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genericpuff · 11 months ago

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How long do you plan making rekindled? I loved Lo at some point, But now I cant get enough of your version!! And I wanted to know how did you come up with the darker back stories for Rekindled?

I have a semi-detailed skeleton of the plot with basically every story beat planned out, but I can't definitively say how long it will be as I haven't actually scripted every single episode out yet.

Not to mention a lot of the time my scripts will change from their original versions, by the time I get to an episode I've planned ahead for I've either thought of new ways to do it or don't like how it's paced so I change it. Case in point, there was a specific scene I had planned for the next episode and then wound up not liking the pacing because it was too fast so I moved it to several episodes away and restructured everything on the fly, took a whole new text document and scrapping sketches to figure shit out LOL I actually do have up until Episode 70ish scripted out in my documents with like, actual notes and dialogue for each episode, but I already have sooo many of those crossed out now because of how much I've had to tweak and change as time has gone on. This is why I plan ahead well in advance though, so that if I do need to make those changes, I can make them long before the episodes are even due to be drawn (and believe me, they get changed during the sketching phases too LOL).

What I can confirm for certain is that the current 'arc' we're in right now is definitely the bulk of the story. And that's not to say there isn't any content afterwards, more like the pacing just gets completely turned on its head in the last 30-40% of it where shit gets N U T S and just can't go back to the same energy that it was in the beginning. Without spoiling, there's a certain 'turning point' in the plot and everything after it isn't quite as long as the stint of story we're in now. This is mostly because the arc we're currently in is still establishing a bunch of stuff like the Underworld Corp, Persephone's schooling, etc. and once that turning point hits, it's basically all character development and focusing on the consequences of everything setup in the first arc.

I guess if I had to illustrate it, the story progression in the end will look something like this?

It's basically just this slow and chill climb that, once it hits that sharp peak, doesn't ever return to normal levels LMAO So I guess enjoy this part of the story while you can because it's the chillest it'll ever be w(°ｏ°)w And boy, I am EXCITED for that peak, but we have a long way to go before we get there. As for how long, well, I'm hoping I'll be able to have Rekindled's story wrapped up in the next 2 years, tops. Just depends on how the update schedule goes, and assuming the plans I have put down for the plotting don't change in any major way. I don't have as much of the latter half of the story actually scripted out yet so for all I know it could wind up being way longer than anticipated, but right now I have a pretty good sense of how the story beats will play out in relation to each other.

So it's kind of a wait and see thing, at least until I have every episode scripted out, and even then I won't be 100% sure because things are always being tweaked and fixed and changed on the fly! I'm guessing it won't go much longer than 170 episodes, give or take, but that's a very very VERY rough estimate.

Regardless, Rekindled still has a lot more story to tell, and I'm hoping y'all enjoy the ride with me <3

As for the darker backstories, y'all don't even know yet. Like... I've got stuff planned. Stuff that even Banshriek (my BG assistant) doesn't know about. Stuff that I keep buried very deep in Rekindled's episode documents that won't see the light of day until they have to be ripped out of the deep dark trenches of the characters' own buried secrets, and by that point, the toothpaste will be out of the tube, there will be no going back. So, again... enjoy it while it lasts. Because I don't pull my punches. And maybe even you won't be able to look at me the same way again once the final blow has been dealt.

Sleep well.

#k but i am actually really nervous for how those bigger turning points go #esp the spiky one LOL #i feel like it'll definitely be uh. interesting. in how people feel about it.#but mostly because it'll just be a punch to the gut #i will definitely give adequate warning when it's coming so that people can steel themselves LOL #ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything #lore rekindled ama

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snake-berry · 1 month ago

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some very old & some relatively new sketches (including asoiaf, hp, & tmi/shadowhunters)

since im never going to finish these, i thought i'd post them. and since i have nothing new to post (been the worst ive ever been mentally for the past 5 months, which is saying... a lot). but im working on some requests so i'll get back to regular posting soon.

sooo anyways (left to right, top to bottom)

ashara dayne x howland reed sketch for last february's ship challenge that i never finished coloring

regulus black redraw (for an old drawing posted here). from around/over a year ago. didn't like the way it looked so i scrapped it - still might try to redraw that one again

clary fray sketch from november-ish. going to do some shadowhunter fanart soon probably. not exactly the type of content i think my target audience expects and/or wants but i have to do what brings me joy

shiera seastar colored sketch. from last summer. i like this one but it was meant to be for a full page of sketches for the great bastards lol

ACOK sketches (melisandre, theon & robb, shae, and bran). veryyyy old (march 2022). i always liked something about this one, but i guess i got too overwhelmed and abandoned it. the character designs here contradict the way i draw these characters now but yeah

ginny weasley + mystery man i shall not yet reveal sketch. embarrassingly more recent. basically for a while i lost all ability to draw, literally, like any semblance of skill i had completely disappeared and sketches that would have taken me 20-30 mins started taking hours and hours. andddd this was one of the sloppy products of that time. still going to redraw this mystery ship and post it soon tho so stay tuned

anyways thats all sorry for the mid drawings i'll be back to actual posting soon

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kannagms · 10 months ago

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As someone who has been a fan of the boys since the beginning of Buzzfeed Unsolved when Ryan was doing his little PowerPoint presentations and reading from a single sheet of printer paper, this entire Watcher fiasco is insane and was definitely not on my 2024 bingo card.

Back when Ryan and Shane announced that they were leaving Buzzfeed to start their own entertainment company with Steven, I was excited! I wanted to see what new, fun, interesting, and creative content they would put out without Buzzfeed holding them back. I'm a huge fan of Mystery and Ghost Files, Puppet History, Are You Scared?, Too Many Spirits, Top 5 Beatdown. Loved Spooky Small Talk before it was scrapped. I watched every new ep that came out, even the ones I didn't like that much like Steven's food ones, and liked and commented because I wanted to support them as much as possible. I rewatch all my favorite episodes. I have a dedicated playlist of Ryan and Shane content because it helps me fall asleep at night. When I didn't have much I at least had Watcher to keep my smile on my face and continuous laughter going when I didn't feel much like going on.

I got the notification 3 days ago about a new Watcher video and was stunned at what I saw. Sure I can watch episode 1 of new shows and watch some trailers, but I'm gonna have to sub to yet another streaming service to watch anything more. A streaming service that doesn't even have an app, so if I want to add anything to my sleep playlist, I'm gonna have to leave my phone on all night.

Anyways, I immediately went and checked the boys' socials and see what they posted for any additional info. Thousands upon thousands of negative comments all saying basically the same thing:

I can't afford $6/month/not everyone has $6 laying around, and it can really make or break someone financially.

Been a fan since Unsolved, guess I'm not a watcher anymore.

This is a bad move.

From what I've seen across reddit, Twitter, tiktok, Instagram, and Tumblr, the negative far outweigh the positive. The only "positive" comments I've seen haven't really been "oh this is a great idea! I'm gonna go sub right now!!" It's really been more, "well it's their business, they can do what they want with it." Or simply bashing other people because they cannot afford $6 a month or $60 a year, which really comes off as boomer ideology. You know, the old "if millennials would stop eating avocado toast or buying Starbucks maybe they can afford a house!" While completely ignoring the global economic crisis we are all facing. It's completely out of check with the fact that there's so many of us not just in America, but in the world who are barely living paycheck to paycheck. That there are so many people who WISH they could get a Starbucks coffee in the morning but often times have to skip meals because they cannot afford food if they want to keep a roof over their heads, you know the ridiculous amount of money that we spend to rent a small space. Never gonna forget the one apartment I looked at that was $800 a month, no utilities included, no parking, no pets allowed, and I could lay flat on the ground and have my 5'4" length reach comfortably in every single room. Wasn't even a kitchen or room for a single size bed (mild tangent rant, I now pay $1300 for a 2 bedroom apartment, most utilities included, but bad parking)

And for Steven to say that anyone can afford $6 is just so factually wrong. Has anyone checked the foreign exchange rate for $6? Some threads I've seen on Reddit are insane. For some people 6 USD translates to someone's entire rent or a week's worth of food. If I recall the comment correctly, one person said that in their country, Netflix comes out to $2 USD, and is considered a luxury item that only the upper class/wealthy have.

Maybe I'm just being bitter. Maybe I'm just overreacting to a piece of content I loved and cherished being pushed behind a paywall. It just feels like a slap in the face to fans who have spent countless hours soaking in their content, recommending them to friends, making new friends over a shared interest, and now feeling like they didn't matter at all. That we were just dollar signs. To hear them going from thanking dedicated fans for helping them get to where they are to but now you gotta give us more money if you want to keep being fans and now we are going to ignore your backlash just feels disingenuous and heartbreaking.

#watcher #i dont know #not to be parasocial on main #but this month has just been so difficult #and to get hit with this just really broke me.#made me think what if all the people i watch on yt make this same move #i want them to succeed but at the same i dont want them to be an example to others yk?

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pavlovianpanic · 3 months ago

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what do you think is going on with Sam in the new ending?

send me a topic to write a meta about my muse on • accepting • @mountaindmned

honestly, i don't know. i don't know why her scar is bleeding, it makes no sense to infer any of the creatures are watching her (josh or otherwise, how and why would they / he follow her home, i mean that's what's watching her is what we assume, right? also like what ones are even really left to accomplish that feat, and also i kind of vibe with like ... they are bound to the mountain or their greatest source comes from being there, as well as being fed), and i think it's clear that they needed "new content" but had no dialogue for the main cast to use in that regard, only models basically, which is why "new content" is all silent content, and the "matt and emily new content" is just dlc from the original game that was kind of hard to get before, but really confused people that hadn't played that or seen it before the remake. even the new mo-cap isn't the original people, which is why some of the mo-cap looks smooth and some looks not so smooth ... on this tangent, why did they fix emily's teeth but in return have to break her whole body, especially in the prologue?

we have to remember a few things, i think: until dawn is almost like a chop shop of a game. it was taken from another studio, chopped up into a different game with similar ideas, then that beta was scrapped, then we got the original game. this is why a) chris and mike are so comfortable being chris and mike, thus have some stronger performances by comparison, and b) filming was like 4 days long, they didn't really have time to get attached to these characters, and c) this story changed so much lmao hannah's name was the most consistent, she was dating "clayton" in the very original version of this game (clayton is the josh of that game btw, so that tells you how different it was), and like ... idk, i love it, but you can tell it was rushed. that's not a bad thing, it's just true. it was the longest rushed game there was, just like bioshock infinite. same thing. whole game was made, scrapped, remade, and was kind of weak, but until dawn is also the strongest game of that lineup of games that came after. it was their "lightning in a bottle", so to speak, and they tried to hard to do it again ... but just couldn't. the numbers speak for themselves, the general reception speaks for itself, i know there are fans that love like the quarry more than until dawn but generally speaking, going off business and not feelings, until dawn was more successful. this is why until dawn is getting a movie, got a remake (and was easy to remake lbr, supermassive and sony also split, so there's that).

all of this brings me to this: i actually do not like either new ending for sam or josh. josh's ending is great ... from a fanfic and roleplay stance. his narrative for just casual fans and fans of the game that are not roleplayers or fanfic writers? it removes the poignancy of josh's fate, his story, this curse, etc. he was meant to be foiled. even "saved", he becomes the same as his sister. family. unbroken circles. the new ending is great for me as a roleplayer, but does nothing for me as a josh fan. same for sam. it also contradicts its own canon and i think literally just exists because ... it could? i guess? sam is very popular? hayden was their big name pull at the time? so, because she was so well-received compared to when we look at the first game and its reception with audiences, it makes sense: she and josh got new endings because they were fan favorites. more ... i think josh is a fan favorite now but was actually pretty hated back in the original runs of the fandom, it was very hard to get people to write him with at the time lmao sam has never been disliked, she's always been very favored, so giving her a new ending made sense. use that hayden model as much as possible, right? rami is a huge asset to them now but was an unknown before, which is why they whitewashed josh before but not now. i can see a lot of what they did and why, it's pretty clear, and a lot of it is based on the audience and what they received. we see them change the prologue to fit a narrative that the audience can digest better to better compel them to save the characters, which i think goes back on its original concept of they are just bad enough to kill / just good enough to save, which allows the player to move on and play the game multiple times versus starting over to save them all the time. it's a game mechanic they should have relied on still in my opinion. they even soften ashley killing chris. why? that makes her more complicated. there's also a lot of glitches, i guess? with like honesty traits and such conflicting in other people's playthroughs (ie sometimes ashley's honesty will go up, down, or stay the same when talking about her regret and it's been recorded by different people doing different things, thus creating this weird ... glitch and thus a sort of rift in the fandom of character integrity).

the voice that calls for her is speculated to be dr. hill, it's subtitled in the german dub as "josh" (makes no sense to me, but okay), and overall, i think it's very weak. i know it's sparked this sequel discussion ... there is no sequel. their sequel was the quarry. the movie is confirmed to not be telling the same story and that the game characters are meant to be game characters.

it's just weak writing. you see this a lot when either new people pick up someone else's project or the original person returns but hasn't touched it in a long time, is out of that mindset, and thus wants it to be what they think "now" versus their original intent, which ... can be good or bad. usually the latter if we're being honest. we can't all have an ohba who writes banger one-shots for death note every like 20 years lmao.

if we're just talking like "what is happening with her as a character", she's clearly trying to cope, taking meds, probably is still living with family* (her mom for sure, she was cut out, but did have dialogue recorded), and seems to have a dog, maybe an emotional service dog? we see a black lab in hannah's bedroom at some point, indicating that could also have been a dog of sam's, but the dog in her photo on her phone is a different breed (german shepherd), which could be a new addition for her. i think that makes sense, actually. a new dog of a protective breed known to be well-trained and owner-protective, as well as great for service dog needs of most any kind.

also: she's looking into legends, creatures, and such based on the book in her room.

i think she's definitely trying to piece this together still, and is having a lot of mental health issues, and seemingly physical health issues, because of what happened on the mountain. is she doing well? probably not. we could even speculate that she is starting to have a breakdown, it could be totally hallucinated on her part that she's bleeding, hearing that voice (dr. hill or josh), that she's being watched, etc. i mean, she went through a lot, i wouldn't be surprised if we're seeing now the results of her mental health being affected.

her address indicates a family home by a simple google maps search.

edit: yes, dr. hill's actor is obviously coming back for the movie, i think worked on the remake even, but we also do have confirmation ashley's actress both worked on the remake and has ties to the film (confirmed by her via IG). this still means little to me as far as sequel potential, rami becoming involved again, etc. hayden doing an interview for the remake doesn't mean too much either imo.

#sam giddings.#headcanon.#mountaindmned

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colorfuldonutrunaway · 6 months ago

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Another Character sheet, this time for Wolf's alternate counterpart.

I guess I should make a content warning for some mild mentions of racism/discrimination, human experimentation, and child abuse/spousal abuse.

*Name: Kevin Rome was named by his mother because she refused to let his father have any say in anything after he was born.

*Nicknames: Called Bone in Wolf form, called Kev for short.

*Race/Species: So here's where it gets a bit odd...Kevin doesn't actually know he's Russian-American. On the post-apocalyptic Earth of the 5a universe, Slavic/former Soviet Union ethnicities are treated with racist hatred because of their association with the empire that essentially destroyed the world. Kevin's parents are still from Russia, but they hid this information upon arrival in the US and disguised themselves as German-Americans. Aside from that situation, his story of how he got the Wolf form is the same as Roman's--he was diagnosed with a genetic muscle wasting disease, and he overwrote his human DNA with wolf DNA, becoming what he is now.

*Age: 30, as he was born in 1993 in the US and it's 2024.

*Gender: Male, identifies as such.

*Alignment: Neutral Evil, as he has extremely loose morals and believes that nothing should impede the path of science. He developed a horrible habit of experimenting on fellow bunker dwellers without their knowledge, by adding things to their food or drink, or pricking them with a needle when they aren't paying attention.

*Class/Job: He was eventually busted by the Bunker's security and was exiled, technically making him an illegal scientist. He continued his shady work in the nearby Anarchy City, a bombed-out Pittsburgh home to Rejects, people rejected from the bunkers for various (and sometimes idiotic) reasons. I should've added that he's also a dual Mayor with Fang of Anarchy City, after they worked together to clear it out of rival gangs.

*Perception: Being a paranoid being, he's constantly on the lookout for trouble.

*Communication: A nervous wreck who stumbles over his words in most situations.

*Persuasion: Same issue as above, hard to buy what he's saying when he's sweating bullets talking to you.

*Mediation:...Yet decent at getting people to not argue and reach an agreement with each other.

*Literacy: Growing up in an abusive household where his shrew of a mother prevented him from talking to other children and considered his high intelligence to be a curse, and his father unable to put a stop to it, Kevin relied on books growing up...well, what little of books survived the raging fires of the nuclear exchange. When he ran away from home to work in the nearby bunker at the age of 16, he gained access to a significant amount of information that survived the destruction, becoming the well read man he is now.

*Creativity: And his creativity bloomed as a result, coming up with unique ways to deal with almost any situation.

*Cooking: His mother taught him to cook so she didn't have to anymore. So he's knowledgeable of a few recipes, and prefers to cook his meat rather than eat it raw like Roman.

*Tech Savvy: His father did teach him how to repair machines and salvage for scraps in the nearby ruins of towns, so he's knowledgeable in getting even the most broken of machines working again.

*Combat: Kevin never received the martial arts training that Roman did, and was simply given a gun to protect himself from the mutant animals and roving bandits. In Wolf fork, he's a lot stronger though.

*Survival: He knows the same basic survival skills as the others in his world.

*Stealth: Same issues with Roman, very tall both in human and in wolf form, very clunky.

*Street Smarts: He's familiar with wasteland lingo and has developed a fear of anything unusual or new, making him decently adapted in the chaotic nuke world.

*Seduction: LMAO no.

*Luck: Has no better or worse luck than most people, but he does fall on his face a lot when attempting something risky.

*Handling animals: Animals hate his wolf form. They're otherwise neutral to his human side.

*Pacifying children: He's learned from the failed parenting of his mother and can empathize with children really well.

*Strength: Weak as a human, strong as a wolf, but rarely gets exercise so he's not as strong as Roman.

*Dexterity: Clunky paws make it hard to manipulate things like he can in his human form. I probably should've put it at 3 instead of 2.

*Health: Weak as human, better as wolf.

*Energy: He finds himself having to sleep more after doing anything strenuous.

*Beauty: With his bad hygiene and lack of good self care, he's not considered as handsome as Roman, regardless of his current form.

*Style: Always wearing the dirty lab coat.

*Hygiene: Suffers from the same issue as Roman, with having human lymph nodes under his wolf fur, so he can develop a furious smell. Sadly, he doesn't have good self-care habits, so he's sometimes gnarly to be around.

*Intelligence: As with Roman, his brain mutated exponentially after birth, which his parents regarded as a strange and scary curse. Not wanting to get attention lest it expose the family as being from the Soviet Union, they forced him to withhold his talents from the world. His father was a bit more understanding however, and secretly loaned him books that he could get a hold of.

*Happiness: Living in a deathworld is bad enough, but growing up with a horrible mother who diminished his self-worth and contributed to his anxiety disorder really did numbers on his overall happiness. Like Fang, his role in helping clean up Anarchy City and control it has also led to him developing paranoia.

*Spirituality: Raised Christian by mostly his father, Kevin has relied on his belief in God to pull him through the tough times growing up. However, that hasn't stopped him from developing a twisted set of morals that allow him to see himself as a good Christian while doing very un-Christ-like behavior like experimenting on his fellow man.

*Confidence: Crippling anxiety, childhood abuse, and a pessimistic outlook has knocked his confidence into the toilet.

*Humor: Relies on either self-deprecating humor or insulting someone else.

*Anxiety: As stated before, has an anxiety disorder that is relatively untreated and exacerbated by the volatile world around him.

*Patience: Decently patient in most situations, but will get easily annoyed in others.

*Passion: His drive for knowledge and science have driven him to a dark path. But as time goes on, he's starting to doubt his life choices.

*Charisma: Lol.

*Empathy: While he can cruelly look down on people he feels superior to for whatever reason, there are times when he does have a sudden stroke of empathy towards a particularly sad situation.

*Generosity: Believes that communities can be stronger when they are generous, but doesn't practice this often.

*Wealth: Controlling Anarchy City has led to them being de facto wealthy.

*Aggression: Rarely aggressive himself, Kevin is more of a coward at heart.

*Libido: Aro-ace and having a very weak libido doesn't mix.

I'll add more later, and I'll repost this when I do.

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galionne-speeding · 1 year ago

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Wait body horror? Hurt/Comfort? Yes please explain 👀

Alright so I'll preface this by saying the idea came from this post (and the reactiosn to it).

I have a bad track record of starting projects and never finishing them so I'll just dump the semi-detailled summary under the cut ; maybe someday I'll write the story. Maybe (probably) I won't.

Content warning for robot 'gore'/torture and robot body horror (in a sense, I guess?). Also topics of trauma and depression.

The story was meant to be told in three chapters: Carcass, Limbo and Recovery.

- - -

Carcass begins with Bocoe, alone in a dark room somewhere deep in Eggman's lair, held up by chains hanging from the ceiling. Everything below his chest is gone. Cables and bits of plastic and metal hang loosely out of his torso. He's still conscious as two pairs of robotic arms are slowly and meticulously taking him apart piece by piece.

At some point he, Decoe and Bokkun tried to escape from Eggman's lair- but their boss' Badniks were quick to catch up to them. Realizing they wouldn't be able to flee much longer, Bocoe allowed himself to be captured to buy Deco and Bokkun some time so they could take an escape shuttle. Now as punishment for his act of mutiny (and, Bocoe assumes, to make an example out of him) Eggman is having him dismantled while still powered on, slowly- from the feet up. (This Eggman is uncharacteristically cruel, but I'm not really interested in being canon-compliant here). Bocoe has no idea how long he's been down there- his sense of time is completely gone. Most of his other senses too, actually. His sight is still there but the room is so dark all he can see are occasional sparks and not much else.

Bocoe and Decoe always wanted to run away together and take Bokkun with them, live somewhere peaceful... But as Bo feels something snap in his neck and his head drop backwards, lolling limply as it's only held up by a few thin cables, he knows this life is no longer for him.

- - -

Limbo begins with Bocoe "waking up". He doesn't remember losing consciousness but somehow, he realizes instantly that something is very wrong with his body. He can't hear. Can't see. Cannot feel anything ; as though floating in a complete void. He tries to move but even something as simple as blinking suddenly seems impossible. Then a single word echoes directly into his head:

"Hello."

He doesn't recognize the voice- because there is nothing to recognize. It's flat. Emotionless. It has no tone or anything that could make it distinct in any way.

"Bocoe."

Bocoe tries to respond and manages to awkwardly string a few letters together, before finally uttering a "hello" in a voice that isn't his- instead it is the exact same one that has been talking to him. There is a long pause and Bocoe briefly wonders if this is some kind of dying hallucination. Then suddenly:

"It's me. It's Decoe."

Bocoe is in shock, but as Decoe continues talking he realizes that he's telling the truth. De goes on to explain that Bocoe was trapped in Eggman's lair for nearly two months, until Sonic and his friends attacked the Eggbase (for reasons unrelated to Bo's predicament). Decoe was allowed to tag along and searched the entire base for Bocoe until he finally found him in the scrap storage room. Or at least, he found what was left of him: a broken motherboard, two processors and a hard disk drive. His entire body, every little piece of him had been stripped and destroyed. For nearly a month now Decoe had been trying to bring his consciousness back and only managed to do so today ; by hooking the surviving parts to a specially modified computer. It's a temporary solution, he promises. He's working on building a new body for Bocoe, just like his old one. For now, Decoe and Bokkun can talk to him by typing...

Bocoe is happy to be back. But being stuck in a simple computer is hell.

Aside from not having any senses of touch, sight, hearing, etc... Even his own feelings are reduced to basically nothing. Unlike his former body that was made specifically so he could be as close to possible as a living being, this machinery is horrifyingly simple. Feelings of joy, sadness, and anger are too complex for binary coding. It cannot process any of it, so even though Bocoe desperately wants to feel those things again he physically cannot experience them and is stuck as an unfeeling block of circuitry. His thoughts, too, are stunted- anything too complex overwhelms his systems immediately. He can only speak in short, basic sentences.

It's hell, but he's pushing through for the sake of Decoe and Bokkun...

- - -

Recovery starts on a beach. Bokkun is drawing in the sand with a large stick. Decoe is sat on a blanket, watching him. Next to him, Bocoe sits quietly. He's been in his new body for two weeks now and, slowly, is re-learning everything it has forgotten over the past year.

Walking. Speaking. Balance. Touch. Hearing. Emotions. He has to learn how to process everything again.

Bright colors make him dizzy ; strong smells and bright lights overwhelm him easily. He still needs Decoe's help to get up and walk. He still has nightmares about being disassembled and being stuck in a computer again. Then there's the unshakeable feeling of loss- a year of his life he will never get back. A year of watching Bokkun grow up that he missed ; a year of Decoe being forced to take his place as the little imp's caretaker. There are days where he can barely get out of bed.

Today, thankfully, is not one of those days.

Today he gets to watch Bokkun play in the sand, enjoy the sun on his face, the sound of the waves, the smell of salty air and Decoe's fingers entangled with his.

After an hour or so, Decoe asks him if he'd like to go home for lunch. Bocoe nods and as he tries to get up, he hears Bokkun drop his stick and immediately run to him to try to help. He slowly stands up and leans on Decoe for support, while taking Bokkun's hand. The three of them set off, talking about what to have for lunch.

#ask #anon #machines don't bleed #wip #bodecoe #((implied))#OUUUGH this took so long to write out!!

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yourlocalflagsnerd · 1 year ago

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introduction i guess

So now that I've familiarized myself with Tumblr, you people finally get to know who I actually am.

I'm YourLocalFlagsNerd, but you can just call me Kyan (do not ask where I got that name). I use she/her pronouns.

Most of my content here will probably be memes, incorrect quotes, and other random scrap of the sort.

I don't have a consistent posting schedule so expect the unexpected I guess.

Also, if you were wondering what the flag in my profile picture means, here you go:

Of course, a lot of these are my values and not a part of my personality (How can you have "peace" as a trait?)

That's about it for now. See you around!

EDIT (04/02/2024): Hi y'all I recently realized that I'm genderflux so my pronouns change ALL THE DAMN TIME and it would be really helpful if you asked for them instead :D

EDIT (04/19/2024): Okay so. I have found that demiflux is a much better label for me. Basically one part of my gender stays static while the other half fluctuates. My pronouns are now they/them. I don't know, I might discover something new about me any moment, but we'll see. This will be my label for now.

#intro post #introduction #blog intro #flags are cool

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dzpenumbra · 2 years ago

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7/20/23

Today has been... kinda crap, honestly. I didn't really do anything and I've been very depressed.

I woke up after 2 hours and had this dream that was... basically like a YouTube video but as though I was the camera. And it was in this style that's been growing in popularity of like... AI-generated scripts and storylines and dialogue and shit. And it just really upset me. This is really the next extension off of reality TV, where the primary goal is to produce as much "passable" script and material ("content") as possible to flood the market, to optimize your chances of getting views. Then... farm the ad revenue. Aka the new business model for entertainment media.

It upset me deeply because the theme branched off into... it being about how YouTube is blatantly and openly marketed towards families... read that as - marketed towards kids. So.... what I was seeing... was a generation of children being raised on stories that not only don't have any specific lesson to teach or moral to pass on... but are essentially just scraps of other stories mulched by an AI algorithm and pasted together as something passing as unique. Like that cheap particle board that all fucking furniture is made of nowadays, just chipped pieces of wood glued into a mass that looks like a board, that's covered in paper painted to look like woodgrain. And we're doing that... with the socialization and cultural education of an entire generation of children. And I fast-forwarded 20 years and imagined how that generation would grow up. And it made me really sad.

I don't really like this world, honestly. I don't like this culture. I don't know why everyone is in such a hurry all the time, or tries so hard to stay busy as much as possible. I don't know why we always need more more more, and need to push the edge further and further.

I really hope it's not everyone. I really hope there are people out there that are content with a simple life. That still appreciate someone taking the time to tell a story, or share their own story, or to make something by hand, out of real things. Rather than take short-cuts in order to mass-produce. I swear, any idea I have... I feel this social pressure to immediately ask myself "but how do I make 5000 of these?" Fucking why? Why the hell would I want to make 5000 copies of something unique and special? What does that contribute?

The more I see people content in imitation, the more it makes me feel like... the world doesn't really have a place for what I feel compelled to do.

And yeah, I guess I'm kinda in a depressive existential rut right now. I didn't paint the board today. I just kept putting it off and never came back to it. I added a second coat of wax to the beads, I'll see how they look tomorrow.

I'm just... kinda exhausted and depressed and weighed down. And that just kinda turned into a day of sitting around and watching YouTube. I wish I had been more deliberate about the decision to take the day off, I wouldn't feel so bad about it.

I just don't really know what my place is here. And I'm getting a lot of conflicting ideas pouring into my life about... setting goals. Like... a lot of the "live Here and Now" stuff is very contrary to making life plans. So... if you're truly living in the moment... why would you ever apply for a college program? Why would you ever sign a lease? Why would you plan a long-term decision... like taking courses for qualification in a career path. What's the point? Because you're supposed to just... do whatever comes your way and make the best of it. Because setting goals leads to suffering. Even if you achieve your goals, it's never what you want, and the gain is fleeting and then... gone. Where true bliss is being in the moment and making the most of it. So... what's the point of aspirations?

I don't know. I have a lot of conflicting ideas floating around in my head, and that combined with... feeling like I don't have a lot to show for my efforts...

Okay, here's the core of it. My work is my contribution to society. As a member of society, of Life, of the history of the Universe... my contributions are my work. My words, my stories, my thoughts, my experiences, my poetry, my music, my drawings, my paintings, my creations. It feels like society doesn't want them. Any of them. And they are direct reflections of me, just as a writer's writing is a direct reflection of the way they communicate. I don't feel valued. I don't feel... wanted? I feel like a burden on society.

I just smelled a skunk. XD What a wake-up call! Talk about "not valued by society..." Hey, at the end of the day? People are more willing to tolerate me "wasting" all my time painting designs on skateboards or polishing rocks or wooden beads... than they are tolerant of just letting a skunk live its fucking life. So... I guess I can count myself as lucky?

Ever since I truly applied myself to reconnect with my artist-self 5 years ago, and kicked my own ass out of critical creative block... I have been constantly pressured by every source around me to simply do ANYTHING else. I've even asked, what do they want me to do other than this? Because I've really felt this sense of urgency from them... as though my vacancy from where I'm "supposed to be in society" is causing problems in the mechanical function of society. As though others are suffering because I'm choosing to make art instead of... deliver pizzas? Am I supposed to be stocking shelves at a soon-to-be-extinct brick and mortar shoe store? Am I supposed to be checking out groceries at a grocery store right next to the self-checkout? Am I supposed to be prepping vegetables for the chef of a trendy vegetarian restaurant? Am I supposed to be helping customers at a board game shop? Where am I supposed to be? And the resounding feedback I have gotten has been essentially, "yes, any of those, literally anything but what you're compelled to do with your existence." It makes me wonder... if my compulsion as a human was to... teach... or cook... or repair cars... rather than make eclectic art and dabble in spiritual practices and write a ridiculous amount of stream of consciousness journaling every night... Would I have gotten support? Or would I have gotten the same message? To just pick literally anything else, because fuck me. To go work for someone else, who did have social support, who did have investors, who did have customers, who people were willing to take a "risk" on. Who society gave the thumbs up to.

Yep, whenever I talk like this... the depression is hitting hard.

I just don't really know what to do with my time. I have so many ideas that I really would love to just sink all my time into every day... but it just seems like... like I'm talking to a wall with every piece I make. Like none of my accomplishments and achievements mean anything at all to any other living being. Like my contributions to society are entirely meaningless.

Yep, that's definitely depression. And isolation. Yep. I'm not gonna feed that beast anymore, he got his fill. I'm gonna go take a late-night shower and try to watch something funny to cheer up before sleep. Therapy tomorrow, after 3 weeks of isolation. 1 hour of real human interaction. We'll see how it goes.

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of thoughts #stream of consciousness

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5eraphim · 2 years ago

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Medic or Engineer with someone who ran away on purpose (so that they would later find them) and what they would want to do to them? Maybe nsfw if you're up for it? New to being depraved for being miserable...

Characters: Medic 🕊 and Engineer 🦦 (Team Fortress 2)

Rating: M

Content Warnings: Yandere, forced relationship, medfet, branding, unhealthy relationship dynamics, kidnapping, drugging, smut

Word Count: 3k

MASTER LIST

(Song Inspo)

Ok so, since I'm a hyper-simp for the both of them I couldn't possibly choose between the two and wrote for the both of them. (Because this is a damn good prompt, and it's not like inspiration was difficult at all!) Thank you for the request, hope you enjoy it!

Medic 🕊

If you managed to escape Medic, you'd need to plan for months and calculate every variable, as you likely only had one shot to try and escape while his guard was down. Knowing if he caught you, there's no way you'd make it this far again. Ignoring how hard it was to hide your plans from Medic for this long, you needed your coordinates and timing nothing less than perfect and a little luck on your side.

When Medic discovers you'd attempted to run away, like any yandere, he's obviously furious upon realizing this but not in a purely rage-driven sense. Instead, the Medic would feel something much closer to mania, not only enraged but undeniably excited at the idea of hunting you down.

He never thought he'd have the privilege of something like this. He thought he had you so precisely under his control. He can't help but feel quite the thrill here! He's not only ready to rise to the challenge but is convinced he will win.

His first order of business would be to find out if you escaped on your own or if you were helped by someone else behind his back. After that, it would be easy for him to thoroughly search your room to find any scrap of evidence another person might've left behind.

You'd done well to hide your escape plans, he'd give you that, but now that you were gone, there was no way to conceal any clues left behind. If you were to get help from another for the escape attempt, odds were it'd be another doctor the both of you worked with. Someone who knows Medic enough to know his basic schedule, when to try and help you break out, as well as being one who already felt distrustful or uncomfortable around Medic and could be swayed into helping you escape him.

The Medic wouldn't hesitate to use force and physical interrogation to get information out of this person. He will find you through any means necessary and won't hesitate to kill the doctor after he gets his information. Medic would kill anyone who stood between the two of you, and he does so with great pleasure in this particular instance.

If you were working alone, Medic could estimate where you went based on what you took with you, approximating how fast you could move on your own and knowing you well enough personally to guess where you'd likely turn to first.

Medic is a scary mix of a delusional and lucid yandere, able to switch between the two seemingly randomly, making it very difficult to plan against him. On the other hand, he's hyper-vigilant when around you and thus can predict your next moves with eerie precision. It was only a matter of time before he caught up with you. The outcome you saw as the worst possible, he saw as inevitable.

When he does find you, he'd definitely play up his more delusional side. He'd cover you in kisses, telling you how scared he was, asking how long you were "lost" for, and acting as though he had no idea you were plotting against him like this. It was all part of his act to get you home as fast as possible before letting you have it once he got you safely back in his custody.

"I always told you I'd go to the ends of the Earth for you. Of course, I'd find you. Now let's get you home."

At the moment of interception, your only option is to play along. No way you could challenge him physically, and if he really did think you were just lost, maybe he wouldn't be so mad? It was devastating to have your hopes of escaping dashed so soon, but you were smart enough to know it was in your best interest to cut your losses and return home with him without a fight.

Maybe he'd even keep this "delusional" act going after the two of you returned home. Cooing how much he missed you, kissing you all over, and doting on you as if you'd been gone months rather than a few days tops. If you thought you were so clever, acting so brash and cruel while his back was turned, he felt it was only fair to give you a taste of your own medicine.

Medic never had much luck with traditional medical methodology and was quite excited to try something more "experimental" and "alternative" to train you to behave and eliminate any remaining shreds of resilience. Specifically, electroconvulsive therapy.

When you awoke the following day, you knew Medic was ready to enact his revenge. You were bound to an examination table, thick leather cuffs wrapping around your knees, ankles, arms, wrist, torso, and neck. You were forced to feel the cold, dense, restrictive leather of nearly all the cuffs as you'd been stripped down to a scant hospital gown with nothing underneath. It was a while before you even registered the foreign-looking device connected to your head with more leather straps and wires and an odd mouth-guard thing you couldn't manage to spit out, no matter how hard you tried.

Medic entered not long after, greeting you chipper as ever, wasting no time explaining his latest theory and hypothesis.

"You probably think I'm mad at you. Quite the opposite, however. I'm worried. Acting irrationally, reckless self-endangerment, incongruity with reality- I fear that you'll do something truly regrettable if I don't do something soon. I may not know how to take away your pain, but I can train you. I can teach you to not act out so well, thoughtlessly."

The Medic would stroke the side of your head with his fingers so softly, with such love, all while looking down at you with pure malice. He knew this would hurt, and he knew this likely wouldn't "fix" you, but he wanted to let you know what happened to disobedient little patients who try to run away. He wanted to show you what happened when you tried to resist his treatments. Medic knew this would instill a necessary fear within you, enough to realistically prevent you from ever trying to escape again.

You were kept under lock and key for the next few days in the Medic's examination room, as you weren't of sound mind to be trusted anywhere else. And you would remain here until the Medic determined your "condition" improved.

While you were in his captivity, he'd use your fear of electroconvulsive therapy to enact other less painful yet completely invasive treatments. He had much fun playing doctor with you while you were in this state. Though he also began visiting you late into the night with sedative pills and concoctions, he'd composed to lull you into a more susceptible state of mind. Taking advantage of your body, knowing you were powerless to stop him like this.

He'd also slip you hallucinogenic drugs to intensify your fear and paranoia, especially when left alone. Finally, he'd use this moment to enact every fucked up sadistic power fantasy he'd dreamed of before now on you. Watching with utmost joy as any format resilience you might've clung to is mitigated beyond repair.

He wouldn't enact a complete mind break. However, he might not want you to ever try and escape again, but he wants you to be fully aware of what he's doing as he abuses you and turns your own body against you while you can do nothing about it.

Medic absolutely gets off on the sight of you all tied up and helpless. It's so seductive watching you trying to break free and escape. He could watch you like this for hours, even when he's not touching you. It's all the more alluring given how much dignity he's taken from you, forcing you into one of his thin, easily rippable hospital gowns with nothing more to hide yourself with from him.

He could keep you hooked up and hidden here forever, but he won't give in to the temptation. He must let you out if he wants you to maintain a fraction of your fighting spirit and cognizance. Ironically giving you a bit of time alone to heal up and recover until the next time he wants to play doctor with you.

Engineer 🦦

Unlike Medic, who, despite his ire, would also be amused by the situation, Engie is beyond pissed. He was so pissed it would take a decent amount of time before he could calm down enough to figure out how he would find you. A situation like this would be an absolute nightmare for someone like Engie, who is prone to jealousy and insecurity. This would really bring out his worst, and he instantly takes this personally, not only on account of trying to run away but by triggering his insecurities.

In a situation where you could be in danger, Engie would typically be concerned for your safety, as a very protective yandere, but not when he's so distracted by the betrayal. All he cares about now is getting you home as fast as possible through any means necessary.

Despite it all, Engie can't help but feel a little impressed you'd managed to escape in the first place. He spared no precaution fortifying the area he kept you while he was away, and objectively speaking, Engie would be one of, if not the hardest yandere to escape from. Clearly, you'd been planning this for some time now. There was no way you were lucky enough to, by chance, evade his traps.

Unlike Medic, who would investigate where you were before you managed to escape, Engie would use his excellent public reputation to his advantage. He's well-liked by just about everyone, and if he were to round the town asking other people if they'd seen his "special friend," no one would suspect a thing. As far as they know, he's just a nice guy, the type to look out for everyone, and if he was so worried about you, clearly you needed to be found as soon as possible.

Sure, you could do your best to move quickly and hide from Engie the best you could, but no one can hide for long when the better part of an entire town is working together to try to find you and bring you home.

Engie wouldn't need to ask others to help him find you. He's just so likable and dependable. Who wouldn't want to help someone like that in need? They were blissfully unaware of his darker "inner-self," and because of this, working as fast as possible to reunite the two of you. Even if you managed to make it far enough to reach the outskirts of town, it wouldn't be long until the others caught up with you. Trying to run further now would only spell more trouble, so you're forced to surrender without much of a fight.

At best, you might've begged the first few people who managed to track you down not to bring you home to Engie to no avail as they decided to follow their loyalties to their dear friend rather than to pay attention to the visible fear which consumed you. But, unfortunately, this begging did nothing to stop the well-intentioned yet painfully unaware men from bringing you back to the Engineer. You could plea them not to try to convince them Engie was hurting you, but no one would believe you, and it was only a matter of time until you found yourself right back in his arms.

When the two of you are brought together again, he embraces you affectionately. Thanking everyone for their help, no doubt putting on a charming show of two lovers together again, only reinforcing the notion he really did love you with all his heart.

He can't fool you, however. And even as he holds you close, pouring his heart out about how much he loves you and misses you, begging you never to scare him like that again, you know he's doing this for the crowd. And you're all too aware of the hostile look in his eye as he regards you, almost daring you to try and fight back now, like any of them would believe you over him. Like he was challenging you to ever try and run away again, as though you'd make it any further this time.

Initially, you're convinced he'll drag you back to the house so he can get right to enacting your punishment. To your surprise, however, he instead invites the guys back to his place, saying he owed everyone a beer after that and how they ought to spend the night celebrating after such a miserable day. Of course, Engie knows if he chooses instead to keep the others around a bit longer, not only is he reinforcing his "good guy" image, But you'll be more on edge having no idea when he'll punish you for what you'd done. (The beer being another pleasant upside, naturally.)

It was a rough evening for you, Engie's arms around you all night while you were constantly on edge, practically flinching at his every move. The anticipation was hardly comparable when you eventually discovered what he had planned to punish you.

While you didn't manage to make it very far, nor were you gone for too long, Engie began planning how he would get his revenge against you. To show you how backstabbers were taken care of down where he was from, from the moment he realized you managed to escape. Though it didn't take him long to decide what he wanted, he was excited all the same.

While Engie might've come from a long line of Engineers, he still grew up in a relatively Rural area and had many neighbors and family members who worked as farm hands and livestock keepers. So he reckoned he outta followed their example and used their techniques to handle runaways. After all, it would be easy for him to get his hands on the machinery or, better yet, construct it himself from scratch.

He considered if he were better off branding you from the start, but it hardly mattered now. When you awoke the next day stripped bare, gagged, limbs bound together and chained to the floor, only slightly able to witness the strange device heating up in the corner of the room, you knew at that moment you were more scared than you'd ever been in your entire life.

You weren't even aware Engie was watching you until you heard a low chuckle you instantly identified as his. It chilled you to think about how long he'd been looming overhead watching until you fully came to your senses.

"You were really bold trying to escape like that. Now Let's see if you can be so bold in taking your punishment."

It was a nightmare come to life, not only to be back under his control but while being naked and helpless to stop whatever he had planned for you. All you could do was watch with wide, horrified eyes as he brandished what you realized, much to your dismay, a brander. His eyes were entirely fixated on the flesh of your outer upper thigh.

He gave you no mercy as he drew closer before pressing the miserable device down on your skin with firm, unshaken hands. You wailed out in pain below, the gag doing practically nothing to mask your agony. It was torture, but Engie merely watched you, unblinking and apathetic to your pain.

He'd keep you like for at least another 12 hours. He'd be sure to dress your wounds as needed, but you were still forced to remain naked without anything to protect your modesty, and he loved it. Engie was free to do as he pleased to you while you were like this, to photograph, tease, spit on, whatever he wanted you were forced to endure.

He'd wait until you were fully asleep to free you, making sure not to agitate your still-healing wounds as he returned you to the bedroom, where you were finally granted some soft cotton pajamas to cover up with. Though you knew from that moment on you'd never feel properly covered again, now that he'd seen you in such a defiled state.

It'd be a long time before you were allowed out of the bedroom. Though Engie might consider bringing other guys around more often, he loved to see you so well-behaved in front of others, never daring to break the illusion of your idyllic romance ever again.

Additional spicy headcanons pertaining to both of them 🕊🦦

Medic and Engie are possessive and would keep you in a collar from now on. A very low-key way of reminding you of your place in the relationship and what happens when you try to make it out on your own. Additionally, they use this to make you feel more like their personal property than their lover.

Would get off on the idea of training you to bow or kneel before them. It's not enough for them to hear you say who you belong to. They need to see it as well. (You always did look so lovely down on your knees anyhow.)

Especially in the first few days following your capture, they would use your increased fear and loss of morale against you, knowing you're all the easier to coerce into pleasing them sexually. As though this kind of appeasement would actually convince either of the men to go easy on you. The pleasure is all the more satisfying as you can barely conceal your fear.

Would start recording you during times like this. Getting ample footage of you in compromising positions and lewd audio recordings without your knowledge or consent. Knowing they could use the footage as blackmail against you in the future as just another tidbit of leverage to hold over you if you try to escape again. Letting you know you have no chance of making a new life for yourself, a life away from them ever again.

They love to continue mocking you long after the ordeal. Suggesting you try and escape again. Maybe you'll make it a little further this time! Taking great joy in ridiculing you for ever thinking you could run, treating your life and freedom as though it's all just some game to them.

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stevesbestgirl · 4 years ago

Text

A Moment of Your Time - Part 18

Mob!Bucky x Reader (1726 words)

Series Masterlist - Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Warnings: smut, daddy kink, almost choking, thigh riding, Bucky being a dom, idk

A/N: Not sure how this got to be so long, I wanted more to happen, but I’m not cutting any of it so here we are. Happy Mafia Monday everyone!

“Can I ask you something, doll?”

You hummed contently, “Of course.”

“Maybe now’s not the best time, since we just argued,” he chuckled softly.

Your brow furrowed, “Something wrong?”

“No, course not.” He brushed his fingers over your waist, “I just wanna make sure you’re happy here.”

“Bucky, if I wasn’t happy, I wouldn’t be here.”

His knuckles brushed over your ribs, “I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Feels like I turned your life upside down.”

You almost wanted to laugh; talk about an understatement. You’d moved out of your apartment, lost your virginity, fallen out with Phil, hell- you’d been abducted, which would sound made up if you said it out loud.

“Oh, you did.” Leaning in to kiss his cheek, you laughed, “But the past couple days with you have made me happier than I’ve ever been.”

He half-smiled, “You sure? Even after today?”

“It’s an adjustment,” you admitted. “But I’m sure.” You appraised him, “Can I ask you something?”

“Course, baby.”

“Will you tell me about your work?”

He went stiff, “Doll-”

“I know, I know, clean hands,” you said quickly. “But I was friends with one of Rogers’ men for years and I didn’t even know it. I just wanna know the basics- your men, what they do, the names of people I should avoid.”

He sighed, “I guess it couldn’t hurt.” You beamed and his lips tipped up in a little smile, “You know Clint. He’s a top-notch marksman, but he’s sort of my all-around guy. My go-to for my personal security detail and arguably, the most competent of the bunch. Thor mentioned that you two met earlier.” You nodded. “He’s muscle, mostly. Good security and great in a scrap, if it comes to it. Vision does the books and the legal stuff. He’s fair in a fight, but doesn’t see a ton of action. He keeps everything looking clean from the outside.”

“What exactly does your organization look like from the outside?” you asked curiously.

He chuckled, “On the books, I run a private security detail, among a few other things. Some small business investments; I own a laundromat, a butcher shop, a couple restaurants, a waste management company, a small casino, a few storage units.” He waved his hand like it was all trivial.

You hoped you didn’t look surprised- you’d known he was influential, but you didn’t realize how directly he had his hands in practically everything. You almost felt guilty about keeping him from his work; even if some of it was for fronting purposes, that was still a ton of management.

“I know you haven’t met Strange yet, but he’s something like a strategist. Got a sharp mind. Good for planning,” he paused, “Complex endeavors. He’s a pro-sharper. And he’s got a medical background, so he plays medic for us once in a blue moon.”

“Do people get hurt a lot?”

He grinned wickedly, “Not often. Not mine, anyway. Just to be safe, I’ve had Pete acting as a runner, although he’s spent a good bit of time shadowing Clint, so his new assignment is your personal security.”

“As for Rogers’ men, the main ones you need to look out for are Wilson, Lang, and Banner. The one you really gotta keep an eye out for is Wilson. First name is Sam. If I had to make a comparison, he’s almost as good as Clint at what he does. He’s sharp, ruthless, and he’s got a handsome face that cons people into trusting him.

Scott Lang plans the heists- bank robberies, home invasions, you name it. The guy acts like a dope, but he’s hiding some serious strategy. Bruce Banner is the same. He looks like a softy, but if a fight breaks out, the guy’s like an animal. And Coulson is a paper pusher, almost exclusively. Rumor has it he’s fair with a gun, but he lacks the mean streak Rogers looks for.” He added offhandedly, "I've heard a few rumors that he's got some broad-" he cleared his throat, "A woman on his team, but its probably just a girlfriend." You nodded, processing everything you’d heard.

“Thanks, Bucky,” you said softly.

“Course, doll. I probably should have told you some of that sooner, but I wanna keep you out of it as much as I can.” He buried his face in your neck, “You’re too good for all that.”

You were quiet for a minute, “So, where did you go if you weren’t messing with Phil?”

He pulled his face from your neck, where he was peppering soft kisses, “Maybe I should save it since you’re not mad at me anymore.”

You knew he was teasing by the smirk on his lips, but you crossed your arms in a pout, “You left without even telling me and I don’t get to know why?”

“Relax, relax,” he laughed, digging inside his inside pocket, “I wanted to get you a present- an apology.”

“You didn’t-”

“You know I did,” he grinned.

He pulled a long box from his jacket and you scooted back on the couch, protesting, “No, no more presents!”

“It’s too late, baby,” he cooed, the self-satisfied smirk growing. He flipped the top open, waiting for your reaction.

Inside, a beautiful bracelet glimmered in the light, each stone dancing to its own rhythm. Your heart jumped to your throat; you’d never even dared to admire something so stunning. After the war, jewelry like this was rare to see. Your voice came out in a fainter protest than before, “Bucky, I can’t-”

“Course you can,” he insisted, removing it from the box.

You shook your head fervently, “You should take it back; it’s too much.”

He captured your wrist, “I can’t take it back.” He draped it over your wrist, pausing before doing the clasp, “Do you really not want it?”

“Of course I do, it’s beautiful,” you admitted softly, watching the way it twinkled on your arm. “But-”

“No buts, sweetheart,” Bucky said firmly, clipping it on your wrist before pulling your hand up and kissing your palm.

The rest of your protests died in your throat at the way it glittered on your arm. You twisted your hand this way and that to watch it catch the light while Bucky watched, grinning.

“You like it?” he asked, the very question a tease because the answer was obvious.

“I love it,” you murmured, entranced. “It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You realized your mistake as he smirked, “You know what-”

“Don’t say it,” you interrupted, your fingers wrapping around the back of his neck as you leaned in for a kiss.

He grabbed your chin, holding you back, “You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

You couldn’t help but smile, “I’m pretty sure I do.”

“What do I get if you’re wrong?”

“Same thing you get if you let go of my face,” you giggled.

He leaned in, whispering into your lips, “But then I don’t get to tell my girl that she’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You rolled your eyes, but the faint blush in your cheeks probably ruined the act of protest. Bucky brushed his nose against yours, his breath teasing your lips, “Do I still get a kiss?”

You hummed, pretending to think it over, “Maybe just one.”

He chuckled low, “Guess I should have got a more expensive bracelet.” Your protest was cut off by his mouth on yours, his tongue darting between your lips. The fingers cupping your chin brushed the line of your jaw and down the side of your neck.

When he pulled away, your head was spinning. He smiled, “If I only get one, I gotta make it count.” His grin widened, “Unless you wanna renegotiate?”

Pride be damned- you nodded quickly, sliding forward to straddle his lap and assault his lips. His laugh went unfinished, cutting off as you pressed your clothed core against his thigh. His lips moved with yours and the hand on your neck splayed out, the cool metal of his rings on your skin drawing a soft gasp from your throat.

Palming him through his pants, your thighs clenched around his at the twitch of his cock through the fabric. “That what you’re after, doll?” he growled. The timbre of his voice against your lips gave you goosebumps.

“Yes,” you whimpered, feeling him grow hard beneath your hand.

“Yes what, sweetheart?” he urged, squeezing the side of your neck softly. It wasn’t quite choking, but your breath grew shallow and you burned with desire, shifting restlessly against his thigh.

“Yes, sir,” you tried, whimpering as you slid your hips forward, rubbing yourself on his thigh until his fingers dropped to your hip, holding you in place.

“Not quite, sweets. My men call me ‘sir,’ but not my baby.” He bit down on the pulse point of your neck and breathed, “If you wanna play, you gotta ask right.” He sucked on the spot he’d bitten, pulling a moan from deep in your belly.

You pleaded, “Please- please, Daddy.”

“There you go, babydoll,” he practically purred. He flexed his thigh, giving you a slight amount of friction, “Go ahead ‘n ride me until you’re ready for me.”

He peppered kisses and bites up and down your neck, whispering praises in your ear as your hips pulled against him, your arousal seeping through your panties onto his slacks. He chuckled, almost mocking, “That’s right sweets, ruin my pants. I wanna feel how wet you are for me.”

Normally, you’d be horrified at the idea, but something inside you relished the idea of letting him see how much you wanted him. Even the taunting only made you blush and bite down on your lip to stifle a moan at his words.

Suddenly his fingers were on your waist again, your movement frozen. The dark edge to his voice was back, “I don’t think so, baby. Lemme hear you.”

“Bucky, I-”

“No,” he growled. The back of your neck prickled at the authority in his voice.

A squeak slipped out as the pads of his fingers pressed into your hips so tightly that you wouldn’t be surprised if you had bruises later.

“Daddy,” you pleaded. The word was still a little foreign on your tongue, but the way Bucky twitched under your palm served as encouragement.

“What do you want, sweets?” he cooed. “Tell me.”

“I want you,” you breathed.

That was finally the right thing to say. He hummed, his hands gliding over your thighs, “You got it, doll.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky #soft!mob!bucky #smut #ish #bucky #mine

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aching-tummies · 3 years ago

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If I was your partner...I'd bind you. Arms behind your back or tied to an armrest or something. I don't got a preference for what state your stomach is in except maybe an extreme one (hungry, stuffed, sick, etc.). I want you moaning and squirming and begging for rubs. Maybe I will grant them...but the more sadistic part of me wants you on the floor, arms bound to a table leg, with my sock-clad foot prodding into your tummy causing you to moan and something to happen in that gut gu yours.

I wonder if cradling my stomach when it hurts actually does anything. Like…I instinctively try to at least put my hands on it when it starts to ache in public…but it still hurts. Would it hurt even more if I didn’t have anything pressing against it?

My musings gave you the perfect excuse to combine our mutual love for tummy kink with your binding kink. The blindfold was the first to come on. It’s just a scrap of fabric from my sewing projects and not necessarily a true blindfold. The low thread-count is one thing, so I can see silhouettes if I try hard enough. That and the little slivers caused by the gap created by the bridge of my nose…but those slivers barely allow me to see my front if I try hard. More strips of fabric fasten my arms behind me. Not in a way that gets me to cramp and ache, but enough that I can’t bring my arms up to my stomach. I’m leaned up against a leg of our dining table with my legs sprawled out in front of me and my arms fastened to the leg. If I start to panic I could easily push the table up and slip my bonds out from under it, or I could use the safe-word.

A deep, angry grumble quakes in my tummy. It’s audible and it brings an intense cramp with it. I bite back a moan, my eyes squeezing shut against the intensity of the cramping ache as it builds and builds to a head. My arms tense, fighting the bonds as my body instinctively tries to reach over to soothe my upset tummy.

“Ugh…babe?” I don’t even know if you are in the room. You made me ingest a bunch of stuff and I’ve been left to sit for a long while. The plan today was to cook up a stomach ache and we both knew that I’d subconsciously avoid eating stuff that was guaranteed to give me a tummy ache, so we sort of removed my autonomy with the blindfold. “Babe—urgh…ouch—i-it’s s-starting—ah! Ow!” A sharp growl splits the air and I can see my stomach clenching and convulsing as my body squirms involuntarily.

You didn’t just stuff me, but you were careful with the combinations to ensure that it’d cause a stomach ache. There was orange juice to start, something I usually avoid because I’m not a big fan of tart and sour flavors. At least two glasses went into my gut via a straw to start and I was sated after the two glasses. Of course, one never says ‘no’ to pizza. The next thing to nudge my lips ended up being a pizza. You’d give me a few bites and let me swallow, pausing periodically to give me a sip of something through a straw pressed to my lips to ensure my mouth didn’t get too dry. Sometimes it was water, other times it was some carbonated drink. I don’t know how many slices of pizza I ended up eating, but it felt like a lot. The liquid travelling up the straw eventually transitioned into milk tea and my dread ramped up in tandem with the pressure in my tummy as I thought about the lake of acidic orange juice it would clash with. My stomach churned as I continued to suck on the straw and that definitely didn’t help matters. Maybe it was my overactive imagination, but I could feel chunks bobbing around in my gut and I’m not entirely sure all those chunks were pizza.

You left me alone after the feeding. Tempted as you were to put your hands on my belly and slosh it around, that would defeat the purpose of our little experiment. Now we wait. You had retreated out of my sight (not hard to do) and left things to stew.

I sat there with nothing to occupy my mind except for the sensations in my tummy. It didn’t take long. My stomach cramped a little, but it was more discomfort than an actual ache. That went on for about twenty minutes. I guess those minor cramps were my body’s way of churning the mess in my belly. The aching intensified as the mess got more and more churned around. The milk and cheese reacting with the acidic orange juice and curdling terribly. My intestines were alright with the liquidy orange juice dripping into it b, but the easy-to-digest liquid soon stopped dropping in, replaced by a nasty, semi-solid glop of curdled garbage. My intestines reacted almost immediately. Peristalsis stalled for a little while, allowing the nastiness to stew for a bit. When it re-started it was clearly having trouble finding the right rhythm to get the mess moving.

I needn’t have called out. You’ve been watching from the other side of our combined living/dining area. You knew the stomach ache was forming when my mewls and bitten back moans joined the griping grumbles from my unhappy tummy. The noises had started out liquid-y and clear, sounding infrequently and gradually morphed into a sticky cacophony of nastiness. Tell me you’re sick without telling me you are sick. Came to mind. The noises from my gut just screamed ‘sickly’ to you and you were tempted to find me a bucket, but you didn’t want to miss a moment of the action. Not like I’m sitting on carpet—the smooth flooring is easy to clean, even if it’ll be a bit of a pain to do so if I hurl.

“Ugh—urlp—b-babe? Sweetie—it hurts! It really hurts—ulp—” Those aborted hiccups sound wet. Forget ‘if’ I hurl, that sound is basically a guarantee that we’ll be cleaning our floors. Well, if it’ll end up being a mess anyway. A smile forms on your lips as you quietly pad your way over to where I’m bound. Your sock-clad feet make no noise as you creep closer. “Ullf…uhhmm…ugh…’m so full—urp—s-so sick..oohh…” A moan and a coo at directed at my tummy reverberates, blending with a smooth growl from my guts. I’m still completely unaware of your presence.

“Ah—Oww—URLPK!” I was unaware of your presence until a sharp pressure drove into my bloated belly as you nudged your sock-clad foot into the crest of it. Something sour and chunky surged up my esophagus. My surprised gasp at the sudden pressure was just enough to keep the sick from coming all the way out but the back of my throat burns as my stomach churns violently. “Ugh…babe…that hurts. Ugh…forget the stupid experiment. Untie me. I need to rub—my stomach hurts.” I hiss and bite back something as my stomach clenches tightly. You watch me arch slightly, my stomach seeming to seek out any sort of comforting pressure and finding none. For a second you entertain the idea of alien chest-bursters or something from the way my arching spine brings my belly up and out for a moment before my straining body goes back down. Maybe that was an attempt at nudging up the table, but I know you are here and still haven’t used a safe-word so the scenario is still going.

While you were feeding me, you had sneakily unbuttoned my jeans and unzipped my fly on a whim. The experiment was for a belly without any sort of comforting touch. I wasn’t willing to go naked for the experiment so the undone jeans would have to do.

My breathing comes quickly and in short gasps. My stomach heaves and squirms with my breaths. It’s almost like the labor videos you’ve seen before. You nudge at my stomach, prodding it with your big toe. I groan again and shift, seemingly trying to get away from your foot. I end up pressed against one of the dining chairs that has been tucked in, not really offering me much more room to go. I’ve got you on one side and the chair on the other—talk about a rock and a hard place.

Moving was a bad idea. The movements jostled my already upset guts and the churning intensifies. The cramping pains shoot through every which way and my arms continue to fight the restraints, my body desperately trying to get any sort of comforting pressure to my sick tummy.

A warm pressure pushes at my belly. It’s your foot. You run your foot over my stomach with minimal pressure. It’s still more than a hand would do with a lazy rub because legs are generally stronger than arms. The constant pressure of your foot squeezes my guts uncomfortably and shifts things around. I feel the semi-solid mush occupying my duodenum get squeezed, seemingly pushing out of both sphincters at either end at the same time. My stomach revolts. The sensation of forced back-flow upsets the swirling contents. More gastric contents work their way up my esophagus. I feel the level rise to mid-chest and climb and ebb. My aborted groans are cut off as I try to fight the vomit.

Your foot leaves my belly just as the level reaches the back of my throat. You were worried because I had seemingly stopped breathing. Once the pressure leaves, the sour liquid falls back into my stomach. I feel my stomach expand with it as my abdominals barely unclench in time to accommodate for the returning contents. Once everything is back in my belly I finally trust myself to let out a groan and to take a deeper breath.

“Ugh…I want to rub my tummy so bad. ‘m so sick. Hurts so much. Tummy…sick…too full…too much…ugh…” I’m mumbling. Clearly, the ordeal has been overwhelming for me. A part of you worries that we’ve gone too far now. Maybe this was too much and it broke me enough to forget the safety checks we have in place? You reach for the blindfold, finding it a little damp with tears. It worries you.

Settling to sit down on the floor with me, you reach over and gently rub my tummy. I moan softly, finally feeling some relief. My stomach tenses at the first touch but gradually unclenches under the comfort of your massage.

You can feel the sickly churning and sloshing of my guts. You can feel it each time my duodenum spasms—taking in new contents and occasionally allowing back-flow that upsets things all over again.

“Sweets…do you still want this?” You ask tentatively after I’ve been silent for a little while. It’s clear I’ve calmed down slightly from your massage.

“Hmm?” You can tell I’m out of it. Whether it’s a food coma, exhaustion, or me being too influenced by the scenario to be in the right state of mind—you don’t know. You reach over and begin to work on the strips of fabric securing my arms. It’s only because you are leaning in that you catch my words. “I want—I want it all out. Now. Please?” As my hands loosen, I reach over not for my stomach, but for your leg. Realization dawns. The game is still on…though this might be the big finish.

A dull but sudden pressure rattles me as you plant your foot solidly into my belly. It sinks in despite how full I am as my stomach-contents shoot up, up, and out. You hear the sound of something slapping at the back of my throat a millisecond before it splatters onto the smooth floors of our apartment. I’m on my knees and you are standing above me. Some of the sick inevitably got on your pant-leg and sock, but those can be cleaned. You nudge at the side of my belly with your foot, bringing up more sick.

Four productive heaves later I am left dry. My stomach aches something fierce. With a groan, I flop over to the side, barely avoiding the puddle of sick. My hair is definitely in it but I’m too exhausted to care. You tower over me, my back pressed up against your shins. You raise a foot and nudge it into my belly. I close my eyes as I feel your foot providing my clenching belly with a deep massage, deeper than anything hands could do. My stomach gripes and growls around your foot and you can feel the reverberations as you knead and churn it around. You press until you hear me gasp and push at your foot with my hands. You relent the pressure and offer the massage again, lulling me into a sense of security before you’ll inevitably do it again.

#RP-Asks #Tummy kink #stuffing #stomach ache #emeto

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corysmiles · 4 years ago

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Ok so I was reading your little streamer au story Just a Joke and that part about the matchbox bed had me thinking, what if Tommy did a stream where he just showed off his house? Like, just walked the camera from room to room and talked about different stuff he had for fun. (Probably not his whole house, just his bedroom and maybe one other him sized room if he has it)

He would probably see nothing wrong with most of it (or even if he does, he doesn’t think it’s a big deal and ignores it, thinking everyone else will do the same) but his friends see how poorly made and “diy” everything looks (like his bed) and start thinking about how all tinys have to live like that.

I imagine Wilber especially starts to feel bad, looking around his house and seeing all the stuff he takes for granted, all things that tinys could only get a poorer version of, if they got a version at all.

Not to mention, Tommy seems to be a bit better off then a lot of tinys, so some don’t even have the stuff he does, and/or have ones of even lesser quality.

Maybe it’s just a one off little “oh...that sucks...” or maybe they try to do something about it. Idk, just think it’s a cute and sad idea. (I have more to say about this idea, but I don’t want bombard you with a super duper long ask, so just take these basics for now I guess, sorry)

-tired anon

House Tour

————————

Little Streamer AU

CW: language

Notes: Woah little streamer content?? In this economy??? More likely than you think. And thank you so much for this awesome idea tired anon I love it :D Without further ado have a fun tiny Tommy housetour followed by Wilbur’s confusion over tiny culture

————————

Tommy hadn’t been this excited for a stream in a long time, but as he set up everything he was practically bouncing on his feet.

He was going to do a house tour- or a room tour- for the chat since they’d only ever seen a bit of it in the background. It was a lot different from his normal content, but it felt refreshing doing something so new.

When he finally stepped back and looked at everything a grin spread across his face. He didn’t think his room had looked this nice since the day they built it. His red sheets were perfectly tucked into his matchbox bed, his dollhouse desk was wiped down and shiny, and even his scrap-fabric rug was dusted.

Pride swelled up in his chest at the sight.

“Mom!” he yelled as he peaked his head through the “window” in his room. It really was just a hole in the wall to the human part of the house, but it also let light in to his room. “I’m gonna be streaming soon!”

He didn’t even wait for an answer before he happily popped back into his small room. It was still a little dusty since it was inside of a wall, but there was nothing he could really do about that. The viewers would just have to deal with it, he mused.

Quickly he sent out a tweet for his stream and hit “go live” on his pc. Almost immediately people flooded the chat even though it was still just his starting soon screen, and one name in particular caught his eye.

WilburSoot: this is not exciting

Tommy grinned and stifled the laugh that threatened to burst out of his chest. Of course Wilbur was messing with him, who would he be if he wasn’t messing with the tiny. And even though it was just one message Tommy was excited to know he was there.

Wilbur had actually been the one to convince him to do a house tour. Tommy never really thought his room was much, it was decently sized but not very exciting, but still Wilbur thought it would be a fun idea for an easy stream. The tiny still has been pretty iffy about the idea but after constant nagging from his brother-figure he gave in.

“Hello chat!” Tommy yelled as he switched his screen to his camera. Dramatically he swung it around to zoom in on his face.

“How are you doing today? I’m doing so well,” he grinned, “Today’s gonna be a little different actually- spicing things up Yaknow. You get to see my big man home!”

The chat blurred in the corner of his eye as he explained what the stream would be, and chugged a cup of coke he’d poured right before he started. It was all going well, and they seemed to like it a lot more than he thought they would.

First Tommy stood up from his desk and pointed it at his setup, “See this is where the magic happens boys.”

He laughed as the chat flew by even faster with one message catching his eye.

“Hey it is not a Polly pocket desk it is a Barbie Ken desk,” he pouted, “please I’m better than that.”

Step by step he moved across his room explaining his furniture and showing off his favorite things. They got to see his cardboard bed, his “borrower hook” he’d been trying to teach himself how to use, and even his “spider hole” in the wall where bugs got into his room.

Most of the time the chat seemed to find it funny, but every once in a while people seemed concerned. He just chalked it up to humans though.

At the end of the stream he put the camera on his desk and jumped up on his bed to say goodbye. To make it even funnier he loaded the tiny nerf gun Wilbur had bought him a while back and tried to shoot the camera.

“I’m gonna shoot you if you don’t leave, go!” he yelled jokingly, “Disparse! Leave! Go home!”

Once the chat seemed to calm down a bit he said his actual goodbyes and teaches as the screen turned dark. Just like always he let out a breath of relief that the stream went well. He enjoyed streaming, but it was still stressful trying to make sure everything went right.

After a minute he fell back onto his bed and scrolled through his phone until discord dm flashed on his screen.

WilburSoot: how did you get a whole fake room for a stream??

Tommy frowned and quickly opened the app staring at the message.

Tommyinnit: what? vc?

The tiny sat back against his bed and waited for his friend to respond as anxiety curled up in his gut.

“Tommy?” Wilbur’s voice crackled.

“Hey Wil, what the fuck do you mean?”

Through his phone he could hear Wilbur shifting around as he stumbled on what to say, “That room.”

Tommy frowned and tilted his head even though he knew the human couldn’t see it, “What about it?”

“What- that can’t be your room, right?” Wilbur’s laugh boomed, “It was a good joke though.”

“Wait wait Wil,” Tommy fumbled, “What the fuck do you mean? This is my room.”

The silence that filled the call almost made Tommy wish he hadn’t said anything at all.

“Huh?”

“Uh yeah,” Tommy coughed, “That really was my room, what’s wrong?”

Wilbur’s staticky hum echoed through his phone, “Oh uh… I don’t know I thought you’d have like…actual furniture?”

“I mean, it works doesn’t it,” Tommy frowned as he leaned back against his sheets, kicking up his feet on the edge of the box, “It’s not that bad.”

“Tommy,” Wilbur paused, “you sleep in a box.”

The tiny froze and stared at the worm edges of the matchbox he slept in. He never really thought about it. It was pretty normal for tinies considering how expensive real furniture was, and he was probably better off than a lot of other tinies.

“Uh well yeah big man,” Tommy stuttered, “I’m a tiny.”

“Well no shit I know that but shouldn’t you have like an actual bed? You have a real pc!” Wilbur said, getting louder by the second.

“Well yeah,” Tommy muttered, “But spending over a thousand pounds on a bed frame just doesn’t seem worth it to me okay?”

Again silence filled the call, and it lasted so long tommy thought the human had left.

Wilbur was the one to break the silence, “One thousand pounds?”

“For a shitty one yeah,” Tommy frowned. He still remembered the day his parents had searched endlessly for any bed frames only to find that they were all thousands of pounds. They had seemed so upset about it, but Tommy never really cared.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Wilbur dropped, “I shouldn’t have said anything I didn’t know.”

“It’s alright,” Tommy smiled, I’m the corner of his eye he saw one of the hoodies he’d bought during his last visit with Wilbur, “But my spider hole is very real and very important to me.”

Wilbur’s loud laugh burst through the phone making the tiny’s heart swell. He missed the human more than he’d admit, and it was always nice hearing his friend’s voice- even if he was just joking about his spider hole.

“Yeah yeah, your spider holes fine. Very normal,” Wilbur joked before his voice steadied, “Seriously though, sorry about thinking it was a joke. I just- I don’t know. I feel like maybe I’ve taken my things for granted. I didn’t mean to seem rude though I-

“Nah stop,” Tommy smiled, “Your house is shit man, I’ve been there.”

The tiny stared at Wilbur’s profile picture as his wheezy laugh filled the room.

“Yeah yeah whatever,” and then an added, “love you Tom.”

Before Tommy could respond he heard the ding signalling Wilbur had left the call. The silence in his room now only filled by the sound of his parents shuffling around somewhere else in the house.

“Yeah,” Tommy hummed, “Love you too Wil.”

Taglist:

@encaos @blurrybunnie @brooky71 @forgetful-dorito

#little streamer au #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #fluff #hurt/comfort #corywrites #t!tommy #g!wilbur #tired anon #anon ask

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solastia · 4 years ago

Text

The Dragon’s Lair - 7

- SEOKJIN’S POV -

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x F!Reader (although she’s kinda OC now huh?)

A/N: Kinda on the short side, I apologize. But I wanted us to get a quick peek into Jin’s side of things and where his mind is. Any guesses on who his mate might be? ;)

*****

He wasn’t sure what had woken him up. The house was silent beyond Namjoon’s snores that he could hear coming through the old walls. He waited a few seconds to see if he could hear anything else or catch a scent, but it was all clear. There was just something pricking at his mind - something making his instincts go wild. He’d blame the fact that he was in a new house but this wasn’t a new feeling.

It had begun when his ride here had traveled past the sea. He’d gotten a whiff of fresh ocean air and his fur had instantly bristled up. His claws had lengthened involuntarily and he’d had to exercise every scrap of self-control he possessed so he wouldn’t leap out of the moving vehicle and run full-shift towards whatever that scent had been.

Seokjin groans and cracks open his eyes, still heavy with sleep. He might as well take a trip to the bathroom while he was already awake. He yawns and forces himself out of the comfy bed, scratching his belly sleepily. Even now, the scent was clear to him. There had been the smell of the ocean, yes, but...something else. Something other like him.

The realistic part of Seokjin’s brain said maybe his exotic side had simply found a scent it liked and that’s that. But when he allowed himself to be more fanciful, like now when it was three am and he was still half asleep, he listened to the Sphinx screaming, “mate, mate, MATE!,” and he didn’t hate the idea.

He’d been alone for so very long that it sounded like a dream. A fairytale ending for his Cinderella story.

Not that Namjoon was any sort of evil stepsister, nor his mate that exuded naivety and goodness from every pore. If anything, he knew that he was particularly blessed to have Heechul hyung looking out for him and talking this human into taking him in. He would have dealt with having to be in the shelter again, but quite honestly he was too old to do well there. He was a grown Sphinx used to independence and being at the top of his hierarchy.

He finishes in the bathroom and sighs heartily, deciding sleep was going to be impossible now. Might as well help himself to the kitchen. He shuffled quietly there and peeked inside the fridge, horrified once again by the contents. How have these two been keeping alive? The fridge only contained very basic ingredients like eggs and milk, a bottle of soy sauce, and not a single vegetable in sight.

He settles for making a couple of fried eggs, using them to top off the bowl of instant rice he pilfered from the cupboards. He gives it all a splash of soy sauce so it’s not completely flavorless and sits at the kitchen table, eating his little meal slowly.

It always seemed like nights were harder for some reason. Like the dark vastness of the sky reminded him of how empty his life had become - of how much he missed his parents.

He’d seriously lucked out when the two had walked into the shelter all those years ago. He’d been a bit older than the usual desired age for hybrid adoptions so he hadn’t expected much when Heechul had escorted the couple towards the exotic section. He’d stayed in his corner of the room playing his video game, but he’d kept an eye on them as they smiled and shook hands with all the desperate little ones crowding them. They seemed genuinely nice, with smiles that lit up their eyes and the man always making his wife laugh.

When they finally got close enough, Seokjin greedily scented the air, thinking if he ever had someone pick him he hoped they smelled as good as these two. The man - though obviously old for a human - smelled strong and healthy. Faint hints of cigar smoke and old books clung to him almost as much as his mate’s scent did. And his mate - the wife - smelled exactly how Seokjin had always thought a mother would. A light hint of expensive perfume couldn’t cloud the endorphins that were coming off of her in waves from being surrounded by the little ones. She was older too - perhaps younger than her husband by no more than a handful of years - but she too seemed to be in good health. She smelled so comforting to Seokjin that he stopped paying attention to his game and let his little avatar get killed three times in a row as he glued his eyes on the woman.

Heechul actually herded the pair towards him and he set down his controller and bowed formally, wanting to make a good impression despite the fact that he knew they would never pick him. He’d thought they’d merely shake his hand and move on, but the man had kept asking him questions about his hobbies and what he wanted to do when he grew up. The woman kept staring at him with her hand held to her chest like she’d been shocked by something.

It wasn’t until a half-hour later when Heechul had called him into his office with the pair that he realized she’d decided she wanted him. A mere few minutes and she’d decided she was his mother and no one else’s. “You’re so handsome I fell in love at first sight, my Jinnie,” she’d always say.

He’d had nineteen wonderful years with them before pneumonia took them both within days of each other. Nineteen years filled with happiness and laughter with two of the most loving people he’d ever met. He missed his routines with them - the fishing every weekend with his dad, cooking with his mom, the Sundays all three of them would sit around with face masks and watch movies.

When they’d passed away, his heart had broken. He’d known it was inevitable - they were both getting old and frail - but he’d thought he’d have just a little more time with them. After the funeral, he waited with bated breath for someone to storm in and drag him off to be put down somewhere. When nothing had happened, he’d grown steadily more careless, often forgetting he wasn’t supposed to be on his own with the big house and vast wealth. He’d carried on with his life like he knew his parents would have wanted him to. He kept going to med school since his dad had pulled so many strings to let him attend, he tried going on dates that never went anywhere, he hung out with his friends whenever he had the time. Life went on.

Trying to stop the robber had been stupid of him - he knew that now. He should have just let the man get away and then never reported him so he’d be left alone...but once he spied his mother’s favorite pearls in the man’s hand he’d lost his shit. He’d fully shifted, letting his wings out and knocking over a couple of vases with their width, and his nails expanded until finally he’d roared and the robber had screamed and thrown the nearest item at his head in his rush to escape. Unfortunately, that item had been his mother’s bird statue that was made entirely of gold, so he’d been knocked out cold. His friend had found him after he hadn’t shown up to their gaming session and called the police and an ambulance, where they took his blood and found out that he was a hybrid with deceased owners and proceeded to shove him in the nearest pound while they contacted his mother’s very distant cousin.

He’d never even gotten to meet this so-called cousin before the fat lawyer that smelled like fried chicken rushed him out of his own home, making him leave behind even the belongings that were his. He had no idea what use the cousin had for his manga or video game collection. Let alone the used sports jerseys or his hamper full of dirty clothes.

Thankfully Heechul existed and he’d been able to contact his old caregiver before he was sent to the state center. He knew that place was a death sentence. And now here he was, in a strange home with barely anything besides his small suitcase. He missed his dad. He missed his mom. He missed feeling loved and hopeful for the future. He missed the way his dad always knew what to do. He missed the way his mom would brush his mane and groom his feathers while she sang.

Seokjin cleared his throat and swiped at his suddenly wet cheek. He hadn’t even realized he’d been crying. He shook his head and went to the sink to wash his dishes, heading back to his room when he finished for another sleepless night.

****

Life in the ‘Dragon’s Lair’ (as he’d taken to calling it, despite said dragon’s constant eye-rolling) began to take on a new normal the longer he was there. Days began to blend into each other as he struggled to adjust himself to his new reality, but Namjoon and his mate were a great help.

Luckily, his tuition had been prepaid by his father and the cousin had no way of taking his education away from him, so he still took his classes - albeit mostly online because he wanted to stay in his room most of the time.

Money was thankfully of no immediate issue. There was more money in the book than he’d felt comfortable sharing with anyone, enough that he could still go years without a job if he needed to. He also knew that if he needed it, he could always ask Heechul for help, although the other would make him work in the cafe for it. He might do it anyway just for something to do.

Namjoon and his mate were simply wonderful. His old friend had grown up into a great person who was sweet and intelligent, good to the people he cared about, and strong in ways that he probably wasn’t even aware of. His mate Star was just as good. She was funny and kind, with just enough sass to be interesting. And they were both sickeningly in love with each other to the point that Seokjin had to leave the house quite often to get some peace. Not that it upset him - he was incredibly happy for Namjoon. It just sometimes emphasizes how alone he was.

But yes, Star was great. There was just...something about her. Something that drew him to her. Not in a sexual or attraction kind of way...more like - primal. Like the animal side of him saw her as a protector. Which, he supposed she kinda was since she was housing exotic hybrids, but still. He couldn’t figure it out. He was certain she was completely human, but sometimes underneath the frankly nauseating amount of reptile musk that she was constantly covered with, he could catch hints of the forest in her natural scent. Sure, there was a forest nearby, but why would the scent cling to her like that? There was something there and luckily for him, there was nothing he enjoyed more than a good riddle.

Beyond that, there was still one other pressing issue. His mate.

He knew they were out there. He knew he’d caught their scent. When he’d passed the sea he’d been certain they were there. He just needed to find them. He didn’t want them to be alone too.

“Jin, we’re about to head to the mall. Do you want to come shopping with us? The weather’s clearing up and I promised Namjoon we’d go to the ocean,” Star asked with a bright smile as he exited his room.

“The ocean?” he responded, his brain halting for a second. Fate was working her magic, was she?

“Yeah, he’s been wanting to go for a while but it’s been too cold. I thought we’d rent a small beach house and spend the weekend. So you’ll need swim trunks and towels, stuff like that. If you’d rather stay here, that’s fine too. It’s up to you.”

“No,” he rushed, feeling his ears go red with embarrassment as he let his eagerness show. “It’s fine. I’d love to go.”

“Great!” Star grinned, threading an arm with his as she leads him out to the yard. “We’ll have so much fun!”

He nods silently, his nose trying in vain to catch that salty scent on the air again.

I’m coming. Just wait for me.

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