#but i'm lazy. maybe someday though

[gamebunny-advance]

A Tale From My Youth

I was thinking recently that it's weird that I'm not a furry.

I like furries well enough, but I don't consider myself one, the same way I don't consider myself an otaku even though I like anime. I'm just not that entrenched in the culture, but I do appreciate it from the outside.

Why I think it's weird, is that in my earliest years of being a young artist on the internet, most of what I drew was anthro animals. Specifically hamsters with emo haircuts. If I could somehow retrieve my ancient art from Scratch, then I'd show y'all, but since I can't, here's my rough approximation of what they were like:

I don't remember her name, but I'm almost certain that this was what my first "official" OC looked like. Most of my OCs were just "this" but with different clothes and hairstyles, usually inspired by vocaloid songs or whatever media was popular around the early to mid 2000s. They all lived on a different planet filled with hamster (and cat) people.

Anyway, I was thinking recently about why I didn't become a furry despite this, and I think the answer is a little sadder than I expected.

As a kid, I didn't consume a lot of media with POC in them. As I mentioned before, I like anime, and that really started in my youth. I was very inspired by the unique artstyle and my dad bought me (well really himself) a few how-to-draw manga books. But I never really saw POC in them or the games I played.

You couldn't be tan in Animal Crossing without standing out in the sun during summer. Mario and friends were all white or a creature of some kind. Pajama Sam was blue. Even when I did see tan-skinned characters in anime, they were usually mean or evil characters. I was under the impression that dark skinned characters were basically not allowed to exist in the things I liked unless they were mean people. And I didn't want to make mean people. None of this was helped by my parents.

My dad who was a self-hating black man. Even though he was also a hobby-artist, he rarely drew black characters himself, and since I was emulating him at the time, I also didn't.

My mom is Filipina, so she passed her own culture onto me and tried to ignore my blackness where she could. She didn't know how to style black hair, or know that much about black culture, so it's not like she would notice or care that I wasn't embracing that side of myself.

I think I made a lot of anthro characters because 1) I wasn't quite comfortable with drawing people yet, and 2) they didn't have to be white. They were still all white or otherwise Japanese coded because anime, but I don't think I was really considering the implications of that. I was already consuming a lot of media with anthro characters, (Loony Tunes, Animal Crossing, Hamtaro, etc.) so it seemed natural to me to also make animal characters, but somehow unnatural to make a black character.

The only character I remember being explicitly black coded was a single cat that I made.

This is Bel-Bel, named after her two bells. She's a sweet, shy, and timid character that felt very self-conscious about being a cat in a hamster world. I don't remember the full story, but as I recall: when she was a baby, she was put in a basket in the ocean that floated to the hamster continent. She was taken in by another OC called Chibi, on account of her being very small even though she was one of the oldest residents, who helped take care of her until she grew up. I don't recall if all cats were meant to be evil in their world, but I do remember that most of the other hamsters were either scared of her or mean to her because she was a cat, so she cried a lot. Chibi would hit anyone that was mean to Bel-Bel with her giant hammer.

The implications of that story are kind of telling in hindsight, but I don't think I thought that much of it at the time. I was probably just emulating some other story I had heard, but I wasn't really thinking about why a story like that would resonate with me.

I created several other anthro character like that until I finally moved from Scratch to deviantART and decided that I would need an avatar to represent me. From what I saw at the time, everyone that I liked had an anime styled avatar/self-insert, and I wanted to be the same.

This is what I came up with:

This is Nekoko. She's a shy artist with a magical cat hat. This was, for all intents and purposes, supposed to be me. I think that even this early on the internet, I already knew that racism was a big problem, so I was scared of presenting myself as a black girl on the internet.

Eventually, I would become comfortable with making it known that I was a POC, so I started to depict myself as such.

(This one is legit old art)

But I would still bounce back and forth between using a human avatar and an anthro bunny. Sometimes even making combinations of the two as I tried to figure out how I wanted to present myself on the internet. Because even though I was dabbling in being more "honest" about myself, I don't think I was fully ready to fully commit to it.

I think after I finally reached adulthood and started to really understand myself that I felt comfortable with just being as I am. I was tired of apologizing for the things I had no control over, and just wanted to be "me". By this point, I stopped seeing animal characters as a way to mask my identity, and just thought of it as just another design choice. For me, furryism has never really been about the "fandom." For me, it was tied to identity, and it's one that was able to shed once I became more comfortable with myself.

I still think it's rad as hell to see cool animal people doing whatever weird animal people things they like to do, but that's just not something I need for myself, and so I don't consider myself a furry.

I wonder, in this age of more diverse media, if there are still kids that are currently going through what I went through. I really hope not. I hope that all kids can see themselves in the things they like and can believe that they can be a part of it if they want to be.

[somegrumpynerd]

Had a cool idea for an askblog type thing, might do that someday if I'm less scared

[jazeswhbhaven]

Can My Fave Pick Me Up With One Arm?: WHB Kings Headcanons

So a semi-hot topic for the week for ladstwt is them worrying about Sylus picking up a plus-sized woman with one arm (or any of the other LI's) and it made me think....

I'm glad I'm in WHB country because there's no damn doubt that any of the characters in WHB (Minhyeok would have to use two arms and work out more) would be able to pick up anyone at any size using one arm.

Now, this is just something that sprouted in my mind as I work on other things, because I haven't done a good little ramble about the kings in a minute! So enjoy~

Satan: He's offended you even doubted his strength. As often as he picks you up in the first place you should already know that doing it with one arm is nothing to him. And for doubting him, now he picks you up unannounced every time he sees you, swooping you up with one arm and one time throwing you over his shoulder and patting your butt as a tease. If you ask him to put you down, he will...after a few moments of pissing you off first. <3

Mammon: You're joking, right? The great Mammon unable to pick up his Master with one arm? He finds it cute you even had to ask him, he does it immediately, and wouldn't you know that your butt fits perfectly in his hand too. That's just how large he is. Good luck trying to get him to put you down, he's loving this too much and is even willing to carry you around like that everywhere he goes...

Beelzebub: Huh? Why does that even matter to him? He thinks as he does it anyway picking you up with one arm with ease and even sitting you on his shoulders so that your thighs are wrapped around his head. He doesn't even understand why you asked him such a thing but he forgot about it and just started walking around with you sitting on his shoulders until you get to your destination. He's a tease so he won't put you down until he's ready.

Leviathan: He refuses to indulge your question, wondering why you asked in the first place. Can he lift you up with one arm? What kind of asinine question is that? After his little scoff and grumble, he does it though only because you mentioned that Minhyeok could possibly do it. He lifts you so fluidly you were surprised the moment your left the ground. He puts you down but on his desk, telling you to stay there until he's done with his work. I wonder...

Lucifer: Humans never cease to amuse him, especially with such a strange question like what you just asked. First, he wants to know why you wish to be lifted with one arm, and what relevance does it have to anything. If you're just curious, he accepts this answer and does it flawlessly. He wasn't a Seraphim and the first born angel for nothing. But he quite likes having you lifted up like how he does, letting the feeling linger as he blankly stares at you. With a quick kiss to your thigh he lets you down gently and pats your head. Maybe you should ask him to do this more often.

Belphegor: Oh uh, you have to wake him up first. Second, well he seems irritated that you asked him to do something in the first place. Can he lift you? Maybe, if he feels like it. But will he is the better question. And the answer is always 90% no. He's just far too lazy to pick you up even with two arms. Instead Beleth is gonna have to do it for him, and this fallen angel is more than happy to. Maybe someday Belphie will lift you up, but for now looks like you're gonna have to settle for Beleth or do the lifting yourself 😭

Asmodeus: Oh, he'll lift you up with something alright. But in all seriousness, that's no problem for him and he wants to know what the purpose is of lifting you with one arm is for. A new position? Attention? Both? He's so curious, that he's willing to do it every time he sees you to see what reaction he gets. And for his comment for earlier...yeah he can lift you with that part of him too.

[wihellib]

New Lore/Information from the Christmas Event

Compilation. Some info is small, other info has bigger implications.

Jjyu is not with Belial all the time. He works a normal 9-5 job and then Belial is on his own. Hopefully, Belial doesn’t really need to communicate with people during that time. Or, Ppyong is around to interpret his silence.

This is not that important. I just like the confirmation that, at all times, the devils are subtly and not-so subtly trying to seduce the MC using a bunch of different tactics like wearing tight-fitting clothes, etc.

The way this is phrased makes it seem like Tartaros is the oldest nation. Which is big info and not what I was expecting timeline wise, but maybe I misinterpreted.

Asmo is confirmed to be not just all talk. He will lust after and pursue almost anything and anyone.

Beleth being evasive about his seemingly traumatic fall from grace.

We learned that Achazriel was the first angel ever to become fallen and he leads the Middle Realm between Heaven and Hell that’s full of other fallen angels that are hoping to someday be welcomed back into Heaven.

The rigid hierarchy of heaven is on full display here and how difficult it is to move away from that. Lucifer still commands Beleth like they are back in heaven even though they are both now fallen angels residing in different countries. And, despite Beleth acknowledging this, he still has a very hard time disobeying Lucifer.

First in game sprite of Naberius’ Cerberus form.

This is the biggest info for me to come out of the event. It goes to show you that, despite the event mostly being silly and horny, it is still able to drop massive new info.

Beel's memory issues are not just because of his ADHD or avoidant behaviour. It's because he loses literal pieces of his memory every time he changes form into flies and whenever one of his clones die. It's very sad actually.

Also something may happen between Beel and MC in the future?

One of the angels that tortured Levi when he was young at some point became a fallen angel.

Based on the Seraphim L cards, it doesn't seem like normal halos act like horns. But whether darkened halos do is still up for debate.

I thought that devils couldn't be suspicious? And yet here is Belphie being very suspicious of Lucifer. And I'm surprised it's Belphie of all demons raising these concerns. Since I thought he'd be way too lazy to bother. So, it seems like Belphie is not a big fan of Lucifer.

[alllgator-blood]

AS OF TODAY IT'S BEEN ONE YEAR SINCE I POSTED MY FIRST BISHOP REF SHEETS AUGHH!! Thought it'd be funny to do like a comparison thing of how they've changed or stayed the same after 365 days of drawing them. Gonna be SUPER lazy and just take their ref sheets from then + now and put the pngs side by side lmao.

Also gonna add a poll to the top part of this because ALTHOUGH I FEEL LIKE AN EGOMANIAC ASKING, this is the one day it feels appropriate to ask:

idek what I mean by iconic. Maybe just who you like best/whose design is your fave/who you think of first if you think of my blog? I've seen artists I like put up this same poll and I always wanted to try :')

ANYWAY. COMPARISON DRAWINGS + LONG RAMBLING BELOW THE CUT:

I think leshy has stayed the most consistent in my comics. He has some sad moments (because NOBODY'S safe), but when nothing is actively upsetting him, he's a very happy guy. He is NOT bogged down by the reality of his situation; he just likes to host bonfires, dance stupidly, draw comics and shake his followers to death between his teeth. I somehow have not altered the fact he's a stack of 6 wooden balls with limbs attached, I wanted him to look like a wood carved toy and frankly it's a pain in the ass to make art of him. But he's worth spending a million billion years drawing wood grain lines for <3

Generally he looks about the same as he did a year ago? The paws definitely changed but I like these guys to look more animal than humanoid, so the vaguely human-ish hands + feet had to go. It doesn't really come across, but his feet are now caterpillar suction cups to help him climb trees!

HEKET MY BELOVED. I really feel like I do her a disservice by not making much art of her and putting her really long angst comic on hold cause I wasn't happy with the ending, BUT I DO LOVE HER. Her personality hasn't changed much since her first iteration, which is to say she's still "generally pissed off and fairly arrogant, but loves her family and knows when she's gone too far".

But her ROLE in the comics definitely changed a lot. I have multiple unfinished comics and a ton of sketches where she acted as shamura's caretaker because kallamar was too squeamish to do it himself? That's why in my comics that take place in the infirmary, you can see her temple motif. BUUUT that ended up changing so now, as the second-most chronically ill of the family, she's too shook up to visit shamura in the hospital because all she thinks about is how that might be her someday.

KALLAMAR IS SO DIFFERENT. MAYBE THE MOST DIFFERENT OF THE FOUR. I made a lot of quality of life edits to these designs, mostly making the crowns shorter and removing the crosses, but kallamar's lumpiness had to go because it was so annoying to draw and I hated the implication that he was just a big writhing ball under his robes lmao. I also transed my kallamar's gender pretty early on (genderfluid...) but never outright said it I don't think? Initially I felt cringe for doing that but nowadays I've seen a LOT of people have transfem kallamars so like. I do feel better about it!

Kall went from generic "guy who sucks + is anxious + everyone hates him" to "the underappreciated glue that holds the entire family together, but silently grapples with the most feelings of impending doom" and I'm not sure how it happened. I'm very happy though because initially I didn't like him, but he fills gaps that the other three really can't fill, and I don't know what my comics would be like if I clearly hated his guts??

There they are.........my blorbo....the big cheese.....the eeby deeby. They were so obscenely silly in their first version, I literally forgot they used to look like that and burst out laughing when I found the old ref sheet.

I had no way of knowing that after drawing this image, I'd draw these stupid idiot cartoon cult leaders every day for the next 365 days, so initially shamura was just "haha funny senile spider" I think? I don't really remember when I settled on "senile spider that switches between kindly grandparent that tells old war stories / ETERNAL UNENDING SUFFERING. SALVATION SHALL NEVER COME FOR A THING AS WRETCHED AS I"? But if you told early 2024 me that I'd eventually make them like JACKED I wouldn't believe you lmfao

I dunno, I think about this character a lot so I'd be here all day if I talked about them. Both my headcanons for them, and the actual canon details are just. MWAH. I love them so very much. They're so tragic and I ball my fists and go "AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH" when I think about how sad they are in the game. I love it.

I originally wrote a long thing about my personal life here but I felt like it was too overshare-y, so I'll just say that fixating on this game kinda saved my passion for comics. I think 2023/early 2024 were the absolute worst years of my art life; nobody was reading anything I made, I was too depressed to draw, and I stopped giving a shit about any of my OCs. But art/comics was my main way of coping, so it was just a neverending loop of "I'm too sad to draw" "but I'm sad so I want to draw" "but I can't because I'm sad" and nothing ever got done. Those silly shitty ref sheets were pretty much the only thing I managed to make during that whole time, I had NO idea it'd turn into a hyperfixation.

I figured it was weird to make fanart and not share it, so I started up this blog after posting to reddit. And a TON OF PEOPLE SAW THE FIRST ART I MADE. Idr how many but it was so much more feedback than I'd gotten like...ever?? Really it didn't pop off that much compared to other people's posts, but it was monumental for me. So that in combination with the hyperfixation's death grip on me got me to finally start regularly drawing again. Things are still shitty and it's hard to make it to the next day a lot of the time, but when I sit down and draw a silly worm or a big frog I feel a lot better.

I love these characters so so much, they're the perfect blend of cute and tragic, stylized but simple, and they have clear personalities but a lot of room for additions. ALSO they're weird species of animals, and I spent years of my life drawing exclusively underappreciated anthro species. I'm just very happy this game exists and came out when it did, because I definitely would've given up on comics by now if I didn't glom onto these characters.

This is getting really long. I know the anniversary of starting a fuckin blog not that deep but I don't really have like, a social life or support system or anything, so genuinely people sending me their art/ideas or saying they like my comics or just asking me about my headcanons is the best shit ever. Feels good to finally have something I care about that I can also share with people. I get overwhelmed easily and can't respond to everything even though I want to, but I promise this is so much better than the eternal feeling that everything I made wasn't worth reading.

So ah...if anybody is reading this, please know this silly cult game is the main source of my joy rn and just by looking at my art + comics, you've helped me more than you might know. Thank you

[judespoets]

𝙛𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 | 𝙟𝙤𝙗𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙝𝙖𝙢

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: jobe spends the perfect day with you, and him making you his forever wasn’t what you expected.

���𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: jobe bellingham x fem!reader

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: none

Jobe shifted, propping himself up one elbow. You were still sound asleep as he just looked down at you, admiring every single feature of your face.

His gaze traced the curve of your jaw, the delicate line of your throat.

"You know," he murmured, "I love waking up like this every day."

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, and a sleepy smile tugged at your lips.

"Like what?" You asked, your voice still thick with drowsiness.

"Wrapped around you," Jobe replied, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your bare shoulder. "The sun shining through the window, your hair messy like that. It's absolutely perfect."

Your cheeks flushed, and you buried your head into the crook of Jobes neck. "You're too sweet," you whispered. "But I agree. This- it's perfect. You're perfect."

Jobe chuckled. "You're not just saying that because you're half asleep, are you?"

"No," you said, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "I mean it. I'm really thankful for you, you know. When I'm with you, everything else just- doesn't matter."

Jobes heart only swelled, even though it was common for you to be extra affectionate in the morning. He'd never been good with words, but you had a way of unraveling him, pulling out the emotions he kept hidden.

"My love," he began, "i love you, so so much."

Your eyes softened, and you cupped his cheeks. "I love you," you whispered. "More than words can express."

You just kept laying there, tangled in each other, you listening his heartbeat with your head on his chest while his hands kept stroking your bare waist slightly.

"Babe," Jobe said, breaking the comfortable silence, "what do you really want from life? I mean really want."

You tilted your head, looking at Jobe with a confused look on your face. "Jobe, babe, you already know that. Where does that come from we've been together for two years we talked about all of this on like our second date." You said, chuckling slightly.

"I know, baby. I just- we talked about it but i want like an update, you know. Do you still have the same priorities?"

"I think i do, yeah. Well obviously i still want adventures. I want to explore new place, taste exotic food, meet new people. But you've become my priority for sure. I really want to do all that with you, you know. I don't imagine my life without you in it anymore." You told him honestly. "And you?"

He grinned at you, you could see the sparkle in his eyes which were looking down at you with admiration.

"I want to make a difference. Not just a ripple, but a tidal wave. Maybe write a book someday."

You acted offended. "No me in your future?"

Jobe put the hair behind your ear, looking down at you, "I love you so much, baby. You're my number one priority, sweetheart and my future doesn't exist without you."

You laughed, burying your head further into his chest while Jobe held you tightly.

"What do you wanna do today, any plans?" Jobe asked you since it was his day off today.

"I do need to get some groceries but other than that i'm all yours today, babe." You told the man next to you.

You both loved a free day. Days where the both of you have nothing to do and Jobe doesn't have training, it gave you time to spend together since that did fall a bit behind with Jobe's tight training plan.

"I'm taking you out tonight, be ready at 6:30 and dress fancy." Jobe told you softly. "I'm making breakfast what do you want, baby?"

You were stunned at first. You didn't expect Jobe taking you out today. You both were normally the staying in type of couple. Since Jobe also gets recognized a lot. But the both of you loved this idea of a date night, cuddled up on the couch with snacks and a good movie.

"Why? Any special occasion?" You wondered out loud.

"Can't I take my girlfriend out once in a while?" Jobe asked jokingly.

"You can, where are we going?"

"Ha, as if i'd tell you that. Just be ready." Jobe told you as he winked and left the room to get breakfast started.

While Jobe was downstairs in the kitchen, you got ready, doing your usual skincare routine and throwing on a pair of leggings and one of Jobe's hoodies. Walking down the stairs you smelled the amazing smell of pancakes, your favorite breakfast.

"What's going on today? My favorite breakfast too? Did you do something or what?" You wondered, jokingly, sitting down at the table with Jobe.

"Babe, don't worry. I just want to make you happy." Jobe smiled at you, giving you your cup of coffee.

The both of you spent the day grocery shopping and going for a little walk before you started to get ready.

Walking down the stairs of your shared home you saw Jobe standing there, practically admiring you.

You wore a dark red, long dress with a small slit at the leg. Your hair was done in curls and your makeup was fancy yet simple.

Arriving at the front door, you looked at your boyfriend, he wore a black suit, your favorite.

Chucking, you wrapped your hands around his neck while his almost immediately wrapped around your waist.

"You look so beautiful, baby." Jobe told you, looking down at you.

"Thank you. You know you don't look too bad yourself, handsome." You chuckled, giving Jobe a small peck on the lips.

Together, the two of you walked to the car, Jobe driving you to the restaurant he booked you a table at.

Walking towards the restaurant, you noticed you knew that one. It was the restaurant you spent your first date at.

"Jobe! Our first date was here!" You exclaimed full of excitement, you loved the idea of spending your evening with Jobe here.

"I know, you happy?" He asked hopefully, turning his head towards you.

"So happy." you answered.

The two of you spent an amazing dinner together, which Jobe obviously paid. He never let you pay.

Walking out of the restaurants doors, expecting to go home, Jobe pulled you to the other direction.

"Let's walk at the beach a little." Was the only thing he said.

The beach wasn't too far away and it was a really warm night so you didn't complain, although the heels you were wearing did start to hurt a little bit, but it was bearable.

Entering the beach, you walked a little while before you saw light. So many little candles were forming a way together with rose petals, hundreds of them.

"Look Jobe! That looks so beautiful." You said clueless.

"You think so? I was hoping you liked it." He answered, grinning from ear to ear.

"You did that? Are you serious?" You asked, not believing what was happening.

As Jobe let go of your hand he started running towards the end of the walk where you started to see a little circle also formed out of roses and candles. You couldn't believe this was happening.

Arriving at Jobes place, you turned, looking at the beautiful view.

"What's all of this, babe?" You asked, turning around and clapping your hands over your mouth, the tears already daring to spill out of your eyes.

There he was, down on one knee, holding a box with a beautiful diamond ring inside of it.

"(Y/N), baby. I really didn't plan what I was going to say. I was too nervous about the rest. But baby, you are the most amazing, beautiful, intelligent, loving woman i have ever met in my entire life. When I met you, i knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, touché, i know." Jobe said slightly laughing.

"You are the woman I want to marry. You are the woman i want to be the mother of my kids and grandmother of my grandkids. You are the woman i want to grow old with. (Y/N), you are the woman I want to love and cherish for all my life and after. My love, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), would you do me the honor of becoming my wife, will you marry me?" He asked, with a few tear streaming down his own face.

You were lost of words, you couldn't say anything, you were shocked to say the least. So you just nodded. You nodded so much you could think your head would fall off.

"Yes, of course, Jobe, of course I want to marry you." You said as Jobe slid the ring on your finger, standing up and taking you in his arms, spinning you around.

As he set you down again he didn't waste another second before taking your face in his hand and kissing you passionately.

"I love you. I love you. I love you." He said in between pecks on your lips. "You just made me the happiest man on earth, my love." He told you, wrapped his arms around your waist, while you wrapped yours around his neck.

You just stood there, taking in the moment, in each other arms.

Jobe pulled away, turning around.

"SHE SAID YES!!" Was all that was heard before you heard cheers from the other side of the beach.

You saw a figure running towards the both of you, revealing Jude as he tackled you both to the ground, hugging you.

"I'm so proud of you, bro." He said, laughing and kissing all of Jobe's face.

You couldn't control your laughter anymore,.

You were so, so happy.

[queer-n-here]

So uh, Siren Chuuya x Siren!Yander Reader?

I just think of your yandere x Chuuya, and i literally fell in love with it.

So, Siren, i think they are possessive and obsessive?

Maybe Reader is a child of the sea or sth? Experiment? Mythical creatures? Ability? But they just can control and know everything about the sea or involve the sea (Reader studies and research about it before)

They meet on time on one of Chuuya's mission? Or perhaps Reader is able to turn human for a amount of time but decided to explore human things and meet Chuuya at a wine shop? Or a hat shop?

And the reader take a liking to Chuuya, it slowly spiral to a healthy degree

The next is reader luring Chuuya with their voice, pulling and keeping Chuuya down by the sea force and make him stay with them? (Make a kingdom underwater too? Or turn Chuuya half-siren so he can breath and adapt well to the sea)

.....if anyone make a bot out of this, then i would totally eat it up :)))

Any, have a good day!

-F.S

Content: As described by the ask.

Warnings: Obsession, mentions of stalking, nothing light and hearty here.

Your ability was unique.

Sure, there was only one type of every other ability in the world, but yours was different. Yours changed your body, morphed it into some kind of unknown creature, so much so that it scared your parents enough to make them throw you into a river a month after you were born.

Luckily, your ability came to aid. It adjusted your body quickly, and within seconds you had developed gills and a tail. Your skin hid behind shiny black scales, and your small stub of a tooth turn jagged like a blade.

You never saw your parents again, and admittedly very soon you even forgot their mere existence.

As you grew up, you moved from the river to a sea, and then to an ocean. The world of water was yours and there was no one to stop you. You taught yourself to hunt for food, sometimes just corals when you were feeling lazy, and other days entire sharks.

Slowly, the other aquatic creatures came to fear you, respect you. As long as they heeded your words, you would protect them from the human fishers, and so peace reigned.

But at times you felt as though something was missing. There was something you wished for, something you yearned for, that you did not have yet. And so you began changing your form again, turning your tail into the human limbs you had been born with and returning to land for a short period of time.

It did not take you long to learn their language, but soon you realised they had more than one. It did not trouble you, you only found an excuse to spend more time in their midst. If, you told the other sea creatures, someday some emergency occured, someone should know how to talk their way out with the humans.

And so you kept visiting their world, alternating between your human and siren form, travelling between land and water. It did not seem to tire you out.

One day, as you walked through a busy market, you spotted in the distance a colourful hat. The colour was not what attracted you, it was the texture of it. It looked as if it were adorned with scales, the very ones that covered your skin when you were in you siren form.

You moved towards it almost involuntarily, and before you knew it you were standing before the hat in its glass display. However, right next to you, also slightly enthralled by the hat, was a human.

You turned to look at him.

He was not very big; he only reached your shoulder, in fact, but his expression was filled to the brim with arrogance. He had long orange hair, and in the sunlight they shone as he turned to look at you, too, making him appear heavenly. He had eyes that changed color with light, and as they fell upon you they were filled with slight reluctance.

"You like this one too, huh?" He said, jutting his chin towards the hat on display.

Slightly at a loss of words, you nodded.

He humped. "You've good taste. I'm gonna buy it, though."

You tilted your head slightly at that, a small smirk playing on your lips. This human was... intriguing.

You turned to look at the hat again. One pretty thing in exchange for another... not a bad deal. And so you let him have it.

Afterwards, however, you silently followed him back to wherever he was heading. You were drawn to him in a way that you hadn't been to anything in your life. You watched him enter a shady building, one that was suspected to be a warehouse owned by human orcas... they were called the Mafia, you heard.

It did not take you long to learn his name, and you returned back to the sea that evening feeling satisfied, but only for now. Chuuya Nakahara was not aware of what the future held in store for him.

You began spending more time on land than in sea, and it was somehow always spent watching Chuuya. You learnt of his job, of his friends, and of that bandaged brat Chuuya seemed to despise and care for at the same time.

Soon, simply watching him was not enough. You wanted him by your side, looking up at you with those gorgeous eyes and letting you do to him as you wished.

And so you prepared to use the one thing you never had before: your Siren voice.

You made sure he was by himself when you sang to him, standing at the balcony of his apartment, looking out into the sea. His eyes widened when your voice fell onto his ears, and reason exited his brain. You called him to the sea, and he obeyed, leaving behind his beloved hat and coat to join you where you stood upright on your fishtail.

You smiled. Chuuya looked ethereal even when he was drenched.

"You will stay with me." You said, and the spell that you had cast embedded itself in his chest, underneath the covers of his clothes.

That was how simple it was for you. You took him to an island no human has ever set foot on, and began working out a way to turn him into a Siren. He would rule the sea by your side, just as you wished.

It did not take you long to figure out how to do it. You simply needed to place a part of you inside of him permanently, so that you could morph it into a fishtail and gills.

Hungry with desire and endlessly insatiable, you decided that it would be your seed.

When you fucked Chuuya, he did not struggle. Of course, your spell was too strong for him to even think of anything but the pleasure you were giving him. You finished, and just then, activated your ability.

It was as you had envisioned. He looked prettier still with a fishtail, his bright orange scales matching his hair as they splashed into the water, and you took him to your home for the first time.

That was it. Happily ever after.

Chuuya never awoke from your spell. His friends attempted to find him several times, but you sent forth dolphins to hinder their progress, and slowly, as decades passed, they all died one by one.

The two of you ruled the world of water, and, finally satisfied with your new love, you returned to your daily duties of being the King of the Sea.

[mywritingonlyfans]

Church Crush. // Fetus!Alex Turner X Reader. (SMUT)

prompt: Psalm 119:131: I open my mouth and pant, longing for your commands. / Where you notice how he looks at you and behaves in your presence, during church sessions and you decide to bring his dreams to life (in the church parking lot too). He's a sub! Here.

words: 3,7K

session/setting: I'm following a prompt based on parts of the Bible (blasphemy), and I'm using this post: link, if you're interested you can choose one and suggest an idea! (Maybe we have about him as a priest)

Your eyes landed on his figure, sitting a few chairs behind you. His hair fell softly over his forehead, and if you weren’t so observant, you might not have noticed the heart-shaped outline of his hairline. But you had, thanks to all those classes together. He was illuminated by the light from the main room, his eyes a lazy, lovely caramel. So solemn, and you liked to imagine that sometimes they were watching you too. You fiddled with your cuticles impatiently, noting his nails, perfectly trimmed down to the quick, as he rubbed his well-shaped, sculpted nose, picking at his slightly flushed skin. You couldn’t help but picture them in other scenarios; adding meaning to such generous fingers. Without realizing it, he was mesmerized by the slight smirk on your face, only to quickly turn away to avoid the intensity of your gaze. That feeling was new. He couldn’t tell if you liked how his body reacted to you or if it made you uncomfortable, exchanging glances like that in such a place. After all, shouldn’t he be paying attention to the church’s service?

“We’re done for today, ladies and gentlemen,” the voice of the finely dressed man filled the room, snapping you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t heard a word he’d said since you arrived, you were busy. And thanks to Turner, every one of your Sundays had become like this—a vain attempt to surrender your body and soul to something that was supposed to be sacred. Still, there was a purifying aura about the way Turner’s curious gaze rested on you. Not that you thought he saw you as someone pristine, but because, clearly, he saw you. He saw you as someone worthy of that affection. Turner had become the reason you kept coming back. You counted the days for moments like this. The distinctive, colorful marble of that sanctuary wouldn’t be the same without him. You wouldn’t even think of returning otherwise.

He tried to ignore you, avoiding glances or any chance of crossing paths. He gathered up his backpack, frantically organizing himself to leave as quickly as possible. Yes, he was awkward—in a genuine, innocent way. Maybe he was still new to this, inexperienced, and clearly flustered. But based on how he acted in class, those assumptions seemed accurate. He briefly adjusted his hair, clearly uncomfortable in his too-small blue polo shirt that clung to his sweet fragile frame. His eyes were on you, even though his body language denied it. You smiled at him, boldly, leaving him even more flushed and disoriented.

When he opened his car door, he threw himself onto the seat, letting the backpack strap catch awkwardly, making him look like a ‘ninja turtle’ as his body contorted. He sat down; he was a mess. He reopened the door, discreetly, making sure he looked ridiculous in your eyes. Given the circumstances, he wondered if he should think of you as someone he'd marry someday, but that wouldn’t be fair to himself, not with how he idealized you every single time he saw or thought of you. His mind was far from pure, though he wished you well and admired your independence. However, his ideals about you weren’t exactly built on divine foundations.

Trying to recompose himself, he grabbed the steering wheel, resting his forehead against it. His breath caught in his lungs, knowing just how wrong he was for feeling this way and that he would be punished for it. Still, he pressed his thighs together, body and soul present, though not for any greater good—except, perhaps, for the thought that you might be his ‘greater good’ if you wanted to be. He was getting tight in his pants, just from seeing you. His throat burned from the effort of trying to forget it all—forget his obsession with you, even though he made it all too easy to dwell on it.

Yet, he couldn’t let go. His mind was stubborn. He wanted to see you, to feel your eyes on him, to hear what your voice sounded like, no matter how wrong it felt. It was inevitable that he would spend all week waiting for Sunday, just so he could see you again—admiring the way you dismissed people who criticized your looks or how relaxed you seemed, unconcerned with the judgment of others. And, of course, how you smiled at him after catching him looking at you.

Alex did his best to avoid you in the halls during the week. You still had the same confident essence and leather jacket, but he didn’t want to disrupt your popularity or how adored you were with his primitive presence. It was such a small town.

“Hey, youuu!” A deep, feminine voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Startled, he first thought the sound had come from outside, but when the door slammed and his eyes confirmed a familiar figure inside, right next to him, his entire body froze.

“You can’t be ‘ere,” he stammered in a pathetic whisper, earning a mischievous smile from your lips. His accent was stronger than ever, hurting his throat. It felt wrong, yet like a dream.

Up close, you wore a crucifix around your neck, dangling like a hypnotic watch, and your hair cascaded perfectly over your shoulders. Your eyes gleamed and stayed locked on him, leaving him unsure of where to look. You were invading his space. His hands, damp with sweat, shot down to his jeans in a nervous attempt to seem more composed in your eyes.

As usual, you seemed indifferent to the situation, as if this was entirely normal and you’d known each other for years. Your long fingers smoothed his dark hair behind his ear, drifting down to adjust his collar so his collarbones could be more pronounced, more visible to your praises. Your eye makeup was strikingly out of place for the setting—perhaps that was one of the small details that had captivated him since the moment he first saw you. The sharp, dark line framing your perfectly defined gaze made you all the more mesmerizing. A few droplets of sweat from the heat of the day clung to your cheekbones, and he silently cursed himself for wanting to lick them away; being responsible for keeping you clean. In a way, he wanted to let a single tear escape in front of you, not knowing whether that was a good or bad thing.

“Are you listenin' to me, Bambi eyes?” Your hand now rested on your thigh, your skirt clinging tighter and riding up slightly as you leaned forward in front of him. The crucifix floating, as well as your collarbone and breast in the tank top beneath the leather. He was dreaming—his mind had been in this exact place before.

“Alex,” he managed to say, he couldn't tell if his heart was beating. A small, plausible chance to let you know his name. He couldn't miss that.

You laughed, an amused, sweet sound that felt like a spell cast over him. “I know you, Bambi,” your hand slid up towards his leg, climbing up his thigh as your smile widened at how excited he was so early, pausing over the stiffness of his belt. He thought you were cute, he was getting so sure of that. His cheeks were flushed, his stomach restless above your touch, he was a good boy; definitely not as pure as the seconds passed with you.

“You do?” His voice came out choked, the words stuck as he tried to catch his breath. You were inside his head, crushing him into pieces, and he was utterly lost in you.

You nodded, reaching up and squeezing a part of his lower belly that had never been touched by anyone else before. He was warm and silently prayed that you would have him. On a choked sigh, in an involuntary act, he spread his legs as you got your fingertips over the prominent part of his jeans, making you play gladly with the buckle of his belt. “I do, or do you think I don’t see you looking at me? Giving me those poor Bambi eyes as you study me from top to bottom, rubbing your soft legs together in an attempt to clear your impure thoughts.” Your gentle touch reached his skin, soft and reassuring. You unbuckled the belt with a satisfying click, slowly sliding it around his waist, each breath he exhaled filled with relief as you granted him the sense of freedom. “I know everything about you, Turner” you said, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “I’ve done my research.”

“Did you look me up?” he asked softly, even though he knew it wouldn’t be difficult to learn anything about him, given that the town was as small as a speck. His mouth went dry, feeling your nails grazing the damp fabric clinging to the swollen skin on his white underpants.

He knew he was blushing, embarrassed by it (by himself), but you were happy, your lip between your teeth with an inviting look, revealing him hard and accumulated at the tip. You clicked your tongue, looking into his dark eyes, and already knowing the answer, you didn't hesitate to run your hand over his length, feeling him generously as his head went back in a sigh.

The doors were open, he could leave, the most exciting thing about it was that he didn't care about being corrupted by your actions.

As a quiet hum was being taken from him, you pressed your fingers harder into the spot. “So do you like my touch, Turner?” You ran your fingertips gently, running them through all his hardness, so tenderly. “Your so wet, babe. Did you get like this when you were in there thinkin’ ‘bout me while failing to pay attention on the world ‘round you?” Your hands cupped his flesh, making him dodge while closing his eyes. “When should you be listening to the Lord's words? Huh?”

Even if it was slow, even if you lingered, Alex didn’t mind. He wanted it to last as long as possible, as long as you were there with him.

“I’m sorry,” he grumbled, not knowing where to put his hands or how to act in front of you. He hated the fact that he was so quiet, making you think he wasn't enjoying it; even though his body wasn't capable of lying. “I just — I just don’t know what to do,”

“I know you don’t, babe. I know you don’t. Never ever been touched for someone else, right? Sounds like a good boy for me, a fuckin’ perfect boy for you parents, a english class winner, a saint in the eyes of the neighborhood, and a devotee of our little sanctuary. What’d they say if they saw you now? About to get lost in whimpers for me in a church parking lot, huh? Bein’ mine instead,” your sinful words brought shivers down his spine. And as he could imagine, you had done your homework. You had already noticed him beyond the church. Your compliment with words, taking away all his speech, made him open his eyes briefly, sulking his hips in your hand. You did that for him, and without knowing how to explain it, Alex found you angelic; a pure angel in disguise. “Tell me, Turner?” You kept moving, not increasing the pace, assigning to the ache between his legs (in your cares); yet firm enough as he needed. “How can you be good? Fantasizin’ ‘bout me like that? Or when you walk past me bumping into my shoulders on purpose so I can notice you devouring me with your eyes when I come close to you every Sunday, babe? You’re not a good boy at all, see? You only came ‘ere for me.” You had an indescribable effect on Alex. You were right, he had never felt this way with anyone before, you were the first and for him you would be the only one to take him out of that bubble of chastity.

How could it be fair that you talked to him like that? How was it possible that his conscience understood that as wrong but still his body was begging to be taken by you?

He thrust his hip pathetically into your palm, “I need more,” he said in a whimpering mess, just like you described. “Please, I’ll be good, just tell me what to do,” He rested his palm on your wrist, not disturbing your work, just rubbing loving circles in longing.

“I don’t want you to do a thing, pumpkin,” For never having done it that way, it was clear how sensitive he was. Your hand ached, but you continued, intoxicated by the pained expression on his face as you were guided by every sound and drop sliding down his forehead. He was beautiful. His mouth fell open in a silent sob, making his attempt to speak your name come out in clipped syllables. You were being good for him, he wanted to learn how to do the same for you.

As he had never been to that place, he was surprised to feel no pain but pleading relief enveloping his body as your fingers slithered easily into his excessive juices. His stomach was feeling funny. But he was ethereal, he felt like he was in a good place, or getting there as he had heard the well-dressed man say minutes ago. ���I just wanna make you feel good, hear your beautiful sinful sounds just for me.”

As he dipped his head on the seat, you bit on your lips, hard enough to feel the metallic taste mix with your saliva. You were the reason for his erotic dreams since he had first seen you, so that was such a daydream for him as well as for you. Your hands, controlled, came out of his swollen length to the tip, and then closed around him tightly, giving you the advantage of seeing his face twitch with pleasure knowing that only you had provided this to him. Keeping the same pace–so he could spend more time in supplication, giving you a privileged view that you would save in your brain to watch every night before bed–you began to massage his angry and read tip with your thumb, feeling his body heating up as his hip go to meet with your fist, fucking himself into you.

He had realized that he was hasty alone, and that it was difficult to hold himself back with you. He would wet the fabric of his underwear more easily, which gave your delicate hand better performance. He wouldn't know how to use your dexterity, he would need you to keep from getting hurt.

“Please,” you breathed.

“Please what, Turner?”

"I need it, I need you, I need to be good for you, just want to—" He was cut off as you pulled away from him, sitting up. With tense fingers, sore from burning holes in the seat, he tried to hold back, not wanting to sound too loud.

“You’re being good to me babe. You were fuckin’ my hand so well, fuckin’ dripping on me, I’m just gonna need to hear you, pumpkin. C’mon, don’t hold back, we‘re far from everyone you can show me how naughty you are, right? Be loud for me,” you said, your raspy voice made him dizzy as you took off his shirt in a quick, clumsy act. He didn't even try to process the lack, he was completely intoxicated by you.

You lost control of your words, your fingers tracing along his waist as you placed them on his chest. He smiled softly, his lips moist and curved to the side, as usual. You liked his body, smooth and delicately sculpted; you enjoyed how wrong it felt yet couldn’t help but be guided by it. You caressed his collarbone, memorizing every groove along the way. Leaning closer to his seat, feeling his eyes on you, you kissed him. It was subtle, in contrast to everything that had come before, warm yet tender. He tasted the metallic taste, needing more. He took a moment to respond, but as he became more aware, he yielded and entwined his tongue with yours. Sweet and messy, just as you had expected, you laughed, making him blush even more.

A thin line of saliva formed as you pulled away, and he wondered if it made you wet, since he felt painfully stiff with everything you did. All he could do was stare, as if you were going to run away and be nothing more than a dream.

Without another word, you made yourself comfortable in the seat. He could see your thighs better. He took a deep sigh, letting a groan escape as your breath grew heavy with your warmth lingering on him. As soon as you moved your hair away from your face, Alex understood and held it back to give you better access and provide himself with a clearer view.

Your pink painted lips wrapped around his swollen head, sucking just a little until you lifted your head to the tip only to fail to take him completely all at once. You laughed, excited by that, and sighed with a drool running down the edges of your lips, "You're such a good size." And you could gaze at his red skin.

Understandable, yet painfully throbbing, he ran his fingers over your ear, examining the metallic earrings and caressing your velvety cheek. You were beautiful. Alex loved watching you pay attention in class, but he never thought he would be able to witness this. Your swollen lips were connected to him, your wet tongue making him squirm, and you were skilled at it. Your hand was firm at the base of him, where you couldn't reach without having your eyes water and your throat hurt, even though you let yourself do it on purpose, to please him and feel a little pain for being so unruly. But mostly, you focused on sucking him in comfort, closing your eyes, loving the taste and texture, until you could move your face up until you no longer had him in your mouth just so you could do it all over again.

He stroked your hair so gently, you couldn't stop even if you wanted to. "You're so beautiful." He whispered between full-bodied moans. It was deafening, it made you give even more of yourself to have his taste in your mouth. And little by little, his legs began to tremble and his hands pulled your locks hard enough to have them loose between his fingers, but it felt so good. He groaned your name, as if in a will, relieving himself in your throat with more whimpers. It was so adorable. He was weak, such a mess.

His sweet caramel eyes watched you tiredly as you swallowed the hot liquid. It dripped down your chin a little and his stomach had stained with it too, but you didn't hesitate to wipe it away with your tongue and sweet kisses. His breathing was weak, he didn't know what to say, but thank goodness he could look at you. You gave more wet kisses to his sensitive skin, ignoring his fingers trying to push you away. And from the view Alex had through the blurry windows, he could still see some people leaving the church; you had certainly been there too long. You sucked on his spot again, licking where a bit more juice was coming out and he could see your angelic gaze at him, as if you transferred all your sins to him and he was no longer pure. He wiped the tears from your face, knowing he had them too, and drove your head up, feeling too sensitive to take it anymore.

His muscles were relaxed, though tension started to build in his head. He fumbled with his own belt and the shirt bunched up around his waist, awkwardly trying to hide his softened body. You laughed, and he understood that it wasn’t because of his clumsiness, but because you simply enjoyed seeing him like that—flushed, unsure of his next move. "Thank you," he said. Your eyebrows raised. This time, you both laughed together. You stripped him of all his social skills.

Your fingers whitened as they gripped the hem of your skirt, your eyes never leaving him, yet they roamed across his entire frame. Alex felt guilty, embarrassed. "Did that make you wet?" The question sounded like real doubt amid his weak intonation.

"Don’t you think you’re good, Al?" You let out a soft sigh, relaxing into the seat as you leaned toward him, your lips brushing his cheek. Hearing you call him that made him wonder if you’d speak to him like this when you saw him in class or around his friends. He wanted you to. As usual, he couldn’t speak. His mouth opened, but no sound came out, and he simply waited for your commands and approval.

Your forehead rested against his, your attention solely on him, your breaths mingling in quiet comfort. He signed the notice, captivated by your delicate fingers brushing against the skin of his arm, taking his hands in your and guiding them beneath your skirt. His calloused tips touched the thin fabric of your panties, surprised, heart racing at how damp you were. You pulled the elastic away, lightly touching your spot as you contemplated the act. Alex had never heard anything so beautiful. Looking for more of the sound, he repeated what he saw, your head falling back onto the seat, looking at him pleadingly and tiredly, and he imagined that you had been like that since the beginning too (even though it could be a lie and he just wanted to feed his own ego). He pressed harder, not sure how to continue, and proposed to kneel in front of you, no matter how drastic that might be. He needed all of it, every drop. But your warm voice interrupted him before, "Turner, you need to park somewhere else, I don't want to be interrupted.” You had certainly been there for a long time, no one but you needed to know how you were poisoning each other in such a place.

...

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[zenxvii]

Heey everyone! I know I havent updated in a while my bad...

I just haven't had motivation but now I do yayyy. It is for whc1 tho..

I started a new fanfic on wattpad and I'm thinking of writinf the first season too,, I started from season two lol lol because I got lazy and just finished season two so here's a chap of start in season two and I would like some opinions pls!!

-

It's been three months now. Three months and my mind still won't let me rest. It's all my fault, isn't it.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, 3 a.m. flashing on my clock, feeling everything crush me, push me deeper into the mattress, can't breathe, can't move. No sleep. But it's okay. It's my fault anyway.

My phone rings. I flinch. Don't want to answer. But what if it's him?

I grab it off the nightstand, staring at the caller ID, heart pounding — not him. Still… I answer.

"Y/n," a quiet voice says.

"Si-eun," I whisper back.

"You're not asleep," he says. His voice is so quiet.

"Neither are you."

Silence. Heavy. I almost hang up. I almost cry.

"I can maybe transfer to your school," I say, my voice shaking. I hear him gasp, small and sharp. "But… I don't know if I should. It's an all-boys school anyway," I mumble, closing my eyes tight like that'll make anything better.

He doesn't answer. Just breathes.

"My dad… he works at the school board. He asked if Eunjang could let me in. Just me. Just… make an exception," I choke out. "My grades are trash now. I couldn't get in anywhere else even if I wanted to."

"And… because of the incident," I whisper, voice cracking wide open.

"I see," he says. "If I do get in… your class?" I ask even though my throat hurts. "1-5," he says.I nod even though he can't see it. Maybe if I nod hard enough, it'll feel real.

"You should try to sleep, Si-eun. You have school tomorrow," I tell him, voice so soft it barely exists.

"I'll try, y/n. You should too."

"Mhm. Night."

Click.

The line goes dead. I stare at the dark ceiling again, like it's going to swallow me. My eyes drift to the table beside my bed rows of pill bottles staring back at me. Depression, Anxiety, Sleep deprivation, Memories, Ghosts.

I push myself up, my body screaming against it, and drag my feet toward the kitchen. Messy hair, eyebags, same clothes for days.

Dad's still awake, hunched over his laptop like he can work away the sadness. He looks up. Sees me. Sees everything.

"Babygirl…" he says, voice breaking as he pulls me into his arms. One hand stroking my hair. One hand steady on my back, like I'll fall apart if he lets go. "I miss him, Dad," I say, and it feels like my heart is ripping itself out. "I know, honey. I know. It's going to be okay. I swear," he says, squeezing me tighter, but promises don't fix anything, do they?

"I got news," he says, waiting, waiting for me to say something, anything. I just blink up at him, too tired to even nod. "They won't open Eunjang to girls. Not yet," he says slow, careful. "But… they'll make an exception. For you."

An exception, a mistake. a broken thing they'll shove into their perfect halls.

"If you can show them why girls should be allowed there… maybe someday," he adds, patting my head. I don't answer. What's the point.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to," he says, softer now, almost like he's scared of scaring me more. "Class 1-5," I mumble, pulling away from him, my hands trembling."I want that class."

"I'll see what I can do," he whispers. "You should get some sleep, honey."

"Mhm."

I don't really talk anymore. Words feel useless. Heavy. Dead.

I shuffle back to my room, feeling Dad's sad sigh follow me like a shadow. He always tries. He's all I have left. After mom… After everything.

I sit down on my bed, the bottle of water slipping from my fingers as I stare at the photos on my table.

One frame. Me. Mom. Dad. Laughing under the sun, four years old, like nothing bad could ever touch us.

Another frame. Me, Su-ho, Si-eun, and him. There used to be one more smile in that picture.Now it's just a ghost.

I should have held onto that night longer. I should have done more.

I grab the sleeping pills without thinking, throwing a few into my mouth, washing them down dry. Sleep is the only place it doesn't hurt. The only place I'm not awake.

I lay back down, eyes open, staring at the cracked ceiling above me. I close my eyes. Maybe this time…

Maybe this time, I won't wake up.

-

I did wake up.

I turned my attention to the clock on my nightstand, 7 a.m. watching the numbers blur before my eyes. I sighed and looked at the ceiling again. I didn't know what to do.

What would he say if he saw me like this? My room is a disaster .. clothes piling up on the floor, bottles of pills scattered across the table, me looking like… this. He'd probably be disappointed. He'd probably think I was a mess. I haven't visited him in so long.

I dragged myself out of bed, every muscle in my body screaming at me to stop. I walked past the mess in my room, the weight of it almost too much. The bathroom mirror didn't give me any answers, just a reflection I barely recognized. My hair was dry, weak. I pulled it into a messy bun and sighed, too tired to care.

I put on a hoodie, sweats. I didn't care how I looked, not anymore. Grabbing my phone, my keys, I slowly made my way to the door.

My shoes felt like lead as I put them on, but I didn't think about it. I walked out, and my feet led me to the bus stop. Every step was slow, heavy, like my body didn't want to move.

The bus arrived, and I climbed on, barely noticing the faces around me. I walked past a couple of friends, laughing, their voices like nails scraping on my skin. My heart clenched. I heard his voice again, echoing in my head, and it felt like the air was getting thinner. I sat down, eyes closed, hands pressed to my ears.

Shut up, please.

The bus ride felt like an eternity. But the time passed and I arriived at the hospital.

The sterile smell hits me the second I walk through the automatic doors — that cold, clinical scent that never seems to leave. It feels like walking into a place where time doesn't move, where nothing ever really changes. A place where people wait, suspended in some limbo, neither alive nor gone.

I hesitate just inside the entrance, the weight of the hospital air pressing down on me. I can't seem to breathe right. I feel out of place here, like I don't belong, like I'm intruding on some unwritten rule.

My feet move on their own, pulling me forward, but it feels like I'm walking in slow motion. The hospital sounds are muffled footsteps echoing in the distance, the soft murmur of voices, the beeping of machines that feel like they don't belong in the real world. None of it feels real.

I can't help but think of how Su-ho used to tease me about hating hospitals, how he'd laugh and tell me they weren't so bad, just full of sick people and bored nurses who would only care about their shifts ending. That laugh… it feels like it was a lifetime ago.

I round a corner and see a nurse walk by, her face focused and distant. I force myself to keep moving, but my heart is beating too loud in my chest.

When I reach his room, it's like the world goes quiet. I stand in the doorway, my breath caught in my throat. It's too much. Too real.

Su-ho is lying there, pale and still, his body hooked up to so many machines that I almost can't tell where he ends and the wires begin. His face is almost the same, but different. Too quiet. Too still. He looks like he's sleeping, but I know better.

I don't know if I should step closer or if I should just turn and leave. I don't want to wake him, but I don't want to leave without saying something. Saying what? I don't even know. I haven't said the right thing to him in so long.

My hands shake, and I can't tell if it's the cold or just the way my insides feel like they're being crushed. I open the door, I take one step forward, then another, and stop just a few feet away. I stare at him, trying to see the person I used to know — the one who laughed and made everything feel okay.

But this is different. This is real. And I don't know if I can handle it.

"Su-ho."

My voice cracks as I try to hold my emotions together. The words feel like they're caught in my throat, but I push them out anyway, barely able to breathe. I sit down next to him, my fingers trembling as I reach for his hand.

It used to be so warm, so full of life — but now it's cold. So cold. My hand, already chilled from the hospital air, feels like it's sinking into his, a stark reminder of how far we've fallen.

"I'm sorry I haven't visited in a while."

The words burn as they leave my lips, a searing ache in my throat that feels like it could tear me apart. I swallow hard, but it doesn't help.

I don't even know what to say. I don't know if you can hear me, if you're still in there, but I need to talk to you. I need you to know.

I tell him about how I see Si-eun less and less, how we've drifted, and how I've let it happen. How everything feels like it's slipping through my fingers, and it's all my fault. I tell him about how I feel so disconnected from everything, like I'm not even part of this world anymore.

"But it's okay, right?" I whisper to him, my voice shaking. "I should've been there with you. I should've been faster. Stronger…"

My voice cracks, and before I can stop it, the tears start to fall. They burn my cheeks, the weight of them pushing down on me until I can't breathe. I try to blink them away, but it's useless. They keep coming.

I want to reach out, to do something, but I can't move. Not even for him.

"I'm sorry." The words slip out of me, a quiet whimper, before I even realize what I've said. I don't give myself time to think, to breathe, before I turn and rush out of the room, the weight of it all suffocating me.

My body moves on it's own, and before I know it, I'm in the empty corridor. I stumble, my legs shaking as the flood of tears I've been holding back spills uncontrollably. The soft sounds of my sobs echo in the hall, but there's no one to hear them.

I slide down the cold wall, my back hitting it with a dull thud. My hands clutch at the fabric of my hoodie, pulling it tight around my chest like it could somehow fill the emptiness that's hollowed me out.

I feel so small, so powerless. So broken.

Hopeless.

Empty.

I don't know where the tears end and the pain begins. It's all tangled, a mess of guilt, grief, and regret. Nothing makes sense, and I don't know how to stop. How to fix any of it.

I pull out my phone to call Si-eun. I needed him.

I wait… and wait. My fingers tremble, and my heart beats erratically in my chest. I feel like I'm going to drown in my own thoughts, drowning in the weight of everything. Finally, the phone clicks.

He picked up

"Si-eun.." I let out a small whimper as the tears won't stop, the regret pushing me down and down.

"y/n? What happened? Are you okay?" He says a pinch of worry in his voice. "I came to visit Su-ho." Not saying anything else.

"Wait for me." He says and hang ups the call. I dropped my phone on the ground. Su-hos voice in my head again making me want to rip my hair out. Feeling so guilty I just shake my head my hands tangled with my hair as the tears just keep pushing out. I wanted to vomit all the nausea making me feel even worse.

I sit there in silence, my sobs loud in the empty hallway, but nothing else can be heard. Everything's muffled, like I'm living in a soundproof bubble, the world outside moving on without me. I lose track of time, minutes… hours? It doesn't matter. I can't stop crying. My head on my knees.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and saw Si-eun in his school uniform. I tried to get up, but my body wouldn't let me. My knees weak, head spinning, and the burning in my throat.

"Si-eun." I manage whisper out.

"y/n.." He breathed out and pulled to my feet. I stand there, clutching at my chest, feeling the rawness of it all — the guilt, the nausea, the overwhelming emptiness. Si-eun's arms are steady as he helps me up, but I just want to crumble into him, to let him take away all of it. But I can't. I'm too afraid to burden him more. I don't know if I even deserve his help.

Si-eun doesn't say anything for a moment, just standing there, his hand still resting on my shoulder. He looks at me, his eyes filled with concern but also something else — confusion, maybe. Maybe he doesn't know how to help. He never was good at showing his emotions.

I want to tell him that it's okay, that he doesn't need to do anything. But the words get stuck in my throat. It's not okay. None of this is okay.

He shifts on his feet, unsure, his gaze flickering down to the floor, then back up to me. For a moment, he looks almost uncomfortable, like he's trying to figure out the right thing to say. But there's nothing to say, is there? Not when you've already said everything that hurts and there's nothing left but the aching silence.

Finally, after what feels like forever, he speaks.

"Do you want to… talk about it?"

His voice is low, hesitant. He's trying, but he doesn't know how. His hands hang by his sides, clenched in tight fists like he's holding himself together. It's clear he wants to be there for me, but he's just not the type to pour out his emotions — not even for me.

I want to say something, anything, but I can't. I'm still fighting to keep my breath steady, to stop the tears from taking over completely. I don't even know where to start.

Instead, I just shake my head, feeling the weight of all the words that don't come out. I can't talk about it. Not now. Not when it feels like the world is closing in, and every breath is an effort.

Si-eun stands there, his gaze softening slightly, but there's a tension in his posture — like he's fighting with himself, wanting to reach out but unsure if he should. His eyes meet mine again, and he exhales, like he's letting go of some invisible weight.

"It's okay," he says, though the words sound almost foreign coming from him. "I don't know what to say… but I'm here."

I don't know why, but hearing those words, even from him, makes the tears start up again. It's not enough. I wish it were, but all I want is to hear him say that he's not going anywhere, that he'll stay with me no matter what. But I know Si-eun — he doesn't know how to do that.

I don't say anything back. Instead, I just nod, a weak, shaky gesture, as the tears continue to fall. It's not perfect. It's far from what I imagined it would be, but somehow, it's enough. For now.

Si-eun looks at me, his expression hard to read, but his hand moves to rest on my arm, a tentative gesture, like he's trying to offer comfort in the only way he knows how.

I looked to the side, signaling to Si-eun to sit down. He nodded quietly and sat beside me on the bench. My legs felt like they were made of lead. If I didn't sit down, I'd probably collapse. My head was spinning, everything around me felt too loud, too overwhelming.

"I…" I started, but the words got stuck in my throat. I didn't know what to say. How do you explain the way your heart is shattering? How do you explain the weight of everything crashing down on you all at once?

Si-eun didn't speak. He just sat there beside me, his presence steady, though his silence was heavy in a different way. He wasn't trying to fix me. He didn't know how to.

"I don't know if I can keep going anymore…"

The words tumbled out without me meaning to say them. My hands were still shaking, my chest tight with a pressure that felt like I couldn't breathe. The walls around me seemed to be closing in, the air thick, suffocating. I wanted to scream, but nothing came out.

I didn't want to burden him anymore. I just kept quiet, staring at the ground, feeling that crushing emptiness settle in my chest.

Si-eun didn't respond right away, but I could feel his gaze on me. It wasn't pity, though. It wasn't anything that felt like a burden. It was just… silence. And then, finally, he spoke. His voice was quiet, but steady.

"You can. I know you can."

I looked at him, meeting his gaze for the first time. "We'll keep going on together."

It wasn't the perfect reassurance I needed, but it was enough. Enough to make me feel like I wasn't completely alone, like maybe, just maybe, I could keep going, too. Even if I didn't believe it myself right now, his words were a small thread of hope, pulling me just a little bit forward.

I nodded, though I couldn't trust my voice to speak anymore. Si-eun didn't ask me anything else, didn't push me for more. He just stayed with me, and that was enough.

[xxsycamore]

Ok third one. I'm way too enthusiastic for this sorry💀

Napo + masturbation

what if i told you i have a fic about this in my drafts that is only written up to the actual masturbation part but i kind of scrapped it because i made him too lonely to the part where it looked sad just straight-up lonely and jorking it HAHAH i messed up the vibe and it needs reworking and i hate doing that ! but maybe someday.

Napoleon + masturbation

I'd say Napoleon isn't much of the regular jerking-off type. Although he listens and caters to his body's needs - he sleeps to his heart's content without much care, he cooks his own food whenever he feels like it, eats crepes to his heart's content, takes mind-clearing rides at any time he needs them. He's still getting used to having so much time for himself in his hands. He might find himself rushing to get done with his shower and have a sudden realization like wait, I can rub one out, I'm not hurrying for anywhere.

Would he take things slow and enjoy himself? Probably. I think he has those lazy moods where he'd be all in for edging himself and exploring sexual fantasies, but at the same time, he's also someone who can't sit still for longer periods of time. We know he finds quite a lot of activities to keep himself busy with, from helping with the chores at the mansion (tending to the stables too) to teaching kids at his and Isaac's école, to (probably daily) fencing exercises with Jean, to giving bodyguard gigs at balls. So I think he keeps the balance with being lazy in the mornings, claiming some time to appreciate this luxury that he now has. He's grumpy, being woken up by some resident who nudges his shoulder and then takes five steps back to shield themselves from his kissing habits. They shout something at him and leave, and Napoleon now has to fight the urge of going back to sleep, on his own.

A healthy young man such as him, it won't be surprising if his cock is awake long before sleep releases its grip on his mind... it makes him restless as he turns on his back, clicking his tongue at no one in particular, sleepy jade eyes opening to stare at the ceiling... soon his hand travels south to give his cock a firm tug, groaning at the contact. He releases his hold immediately though, letting it spring back against the skin of his belly. He's too sleepy to jerk off, too horny to go back to sleep. By the way yeah, I think he's in the habit of sleeping naked (there was one event story where MC entered his room while he was asleep and was all like "Why are you naked!" - maybe she refers to just his upper body though?) so it makes it easier for him to have a spontaneous morning jerking off. After a bit he turns on his side again, and the covers are grazing past his rock-hard cock juuust in the right way, so he rolls his hips lazily once, and then twice, and it suddenly becomes a real problem. So he says fuck it and pushes off the covers, loosely wrapping his fist around the head of his cock and fucking into it. He doesn't think of anyone in particular, just a nice warm mouth wrapped around his girth, cheeks hollowed out and tongue held out as he thrusts his hips into the willing warm and soft cavern. It's not long before he's cumming in his hand, letting out a satisfied moan and running the fingers of his other hand through his hair to move it out of his forehead, body temperature high and naked chest heaving. A nice cold shower is going to feel amazing for him afterward. The residents might think he becomes a different person once he's past his grumpy wake-up stage but they don't know the secret behind his content little smile.

He also jerks off after his sparring sessions, when the adrenaline is still racing in his blood and the hormones heighten his libido.

Reading erotica is not beyond him either, though he might have an issue with it being too far from what gets him going, with how modest yet dramatic it sounds. He'd enjoy pornographic material that is both deeply intimate and dirty at the same time.

So how does it change for him after he starts dating you? His sex drive is probably skyrocketing, and you can't be available to take care of his morning erections all the time so of course he still has to deal with it himself once in a while. It becomes more interesting now though, because the risk of someone re-entering his room because "are you STILL sleeping, Napoleon?" becomes a dangerously alluring chance of making you catch him, "accidentally". Though he's not without shame. If he expects you to walk on him, if he has that sort of control, it would be very turning-on for him. If he doesn't - if he's caught red-handed with a pair of your underwear or another item of yours... he's going to be embarrassed about it. Frowning, blushing, the sexy ridge of his eyebrows knit together when he's so obviously worked up by it, yet trying to be nonchalant... you should tease him about it. About not being able to wait until he has you later in the day or about being crazy for your scent, about how he must be wishing for your touch that would be able to get him off so, so much faster...

5/10 "Fine, I was touching myself to the thought of you. Are you just going to stand there and watch how hopeless I am? I didn't think you were so coldhearted. Come here... at least let me breathe the air around you. I'll be over with this before you know it, so... indulge me, won't you?"

-> (ALWAYS OPEN) send me a kink & I’ll give you a headcanon and rating for Napoleon!

🦶foot fetish 🥵breeding kink 🥕pregging 😈dom/sub 🍈breast kink ⛓bondage 🩸period kink 👄marking 🐺predator/prey 🏙public sex 🤗praise kink 👅 cunnilingus 🍌blowjobs (receiving) 🚪getting caught

[cowb0yluvrr]

EMBRACES FROM BEHIND.

[ 💌 : quick sketch art by cilorine! reminds me so much of a doujin cover!! since cowboy bebop is a 90s anime, i thought to get a commission of spike and i done in a retro style that is more so adjacent to sailor moon's atmosphere! she's super sweet and so talented as she flourishes in animation as well! please check out her other works! <3

this was meant to be a lot shorter, but i ended up getting so emotional and it quickly turned into a little drabble haha! words cannot express how much i love this man, but i tried my best to convey a piece of us here! i suppose this is a bit of a yumejoshi diary entry as i'm exploring more with writing in 1st person after so long! ]

Spike's limb-wrapped love always gifts my stomach those familiar little kisses conjured by a monarch's wings—fluffed tangerine and timid, slothful beneath the rib cage. Every time feels like a first. I can always tell it's him before he even touches me, the way his hum “mmm . .” spills into my ear canal and melts into my mind, the way his colognes were sprayed against his lazy spirit to blanket the basking smell of nicotine and slight musk after a lengthy night. It was his trademark scent, and it was a scent I've grown to cherish—the same way those arms cherish me.

We rarely embrace each other from a face-to-face view. I've noticed, and when I asked him why curiously, I watched as his brow gently creased to illustrate a single, faint wrinkle across the edge—something he did when focused on his thoughts. There was no witty grin or playful eyes when he looked at me, and it was how I knew the answer was going to be rather genuine, without the adornment of sarcastic words we flung in jest.

He shrugged, a small arch to each shoulder, "It’s complicated, I guess. Old habits die hard, and holding you from behind just feels . . . natural. It’s how I first really started showing you affection, remember?”

He went silent briefly, and I felt as his fingers kissed along my brown patterns. It was a wondrous aspect of life, how sometimes the coldest of men had the warmest touches. Could he have ever truly been cold? Viscous?

“It lets me watch over you better. Protect you. Even if it’s just from my own demons, or whatever shadows creep into our lives. Having you close like this makes me feel grounded. Safe.”

And as he went silent again, I let a moment pass, trying to see if he was going to speak further. When he didn't, I opened my mouth to respond, but his tongue beat mine.

“But the truth is . . . sometimes looking you straight in the eye is too overwhelming. Too raw. It forces me to confront all these feelings I’ve been trying to outrun for years—feelings I'm not used to acknowledging, let alone embracing.”

His arm tightened around me, burying his face in my neck and breathing me into his lungs to replace the sour dance of smoke—the earthy balm that he knew as uniquely I. “When I hold you from behind, it gives me that chance to hide a little.”

My face softened when I learned the origin, and my hand reached to cradle a side of him I never knew until now.

“Spike, you don't have to hide from me . .”

“I know,” he sighed, leaning into my palm with an essence that seemed to carry centuries of longing and exhaustion, the heaviest weight known to him. I could feel that weight in my hands. “And maybe one day, I'll stop running from my own reflection long enough to look you square in those big, beautiful eyes of yours. To let you see everything that I am, flaws and all.”

His lips met my knuckle, “For now, though . . just let me hold onto you like this, yeah? Let me soak in your presence until it becomes a part of me, like the bubbles in this tub. Until I can’t tell where your warmth ends and mine begins.”

His smile was so soft, interweaved with a hint of melancholy, but full of tender promises all the same. They were words he never knew how to say before—words that vanished from the pink of his throat in past-depressive hues of gray and blue.

“Someday, Bubs . . .”

Yes. Someday . . . and I’ll always be willing to wait for you, even beyond the very end.

“And you call me the sappy one, don't you?” My grin mixed into my chuckle. "I've never heard you speak poem language, baby.”

“Hey, don’t go spreading that around. I've got a reputation to uphold, y’know. Can’t have the galaxy’s most notorious bounty hunter goin’ all soft,” he teased, a low purr rumbling within his golden chest as he angled his head to give my lips a clearer byway to his jaw. “But I guess you bring it out of me. All this . . . poetry and vulnerability. Who knew you’d be the one to finally crack the Spike Spiegel code, huh?”

His hand slid up my nude spine, fingers tangling along bone as if he were trying to memorize every inch of me, and I'd let him. Every time.

“You're dangerous, woman. Dangerous and addictive, just like that smile you showed me so long ago. And I wouldn't have it any other way.”

©️ COWB0YLUVRR . please do not plagiarize, distribute, or translate any of my work without my permission!

[aviivix]

Everything here is subject to change, I'm thinking out loud:

Concept doodles for lich Sora's future "true" form - aka his equivalent to Kairi and Riku's big flowy majestic designs. For Riku and Kairi, their forms are projections of the light and darkness, but Sora's is a bit different since he is working with a physical body. As such, it's more of a magical girl transformation than a form. (Kairi has angel wings, Riku has bat wings, and Sora has butterfly wings... because he's a social butterfly!)

This design is very odd-looking for him because his heart very much is not in it. He hates seeing himself as above anyone else, so the very concept of having some ascendant "higher" form is stupid to him. As a result this form just turns into a lazy amalgam of the Disney royalty designs he's seen in the past, and he only uses it when absolutely forced to. Maybe someday it will be recontextualized for him and he can get a design that fits him better! (Though he's more tempted to use Final Form as a "lets get stuff DONE" form, since it embodies the people in his heart rather than the concept of balance he represents as a person.)

[blushblushbear]

Can you do general Scale headcanons pls?

if Batman existed in his universe, he would probably be a Robin

is actually a tea guy, but he's not snobby about it

had a very weird childhood

was adopted into an assassin order at a young age and never looked back

lived in different parts of Asia for a while

really likes the life he ended up in, but he does sometimes wish he could've just been a regular guy

is actually working towards being just a regular person who does regular things (like bowling)

this is not fully because of you but he'd be lying if he said meeting you didn't give him a new lease on life

he kinda wants to start a new chapter of it all ya know??

a chapter specifically with you in it

likes floral and herbal flavors

is 50/50 on mint though

has a high tolerance for spice that he trained to have

also a high tolerance for poisons but same thing

can speak a little bit of a few other languages, but he's not fully fluent in them

doesn't actually watch a lot of anime, but is very interested in doing so if you're down

doesn't own too many clothes that are not either assassin uniforms or disguises

he's not gonna ask you to take him shopping for new clothes, but if you offered...

this is totally a big huge secret that is not a secret at all but he's kinda wrapped around your finger

has insecurities about his masculinity

(I'm not saying trans, but I am heavily implying it and would be down if it was ever made canon)

knew magic existed before meeting you but had never experienced it first hand

misses being a dragon sometimes

loves eating fruits and veggies as a snack

(this is gonna age me greatly, BUT DO Y'ALL REMEMBER OG Japanese Iron Chef where the chairman would take a bite of a raw bell pepper in the intro??? yeah, that's Scale unironically)

ya know what, fuck it, he watched og iron chef

I feel like Japanese, Chinese, and Spanish are the main 3 languages he's the most comfortable with (also a little bit of french but his pronunciation is ASS)

was a vegetarian briefly as a teen

still trying to figure out who he is past his assassin identity/persona

always trying to push himself to be better in some aspect of himself-- usually in the past it was physical and mental, but now he's also leaning more towards mental/emotional

he tries to always find peace within himself

mostly cause he was the only constant throughout his life

also danger

but also in his line of work you can't trust anyone (not even yourself lol meme)

hasn't listened to a lot of music, but the main things he knows are classical/traditional music and pop

is not a kpop stan, but he does love him some kpop

also jrock but like--- old school jrock

early 2000's jrock

also oldies pop (looking at your Brittney, we're old now... *sigh* hit me baby one more time...)

has gotten drunk before, but only to test his limits

he thinks he's a very smooth drunk

he is not

alcohol is actually the one thing he doesn't have a high tolerance for

but he genuinely thinks that he does

(not that he gets a lot of times he can show it-- you 19 y/o CHILD)

is really really into cuddling and being held actually

also really into just chill lazy days at home with you

just chilling together in pjs, sharing a blanket, catching up on shows, ordering Chinese--- good stuff

kind of wants a cat or dog, but semi-retried assassins can't afford just an adorable target (see: John Wick)

does want to retire someday

also maybe wants kids

he's not sure yet

about a lot of things actually

he's a pretty dangerous guy living a pretty dangerous life and just cause he quits it doesn't mean it quits him ya know???

he will 10000000000% go John Wick or Liam Neeson on someone's ass if they mess with his family, but he'd prefer his loved ones not be in danger in the first place

btw you're the first person he's truly gotten close to who was not also a fellow assassin

also he totally considers you family by this point

only knows a handful of memes, but is actually very memely minded

has only scene the first star wars movies, has not seen the prequels, but if he did, he'd love them

actually does play video games a bit but is not always up to date with what's the newest thing in the gaming world (he's a busy guy, but also hand helds can travel well so)

actually still gets butterflies and heart flutters when you kiss him

likes to try and charm you/make you swoon and honestly I can't ever see that stopping

he WILL get taller, but only a little

can last 2 or 3 full days without food water or sleep (though he's a total and utter mess by the end of it and needs a day to recoup)

has tried to read Jane Austen at least 5 different times but can't get past how they talk...

has a lot of pictures of you, some of which he took without you knowing

you are his phone bg and he looks at pictures of you often whenever he hasn't seen you in a while (and a while can be from a full day to a few hours)

is worried he's putting you in danger...

if anything ever happened to you cause of him he'd probably have a full on melt down

gets vaguely annoyed every now and then, gets well and truly angry almost NEVER

is actually very chill

also very blunt sometimes-- dude is mostly a realist honestly (crazy cape and daggers not withstanding)

owns SO MANY knives, daggers and swords

some of which are cursed!

has given you daggers/knives/swords/etc as a gift

low key is thinking of proposing with one, but he'll cross that bridge when he gets to it

loves a good fantasy novel

travels A LOT, and is actually really good on a plane

somehow manages to always have his phone charged

has taken on fewer assassin jobs lately, mostly cause he's preoccupied with you <3

wants to go on every cliche date with you under the sun

ice cream, movies, dinner, bowling, skating, ice skating, moonlit walks on the beach, trips to wild new places, dancing, flirty sword fights

has imagined many a romantasy scenario with you and himself-- enemies to lovers, bodyguard and royalty, rival assassins, target and assassin who falls in love with the target-- wait that last one is just real life

doesn't always tell you that he loves you, but does it more than you'd think and when he does he makes sure you know he means it

has threatened someone over you (say another word and you'll end up swallowing a knife, asshole)

looping back to the cat, will probably end up adopting a random street cat that he picked up on one of his missions cause it was small and alone and it's big eyes reminded him of you and he just couldn't leave it all by itself out there in the big scary world-- no, it had to come home to meet you

[s12-kittie]

SUDDEN THEORY ABOUT THE TRIX'S DARK SYRENIX

Explanation why Dark Syrenix is Like That

(The pics are stolen taken from Pinterest)

I like Dark Syrenix, bc, firstly, it's the first upgraded transformation the Trix got (except Disenchantix, but it lasted less than an episode, so it doesn't count) and secondly THEY GAVE ICY NORMAL LIPSTICK DRAGON BLESS YOU STRAFFI

But, despite that, it's clear that Syrenix and Dark Syrenix look really different. To me, the same transformation should look alike in both dark and light forms. And bc I'm always right XD, I'm going to give a logical explanation to why it doesn't.

Dark Syrenix was given to the Trix by Tritannus, who clearly added some of his toxic magic to it (I'm too lazy to find the scene, so believe me XD). So, the transfornation joined together with toxins and we got... what we got.

This means, that Dark Syrenix actually looks different from what the Trix got. (I might visualise it someday...)

Also, I think (though I can't remember any proof from the series), that the Trix's Dark Syrenix is much less powerful than ot could be. Why?

The Trix got Syrenix from Daphne, so the amount of the additional power she had was divided into 3 (maybe, even 4, if Tritannus actually left some of her power to himself in order to have an ability enter the Infinite Ocean). Firstly, I think that breaking the transformation into parts is not a good idea (but it's just my opinion, which is not confurmed by anything in the series), and, secondly, the Trix got, like 30% of the transformation (in the best case), and this also explains why their haircolour didn't change underwater and why they didn't have any special Syrenix spells (idk how this is officially called). And it's another explanation the their different look.

Btw, Tritannus is really the most stupid villain ever. He clearly needed Syrenix just to be able to enter the Infinite Ocean and didn't even think it could be the boost he needed to become an Emperor, otherwise he would take all Syrenix for himself (okay and maybe for Icy, but not for her sisters, though I doubt that as well). Dude, no wonder your father didn't make you king, you'd be the most epic failure ever

There may be another version that Daphne, as the Nymph of Sirenix must've had more powers than the average Syrenix holder, but still, the Trix's transformation was incomplete, which leads us to was I've written before

What Dark Syrenix looks really alike with is the Trix's basic transformation. So, maybe Dark Syrenix just merged with or layered over it??

So my theory is the Trix never actually had normal Syrenix, it was the mixture of Daphne's Syrenix, Tritannus' toxins and their own powers.

[sicksweetcreamy]

Candy Witch Hand Puppet pattern from CoStume MODE Magazine Edition 9, 2011

The face (white) and body (black) should IDEALLY be fleece. I haven't tried using a different fabric type, but I believe it wouldn't look as good. Feel free to try if you plan on making a mock up, though.

Most everything else can also be substituted with fleece, EXCEPT for the teeth and mouth. You'll want to use the stiffest felt available.

The pattern said to use twill as the lining, but I didn't have that and used Symphony Broadcloth instead. It worked out fine.

INSTRUCTIONS UNFINISHED BECAUSE I'M LAZYYY IM SORRY MAYBE SOMEDAY ILL MUSTER UP THE STRENGTH TO RETURN TO IT

Google Translated Instructions with personal additions under the cut.

How to Make - unless otherwise instructed, either regular back stitch by hand/machine straight stitch will be used. *generally, sew with insides of fabric facing out (more commonly known as "right sides together"), and then turn inside out later.

Add Seam Allowance for the Face. Trace the face/front and face/inside pattern onto fabric, and draw on a 0.5 cm seam allowance all around.

2. Sew the Face Sew the darts on each piece. Sew together the Face/Front pieces, (at the edges). Sew together the Face/Inside pieces, (at the edges).

3. Make the Tongue and Mouth For the tongue, cut out 2 pieces of felt and sew them together, and turn them inside out. Iron on 2-3 pieces of fusible interfacing to the mouth to make it firm. Make a cut in the center and sew the tongue in between.

If you do not use fusible interfacing, it will lose shape when you play with it (true).

4-7. The part I had the most difficulty with. I need to make another mock up and write the instructions in tandem, but I'm really lazy so it might be months before I get around to it.

8. Create a Plump Body Sew the darts on the body, for the outer and lining. Then sew the outer and lining fabrics together. Make it into a cylinder (sew down the long edge) and [sew the ends temporarily?] *leave the part where you will stuff the cotton. 9. Sew up the Neck Turn it right side out and [baste around where the face will be?] (8 and 9. This is what the magazine instructions translated to. It didn't work out very well for me. There's a better way to do it I feel but I need to actually make it and then write out the way to do so in tandem.)

10. Combine Hand sew the face onto the body.

11. Make a Nose Sew the ends of the fan shape together to form a triangular pyramid shape (I turned it inside out, personally) and fill with cotton. The flower can be needle felted, or cut from regular felt and sewn to the tip.

12. Make (Wing) Decoration Cut out and glue together three pieces of the wing pattern. (You can sew them together instead, if you'd like) Make a blue and red wing.

13. Make Eyes You can print the eye pattern with your computer onto fabric transfer paper, then iron onto fabric and cut out; or make the eyes by layering colored felt.

14. Attach Parts Sew the nose and head decorations onto face, and sew on the cheeks.

15. Put Cotton Inside the Neck If you put a layer of cotton around the neck, [the eyes and cheeks will become 3D?] and the neck will sit and stabilize.

16. Add Pattern (spots) Cut out felt and glue onto the body in a pattern.

And it's complete!

[venactricisfics]

Bound by Instinct: Teen Wolf Story

Chapter Seven

NSFW content and other stuff. 18+

The morning light cast a golden glow over Peter, highlighting the sharp lines of his face and the soft curve of his lips. He looked peaceful, almost vulnerable, a stark contrast to the sharp, cunning man he was when awake. My gaze wandered over the planes of his chest and the faint scars that marked his skin, each one a story I hoped he’d tell me someday.

I let my fingers trail down his chest, tracing over the dips and ridges of muscle, marveling at how human he seemed in this quiet moment. How real. It was hard to believe that someone as intense and enigmatic as Peter could have a side like this—unshielded and open.

As if sensing my stare, his eyes fluttered open. The piercing blue that had once unnerved me now felt like home. His lips curled into a lazy, knowing smirk. “Enjoying the view, Little Wolf?” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep.

I smiled, unbothered by his teasing. “I am,” I admitted softly, letting my hand rest over his heart. “You’re different when you sleep.”

His brow arched slightly, intrigued. “Different how?”

I shrugged, feeling a blush creep into my cheeks. “Softer. Not as guarded. It’s... nice.”

Peter’s smirk softened into something else entirely—something warmer. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “You have a way of seeing things others don’t, Nova.”

I leaned into his touch, my heart swelling with a mix of emotions I couldn’t quite name. “Maybe that’s because I’m not afraid to look.”

“You should be,” he responded, “I’m terrifying.” There was almost a sadness in his words. Subtle but I heard it.

I raised up, hovering over him eyes full of confidence as I straddled his hips, “You’re not so scary, Peter.”

Peter's hands instinctively moved to my thighs, his grip firm but gentle as his piercing blue eyes searched mine. The smirk he wore so often faltered, replaced by something deeper—something raw.

“You don’t know me as well as you think, Little Wolf,” he said, his voice low, almost hesitant. “You should be afraid. Everyone else is.”

I leaned closer, my hair falling around us like a curtain, and cupped his face in my hands. “Maybe they don’t see what I see,” I whispered, my lips a breath away from his. “You’re not just the monster you want everyone to believe you are. I know you, Peter. The real you.”

His jaw tightened under my touch, and for a moment, I thought he might argue, might push me away. But instead, he closed his eyes, leaning into my palm as though he couldn’t help himself.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmured, his voice laced with both warning and surrender.

I tilted my head, a small, defiant smile curving my lips. “Maybe. But I’m not scared. Not of you.”

"An innocent young woman falling for the villain," he murmured, his lips grazing mine. "What could possibly go wrong?" In one fluid motion, he shifted us, pinning me beneath him.

“And yet, here you are,” I teased, my breath hitching as his weight pressed against me. “The villain falling for the innocent young woman.”

Peter chuckled, low and dangerous, his lips hovering just above mine. “Who said I’m falling?” he challenged, though the heat in his eyes betrayed him.

I smirked, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. “Your actions speak louder than your words, Peter.”

His lips captured mine, silencing any further teasing with a kiss that was both claiming and possessive. "Careful, Little Wolf," he murmured against my lips, his breath warm and intoxicating.

I smirked, meeting his gaze. "I'm stronger than I look," I shot back confidently.

"Good," he replied with a glint in his eye before pulling away and sliding off the bed. He extended a hand toward me, his voice light yet commanding. "Come on, let's get a shower, and then we can grab some breakfast."

—--

If the sight of Peter in a suit had stirred something in me last night, the sight of him naked this morning as he guided me into his bathroom did something else entirely. It was a new kind of awakening, one that left me breathless and captivated.

I had never given much thought to the concept of clothing before—to what humans chose to hide beneath it. In my world, my former world, there was no need for such concealment. It was natural, instinctive. But here, the act of revealing and being revealed held an intimacy I was only just beginning to understand.

“If you keep looking at me like that, Little Wolf,” Peter smirked as he turned on the shower, the sound of water filling the space between us, “we might not make it to breakfast.”

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks, but I didn’t look away. “I’m sorry,” I said softly, my gaze unwavering. “I just like looking at you.”

His smirk softened into something deeper, something that made my heart race. “You can look at me all you want,” he said, stepping closer, the steam from the shower swirling around us. “Though it might just lead to trouble.”

I wanted trouble, and Peter seemed to know it as he tugged me under the water with him. The warmth cascaded over us, steam curling around our bodies as if shielding us from the rest of the world.

His hands moved with purpose, lathered in soap, smoothing over my skin in slow, deliberate strokes. His touch wasn’t rushed or rough—it was gentle, reverent, as though he were memorizing every curve of me with his fingertips. Each glide of his palms was accompanied by a soft massage, kneading away tension I didn’t even realize I carried.

I closed my eyes, letting the sensations take over, the mix of water and Peter’s touch grounding me in the moment. The way he cared for me, even in something as simple as this, was unlike anything I had ever known.

I took the soap in my hands, the silky lather slipping between my fingers as I began to move them over his body. My touch was soft, deliberate, each motion unhurried as I mapped the topography of his chest and abs with my fingertips.

The ridges of muscle under his skin felt like stone—solid and unyielding—but warmed beneath my palms. I let my hands roam, tracing every curve and plane, memorizing him the way he had memorized me moments ago.

He groaned softly, the sound rumbling from deep within his chest as his body responded to my touch. I felt the subtle shift in his posture, the tension building beneath my fingertips as I continued my slow, deliberate exploration.

“Little Wolf,” he said, his voice strained but laced with amusement, “you’re making it very hard to focus on anything else right now.”

I smirked, emboldened by his reaction, my hands lingering a little longer as I let my fingers trace the sharp lines of his hipbones. “Was there something else you needed to focus on?” I whispered, leaning in closer, letting the water cascade between us like a veil.

Peter’s hands slid around my waist, pulling me flush against him, the heat between us mingling with the steam from the water. “Can’t think of a thing,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver through me despite the warmth.

I tilted my head up, meeting his gaze, the intensity in his eyes making my heart race. “Good,” I replied, my voice soft but confident, “because I don’t plan on letting you.”

A slow, wicked smile spread across his lips. “Little Wolf,” he said, brushing his nose against mine, “you’re going to be the death of me.”

“Fortunate for me death doesn’t keep you,” I teased, my lips hovering just a breath away from his. My hand slid between us feeling his growing response. 

His growl rumbled low in his chest, sending a delicious thrill through me. “You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?”

I smirked, leaning in until our foreheads touched, the steam swirling around us like a cocoon. “Fortunate for me, trouble seems to be your favorite thing.”

He groaned, his voice thick with restrained desire. “I suppose it is,” he muttered, his hands gripping my hips, “but that thing you’re doing with your hand is quickly moving to the top of the list.”

I bit my lip, my fingers continuing their teasing exploration.“Good to know,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the water cascading around us. 

My hands continued their slow, deliberate movements, determined to give him as much pleasure as he’d given me. I watched his face closely, searching for every flicker of emotion—a tightening of his jaw, the hitch in his breath, the way his eyes darkened with every passing moment. I wanted to know if it was too much or not enough. His head falling back slightly as a low growl escaped his throat. His reaction sent a wave of confidence through me, and I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips.

His breathing grew ragged, and I could feel the tension building in his body, like a storm on the verge of breaking. His hands roamed my back, grounding himself in my presence, while his lips found mine in a desperate, consuming kiss.

As the kiss grew more heated, I felt him start to lose control. His grip on me tightened, and I could feel his hips pushing against me, urging me to go faster. But I didn’t. I wanted him to savor this, to feel every second of it, so I held firm, maintaining the same rhythm that had brought him to the edge.

“Fuck,” he growled as he released in white hot spurts over my stomach and hand. The suddenness of it caught me off guard, the heat of him hitting my skin like a brand. I felt a thrill of power and satisfaction at the raw, primal sound he made, the way his entire body tensed and shuddered with the force of his climax. 

The warmth of the water began to fade, cooling against my skin, but the heat between us lingered. Peter smirked, his hands still resting possessively on my hips. “Having you around is dangerous, Little Wolf,” he murmured, his voice laced with teasing, though his eyes held something deeper.

I tilted my head, matching his smirk. “Danger seems to follow you, Peter. Maybe I’m just keeping things interesting.”

He chuckled, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to my temple. “Interesting might be an understatement.”

As the last traces of warmth disappeared from the water, he reached over to turn it off and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around my shoulders before pulling me close again. “We should get dressed before we start another distraction.”

“I know how you hate distractions,” I smirked, following him back into the bedroom.

Peter shot me a knowing glance over his shoulder but didn’t say a word as he moved toward the closet. I expected to rummage through his drawer for a pair of sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt—my usual makeshift attire whenever I stayed over.

But when I glanced toward the bed, I froze. A small bag, filled with my clothes, sat neatly beside it.

“How’d you know I’d stay here with you last night?” I asked, turning to him, curiosity lacing my tone.

Peter pulled on a pair of jeans, the fabric sliding into place effortlessly, then reached for a fresh shirt, tugging it over his head. His lips quirked into a smug smile as he adjusted the hem. “I just had a sneaking suspicion.”

I arched an eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest. “A sneaking suspicion?”

He stepped closer, the teasing smirk still playing on his lips as he tucked a strand of damp hair behind my ear. “Call it... experience. I know you better than you think, Little Wolf.”

His words sent a pleasant shiver down my spine, but I refused to let him see how easily he affected me. “Cocky much?”

“Always,” he said with a wink, brushing past me toward the door. “Now get dressed before I decide distractions aren’t so bad after all.”

I pulled on a pair of jeans from the bag—the ones Malia always said made my butt look good. Whatever that means. As I zipped them up and adjusted the waistband, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the memory of her unapologetic bluntness.

Reaching for the shirt, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The jeans fit snugly, hugging my curves in all the right places. Maybe Malia had a point. I tugged on the shirt, smoothing it down and taking a moment to study my reflection.

Peter’s voice called from the other room, pulling me from my thoughts. “You decent yet, Little Wolf, or should I come back and help?”

I smirked, grabbing a hair tie from the bag and pulling my damp hair into a loose ponytail. “I think I’ve got it covered, thanks.”

He appeared in the doorway anyway, leaning casually against the frame. His eyes swept over me, a slow, appreciative once-over that sent a wave of warmth up my neck.

“Not bad,” he said, his lips quirking into that familiar smirk. “Malia’s got good taste.”

I rolled my eyes, grabbing a nearby pillow and throwing it at him. He caught it effortlessly, laughing as he straightened up.

“Come on,” he said, tossing the pillow back onto the bed. “Let’s get you fed before you start glaring at me like a feral wolf again.”

I followed him out of the room, shaking my head but unable to suppress the small smile tugging at my lips. Peter Hale might be insufferable, but he had a way of making me feel like I belonged—and I wasn’t ready to let go of that just yet.

—

I was quiet in the car on the way back into town, my thoughts a whirlwind. Every mile seemed to stretch the silence between us, and the weight of my questions grew heavier with each passing moment.

How would everything that had happened change what I had with him? Was I fooling myself, letting my desires blind me to the truth? Peter had always been intense, but was there something more beneath that? What did he really want from me?

Lydia's words echoed in my mind. "He can get into your head, Nova. He wants power. You’ve got power."

Was that the reason he’d pursued me so relentlessly? Was it my strength he craved more than me?

I glanced at him, his eyes focused on the road, the usual quiet confidence in his expression. But I could sense the weight of the things he wasn’t saying, the things he was hiding. What did he know that I didn’t? How deep did this rabbit hole go?

I felt the tug of something darker pulling at the edges of our connection—something that made me hesitate. I had let him in so easily, allowed him to control the pace, the tension between us. But now... now I wasn’t sure if I could just give myself over to him without knowing if it was me he wanted, or just the power I held.

The questions clawed at me, gnawing at the edges of my mind.

“Peter,” I finally spoke, my voice soft, unsure. “What is it you really want from me?”

His grip on the steering wheel tightened just slightly. The silence between us was palpable as the car sped on, but I wasn’t sure if he was avoiding the question or if he simply didn’t have an answer.

“I wondered when the doubt would come creeping in, Little Wolf,” Peter’s eyes stayed fixed on the road, his tone almost amused, though there was something darker beneath it. “I’ve got a reputation.”

I bit my lip, feeling the weight of his words settle in the pit of my stomach. “What kind of reputation?”

He shifted slightly, his hand tightening on the wheel as though he was trying to keep control of something more than just the car. “The kind that makes people question my intentions. The kind that makes them think I’m after something… or someone. But you already know that, don’t you?”

My pulse quickened, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, the silence between us thick with unspoken truths. I wanted to push him, to ask the questions that burned in my mind, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for the answers.

“Do you want me for my power, Peter?” The words slipped out before I could stop them, a mix of fear and curiosity lacing my voice. I turned to face him, watching the tension in his jaw.

He let out a low sigh, almost a growl, and for a moment, I thought he might ignore me. But then he spoke, his voice darker than before, like he was stepping into something more dangerous, something he had been avoiding. “Is that what you think?”

“I don’t know what to think,” I admitted, the truth spilling from me before I could control it. “I trust you. Completely. But there’s a small part that feels off. Like there’s something you should be telling me.” 

The car sped on, but the words seemed to hang between us, heavy and unresolved. His gaze flickered to me briefly, but he didn’t say anything. The silence only made my doubts grow louder.

“I didn’t mean to make you doubt me,” Peter’s voice was soft now, almost pained, but there was still a coldness to it. “But I’m not the guy you want me to be, Little Wolf. I’m not… good. I’m not a hero. And maybe that’s what scares you.”

“I don’t need a hero,” I responded, “And I may be naive because I’m new to this human thing. But I’m not stupid. I don’t need anyone to treat me like I’m going to break. Or that I can’t handle things.” 

Peter’s lips twitched into a small, almost imperceptible smile, but his eyes remained cold, distant. “Is that what you think I’m doing? Treating you like glass?”

I didn’t answer immediately, instead letting the silence fill the space between us. The weight of his words—the subtle challenge—hung in the air, and my chest tightened as I tried to untangle my feelings.

“Maybe not,” I finally said, my voice quieter now, the uncertainty creeping in. “But sometimes it feels like you’re holding something back. Like you’re afraid to let me in.”

Peter’s grip tightened on the steering wheel again, his knuckles turning white. He didn’t respond right away, and for a moment, I thought maybe he wasn’t going to. Then, as if the words had finally broken through the walls he kept up, he spoke.

“I don’t want to drag you into my mess, Little Wolf,” his voice was low, rough. “I’ve done things… things I can’t undo. And I don’t want to risk you getting caught up in it. This is who I am. And I’ve warned you before, there’s a dark side to me that not even you can handle.”

My breath caught in my throat as I processed what he said. The weight of it settled over me like a dark cloud. “And you think you can just keep me away from it? Keep me out of your life?”

He glanced at me, his gaze hard. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need your protection,” I snapped, the edge of frustration creeping into my voice. “What I need is the truth, Peter. I need to know what’s going on with you. Who you really are. I can’t keep doing this... living in the dark.”

He seemed to consider this for a long moment before speaking again. “You really want to know, Little Wolf? All of it?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

He exhaled sharply, like the weight of his next words was too much. “Then get ready. Because once you know, you can’t go back.”

I watched him closely as he spoke, every word unraveling darker truths. He told me how he manipulated Derek into turning his high school girlfriend, only for her to die because of it. He shared the torment he endured after the fire, how he killed his niece, Laura, and absorbed her Alpha spark. That’s when he turned Scott—only to torment him for months, forcing him into his pack for the sole purpose of gaining more power.

The air in the car grew thick with the weight of his words. Each confession seemed to slice through the silence, deepening the chasm between the person I thought Peter was and the truth that now stood before me.

I couldn’t look away as he spoke, his voice steady but the rawness behind it undeniable. His hands gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. He was reliving the pain, the darkness, as he spoke about it—each memory, each sin that weighed on him like a chain. The silence that followed his last words seemed to swallow the space between us, and I could feel the heaviness of the truth pressing in on me, making it hard to breathe.

“You killed your niece?” I whispered, my voice cracking with disbelief. The image of the Peter I knew, the one who had held me in his arms and kissed me like I was everything to him, shattered in that instant. I couldn’t reconcile the man I trusted with the one he was describing.

Peter’s jaw clenched, and I could see the muscle twitching beneath his skin. He didn’t seem to want to say more, but the words kept pouring out of him, like a dam had broken.

“I didn’t mean to. It wasn’t supposed to happen that way,” he muttered, his voice raw, but there was no denying the truth in it. “The fire… the power I took, it twisted me. I couldn’t control it. Laura was just... there. And I couldn’t stop myself. I thought if I had her spark, I’d have enough to fix things. But all it did was make everything worse.”

“How could you do that?” The words left my lips before I could stop them, the shock and hurt radiating through my voice.

He didn’t answer immediately, and for a moment, I thought he might never respond. But then he spoke, his voice quieter, but the regret was unmistakable. “I wasn’t the person I am now. I wasn’t... I was a monster, Nova. And I still am, in a lot of ways.”

I felt a pang of something sharp and painful twist in my chest, the pull of empathy I had always felt for him now tangled with the raw reality of his actions.

“I don’t know who you were back then,” I said softly, my voice trembling with uncertainty, “but I know the person I see now is still you. And I... I don’t want to believe you're just a monster.”

His eyes flicked to me for a moment, and the hurt in them was almost too much to bear. “I don’t deserve your trust. Or your forgiveness. I’m broken. And nothing I’ve done will ever change that.”

I swallowed hard, my heart aching for him despite the terror his actions stirred inside me. There was so much darkness inside him, I knew that wasn’t all of him. There was so much more to Peter that I didn’t fully understand. 

“What happens now?” I finally asked, my voice small.

Peter didn’t answer right away. His eyes stayed fixed on the road, his face a mask of unreadable emotions. But when he spoke, his voice was low and filled with a kind of finality.

“Now you get to decide if you can handle all of me. If you can handle the parts of me that are still that monster... or if you’ll walk away.”

I sat silent thinking about what he’d said. Was he truly a monster? Did it even matter to me that he was? I didn’t know the answers to those questions. But I knew I couldn’t walk away. 

“I’m here,” I softly said, “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Peter’s eyes flickered to mine for a moment, as though he was searching for something in my gaze. He didn’t speak, but the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease just slightly. It wasn’t forgiveness, but it was something close—an acknowledgment that I hadn’t run. That I wasn’t afraid to stand by him, even after all he had revealed. I wasn’t sure what would come next, but I knew one thing for sure: I wasn’t leaving him.

The weight of his words lingered in the car, but the tension between us slowly started to ease. Peter’s grip on the wheel relaxed as he turned the corner, heading toward the town. My stomach let out a small growl, reminding me of the morning’s forgotten hunger.

Peter glanced at me, a sly grin forming on his lips. “You know, you can’t go on like this without eating.”

“I used to be able to eat a deer and not have to eat anything else for days,” I said. 

Peter’s eyes glinted with amusement as he continued driving, the light chatter easing the heaviness of the morning. “A deer, huh? I guess that’s one way to go about it.” He smirked, his focus still on the road, but his voice softening. “You’ll find human food isn’t as satisfying, but it does the job.”

I chuckled, leaning back in my seat. "I'll take whatever works." The familiar rumble of the car and the quiet between us gave me a moment to breathe. After everything Peter had shared, the last thing I wanted was to stay in the tension of it all.

The town was coming into view, and I could almost smell the coffee from here. "So, what's your go-to breakfast spot?" I asked, eager for a change of pace, even if just for a little while.

“Diner in town,” he said, “It’s quiet. But suited to people like us. The owner is an old wolf.”

“Diner in town,” he said, his tone casual but pointed. “It’s quiet. But suited to people like us. The owner is an old wolf.”

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “An old wolf? Like...how old are we talking?”

Peter smirked, glancing at me briefly. “Old enough to remember when this town was just a trading post. He’s been around for centuries but likes to keep things low-key. His pancakes, though? Legendary.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of an ancient werewolf flipping pancakes in a diner. “Now I’m really curious. Do I have to call him something special, like ‘Elder Flapjack?’”

Peter chuckled, the sound lighter than I expected after our earlier conversation. “He’d probably get a kick out of that, but no. Just call him Howard. He’s not much for formalities.”

The car slowed as we approached the small diner tucked along the main road, its neon sign flickering in the morning sunlight. I glanced at Peter as he parked. “Legendary pancakes better live up to the hype,” I teased.

Peter grinned, opening his door. “You’ll see. Howard’s got his secrets too. Just...less deadly than mine.”

I’d learned in the months I’d been here that Beacon Hills seemed to be a beacon in every sense of the word—a magnet for the supernatural. It wasn’t just wolves; it was coyotes, kanima, and creatures I’d only ever heard of in whispered tales. Every corner of the town held a shadowy secret, and every day, it felt like something new was drawn to the chaos. It was as if the very air here thrummed with energy, pulling the extraordinary and dangerous alike into its orbit.

But there were also ancient beings, like Peter’s diner buddy, who had long since carved out a place for themselves here. Creatures that had seen centuries pass, their existence woven into the fabric of this town in ways I was only beginning to understand.

I wondered if, one day, I would do the same—if Beacon Hills would become my home, a place where I could settle among the supernatural currents that ran beneath its surface. Or if, eventually, instinct would take over, pulling me back into the wild, shifting me into the wolf I once was—never to return.

“You’re getting quiet again, Little Wolf,” Peter took my hand and lead me to through the door. There wasn’t any point in hiding the connection we had anymore, not that we hid it very well to begin with. 

“Just thinking about things,” I responded. 

“Careful with that,” Peter smirked as he guided me to a booth near the back. “Too much thinking can be dangerous.”

I rolled my eyes but let him pull me along. The diner was dimly lit, the kind of place where conversations were kept low, secrets exchanged over coffee and eggs. The scent of bacon and beast filled my nose—humans wouldn’t notice the latter, but I could.

I glanced around, noting the few patrons scattered throughout. A couple of older men hunched over their meals, a waitress lazily refilling coffee, and behind the counter, a man who didn’t look up but whose presence thrummed with something ancient.

Peter slid into the booth across from me, his expression unreadable. “So, what exactly has you thinking so hard?”

“You…” I nodded as the waitress asked if I wanted coffee, “this place. And where I actually fit in it.”

Peter hummed in thought, watching me over the rim of his coffee cup as the waitress poured mine. “Big questions for someone who only just started walking on two legs.”

I wrapped my hands around the warm mug, letting the heat seep into my fingers. “I don’t think shifting back into a wolf would make the questions go away.”

His smirk was small but knowing. “No, but it might make the answers easier to ignore.”

I exhaled, stirring my coffee though I didn’t really need to. “I don’t want to ignore them.”

“Good,” Peter leaned back in the booth, his piercing gaze settling on me. “Then let’s start with the easiest one—where you fit in.”

I swallowed, my heart picking up speed. “And where is that?”

His fingers tapped against the table. “Right here, with me.”

I quirked a brow, “So are you asking to be my mate? Or what is it humans call it… my boyfriend?” I smiled at the thought. Peter was definitely no boy. It was another human thing I didn’t fully understand. 

Peter chuckled, shaking his head. “Boyfriend sounds so... juvenile.” His fingers traced the rim of his coffee cup before his eyes flicked back to mine, sharp and unreadable. “Mate is more fitting, don’t you think?”

I tilted my head, considering his words. “Mates are for life.”

His smirk faltered just slightly, a flicker of something deeper passing over his face. “That they are.”

I leaned in, resting my chin on my hand. “And you think you’re ready for that?”

He didn’t hesitate. “The real question is—are you?”

Was I? I’m not sure but I couldn’t imagine being anywhere that Peter wasn’t. My thoughts were interrupted by a plate of food set down in front of me. And I couldn’t concentrate on anything else but the rumbling in my stomach. 

Peter chuckled softly, clearly amused by my sudden focus on the food. “I take it the deer diet is officially retired?” he teased, watching as I picked up a fork and dove into the plate of bacon and eggs.

I glanced up at him between bites, my lips quirking into a small smile. “Let’s just say this human metabolism thing has its perks. Like this.” I gestured to the plate before me, savoring the salty, savory flavors that grounded me in the moment.

Peter sipped his coffee, his gaze steady and unreadable. “Good. You’re going to need your strength.”

I paused mid-bite, narrowing my eyes. “Strength for what?”

A mischievous smirk spread across his face. “Life with me, Little Wolf. It’s never boring.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide my grin. “That’s an understatement.”

The hair on the back of my neck stood on its end before I saw him standing at my side. He was a big burly wolf, eyes glowing red as he stared down at me. 

“That’s a sweet little Omega you have there, Hale. Haven’t seen her around here before,” he spat. 

 I heard a low growl echoing from the back of Peter’s throat. I shook my head. I knew this wasn’t the place for a fight. 

Peter’s fingers twitched around his coffee cup, his body going rigid beside me. “She’s not yours to notice,” he said coolly, voice edged with warning.

The Alpha chuckled, the sound rough and full of condescension. “Territorial, aren’t we? Just making conversation.” His gaze flickered back to me, his lips curling. “Omegas don’t last long without a pack. You should be careful who you run with.”

I met his glowing eyes, unflinching. “I do just fine on my own.”

Peter’s growl deepened, but I placed a hand on his arm, squeezing lightly. Not here. Not now.

The Alpha’s smirk widened, sensing the tension. “We’ll see,” he said before turning and sauntering off, the air around us still thick with his presence.

Peter exhaled sharply, his jaw clenching as he tracked the wolf’s retreat. “You’re attracting the wrong kind of attention, Little Wolf.”

I picked up my coffee and took a slow sip. “Maybe. Or maybe he just doesn’t know who he’s dealing with yet.”

I rolled the thought over in my mind, the lingering sensation of his presence still crawling over my skin. When he stood beside me, I felt it—that pressure, the weight of his will trying to sink into me, to make me yield.

But I didn’t.

I’d never felt that from Scott. His influence was different, a pull rather than a push. Scott didn’t need to impose his dominance; people followed him because they wanted to.

This Alpha, though—he was testing me. Seeing if I’d bow.

I wanted to know just how far I could resist an Alpha’s command. How much of my strength was my own.

Because if there was one thing I knew for sure, it was that I didn’t bow for anyone.

“Can you call Scott?” I asked as we finished our meal. “On your phone. I want to test something.”

Peter arched a brow, clearly intrigued but not questioning me—yet. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts before pressing the call button. The line rang a few times before Scott’s voice came through the speaker.

“Peter?” Scott sounded immediately suspicious. “What do you want?”

Peter smirked but handed me the phone. “Not me. She wants to talk to you.”

I took the phone, ignoring the way Peter’s fingers lingered against mine. “Scott, can you do something for me?”

There was a pause. “Uh… depends on what it is.”

I wasn’t quite sure how to ask him to try and dominate me without sounding off. Would it even work over the phone? 

“I want you to use your Alpha voice on me.” 

Another pause. Longer this time. “What? Why?”

“I just need to know if it works,” I said simply.

Scott sighed, clearly reluctant. “Fine. What do you want me to say?”

I glanced at Peter, then back at the phone. “Tell me to stay where I am.”

A beat of silence. Then Scott’s voice came through the speaker, low and firm.

“Stay where you are.”

Nothing, “Are you even trying? Maybe it’s this thing.” Motioning to the phone.

“Meet me at the high school. Lacrosse field.” 

I could feel the tension rising in my body as Scott’s command rang through the phone. This time, there was more weight to it, more authority. But once again, it didn’t take hold of me.

I shook my head, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. "Nope. Nothing."

Peter raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed but also a little confused. "You really didn’t feel that?"

I shrugged, still holding the phone. "Not even a little. It’s like he’s not even trying."

Scott’s voice came back through, more frustrated this time. "Are you messing with me? This isn’t funny."

“I’m not trying to be funny. I wouldn’t know how,” I responded, “Maybe we should try this in person.” 

Scott's voice crackled through the phone, confusion and frustration blending together. "In person? Are you serious right now?"

Peter gave me a knowing glance, clearly finding this whole situation amusing. I could feel his eyes on me, his confidence radiating through the air between us.

"Yeah," I replied, my voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of challenge. "Let’s test it properly. Meet me at the high school, lacrosse field. I’ll be there."

There was a pause before Scott muttered, "Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you."

I hung up and looked at Peter, feeling the weight of the moment settle in. "Well, guess we’ll find out how much Scott’s really got to offer."

Peter’s grin deepened. "This should be interesting."

With a determined nod, I stood from the table. I didn’t know what the test would show, but one thing was for certain—I wasn’t about to back down. Not now. Not with this newfound power I didn’t fully understand.

—-

It wasn’t just Scott who met us at the high school, it was the whole pack. They wanted to see what kind of power I had, or if Scott’s True Alpha power would be able to match it. 

“So go in and just make her bend to your will,” Stiles said to Scott trying to amp him up. I knew even if Scott could push me, he wouldn’t try to control me. But I had to know. I had to be able to protect myself. I still couldn’t shake the ick the diner Alpha gave me. 

The air was thick with anticipation as we stood outside the high school, the moon just beginning to rise behind the trees. The pack had gathered, their eyes trained on me as if I were some kind of test subject. It made my skin prickle, but I wasn’t about to back down. This wasn’t about proving anything to them. This was for me.

Scott stood in the front, flanked by Stiles and the others, all of them looking at me with a mixture of curiosity and caution. I could feel the weight of their gazes, but my focus was on Scott. The weight of his presence was like a pulse in the air, the subtle command of an Alpha, even if it wasn’t the kind that would force me into submission.

"You ready?" Stiles asked, voice carrying a teasing tone, though I knew he was serious.

I nodded. "Let's see what happens."

Scott took a step forward, his eyes locking with mine. He took a deep breath, likely preparing himself to use his True Alpha power on me, the same power that had made him one of the most respected Alphas in Beacon Hills.

"Stay where you are," he commanded, his voice firm.

But I didn’t feel it. There was no pull, no pressure against my will. Instead, I crossed my arms, standing my ground, my feet planted firmly on the ground.

"I’m not moving," I said, my voice steady. There was no resistance in my words, no challenge, just simple certainty. I wasn’t going to let him push me, not without a fight.

Scott's eyes narrowed slightly, confusion flashing across his face. "What the hell?" he muttered, stepping closer, eyes burning red, trying again. "Stay."

Still nothing.

I held his gaze, my own determination rising as I felt a power deep inside me, unlike anything I’d ever felt before. I wasn’t some weak Omega to be controlled by anyone, not even by a True Alpha.

Stiles stepped forward, looking from me to Scott. "Uh... that’s... not supposed to happen."

I could feel the tension mounting in the air. The pack was watching closely, unsure of what was going on. Peter, who had been standing off to the side, leaned against the car with a smug look on his face, like he already knew the outcome.

"This is what you wanted, right?" I said to Scott, meeting his eyes. "Let’s see if your power’s enough to bend me."

Scott didn’t say anything. He just looked at me, his brows furrowed. He wasn’t used to being challenged like this, especially by someone he cared about. But this wasn’t about him. This was about me. My power. My ability to stand on my own.

The air between us crackled with unspoken words, and I could feel the pack’s unease shifting. Maybe they hadn’t expected me to be this strong, to be a force that could stand up to even the most powerful Alpha in the room.

Peter's voice finally cut through the silence, low and smooth. "Told you she was special."

And with that, everything changed.