#its not that things would be all fine and dandy or something

[walks-the-ages]

let's play a game.

Biological Essentialism/Determinism can be summed up as, in the most simplified way, "what you are born as intrinsically determines your behavior and destiny".

"Gender Essentialism" uses the exact same framework but with a thin veneer of "trans inclusivity" slapped on top, to say that while your biology does not determine who you are, your gender identity does. Even before you realize you are trans or come out of the closet.

Under the framework of "Gender Essentialism" you're viewed as being X gender and somehow getting all of those 'benefits' from society even before you realize or come out as X gender.

So, some examples:

W is a member of a sentient Fantasy Race who is created to be Ontologically Evil. W being born into this Fantasy Race means that W is destined to be Evil and cruel no matter what and W and the rest of W's race will never ever be able to change their Evil ways.

X is assigned Female at birth. X is expected to be subservient, loyal to a single husband, and want to have children. X is expected to want these things from an early age and can and will be ostracized if X expressed any disinterest in these things or opposite behavior to the things expected of X's gender. (not wanting kids, not being interested in men, etc)

Y is assigned Male at birth. Y is expected to be fierce, strong, and to father many strong sons. Y is expected to want these things from an early age and can and will be ostracized if Y expresses any disinterest in these things or opposite behavior to the things expected of Y's gender. (being physically weak, not minding having daughters instead of sons, not being interested in women, etc)

Z is born into a strict caste system, and is born in the lowest caste. Z is expected to spend Z's whole life serving those 'better' than Z without recompense or complaint, with *no* possible avenue to advance in society due to the caste system.

This is inspired both by the wave of trans inclusive radical feminists who say that

"because trans men are of course men, that means they are inherently evil and oppressive and part of the patriarchy that seeks to tear trans women down."

and also because I've seen too many fantasy and scifi series way too comfortable with making Ontologically Evil Species and strictly enforced Caste Systems where everything is fine and dandy and everyone's happy with their lot in life as long as the ones with a caste system are the

"Beautiful, Pure and Good Elves, because as we all know, Happy Slaves aren't really Slaves, right? And if the Ruler has the Divine Right of Kings and all the little people think that's good, that makes it good, right?" (sarcasm).

If you've ever considering giving your fantasy or scifi race as 'caste' system that determins who does what based on their lineage or their body type and its apparently 'good and natural and everyone loves being their caste and wouldn't have it any other way'

....have you considered that Caste Systems have always been used as tools of oppression and discrimination and this is something real people face, and that we should not be writing "good caste systems" from the comfort of Western Society and perhaps consider the harm in romanticing these very real frameworks of systemic oppression?

Anyways, both in literature and real life:

do you agree that Biological Essentialism, Biological Determinism, and yes, "Trans-Inslusive Gender Essentialism" are ever correct and a good framework for viewing other people?

Or do you agree that this is an absolutely bullshit way to view individuals and that all it does is uphold systems of oppression, especially when it comes to queer people, people of color, disabled people, intersex people and more?

anyways just gonna leave you with this gif.

[ID: a gif from Pokemon the Movie 2000, showing Mew and Mewtwo floating over a battlefield, with Mewtwo having the realization "I see now that the circumstances of one's birth are irrelevant. It is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are." End ID]

[luck-of-the-drawings]

POOR GABRIEL MONTEZ! YOU NEVER SAW THIS COMING DID YOU? ALL YOU WANTED WAS POWER. SECURITY. SAFETY. & THATS EXACTLY WHAT YOU GOT! JUST IN EXCHANGE FOR YOUR BODY. LETS JUST HOPE NO ONE FUCKS THIS UP. LETS JUST HOPE YOU WONT HAVE TO CLEAN UP THE MESS.

[eccentricallygothic]

Apology Boy

Description: Paul finally apologizes for the scar(s) he gave you when he saw you for the first time. 

Pairing: Paul Lahote | Human mate!You.

Warning(s): Paul's anger, possible past angst, fluff, Paul is a crazed mess for you, size kink (duh), imprinting/mates, abo!verse but you're human, possessiveness, fingering, cunnilingus (worship), breeding kink, licking, biting, smut with plot because oh God I can never stop myself, teasing, pet names, unprotected p-in-v, overstimulation, manhandling, light dom!Paul because I am still me. MDNI.

Type: Request, for the sweet @wishyouloveme, here.

MASTERLIST

Just like any other day.

. . .

It hit Paul like a freight train and caused sweat to form in ice cold drops on his otherwise warm skin. He had just returned from patrol with Embry and was spread over Emily's dining table whilst stuffing his face with the food she had cooked for them. Everything was fine and dandy. It was a pleasant day and the weather was nice and cool. Soon, he would be done with his daily obligations and then he would go home.

But then Sam came up behind Emily who was standing next to her mate's seat at the head of the table, one hand on the frame and other on her hip as she listened to Seth drone on and on about something that Paul's voice refused to register due to what unfolded next.

The pack leader's strong arms snaked around the waist of his delicate lover as he nuzzled his nose into her hair until the tip had found its way past the dark strands and against her tender cheek until it was caressing and tracing the scars he had left on her. 

All blood drained from Paul's skin and something in his head clicked. His surroundings faded to a dim buzz and the next few moments went by in a blur. 

And then he was standing in front of home.

“Paul!” You yelp in surprise at the sight of your nude lover. He usually dresses himself at Sam's house after patrols before coming home to you. 

Since you are human and your initial experience with the pack had both been overwhelming -thanks to your lover imprinting on you the first chance he was given- and traumatizing -as said lover who was much worse at controlling his primal urges back then had lost control at the sight of you because he was so overcome with raw, foreign emotion he did not know how to process-, you prefer to keep by yourself near the outskirts of the community in a house that Paul had moved in with you upon your request. 

The pack life is simply too loud and… public for you; a city girl used to her secluded places and treasured privacy.

You notice that Paul is panting -which is very unlike him due to his superhuman strength- and a redness outlines his eyes when his huge form approaches yours. “Are you— Paul!” You gasp and nearly flinch from both the shock and impulse when he lets his heavy body collapse on its knees in front of you. “What the hell happen—” you never know with your hyper emotional mate.

His long fingers push your sweater up and out of his way so he can stroke the soft skin of your stomach with the tip of his nose, his head nuzzling into your chest as his dark eyes flutter close and he inhales a deep whiff of your scent. It is the only thing that never fails to calm your hot blooded lover down. 

“What's wrong?” Your voice lowers to a concerned mumble as you peer down at him, your fingers cradle the dusky skin of his handsome face -as much of it as you can reach- and your nails rake through the male's jet black mass of short hair. “Honey?” He only behaves like this if something went wrong or when he is in need of comfort, which are both rare occurrences as he is the usual caretaker in your relationship. But you aren't a complete stranger to him acting like this. 

Ever the uncommunicative one, the male only sighs— no, whimpers against your skin as if he's wounded and softly feels your skin with gentle caresses of his fingers. Words require thought, patience and wisdom. Unfortunately, Paul's instinctual mind runs too fast for those things to catch up with it in time and rash actions get carried out before better sense can supply him from its store.

“Paul…” A shiver runs down your spine when his lips that had begun to softly peck your navel find their way up your stomach before they halt to ghost over the healed, plum coloured lesions that stretch across your tender skin in menacing shapes akin to claw marks. “What are you doing?” Though he never mentions or discusses it verbally due to the guilt he feels, sometimes Paul becomes hyper aware of the scars of his unmediated passion that mar your skin and tries to make up for them in his own wordless ways.

Except, this only ever happens when you're underdressed or the two of you are indulging in activities typical to couples and the sight of them reminds him of their cause. He has never stormed into the house stark naked and marched up to you like an unreadable oversized pup on the brink of tears like this. 

“I am sorry.” You nearly jump due to how unexpected the sound of his words are. Usually he just sulks in silence. “Baby, I am so sorry” Paul never speaks when he is in one of these moods. Especially when he is experiencing bouts of guilt for his actions during his first encounter with you. “Oh, God” his body grows heavy against yours as he practically pushes his face into the crevices like he wants to become one with them and fill them back up to their original state with parts of himself. 

“Paul— oof!” Your smaller body yields to his weight and the ground slips from underneath your feet. “D- Did the guys say something?” You fear the worst as Paul's protective hands catch you before your back can hit the wooden ground and you cannot help but whimper from how his lips lock with the scars in thick, desperate and hurried apologetic kisses. 

Paul and his pack mates play rough and sometimes they go too far with the teasing. So though he clings to the tough guy act in front of them, he dismantles into you once he is home if their words ever get too far. Yes, the tussling and fighting is not enough if it's serious. And just sometimes, when it gets too much for him to bottle it up, he shares some of it with you. But most often not, since he knows how you feel about the pack and he does not like to worry you.

“I am sorry it has taken me this long to say it out loud, baby… but I am so sorr—”

“Paul, hey, look at me” but he refuses to detach himself from your skin in his shame, his big hands safely holding your whole body up against his. “You don't have to—” you cannot help it, you hate to see him like this when you know how badly he regrets it. You hate for him to hurt.

“But I do” he nearly growls against your skin, his fingers tightening on your hips to brace himself against the war in his head. “There’s not a day that goes by where I don't regret it.”

“But you didn't do it on purpose, baby” you sigh when he refuses to let you see him. Your fingers try to pry his stubborn face upwards. “And you worked and improved for us, didn't you, hm?” Your eyes earnestly search for his. “Don't sell yourself so short.” One of your hands rubs his tense shoulders to try and ease their guilt-stricken stiffness. 

“All the same” ever the stubborn knucklehead. “I should have done this a long time ago. But I was selfish and I was afraid that if I verbally mentioned it…” He hesitates and the love you behold for him renders you helpless against a burning urge to reassure him. 

“My love—”

“I was scared you'd get reminded of it and…” He takes a deep breath and then gulps down the bile in his throat, blinking back tears. “L- Leave me…” Paul's voice is barely a whisper and your heart breaks at how vulnerable he sounds. “And I am such an asshole for it because it had more to do with my fear of you leaving me than you reliving your trauma…” 

“Paul…” You blink and try to focus, but his warm gropes and caresses falter your steam of thought. 

“I love you, I really do, so much” he peeks up at you just a little, dark eyes frightened for the first time since the day he scarred you. “Please forgive me. I don't ever want to lose you. I know what I did was irreversible but I swear I'll spend the rest of my life fixing it… if you'll let me.” You shake your head. 

Does he really think there's an off chance that you will leave? 

“Paul” when you cup the side of his face, he hides into your stomach again. “Hey,” you try to duck your face closer to his. make him look at you. “Look at me” your intended request comes out an order due to all the emotions you feel. “I forgave you a long time ago. That's the reason why I am still here” you finally manage to place your forehead against his, making your breaths mingle with his. “I love you more, so much more.” He opens his mouth to drone so you beat him to it. 

“Now shut up and kiss me.”

Paul is taken aback at your demand, his widening eyes prove it. But as surprising as it may be for him, this isn't something that was unresolved for you until today -unlike him- so you aren't as overwhelmed with angst. Because your mate has proven his love, devotion and worthiness of you through his actions over the course of your relationship. He has shown you that he loves you and that he is sorry for what he did. 

If anything, his innocently intimate and lovestruck worship of your body has fired it up instead of making it sentimental. 

And so you want him. 

Bad.

“But—”

“No buts. Kiss me.” You are breathless as you urge him to do so, your hands try to pull his face closer into yours although in vain because his bigger and stronger form remains unbudging. 

Paul's eyes search yours for assurance. “... Yes, ma'am” he whispers once finds it and the next thing you know, you're being pounced down onto the floor with his arms cased around you to protect you from the impact. 

And though you always feared that him getting physical in this manner would trigger you, you giggle against his mouth that he drags across your chest and up your throat to clamp onto yours. Your arms circle around his broad shoulders and instead of trying to repel him -like you suspected you would despite having grown to trust him now- you pull him closer as you whimper into the tender yet hungry kiss, feeling your legs climb the lower half of his body instinctively.

“Paul~” you needily blabber against his tongue that he uses to enjoy the sweetness of your mouth, his balmy lips enveloping everything your mouth has to offer in tight, big kisses. “Mm~” your chest aches from the strain the lack of oxygen puts on your lungs but your sparking nether regions only scoot closer to his that you feel riling up against yours, your hips grinding against his and limbs tightening around his rock hard body.

“Mine” he growls against your mouth when he has no choice but to pull apart at last, his coarse fingers groping you in greedy handfuls while peeling away any fabric that hurdles their path to your skin. “All mine” you moan at the feeling of his teeth grazing against the tender skin of your boobs that he sprays with kisses and licks. “God, mouse, I love you so much” the strength he puts into pushing everything you wear on your upper body away from it leaves you breathless. You love the thrill you feel when his touch feels like he is on the horizons of the dangers he is capable of. When he is so worked up and desperate that he cannot help but get rough because your sweet sweat and arousing body heat fires him up the way it does. You are addicted to the sight of him not giving in to his beastly impulses despite all that because he loves you so much. It is scary, yes. But it turns you on too.

“I love you too, Paul” though he likes to act cocky and all-knowing most of the time, you know he needs to hear it too. Underneath all that knucklehead play fighting and manhandling of his, he needs reassurance just as much as the next person and though he tries not to burden you as his different lifestyle is hard enough for you as it is, you don't have to be part wolf to feel him and hear his heart. 

“You're so perfect…” The way he peppers wet kisses along your cheekbone whilst relieving you of the rest of your clothing causes for your eyes to flutter close to cherish the tingling feeling that sparks your body alight. “Just—” when you try to reach for him to also make it enjoyable for him, he plants your hands above your head and softens your confused pout with a kiss. “Just let me take care of you today, yeah? Don't worry about anything.” 

“But— oh!” He reaches for the mating mark that sits on the right side junction of your neck where a she-wolf's mating glad would be. And though you lack the physical features to feel him through it, the meaning that it holds for Paul serves as a bridge for the biological gap. “Oh…” You turn your head sideways to rub your cheek against his shaved one, your hips roll into his hand that dips between your legs and you shudder against Paul's hot tongue that drags across the impressions of his teeth that crevice your skin. 

“Taste so fuckin' sweet, baby” there is a strain in Paul's voice because of how much strength it is taking him to hold himself back from impaling you full of his cock right there. “So perfect” the lower half of his body leaps down so he can rub his bare erection against the softness of your leg. 

You moan at the feeling. “Paul,” you whisper into his hair, the feeling of his sharp teeth causing for slick to sizzle up to your entrance from the inside. He growls out a quiet yes, baby against the mark, one hand constantly caressing the dents running along the width of your stomach. “Don't hold back” you go to touch his rock hard cock and he grunts in denial, seizing your wrist in his fingers faster than you can blink. 

His face comes up to dominate your vision. “No, mouse, tonight is all about you” another kiss squishes out any protest you can form and when his invasive tongue has your nostrils flared from the breathlessness, Paul drags it down your writhing body in the company of heavy pecks until his mouth is between your thighs and he is propping one up with a broad shoulder and the other with his hand that isn't occupied with caressing the evidence of his temper. 

“Paul—!” He knows how shy you get when he is between your legs like this. 

But it's not his fault you taste so fulfilling. 

“Sh, little mouse, you're perfect” he kisses any and all insecurities away with gentle kisses, the hand that cases one of your thighs stroking the tender inside with its thumb. “And you taste so good too” he takes his time worshiping your pelvis, deliberately leaving out your pussy to save the best for last. And though you pretend to disapprove and whine for him to come back up and just fuck you instead, his soft kisses that vibrate into your skin every time he moans at the feeling of your nether skin touching his slightly chapped lips, you find yourself helplessly crying out for more at the end. 

“Paul, please!” You feel his mouth twist into a smirk and your hands dart to finger his thick hair to withstand the sensation of his mouth hovering over your petals. 

“Please what, mouse?” You roll your eyes at the taunt in his voice. 

“Please touch me!” Your fingers impatiently tug at his short strands and he grins.

“Oh, mouse, but I am touching you” you whine and his shoulders vibrate under your knees from his devilish mirth. 

“Y- You know what I mean!” Though your cheeks are already aflush, you feel new heat seep underneath the layers of the reddened skin. 

“Mmm, but I thought you wanted me to—”

“Paul!” You desperately whine and he lets out a deep cackle.

“Fine, geez” he is so mean when he gets smug. You go to scowl down at him but he takes the mound between your legs in a deep handful and feels the slit between your petals in a vertical caress of his thumb before you do and you end up letting out a loud moan instead. “Needy much?” You bite your lip and wantonly roll your hips closer to his mouth. “Tsk, tsk. Impatient little mouse…” The tip of his digit presses between your nether lips that are dusted with pearly discharges of your arousal and a cherry red flush and your hips buck in anticipation. “You're lucky that you're so pretty and I like you so much…” Your spine trembles in your skin when you feel the coarse skin of his thumb against your ultrasensitive folds. “Because I typically don't appreciate things so small ordering me around…” Your back arches when he finally sticks the hot tip of his tongue between your nether lips.

“Oh…” You feel your toes curl. “More, please, Paul, more.”

He is so enchanted by your sweet scent and addictive taste that he is ignorant to anything that isn't your body. “But you, my dear mouse, you're something else…” His strong hands take your ass in them and he firmly kneads the plump skin, talking pretty much over you with a lust-drunken madness. You mewl out a moan at the feeling and Paul growls at the sound you make, pulling you closer to his mouth as he presses an open kiss to your pussy. “Fuck,” he groans and licks his lips that glisten from your slick, his own tip leaking at the taste of you. “I've never tasted anything like you before and I sure as hell am never gonna get tired of it.” 

“Paul!” you cry out when his tongue twirls against your entrance, his nose rubbing against your clit to caress it with the tip as he begins to eat you out.

His growl that vibrates your soaked folds to a buzzing life causes your eyes to roll to the back of your head. “Paul” you moan breathlessly, his name turning to a prayer as you tremble on the verge of releasing more slick.

“Gimme that sweet cum, baby, let me taste it” your lips part and you can't help but arch into his mouth with need. His hands are merciless, the one on your ass kneads it with rough gropes as the other massages the underside of your thighs in broad, determined strokes. You moan and writhe against him, your vision blurring at the hot waves that take over your body.

“I am gonna— oh, Paul!” He moans against you as you tremble and then release more even slick into his mouth. His tongue is in heaven as he greedily licks up all he can get. 

“Fucking hell, baby” the grainy tip of his tongue pokes and prods at your entrance, working the little hole open. “I can't wait to stuff this pretty little pussy full of my pups.” 

“Mmm, oh fuck, Paul, oh fuuuck” when he finally penetrates the tight barrier and his hot tongue invades your sensitive cavern, the burning knot between your hips gets tighter. Paul moans at the feeling of your delicate walls and though the vibrations of his doing so shakes you to your core, you cannot help but greedily wrap your legs around his head to both stay in place and withstand the pleasure.

“Oh, God, Paul, ’m so close!” Your voice is a breathless mewl and he growls at the vulnerable sound, his cock hurting from need. “Oh, fuck” you tremble so badly that you'd collapse into the ground if your knees weren't propped up by your mate's shoulders. “Oh fuck, oh fuck” Paul’s jaw flexes against your thighs when he begins to fuck you with his tongue, one hand fumbling for your cunt before he tickles the hood with his thumb. Your back arches and you clench your eyes shut, your chest heaving as you gasp out his name.

“Tsk, tsk, mouse” his hot breath fans your sensitive folds and you can't help but whimper at the feeling of his middle finger replacing his tongue. “You need to relax.” His hand that holds your ass pats your cheek in an endearing yet condescending way and your whole body tenses up at the touch even more. “I'm gonna take care of you, baby” you cannot help but rock your hips to his finger stretching your insides out against it. “You're mine and I'll never let you get hurt again, I promise” he croons before pressing a tender kiss to your clitorial nub. “You know that, right?” He kisses the slick covered inside of your thigh next to soothe your shaking body. “Tell me you know you're mine” his possessive words make the heat between your legs to go haywire.

“I am yours, Paul” you breathlessly promise him before letting out a moan when he tickles your folds with his tongue in a praising manner, satisfaction breaking out on his handsome face at your obedience.

“Good mouse” he begins to lap at your nub and your walls tense around his finger as a result, causing for your slick to slosh from the opening and down Paul's hand. “Shh, mouse, easy now” he cooes to get you to relax because of how tightly you are clenching yourself and it only gets worse when he adds a second finger. Your hips are so tight. You are on the edge. “You're gonna let me take care of this cute little pussy, aren't you?” You whimper at the feeling of being stuffed full and being licked at the same time.

“Y- Yes, Paul!” The air is heavy with the smell of slick and the sound of him slurping your juices up.

He adds a third finger and you nearly burst into tears from the pleasure. “Oh God, Paul, I am gonna cum!” Your entrance burns from the stretch and you moan from the bittersweet discomfort. “Please, lemme cum! Wanna cum so bad! Please, please!” Your submissive side comes out because of how overwhelmed you are and Paul can cum from the fragility of your voice right here.

“Hold it for me, mouse, good girl, c'mon” you sob at his cruel denial and he closes his lips around a mouthful of your folds, soundfully sucking at the clammy skin as he speeds his hand up to practically hammer your trembling pussy into an orgasm. Your toes curl and you throw your head back, fingers tugging at his hair as you tremble violently against him. Your back arches from how his free hand pinches and twists your nipples, softly landing occasional smacks to your boobs. “Good girl. I know you can take it” his hand then comes down to massage your ass cheek to make for a better stretch. “Relax, baby” you sob out his name and he smiles against your quivering core, his cheek gently caressing the inside of your thigh to get you to loosen up a little because you are clenching so hard.

“You're doing good, mouse. So good” his lips buzz against your clit. “Take it, baby, take it” your walls twitch against his coarse digits. “That's a good girl” he praises you while continuing to stuff your pussy with his fingers, the feeling of being filled up to the brim causing for you to shake and tremble violently. “That's my good girl” his tongue licks your clit as his fingers curve inside of you to search for your sensitive bundle of nerves that always makes you let out the sweetest of melodies.

“I'm gonna— I can't anymore, Paul!” Neon shapes cloud your vision when his fingers graze your sensitive spot and he growls at the feeling of your walls convulsing around his fingers.

“Yeah, baby. You can cum now” he finally relents and you cry out from the joy. “My little mouse, give me that sweet cum” his mouth never stops moving against you and you are so overcome with emotion that you are not sure if the tears that are streaming down your cheeks are due to pleasure or pain. “Gimme it, mouse. Gimme it” his tongue is like a beast that eats you up to satiate its starvation. You cry out his name from the pleasure.

“Paul! Paul, Paul— oh god!” The tongue is too much, though it gives you everything you could ask for at the moment, you need to escape. But when you try to pull away Paul catches your hips and holds you in place. 

“Now, where do you think you're going, little mouse?” There is a beastliness to his voice.

“N- No, Paul! No more—” you don't get to finish your plea because his mouth clamps down on your sensitive flesh to suckle on it in big, eager kisses again and your heart threatens to burst through your chest.

“Oh fuck” the knot between your legs tightens so hard you cannot maintain it anymore. Vertigo breaks through your hearing. “Oh— Paul!” The orgasm takes over your whole body, your mind blurs from the burst of sensation that courses through your blood and everything turns into a euphoric mess. “O- Oh God…” You tremble from the aftershock and Paul groans when he feels you squirt. He releases your hips and you fall back onto the floor, your body too weak to withstand its own weight. “O- Oh fuck…” You're breathless and your body feels like jelly. “Paul, oh Paul…” Your fingers desperately try to reach for him like you're no older than a baby and you notice that he is stroking his hurting cock because of the need to bury his knot in you, a pained expression etched across his face. “P- Paul, I am ready” though you can barely speak, your body shakes from the need to be filled up by him.

“Mouse… are you sure?” Though his voice strains from the painful need, he prioritizes your comfort over his and your heart wells up.

“Y- Yes” you try to sit up. “Fill me up, please” he needs no more encouragement after that. With a low growl, he jumps onto you and you feel the tip of his cock press against your entrance in a heated caress that makes you whine, your body even forgetting to yelp from how he pounces on you. 

“I'll never hurt you again, mouse” he whispers into your ear as he buries his nose into your hair, cock throbbing between your legs. You gasp when he enters you in a quick thrust that makes for all the air to bolt out of your lungs. “I promise.” You tremble in his hold and Paul groans at the feeling.

“I know” his mouth clamps down on the mating mark upon hearing your whisper and he slowly stretches your pussy to fit around his erection that even after all that fingering is still too big for your tiny cunt. The overstimulation causes for stars to form in your vision. His cock twitches inside you and he growls, the tip of his tongue tickling your nape in need.

“That's a good girl, baby” the hand that cups the side of your face tenderly strokes your cheek. “Relax for me” when your walls finally adjust to his log-like girth, Paul grins against the mating mark. “You're doing so good for me” the thrust of his hips causes for his cock to rub against your sensitive spot and your eyes roll to the back of your head with the feeling. “There's my good girl. You take my cock so well.” He releases his bite, hips pistoning up and down between your legs as he baby talks to you and strokes your hair to comfort you against the overstimulation that makes you whine.

“Paul!” You tremble as he fucks you in slow, long strokes and you cannot help but cry out his name in need.

“I'm here, baby. I got you” he murmurs into your hair and you moan at the baritone of his voice. “Take this cock, baby, you got it” he pants as his fat cock slides in and out of you. Then he suddenly grunts and readjusts you in his hold because the position is not comfortable enough for you and he can feel it. “God, you're so perfect.”

“I love you, Paul” you murmur into his ear, your hips lazily rolling against his as you hold him tight. 

“I love you more” the latter part of his sentence turns into a growl due to his struggle with the positioning and he collects your limp form in his. “And I can do this better” though he roughly pushes your bodies off the floor to head for the bedroom, his fingers subconsciously caress your back in gentle strokes to make up for how your bare skin rubbed into the floor during the ordeal. You whine from how his heavy sack puts a strain on your entrance where your bodies connect as he does so. He cooes praise and reassurance in your ear as comfort, peppering your mouth with gentle kisses.

.

The next morning when he leaves for patrol in a black tank top and some shorts, there is a shy grin on his face as he looks back at the door one last time to wave you goodbye. You blush and return the gesture, biting your lip like it's the morning after your first time with each other. 

“Geez, man, not the dreamy eyes!” A groan sounds from somewhere in the woods and you gasp before ducking behind the door. Chuckles and howls follow. 

The jerk brigade has arrived.

“Someone get these two a room!” You recognize Jake's voice and shake your head as you peek outside from behind your shield. “Oh, wait, they did that already!” You cannot help but snort when you see that Paul has begun to jog in the direction of the voices. “In light of how the whole town learnt all the ways in which Paul's name can be moaned last night” uh, oh. That's not going to be good. Your lover is very private and sensitive about you as it is and when someone tries to pry or joke about matters of this sort he does not appreciate it. Especially if it's his hormonal friends that he knows too well. “Paul, Paul, oh, Paul!” Your cheeks burn in embarrassment and Paul snarls before he flings his shirt off and jumps into the air, transforming into his beastly form midway and disappearing into the woods to attack the offendor.

You see the great trees shake from the tussle that you can practically visualize behind them and the encouraging howls of Paul's pack mates further confirms it. They love to get a rise out of your easily excitable boyfriend and he loves to put them in their place, being the strongest after Sam. Their crossing of each other's boundaries for the sake of fun used to concern you in the beginning but Paul himself assured you that that was just how they played and it was not coming from a bad place. 

So you wait for the ferocious crowd to move further away into the jungle that surrounds your house before you walk down to the dirt road to collect his clothing with a lighthearted shake of your head. A smile graces your lips as you do so and you cannot help but graze the now covered scars that your superhuman lover gave all his love to last night.  

Though it will be a while before he does, you cannot wait for him to come back home to you.

. . .

I am sorry if it sucks omg I really hope you like it <3

[depravitycentral]

yandere, 18+

I know I write about this kind of stuff a lot, but there’s just something about men humping inanimate objects that just really gets to me.

It’s the desperation that they can't control. It's the physical urge to move, to feel something underneath them, their body physically unable to stop itself from fucking something. It's the way their hips snap and buck and jolt all without them meaning it, their body betraying them on the most primal level because their subconscious is recognizing that they need something warm and soft and oh so pretty to sink into, to rut against until he's smearing pearls of white against soft, supple skin. It's the uncontrollable need to hump themselves against you, really.

Fucking their fist and mechanically bringing their wrist up and down again and again until cum oozes from the tip is fine and dandy, but they need more. They need the full immersion of the fantasy of fucking you, their brain needing the mental images and the physical motions of thrusting, pretending with every fiber of their being that its your warm, wet cunt sucking them in, the velvety feel of your walls leaving phantom touches against his skin.

(Some of them even go so far as to scratch at their own back, eyes rolling to the back of their head imagining that it’s you leaving your mark on him, that it’s your nails digging into his skin and digging into him, making him yours yours yours. They'll pinch at their own nipples, press fingertips hard against their biceps, even wrap a hand around his neck hard enough to leave the area red and irritated just to simulate the way that you'd touch him.)

Pillows, cushions, blankets, anything soft that could be a poor stand-in for your body is fine. Anything that he can clutch onto, that he can press his hips against tightly enough to be suffocating, something that can mold to the shape of him just as you would - all just to really feel like he’s got every single inch stuffed inside of you, giving everything he possibly can to you.

Even hard things will do in a pinch - perhaps the cover of a book you love and cherish, the texture of the binding leaving a slightly painful sting behind that blends into the pleasure and makes his eyes roll back. (Will you still smell the pages and sigh at that old-book smell, or will you perhaps notice the new presence of something slightly musky, slightly heavy, unexplainably male?) Your hairbrush - rutting against the handle he knows you’ve fucked your self with, alternating between rutting against it and bringing it up to his mouth to suck on, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to taste any traces of you.

The only rule is that it has to be something of yours, or something that connects to you in some way. Your pillow, a few wayward strands of your hair sitting against the plush, feeling like heaven and making him blush when he sees the way his sticky cum has left the hairs smeared again his skin, tacky and stuck to him. (The sight makes him suck in his breath, gulping harshly as he comes down from his high, a thumb coming out to carefully, nervously brush at the hair, unable to stop himself from feeling like the sight is somehow so very right.)

It’s better when things are stained - your underwear with discharge discoloration bleaching the fabric, your favorite skirt that you accidentally stained during your period, even a particular pair of socks that you once got dirt on. It’s been used and loved by you, and now he’ll use and love it, too, even leaving his very own stain behind.

There’s just something about it that makes everything feel better, more complete, more real. Of course nothing will ever compare to actually fucking you, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

And of course, the pinnacle, when he really gets desperate, is when he whips out one of the many, many photographs he's taken of you. (Or, photos he'd printed out from your social media accounts because he's too shy to actually photograph you - and this is less creepy, right? Right?) He's touching it with delicate fingers, barely pinching onto the corners, laying the image down on his bed and positioning himself to be right over it. He'll take his time to trace the outline of your face with the tip, sighing and biting his lip, before the urge takes over and soon he's groaning, hips rutting against the smooth surface of the photograph - your face, really.

(The cool feeling and the twinge of pain he gets when he angles wrong and catches the edge of the photograph only makes him grit his teeth, eyes squeezing shut harder because he has to do this - he has to keep fucking, to keep pushing himself because he needs to come for you, you deserve and he wants to give it to you so badly and oh oh oh - The photograph of you smiling is almost prettier with globs of his cum staining your pearly teeth and the apples of your cheeks.)

It's just so depraved, but they can't help it - they just want you so badly that they can't help it.

(In particular I'm thinking of the chronic humpers - Kageyama, who gets so, so whiny, his voice going high and pitchy and his face turning a bright pink color as his abs clench and flex, each drag of his hips making his arms shake even more, sweat beading at his temple leaving his dark hair matted to his forehead.

Or Sugawara, who tends to lay onto his back, humping at the pillow from underneath, pressing the cotton so hard against his pelvis that his biceps are taut, back arching and Adam's Apple bobbing as he chants yes yes yes under his breath, one hand even coming up to blindly grope and squeeze at the air where he imagines your bouncing tits to be.

Or Giyuu, who's thrusts start out slow, hesitant, embarrassed, as if he can't believe he's been reduced to his, worried to sully your good name. But then his hips get faster and he's burying his face into the crook of his elbow, whispering out a stuttered, broken p-please accompanied by your name as he cum seeps into the pillow material.

Or Tomura, who has all the fancy sex toys in the world that he's found on the deepest, most questionable parts of the internet, but finds that nothing is a good stand in aside from your pillow. He starts off animalistic, mounting the pillow and smacking at it, imagining the way your pretty ass would bounce back and ripple at the motion. But then his orgasm draws closer and the thrusts get deeper, more meaningful, like he's trying to reach as deeply inside of you as possible, and his grip is almost unbearably tight as his orgasm washes over him, hips quivering and twitching as he imagines the way you'd clutch onto him and thank him.

Or Feitan, who's biting into the pillow as he cock drags against it, teeth bared and practically snarling into the (stained) cotton, dark eyes squeezed shut as he tries so very hard to not whine your name.

Or even, on very, very specific occasions, Chrollo, whose sense of dignity flies out the window when you deny his romantic advances once again. You're just playing so very hard to get, and while he's invested into the game for the long run, he's still just a man - and the image of you spread out underneath him, wearing lacy, angelic lingerie and spreading those creamy, supple thighs of yours is enough to drive him mad.

It's just pathetic enough to be sweet, really, and although you aren't exactly flattered when you walk in on him heatedly grunting your name with the pillow tightly clutched between his thighs, just know he's doing it for you. Everything he does is for you.

[gay-dorito-dust]

HEYYYY

Soo I'm here to rq another Damian x reader(platonic). But real quick, I'm sorry if I'm requesting too much or being a nuisance. Pls lmk if I am so I can stop! It's just hard to find somebody that writes for him like dis.

Anyways, basically the same thing were theyre friends but this time it's a diff scenario. So Damian n reader are obvi friends but theyre also complete oposites. Like Damian is intelegent, focused and meanwhile has reader is a bit dumber, daydreams too much, and kinder. They also get walked over a lot.

So he invites reader over to the manor and she meets his brothers n dad. It's all fine n dandy but they can't help but notice how diff they are.

Bonus points if reader talks positively abt him to his brothers and they're all like "fym he's nice?" And readers all like "fym he isnt?" (They're just not used to being treated like a normal human being) ‼️

Honestly I love writing for platonic! Damian. So pls don’t apologise for anything bc I’m having so much fun rn. 🦦plus I don’t know if this will read well as I’ve written this late at night when o should probably be in bed.

‘Am I seeing things or has Damian finally made a friend.’ Dick whispered to Jason, his eyes unable to tear his eyes away from you and Damian followed Bruce through the manor.

‘Nope, I’m definitely seeing it too.’ Jason replied also looking at you and Damian as if he was looking at the human personifications of night and day.

‘The fact that the demon spawn managed to get a friend sure is…something.’ Tim piped up, having overheard his brothers conversation from standing in between them. ‘I can only hope he didn’t kidnap the poor soul.’ Dick added as he was quick to click onto how Damian kept a hand on your arm, tugging and pulling you along when you stop to stare at a painting in awe for a little too long, gently encouraging you to keep up with him and Bruce by promising to go back to the painting later. Jason then looked over at Tim, ‘any ideas on who they are?’ Tim shrugged. ‘Only the fact that they go to the same school as Damian, share the same art classes and is known for being a little bit of a daydreaming pushover, but despite all that they’re still a kind person.’

Dick smiled sympathetically as his heart ached for you. It wasn’t easy being nice in a city like Gotham, if anything nice ever wandered into the accursed city it seemed as though Gotham itself would stop at nothing to see it destroyed, decimated and become as miserable and as bleak as the city itself; So it was rare to find someone who genuinely could still bring it in themselves to smile whilst in a city like this. And for that Dick had to give you props for being brave enough -and strong enough- to be kind in a place that would gladly take pleasure in stepping over and on you at any inconvenience. For it was truly a sign of bravery at its finest.

‘That kid is sure brave.’ Jason signed, knowing that people like you don’t last in Gotham but it was people like you that Gotham needed the most, but how could a retched place like Gotham heal when it’s always been a rotten city since it’s very conception? He didn’t believe it could be possible but there were always solutions to fighting the problem that seemed impossible to overcome. So who cares if you weren’t the brightest bulb at school? The education system in Gotham was shit anyway the last time he checked and he doubted much had changed when he…well you know…

Tim was silent. He was too busy recognising the protective measures that Damian was taking specifically for you; mainly the hand tugging at your arm anytime he thought you were getting distracted or wandering off elsewhere and muttering about how you need to keep or you’ll get left behind, despite the fact that even if you did Damian would allow himself to fall behind just so that he could walk besides you. While he might be part of the majority that didn’t think he’s ever see the day that Damian brought a friend home, never less a friend who was the total opposite of him. He couldn’t help but feel a sort of relief that Damian finally found a friend, and he knew that both Jason and Dick felt similarly from the looks upon their faces, silently observing how you interact with one another.

The one thing that Tim was confident in was the fact that Damian needed you as much as you needed Damian because you were a beacon of opportunity for his younger brother in many ways that Tim was certain you weren’t made aware of just yet. So while he and his brothers may tease and take this piss about how different you were from Damian, they mean well and express their happiness the only way they knew best; teasing and taking the piss.

‘This library is beautiful Mr Wayne! Do you have any fantasy books?’ You could be heard asking down the hallway, followed by the sound of Bruce softly laughing as he showed you the grand library. ‘This library has any book you can think of and please call me Bruce, it’s not often that Damian brings anyone home for the weekend.’ He says as you looked the Damian confused and a little betrayed. ‘You’ve got friends other than me?’

Damian groaned. ‘No. I don’t, you’re the only friend I’m willing myself to have.’

You smiled and gripped his hand. ‘Aww Dami! That’s so sweet of you to say, despite how brash and blunt you may come across, I’m glad to say that you’re the only friend I’m willing to have too!’ You said without shame. ‘Everyone else isn’t a nice as you are.’ You trailed off while a rare solemn look appeared upon your face as Damian was quick to squeeze your hand reassuringly, Bruce smiled sympathetically. ‘I’m not smart like your son mr Wayne, I can’t help it if things don’t come to me as easy as they do others but I try! I try really heard to do my best at every test but…but people tend to laugh of me because to them I’m either slow or thick.’ Damian’s jaw clenched and his brows furrowed upon being remembered of what people tended to call you.

He hated it and whenever he saw it happen, he was quick to utter some threatening words before taking his usual position as your pseudo-bodyguard for the rest of the school day. At first he wasn’t bothered but when you became restless in your pursuit of being his friend, he remembered vividly how people were mocking and making fun of you for trying to be his friend, that he often regrets not accepting your friendship sooner if it meant being able to be there when it counts.

‘When will you get it that Damian doesn’t want to be friends with someone like you.’ One person said.

‘Then I’ll just have to keep trying.’ You rebutted, still smiling somehow.

Another person scoffs. ‘Get fucking real. You’re a weirdo, no one wants to be friends with a weirdo who so fucking slow at everything.’

You merely shrugged, even when someone’s insulting you, your brain doesn’t recognises it as such. ‘I’m sure he won’t mind.’

‘God you’re so fucking useless that I’m surprised that anyone bothers with you. Let me say this in a way you won’t have to try so hard to understand dipshit. Damian. Will. Never. Be. Friends. With. Someone. Like. You. Ever.’ A third slowly spoke and Damian had heard enough and within a blink of an eye had laid them out flat. You blinked before looking at Damian with a bright smile. ‘Hi Damian! Did you hurt these guys, that’s not very nice.’

‘They insulted you and yet you defend their honour.’ Damian asked incredulously as you both walked down the hallway, leaving the three bullies to groan from their injuries. You shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t say that.’

‘They were insulting you.’ Damian reiterated. ‘They insulted your intelligence and your abilities. People like them often hide bigger insecurities than others.’ Damian replied, finding your ability to keep smiling after such things both annoying as it was admirable.

‘Are we friends now?’ You asked innocently enough and Damian knew he had sealed his fate, and so he sighs and looks up to the ceiling. ‘Yes, we’re…friends.’ He mutters and doesn’t do anything to stop you from dragging him to art class.

‘I was alone before Damian.’ You admitted as you looked at Bruce with a smile as you squeezed Damian’s hand in kind. ‘But now he’s here and he’s my bestest friend ever!’ Damian honestly wishes that you respect yourself more because you could claim that he saved you multiple times, but you’d never acknowledge the times where you have saved him by being unequivocally kind, sweet and over all a better person then all of Gotham’s civilians combined. ‘I was finding my first week at school horrid before I befriended l/n.’ Damian admitted as you softly cooed. The boy then swallows thickly. ‘Their friendship is much appreciated.’

‘Aww! Dami!’ You cried as you crashed into him, causing you both to hit the floor in a heap of limbs.

While Damian was cursing mom lethal threats and you were laughing, Bruce had already made his mind up about you and was certain to make sure to have Damian invite you over as much as possible. It was obvious for him to see that you and Damian were good for each other despite your vast and glaring differences, however that’s what worked in your favour, the power to have over come all odds was incredible; not to mention the fact that your friendship with Damian had lasted as long as it has was another impressive feet on top of that. Bruce knows it’s been hard for Damian to fit in and find a friend, but he couldn’t have made a better friend than he did in the likes of you.

You were more than defiantly welcomed back to the manor if Bruce had anything to say about it.

‘Get off of me!’ Damian shouts.

‘Damian, I think my foot is stuck with yours.’ You reply, scared.

‘That’s your own foot- how did you manage to tangle yourself up in yourself? You landed onto of me?’ Damian asked incredulously.

‘Sorry.’ You apologised.

‘Don’t be.’ Damian said.

Bruce smiled one last time before leaving you both alone in the library to untangle yourselves, only to be greeted by Tim, Dick and Jason. ‘Can I help you three?’ Bruce raised an eyebrow at the boys.

‘Nope.’ Dick started.

‘Not really, just…seeing how the little scamps are dealing.’ Jason followed after.

‘Damian? Nice? The same Damian who tried to, oh I don’t know…KILL ME?!’ Tim asked, revealing to Bruce all he needed to know, their breathing behind the library door was telling that they were clearly eavesdropping on the three of you. Jason and Dick looked at him displeased as Tim looked back at them. ‘I’m not the only one of us who thought that.’ He defended himself. ‘I mean it’s nice that he’s looking out for y/n but still that’s not something someone casually forgets.’

Bruce merely leaves Tim, Dick and Jason to their own quarrel, he loves his boys he truly does, but sometimes they’re more trouble than what they’re worth. He can only hope that they don’t scare you off from coming back for good because he was already planning your next visit.

[frozenhi-chews]

Happy Marriage to Pancake and Starlo!

May these two fine the happiness and laughter in the next chapter of their lives. Through thick and thin, sickness and health, they're gonna stick together. Especially after what they had gone through before this moment.

The whole town arrived. This is the sheriff getting married after all! So many people wasn't expecting him to get married, to Pancake no less! The rivalry was a big part of the town's history, being tied to North Star himself, and seeing them get closer and closer was fun and kinda crazy. The whole town knew, and Pancake is married to Starlo. Feisty Four are also happy that they're married. And a few bets had to be paid.

Now they're off to the next chapter in their lives. And they still stick to each other like velcro.

more stuff under cut, like a lovesick rambling by me.

I have no idea why this guy chose me. Like, at all. I look at him, and that's my husband. I feel so oddly connected to him, and I've said this before, but he is someone I genuinely wanna marry. Starlo is my beloved, my soulmate, I love him so much, its insane that he picked me. Legit, it felt like he picked me all those months ago. Back in January. Does anyone remember when I was so happy with OTCore and the "2024 is the year of the robots?" Yeah, guess what happened XD

Starlo helped me in so many ways, keeping me sane through so much. Originally it was gonna happen on the six month anniversary, but I ended up being too tired. Regardless, I'M SO HAPPY TO DO IT NOW!!

I look at him and I melt. I just, I love him. He loves me. I have never felt this connected to ANY fictional character like this. Spamton came close, really close. But oh well.

This was a DOOZY! Spent like, four straight days working on this. And I'm so happy I did. The colored comic is a reference to this video. It fits so well cuz its something Starlo would say and, well, PANCAKE'S NAME!! And Starlo hasn't dated anyone at ALL, there's no way he was expecting to marry someone.

Also the gif wasn't supposed to be a gif! I was trying to make a more dynamic pose for Pancake, but I already had the other sketch made, so it turned into a gif. Makes it better imo. Also I'm not too happy with Pancake's outfit. The cape is also a poncho of sorts. ah well. im also too lazy to draw the Feisty Four and Clover after all the stuff i've drawn all of this.

but yeah i hope y'all enjoy!!

Comic Transcripts: Starlo: "I, Starlo Sunnyside, do take Pancake to be my waffle-y- lawfully"

Starlo: "and pancake-y" Pancake: Pfft-

Pancake: [Silent laughter]

Starlo: "I've been scared of this m'entire life" Pancake: "BWAAHAHAHAHAHAHA-" SECOND COMIC: Ceroba: "Well, congratulations Star. How do you feel getting married?"

Starlo: "Lucky..."

Tagging: @sparkyscissorhands @sparklings-husband @prismatica-the-strange @pinkdinkydoon @simonlynch

@snowpuffclovers @ghost--girlfriend @gibles-lovely-selfships @jocelynships @catships777

@wuffverine @patchw0rk-quilt @mrscage @dudeshusband @aego-philautia

@mandrakebrew @jils-things @gideongrovel @tieflingships @carnival-of-love

@faerie-circle-ships @rexscanonwife @lovelyheartclover @mrs-bluemarine @mephy-doodle-dandy

@kakusboyfriend @mashedpotatosinacup @heartmatic @bunbunsheart2 @cinnamon-phrog

@chalcanthitedreams @literally-just-there @halsinkisser @sheepie-self-ships @moondane-lovers

@bbyshifts @starlo-uty @galaxywolfshipper @signs-of-blossoming @maetheartist

[kakitetan]

Yandere! Glisten x GN! Reader | His One And Only Desire

Synopsis: Toodles was helping Dandy with some work in the museum and gets lost. You decide to help Rodger find her, which inspires other toons to help find her. Along with all this, one by one, everyone gets infected by ichor. You're the last one, and you find Glisten.

WARNING: Contains mentions of gore, obsession, stalking, murder, torture, and child endangerment. Your discretion is advised.

You were a toon, and so were your friends. There were eight, then seven, then six. Then one, you. You were the last one, you regret it. You should've listened, but with that optimistic mindset, everyone had disbelief. You made a mistake, you didn't even know what death was before this, and that reflection of innocence was shattered. Staring at your reflection in the haunting elevator, was a constant reminder of how this all began...

"What? Toodles is missing?" You repeated, "I'm afraid so... She went to help Dandy with some machines. I have to go look for her." Rodger spoke, and you felt for him. Toodles meant a lot to him, he was practically a father figure. Plus, she must be so scared! The museum is so big!

"I'll come too!" You said, "Why, I might as well tag along." Glisten spoke up, inspiring your other friends to tag along as well.

You never saw it coming...

"Great! I can help supply you guys, why now there's nothing to fear! Toodles will be just fine!" Dandy said.

Why was it that Dandy was never worried in the first place, he just grinned at you and your friends. All he wanted in exchange for his help, were some tapes and supplying the museum with an odd black fluid. Dandy always had a smile on his face, no matter what the situation. He seemed almost amused by the difficult situations you seemed to constantly find yourself and the rest of the toons in. It was unnerving, the way he could remain unruffled when everyone else was in a state of conflict, and his confidence bordered on arrogance. With his relaxed attitude, he was the star of the show. He acted like it too... All he wanted in return for his help was some tapes and the occasional delivery of a strange black fluid to supply his museum's exhibits.

On the first floor, Boxten found Toodle's plush. Toodle's beloved plush toy lay abandoned on the floor, its battered stuffing peeking out of a tear in its side. Boxten paused to pick it up, feeling a pang of sympathy for its owner. The worn edges and faded fabric hinted at many nights of comfort and companionship.

"She would never leave this lying around," Boxten spoke, giving the plush to Rodger. He had no words.

We had never experienced anything like fear, grief, or anything like that. We had lived a life of privilege, shielded from the harsher realities of the world. The closest thing to sadness we ever experienced was Shrimpo's bullying. That was tame compared to the sinking feeling of loss, and fear. It was strong, it took the words right out of everyone's mouths. But nothing could have prepared us for the feeling that washed over us at that moment - a heavy, sinking sensation that left us all breathless and afraid. We stood there, frozen and speechless, as the realization of what was happening slowly sank in.

When we got back to the elevator, Poppy tried to lighten the mood. Poppy, ever the optimist, attempted to alleviate the tension by making a light-hearted remark as we gathered in the elevator.

Boxten's voice cut through the silence as he voiced his concern. "I'm scared maybe we missed something on the last floor," Boxten spoke.

"Boxteeenn! You worry WAAAAYYYYY too much! Everything's gonna be okay!" She cheered.

Boxten's voice cracked as he countered Poppy's question. "We didn't check everywhere, what if there's something important we missed?" His words hung in the air, the fear of the unknown hanging over him heavier than the silence.

"You're doing it again!" Poppy replied, causing some of the toons in the elevator to laugh.

The next floor took us by surprise as we came face to face with copies of ourselves. They were aggressive and unsettling. Twisted Boxten let out a distressing, gurgling sound as if he were submerged in water. It was a chilling noise that lingered in your mind long after the encounter. Your arm was still scarred by the arms that grew out of his box.

Out of everyone to take it harshly, it was Boxten.

"I can't-- can't do this!" He was pacing in the elevator.

"Boxten... It's okay." Poppy spoke, placing her hand on his shoulder

"No! It's not, Poppy!" Boxten snapped, slapping her hand away. She gasped.

Poppy stared at him, her eyes brimming with tears, reflecting the deep well of emotions within her.

"Alright, enough. It's hard for everyone, let's just stay calm. I'm sure Dandy will know what to do." Rodger spoke, it calmed everyone down, but that was only temporary.

We never did get an explanation...

"What? Monsters? What are you guys talking about?" Dandy spoke.

"There's been monsters of us, explain yourself," Glisten leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms in a display of defiance as he spoke.

"Now now, there are no such things as monsters. That's only in nightmares, right, Astro?" Dandy replied to the group, Astro held up his blanket to cover his face. Astro didn't like being put in the spotlight.

"Why don't you all give me the tapes, and I'll give you some candy in exchange?" Dandy spoke.

And before we knew it, it became a cycle. A repeating cycle.

We lost Poppy first.

"Boxten!" She yelled, trying to reach out for him. He saw a twisted version of himself, grabbing Poppy, and then eating her alive.

"BOXTEN! HELP ME! IT HURTS! BOXTEN! HELP ME!" She screamed, blood filling her lungs. Her screams became more gurgled, he watched in horror.

His little legs trembled in fear before he ran off from her mutilated body.

After that encounter, Boxten fell silent. It seemed as though he had relinquished his voice, leaving the air heavy with his unspoken words. The departure of Poppy and Boxten only seemed to thicken the atmosphere.

Before the elevator door opened, Goob took out a box of bandages and bandaged your cuts. He carefully began to unwrap them and apply the adhesive strips to my injured wrists, wrapping them with a gentle and practised touch. His hand slumped back and forth to each one, he always had a bit of difficulty controlling his arms.

"I couldn't help but notice your arm was bleeding." Goob smiled at you, you smiled back.

"Thanks, Goob! You're the best." You spoke with a grin.

We tried to defend ourselves from the twisted versions of our friends, but it became clear that they were stronger, faster, and more dangerous than us. Every blow we landed was met with a counterattack, every dodge was followed by a swift and brutal strike. We fought desperately, trying to keep them at bay, but the twisted copies seemed almost untouchable. Our every move was countered, and our attacks met with swift and brutal responses. Every time one of us gained an advantage, the twisted versions would quickly find a way to turn the tide back in their favour.

"It's okay! I'll distract them." Goob offered, carrying the line of twisteds. His self-sacrifice helped keep many toon's fear at bay, however, that didn't last long.

Goob left next...

Astro found his mutilated body, Astro's normally shy demeanour was replaced by a quiet resolve as he stumbled upon the mangled body of his friend. Astro closed Goob's eyes, a silent tribute to the fallen toon, before forcing himself to move on and continue onward, dragging his blanket along.

The elevator became quieter after those three were gone... The air felt thicker than ever before. The elevator ride to the next floor was sombre and still, the loss of our friends weighing heavily on everyone left. The air felt thick and oppressive like a heavy blanket suffocating any attempts at lighthearted conversation. Every glance at each other felt like a constant reminder of the reality of the situation.

As everyone diligently worked in quiet concentration, you found yourself engrossed in turning a pipe handle. Lost in the repetitive motion, your heart leapt into your throat and you were brought crashing back to reality, you were startled out of my trance by a sudden, piercing shriek. The ear-piercing shriek took us all by surprise, jolting us out of our thoughts and back into reality. No one spoke aloud, but the shared look of alarm and confusion was enough to tell me that we all felt the same way - startled and uncertain as to the source of the noise. Footsteps pitter-pattered into the room.

"GOOB! You're back! I just knew you were okay!" That sounded like Scraps..

You walked out of the room you were in, into the large corridor. Scraps was running over to the twisted version of her brother.

"SCRAPS, NO!" The words ripped out of your throat like a furious roar, and you were filled with urgency as you saw her charging towards danger. Your voice was raw from the force of my yell, and though it burned your throat, you couldn't let her put herself in harm's way.

Goob picked up Scraps, squeezing her mercilessly, tightening.

"No! NO!" You yelled as Goob grabbed Scraps and squeezed her mercilessly.

"GOOB! It's too tight! You're hurting me! IT H--" Scraps yelled, her little body straining under the pressure. Scraps' screams were abruptly silenced by a sickening SPLAT. Her blood, flesh, and cartilage stained the walls. Scraps of flesh splatted onto you, but your hand was still reached out for her. Her body parts fly off from the impact, hitting every surface imaginable.

But Scraps didn't exist anymore.

As you took a step back, Goob appeared unfazed by the fact that he had just taken the life of his sister. With a chilling calmness, he extended his arms towards you, and in a panic, you turned and sprinted back towards the elevator, desperate to escape the terrifying scene. The doors close behind you with a metallic clank, providing a momentary reprieve from the horror that awaits outside. But even as you attempt to distance yourself from the carnage, the echo of Scraps' final moments lingers.

One by one, everyone left this world.

Everyone except for you, you aren't even sure why you're still going. In a trance-like state, you exit out of the elevator. You had been alone for a while, so suddenly hearing a familiar voice speak caught you off guard.

"D-Did I just hear someone?" Glisten spoke.

You never ran so fast, running over to him. Your heart pounds fiercely in your chest as you approach Glisten. Your speed slowed down as you saw his appearance, half of his face was broken, and his hands were tied by his belt. Half of his face is disfigured beyond recognition, and Glisten's torso is mutilated., a mangled mess. He looks up at you with vacant, hollow eyes, the light within them extinguished forever. Blood trickles slowly from the gaping wounds, staining the floor beneath him. Despite the horrific sight before you, you can't help but feel a pang of pity for this once graceful man reduced to have such a horrific fate.

You felt vomit in your throat, tasting a bit of the candy you had earlier. The sight of ichor instantly made you sick to your stomach. Causing your stomach to churn violently. Your body recoils instinctively, refusing to accept the sight before you. Ichor, the thick, dark fluid of life, spills from Glisten's wounds.

His voice, once commanding and confident, now comes out as a weak plea. "Oh, it's you.." he murmurs, barely above a whisper. "Stop! Please don't run!" Glisten begged, stumbling towards you, his movements slow and laboured. One of his eyes is a ghastly shade of pink, the other staring blankly ahead.

You nodded, showing any fear wasn't a good idea. This was scarier for him than it was for you. "What.. What happened?" You asked him. Yet, despite everything, you extend a sliver of compassion, reaching out to offer some semblance of comfort amidst the horror that was around the both of you.

"I was attacked earlier, I found myself here. I'm so glad you're here, Y/N. I don't want to be alone.. Please... Don't leave me, please stay." He begged.

You nodded again, albeit lacking confidence. You didn't want to say it, but you knew what you had to do. "Don't worry, I'm not hurt at all. I'll keep you company. I just have to do these pipes." You said to him, reassuring Glisten.

"Alright.." He responded.

You navigate the dimly lit corridor, your steps deliberate and sure. Reaching out, you grasp the cold metal of the first pipe, twisting the handle firmly. The pipe groans in protest, releasing a torrent of ichor that cascades downwards.

"How have you managed to avoid getting infected?" Glisten asked.

That perked your attention, it was a hard question to answer, due to his own circumstances. You felt your mouth dry up.

".. I'm very careful." You responded, trying to play it safe. You flashed him a smile, that faded as you turned back your attention to the pipe.

"That's smart.. But I believe even the most cautious people would break under these circumstances." Glisten said.

You glanced at him, thinking. You wondered if this was even your Glisten or some kind of clone. In all honesty, you were going mad. This was hell. How could you not tell the difference anymore?

"Why haven't you given up yet?" Glisten asked.

You turned the pipe handle in thought, before turning your head in thought. "I think I have, I'm just bad at showing it." You answered back.

"Nonsense, Y/N. That doesn't sound like something someone who has given up would say." Glisten responded.

You were just trying to be honest, "It’s true, I can’t accomplish my dreams if I have no one to share it with, and.. Everyone is depleting so fast. But.. I still continue to do these pipes. I don’t know why I do it, ever since I’ve been here, I feel like I’ve been out of touch with myself. I’ve been running on adrenaline." You expressed, gripping the pipe harder. This whole time, you were just trying to do it for Toodles, but now you have no one to live for, no one to continue for. You've just been working in a trance-like state.

It made no sense to you.

Glisten listened to your confession, his single red eye reflecting a depth of empathy that belies his twisted exterior.

"You're doing this for yourself and for those who came before," he says gently, stepping closer as if offering comfort despite his monstrous appearance.

It made you uneasy, but you didn't step away. This is one of your friends and the only one you have left...

You fake a smile, "Mhm." You nodded.

Glisten stared at you, admiring you. Feeling a sense of connection with you, Glisten allows himself to relax slightly. For the first time in what felt like ages, he allowed himself to open up.

"There used to be so much life here," he murmurs softly, looking around at the desolate lobby. "People laughing, music playing..."

A melancholic smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he remembers happier times.

"But now... it's just us." He said rather quietly.

A chill ran down your spine at that sentence alone. You never felt so unsafe with someone you trusted before. You catch a glint of your reflection in his mirror, you make your way to another pipe. He followed you like a lost puppy. You struggle to come up with something to say in response, trying to hide your fear.

"That may be true, but it can always happen again. Even if things seem rather dull right now, it doesn’t have to stay that way forever." You walked over to another pipe, turning the handle, letting the ichor pour into the pipe. Just what was this stuff anyway, and why does Dandy need it so badly?

Watching you guide him towards the pipe, Glisten can't help but admire your determination. Despite all odds, they refuse to give up. "Even amidst this chaos," he whispers, gazing down at the swirling ichor filling the pipe. "You find ways to bring back some semblance of normalcy." His pink eye follows every movement of your hand as it manipulates the pipe handle. "It's... inspiring," he admits quietly, feeling strangely uplifted by their actions.

This didn't sound like Glisten at all, maybe he's just saying this out of fear, or maybe even regret.

"I guess so, I’m not really sure why. Even before all of this, Shrimpo used to bully me for it. He said I was just being stubborn. I think it’s pretty funny at times, kinda like now. I’m not stupid, I see what’s going on around me, but I believe that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. I try to think that way anyway.. I have nothing else to lose." You confess to him, you were being honest.

Glisten listens intently as you share your thoughts, a flicker of respect igniting within him. The resilience and optimism in their words strike a chord deep within his own psyche.

"You know, I never thought of it that way," he muses, his gaze drifting to the floor as he ponders your perspective. "Maybe holding onto hope, no matter how slim, is what keeps us sane." He said, which was a huge contrast to his appearance.

You look at him again, as he stares at you with fear and admiration.

Slowly, he raises his head to meet your eyes, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "If anyone can find that light, it's you," he says rather sincerely, his voice carrying a note of encouragement. "And I'll be right here beside you, trying to do the same."

That caught you off guard again, as much as you wanted to bring him with you, you couldn't. Maybe he was saying all of this as a means of survival.

As you stood there silently in awe, the pipe slowly filled with a dark, viscous ichor. You then proceeded to explore the expansive corridors, scanning for additional pipes. He followed you silently, fidgeting with the bonds on his wrists.

Observing your silent resolve, Glisten watches you move around the room, searching for more pipes to fill. A strange warmth begins to spread throughout his chest — a sensation he hasn't felt in quite some time.

"Hey," he calls out after a moment, "Do you want some help?"

As you paused in your tracks, his words echoed in your mind, stirring up a sense of unease. Despite feeling unsettled, you made a conscious effort to conceal your internal turmoil. You managed to mask your inner thoughts with a smile as you turned to face him. "Oh come on, Glisten! The last person that should be working is you, you’re hurt. Focus on resting, okay?" You choked out.

Glisten pauses, considering your words carefully. They carry a weight that he hadn't expected, stirring up emotions within him that were long buried.

"I appreciate your concern," he replies, his tone sincere despite the slight edge of frustration seeping through. "But right now, I'd rather focus on helping you."

You didn't look at him, staring at his reflection through the pipe. He didn't blink, he stared at you.

He stepped closer to you. "And besides..." A soft sigh escapes from between his lips as he gestures vaguely around them at the desolation surrounding them. "...What else do we have left to do?"

"Pipes, pipes, and more pipes. But really, I got this. Maybe if you rest, your body can heal too. So don’t worry about it, okay? I got this." You walked over to the next pipe, turning the handle. Your smile faded when he wasn’t looking.

Noticing your subtle change in demeanour, Glisten remains silent for a moment. He watches them work, admiring their dedication while also sensing their underlying unease. Glisten's eye narrows slightly as he notices the shift in your demeanour, a flicker of understanding dawning on his battered face. He observes you working, his gaze lingering on the focused determination etched across your features. At the same time, he senses the unease simmering just below the surface, a tension that threatens to erupt at any moment. The air grows heavy with unspoken questions and fears, the silence between you two becoming almost palpable.

"Are you alright?" he finally asks, breaking the silence. "It seems like something's bothering you."

His gaze lingers on your face, searching for signs of distress that might indicate otherwise.

"You don't have to keep smiling all the time, you know." he continues gently. "We're in this together." He spoke

There it was again, together. He must've been delirious or something, or delusional. Maybe both! You weren't taking him with you.

".. No, I’m just listening for any noise that may cause concern. The darkness.. I’m afraid of the dark, so I’ve been having to rely on my other senses for comfort in these situations." You confess.

Hearing your admission, Glisten feels a pang of sympathy. Despite everything, their vulnerability touches him deeply.

"That must be hard." He acknowledges, his voice softening even further. But you're braver than you realize. Moving closer, he offers a comforting touch on your shoulder. "Just remember," he insists firmly, 

"We're not alone here. And I promise, I'll do whatever I can to keep you safe." He murmured darkly.

You faked another smile, "Thanks Glisten." The pipe finished filling up, moving on to the next one, the last one. Turning the handle to fill it up.

As you move onto the final pipe, Glisten finds himself drawn to watch them. There's an almost hypnotic quality to their movements, their dedication serving as a stark contrast against the eerie stillness of their surroundings. As you move toward the last pipe, Glisten's attention becomes fixated on your every movement. Something is captivating about your unwavering commitment, a relentless pursuit of survival that contrasts sharply with the oppressive quietude of your environment. His battered form leans against the wall, watching intently as you twist the final handle, triggering another wave of water that cascades down.

"Almost done," he murmurs appreciatively, "And then we can rest."

If only he knew that statement was far from the truth...

A faint glimmer of satisfaction shines in his red eye as he takes in the sight of all three pipes filled with ichor. The sight of the three pipes brimming with ichor elicits a minuscule flash of satisfaction in Glisten's single functional eye.

"But until then," he adds with a tired smile, "I'm just glad you'll stay with me forever, Y/N."

You stayed silent, filling the pipe with ichor, twisting and turning the handle. You didn't want to break him, not now. You knew it was inevitable, but you had to focus on your survival. The silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating, broken only by the rhythmic sound of the ichor-filled water gurgling through the pipes. You maintain your focus, twisting and turning the handles with mechanical precision, your mind numb to the grisly nature of your task. There's a certain detached efficiency in your actions, a desperate attempt to cling to sanity in the face of unimaginable horror. You know what must come next, but for now, you push those thoughts aside, channelling all your energy into the singular goal of survival.

Observing your focused concentration, Glisten allows himself a moment of quiet contemplation. Their steadfast commitment to making the best out of such dire circumstances is nothing short of remarkable.

"Incredible," He cooed. He steps closer, his presence offering a silent testament to their shared struggle.

As your hands leave the wheel, the reality of your situation crashes over you like a tidal wave. You can't bring yourself to meet Glisten's gaze, the shame and guilt gnawing at your insides like ravenous twisted. Your eyes drift downward, fixating on the grimy floor beneath your feet, as if searching for answers in the cracks and stains. The silence between you two is deafening, a physical manifestation of the chasm that has opened up, threatening to swallow you whole. It was all eating at you.

"Glisten?" You asked him, your voice wavered.

Startled by the unexpected sound of his name, Glisten snaps back to attention. His heart skips a beat as he locks his one eye with you, their gaze heavy with unspoken questions and concerns.

"Yes?" He responds softly, leaning in slightly to better hear them. "What is it?"

Your head perked up, turning your head to face him.

".. I think you’re incredible. You do defy beauty. Now, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, alright? I’ll whack them if they try." You said, trying to add confidence to your tone. What was left of your sanity, and confidence felt like it was thrown out the window when the light turned green. Suddenly, a loud shatter noise filled the room. The ichor was consuming Glisten, your unease turned into fear in an instant. Your initial unease morphs into sheer, primal fear as you watch in horror the ichor begin its relentless assault on Glisten's ravaged form. He recoils instinctively, his body tensing as the corrosive substance envelops him, seeping into his wounds and devouring his flesh with alarming speed. Panic sets in, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he thrashes about, desperately trying to escape the inexorable grip of the ichor. Glisten instinctively recoils. As the ichor engulfs him, panic surges through his system.

"H-HELP ME! DON'T L-LEAVE ME!" He stammers out, struggling to maintain control as the familiar intoxicating rush of the infection takes hold. His words trail off into a guttural growl as he loses himself to the transformation.

With a burst of adrenaline-fueled desperation, you sprint towards the elevator, your heart pounding in your chest like a war drum. Behind you, Glisten's frantic cries echo through the corridors, each plea slicing through your already fractured composure. Every step you take seems to drag behind you, weighed down by the guilt and fear that threaten to consume you whole. The chase is a race against time and your own failing sanity.

His one and only desire.

Feeling your retreat, Glisten lets out a low, menacing snarl. His remaining eye blazes with an unholy glow as he struggles to retain his sanity. you crash into the wall trying to make your way to the elevator, causing him to bump into it, trying to catch you. Your head was dizzy, running, sprinting to the elevator!

You ran into the elevator, chasing the elevator doors, you knew at that point, that wasn’t Glisten speaking, but rather the infection of ichor. He was already gone.

As you back away, Glisten's form begins to contort under the influence of the ichor. His yellow appearance darkens, taking on a sickly hue as his once-toon features morph into something far more monstrous.

You jump into the elevator, as the elevator doors slam shut, sealing you inside, you tumble forward, your body crashing against the cold metal walls. You manage to pull yourself upright, turning your head to catch one final glimpse of Glisten's agonized form. His crimson eye blazes with pain and desperation, reaching out his arm to you. The door shut all the way, crushing his arm. You heard his guttural scream of agony, the elevator began to ascend. It pulled his arm down, and he screamed in agony, choking on his spit and the ichor that consumed him. His skin was being crushed by the weight of the wall and elevator, it became too much. The sound of his flesh and bones cracking filled the air, before completely detaching itself from Glisten. His arm lay on the floor, in a pool of ichor.

AUTHORS NOTES: Soooo I'm completely aware this came out of no where, and literally no one asked for this, buuuuttttt I decided to do it anyways, because MAN I love my Roblox games. I also just couldn't get this idea out of my head, hrrrmmmmm!! I know I know, "TAN WHAT ABOUT YOUR SEBASTIAN SERIES!! IM WAITING?!?!?!???!!" YEA I KNOW. I KNOW. But, I did want to write something new, something FRESH as some squids may sayy. So yea! Enjoy!!

[macsimagines]

Yandere!Mikey w/ a S/O that had his child

ASKBOX IS OPEN

(So for this set of headcanons its for a Mikey thats been consumed by his dark impulses and has probably lost everyone... ALSO PLEASE tell me what you think? I work better when I'm given notes so any complaints or compliments ill take!)

(D/N) - Daughters Name (Y/N) - Your Name

You were supposed to be a one night stand. He wasn't even going to give you the time of day. You were some secretary or pencil pusher and he was making deals (harassing) your boss.

But you catch his eye, and your boss has you entertain him to make things go smoother.

Thankfully, you two hit it off. Mikey can be charming despite his horrible reputation and you've got such beautiful kind eyes...

One thing leads to another and one unforgettable night you two have sex.

Mikey doesn't call you or contact you after that, and you can take the hint that it didn't mean anything more than just a way to relieve stress.

That would be all fine and dandy if it weren't for the fact that you were puking your guts out and happened to be pregnant.

You can't depend on Mikey, you don't think he'll accept your child and you really don't want them involved in the underworld that Mikey controls.

So you move out of Tokyo to distant family in a different town. You get a job, have your wonderful child and live peacefully in a small town.

Four years down the road, you end up back in Tokyo with your daughter. You owed a friend a favor and you're not too worried.

Your Daughter might be Mikey's clone but Tokyo is a big city and he's a busy man. He must have had countless women before he's not going to recognize your face out of a million others. Plus its been years. You should be safe right?

Wrong. You wake up one morning and (D/N) is gone. You're frantic searching for her, so confused where she could have gone from your friends apartment when it hits you: The Park!

Sprinting over there you're met with a sight you never thought you'd see. Mikey holding your fidgeting daughter in his arms.

If not for the terrifying look in his eyes the scene is almost comical.

The two of them together look like a before and after picture because of how similar they are.

"Y/N, you wanna explain this?" he asks you, and you're more shocked he remembered your name than anything else.

You try to pull it together, you don't want to cause a scene in front of your daughter.

"Th-that's my daughter. She ran off this morning and I've been looking for her."

He tilts his head to the side while he looks you up and down, placing your little girl on his hip.

"Don't you mean our daughter?" there's something dark in his voice and down right malevolent in his eyes.

Panic rises in your chest and you look down at the ground. "I just...I wanted her to be safe. I-I didn't think you'd care."

Your sweet Daughter whimpers for you, not understanding who this strange man is or why he's making her mommy so upset.

"You thought I wouldn't acknowledge my own child? Am I that kind of man to you?"

Silence stretches between you before you finally get the courage to say; "How did you even find us?"

Mikey just stares and holds your girl close before answering; "I heard you were in town. I came looking for you, and found her. Guess this is fate."

What you didn't know was that Mikey did want you, he wanted you so bad it almost drove him crazy. He tried to keep his distance and ignore you, and just when he can't take it anymore he finds out you moved away?

That's fine. It wasn't meant to be. But he had eyes and ears out for you if you ever came back to him. If you willingly walked back into the lions den that must mean you want him to have you.

He hears your back, with a daughter, and that's not a problem. If you have a husband he'll make sure you don't anymore and he doesn't mind a brat, you'll give him some of his own and that will make up for it.

So he goes looking for you, and he's almost to the apartments he knows you're staying at when a little girl catches his eyes. For a second he thought he hallucinated a mirror, but no staring up at him is his own face.

In his heart he knows who this girl is. And he's mystified when she starts talking to him.

"How come the sun's so bright?" she asks him for whatever insane reason.

And the empty abyss in his chest is suddenly full of love and affection. She's perfect. He had a perfect daughter now. Mikey embraces and tells her as much. That she's wonderful and beautiful and so loved.

Then you come sprinting towards them and Mikey suddenly remembers you kept her from him.

Back to the present, he thinks if this had been anyone else he would have killed them. But its you. And thankfully you raised the perfect child and gave him a healthy daughter, so he can't be too mad. He'll take it out on some underlings that left out very important details...

"I'll take responsibility," he tell you grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you so you're face to face, "And you will too, Y/N. We're gonna raise a very happy family. And you're going to give me a very big one. Lots of kids." one for every person he's ever lost.

[justmeinatree]

Step Into The Light

Summary : you’re one of the dancers in the lights up video. harry takes a particular liking to you.

Word Count : 600

A/N : she’s a baby. a little teaser. ✌️

they wanted individual shots for the lights up music video. individual shots of harry with each of the main dancers. which was all fine and dandy until it was your turn. “y/n, nice to meet you,” he remembers you saying with a smile as you shook his hand. this was hours ago, before the shooting began.

you had finished all of the group scenes, and harry couldn’t keep you off his mind. the way he felt a particular heat under your touch whenever your fingertips ran along his skin. the way he leaned a little closer to you whenever you were right by him for the shot. it’s like his body was being pulled to yours, craving you in some kind of way.

so now, he was supposed to stay composed and professional as he had to dance and grind one on one, alone with you. at least earlier he could keep the thoughts at bay. with everyone else around, it really felt like a video shoot, with lots of things and people to think about. but now, here you are, back pressed to his front, your hips swaying back and forth, head leaned back against his shoulder.

you had given him the okay to touch earlier, so he doesn’t hesitate to let his hands glide down your arms, to your hips. his left hand stays firmly planted on your hip, right hand splayed out over your stomach, making its way up between your breasts, over your neck and jaw, fingers hooking into your chin to turn your face towards him.

harry’s eyes lock with yours, turning you around to face him, head lowering to rest his forehead against yours. you rest your hands on his chest, hearing the director calling something out, but your brain is too foggy to register anything.

you assume he’s putting on his best act, having done this 7 times already with other actors. but then you notice harry’s teeth sinking hard into his bottom lip, his hands gripping into your hips, and he pulls you into him. you feel his cock fattening up, your eyes locking with his as you hear a faint whine leave his lips. 

“sorry love, fuck m’really sorry,” he whispers against your ear. from the angle and distance of the crew, harry knows they can’t see anything. but he definitely shouldn’t be getting hard like this. and to press you against him, he’s honestly mortified. 

“don’t worry about it,” you murmur back just as quietly, breathing out a soft chuckle. but you can see the blush rising on his cheeks and you really don’t want him to feel bad, you were just as turned on. but you had a body that didn’t make horniness quite so obvious. “would it make you feel better if i told you that i was dripping right now ?”

harry’s eyes search yours, trying to read you. and he can see it, your pupils are blown wide, your chest is rising a bit quicker as your breathing picks up. his mouth quirks into a small smirk, really seeing that he’s got the same effect on you as you’ve had on him. 

in the moment, there’s nothing he wants more than to drop to his knees and have you drip into his awaiting mouth. and if there wasn’t an entire crew of people 15 feet away, he’d do it without a second thought. harry’s so enthralled by the thought of it that he doesn’t notice himself whispering out “wanna taste you so bad.”

and since the universe loves to make you suffer, “CUT ! thanks, next please.”

Part 2

……

Masterlist

[if-loves]

in the wake of death.

// Yandere Blade

sum: Blade doesn’t need to do anything.

wc: 835

warnings: mentions of blood

a/n: this fic kicked my ass ngl so likes & reblogs are even more appreciated! asks are more than welcome ❤️

You’ve always been on the easy-going end of the spectrum, hardly worrying about most things without a good reason. Logic and rationality play important roles in keeping the peace in your life, but now you’re not so sure anymore.

It started a little while ago, when it was formally announced that Blade, a member of the notorious Stellaron Hunters, had escaped from the hands of the Cloud Knights, and was now on the run in the Luofu. Although you were scared of the prospect of running into him, you concluded that if you blended in with the crowds during the day and stayed at home during the night, he was unlikely to attack you… probably.

The plan worked, for the most part - you continued about your days with little thought about him, having pushed him into the back of your mind because, well, what were the chances of running into a criminal like him in a crowd of thousands, and what were the chances he would really give you the time of day when he had the constantly patrolling Cloud Knights to be conscious of?

Your life was just fine and dandy, until one day - a day you can only remember in bits and pieces, a day you’re not even sure happened. But regardless of what truly happened that day, you know something changed in your once peaceful life.

There’s been an ominous sense of doom following your every breath, the uncomfortable feeling of being watched, and the suffocating sensation of a hand atop the place your heart is. Sometimes, sometimes, it slowly creeps up to your collarbone, then neck, its final destination on your cheek, a thumb on your lips. It stays there, and although you know a phantom has no control over you, you feel as though you’ve been muted.

In your dreams, your eyes are always closed, never to be opened. In your dreams, you stand alone, alone until there’s an embrace from a warm body that lacks any sense of humanity and life behind it, like a puppet given life yet not free from its strings.

They hold you tightly, and even as you wheeze for air, they do not relent. You can feel their every breath as it makes its way from the top of your head down to the crook of your neck, and it gets shallower and shallower the longer it stays there, until eventually it stops, yet their grip on you horrifyingly real.

They speak in a deep and raspy voice, words unintelligible, but you never fail to make out two:

“…Not yet.”

And you are jolted awake, gasping for air, arms hugged tightly around your stomach, the skin tender and bruised as if it was real. But it can’t be, right? Dreams and reality are two different dimensions… aren’t they?

You’ve realized that there is no place in the world that could ever make you offer you safety from a phantom only you know of. No one would listen to the ramblings of a mad person, much less take their words seriously. Worse yet, they may even think you are afflicted with the Mara.

Like a cruel joke the Elation has decided to play on you, a peek outside your window grants you the sight of the very man whose wanted posters are plastered all over the ship. His long hair blows in the wind as he stands with his back turned to your house, the hilt of a sword and the tip of a blade the only things not covered by his body.

Trembling from fear, you retreat from the window as quietly as you can. Becoming a victim of a Stellaron Hunter was and certainly is not in your places, both now and future.

You don’t know how much time passed before the light shines once more, indicating the arrival of day. Even so, you cannot find it within yourself to get up, for fear of what could be (is?) outside. While there is no place truly safe anymore, your home is perhaps the closest you can get (but for how long will it stay?).

You stay in bed for as long as your body and mind allows, until eventually you are reminded that you are a species that requires sustenance, and saliva does not count. Ignorance only goes so far until there is genuine pain, a protest against starvation.

Tremors still rack your body and mind, fear still holds your hand, and despite it all, you are still awake, still breathing, still alive.

You regret your decision when the first thing you see is a singular, familiar red flower decorating your table, a splatter of crimson liquid serving as its platter, still dripping with the quietest sound.

Bile creeps up your throat and lands onto the floor in front of you, your knees buckling as if they’ve been holding the weight of the world.

The nightmare is real, and it stares at you with blood red eyes.

(All in the name of “love”.)

[radiance1]

Little Burning Spice Cookie rant thing.

So, I've seen a bit about people thinking that Burning Spice Cookie's reason for going rouge was kind of... Not it, really? Which is fine and dandy, their opinion an all.

But to me, I think it's a pretty solid reason for Burning Spice Cookie and like... Characters like him, I suppose?

Okay so, Burning Spice Cookie held the Light of Change before it was taken from him and he was imprisoned and, like the other 4 Beasts before their fall, they represented and were practically the physical embodiments of those concepts (I think.)

To be honest, out of each of the Beasts I genuinely think that Burning Spice Cookie's concept was the most ironic, and the one most prone to, well, 'failure' for a lack of a better word.

(Though if I'm wrong, lemme know.)

Knowledge, Volition, Happiness, and Solidarity are all concepts that are prone to change.

Knowledge. Pretty self-explanatory, with anything new that is discovered, or prior knowledge viewed from a different angle, then that knowledge in itself would change.

Volition. Kind of difficult for me to explain but like, one's willpower could either crumble and fade or hardened and become stronger than ever. You could remain true to your own will, or submit to another's. Thus, change.

Happiness. Anything can make it happen, across various individuals the same or something different can make them happy. Or, the opposite, what once made them happy no longer does, thus changing.

Solidarity. People can no long believe in the same thing, what once brought them together in unity could no longer be enough to uphold it. A common interest that they no longer support, thus changing their views on the subject and no longer being in solidarity with others.

To me, all of the other Beasts before the fall where capable of changing, as the concepts they were meant to embody were all given the range to.

Except, Burning Spice Cookie.

He was the only one, the only Beast, that was supposed to be unchanging. Despite his very concept being that of change. Ironically, Burning Spice Cookie would have been the only one who was to remain steadfast, unchanging throughout history entirely despite everything else changing around him.

Stagnant.

The pure opposite of what he meant, made to embody.

So, of course, he got bored.

Burning Spice Cookie, despite representing change, was stagnant. Meant to always be stagnant if the Light of Change was always to remain true, to shine its light upon him and the entire world.

I do believe his boredom ran a bit deeper than surface level. As he did say in Episode 6:

"All this Change, and yet it's never changing."

Which, really, just supports my point that Burning Spice Cookie, the representation of Change itself. Was stagnant and unchanging despite change happening all around him.

So, when he was given the opportunity to Change. To no longer remain stagnant. I think it would have been expected that he would take it.

Burning Spice Cookie was baked to be a hero, a God-Like virtue that would be a beacon among Cookie Kind along with four others. To protect and allow them change, civilizations to rise and fall and yet, he, himself, would remain unchanging, should remain unchanging if his purpose was to be realized.

That, is why, I believe that Burning Spice Cookie, or any other Cookie baked to hold the Light of Change, was and would be doomed to fall. To fail.

[indras-curse]

Fox-demon-child Naruto

First || 2 || 3 || 4 ||

Sasuke doesn't understand a lot of the things happening around him, but he doesn't really have time to worry because he's starting the academy soon and since Kakashi and Itachi are really busy, they enlist the help of Boar who insists on being called Tenzo. Which brings its own share of problems.

At first, everything is fine and dandy, Tenzo is good at training them, he says he used to be a captain but failed to say where he was. Regardless, his skills speak for themselves.

Still, Tenzo made one huge mistake.

He had assured him and Naruto that both Kakashi and Itachi knew what he was going to attempt to do and both had given him a green light to try.

He said he wanted to see if it would take care of the fox.

That was the first red flag, Sasuke had only heard people refer to Naruto as the fox contemptuously. Nothing ever good came out of that mean nickname. Sure, Naruto had whiskers and ears but nobody called the Inuzuka the dogs.

Still, Naruto seemed interested in Tenzo and he assured Sasuke everything was going to be okay and he was fine with trying whatever Yamato wanted because Kakashi had said it was okay.

They went to a training ground that was far away from the others and Tenzo summoned some weird wooden pilars from the ground. They formed a circle and Tenzo sat down on the inside while he instructed Naruto to stay still and Sasuke to step away.

Sasuke reluctantly listened and Naruto simply stayed put.

Tenzo pointed the palm of one of his hands at Naruto and for several seconds, it seemed like nothing was going to happen at all, Tenzo was frowning and all, and Naruto shared a confused glance and a shrug with Sasuke.

It looked like whatever Tenzo was trying, didn't work.

Until the screams started.

Sasuke was startled and Tenzo faltered but ultimately held strong and focused. It didn't make sense. Two seconds ago Naruto was just fine and now he was doubling over in pain.

"Stop that" Sasuke whispered, out of breath.

Tenzo couldn't have possibly heard him, but he was certainly not blind and could see how much Naruto was hurting.

Yet he didn't stop.

"Stop!" Sasuke screamed when Naruto tugged on his own hair.

Tenzo didn't listen.

He was concentrating. He may be able to separate Naruto and the Kyuubi, make sure the beast was properly sealed deep inside Naruto, and give the kid a safer chance at life.

If people ever wanted to find out who the jinchuriki of Konoha was, they would just need a glance at Naruto, which would put him in danger.

He was, perhaps, too concentrated.

When he noticed a small body was kicking at his hands with unexpected strength and red eyes staring him down fiercely, he realized he may have gone too far.

The little Uchiha boy kept trying to kick and hit until Tenzo retreated into the trees, keeping the boys in sight.

As soon as Tenzo was far enough, Sasuke ran back to Naruto to check on him.

The other boy had passed out but he was breathing and his face wasn't scrunched in pain.

When Kakashi and Itachi arrived to pick them up, they didn't seem very thrilled about Tenzo going as far as he did and Kakashi told him a talk was needed.

"I'm so sorry... I thought he could take it" He stuttered.

"Not all kids are like us" Itachi chastized. Sasuke didn't know very well what that meant but Tenzo seemed to and looked properly ashamed.

"Anything else?" Kakashi raised a brow at Tenzo.

The man shook his head but then stopped and glanced quickly at Sasuke and then back at Kakashi. Which obviously didn't go unnoticed by IItachi.

"Did you do something to him?" His brother's flaming hot rage could be heard and felt even through his passive face.

"N-no!" Tenzo stumbled back. "He, uh, the sharingan"

Itachi snapped out of his threatening mode to look at Sasuke with wide eyes. "You awakened the sharingan because Naruto was hurt?"

Huh, well, Sasuke guesses he did.

[danibeanie]

Cancer mars post 🤍

(Also moon-mars aspects!)

-I really feel like this placement resonates the most with me when it comes to my natal chart. The funny thing is that it makes NO aspects with any other planets.

-I’ve heard somewhere that a planet that doesn’t make any aspects with other planets is important because it’s just itself with no other influences.

-wherever you have this placement with definitely influence that house x10. I feel like planets in their fall or detriment just impact your whole chart in general.

Positives 🩵

-your intuition is literally amped 100 by this placement. someone can be talking to me in a different tone than usual and I can just sense there’s something wrong and they’re like HOW DID U KNOW??😭

-emotions are strong and it’s because it’s influence links with the moon. we know that the moon is who we are deep within, our hidden feelings. anything I do makes me want to work even HARDER because it’s all sooo personal to me 🥲

-strong empathy with this placement you naturally put yourself into others people shoes, want to take care of others and it just comes by instinct.

-people many call you super nice and your just talking LMAO. I have this placement in my 3rd house which is ruled by communication so it’s just natural for me to embody the placement when I’m talk.

-ex you can have this in the 7th house and your just super giving into any relationships kinda intense lol, 10th house people at work may see you as mother😋 (kidding) a nurturing person.

-a lot of passion, many people forget that cancer mars is a CARDINAL sign which means it’s easy for these people to fall into a leader position. we are go getters and can be a bit competitive.

Negatives🩶

-any conflict that we have is literally the end of the world. It’s feels like impending doom when I’m mad at someone because the only way I can control this is by crying 😭

- we hold grudges *sigh* , no but really it will take me so long to forgive someone and it’s hard to let go of that bitterness. Its just that we are so considerate so when someone does something we would never do it’s hard to let go of that situation.

-mood swings are there and other people can easily get affected by this as well. we can be fine and dandy then we think about something that hurt us from 5 months ago and then we get passive.

^im very self aware of this and I try not to let it happen and when it does I isolate myself

-most of our anger is directed towards family???😭 idk if it’s just me but my family tends to see the ugly side of this placement. no one’s ever seen me SUPER-mad except for my parents.

-does anyone else get HORRIBLE,UNBEARABLE periods?!? I feel like no one talks about this.

-AVOID CONFRONTATION like no other and then we wonder why we hold grudges cause WE DONT TALK IT OUT LMAO.

-it’s easy to get drained of tasks that your not emotionally invested in or see no future in. I can make a whole rant on how this affects my school life but that’s too much.*sigh*

Influential musicians 🩵

chester bennington(lead singer of linkin park) also had a cancer mars.(may he rest in peace🤍) A lot of rock and heavy metal musicians have cancer mars which is ironic because they put all that passion and emotion into their lyrics and singing.

-lana del rey is a cancer mars and I feel like she embodies this placement fully. even by her lyrics and just the way she talks.

IN CONCLUSION 🩵

-being a cancer mars has its ups and down and so many people pertain to its negatives. I believe that people with the fallen/detriment placements all naturally have their positives as well. it’s definitely a placement you have to live and learn by. I love this placement because it humbles me, gives me empathy and kindness ,but don’t cross us cause then we’ll reciprocate that rudeness 10x harder.

[freesia-writes]

Ch 14: Blossoming

~ Master List ~ Previous Chapter ~ WC: 3.5k

.

Hunter took a deep breath, sinking deeper into the plush L-shaped couch in the corner of Tech and Phee’s living room, trying to tune out their excited chatter as they bent over the glowing blossom from the cave. They were huddled at their dinner table, datapads and records scattered everywhere, and they were deep in thought and theory as they considered all of the possibilities of its significance. Lyra shifted her feet where they lay crossed on the large ottoman, tilting her head sideways against the tall cushion behind her to gaze at Hunter, who noticed immediately and glanced in her direction.

They’d both been thoroughly interrogated by Tech upon recounting their adventure, with some interjections of awe and curiosity from Phee, and both felt entirely spent, realizing they should have slept in more if they were to be subjected to an afternoon of this. But upon gathering enough information to be satisfied, if only temporarily, Tech and Phee had dismissed them to the living room in favor of a thorough examination of the flower, requiring them to stand by in case they were needed for a cave visit later. 

“Did you manage to sleep at all?” Lyra asked Hunter, who nodded slowly. “How?!” she pressed, having been unable to stop replaying all that had happened, still not entirely sure that the whole thing wasn’t just a dream. 

“I’ve seen a lot of weird stuff in my life,” he shrugged, stretching his own legs out across the ottoman. “No point in dwelling on it when there’s nothing to be done.”

“Well that sounds just fine and dandy,” she chuckled. “I wish I could turn my brain off.”

“I’m sure Tech could come up with something for that.”

“Ah, yeah… I’m not quite that desperate.”

“Smart choice.”

They gazed at each other for a moment longer, then at the floor, the window, their feet… anywhere to take a break from the magnetic pull they felt. Hunter was picking up on an odd combination of anxiety and comfort from Lyra, although he wondered if he was also projecting what he himself felt and was unable to reconcile. There was an inexplicable sensation of not knowing what to do with himself and yet still feeling some kind of compulsion, all while being deeply content in her presence. Attempting to push the thoughts from his mind, he rose to his feet, ambling to the dining table where Phee was carefully holding the petals apart as Tech scanned each one with his datapad.

“Having fun?” Hunter asked, resting a hand on the back of Tech’s chair.

“I am not sure I would classify it as–”

“Yes,” Phee interjected, grinning at Tech, who gave her a thin-lipped yet harmless look at her interruption. 

“Yes, you may call it fun,” he conceded, turning his luminous eyes on Hunter. “This is a remarkable piece of flora. Did you look at it closely?”

“Not really,” Hunter shook his head.

“There are runes along the edge of each petal that are nearly indecipherable to the naked eye, but we have been able to magnify and analyze them after a methodical scanning process.”

“And?”

“And they appear to be either some sort of language native to Xylo or an ancient form of communication that is no longer utilized in any modern database. Therefore, their meaning will continue to elude us until we are able to make sense of the patterns and strokes.”

“You couldn’t have given us a better gift,” Phee laughed, dragging her finger from one side of her datapad screen to the other, where she had organized the runes and was running various trials on them. 

“Indeed,” Tech agreed, eyes glimmering behind his yellow lenses. “With our unique experiences and expertise in this area, we are truly the most terrific team to be tackling such a task.”

“Ooh, alliteration,” Phee said in delight. “He really is excited.”

“Alright, well… Do you need us anymore?” Hunter asked, feeling decidedly “other” between the two of them.

“No,” Tech said bluntly, and Phee gave him a little bump on the elbow. “What?”

“What he means to say is ‘thank you for this fascinating project, and if you would like to get some more rest or have some time to yourselves, we will be in touch if we have any further questions,’” she filled in, and the light sound of Lyra’s laugh from the couch behind brought a small grin to Hunter’s face. “Although I still want to check out that cave.” 

“I’d be willing to bet it’s all closed up again like it was the first time we were in it, but I gave Tech the coordinates, so maybe the two of you can have another hot date when you get tired of this.”

“I find it unlikely for this to become tiresome in the immediate future.”

“Got it. Well have fun,” he said, turning back to the living room to see Lyra on her feet, pulling her bag onto her shoulder, ready to follow him out the door.

They wandered along the path toward The Forest, where both of their houses lay nestled near its edge. Lyra’s was much lower, close to the sea on a large, flat field that ended with a cliff overlooking the ocean, while Hunter’s was up near the school, tucked into a much more densely-wooded area. Both were east of town, so they walked together until they reached the split in the road, turning to face each other for a moment.

“Does crazy stuff always happen around you?” she asked abruptly, and he chuckled after a beat. 

“It used to,” he admitted, a heaviness suddenly apparent in his smoky voice. “I was hoping that here it would be different.” The weight of his words hung between them, leaving her unsure of how to proceed. 

“Well,” she attempted, absently pulling her hair into a low ponytail as the wind picked up, “I’m not really one for adventure… But… That was pretty cool.” She smiled, the admiration clear on her face, and he took a deep breath, standing a little taller. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he offered, zipping up his jacket. “Hope it didn’t terrify you too much.”

“It would have if you hadn’t been there,” she blurted out, flushing with embarrassment at her admission. He looked down, hiding the curl at the corners of his lips, and tucked his hands into his pockets. 

“I vote we stick to more domestic activities next time.”

“Yes!” she agreed emphatically, “Like bed!” Both of their eyebrows shot up, and they stared at each other in surprise. “I mean! Wait,” Lyra backpedaled, her husky voice growing higher in pitch as she realized her insinuation. “Not bed together, heh, but bed… Like you wanted to go to bed. So… That kind of bed. Your bed. And my bed…” She slapped her forehead with her palm, shaking her head with a miserable smile on her face. Finally, she looked up at him with a clarity that rarely appeared in her self-conscious demeanor, “I need to stop saying the word ‘bed’,” she laughed, “And I don’t know why this keeps happening around you.”

“At least Echo isn’t here to make us miserable this time,” Hunter attempted, shoulders lowering a little at her sigh of relief. He smiled, inexplicably relieved that he wasn’t the only one who had difficulty in social situations, and then he offered his hand to her, which she took in the most awkward and randomly-executed handshake ever.

“I’ll see you soon,” Lyra said quickly, taking her hand back and turning toward the lower path. 

“See you soon,” Hunter echoed, watching her for a moment before beginning his trek up the hill.

* * * 

.

The scent of a fireplace filled Hunter’s nose as he strolled into the clearing where his cabin and Wrecker’s stood at right angles from each other, and a lazy tendril of smoke curled gracefully into the foggy sky, welcoming him home with a twist before disappearing. Birds chirped in the branches nearby, and Wrecker’s booming laugh echoed from within the walls up ahead. Kicking his boots off inside the door, Hunter was pleased to see Omega and Wrecker having a blast over some small tabletop game that involved small rocks and levers, and had he been intentionally quiet, they likely wouldn’t have noticed his appearance. 

“Hunter!” Omega exclaimed happily, giving him a wave before rushing her hands back to her little wooden levers. “I got the engineering internship!” she announced, unable to tear her eyes from the game.

“Her first choice!” Wrecker yelled, oblivious to his volume because of his jubilant pride at her accomplishment.

“That’s great, kid.” Hunter said, hanging his jacket up in the entryway and joining them at the table, in the sturdy wooden chair closest to the roaring fire. “When did you find out?”

“This morning, when you were still sleeping,” she poked, sending him a playfully accusatory glance. “You were out laaaate last night, eh?”

“Yeah, Lyra and I found some weird flower in a cave,” he said quickly, peeved by how much he suddenly felt like a child under parental scrutiny. 

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Omega kept a straight face despite Wrecker’s delighted guffaw, both glancing at Hunter, whose dumbfounded expression gave them another round of chuckles. 

“Calling what, exactly?”

“Oh, come on, Hunter,” the girl teased, “Just because you were created in a lab doesn’t mean that’s where everyone comes from. You see, sometimes two people come together…”

“Don’t, Omega!” Wrecker interjected gleefully, “I don’t think he’s ready for that yet.”

“Good grief,” Hunter groaned, “You’re making me miss getting shot at.”

“I’m sure Crosshair wouldn’t mind some practice,” his brother cajoled. There was no reply, just a dejected shake of the head from the former Sergeant who wasn’t sure how or when he’d become the butt of everyone’s jokes. 

“Alright, Omega, let’s hear more about the internship,” he said, anxious to talk about literally anything else. 

“It’s going to be a whole month!” she exclaimed, flipping one of her wooden catapults to launch a rock toward the small cups on Wrecker’s side. “And it’s with a small cohort of engineers and mechanics over on Plata, where they’ve developed a whole new method of conducting energy to provide backup power for ships and buildings.” 

“Plata, eh?” Hunter murmured, painfully aware of his complete inability to “protect” her from elements of a civilian world that he himself wasn’t well-versed in either. 

“I know,” Omega nodded, wrinkling her nose at Wrecker’s next lever pull. “It’s going to be a lot of fun and a lot of work. I just can’t believe I got in there! Only two other students got it. I’ll have to thank Lyra this week – she helped me with so many details on the applications. I’ll bet that’s why.”

“She may have helped, but you did all the interviews and work around them,” Hunter reassured, heart warming at the reminder of Lyra’s charitable nature. “So… when do you leave?”

“Next week!”

“Looks like it’s just you and me, boss,” Wrecker said, heaving a huge, dramatic sign as Omega landed her final rock. 

“Good,” Hunter grinned. “We can finish the project.”

“We haven’t even started the project!” Wrecker exclaimed.

“What project?” Omega asked, glancing curiously from one clone to the other.

“I know,” Hunter said, ignoring her for a moment. “But a month should be plenty of time.”

“I’ve got other stuff to do, you know!” Wrecker complained. 

“I’m just really looking forward to spending this time with you,” Hunter jabbed, happy for someone else to be under fire for a change.

“Alright, alright.”

“What project?” Omega repeated, squinting suspiciously at each of them in turn.

“You’ll see.”

* * * 

The rest of the week passed by in relative peace and quiet. Tech and Phee had indeed ventured to the cave and found it as unremarkable as it was impenetrable, so they resolved to continue their investigation at home. A few successful morning hunts created plenty of work at the butcher shop, and Omega was becoming more and more insistent that she didn’t need to be escorted to school and back. Wrecker took on a few more construction endeavors, and Echo reminded both Crosshair and Hunter that the first day of his self-defense workshop was approaching. They also received a stern lecture that they were expected to stick to the plan, with no surprises, otherwise “he would turn Luciana loose on them”, a threat that was met with chagrined eyerolls all around. 

Lyra was notably sparse, visiting Hunter’s shop only once, and he had a gnawing sense of insecurity, wondering if he’d unknowingly done something to alienate her. But it was continually pushed to the back of his mind as he busied himself with work and preparation for Echo’s class, spending any remaining time at home with Omega before her departure.

The defense workshop day arrived, and Hunter and Crosshair found themselves standing in the field of the Training Academy, both wearing athletic pants and jackets. It was a cool day, but the chilly wind was mercifully still, freeing them the need from extra layers. There was a decent crowd of attendees, all radiating an eagerness that should have been encouraging, but Hunter found himself looking forward to it being over. He’d been working extra hard all week up until that morning, when he’d gotten up early to see Omega off at the port, and he felt an odd sense of despondency for no reason in particular. He yearned for some quiet and solitude, having missed the semi-regular walks in the woods due to an increased workload, but also didn’t find the idea of being alone with his thoughts something to rush toward.

“Alright, everyone listen up!” Echo announced, launching into an explanation about the benefits of preparedness and the various scenarios they would cover that day. He introduced the first exercise, pointing to Hunter and Crosshair to demonstrate, and after they’d modeled a fairly basic way to escape a two-handed choke hold, the participants were partnered up to practice. The clones wandered among the students, pointing out adjustments here and there, and Hunter felt as though he were in a daze, going through the halfhearted motions with Crosshair for the thirteenth time. A few people arrived late, causing some people to shift partners as Echo reviewed the skill they were currently practicing. 

“Hey Hunter,” he called, beckoning from the edge of the crowd. “I need to partner you up since we have an odd number of people now.”

“He’s just saving you from me,” Crosshair hissed with a smug grin as Hunter trotted away, coming to a rather startled halt next to Echo as he saw who stood in front of him. 

“Lyra here seems to be without a partner all of a sudden,” Echo said with bulletproof nonchalance. “Would you mind going through the drills with her? We want to make sure every student is well-prepared.” Hunter stared into Echo’s impassive face, brown eyes meeting gray with an entire conversation communicated in an instant.

“You’re unbelievable,” Hunter muttered, stifling the urge to roll his eyes as Echo’s expression grew shocked and innocent. He turned to Lyra, who had a tiny, shy grin of her own, and his face softened slightly. “Did he put you up to this?”

“He may have shared all the benefits of being thoroughly capable of defending myself in any situation,” she admitted, turning to smile at Echo, who had magically disappeared. “Yes, he told me to come,” she whispered to Hunter, clasping her hands awkwardly in front of her. “But you don’t have to be my partner if you have other stuff to do.”

“No, let’s see what you’ve got,” he said, spirits lifting a tad as he squared up to her, readying to practice the last move of a quick twist of the wrist, but Echo’s commanding voice broke apart the sparring partners. 

“Alright, moving on to the next one!” he yelled, pointing at Crosshair who had come to stand in front of him. “This is called a Rear Hold Defense, and is highly useful when you’re grabbed unexpectedly from behind…”

“You might need this one to protect yourself from the office ladies if they get any more courageous,” Lyra murmured, and Hunter snorted aloud in gleeful surprise. Echo gave him a stern look from beneath sharp brows before continuing.

“The trick is to make yourself as much like an uncooperative loth-cat as possible. When you try to hang onto one…” he said, having thrown both arms around Crosshair, who immediately twisted and dropped to the ground out of reach, “...you find it very difficult.”

Crosshair rose to his feet, brushing himself off, and gave Hunter a grin across the clearing. Hunter sighed.

“You really don’t have to–” Lyra said, rubbing the back of her neck timidly. “I can wait, or just watch, or join another pair…” Hunter searched her face, trying to discern if she didn’t want him to, was too self-conscious, was trying to do what she thought he wanted, or some weird combination of all of them. 

“Do you not want me to?” he asked plainly, watching her shift from one foot to the other in her sweatshirt and sweatpants. “Just don’t tell Echo, or I might get fired from this non-paid position for not ‘ensuring that each student is well-prepared’,” he chuckled, feeling more and more lighthearted by the minute. Something about her mousy, demure shyness paired with the fact that she had indeed come to the class made him happier than he was willing to admit, and he saw a little spark in her eye for a split second. 

“Well… I’d hate to get you in trouble,” she said quietly, turning around and crossing her arms across her front to allow him to practice the move. “So we’d better do as we’re told.” Hunter grinned, stepping behind her and ignoring the slight increase in his heart rate. 

“You’re not being put into a coffin, you know,” he chuckled, nodding at her odd position.

“Well what am I supposed to do with my hands?” she said indignantly, a little embarrassed by his good-natured ribbing.

“Just act normal.”

“I don’t know what normal–” she began, cut off by his sudden grasp from behind. His arms wrapped firmly around her middle, below where her own had been loosely held together like some kind of deformed T-rex, and she gasped in surprise. 

“Come on, get out of it,” Hunter breathed in her ear, and she shivered before stumbling a few steps backward in utter shock. They teetered back and forth for a few seconds as she made a few feeble attempts in different directions, turning slightly within his hold but making absolutely no progress toward any semblance of freedom. 

“You’re making it a lot harder than he made it look,” she panted, squirming until her shoulder was in his chest, but his arms were still firmly fastened around her, just beneath her elbows. Her heavy breaths and racing pulse grew louder as she continued to struggle, and he didn’t see how red her cheeks had become until she threw her head sideways to face him, a mixture of insult and anger on her face. It was so sharp and uncharacteristic that his eyes widened in surprise, again struck by that pang of fear of crossing a line somewhere. 

It was then that she dropped like a stone, allowing her legs to buckle completely to throw her full weight to the ground, and his momentary distraction cost him dearly as he pitched forward with his hands still locked around her. They toppled to the ground, a flailing pile of arms and legs, and he scrambled to break his fall to avoid crashing on top of her with his full weight. She collapsed onto her side, throwing an arm up instinctively, but he landed on all fours, with a hand splayed on the grass on either side of her head and his knees framing her legs. They froze in shock for a second, staring at one another as though they’d just defied death itself, then Hunter clambered to his feet, so completely befuddled that Lyra was left to get up on her own.

“Nice job, Lyra,” Echo said, appearing out of nowhere. He turned to Hunter, clicking his tongue beneath stern brows. “As for you, please stop trying to mount the students.”

“Oh for kriff’s sake,” he began, but Echo silenced him with a held-up scomp before casually heading back to the front of the group. “Agh, sorry,” Hunter exclaimed, seeing Lyra brushing herself off nearby. “I didn’t mean to just leave you there.”

“Well I didn’t mean to throw us to the ground, so…”

“But hey, you got out,” he said, searching for anything to move past the awkwardness. “So… nice job.”

“Thanks… But… I… uh… I think I’m gonna need some more practice,” Lyra said quietly, slowly meeting his surprised gaze and delighting him with her sudden candor.

“Oh yeah?” he murmured, a small smile creeping onto his face without his permission. 

“For safety…” she said assuredly, turning away from him again with the tiniest hint of coyness and crossing her arms across her chest. 

“For safety,” he echoed, pressing his lips together as he took position behind her.

.

Previous Chapter ~ Master List ~ Next Chapter

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[ticklemerainbows]

Aestheticore Legacy Challenge

Hullo friends! I have been searching for a little while for a legacy challenge that I could also use as some sort of perfect genetics challenge and I figured, why not make my own. So the aestheticore legacy challenge was born! As you can tell from the title, this challenge is centered around differed aesthetics. There are a ton of aesthetics out there so it was hard to pick just 10, and some of these I’ve never heard of before so I’m excited to try this out! 

If you decide to do this, tag me ticklemerainbows or aestheticore challenge so I can see! And feel free to let me know what you think. This is my first challenge so if there’s things I could do different/better let me know!

And without further ado, the challenge.

                                                         ~x~x~x~

Generation One - Cottagecore

Your favorite thing about living on family land is the garden. It’s been around for at least the last 10 generations, and you want nothing more than to keep it going, but living in a city isn’t for you. So you pack up, take a keepsake plant from the garden and move to a quiet town in order to grow your own garden that will hopefully last for generations to come!

Requirements:  The Perfect Garden

Live on a small (no bigger than 30x30) lot

Maintain a garden for the entire generation

Reach level 10 Gardening

Make a living off your plants

Suggested Traits: Green Thumb, Loves the Outdoors

Color: Green

Generation Two - Auroracore 

You try your hardest to help your parents on the farm but you can’t help but have your head in the clouds. Fairy tales are your favorite genre of anything, and while living on a farm is all fine and dandy - you absolutely love your horse, you did raise it from a baby after all! - you always wonder if there’s something more. Like, a unicorn, perhaps?

Requirements:  The Fairy Tale Finder

Raise a horse from foal to adult

Reach level 10 in the Riding Skill

Have your horse get the Friend of the Herd Lifetime Reward

Search for a unicorn anytime there’s an aurora

Suggested Traits: Equestrian, Animal Lover

Color: Lilac

Generation Three - Light Academia

Being raised by someone who’s lifelong mission was to find a supernatural creature was surprisingly not as chaotic as it would sound, though you still prefer to stay more…grounded. While your parents were out hunting, you preferred to keep your head in the books, earning a scholarship to get into University. 

Requirements:  The Perfect Student

Get on honor roll as a child/teen

Earn a scholarship in any subject

Buy the bookstore

Suggested Traits: Socially Awkward, Workaholic, Perfectionist, Bookworm

Color: Beige

Generation Four - Fairycore

Your grandmother always told you about her times with her unicorn friend, and while you never quite believed her, you fell in love with the idea of supernatural creatures altogether. Magic, fairies, it all sounds so fantastical that you even begin trying to figure out if you can turn yourself into a magical creature!

Requirements:  Alchemy Artisan

Reach level 10 Alchemy

Visit the arboretum once a week to search for fairies

Befriend a fairy

Use an elixir to become a fairy

Suggested Traits: Supernatural Fan, Gatherer

Color: Pink

Generation Five - Comfy/Cozy

Life around magic has been a whirlwind, and you are anything but all that excitement. Having a grandparent who owns a bookstore has its perks, and you spend most of your time curled up with a good book and a warm cup of tea. Leaving your house to work doesn’t sound too appealing but you don’t have to go outside to write, do you?

Requirements:  Professional Author

Join the bookclub

Visit the library at least 3 times a season

Reach level 10 Writing

Write a best selling novel

Suggested Traits: Bookworm, Couch Potato, Artistic

Color: Orange

Generation Six - Decora

You always get asked how you turned out so outgoing when you were raised by homebodies, and you never have an answer for that. You just love being around people, and more importantly dressing those people up. You want to fill as many peoples lives with as much color as possible.

Requirements:  Fashion Phenomenon

Change your outfit every season

Reach level 10 Painting

Makeover at least 10 sims

Become best friends with one of your clients

Suggested Traits: Charismatic, Artistic, Excitable

Color: Magenta

Generation Seven - Jamcore

You love color just as much as your parents, but not so much the fashion part. Your clothes get way too messy as you experiment in the kitchen, after all. Creating yummy, colorful dishes are where your passions lie and you are determined to learn as much about the culinary arts as you possibly can.

Requirements:  The Culinary Librarian

Cook meals for your family every day

Grow a fruit orchard on the family farm

Have a personal recipe library

(Optional) Use the Grandma’s Canning Station once a week

Suggested Traits: Natural Cook, Bookworm

Color: Yellow

Generation Eight - Nautical

See the line where the sky meets the sea? It calls ye. You’ve always been drawn to the water, so much so that your family jokes that you might be a mermaid. Swimming, fishing, boating, it all appeals to you. You’d live on a houseboat, if given the chance. 

Requirements:  Presenting the Perfect Aquarium

Own a boat

Install a pond on your family land

Move into a houseboat

Reach level 10 Fishing

Suggested Traits: Loves to Swim, Angler

Color: Blue

Generation Nine - Wanderlust

Your parents loved the open sea but you want to see what’s beyond that! Visiting other cities, and even other countries. Learning and immersing yourself in the culture. You’ve read books about it, watched shows, and now that you’re old enough it’s time to dust off your visa and visit those places for yourself.

Requirements:  Seasoned Traveler

Reach level 10 in Photography

Collect a relic from each location

Go on at least 1 adventure in each country

Marry someone from a foreign country

Suggested Traits: Adventurer, Perfectionist

Color: Red

Generation Ten - Synthwave

You spent your life in other countries, other cultures, and you have to wonder, what more is there? You’ve inherited a love of traveling but is it possible to go to other timelines, or even the future? There’s not much research on it now but there’s only one way to find out. To the future!

Requirements:  Made the Most of My Time

Become best friends with Emit

Reach Level 10 in Advanced Technology

Complete the Time Keeper Legacy Statue Challenge

Create a time machine

Suggested Traits: Friendly, Adventurer

Color: Black

[kazucee]

★ JAMES POTTER ISN'T DENSE ! he just needed some time to figure things out, he was pretty good at reading the mood of the room and could easily tell when someone wasn't feeling like themselves. Figuring out the source of that however is a whole different story. Especially when it involves his bestest friends ever revealing that their friendship was something a little more than that.

In which something was going on between Remus and Sirius and James would be damned if he was going to be kept out of the loop. Pairings: small mentions of wolfstar !

it's a James Potter centric pov ! [wc: 1.5k]

This was bound to happen eventually.

The sheets felt too constricting, the dorm felt too hot and his clothes clung onto him in a way that made him feel sticky and unclean. Raven locks messily tumbled down his shoulder, unbrushed and unkept, yet despite all of these minor annoyances Sirius Black still looked gorgeous. Even the blind could notice it, the way the young man had a certain aura to him, he lit up every room with that infectious and honey glazed smile of his.

However, James had noticed something peculiar about this self proclaimed starman during the past weeks. He had gotten more quiet, reserved, as if the usual sunshine got eclipsed by the moon. He found it quite strange, his partner in crime was never one for being in such a slump. Usually he was dramatic when it came to measly things but that was often done in a satirical way. This slump seemed... genuine.

Despite the nonstop pestering of the quidditch captain, Sirius didn't seem to budge. The other had a knack for making it seem like everything was fine and dandy with him, James knew better. He wasn't the brightest in the class, no, that was Evans (in his personal non biased opinion) or Remus. He saw movement across the room, the subtle sound of footsteps on the floor and the door creaking open with its old hinges. The Casanova had arrived in the common room, the crackling warmth of the fire casting a soft orange tinted glow towards his serious face. James wasn't the brightest in the class but he had noticed it. The subtle shift of Sirius' gaze from the new presence to the carpeted floor—as if it was the most interesting puzzle the other had ever encountered. He had noticed the way Remus threw a haphazard glance towards the ebony haired male as if he was the interesting puzzle Remus was trying to piece together.

James lets out a cough which warranted both their attentions, his ever present mischief laced grin plastered on as he greeted the two “it's a good day for another prank isn't it?” For once, like the two had switched bodies and souls, Sirius casted him a bemused stare whilst Remus actually seemed more on board. This crazy switch up almost left him whiplashed. Was it because the taller male wanted an exit from this room or was it the crazy tension that no one else besides James seemed to notice (they could be just ignoring it, pretending as if it didn't exist). James found it amusing, granted the amount of times Remus would call him out for being dense he could easily tell that something was amiss with his two best pals. His Buddies, Compadres, Amigos, weren't exactly acting all that. Right now any one with two eyes (James has four, maybe that's why he could see it better) could describe their demeanours as something akin to two school girls who had just gotten asked out by their crushes. Which to put it frankly in James’ mind was quite…impossible.

Remus had excused himself from the room, James assumed it was to get changed. Remus John Lupin could be described as a silent person, he prefers chocolate as long as he's not sharing it, books as long as it's quiet and no one's disturbing him, and in those rare cases teaching as long as the student kept his or her mouth shut and didn't ask questions. Remus was simple but complex at the exact same time, he hates when they call him moony but James swears he sees a sliver of a smile whenever he hears the nickname. Sirius on the other hand was complex, but not hard to figure out once you get to know him. He liked the attention be it good or bad, he liked grinning that grin of his because he knows better than anyone that he infact is the most eligible bachelor this school has seen, he claims that he hates school work but he always hounds on Remus to help him with his Divination work, he claims that he's perfectly fine and that nothing could chip that impenetrable armor of his but James could see the small cracks.

“James” He looked up when he heard Sirius’ voice call out to him, his brows furrowing because—Sirius didn't usually sound like that, he'd sound confident, suave, charming. Right now his tone carried the musings of a little boy who wanted to confess something to his parent. Did he break something? James wondered and before Sirius could get a word in he immediately spouted out “whatever you did I forgive you”

Sirius’ expression was an amusing thing to observe, his face pretty much says it all whenever he's mad or happy or annoyed or so close to punching you in the face, one glance at that stupid face of his and you could tell which one you’re dealing with (the punch had hurt, James knew he should've ducked.) Right now he felt that ducking was probably the right course if action. Sirius had his brows scrunched in faint confusion and irritation.

“I didn't do anything” He scoffed before chucking a pillow his way, he ducked, his instincts where never wrong. Sirius leaned back against the couch crossing his arms, James felt a little silly, waiting for the other to tell him what exactly was going on. He didn't like being kept out of the loop, especially when it came to Sirius. They were best friends? Heck the best friends even. They shared everything with each other saved for toothbrushes Sirius warned that he'd curse him if he even thought about it.

“What is it then?” He proded because he can't take this silence anymore because he's sure that something was going on between him and the person who had just reentered the common room with a cozy sweater and a book tucked at his side. Sirius went nonverbal again and refused to look Remus’ way and in return Remus made it a point to sit beside the other, flipping open his book and reading casually. His brow couldn't have gone higher, Sirius was tense, Remus was reading and James was completely and utterly muddled.

After a small minute of, who can keep quiet and be oblivious the longest, He cracked. “What in Merlin's beard is going on with the two of you?” His voice cracked at the end but he couldn't be embarrassed when Sirius looked as if James had told him that his mother was coming to visit and Remus spared him a bemused glance but James saw how his hold tightened slightly on the spine of the book he was reading—wait, was it upside down?

“Don't make me start guessing because I swear you won't like where it'll end.” He continued making it a point to stand and march towards the two boys his socked feet pattering against the carpeted floor. He dare spare a glance at Sirius who looked as if he was going to land a spell on him then at Remus who tried to discreetly turn the book right side up but got caught mid turn. When both didn't respond he made a frustrated noise that could be placed between a groan and tired sigh.

“you both saw Minnie in her undergarments” That drew an appalled sound from Sirius and a grimance from Remus. “Thanks for that image Prongs.” The latter muttered as he massaged the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “That's not even the worse thing I thought of, If you two won't spit it out I fear I might actually die because of it. Perish. I won't become the best captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team and we won't win the house cup, do you really want that on your conscience?” He drags an exasperated hand through his messy locks. “Always the one for dramatics aren't you Potter?” Sirius sneered, crossing his arms and legs in that prissy heir to the black empire way.

“You both going to tell me or do I have to steal some Veritaserum and spike your drinks?” That earned an amused snort from Remus which made his left eye twitch in visible irritation. He glanced between the two, for the first time this slow paced evening Sirius actually looks Remus in the eyes, no not on his sweater collar or that mole on his jaw, his eyes. James could feel his body deflating in slight relief, that was something at least. After another round of silence (to James' delight) and both of them communicating via their telepathic brainwaves or something along those lines. He focused on Sirius, the way those stormy eyes went from pleading to acceptance then finally settled on nonchalance. Remus piped up a moment later. His voice was crisp, clear and tainted with slight hesitancy and honestly it made James straighten his spine a bit.

“We’re dating Prongs.”

Oh.

There were a lot of moments in his life where he felt like the stupidest man in the room, this was number one.

a/n: goodness it's been so long since I've written anything like this (last time being on Wattpad, like 6 years ago) but this has been sitting on my Tumblr drafts for so long it's been killing me inside everytime I open this damn app. Anyways first fic? And it's wolfstar (ish) ? It's James Potter centric because I love that man with all my heart and I live for the 'him being dense asf when it comes to wolfstar' agenda. This wasn't proofread in any way—i wrote and I just went with it so I'm sorry if it's all over the place and if the writing doesn't make any sense TT. Be kind is all I ask, I just wanted to write James and his inner monologues. No idea if I'll ever post another fic but I do have a drafted Solangelo one hehe (sorry for the ramble !! Enjoy your days~)

The characters are from JK. Rowling's world, I don't associate myself with the author. © All rights reserved

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