#from the slim reaper

[gravy-slut]

At my job we also do pet cremations and we picked up a kangaroo today?? I’ve never actually seen one in person. Apparently she had dementia and hopped away from her heat source :/ Also her name was Gina for those wondering

[randomszzz]

"love has always been the world's best secret ingredient" -> "I'd rather just get rid of them" Joshua kiryu

"there's only one way to stay alive in this shibuya: Trust your partner" -> "in a way, he's been alone all his life" Joshua Kiryu

[fetabathwater]

BioWare doing an AMA was always going to be a shitshow but like. The shit they’ve come up with? Idk man but since when have ppl listened to the “canon”. They have two conflicting codexes about Hawke’s staff from promotional material. Cailan’s age has been incorrect since DAO. They added in the Orsino boss fight “to give players something to do” with no further explanation on the Harvester form. Anders’ writer used her own experiences with her ex who had BPD, intentionally portraying Anders and Justice’s relationship negatively. Gaider loves to try to stay relevant and say controversial things, particularly about companions like Fenris and Dorian, and killing them. Ventus, also known as Qarinus in all material published up until 2018, was Ventus all along, didn’t you know? (Don’t look at maps). Redcliffe is sitting in the wrong position geographically. Haven in DAI, also sitting geographically incorrectly. Same with Calenhad Circle. And Kal-Hirol. And Kal-Sharok. They forgot what keeping a genetically similar clutch of griffon eggs would mean for the future until they included it. Breaches opened up all over Thedas during DAI. Somehow only the south had a person with an anchor to rely on, but everyone else was fine and closed them.

And that’s from the old guard writers. Not considering people who’ve come in to the corpse kept alive on 6 second promotional material for the past 10 years. Like. Dang.

[valentine-cafe]

˖⁺. "hush, darling." : 

﹙ naga literature uni student boyfriend x fem reader ﹚.𖹭 ݁

﹙naga ˖ grim reaper ˖ poet character﹚. . . talisen 781 x fem reader !! 🍓 :

 seems your bratty behaviour led to you getting railed by your boyfriend in the back of the threatre while there's a class next door 

﹙ cws ﹚: penerative sex ˖ semi-public sex ˖ degradation ˖ praise ˖ rough sex ˖ multiple orgasms ˖ riding ˖ desperate sex ˖ talisen is soooo mean | wc : 1.6k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: an old piece done up but we need people to release just how mean this man can be omnggg

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

"Yeah that is it — come on, bend your knees baobei fuck — that is it.”

Talisen’s husky breath pants against your ear, sends shivers down your spine. Plummeting straight to your core and boiling away at the arousal that rises every minute.

Your pussy quivers each time your boyfriend’s large cock thrusts forward and hits that specific bundle of nerves that leaves a desperate urge to moan behind. The thing is just,

You can’t.

Of course, you deserve it. Acting a brat earlier, but it was cruel of him to keep you quiet in the theatre hall specifically because there was a class in the other room.

What you dread more is that someone comes backstage and catches the two of you. The poet fucking you up against some of the props, though you doubt he’d care much. It made your tummy twist with excitement at the same time.

You gasp out when a calloused thumb presses down against your bud, swirling your arousal around your clit before applying more pressure to rub away at the sensitive bud, while he pounds you mercilessly. His thrusts shallow and painfully slow.

A moan is about to bounce off of the walls, join the wet sounds of your sopping cunt taking its favourite cock so greedily. Milking it. Like the slut you are. But a hand slaps against your mouth and a quiet hiss interrupts the blissful erotic noises your bodies make together.

“Uh-huh - ah ah, shh quiet, do not want to disturb the class, do we?"

A pair of long and slim digits press down on your lips to silence the cries and moans that emanate from your throat and beg for their freedom let out every time his hips piston up into you.

Maroon eyes narrow as they focus on the way your ass ripples every time he begins to slowly speed up the pace. The way your walls flutter to welcome him back in whenever he pulls out until the only thing left inside of you is his flaring tip.

“Ah, but truly,” he tuts

“You must enjoy this hm? A whore is very aware of her actions after all.” he sighs contently against your ear, you hate him. The grin in his voice. You can hear it and you hate him for it.

“J—Just want-te-gnhgh!” you attempt, only to end up having drool running down your chin as his fingers press past your lips and put weight on your tongue. It is getting very hard to be quiet when he is pulling tricks like these out. Your lungs are burning with the need to just let your noises out, along with your heavy breaths and pants.

“Shhhh. There we go, quiet. Like the soft serene silence of the day outside. Good girl.” He chuckles, satisfied with the cross-eyed expression he pulls from you as he begins thrusting harder, the feel of them shallow still. Yet faster. Finally.

Soft and quiet chokes cough out from your mouth, along with whines that you try to deafen as much as possible. Might as well listen to him, because he will not listen to you. Nor your nonsense. You don’t mind much either, this is exactly what you had aimed for earlier.

A bet with yourself, to see how much you can rile his arousal up.

Clenching and letting out a scattered moan, your legs shake at the feeling of him pulling out and delivering a harsh slap against your sore cunt.

His fingers pull out of your mouth, and you are turned over another prop. Put into a prone bone, and gasping at the feel of his cock fucking in and out of you over and over.

“T-Tal— ta-aha- ta- t-ahnghhh!” you stutter, tummy looping and flipping all of the right ways, while you feel your orgasm nearing. Pussy fluttering and throbbing more than previously. God, you can’t take it anymore. You just want release.

He sees it, oh he will make you scream his name as loud as possible.

With a grin his pace speeds once again, while his hands grip away at your waist. Pressing you down against the prop with his weight and keeping you in place.

The erratic thrusts brings the both of you to absolute bliss, your head reels around. Thoughts or shame gone and mind only full of him when you moan out his name and allow the slew of moans and cries that have wished so dearly to be spilt for the past few minutes.

But then you realised what you had done, and quickly, you shut your mouth and looked up at him with wide eyes. Only for them to narrow in confusion at the content smile on his face.

With a hand brushing away strands of hair out of your face. He presses a kiss to your lips and slowly begins thrusting in and out of you again. Starting out with a slow grind as usual.

“You know. If there truly was a class, baobei. Many would be in here pulling props out.” he chuckles. The deceit! You widen your eyes, only to moan loudly when he shoves you down on his cock and grind you down on him

“Y-You!” is all that you can pant, before moaning. A mewl breaking out of your throat as his hands move up to grope at your breasts through your shirt. Playing around with the nipples, before his left hand moves up to your lips and presses against them with his fingers and willing them to open for him.

The taste of your juices hits your tongue quick, leaving you squeezing and clenching around him mindlessly. Panting and whining.

“You’re so meean!” the muffled cried from you leaves him groaning.

Alongside with the vice grip your pussy always has on him, your words and whines are what really get to him. He can’t get enough of it. The contact of skin combined with all of your beautiful noises, good everything - he is depraved. He will admit to that happily.

Even as he fucks you into the pillows of one of the couch props after switching around and pushing you up on top of him, bouncing you onto him like a pretty doll. Or making you ride him just to watch you beg for him to take over again.

The way you take all of him, goodness. You could milk him dry but he is sure he’d still be leaking and willing after a few hours had passed. He adored all of you.

You were to be worshipped, each and every part of you. Truly, you are art.

The room echoed with the noises of pleasure and love all the way out to the theatre hall. Creating a symphony, the thrusts the drums, the moans the song, their skin against skin the violins the orchestra. All of it.

“can you take one more for me my dear? Jus-just one more?” the rough rasp in his voice and the quiver that is ever so evident easily steals away a slew of cusses from your lips as your juices squirt all over his cock.

You have made a clear ring around his base by now. A mixture of his cum and yours, the smell of sex, the sensual feel of his tongue moving across your skin. It twists all sorts of emotions inside of you.

Leaves you dizzy and light-headed, but you stay awake and grip onto him. So eager for more.

“Y-Yes— yes!” you whimper into his ear and swallow hard as his hips take on a sloppy and quick, desperate pace. No longer is there a rhythm, but instead a deep-rooted desperation to be closer. Have all of one another.

“I love you.” he whimpers quietly, gods. His whimpers send you to zenith, straight into the sky and heavens of bliss.

“G-Gege!” is all he gets in response. He doesn’t need more than that either. Your hips bucking into his, lips pressing to his messily, while you hold onto one another and enjoy the contrast between a warm and cold body is enough for him to know you’d say it back if it wasn’t for him fucking you full and into oblivion.

A snap of hips and a loud whine from you. He pulls your last orgasm out of you and himself. Fucking you full over and over again with the last drops of cum he has.

A back arches and cold hands move across the canvas below them. So beautiful, covered in a sheen layer of sweat that leaves you glistening.

“You are so very beautiful. The most ethereal of souls to walk this very earth my dear.” he whispers against your lips, pressing a few kisses against them before gently pulling himself out of you and lifting you into his arms. Massaging away at any aches that he may have caused from the rough to desperate lovemaking.

With gentle aid in dressing you up again, he takes you back home to his dorm and showers you. Assuring that you are taken well care of and fed.

Oh to love a poet is to find yourself in places you never would have. Such a creative mind taking you across the planes.

﹙ taglist. ﹚: @gayeepy @sincore @foxy-lisard @cascata-bianca @butachild @savagemickey03 @c4xcocoa @mazettn @cumslurs-world @danddgrunge @kitzusune @d34th-gxn @thatonedumbitch @kiiyoooo

﹙ tip jar. ﹚: like our work? consider suporting us 𖹭 

[tinydefector]

Marine Centre 5 - Merformers AU

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: information over the Oceanides.

Prev

Next

_________________

Information For readers over names for the Bots 

Optimus - Big Blue 

Megatron - The Meg

Bumblebee - Babybee/ beebee

Starscream - Screech

Sideswipe - Cherry

Sunstreaker- Shimmer

Shockwave - Reaper

Jazz - Slip

Ironhide - Buffy

Ratchet - Nemo

Soundwave - Echo 

Windblade - Ladybird

Prowl- Scar

Beachcomber - Murri

Rodimus - Firefin

Smokescreen - Slim Dusty

Bluestreak - Angelfish 

Mirage - Magic

Drift - Siren

Pharma - Snapper

Chromedome - Phantom

Rewind - Dinky

Whirl - Titanic 

Swindle - Dio

Vortex - Spade 

Onslaught - Korn

Brawl - Badma

Blast Off - Diamite 

Kup - Sarge

Rung - Shrimp

The parings of who is the parents of who for some of the younger members 

Rodimus - Optimus & Ratchet 

Bluestreak - Prowl & Jazz 

Sunstreaker & Sideswipe - Ironhide & Jazz

Smokescreen - Prowl & Optimus 

Mirage - Beachcomber & Optimus 

Bumblebee - Optimus & unknown

Cassettes - Soundwave & Shockwave & Blaster 

Tarn - Megatron & Soundwave 

Sunstorm - Starscream & Sunstreaker 

Cassettes - Blaster & Tracks & Soundwave 

Novastorm - Skywarp & Megatron 

______________________________________________________________________

PHYSICAL EXAM / TREATMENT RECORD: The Meg

Species: Oceanides. Sex: Hermaphrodite/ Pod Bull

Age: 50+yrs

Recent illness/injury: lacerations to head and stomach/ bite wounds to arm. Injuries received from altercations with Big blue ( The Meg was the Aggressor), believed to be due to feeding. Wounds still have not headled due to scratching.

Behaviour: Temperamental, calmer  

PHYSICAL EXAM Examined by: [Redacted] 

time:6:20am

Date: 2/07/XXXX

Wt 269.52 Kg. Temp 24.8°c

GA: 

Dark grey, light grey with red markings, fins and gills are red . Larger than any of the Oceanides in the centre. Eyes: red

INTEG: covered in many scars from territory fighting, feeding, and mating.

External Parasites: none

RAVS Animal Condition Score: good

Reason for RAC Score assigned: the Meg has healed rather well from his wounds due to medication in his food. 

Addtl Comments: The Meg is ready to be let back out to the pods, request that he be supervised as to not gain more injuries. 

________________________________________________________________ 

PHYSICAL EXAM / TREATMENT RECORD: Cherry

Species: Oceanides. Sex: Hermaphrodite

Age: 30+yrs 

Recent illness/injury: scale Rot on running up tail and fins

Behaviour: hyper, Social.

PHYSICAL EXAM Examined by: Xxxx

time:7:34am 

Date: 2/07/XXXX

Wt 421.32 Kg. Temp 24.2°c

GA:

Red, black and Grey Oceanide. Eyes: blue 

INTEG: scales have been showing success with the new treatment 

RAVS Animal Condition Score: good

Reason for RAC Score assigned: to be released from Pool 2. 

Addtl Comments from (Doctor Bayley Quin: Cherry seems to be doing much better now. 

______________________________________________________________________

Requesting documentation on Oceanide pod habits behaviours and families. As of recently many of the Oceanides that frequent the Yawk-Yawk centre have taken a rather intriguing interest in one of the handlers here. 

We want to study it more as we believe the Pods themselves have accepted [Redacted] into the pods as some sort of honorary member due to us having to intervene with a pup. His information will be added to email. 

Babybee/ Beebee is the only surviving Oceanide pup from last season, Big blue is we believe the sire of the pup. But due to unknown reasons the pup had become rather ill and on the brink of death when we received him. Brought in by Big Blue, it's the first truth communication we have had with them. Beebee was placed into medical care under my supervision and handled by [Redacted] as a full time carer. But developments have surfaced amongst the rest of the Oceanides since the pup has been released back to the pods, many of them have taken quite an interest in [Redacted], singing to them and following them around. 

Our most recent trip out to the reef for samples resulted in one of the Oceanides quite literally dragging [Redacted] out of the Ocean and dropping them back on the boat. It left many of us stunned, but to follow that up said Oceanide. I believe [Angelfish] came back afterwards with a small collection of seashells, coral and rocks. I'm mainly requesting the information for [Redacted] to read through and have some more understanding. 

-Dr Bayley Quin Yawk-Yawk Marine

____________________________________________________________________

 Dr Quin, Myself and many others at California Oceanide Research are rather fascinated with this news. We ask that you keep us updated on these pods that have made themselves at home at your centre. As we only have 2 pods that we have currently tagged and have been studying their migration patterns. Any information you can share with us would be greatly appreciated, but to follow up your request I'll attach all the known information we have over the Oceanides Habits, mating, pods and society. 

Please keep us updated on this Pup and the caretaker as this is the first time we have ever heard of such a thing. 

- Dr Christian Bale, California OR. 

Attached documents 

Oceanides: New Insights 

Pups:

Reach full size at age: 3 years, though continue learning from elders and Parental for several years more

Nursed and cared for solely by mother for the first 2 years can change depending on the circumstances. [Added information. As you have stated Bee was put into [Redacted]’s care and most likely sees them as their mother that could be the reason the pod has taken to them, due to human intervention the pup survived and as such the pod treats them as a member of their family] 

Oceanides form strong, lifelong bonds with pod members during early developmental period, even if they do split off from their pod they always know their siblings and parents 

Pups observed closely mimicking behaviours of adult pod-mates from 2-4 years to develop skills, will follow very closely with their parents.   

Grooming and touching behaviours help strengthen social bonds between pups and all pod members

Pups remain within natal pod's protected waters until they reach three years of age, learning skills/culture from elders. Strong social bonds and inter-pod cooperation aids collective survival.

Inter-Pod Relations:  

Pods comprise variably sized familial units, often 6-15 individuals. Members can consist of a mix of pod members varying from parents and pups to strangers, Oceanides also very consistently move from pods. Such as an adolescent spawn of other members will leave their pod to join another. 

Regular, peaceful interactions observed between adjacent pods some will even form into a mega pod [as you have described the pods at Yawk-Yawk.]

Pods often approach and observe one another’s activities from a distance with no aggression, and over time will become social with each other.  

Exchanging soft vocalisations, nudges, and caresses help reinforce cooperative relations between each other. 

Like humans some Oceanides just don't like each other, Don't Force interactions between them. Oceanides will hold grudges. 

Younger pod members especially engaged in play behaviours to develop hunting/defence skills, socialise and bond with other members.  

Gifting of small items, shells, pebbles, sea glass, food etc. appears a gesture of courting, friendship and trust between pods. It varies depending on the member as some will gift items for many reasons.  

Benefits of allied pods include access to larger ranges, combined protections, and potential for interbreeding to support genetic diversity. 

Multi-pod alliances appear to form for protection during migrations or when young are present

Territory & Resources:

Each pod maintains boundaries of its own hunting/feeding grounds through regular patrols. Some will converge if said pods decide to merge together 

Boundaries appear flexible based on prey availability and pod size, Pods observed sharing access to migrating prey or allowing transient members to pass without conflict, when pups are within pods others will come to aid If one pod is in need of assistance.

 Resources like tidal feeding pools, kelp forests and shipping lanes consciously avoided to minimise human contact 

Communication:  

Complex communication between the species varies from echolocation, visual/tactile cues similar to sign language. Whistles/clicks, hisses, snarls rumbles. The best description is that they communicate similarly to whales, Dolphins and also humans. It's a strange thought to see such intelligence in marine life but it makes sense why there are so many myths and legends over Merfolk when Oceanides fit that description. 

Whistles/echolocation used for coordinating hunts, alerting of intruders, and social bonding

 Distress calls signify need for aid; all pod members converge quickly on young or injured

Certain melodic patterns distinguish individuals, while locations and pod identifiers changing over time  

Calls from affiliated pods elicited faster response than strangers, demonstrating recognition 

Variations in Whistles:

Pitch and melody identify, age, social rank and individual pod-mates

Changes made over time suggest an evolving dialect within communities

Distress whistles cut across dialects, eliciting a universal response from all oceanides 

Echolocation:

Clicks map surroundings, locate prey and pod-mates even in zero visibility  

Call patterns and frequencies differentiate objects, threats and each other   

 Echolocating pups heard learning adult mapping techniques through mimicry

Tactile Communication:

Nudges, embraces and petting convey bonding, reassurance and request behaviours

Bites remain very rare even in play-fighting, finessed to avoid breaking skin. Biting is mainly used in mating. 

Gentle herding of young with fins or nudges of nose guide without aggression

Visual Cues:

 Postures, gestures and flank markings manipulated for clear messages  

Fins, frills, gills and tail positioned express interest, dominance, submission or anger depending on position, mainly used when conveying a very clear message. [We work off these displays as they are much more visual for us to understand] 

The sophistication of this system is breathtaking. You would think such skilled communicators would easily outmanoeuvre threats, yet humans have too often posed dangers all the same. But they are such beautiful and strange creatures.

Through long-term census data and pod identification methods, we are gaining a fuller picture of local oceanide communities along with equating them with Trackers as we do Sharks:

Numbers & Distribution:

An estimated merged pod can have up to 35-40 inhabit the coastline reserve boundaries 

Average pod size is 7-15 individuals, though numbers fluctuate seasonally

Largest pods reside in more sheltered coastal areas with abundant food sources

Smallest numbers use outer reefs and current-heavy zones that limit prey accessibility

Kinship Networks:  

Multi-generational lineages traced back over a century within dominant pods

Extended families compromise over 30% of some pods, with 3-4 generations present in pods our oldest known Oceanides marked are. Sarge and Shrimp. 

Grandparents and older siblings play key roles in pup-rearing and teaching skills, it's the reason so many pods converge during mating season. It gives the young the opportunity to meet their other family members and learn. 

Reproduction:  

Birthing peaks in late spring/early summer when nutrients are highest within the ocean 

 Litter sizes average 2 pups but can vary, As of recently the number in offspring have began declining dramatically. 

Pod alliances and extended groups help care for newest generations  

Sexual maturity reached at 7-10 yrs. Mating occurs yearly during seasonal estrus. Due to the Oceanides being a Hermaphrodite species they can all carry but only a select few will. Oceanides give live birth to 1-2 pups, bearing full parenting responsibilities for the first 3 years as the pups grow and learn amongst their pods. 

Oceanides are like humans when it comes to relationships, some are monogamous keeping with only one mate while others have multiple, we believe that they understand the need for breeding diversity. 

Migration Patterns:  

Winter months see some pods join seasonal Southern movements for warmer waters    

Elders or bulls especially guide these migrations, ensuring safety of pups and injured members

It's been noticed that many oceanides take to the Waters of Australia due to how hot the climate tends to be yearly. 

Problem-Solving:  

Tool use observed, such as twisting kelp to trap prey or navigating obstacles  

Innovative foraging methods invented, then adopted cross-generationally   

Escape tactics and defensive manoeuvres against threats continually refined

Use of rocks and shells as tools, they have started watching the way humans fish on the reefs. 

As I review the latest documentation on oceanide behaviours, something catches my eye regarding interactions between pods. It seems the exchanging of gifts, especially among younger members, may take on additional significance:

Courting & Bonding Displays:

Selecting and presenting small items to another appears to function as courtship behaviour 

Pebbles, shells and coral exchanged suggest interest in forming a bonded pair 

Close observations note gifts given more frequently by sexually mature oceanides to their preferred partners  

Acceptance of such tokens usually elicits affectionate touching as bonding is assessed 

One-on-one play also increases between potential mates as compatibility is tested  

If the pairing proves well-matched, courtship gifts may lead to breeding that season

This level of organisation and care for their own speaks to a deeply attuned social intelligence, as you well know. They are highly intelligent .Overall, their sophisticated societies have clearly evolved for safety, community and preservation of oceanide ways. With ongoing study and habitat protection, I am hopeful we can help them prosper. Let me know if any other areas of research could further our understanding. While more research is needed, observations suggest oceanides thrive within complex societal structures reliant on familial bonds, respect between pods. Non-violent resolutions to disputes, cooperation in caring for the young, all contribute to flourishing populations. Continued protection and monitoring will aid in preserving these remarkable beings and relationships integral to their well-adapted survival. As always, your insights into their behaviours are invaluable, more so over their honorary pod-mate.

______________________________________________________________________

 a snarl leaves Bluestreak as he is hauled before the gathering by a livid Prowl, the young mer thrashes against his captor's unyielding grip. "Let me go! I did nothing wrong, I was only-"

Prowl snarls, denta bared. "Offering courting gifts to an OUTSIDER? Have you lost all sense, pup!" Prowl was furious at his offspring, he knew Bluestreak was a dreamer who took after Jazz but this was beyond stupid for him. 

Bluestreak's fins flares defiantly. "IWwas trying to say sorry for disturbing their hun-,"

But Prowl cuts him off with a vicious Snarl as he frills up. "Enough! I'll not have any of my kin besmirch our ways with such deviance and fraternisation with Softskins!" 

"Prowl, stand down!" Optimus rumbles, shooting Bluestreak a warning look. "We are all on edge as seasons turn and choices narrow...but violence will avail nothing." He rumbled moving closer to the puffed up white and black mer. 

The other youngsters watch on, shooting each other's looks. Bluestreak sulks but meets his calm gaze stubbornly. "It was only a token of gratitude, nothing more," he insists with a low growl. His own fins flat against his frame

"The big fry-brain snatched me before I could thank them properly for disbanding the Firefish!" Bluestreak shoots Prowl a harsh glare before facing Optimus again. "You said to yourself we'd see if an outsider would bond with us. Was I not to start as any other would?"

Prowl scoffs derisively. "A Softskin? Don't be so foolish! Our ways are not theirs, nor their strange rituals and dalliances are our concern! Had it been any other i would let you make a fool of yourself But they are Bumblebees Carer Bluestreak, if anyone has claim over them it would be Optimus" 

It makes the others stiffen hearing that Prowl wasn't against the idea but was against Bluestreak chasing after the one caring for Bumblebee. As one would be if it were one of the Pod caring for a pup. 

“ Prow! Enough, do not bicker like hatchlings, I understand that everyone is on edge but No one has any claim on the Softones." It was the first time Optimus had really raised his voice over the subject. “finally growing a Dorsal Prime” Megatron's voice echoes as he moves to watch. Optimus ignores him but the silence could cut through the water. 

“Megatron a word” he finally states shooting the large grey oceanide a look. Megatron grumbles but pushes himself up to swim beside the Prime. 

Several bold youths cluster around their peer like darting tinfish, curiosity piqued by the tense exchange. " Blue are you crazy! Trying to get yourself in trouble!" prods Smokescreen, finned tail flickering. Mirage nudges in slyly. "I saw the trinket you left - a pretty parcel wrapped in seaweed. Someone's got their optics set on the fleshie!"

Nearby, Sunstreaker huffs dismissively. "Who cares about some fleshy?." But his field belies keen interest despite feigned disdain. “Sunny!” A voice calls out which has him spinning around in shock to see Sideswipe who he pulls into a hug. “Sides!” He calls while checking his twin with instant claws. 

“Your back, did they hurt you?Are you alright?” He begins shooting questions at Sideswipe who just smiles. “ I'm great, glad they let you come see me while I was healing, but look!, no more rotting scales!” he exclaims while swimming around the others eagerly. “But what's this about Bluey And the softies?!” 

Bluestreak squirms before the bombardment of questions, In truth Bluestreak liked how they were, brave and took out firefish, fearless of sharks, Was kind and sweet with Bumblebee and they played with him and when he called out to them despite the language barrier. 

"Frags, I don't even know how to describe it," Bluestreak mutters, flustered by the barrage of questions. "They just seem...different from us, but not in a bad way." 

He gestures vaguely. "They fearlessly hunt those venom fish on the reef and even play with the Sharks as we do. Their care for that little pup as one of us." He swishes his tail irritably. "I'm tired of being called deviant just because I see them as one of us. The elders are stuck viewing them as aliens, but I see a potential pod." 

Intrigue glimmers in sly Skywarp's optic as the brazen plan forms. "If the elders want to cling to old ways, fine," he smirks. "But who says we have to follow their rules, huh?"

Smokescreen flashes a toothy grin. "It wouldn't take much to slip past their watch. We're not sparklings anymore - and I'll wager the softskins aren't so keen on being told who they can or can't bond with." As ever willful, Sunstreaker merely shrugs. "Do as you like. But I'll not be frolicking with soft meat." His gruff words. 

"What if we break free and establish our own pod," Sideswipe hums thoughtfully, earning him a baffled look from Sunstreaker. Rodimus' perks up in glee. "At last, others see the logic in my proposal!." His exclaimes. 

The beach is quiet this late at night, the rolling sound of the waves crashing, the scent of the salt in the air, it brings a sort of nostalgia of sitting on the beach eating fish and chips. The sand and water feels great on their feet as they walk. The twilight breezes soothe yet stir fresh turbulence within them. The days were strange, July was always an interesting season on the coast, some days were cold like it was meant to be for winter, other days it felt like it was a blaring December Summer. 

Then from the dark sparkling deeps rings out a high pitched cry. familiar and tiny. Bee's chirps carry clearly, their head snapping towards the water, "Baby! What are you doing out here!" They gasp, running into the water as the pup swims quickly towards them. 

They lean down and scooping the oceanide pup up Into their arms. "Where is your papa?" They ask worried, looking out across the water and waves for big blue. Bumblebee chirrups happily, tiny claws grasping tight to their damp clothes. He trills contentment at being held by them.

But at their query, the little one tilts his head curiously. "Pa...pa?" he tries to repeat, struggling with the syllables. Bee whirrs and whistles, tiny limbs gesturing eagerly out at the moon-dappled bay. Their eyes nearly bulge as they hear the little pup mimic their word. "Did you...holy shit, holy shit" they start, baffled and stunned. " Say Papa again baby" they whisper.

Bumblebee chirrs inquisitively at them wide little eyes looking up as he flashes them a toothy smile, "P...pah-pah?"  stretching his vocalizer's limits as he attempts to mirror their words. It rolls clumsily from his vocabulators, yet resonates with curious joy. 

Brightening as he earns another reaction, Bee burbles enthusiastically, "Papa! Papa papa!" Tiny claws grip even tighter, tiny frame wriggling with the delight of discovery of the words. 

They stand there with Bee stunned as he babbles and Coos at them. "Omg, omg Baby, you're talking, look at you baby" they gush only to realise. This pup had just spoken a human word instead of the little melodies the oceanides did. "Where's your papa?" They ask softly. As if on cue A deep worried call comes from the ocean as Big Blue calls to him.

A reverberant call rings out across the waves then, sending rippling fathoms-deep - and Bee clicks knowingly at the sound calling out in his little melody. "Papa!" he chirrups, twisting in the human's hold to gesture eagerly out at the bay. 

An answering thrill sounds, approaching swiftly through the surf. Big blue emerges, massive frame slowly surfaces near them. Bumblebee chatters rapidly.

 

Optimus' coos softly and settles when he sees them holding his pup. “hey there big blue” they call softly while trying to hand off bee back to his Sire. When He reaches to accept the pup however, Bee cries out in distress, eliciting a frown of confusion from his sire who rumbles softly at him. 

They coos reassurance at the little pup, “come on baby you need to go to your papa” they hum while gently rocking him. 

Optimus emits a low, questioning rumble. This defied all tradition - yet how could he ignore tradition and destroy his pup's joy? He adored them and after everything this Soft skin was like a carrier to Bee. 

His eyes meet them, watching how they smile and coo at Bumblebee. but for his pup's happiness he would do anything, bumblebee deserved it after everything,  and he wouldn't take that away from him. 

A gasp leaves them as Optimus' webbed hand moves to touch their skin, a soft rumbling and thrilling leaves him as he as his claw traces their cheek. "You're so strange, yet my Bee seems bound to you." His voice is so soft as he looks at them. 

"Never have I known a spark to form so fast between my kind and others. Yet when I called, he chirped for you, not me." Optimus shakes his helm slowly. "By our way, this should not be. But how can I rend him from joy, when you soothes his tiny soul?"

That's how the three end up sitting together in the shallows watching the waves and the stars. Optimus particularly curled around the human who has Bumblebee held in their arms as the pup babbles and Coos at them attempting more of their strange language trying to mimic more of their words. 

Optimus rumbles softly as they recline, watching the water dance under the moon and stars. His large frame curls protectively around the human and Bee held lovingly within. 

The pup burbles and chatters endlessly in his attempts to mirror their syllables. "P..a...p….a? B…uh-bu….h?" he coos up at the human, tiny facep scrunching with effort. 

Optimus tilts his helm, regarding the scene with curiosity and quiet warmth. "Determined little spark, trying so hard." A sigh leaves him as he relaxes enjoying the peacefulness of laying there. "Carrier” Bumblebee coos softly to Optimus. As his little eyes meet the larger mer.  

_______________________

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[the-kr8tor]

In The Badlands

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW guns, TW death mention, CW blood, CW food mentions, CW violence mention.

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

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CHAPTER 1 >>> CHAPTER 2

Amidst the tar blackened smoke, a tall stranger appears, puffs of smoke parting way for his leather clad form. His spurs clinks as he moves past the doorway of the homestead, ashes floating by, coating his long coat and steel toed boots. The leather vest is perfectly tapered on his waist, pierced lips curled around a slim cigarette, as if the heated smoke entering his lungs wasn't enough. The dark hat he wears obscures half of his face, shadows dancing on his jade eyes. Fire light flickers on his skin that glistened with sweat. Flames lick at his feet, the roof collapses just behind him.

As he leaves the ashes of the former home, blood coating his thick leather gloves, crimson mixing in with the gray ashes. Knuckles hurting and jaw aching, the still warm barrel of his gun weighs heavy on his waist. His horse, Buckeye, neighs, as if he was calling him over.

Shifting his weight on the last step of the burning porch, he spots someone waiting for him, clad in leather, an armour perfectly tailored for his broad shoulders. Golden gun strapped to his waist, rifle on his back, the man's hazel eyes reflect the flaming chaos that the stranger left. The dappled horse huffs behind him, hooves trotting in fear, ready to leave his owner in the dust.

Death is visited by an old friend.

The hazel eyed man dips the brim of his hat in greeting, it's enough for the flame kissed stranger to scoff. “Fine evening ain't it, Hobie?”

“It was, then you came along.” He says gruffly, voice hoarse from the smoke clinging to his throat. “What do you want, Miguel?” Through narrowed eyes, thumb pressed closely to his gun belt, Hobie's body says it all, ‘not in a good mood for a conversation.’

Yet, Miguel still stays on the now ashen field, nose itching at the stench. “I have a proposition—”

“‘m retired,” Hobie interrupts, now standing beside his horse, he calms Bucky down with a pat on his snout. His loyal steed knows Miguel well, and Miguel has the right idea to steer clear of his behind lest he gets kicked to an early grave.

“This doesn't look like retirement to me. I keep telling you you're too young for retirement.”

“This was just a favour, prick deserved it.” His eyes grow darker at the mere mention of the newly departed soul that is now having an impromptu cremation.

“This one is also a favor,” Hobie narrows his eyes further, he taps impatiently on the scorpion etched on his belt buckle. Miguel can tell that he's close to shooting him right on the spot. “from me.”

Hobie groans, “can't, busy.”

“Tending to your dirt farm ain't being busy.” Miguel tethers on the gallows at his pointed words. Still, he pokes and prods at the reaper in front of him. “Told you that the land you bought was a dud.”

Hobie gets on his horse swiftly, more than ready to leave his former associate behind. “Can you get on with it, Miguel?”

“Just like I said, I've got a proposition, the reward could really help out your farm. ‘sides, early retirement doesn't suit a man of your talents.” Miguel flicks his eyes over to the house when a large cracking sound almost startles him. Proving his point. The porch collapses, embers and ashes floating away like snowflakes.

“I don't do bounties anymore.” Hobie doesn't spare the destruction a glance, green eyes staring intensely at the man before him.

“This isn't a bounty, it's a find and transport.”

“Since when do you accept those kinds of jobs?” Hobie raises a pierced brow, sweat coating the back of his neck irritably. “Sounds like the gang have fallen on hard times.”

“Since they offered me five k.” Hobie's intrigued, just like how Miguel predicted. “Also, I heard from the informant that your target seems to be sailing from your old country. I'm sure you'll get along well, with your teas and shit. But knowing you, you won't.”

Hobie ghosts his hand over the large scar on his neck, like it still bleeds, like the blood he shed still drips on his calloused hands. “‘m listenin’” Sounds like an easy job, he thought. He's not exactly a novice, so he already considers it done.

Miguel gets on his horse with a groan, he can tell that Hobie is biting his tongue from making an old man joke. “You have to do it alone though, I'd take it but I've got another job lined up.”

“You already had me at five k, stop tryin’ to convince me. But ‘m guessing you have a cut in that five k?”

Miguel chortles, “’course I do, why don't we have a drink and we'll negotiate. I'm sure Riri would appreciate my patronage.” Hobie nods curtly. “First of all you need to take care of your wounds, you're covered in blood.”

Hobie rides ahead. “Not my blood.”

Almost two years of being ‘retired’, Hobie hasn't changed one bit. Miguel smirks victoriously, this'll be an easy job for a man like Hobie and an easy fifteen percent for him.

—

You're hungry, incredibly hungry. Stomach growling angrily, you feel like you're about to pass out from starvation. Two days of not being able to eat a single crumb, and almost a day of not having a sip of water, you're ready to dig your own grave. But you refuse to fall without reaching your goals.

You can't fail.

You already hate it here, the air stinks of horse shit, the roads are covered in mud and horse shit, and now the smell of horse shit has made a home in your nostrils. A week in the west and you're already at your lowest, money gone from a quick handed street child, clothes all ratty because you traded off your silk dress and remaining jewels except for the simple gold band around your middle finger. Hair greasy, and skin sweaty and from the sweltering sun, you're more than ready to leave. But you can't let her win, you cannot let her have the last laugh or your life would end before you could actually live it.

Licking your dried lips, eyes glued to the window of the general store, you take your bandana and wrap it around your face, making it a makeshift mask just like how bandits do. Armed with a six shooter that has no bullets left in its chamber, you find courage to rob the place when no one else is inside, or at least get some canned peaches.

Storming the shop, shouldering the door, the bells chimes as you enter. The man behind the counter yelps at the intrusion, wide eyes staring at you in fear. His hands raise next to his head in surrender, mouth stuttering to stitch together a sentence.

“T-take anythin’ from the register! P-please just spare me! I have children to feed!” The man shakes, mustache damp with sweat.

You're equally terrified. “I–I just need food and water. Please,” you almost chuckle at yourself. “I don't want to hurt you—!”

The bells chime again, heavy boots thud against the wooden floorboards, a breeze entering as the slim stranger wanders through the store. The air in your lungs is sapped away, something in the stranger makes goosebumps rise on your skin.

You and the shop owner stare at the masked man curiously, blinking, you watch as he casually takes two cans of peas. Taking the cans to the counter, he doesn't even spare you a look or cower in fear at the sight of your gun.

“How much do I owe you?” He asks the terrified man. His accent reminds you of the land you ran from, the familiar tone would bring you calm but his mere presence exudes danger.

“W-what?” The mustachioed man trembles. You just stare, arm aching from how you hold the heavy gun.

“Y’know, sweetheart,” your breath stops when he finally acknowledges you. “When you rob a place, you don't tell ‘em that you have no intention of hurtin’ ‘em. You just lost your advantage, fear is your main weapon, not your gun.” His jade eyes bore into your skull, you swear you feel the heat of it like you're stranded in the desert. “Which doesn't have any bullets by the way.”

The moment he says it, the shopkeeper cranes his neck quickly to a fumbling you. Quickly taking his rifle behind him, you run before he could even aim at you. A shot rings out in the small building, the bullet lodged in the back doorway where you fled.

“Grab her and I'll reward you!” The man yells at the stranger.

“How much?” He stays in place, casually leaning on the counter, watching your form get smaller and smaller as you run with all your might.

“Ten bucks!”

The stranger cracks his neck, groaning at the relief. “Fine.” Running after you, with his longer strides and full stomach, he's already behind you. “Stop runnin’!” It doesn't sound like a warning but he intended it to be. The sun bares at his back, quick drawing his gun out, the silver barrel shines as he aims at the ground.

The bullet whizzes past you, nicking your ankle, warm blood soaking your shoes. Yet, you still do your best to run. You can't be caught, you can't go back. You cannot go back to the life she planned for you. Limping, trailing crimson on the dusty ground, you feel his heavy presence right behind you.

“You gonna make this harder for me?”

“Yes! Leave me the fuck alone!” You continue to bolt away, but the man casually catches up to you with only a few strides. You smelled him before you felt his hand on your shoulder. Sweat, leather, and tobacco, a scent you've gotten all too familiar with in this new world you've fallen into. But there's a whiff of something you're familiar with. Something you've almost forgotten.

He grabs your shoulder back, but you're still too fast, taking advantage of your adrenaline. Bolting away, he takes his lasso from his belt, with a practiced hand, he swings it and the rope hits its mark, your legs, hemp wrapping around your knees with a slap.

You hit the ground face first, dust on your face, and sand in your eyes. The stinging pain on your chin and nose makes you groan, tears welling up, and blood trickling down from your nose.

The almost silent footsteps getting nearer has you scrambling away. The stranger takes your shoulder, trying and failing to bind you.

Fighting back with a swift kick on his chest that doesn't even faze him, you slap him away in futile. “Stop–! Fuckin-!” You two wrestle on the ground, dust flying all over, nose itching at the particles. You bite his arm, he flinches before he wraps his gloved hand around your wrist, pinning you down. The rough leather is hot against your skin. “Ow! You– stop! ‘m not gonna hurt you!”

“You fucking stop!” Your free hand grip the bandana hiding his face. His legs trap you in between them in retaliation. “What did you say back at the store? Fear is your main weapon, not your gun?!”

“You're bloody butchering it—!” With one strong tug, you take his black bandana off, revealing a familiar face.

You gasp breathlessly, frozen in place. His name falls on your lips, a name you've only whispered before you fall asleep like a prayer murmured to whoever was listening.

“Hobie?”

Hobie's heart stops, now he notices your eyes, those eyes he once loved to stare at endlessly. Eyes that he's fond of, eyes that still hold his promise. With trepidation in his chest, and the ghost of pain around his scar, he gingerly takes your bandana off. Your face greets him, he imagines a scowl on your pretty lips, but instead of hate, he sees relief. A beaming smile on the lips he's all too familiar with, the same lips he'd kiss everyday for two years.

Death's carefully plastered façade falls.

You're his target, the same person he told those three words to a thousand times before when everyone told him it's not meant to be. You proved them all otherwise. The same person he once loved all those years ago, before he faced death himself.

“Y/N?” His voice breaks with the mere utterance of your name. A name that has been tattooed in his mind ever since everything came crashing down. Ever since you two tempted fate too much, and he alone faced the consequences. The scar around his neck proves it all.

Your grin gets wider, and you feel like the luckiest girl alive. Hobie feels like he lost a thousand dollars in poker.

“Hi.” You could only muster, the hands that slapped him away now hold his face carefully, fingers tracing all the new scars and marks on his skin. “I finally found you.”

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Reunited: Reaper x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Contains: Soft sex

It’s been ten years; Ten long, cold and very lonely years since you saw your husband. You remembered the whole day down to the dot, you couldn’t help but wallow is misery from it for so long.

It was a party at the Overwatch base in Switzerland to celebrate Overwatch’s success with an infiltration and he had invited you to stay for a few days. When the fun was over and your stay ended, you bid him goodbye on the plane back your home in California to wait for his arrival. He had gotten clearance for a break from Morrison, family issues is what he said but it was really because he was thinking about settling down and starting a family. You spent the whole day cleaning and cooking for his arrival when you heard of the awful news.

The base had been bombed.

Overwatch agents showed up at your door hours later to give you the news that they could not locate Gabriel in the wreckage, all they could find was his wallet, the very small wedding photo kept in the slip was missing.

Overwatch paid you his insurances and made sure you were taken care of, by protocols and policies- but you didn’t give a shit.

They kept saying he was dead, but you knew it wasn’t true.

He was alive. Somewhere, somehow, but you knew he was alive.

For ten years, you never gave up hope, that there was some slim and nearly impossible chance that he would be found somewhere.

Your life continued on as best as you could. You wake up, go to work, come home and go to bed only to repeat the cycle every day for ten years.

Not once did you lose faith.

It happened about two months ago. You noticed things were off around you, you felt like you were being watched, you noticed things would be moved.

You would come home to a window being open that you knew you had left closed yet nothing was taken.

You would notice things like your bed had been made when you left it a mess during a bout of pressuring grief, dishes that you had left in the sink now clean and put away.

What stuck out the most was that you had heard something go bumo in the night and when you went to go investigate, you found the fireplace mantle had been meticulously cleaned, frames of pictures of you and Gabriel spotless with the glass polished.

The news of Overwatch reforming had broke and had settled in your gut an odd feeling. You knew Gabriel was out there somewhere, but somehow this news had twisted your gut in knots.

It was one of those days, you had been caught thinking over the past, still grieving, still meticulously playing with your wedding ring as you wandered around your house. The stench of cleaning supplies had your nose tingling.

Last night it had happened again. Something had been done as you slept, urging you to go through your house and clean and try to see if something was taken again.

This time something was added to your house.

You woke to find Gabriel’s old Blackwatch beanie on your end table, folded and pressed neatly, still smelling like his shampoo.

You wandered into the kitchen, intent on pulling apart the cabinets just in case whoever it was that was doing this had hidden more of Gabriel’s things somewhere else.

You bent down to start digging when you saw a dark shadow move in the corner of your eye.

You felt a presence behind you, something large and looming. You swore the air around had gotten colder. Your back stiffened, your shoulders squared, and you hesitated on turning around to face the person that was behind you. The warmth was sucked out of your home by whoever it was, you heard the creaking of what sounded like heavy boots- oh how you missed that sound.

Your heart started to pound in your ears, your eyes twitching with tears, your lips quivering as you had to bite your lips to stop from letting out a shaky breath.

The familiar scent of cinnamony warmth hit your nose.

You spun on your heel to face the intruder-

To face him.

“Gabriel?” you whimpered.

There was a big looming figure just behind the archway from the kitchen to the living room. He stood there, draped in black like he normally always did. Instead of his tight and jagged Blackwatch armor that you remember to be all shiny and glossy was now instead black leather and rubbers, a flowy black coat that obscures most of what else he’s wearing. What struck out to you the most was the mask he wore. A bone white mask against the midnight clothes he wore, shaped as though an owl skull tried to play human with the narrow eyes and the high cheeks of the mask. He looked thinner, he looked cold and pained where he stood. His hands were balled at his sides, clawed gloves in tight fists.

“(Y/n),” he echoed back.

How you’ve longed to hear your name spill from his lips once more, even if the circumstances are like this.

“Gabriel, is that really you?” you took a step forward towards the wraith.

“Mi amor-” He mirrored every step you took. “Mi amor, I’m here.”

One step closer, two steps, three until you both had crossed the distance and met under the archway.

“You’re really here…” You gently raised a hand and ghosted it over his chest. God, he really was cold, almost as though he were dead. He made no move to back away from your touch, he stood rock-still before you. You gently placed your hand on his chest, palm flat against the broad expanse of his built body. “You’re alive.”

You looked at the hollowness of the eye sockets in his mask, and somewhere in the darkness, you saw the glints of his eyes.

You moved your hands to his mask, cupping the sharp and jagged jawline. It was colder than he was and bone-smooth. He reached up carefully and wrapped his fingers around your wrists, keeping his eyes pinned to yours at all times.

“(Y/n)-”

“Let me see you, Gabriel.”

Your voice was just barely audible, the wraith tensed under your touch at those words. You both stood in complete silence for god knows how long until he had released your wrists, allowing you to slip the mask off his head.

You gasped softly, eyes widening with tears. He was just as handsome as the day you both met. He didn’t look much different. Still the thick and brooding eyebrows, the dark and warm chocolate eyes, his dark goatee that always prickled your skin in the best ways when he kissed you. His skin had a slight gray tone to it, and his face had a few deep scars along the cheeks and one across the bridge of his nose that was new, but other than that, it was still your Gabriel.

Gabriel softly cupped your cheeks and looked down at you, a few tears slipping past and dribbling down his cheeks.

“You’re just as beautiful as the day I saw you last,” he whispered.

Before you knew it, you both had your arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders and necks. Your lips were smushed together as your fingers snatched at the back of his hood while his fingers were buried in your hair. Your mouths melted together, tears flowed from both of you, both of you were shaking.

Finally breaking for air, Gabriel didn’t let you go too far before he grabbed at your waist and hoisted you up without a second thought and carried you to the bedroom he last saw over ten years ago.

Placing you on the bed as carefully as he could, you couldn’t help but lay on your back before him, your hands still grasping at his brawny shoulders. Gabriel placed one knee up on the mattress beside you, climbing on top of you. His hands were on either side of your head, caging you in beneath him. His hood had been thrown back and he was panting wildly, there was something carnal in his eyes.

Leaning back down to capture your lips in a kiss once more, he leaned his torso down just a bit lower so your chests were touching. Your heart was pounding so loud you swore he could hear it, that he could feel being this close to you again.

It felt like it was a dream, some sickly sweet dream that you would wake from and go back to a missing husband in a cold and lonely house.

But it wasn’t.

Gabriel growled into the kiss lightly, it sent tingles and little shocks down your spine and crackled a fire somewhere deep inside of you. You moaned softly into the kiss and snatched at the collar of his coat, fingers scrunching up the smooth leather and dragged him even closer to your body until there was no space between you both.

Gabriel broke the kiss with a soft growl, nosing your chin to the side to leave kisses along your jaw and down the columns of your throat. His cold body pressing against your warm flesh made your face heat up among other places. You moaned softly and he pressed a kiss right over your throat, sucking just hard enough that it would leave a mark surely in the morning.

“I’ve missed those moans, mi amor,” he purred. He took in your scent, hands balling the sheets and blankets roughly under his harsh grip. “I’ve missed the way you felt, the way you smell, the way you make me feel.”

“Gabriel,” you whined. You felt something hard start to poke at you from below. You knew what it was, what was pressed right against your nether area so closely. “Gabriel, I-”

“Say it,” he ordered.

He made eye contact with you and refused to break it. His eyes were wild, pleading, knowing what you are going to say.

“Gabriel I need you. Ten years and I need you more than ever.”

Some deeper hunger settled in his gaze, chocolate eyes going dark and lust took over him.

“I’ve waited to hear those words for years,” he hummed.

He backed off the mattress but kept you laying down on your back. He shrugged off his cloak and allowed the thick leather to pool on the floor at his feet as he toed off his boots. He grabbed at your loose pants and pulled them carefully off your body, down your legs where he took his time to admire the curves of your body so far. He was examining you, looking over the body of his wife, of his lover that he hasn’t seen in a decade.

“Tell me what you want, mi amor, and I will give it to you.”

“I want you, Gabriel. I want you to make love to me.”

Gabriel reached for your hips and drew you closer to him, just enough for your knees to bend at the edge of the bed. He hooked his fingers around your panties and dragged them down, allowing them to fall to the floor with your pants and his cloak and boots. You shivered at your bareness being exposed to the chilly room. Your soft nethers were wet, but to Gabriel, you knew it wasn’t wet enough.

Gabriel kneeled at the mattress just far down enough to pull your knees over his shoulders. Slowly and as gently as he could, he leaned his head forward and parted you with his tongue. It was cold against your hot, moist core. You whined and arched your back, Gabriel grasped your legs so you wouldn’t move as much.

It felt like days that he was licking and sucking at your womanhood, draining you of everything you had, all of the pent-up emotions you’d bottled up for a decade now just evaporating now that he was here eating you out.

Gabriel had pulled away, you’re knees were trembling as he held them. You looked up to see there was a glisten to his goatee from your slick. You hadn’t orgasmed yet, but you felt it was coiled tight within you like a cobra, ready to strike and release and let you climax finally.

Gabriel carefully wrapped your legs around his waist before he went to fumble at his belt and zipper. The damn thing was worse than wrestling a snake, not wanting to move and release until he finally managed to unravel everything and drop his pants to join yours.

You’ve missed him. You’ve missed this. You’ve missed all of this, all of him.

He was gentle, rubbing the head of his cock with his thumb, smearing the bead of pre-cum that pearled out around the head. He leaned over you, propping one knee up again on the mattress. Ever so slowly, you felt the head of his cock brush against your wet folds, you felt yourself be split from your core as his thick cock spread you apart. You grabbed at his broad shoulders as you gasped, your head turning against the mattress and sheets.

You cried out in pleasure as you felt him slip inside of you. He fit so perfectly, his thick cock stroking the insides of your plush velvet walls just tightly enough to cause blissful friction thts sent your head spinning with supernovas and galaxies before your eyes.

He fucked you slowly, he leaned down to press kisses to your sweaty flesh with his cold lips.

[an-au-blog]

There's something so tender about zosan washing each other's hair. Soaking in the water, callus hands tangled in soft blond locks - where the hands that are so used to being covered in blood, sweat and fear move gently like they're handling the pedals of a bloomed mack flower, careful not to harm it in any way. Or the hands that take care of everyone, treasured more than one's ability to walk, taking care of one more treasure thing - watching the short hair disappear and reapers from between slim fingers and bubbles - like the grass in a foggy forest.

To hold and be held, to trust and put yourself in someone's care.

It's beautiful.

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Hi, are you okay I hope so, could you recommend me some Error × ink fics?

Howdy, thanks for asking! Here are some fics that might fit what you're looking for!

From Your Point of View by 0Sion0, TGK Translations (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

They say that to understand another person you should imagine yourself in their place. But what are you to do when you're pretty much forced into the body of your sworn enemy?

The Two Cockroaches by Mutatedbunnies (Mature, Incomplete)

In the aftermath of a messy breakup, Ink moves into the city to begin his life anew. After a fateful encounter with his neighbor, he falls head over heels for someone new. Error, a graduate student who’s hesitant when it comes to romance, is immediately swept up in Ink’s brilliance and vitality, unable to stop himself. While Ink and Error are consumed with one another, their friends and family fall into romantic affairs of their own. Cross, Error’s best friend, falls in love at first sight with Ink’s ex-boyfriend, who isn’t sure he’s ready for a new beau just yet. Geno, a promising young doctor, has an unfortunate tendency to be stalked by one of the hospital’s top forensic pathologists, Reaper.

I want your soul | Errorink / Errink by Yumikokun (General Audiences, Incomplete)

~ This story is inspired by another one...so if you stumble upon a story similar to this one, you know where I got the inspiration :) ~ . . . A story about a young prince who lives in a castle with his three older brothers. The oldest brother catches a mysterious flu that can not be healed with simple treatment. And thus, the kingdom is ruled by the second heir. The young prince, desperate to find salvation in healing his brother, travels in search of a wizard who might help him. Though, he stumbles upon more than he anticipated. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Published: 2nd of June 2022 Ended: ?

Curiosity Killed the ErROr by ShandyCandy278 (Teen And Up, Complete)

After realizing that he knows next to nothing about how Ink came to be and that the guardian knows nothing as well, Error decides to start looking into it. The Creators are egging him on, and shenanigans from the other outcodes are proving to be quite the distraction; Ink just wants to be his friend (not happening), Dream is acting weird, and Nightmare can't believe his eye. The chances of Error learning everything are slim-to-none, but since when did that stop him?

Tangled Memories by honey_bubbletea33 (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

Ink is forgetful, sure, but he remembers basic, necessary things, most of the time. So when Error finds him clueless, unable to remember how he got there or any of the people he interacted with, it's nothing short of a good opportunity. Ink knows where the Omega Timeline is, so Error can just go there and destroy it, right...? Turns out, Ink's memory is still limited at best, which leads him and Error on a hunt for more clues about Ink's previous life in the Omega Timeline, revealing a side of Ink Error never knew about. ...All he needs is for Ink to never remember who they were to each other.

[muspellssynir]

ADWD little snippet made for my kitty because. Well.

She gave me the material how could I not?

NSFW

You took the words not like an invitation but a recommendation. You did need to destress and hot springs sounded absolutely ideal.

He must have been around of course. People die all the time everywhere, and they do seen to enjoy hot water. You think he must know that too. Reapers have baths right?

If he doesn't he should.

That'd be...

The thought of his hair floating in the water, his pale skin almost glistening with droplets, his knees up because he's too tall for the tub, legs spread...

You gotta stop yourself. The heat is starting to rise up and you don't know if you'll be able to put it back down in time. There's only one train left today to take you there and you cannot miss it.

You pick something breezy, cute and beach like as an outfit. It feels almost like you're going on holiday even if it's just one afternoon. It's thrilling.

You're still using caspers software to communicate when he's away: he seems to refuse to just call You on the phone. Still he at least nerded out again and got you a phone app. You message him telling him you'll be going and hope he sees it. Maybe you could send him a Pic or two over there, get his own imagination going.

The thought of his blushy pout when he refuses to acknowledge he's been looking will never not be funny.

But there's nothing hotter than the way he looks at you when he does, confident and full of fire and aching to touch you.

You taunt him and tease him but he doesn't answer. You can't even tell if he's read the messages: he didn't allow that function for you. Silly little reaper keeps thinking you don't know he's always on top of everything you do.

Still an answer would be nice.

You turn up the music and the commute gets so short; the train stops barely a couple of blocks away from the place he mentioned. There are several hotels around there but the inn was more akin to an old Japanese castle: you almost feel like you have to bow when you get in.

However its people are immensely nice and inviting.

You get yourself some nice food and a room with a view to the open meadows behind; it is surprisingly cheaper than you expect. Not cheap per se but they offered so many accommodations for afixed price you didn't wanna leave before exploring every inch of the place.

After lunch and setting up it's finally time. You shoot him a last text before going. _this is all you're missing_ you write while posing very casually in you bathing suit. You cover it with a tiny sundress and get ready to go downstairs.

You're already chuckling at the idea of him losing his mind, convincing himself he does not want to touch and taste every bit of you and failing miserably at it when you open the door to the hot spring you reserved. These are individual separated pools by fences of reeds and stone. They're also meant to be enjoyed without a bathing suit.

But see. You don't expect him to be the one to tell you.

"You're a bit too dressed to be standing there,aren't you sunshine?"

Your heart shoots up to your throat and the entirely of your body to your cheeks. Well, almost.

He knows. Which must mean that under the water that goes up to his chest, slim shoulders and surprisingly toned arms learned on the Stones at the edge of the pool there was also only bare skin.

You swallow hard but there's still not much room for your voice to come out.

"When did you-"

"I invited you here didn't I?" He says ignoring the fact you paid for your own room but that seems to be such an unimportant detail in lieu of watching his silver strands floating like moonlight onto the water.

You try to be enticing, letting your sundress fall around you but your eyes can't stop staring.he smiles, or better yet, smirks, licking the edge of his teeth as if he was about to sink them into you. The blushy shy little boy had left to give room to this suave feral man that looked he could only be satisfied by every bit of you all at once.

You untie your top,let your bottoms falls and you can see him staring, exploring, swallowing hard. He doesn't even notice the groan coming out of him, the way his hand almost tried to reach. He needs to take a minute before finding that confident smugness and gets up to offer a hand to you.

It's. Impressive is saying so little. And that is not little. Your eyes trail down his abs, the v line of his hips, the way the water covers half his thighs and still isn't low enough to show him off.

You swallow hard again for different reasons. Your mouth suddenly water as you look at his crotch and hear him chuckle.

"What happened? Cat got your tongue?" He tries to tease you

"The reaper will get to, actually" you taunt back as you walk to him almost hypnotized, only one idea in your mind.

Is his cock as cold as the rest of his skin?

Will it taste as Pristine as he does?

There's only one way to find out

[mxlissaliss]

Gleam Reaper (RoR Hades x Fem!Reader)

⚠️ TWs/CWs: Mentions of drugs , harassment , dead bodies , implied suicide and manipulation ⚠️

Words: 4,4K

Part: 1/3

Notes: Reader here is far from a saint. Here lays a twisted woman with too much power and little to no supervision. It's okay, Hades loves y'all anyway and is all in for the chaos.

Also, it's a kind of platonic-ish relationship at the moment. Might need to see how I lead it to a romantic halt in the near future. First time writing something like this btw, hope you like it if it even reaches anyone :P

***

Red lights, obnoxious music, sweaty people and drugs; that's the perfect recipe for either a great party, or a disaster. And in most cases, it's both.

When you are the God of the Underworld, you grow familiar with the many ways mortal lives end, especially young ones. Tragic to most, any other Tuesday to Hades. After all, eons of experience can toughen anyone's heart and make even the most appalling situation just an everyday occurrence, and a party like the one he had just sneaked in was full of these fateful events.

As he loved to say, death was always around the clock, which was a literal sentence when it came to his job. He leaned against a wall with his arms folded over his chest, an amused expression on his otherwise stoic face. The place was a complete mess, and it was easy to see.

Right next to him lied a deceased young man on the cold floor, eyes and mouth open dismally. The poor lad drank some spiked booze from a nearby table, and it seemed that he was quite the lightweight. Or perhaps he had already done drugs prior to that incident and ended up overdosing. Either way, he took note of that corpse as the first one of many to claim that night.

‘Hm, I wonder how they can talk to each other when I can barely hear my own inner monologue? It's absolutely deafening in here.’ Hades thought as the DJ turned up the music to a further level, and he swore that the speakers were about to catch on fire.

Though, more distracting than the ear-splitting tune in the background was that most of the women around would stop dancing to occasionally throw suggestive glances at him, a kind of visual language that Hades knew pretty well. No God could ever be a stranger to seduction, and he was well aware of the effects his divine appearance had on mortals; his tall stature and broad shoulders caught everyone's attention the second he stepped into the place. He was the highest individual in the room, a quality that only added more charm to his already handsome features. Perfectly chiseled chest and torso that paired up heavenly with the black, tight sweater he was wearing to appear more human-like in his attire, those well-defined arms and athletic legs that couldn't be completely hidden under his gray pants, a sharp jawline, snow-white skin that looked so soft yet untouchable, that godforsaken greek profile and moist, rosy lips. Breathtaking.

But his never-ending beauty was only enhanced by his silvery, wavy hair that looked somewhat messy despite being nearly styled. It moved graciously with each step he took, his slim fingers running through it every so often to brush it away from his forehead as his deep violet eyes searched carefully for his next victim. Oh, how divine he was, and he knew it.

“Help, someone…” The desperate cries of a young woman could be heard from the nearest bathroom, and his sharp ears caught the pitiful plea with ease even through the loud noise. The door was cracked open, and he could catch a glimpse of what looked like your local high school bullies cornering a younger couple with ease.

What a sad sight, humans really seem to not know better sometimes… Aha, there it was! All he had to do was turn his head to the opposite direction and he saw it, yet another dead person on the floor. Well, almost dead. It was a woman convulsing mercilessly on the ground as a group of panicked people tried stop the seizure by holding her limbs still. What a stupid thing to do. They were just making it worse and more agonizing for the poor lady. But it was not Hades' place to intervene, and even if he wanted to, he would not. When death knocks on your door, there is only so much any God other than Thanatos can do.

Besides, the more people that died, the more souls his domain would possess. So he smirked slightly to himself and turned back, walking away to the opposite direction. That summed up two deaths already. The night was looking good so far, and it was only starting.

But even after countless minutes of searching, he couldn't find the person he was looking for; the “Gleam Reaper”, as he liked to call you, since you were like a precious jewel shining among the dark grip of death. A gorgeous, gorgeous woman usually dressed in stylish black clothes, with fancy and neatly polished nails, always preying on mean mortals in the brink of death. You were once a human that died at a party when a group of browbeaters took advantage of your vulnerability, and then things got out of hand. A mess of a party, just like the one the King of the Underworld had just attended to with the purpose of finding you.

He had the honor of meeting you once your soul made it to Helheim. From what he could grasp, you were not the nicest person to walk on Earth and had earned a first-class flight straight to Tartarus, plan that he was about to execute. But you were awfully calm and accepting of the situation, and for someone that had just learned that their final destination would be the worst place to be in the Realm of the Damned, your peace and quiet was nothing short of intriguing to Hades.

———

“Y/n S/n, eh? Aren't you afraid of the Tartarus?” He asked in an icy tone that served well to hide his amusement. The God came off as uninterested and aloof. Nevertheless, the glimpse of curiosity in his eyes did not go unnoticed by your own sharp ones, something that you used to your favor.

“I regret nothing.” Was all you said.

And surprisingly, that was all you needed to say. You knew it when he kneeled down to cup your face with his thumb and index finger, gently pressing them deeper into your cheeks with the kind of glare you'd only see on someone that has pretentious meanings. “You have so many things to regret, yet I sense no mockery or dishonesty in your tone… Interesting.”

You scoffed, almost offended by his preying eyes upon you. It made you feel like a piece of meat under a lion's nose, and yet, that wasn't even close to enough to make you back off. “I am not afraid of you, God of the Underworld. You do what you want with me, I do not care.”

For the second time, the King of the Underworld was thrilled by your bold attitude. You were either the bravest girl to ever speak with him, or the most foolish and naive little thing he had ever seen. Whatever, that didn't matter at all. You were fascinating, to the point in which your constant way of glaring daggers at him seemed more like a ludicrous attempt of forcing him to let go of you than a move to save your already deceased existence.

And he loved it. He knew that Persephone, Thanatos and the other deities of his realm would love you and your snark.

“So that's how it is, very well. Welcome to the Underworld, Y/n. From now on, I'll make sure that you live as freely and comfortably as possible in the cold embrace of the dead.”

———

Those were some simpler times… Well, not really. It was barely twelve years ago, a pitiful amount of time in the life of an entity that has lived longer than any other among his kin. But back to reality, he shook his head in frustration and kept searching for you.

‘Where is that stubborn lady? We always bump into each other accidentally in the Underworld, yet I can't seem to find her when I actually need something from her…’ He thought again, looking over people's heads endlessly but to no avail, much to his dismay. A swamp of people would have been an appropriate term to describe his surroundings. No matter how hard he tried to set his eyes on different corners, doors or gateways, dancing drunkards were always in the middle to block his gaze, unintentionally.

Now he was starting to get irritated about the amount of individuals cramping the room. And worse of all, he couldn't feel your presence anywhere close to him.

Why did he even need to talk to the Gleam Reaper? Even after a decade of knowing each other, you had never been close enough for him to be so persistent about his urges to see you. He didn't bear romantic intentions, that much he knew, for he already loved Persephone dearly… So, what was this strange craving for amity?

Right, that was it. He wanted a friend, that's why he came here in the first place. And in an opportunity, he made his way through the people to find a not-so-crowded space in the room and slumped down on a couch, paying no mind (or, at the very least, trying) to the annoying couple next to him that couldn't keep their hands to themselves. How inconsiderate, but first, he needed to sort out his thoughts to clear his head.

It's not like you loved to wreak havoc everywhere you went. Hades himself designated you as a deity of chaos at parties specifically, and he knew the reason why; you just liked to be troublesome whenever there were bad people in misfortune around you. Bullies, tormentors, stalkers, harassers… All of them were on your death list, leading it. Similar to what happened to you in your final moments, your Grim Reaper self always lured the lads in and then showed your true colors, by making them end their own lives with their own shaky hands as you watched their lives fade away, keeping them secured in your embrace as your slim fingers stroked their hair. He still couldn't tell if you really enjoyed their misery, or if you just pitied them.

The latter sounded more accurate to him. Perhaps that's why you only went after those whose days were already counted. No point in torturing a healthy and innocent individual when you could “free” a tortured soul from their torment, and you did it because said souls also tortured others. You hated those that would cause pain to others just to deal with their own.

Even though you were pretty much doing the same thing you despised the most now as a deity, you told yourself that you were their karma. That was your twisted mindset, and he was all in for it.

And so he remembered his brief encounter with Poseidon earlier that day. Time to daydream again…

———

The Tyrant of the Seas was never fond of those pesky mortals that Gods were supposed to watch over. Those creatures were ungrateful, worthless and useless, just as much as they were unhinged. The mere thought of humans made him feel sick.

And yet, there he was, listening to his eldest brother rambling about the possibility of hiring a mortal, the lowest form of life, as an assistant to reduce the workload. Hades was never one to complain about his duties nor his struggles. As the eldest, he'd always thought that it was his duty to shoulder everything on his own to keep his siblings safe, and his domain was no exception. No burden could ever be heavy enough for him not to carry alone.

Except for boredom, that is. Though, it was more of a consequence than mere mental strain. Persephone had recently made her trip back to Mount Olympus to reunite with her mother, and while Hades was well aware that the following six months were going to be just the same as the others, a strange feeling of restlessness was keeping him awake at night.

Actually, it had gotten him so distracted lately that he had been trying to read the same book for over two weeks now, stuck in the same page. A task that would usually take him two days or three at most.

“Utterly unnecessary.” Said Poseidon in his characteristic monotonous tone, cold blue eyes piercing straight into Hades'. What his brother had just proposed came off as both ridiculous and undignified, and he'd rather be struck by lightning than agreeing with him. Physical defeat would be way less humiliating, he thought.

“I might need a companion. Not a lover, for I already have my wife, but perhaps a friend to pass the time with me while I am at my office to make the silence more tolerable.” Hades spoke back immediately, already having anticipated his younger brother's protests. He was unamused at his reaction, and yet, somewhat disappointed by his disapproval.

The younger God didn't respond to the suggestion, remaining stone-faced as his eyes were set on his brother's. Typical Poseidon.

Hades sighed, leaning back on his throne before speaking again, “An assistant would be a pleasant addition to my everyday routine, don't you think?” Asked the King of the Underworld with a tinge of intrigue, trying to gauge a better response from Poseidon this time. “Someone to sign the less important papers for me, or deliver the weekly letters when I can't do it myself.”

“You can do it yourself. You must do it yourself. You mustn't rely on anyone else,” Poseidon said sternly, showing the slightest bit of frustration at the God of the Underworld's insistence. “You are a God, and Gods do not rely on others.”

“This is not a matter about reliance, brother.”

Well, no more words were said for the next twelve minutes, which gave Hades the impression that their brief exchange had ended abruptly with no hopes to be resumed. The albino twirled a strand of his smooth, silky hair around his index finger as a reflex, deep in thought and possibly unaware of his elegant fashion.

Sure, he understood Poseidon's point, at least for the most part; Gods have always been self-sufficient and naturally independent. Hades himself had been working alone in the Underworld for as long as his immortal mind could remember, assisted only by his wife during the span of months that she spent with him in the realm of the death. He's never had enough trouble to seek for help from anyone. Not when he was younger, not during the Titanomachy, and definitely not on his daily tasks since then.

So, why was he suddenly so adamant about hiring an assistant for the mere purpose of companionship? It didn't make sense to him, let alone to Poseidon.

On the other hand, he couldn't just ignore the feeling any longer, constantly nagging at the back of his mind. What was it, even? Was the routine he'd been keeping for eons finally catching up to his wit? Hades couldn't even recall the last time he had longed to do something exciting, other than contacting Beelzebub whenever he needed something from the Lord of the Flies. And the more he tried to find a reason, the more confusing it became. It was frustrating, that much he could figure out by himself.

And the awkward silence in the throne room was doing little to quell his impatience, so eventually, the God of the Underworld added something out of ennui.

“I'll go for a human, preferably deceased. That way I won't have to drag anyone down to the Underworld, as it'd be a hass-“ But Hades was interrupted by Poseidon standing up hastily, not even turning back to bid farewell. Surprised much? No, not really, Hades was expecting that, but he hoped that the Sea God would at least listen to the entire proposal. How arid.

Though there was no point in complaining, anyway.

—————

Ah, what a pleasant talk during some wholesome quality time with his little brother. Just remembering the way Poseidon's knuckles grope harder the edges of the throne's armrests at the mere mention of a human made Hades chuckle to himself. The Tyrant of the Seas could be quite comical without wanting to, but he'd never say it aloud if he wanted to make it out in one piece.

Perhaps the younger God was right, no? Even if he made friends with the Gleam Reaper, nothing would guarantee that those feelings would go away. Maybe time would tell…

‘Time to get out of here. Leaving my domain for a whim like this was an inadequate move on my reco- … Now, just what in the old world is this?’

Just when the King of the Underworld was about to take his leave, a familiar item rolled up to his feet; a pill, and not just any pill, but a psychedelic capsule. What an intriguing sight, Hades thought, so he got off of the couch and crouched down to carefully examine it, trying to see where it came from.

Judging by the nearby people's reactions and stares, it came from the balcony next to him. The glass doors were covered with wine colored tulle curtains, which distorted the view of the folks outside that were surely enjoying themselves among their own “privacy”. But one thing he was certain of is that the ergoline in his hands came from there, specifically, from the small opening on the left door.

And that was all he needed to know.

“Gotcha.” Spoke aloud the Undead God, smirking at nothing in particular as he rose to his feet and brushed off his knees, ready to head off the balcony. Being away from the music would help a ton.

He stored the pill in his pocket and opened the door fully to the terrace, breathing in the fresh air which felt heavenly. The smell of sweat and puke was clogging his nostrils back inside and he didn't even realize it until the fresh breeze cleared up his nose, allowing him not only to think a bit better, but also admire the scenery before him.

Glass railing that supported the kissing ladies leaning against it, marble flooring that looked spotless, elegant benches made of the same sturdy material, and a breathtaking garden filled with extensive fields of Lavenders. The calming scent of the flowers reached him through the cold, gentle wind of the night, relaxing him further. It was a welcome relief from the mess happening in the party.

It was actually ironic, having thrown a party that turned into pure chaos claiming soul after soul while being right next to a Lavender meadow. That sort of duality was appealing to him. Such was life, he thought.

“Care to explain what are you doing here, King?”

That voice, that tone, those hints of sweet notes in the speech…

He had found you. Or rather, you found him first.

“The Gleam Reaper herself, what a pleasant surprise. I was looking for you, Y/n.” Hades said, smiling softly as he turned to around to look at you closely. “I knew I would find you here.”

“Oh, really? How come?” You smiled back at him, e/c eyes staring into his very soul. For a clever woman like you, Hades had always been a mystery that remained yet to solve. His mind was like a chess board, or rather, a painfully complex puzzle that always seemed to be missing a piece just when you thought you've got it figured out.

And in more ways than one, that was exciting for your deviant heart.

“A crowded room with red lights, funky music and drugs, filled with dumb women, sad girls, high school junkies and men that are desperate for feminine touch…” Hades began smugly, making you laugh.

“… The perfect recipe for disaster.” And you continued, just like the first time you two met after you had turned into a Grim Reaper, a being that collects the souls of those who have perished to take them to the Underworld, to him. Those exact words marked your first ever interaction as immortal beings, and it felt like a breath of fresh air to know that he still remembered them to the letter.

As the sentence ended, the both of you shared a soft sigh, enjoying the comfortable silence that followed for the next five minutes, just gazing over the Lavender garden. Of course, until the Undead God voiced his intentions.

“You know, over the years, I have given you a kind of freedom that others could only wish for. You are a Grim Reaper, yet I have allowed you to be selective with your victims and even the times when you wish to work, and the others, when you just want to slack off. But I've let you rejoice in such privileges because I find you interesting and deserving of my special treatment… So, I came here to ask something of you, Y/n.”

“Then speak, and do it quickly so I can go back to minding my business.” Your tone shifted almost dramatically. One moment you were all in for a good laugh, then your intonation became serious and your words clever. That's just how things worked around the God of the Underworld.

“Alright, I'll go straight to the point.” He said, running a hand through his hair, “I want you to come visit me in my palace, specifically, my office. I've been longing for a companion for quite a while now, and I can't think of anyone else better than you to fit that role.” By the end of the proposal, the albino's violet eyes took on an almost empty look, one that you knew was not idle in the slightest. “What do you say, Gleam Reaper?”

“…” You didn't respond for the first few seconds, seemingly unfazed by his request. But that was okay, he was used to Poseidon and other Gods doing just that every time so he was willing to be patient.

Still, something about his sudden petition seemed off to you. Why would the King of the Underworld, Ruler of Helheim and the Dead, the very Dark God himself want a friend? Because you could see right through him, and whatever kind of “help me with my paperwork” crap he was most likely going to come off with didn't even stun you in the slightest. If anything, it was confusing.

“Two questions. First, why? And second, why me?” You finally answer, leaning back against the mirror-like railing with a raised eyebrow.

Hades simply shrugged, probably just as confused about his own request as you were, “First, I have been feeling quite lonely lately, dwelling in my endless work with only the company of my cockatoo, and occasionally Cerberus when he's not guarding my palace.” He explained, now twirling the same strand of silvery hair in that characteristic manner of his, which you interpreted as him being deep in thought.

“And second?” You asked again, both curious and impatient.

“I think that your presence would be soothing, but if you ask me why, exactly, I might not be able to tell you just yet. I'd rather not think of it as hope, but intuition instead, so to say, a hunch.”

“A hunch? The cunning God of the Underworld is relying on a hunch, of all reasonable excuses to seek for a friend?” Even though you tried not to, an inevitable cackle escaped your pretty lips. Now that was just too humorous to be true. Oh, but you knew that he was being serious, and that was easily the funniest part. “Fine, I'll think about it later. It sounded more like an entreaty than a request, given how humbly you asked for it.”

“I'll take that as a yes, then.” He said with a self-satisfied expression, before turning back to walk toward the doors. It was time to leave for good.

But before he did, Hades stopped in his tracks, not bothering to look back at you. “Before I go, tell me, where are they? I know for a fact that you weren't here just enjoying some alone time and a cigarette.”

“Aha, you witty God.” Just like him, you just shrugged, seeing yourself in the reflection of the doors and using that to raise a hand and point a finger to a certain direction. Hades followed with his eyes through the reflection on the glass and his gaze landed on a not so far away spot; the roof of a small house next to the building they were in, made out of red tiles that looked quite old.

And then, he saw it.

A pile of dead bodies put one on top of the other, almost threatening to slip off of the tiles and fall down grotesquely, much to the disgrace of any passerby underneath. He recognized them almost immediately, they were the ones harassing a couple in the bathroom just half an hour ago. The last bits of humanity in him felt uneasy at the sight of those people tormenting the poor lovers that just wanted to leave, but Hades was way more focused on finding you than questioning his own moral compass.

Now, their flesh was already rotting even though they had died less than an hour ago, something that he knew was only possible because of your wicked abilities and will.

And the more he stared at the scene, the more details he found, and one of those was the fact that every single corpse was holding a needle in their right hand, already used and broken needles.

So that was your doing, he must have known.

“You still prey on broken individuals that wish to find inner peace by making others miserable. They have always been your favorite kind of soul, haven't they, Gleam Reaper?”

No more words were needed, for he just waved a hand to bid farewell and walked past the doors and out of the balcony. You didn't expect any less from him, whatsoever. That's why he came here, because he knew exactly what you would be doing.

You could only watch him walk away and disappear between the crowd, and scowl lightly at his whole drama of having been searching for you when he could have easily found you among mere mortals. Still, you grinned widely knowing that your next visit to the Underworld was going to be quite intriguing. You'd never turn down such a plea, and it was exhilarating.

Then, your eyes moved back to your “masterpiece” of remains and smiled, answering his tacitly rhetorical question with opaque eyes. “What can I say, it makes me feel like home.”

With that, you knew your job was done for the night. Therefore, time to leave as well.

You could only wait in anticipation for your next meeting, and whatever it may bring to the table. Hopefully something worth your precious time.

[bcbdrums]

soultember prompt 1 - death scythe

idk how many of these prompts i'll do (lack of time) but well, here's a little something. and yes, everything is about Spirit and Stein, fite me.

edit: external links now! AO3 FFn

uhhh... academy days, pre-canon.

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

Stein hadn't known there would be guests at the ceremony.

He peered out from behind one of the guide pillars in the red guillotine hallway as he watched, craning his neck to see past the heads of all of his classmates, both known and unknown, to the object of his attention up on the dais.

In front of the mirror towered the uniquely imposing form of Lord Death. And just in front of him a meister and weapon slowly bowed to their knees.

Lord Death's words beat against Stein's ears like waves. He couldn't process them. He watched as one great, white hand gestured to the lithe young woman on the left, who rose and turned to face their peers. She folded her hands low in front of her, smiled demurely and inclined her head. To anyone else watching she was the picture of humility, and Stein's stomach turned as applause began to sound.

But then on her right…

Spirit slowly stood and turned to face everyone. He grinned briefly, ran a hand back through his hair as he cleared his throat, and his expression grew nervous as wide, blue eyes began slowly scanning the small crowd. And then, Stein felt a familiar warmth hovering at the edges of his wavelength.

He quickly hid behind the pillar, holding his breath.

"And for the final piece…one witch's soul!"

Stein waited a moment, and then another. And then he cautiously peeked around the pillar again to watch.

The glowing purple and black orb was placed in the meister's hands first, and Stein's brow rose. He hugged himself, digging his fingernails into his arms as he watched her turn and place the soul into Spirit's waiting hands. The weapon's expression had grown solemn, almost worried. But applause began anew, stronger, and after a moment Spirit straightened up.

A strangely shy smile bloomed on the scythe's face, and Stein's heart leapt to his throat when Spirit brought the witch's soul to his lips.

Outwardly, there was no change, excepting Spirit's grimace at probably the taste and feel of what must be a foul thing going down and settling in his stomach. The applause continued as he turned back again and bowed before the Grim Reaper, who had extended his hand. And when Spirit rose he transformed with a blinding flash of light.

Stein gasped softly as he received yet another surprise, the sentiment echoed by his classmates.

"Oh…" Stein breathed as his body was suddenly overwhelmed with more emotions than he could understand. He felt sick. He felt like he was floating. He felt like he was sinking in quicksand.

But his soul's anchor, his lifeline, was far from his hands and never to be with him again. Now, Spirit was in the hands of the Grim Reaper. And he was beautiful.

His physical form had changed with the transformation of just scythe into death scythe. His blade was much larger as a start, and wider at the heel where it connected to a prominent cross-end at the top of his snaith. The latter was just as elegant as before, thinner than other scythes, and now far longer. Stein was certain that in this new form Spirit would be a few heads taller than him if they were side by side.

The most striking change however was to the blade itself. Gone was the jagged gray pattern of teeth as they had once jokingly called it, and now the blade was purely black—shining and menacing and heralding only death in its presentation. Also of impressive note was that the blade was beveled as a diamond from tip to heel, more perfectly than any craftsman could achieve.

Stein leaned heavily against the pillar, watching as Lord Death caught the slim snaith and began spinning the gleaming scythe in brief exhibition. The applause from their classmates grew, intermixed now with oohs and ahs and excited chatter about Spirit's new form.

The other meister had taken a few steps to the side out of the way of danger, and Stein briefly took note as she adjusted her black coat in attempt to hide the growing changes to her physical appearance, seemingly uneasy. Lord Death finished spinning Spirit and held him high aloft, speaking some grand words about his new personal weapon that Stein again didn't quite hear.

He was forced to lift himself back to reality as the ceremony apparently came to an abrupt end, and he pressed himself up against the guide pillar as the guests began filing down the hallway to exit. He hadn't thought this far ahead when he'd snuck in, and he didn't want anyone to know he had been there. His heart pounded as he willed his wavelength to calm, desperately hoping he might somehow remain unnoticed and slip out once they had all left.

"Yeah!" a familiar melodic and cheery voice stood out as his classmates passed. "Oh, yeah! That's gonna be me someday!"

"Without a meister?" a softer but cynical voice replied.

The first girl huffed. "You'll see!"

Stein edged further to the side as the familiar group passed him. Marie continued protesting to the younger weapon beside her, while the taller of the trio of ladies followed behind, shaking her head. Sid walked a few paced behind them, but when his weapon stopped he halted next to her.

"Naigus?"

Stein held his breath.

Marie and Azusa continued ahead as their classmates continued to file out.

"What is it?" Sid continued.

After a few moments everyone else had passed. The sounds of excited chatter began to fade. And when there were none left to look back, Naigus turned.

Sid turned with her. "Oh," he said.

Stein had tensed when he realized the inevitable, but found himself entirely at a loss now that his two peers were staring at him.

"Stein," Sid said.

Stein only blinked back at the pair, his heart racing despite his careful measuring of each breath.

Sid glanced back into the Death Room, and back again when Naigus set a hand on his arm. She turned to face the exit again.

"Naigus?" Sid asked, moving to look at her.

"How about you come back to our place for dinner tonight?" Naigus asked, still looking down the hallway.

Stein didn't dare move, in case any of the three still remaining in the Death Room happened to be looking down the hallway. And he was grateful beyond words that Naigus had somehow read the situation perfectly.

"I… All right," he agreed, his voice sticking in his throat and sounding not like his as he replied.

"Sid, is the coast clear?"

The young meister looked between the two before taking a step around Naigus, glancing up briefly, and then taking place at her other side.

"Clear."

Naigus glanced over from the corner of her eye, and Stein slowly released his breath. His heart was still pounding and his mind racing in all directions like a firework, each line of thought burning out before it could do more than spark.

"I…"

"Let's go," Naigus said.

Not wanting to miss the opportunity, Stein moved to follow at her side as they began moving briskly down the corridor.

With each step away and to safety he felt the fading of a warmth that was no longer his. A grunt of defiance left his lips as he stopped suddenly, turning back.

He could just see upon the dais, Spirit had transformed again and was facing Lord Death, who was saying something far too rapidly to be followed. But… She was facing the hall. And when Stein finally focused his sight, her eyes locked upon his. She frowned

Stein turned and quickened his pace back to Naigus's side. Sid had paused and moved to take position next to him as they continued.

"Stein…" the younger meister began uncertainly, "I'm sure he would have wanted you here."

Stein felt a sharp pang in his chest, followed by a swirling darkness that seemed to want to pull him to the ground. He shook his head reflexively at the same time Naigus looked over to her meister and did the same.

"No."

"But…"

"It doesn't matter," Naigus interrupted. "Let's go."

Stein stared straight ahead at the seeming infinity of red pillars and shining silver blades above. He thought of the brief glimpse he'd had of gleaming black in the moment Lord Death caught Spirit in his hands. He wondered what it would feel like…to hold him now…

Another sharp pang in his chest. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"That's right," he said, opening his eyes and focusing straight ahead on the exit. "It doesn't matter."

[witchofthesouls]

(Okay, a snippet of the fic idea from the ask meme Burn your sins and wash away your virtues submitted by @skyite: )

< I am my brother’s equal, child of clay and stardust. My power may have waned after the long eons of my exile, but I am still tethered to Cybertron and its children for Solus is mine and I am hers. Prima is not the only one to ordain new champions for Primus, nor are you merely one of my lineage, little far-song echo of my own brand. If I am the Breaker, then you shall be the Reaper. >

And like a lifetime before, a lifetime where June was the only survivor and a god gave her a chance to go back, even if he never told her where, nor when, nor as what, Megatronus then levied himself down and breathed fire into her face and she had no choice to inhale it all. Damn the consequences because she already made her choice. Even with a body of metal rather than flesh, June melted and warped, painted bubbling, fuel flashed to steam, and robes were eaten by flames, her optics shattered and her chest imploded as she was wreathed in the very essence of his own power.

She transcended beyond pain and agony, beyond physical sensation, and would have flown away, freed from being fettered to a body if it wasn’t for the cage of Megatronus’ hands and he plucked her away and opened his own chassis. In her newfound awareness, she saw Megatronus what he truly was as he set her upon a new pyre made of his own churning spark.

< Arise, new Prime of my own frame, and Judge wisely for you shall reshape this world as I have done. >

___________

When Soundwave looked deep into the twisting flames of Solus’ legendary Forge, all he saw was a funerary pyre and Cybertron remade in the aftermath of its ashes and fury.

___________

Soundwave woke up, gasping for air. His entire frame boiling, despite the frigid temperatures several stories beneath the surface and in the sanctum where followers give tidings and thanks to the closest approximation to Megatronus’ Shadows. He shook with uncontrollable spasms and vents wheezed as cooling systems struggled immensely with Soundwave’s entire frame overheating to extreme levels. Even his own systems were prioritizing life-support and disabling others: his vision, weapons, transformative sequences, and all communications were among the considered lower priorities.

A pair of slim servos, blessedly cold and steady, held him down and dripped fresh coolant over his frame and cold fuel into his lips until the dire warning signs downgraded enough to allow him back his own sight and voluntary movement.

When he saw Juno’s face, blackened by soot and smeared in ashes, it was Megatronus Prime's own optics -twin suns of fuchsia blazing in the dark above him.

The dream was disjointed: the massive height of Solus, Liege Maximo’s gleaming horns, Megatronus’ melting glyphs, and the living flames of the Forge’s vision, but grounded in reality was the phantom cool touch of a scythe and the sword-shuttle-needle in both his hands as well as the heavy coating of residue upon his frame and smoke in his intakes.

Face bare and in his own voice, he rasped out the very name given from the blaze-turned-firestorm:

“Hail, Nemesis Prime.”

[valentine-cafe]

˖⁺. ﹙ the naga mechanist. ﹚: zhào jìngyí 1311 .𖹭 ݁

. . . in love with a criminal !? 🍒 : “ such a beautiful face, I do not deserve to have such grace in my presence, yet here you are. stepping into the serpent's den, willingly  ”

꒰ verse ꒱ 1311

꒰ species ꒱ naga, grim reaper 

꒰ ethnicity ꒱ chinese 

꒰ age ꒱ 47

꒰ gender ꒱ male

꒰ mbti ꒱ infj

꒰ alias ꒱ fang, the mechanist, màiguózéi ( rishen herrera ), the snake, the devil’s right hand, fangyi

꒰ story ꒱ 

a looming presence, silent and aloof— be he in face or words. like any snake would, two peering eyes observe and await for the perfect time to the strike.

jìngyí stands feared, as both a leader of the enigma sector and right hand to the devil himself. with his quick wit and faster hands, his trade as a mechanist fits him well. able to craft all sorts of gadgets and gizmos in his fight against the discrimination of the supernatural and his fight against aegis.

cold and calculative is how he lives his life. one would be wise as to not cross such a serpent, with loyalty to none other than one.

 

꒰ appearance ꒱

white eyes with a slitted pupil

mid-length, fluffy dark wolfcut styled hair often either pulled into a ponytail

6’7” ft ( 201 cm ) in his humanoid form, 7” ft ( 213 cm ) long in his half snake form, 13” ft ( 396 cm ) in his snake form.

tanned skin tone with sharp facial features. has a beauty spot below his left eye

rows of sharp teeth with two pairs of fangs on his upper and bottom canines, elongated tongue

lean and toned body. he has some scattered scales along the backs of his shoulders and on some of his limbs

slim hands riddled with silver rings on all fingers

long and sharp dark talons

dark mechanic aesthetic — with some poet styled aesthetics in there as well.

standard lobe on his left ear, which is littered with two helix piercings, a conch and a tragus piercing, while his right ear only has a standard lobe.

often seen wearing his mechanic goggles

has an eyebrow piercing on his right brow

always looks a bit pouty and deadpan.

wears rose gold jewellery on rare occasions

can unhinge his jaw

 

꒰ personality ꒱

quiet and every stoic in general. can be quite the monotone person, especially in expression. caries a certain coldness with him

relatively introverted, only really talks with those he feels safe talking to

quick thinker, his wit goes up against many people and he’s typically the winner. an observer in nature

very stealthy, ties in well with his quietness. he’s careful to, always being certain

very deceptive and known for his silver tongue. he needn’t be expressive for this. he’s quite insightful too, pulling information out is his strong suit

incredibly intimidating, especially with his position and title. he can make the coldest of threats without even blinking. highly respected and feared

tying in with his silver tongue, he can be incredibly persuasive when need be

very observant and focused. it’s hard to catch him off guard in general

flexible, he’s able to adapt when the environment calls for it. whether that be switching from brains to combat, from stealth to striker, he’s able to act quick

can be incredibly stubborn when it comes down to it. not one to really move on his stance

very loyal to those that he deems warrants it

loving and caring to those he loves. becomes quite protective over them and they see his softer side

 

꒰ with a lover ꒱

very clingy. it isn’t the first thing you’d think him to be at first glance. but he does as a matter of fact, need to cling to you physically as much as he possibly can throughout the day.

pda? what’s that? will start making out with you wherever he thinks is the right spot to do so in. he loves pulling you close with his hands on your waist, pressing hungry, open mouthed kisses to your lips.

turns into a literal puppy when you start petting his hair, or his tail — loves when you snuggle up in the middle of his tail when he is in snake form

likes having you with him to work, sitting you down on one of the desks of his mechanic station. fixing up and building new trinkets and machinery — he always makes sure you stay entertained and well fed as well when you are with him.

surprisingly shows his love to you verbally more than physically — he shows you plenty of affection physically, but his words are what holds the heaviest love and feelings for you and he loves whispering it into your ear when you are feeling down.

loves dancing you around in his apartment, waltzing around to classical music with a lovesick smile on his face

will take you on dates around the sector whether it be dinner dates, picnics or shopping. any chance he gets to spoil you, he will.

loves bathing together with you, huddled up in the bathtub and feeling the close and nicely contrasting feeling of warm against cold skin. he just loves resting you on him and washing your hair gently.

a relatively gentle lover — he can be quite possessive, sure, but he tries to make sure you are always comfortable and feel like you are in a safe space.

 

꒰ strengths ꒱

shapeshifting: able to shift into a large black snake, around 13ft ( 396cm ) at length. he can also shift into a half-snake form in which his lower half is that of a snake, about 7ft ( 213cm ) in length

increased bodily function: advanced strength, speed, agility and durability.

heightened senses: advanced sight, smell, hearing, taste and awareness of surroundings.

healing factor: an average healing factor that heals his injuries far quicker than most

fangs and bite: has a set of snake fangs that can secrete two venoms: a paralytic, which he uses for sedation, and a fatal. he can switch between them. and especially powerful bite

talons & venomous touch: he has talons that secrete high levels of venom. this venom is extracted by thin wired implanted on his wrists that carry his venom to his nails, resulting in venom-induced touches should he use them on someone.

snake physiology: has the flexibility of a snake, therefore his body is able to move in the fluid motion that a serpent would. he is able to dislocate his joints with ease and twist his body in whichever way he prefers. his jaw can unhinge as well.

poison immunity: immune to poisons.

elastic jaw: the ability to unhinge his jaw to drastic measures

hyper climbing and clawing: able to slither up surfaces

seismic sense: able to feel vibrations in a seismic way whenever his limbs touch surfaces. he can feel these from quite awhile ago

enhanced lung capacity: able to hold his breath for longer

stealth: can move around swiftly and quietly

 

꒰ weaknesses ꒱

abandonment issues: if he is away from the people he loves. this can result in erratic episodes and even have a negative affect on his physical well-being

fainting: should he grow overwhelmed, he is prone to fainting.

apples: has a mild allergy to apples and takes medication for it.

oranges: has a bad allergy to oranges.

daylight: as a nocturnal reaper, daylight and other bright sources of light can weaken his senses of sight as he is used to the darkness of the night.

d’akar: an anti-magic material that can greatly weaken him if he comes into contact with it. he, especially is affected by this.

cold temperatures: can become rather inactive in the cold because of his cold blood

extreme emotional attachment: while reapers may remind one of humans, they are not. they are beings with very empathetic instincts and have souls bigger than the average mortal being — a thing that has been with them since their creation. they become extremely attached to things they love and it may cause them to become erratic if enough they love is taken away from them.

 

꒰ relationships ꒱

alessio agresta arias: fiance

rishen herrera: enemy

yuè mèng yáo: mother

zhào mùchén: father, enemy

zhào hàoyú: irish twin brother

zhào xīyáng: younger brother, dead.

zhào haitāo: younger brother

zhào yizé: younger brother

zhào yŭ xī: younger brother/sister/sibling

 

꒰ extra ꒱

he is considered one of the leaders of the enigma sector

speaks chinese ( mandarin ), spanish ( latin american ), italian, slightest bits of hindi

fluent in asl and csl

he plays the electric guitar

always wearing his mechanic goggles on his head

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Revenant!Jazz thoughts P.3

Original prompt P.2

Main Masterlist Revenant masterpost

Random fact about Revenants?

They don’t always set off Danny’s ghost sense. Jason does because a)he’s not a ‘true revenant’ and b) he’s got corrupted Ecto in his body and is more akin to a strong liminal now. He wasn’t prior to his death.

In life, Jazz was a strong Liminal as well, but being a True Revenant cancels out the liminality, since liminality is supposed to be for the living. And Jazz died a Liminal, Jason didn't.

While Jazz does have Ecto in her body, its neither corrupted (i.e. Pit Waters) or 'contaminating' her in any way. It simply exists in perfect symbiosis with Jazz now.

Its a weird paradox of how the this particular skill of Danny's works, but no ever said it had to make sense.

Does Jazz set off Danny’s ghost sense?

Sometimes, see above. It's less of a 50/50 and more a 90/10 chance. He's only sensed the "Reaper" once and that was when directly confronted. Other times, no. Not from any distance could Jazz be sensed outside that slim 10% chance. Oddly enough, Danny can pick up on strong protective emotions (steeped in rage, rage, rage) at the crime scenes where the eliminated rogues were left to be discovered.

Alternate cause of death?

Originally I wrote that it had actually been Batman who’d killed Jazz, by accident though a life taking makes him consider it murder, but I offer you another.

The GIW come to take Danny and the phrase, “you’ll have to go through me to get to him” is pretty much what happens. Jazz is killed by the GIW.

They yank him from her broken car, Jazz unable to save him thanks to being pierced through with shrapnel, her last word being her Brother’s name before she fully gives into blood loss.

Angst/bittersweet ending for Jazz. Spill.

The ending came to me in a nightmare. I dreamed I was trying to complete a task and while doing so, I was incredibly sad because I knew instinctively that it would be the last thing I ever did.

Once Danny is “safe”, the greatest threats to his life eliminated, his food no longer radioactive, siblings that will have his back and a house that won’t try to kill him…. He is set for a good life.

The moment the Anti-Ecto Acts are demolished and the denizens of the Infinite Realms are added to the Meta-Protection Act, the last thing that was a threat to Danny and the people he cares for, there is nothing more Jazz can do for him. She has to leave the rest up to him and his new family. They might not be perfect, but they do their best to care for each other and that’s all she can ask for.

The exact moment the Acts are demolished, even before it’s made public, Jazz stops what she’s doing, states with a happy smile, “finally”.

…. Before her heart stops. Ceases to beat between one moment and the next, atrophies within seconds. Her body keels over, thumping to the ground with a solid thump. There’s no breath in her lungs, no pulse, no brain activity….

Jazz literally drops dead.

======================

[There will be at least another entry into the "thoughts" list I have going on. Revenant!Jazz is a fun idea to explore! ]

[corrupted-head-quarters]

"Hello, Expendables. This is HQ speaking- I will attempt to guide you through your mission in the most EFFICIENT way possible. Do not be afraid of the reaper... You WILL come back."

{The speakers crackled for a second- Was that a purr?}

"Ask your questions.... and stay FAR away from SEBASTIAN SOLACE, or Z-13. He is a threat to your mission."

Corrupted HQ uses she/her/they/them pronouns OOC beneath the cut fellas-and here NO MINORS.

This HQ is indeed, from PRESSURE.

Mod is 18+.

No minors allowed

Sister blog to @sebbiesolace

Other askblogs from Pressure are allowed to interact, including other HQs

DNI if you're a prick. This includes, but is not limited to: Racists, Transphobes, and Homophobes.

Gore is allowed and encouraged HQ here is no longer human.

HQ runs numbers, probabilities, and chances.

Your chances of obtaining the crystal are slim to none.

REF IMAGE: