#he is full of parasitic bugs

[cherrycherryves]

He is a chew toy to me.

[keferon]

So the Mech AU is something and it's captured me too.

Set sometime after Prowl discovers Jazz is a pilot but before they go to Earth

———————————————————————

"Do they all look the same?"

Sat in a makeshift chair made from a tarp thrown over a spare tire, Jazz was in the middle of refueling from a small plastic baggie when Prowl broadly gestured to the inanimate body of his mech.

"The mechs? Naw, at least not the ones that last. I've had mine long enough that it's gotten all sorts of unique design changes and upgrades. There's no other mech that looks or moves just like mine."

The reassurance that Jazz's mech form was an individual creation was pleasing for some reason. Perhaps Prowl didn't like the idea of a dozen identical blank visors, the body of his friend replicated and filled with someone else.

"There's like. three or four classes of mech I think?" Jazz continued unaware of Prowl's secret anxiety.

"There's Rescue Class, those are the smallest, and they actually aren't built for fighting but for digging through rubble and cleaning up chunks of alien. Plus, sometimes those tentacle freaks have parasites that drop off when they die so the R-class kill 'em before they can become an invasive species."

"I thought you said they weren't designed for combat?"

Jazz finishes their fuel and shrugs.

"Its a war. Nobody gets out of fighting completely. Before I left I heard they were sticking a medic into- into fuckin' Vortex."

There were, many questions Prowl had concerning that last sentence. How desperate were the humans to be making their caregivers into soldiers? Why was this Vortex so infamous?

Why did Jazz sound angry at first, but by the time he got to saying "Vortex" the name came out as a rush of breath rather than a proper word?

What stopped him from pressing further on the topic was how Jazz seemed to shrink. And sink.

And stare at nothing at all.

It was so nauseatingly not Jazz that Prowl nudged the tire a bit and guided the conversation back to familiar territory.

"So what class are you?" Prowl said, while crossing his arms on the table and resting his chin on them. It was, very off model posture for the Praxian, but without the ability to pick up EM fields, exaggerated body language seemed to be the best way to get through to his human.

On a hunch, Prowl lightly waved his door-wings as well. Jazz smiled at them, and at him and Prowl preened with a modest smile back.

"I happen, to-just-so-be-the-Top-of-my-class-a-thank-you-veeery-much!" Jazz said popping each syllable like a song, resting his chin on his knuckles to match Prowls gaze.

"In terms of mech?" He nodded in its direction.

"I'm Striker Class baby, we're the fastest, the most agile and in my personal opinion the the most effective fighters in the whole program."

"And you do not personally feel as though you are an outlier bringing up the average?"

Mouth agape in mock shock, Jazz placed a hand over his spark- Flesh? Flesh-spark? Prowl deleted the line of thought and focused on the performance.

“I assure you Prowler, there are plenty of other Striker class pilots out there that do good for our name. I mean, there’s Blur for one thing. The guys basically the poster child of the whole program. Ridiculously fast mech. There’s also Hot Rod. His mech had the funny little quirk of CONSTANTLY CATCHING ON FIRE, buuut he turned it from a bug into a feature and now that’s just his thing.”

“Just his thing?!”

“Yup.”

“Being on fire?”

Jazz sat up straighter and pointed a finger at Prowl, “Look. I don’t know the full story and I shouldn’t be the one to tell it either, but trust me when I tell you this guy earned it.”

Leaning back, Prowl processed the new layers of insanity humans would apparently subject themselves to before filing it under “Bizarre conversations with Jazz” in his processor and carrying on.

“So what’s your special quality?”

“Me? I’m freakishly good at syncing up with my mech. Like, Blur is faster, but I’m smoother. Like, like that really is me. It just, I dunno, feels right. Fits me.”

Jazz looked over to his mech for a long time. Frowning at the fuel packet in his hands and solemnly crushing it into a ball.

“In terms of mech?” Jazz looked looked over to Prowl, smile returning with ease.

“I think I might be the only one that’s built for the stars.”

Their conversation continued into the evening like a leisurely dance. Discussing Pool Time, the war, cultural differences , the quintessons, their homes, what remained of them, and all the people they know and once knew.

Prowl never brought up Vortex again, though perhaps he should have.

__________________________________________

"What," Prowl choked out, his voice more static than sound. "Is that?"

The sky was green. The quintessions were in chunks. A mech, matte black with a blank visor, caaaarved into the body of the last living invader. A blade that massive was too big to keep a clean cutting edge, so the mech made up for the lack of delicacy with brute force.

It. It wasn't killing the damn thing. It was vivisecting the aliens spinal column from its body, each rib snapping off with a supersonic POP that shook Ratchets hangar and barely carried over the fucking awful sound of the thing screaming in terror.

Prowl would have never thought a Quintession could be a Victim before that moment.

Spine and brain case finally extracted, the mech lifted its prize to its opening vi- mouth.

That is its mouth. It's head was the size of his entire chassis. Inside, a stranger. Over bright eyes, straining and shaking against restraints within to get a better look at what was being held up to him. The mech moved without any input, tilting its helm back and cracking the skull to fill its open maw with cerebral fluid.

A funnel cloud touched down in the distance.

"That.? Jazz said, leaning against Prowls good side. “Is Vortex.”

TH A T. IS VORTEX

Man……I think Cybertronians would consider themselves big and scary compared to primitive earth life. And then meet Vortex. And then see Vortex in their nightmares for the next five million business years

Previous Next

[harzilla]

Happy new years, your present this year is some Floyd x Reader!

Warning: Violence(not against reader, Floyd loves you to much, threats(because it's Floyd), is it yandere, or is it just Floyd?

Floyd loves you so much, he'd kill for you, if you gave him permission that is.

Floyd really really loves you, you know that right?

Man, this bottom feeder really didn't deserve how nice you had been. Always politely turning him down, but he always came back like an annoying parasite. What did he expect to happen after you kept turning him down?

But that's okay, because Floyd's feeling in the mood to rough up somebody.

Floyd who tracked this guy down and started knocking the crap out of him. God he went down so fast too. This is actually kind of boring. All that bravado and he went down easy. At least it was a little fun to chase him when he tried to run.

Floyd just throws this guy around, grabbing him by his hair as he lay on the ground and telling him he's lucky that Floyd's not doing worse to him.

After all, he promised Shrimpy he wouldn't hurt him to badly. Not to bad if the guy is still in one piece right?

Floyd picks the guy up and stands him on his feet, battered but actually manages to hold himself up.

See, you're standing! Just like Shrimpy asked! Floyd dusts the guy down, even straightening out his jacket. Isn't that nice of him?

Floyd places his hand on his shoulder, shakes the guys shoulder in a playful way.

Isn't Shrimpy great? Shrimpy was all "Don't get to reckless Floyd, I know you're tough but I still don't want you getting in trouble."

If it were anybody else Floyd might think they were telling him what to do, but not shrimpy! Shrimpy says it because they care about Floyd.

Isn't that the sweetest? Doesn't want him to get in trouble. First time he doesn't want to just break this guy on half, but he really doesn't wanna disappoint his Shrimpy.

He squeezes the guys shoulder and leans in closer.

You see bottom feeder, Shrimpy is really nice, too nice in fact sometimes. Not like sea otter who's way to nice that it gets annoying. But sometimes Shrimpy cares to much about other people, especially real assholes, this school is full of them. Shrimpy is real nice and sometimes the school minnows think it means Shrimpy is weak.

Shrimpy's not weak. Shrimpy's just patient that's all. Nothin wrong with that, right?

The thing is however, no matter how nice Shrimpy is, even Shrimpy's patience wears out and Floyd doesn't like to lose his prey a second time.

He pats the guy causing him to stumble forward. "So the next time you think about going anywhere near Shrimpy, just remember, Shrimpy is the reason you're still standing."

"Now.... Bye!" Giving him a wide toothy grin and a wave.

The guy stumbles away but he's on own two feet at least. Look at that, the guy even walked away on his own. See, Floyd can show restrain if he wants to!

He does wish Shrimpy let him break the guys legs though, can't bug Shrimpy if you can't even walk up to them.

But oh well, he'll just have to go find his Shrimpy and get praised for being such a good eel. Shrimpy will be happy knowing the barnacle won't come back to bug them.

Won't you give your favorite eel a squeeze?

[mehiwilldoitlater]

If it is too much trouble could you write about Bián huá grooming Yuán Fèn after a big battle

When traveling, one gets dirty, and one doesn't have much time to clean themselves

Bajie would no doubt have fun at the youngster's expense 

"It's not necessary!"

"Yes, yes, it is. You stink." You smelled a little in your armpit; your nose frowned. "And so am I."

He looked around; the fog of the hotspring didn't give him enough visual of his surroundings, and that couldn't give you both a disadvantage in a fight. But the hot water... it was tempting.

He scratched his arm, but it was the nervousness that made him do that. To be honest, all of his body was in an itching mess, especially after your last mission.

You both had been on the road for some time, and you were returning from Yellow Wind Ridge. The sun, the bugs, the sand—you both were in need of a bath, and Yuán fèn? He needed a good grooming session. You could see the small flies jumping here and there on his furr, and trying to help himself wasn't helpful.

So, when you spotted the hotspring, you had an idea... that he regretted the moment you started to remove the upper part of your clothes.

"I can't smell anything! What if someone attacks us?!"

"Bajie is around, so it won't be a problem for now."

"I can do it by myself! I don't need you to help me with a grooming session!"

"You can't reach every part! Come on, you've been bathing with your sister when you were young!"

"That's... not the problem..." He mumbled, his cheeks and ears tinted in a soft shade of pink. You kept your top, and what it was supposed to be was a pair of boxers, so you weren't completely naked, you still had some privacy, and you immerged one foot in the warm water. 

"Off your clothes now."

"Do I have to?"

"I can't clen your back with your garmet on!" You try to reach his belt, but only to meet hair when he dodges and starts to panick.

"Okay okay! I can do it myself!"

When he finally decided to get in the water, he kept his pants on, refusing to let you see more of his exposed body. By the movements of his tail, he must have been quite nervous. Despite the protests, the complaints, and his whining, in the right moment the warm waters of the spring touched his malnourished skin, a sigh of relief emanating from him. It was true; he really needed that, but he never said that he needed your assistance!

Sitting on a rock behind him, and with the help of a comb, you started to tend to his mane and skin, trying to catch every parasite or insect that had the luck to escape from the boiling.

He said that wasn't necessary. His skin was full of scratches and deep cute from his long and sharp nails. Scabs and new cuts here and there, some knots of fur that couldn't be reached, dandruff... Unnecessary your ass! He was a mess!

"Look at you. If you needed so much, you could just ask!"

"I didn't want to delay the mission." He mumbled, trying to clean his arm from more dust and dirt. The water had some spots from what was removed from him.

"It's a noble gest, but if you end up like this, then it's not a delay at all. Here, I'll do the head now."

You helped yourself with your bowl by pouring some of the water on his head, letting him lean against your tights. You started to scratch gently with the comb his furr, freeing him from more fleas and dead hair.

"Next time, let's bring some soap. It will help. We can even take out time and stay in a bath house."

"..."

"We can even deal with the money?....I mean, how many infested bath houses can be found?"

"..."

"... Yuán fèn? Are you listening?"

Oh, how much he needed It. To the point that he completely lost consciousness. The water, the warmth, your soft skin, the head scratch... his senses were completely out. Then, you felt something, like a small vibration, coming from...

No, it couldn't be...

You brought your head nearer, avoiding sudden movements, and you felt it.

He was purring.

You had to cover your mouth to avoid to giggles and squeals for your new find out discovery.

Since when he was able to do that?! OOOHHH, how much you wish that your phone hadn't died a few days ago. After your arrival, you would love to have some videos of him like this!

You continued the session, enjoying the fact that he was literally melting in your hands. You both were completely in the moment when-

"Enjoying the evening, are we?"

Bajie's voice was cracking by the laughter of the scene. The surprise of his sudden arrival caused your fall in the water, resulting in you gasping for air and Yuán fèn losing his balance on your legs, receiving a head bump on the rock.

You all left the hotspring for the night, with Bajie making some remarks about the sweet scene that he had witnessed, Yuán Fèn that still massaged his head, and you wondering how to make that monkey purr again.

@sun-jglim

@sleepingdramaqueen

@crimsonflameproxy

@everlastingmoonlightsworld

@biankanoir

@certifiedsimpinggalorempinggalore

@cromboloni

@miraclecherryblossomsblog

@masksandfeathers

@cinnamonroll-anon

@justrandomlypassing

@cute-angi @luckyangelballoon

@dressycobra7 @naarra

@virtualexpertanchor @phoenixeclipse-lmkau

@szynkaaa @kirax-the-lazy-girl

@sleepydang @weaverworks

@kishimiest @marcu-bug

[starsofang]

simon riley x autistic!reader requested by 🪼 anon! <3 tw: anxiety/bits of a meltdown, but other than that, it's fluffy! previous part

Today’s been a very, very bad day.

Everything that could’ve possibly gone wrong, went wrong.

Your brain was filled with fuzzy, radio static no matter how many times you tried to flip the channel. The buzzing rang through your ears like an endless swarm of bugs whipping at your face, causing your skin to itch and crawl with impending unease.

It felt as if you were teetering off of a high cliff, legs dangling over the bottomless pit with only a single hand on the edge to keep you from sinking down into the vast ocean of nothingness.

Your brain was having an inner battle with the things that kept you operating. It was coercing you into a full blown shutdown, panic pressing all of your buttons and sending you into overdrive. You were sure you would short circuit and billow out with exhausted rings of smoke, and it was only a matter of time before it became too much to handle.

Simon was there before your system called it quits and imploded on itself.

He was always there. Ever since he’d formed a bond with you after learning of you being autistic and researching every possible way to understand you as an individual, he was always there, trailing close behind and aiding you before you burst.

Simon knew from the moment he saw the distant look on your face and the befuddled furrow in your expression that you needed a moment to breathe. Air to fill your lungs, peaceful serenity to occupy the warzone in your mind.

The way you became snappy towards the team was like a ticking time bomb ready to go off and wreak havoc to anybody unfortunate enough to get in the way. You were reclusive, close-minded, and nearly sent Johnny into an early grave when he attempted to joke with you. Poor Johnny was only trying to lighten your spirits, but Simon knew that wasn’t what you needed.

You needed security. You needed grounding. You needed somebody to lightly tug you back down to Earth and exterminate the ugly parasites worming around in your brain with a gentle coax of patience.

When Simon saw you sat around the others with your hands curled into fists, nails biting into the smooth skin of your palm, and your jaw clenched so hard he feared your teeth might break, he called things quits for the day.

He said nothing as he stood from where he sat, gently guiding you with him with a touch on your elbow. He let go as soon as you got the hint and opted to gesture with a nod of his head to follow him, as he knew any form of communication or physicality might truly coax your hand to let go off that ledge and dive right into that empty abyss.

He knew if he let that happen, he might have to spend weeks searching it to find you again.

Your steps were heavy and dragged from behind him. Your shoes made muted thumps on the floor, and you walked with a bitter vengeance, like you were hoping if you stomped hard enough, the floor might open up and swallow you whole.

Simon said nothing, even as the two of you entered the privacy of his quarters. It was new for him to allow somebody in the very space he could hide away in like that of a troglodyte. This was his sanctuary, and nobody, not even Johnny had the permission to enter it on their own free will.

You were an exception. You were always an exception.

Any time you needed time to think, space to collect yourself before you succumbed to numbing stimulation, Simon would allow this sanctuary to be yours as well.

“Sit,” he told you, and though a demand, it remained soft and quiet so as not to rattle the drums in your ears that were already on the brink of exploding into a bloodied mess.

Your face was mucked up into a darkened scowl but you did as he said, plopping yourself down on the edge of his mattress. The fabric underneath your hands felt like sandpaper, and when you spread your palms along the material, it felt like shards of glass cutting into your skin.

The static in your brain raised tenfold. It grew louder and angrier, and you took the mattress sheet into your fists, balling it up so tight, your knuckles turned a pale white.

Everything felt overwhelming, everything felt loud, you didn’t understand why the buzzing wouldn’t stop, why the bugs biting at your skin couldn’t feast on a meal that wasn’t you, why–

Something soft and puffy encased your ears, submerging them with a gentle string of mellow chords and instruments and filtering through to the chaos rooted in your brain. The static slowed to a light hum that no longer felt suffocating, but instead, warm and fuzzy, like a loving hug that shifted all of your pain and worries into nothing but dusted air.

Simon stood before you with both hands carefully placing the headphones to your ears. It was his way of wanting to touch you for comfort, without having to actually touch you. He knew every little trigger as well as every necessity that ensures you feeling grounded and safe, and music was one of them.

You hated loud, fast music when the world felt like it was collapsing in on itself, and Simon knew that. It was exactly why he opted for a tender melody that contained no words, no singing, just simple notes that you could force yourself to tune in on and seek solace in.

When Simon saw your expression melt away from stiff and angry to calm and peaceful, he took his hands away from your headphones, letting them sit on their own. The war in your mind was calling a truce, but just to assure both himself and you that it stayed that way, he grabbed one of the blankets he kept for you and began wrapping you up in it.

He made sure it was just loose enough to where you could move, but tight enough for it to feel like an embrace that he knew you weren’t ready to receive from him yet. When the time was right, he’d join you under the confines of the blanket and hold you for as long as you needed, but for now, he was perfectly content with sitting and waiting for you to come back to Earth.

The room was silent during his patient waiting, apart from the faint sound of the classical music playing from under your headphones. He remained crouched in front of you, hands resting on his knees and itching with readiness for when you’d open your eyes and give him that blinding smile he fell in love with along the journey of your friendship.

When the time came, Simon tilted his head at you as you stared back with a spark back in your eye.

“Better?” he asked, and when you gave him a toothy smile, he knew he’d done well.

“Better,” you repeated in confidence.

Simon smiled back, eyes crinkling beneath his mask. He gave your knee a gentle squeeze, and he happily joined you under the blanket when you lifted it in invitation, molding you into his side and letting his fingers brush through your hand with a thoughtful touch while the music continued to give you much needed calm.

If tranquility was all you needed in times where your mind was exhausted to the point of collapse, he’d greedily wait a lifetime if it meant being the calm before (and after) the storm and having the opportunity to end it rolled up in blankets with you in the congested space of his bed.

as always, i hope you enjoyed, and i thank 🪼 anon for this lovely request! hopefully you like it <3

[frozenjokes]

deeply infatuated with them. so much so that you guys can have the full ficlet as a treat. And yeah he wears that dumb fuck lab coat to bed of course he does. he’s also a socks in bed wearer and if you don’t think so we will be dualing at dawn.

zombiecleo and the worst found family in the world vvv

Ow. Ow.

Mosquitos, deer flies, horse flies, bugs, Cub was being ravaged by bugs, he really hadn’t considered the bugs when he’d started this journey. In the Wisconsin northwoods you breathed them, all sorts, but the deer flies were his worst enemies, drawing blood even through the thick layers of.. well, moss didn’t feel like an accurate descriptor. It looked a little like moss, like life had reached toward the sky and captured the stars, brilliant and twinkling and everything good. But moss didn’t have teeth. Sculk did. Cub liked that about it. Whether it hurt more or less than the flies, that was up for debate, but the sculk was consistent, familiar, everywhere, and the flies were in his way.

But with all the bugs, there was some reprieve. Afterall, another source of food meant less of those teeth under Cub’s skin. Less pain, though, somehow, he still managed to miss it.

Sculk was alien. It was not supposed to be here. But it wanted to be.

Sculk was a parasite. So was Cub.

Ow- Fucking- stupid ass dumbass fucking-

Cub jolted awake with a screech, being shaken- dragged out of bed, the monster on his neck- he was falling, a bear- a black bear had got him, he was being dragged through the woods by a black bear- fuck- what bear was it you where you were supposed to play dead? Cub had thought the brown bear, there weren’t brown bears in Wisconsin- He tried anyway.

He realized the floor was not dirt. The paws awkwardly dragging him along weren’t black or brown. Momentarily stunned, he heard Cleo cackle through the darkness.

“Scar- Scar! What are you doing? Wait- No no- No! Scar!”

Cub had the wind knocked out of him as his kidnapper attempted to jump onto Cleo’s bed, his stomach slamming into the mattress before he was unceremoniously dragged all the way up over a howling Cleo. Briefly Cub was released, to which he cautiously began to move until the sheets were pulled so hard underneath him that he fell off balance, only to be grabbed by the throat, then shoved head first underneath.

Cub needed a second to breathe, utterly shocked he was still alive. Then a large weight fell on top of him, and breathing became a little harder. The weight began to purr.

“Scar.” Cleo gasped, sounding just as shaken as Cub felt, though not nearly as dazed. The purring ceased briefly, then began again, Cleo’s bewilderment remaining unanswered. “What- Why?” they tried again, which Scar seemed more receptive to.

“Easier to watch when you’re close together. This is better. Efficient. Safer.”

“We- We don’t need to be watched, Scar. We are safe. This room is safe. There is literally nothing in here that can hurt us.”

“That RenKing is awfully suspicious. It’s watching me.”

“He’s not on! He can not turn on by himself, we are fine.”

“What else lurks in the shadows, Cleo? You never know, you never know. One minute you’re safe, the next minute a hawk has swooped out of nowhere and grabbed your kitten, you gotta be careful, you gotta sleep together. It’s the best way to do it, it’s the best way.”

“I can not argue with you about this right now. Is Cub even alive?”

“He’s wriggling.” Cub was indeed wriggling. He wasn’t even uncomfortable per se, there was something deeply mollifying about having a large weight directly on your back, and he slept face down anyway, so this wasn’t a huge issue. Just adjusting.

“Let him go, Scar.”

Cub was a little offended by the implication that he could not get Scar off by himself- Scar was at least half his weight! “I’m fine.”

“He’s fine,” Scar parroted.

Cleo sighed, long and strained. She said no more. With enough passage of time, Cub stopped going to sleep in his own bed, since no amount of arguing was going to stop Scar from dragging him out of it every night. Though, out of all of Scar’s disruptive quirks, this was not something Cub minded all too much. He liked Cleo’s company, though he was relatively certain Cleo did not enjoy sleeping in a full bed nearly as much. Well, Cub definitely took up more room, but it wasn’t like she had slept alone since Scar had invited himself to sleep at their feet anyway.. then their legs.. then their stomach.. then their chest. Maybe this was always the next step. Cub wouldn’t be surprised if Scar had been planning it from the start. Oh well. No skin off his back.

uh if you like this there’s more of it on ao3 here’s a link

[no-regretz]

Infected/Kasper Full Body

Au Headcanons Below (Some a tad graphic, be warned.)

Kasper's background remains relatively the same, Being infected from a virus script. Leaning more into a parasitic bug computer Virus than a illness virus.

Infected's virus has nearly taken fully effect, and covers the majority of his body. His wings and antennae are based off of the Emerald Cockroach Wasp.

Kasper's body is really only just a host until Infected's wasp body can fully grow. During the meantime Kasper's body is easily able to be harmed, especially infected parts.

Infected was quarantined by Unpleasant, which was probably the best idea the Gradient ever had. The two are unofficial roommates. Unpleasant having been ordered by DrRetro to take care of Kasper due to Unpleasant being immune.

Infected does not like Unpleasant due to this. He's delusioned to think that it's really all just a common cold, and that it'll pass off... eventually.

Kasper's virus is physically contagious to objects and people. Due to Kasper's ability to travel around servers, as any robloxian in this au can do, DrRetro believes Infected to really only be a ticking time bomb of an issue.

Poob lives nearby, living in the same appartment complex. Poob is also immune to said virus.

Infected Non-Animation Full-body, Normal arms + Insect arms.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

THEY Came and Conquered

It was just like any normal day when THEY arrived here on Earth! Dave had been spending another morning holed up in the office when a commotion erupted down the hall. His coworkers got up to investigate, but before anyone knew it, THEY had arrived. Soon, the previously quiet office was filled with screams of terror!

Dave fought the little green creatures off for as long as he could, but they were just too fast, jumping from floor to ceiling with their long slimy appendages. One of those intruders eventually slung itself past Dave's defenses and smacked him square in the face. He was sent flying to the ground.

Unfortunately for Dave, and pretty much everyone else on Earth, THEY came here to take over the planet. Their plan: use the human species as empty hosts for their own bidding.

With the alien squeezing tighter and tighter around Dave's face, his panic was quickly sucked out of his head. His thoughts and personality were slowly drained out as well, leaving him as nothing more than an empty husk for the alien to puppet around. Everything that made him Dave the Employee was replaced by the whims of the foreign parasite now attached to his skull.

Logan faced the same fate as Dave. He'd been in the middle of jackhammering some concrete when THEY showed up. He didn't even notice the attack until it was too late!

One of the aliens attached itself firmly to his head and began emptying everything inside. Within a few minutes, Logan's fear and panic were gone. He was just an extension of that alien's body now. His muscular arms and legs were just new additions to that alien's array of appendages.

The strange thing is that THEY can only bond with male humans. They have no ability to take over female bodies, so the girls of Earth were all able to pull the creatures off and stomp them like a bug. The men of Earth weren't that lucky. Within a month, nearly 87% of the world's masculine population was taken over, but that number continues to grow every day.

Logan the Construction Worker was the first of many. Within a few minutes, his entire construction crew was also converted. Within an hour, every man outside in the open was claimed. By the end of the day, every guy Logan had ever known had joined him as a hijacked servant of these foreign creatures.

Mitchell was able to evade the slimy little creatures for a bit longer, but even his athletic legs couldn't carry him fast enough. A pack of the aliens cornered him in the middle of a basketball court, and he had nowhere to run.

Mitchell's eyes glazed over as the parasite sucked out his mind. THEY had no use for a human's inferior vision when their own eyes can see 20x better. The alien mainly needed Mitchell's body for it's size, strength, and reproductive abilities...

...not human reproduction: THEY're reproduction. You see, the aliens reproduce by mixing an enzyme made from two parasite-host pairs. That's why the aliens need to find a host to attach to, and that's why every man converted into one of their hosts is constantly dripping from his mouth.

Mitchell's jaw hung slack as his parasite kicked his salivary glands into overdrive. Within mere seconds, drool was pouring from his zombified mouth, ready for another parasite-host pair to reproduce with.

It just so happened that Dave the Office Worker was there with Logan the Construction Worker. Obviously, it wasn't really either of them. They were just puppetted to walk there by their alien masters. The pair were still wearing the same clothes they'd had on a month ago when they were converted! The men had become rather ripe, but the aliens didn't have much need for hygiene.

Now that THEY had full control over the three men, the aliens began their reproductive ritual, generating even more enzymes within each of the humans' mouths. Now the only thing left was to mix. THEY relaxed and brought their human hosts close to each other, mashing their slippery mouths together in a disturbing mockery of a human kiss. It wasn't intimate it wasn't pleasant; it was transactional.

Neither Dave, Logan, or Mitchell were gay, but the aliens had no concept of sexuality. THEY just needed their host's bodies to sloppily exchange DNA for the next 24 hours and their job would be done. New alien life would spring forth from the act, and THEY would go find anotber host/parasite hybrid to mate with.

Earth as we know it was certainly over. Mankind was under the thumb of some slimy green aliens, and the resistance was quickly dwindling. Eventually, every man on Earth would be claimed and put to good use, producing even more of the alien kind.

THEY certainly came and THEY certainly conquered...

[lets-try-some-writing]

Imagine if there’s a lice outbreak at the school and the Jasper Trio (either one of them or all of them) ended up being affected. Imagine the bots finding out there can be tiny bugs in the kids hair

Oh dear.

Parasites are not unheard of on Cybertron. In fact, they are rather common depending on where one goes. Most lethal parasites were wiped out with the rise of medicine back during the Age of Rust, but the team are familiar with the concept. There were worms that would did into plating and destroy all fortitude in the structure. There were small nanoinfections that would corrode optical nerves and other sense. Over the vorns there have even been waves of infections that cause a bot to loose their colors almost as if they were a dead mech walking. Any number of strange ailments have plagued Cybertron over its long history.

The team are well aware that parasites and other such things exist. Scraplets are a key example.

Finding out about the lice creature would not be shocking, but it would prompt some drastic measures. On Cybertron one of the most effective ways to remove energon leeching parasites was with fire or surgical means, in large part due to how sturdy Cybertronians are. Ratchet's first response would be to get a blowtorch out and run through ways to try and protect the children's soft organic flesh so that he can burn the creatures into ash. Optimus would suggest a slightly less drastic measure and put forward the idea of removing the children's hair entirely, much like one would remove armor to get at a parasite on a Cybertronian.

Bulkhead and Wheeljack would start contemplating an acid of some sort to melt the creatures. Bumblebee would likely be too busy trying to see the parasites to offer up much aid. Arcee would similarly try to locate the bugs with no real success. Ultra Magnus would casually remark that a full blown body wash down would be the best choice, preferably with something not safe for organic material. Only Smokescreen would be the one to suggest talking to the actual human nurse involved.

The kids would be afraid of being mutilated in some way, shape, or form from that point onward when anything relating to bugs stuck on them is mentioned.

[thegoldenavenger]

You heard of Shen Yuan fingering Liu Qingge's gills for 3k, now introducing Shen Jiu fisting Liu Qingge's gills for 7k. I'm not even sorry. It was not supposed to go there. Unbetad as always.

Cw: sexually explicit, dom/sub overtones, underdiscussed uhhh everything. Bad fantasy medical practices, what can be interpreted as aelf harm I guess. Also bugs and parasites. The whole thing is bugs and parasites. And gill play.

"You insipid little clownfish," Shen Qingqiu hisses between his fangs, "I knew you were acting suspicious."

Liu Qingge shuts his operculum down tight, suppressing his wince. He should have been far enough away from the main reef to avoid this confrontation, shadowed in a protective cup of coral and sunken debris to avoid prying eyes. Importantly, he'd swam this far away from Cang Qiong territory specifically to avoid other mers of his school.

"It's none of your business." He twists to face Shen Qingqiu properly, squaring his body to him. He debates on whether to drop the kelp in his hands or not: Shen Qingqiu has already seen so it's useless anyways, but having his inflamed gills showing under Shen Qingqiu's sharp gaze is not ideal.

"Yes," Shen Qingqiu gives a condescending laugh, "And what shall I tell Yue Qingyuan when he comes back to the reef to find a school full of sick, infected—"

"I'm isolating well enough I wouldn't—" Liu Qingge's fins flare on instinct and he snarls flashing his teeth when Shen Qingqiu is suddenly in his space, his serpentine body eating the distance between them in a burst of power.

"Wouldn't what?" The frilled fins around Shen Qingqiu's face are spread wide and angry, the inky cloud of his hair floats in the ambient current of the waters like a dark halo. Shen Qingqiu's tail is nearly twice as long as Liu Qingge is himself and it's coiled threateningly underneath them both.

His long, sinuous body is built for punishing ambush speeds and power. Being this close and compromised itches at Liu Qingge and he can't help the wary glare he throws across Shen Qingqiu's form. He doesn't move though, even if Shen Qingqiu grew a spine enough to attack him face to face, Liu Qingge can defeat him. Liu Qingge has never lost a fight with Shen Qingqiu, even when the eel does ambush him in the dark waters of the reef's night.

"Would never host a breeding pair of—" here Shen Qingqiu's cold eyes rake over the flushed edges of Liu Qingge's gill covers, "—flathead gill worms?"

"There's not a breeding pair!" Liu Qingge defends himself. For all his pride, he'd rather swim off the edge of the trench and sink into the black depths before opening his school up to such a risky situation. He'd managed to claw the other one out before the pair had burrowed deep enough into his gills that he couldn't get a good enough angle, and he'd delighted in shredding the thing. "I already removed one."

"Then you got the wrong one! This inflamed I should think the thing has already laid it's insidious spawn and you're just an ink sack waiting to burst on all of us."

Liu Qingge hisses again, under Shen Qingqiu's furious face, but he can't help the twist of shame in his gut pinning his fins against the edges of his face. "It's not that—I have been taking care of it!" Shen Qingqiu scoffs in disbelief and Liu Qingge raises his voice. "I have! I've been packing my gills to suffocate it out. That's why they're irritated."

When Shen Qingqiu doesn't reply he forces himself to take a cycle of water through the gills at his neck. Small as they are, it's not very satisfying and the drag of water puts a pressure on them they weren't necessarily built to handle on their own, but the worm had settled in his fourth gill, so this is what he has to work with.

"If it weren't gone by the time Yue Qingyuan returned I would have gone to Mu Qingfang."

Shen Qingqiu lashes his tail at that, angrily churning the water beneath them. He turns with it, swimming a short distance away before coming back in an agitated circle of movement. "How did you even pick them up, they're only in—"

Shen Qingqiu falls silent and Liu Qingge represses the urge to laugh. He bares his teeth in a half smile, half snarl instead. "The western ship wreck?" He says, like he's offering the information Shen Qingqiu might have forgotten. As if Shen Qingqiu had forgotten exactly where he'd assigned Liu Qingge to patrol the moment Yue Qingyuan and his entourage had left Cang Qiong's reef boundary.

If Liu Qingge had been able to go with the traditional three-pod team one of the others might have been able to spot the danger in Liu Qingge's blind spot while he'd been focused on fighting off the juvenile colossal squid. If not that, they'd have been able to grab the offending little worms before they'd gotten all the way under his operculum. Shen Qingqiu had held back no theatrics when he pressed that the school was just so short finned with Yue Qingyuan away.

"I truly have erred," Liu Qingge says, lofty. "Thanking Shen Qingqiu for correcting me, I should have reported to Mu Qingfang immediately. With Shen Qingqiu's permission I will correct that now."

He doesn't actually make a move, though the way Shen Qingqiu's tail twitches as if to block his way makes him grin, fangs glinting. Shen Qingqiu glares and pulls back from his threatening curl; message well enough recieved. If Liu Qingge had gone to Mu Qingfang, Mu Qingfang would have asked what Liu Qingge was doing in the shipwreck alone and Shen Qingqiu's abuse of power would have gotten back to Yue Qingyuan.

Yue Qingyuan wouldn't do anything drastic about it, of course, nothing more than a scolding at least. But Shen Qingqiu's thin face could barely handle that, it seemed.

"What are you using?" Shen Qingqiu asks, breaking the tense quiet between them.

"Salt." The thick kind from the dead basin, the saltwater so dense there you could cup it in your palm, so toxic that fish who swam unthinking through it fell dead before reaching a tail length in. It burns the delicate edges of skin around his claws let alone his gills, but diluted enough he would live through it and the worm wouldn't.

Shen Qingqiu moves in again, sharp, and Liu Qingge does jerk back this time, swirling a burst of bubbles between them with the fast movement of his tail.

"Let me look. Leaving salt burns is just as bad." He glares at Liu Qingge, his dark hair framing his face making the jet chips of his eyes seem bigger. The little shining crown of shells and scales he wears glitters.

"Hah," Liu Qingge scoffs, then pauses under Shen Qingqiu's sustained glare. "As if I'd let you so near!" he says, his arm automatically moving to shield his gills.

"Mm," Shen Qingqiu's eyes go half-lidded, condescending in their relaxation. "Of course, if the War God is afraid of this scholar I will be more than happy to let you rot here by yourself."

The worm takes that moment to wriggle, the hard edges of its segmented body clipping the thin filaments of his gills. He makes a face that must be interesting because Shen Qingqiu loses his perpetual sneer in favor of a calculating focus. Shen Qingqiu sweeps the coil of his dark tail behind Liu Qingge, the movement buffering them closer with the water displacement.

"Let me look." Shen Qingqiu demands again, voice even and cool.

He doesn't look concerned, nothing like the professional consideration Mu Qingfang displays when Liu Qingge swims up to him with another injury, and nothing at all like the gentle empathy Yue Qingyuan sometimes casts his way when he decides debriefing is more important than visiting the healing beds. But he also doesn't have the sneaky, scummy cast to his face that normally rests there.

Shen Qingqiu looks even keeled, composed. The model of a senior who can be turned to when someone more specialized isn't available. Shen Qingqiu has never been someone Liu Qingge particularly trusts, is not even at the bottom of his list of people he would let close to him for help, but Shen Qingqiu is part of Cang Qiong's school.

He lifts his arm away from his gills.

Shen Qingqiu comes closer slowly, the stalking movement not at all helping Liu Qingge's nerves, but he can at least acknowledge that something quicker would be worse. Shen Qingqiu first rests the pad of his fingers against the inflamed edge of Liu Qingge's gill flap, making a face at the grit of the salt sticking to them.  His fingers are cold against Liu Qingge's skin, even more so than the ambient temperature of the ocean.

It could be just Shen Qingqiu's nature, he does run cooler than most of the other reef mers, but Liu Qingge has traded enough wrestling blows with him to catch the difference. Liu Qingge is running hotter than normal, his innate defense against illnesses jacking up his core temperature. He hadn't noticed.

"Messy," Shen Qingqiu chides under his breath as he brushes the clinging granules of salt away from his gills. "Open up, let me see."

Liu Qingge swallows before relaxing his tense muscles, letting his gills open and cycle fresh water. The cloud of denser salt water he'd been holding in seeps out and falls between the two of them.  Shen Qingqiu makes a noise just this side of neutral.

He lets himself drift lower, Liu Qingge guesses to get a better look, sinking in a parallel to the salt water. Liu Qingge tracks his slow descent.

Shen Qingqiu stares, his tail coiled around them both, his hand framing the open gill slit. His hair billows in the water, the loose tie it is bound with doing nothing to keep it contained. The silky black cloud of hair obscures Liu Qingge's view, his eyes catching on the sparkling, vain crown decorating Shen Qingqiu's head, following the delicate waving hair, glancing along the dark patterned coils of Shen Qingqiu's tail.

He feels warmer, noticing these things. Not for the first time, but the first time in a long, long while. Since Yue Qingyuan first brought the eel to Cang Qiong, probably. Before Shen Qingqiu opened his mouth and spit venom enough to distract from his long, shiny hair and his smooth flank.

It'd been so easy, at first, to understand Yue Qingyuan's bias. Shen Qingqiu had hovered at Yue Qingyuan's side, a portrait of striking contrast, a study of shell white and ink black and jade. His fins had been—still are, where they are covered by layers of diaphanous billowing material—tattered but far from weak the angle he'd held them at fanned the frayed edges like a crown themselves.

A threat, an invitation.

Too bad his temperament turned out to be so rotten, then, lashing out at even Yue Qingyuan. Spitting vitriol against any percieved slight and clawing desperately in even the most benign of spars.

Shen Qingqiu taps his finger idly as he observes.

Liu Qingge can't see, but his hand must be covering most of his side; Shen Qingqiu's finger is so close to his third gill which carries the reminder of what letting Shen Qingqiu under his guard can do. 

"You've burned yourself already." Shen Qingqiu finally says. "You'll recover but less so the longer you keep filling yourself with this concentration of salt."

Liu Qingge huffs. "Any less and it won't work."

"It's almost as if salt baths aren't the recommended procedure any more for a reason."

"Do you want me to go to Mu Qingfang or not."

The grip on Liu Qingge's side tightens as Shen Qingqiu looks up and glares at him. There's the lightest of sneers on his face, annoyance at the question. The lift of his lip shows a wicked curved fang. His mouth is only a few handspans away from Liu Qingge's gills.

Likely, Shen Qingqiu won't bite him.

Liu Qingge has been bitten by those teeth before, the long, needle like fangs sharp and piercing. They're meant for gripping onto wriggling prey as he slinks back into hiding, afterall. Nothing at all like Liu Qingge's own set of teeth, knife like, for wounding and tearing.

Shen Qingqiu has even drawn blood from Liu Qingge's gills before, getting his venomous claws under his third gill flap and tearing. He can feel it like a phantom now: the cruel edge of nail slicing through the flesh at his side.

Shen Qingqiu tilts his head at whatever he sees in Liu Qingge's face, furrowing his brow by the smallest of degrees. Liu Qingge blinks.

"Brute." Shen Qingqiu spits, rolling his eyes. He sways away from Liu Qingge, that intimate hand span opening up between them.

Liu Qingge bristles, but without knowing what he'd done this time to set Shen Qingqiu off, refrains from returning the insult.

"Well?" He demands instead. "What has looking got you?" His tail lashes at the water and he crosses his arms. The cool water replacing Shen Qingqiu's body sends a shiver through him that he resolutely ignores. Shen Qingqiu needs to offer a solution or go away and let Liu Qingge take care of it. At this rate, Liu Qingge is going to be quarantined for an entire moon cycle, riding through the parasite shed and his budding fever.

Shen Qingqiu sways in the water, the disconetent mou on his face shading towards disgusted as he observes Liu Qingge. He wants to bristle under the weight of that stare; he knows that Shen Qingqiu is looking at him and dissatisfied with what he sees.

He isn't self conscious, nor particularly vain, but he supposes it's easy to be that way when everyone around finds you handsome enough. All the mer in the reef eyeing the length and shine of his tail don't affect him as much as Shen Qingqiu deliberately scanning him head to fluke and then finding him wanting.

Him!

As if Shen Qingqiu has anything to brag about! His hair is long and smooth, waving like kelp in the loosely bound style he prefers to make himself look larger, but that's because the vain man spends half his day preening and grooming like a flirting lionfish! The long, muscled form of his tail he keeps curled up unless threatened, the dappled patterned fading away into the reef's shadows. He distracts from his scars and torn fins with layers of gauzy material, woven and beaded netting, prized scales from trophy hunts, like he's ashamed of the proof of his survival.

Liu Qingge tilts his chin up, his facial fins spreading arrogantly, and meets Shen Qingqiu's gaze with his own glare.

Shen Qingqiu turns calculating.

"I'll remove it."

Liu Qingge's fins flare up all at once, his tail even curling in warning. "Hah?" The exclamation is more out of disbelief than anything else.

"Are you a guppy now? Do you need me to rephrase for your jellyfish brain?"

"If it's that bad I will just go to Mu Qingfang!" Mu Qingfang has only ever snapped his teeth in warning, never actually bitten Liu Qingge. Looking was one thing, Shen Qingqiu can't actually think Liu Qingge would let him—

"I'm sure Mu Qingfang will love you showing up with salt burns and a parasite days after you should have. Forget the healing beds, he'll seal you up in the sea dragon cave himself. At least I'll have some peace and quiet then."

Liu Qingge should call Shen Qingqiu's bluff.

Liu Qingge should have bent his head and gone to Mu Qingfang first thing, but getting caught unaware by worms of all things... well. He'd thought he could take care of it on his own, the puckering little scratches the squid had left on him more than enough to distract anyone from noticing anything else. Whatever embarrassment he'd felt then is compacted doubly so now,

Being sealed up in the Sea Dragon cave for quarantine and spiritual healing this late into everything meant he'd still be shut away when Yue Qingyuan returned. Shen Qingqiu shouldn't have withheld a proper pod formation from Liu Qingge, but the blame for this would rest squarely on Liu Qingge regardless. First of all, there's little guarantee he'd have even taken a pod in the first place. He likes patrolling alone. Second, it was his decision to hide his affliction and try to take care of it himself.

There's always the possibility the worms had a chance to spawn and he's a been a potential swimming vector for infection for as long as he's been back at the reef.

Shen Qingqiu hums, a patronizing little sound as Liu Qingge wilts under the guilt.

"You aren't going back to the reef until it's gone." Shen Qingqiu declares. "Either let me take it out now or wait for me to send Mu Qingfang here."

Liu Qingge's fins twitches. "Did it spawn?"

Shen Qingqiu draws out the silence before he responds, probably enjoying Liu Qingge's blanching face. He finally clicks his tongue. "I didn't see anything like that. Still, the risk is too high without being sure."

Liu Qingge fights his instinct to curl and instead straightens out the length of his body. "Fine." He grits out, turning his head to glare into the distance.

"Fine, what?"

He hisses and clenches his fist in affront. Like Shen Qingqiu doesn't know!

"Really, Liu Qingge expects me to assume and then get accused later of malicious intent?" Shen Qingqiu pitches his voice higher than normal, like he's explaining a complex problem to one of the fry he teaches. "I won't go near you unless you ask."

It's Liu Qingge's turn to flick his tail and vent his irritation by swimming in tight circle. Shen Qingqiu watches him cooly as he laps around again, and again. It doesn't do anything but make his gills itch more at the exertion.

He finally slows in front of Shen Qingqiu, who raises a thin eyebrow in an expectant arch.

"Fine! Shen Qingqiu! Help me get it out!" He demands in a burst of bubbles.

"Of course," Shen Qingqiu says, magnanimous. He stays still, though, and it's a long, awkward moment before Liu Qingge realises that he's waiting for Liu Qingge.

"You! I already said to help! Come here!" His face feels far too warm for this and he closes his eyes to block Shen Qingqiu's smug face from his vision.

With his eyes closed he feels it more keenly as Shen Qingqiu draws closer, the currents shifting with the bulk of his body. He tries bearing it for as long as he can, but flicks his eyes open when Shen Qingqiu gets within a tail length.

"Move," Shen Qingqiu abandons his wordier inclination when he finally gets close enough to touch. He bats at Liu Qingge's arm so that he lifts it away from his gills before holding his hand out lengthwise against Liu Qingge's side.

"What..." he says before trailing off, because with the dark flash of Shen Qingqiu's eyes Liu Qingge suddenly understands.

Measuring.

Shen Qingqiu's hands are not a significantly different size than Liu Qingge's own. In fact, they're more slender, the joints in them fine and well shaped. But held against him like this they look twice their actual size. When Shen Qingqiu stretches out his fingers, Liu Qingge's muscle flinches where they graze against his skin.

"Hold still," Shen Qingqiu orders, "And hold these wider." Liu Qingge does, struck with the thought of the spur at Shen Qingqiu's wrist catching on the lip of his operculum. He stretches the barrel of his chest, flexing open his gills to their limit, but furrows his brows as he watches the black claws of Shen Qingqiu's hand.

"Your venom," the words fall out of his mouth softer than he intends them to be.

"Mm." Shen Qingqiu looks at his claws.

It's his spurs that are venomous, not his claws or his fangs, but Shen Qingqiu habitually spreads the viscous oil along his nails and lips. It's an irritant at that level more than dangerous, but Liu Qingge isn't keen to have any more of Shen Qingqiu inside him than necessary.

Shen Qingqiu delicately brings his claws to his mouth and laps around the hardened black tips of them. Liu Qingge's own mouth drops open as Shen Qingqiu licks the venom from his nails, wiping them clean with flashes of surprisingly pink tongue. He watches as Shen Qingqiu swallows and studies his hand before he looks back up.

His sneer resettles when he sees Liu Qingge's face. "This? Really?" He asks, condescension dripping through his words.

"What." Liu Qingge bites back. He jerks his head, "Stop—" showing off? Liu Qingge ignores the buzzing heat under his skin, the fever no doubt clouding his brain, "Just get on with it."

"You were the one so concerned," Shen Qingqiu says, but he does slip his hand back to Liu Qingge's side. He sinks down so that he's eye level with Liu Qingge's open gill flaps, studying them with the same intensity as before. His splays one hand underneath Liu Qingge's bottom most gill, the other hand against his side, thumb resting against his third gill.

His hair again wafts around him, veiling Shen Qingqiu's sharp expression from Liu Qingge. He looks up and away, at the dancing lights up at surface.

"Hmm, what's this?" Shen Qingqiu's thumb has found the edge of the scar there, the one that should have healed clean but clotted because of Shen Qingqiu's poison. It is slim enough to be nearly invisible from an appropriate distance. Shen Qingqiu is not at an appropriate distance. Liu Qingge feels him slot the tip of his claw at the edge of the scar, feels him follow it down its path across Liu Qingge's skin to where it slips inside him.

"Shen Qingqiu!" He forces out between his grit teeth. He's holding himself so tense now that his tail is twitching with it. His hands flex where he has them raised, hovering over Shen Qingqiu's head. Shen Qingqiu doesn't even acknowledge him, just hooks his thumb under Liu Qingge's gill flap without preamble, making the same tugging motion he'd done to make the damn scar in the first place.

"Shen—" his words break off into a warning hiss as he jerks backwards. He pushes Shen Qingqiu automatically, one hand knocking at his face and the other at his shoulder to create distance.

"Don't move!" Shen Qingqiu orders, his tail curling ominous behind Liu Qingge's back, boxing him in, and his other hand digging in to hold on. His claws aren't especially gentle with it, five points pricking into Liu Qingge's skin enough to draw a bead of blood each. The thumb hooked under his gill flattens enough to avoid tearing at least, and Liu Qingge steadies himself.

As soon as he stops pushing Shen Qingqiu backs away, contrary as always. His lips are pulled back in a snarl and he fusses at the mess Liu Qingge had made of his hair.

"Brute," he condemns.

"Don't just stick your hand in!" Liu Qingge cries, full of offense.

"And how am I supposed to get that worm out without sticking my hand in?" Shen Qingqiu blows a frustrated stream of bubbles, a shockingly childish move for him.

Liu Qingge forces a cycle of water through his gills to calm down. This time able to draw in water from his neck and pass it down to flush out at his sides. He can feel the foreign parasite sway inside him with the water's movement. It scuttles. Liu Qingge bites his lip.

"I— Try again." He demands. "I won't move this time."

Shen Qingqiu scoffs and tosses his hair. "You're not worth this much trouble. Getting Mu Qingfang involved would be less tiresome."

That doesn’t—Liu Qingge does not feel any way about that. His stomach does not swoop. It's nothing different then Shen Qingqiu's usual shameless critiques, his hypocritical insults. Just because Liu Qingge is feverish and had let Shen Qingqiu get under his guard—

"You already said you'd help!" He works on not curling in on himself, instead shifting uncomfortably as his gills flex. The flathead gill worm—if that's what it was—seems to spread out as his gills relax to a natural position. Without its partner and with the repeated dosing of salt it's been acting more agitated, writhing through his gill structure in increasingly distracting ways.

"I said I wouldn't be accused of something malicious later. I'm not letting Yue Qingyuan or Mu Qingfang accuse me of ambushing you just because you can't stay still and get clawed up!"

"I'll tell them—"

"That I was only helping? You'd get us both checked for brain worms. You'd be better off letting them believe whatever they came up with, like you usually do."

He clenches his jaw as Shen Qingqiu's tail curls over itself, agitated and jumpy. Shen Qingqiu isn't wrong, if Liu Qingge jumped to his defense the entire reef would think he was posessed. In his defense, Shen Qingqiu is usually in the wrong and with Yue Qingyuan unwilling to put any pressure on him, Liu Qingge was one of the only ones who would call him out, for whatever little good that did.

"I won't move." He repeats instead.

"Tch." Shen Qingqiu turns his back.

But he stays, so be doesn't really want to leave Liu Qingge to Mu Qingfang's care. Or at least, he doesn't want to deal with the messy fallout that would cause more than he doesn't want to deal with Liu Qingge. Does he want to be coaxed? Liu Qingge is bad at negotiating.

He swims in a crescent around Shen Qingqiu so they face each other again. He can't think of anything to say except to repeat himself so he does again.

"Yes, you clearly did so well the first time."

"Then what do you want me to do?" He asks. "You'd just startled me. I won't be caught unprepared again."

"I'm not letting your hands anywhere near me." Shen Qingqiu says. Hippocritical, considering that Liu Qingge wasnt the one to scratch anyone, but this means Shen Qingqiu will try again. So Liu Qingge nods.

He raises his hands, but Shen Qingqiu shakes his head sharply. "No, behind your back."

"Fine." He hesitates though, before folding his dorsal fin down and clasping his arms behind him. Without the large fin catching the current he sinks in the water. His small anterior fins flap, useless in trying to tread the waters.

Before he can give up and break position to rebalance himself or sink much further, Shen Qingqiu curls his tail under Liu Qingge, stopping him.

"Better," Shen Qingqiu says, curling around him. Liu Qingge follows his movements as far as he can, before Shen Qingqiu slips behind him.

"Hey—"

"This is a better angle," Shen Qingqiu says, "And I don't trust you to keep your hands to yourself. Stay still."

Liu Qingge subsides as Shen Qingqiu hooks his chin over his shoulder. His tail loops around Liu Qingge, curling tight in a way uniquely suited to his eel body. The thick flex of muscle stabilizes him, but it also makes his heart beat faster, the threat of letting an ambush predator so close, to sneak up behind him, hanging palpable in the water.

Then Shen Qingqiu wraps his arms around Liu Qingge's sides, his fingers encouraging the gill flap to lift open more, holding it out just a bit further than it's supposed to go.

"Ah—" he cuts himself off, unsure of what he was going to say. Stop? Of course not, he needs that worm out even by Shen Qingqiu's hand. Be careful? Shen Qingqiu would either be careful or not, any platitude Liu Qingge gives is less than useless and more likely to turn Shen Qingqiu sharp.

"Quiet," Shen Qingqiu says anyways, "Don't distract me."

Liu Qingge focuses on being still and not the cool fan of water against his skin where Shen Qingqiu's gills work.

There's a pause and then, "Brace yourself, if you must." Before clever fingers slip under his inflamed operculum and slide two, three knuckles inside with a smooth motion. He flinches, reflex, but throttles any further motion. His hands clench into fists behind his back, something Shen Qingqiu can surely feel, plastered to him as he is.

Shen Qingqiu doesn't give Liu Qingge any more mercy than that first brief warning. He stretches his fingers, feeling the structure of the gills settled inside Liu Qingge, curling them to get a feel for the space. They're cold against the heated flush of his skin. He crooks his fingers through the fine filaments of Liu Qingge's gill structure and he itches, the prodding of Shen Qingqiu's fingers leaving a trail of hypersensitive tingling.

He twitches, his gill flaps trying to flinch closed. It's almost ticklish, the way Shen Qingqiu combs his claws through the thin strings of his gills. The hand Shen Qingqiu is using to hold him open pinches at him, and Shen Qingqiu makes a warning noise in his throat.

It vibrates through the water and settles somewhere in Liu Qingge's spine, and he stills.

"Sorry," he breathes and forces himself to pull his shoulders back. It draws him like a bow, arching so that his gills are forced to flare open a bit more. "I'm staying still."

At this, Shen Qingqiu stops his own movements, going eerily quiet and still behind him.

Liu Qingge belatedly remembers he'd been ask to be quiet and frowns. A questioning noise slips out from the back of his throat before he cuts himself off. When Shen Qingqiu still doesn't restart, he casts a  strained look out of the corner of his eye.

He can't see much, just his own chest and Shen Qingqiu's pale arms against him, and the ink black of Shen Qingqiu's hair unfurling around them.

He resists squirming.

Is he still doing something wrong? He can't be, Shen Qingqiu delights in correcting him with the most venomous of words at the smallest provocation. He wouldn't just let Liu Qingge flounder when he could instead verbally flay into him. He bites his lip, just to bleed off the unusual anxious energy and instead let's himself sink into his body the way he does before hunts.

He knows what he needs to do: stay still, be quiet. He's already let Shen Qingqiu this far, questioning it at this point is a little too late for use.

It's the correct choice because Shen Qingqiu starts moving again. He doesn't acknowledge Liu Qingge, which is right of him. He is focusing on something.

Shen Qingqiu pushes his hand deeper into Liu Qingge, until his fingers are fully sheathed in Liu Qingge's gill cavity. The meat of his palm stretches the mouth around it, and he knocks into the gill arches when he moves.  He isn't particularly gentle about it, caring little about Liu Qingge's comfort as he flexes and reaches further.

He spreads his fingers out, pushing the curved back of his claws into the inflamed walls of Liu Qingge's irritated cavity. It burns, both the stretch at Shen Qingqiu's palm and the insistent prod of his fingers. Liu Qingge draws water in, flushing it through his gills trying to cool the heated flesh. Instead the water streams around Shen Qingqiu's fingers, whirling into little eddies, curling back through his gills and tangling his filaments.

"Do that again," Shen Qingqiu says, voice cold. "Keep up a steady flow; it will encourage the worm out."

He does, gulping the water and pushing it through in repeated cycles, each new rush rippling inside of him, dashing off Shen Qingqiu's hand and tearing through the sensitive, fevered and salt burned flesh. His throat clicks with it, the feeling of churning inside him, like a basin being worn deeper with every tide. Shen Qingqiu grunts by his ear, an annoyed noise as he sharply jerks his fingers but catches nothing.

He pulls out in a swift long motion, leaving Liu Qingge feeling hollowed, scooped out in the wake of Shen Qingqiu's hand. He makes an involuntary noise as his gill flap tries to close. Shen Qingqiu keeps it held open, peeling it back even more.

"Ah—Shen—" he starts but Shen Qingqiu cuts him off.

"Brace, Liu Qingge. I need to reach deeper." His voice is still passive, aloof even. Liu Qingge feels almost dizzy, the influx of oxygen from the rapid cycling through his gills making him heady. He can feel, in a distant kind of way, the flathead worm curling inside him.  The lip of his gill feels puffy and tight, still burning from the salt water treatment and where it rubbed tight against Shen Qingqiu's hand.

Deeper? There couldn't be much room left in the space inside him.

Shen Qingqiu plunges his hand back between the splayed lips of Liu Qingge's gill slit catching again at the thickest part of his palm. It feels like he tries to flatten his hand out to narrow it, but his fingers knock hard into the gill arches inside, jostling straight through Liu Qingge, shuddering up his spine and sending a prickling tingle through his scalp.

His breath catches and he clacks his teeth, choking on a noise. He doesn't quite choke up on the full body flinch, jolting Shen Qingqiu against him again. The fat stretch of Shen Qingqiu's palm at his gill, Shen Qingqiu's fingers twitching in surprise at his sudden movement, the uncomfortable sway of the worm deeper inside him, Liu Qingge jerks, caught on the hook of Shen Qingqiu's hand.

His body slips out of his control, wriggling to pull away, the overwhelming glut of sensation inside him shoving him out of his senses. He thinks he's making noise—embarrassing to be be whining so close to Shen Qingqiu—but he's barely cognizant of it as he flicks his tail and tries to spread his fins.

Weight envelops him, almost suffocating, as he writhes and jerks. He'd closed his eyes at some point in his tossing, trying to cut off at least one overwhelmed sense.  Gradually the weight increases and he becomes aware of his heaving gills, struggling to keep up with his breath. He swallows, deliberately slows his breathing, let's his awareness rise back up.

The weight is Shen Qingqiu bearing down on him in all ways: his arms locked tight, his tail coiled in several loops, his chin digging into Liu Qingge's shoulder. His hand is curled into a tight fist, stretching Liu Qingge's gill painfully. But his claws are tucked neatly away from Liu Qingge's delicate viscera.

His heart still pounds but he can hear a rattling growl over it. Beside him. The deep rumble from Shen Qingqiu's chest is mostly vibration in the water, with just enough sibilant hiss to prick at Liu Qingge's skin.

"You'll stay still, will you?"

Something plunges to the pit of Liu Qingge's stomach at Shen Qingqiu's tone. "I—"

"You can't stay quiet, either?" Liu Qinnge snaps his jaw shut hard enough the clack is audible in the water.

Liu Qingge isn't a fresh faced fry, to quail under Shen Qingqiu's disappointment, but it chokes him anyway. Shen Qingqiu's fist tight against his opening and the suffocating press of his tail coiled around him have Liu Qingge desperate. What for he isn't quite sure but it has him biting his tongue.

He leans back in Shen Qingqiu's grip, displaying the long line of his neck by dropping his head against Shen Qingqiu's shoulder. It's to accomodate the backwards arch he needs to flex open his gills just that bit more, lacking the privilege to use his hands to pry himself open more effectively. Failing to stay still or keep quiet, the least he can offer is stretching himself out and open for Shen Qingqiu. To make it easy for him.

He strains as he tenses his operculum, holding it splayed and curled open. He leverages himself against the loop of Shen Qingqiu's tail, even, to push the barrel of his torso up into Shen Qingqiu's hand.

He stays resolutely quiet.

Shen Qingqiu stops growling at least.

He turns his face towards the column of Liu Qingge's throat, nose brushing against his facial fin. It's an awkward position, but Liu Qingge tries shifting it out of Shen Qingqiu's way, holding it pinned back and lifted.

There's absolutely no reason to give Shen Qingqiu this much leave, this close to his neck. The worm won't migrate to the smaller gill cavity there and letting Shen Qingqiu so close is an actively bad idea.

Liu Qingge tilts his head anyways.

If Shen Qingqiu bites it's the least admonishment he'd deserve.

Shen Qingqiu clicks his tongue, hooking his chin back over Liu Qingge's shoulder.  He uncurls the fist he'd made, pressing inexorably forward. Then he rocks his hand back, letting Liu Qingge's gill tug with the motion. He keeps his fingers lax and his wrist stiff as he pushes and pulls his hand like waves lapping at the shoreline. With each withdrawal Liu Qingge feels his gill stretching a little more, and with each press in, Shen Qingqiu's hand advances.

Liu Qingge bows back more, trying to help, trying to ease the pressure of Shen Qingqiu plugging him so full, when finally something gives and Shen Qingqiu's hand slips past the ring of Liu Qingge's gill, burying itself fully inside Liu Qingge's thoracic cage.

Liu Qingge gasps.

Each breath feels shorted now, trying to work past the mass of Shen Qingqiu's hand. He recalls Shen Qingqiu telling him to brace. Deeper? Still? Any deeper and Shen Qingqiu will be reaching into his throat. Any deeper and he will be holding Liu Qingge's rapidly beating heart in his palm.

His hand is so big. And cool: a block of ice inside him, right at his core. His hand is intrusive, making the gill arches bend to accomdate it's heavy presence. His nails are so sharp, Liu Qingge can almost feel them tickling at the individual lamellae lining each filament. Evened bent as far back as he is, his operculum half shutters, tensing against Shen Qingqiu's blessedly slim wrist. It reminds him of the spur there, at the joint.

Sharp and actually dangerous, in the real way Shen Qingqiu's threat displays often lack, the venomous spine at his wrist rubs at Liu Qingge's skin. Shen Qingqiu really can't go any further or he'll tear Liu Qingge on the way out.

"What now?" Shen Qingqiu asks, and Liu Qingge realises he's made a noise so indescribable he is just going to forget that it came out of him.

He doubts Shen Qingqiu actually wants an answer, and even if he does, Liu Qingge is not going to attempt to articulate the thoughts swimming in his head. He doesn't even understand fully himself. It's just the cool threat of Shen Qingqiu, his teeth so close to his neck, the venom so close to his gills, the long coil of his tail wrapped tight around him.

Shen Qingqiu doesn't push for an answer. No longer needing to hold Liu Qingge open, his free hand hooks around Liu Qingge's collar. Some tension eases out of Liu Qingge. Shen Qingqiu can pull him back, now, if he untenses from his bowed posture.

"Cycle again," Shen Qingqiu commands.

Liu Qingge does so, switching from passively letting water through his gills to sucking it down and forcing it through his system. It feels like breathing around a rock. He does it again.

Shen Qingqiu hums lightly as the water buffets against his hand. It is settled in the open cavity of Liu Qingge's gills like it's made a home there. Like Shen Qingqiu has remolded the very shape of Liu Qingge to fit inside of him. Shen Qingqiu doesn't move his hand, not even a twitch, and at once Liu Qingge is grateful and longing.

If Shen Qingqiu had kept rocking his hand in that rhythmic undulation he'd used to get inside, surely Liu Qingge wouldn't have been able to withstand it. Even the water rushing through his gills teeters on the edge of too much. It would surely feels as though Shen Qingqiu were punching through him. But his tail tenses and relaxes in an echo of that same rhythm, held tight as it is by Shen Qingqiu.

It presses his scales against the smoothe hide of Shen Qingqiu's porous skin. It is almost the same motion as breathing, an imitation of the swelling waves. A heartbeat, between them.

"If you come," Shen Qingqiu says, startling Liu Qingge, "Do not come on me."

His voice is as cool and distant as ever, the perpetual shade of disgust veneering it. Liu Qingge lifts his head to glance down, sees Shen Qingqiu buried to his wrist inside him, and groans, closing his eyes. Shen Qingqiu scoffs at him.

His arm slides away from Liu Qingge's neck, slipping down the length of his body, past his chest, past his gills, down below—

Liu Qingge opens his eyes and jerks his head down sharply.  His claspers are embarrassingly engorged, standing out of the hollow channel they usually rest in. Even the v-shaped slit between his pelvic fins has slid open, winking as he trembles.

Shen Qingqiu's free hand slides right over his slit, his palm catching on its lip enough to make Liu Qingge groan, strangled. Shen Qingqiu grabs the elegantly tapered columns of Liu Qingge's claspers and folds them back along Liu Qingge's body into the hollow they belong. The pressure and slide as Shen Qingqiu tries to fit them flat back against his body has Liu Qingge's vision hazing and his mouth dropping open. He manages a weak twist before Shen Qingqiu's teeth snap at his facial fin.

"No," he says, simply, and Liu Qingge stops again.

Shen Qingqiu holds Liu Qingge's claspers back down and slides the coils of his tail up in a sinuous motion. He slips his hand away, but Liu Qingge is held bound tightly by Shen Qingqiu's thickly muscled tail.

Liu Qingge thinks, if he comes like this there is no way he isn't getting it on Shen Qingqiu.

Liu Qingge focuses on staying as still as he can, but he can feel Shen Qingqiu's pulse through the soft skin of his tail against his own throbbing arousal. Shen Qingqiu keeps shifting as well: a soft flutter of his body length fins to keep them steady, the clench of his muscles to keep his tail wrapped securely around Liu Qingge. It's a different kind of pulsing rhythm, one much more familiar to Liu Qingge's body. It makes his teeth ache.

He wants so much.

He flushes a new cycle of water forcefully through his gill system. Shen Qingqiu had not told him to stop.

Then Shen Qingqiu moves so sharply it really does feel like Liu Qingge is being speared straight through. It punches the voice out of him, leaving him warbling a long, wrecked note as Shen Qingqiu thrusts his hand what can't be more than a knuckles length but feels like the entirety of his arm.

He feels a flood of thick liquid inside of him, a sudden burst of molten heat against the sensitive lining of his gills. Shen Qingqiu's hand is fisted again, grasped tightly around something.

"Ah—" Liu Qingge tries clamping his mouth shut, but the noises escape even through his teeth. Shen Qingqiu has certainly speared something on his sharp claws, but the parasite's writhing death throws only twist itself against Liu Qingge's gills, jolting him with each frantic roll.

"Ah— uhn—" each little noise gets dragged out of him as it's rough carapace catches inside of him. He can't even tell if it's tearing at him, he's so tensed and stretched tight. He eyes sting with heat, the second lid shut tight as he convulsed, scaling up the tiny dying movements inside of him.

"Not a flathead," Shen Qingqiu observes as its twitching gentles. "Lucky. I don't think you could hold still for me to pull it from you slow enough that it didn't break."

There's a moment that Liu Qingge is actually there, with a flathead worm wrapped around Shen Qingqiu's fingers, being drawn segment by segment, achingly slow, from between Liu Qingge's gills. Flatheads tangled themselves in the filaments as well, each fingerwidth hard-won with the tearing pain of separating the worm from his viscera. Trembling to keep holding still, to keep from clamping down tight and snapping the worm. Having to do it all again, the fingers, the stretch, the fist, if he failed.

The very visceral feeling of Shen Qingqiu pulling his hand out of Liu Qingge's gill mouth snaps his attention back. He watches as Shen Qingqiu's wrist withdraws, his fist catching again at the lip of his gill. He can't possibly pull out like that, Liu Qingge thinks, not with how much it took to get it in there. But Shen Qingqiu can't let1 go of the worm either—

Shen Qingqiu's fist tugs at the raw edge of Liu Qingge's gill, stuck and pulling. Tighter and tighter it draws at Liu Qingge, until it feels like Shen Qingqiu is trying to remove his entire thoracic cage with the worm. It so much, pressure, pain, over sensitive fleshed being rubbed, that he's about to make a protest when Shen Qingqiu's needle sharp teeth ghost along his neck.

He gasps, hoarse and raw, and his gill opens just enough with the surprise that Shen Qingqiu's fist pops out. A flood of red murky water follows, presumably from the limp segmented worm in Shen Qingqiu's grip.

It looks, in almost every possible way, like Shen Qingqiu gutted him.

"It's just a rainbow feathered worm." Shen Qingqiu says, holding the long thin body in front of them. Not a gill parasite then, no danger at all to the reef just Liu Qingge's gills.

Liu Qingge watches, dazed, as Shen Qingqiu snaps it between his teeth with an audible crunch.

[the-s1lly-corner]

hi ^^ If requests are still open, can I req jax x reader headcanons where reader seems like the most chill, mentally stable, and normal person as well as a bit oblivious out of the whole group but when jax tries pranking them by scaring them w creepy crawlies and insects or other things normally considered scary, reader becomes really happy and endeared by it instead? And starts trying to like befriend him because of it.

And then its revealed reader has the most questionable interests of which they have the most unusually large amount of detailed knowledge on, like say poison, reptiles, the horrific horrors at the bottom of the ocean (think subnautica) And whenever these interests are brought up (which is rare bcs if what they are) they go full infodump mode and have 100% accidentally scared someone with it. They have definitely scared Ragatha half to death at least once after hearing the word “centepede” and going on a rant abt giant centipedes oblivious to her fear.

qeue Jax asking the reader abt one of said interests for a prank and reader gives him way to much info on it, not because they want to help him prank someone, but because they think hes just genuinely interested in their interest and have no idea he wants to use it to prank someone.

sorry if this is too long ^^

Jax x reader w/ odd interests!

dont apologize for it being too long! this just means i have a little more to work with ! probably gonna do this and one more request then go stretch my legs !!

when he first saw you fall victim to his classic fake spider prank, he was surprised to see that you were absolutely thrilled to find the critter; real or not

i mean sure, maybe you just weren't afraid of bugs like a certain red head, but you were excited to find it; scooping it up into your hands without hesitation... i mean he wasnt exactly judging you, but he sure as hell was confused. and now stumped, now that he knows the fake bug prank wont phase you

on top of that he now has a new friend following him around

i think it would definitely take him a second to warm up to you, his pride is a little hurt that his little stunt failed, but before long you guys are on speaking terms

your interest in poison doesnt really come up until someone brings up the topic, prompting you to go on a tangent about all the different kinds, the effects, the sources, how to counter it if possible, things like that

how funny would it be if jax was actually scared of reptiles; specifically snakes or even lizards, and he finds you trying to catch a gecko outside in the grounds

you excitedly try to hand it off to him and begin listing off some facts about the real world counterpart, only to stop when you notice his discomfort

like imagine trying to help him get over this random fear of his, and eventually managing to ease him into holding the little thing

hes fine with centipedes but he draws the line at noodle boys

perhaps the extra time with you and listening to you rattle off about your interests sparks some interest in you? of course if you want this to remain platonic you can ignore this part!

this of course leads to him trying to spend more time with you

to be more specific, to try to rope you into his antics

so he tries to ask you about something, say, bugs... you, of course not knowing what his plans are, go off about a bunch of bugs; insects, spiders, hell you even add in some scorpions

he stops you midway when you segway over to bug-parasites, though

while some of it isnt really his thing, hes at least not a big enough asshole to ignore the look in your eyes you get when you finally get to talk about your interests and not be judged

[em1e]

⠀ ⠀ ༝ your mother said to pick the very best girl - and i am.

こづめ + てつろう + コウタロウ + けいじ // TAG, YOU’RE IT ⠀ ༝ ༝ slasher!au ft. kuroo + kenma + akaashi + bokuto ⠀ ༝ ༝ 4.4k words ⠀ ⚠︎ final girl!reader, VIOLENCE, CHARACTER DEATH(s), implied fem!reader but no pronouns used, reader's bf and friends are oc's! ⠀ — a fun camping trip! what could go wrong.

you really wish you could pinpoint when everything went to shit. 

you could guess, sure. maybe it was when your boyfriend suggested coming to this hicktown, the promise of a campground for your friend group of four to have a wonderful, fun, and cool outing. maybe it was when his friend invited his new girlfriend - some girl from your college that talked too loud and popped her gum too much the entire car ride over. maybe it was when the lock to your cabin didn’t fully click into place. 

or maybe it was when your boyfriend slumped against the wall, his head cracked open with blood and what you could only guess was brain matter leaking freely from the hole. 

you should probably backtrack a little. think for a second. 

“does he have to bring his new girl?” you’re almost whining at this point, shoving the last of your bags in the back of the minivan your boyfriend, akio, thought would be perfect to rent for this weekend trip. 

‘so we can all ride together!’ he’d explained with a grin. you really couldn’t tell him no if you wanted. 

he hums in thought at your complaints, shrugging, “i mean he’s already invited her. he said she’s excited, too, i don’t wanna be the one to tell her she can’t come when we’re gettin’ him from her place.” 

you find it hard to believe that hana’s excited to be out in the middle of nowhere with bugs biting at her and no cell service, but you take the new addition in stride, “whatever,” you wave off, climbing into the front seat, "we’re getting chiyo and aya first though, right? they dislike her more than i do.” 

the twins, grouped nickname given to them by their brother and one bringing the parasitic gum-popping girl, have voiced their complaints about her coming more than once, but are ultimately shut down by said brother, riku. 

“mhm,” akio confirms with a thumbs up after he’s settled in the driver’s seat, offering you the aux as he starts the van. a passenger princess through and through, you start the playlist you’d carefully crafted days before - full of things everyone will enjoy, “then we’re gonna get hana and riku.” 

akio doesn’t miss the small thank god that falls from your lips, but he chooses to ignore it in favor of turning up the music.

༝ ༝

“i’m not really fellin’ this song.” hana leans over the center console to peek at what you have queued next on your phone, popping her gum loudly in your ear as she does. you grimace, but she doesn’t seem to notice while trying to decide herself what song to play instead. 

you lean away from her, head hitting the window with a small frown that barely disappears when akio’s fingers tangle with your own. 

“we’re like 30 minutes from the campsite, can you just sit down?” aya groans, happy to voice her distaste to anything hana does. to be fair, she’s been bouncing from seat to seat in the van, and you think it’s even been pissing riku off, if the way he grumbles a small yeah, please is anything to go by. 

you tune out any further argument while looking out the window, squeezing akio’s fingers with a small hum as you pass some dingey motel in the dingier town you’re passing through before you hit the woods, “if any bugs land on me or i see a snake or a spider, you’ll be able to find me there.” 

“the motel?” akio asks, grinning while glancing back in the mirror. 

“mhm,” you nod, sitting up slightly and stretching your legs as much as you’re allowed, “not dealin’ with that.” 

“we’re gonna be in the woods,” he reminds you with a laugh, “s’gonna be kinda hard to avoid all of that.” 

you shrug, “good thing that ‘no vacancy’ light was off.” 

“you’re funny.” he untangles his fingers from yours to squeeze your thigh instead, and the action leaves you smiling. 

and true to aya’s word, thirty minutes later you’re in the middle of the woods, in front of a pretty cabin akio rented on airbnb. hana complains before she’s even out of the van, swatting away invisible bugs that seemed to swarm her as soon as the door was opened. 

you do your best to ignore her, bumping hips with chiyo as you begin to remove everything from the van, “let’s have a fun weekend, yeah?” you offer with a small smile. 

chiyo returns it with a scrunched nose, “one could only hope.” and removes her two suitcases from the pile. 

༝ ༝

the first night was nice. riku might’ve made the damning decision to invite his annoying girlfriend, but he makes it up to the group easily by providing a surplus of booze, and the six of you get drunk off your asses and sleep until the middle of the next day. that saturday is filled with exploring around the cabin, walking down what trails were already there, and settling the next night off with a barbeque and sipping on what alcohol was leftover from the previous night. 

the second night does not end as nicely. 

you went to bed early. a headache, you think was your reasoning, probably from hana and whatever annoying habit she’d picked up for the day getting to you, but you woke up far earlier than intended. 

one look to your phone told you it was a little past midnight, and you chasisted yourself for not plugging in the device before laying down - the blinking red of 7% flashing at you from a day of taking lots of pictures in nature. there’s a crash somewhere in the cabin, the living room you think, followed by a scream that has you stumbling to your feet and almost tripping over the covers as they try to hold you down to the bed. 

hana’s holding what you assume to be her phone in one hand, pointing a finger at aya with a glare, “who the fuck gave you permission to go through my shit?” 

aya looks impassive as she shrugs, “shouldn’t leave your phone out. maybe then we wouldn’t know about daniel, 32, who likes long walks on the beach and, what was it chiyo, country music?”

hana’s cheeks flush, scowl deepening when she finally realizes you’re standing in the hall, “of course you’re up the second there’s something going on.” and as if god isn’t sparing her any chances, your boyfriend and riku stumble in through the front door, cheeks pink from drinking. 

hana’s eyes narrow between the three of you, before settling sweetly on her boyfriend (boytoy?), “riku, babe, i think we should head to our room. stinks in here.” she and aya share an intense glaring battle, before she clicks her tongue and saunters over to riku, who’s mostly being held up by akio. 

just as she snakes her hand around his waist, pulls him close, the door swings open again. it lets in the chilly night air, leaves you wrapping an arm around yourself with a furrowed brow. 

who the hell could that be?  

tall. objectively attractive with a sharp grin and dark hair, taking in each of you with enthusiasm. 

“um . . . do we know you?” 

chiyo asks, head tilting while the two boys turn to face the intruder. 

“me?” the stranger asks, mocking her head tilt, “no. not yet at least.” his grin is unwavering, and you decide then it’s unnerving, leaves a pit in your stomach when his eyes find your own. 

“who the hell are ya then?” akio straightens his shoulders, and despite being over the line of tipsy, stands tall. the stranger however, remains taller of the two. 

“is it a party in here or what?” someone behind you says, and you jump with a squeak when an arm wraps around your waist, a face you don’t recognize hooking their chin over your shoulder. gray and black hair finds way to your vision, and your body tenses before you’re shoving him away with a stumble. he pouts, slouching over, “thought a pretty thing like you’d be sweet.” 

“can we help you guys with something?” aya snaps, pulling you back by the upper arm so you’re a decent distance away from him, “this is private property.” 

the tall man from the door clicks his tongue, eyes narrowing, “maybe. we’re just here to have some fun.” 

two more guys walk in behind him, one shorter with a mix of overgrown bleached-blonde hair giving way to dark black roots, and the other a taller man with dark hair following in close behind. 

“is this a joke?” hana steps from riku, who’s looking just as annoyed as your boyfriend. 

“no jokes, ” the first guy who came in promised, “just wanna play a game with you guys.” 

“we’re not into games,” akio slurs out, “you guys should go ‘fore we call the cops.” 

this seems to make the stranger grin wider, holding out his hand behind him to his friends. the shorter one puts something in his awaiting grasp, and it’s like everything starts happening in slow motion. 

akio’s squaring his shoulders, getting ready to throw a punch, but the guy, without hesitation, is already swinging. except it’s not his fist that makes the contact - it’s a fucking bat. akio’s head turns with the impact, and the stranger takes another swing from overhead. it lands with a sickening crack, one that has akio stumbling backwards until his back hits the wall and he slumps over, fingers twitching once, twice, before stopping altogether. 

you don’t know who screams first - if it’s hana or chiyo - unable to process anything around you as you openly gape at your crumbled boyfriend’s form on the ground. 

“now,” the man with the bat wipes away a spot of blood that’d splashed to his cheek, “let’s talk about that fun, yeah?” 

riku takes a stumbling swing at one of them, but is ultimately knocked on his ass when his own hit doesn’t connect while they make their way further into the room. hana is the first to try and run out the door, but it’s slammed shut by the last guy to come in, steel eyes freezing her in place when her hands make contact with the doorknob. she stumbles away instantly. 

“let’s start with introductions, “ the bat man gestures to the couches at the center of the room, pulling a chair from the dining room to sit across from it. the slamming of another dining room chair on the ground has all of you scrambling to find a spot to sit while they find places in front of all of you, “‘m kuroo,” he points the bat to the one with blonde bits of hair, “that’s kenma,” to the one who touched you, “bokuto,” the final of the four, “and akaashi.” 

his head tilts as he looks at each of you squished on the sofa together, pointing the bat at the group and grinning when you recoil, “eenie,” he points it at aya, “meenie,” chiyo, “miney,” riku, “you.” stops on you, “tell me your names, pretty.” 

your eyes widen as you look between your friends. 

“u-um . . .” and you introduce everyone with hesitation laced on your tongue, looking at him for confirmation that you’re finished when you’re done. 

“and him?” he nods his head to akio’s body, smiles when your lip wobbles as you stutter out his name. 

“good job,” he praises, “now, we are gonna let you guys go.” 

hana visibly perks up at this, it’s not missed by the analytical eyes of the four studying your group. bokuto sighs from behind the couch, surprising both you and chiyo as he leans over the back of it and into your personal bubble again (when did he even move from beside akaashi?), “buuuut we gotta have some fun first.” he adds before kuroo can continue. 

“fun?” chiyo parrots with a squeak. you think you can make out a smile from akaashi. 

“fun,” kuroo confirms, “we’re gonna play a game. like hide and seek. you guys make it to the town that’s a few miles north from here, you win!” 

he almost sounds excited as he explains. 

“what happens if we don’t . . . make it?” aya asks with a frown. 

“good question, aya,” kuroo stands, pushing the chair back as he does, “we’re going to kill you, if we catch you. you’ll join your little friend over there.” 

you hear aya swallow hard. 

“what if we don’t play?” riku counters with a glare, “we can just stay here and you won’t get a hard on from chasing us.” 

“we’ll kill you here,” akaashi says easily, as if talking about something as miniscule as the weather, not about your life being held in the palm of their hands. 

“speaking of -” kuroo’s eyes flit over each of you, “seems kinda unfair to be a 5 v 4, huh?” 

you feel chiyo stiffen at your side from the implication, hand clumsily finding your own as kuroo towers over the five of you. 

“who should it be, kenma?” kuroo glances to his right, and kenma’s head tilts before he points. 

riku barely has the chance to stand before the bat is hitting him. he falls loudly to the center of the carpet, unmoving.

chiyo sobs, squeezing your hand, and aya wretches at the sight, vomiting over the side of the couch. you can only stare, wide eyed because surely this isn’t real. your boyfriend couldn’t have been murdered in front of you less than thirty minutes ago, riku’s not dead on the ground joining him right now, and these guys aren’t going to chase the four of you in the woods of some dense forest with such a minimal chance of escaping. . . right? 

chiyo’s fingers digging crescent marks into the back of your hand is what pulls you from that hope. 

“we’re gonna give ya fifteen seconds to get out of here-” kuroo starts, tapping riku’s back twice with the bat as if to ensure he’s down for good. 

you interrupt him before you can stop the words from spilling off your lips, “twenty.” 

“sorry?” kuroo’s brows furrow for only a second, before his head is tilting with a grin. 

“w-we get twenty seconds,” you ration, ignoring the way chiyo’s fingers are squeezing your hand too hard, “and we get to put on our shoes.” 

“you’re not really in a position to be making demands,” kenma comments impassively, but kuroo waves him off, closing his eyes for a second. 

“no, it would be a little unfair if we let them zip outta here like that. we’ll give you twenty-five seconds to put on your shoes and go and it starts . . .” he looks at kenma, who gives a thumbs up, “now.” 

only a second is wasted between the breath of his last words before the four of you are scrambling to stand. you have to drag chiyo up yourself, push her forward towards the door so she can slide on her shoes with shaky hands, and you’re following in suit as she’s opening the door. 

one of them hollers excitedly as you slam the door shut behind you, and your eyes meet kuroo’s just before the door shuts completely. there’s no comfort in the way he smiles, the way his eyes bore holes in your trembling form. 

༝ ༝

you’d been running for what felt like forever. 

somehow, you’d lost everyone in the dark - hana dipped into the right of the woods the second she was out the door, and aya and chiyo’s hopes of climbing into the van were crushed when they realized the tires were slashed, so the three of you made a dash following the dirt road that brought you here. one minute they were with you, the next you’re alone, and your legs were starting to ache from exhaustion. 

you freeze when a scream tears its way through the woods, echoing and desperate, but you don’t have a second to dwell on it when another body slams into yours. the impact knocks the wind out of you, and you almost scream until you fully realize who’s taken you down. 

hana winces as she looks down at you, tears trailing down her cheeks with her hand held tight to her abdomen, and it’s then you notice the blood. 

“t-the smaller one stabbed me,” she breathes out, a fresh wave of tears filling her eyes and spilling over her cheeks, “i didn’t even wanna come to this stupid trip.” she pushes herself off of you, sitting at your side. 

“we gotta keep moving, hana,” you whisper, forcing yourself onto your aching legs and offering her a hand to stand as well. 

she takes it with a frown, opening her mouth to say something before her eyes flit behind you. they widen for a second, before she’s shoving you back and stumbling away, ignoring your curse of her name as you fall flat on your ass. 

“two for one?” someone says behind you, you whip your head around as you see kuroo emerging from the dark of the trees, smiling with a tilt of the head, “s’a shame. kenma just went that way, too.” 

as if to confirm this, you hear a scream that has you cringing in on yourself. 

“now what to do with you?” he steps around you, crouching in front of you with his head still tilted, “you were quite amusing with that twenty second rule - and the shoes. no one’s ever demanded anything from us like that. i’d hate to end this chase when you’re at such a disadvantage.” 

his fingers tap the sole of your shoe, trailing up until his fingers brush against the skin above your ankle to poke there too, “you won’t make this boring for me, will you?” 

you dig into the dirt at your side with a frown, and he opens his mouth to say more, but you’re tossing the mix of twigs and dirt and leaves into his face before he can get the words out. he even laughs, when you use the leg his hands wrapped around to kick at his chest. somehow, miraculously, your other foot connects with his face while he’s distracted with controlling the first, and it loosens his grip enough for you to push yourself onto your feet and stumble away. 

you think you hear him laugh again as you disappear into the trees. you don’t stay long enough to find out what’s so funny. 

༝ ༝

kuroo was really enjoying this chase with you. 

they each took turns picking who they’d get to grab, and he was lucky enough to go first. 

but something about you was really driving him wild. and now, here you were throwing dirt in his face, kicking him right after hard enough to make his nose bleed. he wipes at the blood as it makes its way past his lips, metallic and warm against his tongue. maybe they could have even more fun with you together. 

don’t kill mine if you guys see ‘em. &lt;

b> :( 

k> you got something in mind with them?

you could say that &lt;

a> I just got mine. I can help you guys if you need. 

b> me pls !! mine’s slippery :( 

a> 👍

k> stabbed mine couple of times. she’s annoying  

just remember not to kill mine &lt;

kuroo shoves his phone in his pocket as the three bubbles pop back up, uninterested in whatever else his friends might have to say.  

he’s got a chase to get back to. he grins at the thought. 

༝ ༝

you hadn’t seen anyone in what’s felt like hours and you were fucking exhausted. 

your legs were begging you to just take a break, your lungs heaving painfully with each inhale you took, but the adrenaline in your veins spurred you on further. everything ached as you stumbled up a hill, leaning against a tree for support to use the height to your advantage and fuck, you could cry at what you saw. 

just barely in the dark, you can make out the asphalt of the road - and if you squint your eyes, you can see a little further down the road is the shitty fucking motel you were gonna sleep in, the no vacancy sign shining bright against the dark of the world surrounding you. 

but then someone’s grabbing you from behind, shoving your back against the tree you’d been using to hold yourself up. a scream rips itself from your throat, clawing at whatever skin your nails can come in contact with, but bokuto, you realize, only smiles and presses you harder against the tree. 

“i’m so close,” you whimper out, shoving at his face when he drops it too close to your own, stomping on his toes and really doing whatever you can to shove him away from you. you glance to your right and you can still see the neon lights from the motel’s sign, the streetlights keeping the hicktown illuminated, “please.” 

“kuroo’s gon’a be so happy i caught ya,” he leans down, nosing at your collar and inhaling despite you still struggling against him, “exciting since ‘kaashi got mine.” 

you feel him frown against your neck, fingers tightening at your shoulders where they keep you in place. he pulls back with a pout, “that’s not even fair, is it! what’s the point of pickin’ who we wanna go for if someone else is gonna get ‘em anyways!” 

you’re frozen at the implication of what ‘got mine’ could mean. the question of who dancing on your tongue, unable to voice it. 

bokuto straightens after a second, smiling down at you, and you never really realized how much bigger he was than you until now - all muscles that flex as he readjusts his grip on you, “now, let’s go meet back up with kuroo, yeah?”

it frightens you how easily he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder - and despite your desperate flailing, the way you kick and claw and scream, his grip never wavers. you can only watch as the red LEDs blink further out of sight, until the light that remains is eaten by the darkness of the woods that surrounds you. 

by the time he’s walking up the stairs to the cabin, you’re worn out, and you don’t fight it when he places you on the living room floor. 

riku’s no longer at the center of the carpet, and if you dared to look you’d see akio is no longer slumped against the wall as well. 

bokuto crouches in front of you, toying with a piece of your hair as it falls in your face, and you half-heartedly push his hand away when he laughs, “we’re gonna have lots’a fun with you, i just know it.” 

he stands when the door is pushed open again, akaashi walkin through the foyer, dragging a groaning riku in behind him. you stiffen at the sight of him, scrambling to stand only to fall back against the floor when bokuto pushes you down by the shoulder. akaashi, not so gently, pulls him until he’s laying in front of you, and you feel your fingers flex with tears welling in your eyes when he barely moves. 

“r-riku?” you whimper out.

you’re answered in the form of a groan, his eyes fluttering open before they close again as if keeping them that way brought him pain. despite the way your hands shake, despite being pushed down before, you move to his side to examine what damage they could’ve done to him. 

bokuto laughs again from your side, but doesn’t stop you from pulling him to you protectively, “look atcha, worrying ‘bout someone else’s skin.” 

akaashi clicks his tongue, but makes no comment as the door swings open again - kuroo and kenma walking in with dirt and blood staining their hands and clothes. kuroo ruffles your hair almost affectionately as he passes and you duck away from the contact with a frown. 

he looks away from you, whispers something to someone, but your heart beats painfully loud in your ears and you can’t hear much beyond your own breaths. kenma fiddles with an already blood-stained knife, twirling it between his fingers as he stares holes into your back. 

kuroo takes the knife from kenma with a grin, kneeling beside you and tilting your chin up with the blade, “you do good, we’ll consider letting you go.” his hand finds itself at the nape of your neck, keeping you in place when you shy away from the metal. 

“w-what?” 

“you’re gonna kill him,” his eyes flit from your own to riku’s body lying beside you, then he’s turning the blade so the handle is facing you instead, pushing it into your hands, “it’ll be easy once you get past the first stab.”

your hands tremble at the weight of the knife, shaking your head with tears spilling over your cheeks, “no . . . no, i’m n-not gonna-”

kenma groans from behind you, and you flinch at the sound, closing your eyes as if that could make everything happening come to an end. 

“they’re not gonna do it,” akaashi says boredly, moving behind you to somewhere else in the room, “told ya.” 

“i think they can!,” bokuto adds, “they’re just scared of the first step.” 

kuroo’s staring at you like he wants to eat you, like you’re stepping in the maw of a wolf and his teeth could sink into you at any second from the way he grins, “you’re right. first step is the hardest.” 

his fingers wrap around your own on top of the handle, long and precise as he maneuvers you with his chest against your back, his arms surrounding you until all you can feel is him. it’s suffocating. he leans down, breath hitting the shell of your ear as he whispers, “let me help you.” 

and he lifts the knife above riku’s body, and despite your protests, despite the way you fight against him, to try and squeeze your hand out from under his, the knife still lands right at the center of his chest. you’re sobbing with new vigor now, body vibrating when kuroo lets out a genuine hearty laugh.

he holds you upright as you curl in on yourself, numb. you so desperately want to fall. collapse, cold and lifeless just like riku. a nasty jolt snaps you back to reality. kuroo´s shaking you out of your stupor, his pupils dilated to the point where his eyes look black. he holds you vice-tight, cradling your head as you cry, your tears dampening his shirt. proud? maybe.

“now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

[meguwumibear]

been watching a shit ton of star wars and it made me want to add onto this

Most of Megumi’s fellow initiates are at least a decade younger than him. He spends his mornings surrounded by round, chubby faces with noses full of snot. If Megumi were a gambling man, he’d bet none of them have even seen their first armpit hair. Toji certainly would’ve liked those odds.

Megumi’s fellow initiates are younger but smarter. Or maybe wiser is the better word. They all know so much about the force, about what it means to be a Jedi. They live, eat, sleep, and breath the code. No emotion. No chaos. No passion. Blah, blah, blah-bity, blah.

The code

The fucking code.

Mastere Gojo tells him only Siths deal in absolutes, but the code feels pretty absolute to him.

When he isn’t studying military history or medical science or whatever nonsense the Jedi Masters plan for him that day, he meditates. The meditation is supposed to help him conquer his fear and his anger and his hate, but the feelings only seem to fester.

The Jedi made him leave Tsumiki. They told him attachments are forbidden among their kind. Gojo promised she’d be well taken care of, but it killed a part of him to do it all the same. Abandoning her makes him feel everything the code forbids him to. Through mediation he realizes why: leaving his sister behind is the exact sort of thing his father would have—and in fact has—done.

That’s who he sees now when he looks in the mirror. Not his own face, but that of his fathers. Scarred from battle. Eyes simmering with rage. Parts of Toji live on in Megumi, and he’s slowly resurrecting the man, one selfish decision at a time.

Megumi isn’t supposed to fight anymore, but tonight he’s itching for one. Fights are surprisingly easy to come across on Coruscant. There’s a whole underground world the Jedi either pretend not to know about or deliberately leave unattended. Keepers of the peace Megumi’s ass.

He blames the violent urge on the midi-chlorians. The Masters say they’re what give the Jedi their force sensitivity, these teensy, tiny, microscopic lifeforms. The parasites—most of the Masters sneer when Megumi calls them that, but Gojo always smiles—live in and communicate with him from his blood. So, surely, if his desire to fight is blood deep, it must also be the desire of these fucking bugs.

He signs up for a fight. Fuck it. One fight won’t hurt. What’s the worst that can happen? It isn’t like the Masters can take the force away from him. He will always be one with it. Plus, the Jedi strive for peace and harmony, two things Megumi is never closer to than after a fight.

Megumi has fought all kinds of opponents. Big ones. Small ones. Creatures more monster than man. Beasts with tusks thick and long as his forearm. Animals barely sentient enough to consent. What Megumi has never, ever fought though, is someone like you.

Because you’re just a girl. A pretty ordinary one too.

He keeps stealing glances at you, waiting to see if you’ll shift or transform into something else, but you never do. It’s just you, your scrappy clothes, and your wild, nearly inhuman eyes.

He’s fought women before of course. That isn’t the issue. You honestly just don’t look like much of a fighter. Young and scrawny with purple bruises the size of phaseballs littered across your skin from all the time you spend in the ring. He wonders if you’ve ever even won a match.

But then the bell chimes, signaling the start of the round, and he doesn’t even have a second to gather his thoughts before you’re on him. A well-placed right hook to the cheek sends him reeling back a step. It’s been a while since he’s had to take a punch. He forgot the thrill and sting of it.

The flesh of his cheek burns where your knuckles collided with it. You’ve busted a few of his capillaries. He can feel the bruise forming. The skin will be black and blue by morning and all of the Jedi Masters will know what their precious little Padawan gets up to in his spare time. There’ll be no hiding the evidence.

He’s thinking too much; too caught up in his own thoughts. That’s why his misses a second shot to his gut. He chokes as your fist connects with his stomach, punching the air clean out of him. All the meditation he’s been doing is making him slow. He can’t seem to orient himself to the fight.

The fight continues. He manages to land a few blows but he’s taking more hits than he’s landing. You’re quick on your feet, light and graceful like a dancer or acrobat. Maybe that’s your background. Maybe you once performed on a stage instead of in a ring.

He doesn’t have time to ponder further. You manage to get one of your legs under him and sweep him off his feet. He lands hard on his ass. So hard the impact travels up his vertebrae, vibrating his skull.

There’s another impact before he can even think to right himself. You use your weight and momentum to force him onto his back. It isn’t enough to end the fight, but he knows your victory is near.

You plop unforgivingly on top of his lap, straddling his aching hips. A steady fist raises to deliver the final blow. Frenzied eyes gleam with the promise of victory. Split lips reveals teeth stained red with blood.

“Yield,” you demand. And when he doesn’t, another firmer, “Yield.”

He could use the force. Street fights don’t prohibit it. They don’t really have to. Jedi tend to think too highly of themselves to participate in them. Megumi is probably going to be the first and last of his kind to spend time in the ring.

“I yield,” he manages to push out, despite the ache in his lungs from your assault. It’s a generous and humble offer. Any other opponent would’ve taken the shot. Using the force now would feel like cheating. You’ve beaten him fair and square.

You jump up to greet the roaring crowd, arms raised high in victory. When you glance down at him—out of pity or mockery, Megumi can’t be sure—he’s embarrassed to discover that not only has he sorely lost the fight, but that his cock is rock fucking hard.

[mel0-dy]

SEPTEMBER @SANZU You lost motivation and yes you are staring at the place where Haru just rejected you. Funny, i guess boys will be bugs. You had that love drug which you never crave but swallowed instead rotting to your chest down to grave. Honestly it was a whole shocker but now you just feel the void until you found out his unsent love letter.

You sighed once more and sat on the bench where the two of you lost spoke. At this point, you don't know what to do anymore. You feel so empty, so empty and even felt sorry for yourself, you can't help it. He's like a parasite. A parasite, you repeat. But no matter what you do, it's all in the past now and he's not coming back. No second chances nor no second meetings. Just a full unrequited love, that was the love drug. It took effects like days when you met him. And my oh my, you crave it like a thirst man. Love shits. But on the other side, he really did cared. In fact, he wrote you a letter but was never sent in person because of his cowardness. It was just only found lying down, wet in the rain with few scratches. It was hidden at the very same bench.

"Dear (y/n)," he wrote first as he only knew or even remember a nickname. Not a full name, but damned to be a nickname. His memory of you slowly fades as his pain and suffering ate him whole.

"Life is so fucked up now and god I can't believe I'm loving you at this state. I'm so tired and I don't know what to do. I guess I never really knew ya. I needed someone to hold on, someone to feel, someone to love for," Haru continued writing with his sloppy handwriting. He was kind of scribbling and trying his best to convey his true feelings. He wanted you to know that he badly want to be with you but he thought that he was never the best boyfriend or man to ever deserve you.

"was it even casual when you wrote that?" you muttered to yourself as you continue reading, "..maybe.." you answered to yourself because you know you won't even heard something from him again

The thing that really piques your interest was the text under the letter. It was 'months'. You arch your brow and continue reading. He wrote:

September, October, November, December

January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December

January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December

January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December

There was no any context, no additional notes underneath. You were so confused and sighed. You continue reading again the months, over and over until you wish you'll get a clue but nothing. Blank as a vacuum. You tried your best to decipher it until it finally hit you, those were the supposed months of dating or talking stage. You remembered your conversation with him that you can't have a boyfriend because you were still studying. "I'll wait for you even for four years," you heard his voice one more time echoed. A beat start to your chest causing you to grip your heart. "y-you idiot..come back to me.." you just whispered and unintentionally grip the letter more. Tears slowly fell and slightly smudging Haru's handwriting, the even last evidence that love might had exist between you two.

[narcoticwriter]

Guilty Gear Characters as Monster Hunter Monsters (Part I)

First of all, this post was inspired by this lovely piece of fanart here. Please check it out! The artist did a great job. With that being said, my choices are my own and any interpretation that deviates from mine is probably going to make sense in its own way anyway. Some characters are also probably going to get more than one.

With that out of the way, everything is under the cut:

Sin Kiske: Zinogre or Xeno'jiiva or Safi'jiiva

Like the fanart depicts, I can see Sin being a Zinogre, given the affinity to lightning. I will also say that the lightning is not entirely his own as the thunder bugs that come into play with the Zinogre give it its power.

That's why I also said that he could be the Xeno'jiiva, which is a freshly hatched (?) Elder Dragon that can put up a decent fight essentially moments after birth.

Its handle on its power is raw and unrefined, which is also how you could describe Sin's power at the moment.

However, this can change with time and growth, which is also why I say that he could be the Safi'jiiva, which is the Xeno'jiiva, but a year older.

Sol Badguy: (Furious) Rajang or Nergigante

The Rajang is a loner, period. It wanders around and whenever it shows up in an area, everything in it gets away from it.

And for good reason, as it will pound anything to a bloody pulp with a speed that you'd never expect from a hulking brute. It will also do so angrily.

Its Furious state (achieved after ripping a Kirin's horn out of its head) simply turns that up by 200% and also gives it an energy blast. It cannot be stopped.

The Nergigante is also a brute that overwhelms other monsters with sheer brute force, covered in spikes it can throw at them, and can regenerate with some quickness.

It also goes out of its way to brutalize other elder dragons for no apparent reason other than that it can. It is built for this shit.

Baiken: (Scorned) Magnamalo

The moment I really started to think about which characters applied to which monsters, this was an instant pick.

The Scorned Magnamalo is a regular Magnamalo that has a broken horn and a mangled eye, making it undesirable to its own kind. As a result of this, it is filled with hatred, malice, and a need for revenge. This thing will fight anything it sees.

And it can do so quite well! It's scarred and beaten, but a tougher fighter than the regular kind, using its full arsenal of weapons, including an extendable harpoon-tail, spike-knives at its forelimbs, better use of its hellfire, and increased physicality.

Do you get it now? The choice was obvious.

Zato-ONE: Malzeno

The Malzeno's story is... quite similar in ways that I find ironic.

The pink stuff on its wings are actually blood-sucking parasites called Qurio, which consume its host's blood in exchange for imbuing it with power.

The Qurio will also go out and hunt other things to take their blood and feed it back to themselves and the host.

The reason I picked this out was also because of the teleportation-esque thing it does in fights as well as how efficient it is with the weapons in its arsenal.

In comparison to the Primordial variant, however, it looks quite sickly and skinny. So uh... yeah. I think it fits.

Bedman: Gore Magala or Nightcloak Malfestio

The question mark is not there for a reason because yes, I will discuss Bedman when I want.

The Gore Magala is aggressive but also noted to be intelligent, which I find to be a very apt comparison. The Monster Hunter wiki also states that it's able to hold grudges. Again, very apt.

The Gore Magala does not have eyes. There's a reason for that, as they use little particles (scales) that stick to things and give them the ability to navigate their environment. The more scales, the better it gets.

When the scales hit a critical point, the Gore Magala will hit its Frenzy State, in which it will attack brutally and with quickness, usually incapacitating its prey or opponent.

The Nightcloak Malfestio, on the other hand, is not as large, but is as dangerous, as its ailments are noted as 'sleep' and 'confusion', of which these can both be applied to Bedman.

It can also go invisible, which I choose to substitute with Bedman's teleportation. However, it would not be hard to believe that he could do the same either.

Happy Chaos: Chameleos

For starters, it can be assumed that the Chameleos is extremely intelligent for an Elder Dragon.

With that being addressed, my interpretation of Happy Chaos as a character and as he stands currently is this: Fuck around and find out (positively)

The Chameleos also does this in the game and while it doesn't like conflict, it will absolutely go out of its way to fuck with you if you pick a fight.

It is described as 'jittery' and 'unpredictable', much in the same way that this guy's actions are in general.

I also choose its power of blending in and going invisible to be very much in line with how sporadically he actually appears in the canon. This one's personal.

Axl Low: Seregios

Now, I know that the Seregios is a very aggressive monster that most hunters are advised to kill on-site if they can, but I would like to point to its moveset.

The Seregios uses its spiky quills and launches them at its prey while in the air. It also has a good use of its fire breath and sporadically appears.

Is this my way of saying that the man needs more screen time? Yes. Yes it is.

That's all I'm in the mood for today. Tell me what you think! Any and all pleasant conversation is welcome if not outright encouraged. Who knows, I might end up finishing it at some point if I can refresh my memory enough.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

in your earlier ask you said that yves is pretty much anti child so is he also anti pet? or maybe anti puppy/kitten/baby animal? when you described yves pretty much conditioning reader to dislike kids it reminded me when i got my kitten when she was three weeks old. it was during the lockdown so although i was there 24/7 i was lacking sleep because she refused to sleep on her own and i had to feed her every two hours and when she got older she got hyper and i needed to play with her so she could chill out a little more. i remember as i put her to sleep in my lap for the third time i thought to myself “is this what babies are like? but worse, dirtier and for a longer time?” as much as i love my little fur baby i don’t think i could go through that again so i wonder yves’ thoughts on pets. he gives off those vibes that he hates fur everywhere and can’t stand barking lol. but then again if reader wants a pet im assuming he’ll accommodate somehow.

Pets that need his constant attention like most mammals and noisy animals like the majority of birds are a big no for him.

However, he doesn't mind having reptilians as pets. As long as they're big enough to not lose them. He is indifferent to fishes, but he sees them more as home decor than actual living beings. Something akin to owning lava lamps.

He especially likes snakes. It fits with the aesthetic of his house and they're one of the lowest maintenance pets there is. He would meet all of its physical needs, but other than that, he wouldn't care to spend more time with it than necessary. The snake will be locked up in its enclosure at all times, unless you want to interact with it and he knows that your personality wouldn't lead to trouble. He knows everything there is to know about the snake, yet he sees it as a mere display piece for his living room.

Yves despises insects, he uses the presence of them as a sign that the environment isn't clean, and he does not appreciate having to think his house is filthy. No matter how much research he does on them and how many results show that insects do not necessarily equal dirty, Yves just could not accept them.

He is not squeamish, though. Yves despises them but he is not afraid of them, he knows how to handle a tarantula gently and keep calm when it decides to crawl under his turtleneck. If you threw a bucket of cockroaches on him he would not scream or flail, he would dodge it gracefully before dusting himself off. If any got onto him, he will just pick them off his clothes as if they're paper stickers. Yves will not beat around the bush and try to find a roll of newspaper or a bug spray, he is squashing that colony of spiders with his bare hands.

The way he could simply grab a handful of mealworms without hesitation makes the world think he loves bugs. He doesn't, not one bit.

You could simply shove him in a vat full of writhing maggots and he would come out as if he took a leisure swim in the pool, combing his hair with his fingers to get rid of any leftovers.

Yves would be annoyed more than horrified, lecturing you that pushing him into ponds of worms is rude while he jerks his head to expel the ones that are stuck in his ears.

Not to say he is inept at taking care of them. Yves can be an excellent caretaker for any and every animal. His research skills are unbelievably godly and he loathes the idea of him being perceived as incompetent in anything.

Yves also has a strangely high tolerance for all things disgusting and vile, he could clean up the most brutal bloody murder scene complete with mutilated bodies, decomposition, faeces, urine, vomit and other bodily fluids without wearing gloves or a gas mask; and still have an appetite to eat lunch immediately after. Vacuuming fur and sifting through the litter box is nothing to him. He just does not find much fulfillment in owning a pet. Hence, a pet becomes a parasite in his life, and he detests all things vermin.

If you wanted a furry companion so badly, he will hit the books and review the patterns in your life again.

Do you really want a pet or are you actually just bored? If it's the latter, he could effectively fill your time and make you forget about your desire for an animal companion. He could also negotiate his way out of this too.

Are you someone who hyper fixate on something or someone, then lose all interest after a few months? Then, he could wait it out. Taking care of your newest breathing toy as he counts down until you finally decide to abandon it and move on to greener pastures.

Are you someone who easily gives up at the first encounter of a problem? Maybe all it takes for you to drop the interest entirely is a meow that's too loud or a nip that's a bit too painful. He's going to train the animal to misbehave around you.

Are you someone who is susceptible to peer pressure? He is going to train your pet to misbehave around your loved ones. Manipulate your friends and family into thinking that you're an abusive or neglectful pet owner. He doesn't have to say a word to you, everyone is doing the pressuring for him.

Maybe you would fold under his dour glare and stern words, he can be quite scary at times. That generally reduces anyone into a shivering, crying mess that will not bring up the things that displeases him. This is usually the second-last resort to anything.

Perhaps you're a fierce animal lover and have a strong portfolio of being a cat or dog owner. You wouldn't give your beloved four legged friends up for the world, you will fight for them till your very last breath. Someone with unbreakable maternal/paternal instincts towards your precious fur babies. Giving them up is not in the equation.

Well, he is not above traumatizing you for life.

When push comes to shove, you might find your trusted non-human companions betraying you by lacerating your extremities to the point of no repair. Puncturing your throat with its sharp canines and claws, leaving you to breathe on a ventilator while Yves takes care of you in the hospital.

Or he could direct the attack to someone else, make you liable for lasting damages and having to put your seemingly rabid pets down. You would also have to live with the guilt of knowing you're mainly responsible for disfiguring that poor child's face, changing his life for the worse, just because you "didn't" train them well.

He warned you not to test him. Yves has been lenient and his patience has reached its limits. He may love you and want the best for you, but he is also very, very selfish.