#being on there feels like looking at a hive mind

[tsukasalover]

it’s kinda stupid to call rui “sassy” or say he was acting “mean” for simply doing what any person would do realistically after tsukasa humiliated nene in the main story. i swear this fandom has gone over this a thousand times and yet for some reason it’s still so hard for people to accept that tsukasa was being a self centered asshole. that’s not even exaggerating anything that’s just the truth.

btw (if im wrong correct me) but rui has never gotten angry at someone unreasonably he’s actually quite mature and doesn’t just?? explode over things so i dont know why him refusing to work with tsukasa even after nene forgave him is seen as a “mean” thing… let’s not forget he still believed tsukasa hadnt changed at all and only wanted to be in shows for selfish purposes. it’s not bad to admit that tsukasa is egotistical and has acted much more mean in unacceptable ways than rui + has had to own up to this and work hard to grow as a person over time

[anotherqueersnailowner]

us arospecs really do just get on Tumblr dot com and choose violence huh.

anyways be aro bash bigot with a crowbar <3

[bunnis-monsters]

What does bee hybrid dick look like? Any bumps, ridges, curves, etc? What color? Are they warm or cool?

Lots of love <3

Bee hybrid cocks are pretty different depending on the types of work the bees do.

Drones: their main purpose is to mate with the queen and fill her with eggs, so their cocks are long and thick, a dark pink in color and they have a kind of slimy texture that keeps the queen lubricated so the eggs can be inserted easily.

They curve upwards, and always hit the perfect spot! At the tip there’s a hole the size of a quarter, and it stretches to release the eggs that can range from the size of a chicken egg to a baseball. Some can even be as big as a softball, but those are very rare!

The drones are usually more built and tall, but can come in all shapes and sizes. They’re kept healthy and are examined regularly to make sure that they will produce healthy eggs!

Workers: their main purpose is to work, but they still mate with the queen! Their cocks are long and thin, a soft pink in color and they’re made to pleasure the queen more than impregnate her.

Though they still can produce eggs, their’s are usually smaller, like chicken sized eggs. In some hives they don’t get to mate with the queen, then the workers slowly evolve to not produce eggs anymore. But you mate with all of your hive, creating a diverse gene pool and lots of baby bees!

The worker bees are on the shorter side, but again their appearance can vary depending on what job they do.

Others: some bee hybrids are incapable of laying eggs, so their cocks are only meant for the queen’s pleasure. They vary in size and length, some having bumps and ridges. They’re usually identifiable from birth, since they don’t have the same egg hole the other bees have, and are thus separated.

Some are given special honey to make their cocks different shapes and sizes, with the queen’s preferences in mind. They usually are very spoiled and prissy little things since they take pride in being used as the queen’s personal dildos. They’re usually smaller and more feminine as well :3

They are free use for you alone, and you could be in the middle of a meeting and bouncing on their cocks and no one will bat an eye because their queen deserves to feel good at all times!

[xxxpu55yslay3rxxx]

So in other words, tumblr architecture enforces this shit lmao. This just verifies my crackpot theory that Tumblr rots your brain unless you are self aware about it.

Also I'd like to add, tumblr's commenting system sucks! Character limit that they don't tell you about, every single time you want to reply to anybody you have to tag them, making that shit look messy. Also for the fact that it just shows comments out of order sometimes. If ordered by latest first, you'll see recent comments on top sometimes even if you shouldn't.

Fuck it, let me be unhinged on the last line:

Tumblr ontologically fucking sucks!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Google+ was better!!!!!!!!!! the less this site acts like tumblr and more like good social media, the better!!!!!!!!

i think tumblr structurally encourages pissing on the poor

epistemic confidence: medium. (i always wanted to say that). this is amateur sociology and so should be taken with quite a bit of salt. this is absolutely a just-so story.

i think part of the reason tumblr and other similar social media websites have such a problem with misinterpretation is that conversational repair works differently than other forms of communication.

if you're talking in a group of people (over voice or over 'synchronous' communications like irc/discord that encourage short messages and paying attention) and someone responds in a way that indicates they misinterpreted you, you can interrupt them. and importantly, everyone else in the conversation hears you interrupting them. on a traditional forum with linear posts, you can't interrupt them, but anyone that reads all the posts (which, granted, isn't everyone) will eventually see your clarifying reply.

but on tumblr, if you make a post, X reblogs it with a misinterpretation, and you reply/reblog correcting X's interpretation, you have no way of notifying everyone that saw it from X; people generally don't go back and reread the notes on old posts, unlike forums where you'd typically read the threads you participate in. so the misinterpretation spreads.

and of course there's the whole 'screenshot this post to make fun of it' thing (which i'm not immune to, although i'm trying to do it less). it's obvious that screenshotting part of a post makes it even easier to misinterpret it, and i suspect that at this point for some people the mere presence of the "underwater" filter is enough to prime a "this is a bad opinion, i should disagree with it" reflex! and you can't go "hang on, that's not what i meant".

anyway. don't take this as like an iron law of social media or a thing that is definitely 100% true. but it's something i've been thinking about.

[that-wildwolf]

hey, remember being 18 years old and playing mass effect for the first time and it's got this like intense aura of being very small and very insignificant in a very big, very empty galaxy? remember playing mass effect for the first time and everything all of this is so new and mysterious, and it's 2am and you're sitting in a dark room in the light from your tv and you're playing through feros for the first time and you feel that this is someting very old and very ancient and you are somewhere you shouldn't be and you don't know what's going to happen or where you're going but you keep on. there's a tingling in your stomach and you're playing mass effect for the first time. the thorian is a milennia old sentient plant being. the rachni queen is old and telepathic and a hive mind and in pain. sovereign is an ancient machine that has not been built but is, and has always been, and this is something so alien and so unlike and beyond anything your human mind can comprehend, and this is something unexplainable and huge and as uncaring and indifferent as the empty galaxy around you. you're playing mass effect for the first time and you're walking on the surface of an almost completely empty planet with nothing but your two companions silently walking beside you and everything is so huge and empty and silent and you're so small and insignificant and it's so beautiful and so scary and you feel like you are on a rollercoaster about to drop down. you are playing mass effect for the first time and you're playing the mission on the moon and you stop and just look up at earth visible in the sky. you know this. this is home. you are playing mass effect for the first time, and the galaxy is so big, and you are so tiny, and everything is about to change for you.

[steddiealltheway]

The upside down is colder than Steve remembers.

To be fair, he only wearing a vest, pants, and no shoes at the moment, and he may be actively bleeding out even with the bandages because of the damn bats but… he just doesn’t remember it being this cold.

He probably didn’t spend long enough in the tunnels to truly get a feel for things. But now that he’s fully here, he can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for Will.

The place is dark enough to even give Steve nightmares although he has Robin, Nancy, and Eddie at this side. How did Will survive with no one?

Steve looks down and carefully steps over a vine as he makes his way through the woods. Did Will ever step on-

“Is this a bad time to mention that I haven’t kissed anyone?”

Steve and the girls turn to Eddie, giving him looks of confusion at the random outburst.

Eddie keeps walking, staring at the ground as he tries not to activate the hive mind. “I’m just saying, it kind of feels like the end of the world here, and it makes you think. Like, do I really want to die a virgin? Not really, but dying without kissing anyone… I feel like that’s a bigger problem in my book.”

Robin and Nancy share the same look of confusion mixed with an air of why are you talking to us about this? But Steve thinks he gets the nervous rambling. He wouldn’t want to die unkissed either.

Eddie slowly stops and turns around, finally noticing that the three of them stopped when he made his first comment. He just stares at them for a moment before sighing, “Forget I said anything. I just hate walking in silence with all these thoughts of impending doom.”

With that, the girls start walking again, quickly catching up to Eddie, but Steve struggles as he thinks a little too hard about what Eddie said instead of thinking about not stepping on a vine. So he compromises speed for a very important thought.

Eddie wants to kiss someone. Probably. Definitely.

He can’t kiss Nancy because she’s with Jonathan, and Steve’s pretty sure Nancy would not be the greatest choice of a first kiss - since she would be unenthusiastic.

And Robin… well. She would be equally as unenthusiastic, probably even more so.

And really, everyone must be thinking the same thing. Because there’s one obvious solution.

“I’ll kiss you,” Steve announces as he steps over a vine. He watches as the three of them freeze in front of them, and Eddie almost even trips on a vine.

Once he catches up to them, Steve says, “It’s the clear solution to the problem.”

Robin shoots him a look of bewilderment and mouthes what??

Steve just looks away from her. It’s not a crazy thought really. Eddie wants to kiss someone before the world maybe ends, and Steve is just a really generous person who would like- enjoy- no, volunteer very very generously to help the good cause.

“You’re kidding, right?” Eddie asks.

And oh. Steve hadn’t really thought about how Eddie might not want to kiss him. Shit. He shakes his head. “I’m not kidding, but I wouldn’t do it unless you wanted to. And it’s okay that you don’t. Let’s just keep going.”

Eddie reaches out and grabs his arm. “I never said that I didn’t want to,” he says quickly.

Steve’s pretty sure he hears Robin snort at the comment, and he can sees Nancy trying to hide an amused smile behind her hand. He ignores them and puts his hands on his hips. “Alright.”

“Okay,” Eddie says.

They both stare at each other not moving.

“We’re going to give you some space,” Robin says, grabbing Nancy’s hand and pulling her deeper into the woods.

Steve doesn’t pay much attention to them as they walk away, he’s too busy staring at Eddie. And yeah, he’s a good looking guy. He knew that from high school whenever he would go on his rants, and Steve had an excuse to stare. And really the thought of kissing him is definitely not the worse and actually… he’s kind of looking forward to it, if the fast beating of his heart is any indication.

Eddie though, he looks… scared. Maybe just nervous. But his expression definitely isn’t in any way happy.

Steve takes a step toward him and softly says, “We don’t have to do this, okay? And it’s okay if you don’t want to.”

Eddie shakes his head and laughs humorlessly. “It’s not that I don’t want to it’s just… you’re Steve Harrington.”

“And?”

“And that name means something. And it shouldn’t be tangled up with my name.”

Steve raises his eyebrows at him. “I’m pretty sure we already crossed that line a while ago.”

“But you know what I mean,” Eddie sighs, looking at the ground.

Yeah, he does know what he means. But… “The world might end. I think there are stranger things than you and me kissing.”

Eddie shakes his head. “I think that would be the most shocking thing out of all of this.”

“Then get ready for me to rock your world, Munson,” Steve says with a smirk, stepping closer and brushing a curly strand of hair out of his face.

Eddie takes a deep breath and settles his hands on Steve’s waist above the wounds he’s forgotten about. “Is this… okay?”

Steve nods and wraps his arms around Eddie’s shoulders. “Yeah. Is this?”

Eddie just hums mhm, his eyes get a little wider and his cheeks flush a deeper pink.

Steve can’t help but look over Eddie’s face, taking in what he looks like at the closer proximity when he’s allowed to look. His eyes wander down to where Eddie’s full lips are slightly parted as if they’re just waiting for him to kiss them. But Steve looks back into Eddie’s dark eyes, searching for hesitation but only sending nerves and anticipation.

“I like that you’re the same height as me,” Steve randomly blurts out.

“Why’s that?”

Steve feels a blush creep up his neck. “Because my neck won’t strain when I kiss you.” Eddie laughs, and Steve decides that if the world really is coming to an end, he should be fully honest. “Plus, it’s easier to look at your eyes when they’re at my level.”

Eddie’s grin turns into a soft smile. His eyes glance down at Steve’s lips.

He knows the moment has come. “I’m going to kiss you now, if that’s okay.”

“It’s more than okay,” Eddie says, leaning in closer.

Steve smiles before closing the distance between them and kissing Eddie slowly as if they have all the time in the world. He breaks the kiss and pulls back enough to take in Eddie's expression - eyebrow raised in astonishment, lips slightly parted, and eyes still closed.

And yeah, they might not make it to tomorrow, plus Eddie looks hot. So, Steve doesn’t pull away. Instead, he kisses him again, this time with much more fervor and… yes, tongue. Sue him. He just wants to make Eddie’s first (and second) kiss memorable.

Eddie’s hands press into Steve’s back, pulling him closer as Steve slows the kiss, needing air. He pulls back and breathes in deep, staring at Eddie’s kiss swollen lips and feeling… many things.

But instead of giving into those feelings, Steve just pats Eddie on the arm and says, “See, you’re a natural.” As soon as he walks away, Steve wants one of the vines to drag him far far away so he doesn’t have to think about what he just said. Christ. He’s not smooth.

As soon as he catches up to Robin, she practically yanks him back so Eddie and Nancy can wander off out of earshot.

Steve crosses his arms and stares at her. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me. You know exactly what this is about,” Robin says, jabbing a finger into his chest.

Steve winces. “Okay. Yes. I kissed Eddie. But what else was I supposed to do? Make you or Nance kiss him? No way.”

“You realize that he was just thinking out loud, right? You turned his thought into an invitation.”

Steve shrugs and walks toward the other two, trying to make sure they don’t go too far. “It sounded like an invitation to me,” he says with a shrug.

“I’m sure it did,” Robin mutters.

Steve turns to glare at her.

Robin sighs and lays a hand on his arm. “You can talk to me, you know? Even if you’re in the process of figuring things out and can’t get a true read of things.”

Steve turns and looks back at Eddie, noting how his heart beats a little faster and his body wants more than anything to get closer to him. He looks back and Robin and asks, “How obvious am I being?”

The tension in Robin’s shoulder goes away slightly at the question, and she smiles. “With the ‘you’re a natural’ comment? Totally fooled. No one would guess a thing.”

Steve’s jaw drops. “You were watching that?”

“How could I not? And do I regret it?” Robin pauses before answering her question, “A little when you started using tongue.”

“Jesus, Robin,” Steve says, trying to sound annoyed, but he can’t help but laugh.

Robin smiles and nudges him. “It seems like you have a type.”

Steve raises an eyebrow before he looks to where Robin is staring. He watches as Nancy and Eddie talk quietly about something, both sharing a small smile, amusement evident in their big round eyes, and dark, curly hair framing their faces. Maybe Robin has a point.

“Maybe I do,” Steve says as Eddie glances back at him and smiles. When he turns back, Steve asks Robin, “Do you think we could talk more about it when we’re not in an alternate dimension, and I have time to think about things?”

“Of course,” Robin says and squeezes his arm. “But for now, I’m going to give you things to think about!” she announces before running ahead to Nancy and quickly starting some type of hushed conversation.

Steve looks at where Eddie lingers behind the girls and quickly runs up to him, deciding maybe he can figure things out now. And maybe he can verbally thank him for saving his ass instead of just kissing him and hoping he gets the message.

Gosh, he doesn’t know if he can get through this without getting distracted by his lips. But he’s going to try.

(And he’s going to fail)

[loveinhawkins]

Steve’s bat bites start to bleed again during the drive out of The War Zone.

It’s a slow realisation, a creeping dampness on his skin.

He stays as still as he can, keeps his movements small and contained when turning the steering wheel; he thinks he mostly gets away with it, manages to park the RV and pitch his voice on just the right side of normal as he tells the kids to scram.

Awareness of his surroundings grows a little fuzzy around the edges, but he senses enough to know that he’s alone—the silence feels heavy, makes his ears ring.

He lifts himself up out of his seat, one hand clinging onto the headrest for balance. The ringing gets sharper, more high-pitched; he shakes his head to try and clear it.

One step forward, then another, and another.

There’s a slight rocking motion under his feet. It feels a little like he’s in a boat that’s docked, constant movement even in the gentlest of waters.

His palms brush against the bathroom door.

“Okay,” Steve whispers to himself.

He hangs onto the sink to keep himself upright—feels the room sway, as if the waters underneath have suddenly become stormy.

With one hand, he finds the knot in the bandage.

“Okay, okay…”

Pulls.

Steve doesn’t think he blacks out, not quite, but there’s a shift, a dizzying tilt… and then, somehow, he’s sitting on the closed toilet seat.

And…

The bat bites must cause hallucinations or something.

Otherwise, Steve cannot explain why Eddie—who notoriously threw up and passed out during a dissection in Biology—is currently pressing a clean bandage against his stomach, staring down at the blood like he can’t look away.

“You’re good, you’re good,” Eddie’s saying.

He’s clearly trying to sound calm, but it’s just coming out strained, like what he really means is this is all a fucking nightmare actually, but we’ve gotta find something to be optimistic about.

“Think it just needs some more pressure,” he goes on. “Yeah, there, see? It’s stopping. Oh, thank God.”

Steve feels more gauze getting wrapped around his middle—if he wasn’t injured, it’d almost be a nice sensation, Eddie’s touch somehow the perfect mix of both firm and gentle.

As he works, Eddie hums nervously.

“Talk to me Harrington,” he says in a shaky sing-song. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging, man, gimme some awkward small talk. Got any hopes? Dreams? Anything I should know?

Oh, so many things, Steve thinks, still light-headed.

But then he really does mull that over: his mind goes to The Upside Down, to belatedly telling Eddie about the hive mind, and oh shit.

“Hey, weird question,” Steve says, “but I’ve not been, like, asking you to make it cold in here or, um, anything like that?”

Eddie blinks. “Uh. No?”

“Okay.” Before he lets the relief of hearing Eddie’s answer sink in, Steve adds, “If I ever do, you need to lock me in here and get out. Tell Nancy.”

Eddie’s staring at him like he’s grown a second head. “Sure. Cool. Cool! Uh, for any particular reason or—?”

“Just in case—like, I don’t feel any different, but—one time, Will Byers, when he was in The Upside Down it, like, infected him? Like a virus. Except more… possession. And they had to kinda… burn it outta him.”

“Ha,” Eddie says. A beat. “Oh fuck, you’re serious.”

“I really don’t have the energy to be messing with you, dude.”

“Sorry. Sometimes you all just say things, y’know? And if I don’t get it, I’m like, well, they’ve been living through this for a while, maybe they’ve got a code going on.”

“I mean,” Steve says, “we kinda do.”

Eddie shakes his head. “So when Buckley said she dealt with a human-flesh-based monster, and the one before that was smoke-related, that wasn’t just, like, a really fucked up metaphor?” Eddie’s eyes are wide, pleading. “Please say it was a metaphor.”

“Sorry,” Steve says sincerely.

Eddie sighs through a lacklustre chuckle. “You’re fine, Steve. As for, uh, being possessed, I don’t think so. You’re no weirder than usual, but—”

“Wow, thanks. Means such a lot coming from you.”

“—you were a bit, like, out of it for a few seconds, but it just looked like you were gonna faint on me. Um. How’re you feeling now?”

“Good,” Steve says. When Eddie raises an eyebrow, he tacks on, “As good as I can be, I guess. Still.” He groans slightly as he stands, goes back over to the sink. “Better check.”

“Check? What?”

Steve runs the water as hot as it will possibly go, until the steam is evident. He sticks his hand right into the stream, hears Eddie hiss as the water scalds his skin.

“Okay, yup. Not possessed.”

“Fucking fantastic. Now I want it cold,” Eddie says.

He takes control of the faucet, nods for Steve to put his hand under the now cold water.

After a minute or two, Eddie sighs and collapses onto the toilet seat himself.

There’s a squeak as Steve turns the faucet off—his skin’s probably not had the good of the cold water for nearly long enough, but it’ll do.

Eddie’s tipped his head back so he’s facing the ceiling, eyes closed. Steve watches him with sympathy; he really must hate blood.

“Eddie. You can go.”

“Mm, nope,” Eddie says without opening his eyes. “I’m fine right here.”

“Suit yourself.”

Steve turns back to the sink, frowns at the tiny mirror above it; there’s black spots on the glass, but he can make out enough. Christ, the bags under his eyes are horrific.

“Relax, Casanova,” Eddie says, almost as if he’s heard Steve’s thoughts. “You look good.”

“Uh-huh. Think your brain’s fried from being on the run.”

Steve leans against the sink with one hip, finds Eddie looking at him with a small smile.

“Yeah, probably. Or maybe being on the run just suits you.” Eddie’s eyes flicker down. His smile falters. “You know, in an ideal world,” he says conversationally, “you’d be in a hospital getting stitches.”

Steve scoffs. “In an ideal world, I’d be in bed sleeping.”

“Amen to that,” Eddie says lightly. But he still looks sombre. “Seriously, though. If it gets… you know. I’d drive you.”

“To the hospital? What are you gonna do, Eddie, wander up to the front desk? Sounds like a real interesting way to get arrested.”

But Eddie doesn’t leap at the chance to make a joke.

“Steve,” he says softly. “I mean it. I wouldn’t care.”

“That would sorta ruin the whole priority of hiding you.”

“That’s—” Eddie huffs. “That’s not the priority.”

“Huh, that’s funny, cause it is in my book.” Steve nods at the door, to his whole world just outside. “One of many.”

Eddie’s eyes narrow. “And your name better be right at the top, Harrington.”

Steve hums.

“In bold. Underlined.”

“Whatever you say.”

Eddie groans quietly, runs a hand down his face. “You worry me, man.”

“I’m not trying to.”

“I know. Just…” Eddie hesitates. “Don’t go off alone. You know?”

Steve thinks it over. He steps forward and offers Eddie his hand.

Eddie takes it.

When Steve pulls him up, he stumbles a little, as if he feels like he’s on a boat, too.

“Oops, sorry.” He grabs onto Steve’s forearm for balance. “Think this should be the other way round, man.”

“Hmm, I don’t think so.”

Steve leads the way out of the bathroom—doesn’t mention the fact that, really, they’re both holding each other up.

There’s a bottle of water left in the back. Steve twists the cap off. Drinks.

“You too,” he tells Eddie.

“Huh?”

Steve considers him—thinks of the little flare of panic he felt when watching Eddie walk through the woods, tiptoeing around vines. How he had a sudden instinct to catch up to him, to make sure he wasn’t alone.

“I’m making a deal,” Steve says. “I won’t go off alone if you don’t.”

He lifts the bottle up as if making a toast—drinks again then passes it over to Eddie.

For the slightest of moments, their fingers brush; Eddie’s rings skim over Steve’s knuckles.

“So what’s this?” Eddie asks. “Legally binding magical water?”

Steve shrugs. “Cool metaphor,” he replies.

You say you just turn heel and run, Eddie. But sometimes I think if there was a fire, you’d run towards the flames if it meant no-one else got hurt.

Eddie smiles. Tilts the bottle towards Steve.

“Guess it’s a promise, then,” he says.

He drinks.

Steve prays that it holds.

[diwatopia]

★ lovely ; james potter.

info: comfort, james potter x fem!reader, under 1k.

your head nuzzles into james' neck, inhaling greedily. "you smell good..." you sigh dreamily, nails raking the tiny curls at the base of his neck.

"yeah? i took a shower earlier... used that lavender soap you like," he hums while adjusting at the duvet. he huffs softly, unsure whether the cold touch of the wall that digs into his side annoys him more or the small amount of bedding left.

he tugs at the thick blanket as if attempting to get comfortable but you choose to not think much of it. in your mind, he fancies your cuddles, your affection, like he does every day.

after few seconds of finagling and a growing frown of frustration, "can you back up just a little bit? you've left me no space and this window sill is just stabbing my side like mad..." he groans.

you pout slightly, cheeks flushing a soft hue that closely resembles one of embarrassment. "sorry," you reply softly, body rolling over before scooting towards the opposite end of the bed.

"oh, love..." he makes an awfully sweet crooning sound, lips matching your bitty frown as you hug the bunched up duvet in your arms as if wired to cuddle something, to cuddle james.

james sighs, inching closer till your back meets his front. toned arms wrap around your midriff in attempt to apologize further.

"'m sorry, i didn't mean to be all over you." you speak understandingly, barely there and james feels his heart crack into trillions of pieces.

because here you are, being his undoubtedly sweet girl, showering him in your love that it makes his own affection cower next to yours.

"it's not your fault, baby. i dunno' why i spoke that way, 'm sorry." he speak weakly, as if barely noticing his original tone of voice.

you hum, "you seemed like you had a rough day... cuddles always seem to do the trick, but i guess today's different and that's okay." your voice is nothing but a squeak, soft and meek in a way that makes james believe that you'd rather not upset him again.

he's quick to prove otherwise as he showers your nape and cheek with the sweetest of kisses, soft lips against your supple skin.

"i'm not mad, my beautiful girl. you're so kind, always caring for others, thank you for the cuddles!" he lays it on thick, tone drenched in the finest of honey from the most richest of hives.

you giggle as his kisses grow tenfold, thicker fingers tickling at your waist. "jamie!" you laugh, swatting at his wrists with no real defense, more or less for show.

laughter and tickles turn to soft grazes and a love-sick gaze that makes you melt into the sheets like putty.

"why're you looking at me like that?" you whisper, thumb grazing his hairline absentmindedly.

"'cause you're lovely," he whispers back.

"you're lovely," you quip back with ease.

"nuh-uh, sweet girl. you're definitely loveliest." he coos.

★ diwa's notes: haiii this is my first post in ages and i'm super nervous bc ik my small amount of followers are def gone bc this isn't atwow TT this was just something sitting in my drafts so i hope ppl enjoy it :3 (and ellecdc if ur reading this which is a very low chance, ty for ur advice 🤍)

© hobietopia 2024.

[starfxkrinc]

pervert - sarah x reader x rafe

kinktober day 4 - incest?ish? sorta not really they don't touch.

lets all pretend that sarah is still kook princess and rafe is crazy but not murder people crazy for this okay? ok. they're all still a "happy" family.

rafe hated you almost as much as he hated sarah. he hated how you two whispered and giggled in your own language. how you moved in synch, like a hive mind. sarah couldn't have everything she wanted, and right now he wanted you too.

sarah was your best friend, so much so that when her family went on vacation so did you. to say you were attached at the hip was an understatement. ward used to say it was like you were the same person, two halves of a whole so to speak.

rafe saw it differently, he saw how sarah bossed you around. even when she did it with that sweet smile on her face, rafe swore there was a mean glint there. almost self satisfied. because if sarah said you were going out thats what you did, and if she changed your outfit even though you told her you liked it well you just trust her opinion. and when sarah told you to "ignore her weirdo brother" you did that too, darting your eyes away when he looked at you and scurrying behind her when she left you alone with him.

he thought he had you figured out. sarah had to own everything, even you, and it pissed him off.

now you thought you were better than him. you scoffed when he spoke and rolled your eyes every time he entered the room. just like sarah. and it made him ache with the need to wipe the smirks of both your faces. he would imagine pinching into your soft flesh, digging his nails deep until he broke skin and you were crying. just how he did to her when she was little. rafe figured nothing would be funny when he was done with the both of you, maybe then you'd respect him more.

but there was a little hope this vacation would be different, you were all adults and if he tried rafe wouldn't run into you at all. you and sarah spent your days on the beach and nights at beach parties and clubs just like he hoped. it meant he had time.

when everyone was gone rafe would circle back to the house, scavenging through you and sarah's shared belongings in the dark, flipping through newly updated scrapbooks and rummaging through dirty laundry. it was a rush every time, his heart would thud and his dick would pulse at the thought if the invasion. neither of you had any idea of what he was doing. he would spit in mascara tubes and drag pairs of clean panties across his balls. didn't matter who's it was--yours or sarah's--as long as something was defiled in some way. as long as rafe was included.

it was gonna be routine as usual when he picked up a pair of pink polka dotted underwear, could be yours, he saw you pull them out of your suitcase. could be sarah's, he saw her wear them.

but he stopped, you left your camera and it was still on, it's led screen slightly dimmed but rafe grabbed it. he started to scroll through. there's no way there's pictures he hasn't seen.

there was. and videos. you and sarah in the shower together, kissing and soapy. flashing the mirror in a dressing room. another in your room, grabbing each other's asses in the mirror with your skirts flipped up. you're wearing the panties this time.

"what the fuck..." rafe couldn't stop scrolling. he guesses topper's fears of you two being dykes werent unfounded because here you were, eating her out no less than what had to be 15 minutes before you left the house.

when you walked into the room, lip gloss already smudged and already tipsy off two vodka crans he froze.

"rafe you fucking pervert gimme that!" you lunged at him, tripping over your heels as he jerked back, holding the camera above his head.

he knows you can feel him hard against your stomach, he doesn't care, "mind telling me what this is about."

for once you look nervous, "none of your fucking business rafe give it here--"

rafe jerks back again, "now given how this shit is full of videos of my sister cheating on my best friend, i think it is my fuckin business." he dangles it over your head, watching as your expression shifts to a glare, "and need i remind you...you have a boyfriend sweetheart. there's a lottt of people who would be very interested in knowing the kook princesses are dyking every night."

you laugh, and rafe's taken aback, "please rafe give me a break." you laugh again, leaning closer against his chest with a smirk, "you're just fuckin jealous."

"of who? sarah? you fuckin wish." rafe's blood runs cold when you shake your head no, leaning up on your toes until your lips brush his.

"of me. cause i got to her first. but i'll share, just this once." you kiss him, tongue first with a flick against his own and he moans.

there's the taste of your lipgloss yeah--strawberry and sticky sweet, but something else. headier, muskier, that lights up his tastebuds and he almost melts.

sarah, still lingering on your lips with such potency rafe's sure you had one more round before coming back. he's so hard he's dizzy, letting you direct him to the bed with a hand shoved down his pants, rolling your palm over his tip.

"you think we don't know rafe? you think we just see your nasty fucking cum in our underwear and don't know where it came from? cmon now i'm a slut but not that big of one." you waste no time with build up, shoving his shorts down. you were only supposed to come back for a quick second for the camera and you needed to be back soon.

rafe's flustered, for once. bucking his hips up to chase your fist, mouth agape as he keeps licking his lips, "you-- think that's all i did? christ you're fuckin stupid." he lets out a pained groan when you smack his balls, but you snort when he lets out a sticky spurt of precum against his torso.

"as if, now shut the fuck up i have to go soon," in a slight fumble you reach under your dress, slipping off your underwear you shove them in his mouth. he barely has time to register it as you spit directly on his tip, making him shudder as you spread it across his shaft, "now hurry up and you can snoop to your heart's desire."

with a kiss to his panty suffed mouth you speed up, keeping one hand resting at his base as the wet schlick of your motions fill the room, "damn rafe, you almost get as wet as she does." your hands are covered in him, precum running down your knuckles and your wrists as he groans beneath you.

"fuckfuckfuck," rafe's voice is muffled, but his quickening breath and tense thighs are all you need to know he's close. already you can feel his balls drawing up, so you cup them in your hand, massaging and coaxing him along.

"fuckin finally, there you go let it out."

he cums so long and so hard you're worried he'll black out. hips stuttering as he struggles to catch his breath."

while he's still fazed you grab the camera, wiping his cum off on your shorts as you get up to leave, "make sure you clean up okay? if sarah finds out i did this without her she'll be pissed."

with that you leave, heels clacking as you rush down the stairs and the door slams.

rafe takes the underwear out his mouth--this time baby blue with little clouds on them.

sarah wore these earlier.

[beckyninja]

Relief

Pairing: Demetrian Titus x FemReader

Warnings: talk of periods, sexual content, MDNI

Description: Titus "helps" his serf lover through a particularly painful time of the month.

Forget whatever I said about my last fic. This one is definitely the spiciest thing I've ever written! I had planned on something entirely different, but then "that time of the month" reared its ugly head. And suddenly all I could think about was having a strong, handsome Astartes to help me through it.

Titus didn’t sprint, though he wanted to. 

After enduring the ominous warnings of the Chaplain, the disdain of Captain Acheran, and the incessant prying of his new squad (not to mention the small matter of a tyranid invasion), he longed for the solace of your presence.

Your touch.

Rage still burned like promethium within him when he remembered entering his quarters to find you half-starved. 

“You’re alive.” You’d whispered upon seeing him. “You’re alive.”

When I find the one responsible for her suffering….

His growl sent several serfs darting out of his path. He walked faster and, at last, the door to his quarters came into view. Soon, he would have you in his arms.

Saliva pooled in his mouth at the thought. 

The first time he lay with you, before Kadaku and his remaking, had been beyond his imaginings. Baseline anatomy lessons from his neophyte days supplied the rudiments. But he had the Space Wolves and a solitary Salamander he’d met in the Death Watch to thank for the rest.

He’d encountered the former boasting of their conquests one evening in the dining hall after one of them had smuggled in a few barrels of foul-smelling mjod. As they grew more intoxicated, they delighted in shocking the more puritanical Astartes in the Watch with detailed descriptions of “fraternization”. 

Titus remembered being repulsed at first. Though, against his better instincts, that repulsion soon turned to wary curiosity. 

While the Wolves howled about conquering and claiming, a Salamander Apothecary had taken a seat next to Titus and shaken his head.

“Not all baseline females are the wild she-wolves of Fenris.” The old drake had rumbled quietly. “If an Astartes is blessed with the affections of a woman, he should cherish her with gentleness, for she is rare and precious.”

Titus remembered a sorrowful look in the veteran’s red eyes as he spoke, and the way he stroked a bone reliquary tied at his waist. 

He had tried to incorporate all he’d overheard into your union. You’d been so fragile in his hands, so vulnerable. And when your body welcomed him inside. When, amidst the white heat of his own ecstasy, he saw you gaze up at him….

Throne of Terra, I would slaughter every tyranid in the Hive Fleet to have you look at me like that always.

He punched his code into the access panel. He only had a few hours of leisure to spare, and a third of that had already been taken up in removing his armor. But he needed to feel your skin upon his again.

The door hissed open and-

Blood.

Every enhanced sense he possessed sharpened to a razor’s edge as the metallic scent filled his nostrils. Unlike before, when his mind had been clouded by sleep, he knew with absolute certainty this blood came from your body. 

The room was empty. Half the candles lit. One smoking tapir on its side by the cot. Indents on the mattress the size of small baseline hands. Drops of red on the floor. The sharp taste of stress and pain chemicals. Soft whimpers from the lavatory.

All this came to him in the time between heartbeats. Another heartbeat and he stood before the closed lavatory door.

“Little Healer?”

The medicae had said you would be fine. An injection of nutrients, a high calorie meal, and rest. You already looked better when he left you in the infirmary. They said you would be fine.

He’d had to leave. He had no choice. They said you would be fine!

“Demetrian?”

Conscious and able to speak. He leaned his forehead against the cold metal of the door.

“I am coming in.”

A sharp gasp. “No! Just, just give me a moment, please.”

He heard pain in your voice. His instincts screamed at him to tear through the metal to reach you.

The door slid open.

Pale skin. Sweat beads on your forehead. Hunched shoulders. You smiled up at him, but reeked of misery.

He scooped you into his arms. “We are returning to the infirmary.”

“Demetrian-”

“You are still unwell.”

“Demetrian, please-”

He strode toward the door of his quarters. “Or did you injure yourself?”

“No, Demetrian! Listen-”

“I should not have left you alone.”

A tiny fist bounced off his jaw. He stopped mid-stride and looked down at you in shock. You looked back at him, then down at your clenched fist, seemingly stunned by your own actions.

“I…I…,” you closed your eyes and breathed deeply, “I’m sorry, my lord. I don’t know what came over me.”

“My lord?” He muttered. 

“Please put me down. I’m not unwell. And I’m not injured.”

He scowled. “You reek of blood, woman.”

Throne, has whatever hurt she suffered affected her mind as well?

“I know, but it’s…it’s natural, Demetrian.”

The Warp it is. “Explain.”

She sighed. “Can you put me down first? Please?”

“No.” 

He tightened his grip. If her mind was unbalanced, who knows what she might do if he released her.

Another sigh. “Fine. Once a month, a woman’s body undergoes a certain process….”

He remained silent during her entire explanation. When she finished, he carefully set her upon his cot.

“And this…cycle…causes pain?”

“Every woman experiences it differently. Some only ever feel mild discomfort, for others it’s little short of agony.”

You bit your lip. The pain smell spiked and, with it, his concern. 

“Why have I not noticed before?”

You breathed slowly now, in through your nose, out through your mouth. “You’ve always been on mission during this time. And…agh…in the Watch Fortress, Lord Apothecary Nev’ran made sure to set pain suppressants aside for us female serfs.”

The old Salamander always had a soft spot for the baselines, Titus remembered.

A low moan drew his attention back to you. You folded on his cot, arms wrapped around your midsection. 

His fingers twitched, automatically seeking a weapon. The instinct to destroy whatever caused you pain surged. He needed to fix this.

“Did you request pain suppressants from the medica?”

You started rocking slightly. “I…tried. He said they were unnecessary and dismissed me. I didn’t dare argue. In the Fortress, there were serfs I could go to for help during this time.” You looked up at him with a tight smile. “But I’m beginning to think I’m the only woman on this ship.”

Titus thought back over the last few days, and all the baseline crew he’d encountered.

She may be right.

“Oh Emperor….” 

Your whimper felt like another Carnifex talon through his chest.

“There must be something I can do.” He knelt before you, cupping your face in his hand. “Anything.”

You pressed against him. “Heat. Heat sometimes helps.” 

He let you move his hand to your lower stomach. You opened your robes and pressed it against your skin. 

“And, on my back, please?” 

Before you’d even finished asking, he slipped his other hand in and around. You gripped his arms and whined.

“Oh, oh yes.” 

He shouldn’t be aroused by this. You were still in pain. But your soft sounds of helplessness, the feel of your skin beneath his hands, the way you trembled. All of it called to a primal part of him only recently awakened.

And when you looked up at him in wonder and said, “You’re…you’re so much bigger now.”

Throne damn it.

Titus yanked you to him and took your mouth. You yelped, but did not struggle, instead throwing your hands around his neck and digging your fingers into the hair at his nape. He snarled at the sensation, pushing his tongue past your lips like you’d shown him that first night.

This time your moan sounded of pleasure.

He pressed his body against you, lowering you to your back on the cot. Your hands left his neck and fluttered against his chest. You pulled away from his kiss.

“Demetrian….”

He pressed his mouth to your throat, laving it with his tongue and tasting your sweat. He searched for a spot he could bite without leaving a visible mark. 

“Demetrian, stop!”

The magnitude of his selfishness crashed upon him.

“Throne. Forgive me, Little Healer.” Reeling back, he searched your face for any sign of pain. “I…I did not think, I…,” he raked a hand over his face, desperately trying to rein in his baser instincts.

“It’s all right. It’s just, now might not be the best time.”

“Would it cause you more pain?”

A blush spread across your cheeks. “Um…no, that’s not it. In fact, some women say…this…actually helps.”

“Truly?” 

Desire welled within him once more, washing away any lingering guilt. He bracketed your small body with his hands and loomed over you. 

“Then why should I stop?” You turned your face away, but he gently grasped your chin. “Look at me, and tell me why.”

“It, it,” he heard your heart beating wildly, “it could get a bit…messy.”

He blinked, then allowed a slow smile to spread across his face. “Woman, when has an Astartes ever shied away from the sight of blood?”

A new smell met his nose, one he had only recently become familiar with. He lowered his face close to yours and inhaled deeply. 

“You want this as much as I.”

You nodded frantically, hands suddenly pawing at his collar. “Yes! I want this. Please, Demetrian. Please, please, please!”

He tore his robe open and flung it to the floor. Your clothing swiftly followed. The scent of blood and arousal maddened him. He tried to pull your thighs around him, but you winced at the stretch.

For the first time he cursed the Primaris surgery. Grasping your hips, he turned you on to your front and settled behind you. He ran his hands down your back and sides, loving the way you trembled.

“Are you ready for me, my love?”

You pushed back against him. “Please, Demetrian.”

He thrust and your wet heat welcomed him in. His eyes rolled at the sensation, still so unlike anything he ever thought he’d experience. You cried out far louder than you had the first time. 

“Demetrian! S-so big…!”

Again. Again. Again, he thrust. In this position he felt powerful, primal. Like a beast claiming its mate.

The Wolves were right, damn them!

All at once, you tightened and screamed. With a growl he followed you over the edge. 

You collapsed onto your front. “Please…more….”

The first time, he’d only taken you once, denying his satisfaction for the sake of your overwhelmed little body. But now you begged him to continue. Who was he to refuse?

Three more times he released deep within. He pressed himself to your back, hand fondling your breasts as he pounded relentlessly. He lost count of how many times you shook apart around him. His own blinding pleasure paled in comparison to the knowledge that his actions relieved your pain. 

A tool designed to inflict suffering on others, but he brought you ecstasy.

“D-Demetrian…,” you whimpered. 

His fingers dug into the bruised flesh of your hips. “One more.”

You wailed as he filled you one last time, arching his spine to sink his teeth into your shoulder. Then he collapsed on his side.

He caressed your sweat-streaked back, allowing himself a brief moment to revel in the haze of pleasure. You lay still and panting next to him. 

“Are you well, my love?”

“Mmmm.”

By now, he recognized the sound of bone-deep satisfaction. He smiled down at you, already feeling his own body recovering. 

“You were right about one thing.”

“Mmm?”

“That was rather messy.”

You turned your head and attempted to glare at him. He chuckled, rose, and fetched a wet cloth from the lavatory. Ignoring your reaching hands, he cleaned the both of you. Then he sat on the edge of the cot and lifted you into his arms.

“Better?”

Your dreamy smile answered him. An entirely different kind of heat warmed his hearts as he cradled you. He ran a thumb over the imprint of teeth on your shoulder.

“I was not too rough?”

“You were perfect.” Your hands traced his new scars. “Throne of Terra, I came so close to losing you, didn’t I?”

He heard tears in your voice and held you closer.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffled. “Another side effect of this time. I tend to turn into something of a weepy, clingy mess.”

“I enjoy your clinging.”

“But you need to go.”

“Yes.” As always, your respite, brief as it was, left him better prepared to handle the weight of his duty. “Will you be alright?”

“You have enough trouble without worrying about me, Demetrian. Human women have endured since our species began. I’ll be fine.” Your smile flickered. “Please, be safe. I love you.”

“And I you.” He pulled his robe back on and leaned down to kiss you once more. “I will return.”

And, I swear, I will find another way to ease your pain. 

***

An hour passed. You rested for a bit, then dressed and cleaned yourself more thoroughly. You stripped the sheets from the mattress and prepared for the trek to the laundry and then the serf’s dining hall. Not only had Titus's attentions eased your cramps, but you thought you might actually have an appetite again.

Just as you were about to leave, a few sharp raps sounded at the door.

“Who…?” 

You opened it to find a slight young woman with a face full of freckles and a satchel over one shoulder. Her robes marked her as a serf and a medica.

“Thank the Emperor!” She gushed. “I was afraid I’d gotten the wrong room!”

“Um. Hello?”

“My name is Vesta. I was just transferred here alongside my Lord Callistus. He’s supplementing the Apothecaries already in residence, you know. I was afraid I’d be the only woman! There are so few of us serving on the battle barges.”

You blinked, head-spinning from the rapid-fire chatter. “I see?”

She continued, stepping straight past you into the room. “I was just on my way back to the infirmary, when this massive Primaris Lord Angel barreled down on me. How fearsome he was! I don’t need to tell you I was terrified I’d done something wrong, and on my first day on a new ship, too! But he said you were experiencing some difficulties and needed assistance.”

Oh, Demetrian…. You fought a smile.

Vesta plopped the satchel on the cot. “I have pain suppressants, cleansing cloths, sanitary napkins. I do hope I brought enough.”

“This is incredibly kind of you.”

“Us women have to stick together, right?” She smiled cheerfully. “I hope we’ll be great friends!”

You found yourself warming to her effervescence. “I would like that.”

“You’re so fortunate to have a Lord Angel who’s attentive to your needs!”

You turned away, suddenly all too aware of the pleasant ache between your thighs. “Yes. I am.”

@remembrancer-of-heresy @solspina @sleepyfan-blog @moodymisty @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@bispecsual @kit-williams @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus @lemon-russ

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@missmannequin @rivalriotrenegade @iloveoutlinesiswear @jaghatai-khock

If you enjoy my writing, check out the rest of the stuff on my Masterlist.

[viasdreams]

Nightwalker ཐི❤︎ཋྀ ~ ok throat goat!!

the plan was simple: channel his inner chenle to make yn dislike him.

easy.

hyuck knew that if he were to be himself, yn would instantly fall head over heels for him, just like any other woman would.

acting like chenle should, in theory, make him off-putting and unlikeable, thus keeping yn away from him.

it was going to be a difficult feat for a smooth guy like him, but he needed to push away all his charisma and charm for mark's sake.

the first two hours of his shift consisted of hyuck planning out what he was going to say while kun was trying to train him and then subsequently getting scolded for messing up.

"no that goes in the romance section, not young adult. remember to read the barcode donghyuck."

"right, right, my bad."

"it's ok man, you'll get the hang of it eventually" kun said, flashing him a sympathetic look from the other side of the bookcase.

they sorted books in silence for a while, hyuck slowly getting the system down when the bell on the door chimed.

kun turned towards the door but hyuck didn't have to look to know who just walked in.

yn.

he recognized your scent the second the door cracked open.

usually, all the different smells of people blended together, creating a sort of dull aroma. but your scent was unique. it was stronger than all the others, overtaking the bland stench as it flooded his nostrils.

you smelled naturally sweet, like honey if it was cultivated by the hardest working bees in the most productive hive, using the prettiest flowers, on the most perfect spring day.

all he could do was stare at you wide-eyed as kun stood to greet you.

"hi are you yn?"

"yes i am, its nice to meet you!"

kun extended his hand but quickly stopped when he saw the white bandages wrapped around your right hand.

"oh i didn't see that, my bad." he awkwardly studdered.

"no its totally fine, don't worry about it." you asured him, holding your injured hand to your chest.

hyucks eyes immediately locked on the small red stain showing through the covering, his mouth staring to salivate.

realizing what was happening, he aggressively slapped his cheeks to stop his growing thirst, drawing the attention of his coworkers.

"donghyuck are you alright?" kun questioned.

hyuck fervently nodded in response, eyes still trained on your hand.

"anyways, im going to grab some paperwork for you from the office real quick. feel free to look around in the meantime." kun smiled as he headed toward the back of the store.

hyuck tried to look busy sorting the books, keeping his head down to hopefully deter you from coming over. he was for sure putting everything in the wrong place but that was of no importance to him at the moment.

despite his efforts, you immediately walked to the shelf he was at.

"you're donghyuck right? we met the other day when i came in for an application."

he slowly turned to face you, readying himself to be a complete ass, but as he opened his mouth to speak, he felt his tongue graze against two very sharp fangs.

"i-" , he slammed both hands over his mouth, "i'm donghyuck."

you stared back at him, caught off guard by his actions.

"um so what made you want to work at a bookstore? personally, i just really needed a job but i would imagine other people that work here probably like reading or something."

"yeah i-", his mind was blank, all other thoughts covered by the notion of drinking your blood again, "i book."

"you what? sorry i missed that because your hands are covering," you waved your hands over your lower face, "your mouth."

hyuck's eyes followed your hand as it moved, quickly darting back and forth. you caught this, furrowing your eyebrows in further confusion.

being this close to you had only caused his thirst to grow tenfold. he knew that if he were to open his mouth again, his fangs would once more find their way into the soft flesh of your palm.

so instead of talking, he turned around and sped walked into the office.

"kun, i don't feel good and if i don't go home right now im going to spew chunks all over the sci-fi section." he faked heaved into his still cupped hands to really sell his act.

"oh um yeah sure go home. text me tomorrow if you're still feeling bad and i'll cover your shift." kun replied, slowly backing up to get out of hyuck's potential splash zone.

"thanks man!" hyuck yelled as he raced to the door, avoiding your puzzled gaze as he passed.

previous ~ masterlist ~ next

a/n: sorry for not updating this for a literal year (5 days), wont happen again guys !!

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[cultpastorkevin]

Cult Tips for AFTG writers

notes from the resident ex-cult pastor

If you’re in the cult, there is nothing bizarre abt what’s happening and in fact the normal stuff that happens outside of it is what’s bizarre to you. Target? Weird. McDonald’s? Even weirder. I can like guarantee Jean and Kevin never had McDonald’s until they left the Nest.

When you leave, you’re gonna be paranoid as fuck. All the time. Ngl at least for weeks but sometimes for years. Nightmares and insomnia 24/7. Hallucinations too lmao Riko is in every corner of empty rooms and you can hear his voice echo in the confines of the lockers.

I see a lot of Jean wanting to go back to the Nest, but not a lot of Kevin wanting to go back. He definitely struggled, 100%. In fact when he was in the pits of agony from his broken hand, was when he probably wanted to go back the most. Cult is home, cult is safe. Four walls you’ve always known and while it’s a cage at least it’s dependable. They hurt you but by god it always works out and the reward of pushing through this tragic incident is greater than the terror it caused in the first place. It’s a gift, actually. A gift from Riko. He saved Kevin. Cults save you. Cults make you wanna return to them like damn homing pigeons bruh. Give me more shattered hand Kevin screaming at Wymack to let him go back home and having a breakdown when he’s denied fics thanks

Piggybacking off the last one: cults are saviors; you’re nothing without them and they make sure you truly believe that; that everything that is done to you is for you and you’re blessed for it to be happening. You’re lucky even, to be allowed in it. Everything is as it’s supposed to be and order must never be challenged, because it works, and you’re the Edgar Allan Ravens, and this is the most honorable place you could be. All the pain you go through is you earning the right to be saved and to prove your worth every day on court. Only the worthy are honored.

You justify everything that happened and you will start fights and get angry with people who try to correct you and tell you it was wrong what went on.

On the other hand, you blame yourself for everything ever that happened there whether you were at fault or not. Hurting others, hurting yourself, gaslighting the fuck out of yourself over things maybe you could’ve prevented and over things you never could’ve stopped. The guilt is crippling and it eats you alive and haunts you.

There’s a lot of shame too. I see more guilt written than shame but shame is a huge portion of emotions that cult survivors have. Shits embarassing dude like “god how did I end up thinking this wack ass shit was normal” 😐 Shame comes later in the healing process usually, it’s after you have come to terms with shit that’s happened and you understand it. Looking back, you go “Jesus fucking Christ that was a red flag what the hell. Should’ve left then, or then, or then, or then” and then you’re just plain fuckin embarrassed.

Please look up how hive minds and brainwashing are created and work; also Stockholm Syndrome; understanding these would be incredibly helpful tbfh.

Diets are big; everyone eats the same thing; food is used as a reward and a punishment.

Hype hype hype. They whip up a frenzy of one singular emotion and use that to push you into a blind hysteria because you’re more suspectible to their influence when you’re out of your mind.

Drugs. Depends on the cult. But yeah these little bitches can be a huge factor for shit and can help with the brainwashing and hysteria and stockholm. Sometimes you don’t even know you’re being drugged or poisoned until you leave.

OH I ALMOST FORGOT. Dehumanization and then being treated like a person again can be traumatic as fuck yall!! Holy shit! Sometimes it feels worse than being dehumanized!

EDIT AGAIN: you don’t know what mental illness is !! Cults don’t fucking tell you these things lmao. if you show symptoms it’s your fault. Kevin being depressed his mom died was gonna get blamed on him and he was never going to be told grief is normal and it’s okay to be insanely sad. Jean also never got told his anger was correct or his trauma responses to being raped were realistic! They just got blamed for any reactions ever that weren’t neurotypical !! that is all; do with that what you will.

Idk if I think of anything else I’ll write another one but that’s all for now; I haven’t slept much lmao 🫡

[manicrouge]

Somethin' Stupid

[ꜱɪᴍᴏɴ ʀɪʟᴇʏ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

There's nothing he can do and he knows he can't control himself whenever you're around him. There had been a fierce change in himself, he spotted such from the way he dress, all the way down to what his hair smelt of. The introduction of you into his life was something that he had not expected, in fact, you'd struck him like a bullet upon your first meeting.

There were many things up in the air when it came to you and him, just like there were with every single thing in his life, but the one thing he was sure of was the fact that you were there. Everything else surrounding the pair of you seemed to blur — consumed by a flurry of emotions that, really, he had no idea he was capable of feeling.

He admired you in secret, unable to speak of you to anyone else. His mind had constructed a résumé of all the things which made you so dear to him: the way you could talk endlessly about your passions, the way you would greet him when he eventually arrived home from an op, all the way down to the serious look you would offer him whenever tried to be the one who was discerning and honest about his feelings — an art of which he found you knew all about, while he knew nothing at all.

That was an established fact until that night.

He'd been waiting on the sofa for you as he'd booked a reservation for a restaurant down town. His face felt bare without his mask and he could see himself in the reflection of his phone as he stared at the black screen. Stoic and unmoved, all for his expression to soften when he tapped the screen and saw you. Everything was there, everything was perfect, and he found his chest ached terribly with the realisation that he finally had someone.

And, fortunately, that someone was you.

His father had been firm on his assessment of him: always bound to be the best man, never the husband. It was his fate... or, at least, that's what his father would say to him. And he knew it was childish to think about being your husband considering you'd only been seeing each other for (exactly) 4 months. He could hardly bring the three words he had longed to say to you into his mouth, and yet, there he was, daydreaming about being your husband.

He turned his head when he felt your hands on his shoulder, and when he looked you in the eyes seeing the effort you had put into your outfit, even with your makeup (especially your eyeshadow — if that's what it's called; he's still getting used to all the new terms you've introduced him to) he felt his eyes sting as he slowly rises from the couch.

The immediate concern on your brow was the nail in the coffin for him and he finds his lips are moving before he can think rationally.

'I love you.'

The words exited with such haste, and he hoped you didn't hear what he said. However, he understood that his fate was sealed when you gawked at him, pressing your lips together. He felt as though his skin was about to break into hives, and, while he had never been one for saying sorry, he found that he couldn't keep himself from exuding a long string of apologies.

'I- I'm sorry, sweetheart, I really don't know where that came from... that was fuckin' stupid of me to say it just—'

He was silenced by your mouth against his, and his tense shoulders relaxed when you gently pushed them down. He felt you smile as the pair of you kissed, and when you pulled away from him, he was greeted with the brightest grin he'd ever seen.

'Si,' you sighed softly.

It was the that he concluded that you're as gracious as the sun in the early morning, he concluded, as welcoming as a warm cup of coffee on a cold winter morning.

You were everything he'd ever wanted, and so much more.

'It's not stupid,' you refuted firmly, shaking your head as you raised your hands to hold the side of his face, 'I love you too, Si. A lot.'

His heart felt as though it's going to explode inside of his chest, your loving gaze on him leaving him speechless as he simply stood and admired you. The pad of your thumb rubs against his scarred cheek.

'Every single part of you,' you added as though you could read his thoughts. 'So don't you dare feel stupid, hey? I'm not mad... I'm flattered, really.'

'I love you,' he repeated, unable to stop himself again, nodding his head as he spoke, even offering you a smile — granted the muscles in his face were still getting used to such an expression and there's a significant pull in his face, even a slight discomfort. But, he did it for you. 'So fuckin' much. More than anything in this world. '

'I love you more,' you answered with a grin as though to challenge him, holding him with such a gentle touch he was left unnerved at the fact that someone's hands could feel so pure against his beaten and scarred flesh. Really, he felt as though he didn't deserve it in the slightest. And maybe, just maybe you did love him more, but with all his flaws and the man that he knew was, he struggled to understand why.

'I doubt that, sweetheart,' he uttered before placing his lips back on yours.

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

[imthebadguyyy]

Arms

pairing : sirius black x reader

fandom : marauders/hp

synopsis : sirius realizes there's no place that feels more like home than your arms.

warnings : self depreciating thoughts, insecurity

a/n : felt like wandering into the realm of the marauders! do let me know if you want more :) inspired mildly by francesca by Hozier

sirius sat with james, while remus and peter sat across from them, both pouring liberal amounts of gravy onto their plates. james was also digging into an obnoxiously large amount of roast potatoes and chicken, barely pausing for a breath as he scarfed down the food.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the great hall was not buzzing with the sound of students chattering as it usually did, and the sound remained at the decibel of a small hive of bees, while the professors murmured softly at the grand table, the munch of the many treats laid on the table for the christmas eve dinner.

sirius himself didn't feel that hungry, fork half heartedly poking at the beans on his plate. his eyes roamed around the hall, taking in the tiny mass of people at the other tables, and at dumbledore pulling mice out of his purple witches hat - his christmas special.

that very morning, his owl had dropped off a rather nasty howler from his darling mother, once again choosing to call him a colourful variety of insults and ending with her usual "disgrace and traitor to the black boodline" bullshit, followed by a chorus of "mixing with mudbloods and muggles" that had him clenching his fists in frustration.

then, his father orion had also decided to grace him with a scathing letter he burned the moment he received, but not before catching the words "shame to my bloodline", which once again had him sighing and rubbing the sore spot on his temples.

he had ignored it initially, focusing instead on the beautiful hand knitted scarf, golden watch and basket of sweets and treats he had received from euphemia and fleamont, with a small engraved gryffindor lion at the back of the watch.

he had also received a leather jacket from you, and homemade strawberry pies that you had made with help from the elves in the kitchen, and a set of silver rings to go with his pre existing ones.

remus had gifted him a muggle record called rumors from a band called Fleetwood Mac, that you had freaked out over and told him you'd listen to together because they were your favourite band ever and you'd be damned if he discovered your favourites on the album without you.

james himself had bought him bundles full off tricks and games from hogsmeade, and a framed picture of the marauders, along with a small replica of his own quidditch jersey because, "everyone has to know you're my number one fan pads!"

even marlene had gifted him a bunch of chocolate frogs, and mary had got him a postcard from venezuela and chocolate because her parents were visiting. lily had sent him muggle posters of his favorite bands as well.

but despite the merriment, the niggling insecurity of not being enough played on his mind the whole time, creeping like a shadow, insecurity slithering through the corridors of his mind, casting doubts where there once was light.

his mind was spiralling, as he looked at his plate, gulping as a sudden lump appeared in his throat. james was reading a letter from his mum to remus and peter, telling him about their travels in egypt, and peters mum had sent sweets for them to share at dinner.

oh how he longed for a mom who would write him sweet letters and send him sugary treats instead of venom coated words and flame bursting letters, a father who would teach him how to tie his tie properly for class, or tell him tales of his childhood.

sirius longed for a family to love and hold him always. and the closest he had to that was you and james.

as his thoughts turned to you, he was distracted by a sudden crash as the doors were flung open, as you rushed in, followed by the two friends with whom you sang as part of the hogwarts band, your red robes flaring as you rushed to find your spot beside him at the table.

with a pant, you flung yourself down, taking heaving breaths to calm your racing heart.

"well hello little miss" james said through a mouthful of peas, making you scrunch your nose in disapproval. "where were ya?" remus asked, piling on food onto your plate before it changed course.

"i was at band practice! we just lost track of time and then had to rush because we were so hungry!" you exclaimed, while your hands reached for sirius' under the table, taking his cold palm in yours, squeezing it tenderly to get the blood flow back in them, bringing it up for a quick peck to the knuckles before interlacing his fingers with yours.

sirius felt his heart physically slow down as he watched you, laughing a joke remus made, poking fun at james and messing around with peter. he watched as you cut the roasted potatoes into smaller chunks, dipping them in extra butter as you popped them into your mouth, and the way your eyes sparkled when you smiled.

he watched the way your hair fell, little strands framing your face as you brushed them off impatiently, all while leaning forward for a slice of a chocolate tart and icecream that had just appeared.

he watched as you put a slice of apple pie on his plate, topping it with a healthy dollop of cream, and passing it to him with a saccharine sweet smile and a murmur of "your favourite siri!" and he felt his heart flutter again.

what he didn't note was the crease in your eyebrow as you looked at your friend, the darl circles under his eyes, the slight stoop to his posture, the way his smile came out forced, lips pressed tight together with none of his gorgeous smile lines appearing around his eyes and lips.

he failed to note the way you drew a sharp breath when you felt the rough skin of his palms, coarse from all the times he dug his nails into the delicate skin to control the rage and hurt he felt at his family. the way your eyes softened as you looked at him, the way his lack of obnoxiously lewd jokes and quick wit made him look so vulnerable that it shattered your heart into a million pieces.

after the crackers were pulled and you had packed up a "grow your own warts" kit and many a butterbeer flavoured candy and a few white mice, he squeezed your hand again, gesturing towards the gryffindor common room, leaving the boys chatting with a few members of the ravenclaw quidditch team who had stayed back for christmas as well.

murmuring the password to the fat lady, you stumbled into the common room with sirius, who had his arm wrapped tightly around your waist. you sunk into your favourite armchair, and giggled when sirius fell into you with a muffled "thump"

even though you were 'just friends', you knew him better than anyone else and he knew it as well as you did.

the cozy red armchair with its plush cushioning looked as inviting as ever as he settled into it, legs haphazardly tossed over yours. affection was a major part of your relationship with sirius, having become fast friends since the first year at hogwarts.

ever since you were joint at the hip, bonding over a shared love of music, shared comfort in silence, shared trauma and a love for leather. you were as much a part of the marauders as any of the other boys, and sirius couldn't quite point to the time when you had become such fast friends.

he buried his head into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, absorbing the lilting notes of vanilla and shea, and fiddling with the loose strands of hair at the base of your neck. you hummed softly, some melody that had been playing on your mind, hands gently running through his dark locks, nails scratching softly at his scalp.

"you okay?" you asked, noting the tenseness of his shoulder muscles, and the still present frown between his eyebrows.

a non commital shrug was the only response.

worry began to seep into your mind, surprised at how your usually bubbly bestfriend was decidedly unbubbly.

"you don't seem okay babe" you stated, lifting his chin so he was looking at you.

his stormy gray eyes reflected doubt and insecurity dancing like lightning, casting shadows of uncertainty that loomed deep in his mind.

to your surprise, tears welled up in his eyes, mirroring raindrops, poignant with a tempest of emotions swirling within, creating a tumultuous scene of vulnerability and insecurity.

"oh sweetheart.." you cooed softly, shuffling so he was engulfed in your arms. you felt him bury his face deeper into your neck, clinging to you desperately as if he was worried you'd disappear into thin air.

"talk to me honey" you whispered, trying to coax him out of his hiding place.

just as he opened his mouth to speak, the door to the common room swung open and remus james and peter trooped in, followed by a few other gryffindors.

they stopped short, taking in the scene before them, their best mate in tears in the arms of the girl he loved who happened to be his best friend.

"mate are you-" james began, only to be cut off by a glare from remus.

"who don't you go up to our dorm y/n? I'll make sure no one goes up" remus said, staring at your pointedly, offering a soft smile to you when you nodded.

"i think we'll take you up on the offer, is that okay with you siri?" you asked, still softly stroking his hair.

he nodded against you, and followed you silently as you took his hand in yours and draped an arm around his torso, pressing a kiss to his temple as you led him up the winding staircase to the boys dormitory.

as soon as you were inside, you led him over to his bed, gently pushing him down so he was sitting, eyes looking unseeingly at the posters and polaroids that graced his headboard.

with worried eyes, you watched his gaze flicker back and forth, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to spill over.

"talk to me siri, im right here" you cooed, kneeling down in front of him, hands resting on his knees, drawing tiny circles with your pinky over the material of his robes.

"are you here with me love?" you asked, watching the black in his pupils darken as he spaced out. you watched as he jolted a little, looking at you almost alarmed, before the tears began to drip down his cheeks.

the first drop had you sprinting into his arms, wrapping your own tightly around him, kicking your shoes off as you squeezed him tight, knees resting in between his own, as he sobbed into your chest.

you'd seen him cry before, but never like this. broken sobs spilled from his salty lips, dampening the material of your robes, and small choked sounds escaped his lips, along with deep strangled breaths as he gripped your waist to keep himself grounded.

he cried for what seemed like hours while you whispered sweet reassurances to him, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his forehead and his hands, placing his hand on your chest to feel the steady beating of your heart.

"m' right here darling, let it all go, I've got you, i promise, I'll be right here to hold you honey" you whispered to him, rocking him back and forth like a child.

sirius gripped you even tighter, clinging to you as if you were his lifeline.

eventually, his sobs slowed,and he pulled back, eyes red and swollen and face glistening with tears. even when his hair was messy and he looked like a wreck, he looked ethereal.

"oh my beautiful boy" you said, kissing the top of his head. "tell me what you need" you said, interlacing your hands.

"you, just need you" he said, and the way his broke on the word 'you' shattered your heart into a million pieces.

"just give me one second darling, okay?" you said, walking into their bathroom and taking out a clean handkerchief from your pocket. you soaked it in some water, bringing it back to him, gently wiping his eyes and then his face with it, leaving kisses on every spot you cleaned for him, before taking a comb from his nightstand and slowly untangling the mess that his hair was.

sirius watched as you combed his hair, eyebrows furrowed in attention, and he swore his heart fell even more for you.

"d'ya think you can tell me what's wrong sugar?" you asked, biting you lip when he flashed you a smile at the nickname.

"yeah" he nodded, tugging you down so you were cuddled into his side. "oh wait!" you exclaimed, fishing some chocolate out your pocket and offering a piece.

he took it with a smile, letting it melt on his tongue as he looked at you.

you were now snuggled into his shoulder, your ankle intertwined with his as you lay across from him, hand gently holding his, as his other hand traced patterns on your hip.

"darling mother of mine sent me a howler this morning for a christmas present" he said with a dry chuckle.

"did she now?" you said, anger simmering deep in your bones. "yeah, and then sperm donator sent me a lovely letter as well" he said, chuckling a little at his own nickname for his father.

"mmhmm" you said, tracing his thumb.

"yeah, jus' caught me off guard" he mumbled

"you do know that whatever they say is not true, right?" you asked, looking straight into his eyes.

"yeah but- fuck, darling, it gets hard sometimes. sometimes I feel like I am a traitor and failure. sometimes i feel like I'm not worthy of being a human, I'm not worthy of being a friend, I'm not worthy of being loved i-" he broke off, looking at the ceiling.

"you are more than just a name, sirius. you are worthy of being loved. you are worthy of being human, and you are worthy enough to have friends who care about you" you said firmly, forcing him to look back at you.

"it just hurts me sometimes" he admitted

"i know sweetheart" you cooed again. you felt like no words you said were enough when it came to this topic.

"am i really worthy of being loved?" he asked suddenly, turning his face to look at you.

"of course" you said. the silence got louder for a moment. "siri?" you asked, voice lighter than honeycomb.

"theres something Ive been wanting to tell you" he got out in a rush. "ever since we met on the train on our way here, from the tender age of eleven, my heart silently declared its allegiance to you. each passing day has been a testament to a love that started as a whisper and has grown into a resounding echo in my soul. darling, with every sunrise and every moonlit night, my affection for you deepens, as if there's an infinite well within me, filling with the boundless affection i hold for you. you are the constant melody in the symphony of my existence, and i fall harder for you with each beat of my heart" he said, turning to look at you.

you felt tears welling in your own eyes, and it only felt right when you leaned forward, pressing your soft lips to his slightly chapped ones.

to him, you tasted of strawberries and cocoa, warm and sweet and oh so extravagant, a taste so luxurious he couldn't get enough of it.

to you, he tasted of cigarette smoke, mint and cocoa, an intoxicating taste you couldn't get enough of

his lips pressed deeper against yours, hand grasping your waist tightly, pulling you flush against him, as he poured all his love and passion out for you.

time stopped, the world slowed and your heartbeat dropped to the lowest of lows. relaxed. calm. loved.

finally, when your lungs began to burn from the lack of oxygen, you drew away, chests heaving as you looked at each other.

a slight flush lay on his cheeks, tinges of red littering his cheekbones. you could feel a heat thrumming in your own cheeks, and your heart felt like it was racing a million miles an hour.

"i don't know how long I've waited to say that to you" he breathed out, nuzzling his nose to yours.

"since our shared days at eleven, my heart has been a clandestine haven for the enchantment you brought into my life. you don't know how happy you made me with this. in the quiet dance of our days, my affection for you has blossomed into a resplendent garden, and with every sunrise, I find myself immersed deeper in the captivating allure of our love. you are the symphony that resonates in my heart, and i cherish you always" you told him, pressing a kiss to the swell of his cheekbone.

sirius felt his cheeks burn a deep red, and he tilted your lips up to press a searing kiss to them again.

"i love you" he gasped against your lips, drawing you closer to him.

"i love you too" you murmured against his lips moulding your body to him.

and as sirius lay there in your arms, pressing kisses as sweer and delicate as spun sugar against every part of your body but especially your lips, he realised there was no other place that felt more like home than your arms.

you.

you were his home.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n : I've missed writing so much!! i really hope you enjoy this, and as always likes reblogs comments opinions etc are appreciated!! sending u all love and happiness and remember, my inbox is always open and i love making new friends!! marauders is a new field for me but if u have any reqs/ideas please do send in asks! happy reading ☺️♥️

TAGS

general : @roslastyles420 @hopeful in love @bluesongbird

TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST SEND ME AN ASK OR A DM SPECIFYING WHICH FANDOM ❤️

[angelsdean]

Honestly I hate that every meta post / analysis / discussion is viewed as "discourse" more often than not. And the idea that one interpretation MUST reign supreme among fandom. That we must all agree in order to get along. Or that one post is the end all be all of someone's takes. As someone who often enjoys entertaining multiple / contradictory takes and angles of interpretation it's...annoying. My opinions also evolve and fluctuate on rewatches / depending on mood / depending on fandom climate at the time / etc.

I like having discussions with friends (sometimes those discussions are public, sometimes they're not). I like trying to see their POV. Sometimes I come away seeing things differently. Sometimes I don't. Sometimes I AM more critical of other characters in the moment. Sometimes I give them more grace. Sometimes I'll make a post in a rewatch, feeling big feelings, and then come back later to amend it, with a more balanced perspective. But there have been times when I have been blocked / unfollowed for one angle or take and that ends up not even being my MAIN mode of interpretation but just something I was rotating around. idk sometimes a post is not the end all be all of what someone thinks abt a character / plot point / story arc. Sometimes we can be critical without being a capital H hater. There is room for nuance. multitudes. contradiction. We can have preferences or think something was not portrayed as well as it could have been. We can be annoyed by those things and talk abt them. I also do not need to agree with every single take my mutuals and pals have. Sometimes I heavily diverge, and that's ok! I think having different viewpoints and candid discussions is often beneficial to fandom. But these discussions are not all "discourse" or "fandom fighting." Sometimes people just have different opinions or interpretations. Sometimes what looks like "discourse" is actually just fandom friends discussing differing viewpoints.

As someone who also likes arguing a thesis and citing sources to support an argument and doing analysis and literary interpretation, I can say that even for takes I don't necessarily agree with, effective arguments can be made for that interpretation and supported by canon evidence. I think that's why "open to interpretation" often chafes at some fans. Because it means multiple interpretations CAN exist and be effectively argued. Mine and yours. There is no one singular ultimate truth in literary interpretation. Not even authorial intent. That's the beauty and fun of media analysis IMO. We can each find different meaning from the same source material and diverge. I may continue to argue for my interpretation (in the academic sense of "arguing a thesis") because that's the position I've chosen to align with, but that doesn't mean I think it's the only one you CAN have. And no, not all interpretations are created equal or are argued in good faith. Some ARE more valid than others and better argued / supported. And sometimes an interpretation is only one of many a person can have.

Overall, I don't like the idea that fandom needs to be a hive mind, and that we all MUST have the same opinions or interpretations or come away from the show feelings the same way or else it's "ruining the fandom fun." Sometimes I staunchly disagree with people, especially when takes are rooted in bad faith fanon more than anything that actually transpired on screen. I won't play nice with people that are just Making Up Some Guy to be mad and insisting I must also hate that guy, who doesn't exist. But I can and do have discussions with friends and mutuals where we interpret canon events differently! And I value those other perspectives. They challenge me to question my own viewpoint, to interrogate my takes, to check myself when I get too rooted in Only One Way of thinking. I don't want there to only be one way of interpreting. And sometimes even I will contradict myself and explore other avenues, for the fun of it.

and before THIS post gets interpreted as discourse I would like to issue the disclaimer: that this isn't directed at any individual blogger or any specific post. do not go after anyone. this is just some general thoughts and feelings I've been having about fandom for a LONG time.

[diejager]

More crow! Reader please for 141. I just love the idea of an eldritch being choosing and staying deliberately with a pack of monsters below their caliber for the sake of fondness

Crow Pt. 2

Pairing: Monster COD x Eldritch horror!reader

Cw: cannibalism, human meat, weird Eldritch horror thing, hive mind, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 3.7k Note: I wrote this over a few months, and I haven’t proofread it so a few parts might not connect.

With the knowledge they now held in their hands, they didn’t know how to react. You were, for all they knew, an ancient being, primordial even, and you were dangerous, much more than the unpredictability of König’s ire or the wildness of Ghost’s darkness. They didn’t know how to deal with the weight on their shoulder when your eyes landed on them, or how to react when they heard you speak to them with that low and raspy voice that you so rarely used. 

After that day in Russia, the saw you more often, rather than finding you at night around your murder of crows, in the darkness of your room or standing beside Price, they would find you in their rec room, sitting beside the open window while petting the body of a bird; you’d meet them in the gym, watching them train and sometimes join them; or you would occasionally sit beside them. You opened up to them, letting the men see what laid under your mask. Price encouraged them to reach out, to ask you questions and to quell their curiosity by speaking to you.

Soap and Gaz were the first to jump to the occasion, their wide eyes gleaming with innocent curiosity threatening to spill over the edge. In the privacy of their personal space, they swarmed you with enthusiasm, Gaz standing to your left and Soap to your right. Ghost was fortunate to be in the room that day, drinking tea from the table while Alejandro and Rudy shared the couch. König and Horangi were deployed off to some remote village to help another company detain their target, and Price was slaving off in his office signing off paperwork. 

While the two threw question after question at you, Soap being oblivious of his wagging tail and Gaz literally glowing with how much you spoke, the three men listened in, as interested in you as the two were. They learned a lot, their minds filled with everything they were given, clinging onto the sound of your voice, that soft rasp from under your mask.

When Soap, the ever-hungry pup he was, asked what you ate, a question that clouded everyone’s mind. They never saw you eat nor had they seen you at the mess hall. Your answer was soft and blunt, empty of fear and hesitance.

“Meat, human.”

You weren’t so different from Ghost and König after all, consuming humans as your means of subsistence. Yet none of them had ever caught a whiff of human blood or meat from your scent, only the strange and sterile musk from your body. Perhaps that explained why you sometimes went dark during deployments, Price only sent you out alone, believing you invulnerable (you somewhat were, old and powerful), you closed off all and any signal to gorge on human flesh. 

What did your mouth look like? Could your mouth open up like those alien-like creatures, where your lower jaw was separated in the middle, breaking open into a terrifying maw filled with rows of teeth? Or were you more human looking, with a small mouth like theirs and sharp teeth like the shifters of their TF? It was a nagging thought that one would have to ask one day, or see if they were fortunate enough to catch you eating. 

Gaz was mostly interested about the birds that swarmed you, the hundreds of corvid that followed you whether it knew you or not, from country to country you always had a feathery companion by your side. Mostly crows and ravens, the black feathers glistening under the light and squawking at him, a hybrid of the same genus as it. 

“I can feel and see through their eyes.”

It was similar to a hive mind, a connection between you and every bird from the same family as crows. You closed your eyes and had the magpie in your hand fly around, its eye moving from one hybrid to the other with an intelligent gleam, a dark and monstrous haze that came from you. You were looking at them from the magpie’s dark orbs. It landed on Gazwho - with a joyful grin - brushed its luscious feathers. You could reach out to corvidae birds, seeking help from them through their sight and ears, using their senses to navigate the world. 

“I can see, hear and feel every bird,” you drawled, hand reaching out of the window for a landing rook. “I feel them as much as they feel me.”

“An extension of ye, aye?”

“An extension of my being.”

Alejandro and Rudy would sometimes chime in, throwing a question from their seat, mostly about your hobbies and preferences. What did you do when you were free? You just sat outside, admiring the weather with a few cooing birds being fed from the seeds in your hands, little round pebbles that you offered from your palm. You also liked reading, dabbing into human and hybrid literature in an attempt to familiarise yourself with their culture and behaviours or watching people conduct themselves through the eyes of your little companions. 

That’s how you came to join the army, the odd behaviour and unusual attitude of most soldiers were excused by their harrowing experience and near-death meetings. You could blend in easier while keeping a slight uncanniness to your being, not necessarily perfect or impossibly broken. You were knowledgeable of military tactics and human suspicion, you were - essentially - a being of madness and chaos, you could sense the swirling tornadoes of malicious suspicion and the violent storms that promised a chaotic end. 

“What did you do then?” This was Ghost’s first question, his slow, yet intrigued tone rising in tone as was his want to know you won over his contained curiosity. 

Faking your deaths every time and laying low for the next decade or so had assured your safety from human cults and pagenistic beliefs who wanted to believe in something greater and deranged. Under different names - none were your true name - you enrolled in the British military and other countries, rotating between the Navy, the Army and the Air Force. Your last enrolment was the British Air Force, under another alias for the past decade until the UN made it mandatory to accept any demands from hybrids and monsters to join their ranks.

When Soap asked how you met Price, you grew pensive, blinking at the question he shot. Then you stared at him, telling him that you couldn’t tell him that story without Price’s consent. You only mentioned him working under you before without divulging to the five men any more information. They’d have to bring it up with the dragon if they wanted to know anything. Gaz and Soap groaned, pouting and whining at the limit you put down on the amount of information they could get from you. 

Then they wanted to know if you dreamed, if Eldritch creatures dreamed in their slumber. If you did, would your dreams be stalked by madness? That dark and dangerous madness that loomed over any person. A creation of human and hybrid minds when they couldn’t understand anything, when reality was outside of their reach. Or, if you did, would they be filled with memories? As often as people re-lived their memories in their sleep, replaying the what ifs that the mind concocted during stressful moments in their lives.

You shook your head, you could neither dream, nor need sleep. Although it wasn’t a need like mortal beings, you enjoyed sleeping from time to time, on days where the night seemed to stretch so far into time that it seemed unending from your seat on the roof. When you slept, you confessed to them that you couldn’t see, feel or ear, it was an endless plane of darkness who reached into the farthest point of your long life, the watery floor reflected back your human - or sometimes monstrous - appearance and the place would be eerily silent except for the echoing drip from an unknown source; perhaps the ticking seconds of your eternity. 

They’d all seen the good and bad in humanity, the horrors that greed and corruption could lead to, but they had less than half a century of experience while you had a millennia of living. Rather than seeing the disgust of their current time, you’d seen the world rise as fast as it crumbled, burned to ash by greed, corruption and selfishness. How could you even stand living around humans? How could you stay so patient towards humans? How could you work and dedicate your last century to them?

“It was easier,” you hummed, staring off at the setting sun, the warm caress of the sun smoothing the darkness in your eyes. “Time changed, it made humans less susceptible to hysteria and superstition. Eating, hunting and catching became harder, scientific advancement made them less… naive, so I adapted. Inherently, I am a creation of humanity’s fear of death and madness. I cannot die without the other disappearing.”

Soap managed to coax you into joining them, sitting between him and Horangi while Ghost and König sparred, their strength and prowess usually better suited to fight something of similar capabilities. Ghost was deadly if he let himself go too far, his vitriol taking away his ability to see and think clearly, making his powers lash out. It could eat and corrode, break things down to the bones without consuming anything, it felt like a curse at times and a blessing at others. It was a reason why he kept himself covered, from letting a piece of himself wander too far, to let himself grow too comfortable that he might suddenly crack and hurt the people he cared for. 

Ghost guessed it was the same for König, married to his sniper veil - or a big t-shirt at times - and his form-covering clothes, it stopped him from doing something irreparable. He had anxiety, a product of his life-long social reclusivenessfrom bullying. Maybe he would’ve turned worse if his mother hadn’t been so supportive of him, a caring and loving figure in his life when his father was never in the picture. König was a lumbering beast in humans clothes, but an impulsive and instinctual monster when shifted, following his needs and instincts. 

Rare monsters on their own, they spared together only, afraid of accidentally hurting one of theirs. You’d seen them fight, the bloodlust-leading adrenaline that coursed through their bodies while they terre through the field, not only these two but the whole Task Force, beasts within beasts. The power, the accuracy, the teamwork and the trust between them was mesmerising, even to you, a creature who lived to seam discord into the world; it was breathtaking. 

You watched them exchange blows, König pouncing on Ghost, pressing his whole weight on the block the wraith had built up against him. König was tall and broad, but Ghost was broader, his body in a shape of undying and unchanging physique, at its peak with human strength. He could withstand the force of König’s hits, blocking them with his forearms and palms, and returning them with a hit when he broke the Austrian’s stand. 

Horangi was counting their matches, voicing the scores when one of them tapped three times, forfeiting the match. Soap piped up left, right and centre, a flurry of words in Scottish that others would usually ignore or not understand, but with you, he liked going off in Scott. Thank the lucky star you understood him, he practically beamed the day he swore at the sky with jargons that everyone but you asked for a translation. 

It was comfortable, Soap spoke enough for the three of you, Horangi was purring softly beside you and you were simply taking everything in, finding comfort between two of your teammates. You nod and shake your head at most questions, words slipping through your lips on rare occasions where Soap asked something that simple motions couldn’t answer. You liked listening to them talk, it filled the silence you were used to with joyful laughter. You were content with simply listening without talking, yet Soap was an enthusiastic wolf, eyes narrowing with a sly gleam.

“Ye spar, Crow?”

You shook your head, gazing at him from the corner of your eyes, blinking owlishly. You had your reservations as well, more so for the safety of others than yours. Granted, you had a milenia to learn and draw a limit for yourself, to restrain your powers to a tenth of your strength to protect those you grew to care about.

“Aw, why naw?”

“Too dangerous, Soap.”

That caught Horangi’s attention, his eyes and ears straying from the spar to listen to your conversation, not that it bothered you. 

“Can’t be that bad, can it?”

At this point, König and Ghost were brought out of their haze, shoulders raising and skin coated in a sheen of sweat, they breathed heavily as they strained an ear to Soap’s encouragement. Limbs untangling from one another, they leaned on the flexible cords of the ring, amused eyes staring at you three. 

“It can be.”

“Why not give it a shot, yeah?” Ghost piped up, head tilted with his nose pointing up, an amusingly smug grin stretching his scarred lips.

“If not Soap, Ghost or I could fight you, nh?” König continued, who - unlike Ghost - had his head down, blinking lazily at you with squinted eyes, a smile hidden under the shirt he used as a veil.

You were hesitant, staring at them while you mulled over your choices: to either fold and appease their curiosity or to hold strong and reject the offer. But where was the fun in that? They looked giddy and excited, like pups finding out that they were getting treats. Soap was riddled with enthusiasm, leg jumping as fast as his wagging tail, the repetitive soft thuds from his tail hitting against the bench showed how much he expected you to say yes, how much he wanted to see you fight one of theirs. 

You truly wanted to decline, to tell them that you wouldn’t want to accidentally hurt them, knowing that your restraint was practised with ease, but they didn’t know that. You truly did, but with Horangi’s swaying and thrilled tail, König’swide and happy eyes, and Ghost’s soft rumble, groundingly affirmative, adding to Soap’s eagerness, you found it difficult to brush off by their wishes. 

Soap burst with joy when you nodded, pushing himself and Horangi closer to the ring. You jumped over the big cables and into the ring as Ghost moved out, it seemed that the two decided the order even before you agreed. You shrugged off your jacket, you tight shirt riding up your stomach, the soft fabric the same shade as your dark blue jacket. Hanging it on a pole, you turned to face a thrilled König, his body vibrating as he peered down at you. 

It was almost ridiculous how different you were to him. You were neither board nor tall as König and Ghost, you weren’t insanely big and buff like any of them either. You were normal, an average person surrounded with big hybrids. You wouldn’t fault anyone for believing that you were the weakest out of the bunch, seemingly too small and human like to be the strongest, but they knew, most monsters and hybrids had this instinctual fear - ingrained into them for as long as they existed - for monsters that looked too human. 

Horangi was once again nominated as the referee, he repeated the rules, anything went as long as the opposite party’s aware of the three taps for yielding. Hybrids were tougher and more resilient than human bodies, so most restrictions put in place for humans were lifted in hybrid spars, especially in this Task Force. 

At the end of the count, König charged you, his big body pouncing on your smaller and nimbler one. You moved and bowed when he lunged, feet dancing around his loud stomps. He growled, jabbing at you with his right hand and lunging with a left hook when you blocked his hit with your forearm. It was a back and forth motion, he took the offensive position while you stayed on the defensive, taking hits leg and right. After a right hook, you expected a jab, but Königbowed down and kicked out his leg, aiming at sweeping you off your feet. It was a great change in tactic, surprising you with his quick movement. 

You kicked up, hands firmly placed on his shoulder as you flipped over him. Soap whooped at your acrobatic move, moving and jumping around like a dancer - a gymnastic chorus - while König rushed frenziedly, strong hits and wide kicks, his body giving him a wider range than your shorter one. König growled, twisting in a crouch to tackle you down, his body was a weapon by itself. You landed with a grunt, wrapping your legs around him, one under his arm and the other around his neck. His hand latched to the arm you used to guard your throat while wrestling with his other one. 

He cackled in your guard, voice rumbling out his chest as you choked him, lean legs hooking by the ankle to hold his chest down. His legs kicked, kneeling down uncomfortably, choking down a loud snarl. König tried breaking your hold, but you held strongly, using your monstrous strength to keep him down. He tapped your thigh, three soft taps that made you loosen your lock. König rose first, panting loudly with a satisfied purr as he sat, arched forward. Standing before him, you waved your hand to him, giving him help to stand on his feet. 

Ghost had already joined you when you pulled König up, patting the giant’s back as he chuckled lowly, eyes squinted in amazement. 

“Yer awright, König?” Soap asked, still standing beside a clapping Horangi, both tails moving excitedly. 

“Yes, I’m all right.”

Unlike König, you were as winded or tired as he was, your metabolism working slowly and efficiently to survive for so long. It was a good show of power for König, to see what fought on his side rather than against him, but he doubted that you were the only Eldritch being working in the forefront, killing, consuming and hide in plain sight of other human and hybrids. 

“That was Brazilian Jiu-jitsus, wasn’t it,” it was more of an affirmation than a question, Horangi knew well the technique you used against König. 

He’d mentioned it in passing within the few drunken nights where you joined them at the bar, spewing his history of gambling on boxer in the ring, betting who would win for a few pennies to fill his pockets. You rarely used your hive mind on them i their leisure time, respecting their need for privacy and secrecy when you were away —they’d won your trust after a few Ops and proud and boisterous praises from Price. You shook away any lingering thoughts as you watched Ghost slip under the highest cord, entering the ring with tight fists and a mean stare, determined to get you once before he forfeited. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad that Soap forced you to watch with both him and Horangi, you - despite your tendency for your quiet corner and solace in darkness - enjoyed this team activity. 

You were regretting letting Gaz and Rudy pull you to the Mess Hall, insisting that you’d be left alone in their corner of the cafeteria. People rarely engaged them when they all sat together, whispers of them being too menacing, too dangerous, or too scary for human minds. You weren’t fond of cold and stored meat, the cold destroying any semblance of freshness that recently killed meat brought. It tasted stagnant, blank of any fulfilling aspect your kills had : from the lack of warm blood still leaking from every veins and arteries, to the suppleness of the flesh, it’s soft and flexible texture cutting easily under your teeth. 

You nearly gagged at the first whiff of it, locked under expectant eyes of both your teammates and curious eyes of others who’ve never seen you step a foot in the room. Your first bite was horrendous, your mouth washed with the revolting flavour of cold and stale meat. It was levels under your usual meal —not that you needed to eat, you’d recently eaten a few days ago on a shorter run in Argentina, but where was the harm in tasting military-provided meat when König and Ghost ate it without a second thought. Or so you thought, they’d simply gone numb, not having the luxury to be picky with the taste of their meal. Unlike you, they hadn’t spent centuries hunting for themselves, born into a restrictive world when monsters and creatures ran wild but hidden. 

But you still hunted, it was a ritual that even the world’s government couldn’t stop you, no one would fight one of the personalisation of chaos and madness, many having decided to abide by your word simply out of fear while very few respected your history and culture. 

“How is it?” Alejandro finally join your table, sweat still glistening from his brows as he cut into his steak with gentle and skillful slices.

“Stale,” you blinked, tongue lolling out of your mouth to lick the red stains on your face, long and serpentine, another aspect of your more reptilian body.

They snickered, knowing full well how repulsive it was, sharing their little quips and jabs about the quality of food everyone on base got. A few lines about the chefs being lazy, others of them being awful and some about them being talentless, followed by shared laughter around you, shaking shoulders and bright smiles before the table exploded in chatter, guilefully ignoring the world outside the safety of their bubble. 

Maybe… just maybe sitting - you’d never lay a single finger on these provided meals - with them when they ate would lighten up your world slightly, bring some flavourful warmth if it made them happy that you joined them. You refrained from saying anything, simply nodding at them and giving a small smile that seemed to brighten up their faces, restraining your interaction to a few gesture to stop yourself from feeling overwhelmed with the suddenness of emotions. Th last one who’d stirred your hearts so vividly was years ago, watching over a still learning John Price.

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