifies the conclusion that Simon has finally found his person.

What really does it, though, is John’s use of Si like the nickname was nothing—and Simon reacting all the same. Even Tommy hadn’t ever been afforded that privilege, and while at first it stings for a very brief moment, once Tommy is over it he settles back into complete disbelief like he’s been told pigs had, truly, learned to fly.

That one had even startled Beth. Had even startled Joseph, who had been told on numerous occasions that his uncle didn’t like when people called him Si. Yet here John sat at the dinner table like Simon hadn’t let him do something previously reserved for absolutely no one.

Later that night, Tommy corners Simon and asks him again about his feelings toward John, because it’s just so painfully clear now. He half-expects another denial, but Simon sighs and shrinks in on himself in a way Tommy hadn’t seen in decades before admitting that he likes John in a very not-platonic way.

That he loves John. That he plans on asking John on a proper date when they get back to Simon’s flat the next day.

Hearing the words from Simon, the word from Simon, is initially bizarre, but Tommy is more occupied with a sense of pride for his younger brother—though expressed in the quieter Riley fashion with an additional wish of luck certainly not needed after seeing how John and Simon act together.

Watching his younger brother fall in love was a strange thing, most definitely. But it also feels rewarding, in some equally strange way, to finally see Simon have something he’s always deserved after so, so very long.

[thevanillerose]

LEATHER | DABI x BLIND!READER | MY HERO ACADEMIA

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators.

Coarse. Soft. Plush. Hard.

Your world was defined by these words. It always had been. Blind from birth, you were used to being steeped in darkness, but because you had never known anything different, it wasn't something that made you feel bad. If anything, you weren't sure why people felt so sorry for you. Why they would express such pity towards you when they found out about your affliction.

You were getting on just fine, right? So truly...there were people out there who were far more deserving of their well meant concerns than you were. You didn't need anyone to worry over you.

Perhaps the only thing you wished you could have sight for was to know what you looked like. Somehow your parents were a perfect image in your mind, it was as if you could envision them anyway, despite your own impairment. When it came to you personally though, well...you didn't have the faintest clue.

Were you ugly? Pretty? People always claimed it was the latter, but how were you to know if they were lying or not? There was truly no way of telling.

So that was maybe the one thing that did bother you. The rest of it though, you could deal with. You would be alright.

In fact, you were so brave with it that you would walk home alone at any time of night, no qualms about it. Sure, there had been talk of a mysterious killer on the loose lately, but the most you had heard were vague rumors that you strongly doubted held any actual water.

Like hell you were going to get scared!

Once again, you were out in the early hours. Your senses were always on max settings anyway, so if someone happened to be pursuing you, you would pick up on it in a split. However, it wasn't what lay behind you that you needed to worry about.

A few steps forward, and suddenly you bumped into something. Staggering backwards, you immediately registered that it was a person, and instantly doubled over into a respectful bow of apology. “Sorry! Excuse me...I didn't see you there...” It was quite amusing to use a line like that, given that it was rarely so literal.

The fellow turned and cast his piercing turquoise eyes upon you, observing you in silence. The air was immediately tense.

Dabi hadn't been expecting you to run into him out of nowhere. The streets were usually quiet at this time, he'd go looking for trouble in certain spots sure, but those were usually the obvious ones, like your sketchy backwater nightclubs and 'massage parlors'.

One look at you, and he was confused. “...What are you doing out here alone?”

Male...I figured. Judging by his voice...he's probably around my age...

 “I...I usually come out at any time, really. I was just picking up some supplies-”  You held up the plastic bag filled with goodies from the 24 hour mart. He stared at it for a moment, before letting his eyes flicker back to you again.  “It's dangerous.”

 “Well-” you lowered the bag and shrugged, “-I know that's what they say but...if I stayed inside just because I was scared, it would be like handing over control to whatever bad guys are out there. It would be like they were already winning.”

 He quirked a black brow. Interesting take.

 “...You're brave.”  You heard him take a few steps forward, around your side, behind you. Shuddering, you could sense his fingertips gliding ever so lightly against the back of your shoulder, across the nape of your neck and to your other arm.   “How do you know you've not just run into an enemy though?”

 Well now you were really wondering.    “...Because...you're standing out here on the pavement, right by the road. People like that usually lurk in the shadows...”  “It's dark enough out here though.” he stated, as he circled around to your front again, and you could sense him standing closer than before, “There's nobody else around...no cameras watching...just you and me. I could get away with anything.”

 Now the fear was setting in. He was certainly talking like a killer...so could he really be? You swallowed uneasily and tried to step around him, but his hand caught your side and pushed you back, prompting you to drop the bag as you jolted. Those cartons of chocolate milk you'd bought were scattered.

 “Please, I don't want any trouble!” you insisted, and he tilted his head.  “Maybe you should have watched where you were going. Maybe you shouldn't have been walking out alone at night.”  “I-I'm entitled to!”  “So am I.”

 “...You're the killer they've been talking about?”  “Maybe.”

 This was insane. Even you felt like you were being reckless now. However, you needed to find some way to excuse yourself or run from him. You'd worry about calling the police when you were somewhere safe.  Then again, what would you even tell them?

 “Look...I...if you let me go I won't say a word...” you promised, but he simply scoffed.  “Yes you will, don't lie. You're going to file a police report at the first chance you get.”  “No! No I won't because, because I wouldn't even be able to in the first place!”  “...And what is that supposed to mean? You've seen my face, my location, I basically admitted to you that I'm the killer. Of course you can file a report.”

 “...” Telling him this seemed like as much of a bad idea as a good one...but you would do it.

 “...I...I don't know what you look like. I can't see you.”  There was a long pause. Dabi stared at you, blinking a few times, before leaning in just a little bit.  “...Excuse me?”  “I-I said I can't see you. Because I'm blind.”

 That threw him for a total loop. He hadn't been expecting it. Though now that he really looked at you, he supposed that your eyes weren't really focusing on anything in particular, and they certainly weren't looking at him. So, well, he believed it.

 What now?

 “...Okay. So you're blind. I suppose that...removes the problem for me.”  “A-are you still going to kill me?” you dared to ask, and there was another frightening pause, before he sighed.  “...No...There's little point in it. Just another mess I'd have to clean up.”

 Instantly you were almost bowled over by a wave of relief.  “Th-thank you!” you gasped out, and quickly crouched down to find the items you'd dropped. Dabi watched you fumbling for a moment, your hand patting the ground as it tried to find what it was looking for.  

 He didn't quite know why. Perhaps there was just something tender about you, either way, he ended up crouching down to pick up the carton.

 At the very moment he reached out though, so too did you, and for a split second, your knuckles brushed.

 Instantly you recoiled and gasped. What you'd just touched, it was unexpected.  “What was that??”  “Hm? Oh right...you can't see it.” Dabi sighed and put the carton back in the bag but remained crouching there in front of you, examining his own hand. “...My skin isn't really what you'd call regular.”

 Admittedly, you were curious. He seemed to be behaving more calmly and rationally right now too. Would it really be so bad if you asked?

 “May I...touch it again?”    “Huh?” Dabi quickly looked at you, brow furrowing. “...Why?”  “Because I...I suppose I'm just curious. I won't if it bothers you...I've just...never felt anything like that before.”

What am I doing? What am I doing!? This guy's a killer!!   ...Why am I being nice to him?

 Perhaps the better question would have been vice versa. For Dabi actually conceded, brushing your hand with his again and allowing you to gently run your fingers up his wrist. You didn't even know his name, and yet you were crouched on the ground with him, caressing his arm and feeling how rough, tight the skin was...like it had been burned to a crisp.

 “...What happened to you?” you had to ask him, noticing there were hard staples plastered in there too, as if he were some zombie that had been stitched up. Your curiosity got the better of you, and you reached up with both hands this time, laying them gently against his cheeks and cupping his face.

 His jaw was much the same. It felt similar, like he was damaged. But you could tell his face wasn't unpleasant. He had a good structure, you could tell-  “What are you doing?”  His voice suddenly sounded, a little sternly so, and his hands took your wrists just to guide them down again. Hesitating, you lowered your head.

 “I'm sorry...I act a little rash sometimes...”  “...It's fine. I can tell.” he uttered, but he hadn't let you go just yet. “...But I think I'd rather know about you. How did you become blind?”

 This was such an odd situation to be in. Confessions on a dirty pavement, and confessions to a supposed killer no less. What if you said the wrong thing and he just ended you right here and now? This scarred man did seem to have a cold disposition...but for some reason...you wanted to open up to him anyway.

 “I didn't really 'become' blind, I've been like this from birth.” you explained, and though you couldn't see it of course, his eyes widened.  “...Oh?”

 “Yeah, so...hah...I don't even know what I look like. Sometimes I imagine I must be the scariest thing walking around out here.”

 Dabi's hands slowly slipped away, making you worry. He laid them in his own lap, and watched you. The concerned emotions flickering across your face, like you were suddenly fearful you'd admitted too much. You were obviously nervous around him, but it was like you didn't want to deter him either.

Is he really the killer? I want to run, and yet...I don't.

 His hand slowly extended towards you again. That unmistakable touch against the skin of your cheek, as he let it rest against your face. You could feel his thumb, gently rubbing in a circle. Your hammering heartbeat slowly calmed. You found yourself sinking against his palm.

 “You're a curious one. A bit of a weirdo.” he added, and cracked a smile you couldn't see. Maybe you somehow knew it was there regardless.

 “But...you're pretty too.”

Like my writing? I can write for you! Check out my WRITING COMMISSIONS!

[leaderpinhead]

Jamil - Girl Problems

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial weekly prompt

Jamil thrusted the bouquet towards Yuu. “Here.” 

Yuu blinked and swatted the flowers away with a stunted reflex. She glowered at him, mouth pursed and brow wrinkled. “What are you doing?” 

Jamil sighed and fought the instinct to roll his eyes. He kept the bouquet extended towards her despite a few of the stems now lacking petals. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m apologizing.” 

“For what?” 

The question sounded like a landmine even if he didn’t have her narrowing glare to confirm the trap. He chewed the side of his tongue, quickly debating his options. Option one would be to admit fault to the obvious crime he had committed which had caused Ramshackle’s prefect to glare at him from across the cafeteria and pointedly ignore him for the last three days. The crime he had committed was a complete mystery to him, but it would be simple enough to smooth over the issue by being as vague as possible and allow her to interpret his apology the way she wanted. 

However, Yuu was a stronger influence on certain students than Jamil. He had seen how easily she could sic Riddle on Ace with the barest hint of rule-breaking or how Floyd would corner a poor soul just by her pointing in a direction. Not to mention the drum solos Kalim had started past curfew time now. He couldn’t be convinced she wasn’t behind that strategy of psychological warfare. The timing was too coincidental. 

So he decided against his better judgement and went with option three: answering honestly. “I have no idea what I’m apologizing for. My sister just told me to give you flowers and apologize for whatever I might think I was right about.” 

After laughing for five minutes straight. Jamil had almost ended the call just to be done with the dying wheezes scratching against his eardrum. It had been an extreme low on his part, but his next best “expert” on the subject would have been Ace. His teammate would have laughed twice as hard and possibly ruptured his spleen in the process. 

Yuu’s grumpy expression stayed in place, but Jamil could see it falter with the slight twitch of her eyebrows. “Najma is smarter than you are.” 

Jamil felt the muscle in his cheek spasm, but his only reaction was to shake the bouquet. A few more petals drifted to the ground. “Normally, I would argue that point, but it’s not what’s important now. The point is...” 

The thought trailed off, and Jamil frowned at Yuu. Yuu frowned back, her eyes narrowing. Had he blinked, he would have missed the quick downward flick of her gaze that softened her angered mask for a brief moment. 

Jamil lowered the bouquet and took a small step closer. He kept eye contact until he felt the heat rise in his face. “The point is...I don’t want you to avoid me anymore.” 

It was a really poor attempt to voice the jealousy he had felt watching her interact with everyone else and not even give him the time of day. If Najma had heard him, she would have sighed and told him all the better ways he could have said it. Like he enjoyed talking to Yuu between classes or liked her standing beside him in the long cafeteria line while they waited their turn. Or how it felt like he had swallowed a rock every time he checked his messages and didn’t see a new response from her. Or he actually missed her dragging him to the mancala tournaments she had started in Scarabia every Wednesday. 

Or how he didn’t feel like wringing Kalim’s neck as much when she was there to diffuse the clash of Kalim’s happy ignorance and Jamil’s spiteful annoyance. 

With a small huff, Yuu snatched the bouquet from his hands. She still glared at him, but it was obvious she didn’t harbor the same stubborn grudge. She poked at one of the few petals left on a stem. “I still think your sister is smarter.” Jamil huffed back at her, but his abstaining from argument was rewarded with a tiny smile. “You should think twice the next time you give Azul your molten curry.” 

The absurdity of her warning took only a second for him to analyze. “Are you serious? That’s why you’ve been upset with me?” 

Yuu’s anger immediately drained from her face to be replaced by a petty pout. “You told me you didn’t have leftovers.” 

Laughter burst from Jamil. The suddenness of the sound scratched the back of his throat, and he coughed a little to alleviate the sensation. He tried to catch his breath and failed twice. “You...you...you’re upset because I shoved leftovers into Azul’s face to get away from his persistent harassment? He was trying to get me to sign a contract to transfer into Octavinelle!” 

Yuu’s pout became more pronounce the longer Jamil laughed. “So? You told me you didn’t have any leftovers, and then I had Azul bragging about how you had made him a little box lunch and everything. Even Kalim said you don't make him box lunches.” 

Jamil’s laughter slowly died. He swiped a knuckle against the corner of his eye and smirked. The awkwardness from earlier no longer locked his tongue. “You want me to make you a box lunch? I could do that. Do you want little octopus hotdogs or heart-shaped rice balls?” 

Yuu stuck her tongue out him, which only made him chuckle. “I changed my mind. You can feed Azul all you want. I hope it makes him harass you more.” 

Jamil continued to chuckle even after Yuu slammed the door in his face. She tried to stick her nose up at the box lunch he offered her the next day, but the threat of Azul taking it instead won over her stubbornness. The mancala tournament was rescheduled after the day’s classes, and Jamil begrudgingly texted his sister to thank her for her “advice.” 

[fcble]

달토끼 (literally MOON RABBIT, officially THE RABBIT ON THE MOON) is the first full album by FABLE YUHAENG, a subunit of fictional boy group FABLE. Released on September 23, 2024, it is the first of Fable's vaguely seasonal albums to be released on time with the corresponding holiday. Like the majority of their recent releases, most of the album's production was done by ANDREW. Unlike the majority of their recent releases, half the songs are trot songs.

The album's title track, 찐이야 (JJINIYA), was promoted for three weeks and received one music show win, much to everyone's surprise. The second half of the album contained solo tracks by each of the four members who made up the subunit: KIYOUNG, ANDREW, HAKSU, and BYEONGHWI. Haksu's solo song, PEACHES, was also a nominee for a possible music show win, in an even more surprising move.

TRACK LIST

001. 찐이야 (JJINIYA)

002. Weekend

003. 오늘 걷기엔 딱 좋겠다 (A Good Day to Walk)

004. 옆집오빠 (Boy Next Door)

005. 칼틔근 (Leave Work on Time) - Kiyoung

006. SPEAK OF THE DEVIL - Yejun

007. Peaches - Haksu

008. Do or Die - Byeonghwi

STYLING

ERA NOTES

Not a single yapper in this lineup. Which means any and all questions about why Mingeun and Intak weren't there and why this couldn't have been a full group comeback went unanswered. New kpop unsolved mystery just dropped.

At the album's showcase, Andrew made a vague, unscripted comment about something never happening again. Fans took this to mean the subunit, and their sales skyrocketed on the third and fourth days after release.

They hung up the hanboks for once. A few people cheered. The styling themes were "campus crush" and "bringing your boyfriend home for Chuseok to meet your parents for the first time."

The line distribution was still uneven, despite there only being four of them. It's Haksu's world, and the rest of us are just living in it.

They all made major contributions to the "best of fable live vocals" compilations. Haksu always has to sing over the backing track, so he was obnoxious as usual. The choreography was fairly simple and they did every performance with hand-held microphones. They're singers who sing!!

Each album came with half a deck of Fable-themed hwatu cards. Fans had to buy both versions of the album to complete the deck. They hosted a few events where they played Go-Stop with fans under the watchful eye of a metric fuckton of staff.

There was absolutely no mercy. Kiyoung was very good at the game and caused a few fans to leave the cafe in tears. He later apologized via social media. Haksu was extremely competitive, though he tried to tone it down. Andrew was extremely competitive, and he made no effort to hide it. Byeonghwi was the most casual player, and therefore the most popular.

Overall one of their more positive eras, despite the promoting Japanese culture controversy and the promoting gambling controversy.