#because water can’t survive in the desert at least not for long

[gothic-mothic]

Lighting tests with the boys

[eetherealgoddess]

ꨄNo Room For Prayerꨄ

Oneshot - Demon Apocalypse/Soulmate Au

❦Y/n gets captured by demons❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

Demon language is red

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

No Room For Prayer

Y/n breathed heavily as she managed to catch her breath, sweat falling down her skin as the hairs on her limbs stood. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she held her chest, feeling the sensation of her heart beating fast. Finally getting her breath steady, she calmed her heart rate, bottom against the dirty floor of the abandoned house.

Ever since the demons took over a couple years back, she’s had to fend for herself, moving from house to abandoned building, and so on. She resides in the part of the city where the lower class demons roam for the scraps and stranded humans that were not chosen by upper class, high ranked demons.

Food is minimal and she can’t catch a break whether it be by a demon or feral human. She has a deep hatred for the demonic race considering it turned her life upside down. Sure, life before could’ve been better but the past beats the present by a long shot. Eyeing her surroundings, she stands from her position crouched on the floor and walks through the house with her flash light.

She glances around the kitchen she walked into, wincing at the blood stained on the wall, a mixture of dried and fresh. She ignores the smell of rotting food and opens the pantry for any canned greens or meat. She swung her back pack around to open it and set some of the cans inside of her bag.

Honestly, she’d rather be here than with the upper class demons because they preserve their human alive or not, slicing or tearing what they want and maybe saving the torso or other body parts for another day. You either become a slave, maid, servant, or meal. There’s really no warning sign, you’re just snatched and that’s it. At least she has a chance of survival with no responsibility to serve or be served unless by accident.

She opens the fridge, covering her nose as the grimy stench reaches her nostrils. She sees nothing but rotting fruit and meat. Mold infested the inside, the milk that was left had no sign of liquid. She shuts the door after noticing maggots, preventing herself from feeling sicker. No matter how long it’s been, the rotting sign of humanity that was left disgusted her to the point of gagging.

She checks for any water bottles in the cabinets and finds a few hidden behind other boxed food. She didn’t bother to check the freezer knowing that she hasn’t found a place to stay long term and never will. Considering the doors of every place she’s been at has been kicked down, she can’t cook in peace. The smell of food would attract the demons, knowing a human is near by their cooking.

She sighs as she opens the can of peas, tossing the top to the side as she uses one of the remaining plastic spoons she stole from the local deserted grocery store. She recollects the events that brought her to this day.

“What is that?” Her close friend asks.

The sound of banging continued on the door of their apartment.

“The police?” Y/n suggests as she sets the blunt to the side, a nervous wreck as she’s never experienced being caught with flower before.

“They would’ve announced that by now.”

The banging accelerates as well as growing louder before it completely stops.

“What the fuck?” Y/n whispers, her knees pulled to her chest as she sits next to her friend on the couch.

The only thing that could be heard was their shaky breathing. Before they know it, the door is shoved off of its hinges, hitting the wall as a large creature steps in. The girls scream as they run in the opposite direction of the monster. Unfortunately, Y/n’s friend’s ankle was yanked, stopping her from running and causing her to fall on her stomach.

“Run! R-Run!” Her friend desperately cries. “Don’t let me die in vain! Survive, Y/n!”

“I-I’m so sorry!”

Y/n turns on her heel and makes an escape through the back door, the door slamming shut right after she hears a shred of skin along with her former friend’s scream.

She shuts her eyes before grabbing her bag and swinging it on her shoulder, taking a bite out of the peas. She lives in regret for not even attempting to help her friend escape. Her only excuses being she was scared, caught off guard, and high. Especially with the break in being from an unknown monster and not a human. She shakes her head, pushing the thoughts out of her mind to focus on her situation at hand. She continues eating until finished.

Y/n pauses when she hears rustling and footsteps. Her eyes widen as she holds her breath, slowly stepping to the opposite direction from where the noise is coming from. She looked at her surroundings to find another exit to the kitchen.

The window!

She sets the empty can down and quietly moves to the window, unlocking it before sliding it open. She climbs through and falls on the ground with a thud. Cursing herself for the noise she begins to make her way around the house, ready to make a run for it until she’s grabbed from her bag.

“Human! Kneel.” She’s yanked to the ground, her backpack being her support. Her eyebrows furrow as she makes an attempt to escape before a foot pressed in between her breasts, forcing her to lie down.

“Comply or we’ll take you by force.” The demon guard states. She shakes her head.

“Fuck you!” She says before pulling out her knife and stabbing it in his ankle causing his foot to lift off of her body. She jumps up and drops her back pack to make it easier for her to run, though the other guard snatches her back and grips her arms. He pulls his arm back before punching her face, causing her head to drop unconscious.

Eyelids shoot open as Y/n immediately sits up, sweat falling down her head as she breathes heavily, the memory of running from the guards stuck in her brain. Feeling weightless she notices her bag out of her sight, turning abruptly to the side to see it settled beside her. She yelps in pain as her hand goes straight to her face where she was punched, memories collecting from before she was unconscious.

“You should take it easy there.”

She gasps as she sees the newcomer, immediately shooting up from her spot on the mattress and standing across the small room at a potential threat.

“Woah there. Everything is fine, alright? Name’s Rin. I saved you.”

She stood in attack mode, her body tense as her eyebrows furrowed.

“Saved me?” She eyes his figure, mullet pulled into a messy ponytail with a few strands loose. His casual attire dirty from what she assumes to be survival. His hands are held up in surrender. He nods in response.

“I saw you fighting that demon when I snuck into the house. Once he knocked you out, I fought him off and brought you here.”

She relaxes her arms as they drop to her sides, though still suspicious of the guy known as Rin.

“Y/n.” She states. He runs his fingers through his bangs.

“We should get goin. The sun’s out so that means there’s less monsters are around.”

“We? I barely know you. Where would we go anyway?” He sighs.

“Well, you don’t have to come with me but I thought you’d like to find the refuge of people on the other side of the city.”

“What refuge of people?” He looked at her with a surprised expression.

“You don’t know about the group of survivors? That’s where my brother is. I’m surprised you didn’t know about it.”

“Oh.” She replies, conflicted on whether or not she should follow.

“I’m going to leave soon so if you need time to think, you have about five minutes.” He says before walking out of the door.

She sighs, “Wait! I’ll come with you.”

He turns his head to give her a side eye, smirking in the process.

“Let’s go then.”

It takes them a total of seven days to make it across the city. She followed him as he knew where to go. They had a couple demon attacks, but nothing that couldn’t be beat, the perks of dealing with the lower class demons that range from weak to strong. They stopped at different houses and buildings for food and shelter, along with releasing their waste. It was eerie not seeing any other humans during their journey. She was used to coming across at least one or two a day whether they be feral or normal. It brings her temporary comfort. Unfortunately, she hadn’t got to experience that besides Rin being around which brought her some security.

They conversed along the way and she learned some things about him as well as vice versa. He told her about his brother, Ran, and their friends. All in all, they’ve become closer, especially with him fitting as her protector in a way when fighting off the creatures. It felt good to have someone help her along this tough voyage. Finally reaching the top of the hill, he holds his arm out to stop her from walking.

She gazes at the dark castle, searching for the humans they spent so long talking about. She looks around in confusion until she noticed the dreadful creatures in uniform.

“R-Rin. What’s going on? Where’s the village?”

“Well the village is here, Y/n.”

“What do you mean? Why are there demons? Where did you bring me?” She asks as goosebumps form. Her stomach drops when he walks toward her, palm on her cheek.

“I guess I can go ahead and tell you, Y/n. You’re our destined sixth.” She eyes him with confusion. He rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I know. Who’d want a weak human as a sixth mate? Instead of grabbing you, I wanted to test the waters and really get to know you out of boredom. It was fun playing human and all, but I really missed life here.”

Her eyebrows furrow as she snatched his hand away from her face.

“Y-you’re a demon.” She states, angry for being such a fool.

“To answer your question from earlier, I’ve brought you home.”

“No, no, no!” She exclaims, backing away from him. Her arms are caught by tight grips as she’s held up by the guards holding her limbs. Rin chuckles at the display of distress on her face.

“Yeah, it was easier than I thought it’d be. We’ll explain more later. You should rest, Y/n. You don’t look so good.”

Before she could respond, he motioned for the guard to shoot her with a tranquilizer.

She groans as her eyes open, blurred out vision revealing a ceiling as she wakes up. She slowly moves to rub her eyes, her ear perks when she hears a clunking sound. Pulling herself to sit up she notices her wrist cuffed to the wall of the cell, as well as the white gown on her figure.

She gazes at her clean skin, the dirt and grime from minimal showering completely gone. She gently rubs her skin as well as checking her body for any marks or injuries. She sighs in despair, remembering how she heard from somewhere that they clean their victims before serving the dish.

She turns her head to the guard who opens her gate, walking towards her with a set of keys. Getting ready to attack, her body tenses as she waits for him to unchain her. Once she’s unchained, she immediately punches his face and kicks his stomach, causing him to fall to the side.

Normally, he would’ve been able to fight her off and block her attack by using his own strength, but she caught him off guard, therefore he wasn’t expecting the attack. She snatches the keys that fell to the ground and runs out of the cell, locking him in just in time as he grabs the bars, stretching his arm to reach after her as he growls.

“Shit, shit, shit!” She hissed as she ran out of the door and through the hall.

My dumbass has no plan, no direction. Absolutely nothing to go off of but my legs. How the hell am I going to get out of here?

She pushes through servants and maids unapologetically as she ignores the pain in her legs and tightness forming in her chest as her breathing becomes ragged. She keeps her eyes straight ahead as she hears commotion from behind, guards gathering as they run after the human. Holding her hands up, she pushes through the random pair of black doors, entering a dining room.

Wide eyed, she ignores the demons eyeing her as she grabs a large knife. She stands beside the table, glancing at the content. A raw human’s body lays at the middle of the table, the head completely decapitated and nowhere to be found as the limbs have been cut off, different pieces of meat on everyone’s plate. She turns her head in disgust and gags.

“Oh my fucking god!” She exclaims. “Sick beasts!”

“I deeply apologize for this interruption, your highnesses.” The lead guard bows.

“This is quite entertaining.” The purple, short haired demon says as he takes a sip from his alcoholic beverage.

“Indeed, brother. I don’t ever recall a human creating such a commotion. Told you she was interesting.” Rin states, fiddling with the half eaten finger on his plate.

“Get back!” She exclaims, pointing the large knife at the guards who stalk closer. Scared out of her mind, she acts on impulse and grabs the black haired short man by the arm, pulling him out of his seat as she puts him in a chokehold with the knife pointed at his head. Demons' weak point is an impact to the head. If they get shot or stabbed in their brain, it will kill them. Anywhere else is child’s play considering they can heal themselves.

The pink haired demon almost stood up from the table to grab his lover from the arm of the human, though the golden eyed man set his hand on his thigh causing him to halt and look back at him with his piercing blue eyes.

“I’d be more worried for the human than Mikey, Haru.” He smiles, showing his fangs.

Mikey kept his eyes straight with a stoic expression, not bothering to struggle considering he could easily remove himself from her hold. The only thing keeping him from shredding her right now is the familiar tingling from their skin on skin contact. Pulling his head back he makes eye contact with her for a split second, causing her to release him from the intense shock she felt through her body.

“Leave her.” He states. His mates furrow their brows in confusion as well as the guards.

“B-but your Highness…” His dark eyes narrow at the guard.

“Are you questioning your King?”

The guard bows with a ‘no, your Highness,’ and guides his men out, shutting the door behind them.

Y/n could only stare in horror as she got a good look at her surroundings, realizing she’s in a room full of high class royals. She looks for any windows, desperate for an escape. When her eyes meet the familiar purple, a scowl forms on her face as she aims and throws the knife at Rin’s head, in which he dodges with ease causing the weapon to penetrate the wall behind him.

“This is your fucking fault!” She exclaims.

“Sit down.” Mikey states calmly, fed up with the situation at hand.

“I’m not sitting dow-!” She was cut off by a sudden force picking her up and shoving her in one of the seats, a pressure preventing her from getting up. Mikey sits back in his seat which is at the end of the table across from hers. She stares at them with disgust as they study her.

“She’s so…plain looking. How could she be our sixth?” Sanzu asks, rolling his eyes as he rests his hand on his palm.

“What did you expect from a human?” Rin takes a sip of his own beverage.

“I think she’s cute.” The golden eyed man states, chuckling at his mates conversation.

“You think everyone is cute, Kazu.” Mikey states with a tired eyed smile.

“Hey, that’s not true!”

“Don’t be in denial. It’s okay to admit that you’re a little slut.” Ran smiles widely.

“You certainly don’t mind admitting it in the bedroom.” Rin says.

“EXCUSE ME! What the fuck is going on?” Y/n, sick of the playful banter that she can’t understand, exclaims. She subconsciously backs away as different eyes bore into her.

“Somehow, you are our sixth destined soulmate.” Kazutora explains before taking a bite out of the forearm causing Y/n to look away.

“Humans don’t have soulmates.” She responds with confusion.

“You do now.” Sanzu scoffs. She glares at him before turning her attention back to her own empty plate, not wanting to see the view of the eaten human body.

“This seems to be a new thing for us all. Considering we knew of your arrival, we have everything planned out.” Ran states. Her eyebrows furrow at the word ‘planned.’

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re going to be a good girl and follow all the rules.” Rin says.

“Fuck your rules, I’m not staying here!” She slams her hands on the table.

“Fine, you don’t have to follow the rules.” Mikey shrugs.

Her throat closes as her arms and legs are bound by an invisible force. Her nostrils feel blocked as she struggles to gain some air, failing as her mouth was forced shut. Her eyes tear up as she becomes light headed.

“You can just die.” Mikey says with a bored look.

“Poor little human. Such a waste of a pretty face.” Ran states mockingly, shaking his head.

“Is this your fate or will you listen?” Rin questions.

She shuts her wet eyes and nods frantically, desperate to breathe again. Finally, the hold is released before she coughs and breathes heavily.

“Glad we’re on the same page. Let’s begin.”

[letarasstuff]

Borderline Dehydrated

(A/N): This is my second time writing for Star Wars and my first attempt to get a grip on the Mandalorian (writing wise). This is based on my headcanon that Din is borderline dehydrated at any given time. Be nice to me and this fic, I'm ready to bite unwanted haters (critic on the other hand always is welcome)

Summary: Din's older Foundling seems to care more for him than she lets on

Pairing: Din Djarin x Foundling!reader (reader is refered to with she/her pronouns)

Warnings: None (but please let me know, if there is anything)

Wordcount: .7k (she is a cute shorty)

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________

“Here, for you”, (Y/N) puts down a dish with something akin to a stew on the co-pilot’s seat. Next to Din’s seat she places two bottles of water.

An aura of questions radiates off him, as he watches her pick up the Child from his pram. “Where are you going?” He inquires, confusion evident in his modulated voice. “I’m taking the little one to the hull and eat with him and the Frog Lady dinner. We’ll leave you alone until you come down and tell us you are done. And don’t you dare do it before you drink at least half of what I gave you.” (Y/N) fixes him with a pointed look while cradling the Child to her chest.

“Why?” The Mandalorian simply asks. “Because we went through the desert of Tatooine for several days and I haven’t seen you take a sip of anything during the whole time. I’m sure you are borderline dehydrated at all times. So just fix it and eat the krayt dragon stew and drink some water, ok?” A wee bit of worry is detectable in her voice during the explanation.

Din thanks her as she makes her way to the ladder. “No need to be grateful. I just took the meat Peli already cooked and threw a bunch of other stuff in. Just do me the favor and eat. I don’t want to drag your heavy and sorry ass through the woods or something on a strange planet, just because you collapse from dehydration. I’m doing all of this out of selfish reasons, I want you to know that.”

Both of them know that (Y/N) left her selfishness, something she adapted out of survival during her years as a stray on a backwater planet, long behind. Last, when she threw herself at a Stormtrooper, who tried to shoot Din from behind. Well, luckily the white armored soldiers are not a good shot and that (Y/N)’s brain hasn’t developed a rational sense yet.

“I know”, he replies with a smile audible in his voice, “You are purely acting out of egotistical reasons. Now go and eat, I know that you gave your most recent meal to the Child and if I remember correctly, you haven’t had anything in your belly for as long as I have.” Under his helmet, Din has a smug look on his face.

He can’t describe how much he feels for the foundlings he is caring for. It pains him already thinking about reuniting the Child with the Jedi and then finding survivors of (Y/N)’s species.

During the Empire, her planet was attacked for not surrendering to them. It was an important spot for trading, making it out to be a strategic asset. That’s something the Rebellion saw early on and used it to their advantage. When the chatter about an impending imperial attack grew louder as the Empire were unwilling to leave the innocent civilians out of the war, (Y/N)’s family sent her through a safety pod into the galaxy, hoping that some kind soul will save the child.

That’s all that Din knows about her life before he had found her. Or more like, the Child found her, as she was hiding in a clove of some building. He wandered off while the Mandalorian was negotiating with a merchant. It was like the green creature sensed her distress (which, with today’s knowledge about his powers, he probably did), cooing at the crying girl. When Din found them and realized that there is no one who is willing to take her in, he acted accordingly to his creed.

Just two hours later he regretted it, because he failed to recognize that teenagers in particular are a difficult species to handle. During their first day, he lived through more emotions with (Y/N) than he is able to count on his hands.

Luckily, everything has started falling into place, and now the clan of three is a better than ever team.

And so they continue their quest through the galaxies, looking for the Jedi and another species that probably has been erased.

[darshanoftheories]

Secret Summer Paradise Event

So I’ve started the new event, secret summer paradise and I want to talk about it.

First Idyia. Idyia is not a courageous person. We have found out that she doesn’t like to face her problems head on, she was really fine to be the team’s mascot, but she still does not want to feel useless (relatable). She is the caretaker of the domain, but, she also said that she did not make the domain. It isn’t hers. That opens up the question, who made this domain? The most possible answer would be Alice, Klee‘s mother. She already made the first summer domain, so it’s sensible that she set up this one, too. But as Alice is somewhere far away, Idyia agreed to invite Klee. I’m wondering what exactly the relationship between Idyia and Alice is. The letter said she was an old friend and I can’t help but be bothered by the way she looks. She looks like she fits a bit too perfectly into the domain. The water theme on her clothes, the glowing blue eyes, the wavy blue hair (I’m guessing you won’t get bleach and hairdye in that domain (unless maybe with the projectors)). I’m wondering when she begann to look like that. Because if she’s an old friend of Alice, she’s gonna be old too, and I don’t believe she had the water theme before she went into the bottle.

That is our cue to go to the next part, the three brothers. Now I can’t really go into detail about that family relation, but I do want to focus on their backstory. The brothers have had that relationship since before they got into the bottle. The youngest had already been sick and the others have always argued with each other. I think it was out of concern for each other, but whatever. Fact is, they got lost in the desert, the youngest passed out somewhere and the older ones argued until they went their separate ways. They shouldn’t have survived that. As far as I could tell based on their story, at the point where they found the bottle, they all were at different places, and yet they’re all in the bottle now. My best guess is that they won’t be able to leave the domain again. Lidyia has said that they have known each other for a longer time now, in which they probably haven’t left the domain. They are even working here, maintaining one part of it. Maybe they had (almost) died in the desert and the bottle took pity on them.

We know that the domain regularly gets visitors, such as that lawrence cousin (hard guess on who tried to take the parts), or even Kokomi and us, but we haven’t had a colour change. That’s another thing that makes me stop. Those brothers have the same blue eyes and hair like Lidyia. Even if before, you could chalk it up to Lidyia just happening to like the colour blue, with the brothers, it’s clear that the domain did this to them (or at least they wouldn’t look like that if they weren’t in the domain) funnily though, they don’t share the blue clothing, no it’s identifiable as an adventurer’s clothes (and clash horribly with the hair and eyes), so maybe that’s a mark that they haven’t been in the domain for as long as Lidyia, maybe they still can get out if they choose to do so. (I find the look of the domain a bit suspicious, too happy)

Anyway, I can’t wait for the story to progress, I’ll update this when I’ve got more.

[oddberryshortcake]

hAPPY BIRTHDAY TIA 💚🪷

Anyways, a vignette under read more,

Tia's Union Birthday Personal Story

Tia: I was told my NRC birthday interviewer was a surprise this year…I wonder who it is. 

Azul: Surprise~! Your presenter is me! Happy birthday!

Tia: Ah—! 

Azul: Did I spook you?

Tia: You did, I wasn’t expected a kind of entrance like that…You could have at least given me a warning. 

Azul: Then it wouldn’t have been much of a surprise now, would it? I’ve got my gift for you here, I would love it if you’d open it up right away!

Tia: You seem eager, alright then…

[Gift opened]

Tia: An apron! And not just any apron, a really nice one too! It’s embroidered with my name and even has a lily pattern sewn into it. This is gorgeous, Azul. 

Azul: I know just how important an apron is to a chef so I wanted to get you one that was made just for you! Since it’s your birthday, it’s free of charge!

Tia: Well, of course it is, it’s a gift…And a wonderful one. Thank you so much. How did you get it so personalized? 

Azul: My mother has owned many aprons during her long restaurant career. Even in the coral sea, chef’s need to keep themselves clean when preparing food. Every new apron she commissioned would be personalized for her, there was even one with me, her, and my step father illustrated on it…Of course that apron doesn’t exist anymore. 

Tia: Did your mother help you make this apron?

Azul: No, a sea apron wouldn’t have suited you, I commissioned a land artist instead. It was rather difficult, I had to get your measurements without you noticing. 

Tia: So that’s why you grabbed my waist during flight training. I thought you were scared so I let you hang onto me when we were on the brooms. 

Azul: It was all a carefully calculated ruse on my part. My apologies, but if you’ll try it on, you’ll see it fits perfectly!

Tia: It does! I’ve never had an apron that fit me so well before! I always wore hand-me-downs, especially from my brother and my dad. My dad cooked a lot when I was little, when I started cooking I borrowed his aprons. They reached past my feet and caused me to trip up a few times but I loved wearing them. They eventually became mine. I never grew into them, but they were mine regardless. 

Azul: I have noticed your tendency to lean more towards baggy clothing. Jade and I believed it to be a comfort preference, Floyd thought that it was because you are a ‘lil’ shrimpy’ as he calls it. 

Tia: Both are partly right. I am pretty small and I do like feeling comfortable, but more than all of that it’s because my clothes have belonged to someone important to me first. 

Azul: I think that’s very kind of you, Tia. Please view my gift as something someone important has given to you then. 

…

Azul: Let’s start the interview! We’ve got some fun questions this year! If you could have one person with you on a deserted island, who would you choose? You can’t pick someone from your dorm. 

Tia: That’s fine, I don’t think I’d survive long on a deserted island with Grim, and neither could he. A deserted island with only one person, huh…I’d have to choose Malleus. 

Azul: Malleus!?

Tia: What’s wrong with my answer?

Azul: Nothing is wrong, I’m just surprised. I thought for sure you would choose one of the Leech brothers, given that a deserted island implies that you are surrounded by nothing but water. Knowing you, you’d want nothing but to get off of that island as quickly as you can. 

Tia: That’s true, but I’d prefer to escape without touching the ocean at all. Malleus is incredibly gifted with his magic. I may not have magic myself, but I can see the difference between him and other people around him. He’s got great power, and if we were deserted together, neither of us would feel too upset because we wouldn’t be alone. I think we would put each other at ease and we could figure out a unique way to survive and escape.

Azul: You surely give very unique answers, Tia, but I understand you’re approach! In fact, It’s very profitable! Who wouldn’t want all of the magic of a fae prince at your disposal!

Tia: It’s so like you to spin everything I say into something else. 

...

Azul: Alright, next question! Who would you choose to be your sibling, same rules of the first question apply. 

Tia: I already have an older brother from my dimension. He’s very fun-loving but responsible. He’s guided me through a lot of tough times and encouraged me when I needed it the most. If I were to be a sibling to someone at this school, I’d want to be that kind of sibling to them. I’d have to choose Ruggie. 

Azul: You do know Ruggie is older and taller than you, right? 

Tia: I’m not saying I’d be his older sibling, just that I want to encourage him when he needs it most. We have some things in common, we both lost our parents and value the hustle of hard work. Whenever he helps around in my kitchen, I feel really proud of him. That’s how siblings should feel towards each other, I think. 

Azul: I’ve noticed how much you care for the students here at NRC. When you first came here, you tirelessly tried to escape back to your own dimension, yet now here you are making substantial relationships and a business that rivals my own. 

Tia: I still want to go home somehow, but so long as I’m stuck here, I want to do something with myself. I also want to be there for all these friends I’ve made. There’s a lot of pent up emotional baggage at this school. 

Azul: Oh, don’t remind me. Seriously. Don’t. 

Tia: That’s why when something bad happens, even when the conflict is resolved, I just can’t in good conscience leave someone alone. I always have to make sure they’re okay. 

Azul: It’s that kind of angelic behavior that puts you in with the small group of students who are way too nice for this school! 

Tia: It’s not angelic! It’s called being a good friend…It’s something I should’ve been from the beginning. 

...

Azul: Anyways, I got one last question for you. If you could transfer to another dorm, which would you transfer to?

Tia:…

Azul: What’s with that expression?

Tia: Well, you already know what I’m going to say so there’s no need to pretend you don’t know. 

Azul: I’d love to hear it in your own words!

Tia: Fine…If I had to transfer, it would be to Octavinelle. 

Azul: I wonder what could’ve swayed such a decision! Is my Mostro Lounge just that enticing?

Tia: I think valuing intelligence is a good virtue to have. With intelligence, you can complete tasks with efficiency and to the best of one’s ability. You can do whatever you want from talent, but intelligence plays a big part in how skill flourishes. And yes….Though I hate to admit it, your cafe is enticing. It’s so professional, I dream of owning a place similar to it someday with my own unique spin on it.

Azul: Dreams are a wonderful thing. I dream big quite a lot myself. You’d fit in well here, Tia. Maybe I can request the Leech brothers make some room for you. 

Tia: There’s no way I can leave Ramshackle. I was just answering a question. 

Azul: I know, I know! Say, since Ramshackle is a dorm you cultivated all by yourself that isn’t based on one of the Great Seven…What virtues would you give your dorm?

Tia: Dedication. Ramshackle values that of hard work and drive. My father told me that fairytales can come true, but you have to make them happen, it all depends on you. I don’t need magic to make my wishes come true, just my passion and skill. 

Azul: That’s…Incredibly inspirational! You could be one of the Great Seven yourself, or the missing Eighth! If only Grim worked hard as you do. 

Tia: He has his moments. You don’t see it, but he’s taken up some hard work with my influence. Sometimes he even wakes up earlier than I do to make me breakfast or a hot drink. 

Azul: That’s a sight I’d love to see someday! You’ll have to invite me over sometime, we can brainstorm about our businesses together. Now Tia, it seems we’ve reached the end of our interview. Now it’s time for me to give you your last gift, the gift of fortune!

Tia: What ‘gift of fortune?’ Why are you smiling like that? Wait- Deuce told me about this! I don’t care if it’s tradition I don’t want it!

Azul: There’s nothing to be afraid of Tia~ HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

*Horrible splatter sound*

TIA BIRTDHAY!

What a wonderful occasion! And big birthday wishes to the amazing gal! They deserve all the best things!

I hope she enjoys the big surprise party, compliments of all the dorms! I hope Ace and Grim didn’t spoil the surprise on the blindfolded walk to Heartslabyul — and please ignore the lime colored flaming beignets, Jamil didn’t chase Lilia out of the kitchen in time — but everything else should be in top shape! All the best for the dear!!

Happy birthday Tia! 🪷

what a perfect aesthetic shot, here’s the direct opposite

[ichayalovesyou]

THE BIG VULCAN BIOLOGY POST (aka Vulcan is a Hell Planet)

DISCLAIMER: I am not a biologist, astrophysicist, neurologist, animal psychologist or literally anything that would qualify me to talk about this with 100% confidence. This is the result of dozens of headcanons and obsessive deep dive research. I don’t want this post to be three miles long, so after I address the planetary stuff I will oblige y’all with a Read More.

Adsfasdkfjhaslkdfh I’ve been working on this post for almost a month SO HERE WE GO!

First of all, Vulcan (aka T’Khasi) is a HELL PLANET, which is part of the reason they’re so badass, I say this for the following reasons:

No moon(s) (natural satellites)

Sodium (Salt) is so rare on the planet that Vulcan’s oceans are freshwater

It’s a “Super-Earth” (as in big chonkin’ planet of similar composition to earth in the “goldilocks region”)

Let’s do this.

“Vulcan has no moon Ms. Uhura.”

-Spock, The Man Trap

Tons of things change about our planet if there was no moon:

Much darker nights (no moonlight)

Much lower sea levels since there is no gravity from the moon to pull it upward.

Lower and weaker tides because the water is pulled by the sun instead of the moon, and it depends on how large the Vulcan solar system’s sun is for how big the waves are.

Stronger winds from faster planet rotation.

Depending on whether the axis of the planet would straighten or tilt further without the moon’s pull, combined with the faster rotation would lead to more severe seasons (strong tilt) or no seasons at all (no tilt)

The first factor may lead to Vulcan eyes being very catlike even if they aren’t nocturnal (I think they’re crepesucular but we’ll get into that later). Which given the likely nature of their blood and their herbivorous eating habits they probably aren’t. The sky would still be so dark that our human eyes couldn’t even see our hands in front of us, being blind when the sun goes down could be a death sentence. Alternatively, if they didn’t develop strong night vision that may be one of the reasons why they have such strong senses of hearing.

The stronger winds, faster rotation, and stronger (or nonexistent) seasons come from the lack of resistance and friction that stronger tides and the moon’s pull create on our planet. I suspect that Vulcan is larger, or at least denser than Earth, but I’ve been informed that according to the TMP novelization that it does rotate faster. I also think that Vulcan’s tilt is on the more extreme end to get the hostile extremes like storms and heat that we see on Vulcan.

If you look at this image of Vulcan, water covers way less of the planet’s surface than Earth. I don’t think this is necessarily because Vulcan has less water, but that it isn’t spread as far because of the lack of moon, and the fact that the oceans are freshwater, I’ll get into that shortly.

“My ancestors spawned from a different ocean than yours.”

-Spock, The Man Trap

In the Star Trek: The Original Series (third) pilot The Man Trap, there is a creature that kills its victims by draining their bodies completely of salt. Spock encounters the creature but does not die, implying his (and Vulcans overall) body contains little to no salt. His justification is that his species did not evolve from a salinized ocean.

What does it mean to have oceans with no salt?

This has to mean that sodium is a very rare mineral on Vulcan, as the reason our oceans are so salinized is due to erosion of minerals by rainfall, carried from river to ocean. Salt in the ocean is also generated by submarine volcanic activity, which means either that the volcanoes on Vulcan (which we definitely know exist) somehow don’t produce salt, or the vast majority of the submarine volcanoes have been inactive for millions if not billions of years. The active volcanoes on Vulcan must be very far inland and/or Vulcan has almost no rivers, which given how hot the planet is, wouldn’t actually be too much of a stretch of the imagination.

Which means every single lifeform on T’Khasi, including Vulcans, evolved biosystems that exist without (or with very little) salt content. Any salt that exists would likely be deep beneath the planet’s surface, and within volcanoes.

No saltwater has a ton of consequences:

Plants (like underwater algae) are rarer and may not photosynthesize the same way Earth plants do, meaning less oxygen and more carbon dioxide, which means more greenhouse effect, which means higher temperatures.

The lack of salt would also mean less diverse plant life (at least as humans know it) and given the lack of visible rivers and vast swaths of desert on Vulcan, we can safely say vegetation must be hardier and infrequent.

Lower sea levels as the oceans would have lower density due to lack of salt.

Little to no water convection, which salt is crucial for on Earth. Which means warm ocean water doesn’t move to cold regions and vice versa. Creating extremes, the equator being obscenely hot, and polar waters freezing at the poles more extensively.

Lack of convection means more frequent and stronger storms like hurricanes.

If you thought the lack of a moon made Vulcan inhospitable, compound it with the low sodium factor and you’ve got a planet of even more severe extremes than before. The heat, and the decrease of plant diversity definitely explain why the vast majority of Vulcan is rocky desert, even being near the water poses more extreme dangers than it would on earth due to the increased frequency of hurricanes.

“Mr. Spock is much stronger than an ordinary human being.”

-Kirk, This Side of Paradise

I am almost 100% sure that Vulcan is either bigger or denser than Earth. Which would explain why Vulcans are so much stronger than Humans and other species that exist on similar gravity worlds.

Effects of a high-gravity planet or “Super-Earth” include:

Everything is shorter or has very strong foundations, plants, animals, structures, and people.

More “Armageddon” class asteroids would hit the planet (like the one that killed the dinosaurs and created the Gulf of Mexico)

Larger liquid mantle under the planet’s surface, higher pressure under the surface as well.

Weaker magnetic field due to lack of convection in the planet’s core (not to be confused with the mantle interacting with the planet’s crust). Which means a weaker atmosphere, lower magnetism in surface metals, and increased vulnerability to solar flares.

More volcanically and seismically active due the the increase in the mantle’s size and generated heat, more earthquakes, and more volcanic eruptions.

Would have to have a smaller sun but be closer in orbit to it than earth.

Extremely deep oceans, potentially with water under so much pressure at the bottom that it becomes solid like ice. Luckily Vulcan is not an ocean world, because the pressure would block the planet’s core from interacting with the atmosphere, which would prevent life as we know it from happening.

There is plenty of evidence for this on so many levels. We never see any plant life similar to trees on Vulcan. Nor animals significantly larger than Vulcans, the ones that are bigger are much more muscular. Vulcan’s sky is more red than blue because of the lack of oxygen molecules for the light from the sun to filter as blue. I actually headcanon that Spock is unusually tall for a Vulcan because of his human heritage (Leonard Nimoy was around 6ft tall) , and may have had heart and muscle problems in his teens and early adulthood while on Vulcan.

Perhaps Vulcans are the result of many more extinction level events than we are, contributing to their hardiness. Perhaps they are, evolutionarily, not too much older than we are, and had more incentive to develop extraterrestrial technology than we have, so that they could repel Armageddon Class meteors and defend their planet against Solar Flares? Space travel being born out of self-preservation rather than curiosity. Which would absolutely account for their attitudes in the beginning of Star Trek: Enterprise.

It could be that Vulcans still maintain a semi-nomadic lifestyle even today because their planet is so incredibly volatile. Unsentimental and utilitarian in anything less than the most sacred of architecture long before they adopted the teachings of Surak. Their own survival more valuable than any structure that would inevitably be damaged or destroyed by their planet’s harsh environment.

In summary, Vulcan is a Nightmare Planet because:

So, so many much natural disasters, like, so many, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, tsunamis, hurricanes, twisters, just, so many more than Earth.

Water is relegated to specific locations in the world rather than spread across it due to lack of flow and lower sea levels.

Extreme temperature changes, intense heat, intense cold, hard to breathe, stronger gravity.

Due to the planet’s hostility, there is a smaller diversity of life than we have here on earth, which means fewer and hardier food sources that, like Vulcans, are very difficult to kill.

So… How do they handle it? What features have they developed to adapt and thrive in such an inhospitable place?

First thing is first, lets talk about

BLOOD

“My hemoglobin is based on copper, not iron.”

-Spock, Obsession

Funny thing is Spock, it’s not hemoglobin at all! It’s hemocyanin! In fact, there are earth animals that have it, among them Horseshoe Crabs, crustaceans, mollusks and spiders!

Hemocyanin is blue when it hasn’t been exposed to oxygen, and blue-green when it has, according to some sources on Vulcans their blood is orangey red when unexposed to air and that’s why they have pink lips and so on, but we can brush that off as chemical variation within their hemocyanin. Better yet, maybe it’s trendy for Vulcans to wear pink lipstick nowadays, ‘cause Surak knows how horny Humans and Vulcans are for each other XD! Anyway!

Hemocyanin does quite a few things that our blood can’t, it’s uniquely built for high pressure, low oxygen environments, as well as endure temperature extremes like cold (not unlike nights on their planet). Not only that, but it coagulates and clots WAY faster than our blood. Which means wounds seal themselves off from harmful bacteria and stop bleeding much faster than hemoglobin. Pair that with the Vulcan ability to enter a healing torpor, no wonder Spock keeps surviving environments and wounds that would definitely have killed a human.

Now, the animals I listed don’t have veins, which for us carry oxygen around via hemoglobin, so it’s possible that the same difference that causes Vulcan blood to be a coppery orange-red beneath the skin, is the same reason they have veins. Allowing them to look more like us and lack the exoskeletons and deep ocean delving that their earth blood cousins have.

“The ship’s temperature is increasingly uncomfortable for me. I’ve adjusted the environment in my quarters to 125 degrees.”

-(Elderly) Spock, The Deadly Years

Oh goodie, the Vulcan blood temperature discourse has arrived, the age old question, are Vulcans warm-blooded or cold-blooded? The answer to this question is

YES

I am firmly in the small (but hopefully growing) camp Vulcans Are Heterothermic. Among the earth animals we know to be heterothermic are bumblebees, several species of bats, the opah fish, and the arctic ground squirrel. Of all these animals, despite the opposite temperature intensity of Vulcan’s environment, I’m basing how Vulcans function on the last one, the arctic squirrel.

Which means they can deliberately control their body temperature in accordance to the needs of their survival. I imagine, just as arctic ground squirrels can drop their body below zero as needed (entering what is called a “daily torpor”) Vulcans can do the same. In turn, they could possibly skyrocket their bodies to temperatures that would be a lethal fever for humans. Which makes both McCoy’s “nonexistent Vulcan metabolism” comments in various episodes, as well as describing his blood as “ice water” make sense. As well as Spock being able to handle the heightened body temperature caused by Henoch in “Return to Tomorrow”. It also explains why Spock was in far better shape than Bones in the freezing temperatures of the planet from “All Our Yesterdays”.

However, like arctic squirrel newborns, they start out as ectothermic (cold-blooded) which lends itself to the Vulcan infants needing even more skin to skin to survive than humans theory by @acesexualspock. Being born cold blooded would prevent them from immediately dying the second they were exposed to the dangerous extremes of Vulcan’s heat. I also think they slowly lose the ability to control their metabolic rate as they grow older, slowing down dramatically as they age, which is why Spock gets increasingly colder as he ages rapidly in “The Deadly Years”.

“The brightness of the Vulcan sun has caused the development of an inner eyelid.”

-Spock, Operation: Annihilate

I wanna thank @tribbleland for inspiring this part in particular.

I want to offer a special congratulations to furries people who let their love for anthro-cats bleed into their love for Vulcans, turns out Vulcans are very catlike! Like our feline Terran friends, Vulcans have what is called a Nicitating Membrane. It’s functions that would serve Vulcans well in their desert home include spreading moisture across the eye, protect the eye from small water and small debris (like sand for example), as well as protecting the eye from ultraviolet radiation, which is more or less what Spock said in that episode. Other animals that have Nicitating Membranes aside from felines is actually the majority of the animal kingdom, and primates (like us) are the exception and not the rule. I also subscribe to the idea that Vulcans have other desert dweller features like thick hair and eyelashes, sealable nostrils, big feet, a crepuscular sleep cycle (avoiding extreme midnight and midday temperatures), and a tough as nails digestive system!

As an added bonus fact since this section is pretty short: It makes purrfect sense for Vulcans to purr! In cats purring is an emotional regulator when they are angry or scared (Vulcans are ALL about regulating their emotions) as well as purring when they are happy. It is also a mechanism for healing themselves, their kittens, and their owners, the frequency at which cats purr (25-140 Hz) cover the same frequencies that are therapeutic for bone growth and fracture healing, pain relief, swelling reduction, wound healing, muscle growth and repair, tendon repair, and mobility of joints. I’m over here getting emotional about the mental image of like, Spock or Tuvok or smth sitting next to a wounded crewmember and just like, purring with a completely straight face and that is soft and just a little funny and I am emotionally compromised.

“And are it’s natives predatory?” “Not generally, but there have been exceptions.”

-Spock to Trelaine, The Squire of Gothos

Surprise! This isn’t just going to be about Vulcan dietary needs, it’s gonna be about animal behaviors and self-domestication as well! I was trying to think of herbivores that are capable of eating meat, and then this idea hit me like a bomb going of in my head-

Vulcans are like Hippos!

I don’t mean I think they used to be hippo-like (visually anyway) somewhere along the evolutionary line. I mean that they were probably big, extremely aggressive, pack roaming herbivores that are able to eat carrion when food is scarce. Have you ever seen a video of a group of Hippos smashing an alligator to smithereens? They kill more humans than any solitary predator on the African continent! What about a murder of crows killing a cat that injured one of them, or a group of bison saving a calf from a lion?! Herbivores can be insanely aggressive while still being social, plant-eating animals.

With that in mind, let’s talk about self-domestication! This is something that we humans (and to an extent, cats too) did way back in our biology according to some studies, we bred out aggression and bred in cooperativeness and curiosity. Cats, while partially domesticated by us, started looking for mates that were more sociable so that their offspring could exist closer to humans (and their food) as well as to tolerate other cats. While I do think Vulcans self-domesticated to a degree, I do not think they were able to do so nearly to the same extent as humans or our deliberately domesticated companions. Vulcan is a harsh, violent, and unforgiving planet, even more so than Earth, if Vulcans were naturally as friendly and curious as we Humans are now, they would not have survived as a species.

I believe this is why their emotions are so primal and strong, and things like Pon Farr and their unusually high wariness of the new and unexpected still exist so strongly. How do they live together in such high numbers and develop a functional society? They developed other means of coping as a work-around the impracticality of decreasing aggression!

“Call it a deep understanding of the way things happen to Vulcans.”

-Spock, The Immunity Syndrome

So, how do you have a species as aggressive, unforgiving, and frighteningly strong as Vulcans keep from completely destroying itself (aside from Surak’s teachings)? You take the empathy that humans already have, turn it up to 11, and tack on every evolutionary possibility to increase it. We already know how the Earth comparisons for Vulcan empathy: the extreme vitality of touch for the survival and emotional stability, cats purring to heal each other and themselves (and regulate emotions), nonverbal communication, the ancestral instincts of an infant animal being able to walk days after its born. What if we had all of these traits in remarkable spades, Vulcans certainly seem to! (Be prepared, the science starts getting a little squidgy because there are no real world comparisons and neurology research is very jargon heavy)

Electricity is a fundamental part of the biology of nearly all living things, it allows synapses to fire, regulates our internal organs, and gives us our senses of touch and movement. Skin to skin is so incredibly vital to the survival of infants, and the emotional stability for adults, that needing any more touch could be impractical and counterintuitive. So what if we got more from less? What if our sense of touch, and the acuteness of being able to read the emotions of others from body language and touch manifested as a form of what looks like from an outsider’s perspective, telepathy!

Now what if the radius of the sensation of touch could be extended much farther, say being able to sense someone to the same intensity I described in the last paragraph, like, through a wall or from across a room? What if you could connect to other lifeforms with the same ability like a chain circuit that could connect a whole species together in one giant circuitboard? I just described what Vulcans call the kwar’ma’khon, the telepathic energy that connects all Vulcans to each other!

Imagine having this same intense telepathic connection to someone for an extended period of time, like a t’hy’la or Bond Mate. What if you had a relatively easy to master non-lethal attack against other members of your species, that comes to you easily due to your intrinsic understanding of nerves and touch, like the Vulcan Nerve Pinch. In turn, what if, through the intensity of this connection you could transfer everything you knew and saw and felt to another person in the event of your death. That way, if you survived the harshness of your world without dying violently or unexpectedly, you could deliberately pass on that knowledge and those instincts to your next of kin, like the Katra. (thanks @distractedducky @spacedancer1701 & @find-me-in-outer-space)

Now, that’s A LOT of empathy on top of A LOT of aggression, if you don’t have a work around for any of these, as a species you’d be rendered a complete emotional wreck pretty much 24/7 (or whatever the time cycles for Vulcan are). Which is where @ineffablebuddies theory that Vulcans can control, or at least mitigate their incredibly strong emotional reactions the same way they control their nervous system and metabolic rate. Which is how they are able to be touch telepathic, able to enter a torpor at will, and be heterothermic in the first place. The only reason Vulcans come off as unemotional to us is because we simply do not see and feel the way that they can. Unlike us, because of their ability to control their own internal chemistry, if they follow Surak’s teachings and/or Syrranite ideology, they can take that emotional regulation to the extreme.

(BIG EXHALE) Congratulations on getting through this insanely long post! I hope you enjoyed it, if you want sources on any of my non-tumblr post research just let me know in the notes. LLAP! 💚🖖🏻💚

[mythic-raccoon]

The way I see each Empire and it’s people (some with more detail than others, depending on who I watch)

Rivendell: Probably the most nationalist empire; they live thousands of years and have millennia of history. They are the “true” elvenkind and their ruler is the sole Elvenking. With all that said, they are a charitable people, so long as you respect their beliefs. For centuries they have remained fairly separate from the rising and falling of other empires, only helping individuals or families, never on a federal level. They are somewhat conservative and quite religious, they believe that whatever one does us for the good of society. This means that gay sex is frowned upon due to the fact that it will not result in procreation. This does not apply to trans/any non-cis elf because you don’t have to procreate, it’s that if you do engage in such activities, you should be doing so for the benefit of all, not frivolities. This also means romantic relationships are fine, a married group doesn’t have to bear children, though they do have to be a “beneficial pairing” (the union has to be able to be useful as a union). Poly relations are sometimes encouraged, as more work can be done in larger groups. Elves are weird, but Elvenking Smajor is working on it (and attempting to prove that a marriage alliance with the Codfather is worthwhile).

Pixandria: The desert lands will not last after Pixlriffs dies, his legacy will be a hub of trades and the vigil. The people under the burning sun are very independent; the more people you have to care for, the less water to go around. They respect death as inevitable, and honor the eldest for being wily enough to outwit it for as long as they have. Most desert folk are either elven or dwarvish, but it matters to no one what you are. If you can survive the desert, or make yourself useful, species don’t matter. Very few care for the law, and gender/sexuality standards are nonexistent. It doesn’t exactly matter if you’re an aromantic, bisexual, trans woman when you can’t use a weapon and get mauled by a lion. If you do it to survive then whatever happens is fair game (this does include cannibalism), unless you betray your own. A traitor or a dealbreaker is the worst thing you can be. If you go back on your word then you can’t be trusted and if you can’t be trusted, you’re of no use to anyone at all.

The Grimlands: No Grimmish citizen is born one, you either come from another land or last long enough after birth to apply. This isn’t an “only the worthy” situation. It’s to prevent you from wasting your time removing your citizenship when you realize there’s a 94% chance of getting blown up because the Counts/Countesses tend to be *moderately* insane. This applies to the ruling family, so when Gem decided she would rather blow herself up from a backfired fireworks spell, she applied for the Crystal Cliffs Academy of the Glowing Arts. The Grimlands has an extensive education program, and has the highest percentage of scientists/librarians/educators, they’re all at least a little of their rocker but it’s a very effective system. If you aren’t one of those, odds are you’re an alchemist, mechanic, metalforger, butcher, or some mix of the four. The Grimmish are predominantly male due to the fact they’re more often more muscular, but it doesn’t really matter to anyone. No one cares about your sexuality and though it is tradition to refer to the current Count as “Daddy Fwhip,” you are generally obligated to not be too effusive in public, no matter who you’re partner is, due to the fact it takes away from work time. It is also encouraged to drop everything (unless you’re a doctor, ill, injured, or in labor) and watch for the tinkerer’s most recent project implode.

The Crystal Cliffs: Most of the residents are graduates of the Crystal Cliffs Academy of the Glowing Arts, or sent over to be reformed by other empires (they used to be sent to the Overgrown, but Lady Katherine has proven less than talented at curbing murderous intent, she tends to exacerbate it). No one is a citizen of the Cliffs, most are just extended boarders. Even the Grand Wizard isn’t one, they may leave to return home at whim (though it is encouraged to pass on the hat if you do so for extended periods of time. Particularly if you are among the elderly, it’s rather difficult to retrieve once it’s become a family heirloom). Everyone knows everyone there, though you wouldn’t know it from how subdued they all seem. When it comes to sexuality and gender, the Cliffs are the most accepting (along with the Undergrove) being one of four to be actively supportive of you (rather than some variation of disinterested, uncaring, or some level disapproving in the case of Rivendell and the Overgrown). They are also one of two where it is frowned upon to not ask for pronouns, and one of five to normalize asking. If you were studious enough, or kind enough, to be accepted into the lands as a resident/boarder, you’ll do just fine.

The Overgrown: Much like Rivendell, those of the Overgrown tend to be rather prideful. To be a citizen you must have been blessed by the Watchers, gifted with a magical green thumb and a long life. Ruled by a central court of fae, the Overgrown has a strict hierarchy and the Watchers dictate who goes where. How else would someone who beheads anything and everything for a plushy business become the ruler of a pacifist people? It’s only because she has enough charisma to ally with every empire, and they are interested in these ones. It is their sacred duty to tend to and best utilize the crop of the Overgrown, and where you are in the ranks dictates your authority and access. The lowest aren’t permitted in the gardens, greenhouses, or field (these are the butchers, manufacturers, doctors, etc.)

The Ocean Empire: There has been one queen for longer than anyone can remember, herself included. No one knows exactly how old the empire is, though they do know it was before the seas retreated from the mountain shores. Until recently, the people have remained deep below the waves, unable to see the passage of time. Now they have risen, bringing a great palace to greet all of the new nations, most brimming with an unfamiliar but astoundingly strong power. They were the first, and will be the last. Their queen may hardly remember her power, but as long as she lives (as long as the oceans endure, rippling with primordial power) they will flourish. These people are reclusive, they obey the queen but otherwise stay in small family groups, the only consistent thing between them is the faith in the primordial gods and (for the most part) a distaste for salmon.

Mezalea: Unlike those of the desert, the people of the Mesa believe that life is only meaningful when one leaves a mark. Their land will endure enternally in the image of the king, and the structures will never fall to the sands. Their utmost faith in the ability to carve a personal path without outside influence prevents the corruption taking hold since demons rely on being able to influence others to gain power and survive.

The Undergrove: The other most accepting land, the land of mushrooms and wood is the bridge between nature spirits and civilization. The majority of the citizens are refugees or those who just needed somewhere safe. Everyone respects everyone and no one asks, sometimes people will share with others, but it’s not exactly common. Shrub will banish you at a moments notice if you don’t accept or respect others.

The Lost Empire: After a series of plotting Royals overthrowing each other, the nation is in shambles and is eager to rejoin the round table of empires when a new king, the son of the last legitimate one, takes the crown and sets out to rebuild their lands. These people are skittish and reserved, they are unquestionably loyal to their king, and welcomed Xornoth with his promises of power and stability with open arms.

Mythland: They are literally the stereotypical image of a medieval European kingdom with a popular and charismatic king. They are by far the most self-reliant empire, since they don’t focus too much on any singular aspect. The citizenry is primarily human and they put a particular emphasis on learning a craft.

The Cod Empire: The smallest empire, and the only one with citizens equally likely to call their king an idiot as they are to sing his praises. Adaptable and generally easygoing, a friend of the king is a friend of their’s. While there is an official council of advisors, most are able to propose a change as the Codfather does his daily errands and it will be considered.

Smallholding/The Beanstalk Kingdom: The other self-reliant empire, they have the largest (and probabky strongest) military, and no end to their food supply. Rulers are chosen by the people, generally are the strongest or the most helpful.

I got tired at the end, y’all can request elaboration on any and all of these :D

[phoenixyfriend]

👀 PLease tell us your thoughts about the Jedi babies re-growing up among different cultural contexts.

Oh fuck okay

Context: original post, chrono The specific post this ask is referencing: here

Summary of the AU: Disaster lineage got tossed back in time. Anakin stayed 21-ish, but Obi-Wan and Ahsoka got deaged, took new names for time-travel reasons (Ylliben and Sokanth, or Ben and Soka), are now staying with the True Mandalorians under Jaster Mereel because the Force said to, go back to the Temple after about a decade. They grabbed Shmi about three months after arriving.

So as far as the cultural background goes, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka had similar upbringings. She spent a few years on Shili first, but both spent the majority of their childhoods up to age 13/14 being raised in the creche. So that's the basis that they would default to, in a vacuum.

Nobody is raised in a vacuum.

Along with the Jedi cultural background, they're being raised by Tatooine natives in a Mandalorian environment.

Shmi and Anakin are both former slaves who have desert survival baked into their bones. The longer Anakin spends around her, the more his accent slips, the more he talks about old folktales, the more he uses idioms that don't exist on a cityplanet like Coruscant. All the things that he tamped down to be a Jedi come floating back to the surface, and Shmi's never known anything else. Anakin's knowledge of slave customs make her feel more comfortable, which in turn makes him feel better, and so on.

Mandalore is just... the culture they're living in. You don't grow up in a new culture with a new language without picking up on it personally. (Source: I moved to the US when I was a little under two years old.)

I think the thing I'm going to focus on as an example is the way each of these cultures approaches family, and then maybe how they approach the keeping of peace/what peace means.

Jedi: Where you come from means little, only the legacy you leave behind in your students. Mandalore: You protect your clan and your children; adoption is a major cultural value, if not actually practiced consistently. Tatooine: You can lose your family at any time, so you value what you have in all its forms. You don’t forget where and who you came from, to family of blood and family of choice alike. You cling to your memories and what little you still have of them, to what your master cannot take away.

These are all valid ways to approach family, and each of these approaches can have significant meaning to different people. But they do all, to a certain degree, conflict with one another, despite all three being fairly communal cultures.

The Jedi have a culture, one that’s built on a shared ability and religion over thousands of years. It’s not just an organization, but a continuous community with legends and traditions and art and records. But it’s one that is built on new blood coming in from the outside, volunteers who join because the religion speaks to them (near literally, given the nature of Force Sensitivity), given up by families who couldn’t or wouldn’t teach them in a way that let their talents flourish instead of pushing it all down.

For the Jedi, a culture built on people coming together due to something they have in common intrinsically that their families of blood do not, it makes sense to put emphasis on letting go of that past when they can, and to place importance on teaching lineages. It’s not just the official master-padawan pairs, either, but that’s the most obvious and easily paralleled element. Moreover, a lot of the Jedi culture is about gaining knowledge, so obviously spreading it is good, and also on supporting the galaxy to make it a better place; to view the Jedi order as a heavily communal culture would make sense, since their values are all about selfless betterment of the universe, which on a larger scale is about the galactic conflicts, but on a smaller scale is about supporting their own community, the children and the ill and elderly.

So that is the specific culture that Obi-Wan and Ahsoka grew up in, one that holds blood family as relevant but not particularly crucial to one’s identity, but is structured so people leave behind legacies through education in a manner that often becomes adoptive family (depending on your definition, I guess). Jedi are encouraged to connect to their home cultures, if not their families, with practices like the coming of age hunt for Togruta leading to the young Jedi taking a trip out to Shili to engage in that cultural milestone. This can also be viewed as a way for the Jedi to maintain personal connections to the wider universe, a (not entirely successful, but certainly attempted) way of keeping them from becoming too isolated and insular from the universe at large, and losing touch from what the galaxy actually needs of them.

They’re now growing up with two cultures that do place emphasis on blood and found family.

Mandalore, as presented in The Mandalorian, has their traditional values set as being heavily associated with their armor, battle skills, and childcare. While that’s clearly a set of values that aren’t actually followed by everyone with full sincerity, we can assume that these stated cultural values do have at least some impact on the way the society is structured, since we do see more traditional characters (Jaster, Din) adopt orphaned children and then have the Mandalorian elements of their immediate circles support that claim.

(We’ll ignore Jango and the whole clone army thing because the amount of Sith influence is up for debate and also holy trauma, Batman.)

However, we also see that a lot of Mandalorian culture is built on their family histories. On the New Mandalorian side, we see emphasis placed on the fact that Satine is House Kryze and that she’s a duchess. Her bloodline is relevant, though not the most important thing about her. On the Death Watch side, we have Pre and Tor placing emphasis on the fact that they’re Clan Vizsla, descended from Tarre, that this is important to why they deserve what the darksaber represents, this is part of why they not only deserve to lead, but should for the good of Mandalore.

Bo-Katan’s armor is a family heirloom. Boba’s armor was Jango’s, but before being Jango’s, it was Jaster’s. Armor is important enough to pass to family, but the family can be adopted. This all tracks.

The resol’nare specifies loyalty and care for the clan/tribe among the six tenets.

These two elements seem relatively well-balanced: the importance of adoption and the importance of family as a larger unit on the level of a house or clan.

And then you have Tatooine, which also balances blood and adoption, but for entirely different reasons, that being this: it can always be taken from you.

For all that a Mandalorian could historically expect their family to die in battle, and a Jedi could expect to lose their master the same way if things went poorly, those were usually choices. A Mandalorian was raised to walk into battle, and then they could make that choice to do so. It wasn’t often much of a choice, but they could feasibly turn their back and choose to be a farmer or a doctor or something, and support the people who went out to do battle instead of being the one on the field themselves. A Jedi could choose to be a healer or an archivist or join one of the Corps.

A slave does not get that choice. A slave can be killed or sold on a whim from their master. It’s not a one-time trauma, but an ever-present fear. Your parent, your child, your sibling, your spouse, all of them can be separated from you at any time. You can always lose them, and you have no choice but to grin and bear it, or try to run and die before you reach freedom.

In a context like that, I imagine Tatooine places a very heavy emphasis on family, both of blood and of choice, and on treasuring what you have while you have it. A person is always aware that they can lose whoever they have in their life, and so they make the most of their times together, have clear and consistent ways of expressing that love (I imagine primarily direct verbal confirmations and physical contact, practical gifts like water and fruit). Childcare is important, elders are venerated. Those who survived that far have valuable wisdom, and the children are to be given what happiness they can have before reality wipes that ability from them.

The family ‘networks’ among Tatooine slaves are smaller and tighter knit. There’s less trust for outsiders, but once you’re in, you’re in until you are taken away. Still, families are torn apart regularly, and often can’t contact each other after being separated if they’re sold far enough away, so families stay small because they’re always being broken up. Unlike Mandalore’s tribe/clan system, or the Jedi’s wide, loosely-structured community, Tatooine’s slaves form smaller groups that cling for as long as they can, and try to support each other. (There are selfish ones, of course, especially the newbies, but... well. Most try.)

Tatooine is also much more likely to assign a familial role (e.g. referring to an elder as ‘grandmother’). It’s not uncommon in the others (multiple Jedi refer to their masters as a parent or sibling, like Anakin’s “you’re like a father to me” line), but it’s not as baked-in that such a role should be given.

So on a structural level, we have two people from a community culture with little emphasis on blood family or formal familial roles are now being raised in a community that has them asking “what can you do for the people around you first, and then the wider world?” by people who tell them “your family, blood and found, is the most important thing you have; never let anyone take more from you than they possibly can.”

And that shit has an effect.

For all that Sokanth and Ylliben were once raised with a knowledge that their duty, their goal, was to better the galaxy as a whole, they are now being told that the community that raises them asks their loyalty back, because societies are built on support networks, and if you support the tribe, it will support you. There are parallels to that kind of thinking among Jedi, because it is basic social theory, but it’s not presented as the same kind of cultural value. It’s not given as something to strive for, just a basic fact.

This, for instance, means that once they’re back at the Temple, they have a tendency towards suggesting study groups and other ways of supporting people in their immediate circle, often structured in very unfamiliar ways. Again, this isn’t uncommon among Jedi, but it’s not done in the same way, or with the same emphasis. The Jedi also often approach problem-solving in a different order, so the step of “meditate on it and you may find your solution” often comes before “gather information from people who know more about it than you do,” while Ben and Soka have by this point learned to do it the other way around, because that’s what the Mandalorian system taught them: rely on your family first.

Meanwhile, the Tatooine element of their upbringing has them being much more willing to just... casually refer to ‘my dad’ and ‘my sister’ and so on. They use those words. It’s not just “my master is like a father to me,” but “this is my father.” They don’t hesitate to talk about the family they had and still have in Mandalorian space. None of the Jedi begrudge them it, really, but it’s always a shock to hear for the first time, and between the Tatooine refusal to pretend the connection is gone and the Mandalorian tendency to err on the side of roughhousing as affection, they’re just... odd. It’s not like none of the other Jedi know family outside the Order--some of the old books had Obi-Wan visiting his brother on Stewjon once in a while--or like none of the active Jedi are loud or boisterous, but the specific manner in which Soka and Ben interact with the Order, especially when their dad is around, is very weird.

More Soka than Ben, really, but that’s mostly just because Ben’s a very quiet person until he gets a little older, so it’s harder to notice on him.

Point is, while they still hold to their duty to the wider galaxy and will continue to keep that duty above almost anything else in their lives, the way they talk and act about the subject of family, especially in private, is heavily influenced by their new cultures.

This is already very long but I promised I’d talk about peace so let’s go:

The Jedi seek peace as an absence of war and conflict in the portion of the galaxy under their purview, in hopes that they will prevent as much suffering and death as they can.

The Mandalorians are varied, but Jaster Mereel’s group (which is the community the Skywalkers are with) is likely to view peace as unrealistic to achieve in the long term. They do not seek war, but they know the world they live in, and are prepared to protect against violence as their first resort. They always expect an attack, even if they don’t seek it.

The Slaves of Tatooine view peace as the calm in a storm. It is the status quo. Nobody has escaped tonight, for the guards aren’t searching, but neither is anyone dead. The Master you have is in a good enough mood to not sell you, to not kill you, to not beat you. Peace as an absence of suffering is impossible, so you seek for your master to be peaceful, that is to say: not raging at you.

The scope of each of these narrows significantly. From the known galaxy, to the wars that meet Mandalorian space, to the household one serves.

A community like the Jedi can choose to address peace as something to be sought on a large scale as an absence of war. They primarily function within the borders of the Republic, which has its problems but is largely structured to prevent such things from occurring until the Sith interfere. The Jedi have a structure that allows them to address peace as an ideal to be sought, at least within the borders of the territory they serve.

Mandalore, meanwhile, has been at war on and off for... ever. When they are not at war with themselves, they’re at war with someone else. ‘Peace’ is just the time between wars, and they know that if they do not attack first, they will be forced to defend. Jaster Mereel was known as the Reformer, and part of that was that instituting a code of honor, one that was intended to prevent Mandalorian warriors from acting as raiders and brigands, but rather acting as honorable hired soldiers, or taking roles such as the Journeyman Protectors. Given that, I imagine that he views war as something inevitable, but also something that can be mitigated.

War doesn’t touch Tatooine.

Oh, it might raise taxes and import rates. It might prevent visitors who come for the races. It can do a lot of things.

But to a slave, these are nothing. The only thing war does is affect the master, the person who chooses when their slaves get water, when they get beaten, when they are no longer useful enough to keep around or keep alive.

The peace of a slave’s live is dictated by how much abuse they are subjected to by the person who owns them.

What this means for Soka and Ben is... well, they are viewed as war-hungry by the people who don’t know them very well. They have armor. They focus on fighting, both with and without their sabers. They know tactics better than most masters. They claim that war is coming, and don’t seem too sad about it.

(It is a fact to them. War will come. All they can do is meet it. They’ve already done their mourning once.)

They also... well, Shmi tells them things in hidden corners. How to duck their head to hide the hate or fear in their eyes. How to watch for the anger in the tendons of a hand. The laugh of someone who enjoys the pain they’ve caused, not just the adrenaline of a fight. She is free, and so are they, but she has not forgotten how to hide in the shadows until the master’s ire has turned elsewhere. How to be small and quiet and unseen until the danger passes.

A Jedi’s first resort is words. Their second is their saber. But the Jeedai hold their heads high, and the Mandalorians do the same.

“You rely on the Force, and you have your pride,” she tells them, her hands on their own. “But there will come a time when you will not be able to remind people that you are free. You will not be able to say that you are a person, that you deserve the respect of a living sentient. Perhaps it will be a politician who treats everyone like that. Perhaps you will be captured by an enemy. Perhaps you will be undercover. You will not be able to fight, with words or with weapons, and you will have to know how to survive.”

Tatooine does not have peace. Tatooine only has survival.

And while Jedi fight for the survival and peace of the universe, they are refined and composed. Mando’ade fight like warriors of old, and Tatooine slaves fight like cornered, rabid anooba.

The galaxy comes first, but when the chips are down and the Sith come out to play, Soka and Ben do not need refinement, because they know how to toss aside their pride and live.

[abbidavisart]

Silver Millennium Sailor Princesses and Species Breakdown Once again heavily inspired by @emsartwork ‘s Winx art I know a lot of people tend to base the solar system species in various historical Earth cultures, but I wanted to avoid making them too human-ish. I wanted to explore; “Besides magic, what would a species need to survive on or around these planets?” as well as “How can I connect their powers to their respective planets?” Hardcore infodump under the cut Part 2 (Outers) Disclaimer; I am not a scientist, this is all space fantasy nonsense

General info; - I interpret the Silver Millennium as an interplanetary empire with the Moon serving as a capital and the other planets functioning as colonies.

- I know they’re called “castles”, but it’s my headcanon and I’m gonna make the Senshi’s castles expansive enough to house and provide for at least a small population.

- We know that in manga canon the moon kingdom had a magic dome that allowed for a breathable atmosphere, nature, etc. I’m extending this to apply to each of the planet’s castle complexes, however this does not wholly negate the effects and differences of their natural ecosystems/lack thereof nor their rotations.  -I’ve used pointed ears as a shorthand for “not human”, also because i think they’re cute.

Moon Kingdom -Basically no melanin; these guys are super pale, and heavily dependent on  ~magic~ -Wings; Queen Serenity had very delicate wings, and I’ve reinterpreted Princess Serenity’s back bow as a smaller pair of wings that would have grown larger had she lived long enough to reach maturity. We also see wings on Eternal Sailor Moon and Neo Queen Serenity, so we can infer that wings=powerful magic. Mercury / Mariner Castle -Mercury’s lack of atmosphere means that even though it is the closest planet to the sun, it can’t retain the heat it gets during the day. Because of this, any humanoid living on Mercury would need to be resistant to extreme temperatures. Having heat be centralized within the body would help minimize loss of body heat, and would also give the appearance of a slight bluish tinge to the skin of the hands, ears, and feet. -To reflect Mercury’s extreme temperature variation the range of skin tones is also very extreme, with people tending to be either very pale or very dark, but not typically in the mid-range of those tones. -Tapetum Lucidum is a reflective membrane in the eye that allows vertebrates to see in the dark. Compared to Earth Mercury has a very short year, but a very long day-night cycle. A tapetum lucidum would allow for Mercurians to see during their period of protracted night.

Mars / Phobos-Deimos Castle -Mars is basically a very dusty, dry desert. Like many desert creatures, Martians have long think eyelashes to protect their eyes from wind and sand. -Mars has a thin atmosphere, so it doesn’t retain heat very well. because of this, Martians have comparatively small, dense and muscular bodies, have a higher internal body temperature and require less water. -A thick epidermis is another adaptation to protect against the gritty, dusty environment.

Jupiter / Io Castle -Jupiter was tricky; because it is a gas giant, there is no natural surface to work off, so I primarily focused these attributes around Sailor Jupiter’s elemental powers of electricity and wood. -Jupiter’s small population is restricted to the Io Castle complex on the mountainous surface of Io, but draws electrical energy from the planet’s supercharged rotation. This electricity helps boost the yield of crops.

Venus / Magellan Castle -Venus is quite bright in the night sky because it’s atmosphere is FILLED with highly reflective clouds of sulfuric acid. Sailor Venus is associated with the elements of love, light, and metal (gold). As you can see; I had to make them as SHINY AS POSSIBLE. -I wanted to work in Venus’ association with beauty; however, beauty is subjective, and I don’t want to present any one set of characteristics as being more attractive than another. So, I kept their colors within human ranges, but their skin and eyes have metallic/reflective pigments, giving them a gold sheen. -Though Venus has an atmosphere, it does not have a metallic field. This means that Venusians are godawful at directions. -Note that the Princess of Venus is slightly paler than most Venusians; this is because she is half Lunar on her father’s side. This is why she was chosen to be Princess Serenity’s body double.

[peachy-rambles]

Pirate Techno and ocean god philza, where philza gets hopelessly endeared to this terrifying pirate because he doesn’t hunt magic creatures or disrespect the ocean like most pirates. While Techno is not understanding why the ocean is always smooth for him or why most dangerous sea creatures leave him alone

Anon, did you read my mind because only a few hours before you sent this, I was gearing up and forming thoughts about a pirate AU!

Techno is one of the most feared pirates roaming the seas. He's fucking massive, towering over everyone and is frankly very terrifying. He's scruffy (as pirates are), with a beard and a long mane of pink hair. He also wears an eyepatch due to one of his eyes not working/missing and has a massive scar on that side of his face going over his hidden eye. No ones ever seen him with his eyepatch off so they don't know if he's missing an eye or it just doesn't work, and they don't know how he received the scar (there's lots of rumors and stories, but Techno never comments or gives hints). He seems mostly human (besides his height, which no human could ever achieve that height), but he has tusks potruding from his mouth that hint at his non-human heritage.

(He's a bear, ok? He is not a twink in the slightest, he's a massive fucking bear pirate)

Techno is an incredibly impressive fighter, capable of dual weilding swords (as well as being able to dual weild a sword and a pistol, although he favors swords more), and is merciless, earning him the nickname "the Blade". It's said that you never want to meet the Blade in battle, not if you don't want to die a bloody death.

Many assume that because of his great reputation, Techno is the captain of the ship that he sails on, but he isn't. The Captain of the ship is in fact a pirate named Puffy and Techno is her First Mate.

They work well together, Techno having joined Puffy's crew years ago under mysterious circumstances. He has great knowledge of the sea, knows the best places to sail and what places to avoid, not to mention owns countless stories and old books/maps from explorers past (including info on buried treasure they once hid away). Again, no one knows how or why Techno joined and why he's so knowledgeable, he's just a giant mystery. Literally.

With all the mystery surrounding Techno and his terrifying appearance/reputation, people would be shocked to learn that Techno actually has quite the gentle soul. He is quiet and shy, usually standing in the back of the crowd and observing. He respects the ocean and all of it's creatures, including the magical ones. He'll go out of his way to help baby sea turtles make their way to the ocean after just hatching on a beach, or will ignore the familiar flash of a mermaid's tail in the water (despite knowing a live mermaid could sell at a very hefty price).

He doesn't let others see this side of himself, not even Puffy or their crew, and keeps up the facade of the mysterious terrifying Blade.

One night, Puffy and their crew come across another pirate ship and a battle breaks out. It's just their luck that a massive storm hits at the same time, and it quickly turns into a fight for survival.

Somewhere in the chaos of it all, Techno is knocked off the ship and falls into the dark ocean depths.

It isn't until after Puffy and her crew manage to make a hasty retreat from the other ship, attempting to find smoother waters, that they realize Techno is missing. They search long and hard, but they're never able to find him and assume he's dead.

But he's not.

Techno is, somehow, alive and wakes up on the beach of what he assumes is a deserted island. He immediately sets the work, making himself a little shelter by a group of trees and exploring the island for food and fresh water.

He is unsuccessful and he goes to bed hungry very paranoid The entire night he stays awake, unable to fall asleep because he can't help but feel like he's being watched the entire time.

The next day, he goes out searching for food and water again, but fails. He has no such luck the third day and he is getting desperate because he knows he needs to find fresh water soon.

The fourth day when he wakes up, he is startled to see a pile of fresh fruit and a glass bottle with what he assumes is water sitting innocently next to him in his shelter.

Techno comes to the natural conclusion that he is not alone on this island and someone has been watching him, and for some reason left him food. Techno considers the fact that maybe it's poisoned, but he hasn't eaten or drunk in days and he knows he needs it. He eats the food and drinks the water, and it's the best thing he's ever tasted (SO much better than the food they ate on the ship).

He doesn't die, or feel sick afterwards, so that's a plus.

With newfound energy, he goes explorint that day and is finally able to find a small river with fresh water on the island, along with some native fruits.

Several days pass, and Techno continues building on his shelter and makes some attempts at fishing, but he isn't exactly the best.

When he wakes up to a huge pile of fish the very next day, he's somehow not too surprised.

This continues for a while, Techno searching the island and exploring more and more each day. One time, after Techno attempted (and failed) to hunt down a wild hog, he walked back to his shelter only to find the very same hog in front of it, dead.

Techno examines the animal, and realizes very quickly that a human didn't take it down. No, a creature or a monster must have, judging from the bitemarks on the back of the hog's neck.

Techno is now very concerned as to who or what exactly was also on this island with him.

He knows building a raft would not be a good idea, that he's most likely drown or starve at sea if he made his out there on a little raft. It was better to stay on the island, where there was food and water, and hope someone found him. In the meantime, he started to create weapons - simple things like small knives and spears.

Whatever was on this island, if it decided to hunt Techno down, he wasn't going to go down without a fight.

After completing the spear he made and lamenting on how he missed his swords one night, old rusted sword appears in his shelter the very next day. Perhaps once it had been beautiful, but now it was dull and fairly useless to him.

Techno is just completely confused at this point and maybe loses his mind a little bit.

He begins talking to himself out loud, speaking about how he misses human contact and would like to just have someone to talk to about all of this.

He does not at all expect a voice to answer him back.

"You can talk to me, if you want."

Techno quickly grabs his spear and keeps it held tightly in his hands, "Whose there?"

He glances around, trying to find the source of the voice but all he sees is the beach and the trees from the forest.

"Where are you? Come out!" he demands.

".....I would prefer not to."

'Prefer not to?' Techno mouths to himself before letting out a growl, "Why not?"

There was only silence, until eventually the voice said in a much quieter tone, "...I'm shy."

Techno is dumbfounded and can only let out a, "Heh?"

He tries getting more answers from the voice, but it doesn't respond, whoever it was seemingly gone.

Techno doesn't sleep that night, wondering if any of that had been real or simply all in his head.

The next day, he doesn't leave his shelter and instead merely sits there, waiting.

Until, eventually towards the end of the day...

"....You didn't go out today."

Techno glances around, but again he sees nothing but beach and trees. Not a single person in sight.

"Nope, I didn't," he says with a sigh.

"Why not?" the voice asks.

"I was waiting for you," Techno responds back simply.

".........Oh."

Techno waits a few moments for the voice to speak more, but when it doesn't, Techno decides to ask a question.

"Are you the one who gave me the food and water?"

"Yes."

"And hunted the boar?"

"Yep! A big strong man like you needs lots of meat to survive, right?"

Techno pauses, unsure how to process that statment before clearing his throat and asking, "You gave me the sword as well?"

"I did! Did you like it? I tried to find the best one in my collection!"

"It was rusted and dull, but I appreciate it, I guess," Techno admits.

"My collection" so whoever this was had a collection....whatevet that meant.

"Oh. I could-I could...give you another sword if you like! I know how much you like your swords!"

"....What do you mean by that?" Techno asks and let's out a sigh when there's no reply.

When he wakes up the next morning, he indeeds find a sword. It's not the best, but it isn't dull and seems to be well taken care of, so there's that at least.

"Thank you," he says outloud and is surpised when he hears a quiet, "You're welcome," in response.

Days continue on (Techno figures he's been on this island for about a few months). Most days, Techno finds himself talking to the voice. It never stays for very long, but it's....friendly, at least.

"Are you real?" Techno asks one day, lying down next to his shelter and looking up into the clear light blue sky.

"What do you mean? Of course I'm real," the voice replies, letting out a quiet chuckle (it's light and sweet, the sound falling sootbingly onto Techno's ears)

"Well, I can't see you, for one," Techno says, "For all I know, you could just be a figment of my imagination."

"I'm real," the voice says, their voice clear and strangely assuring.

"Then, could I see you?" Techno asks.

".....I don't know."

The voice is silent the rest of that day. As well as the day afterwards, and the day after that. A whole week passes by before Techno hears the voice again.

"I don't want to scare you," it admits.

"Why, do you look scary?" Techno asks. He's working on another spear (his last one broke the night before) and casually listens as the voice speaks.

"To most, yes."

"You gonna elaborate on that or just keep being mysterious?"

Silence.

Techno sighs, "Mysterious it is then."

The voice continues to talk to Techno once a day, but it doesn't go back to the subject of it's appearance or showing itself to Techno. Techno doesn't push either. Instead, they just casually converse, the voice asking what Techno is doing that day and Techno replying.

Sometimes, Techno will talk about his and Puffy's crew, some adventures they went on and the treasure they found or silly mishaps that happened to them.

Sometimes, the voice brings Techno their own treasures from their "collection" - pieces of gold, old enchanted books, jewelry and sometimes just random things from the ocean like a pretty shell or rock.

Techno appreciates it all and grows a whole little pile or treasure in his shelter.

And sometimes, when they're talking, Techno will catch a glimpse of....something hiding behind a nearby tree or rock in the forest - a flash of gold here or the very tip of a swishing tail there.

Whatever it was, it wasn't human.

Techno tried not to worry too much about that and never mentioned anything to the voice, worried he might scare them off again by mentioning their appearance.

One night, when Techno is just beginning to drip off to sleep, the voice appears for the second time in the same day.

"I like you, Techno," the voice says, "A lot. Do you-do you like me?"

Techno thinks the question over before nodding, "I think so, yeah. I mean, I don't know you that well and you're kinda just a voice, and I don't know if you're real or not, but yeah you seem nice."

The voice laughs, seemingly endeared by Techno's words. "That's good, I'm glad. Good night, Techno."

"Good night."

The next morning, Techno wakes up and finds the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen laying there next to him, watching him warily with bright blue eyes.

They have long blond hair with a crown seemingly made out of coral atop their head. Massive golden wings potrude from their back, completely smooth and sparkling in the early morning light, looking as if seemingly made of silk.

Then there was the tail.

The creature has no legs and instead has a long thick fish tail of some kind, beginning at the bottom of their torso and unable to fit completely in Techno's shelter, extending out into the beach outside.

"....Hi, Techno," the creature says, in the voice that Techno had become so familiar with in the last few months.

"Hey," Techno says and reaches out, placing his hand on the side of the creature's face, cupping their face gently in the palm of his hand, "You're a whole lot prettier than I imagined."

The creature flushes a pretty pink color, almost matching the coral it wears atop of their head.

Techno suddenly realizes how close their faces are to each other and the creature seems to realize it too before they move closer, placing their lips on Techno's in a kiss.

Techno kisses back, pulling the creature closer to them and enjoying the little pleased chirps they make as he kisses them.

They eventually seperate, Techno lying back down and the creature placing their head on Techno's chest, seemingly content to lay there in Techno's arms.

"I'm Philza, by the way," the creature says.

"Philza. That's a nice name-" Techno starts to say before his eyes widen and he remembers where he's heard that name before and who exactly it belonged to.

Philza.

Philza, the ancient ocean deity that supposedly ruled the seas and was the protector of all the creatures who lived in it, who called it home. Philza, who was said to be a terrifying monster and could strike fear into the bravest men, who devoured the hearts of men and could sink even the sturdiest of boats in the blink of an eye.

Philza, whose name had been forgotten and lost for centuries, was nothing more than an old legend - a myth.

Except, apparently not because Philza was currently curled up on Techno's chest, pleased chirps escaping him as he reached out to place his hand in Techno's, intertwining their fingers.

Philza, an ancient and all-powerful deity...and Techno had just fucking made out with him.

[sinner-as-saint]

‘Till We Bleed Out - 3.

Vampire!bucky x reader AU

Part 3 of this series. 

Run-through: Your car breaks down on a deserted road on a rainy night. You have no other option but to seek shelter from the nearest house you could find; the mansion, which happened to be the talk of the town for its mysteriousness along with its equally mysterious owner, Mr. Barnes. The universe can be tricky sometimes but the fact that you found yourself at that mansion’s doorstep at that time was no simple coincidence. That one night changes everything forever - quite literally. True love, past lives and creatures from folklore; turns out it’s all real. 

Themes throughout the series: vampire!bucky, fluff, smut, angst 

“Calm down, sweetheart.” 

He must’ve noticed you were on the verge of losing your mind. How could you not? You had so many questions. So many things you couldn’t wrap your brain around. What was the meaning of all this? 

“What is this?” you pointed at the painting; scared, nervous and baffled. 

Bucky walked further in, careful as to not make any sudden movement which would make you even more of a nervous wreck than you already were. “I’ll tell you everything, doll. Just calm down, alright. There’s nothing to be scared of. I’m right here with you.” 

You looked up at him in surprise. “Nothing to be scared of? There’s a painting of me and you dating back to 1872. That was almost a hundred and fifty years ago. But I met you just two days ago. None of this makes sense, none of it adds up. And that doesn’t bother you?” you sounded more sad and confused than scared. This isn’t normal. None of this is. “Who are you?” 

Despite knowing that someone else in your shoes would be screaming bloody murder and running for their lives by now, you stayed put. Despite the confusion, you felt protected. Something inside you knew no harm would come to you while Bucky’s around. But the rational side of you couldn’t afford listening to that side of you right now. Right now your brain needed concrete answers, not reassurance. 

“No. It doesn’t bother me.” He walked over and held you gently by the shoulders. “And if you let me explain, it won’t bother you either.” One look into his eyes and you felt yourself calming down already. 

“Make this make sense.” 

After he got you to sit down, in that very room, he began explaining. 

“I’m not exactly human, Y/N.” His first few words earned him a nod from you. 

“I figured that out a few minutes ago.” 

He continued. “And neither were you, in your previous lifetime.” That sentence shocked you. You didn’t know what was more surprising, learning that there was indeed a lifetime before this one or the fact that in the previous one, you and Bucky knew each other. “We were both vampires.” 

“Oh my God…” 

He paused for a while, trying to be as slow and as careful as he could be with his words. “We were married, you and I. And we were happy.” He said so and waited for your reaction. 

Your eyes watered and he noticed. “I’m… I was your wife?” you asked and he nodded. You thought back on all the things he told you about his wife; those were all about you. Your heart felt like it was being torn in two. “And I died.” he nodded again. “How did I die?” 

He took a deep breath and lowered his eyes to the dark carpet beneath his feet, that memory was always the hardest to revisit. “Our families were not exactly… friendly. Yours hated mine, and vice versa so our marriage was not something they could bear.” He let out a dry chuckle. He continued, a strange fire in his eyes; burning hot hatred. “They kept trying to break us apart,” he smiled, sadly, “but we were strong. Together.” He looked back up at you. “Until one day…” 

He stopped talking. He ran his fingers through his hair, he was hurting. You felt the intense need to just get up from the couch you were sat on, and walk over to where he sat and just comfort him. Maybe hug him and tell him it’s all okay now. But you remained seated, you couldn’t move. 

“Bucky… I need to know.” You figured it was a delicate subject but you needed to piece it all together. You were a mess at the moment. 

“We were returning home and we were attacked. By hunters.” 

You sat up straighter. “Hunters?” 

“Vampire hunters. Two different parties. Each anonymously hired and sent by our own families, ordered to have each of us killed. But you know, back then hunters had rivalry against each other as well. And ironically, the groups of hunters our family hired were not exactly seeing eye to eye with each other.” He let out another dry chuckle. “Upon reaching our home, they all forgot their initial purpose for a moment and began butchering one another instead, in the name of looming enmity. And you and I got caught in the crossfire. ” 

He paused. If it were physically possible he would’ve shivered at the memory; so tragically vivid in his mind. You waited for him to continue. “But some of them also remembered that they had been ordered to kill us both, so our front yard quickly became a battlefield.” He sounded bitter, angry. “We fought them off for a while but we were terribly outnumbered. I was wounded, so were you, and I tried to reach you but…” he trailed off, took a deep breath and continued, “they got to you first.” 

You tried to find the right thing to say but got nothing. Bucky spoke up again. “I was helpless. I couldn’t move. I had to watch as they… took you away from me.” He finally looked up at you and you were in shock. “Those sent by your family, what was left of them after the massacre at least, fled. Those sent by mine finished their job.” The look of hurt on his face was unbearable. “And I begged them. I begged them to kill me too but they just left me there.” 

You felt a weight on your chest. That was brutal. 

“You died at our doorstep.” He still remembered the last few moments he held you before you left… 

-

He somehow managed to get up and stumbled on his way to you, bullets and sharp stakes pierced all over his body as well as yours. You weren’t gonna make it, and he knew but he still begged you to stay. 

“You can’t leave me. You promised.” He cried, cradling your head on his lap. “Don’t leave me.” 

He watched how you used the little bit of energy left to choke out a few words. “I’ll find you again. Someday. I promise…” your body was getting heavier and heavier. Bucky felt like he was dying too. “I love you, Buck.” 

And with that, you closed your eyes forever. He sat there, your lifeless body in his arms and he screamed and yelled and cursed the universe. He was wounded, he would be healed by dawn. But you wouldn’t. He survived the attack that day, but part of him died along with you too. 

-

You cleared your throat. “How do you… how did you know it’s me? How can you be sure? What if I just look like her?” you looked up at the painting and he did too. 

He gave you a soft smile. “Chamomile and lavender tea is your favorite. You like red roses. You have a fear of deep water but you love the beach. You have this weird obsession with snakes. You love red wine. You could practically live in a library. Thunderstorms comfort you. You get a lot of déjà-vu, more than anyone you know. Also, you surely have a birthmark on your back, below your left shoulder. It perhaps hurts sometimes and you don’t know why, because regular birthmarks don’t hurt.” 

Your eyes widened more and more as he spoke, but you gasped when he mentioned the birthmark. “How do you know that?” Very few people knew of your rather strange birthmark which tingled, burned and hurt sometimes. 

“You were staked through the heart from the back. It left a mark on you.” He answered. “Forever.” 

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to soak all this new information in. This was a lot to take in. 

You cleared your throat again. “I was a vampire.” You stated. Bucky nodded. “I married you.” He nodded again. “I can’t- how do I-,” 

“Hey, it’s a lot to take in. Take your time. Go to bed if you wish to.” His voice sounded so soft. 

Oh you couldn’t sleep, not with all this. You shook your head no, you had questions. “How long were we married for?” 

“Almost a century.” His answer made your jaw drop. 

“How old are you?” 

He chuckled. “250. Give or take a few years.” 

“Oh my God,” you sighed, genuinely surprised. You thought back on all that he said earlier, about your families, and asked, “You said our families were against our relationship.” He nodded. “Well, where are they now?” 

“Gone.” 

“What do you mean, gone?” 

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair again. “After you left, I was unhinged. My memories of the couple of decades after your death is a little blurry. Apparently I went seeking revenge. But our friends found me and brought me back to sanity before I was gone completely and they told me that I had destroyed each and every last member of both our families.” 

“You killed them.” It wasn’t a question. 

“They deserved it. They took you away from me.” He sounded so broken, and hurt that you could feel your heart burn inside your ribcage. 

“When you say ‘our friends’ you mean…” you trailed off not knowing how to put it. 

He nodded. “Other vampires, yes. Most of them at least.” 

“This is so crazy.” You mumbled, looking down at your lap. This was too much to handle all at once. Bucky got up from his seat and walked cautiously over to you. 

He sat down on the edge of the wooden coffee table right in front of you and held his hand out. You placed your hand in his without a second thought. “You always had faith in the universe you know. You used to tell me that one single lifetime isn’t going to be enough for all the love that you and I have for each other. You used to always tell me that you’ll find me in the next one as well. And you did. You kept your promise. You’re home now, to me.” 

You felt a tear slide down your cheek. Those words sounded so familiar. Bucky reached out and wiped the tear away. “I… I don’t remember. I mean, I’ve lived a whole life not knowing you were until just a few days ago and now… all this?” 

He brought your hand up to his lips and kissed your knuckles softly. “It’s almost dawn. You haven’t slept well. Get some rest, we’ll figure it out. We always did.” 

You couldn’t argue. You needed to not think for a while, so you just nodded and got up. He didn’t follow you as you made your way to the bedroom and threw yourself down on the bed. You closed your eyes and slipped into a dreamless sleep. 

The next day, you spent most of your morning in the room; unable to leave the bed. Each time you thought back on all that was revealed to you last night, your head hurt. Wanda was kind enough to come in and leave you your meals. She didn’t say a word, just polite smiles. Bucky came by as well, each hour or so to check up on you. You weren’t ready to talk yet. He understood. 

You spent the rest of the day looking out of the window, into the vast backyard. The weather was still gloomy, much like your mood. 

After dinner, Bucky came by again. With tea this time. You gladly accepted the cup, remembering how it helped you sleep better the other night. Bucky was about to walk out but you stopped him. 

“Stay. Please.” You said, your voice a little strained because you had cried earlier, unable to understand the wave of emotion which washed over you. He rushed to sit next to you, on the edge of the bed. “I’ve been having dreams.” you confessed. 

“What kind of dreams?” 

“About you. About us, together. About ballrooms I’ve never been in, about people I haven’t met. And this house, ever since I got here it feels like I’ve... “ you trailed off, unable to find the right words. Or maybe the words were too crazy for you to utter them out loud. 

He finished your sentence. “Like you’ve lived here before?” 

“Yes.” You nodded. 

He smiled. “It’s because you have. This is your home, our home. Those aren’t dreams, they’re your memories.” 

Another tear fell down your cheek. Well, that made sense now. That would explain why your ‘dreams’ were so detailed. 

Bucky stayed and talked to you until you felt sleepy. He kissed you on the forehead, whispering a ‘goodnight’ once you got under the covers and was about to walk out of the room but you stopped him, yet again. 

“There’s something else.” you said. 

He stopped right at the door and turned around to face you, “Yes?” 

“The day I got here, when you opened the door, I…” you reminded yourself that he deserves to know, “I felt this pressing need to tell you that I finally found you. I didn’t understand what that meant then.” 

For the first time in a long time, Bucky genuinely smiled. And it was breathtaking. His smile was gorgeous, contagious. “Goodnight, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning.” He left. 

You fell asleep rather quickly. And dreamt, again...

Kisses under a grand chandelier. Blue eyes, laughter and wine. Pure bliss. 

“We should get going, sweetheart. It’s late.” Bucky whispered, holding you close. “And I can’t share you any longer. I need you all to myself now.” He kissed along your jaw, making you giggle. 

Home. At last. Only just as you got down from the carriage, you realized something was wrong. Pain, pain everywhere. 

Bullets, stakes, sticks, stones - everything hurt. You heard someone screaming as you were being dragged away from Bucky. It was you. You begged for mercy, but you didn’t receive any. Then suddenly, a spot on your back burned. It hurt more than anything you’ve ever experienced. You realized you were being staked through the heart, and it was too late. You couldn’t fight back. 

The pain, although excruciating, was replaced by fear. Fear of having to leave Bucky behind. Bucky… where was he? 

Your vision got blurry, you fell to the ground. You tried to call out for him but no sound came out of your mouth. You were fading away. But then you saw a pair of dark eyes which slowly turned blue and teary. 

“Don’t leave me…” 

“I’ll find you, I promise.” All the years you spent with him flashed in front of your eyes. Your wedding, and the decades of pure happiness which followed. “I’ll find you…” 

You woke up gasping again, covered in goosebumps. You had a terrible headache as it all came to you at once; memories of a forgotten lifetime. You struggled to breathe; it felt like being hit by a violent wave and being pushed deeper beneath the surface. Your birthmark burned hot. And your lungs felt like they were on fire. 

You sat there in bed, breathing hard and fast as you remembered everything. You realized you had tears streaming down your face. It was all too much, but you kept searching for more. And the more you looked the more you found. You felt like you were about to pass out. 

1802, when you first met Bucky. Married in 1808. You died about 90 years after that. You remembered. You remembered it all now. Your cruel family, and his. The bloodshed of that night. And how you died at the doorstep of this mansion. This mansion… your home. You knew this place like the back of your hand. This is your home. 

You’re home. 

You called out, not too loud, knowing he would hear you still. “Bucky!” you held back sob. How did you survive all these years? Without him? 

“Bucky!” you called out again, crying out loud this time. You heard his footsteps running down the hall. And your heart raced. 

You had been so close to your home this whole time, so close to Bucky, in the same town. You just didn’t know.

[inkykeiji]

day two ❅ cause i’m mrs. snow, til death we’ll be freezing

don’t cry snowman, don’t leave me this way, a puddle of water can’t hold me close, baby

day one ❅ day two ❅ day three | series masterlist

character: todoroki touya | dabi

genre: smut + angst

notes: weeee yay day two!! touya + co go ice skating :) this, again, was not supposed to be as long as it is, but eh here we are!! | title credit: snowman by sia

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), drug use, very rough sex, public sex, generally toxic relationships, size difference, tense family dynamics, reader’s probably a lil too obsessed with touya’s cum, slight dacryphilia, slight degradation

words: 8.3k

synopsis:

I’m only worried about you, you want to say. It isn’t your intention to put more stress on him, especially when being forced to spend nearly every waking minute around his blood siblings is evidently very difficult for him, but you don’t want him dead because of it, either.

“I love you,” you tell him instead, unsaid words sown into the fabric of the sentence.

But he doesn’t need to hear you say it, he can feel it—in the air around you, radiating off your frame in thick waves that crash into him in the most pleasant way; in the way your soft fingertips stroke his cheeks, tracing his features with the utmost gentleness; in the way you gaze so tenderly at him, eyes sweeping across his face akin to the most compassionate caress.

It all makes him feel like he can do this, like he might actually survive this, so long as you’re by his side.

    ❅           ❅           ❅           ❅           ❅           ❅     

The wind howls gently, picking up swirls of snow and dusting it against the window, the snowflakes soft taptaptap’s echoing among the tiny bedroom. It’s grey but bright outside, the morning of December 22nd. Strands of hair stick to your cheeks and neck, chills erupting across your skin as you wiggle around beneath Touya’s heavy arm, laying across your waist in a loose grasp, your movements causing the blanket to slip from your clammy skin, a soft hiss spit through your teeth as the cool air of the room hits your heated skin. Touya’s got his head buried in the pillow, his torso laying half on top of yours, legs intertwined.

“Touya-nii,” you whimper, eyebrows furrowing a little in frustration as you struggle under him. “Niichan,”

“Mmph,” he emits an unintelligible noise in response, muffled by the pillow.

“Niichaaaaan,” the honorific leaves your lips in a whine, giving another weak shove at his arm. “Niichan, you’re so hot, I’m gonna melt,”

“Too bad. We’re not getting up yet,”

You whine again, your squirming becoming more vigorous. “But Touya-nii, I’m so thirsty! Please, my mouth is drier than the desert, I swear to God,”

“If you don’t stop acting like a brat, I’m gonna fuck you like a brat,”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

That gets his attention, fluffy head shooting up, white tufts tousled and standing on end, sleepy eyes squinting against the sudden light as he tries to glare at you. “Excuse me?”

The deep, rough lilt to his voice, heavy with sleep, makes your stomach flutter, blood rushing to your cheeks as you gaze at him.

Even in the morning, he’s stupidly beautiful.

“G-Got you up,” you giggle a little, reaching forward to run your fingers through his messy hair, smoothing it down in the process.

He deadpans, glaring at you for a moment, though there’s no heat in his eyes. You stare back, blinking twice, little fingers trailing down the side of his face and then tracing his jaw, murmuring about how pretty he is.

“Pretty, huh?” he finally sighs, a small grin spreading across his cheeks, head tilting to the side as your fingers travel down his neck, tracing the intricate black ink.

“Mm, very pretty,” you whisper to yourself, eyes zeroing in on his adams apple as it bobs with his chuckle. “But I’m still thirsty,”

He laughs again, rolling his eyes and pushing himself up completely, sheets pooling at his waist. “Fucking brat,”

It’s just past 9am, but the kitchen is empty. Touya carries you there, and even though you’re more than capable of walking by yourself, you snuggle into his neck, scattering gentle kisses across the scarred skin, head resting against his broad shoulder.

He exhales a sigh as you do so, and you can physically feel the tension leaving his body, a tiny bit more with each kiss you press against him.

A soft yelp hitches in your throat as he places you on the counter, cold marble stinging the bare skin of your thighs, Touya smirking at the sound as he wanders over to the fridge, rooting through it for a moment before turning back towards you.

“Water?” you make a face. Touya deadpans for the second time in fifteen minutes.

“You said you were thirsty, did you not?”

“Yeah, but…” you trail off shyly, hooking your ankles together and swinging your legs a little. “I wanted chocolate milk,”

“No,” he says instantly, slamming the fridge shut with more force than necessary, jars jiggling and clinking together with the motion. “Water first,” he uncaps the bottle and holds it out to you. “Don’t you dare start pouting,” he adds, when your eyebrows are beginning to knit together, voice stern. “You did not drag me out of bed at nine in the fucking morning because your mouth was drier than the desert just to pout when I give you water. You know you aren’t allowed sugar first thing in the morning, baby,”

You suppose he has a point, working hard to smooth your face as you take the bottle from him.

“M’sorry, niichan,” you murmur before taking a sip, gazing at him through your lashes.

He glares at you for another moment before a tiny grin breaks his face, shaking his head with a soft chuckle.

“You’re really testing me this morning,” he mumbles as large hands pry your knees apart, wedging his hips between your thighs while hands curl around your hips and drag you towards the edge of the counter. Your legs wrap around his waist—an automatic reaction—ankles hooking again and holding him close, bodies pressed flush together.

Something’s still off, you can tell, evident in the way his head drops the moment you’re close enough, forehead resting against the crown of your head, exhaling.

“It’s not very nice, babygirl,” he speaks again after a beat of silence, calloused hands slipping under your—his, your mind reminds you—t-shirt, palming your hips. “Think you should make it up to me, hmm?”

And you want to, God, do you ever want to, want to kiss all of his sorrow away, want to pull those gorgeous broken whines and throaty moans from him, want to help him forget about whatever it is that’s bothering him so deeply, to lock it out of his head, shoving it from his mind as his brain is filled with thoughts of you. But…

“B-But niichan, we’re in the kitchen,” you have to force the trembling words from your mouth, biting down hard on your lip to keep from moaning as his teeth skim along your neck, evoking a full body shiver.

“So?” his lips brush against your skin, nimble fingers dipping into your cute pink panties.

“Anyone could—could come in any second and—”

“What? Catch us?” he pulls back a little, smirking. “And?” sapphire searches your face as heat rushes to your cheeks, rushes shamefully between your legs. He snorts a moment later, pressing two fingers against your clothed cunt. “Exactly,” the word is just a huff of breath as he nudges his nose against yours. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

“I—”

“Don’t try lying,” he sounds bored as he cuts you off, fingers rubbing at your little hole through the damp cotton of your panties. “Your pussy’s very honest,”

And the broken whine that hitches in your chest is nothing short of absolutely pathetic, back arching and eyes fluttering as he begins flicking his thumb over your clit, keeping his touches light and fast.

“Yeah,” he breathes, the word bordering on a growl. “Of course you would. Bet you could cum from just this if Natsuo were watching, huh? Want everyone to know how easy you are for niichan? How much of a good little slut you are for niichan?”

“You planning on testing that theory out?”  

Natsuo’s unexpected voice makes you jump, eyes snapping open and flying to his face as you choke on a gasp, Touya’s thumb choosing then to press hard against your swollen little clit, forcing an embarrassingly loud cry from your lips and paying no mind to his younger brother, who’s leaning casually against the doorframe with a smirk decorating his face. In fact, Touya doesn’t react to Natsuo at all—

Because he already knew.

“N-Niichan,” you nearly wail, burying your scalding face in his shoulder, nails digging into the smooth muscles of his back.

“Aww,” Natsuo coos, and he sounds genuine. “C’mon, don’t hide from me, sweetheart,”

“What, now you’re shy? When you were about to get off on the very thought just moments ago?” Touya’s patronizing chuckle vibrates against you, though his hands are on your back, petting you in smooth, soothing motions.

“Niisan, don’t tease,” Natsuo laughs, and you smush your face harder against Touya’s shoulder, whimpering a little as Natsuo’s voice gets closer. “I just figured if you two were gonna have a cheeky lil fuck in the kitchen, the least you could do is let me watch,”

Touya begins laughing again, starts to say something, voice abruptly cutting off. You stiffen, clinging to him, breath bated as you listen.

“Surprised you two were the first ones up,” Fuyumi’s voice floats through the space, tone clipped.

You peak out from over Touya’s shoulder, watching as Fuyumi fiddles around with their extremely expensive coffeemaker, a deep scowl etched into her face.

“Oh? And why’s that?” Touya asks lightly, sounding genuinely surprised, innocently curious.

“You know why,” she snaps, slamming her coffee mug down on the granite countertop and whipping her head around to glare at her older brother.

Touya chuckles and shakes his head, maintaining that he doesn’t, he swears, and if you didn’t know any better, if you couldn’t see the smug smirk on his face, the mocking amusement swirling in his eyes, you’d believe him to be telling the truth.

But Fuyumi knows him better than that, rolling her eyes and grumbling unintelligibly under her breath. Shouto chooses then to enter the kitchen, hair slightly mussed, looking a little like a white and red haystack atop his head, and Touya’s body goes rigid.

He yawns out his morning greeting, glancing around the room, mismatched eyes lingering on your bare thighs for just a second too long.

Touya notices, because Touya notices everything—especially when it comes to Shouto, cobalt eyes sharp and trained on his every movement—moving to shield you with his body as best he can.

“C’mon princess,” he’s mumbling as his hands force their way under your ass, hefting you up again. “Let’s go,”

And no one misses the way Shouto watches the two of you leave, the way his sleepy eyes focus on your ass—just barely concealed by the cotton panties, Touya’s hands providing more coverage than the garment does—then move down to his brother’s shameless erection, partially obscured by your body, inhaling a sharp gasp that everyone hears, that everyone knows what it’s in reaction to, that everyone ignores.

      ❅           ❅           ❅

Today’s activity is ice skating, Rei tells you as your exiting the cabin.

She looks excited, a smile on her soft lips, eyes bright as she pats your shoulder, and it makes warmth flutter in your chest, glad to see the events of yesterday haven’t completely dampened her mood.

“Do you know how to skate?” Natsuo asks you, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet.

“I do,” you say proudly, looking over at Rei as you reach Touya’s car, sharing a grin. “Rei taught me not long after she and my father started dating,”

“Aw, mom,” Natsuo coos, looking over at his mother for reassurance. “That’s sweet,”

Rei hums, nodding as her eyes drift back to yours.

“Hold on a second,” she says as her smile slowly begins to dissipate, glancing from Touya’s hand on the handle of his car’s passenger door, to your face, to Natsuo standing by his own car a few feet away, brows knitting.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting in the car?” his response comes out as a question, spoken slowly as he’s worried it’s the wrong answer, tilting his head a little like a puppy.

“There’s no need for you to take more than one car,” Rei says pointedly, her gaze darting to Touya, holding his eyes even though she was speaking to Natsuo. His mouth falls open to protest, but she continues. “The five of you will fit in one. We’ll see you there,”

Her tone is final as she turns away and gets into her own car, the five of you watching in silence as it reverses onto the road, snow and ice cracking and popping under the thick tires. Natsuo turns back to the group, a large, boyish smile on his face.

“It’s fine! We’ll take my car,” Natsuo’s eyes soften a little as he looks over at his silver Porsche, patting the roof affectionately.

“No,” Fuyumi responds immediately. “Absolutely not.”

Stone eyes fly back to her face, alarmed. “What! Why?”

“Because you drive like a lunatic—I refuse to ride in any car when you’re behind the wheel,”

Natsuo frowns as he rounds his car, coming to stand with the group. “Well your car isn’t here, since you came up with mom, so—”

“We can take Touya’s car,”

“No,” Touya nearly growls, the unexpected rumbling deep in his chest causing everyone to flinch.

“Why not?” Fuyumi’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, eyes narrowing slightly as she glances at her older brother. “I can’t think of any reason—”

“He is not stepping foot in my fucking car,”

Fuyumi’s eyes widen slightly, staring at him in disbelief, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Do I look like I’m fucking kidding, or are you really that stupid?”

“Touya-nii,” you gasp softly, tugging on his arm a little and then hugging it to your chest. His voice drips with venom, sharper than a tungsten needle, and it makes both you and Natsuo wince, despite not being the object of his fury.

“Fine, Christ, I just won’t come then,” Shouto finally chimes in with a roll of his eyes. “Will that make you happy?”

Touya whirls around to face him, rips his arm from your grasp so aggressively, so suddenly, that it sends you stumbling backwards. Natsuo catches you quickly, righting you with an arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“You wanna know what would make me happy? You fucking de—”

“That’s enough,” Fuyumi cuts him off with a glare so fierce it sends chills skittering across your skin, regardless of the thick sweaterdress and heavy jacket you’re currently wrapped up in. Natsuo must feel it course through your body, because he pulls you tighter against him, fingers digging into your shoulder.

Touya’s eyes snap to his sister, raising an eyebrow as a terrifying smile spreads across his face. It’s a smile you’ve only seen a few times before, gleaming white teeth on display, angular jaw clenched tightly. It’s a smile that makes icy dread pool in your stomach, thick and heavy, and you try to press yourself closer to Natsuo, body flush against his side, partially hiding your face in his chest.

Still, Fuyumi does not waver. “You are an adult, Touya. For God’s sake, act like one! Shouto is not a disease—”

“Could’ve fooled me,”

“—that will infect your car! He’s your baby brother!”

Touya’s eye twitches at the term, painful smile stretching even wider. In the pale afternoon sunlight, those glinting white teeth look pointier than normal, and you whimper into Natsuo’s chest.  

“My car, my rules,”

“Oh my God! Are you being ser—”

“Alright, this is getting a little ridiculous,” Natsuo jumps in quickly, trying to keep his voice light. “You’re scaring our little princess, niisan,” he says, voice softer, a large hand rubbing your shoulder in comfort.

Touya spins around again, wild sapphire eyes finding yours, his face falling the moment your gazes meet.

Little fingers have tangled themselves in Natsuo’s jacket, clinging to him so hard the skin over your knuckles is stretched taut. Your entire body trembles as you blink hard, trying in vain to clear the tears rushing to your eyes. The pounding of your heart echoes in your ears, so loud you can’t hear what Touya says as he swoops towards you, eyes wide and worried.

“We’ll take my car, and Fuyumi will drive.”

Natsuo’s voice holds the same note of finality that his mother’s does, large hand still curled around your shoulder as firm stone eyes scan the three faces in front of him.

      ❅           ❅           ❅

Touya refuses to have you and Shouto in the back seat alone, and Natsuo insists that he sits in the passenger seat, to make sure Fuyumi doesn’t hurt his baby, he explains, which is how you end up smack in the middle of the oldest and youngest Todoroki children.

It’s cramped—they’re both too big to be in the backseat of such a small car—resulting in the three of you being squished together, your body packed in tightly—practically wedged—between theirs.

It’s nearly impossible to keep your thigh from brushing against Shouto’s, but you try anyway, leaning into Touya as much as you can. A strong, possessive arm is wrapped tightly around your waist, fingers fisted in the material of your little sweaterdress, sapphire eyes hyper-focused on the way Shouto’s corduroy clad thigh keeps knocking against your bare knee with every gentle jolt of the car.

But when Shouto idly drops his large hands heavily to his lap with a sigh, long fingers splayed casually, just the very tip of his pinky resting against your thigh—well.

Touya sees fucking red, yanking your body away from his little brother immediately with a vicious growl caught in his throat, the movement so sudden and unexpected it has both you and Shouto gasping, heterochromatic eyes wide and alert as they snap to his eldest brother’s face,

He hadn’t even noticed. Truthfully, you probably wouldn’t have either if it hadn’t been Touya’s suffocating, overbearing presence beside you—engulfing you, causing you to be excessively aware of every miniscule movement, every jostle and touch and bump.

“Don’t fucking touch her,”

It takes Shouto another half a second before the realization hits him, eyes darting down to his thighs, finally taking note of the placement of his fingers. Then he’s scoffing, rolling his eyes as he huffs to himself, quiet and under his breath, something about Touya being absolutely ridiculous and childish and insecure.

Yet Shouto’s legs spread a little more every time Touya pulls you a few centimeters closer to him, ensuring that your thighs can never quite escape his, his strong muscles constantly nudging against yours.

It isn’t until you push your knee back against his, hard and purposeful, giving Shouto a sharp look, that this behaviour finally halts.

“Who’s being childish now?” you hiss, eyes holding his sternly, widening a moment later as if to say, Stop aggravating him.

Shouto’s face falls, lips tugging down into a frown as his gaze searches your face, head shaking a little. He opens his mouth—to apologize, you think—but is cut off by Touya’s immature snickering, his chest vibrating against your back.

“Fuck you,” he seethes instead, eyes narrowing and mouth snapping into a firm, unimpressed line.

“Watch it—”

“Play nice, you two,” Natsuo warns from the front seat. “I won’t hesitate to pull this car over and beat both your asses on the side of the road for everyone to see,”

“Okay, dad,” Shouto snorts as Touya simultaneously responds with, “I’d like to see you try,”

Nevertheless, Natsuo’s little warning does manage to shut them up for the remainder of the ride, Shouto crossing his legs, knees pressed up painfully against the door in an attempt to stop touching you. You’re practically in Touya’s lap by the time you arrive at the Ena Skating Rink at Crystal Park, seatbelt uncomfortably biting into your flesh through your clothing.

“I don’t understand why we had to drive an hour just to go skating,” Shouto grumbles just as Fuyumi turns into the parking lot, face set in a deep frown, eyebrows furrowed as he glares out the window. “There was a perfectly fine lake like, ten minutes from the cabin,”

“Shou, you sound like a petulant teenager,”

“Technically, he is a petulant teenager,”

“Not for much longer,”

“That’s right, your birthday’s coming up,” you say automatically without thinking, words slipping from your mouth as Fuyumi circles the lot in search of a parking spot. In the past, Shouto would’ve ignored such a slip-up, figuring the politeness of providing you an answer not worth Touya’s wrath, but now he turns to face you with a small smile, heterochromatic eyes almost twinkling, mask of irritability burning off his face in an instant.

“Yeah, in a few weeks,” he shrugs a shoulder. “I’ll be twenty,”

Do you have any plans?

The question lingers on the tip of your tongue, words frozen at the back of your throat as Touya’s hand curls protectively around you, strong fingers digging into your plush waist hard enough to make you wince.

But Shouto has become pretty good at reading you over these past few years, no longer needs you to voice your thoughts—the two of you have become accustomed to communicating through looks and expressions alone, to keep from sending Touya into an absolute rampage, to keep the both of you safe.

“Not sure what I’m doing yet,” he answers, keeping his voice light, though those mismatched eyes are sharply trained on your face, ready to analyze and decode whatever expression your features morph into.

This is the first time he’s ever verbally answered, though, and it hits you like a bag of bricks swung at your chest, the realization that this is something the two of you have built up together, something the two of you have spent years doing, working together silently, quietly, subtly, to keep Touya placid, something the two of you have been subconsciously doing to protect each other.

The thought inspires an odd feeling in your stomach, chest tightening with something akin to anxiety, something bitter and heavy rooting in the pit of your belly.

Touya saves you from having to answer, hastily unbuckling your seatbelt for you the moment Fuyumi’s finished reversing the car and nearly hauling you out  before she’s even cut the engine.

      ❅           ❅           ❅

“You’re not coming?” you ask Touya as he slips your foot into a skate, beginning to lace it up.

Touya shakes his head. “No,”

“Touya never learned how to skate—refused to, actually,” Natsuo informs you, sitting down next to you on the bench and playfully bumping his shoulder against yours.

Tilting you head, you stare at him, a soft little oh slipping from your lips. Touya avoids your gaze, jaw clenching rhythmically.  

“It’s for the best. He really shouldn’t be near any sort of blade for an extended period of time, not while Shouto’s in reach,” Natsuo jokes, though no one laughs, because it’s true.

Touya spends most of his time leaning against the boards, bright sapphire eyes trained on you, glued to you, cataloging all of your movements, each of your cute little giggles and soft little smiles, every hand on your shoulder or waist as it steadies you.

It’s hard for him to watch.

It’s hard for him to watch the way your eyes twinkle as Fuyumi speaks to you, the two of you gliding around the ice nonchalantly, hard for him to watch the way Natsuo pulls endless laughter from your throat as his gloved hands hold yours, pulling you along with him, hard for him to watch when Shouto appears beside you, slowing his stride to talk animatedly to you, the two of you absorbed in whatever discussion you’re having.

And yet, he can tell something isn’t right. Your eyes are twinkling, but they don’t gleam the way they do when you gaze at him. You’re laughing, but it isn’t as bubbly and pure as it is when evoked by him. You’re talking, but you aren’t wholly and completely captivated by whatever it is Shouto’s saying to you, gaze constantly drifting just over his shoulder, connecting with Touya’s.

Those ten little words from the night before echo through his mind again, and his molars grind together, but the look in your eyes, the way your face positively lights up when you skate towards him, past him, blowing kisses and giggling behind mitten covered hands, stomps them to little pieces, to dust, your fleeting presence blowing them away. He feels like he can fucking breathe again, each time you glide by him, resolve hardening a little more with every lap past him.

No, he knows he’s the best for you, absolutely is without a doubt the very best for you— and you confirm it with that loving, adoring, doting look every single time.

Despite this, he keeps disappearing intermittently, your heart sinking just a little bit more every time you look over to see him nowhere to be found, a sour taste settling on the back of your tongue. This is only the second day into the trip and you’re already terrified, knowing that he’s filling his nostrils with that fine white powder the moment he begins to feel his high fading, the moment he feels himself beginning to come down.

And by the third time he vanishes within a single hour, you decide you can no longer stand by and do nothing, say nothing—he’s gone for more than usual this time, an uneasy sense of dread flooding your body, making your limbs tingle as your heart begins to race, plopping down on the wooden bench and bending down to quickly unlace your skates. Your voice shakes as you tell the others that you’d like to take a short break from skating, claiming that your feet are sore, and that you’d like to rest for a while.

In actuality, you’re sure they all know what you’re doing, itching to go search for Touya, heart pounding painfully as several scenarios flash through your mind, but they say nothing, nodding with those polite smiles they all plaster on their faces any time something like this occurs.

The muscles in your thighs ache as you jog across the snow-dusted field, eyes frantically darting around the large open space in search for a man with ivory hair and azure eyes. Your feet take off the moment you spot him, an instinctual reaction, breath ragged and burning in your chest as you barrel into him, winding your arms around his waist tightly and burying your face in his strong chest.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he’s murmuring softly, arms encircling you and squeezing you against him, dropping a kiss to the crown of your head. “What’s going on, princess?”

Pulling back, your eyes study his face, stomach plummeting when you see it.

“Out playing in the snow again?”

Cobalt eyes narrow, Touya tilting his head in question as he stares at you. A frown mars your face, deep sigh leaving your nostrils without your permission, and Touya bristles. A tender thumb swipes across his nose, showing him the pure white powder it gathers.

“Slow down,” you say softly, gently, cautious eyes watching him carefully. “I don’t want a trip to the ER for Christmas,”

He holds your gaze for a moment, and you can see it, the blue fire simmering deep within them, but because it’s Christmas—and only because it’s Christmas—he blinks twice, extinguishing the flame to dull embers.

Chest heaving once, deep and heavy, he sighs out of parted lips, holding your hand to his cheek. Sapphire eyes close briefly as he nuzzles his face into your touch, and for a moment—just for a second—you think he’s about to apologize.

But that would be a Christmas miracle.

“Keep me in line,” he says quietly, shoulders slumping a little in defeat, a tiny sardonic grin on his lips as his eyes open again, searching your face. “Okay? Can’t let my best girl down on Christmas, now, can I?”

And although his shoulders are straining under the weight of this new responsibility—to try and restrain himself a little more, to not solely rely on the drugs to numb him to everything, to give up autonomy, power, to you—a weight feels like it’s been lifted off of yours, regardless of the fact that he’s asking you to control him, and you inhale deeply, able to breathe again.

I’m only worried about you, you want to say. It isn’t your intention to put more stress on him, especially when being forced to spend nearly every waking minute around his blood siblings is evidently very difficult for him, but you don’t want him dead because of it, either.

“I love you,” you tell him instead, unsaid words sown into the fabric of the sentence.

But he doesn’t need to hear you say it, he can feel it—in the air around you, radiating off your frame in thick waves that crash into him in the most pleasant way; in the way your soft fingertips stroke his cheeks, tracing his features with the utmost gentleness; in the way you gaze so tenderly at him, eyes sweeping across his face akin to the most compassionate caress.

It all makes him feel like he can do this, like he might actually survive this, so long as you’re by his side. The thought produces an inexplicable lump in his throat and he blinks hard, glittering eyes sweeping across your face before he seizes it, large hands cupping your jaw almost painfully as he pulls your face towards his, lips capturing yours in a crushing kiss.

Niichan! You try to squeal, muffled by his lips, Touya using the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, down your throat.

Traitorous as ever, your body melts into his only a second later, fingers latching behind his neck, trying to pull yourself closer.

“I need more,” he mumbles against your lips before pecking them again, eyes still closed. “I need more, baby, I need more right now,”

“Then take it,” you whine breathlessly into his mouth, echoing your words from the night before. “Take it, it’s yours,”

      ❅           ❅           ❅

It smells like damp rubber and stale snow, with a hint of year-old hard candy crushed beneath snow boots, releasing faint scents of artificial strawberry and orange.

The restroom is filthy, but neither of you care, too wrapped up in each other to pay much mind to the grime on the walls, or the flaky rust on the faucet—which is quietly dripping intermittently, covered in little droplets of condensation that gleam under the harsh florescent light humming above, tubes exposed.

The cement wall is cold against your bare skin as Touya rucks your dress up around your waist, hands under your ass supporting your weight as your legs wrap around him obediently, praising you for listening to him and never wearing pants, even in weather like this, because god, it makes everything so much easier, baby.

In the past, you would’ve been in a rush, positive you didn’t have much time before someone noticed your absence.

But your family is used to this now, completely unphased by the two of you disappearing for twenty, sometimes thirty minutes and returning with swollen lips and freshly fucked hair.

It’s not like they can say anything, anyway—it’s not like anything is going to stop the two of you now; it’s not like anything would’ve stopped the two of you before, either.

Despite this, Touya still doesn’t exactly take his time with you, large hands pawing at your breasts, your waist, your hips, fingers dipping into the elastic waistband of your panties just to let it snap back against your skin, reveling in the little yelp it conjures from you.

“Already soaked,” he sneers in your ear as two fingers skim over your lace-clad cunt. “Of course you are. I don’t know why I expected any less,” he huffs out a chuckle; a mean, harsh sound that ghosts over the shell of your ear before he captures it with his teeth, biting down hard and forcing a high-pitched squeal from your throat. “Because my baby’s such a Goddamn slut, isn’t she,” his lips are against your ear as he murmurs in that low, sultry voice, hot breath contrasting the cool air of the restroom, and you shiver violently.

“Only for you,” you whine out, already breathless.

And you’ll never get over how easily he knocks the air out of your lungs with just a few dirty words and prodding fingers, stroking your slit through drenched lace in a way that’s almost gentle, careful, purposeful, sure to keep his touches as teasing and not nearly enough.

Still, those three words have more of an effect on him than you would’ve thought, a possessive growl ripping from his chest as he grinds his hard cock against your inner thigh, the denim rough against your soft skin.

That growl in particular is your favourite, and you tell him so.

“Yeah?” he laughs a little, pulling back as sapphire searches your face rapidly, wide and bright and alert with the cocaine rushing through his body.

“Makes me—” sharp teeth sink into the flesh of your neck, just above your shoulder, a loud gasp cutting you off and bouncing against the walls of the small room. “Makes me wet, niichan,”

He groans into your skin, tongue wet and warm and caressing the skin in little licks back and forth, back and forth, back and forth as he sucks, branding you with brilliant violet.

“What’s this? My princess talking so dirty without being prompted?” he pulls back to look at you, and you can see the amusement dancing in his deep, deep eyes, endless pits of cerulean smothering everything their gaze touches, almost voracious as they soak it all up, feeling like they’re sucking the very life from you in the most delicious way.

A pitiful squeak escapes your lips in the form of an answer, heat seeping into your cheeks. He’s mocking you—you can tell. Those three words uttered from your lips aren’t even that dirty, are nothing compared to some of the things that have come out of your mouth while you’re delirious on his cock, begging for his cum.

Still, you’re unable to find your voice, staring at him in an almost helpless manner, a little kitten in the clutches of a jaguar, claws beginning to close in on you, trapping you between heavy, sharp paws.

“Ah,” he smirks, eyes darkening dangerously. “Not so bold when niichan’s actually looking at you, are you?”

Front teeth dig into your bottom lip, chewing on it a little as you hold his gaze, feeling heat gush between your thighs, the symphony of your combined slightly ragged breathing ringing in your ears.

“Say it again,”

And you try—really, you do, lips separating as you try to force the words out, a nasty combination of frustration and shame eroding your chest, burning and acidic, then shaking your head a moment later.

“Just,” you whimper as you try to pathetically rock against him. “Please?”

“Nah, nah, nah,” he’s shaking his head, that stupid grin etched across his face, pulling back even more but keeping you up against the wall, hands still cupping your ass, hips pinning yours. “Niichan isn’t gonna fuck you now unless you ask for it,”

Your forehead creases with a deep frown. You usually ask him to fuck you, don’t you? “I alwa—”

“No, no, you don’t,” he says simply with a tilt of his head. “Niichan wants you to really ask for it this time,”

You blink rapidly in confusion. “I-I don’t understand,”

Little breaths are beginning to leave your mouth, speeding up with the racing of your heart, terrified to upset him. Yet he looks amused, looks like he’s having so much fun as he torments you.

“Aw, sweetheart,” he coos with a false pout, mimicking your own. “You’re not that stupid, are you?”

A little whimper leaves your lips, chin twitching, threatening to begin trembling as you shake your head at him, unable to find words. Heat floods your face again, little pinpricks under the skin of your cheeks, a physical manifestation of your humiliation as he tuts his tongue.

“I don’t know how else to explain it to you,” he shrugs nonchalantly, though you can feel his cock throbbing through the thick denim of his jeans. “Just ask for my cock, babygirl,”

Although oozing with patronization, his voice is soft, blown pupils gazing at you with so much love it’s nearly overflowing from his eyes, slender fingers kneading the flesh of your ass almost tenderly as he waits.

And that’s all the encouragement you need, really.

“I-I want your cock, nii—” you begin, voice fading as your eyes meet his unimpressed gaze, raising an eyebrow at you as if to say Really? That’s the best you got?

A fierce need to prove yourself, to make him moan again, to make his stomach tense from just your words alone, blazes in your chest, burning through your veins and giving you another surge of confidence.

Gazing at him through your lashes, you pout a little more. “Niichan,” you whine out the honorific, back arching a little as you do. “Please, niichan, give it to me, I’m begging, my pussy is aching for your cock, T-Touya-nii—I need it filling me up, need it right now, f-feels so empty without you stretching me wide open,” the sentence fades off into a little whimper, but his lidded, glazed eyes, and the way his tongue runs along his bottom lip as he stares at you spurs you on, more dirty words spilling from your lips. “Feels—Feels wrong without your f-fat cock inside of me,” you nearly weep. “Please, niichan, make it right again,”

The gentle tremble in your voice only adds to it, somehow manages to make you seem so fucking innocent as you whine out such filthy words, and Touya can barely handle it, rubbing against your thigh, the repetitive motion of the denim dragging across your soft skin causing it to chafe.

“Fucking Christ,” he breathes, pressing his forehead against yours as his eyes slip shut. “I wish I had recorded that,”

A cute, shy little giggle bubbles up your throat, face still burning. “I-I can say it again, if you want, niichan,”

He laughs—a genuine laugh deep in his throat, paired with a smile that meets his eyes—and presses a chaste kiss to your nose.

“One day, I’ll film us,” he vows, and the thought alone makes your stomach swoop. “But now, niichan’s gonna make you feel right again, okay, princess?”

“Oh, please, please,” you’re whimpering, body quivering against him.

“Shh, niichan’s got you,” he murmurs as he fiddles with his belt using a singular hand, your tiny fingers wandering down between your bodies to aid him.

Shoving your panties to the side, the head of his cock presses against you, and you wince in anticipation of the stretch—the stretch you so lovingly begged him for, he reminds you, sapphire eyes soaking up every single one of your expressions as he pushes in; reveling in the way your shut lids tighten, face screwing up in pain as the softest little yelp hitches in your throat.

It burns unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, abused cunt still sore and raw from the night before, from being fucked so ruthlessly less than twenty-four hours ago.

But you’re so wet, he breathes, rolling his hips slowly, stretching you little hole out just a bit more with each unhurried rock of his hips against yours. The wetness does nothing to stop the sting that accompanies his motions, though, reopening the tiny superficial fissures in your sensitive skin, quite literally tearing you apart, again, as your cunt yields to his girth.

“Niichan, hurts,”

“Yeah, baby?”

Little fingers curl in his thick sweater, and you whimper out an affirmative, head nodding lethargically against his shoulder.

“I thought you wanted niichan to fill you up?” he speaks as though he’s confused, a hint of condescension sown into the question, never halting his thrusts.

“I-I do!” you say quickly, head shooting up to gaze at him with glassy eyes, thick shield of unshed tears causing them to gleam in the harsh light. “I do,”

“Well then,” he smirks at you, hips pulling back, slow and controlled, before thrusting back in, sharp and fast, so hard it shoves your body up the wall, head whacking against the concrete with such force it sends agonizing pain shooting through your skull like lightning strikes. “Stop being a fucking brat, and take what niichan’s giving you,” he scolds over the piercing cry that falls from your lips, voice rough, deep, rumbling the way thunder does, buried in thick clouds on a humid summer’s day.

“Ungrateful little slut,” he snarls out, panting a little as his hips set a punishing pace, rapidly slamming into you, his jutting hipbones digging into the fresh bruises from the night before.

And you’re powerless to stop the noises you’re emitting, catching in your throat in time with his harsh thrusts, little mewls of niichan! and broken whines bouncing off the solid, cold walls, each one reverberating in his skull, forcing his hips to drive faster, harder, deeper.

But it’s fucking intoxicating, the way he’s pulling those needy little sounds from you as tears slip down your cheeks, pompously spitting demeaning words at you, sugarcoated in a thin, gleaming layer of praise. He’s a goddamn drug, words invading your mind and casting a thick haze over it, and during that moment all you can see is him, hear is him, taste is him—you swear you can feel him rushing through your veins, his heady scent of expensive cologne mixed with hickory campfire and a hint of Marlboros filling your lungs, the organs swelling painfully as you hold him inside your chest, trying to keep a piece of him close to your heart.

He stops to readjust your position, grunting as hooks an arm under your knee and yanks, ripping it from around his waist and forcing it toward your torso, your ankle nearly resting on his shoulder, his hand splayed flat against the dirty wall, using it as leverage. Your other leg clings to him, wrapped so tightly around his body that the muscles are beginning to quiver. Still, this brief pause affords you a much needed moment to catch your breath before his hips piston into you again, harsh, strong, fast, cockhead slamming against your cervix with each snap of his hips.

Each thrust forces another yelp to tear from your throat, your voice hoarse and raw, as he bruises your abused cervix, sharp spikes of pain shooting up your lower back and down your trembling thighs. He’s a watery blur at this point, eyes overflowing with tears, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders as you clutch him, arms beginning to ache from holding yourself up.

Tufts of white hair stick to his neck and forehead, clumped together with sweat. He’s almost whining out curses, slipping from between clenched teeth as his thrusts continue to pick up speed, although you can barely hear him over the sound of your own ragged breathing, peppered with pitiful little sobs that leave your chest heaving.

“Look at you,” he gasps out, wild sapphire eyes searching your face. “So fucking beautiful, taking my cock so well,”

And even in such a position, inebriated from the potent combination of pain and pleasure and him, his praise still makes your heart soar. A little pink tongue darts out to wet your chapped lips, bitten raw by him and salty with your own tears. Strand of hair stick to your puffy cheeks, though you’re unsure if they’re coated in sweat or tears.

“C’mon, baby,” he nearly keens. “Want you to be a good girl and cum for me,”

And those two tiny, four letter words are the magic words, like they always are, your head nodding vigorously, incoherent babbling bubbling past your lips; yes niichan, of course, wanna be a good girl for you, touya-nii, the best girl, your best girl.

He gives you permission to touch your clit, swollen and aching from neglect, your fingers sneaking between your bodies to rub at it, pussy clenching almost immediately.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. “Yeah baby, just like that, milk niichan for all the cum he’s got,”

The praise, mixed with a direct command, has your fingers speeding up, moving in rapid circular motions, that cord of heat in your stomach coiling tighter, and tighter, and tighter, until it finally snaps, your little cunt throbbing as you gush around his cock.

He follows immediately after with a dark growl of your name, hips stilling as he finally cums, pinning you against the wall, cockhead pressed tightly against your sore cervix.

It’s thick, scalding, and copious, wrecked little noises getting caught in your throat as his cock pulses, filling you with endless spurts of cum; so much, too much, and you’re sure your womb isn’t nearly big enough to take it all, positive that it’s leaking out of you, running down your ass and down his balls.

You still haven’t caught your breath by the time Touya’s releasing you, hands firm on your hips as he places you gently on your feet, keeping you steady as your legs shake. You can still feel his cum leaking out of you, and you wish you had something better than your thin panties to keep it inside of you. With a pout, you tell him so, voice absolutely ruined as you wheeze out, “I-I wish I had a-a plug, niichan, to hold all of your cum inside me,”

“Christ,” he breathes, eyes twinkling as he gazes down at you, brushing his slender fingers through your sweaty hair. “You’re gonna be the death of me, y’know that?”

      ❅           ❅           ❅

You don’t remember much of the drive home, struggling to keep your heavy eyelids from falling shut. Touya’s half dried cum is sticky—now practically gelatinous—in your panties and the mere thought of it makes you whimper, wiggling your hips a little, trying to shuffle closer to him.

It makes you feel needy. It makes him feel wanted.

“Niichan’s here, baby,” he’s murmuring into your hair as he readjusts his arm around your waist, pulling both your legs over his lap, your side still pressed firmly against his. “Niichan’s here,”

A pitiful whine slips from your lips, little fingers curling in his hoodie as warm hands travel up your dress, kneading the supple flesh of your thighs. Fingers press into the bruises he knows are there without even having to look, smirking at the way you hiss, contrasted by the way your thighs spread just a bit more, giving him more room to work, to play. The pads of his fingers graze the tiny raised cuts that the rough denim of his jeans left behind, tracing the raised little scabs.

“Sleep,” he tells you softly. “You did so good today, such a good little girl for me, my best girl,”

And his voice is the most soothing lullaby, smooth like melted platinum and quiet enough that only you can hear it, undoubtedly drowned out to the others by the staticky car radio.

      ❅           ❅           ❅

The dark bedroom is bleary, as if you were gazing at it though a thick slab of glass, eyes scanning the room slowly, mumbling out something that’s unintelligible even to yourself.

You’re not exactly sure how you got here, sitting on one of the twin beds in yours and Touya’s shared bedroom, propped up against the tiny headboard like a doll.

Touya’s murmuring to you softly as tender hands find the hem of your dress, tugging it up slowly, slowly, slowly, a low whine getting caught in your throat as your soft skin is exposed to the cool air, until he’s removed it from you completely. The clasp at the back of your bra snaps, and you want to tell him to be more gentle, this is your favourite bra, but you can’t seem to make your tongue move, the muscle sitting slimy and heavy in your mouth. Your vision disappears entirely for a second as something soft is slipped over your head, your body engulfed in the scent of hickory wood and Marlboro smoke.

Then large hands are all over you, maneuvering you onto your side then rolling you onto your back, gently prying your thighs open a moment later as he kneels between them, the springy mattress dipping with his weight.

“Touya-nii,” his name escapes your lips in a jumbled whine of protest.

“Shh, baby,” he hushes you, pulling your soiled panties down your legs.

Every muscle in your body aches, weighted down with fatigue from the long day, a few weak kicks—more of a fluttering of your legs, really—being all you’re able to manage in resistance.

“Hurts, niichan,” you whimper, through your eyelids are already falling shut again, exhaustion tugging at your consciousness gently.

“I know, princess,” he responds, and you’re just awake enough for the words to register, brow furrowing. His body heat disappears for a moment from between your thighs as he leans over to grab something, then returns, waves of comforting warmth rolling off of him.

Your body flinches ever so slightly as you feel something cold and smooth being spread across your swollen folds and puffy little hole. Cream, your mind supplies feebly.

“Niichan—”

“Quiet now,” he says, voice firmer than before. An order, this time. “Go to sleep, baby, and let niichan take care of this,”

Hot, tingling sparks blossom deep in the pit of your stomach, making your entire body buzz, like you’re high off him again, the sensation causing your chest to swell. This is what love feels like—Touya rubbing cool, soothing cream into your raw skin as he murmurs soft praises to you—you’re absolutely positive about it.

“I love you,”

The words leave your lips as a dreamy sigh, body finally relaxing against the mattress again.

He presses a tender kiss to your inner thigh, the soft skin a mosaic of crimson and violet from his previous ministrations. “I love you more,”

And that’s the last thing you feel, the last thing you hear as your mind slowly drifts into unconsciousness, filled with hazy images of a pretty boy with glowing sapphires for eyes and ivory for hair, of slim veiny hands decorated with the most magnificent black ink, the pads of their fingertips dancing along your skin, of a deep, sultry voice smoother than satin murmuring how much it loves you as lips crawl up your body—up your thighs, over your stomach and ribs, along the curve of you neck, until finally, they reach yours.

[tennessoui]

FeralObi anon here. How do you come up with these so fast?? Are you an infinite number of ideas and worlds in human-shaped form? I love both of those ideas. The first one kills me tho, Obi gets his first kind touch in years from lil Anakin. Also you can have lil Anakin coming home one day with a skulking, snarling nonverbal murder puppy and saying brightly, "He followed me home, can I keep him?" Schmi thinks this is definitely worse than the time he brought a krayt dragon home.

ah! hello! yes this is the first idea of a feral obi-wan who meets anakin when he's still on tatooine. i will also still do the second idea because like. i liked them equally as much rip me

but i told myself these were going to both be very short snippets and instead this one is uh 2k so i'll post the second one tomorrow instead of tonight!

(ficlet where obi-wan is captured by pirates/unspecified forces at a young age and then tortured for a decade before he escapes to tatooine when anakin is like 6. obi-wan, after a decade of torture is....not alright in this fic though he's only here at the end) (2k)

Shmi had known that when she sent her little Anakin away to follow after the stern-faced, warm-eyed Jedi Master, that this would not be the last time she ever saw her boy. She couldn’t explain how she knew, just as she had not been able to explain how she became pregnant, but she knew beyond a doubt that one day, she would see her little boy back in her arms.

She just hadn’t known it would be so soon.

“He died, Master Jinn died,” Anakin mumbles into the front of her dress, unwilling to move his head far back enough from her hug that he could talk clearly. “On Naboo. And the stupid Jedi council refused to train me even after I was so amazing in the air. Mom, I destroyed a blockade! Entirely! And they wouldn’t--they didn’t--” his little face scrunches up and then he’s bawling into his hands.

A slave, a born slave, knows intrinsically the injustice of the galaxy. It is not often they know hope.

“Oh my boy,” she whispers, smoothing a hand over the top of his head. She has questions. She has so many questions about everything he’s just said and what those strangers have put her son through, but the most important thing is a question she cannot wait until he has cried himself out to ask. “Is your chip gone, Ani? Did they remove your transmitter?”

Because she had sent him away from her so that he could be free. And that had been her own twisted version of hope, that her son could know a life she never would again. If the Jedi masters had proven to be just like every other master in the world, she would find herself sobbing into her own hands.

“Yeah,” Anakin sniffles and wipes at his ruddy cheeks, pulling back a few steps. “They removed it and everything. And--”

He pauses and drops his satchel to the ground in front of her. “They gave me credits. To buy you. For my trouble.”

He spits out the last three words like they’re the most disgusting thing in the entire world. As if Shmi’s freedom isn’t laying at their feet, mere centimeters away.

“Republic credits are no good here,” she hears herself say faintly.

“Padme, the handmaiden you met, she talked to the queen about me I guess,” Anakin mumbles, kicking his feet. “And when the queen learned that the Jedi didn’t want me even after all that, Padme says the queen says I’ll always have a place on Naboo. Me and my family. And then she took the Jedi credits and gave me these instead. It should be enough, Mom.”

Shmi sits down on the floor. With shaking hands, she opens the bag and looks inside. Yes. Yes.

There’s more than enough.

There’s enough to buy her freedom and take her boy away from Mos Espa. There’s enough to take her boy away from Tatooine completely.

“I…” she says. “Ani, I…”

“Padme said she’d send a ship for us,” Ani reports as if their lives are not changing right in front of their eyes. “In two days ‘cause I told her it might take a little bit of time to get Ben to come with us. But we can’t leave without him.”

This is said fiercely and with his arms crossed tightly over his little chest.

Shmi stares at him.

“I’ve already left him once!” Anakin says, stomping his foot. “But that was okay, because I knew you would bring him food and water and stuff. But if we’re both gone, no one’s going to be there for him.”

Shmi bites at her lip. There’s a lot of things happening very quickly right now, and she doesn’t know how to process half of them.

Her son has come back, after only being gone for a week and a half.

He has apparently either endeared himself so much to the queen of Naboo that she was willing to give him the money necessary to buy his mother from slavery and also promise him sanctuary on her planet. He says he’s done this by single-handedly ending a blockade, which is something she just cannot even think about right now.

He has told this queen--queen--that he will gladly live on Naboo with his family. Yes. Alright.

His family seems to include his imaginary friend, Ben.

Anakin has been talking about Ben for years now, ever since he was six and a half years old and sent by Watto to retrieve any scraps he could from what looked to be a crashed pod in the Wastelands. She’d let him ramble on about the ghost of a friend, because she’d known it to be something all children go through and experience. She hadn’t thought Anakin a lonely child, not with the friends he made in Mos Espa, but she’d always known that Anakin had a wandering spirit, ill-suited for Tatooine. If he liked to imagine an older man from a strange world hiding in the caves of the Wastes, then she wasn’t going to say anything.

“You have been leaving him food, haven’t you, Mom?” Anakin asks, almost accusatory. “I told him to expect you and everything.”

No. Shmi has not been traveling to the edge of the Wastelands every day during her precious few hours of free time in order to leave food to be picked apart by womp rats and desert critters and not her boy’s imaginary friend.

“Ani,” she says cautiously, quietly, “we cannot...we won’t be able to bring Ben with us when we go.”

Anakin, predictably, does not react well. “Why not!” he yells, backing away from her even further and looking as if she is the enemy. “Padme’s fine with it!”

“Aren’t you a little old for imaginary friends?” Shmi asks desperately, feeling cold suddenly even though the heat of the mid-morning sun has not abated at all.

If anything, her son looks more offended. “He’s not imaginary! Saying...saying that he’s not coming with us...is...is a bunch of poodoo!”

“Anakin!” Shmi gasps.

“Come on,” her boy says forcefully, grabbing at her hand and tugging her towards the door. She gets on her feet reluctantly and has half a mind to pull back just because he needs to learn that this sort of behavior is not okay, war hero or not. “We’re going to buy you from Watto. And then we’re going to go visit Ben!”

---

Buying her freedom takes less time than Shmi Skywalker ever thought it would. It feels distant as well, as if it’s happening to someone else.

It doesn’t help that her Ani is impatient and surly by turn, spilling the coin out onto Watto’s counter and barely waiting for him to finish counting it before he’s looking at the price of renting a four-person speeder parked outside.

“You won’t survive out there on your own,” Watto sneers, even as he’s passing her the kill-switch of her own slave chip. “Days. It’ll be days until the Hutts find out there’s a newly freed slave with no connections out there in the open. Ripe for the pickin’.”

Watto doesn’t have to tell her any of this. She knows. Gods, does she know.

But Anakin seems so sure about possessing the favor of the Queen of Naboo, or at least her handmaiden, which might be close enough to the same thing. She thanks Watto--she thanks him and then doesn’t even know why--and meets Anakin outside.

He’s bouncing around the speeder, little hands clutching his satchel to his chest. “Good!” he says when he sees her, hopping onto the machine and putting the parcel between his feet. “I got Ben something called a fig on Naboo, but I don’t know how long it’ll take for it to go bad. Apparently they’re sweet.”

Shmi goes along with it. Shmi doesn’t know why she goes along with it, but she does. She can see this is important to her boy, and though she’d rather spend the afternoon and early evening saying goodbye to her friends, she will allow Ani to say goodbye to his imaginary friend. Maybe she’ll even talk to it. “Hi, hello, I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed the imaginary blue milk and delicacies I’ve left out for you this past week and half. Oh no, it was no bother. My son insisted.”

The ride is quick--Anakin has always been a driver to push the limits of any engine he comes across--and before she knows it, he’s dismounting on a piece of desert and rock that look exactly the same as the last four pieces of rocky terrain they’ve past.

“Ben!” Ani calls, satchel clutched firmly in his hands as he makes his way deeper into the crevices of the landscape. “Ben, it’s Ani! I’m really sorry that I left! Ben? Ben! I’m back now! Ani’s back!”

It’s actually...quite pathetic, to watch her boy speak so pleadingly to the cold stone faces of the rocks around them, but if this is what he needs to do to say goodbye to his life on Tatooine, Shmi won’t say a word.

“Ben--” Anakin draws in a breath to call again, but then there’s movement out of the corner of Shmi’s eyes, and something jumps from the rock down to land on her boy.

She screams and darts forward, but the thing on top of her son snarls at her in guttural warning.

“No, Ben,” Ani coos, stroking at the face that yes, is human, now that it’s not in unnaturally fast motion. “That’s my mom, Ben.”

Ben--Ben??--growls anyway, pinning the boy--her boy--beneath him with his legs and arms.

“She’s fine,” Ani murmurs gently, one hand reaching up to stoke over the beginnings of a beard on Obi-Wan’s face “Oh Ben, I’m sorry.”

The man on top of Shmi’s child finally looks away from her and at her boy, which is both better and worse.

“Ani,” Ben drawls out, as if the word--or perhaps forming the word--hurts him.

Anakin is happy. Shmi can tell he’s happy without even being able to see much of him. It’s like the very air vibrates with his joy. “Yes!” her son says. “Ani. Ben.” He taps the man’s chest. “Ben. Ani.”

The man buries his head into Anakin’s hair, hands rubbing up and down his sides and his arms and his face.

Shmi needs to say something, wants to say something about this strange man touching boy like he owns him, but the memory of his growl and the flash of his golden eyes stops her from stepping forward.

“Anakin, get away from him,” she hisses instead of stepping forward and tearing the stranger off of her son. She has the distinct feeling Anakin wouldn’t let Ben go anywhere, not with the way his little hands are holding so tight to the man’s shoulders. The man’s shoulders that are covered with one of her old tunics that Anakin had told her became unsalvageable after its last wash.

“No,” Anakin says, tightening his hold on his...friend. “He says you didn’t give him food the entire time I was gone! He’s hungry.”

Shmi thinks there’s a very good possibility that this Ben is going to eat her, but she knows not to say anything of the sort. Not when it’s two against one.

“He hasn’t said anything!” She cries instead.

Anakin huffs at this and pats at the feral’s head. “Maybe not to you, but he talks to me.”

Shmi stares at him and wonders if there’s something she’s supposed to be doing or saying here. The man won’t allow her to tear him off her child, she knows that automatically. But she can’t--she doesn’t know--

“Anakin,” she tries, desperately.

But Anakin doesn’t even look at her, too busy petting over the man, who has at least allowed him to sit up. “Hey, I’m sorry, I thought she would,” he tells him in an undertone. “I really thought she would, but I’m back now. I’m not going anywhere without you again--”

He extends his hand and Ben presses his cheek against it with enough force that it pushes him back slightly.

“You’re coming to Naboo with us, Ben,” Anakin promises, clutching at the ends of the man’s long hair. “Or I’m not going at all.”

To Shmi, it sounds like a threat.

The way her son’s eyes flash an unfamiliar golden color makes her feel cold as a Tatooine night. She shivers, but no one notices.

[a-detraque-barista]

Zombie Killer

Yandere Zombie Namjoon x Reader

Genre: yandere, gore, zombie, character deaths (but not graphic yet)

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: i love this man and i'm so glad i finally finished something with him in it. i hope this wasn't too rushed because i did write the majority of it back in 2019 but i hope you all enjoy nonetheless <3

It's been two years since the zombie apocalypse began. You've been on your own for exactly one year, seven months, and forty-nine days now. Wandering the world as you tried to find a safe haven that wasn't infected with undead cannibals. You don't hide behind doors very often anymore, you've learned it only makes you want to stay inside and rot while trembling in fear. You hated the way fear makes you so vulnerable. Adapting to the outside world was your only option before going insane. Carrying multiple weapons with you made you able to survive much longer than hiding in buildings.

People call you crazy and barbaric because you chose to survive by any means necessary. That's what your best friend had told you before getting bitten. And so, your survival of the fittest instinct kicked in once you shot your best friend in the face. Twice. Ever since then you've been wandering the streets of different cities. If you see a group of zombies then you stay clear. You were a badass zombie killing machine, but you knew when to pick your fights.

You had just sneaked off the ship you stowed away on for the past week. Immediately, you identified the native language here as Korean. Before the outbreak happened you had tried to learn the Korean language. You had only gotten so far in the lessons but you can still make sentences.

Sticking to the shadows you kept your guard up just in case anything tried to attack you. Overall, these streets were deserted and you didn't see or hear any sign of life or even the undead. You spotted a convenience store with the glass of the sliding doors broken. You had to at least look for food, so you headed inside after checking with your shotgun was loaded. You only had two more shells left so you needed to get rid of it now that its weight was holding you back. Stepping silently and diligently, you made your way to the dry food section. The shelves were almost completely bare. There were ramyeon packs left which you quickly put in your bag. You also found chips in another one of the aisles on the floor. You didn't bother looking for water, already knowing that it was long gone. What you did look for was tea. Not everyone knows that it's the second-best thing to drink when there's no water. And as you expected, there were tons of different flavored teas. Grabbing the peach, strawberry, green, and watermelon you made your way out of the store to see a group of masked people walking by.

They spotted you almost immediately as you froze and waited to see what they would do. Your thick black mask covered your face as much as theirs but they had hoods and hats covering their foreheads. No matter if you were a zombie or not most people tried to kill you. You had no idea why maybe it was just their need to be the last and the strongest kicking in.

Then all of a sudden there were five guns pointed at your head. See? All you did was stand there and apparently that's a threat. Pointing your gun at them would only make things worse given that you're outnumbered so you ran. Turning the corner once their guns began to fire, you ended up sprinting through the alleys. Always making sure you turned a corner every chance you got so you couldn't get shot.

You stopped to take a breath as you crouched down while panting. You had to leave your motorcycle behind so it had been a while since you’ve run that far. Hearing a crash further down the alley, you held your shotgun up trying to see what had made the sound. Nothing moved for a while so you slowly backed away and turned around quickly to run but all you found was one of the masked men from earlier.

“We need to go,” you spoke to the man quietly before another crash sounded from behind you. Trying to run past the man, he stopped you and pushed you back toward the alley. Holding his gun aimed at your head.

“Drop it,” you dropped your shotgun. “Walk,” he hissed and you turned back around to see a pair of ivory eyes staring at you.

How did you not notice them before? They stood out so vividly against the dark shadows of the alley. No doubt a zombie, but it wasn’t attacking. You felt the gun in the middle of your back push you towards the flesh-eating monster in front of you. In the blink of an eye, the ivory irises were no longer in front of you and the man behind you was screaming before having his jaw detached from his skull.

This zombie was like no other, it was quick, intelligent, and strong. Hearing the other men approaching, the zombie took your hand into its own and hurried deeper into the alley. Its skin was ice and calloused and bloody from tearing the man’s jaw out. It didn’t necessarily bother you as you were no stranger to blood now. But why was this zombie saving you? It’s not like you could ask, you didn’t know if it still understood speech. It never lets go of your hand until it finally leads you to an abandoned building hidden in plain sight. Leading you to the top floor, you saw a mattress on the ground with a pillow and blanket, a tv, empty plates, a mini-fridge, and even a microwave. It really was intelligent.

It took your arm to have you sit on the mattress as you got a better look at its face. It was...handsome. Even with grayish skin and a few holes. He was stunning. He chuckled after noticing your shell-shocked gaze at his appearance. You’ve never heard a zombie fucking chuckle.

He walked away to the mini-fridge and came back with a bottle of water for you. Now you really had some questions, but you didn’t want to seem rude about asking if he understood what you were saying.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” he smiled as he opened the water for you since you took too long. Pushing the bottle closer to you making you accept the water and taking a sip. “You probably haven’t had any water in while. Drink up.”

So you did. You chugged the whole bottle in under a minute as he watched you do so fondly. “What are you?” Okay, so maybe that was a little straightforward and harsh but you couldn’t help but wonder.

“A zombie, obviously. You probably mean why haven’t I eaten you. I can’t really answer that because I don’t know myself. It’s always been this way, ever since I got bitten I mean,” he explained as he stood up and made his way over to the tv to turn it on. “And if you’re wondering why I saved you, it’s because I know those guys can be dicks. They’ve been trying to kill me for months. Ever since they started that little murder group.”

“How did you know I needed help? Were you just passing through that alley?” you questioned while watching him sit back down next to you.

“I’ve been following you this whole time. I’m surprised you didn’t notice. I saw you get off the boat and followed you since then,” he explained like it was no big deal. “But it was a good thing I was there when I was. Otherwise, you’d probably be dead, or turned into a zombie.”

He was right. If it weren’t for him, you would either be eaten or left dead on the ground. Was that really an excuse for stalking you this whole time though?

“There’s no need to overthink it, just get some rest.”

Why was he so damn convincing? He was really nice though. “What’s your name?” you couldn’t stop the question from leaving your mouth in time.

“Namjoon. What’s yours?”

“Y/n.”

“What a wonderful name,” his smile caused his dimples to show making you look at the television.

The soft lull of the show made you tired and you could feel your eyelids getting heavier. Namjoon took note of it but said nothing as he wanted you to completely fall asleep. Seeing your head bob a few times he helped lay you down and covered you with the blanket. He set your bag on the floor along with all of your weapons from off your body.

“Sweet dreams, my little zombie killer,” Namjoon whispered as his attention turned back to the show on the screen.

You had woken up to the sound of a thud from outside of the door. You recognized the growling and screeching of a goddamn zombie. Patting your body down, you couldn’t feel any weapons. You looked around to find them next to you on the floor. You quickly picked up your pistol and stood by the door. Waiting for it to come through, once the door opened you shot it. The body fell to the floor only for you to realize it was Namjoon. The actual zombie laid torn apart on the floor behind him. There was no guarantee Namjoon would survive that but usually, you have to shoot them twice.

He didn't move for a while so you crouched down and poked his shoulder. You heard him groan before he propped himself up with his arms. His tainted, dark blood was pooling on the ground under him. He sat back on his heels and took a deep breath.

"Are-are you okay, Namjoon?" you stuttered as you placed your hand on his shoulder.

The next moment you were on your back with him laying on you. You froze, not knowing what he would do. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, "My name sounds nice when you say it."

You let a shaky breath you were holding before resting your free hand on his back. Feeling the blood seeping through your clothes, you tapped him to have him lift his head. Sure enough, your whole stomach was now covered in his almost black blood.

Namjoon lifted your shirt over your head and stood up to toss it into the corner. You quickly cross your arms over your chest to hide your embarrassing worn-out bra but Namjoon tried his best to pretend like he didn’t see anything. Helping you to stand, he brought you over to a large bucket of water and took a rag from it. He was on his knees as he wiped away all of his blood from your skin. He looked up to your cheeks that were a dark red hue and grinned.

“I didn’t expect you to shoot me in the head,” he was only teasing but he wanted to see your reaction.

“Sorry,” you mumbled and you allowed him to clean your stomach off longer than necessary.

“What was that?” Namjoon was having fun giving you a hard time while he finished cleaning up the blood before he gently wiped his face so he wouldn’t tear his dead skin, then he went to get you a clean shirt from the bag he had in the corner.

“You heard what I said,” you grumbled as you snatched the shirt away from him.

You weren’t really good at interacting with people. Through the whole zombie apocalypse thing, you had kind of thrown all of your social skills out the window. You didn’t mean to come off as rude to the one person helping you, but you couldn’t help but get flustered. It’s not like you were going to stay here for long anyway. You needed to get back on the road by tomorrow.

You then began to wonder how long he's been here. But you were also too afraid to ask. That would be being nosy right? You have no idea what he's been through and it might set him off, so you kept your thoughts to yourself.

You didn't have time to think about the handsome zombie in front of you. You needed to think about where to go next. Speaking of which, Namjoon had been watching your expressions, wondering what you were thinking about.

His partly deteriorated brain began to wander with questions about you. How long have you been alone? Where were you from? He knew you spoke English but that was no indicator of where you were from. Just look at him, he knew a few languages himself so he couldn’t exactly pinpoint where you would be from. Where were you going next? What were you looking for? Who were you looking for? Could it be a lover of yours?

He stopped. Why would he care if you had a significant other? He didn't. Right? Cause it doesn’t matter.

"So, I suppose I should get going," you walked over to your pile of weapons before strapping them and tucking them in their designated places. Since you had a little time to think now, it was decided that you should leave as soon as possible. Just thinking of spending another night in the same four walls terrified you.

“What if the group of masked killers is still around? You’ll need someone to show you the back routes,” Namjoon spoke quickly. He couldn’t understand why he needed to spend more time with you, but he just knew he feared you leaving him. Namjoon did his part in making sure you got somewhere safe off of the boat yesterday. He told himself he would have nothing else to do with you after that, humans never last long anymore.

“I mean...if you want to,” you weren’t going to force someone to venture with you out in the world during the apocalypse. Then again, he was a zombie and couldn’t be killed easily. He could prove to be useful on your trip for whatever distance he’s willing to go. It doesn’t seem like there’s much happening in this abandoned room of his.

All Namjoon did was nod and walk across the room to pack a bag. He decided that there was no way in hell he was going to let you wander around on your own. He doesn’t care how well you can take care of yourself. You needed protecting and that was exactly what he was going to do. He was able to take a shotgun to the head, he will risk his undead life for you.

Namjoon realized where his thoughts were going. Maybe this whole being undead thing was truly affecting his decision-making. He just met you yesterday and he’s willing to die for you? However, all those thoughts disappeared once he turned around and his eyes were set on you once again. As they always should be.

He will keep you safe.

Walking out of the building that Namjoon had been living in for over a year was easier than he thought would be. He heard the peaceful silence of the streets while walking beside you and realized he never took the time to breathe. Figuratively of course. Namjoon wasn’t used to the quiet as he would normally be chased or even in his room he would always have the television on as background noise. Something he felt was needed so he wouldn’t lose his sanity. He began to prefer the quiet more than a constant noise.

You did prefer the quiet, most of the time. There were times where you absolutely hated it. Hated it enough to want to take your knives and dig them into your eardrums so you would go deaf. That type of quiet was the type to have your ears ringing and your breathing sound like you were panting. Even making your heartbeat pound in your ears to attempt to drown out the unbearable silence.

The quiet you loved was broken when a zombie tripped over something metal. Without hesitating, you pulled out your gun and shot it in the head. Your aim has become exceptional since this all started. You slowly approached it and shot it in the head again. You’ve learned to make sure they’re done for by shooting them twice before they could recover.

Namjoon stood there, fascinated by how quickly you reacted. He barely had enough time to notice the zombie before you shot it. You were practically a zombie killing machine. But how many times have you had to fight off these flesh-eating corpses by yourself? God, all he wanted to do was to take all the bad from your life and leave only the good. He had been lonely and at first, scared. He could only imagine how you felt at the beginning of all of this and learning to survive through it. He truly wanted to help you. And he will.

✄ ✄ ✄

It took about an hour and a half to weave through the alleys and side streets to avoid the group that was hunting for any walking being that was and wasn’t minding their own business. Finally, the two of you were out of the city and you found an SUV in acceptable condition. You hot-wired it and waited until Namjoon climbed in to start driving down the deserted country road.

The absence of zombies had made it easy for you and Namjoon to get away. Somehow, one of the stations on the radio was working so that's what you opted to listen to for now. It was a song that sounded familiar but you couldn't remember where you had heard it. Namjoon had suddenly asked a question that caught you a little off guard.

"Do you like these guys?" his voice was even for the most part but it seemed he wanted a certain answer.

"I'm not sure who this is exactly. The song sounds familiar though," hopefully you gave the right response. If there was a way to trigger something in him to make him turn completely into a cannibalistic undead monster, you didn't want to find it.

“They’re - sorry, they were called BTS. Making their way to the top of the world,” you could hear the sadness in Namjoon’s voice that was no doubt about to crack from the strong emotion he was feeling.

“You were a part of that group, weren’t you?” you asked quietly as you kept your eyes on the road, occasionally glancing behind you in the review mirror.

Namjoon let out a small, saddened chuckle as he nodded, “Yeah, I was.”

You remembered watching them answer questions before one of the award ceremonies that your mother always insisted on watching. They seemed so close and genuinely nice even as they were asked dumb, demeaning inquiries.

“I’m sorry,” was the only thing you could say.

“It’s okay, I know that the three who were able to escape are out there somewhere,” he sniffled, how that worked, you didn’t really know but ignored it as his words sunk in.

“May...I ask what happened?” hopefully you wouldn’t regret your words.

He let out a humorless laugh once again, “Long story short, we walked right into the lion’s den without knowing it. It was when the outbreak first began. Couple dozen of ‘em, easily, surrounded us, and while the three were able to escape...the other four of us weren’t so lucky.” He took a deep breath that wasn’t able to allow him the same stabilizing feeling as it once did, before continuing, “I was the only one who was still able to function as a normal human. Even though my heart was no longer beating and my lungs were longer deflating and inflating. The rest were just like the other mindless cannibals looking to eat people.”

You could see that he had tears in his fog-like eyes. Suddenly, you had a thought, “What if we went looking for the other three of your friends?”

The idea was bizarre even to you, but you won’t take it back. If there were more people out there, why wouldn’t you try to find them? You had no problem with joining other people, as long as they had no means of harming you or your newfound friend. Even if y

“You would do that? For us?”

“...Yes. Just tell me what kind of places they would go, and I’ll help you get there. To be with your friends once again,” you couldn’t save your family and friends but maybe you can help save his.

[ddarker-dreams]

Lunch Discussions. Team Bucciarati x F Reader🎀

[Scarlet Ribbons description]

Word count: 1.3k, somehow ?? Notes: this is probably the most lighthearted thing i’ve ever created. idk what’s happening here. it started as a silly idea in my head but I Could Not Stop. so here it is

“If you were stranded on a deserted island, who from this table would you want to be stuck with?” 

Mista’s question goes largely unnoticed. Fugo and Narancia are in a heated discussion on if classical or hip hop is better, Bucciarati and Giorno are speaking about business, and Abbacchio is trying to zone the chatter out. That leaves you to save Mista from the throes of embarrassment. Truth be told, this innocent question is an improvement from Mista’s usual discourse.

The gunslinger’s face lights up when you hum, considering the question. 

“So it’d just be the two of us? I can’t say I’d bring a radio or something?” You ask to clarify further. 

Mista shakes his head. “Nope, no bringing anything.” 

That means practicality is most vital here. You mull over what each of your teammates (and bosses), could bring to the table. It didn’t take too long to reach a definitive answer.

“For survival’s sake, I’d pick Giorno,” you decide, the aforementioned man’s attention going to you upon hearing his name. “Well, I guess it depends on whether or not the food Gold Experience makes is edible. If it is, we’d be able to survive a long time off of it. Say, Giorno, can you eat the stuff you make?” 

“I’ve… never tried, so I’m not sure. In theory, any life created by Gold Experience is the same down to the genetics of what it’s based on.” 

Narancia snorts and takes a bite of his salad. “It’s all fun and games until a coconut falls on Giorno’s head and he’s knocked out cold. Then all the sticks and sand he used to make the food would turn back in your stomach.” 

Huh. That makes for a grotesque mental image. 

Giorno tries to defend himself but Narancia is too busy readying his argument. “A coconut…?” 

“Clearly, I’m the best choice here,” Narancia decides, pointing his fork at you. Should that be considered a threat? “Aerosmith could get the attention of a nearby plane.” 

“Non-Stand users wouldn’t be able to see it, you dumbass. What are you going to do? Wait for a Stand user pilot to roll on by?” Fugo asks with a sigh, Narancia shooting him a nasty look. 

“You never know! I’m sure there’s one or two. Besides, why would anyone want to bring you along? Your Stand couldn’t even hunt for food, it’d turn everything into a big ol’ pile of mush.” 

Fugo clicks his tongue. “There’s more to survival than that. Food is a valuable resource, yes, but do you know how to purify water?” 

Narancia furrows his eyebrows together, considering the proposition. “You have to… purify water?” 

Now it’s Fugo’s turn to look at you.

“This idiot would give you dysentery on day one,” he states dryly. You hold back a laugh at the indignation on Narancia’s face. “I think my chances would be pretty good. At least I know what poisonous plants look like.” 

Mista’s simple question is turning into a complex cobweb of possibilities. He can’t help but notice the others seemed more willing to chime in the moment you entered the conversation. Silently, he tells himself not to take it personally. 

“Well, whatever. I’d pick [First]. She could make us a shelter and bridges to different areas. The rest of you guys can be boring and pick Giorno.” Narancia decides. You can’t help but feel a little honored that he’d pick you, a content smile on your face. His last comment makes you wonder if picking Giorno is the easy answer, due to the nature of his Stand’s abilities. Abbacchio, who none of you thought was paying attention, speaks up. 

“I wouldn’t pick Giorno,” Abbacchio places his headphones around his neck. “I wouldn’t pick any of you guys, actually. Aside from Bucciarati, you’d all be dead in a week, easily.”

Bucciarati clears his throat, realizing he’s now been roped into the conversation. “I’m glad you guys are having fun, but--” 

Mista is quick to rebuke Abbacchio’s claims. “I would not die in a week! I’d at the very least make it to two weeks.” 

“Like hell you would. Pistols would destroy your food supply on the first day.” Abbacchio counters. Hm, he’s got a point, you think. Pistols do have a notoriously ravenous appetite. Note to self, do not get stuck on an island with Mista. 

Mista puts a hand to his chin, contemplating. “Hm… actually, yeah, you’re right. Nevermind.” 

You blink, incredulous at Mista’s agreeable response. He gave up that fast?! 

“What if we kept it out of Pistol’s reach?” You tentatively speak up, trying to save Mista’s honor once more. He shudders at the thought.

“There is no such thing as food out of Pistols reach,” Mista sighs, to which his Stand cheers. “They will always find it.” 

An idea comes to mind. Clasping your hands together, you look at Narancia with a smile, who immediately returns it in full. “Oh, I know! What if we got on Aerosmith, and it flew us to safety?” 

Narancia likes the idea and nods his head vigorously. “That’s genius!” 

Fugo snorts, preparing a rebuttal in record time. “Yeah, it’d be genius until you both drop into the ocean.” 

“[First], did you forget what happened the last time you were on a plane with Narancia?” Abbacchio raises an eyebrow. Your blood runs cold as memories of Notorious B.I.G come flooding back. Actually, being on any form of transportation with these people seems to end poorly. Cars, boats, airplanes… 

“Come to think of it, you’re right about that,” you agree with a shiver. “Being stuck with Abbacchio might be interesting. Moody Blues could replay scenes from a movie to pass the time.” 

“It’d be a one-man show, but I guess it’s not impossible,” Abbacchio replies. Giorno, who had been silently watching the banter, decides to speak his piece.

“I agree with Narancia,” Giorno nods at you. “[First] would be able to treat my wounds, and I hers. We’d survive the longest.” 

“Oh, please. You guys just want to be stuck on an island with [First] because she’s c-” 

Abbacchio kicks Mista under the table, effectively silencing him. Beats getting stabbed with a fork, you muse. Bucciarati, who is doing his best to moderate the discussion, has remained noticeably absent. Not wanting to miss out on his input, you direct the question to him.

“What about you, Bucciarati? Who would you pick?” 

Your Capo thinks about it longer than the others. “Fugo’s plentiful knowledge of biodiversity would be useful. Though, if we’re taking Stands into account, [First]’s Scarlet Ribbons could make a net for fishing.” 

“Finally, a sensible answer.” Fugo sighs. 

“The real question is,” Mista takes a deep breath, placing his hands on the table. “Why is no one picking me? 

“I thought we already went over that,” Narancia replies.

“Aside from the little caveat Pistols presents, I’d still be a valuable asset. Did you guys forget that I survived prison?”

“Two weeks of prison, might I add,” Fugo corrects, to Mista’s dismay. “By that logic, Narancia would be the best choice.”

“Which I am--”

“You don’t even know how to make a fire, much less survive in the wild.” 

“If I shoot something long enough it’ll catch on fire.” Narancia shrugs. Fugo rubs his temple, fending off a headache that looms on the horizon. It looks like none of you are going to be reaching a conclusion anytime soon, talking circles around one another. Still, you feel as if this is the appeal of talking to them. You can expect it to be a thrilling adventure from start to finish. 

Everyone had been too drawn into the conversation to realize the waiter, who finally works up the courage to clear his throat, catching your attention. 

“The bill for today,” is all he has the courage to say. 

Mista, Narancia, and Abbacchio both motion to Giorno at the same time, who sighs and reaches for his wallet.

[bokettochild]

Adding on, what do you think each of the boys twilight forms would be? It’s super interesting!

Oh! I actually had this talk with the amazing @kiraff!

The two of us conspired and came up with the following (under the cut to save those who have no interest)

So, cannonically, Time and Twilight have wolf forms. I like this, and decided to just leave it, I won't mess with it. The same goes with Legend and his bunny form (although Akira Himekawa's take has him as a wolfos, and I do have a theory on that too).

Additionally, I have already stated my theory that Four would be a cat (although I do appreciate the theories and ideas shared with me by others, they were pretty cool!)

So, in no particular order, we sorted out the heroes in their animal forms, taking into account that the heroes known to have alternate forms have something unique about their animal self, usually coloring or markings that set them apart as unusual or not your standard beasts.

Kiraff and I agreed that alternate forms (mermaid tail, fairy form, transformation masks) would not affect the changing of the hero into an animal, as, if their power isn't actually that of a deity, they would have to adapt to live in the darkness.

With this in mind, here's what the two of us decided:

...

Wind is an Otter. His unique trait is that he has a roughly skull shaped blotch of fur on his belly that is lighter in color than the rest of his fur. I wouldn't say he's particularly light colored, even with his hair, he's just a nice rich brown like most otters.

Otters are animals that straddle the line between being aquatic and living on land. They can't survive without both, and need access to bodies of water to stay healthy. They are territorial, and can be quite vicious if needed, but to the casual viewer they seem playful and silly.

...

Hyrule is a Fennec Fox. His unique trait is that, while he is roughly colored the same creamy base color as most fennec foxes, the tips of his ears and the upper fur along his back and tail is a dusty pink (whether this is because he's related to Legend or part fairy, you may decide for yourself).

Fennec foxes are agile creatures, and survivors. They are native to dry and desolate places such as deserts, and are both hunters and hunted, as they are small carnivores. They're alert little things, and while usually calm, they know how to have fun, and can be quite social. Not as importantly, but something fun I found on the side while researching them; usually family groups consist of about ten individuals, and how many Links are there? Let's add Malon, now how many?

...

Sky is a Bird. I have two takes on this actually.

While technically he holds the Master Sword, and thus would be immune to the twilight, if he were to drop it, one of two things would happen.

He'd be an bird of prey of some kind: Just, Sky is a bird, he has that energy. The twilight reflects your soul, and as Skyloftians say that your loftwing is the other half of your soul, I think it's fair to say this means Sky would have to be a bird. His unique feature would be golden feathers that speckle his coat, since he's so closely associated with Hylia.

Birds of prey are hunters, and fiercely loyal to their young/mate. While they aren't often keen on attacking animals significantly bigger than them, many will do so to protect their territory/nest/young. They're graceful creatures, and honestly, the way birds fall asleep is Much Sky Energy.

(Loftwing Sky is a fun idea too actually and if Crimson saw him I just see that big bird going 'Baby. Mine. My baby is now a bird too.' and just going all mama/papa bird (i all ways))

Alternatively, for crack, he turns into a cucko.

...

If you didn't already know, I am a loyal subscriber to the fan theory that Wild is Wars' son, so I actually have them sharing an animal, the Lion.

(This makes Cub super applicable to Wild, which is a fun side affect.)

Lions are pack creatures, and usually travel/work/hunt in groups, much like Wild and Warriors originally did in their journeys, Wars with the army and Wild with the champions. Heaven help you if you harm that pack though. They are skilled hunters and stalkers, and can sneak up on their prey almost silently. They aren't afraid to mess with herds and packs bigger than them, at least as long as they have a good strategy in mind. And they are strong, highly territorial and protective, and absolutely terrifying to meet when you're alone.

The unique features I see for these two? Wild is a cub, duh, he's still a kid (17 in my cannon) but he's already got the starts of an impressive mane (Wars is not jealous at all), he also shares in his dad's unique trait, which is...being blue.

Honestly, I agonized over this for forever because i couldn't think of a symbol that is unique to Warriors, on any physical trait that might carry over between forms. I finally settled on color, with blue as it's the color that is exclusive to Wild and Wars (Wind wears it too, but for most of his journey that kid is wearing green. In LU he's walking around in his PJs).

Neither Legend or Wars can really tease each other, because like this Wars can't grab anything, so he can't really mock Legend (who can) for not being able to defend himself well. Also, they're both weird colors (even if pink is far funnier than blue).

...

So yeah! Feel free to talk to me about any ideas y'all might have regarding this or twilight realm shenanigans in general!