#but also what does this mean about owen???

[lilhawkeye3]

A Crash Course to Kendrick's Super Bowl Performance, from a Black Woman

Note: this does NOT go in depth into all of the song's lyrics. I don't have time to recount two decades of his discography. This is just a summary of the performance itself.

Let's start with the first visual we get:

UNCLE SAM - most notably recognized from WWII American wartime propaganda, Uncle Sam is the personification of American patriotism and freedom. The term "uncle" is also evocative of Uncle Tom from Uncle Tom's Cabin, an abolitionist book that aided in inciting the Civil War. Uncle is also a very common term (both endearment and derogatory) towards Black men (eg. "unc"). Samuel L Jackson was fantastic.

Uncle Sam also resembles a circus ringleader, notable for my next point:

THE GREAT AMERICAN GAME - no, not Super Bowl. The GAG is us the people being pitted against each other: through late-stage capitalism, through the culture war, through class warfare, through being built of the backs of slaves. We are all players in the GAG because none of us on this site were the oligarchs seated at the inauguration.

This is also seen as Kendrick's stage was a Play Station controller. Not only did it remind of circus rings visually, but it was a game battle stage. The Great American Game is a battle royale of the commoners for the amusement of the rich whites.

Remember the foods / Them color was tin and brown / But now they 100 and blue - For this I'll just say, look what the last election said about lowering the price of eggs... and look at the prices now.

The revolution about to be televised / You picked the right time / But the wrong guy - Election 2024 once more.

THE FLAG DANCERS - yes, the dancers formed the US flag... off of the backs of Black people. Not a single white person in sight, and that's true of the cotton pickers in the fields. Plantations are part of how the US came to economic prominence after being a "backwater" colony. Remember tobacco? Cotton? Our bloodlines do.

The red and blue dancers are also notable for representing the Crips and Bloods, two infamous street gangs. The dance in Not Like Us is the Crip Walk. I recommend researching more on your own time about them, but just know they are a large part of the stereotype of Black people being "ghetto."

TOO LOUD, TOO RECKLESS, TOO GHETTO. Do you really know how to play the game? - This is exactly what Black people, especially Black men, get told all the time. It's why we change our names on resumes if they sound "too Black." It's why we codeswitch in non-Black company. This is especially rich considering how non-Black people love our culture and love to make money off of us, as the latter part of the quote points to. And it's even more profound during the Super Bowl-- the NFL is majority Black players.

STREET LIGHT A CAPELLA -- "thug" stereotype dancers to counteract the a capella connotations, with Uncle Sam then saying that Kendrick figured out "bringing other street guys around being a culture cheat code." Yes, this is a direct hit at Drake (listen to "Not Like Us") but also politically. Look up "model minority". Notably I would point to Candace Owens, or the Miami Venezuelan political group that's been in the news recently, especially as this directly led to Kendrick being surrounded by...

DANCERS IN WHITE -- it's white America. That's... that's the allegory.

NOT LIKE US TEASER -- Kendrick says "Not Like Us" is "their favorite song." -> he means white people specifically here. It comes after he's surrounded by all white dancers, the women around him who are his call and response are also in white (my opinion, they represent the industry). He's saying "Not Like Us" is the favorite of yts because it is about BLACK MEN FIGHTING. This again is reflected in the video game stage and ringleader Uncle Sam.

SZA -- instead of giving what they want, we see SZA. She's one of Drake's exes and Kendrick has always supported her.

ALL THE STARS -- This was in the first Black Panther movie, which I recommend you watch. Rest in Power Chadwick. Notably, this movie was incredibly mainstream as a major Marvel movie, and then we have Uncle Sam say...

"THAT'S WHAT AMERICA WANTS: NICE AND CALM. DON'T MESS THIS UP" -- translation: Marvel (the industry, America, etc.) wanted a safe, semi-pop song because white American likes safe pop songs, not Kendrick's usual heavy rap style about his life as a Black man! Don't mess up what you've got going mainstream for having this "Black rap feud" with Drake, who is an R&B model minority to white people because he's safe.

So what does Kendrick say?

IT'S A CULTURAL DIVIDE / IMMA GET IT ON THE FLOOR -- He was warned not to be political or apologetically Black for this Super Bowl performance, but he is using this big stage opportunity to speak out.

40 ACRES AND A MULE / THIS IS BIGGER THAN THE MUSIC -- 40 acres and a mule are what the freed slaves were promised. Instead, this land went to white sharecroppers. Research Jim Crow laws.

THEY TRIED TO RIG THE GAME / BUT YOU CAN'T FAKE INFLUENCE -- rig the election, rig the industry like with model minority Drake, rig the Great American Game with culture war to distract from active class warfare.

NOT LIKE US -- the only thing I'll mention because it made me holler is Serena Williams crip walking on Drake's metaphorical grave. She's another one of his exes.

TURN THE TV OFF -- exactly like he said! The TV is a distraction, the Super Bowl is a distraction, the mainstream news is often a distraction. Turn it off and get with your people!

GAME OVER — could not see this on my stream but at the end of the performance, the lights in the stadium spelled this out. The world is watching, America…

In conclusion, Kendrick Lamar is a visionary and thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[everlastingday]

wait wait wait i JUST NOTICED

CAPTAIN STRICKLAND?!?!?!!

[ghostieblotts]

Full disclosure that this post was inspired by this wonderful meme. So you know where my brain is at.

I've been recently working on a Splatoon au for SAF, and this got me thinking about an aspect of one of my character choices. Because the importance and fear of abandonment is a key part of why I think Owen works well as Marina.

Now, being completely frank, the primary reason for my making curtwen be pearlina is because I am biased, and want my one set of faves to be my other set of faves. (Indeed, I have thought about how Owen and Tatiana could well have been the other way around - and this would lead to compelling character choices for both of them! Tatiana as Marina, who is trying to leave behind her past as a prodigious child soldier, would work really well - Owen as Acht, who is left behind and relinquishes their body and free will in avoidance of distraction and pursuit of perfection, is an idea that haunts me.) But there are also ways that I think it works!

During the Chaos vs Order splatfest, I think one of the things that scares Marina most is the idea of losing Pearl. The characters all have slightly different reasons for joining their team in that splatfest, but I always see Marina's as being that the order and status quo she is seeking to protect is the new life she has built with Pearl.

To me, Marina is a character who craves stability and is terrified of being abandoned, specifically because she once uprooted a stable life and abandoned everything she knew. And, while that decision allowed her to escape her home and make her dreams come true, it was nonetheless incredibly turbulent, and I think it feels very fragile for her. I think it feels particularly fragile while Pearl doesn't yet know that Marina is an Octarian (which - goodness, how scared must she have been when Pearl found out?), and the idea of this beautiful reality she has found herself in shattering terrifies her. And the idea of Pearl leaving is most terrifying of all.

I always like the idea that Owen was scared of being abandoned pre-fall. That he felt like everything good might shatter in an instant, that everyone he loved could leave or die without warning, and that it was hard to accept that Curt might actually stay. (And then, once he finally did accept it, once the trust between them grew to the point that Curt leaving Owen behind became unthinkable, the impossible happened.) So this idea of the fear of abandonment is something I'm particularly in favour of as part of my au.

Particularly, one of the things that is especially fun to me, is that in this splatoon au, Owen becomes so scared of being abandoned specifically because he's been the one who left. And he knows how abrupt that was.

[fire-on-fuel]

I also feel like there's some galactic core chauvinism flavoring in the typical misread of luke because yeah, of course he's not gonna know much about the empire or galactic politics or the world outside the farm when he lives in essentially a remote colony that hasn't even warranted the effort to be fully colonized. And it makes sense for certain characters to make those assumptions because they also live in that universe so they see him as a local kid who's just missing a hell of a lot of perspective. But he's not naive in his own world and as the audience there's no reason to ignore that and form opinions on him like you have galactic regional biases except to woobify him unnecessarily. It's not like tatooine has a seperate kidzbop version of itself reserved for the original trilogy. Luke knows the world is very very cruel. Why do you think he's so good at choosing hope?

Luke Skywalker, a farm boy who grew up on Tatooine, with the worst scum of the Galaxy around him any time he goes to any town, would not be a naive wimp.

He is a kind kid, yes, Owen was a bit overprotective but that would NOT be enough.

Realistically speaking, Luke would have :

- enough stamina to work for a few hours in the sun, without breaks (so possibly even longer in a more gentle climate)

- an alcohol tolerance rivaling that of most Rebellion veterans (I refuse to believe blue milk is his go-to and that drinking age on Tatooine is even a thing),

- quite possibly knowledge on how to make moonshine out of dirt, sticks and a little water, because what else did they have on Tatooine,

- street intelligence, not highlighted enough in the movies I feel - he is a trouble magnet and if he lived to be 17 then, he had to have something to make up for it,

- large amounts of knowledge about slave trade, water trade and Hutt politics, because whether he likes it or not he would pick them up casually, just by living in a society,

- a lot of random everyday skills that people like Leia would not have, mending clothes, creating makeshift tools, home health remedies etc.

Say it with me - LUKE IS A FARM BOY.

Farm boys rarely can afford to be naive or trusting for no reason. Farm boys have to be street smart. Luke would be more competent than some people like to think.

[angelsforthenight]

MRS. AND MRS. SMITH — abby anderson x fem!reader

ways you can help gaza 🇵🇸

do not buy tlou2 remastered!

a/n: this is way more inspired by the mr and mrs smith series (2024) not the 2005 one!!! this explains why they’re wives :3

you’re an assassin along with your assigned partner/wife, abby anderson. fed up with her toxic behaviour, you’re pleased when the mission is centred around you seducing a man for murderous motives. why? well, because you know it’ll get under abby’s skin. little did you know, things would blow over way more than you thought it would.

cw: mdni, owen feature🤮🤮, long fic, kinda slow-burn ig?, femme fatale, arranged marriage couple, kinda toxic relationship, violence, mention of blades, car sex, mean!abby, bratty!reader, dom!abby, degrading, bdsm, ass-smacking, finger-fucking, cursing, jealous!abby, hair pulling, dry-humping, finger-sucking, choking, rough sex, teasing, squirting.

“short brown hair, rugged beard. got that?” abby’s murmuring voice comes in from the earpiece you’ve got attached. you groan and roll your eyes, wishing you could mute the goddamn thing.

see, any other day, you would’ve loved to hear your wife’s pretty little voice guiding you — her praises when you’d do something right or her degrades if you’d do something wrong both sending shivers down your spine, compelling you to do whatever she wanted.

but not today. today you’re over it. so what do you respond with?

“yeah, i know, anderson. we both got the fucking brief.” you hiss. you know how pissed abby gets whenever you curse at her; so that’s exactly what you do. you relish at the thought of her gritting her teeth, not being able to snap at you in front of all of these people.

that’s right, you two are at a charity gala event. it’s fancy. too fancy to the point where it’s intimidating: glistening chandeliers, artistic decorations and bustling people wearing glamorous attire. you and abby needed to blend in with the crowd so not only are you two dressed smartly for the occasion but are also split up. not that you’re complaining. you’re sick of her. sick of her petulance whenever you’d get glorified by the agency instead of her, sick of how sometimes she can be so simple-minded, sick of how, at points, she lacks at making you feel loved.

your job is to take out an owen moore, for unforeseen reasons. you never question what the agency tells you to do, neither does abby.

you’re planning to lure him in an concealed area with your enticing charisma, make him believe you’re going to sleep with him before slicing him dead with your blade. you prowl through the many people, scanning the area with a keen eye to find him. claude debussy plays as background music, taming your harrowing nerves. killing is never easy.

“found him yet?” abby sighs.

“please don’t distract me.” there’s way too many people and it’s beginning to stress you out. what if you never find him? failing the mission is the last thing you wanna do.

“i’m getting bored. plus, small talk with strangers pisses me off.” she complains.

“not my goddamn problem.” you retort, the ends of your tight-fitting dress flailing against your legs as you pick up the pace, worrying if there’s not enough time, worrying if he’s even here in the first place.

“literally what is your problem? acting extra fuckin’ snobby tonight...”

your eyebrows knit together. abby always finds a way to get under your skin.

“let’s not fucking start—“ you’re about to snap and make yourself look like a fool in front of all of these people until somebody accidentally bumps into you: spilling his drink all over your dress. great!

“oh shit. sorry, i didn’t mean that.” you hear a man’s voice as you stare down at your ruined dress in disbelief. you slowly glance up at the culprit; only to find the noted brown hair and rugged beard staring right back at you. owen moore.

despite your worked up embarrassment and your extreme annoyance, you manage to flash a smile.

“it’s okay, but... you do realise you owe me now right?” you bat your eyelashes, hoping you don’t look silly.

“and what’s that?” owen chuckles, rubbing the back of his head and making immense eye contact. he’s already flirting back, you think. this is about to be so fucking easy.

with a few drinks, owen’s already tipsy and you’re leading him to the vast room. you make him believe you’re just as woozy; stumbling and giggling away. you take advantage of his obliviousness: your hand brushing against the slit of your dress, fingers cupping the wooden handle of the blade in the garter wrapped around your thigh. whilst he laughs and babbles nonsense, you carefully trace the edge of the blade — feelings of excitement rushing to the surface. regardless of the fact that killing is never easy, it’s also never not exhilarating.

you’re about to fully whip out the blade until owen decides to be bold: setting his slobbery hands against the small of your back and trying to lean in for a kiss.

“woah.” you feign a grin, pulling his hands away. “we go at my pace.”

“aww�� please?” he mumbles, trying to seem like an adorable puppy but instead making it look disgusting. this is sad, you think. you try to grab your knife again but he’s now grabbing your arms; desperate for a fruitless smooch.

“come on… don’t play hard to get.” he growls, his sudden aggression catching you a little off guard. no need for stress, you know what to do. your knee prepares itself to kick hard in between his legs until somebody’s arm suddenly emerges from behind, wrapping around his neck and squeezing hard.

“what—“ you breathe in bewilderment, eyes widening. despite owen choking and uselessly clawing at abby’s arm for escape, her gaze stays intently trained on yours; a death stare. it’s unnerving.

it doesn’t take long for owen to turn cold and slack, eyes rolling to the back of his head. abby lets him go, but not without cracking his neck first, and you watch as he flops onto the floor.

“what the fuck, abby…” you mutter, palming a frustrated hand across your face. “where the hell did you even come from?”

“there’s doors.” she tilts her head towards the backdoor behind her. you hadn’t even noticed it. your eyes travel back to her; irresistibly ogling at the black suit clinging to her body, complimenting her form. you almost forget you’re supposed to be mad at her.

the blonde chuckles wryly, a petty exhale. “you starin’? assumed pussy boys were more your type.”

“real fucking mature.” you snarl. “i had him. i was this close to killing him, abby.”

“you were taking too long.” abby shrugs, condescendingly pouting. you grit your teeth.

“jealousy? really? grow up.”

“at least i watch where i’m going. nice dress, the wet splotch is a nice touch, really.” she slanders, narrowing her eyes. you scoff, trying to pretend as if that dig didn’t offend you.

“you’re a fucking child. help me with the body.”

you two leave the building with ease, pretending as if owen is a friend that’s had too much to drink, wrapping his arms around the both of your shoulders and leading him to your car. abby opens the boot and you two push him inside. you two will decide on how deal with the body later.

for now, you’re sat on the passenger’s seat whilst abby drives, the two of you salty and quiet. abby’s driving way too fast; her hand gripping the steering wheel like her life depends on it. she’s obviously fuming.

“can you slow down?” you glare at her.

“you owe me… i mean, who even says that?” abby grumbles, ignoring your request.

“a lot of people do. now slow down, we don’t wanna attract attention from police knowing there’s a dead body back there.”

“not to mention that you’ve had an attitude since last night! the way you were flirting with that oliver guy? or whatever the fuck his name was, had to be on purpose. to spite me.”

abby starts driving even faster, increasing your stress. “owen.” you correct, “you’re so self absorbed!” you continue to beg for her to slow down.

“he’s, like, the embodiment of revolting too. don’t even get me started at the way he was trying to force himself on you. i should’ve put a bullet in his brain.” abby rattles on, pure jealousy oozing from her tone.

“you were definitely enjoying it too. i know you were.” she turns her head to look at you, not paying attention to the road.

“abby. abby!” you scream as abby almost runs through a poor family trying to cross the road.

“fuck.” abby murmurs as she swerves messily, just in the nick of time, steering into a deserted field. the two of you are out of breath from the fright, hearts racing from the adrenaline. abby rests her head on the wheel, letting out a long sigh.

“just what the hell is the matter with you?” you scold, “all this shit over a mission? are you serious?” abby’s lack of response leads you to continue yelling at her.

“of course we’re going to have to flirt with our targets now and then! the fuck happened to your professionalism? if i had known you’d be acting like this then i would’ve never—“

“why didn’t you kiss him?” abby raises her head to look up at you, her face blank. you blink, a little taken aback by the unexpected question.

“i…” you look away. you’re not exactly up for abby knowing that you couldn’t kiss him because of her. “where even are we anyway?”

“nice try. since you’re so professional, why didn’t you kiss him? he clearly wanted to. you could’ve easily killed him then.” the corner of abby’s lips arch up into a smirk — the familiar smug look of hers that never fails to get you weak.

“for someone who’s had so much to say just a second ago…” she leans in a little, arm resting against your headrest, “…you’re awfully quiet.” her voice is hushed down to a soft whisper, and you swear you’re beginning to feel a little lightheaded.

“look, abby, you’re my wife… so…” you mumble in response to her pressing question, avoiding eye contact. abby chuckles, loosening her tie. here comes the floodgates.

“don’t play dumb and pretend as if the agency didn’t arrange that.” her finger presses against the dome light of the car; illuminating your embarrassed face. just what she wanted to see.

“you’ve been enjoying yourself, seeing me all jealous like this. you liked playing femme fatale, hmm?” her finger slowly twists itself around a strand of your hair, before she yanks a handful, forcing your head closer. you wince, eyes clenched shut. your cunt decides to flex too — reminding you that she’s got a mind of her own, and that she finds being in an empty field like this, in abby’s car, pretty fucking hot.

“let’s face it…” abby whispers, so close that you can feel her breath tickling your ear, shooting heavy tingles down your body.

“you want me so bad it hurts.” her eyes drift down to your thighs that are starting to shift uncomfortably in your seat. it’s beginning to ache down there and it seems like abby’s aware of that. you can’t help it. after all, abby sitting so close: loose strands of hair framing her face, unfastened tie and darkened eyes fixed on you, feels so good that it’s suffocating.

you squirm a little and abby grins, her fingers still laced in your hair. her grip slightly tightens as she licks her lips. she looks hungry.

“maybe what hurts is your fingers in my hair.” you quip, though your voice is a little shaky.

“maybe you need to fix your attitude.” abby retorts, “like, seriously, pipe down… you’re probably soaking down there.” she snickers, right on the money.

“fuck you.” you glare at her, gauging her reaction. you want to believe you’re saying this out of sheer anger for what went down tonight, but deep down, you know that’s not the case. in reality, you just want to get under abby’s skin. it’s what you’ve been craving since the beginning; to get her pissed.

you wipe the pleased look off of abby’s face, which is now replaced with a frown. your heart pounds with anticipation: so much so that your chest faintly heaves, lips parted.

abby’s eyes wander to your lips and in one swift movement, she pulls you in; pressing her lips against yours. you’re quick to kiss her back, the sweetness of her mouth sealing yours. fervent can’t even begin to explain the way you two are kissing. akin to wild animals, small muffled groans escape the both of you.

desperation is thick in the confined air of the car, as abby pulls away and shrugs her blazer off. you stare up at her.

“hurry… with your slow-ass.” you whine.

“watch your fucking mouth. c’mere.” abby commands. you naturally do as she says and she begins to unzip your dress — not without making sure to go deliberately slow.

“why do you have to be so mean?” you sigh, burying your face in the crook of her neck.

“oh, trust me… i’m only gonna be meaner.” she warns whilst planting gentle kisses on your neck. you’ve always admired abby for her ability to vary from being sour to tender in seconds. little did you know, the peppered kisses on your neck served as a prior apology to how cruel she’s going to treat you in a second.

once everything is off, abby marvels at your body. like a painting in an art gallery, she makes sure to pay attention to even the minuscule details of your body. it’s her favourite thing in the entire world.

“turn around.” abby mutters, her eyes hazy; voice bleeding with lust.

“what?”

“just do it.”

you hesitantly do as she says. abby beams: finding your weak resistance amusing yet is also excited to break you.

“now… bend over.” she coos, clearly poking fun.

you shoot her a glare, cheeks flushed. “what am i, your dog?”

“don’t piss me off.”

you glare at her for a few seconds longer before sighing, reluctantly bending over.

“arching that back and everything… wooow.” abby teases, “and to think i haven’t even touched you yet.”

“oh, just fuck off, abby…” you complain, the embarrassment beginning to overwhelm you.

“what was that?”

“i said fuck—“ but you’re cut off by a yelp when abby brings her palm down flat against your ass. you flinch violently; very, very taken off guard.

“mm? didn’t quite hear you. repeat yourself.” abby taunts, smacking you again. you grunt and flinch yet again, feeling the sting of her slap coarse through your body. abby’s humiliating you, milking every last drop of your embarrassment. the worst thing yet? you’re enjoying this way more than you should be.

“i’m not kidding. speak.” abby commands, showing no signs of mercy. your skin is already starting to gleam red, and your pussy? well, it’s a fucking party down there.

“abby…” you cry, completely under her control. the more she smacks, flesh recoiling under her palm, the more your head goes blank.

“go on babe… finish what you were saying before.” abby prods. this time, when she smacks you, her fingers grasp the flesh on your ass tightly; watching in delight as her fingertips leave little red marks. you’re trembling like a leaf, both from the pain and the arousal.

see, the thing with abby is that she never likes to let things go. she adores jabbing at you until she gets what she wants.

another smack, this one so hard that you need to press your palms against the window. abby then grips your waist and pulls you way closer; making your ass press against her hips.

“you wanna get fucked?” abby mutters, teasingly bringing your waist back and forth against her hips: hard, playful thrusts. your bare cunt pressing against her crotch is, without a doubt, driving you insane. you frantically nod in response to her question, in which abby replies with latching her hand around your neck; forcing you upright so that your back is now against her chest.

“use your words.”

“y-yes…” tears begin to stream down your face. you’re desperate, yearning for her touch as if it’s a life or death situation.

“so finish what you were saying.” her fingers slightly squeeze around the sides of your neck.

“i-i told you to f-fuck off but i d-didn’t… haa… mean it.” you splutter. the you a while ago would’ve had her mouth agape in horror at your behaviour right now.

“see? that wasn’t so hard, was it?” abby coos, her fingers tracing down your stomach, in between your thighs. long, drawn-out circles are traced on your swollen clit, her fingers pressing just the right amount of pressure. you groan, and abby taps her chin against your shoulder; smirking at how your legs are writhing, desperate for more.

“where’d all your attitude go?” the blonde ridicules. her other hand moves over to your breast, squeezing it, her thumb caressing your nipple. as to the hand working on you, her middle and ring finger brush against your folds; up and down. she’s touching you but it doesn’t feel like it’s enough: abby knows that.

“don’t do this to me, abby…” you exasperate. she lets out a breathy chuckle before flipping you over and setting you down onto the car seat. she reclines it back, eyes yet again fixed on you. you stare up at her with big glossy eyes, your head blank as if you’ve been dumbed down.

abby gloats at how helpless you look, grabbing your face with one hand and squishing your cheeks. “you look stupid.”

“shut up and fuck me.” you mutter in a muffled tone. abby laughs as if what you’ve said was the funniest joke in the entire world. you wonder if abby can feel your cheeks burning up against her palm.

before you know it, abby plows her thick fingers so far inside your cunt that you’d squeal, if it wasn’t for abby’s hand still clenched on your cheeks.

“this what you wanted?” abby purrs, fingers curling up against your g-spot already. you moan, back arching and squirming.

“oh! riiiiight, you can’t speak.” she gloats, playfully shaking your head with her hand. you whine in embarrassment, yet you secretly enjoy how she’s handling you like a doll.

abby’s finger-fucking you rough, wet squelch noises filling up the car. the sound of it is so erotic that it leaves you dizzy, eyes rolling to the back of your head. the blonde releases her grip on your face but not her thumb, that slips inside of your mouth.

“suck.” you mindlessly do as she says, as if you’re brainwashed. you can see abby’s cheeks tint red when you slowly suck her thumb, making sure to keep eye contact.

abby chuckles, looking away. seems like she didn’t think you’d actually do it.

“you’re shy.” you point out. you triumph over the fact that now it’s her turn to be embarrassed, but not for long.

“shut the fuck up.” abby says brusquely, her fingers operating way harder than before; relentlessly pounding against your g-spot. you cry, feeling overwhelmingly good.

that rigid attitude you had a moment ago? now dead and buried. you feel surreal, a series of mewls and sobs leaving your lips.

“nothing smart to say anymore? you look fucking pathetic.” and she’s right. you look like a hot mess. abby smothers your tears all over your face. you mindlessly move your hips, fucking yourself on her fingers. she smirks, loving what she’s seeing. you feel a knot beginning to untie in your stomach, sublime throbs coursing all over your body.

“i’m cumming…” you manage to choke out.

“i know.” abby buries her face in the crook of your neck, and you shiver at the feel of her breath against your skin.

“i’ll decide to be nice and let you finish.”

and that’s your cue. with an ending moan to seal it off, you feel your body tense up, eyes widening. abby leans in and presses her forehead against yours. you squeeze your eyes shut, before your body relaxes. you’re panting like a dog, staring up at abby with foggy and depleted eyes.

“so cute…” she murmurs before cupping your chin and kissing you — this time, soft and tender as opposed to the way she was kissing you before. you feel warm.

so absorbed in each other, you two forget about how you’re in the middle of nowhere and how the body in the car boot needs to be dealt with. for now, you two have something more important to worry about: how you’re gonna clean up the mess you’ve left all over the chair and dashboard.

a/n: you made it !!! thought it’d be funny if the target was owen😭😭 hope u enjoyed reading <3

[lulunothulu]

“Jealousy, jealousy” pt. 2

Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader

@86laura11: Oh my gosh. I want more. What’s next? Does Kate apologize to her friend? Does Tyler take her on a real date? I need to know.

Summary: After a night of pizza and talking, Tyler finally asks you out on a proper date—asking Kate to help you get ready.

Content: just cute fluff

Part one

Both you and Tyler finished off the pizza he brought in under thirty minutes, realizing you both skipped dinner. Now, sprawled across your bed, you and Tyler look up at the popcorn ceiling.

“That was really good,” he tells you. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

You groan. “I think I might burst.”

Tyler laughs, propping himself on one arm and facing you. Your hair was down—strew around your head like sun rays—and your face content.

You were goddamn beautiful.

“So I have a question,” Tyler starts.

You turn to face him, almost surprised that he’s as handsome up close as he was far away. You couldn’t believe this was happening, much less that he had something to ask you.

“What is it?” You respond, propping yourself on your elbow, the same way Tyler did.

“Well…I was wonderin’,” he starts, southern drawl catching on his tongue. “Would you maybe…whenever you’re free…wanna go out on a date with me?”

Your heart began to pound on your chest. Excitement and joy bubble up your spine and you smile at Tyler widely.

“Yes, I’d love that.”

“Are you free tomorrow?” He asks.

“I’m sure Javi and Kate wouldn’t mind if I skipped out tomorrow,” you tell him.

Tyler’s eyes widen, he forgot about Kate. What if you were still mad at her for what she did?

“Let me text them,” you tell him.

You:Guys….

Kate:Y/N…?

Javi:Are you okay?

You:Jake just asked me out…

Kate: HOLY SHIT HE FINALLY DID IT.

You: wait… you knew?

Kate: why tf do you think I was talking to him?

Javi: do I have to be here for this?

You: yes.

Kate: YES.

You: Kate, can you come over after the leaves in a bit? Also is it okay if I skip out tomorrow, Javi?

Kate: Sounds good.

Javi: Sure

You turn to Tyler who’s still watching you with a smile and feel the blush creep up.

“They, uh, said it was alright to skip out,” you tell him.

He chuckles, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Sounds good, Sweetheart.”

He rolls off the bed, standing in front of you to help you up. With his hand offering to help you, you take it and are swiftly hoisted up to your feet.

Tyler pulled you too hard though, because you feel yourself crashing into his hard chest. You look up at him, startled. He looks down at you, amused.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at 11,” he tells you, kissing your cheek before walking toward your door.

You’re still vibrating from his kiss when you realize something.

Did he say 11 as in, 11 AM?

“11 AM?” You ask.

Tyler just nods, winking your way and walking out the door.

Not even a minute later, your door rattles as someone knocks on your door.

You smile, walking toward the door and swinging it open to find Kate standing there, excitedly beaming at you.

“Oh my god! He just came from your room!” She beams.

“Yeah,” you say. “We had pizza for dinner.”

You let her in, watching as she takes a deep breath before turning around to face you. Her face is now riddled in remorse, brows furrowing together.

“I’m sorry,” she starts. “About making you cry.”

You wave her off. “It’s fine, I’m about to start my period soon. I’m just hormonal.”

“Are you sure?” She asks.

“I mean, the plan was to get me jealous. And it worked,” you laugh. “It worked big time.”

Kate smiles at you before shaking your head and pulling you into a hug. “I really am sorry.”

You hug her tightly. “It’s okay, really. How could I stay mad at you when I have a date with Tyler tomorrow morning?”

She pulls you back, smile back on her face mixed with confusion. “Morning?”

You only shrug.

———

The next morning, Tyler’s up bright and early.

10 AM to be exact.

He wanted to be ready for your date aaaand he still needed to get your number.

As quietly as he can, Tyler tiptoes to the motel door he and Boone share before opening it and sneaking out. He walks toward Javi’s room, knocking when he arrives.

Javi answers the door, rubbing his eyes. “Dude, what the hell?”

“Sorry, can I have Y/N’s number?” He asks.

“Did you forget to ask last night?” Javi smiles.

Tyler’s about to respond, but stops when he hears, “Javi? Who’s at the door?”

From behind Javi walks Kate, wearing one of Javi’s shirts. Tyler’s brows raise, a smile forming on his lips.

“You and Kate?” He asks.

“Here’s her number,” Kate smiles, handing him a piece of paper with your number on it.

Tyler smiles, waving them goodbye before checking his watch.

10:20 AM.

He figured he would go to the diner across the street for some coffee before texting you.

Tyler walks into the diner, surveying the place before stopping when he finds you sitting in the booth in the back.

You’re wearing a lilac sundress and your hair cascades around your shoulders as you sip your coffee.

Tyler approaches, a wide smile plastered on his face. “Well, what brings you here?”

You look up at him and he could’ve sworn you looked even more beautiful than normal.

Your cheeks are rosy, face covered in light makeup that accentuates your already gorgeous face, and your lips are a natural pinky color.

“Wow,” he gawks. “You—you look just…wow.”

You smile up at him and he could’ve sworn he melted away.

“Thank you,” you respond, your sweet voice singing into his ears.

Tyler clears his throat. “Are you ready?”

You nod, slipping out of the booth and watching as Tyler tosses some bills on the table.

“Let’s get out of here, sweetheart.”

———

Tyler drove you almost an hour away into a small town full of Gilmore Girls-esque house and people.

“I cannot believe you just found this random town,” you marvel.

You’d both been walking around town after a quick brunch at a local diner.

Tyler’s hand kept brushing against yours as you walked, looking at all the shops.

“Yeah,” he tells you. “I’d seen it a few days ago and thought it would be a great place to just walk around with you.”

You glance up at him, a smile already on your lips.

“You’ve been planning this for days?”

Tyler looks down at you, stopping to face you completely. He’s wearing his white cowboy hat, his signature flannel, and jeans paired with boots. He looks normal but different at the same time.

Yet, he’s taking your breath away.

“I have been,” he admits. “I’ve been planning this for longer than then to be honest.”

“How long?” You ask.

He rubs the back of his neck. “Since the first day I met you.”

“That was almost a month ago!” You laugh.

He only shrugs. “I knew what I wanted the moment you scowled at me from the back seat of your truck.”

You laughed, remembering how he had driven next Javi trying to beat you all in getting to a tornado. You remember his eyes on you and your scowl when he winked at you.

“I knew you’d be a tough one to crack after that,” he finishes. “When did you know you liked me?”

You grab his hand in yours, feeling the roughness of the callouses on his palm.

“That night when you came to apologize for stealing the tornado out from under us,” you reply.

Tyler laughs. “Yeah, I guess that must’ve sweetened the sour feelings you had about me.”

“Even more so when you told Scott off for yelling at Javi, Kate, and I,” you admit.

After Tyler stole the tornado from you guys, Scott was a raging mess. Angry that Javi didn’t drive fast enough, Kate for not sending the second one you could’ve gone after, and you for not seeing it on the radar.

Tyler walked right up to Scott, telling him to back off and you could’ve sworn your heart grew four times its size that night.

“Yeah,” he smiles, reminiscing on the argument. “I couldn’t let him talk down to my girl.”

You smile up at him. How could you have gotten so lucky?

“Well, I’m glad you did,” you whisper, watching as something clicks behind Tyler’s eyes.

His eyes search yours before falling to your lips. “Y/N—”

“Yes,” you simply say.

“I didn’t even get to—”

“Tyler just kiss me,” you order.

Tyler chuckles, pulling you into him and lifting you to his level. “Alright, Sweetheart.”

Lips connect with yours, sweet and soft. They move, urging to get to now every inch of them while you allow yourself to relax in Tyler’s arms.

When Tyler’s stubble tickles your nose, sending you into a little fit of giggles, he pulls away.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, still smiling.

“Your stubble tickles,” you laugh.

“I can shave tonight.”

You oil him back into your lips, pecking softly and then pulling him in for a deeper kiss. Only pulling away to smile at him.

“Don’t you dare.”

[little-diable]

Bad Omen - Tyler Owens (smut)

This was somewhat requested by a lovely anon reader, so I tried to incorporate it as much as I could. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Reader and Tyler have hated one another with a burning passion for years, but when they get stuck in his dying truck with a tornado nearing both seem to realise that their reasons for hating the other aren’t as valid as they thought they were.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f), reader gets slightly hurt, enemies to lovers, some angst

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (2.8k words)

“Tell me this is a fucking joke, Owens!” Sweat was pooling on her forehead, adding to the clammy feeling she hadn’t been able to shake for the past minutes. Curses rolled off his tongue, words she couldn’t spare any attention to as her surroundings began to close in on her. “Tyler!”

Her panicked voice managed to rip him out of his own state, fully focused on getting his truck to start again. Both had been stuck there for a good ten minutes, being shaken from one side to the other as his truck died in the middle of a field. They were surrounded by nothing but a wooden barn the nearing tornado would rip apart any minute now. 

“Would you shut up for a second, (y/n)! I’m trying to save our fucking lives here.” She had known that driving with Tyler had been a mistake, a mistake she had made only for her friends to get some bonding time with Boone and Lily. A mistake she was now paying the price for while being stuck in his truck without a way to reach their friends. “Fuck, of course this only happens when you’re around.”

“What is that supposed to mean? I’m not some bad fucking omen.” A groan ripped through Tyler at her spiteful words, a sound that was swallowed by the cries of the nearing tornado. Both were staring at it, heavily swallowing as it dawned on them that they had no place to hide, unable to find shelter in the truck that would normally be secured to the ground. 

“Stop putting words in my mouth, (y/n)!” Anger dripped from his words as Tyler kept fumbling around. He was too distracted to pick up on the tears welling up in her eyes, too distracted to fully notice the panic she was swallowed by. Fears buzzed through her mind, fears that grew louder with every passing second. 

“Fuck, I don’t want to die with you by my side, that’s the worst scenario ever.” Her words drew a laugh from Tyler who stared at her for a second or two. The whole thing seemed surreal, not once had his truck died on him before, not once had he worried about his safety while he was driving it straight into a tornado, all until today. 

“Trust me, darling, you’re also not my first choice to spend the last minutes of my life with.” The truck was rattling from the heavy winds, shaking them while (y/n)’s hands darted out to stabilize herself. Another shake followed seconds later, too powerful to catch herself before her temple connected with the metallic outline of the window, forcing a pained groan out of (y/n). 

“Shit, are you alright?” Her reply was swallowed by the sound of Tyler’s truck roaring to life, drawing relieved sighs from both while he managed to secure the truck. Her shaking hand found her temple, unable to bite down a hiss as blood coated her fingers. She felt his eyes on her, quietly watching (y/n) before he reached for her chin, tilting her head in his direction. 

“Does it hurt?” She barely understood the question, drowned out by the sounds of the tornado which was about to swallow the truck. (Y/n) tried to ignore the concern dripping from his words, concern that also swam in the bright pupils wandering over her features. 

“Of course it hurts, you dipshit!” Tyler let go of her instantly as if her skin was suddenly burning him. His jaw muscles ticked in anger, eyes focused ahead while darkness momentarily swallowed them. (Y/n) reached for her backpack to press a tissue against her wound, hissing once again as the thin fabric made contact with her skin. 

“What did I ever do to you for you to be such a bitch whenever I’m around?” Tyler’s words drew her glassy eyes back to his angry features, breath getting stuck in her throat as her eyes found his. (Y/n) had to look away after a few seconds, trying to ground herself before finding her voice again, solemnly focused on Tyler and not on the tornado both had been chasing for most parts of their morning. 

“How can you even ask me that? Did all the chasing shake your memory? You fucked me over the first times we met, Owens. You left us behind while we counted on your help.” Her voice was cold, fuelled by the anger thumping through her veins like a drug poisoning her system. Everything in her screamed at (y/n) to chase the distance, to move away from Tyler as quickly as possible. She had been too close for too long already, needing to get away from the man who made her feel all kinds of things she couldn’t put a name on. 

“I fucked you over? You stole my data, all that work was lost because of you, of course I didn’t trust you no more!” Tyler’s voice boomed through the truck, almost as loud as the tornado had been. Her mind was racing, knowing that she hadn’t stolen anything from him which left her wondering what he was talking about. 

“I didn’t steal shit from you, why should I? We work on different areas, Owens. Your data wouldn’t help me.” No longer was she close to screaming, no longer was her voice guided by anger and hate as it slowly began to settle in that both had been stuck in heavy miscommunication for a while now. 

“But only your group was around that week, and Michael.” A “Fuck” left Tyler seconds after he had ended his sentence, wondering how he could have been that stupid. Of course, it had been the sketchy guy he had been forced to work with on the project, a guy who had bailed on Tyler at the first given chance, blaming (y/n) and her team for their mishaps. 

“Seems like you need to work on your people skills, Owens.” Chuckles broke out of (y/n) as she shook her head at him, followed by a groan as her headache settled in. 

“Let’s get you to a hospital, and then we’ve got some talking to do.“ 

…… 

“Who would have thought that a massive band aid would look that good on you.” Tyler shot her his signature smirk while she found her way back to him. She was a bit uneasy on her trembling feet, too shaken by the last hour and the emotional whirlwind both had been caught in, from thinking they were about to die to realising that they got to live another day where their enemy slowly turned into somebody else. 

“Shut it, Owens.” She rolled her eyes at him, brushing past Tyler but being unable to escape him due to the fingers that found her belt loops, pulling her back in. (Y/n) collided with his broad chest, having to place her hands against his shirt before she could lose her balance. 

“How about a thank you, huh?” He was walking a fine line, risking another spiral of anger she’d instantly pull him into, but the smile tugging on her lips told a completely different story. (Y/n) stared up at him for a second or two before one of her hands wandered up his neck, pulling him down to her to brush her lips against his ear.

“For a thank you you will have to work harder than that.” And with a soft chuckle clawing through (y/n), she pushed Tyler away to make it out of the hospital. He stared at her for a second or two before snapping out of his trance, unable to bite down his grin while jogging after her. 

His hand clamped down on her wrist, once again forcing her to a halt before she could open the passenger door of his truck. (Y/n) found herself getting lost in his bright eyes, not used to the sudden warmth his touch now pushed through her instead of the anger she no longer felt. Both moved at the same time, getting lost in one another’s embrace while he dipped his head down.

But before he could kiss her, Tyler angled his head to the side, brushing his lips against the corner of her mouth, “You’re playing a dangerous game, darling, and I ain’t one for losing.”

……

“C’mon, don’t fall asleep on me, darling.” Tyler was sitting on her motel bed, pressed against (y/n). They had shared dinner a while ago, finding shelter in the dark room while she tried to stay awake, all because of her doctor’s orders. 

“Well then do something to entertain me, the movie sucks.” Her chuckles rang in his ears, sounds that made his heart beat faster as he gazed down at her while her eyes found his. Tyler pondered over his choices for a second or two before he tilted his head down and kissed her, softly pressing his lips against (y/n)’s.

It took her a second to give in to the touch, allowing her hand to find the back of his neck to pull Tyler further down towards her. Their lips kept meeting, sharing desperate kisses that were fuelled by the emotions both were still a stranger to after deeply hating the other for the past years. A hate that had always been accompanied by a form of lust and longing for the other, longings they had never dared to even think about for longer than a handful of seconds.

Tyler shuffled around to hover over her, keeping her trapped between him and the bed while her hands moved from his neck to his shirt, slowly popping open the first few buttons. Her fingernails scratched at his skin as she tried to push the fabric down his broad shoulders, leaving him to groan at the feeling of her skin pressed against his.

For a second, he interrupted the kiss, chasing the distance to rid himself of his shirt. (Y/n) had seized the moment to reach for his belt, unbuckling it with a kind of urgency that made both their hearts race even faster. Her shirt followed moments later, exposing her bra-clad chest to his wandering eyes - a sight that made his cock twitch in his tighter growing jeans. 

“Lean back, baby, let me do the work, you shouldn’t move much.” His voice dripped with lust, a low growl that shot shudders down her spine. (Y/n) sank back into the pillows, watching Tyler move closer to slowly undo her bra. Within seconds he had latched onto her right nipple while his hand palmed her left breast, making her sigh in relief. 

Tyler seemed to know exactly how she needed to be touched, how to draw her closer to the edge she’d eventually fall from. He was everything she hadn’t known she needed, while he had deep down always known that having (y/n) would mean his end. Every second was cherished by the both of them, though while Tyler tried to calm himself, (y/n) silently prayed that he’d move faster. 

“Tyler,” his name rolled off her tongue like a Sunday morning prayer, repeated over and over again. Their eyes held contact as he kissed his way down to her jeans, undoing them with skilled fingers to pull them down her legs with her panties in tow. And there she laid, naked in front of him as he thanked his lucky stars for pushing them into this mess. His fingers itched to take a picture of her, needing to remember this very moment until he’d take his last breath, but the sigh of his name forced him to move again. 

“Shh, I got you, baby. Let me take care of you.” With her thighs spread for him to settle between, Tyler kissed his way to her aching core. His calloused fingertips felt rough against her pulsing bundle, adding enough friction to get her to arch her back. (Y/n)’s eyes fluttered close the second his tongue brushed her folds, groaning at her taste. 

“Oh fuck, Ty’, need more.” His chuckles vibrated on her skin, making her shudder while he pushed two fingers into her. Her walls fluttered around his digits, curled against her swollen spot while he sucked on her bundle. Moans clawed through (y/n), knowing that he was pushing her towards her orgasm all too quickly. 

“You taste so sweet, how could I have missed out on this for so long.” Tyler’s groans made her chuckle - sounds that bled into moans as he sucked on her clit again. She gave it a few more seconds before pushing him away, leaving him confused while she tried to catch her breath.

“Fuck me, make me cum on your cock.” Her whispered words made him groan, forcing Tyler to move to get rid of his jeans and boxers, exposing his aching cock to her eyes. (Y/n) made a silent note to suck him off later tonight, needing to feel him rest on her tongue. 

She watched Tyler rip open a condom with his teeth, rolling it down his cock before settling between her thighs again. He hovered over her, had one hand pressed to the mattress next to her pillow, while the other held onto her hip. Their eyes stayed connected as he pushed into her, leaving both groaning in relief. 

“You’re even tighter around my cock, you’ll be the death of me, darling.” His words felt like praises, making her lightheaded and aching for air to flood her gasping lungs. Her walls fluttered around him to pull him in deeper, allowing Tyler to push fully in before pulling out again, set on a slow rhythm. 

“Faster, please.” An almost devilish smirk tugged on his lips, his bright eyes twinkled with mischief but his thrusts stayed slow, calculated almost. 

“You can’t move too much, baby, gotta take care of your head.” Her teeth were buried in her lower lip, leaving marks while she stared up at him with annoyance laced in her gaze. Tyler could only chuckle at her while fucking into her deeper, clearly enjoying her struggling. One of her hands found his cheek, pulling him down for a kiss while wrapping her legs around his waist.

Both groaned in unison as she tugged him in closer, wondering how they fit together so perfectly. Too much time has been lost over the last years, time they could have spent just like that, pressed together in the most intimate way imaginable. Time they now had to make up for, chasing highs and lows together, giving in to the emotions they had to adapt to, all while falling in love with one another. 

“Stop teasing me, I don’t care about my head.” Her words left him chuckling, spurring him on to move a tad bit faster - but not nearly fast enough to push her closer towards the high she was aching for. 

“Ask nicely for it.” It was a simple command - a command she’d normally curse him for with calling him all sorts of names. But she was desperate, aching for her orgasm only he could push through her now.

“Please, Tyler. Fuck me harder, make me cum.” He didn’t reply verbally, only moved faster with a smirk resting on his lips. She left marks on his back with her fingernails, making her shudder against him while her free hand found her aching bundle of nerves, giving her the needed push.

Tyler watched her fall apart beneath him, a sight that left his chest swelling with pride. His hips kept meeting hers, fucking her through her high while his own moved closer. With a deep groan Tyler followed her down the edge moments later, forehead pressed against hers, hand fisting the bed sheet. 

He pulled out of her, got rid of the condom and found his way back to her to pull (y/n) against his warm chest. Both were chasing their breaths while clinging to the other, allowing it all to finally sink in. 

“How’s your head?” Tyler’s whispered words made her smile, pressing a kiss to his naked chest before allowing her eyes to find his bright ones. She cupped his cheek with one hand to feel his stubble pressing against her palm, cherishing the calm moment that felt all too new to them both.

“Not hurting, thank you for taking care of me.” She pressed another kiss to his chest before letting her head drop against it, hearing his slightly accelerated heart pound in his chest. 

“Anything for you, baby.” 

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tyler owens x gn reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.39k | part 2

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: not communicating and not talking about your feelings (not miscommunication since you don't even communicate)

☾⋆☆⋆☽

There's too many beds.

The one night where you guys don't manage to make it to a motel, there's too many damn beds.

The camper van can fit pretty much all of you at once, not that the seven of you will do that anyway. Dani and Dexter have claim on it, as the drivers, and will probably accept two more comfortably.

In Lilly's van there's the backseat and the floor, but if we're counting, for how many beds there are by technicality, the two front seats as well.

You always have tents and sleeping bags around too, just in case you guys can't drive everyone from any recently unfortunate communities to the nearest hotel (although you'd certainly try). To give a rough estimate, about a dozen tents?

Then there's Tyler's truck, the two front seats and the back seat, and the truck bed. It's a bit short, but it can fit plenty people curled up.

So what to choose?

You should probably stay in a car. Much more heat that way, but who's gonna take you in? The designated drivers obviously prefer their own cars, so... Dexter's campervan is pretty spacious? Then again, so's Lilly's, and to be honest she's more of a vibe than the other two, but also why would you need vibes if you're just sleeping?

Maybe you should start a fire, huddle around that? No, that's a hazard, nevermind the fact you only know how to start a fire in theory.

Let's stick to a car, then. Lilly or Dex & Dan for space... Lilly, sure, why not?

As you start heading over to Lilly's van, you hear a sharp whistle. You don't have time to wonder who it's from, as Tyler spins you around.

"You're coming with me." He proclaims, taking you by the shoulders, and you can only laugh.

"Why me?"

Tyler grins, walking you unceremoniously towards his truck bed. "Because you're you, dove." That alone sounds rather intimate, so he fixes his mistake quickly. You're just friends, after all. "And Boone kicks people in his sleep, Lilly's hair gets everywhere, Dani steals the blankets, Dexter snores, and Ben...it's pitiful how he squeezes himself into the corner whenever he's sleeping next to someone, so we always give him his own space."

Right, all good points you'd forgotten.

"So why exactly am I better?" You tease, stopping in your tracks so Tyler bumps into your back and stay close.

"You're warm." And at first it seems like that's the only thing he'll say, your only benefit, as he pauses; but then the rest comes spilling out like a toad strangler. "You're also soft, you don't steal the blanket, you don't complain when I suddenly start talking and you don't snore."

Tyler doesn't mention that the two of you cuddle when you bunk together, and that you bunk together often. He doesn't mention how tonight he'll let you cuddle up on his chest, or perhaps how he'll press his nose against yours and let you play with his hair, because simply mentioning it will mean you'll have to talk about it.

You don't want to talk about, you think; and neither does he. You don't want to talk about how there's something different with the way he slings his arm around your shoulder, or the way you knock your head against his, or how he always gives out your share of whatever (pizza, cookies, etc.) before anyone else, or how you always offer your help to him no matter what.

They're always easy things to ignore, his skinship is not conditional and neither is your kindness, but there's something about the way you look into his eyes when you say thank you, and something about the way his touch lingers.

You don't want to put your finger on it, at least not this season. You'll say it again the next season, and the next, but you ignore that.

"So then I'm your favorite person?" You turn around and bonk your fist against his chest.

He whistles again, drawn-out like he does in awkward moments, but you know it's only playful. "Don't push your luck, dove. You're like... top 5!"

"Top 5? Aww," You feign offense, plopping your hand over your own chest now, "I didn't make it to top 3?"

He splays out his hand and begins to count on his fingers. "There's my mom, then my dad, then the family dog, Liam from the rodeo, and then you."

"The family dog?" Your eyebrows furrow, and the acting seems a bit too real until the look on your face gives away to a memory of his dog giving you kisses. "Oh, yeah, okay. I get it."

"See? You get it." Tyler chuckles, spins you back around and keeps on walking.

The spot you guys picked today is drier than the last, which is something you're thankful for. It's quite far from any town, but the streetlights that adorn the far off road make you feel a bit safer that civilization is just around the corner. There's a light breeze, not too cold and not too fast, and the stars! Oh, the stars.

They're damn nice out here cause they're actually visible tonight, a little less light pollution, you think. It's certainly a lot brighter than, say, NYC or Washington.

"Ain't they pretty today?" Tyler comments, his hands on your shoulders squeezing.

"Yeah. Sparkly too. You know any constellations?"

"No," He hums, his voice holding a bit of lament. "I tried, once. I tried taking a class in college. Astrology."

"How'd that go?" You ask offhandedly, hopping onto the bed of the truck.

"Ended up being too stressed with my main curriculum and dropped the class before it got too far." He fixes a tarp over the top of the truck bed, over the exoskeleton, so not much light will shine over your eyes when you try to sleep.

"The smart Tyler Owens got too stressed?" You ask as you help him up.

"Being smart doesn't mean I have good time management." Tyler says as he sits next to you, and you shrug. Suppose he's right.

"Still pretty though." You hum, leaning your head against his shoulder as you look up.

"Yeah." He agrees. His arm comes to wrap around you naturally, running up and down your side. "Have you ever tried to come up with constellations with... I don't know, whoever you were looking at the sky with?"

"You know what? I don't think so." You raise a finger, tracing a path in the stars for a moment, trying to find something interesting.

He finds one before you, pointing at a group of stars in a weird glob shape. "There, a cloud!"

That alone gets you to let out an ugly, surprised laugh; despite how ugly you might've thought it to be, he thinks it's cute. "You trynna cloudgaze with stars, cowboy?"

"Shut up." He laughs, knocking his head against yours. "You try, genius."

After a couple seconds, you point out a distinct...cone shape in the sky. "Unicorn horn."

"Unicorn horn?"

"What am I supposed to say, cone?"

"You could've said ice cream cone, a little more age appropriate, you know?" He holds out his hand, holding out a small gap between his index and thumb fingers to accentuate little.

"Yeah, well it has no ice cream, dumbass."

"Woah," Tyler withdraws, raising his hands in surrender. "no need to get so defensive, dove."

You slap his hands only to draw them back around you. He has no complaints about that. "Clearly we both suck at this. Let's just admire the stars normally."

He huffs out a laugh but turns his gaze back to the night sky without complaint. It's rather peaceful, this moment, and so nice. Maybe it's not rare that you get comfortably quiet moments with him, nor is it ever rare for Tyler to hold you close like this, but it doesn't make it any less endearing.

"Look!" Tyler breaks the silence suddenly, finger tracing a path in the stars. "A heart."

"You're kidding." You huff out. He's just playing with you, he has to be, especially after your miserable attempts at finding shapes in the sky.

Despite yourself, your eyes will the stars above you into the shape of a heart. Goddamnit, you think, because it's definitely a sign.

"I'm going to sleep." You tear yourself away from his grip and he laughs and tries to steal you back to him, but you fight briefly and end up winning. It's a nice victory, especially because you won over him, but it's not on par with actually finding something in the sky (and you're avoiding the sign).

Tyler chases after you, flopping down beside you. The tarp above casts darkness over the back of the truck bed, but a soft glow still shines through.

You sigh and tuck a hair of Tyler's behind his ear, to which he only laughs. "Jealous, much?"

"Oh, totally." You'd roll your eyes, but they're stuck on his.

"I won." He's triumphant, but you can only focus on how pretty his smile looks.

"You did." You reply, not fighting him on it, and slowly his amusement fades away with the deflation of his body.

"You're not making this fun." Tyler steals your hand, presses the back of it to his lips and notably does not pucker up and kiss. It might be payback, or it might be avoiding the obvious intimacy that kissing you is.

"It wasn't a competition, anyway." You remind him, and he rolls his eyes.

His attitude eventually exudes out of him with a sigh, and he lets go of your hand to push closer. His head rests below your chin, his nose against your neck, and it's not new, but it's not old either.

"I'm sick n' tired of you." He huffs against your neck as you take the opportunity to tuck the both of you in.

You hold back a laugh. "Oh, yeah? Tell me why."

His voice is muffled against your neck, and maybe the vibrations tickle, but you don't dare move away. "I won! We should be celebrating that."

"Celebrate it in your dreams." Despite it being practically the same thing as in your dreams, it actually sounds quite genuine.

"Don't be like that," Tyler whines. "let me stay up for a little while."

You put your hand in his hair, then, twirling strands around your fingers and scratching his scalp, and Tyler hates you and also loves you, because it feels so good that it pulls a groan out of him, but it's lulling him to sleep.

"You're cheating." He whines again. He's being rather childish, huh?

"It's way past your bedtime." You say in a sing-songy way. Curiosity takes over, and you pull his head away from you gently to look into his eyes.

They open once you pull him off you, just barely. Half-lidded, not by lust, but by sleep. "I just wanna hold you for a little while longer." He says, and you don't know how he does it, but his eyes have turned pleading.

"That's on you to try, cowboy." You huddle close again, allowing him to take up the same position as before.

Despite himself, Tyler sighs contently, wrapping his arms around your midriff. One of your hands is on his back, rubbing slow circles, and the other is back on his hair.

He's definitely not going to last long now.

"When's the last time you've ridden a horse?" Tyler babbles on to try to keep awake, but you can hear the sleepy lilt in his voice. "I think my last time was when I last visited home, before the season started."

"One sheep over the fence, two sheep over the fence–"

"Shuddup."

You laugh, hands smoothing over his hair again. You're not sure how you're not very sleepy right now, tucked under the blankets, in his warm hold. Maybe it's the subconscious thought of not accidentally hitting your head on the spare wheel above you, or the faraway feel of the ridges of the truck bed below you.

Or maybe it's wanting to tease him.

"Kiss me."

"What?"

You've kissed before, little playful things: cheek kisses for the camera, neck kisses to either scare you or tickle you, forehead kisses after particularly dangerous scares, hand kisses when he's trying to act all gentlemanly, temple kisses after hugs. You've never kissed him on the lips before, and actually, neither of you have ever explicitly asked for a kiss. They've always been given without question.

"Please?" He asks again, pulling back so that his forehead is off your neck.

Oh, he only wanted a forehead kiss.

You oblige happily, press your lips against his forehead and let out and exaggerated muah!

"No, not there." He pulls away almost entirely, scooting up to be face to face.

You'd laugh, if what he was asking you for wasn't a kiss on the lips. You can't lie, you've thought about it before, when the sun shines a particular way over his face at sunset, or when he's considerably too hot to ignore.

...you're going to have to talk about this tomorrow.

Except tomorrow is not today yet, and so you cup his cheek. You debate it for a moment, a yes or a no, but there's one answer clear in your mind, a yes.

You press your lips against his, and it's more subtle than that forehead kiss, and it feels so much more tangible, in a way. His lips move against yours, a languid thing, a soft thing.

You wonder if he's going to remember this tomorrow, if being as sleepy as this is equivalent to being drunk.

"Thank you." Tyler says as you part, and he settles back where he was, head against your neck. He seems satisfied now, willing to nod off.

"Don't mention it." You say automatically.

Okay you're definitely going to have to talk about this tomorrow. For now, though, you'll just hold him. It's a strange thing to say, but he's always been rather nice to hold, a big man to fill your entire hug, even if he does make your heartbeat spike.

"Goodnight." He says.

"Sweet dreams." You reply.

There's nothing else to think about but the feeling of him in your arms and the warmth of his body as your eyes draw closed.

[biggestsimponhere]

‘Tis the damn season

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

➻ Synopsis: You left your hometown at 18 yet here you stand ten years later in front of the only person you’ve ever loved

➻ Requests are always welcome!!!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆｡ﾟ. ───

If i wanted to know who you were hanging with while i was gone i would have asked you

There was once a time when you could have asked Tyler Owen’s anything and you would’ve gotten an answer. But you left. Ten years ago. Something about the small town thing that you couldn’t get over, you felt trapped. Now you lay in your bed, it’s cold out, you’re curled under blankets and watching videos of the so called tornado wrangler on youtube. You smile despite yourself, you had missed him but you had to go.

A girl enters the side of the screen, one you didn’t recognize. Her hair was blonde with dark brown roots, her doe eyes practically sparkling as she looks at tyler. You can’t help the pang of loss that shoots through your chest. You push the feeling down and turn off your phone, shoving it far underneath your pillow. You have no right to be jealous you know that but you miss him and then there’s her, you can’t get the image of her out of your mind as you lay there in the dark. Your eye catches on a shirt hanging off the handle of your closet door.

Tyler’s shirt. You remember the day you got that shirt so vividly. It was cold, despite the heat that usually comes being on the south, arkansas winter had a way of chilling you when you didn’t want it. The two of you were walking home from local diner, it was late and snowing and neither of you had thought to bring a coat. Tyler had shrugged off his flannel and draped it over your shoulders before pulling you closer. The two of you walked to your house practically glued at the hip.

It’s the kind of cold, fogs up windshield glass but i felt it when i passed you, there’s an ache in you, put there by the ache in me

“Y/n?” A voice calls from your left. You had been out shopping, grabbing some last minute things your mom needed to cook, because of course she would send you. Luckily for you it wasn’t tyler’s voice. It was boones. You smile as you turn and greet him. “Does ty know you’re back in town? I mean he must not if he hasn’t already shown up at your door” Boone questions as he stares at you. “He doesn’t know i’m back and you can’t tell him, i’m going to leave as soon as the holidays are over” You say pleadingly. Lily slides into the conversation seemingly having overheard you two.

You glance at lily, “wait, he’s not here right?” you ask slightly panicked. “No he’s not, he sent us out to get things, you know how he is” Lily shrugged. You breathe out a sigh of relief but can’t help the longing that goes through you. “You’re going to have to tell him y/n” Lily says sternly. You know you left things shaky, you also know Tyler never got an explanation. “He doesn’t need me ruining his life,” You shake your head, “He’s got that girl, i saw her on the video” You say quietly. “Who? Kate?” Boone laughs. You find yourself quirking an eyebrow at him because what’s so funny.

“Why are you laughing bo, i’m serious” You say softly, trying to keep your true emotions from slipping through. “If you think tyler’s gotten over you just because you’ve been gone for ten years then you are absolutely ridiculous” He wipes tears from his eyes as he laughs. “What’re you talking about bo, there’s no way he still misses me” You interject breaking through his laughter. “I’ve gotta go, i’ve missed you both… don’t tell ty… please” You say quietly as you hug them. They both give you their reassurance that they won’t tell him but they think you should.

i’m stayin at my parents house, and the road not taken looks real good now

Being back in your high school bedroom is harder than you thought it would be. They didn’t touch anything. The pictures of you and tyler, happy, smiling from ear to ear decorate every corner of your mirror. You stare at them for a minute before pulling one off. It’s always been your favorite one, the two of you had taken it while trying to figure out how to use your polaroid camera when you first got it. It was slightly blurry but the smiles beaming at you through the photo tell you all you need to know. Tyler had taken it, his arms outstretched as he holds the camera away from the two of you, you’re reaching for it in the photo and maybe that’s why it’s tilted like that or maybe it’s because tyler’s hand was shaking so bad from laughing.

You curl back onto your bed, the polaroid clutched in your hand as you bring the covers up under your chin. You’ve never been one for wallowing but there’s something about being back here. Your mother finds you like that hours later. She sits on the bed beside you, softly pulling the polaroid from your hand and setting it on your nightstand. She knows you miss tyler. She also knows why you left in the first place. She tucks the blanket tighter around you and kisses your head softly before heading back out of the room. You don’t wake despite the creaking of the old door as she shuts it.

She heads back downstairs and settles back into the kitchen. After baking for about an hour or two she does what any sane mother would do and she pulls out the phone book. She laughs quietly as she searches for the number and smiles triumphantly once she’s got it. She moves to the phone hanging on the wall. Despite all the gorgeous technological advancements of the twenty first century your mother refuses to give up her landline, claims her grandkids are gonna know how to properly use a phone. “Yes? Tyler? She’s home” Your mom sighs softly into the phone. You may blame her for this but she doesn’t care.

Time flies, messy as the mud on your truck tired, now i’m missing your smile, hear. me. out.

Tyler’s at your house in the next half an hour. Your mother greets him at the door. She invites him in and lets him know that you’re still asleep. “I guess i just don’t understand why you called” He says as he sits at the table, his chair, it takes him a moment to realize. He’s sitting in the chair he sat in for four years. “She misses you, she won’t say it but she does, she needs you” Your mother says as she joins him at the table. Tyler quirks his head at that, you left, what could you possibly need from him. “I’m sorry ma’am i’m just not really gettin it” He says quietly.

“I thought we’ve moved past you calling me ma’am” She reminds him softly. He nods, looking down. “To answer your question, i think she’s lost it, now i don’t mean her mind ya know, but her love of everything really, i know she left because she felt trapped but she stopped coming home, she stopped writing, somethings going on tyler” She explains as she sips on her coffee. Tyler’s expression shifts from confused to concerned. “What do ya mean?” He asks calmly, hoping not to project how badly he wants to run upstairs and wrap you in his arms. “She hasn’t come out of that room for days, i sent her out yesterday and she came home, dazed, she needs you” Her tone makes something shift in tyler.

“Can i.. can i go up there?” He’s practically bursting with the need to hold you. Your mother nods, a slight smile forming on her lips. He’s up the stairs before she gets the chance to say anything else. The door to your room creaks but you don’t look up, assuming it must be your mother again. “Sweetheart” A voice comes from the door. That’s not your mother. You’d know that voice anywhere. You jolt up in your bed. “Ty?” You question as your eyes adjust to the light pouring in from the hall. He shuts the door behind him, dowsing your bedroom back into darkness. The only light coming from the moon reflecting on the snow outside your window.

But if it’s okay with you, it’s okay with me. We could call it even, you could call me babe for the weekend. ‘Tis the damn season.

Tyler moves closer to your bed, but slowly, sort of like approaching an animal that doesn’t want to be approached. “It’s me darling” He says as he draws closer. He’s reaching over to wipe the tears from your cheeks before you even realize you’re crying. You lean into his touch instinctively. “What’re you doing here ty?” You’re pushing back more tears as he sits beside you. He looks warm. Warmer than the cold bed you’re laying in. “Your ma called me”. You laugh disbelievingly. Of course she did.

“You didn’t have to come ty, i’m fine” You say unconvincingly. “Oh i’m sure you are sweetheart” The pet names he’s lathering you in almost make you forget how long you’ve been gone. “Why don’t we go out, you can come to mine, the team misses you yknow” He says as he pulls you into his side. Every time he touches you it’s delicate like he’s afraid you’ll push him away, but you don’t. You never could and you never would. “Really? You want me there?” You push at your nose, trying to get it to stop running. “I always want you around, you know that” He runs his fingers through your hair till you’ve relaxed against him once again.

It always leads to you, in my hometown, sleep in, half the day. Just for, old times sake. I wont ask you to wait if you don’t ask me to stay.

It takes little to no convincing from there to get you to join him at his farmhouse. Snow glistens, costing the fields of grass and dirt. You’ve packed a bag, a small one but tyler wanted you around and you’d take what you can get. You don’t know what it is about being around him that makes you want to be yourself but there’s a pleasant safe feeling that fills the air. He pulls into the driveway of his family’s farm house. You smile at the sight of it, it looks just the same as it always has only this time it’s topped with fresh white snow. You smile slightly as you notice the team in the living room through the window.

Tyler helps you out of the truck and grabs your bag before helping you over the ice and inside. “You know where the guest room is” He says as he gestures down the hall. He’s right you do. The only guest room you’ve ever stayed in at his house despite the very many. It’s the one right beside his room. He always told you he wanted you as close as possible if his parents wouldn’t let you sleep in the same room. You smile at the memory as you set your bag down on the bed. You start walking back towards the living room when you heard something “She’s home huh?” You don’t know that voice, but you can only assume it belongs to that doe eyed blonde.

“She is” You can hear the smile in tyler’s response and it makes you feel slightly better about yourself. The group welcomes you back in like you’ve never been gone and you sit beside tyler as some christmas movie plays. Kate, you learned her name, sits across the room at a love chair alone. She’s been staring at you two for the past fifteen minutes and it’s getting a bit harder to ignore. When you stand and head to the kitchen for some water she follows you. You get slightly concerned she’s dating tyler before she explains her reason for following you out here. “I’ve not know him long, but i could tell something was wrong, and in this short period of time that you’ve been here it’s like you’ve ignited something in him” She says as she stares at you

It always leads to you in my hometown. it always leads to you… in my hometown.

Later that night you’re tossing and turning in bed. You can’t stop thinking about when you left, why you left, or if it was even worth it. Three knocks sound on the other side of the wall. You smile despite yourself. You know who it is, it’s tyler. You reach up and knock back twice. The confirmation that you’re still awake. He knocks back four times. An asking. More like a begging. Begging you to join him in his room. You think about it for a minute before you climb out of the guest bed, which is still slightly cold despite you lying in it for an hour. You make your way to tyler’s room and walk towards his bed.

He reaches out for you and pulls you down like no time has passed. You smile at him as he burries his face in your neck. “I’ve missed you” It’s said so softly against your skin that you almost missed it. You run a hand through his hair and he burrows further into you. “I’ve missed you too ty, i’m sorry” You say as you tuck your face into his neck. “don’t have to be sorry, just don’t leave me again” he sounds like a kid but he can’t help it. You nod against his neck. You’re not leaving. Nothing could take you away from this. Not again. You can feel his body relax against yours as you tell him you’re not going anywhere.

There are things the two of you are going to have to work on but for now… here… in his warm bed, cuddled up together nothing else really matters.

[hyuckkaiji]

a pretty girl's needs - abby anderson x f!reader

summary; clearly, abby enjoys when people are mean to her, and if that's what she needs, that's what you'll provide

word count; 2.3k

warnings; 18+, explicit content, shameless sub!abby smut, ahhhhhhh, mentions of owen

note; I want, no, need to dom her. The abby brain rot is real. She's my pretty girl and I wanna **** ** ******* *** **** like there's no tomorrow. also why is writing smut so hard 😭

Your fingers trailed over the row of CDs, the plastic cool against the tips of your fingers. A hum played at your lips as you failed to find something that suited your current mood. “You’re music sucks, Abs.”

You turned to face your friend when you didn’t get the snarky reply you’d been expecting. “Abs?” The blonde sat on the couch, undoing her braid with practiced fingers. Her gaze was trained on the floor, not having registered your words as she was too lost in her own jumbled thoughts.

Your bare feet padded softly on the wooden floor as you walked over to her . “Abby?” Concern laced your voice as you stopped to stand in front of her, your feet obscuring her view of the worn wood.

“I fucked Owen.” She admitted guiltily, before groaning, bringing her hands up to hide the blush that was creeping across her freckled cheeks. She tossed her head back, letting the couch support the crook of her neck as an exasperated sigh passed her lips.

“Abigail.” Your tone was reprimanding as you crossed your arms over your chest. You knew she was well prepared for your reaction when she peaked at you through her fingers before letting her hands slip. She leaned forward, her hands braced against the cushions on either side of her thighs as she looked up at you through her lashes.

She knew to some extent the way you feel about her, she has to. There’s no other way to explain the way she weaponizes it against you. With fluttering looks and soft touches just barely brushing your skin every time you’re upset with her, she knows how to play your strings and she does it without regard.

“It was an accident.” She spoke with a softness that all but caressed your skin with its near sense of intimacy. God have mercy on your soul. She playing with you, like you’re her favorite toy and you could never break.

But break you will, there is no other way to describe to the heat in your chest, the lack of control you have as you snap at her like you never have before. “An accident?” You scoffed at her, “What? He slipped and just somehow ended up with his cock inside of you?”

She looked taken aback, you were by no means the gentlest person but always you were gentle with her. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.” She defended herself.

“No you never do. You’re always done with him, until you’re not. He always treats you like shit, until he doesn’t. And I’m the one that has to hear you bitch and moan about the same situation you keep putting yourself into.”

“Fuck,” you raked a hand through your hair, stepping just a little closer to her, just close enough to feel her suck in a breath that hitches in her throat. “It’s like you enjoy being treated like shit Abby. Do you like when people are mean to you? Is that what gets you going?” Her lips parted slightly, still staring up at you stupidly. It drove you insane, she drove you insane.

“Bet it makes that pretty little clit throb doesn’t it? You just can’t keep your hands to yourself when he’s mean to you. Do you need it Abs? Is that what you need, pretty girl?”

You want to say you don’t know what came over you, but you do. Years of watching her run back to that obnoxious prat after he hurt her, years of being the shoulder she cried on. Years of pinning after her slowly chipping away your resolve, your sanity.

Abby said nothing in response, though she didn’t need to really, she already given all the answer you needed. The slight rise and fall of her chest as she tried to hide her quickened breathing, the subtle shift in her thighs as she pressed them ever slightly closer together, the way her fists attempted to bury themselves in the cushion.

She was still staring up at you, pretty blue eyes watching you almost expectantly. She was truly a piece of art, art which you consumed daily, taking in every subtle shift of her body like it’s your life line. A twitch of her fingers, a crinkle of her nose, you had studied all of it, memorized every little thing about her.

You had learned her body as best as you could from a distance, sure you hadn’t fucked her the way Owen had, but God you knew you understood her body in ways he never could.

You turned on your heel, walking at a pace that portrayed control over the situation. Leisurely, taunting her. You knew she wouldn’t walk away, wouldn’t even blow out a breathe that risked shifting the tension that laid heavy in the air.

You pulled down a bag from the top bunk of her bed, knowing where she kept everything, occupying her space as if it were your own. “What are you doing?” Her voice was near a whisper, though she made no move, only letting her eyes follow you.

You ignored her question, smiling to yourself as your fingers wrapped around their destination, pulling out a rope. You silently walked back over to her, letting the rope dangle from a loose grip at your side.

“Stand up.” You commanded.

Abby watched the rope cautiously but nonetheless obeyed you. It’s quite funny really, the way she towered over you in every sense of the word but still waited for your word. Such a good girl.

You let your nails rake softly over the exposed skin of her arms, goosebumps raising in the wake of your touch. You pulled her arms behind her back, making quick work of the knot before taking a step back to admire your work.

You walked back around to face her, pushing her back onto the couch with the faintest nudge of your fingertips against her shoulder. She dropped like you forced her with all your weight, even the faintness of your touches having unprecedented control over her.

“You enjoy it don’t you?” You stepped closer, using your knee to nudge her legs further apart, giving you space to stand between them. “You like when he’s mean to you. Admit it.” Your voice had dropped to a near whisper, tone attempting to coax her like a dangerous animal.

“I don’t.” She all but whimpered the words. “Abby, Baby. I know you. Do you think I don’t?” You gripped her jaw harshly, leaning down so your lips were a hairs breath away from hers, “I know when you’re lying.”

She closed the gap, her lips smashing clumsily against yours as she tried to keep herself balanced. You fingers snaked into her hair, wrapping securely at the base of her skull, giving a sharp tug on her soft blonde locks.

She gasped, giving you an opening to slide your tongue into her mouth. She whimpered into the kiss as you used your grip to pull her further into you. Using your free hand to pull the sofa forward with her.

You pull away from the kiss with a pop, releasing the bite you had on her lower lip, she fell back with sofa. Landing with a soft thud on the makeshift bed.

She looked up at you with glazed eyes and puffy pink lips. Such a powerful woman undone into this mess from just a kiss. You smiled down at her, a cruel smile, a predatory thing. You were going to ruin her, you wanted to break her. Make her yours, make sure the only person she could ever think about again is you.

You climbed on top of her deliberately slow, drawing out the actions, her anticipation was palpable. You settled your legs on either side of one of her thick thighs. Letting your knee just barely brush against her clothed mound, making her jump at the contact.

“Please.” Abby let out the word breathlessly. “Please what baby, I need you to use your words?” How you had dreamt of this moment.

“Please touch me.” Her voice cracked slightly at the end, she was holding on to her composure by a fraying thread. You nuzzled your face into the hallow between her shoulder and neck, inhaling her faint scent of trees before brushing your lips over her pulse.

You could feel the way it rushed, ever quickening in the face of your torment. You let your tongue trace over a prominent vein, bringing you up to her jaw, peppering kisses over the soft skin there, watching as Abby’s eyes fluttered shut.

You abruptly bit down on the soft flesh of her throat, making her jerk in surprise beneath you. You licked over the angry read mark, soothing the abused skin. You did it a few more times just for the amusement of watching Abby pant and screw her eyes shut, trying not to react to the sudden pain.

You kissed you way down her torso, over the bunched fabric of her white shirt, reaching the exposed skin of her hip. Kissing, nipping, sucking pink patches into the sensitive skin, enjoying the way she whined and bucked beneath you.

You undid her cargo pants with nimble fingers, sliding them off and discarding them somewhere across the room with a flick of your wrist. Settling on you knees, you pulled Abby closer, close enough for your breath to fan over the evident wet spot on her boxers.

“Is there where you need to be touched baby?” You pressed a chaste kiss on the soaked fabric, just over her sensitive bundle of nerves.

She could only mange a quite plea, attempting to buck her hips back up to meet your face. Your forced her to lay still, your fingers digging cruelly into her soft flesh. “Use your words.”

“Your mouth, fuck, please, your mouth.” You clicked your tongue against your teeth, “Atta girl.” Your fingers looping beneath beneath the band of her boxers, discarding them with the same disregard you did her pants.

You took a moment to admire the view before you, fucking breath-taking. You licked a stripe from her hole to her clit, moaning against her as you began to swirl your tongue in a slow pattern. “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck oh my God.” You watched her, arms straining against their hold, trying so hard to break free and touch you, push your head further into her.

You pressed a quick kiss before pulling away, making her whine. Moving to litter her inner thighs with soft pink hickeys, your fingers collect her slick on two tips and drag it up to circle her clit. “Just like that. Just like that.” She repeated your name under her breath, whispering to herself like it was her own sacred prayer.

You could feel her thighs tensing beneath your lips, see the way she was arching off the cushions, golden hair splayed around her, lips parting in quieting moans. Her voice loosing traction the closer she got to coming undone.

You watched her, tracking her reactions and pulling your hand away just as her whole body started to tense, mouth falling open in a silent moan. You snorted a soft laugh when she collapsed with a groan, struggling to push herself up enough to give you a glare.

“Oh come on. I’ve waited how long and you really thought I’d give it to you that easily.” You gave her still throbbing clit a tap.

You gave her a hand in sitting up before pulling her into another bruising kiss. Pulling away only to take her shirt off best you could, the fabric pooling around her wrists, caught on the knotted rope.

“Come on pretty girl.” You moved to lay beside her, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at her. “Work for what you want. I want you to use my thigh to make yourself cum or I’m not touching you again.” She opened her mouth to protest but closed it when you beckoned her with a curl of your fingers, pointing down to your still clothed thigh when she started to move closer to you.

As soon as she settled herself flat against your thigh you pulled her down with you, quickly unclasping the front latch of her bra and letting it join the tangled mess around her wrists.

She picked up pace, rocking her hips against you as you latch onto a pert nipple. You guide her to ride faster with hands on her hips, pushing her down harder as she chases her climax. “Good girl. Good, pretty fucking girl.”

“Please.” She whimpers, her movement starting to stutter but she moved fervently. You could feel the wet patch she’d made on your pants, her juices soaking through to coat your skin. “Please what?”

“Please can I cum? Please.” You leaned up to capture her breast in your mouth, assaulting the skin with teeth and tongue as you hummed in approval, fingers digging into her ass as you rocked her against you.

It hits her all at once, making her tense and arch into you. Her head falling backwards, gasping as she struggles to maintain any sort of herself. When she comes down from her high, you shift out from beneath her, moving to undo the restraints before she collapses, exhausted.

She lays on her side, one arm splayed over her stomach and the other pillowing her head, utterly content. You watch as her eyes flutter shut and her breathing shallows out, your own quickening as anxiety takes its hold on your heart. Ravaging as sense of composure you had.

“Abby.” You lay down next to her, mirroring her position, teeth nawing at the inside of your lip. She hums quietly, eyes still closed.

“I'm sorry.” She finally looks at you, soft blue eyes tracing your features. “Why?”

“I- This. I don’t know.”

She laughs, short and sweet. “Y/n. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to make your move. It’s about time. And by the way I didn’t fuck Owen. You know he’s never even made me cum. And besides, there’s no going back now.”

All you could manage was a small “Oh.”

[katyspersonal]

The MAIN cast of Elden CRING, a HIT game by FromSLOP ✨

Mommyrika - The sweetest, the nicest, the kindest, the loveliest and the most beautiful person in the entire Lands Between, no, in the entire universe that The Greater Whim created! :3 All she wants is for everyone to be happy and have a nice tea party! Everyone is so mean to her for no reason smh when she is just trying to be a good mother! >_< You can't even TELL that she is a mother because she is so petite and innocent and child-like! Despite her horrible trauma she didn't let it break her from being such a perfect ray of sunshine for everyone!

Chadagohn - Some absolute jerk that Greater Whim personally shoved into Marika's being out of pure spite, who doesn't know how to do anything but being oppressive and ruining everything! He lives just to randomly decide to start wars lmao no matter how much Mommyrika tried to fix him. He did literally every bad thing during the time Golden Order existed and Mommyrika was not able to do anything against him because of his super powerful gigachad aura clashing with her kind and soft one, however, she heroically tried to take the blame for his actions upon herself! Shame that some misogynists won't see through the charade, some of ya'll are weirdly obsessed with "giving female character agency" as long as it is about something bad 😭

Miq Griffin - I don't actually know if I got his last name right I just remember it started with 'griff-' lmao but he is just some evil manipulator that also likes to randomly reverse-groom already vulnerable people because he is eeeevil :3 Miq Griffin even has been pretending to care about his family and those who Chadagohn oppressed all to create a cult of crazy simps that will praise his name! He is ABSOLUTELY a child of his father Chadagohn but how the FUCK someone as pure as Mommyrika produced this manipulative monster? Well, it is because Chadagohn was not letting Mommyrika raise Miq Griffin at all by keeping her away with his gigachad aura.

Hellbent (race) - A race so evil and unhinged that as soon as even their infants are born their first words are "DEATH FOR INNOCENT", and only then "mom" or "dad". They are named this because they're so hellbent on spreading EVIL just because they can for no apparent reason like trap of corrupt religious cult or lagging behind culturally that nothing could cure them but Total Hellbent Death. They are literally SO evil that Fail God himself had enough of them and tried to obliterate them but got distracted to curse Mommyrika instead because her good vibes piss people off. But then Hellbent didn't think she had enough and cursed people that lived under her reign with OWEN Curse that makes your body sprout CROISSANTS and also spew some FIRE like if you were an owen. Just because they could do it and because they're EVIL and everything KIND and bright (like Mommyrika) makes them angry.

Mommy Boyssmer - The Mommyrika's most special mommy's boy that she loved more than her other children because he was the most disabled! He heroically took it upon himself to rid the world of Hellbent's evil just so nobody would dare to think Mommyrika is capable of negative emotions but somehow weird Hellbent's sympathisers still assigned the holy mission of Croissant-sade to her name because they're misogynists 🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️ He is such a softie you can tell Mommyrika's kindness rubbed off on him, but people want him dead not because of his actions but because he is a snek! Well Weirdtree does have a bias against sneks but it was Chadagohn's fault it exists. What a shame. Hopefully someday Hellbent will be dead so he can reunite with the only person that ever cared for him :3 Well he is also engaged with Irrel-levana, but Irrel-levana is actually just a brainless puppy-eyed Mommyrika's simp with no agency or ideology that only wants to marry him for Mommyrika's peace and happiness!

Mor-Goat and Momg - Two Owens and just other victims of the curse of Hellbent, as well as Chadagohn and Miq Griffin respectively. Well yeah you think they did something bad, like hunting Vargramnished for sport or kidnapping them (and some others) to indoctrinate them into evil blood cult? Wake up, all of this is just because Chadagohn demanded oppressing Owens and Mommyrika could do nothing to protect her own children from his gigachad wishes, and then Miq Griffin brainwashed Momg too into doing all this for a good measure! They're otherwise very sweet and chill and soft people who really just want a hug! Actually this whole time they wanted to hug Vargramnished they've met but Chadagohn's orders + Miq Griffin's charms respectively didn't let them and twisted their love into something eeeeeevil!

Libe-ranni or Ranni the Bitch - An enigmatic figure whose motivations remain unclear because of FromSLOP's shitty writing where they can't even explain their own characters normally :/ Because of this, some believe she is a hero who eliminated some nasty people to overthrow Chadagohn's and Greater Whim's awful plans to make everyone suffer for some reason, when others are just seething at the girlboss winning and believe she is an evil manipulator and schemer who just hated everything good. Some say she killed Forgotwyn because he was actually cringe and eeeeevil under guise of radiant kind boy, as evidenced by someone as evil as Miq Griffin admiring him, other say that Forgotwyn offered himself as willing sacrifice but FORGOT that a bunch of other Demigods would be killed too lmao rofl. Well Elden Cring is not a place for morally grey, complicated or machiavellian characters anyway smh so pick your camp (but also if you pick wrong you are a media illiterate looser :3).

Forgotwyn - A character that FromSLOP fucking abandoned after having built up soooooOOOOO much shit for him to be important!!!! We got literally NOTHING about Forgotwyn in the base game, are you fucking kidding me?! All they did with him was to just add a questline and whole ending focused on him, elaborated him in the story of Miq Griffin and Melanea with a plan to revive him and conclusion of Miq Griffin giving up and just wishing him true death and made him the reason for a whole political allyship and school of magic in the setting! Why do they hate this character so much and refuse to elaborate on him?! Fromslop has tremendous disrespect for its fans smh

Godfreak - Really the most pathetic character who only exists as the laughing stock despite what some weirdos that can't read subtexts will cope with LMAOOOO 😭😭😭 He even hunts Vargramnished just like Mor-Goat but at least Mor-Goat had an excuse upon being oppressed by Chadagohn's Order, what is Godfreak's excuse huh? He can't accomplish anything and isn't worth anything and he is ugly and also stinks and also the worst lover ever flowers wilt when he enters the room milk goes bad when he enters the room people on the portraits become animated just to turn away from him when he enters the room mirrors shatter just to not reflect his ugly ass face all while he is also so pathetic that he literally can ONLY steal shit! He stole his Great Rune shard, he stole the castle he is in, he even stole his family name and he is not ACTUALLY a part of the Golden Lineage because how can someone so UGLY and PATHETIC descend from Mommyrika? Clearly he is not a Demigod but just lying to everyone to be worth anything at all because he is worth nothing HAHAHA LOOK GUYS HE IS SO SHIT HAHAHA POINT AND LAUGH AT HIM GUYS HE IS SOOOO DISGUSTING HE IS NOT WORTH THE TIME OF THE DAY HE WILL NEVER HAVE BITCHES GRAFTED SCIONS WERE ALSO SOME HE STOLE JUST TO LIE THAT SOMEONE SLEPT WITH HIM BUT WHO WILL BELIEVE THIS LIE LMAOOOOOO HE IS SO PATHETIC AND INCAPABLE THAT HE HAD TO RIP A DRAGON'S HEAD OFF JUST TO PUT UP ANY FIGHT AND IT WAS STILL PATHETIC AND NOT BECAUSE HE IS THE FIRST 'TRUE' BOSS IT IS BECAUSE HE SUCKS DELETE HIM FROM FAMILY PORTRAITS OF DEMIGODS RESTORE THE TRUTH IN THE NAME OF OUR FRIEND CANNOT HAIGHT

Vargramnished - It is actually a whole type of people and not just one person, but they get their title because for some weird reason their most prominent member is Vargram. Nobody knows how he managed to escape his imprisonment at the Roundtable, lose his iconic sword and outfit, go live overseas, then be brought back in the Lands Between, be picked by Current and then upon his adventures even fight himself at some point but just roll with it I guess lol.

F and Dia - A few of characters who are just another example of overpresent misogyny tropes in Fromslop's works because God forbid woman does anything 🙄 Those Who Chill in Death are just some nice people who enjoy chill existence without soul, they aren't miserable they just act like I do when I have classes early in the morning lmao tf are you talking about?! But F can't stand them existing because he is just a raging bigot and kills people who just try to be happy. Honestly he should have been born amongst Hellbent with how much he craves blood of innocent 🤦‍♂️ At least Dia like a good wholesome mother that she is will protect everyone, huge shame that F (the other F) could not see the reasoning in her hunting his equally bigoted brother and got butthurt lol! The other F should have been called L instead because this is what he needs to hold xD

Cringeon Oof-nir - Just some pathetic dude that doesn't actually know shit lmao, he clearly didn't read all these books but was just browsing through them for pictures because he is a dumbass and can't read lol XD All the stuff he's telling us should not be taken as legit trait of his character come on, Fromslop simply needed a way to dump exposition on us, why they'd write a smart well informed character? As for the insane variety of the spells he's using, again, Fromslop just needed a way to still showcase the spells they've programmed in case if players correctly miss out on them because there is only one valid build to play (source: an argument I had on Reddit)! If they wanted to write a smart character then why he didn't know that one thing he didn't until we helped??? Clearly it is because he is actually a moron, also lazy fence sitter who is just using us! Gideon the All-Coping! Hahaha!

The Greater Whim - Somehow despite being a literal force that created existence itself and life and universe it is petulant enough to descend to very specific pocket of existence only to screw over Mommyrika as it ALSO can't stand her just vibing and being happy, or screw over other people. Everything bad assigned to Mommyrika that can't be blamed on Chadagohn is blamed on the Greater Whim. This is so sad how Mommyrika literally never has a choice and is always forced to do bad stuff because everyone except for her just wants to do evil smh >_<

Melanea - Ok I've mentioned that Mommyrika will love the afflicted child more than a healthy one by proxy uhhh. I've had a piece of paper where absent lore on Melanea in this regard was written but I gave it to the person who thinks everything above is super interesting and compelling writing so they can roll another bong :/ But from all evidence we were given Chadagohn probably used his chad power to keep Mommyrika away from Melanea and not let her care for her smh. And as if that was not enough, Miq Griffin always had her brainwashed. Melanea only was so loyal to him and had faith in him because she was under his spell. It was obvious, wasn't it? Who could ever genuinely love someone as evil and scheming as Miq Griffin anyway? The bastard even created a statue of him and Melanea hugging just so people would not see through his evil manipulative master plan! Eh female characters in Fromslop's works can't have agency anyways, really wish Melanea and others were kept far away from cringe evil men (not Mommy Boyssmer tho, he is good because Mommyrika's love saved him before Chadagohn sabotaged it :3)

[python-nebula]

Uh. SAF lighting/staging(/whatever else happens to come up) analysis be upon ye. This is a very loose definition of 'analysis' and is more like 'I wrote this with the power of Autism, Being a Film Student, and 'Song 2' by Blur', enjoy :)

^ These are the images I'm gonna be referencing, but I'm talking about the scene in general too. I'm gonna keep the main body of the text in white and my notes in pink :)

Ough okay so. The staging + body language. Owen is specifically placed higher than Curt because in his eyes, he has the upper hand. The slight low angle also lends weight to this and aids in making him look powerful. Because of this, his gun arm isn't raised higher than his shoulder level as it doesn't need to be, giving him a casual air, along with his pulled-back, loose posture and his head lolling slightly to the side.

Despite his body language, we can see from his face and words that he is actually very tense internally. This is probably a very deliberate choice on the director's part, as it emphasises Owen's demeanour of laid-back power (or at least, that's what he tries to present himself as).

This all contrasts directly to Curt. His gun arm has to be at a very high angle because of his positioning in relation to Owen, meaning his posture is very tense and his head is held rigidly upwards. Owen has been planning this meeting for (presumably) years, but Curt obviously hasn't. This is reflected in how they stand (as just explained).

He looks up to Owen, both literally and metaphorically. When they were together, they looked up to each other, and therefore were on equal footing because of their mutual respect and love. But now that Owen feels betrayed and scorned, that resect and love has become one-sided (but half-buried by Curt).

(A detail I like is that even though both actors are (I assume bc it's more common) right-handed, Owen holds his gun in his left hand, meaning the guns are level with each other, creating nice symmetry).

//

LIGHTING TIME. Oh boy, the lighting. Owen stands not only shrouded in stage smoke (giving him an etherial appearance), but also severe white light. This separates him and Curt, showing the now-clear stark contrast between them (whereas before they were both in normal light levels together).

It also represents how Owen has essentially become a ghost; he doesn't exist in his own identity to anybody other than Curt now (and Tati but she isn't in this scene). He isn't part of this world anymore, and exists outside of ever being in Curt's life again.

The light from around Owen casts down on Curt, almost invoking religious imagery. From both perspectives, it represents Curt's adoration and idolisation for Owen (both from being in love with him and from building a version of Owen in his head for four years), and need to 'save' him (his quote unquote 'Messiah complex' that his mother describes).

From Curt's perspective, he is gazing up at Owen, and is bathed in some of his light (he moves closer to Owen later in the scene, more into his light, symbolising his resignation to, and acceptance of, the fact that he can't save Owen. He moves past his memory of, and built-up mental image of, Owen). Up the stairs is Owen, the man he loves, and the light. Back down the stairs is his life without him; darkness.

From Owen's perspective, he knows that Curt feels this way about him - hell, he probably felt the same way about Curt, before the accident - but he keeps his distance. The light, for him, isn't holy light, but a barrier he has put up. In the scene, he doesn't move closer to Curt, he stays high up where he doesn't have to face the man he loves (loved?) and see the pain on his face from up close, see the tears (of anger, or heartbreak? Both, I'd say) that are probably forming in his eyes. Does he feel guilty or regret it? Possibly, considering he apologises several times to Curt in 'One Step Ahead'.

Either way, the stark white light isn't healthy for either of them. So they leave the light, together, when the shot rings out and the stage falls into darkness.

Okay!! This has been my over-the-top, unhinged, accidentally-a-character-study ''''analysis'''' of a single fucking scene from a spy musical that I've been a fan of for a grand total of 24 hours!! :D Please let me know if I made any mistakes, I'm not as knowledgeable about staging as I'd like to be, and as said, I also haven't been a fan for very long.

(I'm gonna post this now and stop adding more to it lmao)

Tagging @kairithemang0 @venomousray @consumingthecheese

[tossawary]

Brushing off some of our older gaming stuff to finally play "The Force Unleashed" (do not spoil it for me) and found myself immediately compelled by this presentation of what Luke Skywalker's life might have been like as "Darth Vader's son". (Or Leia's life, of course.)

Like, obviously, Darth Vader would not (and will not, I presume) have the same degree of attachment to his assassin here as he would/will to Luke, but the parallels are immediate and not subtle. Vader has killed a LOT of Jedi children by this point, but he sees a child powerful in the Force holding his own red lightsaber and something in him apparently snaps. And in the similar circumstances of 1) raised in secret away from the Emperor, and 2) trained to be a weapon against the Emperor, I suspect that Luke would actually have had a very similar quality of life to Starkiller (slightly better overall perhaps, but still similar), because I highly doubt that Sith Lord Darth Vader, who is held together by rage and spite, who is super traumatized by war and haaaaates being confronted by his own mistakes, would have ended up being even a half-decent parent if permitted to actually raise Luke as a Sith apprentice.

I was reminded of these games because I saw someone talking about how Galen Marek (protagonist of "The Force Unleashed") and Mara Jade (Luke's love interest from the Extended Universe) have very similar backstories and arcs, though they felt Galen's was better executed. So, I started up this game wondering to myself, "How old is Galen compared to Luke? A romance between Luke and his father's assassin / apprentice seems compelling... At worst, I bet it's comparable to the age difference between Luke and Din..." And yep! It looks similar and could also be fewer years than that. Galen could be 19 in this game for all I know.

I'm already enjoying an AU premise where Darth Vader somehow finds and captures younger teenage Luke, but he's panicking because 1) his son already hates him for injuring or even killing Obi-Wan (let's say that Owen and Beru are spared somehow, and also already calling up the Rebellion to fight the Empire to get their nephew back), and 2) Vader reeeeeally doesn't want the Emperor to find out about his son. But he doesn't really have a convenient place to stash his secret son! Palpatine is already calling demanding to know why Vader hasn't already completed some urgent imperial business.

So, Vader has to call his Ventress-in-training, Agent Starkiller, who happens to be nearby, to temporarily take Luke into custody. Vader says that no harm is to befall Luke and if he dies, then so does Starkiller, before he has to run off to answer the suspicious Emperor. Galen is, like, maybe 18 or something. (Ahsoka was kicking ass and getting traumatized on the battlefield at 14ish, so I assume that Galen's childhood under Vader was demanding and terrible.) This Sith teenager wants to be doing cool shit to prove himself, not shoved into a Bodyguard AU with some whiny brat who bites and has way too much of Darth Vader's attention already.

Cue some adventure that causes Luke and Galen to bond somehow. I'm not thinking about anything romantic at this point, I'm mostly thinking about angst, as Darth Vader tries to train Luke as a Sith apprentice through brutally cruel methods. Which give both Luke and Galen a lot of intense and complicated feelings about their own and each other's situations. And probably culminates in Darth Vader being shocked and angry when his son and not-son have run off and unionized against him.

The earlier that Vader nabs Luke, the longer you can shove him and Galen together. I'm leaning more towards a "The Worst Summer Teenage Romance Ever (During Sith Apprentice Boot Camp)" setup, even if it means bending the ages around a little, but I think that a "Childhood Friendship Forged Through Trauma And Desperation For Affection While Being Raised By A Sith Lord Who Is Playing Favorites" setup has great potential as well.

I like the potential humor of Luke initially being utterly unfamiliar with the Force and being unable to do anything with it, he doesn't even know how to lift a rock, while Video Game Protagonist Galen is like, "Okay, this soothes some of my terror about being replaced, but seriously, how are you this helpless??? You are like a Tooka kitten to me, what the hell is this???"

I also like the potential angst of Luke and Galen being forcibly separated somehow, so that Luke can escape and meet up with the likes of Han Solo and Princess Leia somehow, and he's all sad because the guy he liked is probably dead or else hates him. And then I like the potential humor of Galen showing up again as a real freak of nature, a human hurricane, just throwing everything around with the Force, waving a red lightsaber around. Luke has hearts in his eyes, while Han is like, "So, uh, this is the dead boyfriend, huh? Yikes."

[dramaticallytotal]

TDWT Headcanons Pt. 5

Part 1 Last Part

• Heather, Leshawna, Eva, and Sierra were Bratz girlies.

• Courtney, Gwen, and Bridgette were Barbie girlies.

• Lindsay and Izzy were all. Bratz, Barbie, Polly Pocket, My Scene. You name it. While Lindsay was in it for the fashion, Izzy liked to put Barbie dolls on ceiling fans star-fished and turn in on and try not to get hit. Also, for makeovers. Izzy also chewed the rubber Polly Pocket clothes.

• Gwen was also a Living Dead Dolls girlie.

• Eva, for some odd reason, gives me cabbage patch vibes.

• Courtney is also very American Girl Doll coded. But also Eva, in the sense she always wanted one.

• I don't know why but I felt the need to make those headcanons even though they have nothing to do with WT XD

• Chris found out Noah can actually sing because his sister Noelle messaged him from their mom's phone since Chris is...ugh...friends with his parents. Noelle got mad that Noah wasn't actually singing even though she knew he could. So she ratted him out to Chris and even shared a video from when they were younger, and Noelle had him perform Phantom of the Opera with her in their living room. She was Erik, he was Christine.

• So Chris tells him he has to sing a song all by himself in New York because Broadway is there, and he was inspired by the video. Noah is so pissed! He knew Noelle was actually mad at him for eating the last of the Rava Ladoo before he left! But she said it was fine! He makes it a point to tell her this during a confessional. He may also be planning to hack into her accounts and post one of the embarrassing videos he had of her.

• Then Noah got an idea. This show is supposed to be family-friendly. If he sang a not so family friendly song, then it would have to be cut! Thankfully, Chris told him he could pick a song to sing, so he quickly told the band what song and hoped they knew it. They did and were all trying very hard not to laugh as they could already imagine Chris's reaction. Then Noah grabbed an intern around his age that he knew named Tristan, who sang and sang well.

• Please imagine Noah singing Sugar Daddy from Hedwig and the Angry Inch. Going all out and everyone is just STUNNED. Alejandro is so flustered, but he can't look away. Izzy, Eva, and Owen are rocking out and cheering for Noah. We love supportive best friends UwU

• Trent and Cody have stars in their eyes and are already trying to come up with arguments of why Noah should join their emo band. I mean boy band.

• Chris is impressed and pissed because he definitely has to cut the song, but it's okay. He's just going to make sure Noah actually sings from here on out.

• Alejandro definitely did not lie awake at night thinking about Noah's performance. Nope!

• When Lindsay is annoyed with someone, she purposefully calls them by the wrong name. She does that already because it's part of her character, but when she's annoyed? She takes it up a notch.

• Yes, Lindsay isn't the smartest person, but come on, she's not that dumb! She's on a gymnastics team and a really good one at that. In order to stay on the team, she has to have decent grades. But she knew that people love a dumb blonde, and she's all for playing the part.

• Tyler may be clumsy, but the dude is actually really strong. We've seen he has an uncanny strength in his fingertips, but also he was able to pull his sled with his team plus random crates. He's actually won a pull-up competition without really trying.

• Heather can do anything in heels. When she was younger, she idolized Michelle Pfieffer's Cat Woman. She saw the way the woman did everything in heels and was just like, "that's gonna be me." And she did it.

• Bridgette is totally a tarot card girlie. I mean, we know she likes crystals from her biography, so I can totally see her being a tarot card reader. Coincidentally, Gwen was a rock/ gem kid, so they tend to talk about rocks/gems and what they mean and it's just a nice break from the competition for the both of them.

• Cody and Noah aren't actually mad about the whole awake-a-thon kiss thing anymore and tend to make jokes about it because they figured if they didn't, others would and they would be pretty cruel about it. So what better way to skip that treatment than to show it doesn't bother them?

• They tend to call each other stupid pet names, but they stopped that because of Sierra. But Cody is still pretty protective of Noah and also considers himself his wingman.

• Alejandro is definitely not glad they stopped because he definitely wasn't jealous.

• DJ and Leshawna tend to jam out together from her playlist since both have a love of music. DJ used to play the trumpet in school for a bit, and Leshawna can actually play the drums pretty well.

• Leshawna sees Tyler as a little brother of sorts. He reminds her of a kid she met when she volunteered at the community center at home, and the poor dude is so clumsy she can't help but try and take him under her wing. Plus, she likes his determination.

• Harold, Noah, Trent, and Tyler were all Scouts. Noah only made it to being a Beaver Scout, not because he couldn't handle the training because he could and got bored! Trent and Tyler made it to be Cub Scouts, but Trent stopped because he got more into music while Tyler was asked to leave because of how many times he got injured.

• Harold made Venturer but then auditioned for Total Drama. He is hoping to get back to it and make Rover!

• Trent has a habit of sneaking Gwen treats from first class if his team wins. She finds it absolutely adorable and makes sure not to tell her team, but she always sneaks him thank you notes.

• When they aren't competing, the kids tend to make their own small competitions like who can do the most push up, who can hold a note the longest, who can steal something from Chris's room without him noticing. Or who can add something to his room and how long it takes for him to notice.

• Also, they bet so much, oh my god. There's a pot where they bet snacks, whatever cash they brought, favors, and secretly votes.

Next Part

[burnednotburied]

Chapter 1: A New Prophet

AO3 Link | Masterlist

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slow burn; enemies to friends to lovers; animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/injury; cutting (not to self, but still); religious/cult-like ideas

Note: So the idea for this started as a prequel to my first fic (linked here), but ended up turning into something different. It basically follows the plot of Abby’s Seattle Day 1, diverging from canon where necessary and using dialogue from the game wherever possible.

This is a lot of build-up (important to the story and hopefully enjoyable to read), but I promise romance is on the horizon!

Also, the idea of deadnaming or misgendering Lev—even in the flashback part where they’re little kids and wouldn’t have known otherwise—physically pains me, so we’re going to pretend that reader has been calling Lev “L” as a nickname for forever.

Hope you enjoy! :)

----------------------------------------------------------------

April 2038

Abby knew as much about the Scars as any of her fellow WLF members.

She knew that the group was founded by a woman who claimed to have a vision after the initial outbreak of Cordyceps brain infection in 2013, and then started spouting some bullshit about how it was all just a punishment for the sins of humanity. Said that the way to move forward was to go back to the basics. Live off the land. Reject technology and progress and pretty much all the good things in life.

She knew that they live on the island but they wouldn’t fucking stay on it, and that there was once a truce but they broke it, forcing the WLF into an endless war.

She knew that they fought hard and killed brutally, without hesitation or remorse.

She knew that, especially now that Joel was taken care of, killing Scars was pretty much her life’s purpose.

And she knew that the woman who started all of this became known as The Prophet. And that Isaac gave the order to have her killed ten years ago.

It was for that reason that Abby thought Isaac must have misspoken when he opened with:

“The Prophet is on the move.”

He was standing over the large map of Seattle in the center of the room, hands braced on the table, head down in thought.

She didn’t know what to make of that. Or how to respond. A quick glance over at Manny confirmed that she wasn’t the only one who was confused.

One of them had to ask. It seemed Isaac wasn’t going to fill in the gaps unprompted.

“The Prophet?” Manny questioned hesitantly. “Sir… respectfully… She’s been dead for years. Died before we even joined.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’m the one who killed her.” Isaac was always calm and measured, almost always spoke quietly. But sometimes there was something beneath his words, just below the surface. Something seething and kind of terrifying, although Abby would never admit that out loud. This was one of those times.

“My unwilling informants downstairs,” he said, referring to the captive Scars being held and interrogated on the building’s lower levels, “tell me that they have a new Prophet. One their Elders have been quietly grooming for the role for the last decade, maybe even longer.”

“Okay so… What does that mean?” Abby asked, finding her voice. This was not the conversation she was expecting to have when she heard that Isaac wanted to talk to them. She had hoped to get some answers about what was going on with Owen.

“There’s a reason why they’ve been more resilient lately. Bolder. Even more bat-shit than normal.” He clenched his fists on the table. “This… Neo-Prophet,” Isaac almost laughed, the words coated in venom, “is about to fully step into her role. She is of age now. Or so I’ve been told.”

Abby stared at Isaac, still waiting for him to tell her what all of this meant. And what exactly he wanted her to do about it.

Manny jumped in. “What? So the Scars are… celebrating? You’re saying that’s why they’ve been ballsier? Killing more of us. Pushing further inland.”

Abby let out a short laugh. “If this is what it looks like when they’re happy, I don’t want to see what happens when they’re mad.”

Isaac remained stoic. “They have a renewed sense of purpose. When we killed their first Prophet, the Scars were enraged. They fought hard for vengeance. But people will only fight on behalf of a dead woman for so long. Passion for the cause wanes without something tangible to fight for. They need that higher authority to look to. They need someone to honor and defend. Their Elders were smart enough to know that their people need a unifying symbol. A living one.”

“Right, and you said that unifying symbol was on the move so…” Abby said. “Want us to hunt her down? See what they’ll do when we take away their new favorite toy?”

“No,” Isaac said quickly. “She’s not our target. We’ll get to her in due time.”

“Then wha—”

He cut her off. “The Prophet will be leaving the island soon, for the first time. In fact, it’s possible she’s already here. One of our captives tells me there will be some sort of initiation for her. I don’t know what that entails, but I’m sure it will involve attempting to kill some of ours. I’ll spend some more time with our friends downstairs and see if I can’t get any more information on that. We’ll try to prevent it if we can, but that’s not our main focus right now.” Abby opened her mouth to protest, only to be cut off once again. “With the Prophet away and many of their best soldiers traveling with her, the island will be more vulnerable than ever.”

Manny gestured to the map, reinserting himself into the conversation. “Sir, we’ve tried attacking their island and—”

“Not like this,” Isaac said. “Not with everyone. There’s a big storm a few days out. We’re going to use it to mask our approach. And you two are going to lead the first wave. Pick your squads. Start prepping.”

“And the Prophet?” Abby asked.

“One battle at a time, Abby.”

“Are we sure it would be a battle?” she pressed. “Isaac, she’s just one girl.”

“You would be foolish to underestimate this unknown enemy. Besides the likelihood that the best of the Scars will be at her side, I don’t doubt that she will be a very skilled fighter in her own right.” Abby huffed. Isaac continued, “And if she’s anything like her predecessor, the greatest threat is in her words. Not her actions. I watched some of my most loyal soldiers abandon our cause for theirs after just one conversation with the one who came before her.”

At this, Abby raised her eyebrows, ready to argue. A look from Manny shut her up.

“We’ve only got one shot at this… And this is bigger than any of us.” Isaac pushed off the table, walking over to Abby and placing a hand on her arm. “I need you, Abby.”

She shifted uncomfortably before relenting, giving a curt nod. “Yeah, I get it.”

“Good.” He pulled away, heading toward the door. “Look over the plans and go through your rosters.”

“I want Owen,” she said. Abby thought Isaac could at least give her that.

When he denied her permission to go look for Owen, Abby went anyway.

----------------------------------------------------------------

March 2030 (8 Years Earlier)

The day of your scarring had been the first time Haven saw the sun in weeks.

Your mother said it was a sign. But your mother thought everything was a sign.

She told you that, no matter what, you were not to cry. That you, her only child, would not disgrace her by shedding tears during your ceremony.

You were to be brave. And strong.

The Prophet herself had ordained the act of scarring for all of her followers. A symbol of the innate imperfection of mankind. And so her people would never forget their own failings, even in the midst of their unending efforts towards perfection.

No one was meant to question the Prophet’s teachings, or the Elders who had taken on the responsibility of interpreting those teachings and carrying out Her will since Her death two years prior.

You could feel your mother’s breath against the back of your head as she huffed and decided that she was once again unsatisfied with your hair, roughly taking it down and beginning again for the fourth time.

While she worked, you sat still on the wooden stool in front of her and stared at yourself in the mirror, trying to memorize your features as they were now.

This was the last time you would see the face you knew. Next time you looked in the mirror, you would be different. Would you feel different?

You tried to picture yourself scarred, with two thin lines running from each of your ears to the corners of your mouth. Your eyes stung, tears threatening to fall at the thought.

But there would be no crying today.

Instead, you let your eyes wander to your mother’s reflection, hovering just behind and above yours in the mirror. You examined her face. Of course, you had never seen her without her scars, but you’d always thought your mother was beautiful.

Maybe the change in your appearance would not be so drastic. Maybe it was vain to care.

You were not supposed to be vain.

Once your mother was satisfied with the look of the braided crown of your hair, she gently placed her hands on your shoulders, meeting you gaze in the mirror.

“We are imperfect beings,” she recited. You joined your voice with hers for the second part, “And thus we make ourselves imperfect in Her eyes.”

She smiled softly, squeezing your arms lightly. “Good girl. I’m proud of you. I know you will do wonderfully today.” You tried to return her smile. “Now. Get dressed. I laid your clothes out on the bed.”

She turned to leave you, pausing in the doorway. “Remember what I said, child. No tears today. Do you understand?”

You nodded quickly. Obediently.

She seemed pleased as she left the room.

You changed quickly, wondering if she had been able to tell that you’d spent the whole night before crying. You hadn’t gotten a minute of sleep.

The stool squeaked as you sat back down, not sure what to do with yourself while you waited. You met your own eyes in the mirror once more, this time immediately averting your gaze. You felt sick. And close to tears. And so very scared.

On the other side of the door, you could hear Yara and her mom greeting your mother. The eight-year-old asked if she could come inside to see you. After just a moment of hesitation, your mother allowed it, and you could hear the slight creak of the door as she came in.

Yara said your name quietly, standing just inside the door. You turned to look at her. She smiled, happy to see you, just as always.

“Happy birthday!” she whispered excitedly, closing the distance between you and wrapping her arms around you tightly. You squeezed her back, holding her close for longer than usual. Yara, never one to be the first to break a hug, lingered for as long as you wanted her there.

You were neighbors, and your mothers had grown up together and had always been close. And although Yara was four years younger than you, the two of you were close too. She and five-year-old baby L were your siblings, as far as you were concerned.

Yara was mature for her age, even more so than most of your other friends. You knew you could trust her, so with her you were honest.

“I’m really scared,” you said quietly into her hair, still not releasing her from the embrace.

“I know,” she whispered back, squeezing you even tighter. “You’re the bravest person ever though. I know you can do this.”

You finally let go, retreating back to your stool, but Yara stayed close by, rubbing your shoulder comfortingly with one hand.

“She will be with you through this, and for all the days of your life,” she said, earnest. “Our pain is Her pain, and Her pain is ours.”

You couldn’t help but make a mental note of the fact that the Prophet actually did not receive the same scars as all of her followers, so perhaps this one specific pain is one that was not, in fact, shared between to two of you.

But Yara’s comment was made with a level of sincerity that you couldn’t help but admire—and borderline envied—so you chose to keep your thoughts to yourself.

Her presence was always a comfort, so you allowed yourself to relish in it for a quiet minute before your mother reentered the room.

“It’s time to leave,” she said simply. Firmly.

Behind her, just outside the door, you could see Yara’s mom standing there, holding a quiet but curious little L’s hand. They would all be walking over with you to witness the ceremony.

You forced yourself to stand, brushed your hands down your thighs as if to clear some nonexistent dust and smooth the phantom wrinkles. For a moment, you considered taking one last look in the mirror, but ultimately deciding against it. It would feel strange to do so, now that everyone was watching you and waiting.

For the briefest moment, you thought about making a run for it. Stealing a boat or even attempting to make the swim to the mainland. You could survive on your own, or maybe even join the Wolves. You weren’t scarred yet. You could lie about where you came from, and they would probably take you in…

The hiss of your name from your mother’s mouth ripped you back into reality, along with a gentle nudge from Yara.

You took a deep breath and started walking.

Once the home of the Prophet herself, Sanctuary was one of your people’s primary places of worship, second only to Martyr’s Gate on the mainland. (You had never seen it – You’d never left the island – so Sanctuary was where you most often prayed.)

Scarring ceremonies were held there, always on a child’s twelfth birthday.

You had witnessed many friends receive their scars. It was customary to attend the ceremonies of those close to you. Family, friends.  

The process was always the same.

Elder Constance would lead all those gathered in a prayer, holding the ceremonial blade. You would recite a version of the Prophet’s Prayer. The blade would be blessed. Then Elder Duncan would make the incisions before welcoming you as an official member, a child of the Prophet.

It never took very long. Everyone had work to get back to, tasks to fulfill.

You would soon come to find that your ceremony would not be like any of those others.

The first indication of this was the sheer number of people who were gathered at Sanctuary. You had never seen this many people gathered in one place at one time, many of the faces you did not recognize.

As you approached the dais, the crowd silently parted for you, all eyes examining you carefully as if looking for something unseen. You couldn’t begin guess what it was.

You wanted to go home. You wanted to cry. To hold your mother’s hand. You wanted to not be here at all. Ever. For this to be a horrible nightmare.

Why were there so many people here?

Your eyes met Elder Constance’s. She was stiff and serious, as always, but there was a brightness in her eyes that you were not accustomed to seeing. A quick glance at Elder Duncan revealed a similar expression on his face.

The other five Elders also stood on the stage. Another thing that was unusual for a simple scarring ceremony.

Had you done something wrong? Were you in trouble?

You looked ahead, and your legs continued to carry you forward, despite your internal protestations.

When your feet were nearly touching the first step up, you stopped. And although your mind went blank, your body remembered what to do.

You bowed your head to each of the Elders, silently waiting to be greeted and invited onto the dais.

“Welcome, child, on this most joyous day!” Elder Constance’s voice boomed, carrying enough for everyone gathered to hear. “Come. Join us.”

You fought the urge to turn around and find your mother. You wanted to look at her face, to see if she knew what was happening.

But you knew that any moves you made in this moment other than exactly what was expected of you would be seen as hesitation, and therefore disgraceful. And you didn’t want your mother to be angry.

So you did as Elder Constance said, and you climbed the steps.

Your vision blurred. You tried to focus on your breathing.

“Two years ago, the ignoble Wolves took our beloved Prophet from us,” she began once you were standing center-stage. The reaction from the audience was instantaneous, full of outrage and despair. Elder Constance allowed this to continue for several moments before holding up her hand; and the noise stopped just a quickly as it began.

“But She is not dead! For the Prophet’s spirit cannot be killed by the evils of mankind.” The crowd hung on her every word as she continued, “She lives in all of us. In our actions and in our virtues. In Her teachings.”

“Here before you are all of your Elders, appointed to this honorable position by our Prophet, most wonderful and wise. She speaks to us, and it is our duty—our privilege—to share her words with you.”

“But today, She does not have words for us.” Elder Constance paused, the audience hushed, waiting for the reveal. “It is Her heavenly desire to give us a new source of hope. An advocate. A champion… A new Prophet.”

Elder Constance’s hands landed on your shoulders.

“Today, She has chosen Her successor.”

The crowd erupted in celebration.

You went completely numb and tuned them all out.

The Elders continued to speak, and the people continued to celebrate. All the while, your mind was reeling and your face was blank.

A new Prophet?

There can’t be a new Prophet.

What does that even mean?

There have never been any prophets except for THE Prophet.

And if there does need to be a new Prophet, why would it be you?

Why you?

Why you?

Why you?

It can’t be you.

If any of your questions were answered, you didn’t hear it above the ringing in your head.

Your attention was drawn to the blade that was now in Elder Constance’s hands, and you forced yourself to again begin to listen.

“…The Neo-Prophet will take on her full responsibilities when the time is right. But until then…” She continued on with familiar words, ones used in a typical scarring ceremony to bless the blade before it was used.

The knife was then passed down the line of Elders, each of them lifting it above their head and reciting the same words.

Your legs suddenly felt very weak.

Elder Duncan blessed the blade last and stepped forward, positioning himself just a couple feet away from you. You turned to him just as you knew you were supposed to.

This was the part in the ceremony when you would usually say a version of The Prophet’s Prayer. You weren’t sure if you were still meant to do that, given the circumstances, but you were operating solely on instincts now, so you began, “The world is not in balance, but I will do my part to right it.”

You weren’t speaking nearly as loud as the Elders had. You hoped you were loud enough. You hoped you were doing it right.

The pleased look on Elder Duncan’s face indicated that you had done well, but before you could go on with the next line, all of the Elders continued the prayer together:

“You will lead us through the storm May the current be calm May You guide us home.”

Their words had been slightly altered from the classic prayer, different than you would’ve said it if you had been given the chance. The strangest part was that they were speaking to you.

Almost like they were praying to you…

Elder Duncan took another step forward, gripping the knife.

You expected him to use his other hand to lift your face, to hold it at the best angle for the scarring. You’d seen him do the same to others many times before.

This was the part that you knew was coming. You had been at least attempting to prepare for it. You could handle it.

But you were thrown off once again when instead, he took your right wrist in his free hand and gently pressed your fingers down, making you form a fist. He then lifted your hand until it was by your ear, knuckles facing inward, arm bent at the elbow. His own hand gripped your elbow, holding your arm in place.

You were frozen, with no choice but to watch as the knife met the outside of your forearm and sank in. A slow, straight line was carved from the top of your wrist all the way to your elbow.

You didn’t look away. You didn’t cry. You did as you were told.

You wanted to go home.

“We are imperfect beings. And thus, we make ourselves imperfect in Your eyes.” Elder Duncan said, meeting your gaze. “It is for this reason that we proudly wear our scars on our faces.”

When his work was done, he released your right elbow and moved on to the left, lifting that arm into the same position. “But the Prophet, in Her kindness, bears the weight of our imperfections, carrying all of us in her arms. This is why You will wear your scars here.”

“Remember that You are part of us, but set apart.” The blade pierced the skin of your left forearm, and a twin incision was formed. “We look to You, Prophet. May She guide you. May She protect you.” With that, he took a step back, lowering the knife.

You slowly lowered your arms to your sides and turned back to face the enraptured crowd.

Finally, you found your mother among them.

And she was crying.

“My friends,” Elder Constance declared, gesticulating dramatically, “Your Prophet!”

The cheers were deafening.

As you scanned the masses, you felt the blood ooze down your arms and curl around your fingers, pooling on the ground by your feet.

You found Yara, who was somehow clapping and cheering more enthusiastically than anyone else. And then you saw L, held up on their mother’s hip, face concerned, eyes wide and wary.

At least someone was as skeptical as you were.

You wondered if you would get to go home now.

But Elder Constance placed her hands on your shoulders again, this time turning you and leading you in the opposite direction, into the Prophet’s grand house. Into Sanctuary.

There, servants’ gentle hands carefully cleaned your stinging wounds, took down and brushed out your hair, and helped you change into a new white dress.

You would never live in your mother’s house again.

And it would be eight years before anyone addressed you by your name.

[puddingforg]

Can... can I maybe beg for info dumping about Owen and Hubter's original designs/story?

OFCCC!! I LOVE talking about my ocs so if you have any questions from what I’m about to tell please ask, now brace yourself this is a long one,

Ok lore, where do I start, imma give some world-building context first: Thousands of years ago there were these dudes each from a different species whose sole purpose was to protect their nation. Nobody really knows how they appeared but they had been protecting their nations for generations. As more Nations appeared and more wars started happening, lesser and lesser of them started appearing, first, it skipped a generation, then two, then three and so on until nobody knew what had happened to the fearless warriors that once fought for their nations, in some cultures they were forgotten, in others, they were treated as a myth and in others, they were treated as a curse who would come and cause chaos and destruction. There are 5 of them, they are an elf, a dragon, a vampire, a mermaid/man and a faun. Here are some Sketches as to how their designs might look but I’m probs gonna change them

forgot to mention but the world is kinda in a medieval era¿, it's like a DnD campaign of some sort lol

Ok so- Hunter and Owen being part of the main cast obviously are these previously mentioned “warriors” - Kinda… let me explain, I’ll start with Owen cuz’ his backstory is simpler, you have your stereotypical perfect mermaid, however, these mermaids are a pretty discriminatory species, if someone doesn't follow their very strict beauty standards, which ofc is being a cutesy little fish-tail mermaid, they are categorised as a sea monster. Sea monsters live in separate places from the mermaids. Mermaids have the most territory residing in a huge and radiant city, like Atlantis, where everything and everyone is perfect living a perfect life. Then we have sea monsters, that, despite being way more, are left to live in a small, not very fit-to-live territory with little access to food and resources. Now, there is a deeper reason as to why that is. The normal mermaids have no idea of this but within the royal family there is this prophecy, which is engraved in a rock that they keep hidden, that someday a shark-tail mermaid ( like Owen, who just so happens to be who is meant to protect the people ) will appear and take the throne from those who aren’t meant to have it ( the mermaids ) The royal family for generation has kept the sea monsters oppressed in hopes that they don’t rebel and take the throne. So, Owen lives with his mother in a little house on the sea monsters side, he’s pretty liked and well-known bc he is one of the few ppl, like members of the revolutionary army, that dares to go to the mermaids side for food, ( little parenthesis, the revolutionary army has asked him multiple to join but he refuses each time bcs “he doesn’t like conflict” )  he’s pretty cocky with his abilities so for him it's no issue to go to that side bcs he is sure that he’ll never get caught (he has, he just escapes rlly easily ) it was actually in one of these occasions that he met Hunter, and finally I have a drawing of that! 

here’s the full page, it also comes with their designs and size difference 

I’ll explain how the hell Hunter is underwater and his reason to do so later btw. To summarise what happens next, they break out of prison, Hunter realizes Owen might be the one Caly is looking for (I’ll explain who she is later) Hunter asks him to go with him to the surface, Owen agrees, they go, adventure commences! ( for anyone wondering, yes Owen does end up making a rebellion and taking the throne but much, much, much  later) 

Now to Hunter, 

He’s a shadow-shifter, which essentially means that he is just a shadow w/o any real physical form so he can shift into whatever he wants, however, while he can make small alterations to his body like growing an extra pair of arms, grow wings or grow a couple of feet, to make big changes like increase his size exponentially for example, he needs a huge calorie intake that he can transform into mass/shadow that he can shape. Now I just said that shadowshifters don't have physical forms, that’s not the full truth, due to evolution they have developed a “base form” that resembles humans except that they are slightly taller ( around 7 feet ) and have black with purple eyes, like in this drawing here. 

Shadowshifters are still, well shadows they just look human to sort of blend, but Hunter for example when faced with very strong emotions loses control of himself and turns into a shapeless shadow. 

Onto Hunter's backstory, shadowshifters were a nomad nation, never really given their own land to call home, so they just wandered in caravans around all the lands. They were a hated species being seen as less by almost everyone because they didn't have a physical form. ( the real reason is that they were afraid of what they could actually do if they wanted to attack a nation, bc shapeshifting is a very broken ability 🙂‍↕️) They were so hated that other species began to hunt them, the fact that they were taller and had black eyes made them an easy target as they were easy to identify. One day the shadowshifters were crossing through the woods that sat in between the border of humans and fawns. They were playing music, the children were playing and an overall happy aura was taking over. As Hunter was playing with the other kids he ran over to his mother to ask her for her necklace so he could use it in the game they were playing, his mother happily handed it over. (This is important) Suddenly they heard a big crash followed by screaming. A huge group of not only humans but dragons and hybrids as well had attacked them. Then, the fire started, the dragons began burning everything as the humans and hybrids hunted them down. Hunter's mom grabbed him by the hand and started running away, Hunters mom knew that they wouldn't be able to outrun them, so she hugged Hunter tight saying her goodbyes and instructing him to run away as fast as he could, and to not look back for any reason. Hunter ran nonstop into the fauns territory until his body gave out and he fainted. He got woken up by a kid faun, close to his age, who was slightly shaking him and asking if he was okay. The kid looked at him confused, asking again if he was okay and reassuring him that he was safe. He said that his name was Kamal. Here’s how he looks like as a young adult

Kamal took Hunter to his village where Hunter would tell Kamal’s mom what happened; Fauns being a very docile species did not have any hate towars shadowshifters btw; Kamal’s mom decided to take Hunter in and raise him, the people of the village where also very kind and accepted Hunter. He lived a fairly happy life, until he was around 17. See the one who was supposed to protect the fauns was Kamal, and both he and Hunter decided that the best way to do that was to become bounty hunters and roam the borders of the fauns territory to make sure no one dangerous came in, they started doing this when they were around 13 so by the time they were 17 they were pretty good at it, however, as most teenagers, they believed themselves to be invincible, or at least Hunter did. ( This part is still in development so it's not gonna be that well-written jsjs ) One day, as they were doing their jobs and patrolling the borders, Hunter noticed a group of fairly known criminals entering the forest, so being as reckless as he was, he just started running w/o thinking, Kamal being more cautious decided to check the wanted posters he carried with him, he saw that the leader of the group had a danger level of 4 and a torch stamp ( Wanted posters rank criminals with danger levels ranging from 1 to 5 and if they have a torch stamp means that they have magic ) Kamal rushed to stop Hunter from doing something stupid but when he got there he had already started a fight, Kamal joined knowing there was no way Hunter could win on his own, While they were fighting one of the criminals launched at Hunter’s back with a sword while he fought someone else, Kamal saw this and rushed to push Hunter out of the way getting himself stabbed. Kamal's powers began going haywire, the ground shaking, plants and trees growing fastly everywhere, this scared the criminals away but the damage was already done. Hunter just stood there holding his brothers body, as the last bit of air left Kamal's body Hunter's necklace began glowing and something green started coming out of where Kamal's heart was, and the crystal on the necklace started absorbing it. When it stopped, the crystal was glowing green and the realisation of what just happened dawned on Hunter and he started screaming and crashing out, this caused him to lose his physical form and become a huge shadow that moved frantically everywhere, until he eventually passed out. When he woke up he was in his house, but not in his room, he was in Kamal's room, and his (adoptive) mom was hugging him asking him if he was okay and where Hunter was, he just stood there trying to make sense of everything, then he heard it. His mother called him Kamal. He rushed to the bathroom and saw himself in the mirror, there in the reflection stood Kamal. 

And that’s it ✨✨ there is soooo much more I have to say abt their stories but to do so it was very important to have hunters backstory clear so parts of the actual story are clear, I left a ton of things un explained so please ask if y’all wanna know something, I might take some time but I assure you that l WILL respond so dw. Gosh, I didn’t even touched the reasonings behind their designs, not only that but a bunch of other stuff happens in the actual story that’ll love to tell but I feel like this post is long enough so maybe I’ll post that another day.