#just saw someone ask for sources in the replies of a post (even though they are literally so easy to find with a google search)

[vera-deville]

Lips Like Trouble, Eyes Like Yours

06/30/2025 - 07/02/2025

Pairing: Jamil Viper x Reader Word Count: 4,269 Warnings: PRETTY suggestive; the reader keeps making spicy jokes and stuff, and that's what started this whole fic Tags: @achy-boo, @savanaclaw1996, @qaxdea, @katzline Notes: This was originally going to be part of a 5 + 1 things fic, but I ended up writing the characters separately, and even though I started with Trey, I ended up finishing Jamil's fic first. Also, inspired by this post. Masterlist

Potionology with Professor Crewel was a class that you didn't actually mind attending - not because you were particularly good at it, but rather because you enjoyed watching the drama that unfolded when students inevitably blew something up. However, today, your source of entertainment sat directly beside you.

Jamil Viper.

Flawless posture, sleeves rolled up just enough to show his forearms, and that sharp, aloof gaze focused on the cauldron like the fate of the world rested on getting the temperature just right. He moved like someone born into precision - deliberate, practiced, untouchable.

And by the Sevens, did that make him an irresistible challenge.

You leaned onto the lab table, one manicured hand supporting your chin while the other lazily stirred the base mixture of honeyroot and belladonna in your shared cauldron. Your eyes flicked over to Jamil's profile, watching as he measured out the powdered mandrake root with military precision.

"Is it supposed to bubble like that?" You asked sweetly, voice dipped in honeyed feigned innocence.

Jamil didn't even glance at you. "The bubbles are normal. We're at the catalytic stage."

You hummed thoughtfully. "Hmmm...I wonder if it's reacting to your natural hotness."

This time, his hand faltered - just barely - but you saw it. A beat of hesitation in his otherwise flawless technique. You smirked.

Bingo.

"You do realize that this is a graded assignment?" He muttered without looking at you, lips tightening.

"Oh, of course," You replied, stirring the brew with a deliberately slow swirl. "I'm just making conversation. I find it helps the potion's vibes when the room has a bit of...chemistry."

Jamil exhaled through his nose. "That's not how alchemy works."

"Isn't it?" You teased, leaning over to glance at the thickening potion in his beaker. Your shoulder brushed against his arm. "You're awfully tense, Jamil. You should let me massage your shoulders after this."

"I'd rather keep my spine intact, thank you."

"You wound me." You pouted dramatically, batting your lashes at him.

"You're going to ruin the stirring ration if you keep fluttering like that."

Sevens, he was so stoic. But not immune. You could see the tension in his jaw now, the ever-so-faintest dust of redness on the tips of his ears. He was trying so hard not to engage. It only made the game that much more fun~

The potion had begun to take on a soft violet hue, meaning that it was time to add the purified dew essence. Jamil reached for the vial carefully, concentration etched into every line on his face.

You leaned in, close enough to count his lashes, your voice low and sultry as your breath ghosted across the shell of his ear, "Careful, Jamil...one drop too fast and things might explode. Wouldn't be the first time a little tension caused something to blow."

His grip faltered.

The vial slipped just slightly, but enough - a splash of dew essence fell into the cauldron all too soon. The mixture hissed with the tenacity of a rattlesnake before erupting into a dramatic puff of violet smoke, swirling with glittering sparks and the undeniable scent of singed lavender.

You both coughed.

Professor Crewel turned so fast, his coat flared like a dramatic cape (which you suppose was exactly that in a way).

"Y/L/N! Viper! What is the meaning of this?" He snapped, heels clicking rapidly toward your table.

Jamil opened his mouth, clearly ready to take the blame, but you were faster.

"I'm so sorry, Professor," You said, wide-eyed and innocent. "That was my fault. I knocked Jamil's elbow by mistake."

You didn't miss the sharp side-glance Jamil gave you. Crewel narrowed his eyes.

"Hmph. Typical of you to treat my class like a fashion runway. Perhaps if you focused on your brewing instead of making doe eyes at your lab partner, you wouldn't be sabotaging his work, which through extension is yours as well."

You bowed your head. "Yes, Professor."

The scolding went on for another minute before Crewel finally snapped his fingers to clean up the mess and stalked off in a flurry of expensive cologne and disdain over his students' shenanigans.

You turned your head slightly to peek at Jamil. He was staring at you, his brows drawn together - slightly in annoyance, but more so in confusion. Something a tad unreadable.

"What?" You asked, smiling. "Surprised I'd take the blame for once?"

"I'm surprised you didn't let me take it." He said, voice softer than before. "Most people do."

Your expression softened (just a little, mind you). "Well, I'm not most people."

He was quiet again. His eyes lingered on you for a second too long, then returned to the fresh beaker of ingredients. His cheeks were a little flushed now.

You sat back in your chair with a satisfied sigh. "Besides," You added, flipping your hair over your shoulder, "Now you owe me~"

"I don't owe you anything," He muttered, but the words lacked their usual venom. He didn't meet your eyes.

Oh yes. The walls were cracking.

And you couldn't wait to keep pushing.

It all began with a simple errand.

Jamil had been tasked with delivering a set of enchanted scrolls to one of the faculty offices across campus (a rare occasion when Yuu wasn't called to the job). Normally, he'd have used some other method to do it alone and in silence - no fuss, no nonsense. Just efficient. That was the plan.

Until you spotted him unlocking his magic carpet outside Scarabia's dorm, scrolls neatly bundled beneath one arm, and a look of focused intention etched onto his face.

You slid up beside him with a little hum of interest, your eyes raking over the floating carpet with mock curiosity. "Running away from all your adoring fans, Viper?" You purred, arms behind your back as you leaned in slightly. "Or is this your version of a gallant escape?"

Jamil (as usual) didn't even spare you a full glance. "It's an errand."

"Even better," You said, stepping onto the edge of the carpet like it was the red carpet at a gala. "Let me tag along. I could use a break...and besides, I've always wanted to know what it feels like to straddle something that responds to your every command."

That got a reaction. Jamil's shoulders stiffened just slightly - a crack in his typically composed armor. He exhaled slowly, eyes forward, face unreadable.

"It's not a toy."

"Oh, sweetheart," You cooed as you sat down behind him with practiced ease, brushing imaginary lint from your miniskirt. "Neither am I."

With a sharp mutter under his breath and a reluctant motion of his hand, the carpet lifted into the air, floating smoothly over the campus grounds. The breeze tousled your hair and his, the sun casting a glow across his face - focused, serene, and unfairly handsome.

You, of course, couldn't resist.

Leaning forward, you gentle wrapped your arms around his waist, feeling the taut definition beneath his robes. "Safety first," You said sweetly into his ear. "Wouldn't want to fall off...though I imagine falling into your arms wouldn't be the worst thing."

Jamil's fingers clenched tighter around the tassels. "You're perfectly stable without clinging to me," He muttered.

"Maybe," You whispered, letting your lips graze the shell of his ear just enough to make him flinch, "But I like how you feel."

He faltered for a split second - the carpet dipping slightly before steadying. You smiled smugly.

"You know," You continued, dragging your hands along his sides, "I've always had a thing for strong, silent types. Especially ones who know how to handle...sensitive equipment."

The tassels twitched in his hands.

You tsked gently. "Tense much? Maybe you need to relax. Should I give you a shoulder rub? Or maybe a kiss for bravery?"

He turned his head slightly - just enough for you to see the tightness in his jaw and the faint, stubborn oink burning in his cheeks. "Stop talking."

You pressed your cheek to his shoulder with an exaggerated sigh. "'It's criminal, really. Just the two of us on a floating carpet, your body between my legs, the wind in my hair...feels like the setup for something a little less PG."

Jamil's back tensed even more beneath you.

"Oh, don't get shy now," You purred, voice dipping like melted chocolate. "You're the one steering. I'm just here...enjoying the view." You slid your hand slowly down his arm. "And the ride."

His fingers visibly twitched, still gripping the tassels with all his life force.

"What really gets me," You continued, your breath brushing the edge of his jaw, "is how you've managed to keep your composure. All this heat, all this tension - and if he gripped the tassels any tighter, they might've snapped.

Jamil's grip tightened again, and this time the carpet pitched into a sudden, dramatic turn - a clear attempt to throw you off his rhythm or distract you into silence.

It didn't work.

You shrieked with laughter, clutching him tighter. "Are we doing tricks now?" You giggled into his shoulder. "Because I'm flexible, but I didn't bring a helmet!"

He groaned low in his throat, but it was too late. You were fully in your element now - lounging behind him with legs cross, hair wind-tossed, and the look of a mischief goddess on your face.

Eventually, with exasperation practically radiating from every movement, Jamil directed the carpet down in front of Ramshackle Dorm. You made no move to dismount.

"Home already?" You asked innocently, trailing your hand up his arm. "And here I thought we'd take the scenic route. Maybe stop by the woods, find a quiet little clearing...share secrets, maybe more-"

"Off."

You blinked.

He didn't even look at you. His ears were slightly pink, his jaw locked. But his voice was level, if strained. "Off the carpet."

You sighed dramatically. "You're no fun."

You dismounted with theatrical flair, smoothing your skirt and tossing your hair back as if stepping down from a royal procession. "But thanks for the ride, darling," You said over your shoulder. "If you ever need help...handling your gear again, you know where to find me."

Jamil didn't respond.

He didn't even look at you.

He simple snapped his fingers, and the carpet whipped back into the air with a swish and vanished into the sky, leaving a faint blush behind and a smirk on your lips.

The stately, mirrored dance room in Night Raven College's athletics wing was usually reserved for ballet or ceremonial formations. But these days, the pounding beats of off-beat music echoed between the walls as Jamil Viper practiced his own stress-relief routine - a private break-dance choreography born from hours of restless tension, endless assignments, and a mind that seldom shuts off.

You found him there in the late afternoon: the sun streaming through high windows, dust motes glittering in shafts of light. He moved with controlled confidence - spins, slides, freezes - all executed with the kind of graceful precision that only someone who had practiced dance for years could muster. His demeanor was calm, composed, yet there was excitement, passion in his movements. A true king in his element.

For you, it was an absolutely irresistible opportunity.

You slipped in behind him, every bit the vision of sultry control: a wine-colored dress with a ruffled hem that clung to curves and teased glimpses of skin with each shift, paired with slender heels that clicked faintly across the polished floor. You drew in a breath - rich, self-satisfied - before stepping forward and clapping once, sharply.

He froze mid-move, head snapping up, brow arched. You pressed a hand to your chest, feigning surprise.

"Ooh, Jamil..." You murmured. "I didn't realize break-dance classes were part of your daily routine."

He slid his foot out of a pose and smoothed back stray hair. "You said you'd leave me alone."

You smiled wickedly. "Who? Me?" Jamil sighed in exasperation. "Even if I did, you just...looked so tempting."

He crossed his arms. "I'm not practicing for an audience."

You tilted your head. "Is that why you paused mid-step? Because I showed up?"

He didn't respond.

Your heels clicked softly against the floor as you drifted toward the speaker, Jamil's phone resting beside it - your target. You tapped the screen, fingers gliding with casual intent - but the lock screen blinked back at you, cold and unyielding. No surprise there. Jamil wasn't the type to give away access lightly (as any responsible person should).

You picked up the phone, letting your gaze linger on it a moment longer than necessary, then turned and made your way back to him. He didn't look up right away, but you could feel the shift in the air as you approached.

Holding the phone out, you met his eyes. "Mind unlocking this for me?"

His jaw tightened - just slightly. Irritation flickered behind his gaze, but so did something else. Without a word, he took the phone and unlocked it, his fingers moving fast, precise. Then he handed it back, his touch brushing yours for half a second too long.

He didn't say a thing. He didn't have to.

You typed something into the search bar, intent on making sure that Jamil couldn't see you fiddling with his phone. The speakers started blaring again, and then you set the phone back where it originally was. The music began again, washing over you - elegant, flowing, rhythmic.

Extracting a corner of the toe of your heel, you dragged a clean line down the floor - a slow, deliberate movement.

Jamil's eyes narrowed - half irritation, half something else. You stepped across the hardwood floor, the rhythm from the speaker guiding you.

One-two-three, one-two-three.

Your heels pivoted lightly, sliding into the familiar cadence. A waltz. Or rather, the footwork for it, anyway.

You moved through the basic steps - slow turns, sweeping glides - the ruffles on your dress fluttering around your figure with every rise and fall. No partner. Just you and the music.

You watched Jamil with the eye of a hawk. Circling closer, footwork still carrying that elegant sway, you stepped into his space, and lifted your arms, one brushing his shoulder, and the other sliding neatly into his hand.

His body went rigid.

Your voice was lavender and velvet. "Waltz with me."

"I'd rath-" He started, tone clipped.

You tilted your head, fingers tightening slightly where they rested. "Dance with me."

He hesitated.

But your steps were already drawing him in, guiding him through the tempo - subtle turns, measured breath, contact that sparked more than rhythm. And for a moment, he followed. Not just because he wanted to. But because he couldn't help it.

You smiled.

You led him into the simple hold - right hand to his shoulder, left hand in his - and pressed forward onto the floor. The swell of a smooth, orchestral Viennese waltz began playing. The ruffles on your dress continued to swirl according to your movements; now with Jamil's stance recast from audience to partner.

Despite you leading him into the dance, Jamil naturally took the lead and guided you carefully with that firm, practiced grip.

One-two-three, one-two-three.

The steps were measured. The turn was tight. The closeness familiar yet thrilling.

"I didn't know you could dance like this," You murmured, voice low enough only he'd hear.

He blinked. "I can dance many styles."

Jamil was a practiced dancer, gifting you perfect posture and fluid motion. You used this chance to brush your hip against his a little longer, your gaze dipped to his neck as you followed his lead.

The height in the waltz built, and you subtly released his shoulder and pressed your chest against his closer. He still didn't flinch. He guided you.

You whispered, "If this is how you hold me now, I'm excited to see how you hold me later."

His step faltered, just a touch. He swallowed.

You slowed, accordingly to the melody, coaxing him into a sultry foxtrot. Each step was sumptuous, like the finest velvet - smooth, intentional, undeniably close. The ruffles whispered around with every turn, every slide a promise made in silk and motion.

You let your fingers trace ever so slightly over his shoulder as you moved.

"You're not trying to seduce me, are you? You questioned, voice dripping like warm honey. A pause. "Because it's working."

His breath hitched. Barely, but you felt it.

Your smile grew more wicked, more hazy.

"Careful, Jamil. If you keep dancing like that, I might forget we're just practicing."

He didn't answer with words. His hand tightened at your waist. His steps grew sharper, more deliberate - every shift of his body brushing closer, every movement carrying a kind of heat that left no room for misreading.

You realized with a slow, thrilling surrender - you weren't the one leading this dance anymore.

Before you knew it, a vibrant salsa tune reverberated throughout the room as you spun sideways, allowing yourself to be pulled into a livelier pattern. You clicked your heels, you flicked your head - classic salsa, but with an effortless allure.

His muscles flexed beneath his shirt. His leading was strong, firm, unflinching. Your bodies pushed and pulled, buzzing with magnetic energy. You uttered softly, "That's it, I knew you had it in you~"

His jaw angled. Sweat glistened on his temple. The fire of the salsa matched the fire in your eyes.

He dipped you low.

Your dress flared.

And your glossed lips parted.

The music changed on your breath - a tense, dramatic tango. You slid your hand along his chest, drawing your pulse to his sternum.

He let go of the salsa rhythm, leaning in for a true tango embrace. Chest to chest, cheek to cheek. Your hand went to the back of his neck, hair slipping through his fingers. His arm slid around your waist with surprising gentleness - tentative, but real.

He led. You pivoted. You pressed your hip against his. His eyes glittered in the mirror. Your hair flew wildly with the tempo. He guided your close, closer - hips aligned, shoulders aligned, heartbeats aligned.

As the music reached a crescendo, he dipped you - gravity and control in perfect synergy. You leaned back in the dip, your dress sliding temptingly, your pulse racing. Who would have known that Jamil Viper was this good of a dancer?

Suddenly, he lost balance.

Mid-dip, he staggered. But as quick as a pit viper, Jamil caught your head as you felt yourselves crash to the ground all too slow, his strong arms creating a barrier between you and the floor. His chest heaved, and his gaze was charged.

You blinked, hair falling forward. He brushed it aside, still holding that dance hold - intimate, warm, safe.

He nodded once, sharply. "I...you okay?"

You smiled back, breathy. "More than okay."

Jamil let go of you, setting himself up vertical, and offering a hand to help you up.

You rose up to your knees as you gently pulled him back to sit.

"I saw you wince when you got up," You said, voice laced with concern, but carrying a teasing edge. Jamil did not miss this. "Did you pull your side?"

He shot you a sharp look. "How'd you know?"

You flashed a knowing smile, leaning closer as your fingers brushed his arm lightly. "Kind of hard to miss. And you're not exactly the best at hiding things."

His eyes narrowed, but softened as you moved in closer, your gaze intent, lingering on his form. "Maybe you should stretch a little," You suggested. "I could help. You know, with that side of yours."

Your lips curled into a knowing smile, the offer looming in the air - a challenge.

You shuffled closer to him and placed your palm against his ribs. "Let me help you loosen up." Your tone was soft now - gentler with the teasing.

He stiffened and relaxed only when your touch remained focused, controlled.

"Everything alright?"

"Are you okay?"

You both asked at the same time.

A laugh, soft and breathy, slipped past your lips. "I've never been better. Though I wouldn't say no to a repeat performance - maybe with less falling, though."

He groaned and tried to move, but you reached up gently and brushed your fingers along his cheek. Your thumb ghosted just under his eye, and his breath caught.

You smiled at him, a soft, private smile that didn't match the typical wicked one you wore like armor.

"I think I broke you," You said playfully, though your voice had quieted.

Jamil didn't reply right away, just looked at you with those impossibly sharp eyes of his, reading more than you meant to show. His gaze swept from your flushed cheeks to your still-parted lips, and you could practically feel the turbulent energy strumming beneath his skin.

"You're pushing too far," He said quietly, voice taut.

You held his gaze, steady.

"Maybe. But you haven't stopped me yet."

The moment stretched between you, heavy with unspoken things. Your fingertips still lingered against his face, and when you didn't pull away, neither did he.

"I like you, Jamil."

It came out quieter than you'd expected.

Even with your usual confidence, even with all your practiced lines and sultry jokes, this part - this truth - was vulnerable. Your stomach twisted as the words hung in the air.

Jamil narrowed his eyes, stunned for a breath.

You kept your fingers on his cheek, grounding yourself.

"I mean it," You said, your voice lower now, calmer, but clearer than ever. "I tease you, sure. I get under your skin. But with you...it's not just a game. It's different."

Light from the chandelier kissed the contours of his face, shadows settling in the hollows like secrets. His brows drew together, silent in focus.

"You drive me up the wall," You admitted with a nervous little laugh. "You're smug and unbothered and infuriatingly self-controlled. And still...you're all I think about lately. Every comeback, every glance...it's like a dance I don't want to end."

Jamil was still quiet.

You could feel your pulse in your throat now. Too exposed.

Your voice dipped again, hushed and a little shaky. "You don't have to say anything. I just...I wanted you to know. I know I'm a lot to deal with. But when it comes to you, I really am serious. Scary serious."

Still silence.

Then - very slowly - Jamil's fingers rose to your wrist. He didn't push your hand away. Instead, he curled his hand around it, warm and steady, as if anchoring himself there.

"I know you mean it," He said at last, voice somber and timbre. "I've always known."

Your breath caught in your throat.

"Then why pull away?" You whispered.

He leaned in closer, the space between you narrowing until your breaths were shared. His body hovered over yours, but it wasn't dominance - it was hesitance. Like he was waiting for permission he didn't think he deserved.

"Because I didn't understand it," He murmured. "I still don't." His gaze searched yours, guarded but unraveling.

"I don't see why it's me. Why you'd look at me like that. There were moments I convinced myself it wasn't real - that you were just...being you. That I was passing fancy."

He exhaled, a shaky sound.

"But then you kept showing up. And you kept meaning it. And I couldn't stop wanting to believe you."

Your expression softened. "And what do you think now?"

"I think..." He hesitated. His voice dipped low, like river water flowing over stone. "You're absurd. And I haven't stopped thinking about you since the first time you blew me off with that ridiculous wink."

A slow smile curved the set of your mouth. "You liked the wink?"

"I hated it," He said, not sounding like he meant it at all. "But I couldn't forget it."

You sat up a little, your face now barely inches from his. "And now?"

"Now, I'm in trouble."

Your peals of laughter were tender and pleased, but something in you was still fragile. Still aching for more than banter. "Do you like me, Jamil?"

He exhaled, letting his forehead rest gently against yours. His hair brushed your cheek, silky and warm.

"I like you," He confessed, barely above a whisper. "More than I want to. More than I know how to deal with. You've turned my whole world upside down."

You swallowed thickly, "Good."

Then you tilted your face, so your lips hovered near his ear, your breath pleasant against his skin.

"Can I kiss you?" You whispered, soft but steady.

Jamil's fingers tightened just slightly around your wrist. His eyes found yours - intense, unreadable for a heartbeat.

Then they dropped to your lips.

"Yes."

You leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn't a playful peck or a teasing brush.

It was the kind of kiss that melted time.

His mouth met yours with careful reverence at first, like he wasn't sure this was real. Then, as your hand tangled in the loose hair at the nape of his neck, he deepened it, pulling you closer, tilting your chin, kissing you like he'd been holding back for far too long.

Though, you supposed that was exactly the case.

You tasted like mischief and jasmine and stolen moments.

He tasted like order, oud, and tender hours.

When you broke apart, both of you breathless, you touched his chest lightly with your palm, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat.

"We're a mess," You chortled, smiling.

Jamil smirked. "You more than me."

"Rude," You teased.

"And yet," He murmured, brushing a loose strand of hair from your cheek, "I still want more."

You leaned in again, your lips just grazing his. "Then you'd better keep up, Viper."

He kissed you again.

And this time, you didn't stop for a long, long while.

Author's Note: So I was supposed to post the Trey x VERY suggestive reader fic version of this before I posted Jamil's, but here we are! The process for creating these fics was NOT easy at all. To add on to Jamil's part, I originally did not plan for the dancing part of the fic to be as long as it was. I just figured that since Jamil is canonically really good at dancing, I could write about it. He obviously loves to break-dance, but he canonically is also really good at ballroom styles, and since this would technically be my first ever Jamil fic, I wanted to do him justice. :>

[sarcastic-clapping]

sometimes i open the replies to a post on here and remember that some of you people are so insane and out of touch with reality that you've invented a new and substantially worse subspecies of chronically online, the likes of which scientists have never seen, and i have renewed appreciation for my beautifully curated coven of beloved mutuals who huddle around me and protect me from having to gaze upon your derangement on a daily basis

[neptilius]

pre-dating gojo—him not giving up on her once his eyes are set on her. commenting on most of her pictures, following her on all her socials, having her and megumi pinned on his imessage , sending her flowers and little trinkets, him being the definition of “i see it, i like it, i want it, i got it.” wc; around 800

being a new teacher at jujutsu tech was overwhelming enough without the world’s most insistent sorcerer making you his personal project. from the moment you stepped foot onto the campus, satoru gojo had his sights set on you, and he wasn’t subtle about it. not even a little.

it started small at first, just lingering glances that made you wonder if you had something on your face. then came the compliments, always with that playful grin of his.

“looking sharp today,” he’d say casually, leaning against your classroom door. “you sure you’re not trying to impress someone?”

“just trying to look professional, gojo,” you’d reply, your tone firm even though his attention made your stomach flip.

but satoru gojo wasn’t one to give up when something, or someone, caught his interest.

within days, you noticed him popping up in your social media notifications. he’d followed you on everything, from instagram to twitter, even a random account you barely used. every post you made earned a comment, ranging from witty remarks to downright flirty observations.

“you really have an eye for photography,” he’d write under a scenic picture, only to follow it up with, “but the view isn’t as good as you.”

you weren’t sure if you wanted to scream or laugh, but the attention didn’t stop there.

flowers began appearing on your desk, beautiful arrangements with little notes scrawled in his messy handwriting. chocolates followed, and once, even your favorite coffee order appeared like magic during a particularly grueling morning. you tried asking who was leaving them, but every time, his students would either look away awkwardly or mutter something vague.

megumi, however, had no patience for it. “it’s obviously gojo-sensei,” he said flatly one afternoon when you found yet another bouquet. “he’s been insufferable lately.”

“fushiguro!” nobara scolded, but the slight eye roll she gave made it clear she agreed.

satoru’s antics didn’t stop there. he began finding excuses to help you with your students, offering “expert training tips” that often turned into elaborate demonstrations meant more to impress you than anyone else.

“see that?” he’d say after a particularly flashy display of cursed technique, turning to you with a cocky grin. “bet you can’t teach them that.”

“because it’s not practical,” you’d retort, ignoring the heat rising in your cheeks.

dont get me started on the memes chile... once you finally relented and gave him your number, your phone became a constant source of laughter; random memes, ridiculous videos, and occasionally, surprisingly thoughtful messages about your day.

“saw this and thought of you,” one text read, attached to a picture of a female cat on top of a male cat nuzzling noses.

it was impossible not to crack a smile, even if you tried to keep your responses measured.

but the cherry on top of gojo’s relentless pursuit? he’d even roped his students into it.

“you should just say yes already,” nobara said bluntly one day, crossing her arms as you prepared for a joint training session. “he’s annoying, but he’s also kind of great when you get past the… everything.”

megumi groaned. “don’t encourage her. he’s unbearable enough as it is.”

“he’s determined,” nobara corrected, smirking. “there’s a difference.”

you shook your head, trying to ignore how warm their words made you feel. it was hard to admit, even to yourself, that satoru’s persistence was starting to grow on you.

he was annoying, yes. overthetop? absolutely. but beneath the theatrics, there was a sincerity to his actions that you couldn’t ignore. he studied you, not in a creepy way. but in a way that made it clear he genuinely wanted to understand you.

the small things he did like— remembering your favorite snacks, asking about your hobbies, or noticing when you seemed stressed. spoke volumes about the kind of person he was beneath the surface.

one afternoon, after yet another “accidental” run in, you finally confronted him.

“what do you even want, gojo?” you asked, crossing your arms as you faced him in the courtyard.

he didn’t even flinch at your tone. instead, he smiled, that confident, playful grin softening ever so slightly.

“you,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

your breath hitched, and for once, you didn’t have a quick retort. maybe, just maybe, gojo’s persistence wasn’t as annoying as you thought.

[anon-sect]

I saw you posted transformation with celebrities and you recently posted a transformation into feets, litterraly become part of someone else. Can you transform me into Benji Krol's dick please? I would give anything to become his.

Picture source: internet

Calvin was a huge fan of Benji Krol ever since the early days of his YouTube and Tik Tok videos. He watched all of them at least twice, including the new ones. He was so excited when he heard that Benji was doing a contest where the winner would get to meet him in person and be a part of one of his videos. With the famous Tik Tikor having tons of fans, his chances of winning were very slim, but he would try anyway.

A month later, Benji announced the winner of the contest via one of his videos using the handle of the winner. Benji would be sending the information where they would meet via the handle's email. Calvin couldn't believe that he was the winner out of thousands of others who entered. One hour later, he saw he had received an email from Benji, congratulating him and sending him the information he needed. Calvin was super excited and couldn't wait.

It was three days later that Calvin met Benji in person. He saw that he was indeed a cool person. After a great conversation, he did a crazy video with Benji. He promised after editing it, he would post it online.

"There is one more thing that you won, also." Benji commented as he came back in the room with two drinks in his hands. He handed one to Calvin.

"What else did I win?" Calvin asked as he sipped down the drink. It had a fruity taste, and he loved it. He quickly finished and placed the glass on the table. He saw Benji smiling.

"Oh, it's something very special." Benji replied, looking at Calvin.

Calvin saw Benji looking at him as though he was waiting on something. He suddenly felt extremely drowsy. It was like he couldn't fight his sleep. He just simply passed out without realizing it.

Several hours later, Calvin woke up from his slumber. He was in some dark place that also felt a little sweaty. He tried to speak but had no conventional mouth to say any words. He tried to move, but all motion was that of twitching around. He was so confused. The last thing he remembered was chatting with Benji on the couch. He continued to try to move, but it was much. His whole body felt weird. He felt like he was attached to something he couldn't break free from.

Benji felt his dick twitching in his pants underwear and shorts. "Oh, you are finally awake. Your prize you won is the to be the extra inches on my dick. You and my dick are one now." He laughed as he felt his dick twitching even more than before. "I suggest you calm down. It's permanent. You are mine, and you aren't going anywhere." He added as he posed to take a selfie picture in the mirror. He was satisfied with his contest. One of his fans was now a member of his body.

Calvin couldn't believe what happened to him, but suddenly, his thoughts were being changed. He was Benji's dick. He did like watching his videos. Now, he could be with him 24/7365. He couldn't believe his luck. This was not a curse but a blessing. This was where he was meant to be. And there was no better place than to be a permanent member on Benji's body.

[m4rv3l-girl]

Hii! saw this post: https://www.tumblr.com/knotty-trans-dog/750296971367071744/so-slutty-when-a-man-stretches-and-exposes-his?source=share

And thought of Bucky and reader just hanging out in the living room watching a movie and Bucky stands up and that happens and reader just on instict bites his abs and Bucky is like did you just-?😂 And they are just both surprised she did that and it can be a fluffy moment that ends up being spicy?👀 Thank you!!🫶🏼

Bite me

Warnings: Biting (obviously). Fingering. P in v sex. Pain kink if you squint.

The movie played like a buzz in the background, its plot long forgotten as Y/N nestled comfortable against Bucky’s side on the couch. His arm was draped lazily over her shoulders, fingers tracing absentminded patterns on her upper arm. It was one of those nights that was quiet, intimate, and only theirs. Outside, the city hummed, but inside their little bubble, it was just the two of them and the warm glow of their company.

“Are you even watching this?” she teased, turning her head to look up at him. His eyes were half-closed, his gaze somewhere between the screen and her leaning against him.

“Hm? Sure,” Bucky replied, his lips twitching into a small smirk. “It’s…uhm, something about a spy and- ”

“Wrong movie, Buck,” she interrupted, laughing softly. “This one’s about aliens.”

“Same difference,” he shrugged, the corner of his mouth quirking higher.

Y/N rolled her eyes and nudged him gently. “Hopeless.”

“Hopelessly in love with you,” he shot back smoothly, earning a soft snort from her.

Moments like these were her favorite - his playful side, the little quips that reminded her of the man beneath the layers of trauma and hurt. She could have spent hours like this, wrapped up in him, letting the world outside melt away.

As the credits began to roll, Bucky stretched, shifting out from under her. “I need to stretch my legs,” he muttered, standing up and raising his arms high above his head. The hem of his henley lifted with the motion, revealing a glimpse of his toned abdomen and the subtle curve of his torso.

Y/N froze mid-sentence, her words forgotten as her eyes locked onto the exposed skin. The sharp lines of his abs flexed slightly, and she swallowed hard, her brain short-circuiting. Before she could process what she was doing, she leaned forward and bit him—lightly, just enough to feel the warmth of his skin against her mouth.

Bucky yelped, his arms dropping instantly. “Did you just—” He stared at her, wide-eyed and incredulous, one hand flying to his stomach as though he couldn’t believe what just happened.

Y/N’s face was burning in an instant, her hands flying to her mouth. “I—uh—” Words failed her. She was just as stunned by her own actions as he was.

“You bit me?” he asked, voice incredulous, though there was a glimmer of amusement behind his shock.

“I didn’t mean to!” she blurted, her voice muffled behind her fingers. “It was…an instinct!”

“An instinct?” he echoed, his lips twitching as if he were fighting a grin. “What kind of instinct makes you bite someone’s abs?”

“I don’t know!” Y/N squeaked, burying her face in her hands. “You stretched, and they were right there, and—ugh, forget it!”

Bucky stood there for a moment, staring at her. Then, he laughed—a low, rich sound that filled the room and made her peek through her fingers at him. He wasn’t mad. He was… amused?

“That’s gotta be a first,” he mused, stepping closer to the couch. His metal hand rested lightly on the back of it, his gaze warm and teasing as it settled on her. “Didn’t know my abs had that effect on you, Doll.”

“Shut up,” she groaned, sinking lower into the cushions.

“Oh no, no,” he teased, crouching down so they were at eye level. “You don’t get to just bite me and then tell me to shut up. That’s not how this works.”

She peeked at him again, biting her lip to hold back a laugh. “What are you gonna do about it?”

The challenge hung in the air, her embarrassment slowly giving way to something exciting. He reached out, gently tugging her hands away from her face. “Guess I’ll just have to find out what other instincts you’ve got,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Her heart skipped a beat, the playful banter shifting into something charged. He leaned closer, his nose brushing against hers as his eyes searched hers, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

The warmth of Bucky's body was a welcome surprise against hers as he pulled her down onto his lap.

The mood in the room had shifted - the teasing of moments before was now a delicious tension that crackled in the air between them. His arms wrapped around her waist, holding her in place. She felt the steady beat of his heart through his shirt, the gentle rise and fall of his chest with each breath he took.

“You know, you can't just bite a guy and not expect consequences,” he whispered into her ear. His breath was warm, tickling her skin.

Y/N squirmed in his grip, her cheeks still flaming. “What kind of consequences?” she managed to ask, her eyebrow raised.

His smirk grew, his eyes darkening slightly. “Well, I could return the favor,” he said, his thumb tracing a small circle on the skin of her arm, sending goosebumps racing up her spine.

Y/N’s eyes widened and she sucked in a sharp breath. “Where would you bite me?”, a thrill of anticipation danced in her voice.

Bucky’s eyes lit up, his smirk turning predatory. “Hmm…” His gaze traveled down to her neck, lingering on the pulse point that was now throbbing. He leaned closer, his breath warming the column of her throat. “How about here?” His teeth grazed the sensitive flesh lightly, drawing a gasp from her lips.

——-smut——-smut——-smut——-smut——-smut——-smut————-

Her body reacted instinctively, arched slightly towards him. She felt his arms tighten around her waist, his grip possessive but gentle. Y/N’s eyes fluttered closed as his lips moved to the ridge of her ear, the tip of his tongue traced the edge before he took the lobe between his teeth.

A shiver of pleasure raced through her.

His mouth moved down her neck, kissing and licking. She leaned her head back, granting him better access, the sound of his appreciative hums sending waves of heat through her nerves.

He moved his head up and pressed his lips to hers gently.

Their kiss only grew deeper, bodies getting closer and his hands moving from her waist to cradle her face. His thumbs landed against her cheekbones and brushed her lips in the most loving way.

The kiss was filled with unspoken promises and the sweetness of a shared secret. Bucky’s warmth surrounded her, making her feel safe and cherished. Her hands found their way into his hair, fingers carding through the soft strands. His taste lingered on her tongue, a mix of mint and whiskey.

He broke away for a second, his eyes searching hers. "You sure about this?" he asked, the emotion thick in his tone.

Y/N nodded, her eyes shining with certainty. "More than sure, Bucky," she whispered.

He took that for the invitation it was-skimming his hands down her back, pressing her closer as their kisses turned urgent. The world outside their bubble fell away and all that was left was the sound of their hearts in sync.

Bucky's hands began to wander, his fingers dancing across her ribs, then sliding up to cup her breasts. He could feel her breath hitch as he applied gentle pressure, and it sent a jolt of desire through him. He was acutely aware of her every reaction-the way her body softened into his touch, the quiet sounds she made deep in her throat.

Their kiss grew hotter as Bucky's thumbs brushed over her nipples, teasing them into hard peaks. Y/N's own hands grew bolder, sliding under his shirt to trace the lines of his abs, the warm metal of his arm a stark contrast to his flesh.

The couch creaked as they shifted positions, her legs straddling his, their bodies fitting together perfectly. His hands moved up her back, unhooking her bra with a skill that spoke of experience, though she knew he was trying to be as gentle as he could.

Her breasts sprang free from the constriction of the material, and she felt the cool air brush against her sensitive skin. Bucky's eyes darkened even further at the sight, his thumbs circling her areola before his mouth descended.

Y/N's back arched as his tongue swirled around her nipple, his teeth grazing the peak before taking it in his mouth. The sensation was exquisite, a symphony of pleasure that curled her toes in her socks as she moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders as she held onto him tightly.

He moved to her other nipple, lavishing it with equal attention, his movements calculated, intent. Y/N's head fell back as she breathed in ragged gasps, riding the sensation like a wave. Bucky's hand slid down the length of her body, his fingertips gliding along her stomach to the waistband of her jeans.

He stilled his touches then, looking upward, asking the question with a need burning inside his eyes. Her glazed eyes nodded consent; then he unbuttoned with hands that shook a bit and, with a reluctant swoop, the garment tumbled down her hips onto silk underwear she'd so lovingly chosen that morning.

Bucky's eyes dropped, watching the hunger rise in their depths as he slid his hand inside to cup her. She bit her lip, stifling a whimper. His thumb found her clit, and she jerked against his hand, her hips moving in a silent pleading for more.

He obliged, his touch growing bolder, his thumb rubbing circles around her clit as his fingers slid inside her. Y/N's eyes rolled back, her body tightening around his hand as she approached her release.

Their breathing grew heavy, the only sound in the room.

The TV had long been forgotten, the movie playing out its silent drama on the screen behind them, unnoticed.

His other hand moved to her hip, anchoring her in place as he pressed a trail of kisses down her neck to her chest, taking her nipple into his mouth once more. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin, and she moaned his name, the sound a desperate plea.

He chuckled against her skin, the vibration sending shivers through her. “You’re so beautiful, Doll,” he murmured, his voice thick with need. His thumb continued to rub her clit in tight circles, the pressure increasing as he felt her getting closer.

Y/N’s legs trembled, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding onto him as if he were her lifeline. She could feel the hardness of his erection pressing against her, and she rocked her hips instinctively, seeking more friction.

With a growl, Bucky stood, lifting her easily and carrying her to the bedroom. He laid her down on the bed, his body hovering over hers as he stared into her eyes, the intensity of his gaze almost too much to bear. She reached up, her hand curling around the back of his neck, pulling him down for another kiss.

Their kiss was frantic now.

Bucky’s hands moved her thighs, pushing them apart, and she eagerly opened herself to him. He slid his hand back down, his fingers slipping into her wetness, his thumb never leaving her clit.

Her body was a live wire under his touch, every stroke and caress bringing her closer to the edge. He kissed her again, hard and demanding, his tongue mimicking the motion of his hand.

Y/N’s breathing grew shallow, her eyes squeezed shut as she focused on the sensations building within her. She felt Bucky’s hand move away, and she whimpered in protest, but then she felt something else—his mouth on her, replacing his thumb.

The shock of his warm, wet tongue sent her spiraling over the edge, her back arching off the bed as she cried out. He didn’t stop, licking and sucking, drawing out her orgasm until she was trembling with aftershocks.

Bucky kissed his way back up her body, his eyes never leaving hers as he positioned himself between her legs. Y/N could feel the heat of his arousal, the tip of his cock pressing against her entrance. She reached down, her hand shaking slightly, and wrapped her fingers around him, guiding him in.

He pushed in slowly, watching her face for any sign of pain or discomfort. But all he saw was pure, unbridled passion—her eyes never leaving his, her teeth digging into her lower lip as she took all of him. He paused for a moment, giving her time to adjust, before he started to move.

Their rhythm grew steadily, his hips rolling into hers with a fierce tenderness that took her breath away.

Suddenly, he pulled them over so that he was lying on his back with her straddling his hips. He never slipped out of her. Y/N sat up, her hands on his shoulders, her breasts bouncing with every thrust.

“Bucky,” she whispered, his name a prayer on her lips as she watched him. His eyes never left hers, the intensity of his gaze holding her captive.

He reached up, his thumb brushing her cheek, the metal cold against her flushed skin. “God, you feel so good, doll…” he murmured, his voice strained.

Y/N felt a renewed surge of arousal at his words, her hips moving faster as she took control. Bucky’s eyes darkened, his breathing growing heavier as he watched her ride him.

His hands tightened on her hips as he pushed into her from beneath. She leaned down, her hair cascading around them like a curtain.

Their kiss grew desperate, tongues dancing together in a passionate tango of desire. Y/N’s nails raked down his chest, leaving white trails on his skin that soon turned pink as his blood rushed to the surface. She felt powerful, in charge, and incredibly turned on.

With every movement of her hips, Bucky’s eyes rolled back in his head, his own pleasure clearly etched on his face. He groaned her name into the quiet room, his voice raw with need.

The sound of their bodies moving together filled the space, the slickness of their skin, the rustle of the bedsheets—it was a symphony that seemed to crescendo with every beat of their hearts.

The headboard of the bed knocked against the wall in a steady, insistent rhythm that echoed their passion.

Bucky’s hands slid from her hips to her waist, then up to cup her breasts, his fingers pinching her nipples. She gasped into his mouth, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure down her spine and made her core tighten around him. He broke the kiss to trail his lips down her neck, nipping and sucking at the tender flesh, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. She arched her back begging for more, and he eagerly obliged. His teeth grazing the soft skin at the base of her neck. The slight pain only heightened her arousal, and she ground down onto him, her movements growing erratic.

Her legs began to tremble, and she knew she was close.

Bucky seemed to sense it, his own hips thrusting up to meet hers. He sat up, wrapping his arms around her and pulled her tight against him. His hips met hers in a punishing rhythm, the friction of their skin setting every nerve ending alight. He kissed her again, deep and demanding, as if he could devour her whole. Y/N’s planted themselves on the headboard for leverage, holding him close as she felt herself teeter on the edge of the precipice.

Her breath came in ragged pants, and she could feel her orgasm building—a coil of tension in her belly, winding tighter with every stroke. His grip on her tightened, his own need evident in the way he held her. His breath was hot against her neck. She felt the pressure build, wave upon wave of pleasure threatening to crest.

And then she did. She came, her body convulsing around him, her muscles spasming with the force of her release. Bucky groaned, the sound deep and guttural, as he followed her over the edge, filling her with his warmth. His arms tightened around her, holding her close as if afraid she might slip away.

For a moment, the world stopped.

Their hearts raced together, their breaths mingling, their bodies a tangle of limbs. The only sound was their muffled gasps for air, and the slowing of their desperate pants.

Then, reality crept back in, bringing with it the gentle aftermath of their passion. Bucky’s arms remained around her, his hands caressing her back in a gentle, soothing motion. He kissed the top of her head, his breathing gradually returning to normal.

She felt his cock pulse once, twice, inside her, the sensation sending a final, delicious shiver through her body.

“Bucky, did you just…inside me..?” She asked with a small tinge of shock in her breathless voice.

He chuckled, the sound low and deep in his chest. “That’s what you get for biting me, doll,” he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction and a hint of mischief.

His eyes searched hers for any signs of distress, but all he found was a smoldering desire that matched his own…

——————————————————————————————————

Hope you didn’t mind that this took a little longer to write, I just really wanted to make it perfect! I also hope you liked it! 🫶

Requests Open!

[midala-of-the-valley]

Your Heart Pulling Against Mine - pt 3

David 8 x Reader Words: 1009 Part two is here Cross posted on Ao3

Everyone had gathered in the cockpit as the ship approached LV-223. Only a few days had passed since awakening from cryosleep, and now we were nearing our destination.

Standing between Janek and Millburn, you gazed down at the swirling clouds blanketing the planet’s atmosphere.

“Looking down, it’s almost like flying on a plane... but when I look up-” Lifting your head, you saw the vast expanse of the universe, stars glittering around the ship.

“First time on a spaceship, huh?” Janek asked with a knowing smile, clearly accustomed to the view by now.

You nodded and stepped closer to Millburn, eager to peer through the larger window.

“I’m usually close to the ground - sometimes even covered in it. Botanists don’t often need to go to space... nor do biologists,” you added with a joyful grin. 

Millburn mirrored your smile, clearly glad that someone was open to forming friendships on this ship.

Moments later, Janek called for Ravel and Chance as the ship prepared for landing. Excited, you hurried over to him alongside an equally energized Dr. Shaw.

“How are we doing?” she asked.

“Great,” Janek replied with a smile, amused by your shared excitement. He gently shooed you both toward your seats so you could brace yourselves for entry.

You rushed back to your seat as the ship tilted sharply, preparing for landing. 

The sudden motion sent your stomach lurching, like the drop of a roller coaster teetering over the edge.

Excitement and nervousness mixed within you as your eyes searched for David, though he was seated on the opposite side with Ford.

“Atmosphere is 71 percent nitrogen, 21 percent oxygen, traces of argon gas.”

You gasped at the composition, furrowing your brows as Holloway tried to be funny once again with, “Just like home.”

“I don’t even want to know where you live if that’s what you’re breathing,” you shot back, earning an eye-roll from Holloway - and a rare smirk from Fifield.

Flying deeper, breaking through the clouds, you started to see the surface and marveled at it.

Jagged mountains covered in something that looked like snow - or was it some sort of metal? Specks of it littered the dark, muddy sand until it faded as the area became flatter. Lightning struck at one point.

“It looks like someone threw different fantasy settings together,” you mused, furrowing your brows as Ravel announced that there was neither radio nor a heat source on the radar. Empty.

“There is nothing in the desert, and no man needs nothing,” David’s voice broke through your thoughts, pulling your gaze from the landscape.

“Is that a quote from Lawrence?” you asked, which made him smile that you remembered. He had told you about his favorite movie in bed, promising to show it to you when there was enough time.

Now Ford spoke up, “Lawrence?” which caused David to turn his face to her.

“It’s from a film I like,” he said. “I told Miss (Y/N) about it, that’s all.”

Suddenly, Holloway sprang up, stumbling toward the front, wedging himself between Millburn and you as the ship shook.

He pointed toward lines etched into the ground, leading up to an igloo-shaped structure—or was it a round pyramid? And not just one - more extended further into the distance.

“There! Right there! God doesn’t build in straight lines. Can you put us down there, Captain?”

Janek confirmed and maneuvered the ship to land.

The crew began unbuckling their seatbelts, rising from their seats, staring in awe and disbelief - just like you.

Your heart pounded with excitement as you jumped up, eyes wide with the undeniable proof of someone’s existence. Some form of life had been here.

The moment felt monumental, almost sacred.

Turning, you locked eyes with David, who had moved behind you, his face mirroring your wonder. Without hesitation, you took his hand, squeezing it tightly, uncaring if the others saw.

“Someone was here, David! They were right! We’re not alone!”

you whispered, nodding toward Dr. Holloway, who kissed Dr. Shaw’s temple, drawing her close before letting her go and walking toward Janek.

“Captain, would you please tell the survey team to suit up and meet us in the airlock?” Holloway asked.

Janek frowned, casting an uncertain glance at the structure and the clouded sky.

“There are only six hours of daylight left. We should wait until tomorrow.”

Holloway shook his head.

“Oh no, no, no. It's Christmas, Captain, and I want to open my presents.”

With that, he strode toward the door.

You fought the urge to wrap your arms around David, longing to hug him, to theorize and ponder about what you might discover - but there was no time.

“You, boy, you’re coming with us.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Holloway pointing at David.

You didn’t like that.

When David politely agreed, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“He has a name, you know!” you snapped.

David’s brows lifted in quiet surprise, while Holloway arched his and glanced down at your joined hands. But he said nothing, leaving without a word.

With a frustrated huff, you tugged David along, heading towards the airlock yourself.

“If you don’t call him out on his behavior, I will,” you muttered.

“You really don’t have to. I’m used to it,” he replied, his voice soft.

You stopped abruptly, meeting his eyes.

“That doesn’t make it right. You’re not a thing, David!”

His brows twitched, just slightly - a reaction you would have missed if you hadn’t been so intent on watching him.

A moment later, he pulled you into a nearby side room, pressing you softly against the wall.

“David-?” you whispered, taken off guard.

He cupped your cheeks, resting his forehead against yours - a gesture he had learned symbolized comfort and affection.

“I’ll handle Dr. Holloway myself,” he murmured. “I appreciate your willingness to defend me, but don’t get into conflict because of it.”

A faint blush crept up your cheeks, and you pressed your lips into a thin line.

“I can’t promise that.”

Being defended for something he had not even considered offensive.

How strange.

[nagichi-boop]

A Star That’s Out of Reach (Chapter 15)

[Previous] - [Next]

[Masterlist]

I’ll be honest, I have no comments to add. But what I will say is I can’t be bothered to wait to post the next chapter cuz I don’t wanna leave y’all on a cliffhanger (spoilers I guess?), so I’ll be posting the next one promptly. Please enjoy!

TW — Trauma flashbacks

— x —

Amy hummed as she cleaned her house, excited for the day ahead of her. Blaze and Silver had gone out to meet with some of the members of the Resistance, so she had some time to herself. Most of all, she couldn’t wait to meet Shadow later now that things were more settled between them. If this continued, it wouldn’t be long before they started dating officially, at least in her eyes.

Amy paused her activity as the floor began to tremble beneath her, the items in her house shaking. She wondered for a moment if there was an earthquake, but that question was dispelled as she noticed a beam of light pierced through her window. She shielded her eyes, then looked up to see what was happening. As her eyes adjusted, she watched as the Chaos Emerald that Shadow had left with her began floating towards the light, shattering her window. She lunged towards it and took hold of it, but whatever was drawing the Emerald out was stronger than her and she instead floated outside her house, clinging to the Emerald. After staring in disbelief at the ground that were several meters below her, she looked towards the source of light.

“Eggman!” She yelled in anger, not entirely surprised to see him as the cause. “Let go of me!”

“You’re the one clinging to the Emerald,” Eggman quipped back. “Surrender the Emerald or you’ll be coming with me.”

“Absolutely not,” Amy replied, tightening her grip on the Emerald. She glanced at her destination – a reinforced cage that was by no means intended to fit her. But she refused to let go, not after Shadow had entrusted the Emerald to her. She swung and placed her feet against the cage, trying to leverage herself to push away from it, but the Emerald would not stop in its path. She became jammed in the cage with barely any wriggle room, then the gate slammed behind her.

“Very well,” Eggman spoke with a level of disapproval. “I suppose I’ll find a way to deal with you.” With that, Eggman’s pod zoomed off with Amy and the Emerald in tow.

Meanwhile in Tails’ workshop, one of his gadgets pinged at him. He approached it, picking the tablet up. “Uhh Sonic?” Tails spoke up in a worried tone, capturing Sonic’s attention. “You know how you told me it was fine to leave that Chaos Emerald with Amy?”

Sonic raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t told Tails how it came into Amy’s possession, but just that she was perfectly capable of protecting it. “Yeah, I remember that. What’s up?”

Tails turned and replied; “It’s on the move. And not just that, it’s moving unnaturally fast. I think someone might have taken it.”

Sonic placed a hand on his hip and sighed. “I suppose that was bound to happen eventually. We should go fetch it in case someone like Eggman got it.”

Tails hesitated for a moment. “Do you think maybe Shadow took it? I know he and Rouge were there when we got that Emerald.” Just as quick as Tails asked, Sonic shook his head.

“Nah, I doubt even Shadow would stoop that low,” he deflected. “Come on, we need to go after it. For all we know, Amy could be caught up in the mess already.” The two of them then swiftly left the workshop with a sense of urgency, following the direction of Tails’ tablet. Just as they were mentally changing track to mission-mode, Sonic was stopped in his tracks by something. Tails stopped and turned, and as the dust settled, saw that Metal Sonic had appeared to battle Sonic. The latter glanced at Tails, then called out.

“Go, get Shadow! I’ll handle this lump of junk. Tell him Amy might be in trouble!” Though confused at the suggestion, Tails nodded and flew off in search of the other hedgehog, leaving Sonic to fend for himself against his metal counterpart. After a short while of panicked flying, Tails thankfully found Shadow laying in a field. There was no time to question why, so he landed and tried to catch his breath so he could speak. Before he could, Shadow sat up with a confused expression.

“Tails? Why are you out here?” Shadow’s tone sounded somewhat sharp, but it wasn’t intended. Thankfully, Tails was too flustered to notice or care.

He took a deep breath and spoke. “We think Eggman took one of the Chaos Emeralds! Me and Sonic were on our way to get it, but Metal Sonic stopped him. We need your help!”

Shadow didn’t respond for a moment. “Why do you need me?”

“Sonic sent me. He told me to say Amy might be in trouble.”

Shadow’s eyes widened and it occurred to him that perhaps the Emerald that was taken was the one she was protecting. Without a second thought, he stood up and began running, with Tails following behind him.

Eggman closed the cell door with Amy trapped inside, holding the Emerald proudly in his hand. “You really aren’t the brightest, are you? I had the mercy to allow you to go, but you stubbornly refused. And for what? To end up in a cell once again?”

Amy clutched the cell bars, scowling. “I couldn’t just sit idly by and let you take the Emerald from under my nose! Besides, I know I won’t be in here long.”

Eggman snickered mockingly. “Aww, you mean your precious Sonic?” Amy’s eyes widened. For the first time, Sonic wasn’t who she was thinking would save her – it was Shadow. She dared not say anything, but she looked away with reddened cheeks. To her annoyance, Eggman laughed even louder, which to her was just obnoxious. “Don’t think I hadn’t thought of that. You’ve been in this position enough times for me to prepare for the eventuality. I already dispatched Metal Sonic to deal with the rodent. And don’t bother with the bars – I reinforced them so that not even you could bend them.” Eggman then walked off, continuing to laugh to himself at his apparent victory.

Amy sighed, letting go of the bars. She backed away and sat against the wall, hugging her legs. For whatever reason, she felt more defeated than usual. She truly believed that if he knew, Shadow would rescue her in an instant. But how would he even find out? It wasn’t like he was in the same social circles as her. She glanced at the empty space beside her, as if doing so would cause him to suddenly appear. She teared up a little, burying her face in her knees.

Shadow and Tails arrived at the back of Eggman’s base. Before he could barge in, Tails stopped Shadow. “We can’t just storm in,” Tails insisted, causing Shadow to stop and listen. “Eggman no doubt will expect us to come after him, so we need a plan.” Shadow folded his arm, a serious expression on his face. He was impatient to save Amy, but agreed that rushing in was a poor move. “So how do you suggest we do that?”

Tails landed on front of Shadow, placing his hand in his chin while he thought. “Well, Eggman sent Metal out to stop Sonic, which suggests he knew Sonic would come after him.” Tails then looked up at Shadow. “But I’m sure he’s not expecting you.”

“I suppose. So what do you want me to do?”

Tails paused for a moment. “Actually, I think Rouge might be able to help. Not only will we have numbers on our side, but she is particularly qualified to help in this mission.”

Shadow frowned a little. “And what about Amy?”

Tails looked towards the base. “We still don’t know for sure what happened to her, but we best look around just in case. I can’t imagine that she would’ve let the Emerald go without a fight.”

“Rouge isn’t working today. Go to her and explain the situation. I’ll wait here.” Tails nodded and left Shadow. When he was out of sight, Shadow turned attention to the base. Though he understood where Tails was coming from, he couldn’t bear to wait any longer if there was any chance Amy was in danger. Using the Chaos Emerald at his disposal, he teleported within the base. He quietly wandered around, not finding anything odd at first beside a few Eggbots, which were easily defeated. Frustratingly, the base was large enough that exploring it took a great deal of time.

He eventually found himself in an eerily quiet room, so he entered with caution after scanning the room for potential dangers. He explored the panel of controls, but couldn’t make head or tails of what any of it did. Before he could properly explore, a beam of light pointed at him, he snarled and looked towards it squinting, then realised his Chaos Emerald was being drawn out with it. He grasped it, but couldn’t divert its path. He tried Chaos Control, but that didn’t work, either. So instead of trying to stop the Emerald, he looked to find the source. He found what looked like a projector, so he jumped and launched Chaos Spears at it, but to his annoyance the beam absorbed this energy too. When he landed, he heard what sounded like a pressure plate being activated. Before he could react to it though, a pod encapsulated him, trapping him inside. A sudden dread gripped Shadow and he found himself unable to break out, despite desperately pounding on the glass. He hadn’t felt this level of panic since…

He looked back at the panel of controls, but it was no longer the room he was in before – it was the ARK. Maria was on the floor by the controls, her breathing weak and laboured. He stared in panic at the sight and began pounding on the glass again, screaming her name. She turned to face him with messy hair and darkened eyes. To his horror, she smiled in her disheveled state, filling Shadow with an intense fear. He sank down in the pod as his strength left him, starting to gasp for air.

The glass around him shattered, causing him to cower in a ball. He heard footsteps and voices around him, but it all sounded muffled yet intense to him. It seemed as though someone was talking to him, but he kept his eyes shut and his hands over his ears: whatever was happening, he couldn’t face it. He was jolted by a hand on his shoulder, and without thinking he slashed whatever it was away. A brief moment of clarity came through and he saw a panicked Amy beside him, frozen in fear. The look of terror on her face only confused and frightened him more, and he found himself struggling to breathe.

A muffled voice spoke to him from in front of him. He slowly focused his attention to it, now seeing Rouge kneeling in front of him. “There he is,” she spoke softly, the first clear phrase that Shadow picked up on. “You’re okay, Shadow. Nothing bad is happening. Let’s focus, okay?” Through teary eyes, Shadow followed her directions. She instructed him to observe what was around him, and gradually he felt himself settle. When he had sufficiently calmed down, he rested in Rouge’s arms, letting out a tired sigh. She gently held for a moment, allowing him to compose himself before attempting to bring him back to the matter at hand.

Rouge glanced over at Amy, who had an expression of deep upset on her face. With a heavy heart, she offered a suggestion to her. “Perhaps you should go help the boys get the Emeralds back.” Amy’s eyes widened with hurt, but after hesitating for a moment, she got up and ran out of the room. Shadow opened his eyes and glanced as she left the room, and before he could muster a word to say to stop her, she was gone.

Amy caught up to Sonic and Tails mid fight. In the chaos of Eggman trying to retrieve the Emerald Tails had, Amy spotted the other was unguarded. She quietly crept up to it and picked it up, but the moment she did a metallic hand grasped her and lifted her. The commotion caught everyone’s attention, and the distraction gave Eggman a chance to knock down Sonic and Tails.

“You fools,” he belted proudly. “You think I’d let you get the Chaos Emeralds that easily?” Sonic watched as Amy squirmed and just as he was about to stand to rescue her, Eggman pinned him and Tails to the ground with another robotic arm. He then extended his hand and spoke; “Surrender the Chaos Emeralds and I’ll let your lover go.”

Before anyone had a chance to act, a blur of light moved around the room faster than anyone could track, breaking things along the way. Amy was freed from the arm’s grip, but landed in someone’s arms before she had the chance to hit the ground. When she opened her eyes, she realised it was Shadow who had saved her. Rouge hovered beside them with the other Emerald, smirking proudly at Eggman.

“Alright boys,” Rouge piped up. “Time to go.” Eggman was about to launch an attack, but quickly became distracted as a siren sounded and an alert appeared on his monitor. In his distraction, Sonic spin-dashed into him and knocked him down. When he got back up, he noticed everyone had left, sending him into a fit of rage. After making it a fair distance from the base, the group stopped to compose themselves. Shadow looked at Amy, noting the apprehension on her face. Without saying a word, he got her back on her feet.

“Is everyone okay?” Sonic asked, which was met with a series of nods and hums. “Did we get the Emeralds?” Rouge proudly held the green Chaos Emerald, while Tails showed the red one. Sonic sighed in relief. “Looks like we got what we came for then.”

Rouge landed beside Shadow and offered him the Emerald. “Go home, Shadow. You need to rest.” Shadow glanced at the Emerald, not even looking at Rouge. He took it carefully, then quietly uttered Chaos Control and disappeared. She then turned her attention to Amy, glancing at her before addressing Sonic and Tails. “You boys go home. I need to talk to Amy.”

Tails was about to object, but to his surprise, Sonic swiftly agreed. “Alrighty then. Make sure to get her home safe!” He then coaxed Tails to come with me and they departed, leaving the two girls alone.

Rouge turned to Amy, looking at her saddened expression. “Did he hurt you?” Amy shook her head, then sighed and began walking. Rouge stood in place for a moment as she figured out the best approach for this situation, then flew and took her place next to Amy. The two of them were quiet for a while before Amy finally spoke up.

“I feel awful,” she admitted, causing Rouge to look at her, though the latter didn’t yet speak. “I just wanted to help him and instead I made him even more scared.” “Oh hun, don’t beat yourself up over it,” Rouge comforted with a concerned expression. “You wanted to help him and he knows that.”

“Does he though?” Amy countered. “He couldn’t even look at me for more than a second.”

Rouge sighed, unsure how to respond. She doubted that Shadow was upset with her – he was more likely to be upset at himself. But would Amy believe that if she told her? “Before you jump to conclusions, please promise me you’ll talk to him first. I’d hate to see a misunderstanding ruin what you two have. I don’t think I’ve seen Shadow happier than when he’s been with you.”

Amy looked up at her, a little flattered and a little unbelieving. “You really think so?” Rouge smiled patiently. “Sweetie, I know so. I’m sure its killing him to think he’s hurt you.”

Amy glanced to the ground, still not entirely convinced. “I just wish I could have helped him.”

Rouge flew in front of Amy, stopping her in her tracks. “Amy, listen to me. You love Shadow, right?” Amy nodded. “And he loves you very much, painfully so. But I mean this with all the affection in the world, Shadow isn’t easy. Even I struggle to get him to open up most of the time. I adore him to pieces and would do anything for him, but I also know that he carries a lot of scars that makes him close himself off. But ever since he has been with you, I’ve seen a change in him. He is still very much keeps to himself, but he seems to be opening himself up to others more. And with you especially, he seems to be letting happiness in.” Rouge sighed, a serious yet conflicted look on her face. “I don’t mean to pressure you into staying with him. If what happened to you puts you off the idea, I completely understand. But as his friend, I would be remiss if I didn’t at least try to fight for his happiness. So please, please don’t make any rash decisions. Just talk to him and be honest, if for no other reason than your own peace of mind.”

Amy didn’t say anything, silently taking in her request. Rouge stared at her, realising she had perhaps overloaded her.

“Sorry hun,” Rouge spoke up. “I didn’t mean to overload you. Take some time to yourself to destress, then think about what I said when you’re ready. Just promise you won’t make any rash decisions about this, okay?” Amy smiled weakly and nodded, prompting a relieved sigh from Rouge. The two of them silently continued to Amy’s house. Once there, Amy thanked Rouge and entered.

Rouge then went home, the rooms extremely quiet. As she expected, Shadow had gone to bed, facing the wall. She flew up and gently tapped him on the shoulder. “Do you want to talk?” She asked in a soft, gentle voice, but Shadow didn’t move nor speak. “Alright. I’m here if you need me. Sleep well, Shadow.”

Rouge left the room, and as the door closed, the room was enveloped in darkness. Shadow stared at the wall, but gradually felt a sadness welling in his chest. He covered his mouth and curled up more, quietly weeping to himself.

[twopoppies]

Hi Gina!! First of all, I wanted to thank you and Daisie and everyone else here for the amazing Larry masterlist. I'm a new larrie myself, though I've been around the fandom since 2011 (tho not super closely) when WMYB MV was released. I was deep diving on receipts, and as per usual, I took it all in with a grain of salt and kept all my conclusions rational and unbiased. I just wanna add something you might consider a receipt, connecting to one of the tour receipts ones I’ve read on Daisie’s tags (I dove into both yours and Daisie’s tags lol). This isn't so big and new at all but I thought I'd add. Sorry in advance if I am too vague with this lol

A quick context: I had worked with small event productions here in my country, and had become pretty close with suppliers (tech, security, venue, etc). I got curious about an entry I read from your receipts tag which happened in an international tour here. Anyway, I am pretty close with our security supplier, and I thought I'd check if there were traces of them working with the boys. After a few google search, I saw them with Louis on a video during his tour here - confirming that at least for that show, they did work with Louis. He has been very open to me ever since we met, so when I DMed him about being involved in the show, he enthusiastically answered that they did all 1D-related ones in the country.

Anyway, bottomline, I tried to ask if it's true that Louis was here during Harry's concert because I've kind of heard it somewhere (being the receipt I read from Daisies' account). That’s when he got weirdly super silentl and left me on ‘seen’/‘read’ (which had never happened EVER before). I waited with the chat box open; he se seemed type after a few mins - and then stopped completely. When I realized he (c)wouldn't reply, I didn't push it and said he doesn't have to respond and that I respect if he’s bound by certain contracts. After that, he immediately replied, basically just saying "Thank you" (for understanding, essentially). We just chatted a bit more before ending the convo.

So I guess I'd say it somewhat solidifies that theory in my head because I personally know them, and if there's really something super big they cannot share at all, they WONT. I knew there was something because it was almost comical for me how he suddenly left me on ‘read’. So if it's not a big deal at all he would've shared because we've talked about other works they've done in the past (he was so enthusiastic and shared all the names of the shows they've done with 1D a few mins prior lol) - but when I specifically asked if Louis was with Harry here for his tour, he immediately closed off and stopped replying - and THEN thanked me when I said he didn’t have to reply lol (I didn’t ask anything else, just that exact wording, straightforwardly asking if L was there during H's show, and I didn’t phrase it in a playful or teasing way like I am implying there’s smth gossip-worthy between them I'm fishing out of him)

ANYWAY, I’m not even sure if this is worth posting but I needed someone to share it with and I thought it could be like a backup info for the future hahahaha I am trying to be vague because I do want to protect myself and my (in a way) source (?). But if you need any clarification from me - I’d be open to elaborate more in the dms (I’m rusty with tumblr so I hope I can navigate this properly lol)

Ofc, a part of me wish I could've gotten something, but I also respect them for staying quiet. And even if they did share something big, I might've had second thoughts on sharing bcs I was mainly asking it for my own sanity tbh, knowing that I knew who the security team was lol So I guess my point of sharing this with you is to basically share that the usual NDA thing with H&L, whether as a whole 1D unit before or as solos, is definitely enforced here. That the silence somewhat solidified my belief of other Larry receipts such as 1.) in relation to the Argentinian security confessions, and 2.) the receipts pointing out that those two fly together sometimes in the tours.

Idk if this is worth posting at all, but I just really needed to let it because I feel like I might be getting biased but also not (it was very fishy for me for sure lol). Thank you!

Hi, darling. No, it’s totally worth posting! I agree with you that it says something without saying anything. Are you able to tell me what year you were asking about? Or what country? I won’t post anything you don’t want public.

I’m really glad to hear that people take their NDAs seriously and even if it was from years ago they would still be professional about it.

Thank you so much for sharing this. If you think of anything else you can add, LMK. Or send me a DM. I’ll keep it private. 🩷

[jeonscatalyst]

https://www.tumblr.com/jeonscatalyst/760611976056553472/just-saw-this-on-twitter-and-it-was-so-funny-to?source=share

The way they used to be like "oh look taehyung tricked jungkook into thinking it's for the two of them poor jungkook" this that because as you see in the caption them thinking that since jm was see first time with TK and as TK were hanging out they thought jm needed taehyung's support to mend things with jungkook 😭 i remember all these tweets they made when tae posted that vminkook pic and i even said that time you're talking about jimin and if there's one thing about jm then he will need NO ONE to keep mend things back in his friendships there's a reason his eq gets praised the most.

I also remember reading one of TK blogger in jkk tag before AYS jeju saying that they might make tae might play the meian role in jkk's friendship like they made it seem like in ITS and i replied them saying no one made it look like that and it wouldn't have looked that way if taehyung didn't ask jimin call jungkook lol. They still bitter about that. They thought jimin would need anyone's help to get back with jungkook (not like anything was wrong between them). And that acct who's ss u posted is especially a freakin manipulator thinking she knows better when of shit is just made. She has me blocked. And this bitch said that taehyung didn't know jk's room in ptd LA time because they used to hangout in taehyung's room 😭 like girl who's taking u seriously?

They wanna make jikook look awkward sooo bad but failing miserable ever since. They're talking about same thing in those reviews cause they expected jikook to be awkward but it's not happening so they calling it fake

Lmaoooo anon.

I remember seeing those tweets last year. I even saw someone saying that Jimin posted the fish Jk drew and left taehyung out even though he was there but it turned out Tae was on the boat but wasn’t actually there when Jikook drew the fish lol.

Taekookers thrive by manipulating and bending the hell out of the truth. That ITS convo continues to haunt them till this day and they desperately want to Jimin and Jungkook to be the two awkward bros and are trying to push that narrative to even out the playing field but no one is taking them seriously. The only way they can continue making sense of their ship is by coming up with 5373735262 theories about their ship being depressed, oppressed, suppressed and all the pressed. They can only do that by claiming that bighit practices all it’s trickery on taekook by editing their moments out of content or using subtitles to manipulate how fans perceive their interactions even though I’m sure deep down they know that’s not the truth. They keep saying bighit made taekook have the talk, bighit made taekook do this or that, infact every single time taekook don’t toe the line, they blame bighit and Jimin and it’s getting ridiculous. They also somehow think that Jimin and Jungkook getting debunked would mean that their ship is real💀

Imagine boldy saying that taehyung tricked Jk to be somewhere with Jimin and also claim that Jk was keeping his distance only to find out that Jimin and Jungkook were actually the ones hosting tae and Jk was actually around Jimin the whole time. Must have stung. That account is lucky I don’t fight shippers on twitter else I would have visited their page to laugh a little😂

[gojoest]

Hi pls I love you and your writing and your take on satoru!!!! I saw the post about having arguments with him and it being rare and my mind went straight to pregnant reader doing something a little reckless--maybe craving a type of food at 4am and she looks at toru and he's been doing everything, literally everything, for her (and he does it with all the love in his heart, never complains because why would he? You're giving him the biggest gift of his life, how could he ever complain?) and she doesn't want to wake him up to get something for her again, she goes out to get it herself and satoru wakes up to nothing and no one but as soon as he's getting ready to go look for her, she comes back and he's so frantic and overprotective that he ends up yelling, just wondering why on earth didn't she wake him up (and she's the pregnant gf of the strongest and he's just so fucking traumatized), so they have this fight and it's bad enough for her to want to spend the entire day alone. toru is just spiraling, guilty for having yelled until she goes to the kitchen to grab some water and that's when he manages to talk to her, grab her hands and just say he's sorry over and over, she's mellowing out a bit so he showers her with small kisses, goes down on his knees to kiss her baby bump and he explains his reasoning and they make up.

lmao i know I got carried away but maybe, like, if younot busy, would it be possible to know your thoughts on this scenario, pregnant reader and toru having a fight and the way he'd apologize 🥹🥹🥹💕💕💕

hello and thank you for your kind words! i get really happy every time someone comes and tells me they like my take on him, that’s something very special to me always 🥹🤍 also, sorry for the late reply! i got this ask right before locking my blog and never got around to answering it after that, but saw it again today while going through my inbox and this is perhaps the perfect example as to why they would have an argument. the scenario you’ve painted captures it so well, i wholeheartedly agree!

i think you’re the only person that can make him lose his temper and act in ways that would normally be considered unusual for him. it never comes from a place of true anger or any other negative feelings though, but rather from a place of deep love and fear bc he is very overprotective of you — now more than ever bc you’re carrying his child — and he is constantly aware of the dangers of the life that he leads as a sorcerer. he can easily protect himself but he can’t do that with you, especially when you’re not by his side. i think the thought of something happening to you is a great source of fear and anxiety to him all the time, and him getting angry at you for going out for a late night snack yourself instead of waking him up and asking him to get it for you is just him eventually breaking down and becoming incredibly vulnerable and forward about this underlying anxiety :,) while otherwise he would never talk about it. he always tells you how he will protect you and his baby, that there is nothing you should worry about. but that night you put him in a situation where he wasn’t as confident about it and that is truly his biggest nightmare. i believe the only thing he was focused on while getting dressed to leave and look for you were the residuals of your cursed energy, he didn’t see anything else. he probably didn’t realize that he had started crying while raising his voice at you first thing when you returned. i wouldn’t have the heart to get mad at him after seeing him in that state bc he has never been this overwhelmed by fear, but damned it be the pregnancy hormones… if you end up crying and give him the silent treatment, it will break his heart. it will probably get even more emotional once you’re calm enough to talk things through :,)

[nekodere07]

Tanuki/Raccoon Joel and Kitsune/Fox Etho hide their true identities and pretend to be normal humans HC AU

Folklore AU inspired fr @mellozheist's (thanks for having stunning artwoks dude now I have brainrot and made this when I can't even turn this into a proper fic /pos) character designs of HC s10 Joel and Etho, where the former is a tanuki and the latter is already a fox hybrid but wears Japanese clothing this season. But in this idea, Etho hides the fact that he's a fox, so he looks like any other human until he isn't.

I almost forgot! Any relationship in this story idea is platonic.

Also posted on AO3 if you prefer to read it there :D

Joel reminisces about the time when he was an ogre a few years back, but shuddered since he thought it was cringe for past him to adore that movie so much that he changed into his favorite cartoon character. He looks at Lizzie's direction, and thinks he was relieved when she didn’t criticize him for who he was when she discovered the truth after Joel messed it up before.

While chatting with friends who are gathering in the living room, Joel notices his cup is empty and excuses himself to go to the kitchen, noticing how Grian is also following him. The noise from the living room fades once they arrive, having a quiet moment for themselves. Joel asks if Grian also comes to refill his drink.

Grian nods in agreement and heads to the counter to grab the tea box. Joel stands next to the blonde man as he waits for the other to finish, while Grian talks about how he's relieved to see everyone is doing okay even after months not meeting since the crossover.

Joel raises a brow and points out that obviously they're fine, and adds that why wouldn't they be. Grian explains that even though it was a bit, he was genuinely concerned what might happen to them after the Hermits left Grumbot for the Emperors to deal with.

Joel reassures his friend that as he can see, they're still alive and kicking before adding that Jimmy might not be since Joel's the one doing the kicking, mentioning how he built a giant portrait of them in his empire. Grian laughs as he pours water from the kettle, wishing that he could've seen the look on Timmy's face before offering to pour the water to Joel's own cup.

The brunette hands his as affirmation while saying that he looked exactly like a dumb idiot when he first saw that ghost when they tried that ghost investigator gig a few months back. The comments make both of them laugh and not long after, Grian casually asks if Joel wants to become a Hermit and join Hermitcraft. Joel abruptly stops and has to double back in his thoughts, asking himself if he misheards it but Grian answers his question when he repeats what he said.

There's a long pause of silence between them for a couple of seconds before Joel notices the casual look on the blonde's face morphs into wide eyes with a slacked jaw, tracing his gaze towards his back and twists his stomach into a knot once he notices the prominent brown tail on his back, now exposed for the world to see.

He's fucked.

---

Joel takes a look at the statues of Etho in front of his gate and glances at the real deal beside him, hesitating whether or not he should ask. It might be a touchy subject and he doesn't want to ruin the lighthearted moment they just had earlier. He jumps when someone clears their throat and turns to the source to see it was Etho. Etho says it might not be his business to ask, but questions whether Joel's okay.

Joel furrows his brows as he replies that of course he's okay, why wouldn't he be. Etho rubs the back of his neck as he explains that Joel's tail is slowly wagging while his ears are folded flat against his head, realizing it that Joel does that whenever he's upset about something. Joel smirks that Etho already notices his new body language in such a short period of time, pointing out that he really is obsessed with him.

Shortly, Joel sighs in defeat and says he's not gonna beat around the bush, so Etho should brace himself. Etho raises a brow in confusion and says okay. Joel asks if Etho is a yokai, making Etho flinch.

Etho averts his gaze while saying "I don't know what you're talking about." Etho thinks to himself that he sounded like Mrs. Tango when she tried to lie to them back then.

Joel adds that ever since he's showing off his yokai traits after that embarrassing blunder with Grian, he realizes that he can sense various energy flowing in the air and it's especially stronger on Hermitcraft. He then distinguishes something similar to himself and traces it to Etho, before reassuring that he never told anyone since Etho might be keeping it a secret like he did until recently and he wasn't sure if his assumptions are true or not.

Etho sighs and confirms that he's keeping his identity a secret. He asks Joel why he's hiding his. Joel says that it's been so long since he left Japan for good, long enough that he doesn't remember the language anymore, and was afraid that people might treat him differently if they know that he's a foreign entity. Nobody likes the unknown, so he's been pretending to be a human on different planets most of his life.

Joel then asks why Etho is hiding it, adding that based on the variations of species amongst the Hermits, he assumes that they'll be accepting despite of who Etho really is. Etho shakes his head and says that his kind already has a negative reputation in their home planet, more so outside of it. He doesn't want his species to influence his relationship with everyone. Joel nods in understanding and promises that his secret is safe with him.

Etho's eyes narrow and form crow's feet as he expresses his gratitude, a small indicator that he's smiling under the mask.

---

5 Hermits have been going outside the HC world for various reasons, but they promise to go back with souvenirs. When Gem, Grian, xB, and Zedaph have been falling ill and bedridden since they went back from the Hub, others have been trying to find a way on how to cure this unknown ailment that won't subside no matter what.

Etho, who's been one of the 5 but is miraculously fine, is never to be found publicly ever since the news about 4 Hermits being ill has spread. They see him going to the shopping district but never interact for that long whenever he meets someone.

The nerds of the community have been holing themselves in the archives of the stronghold to hopefully find a clue for the cure, only for them to find a book about yokai. They discover about tanuki, comparing it to what they know about Joel and laugh about how accurate the book is, especially about the part of Joel who traps/pranks someone but ends up embarrassing himself. Tango suddenly asks if his friends hear something, but they said no.

They continue to read until they reach the kitsune segment. They're horrified to say the least about the info, and realize there are similarities between the early signs of fox possession and the symptoms of their friends' unknown illness. They're trying not to be superstitious about the current situation since it might be a coincidence, until X receives a message from Cleo.

---

< Smallishbeans > hello Etho

< Smallishbeans > i tried to visit your place a couple of times but it always seemed like no one's home

< Smallishbeans > hopefully you're okay

< Smallishbeans > i just want you to know that it isn't your fault

---

They run to the infirmary, only to spot the 4 Hermits breathing heavily and convulsing as their hair roots start to turn white. Stress checks their eyes with a tiny flashlight one by one, and only then Cub sees that all their eyes are red and points it out. Tango says that he's aware that they shouldn't be superstitious, but he mentions that Etho's appearance oddly matches the descriptions in the book.

Doc agrees since he just remembered it now, but Etho's hair and both his eyes used to be brown until he apparently got caught up in an accident that changed his appearance permanently. Doc groans in frustration that he should've pressed about it more, but he didn't want to stress Etho since he wanted to keep that event a secret so badly.

Bdubs suddenly interrupts them with his greeting, making the nerds jump. Bdubs questions "Why the long face? It's not yet the end of the world, guys. There has to be something to cure them, we just haven't found it yet." Doc asks if Etho has spoken a different language other than English.

Bdubs perks and grins to compliment how Etho was really good with Japanese. During the early days of Mindcrack, he used to speak it a lot whenever they're alone and tease Bdubs just because he couldn't understand it. He then yells that no one can mess with him since he's a grown man and points that he only allowed Etho to tease him since he was pretty tense during that time, and switches to somber as he adds that it's prob bec of the tension before the war broke out. But since they left and moved to Hermitcraft, he refused to speak in Japanese even if no one was around.

When every healthy Hermit is kicked out by Stress, Cleo, and Hypno, they go outside to see others hanging out with various forms of worry in their faces.

X spots Beef amongst the crowd and asks the other nerds if they should ask Beef if he knows something else about Etho. Doc agrees and approaches Beef and receives a sorry fr the Canadian about not being in the mood to talk about their rivalry. Doc reassures that that's not why he's here, adding that it's about Etho.

Beef's reaction immediately switches to something dark as he asks "What happened to Etho?" Doc quickly says that Etho's okay, making the other Canadian relax, and he just wanna ask what's under his mask. He knows what he looks like underneath, but he's curious if it's different from many years ago.

Beef thinks aloud that there's nothing really different. Doc insists if he's sure, adding if there's anything subtle like unshaven chin or a tooth missing. Beef perks up "Now that you mention it, Etho used to have all of his canines intact but after we left Mindcrack, they may have grown longer, I think. It was so long ago, I don't remember the exact details. Oh, I almost forgot! He also lost one of them ever since then."

Doc agrees "Oh, yeah! I remember helping him make a substitute tooth, so he won't complain anymore about having a hard time biting meat" before thanking Beef as the nerds leave the scene, not noticing how a gaze has been following them the entire time.

Cub asks what they should do now, and if they search for other leads or rely on the superstition. Doc says that it's time for a confrontation. X points out that it's probably not a good idea to jump into conclusions when they're still unsure if it's a coincidence or not.

Doc replies that it'll probably be too late when that time comes, grimacing that he doesn't want to lose the people he cares about even though they're within reach. X sighs and agrees, but suggests that they should at least prepare in case something happens.

---

Etho brings in more shulkers into his soon to be storage area, dropping the one on his hands and wipe the sweat off his forehead with a sleeve. He's not sure how long he's been working in his base but based on how greasy his hair is, he must've been here for a long time. He turned off his comms ever since that accident, so he doesn't have any indicator of time other than what he can see beyond his windows. Electricity runs through his skin all of a sudden, making him jump as the magic in the air buzzes with tremendous energy.

Before he realizes, Etho jumps back the instant he hears something above him and just in time, he barely dodges the collapsed ceiling with a backward jump as everything is engulfed with smoke and something lands on the spot where he used to be.

He plants his hand towards the hilt of his sword in an instant, waiting for the cloud of smoke to clear. A spot in the middle of the mist forms a hole as something blurry comes out and pounces towards his direction, materializing the shield on his left hand in reflex and grunts once the unknown intruder lands on the wooden surface.

Etho gasps at the person in front of him, staring at their features with mouth agape. Their skin is now pale and hair gray, glaring eyes are fully white while red vein-like marks spread out to each corner. Their clawed hand raise above their head and swipes forward with tremendous speed, making Etho throw and abandon his protection but doesn't come out unscathed as their long nails grab his mask and graze small jagged lines on the lower half of his now exposed face.

His hand immediately covers his face while Scar yells to give his friends back. Etho can only furrow his brows in confusion. What does that mean? The other Hermit scoffs and complains to stop playing dumb, gradually emitting his magic stronger in every second as he adds "You have some nerve pretending to be one of us for so long," making Etho wince.

Why did he think for a second that it's going to be different this time? Just because he's been having the time of his life for the past ten years in this world, doesn't mean it won't end up like all the other places he perceived as his home.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, opening them back while he exhales and stifles his reaction towards the painful sensation in his chest, finally feeling like an empty room as he pulls out his sword.

The two jump forward as they begin their fierce interaction. It extends for who knows how long and unfortunately for Etho, his breath is becoming shorter and more hasty the longer the fight unfolds but due to his opponent's enormous magic reserve, Scar can still continue despite having run out of air like he did.

Suddenly, the former brunette disappears from his vision and quickly looks around but spots nothing. His ears pick up the noise of a pebble dropping and swiftly turns back, only to see Scar emerging from the ground like a ghost as he leaps to his direction but barely side steps with wobbly legs to dodge. It probably would've given him a huge advantage if he uses his animal ears, but he can't afford to expose himself now.

Gradually, his movements become sloppier and clumsier, even stumbling at a debris at one point that costs him his right arm.

Scar swipes his hand towards Etho's weapon, causing it to slip from the weak grip of his left hand before it flies and lands on the other side of their current position. Scar demands for the creature pretending to be Etho to let go of his friends if it wants to live, but Etho's reply is only his harsh breaths as he quietly stares at the other Hermit's direction.

Scar grits his sharp teeth and mumbles "then so be it" before stepping forward to swipe his claws. Etho shuts his eyes in anticipation of his demise but nothing seems to happen as he waits too long. He slowly opens them and spots something in front off him, gasping to see Joel standing between them. He looks down on the new member's feet to see the blood gradually forming into a pool before looking back up to make eye contact with the man himself.

"Joel, why are you--" Etho's breath is caught in his throat as he tries to ask.

"I--" Joel tries to smile but coughs blood instead. "--wanted to... visit my favorite fan..." He winces before breathing heavily. "...to see how he's going."

Joel drops to the floor but Etho manages to catch him on time, carefully laying his friend's head towards the green surface. He takes in Joel's pale features but every detail morphs into a blur, realizing shortly that he's crying. The only thing he can hear is the drumming of his heart against his aching chest as he can barely see Joel's lips moving, assuming that he's attempting to say something.

Wiping the ongoing tears vigorously wih his sleeve, Etho focuses on lip reading to understand what the brunette is trying to convey.

"I'm... glad... that... you're... safe..."

Etho interprets before seeing Joel's lips finally stop moving, intensifying the thumping in his ears as he registers that Joel's chest has also ceased to rise and fall. As if a rope has been cut in half, all of the decade's worth of suppressed energy in his body has unleashed like a tsunami, engulfing his entire being and immediately blacks out.

Scar, who's watching the whole ordeal unfolding before him, loses all his pent up rage while he can only gape in silence as Etho's forehead sprouts a pair of long fluffy ears, pristine white fur covering every part of his pale skin, nose and mouth lengthen into a snout with razor sharp teeth, tears multiple holes on his gloves as his nails extend into deadly claws, torso and limbs enlarge 5 times its original size while his back grow one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine tails, morphing his body into an entirely different entity.

The unknown creature roars, its voice reverberating and pushes him down like amplified gravity but barely holds his ground with wobbly legs as he can only cover his currently enhanced ears in hopes of preventing himself from going deaf.

What did he just awaken?

Not so fun fact:

[There are actually fox users who are hired by Hermitcraft haters to inflict harm on the Hermits, who had to go to the Hub before going to the specified planets they wanted to go. Those fox users use the foxes they tamed to possess the Hermits but Etho is different since he's a nine tailed fox shapeshifting as a human, so he's unaffected by it.]

[The reason why Etho's insistent on keeping his identity a secret was mainly bec of his experience in Mindcrack, when the people discovered who he actually was, they reacted negatively to say the least. He also kept that event a secret bec he was ambushed by a few members when Mindcrack was on the brink of destruction, and tortured him for info (and may or may not have treated him more terribly bec they knew he was a fox) but he refused to give any since he didn't want to sell out his friends (soon to be NHO), which caused him the scar on his left eye and lost control of his power and shapeshifting ability in the process, which prevented him from properly changing his human appearance.

He also can no longer change into anything else, so he's stuck as his human self. Luckily, he could still somehow hide his ears, tails, and eye, but the left one refused to change, so he just made an excuse that he had to make a redstone powered eye to replace his injured eye to explain that despite being wounded there, he managed to not damage his vision there.]

[thevalleyoftriumph]

hi!! saw your post of DID Chosen (am I allowed to call it that??) and I have been curious ever since, apologies if any of these has been asked before https://www.tumblr.com/thevalleyoftriumph/757624875107090432/so-um-for-those-who-arent-in-the-ava-community?source=share ^ Post I'm referring to just in case What are your characterisations of Chosen, Beast and Killer like? Going off of Killer not recognising Dark in the post, it was Chosen fronting in AVA3 yes? Who was fronting during showdown? Going once again off the post Beast is non-verbal/ mute/ straight up doesn't know how to talk, is that why he resorted immediately to violence upon returning from Alans PC? Assuming that was Beast Was Chosen co-conscious during showdown? Simply watching as someone else used his hands to tear his best friend apart? Or did he come back to find his life destroyed, and best friend killed, with no idea how any of it happened Also, what are Chosen, Killer's and Beasts pronouns? I assume they differ from eachother. And are your Chosen and Dark siblings? Sorry I'm aware this is an insane amount of questions, apologies if it is overwhelming Final thing, all I know about DID is from DissociaDID (may be spelled wrong) on YouTube, and I have no idea how trustworthy of a source they are, nor have I watched them in years, so apologies if any of the terms/ information I have here is out of date or proven false Anyway, that's all, hope you have a good day :]

hi oh my god anon i love you. sorry i just really adore getting asked about stuff i love yapping and youve offered me a LOT to talk about, please expect a MASSIVE wall of text. like i mean it the wall is huge and took me like, an hour or two to type up. you opened the floodgates anon.

FIRST THINGS FIRST ☝ never apologize for being curious it is the most wonderous trait a person could have. i have spoken about some of these before but mostly in the replies or dms of people and thus it is perfectly okay by me to ask for me to repeat them here. secondly your questions are not at all overwhelming in fact i got very excited to answer once i realized how much youve asked. thirdly your phrasing is pretty accurate yes! ones you used are def pretty common, and i appreciate the willingness to be corrected - lots of phrases [though not specifically the ones you used, i mean more generally] are picked up and dropped by people for a whole variety of reasons ranging from comfort to accuracy to current knowledge, so being open to being corrected is a wonderful mindset to have when going into something youre unfamiliar with ! <3

anyhow, answers to the questions, numbered to each, under the cut ^_^ and just for ease im also going to actually type like a normal human being just this once lol. last warning here if you click "keep reading" youre in for a MASSIVE wall of rambling!

1: What are your characterisations of Chosen, Beast and Killer like?

I'd say my characterizations aren't anything too far from common interps, mostly regarding Chosen.

Chosen is a relatively soft spoken and monotone individual. He's prone to getting lost in thought a lot, especially when in conversation - he likes to think things through very much before speaking. A stick of few words, he likes being simple and blunt. He has a very hard time trusting people, but when he does, he trusts fully and deeply -- he is a very, very loyal person once that trust is earned. Even if someone he trusts does something to cause him to become upset with them, such as with Dark, he is willing to hear them out. Despite this, he's also very rash - much as he loathe to admit it. He may not speak without thinking, but he very much acts without thinking, sometimes even doing something without realizing it at first. This leads to a lot of things bad - such as him shoving Dark from the console in the flashback. He acts in ways he thinks he should, consciously or not. He's also got a bit of Dark's stubborness - once he sets his mind to something, it's a very difficult task to get him to back down.

Killer is, despite their name, very different from what you'd assume. They're a relatively happy person, all things considered, and despite having trust issues of their own, often tries to see the best in people. They're also a more ""casual"" fronter, bordering on co-host, as they usually end up in front for more minor things, or even just incidentally after they wake up. They're quick to adapt, usually masking as Chosen in these cases, but are equally quick to relax in safe environments and be more themselves. They're very talkative, and love learning about any and all topics that interest them. They also fidget a bunch - often with the ends of the body's scarf, or with their bracelet, gloves, belts, whatever is closest. Despite all this, they're also quite jumpy - they are primarily responsible for internal things, especially regarding their memories, and thus holds quite a few negative feelings and memories that they'd all rather not have. And yet, somehow despite all of that, they have a hard time with people. Like shown in the comic, Killer isn't always in front, and doesn't have access to nearly as many memories as you'd think for someone with their "role." In fact, they had no idea Dark existed until the very moment in that comic, which in my mind takes place years after Dark and Chosen ended up living together. How on earth they managed to go that long without meeting him, well your guess is as good as mine. I'd say it's a mix of good timing [or bad, depending on how you look at it] and generally "better" circumstances not requiring them to switch in as much as they previously had to.

Beast... Beast is a whole other can of worms, honestly. It's a general wildcard. The result of being treated inhumanely and without compassion, Beast is someone who is stuck in fight or flight mode for it's whole life -- and it's response is anything BUT flight. It is aggressive to anyone outside of the system, and anything it could see as a threat to their safety. Like I mentioned, it doesn't really speak - internally, it can't, and externally, it just forgets that the body isn't limited like it is, so it ends up silent. This leads to a lot of body language - it is incredibly expressive, and has a bit of a staring problem when it's not actively trying to maul something. Honestly if I drew sticks with eyes it'd totally do that thing that cat eyes do in the dark where it just looks at you super ominously from the shadows lol. Anyways, despite this, as I will always reiterate when talking about Beast's personality, it is not malicious. It is not evil, and it is not trying to hurt people on purpose. It is, first and foremost, protective and scared. It does not know HOW to calm down, or how to feel safe, because every time it's ever fronted, it has been faced with progressively worse and worse circumstances. It is determined and protective, and willing to go to great lengths to protect the system -- and perhaps, one day, if it can heal enough to trust others, it would do the same for them. If you thought Chosen was loyal, then you haven't seen Beast at its absolute best.

2: Going off of Killer not recognising Dark in the post, it was Chosen fronting in AVA3 yes? Who was fronting during showdown?

You'd be correct, for the most part! During the beginning of AVA3, when Chosen was still imprisoned as the ad-block, it was primarily Beast - thus, the chains on it's design, and its seeming unawareness of them. Then, once freed, Chosen had essentially force-fronted into co-front with Beast to fight his way out, eventually allowing Beast to sorta "pull back" out of front over the course of the episode - probably when Chosen and Dark team up. [And for clarification - when I mean "pull back," I mean sorta slowly being pulled from front in a switch. I'm not ever really sure how to describe what it feels like to slowly not front instead of being forcefully switched out, but this is how it makes the most sense to me. I'm sorry if it makes absolutely zero sense to anyone else lol]

As for who was fronting during Showdown, I'll admit that I haven't entirely decided. Initially for sure, during the flashback, it is 100% Chosen. Even during the early fight scenes it's primarily him - he's not being completely overpowered or even threatened with complete death [as, at the very least in my interp, Dark never intended to kill Chosen, just incapacitate so that he could go through with his plan. He only started striking to kill with the CG, but not Chosen - never Chosen.]

However, I'd say Chosen and his systemmates were, after a point, REALLY fucking blurry for a lot of that episode. Rapid switches that left them disoriented and dizzy and much slower to react than they'd usually be. When Chosen goes back to Alan's PC, that is when it's not necessarily unclear anymore. I'd say at that point particularly, Chosen has pulled away enough for the sorta blurry mess in front to be exclusively Beast and Killer, with Killer being busy masking as Chosen to get rid of the Virabot, but Beast being sorta hovering ominously over their shoulder internally thanks to the SEVERELY negative associations with the desktop. Killer's masking would probably have slipped a bit at seeing the CG, mostly out of personal shock at learning about them, but they would've left back to the Outernet before they could really think too hard about it.

The rest of the episode, especially when Chosen is seen overpowered by Virabots, is totally 100% Beast IMO. The situation of being contained, restricted, overpowered and in danger - life threatening to them, even if Dark never intended for it to be that way - it was much too similar to their early days on the desktop. Thus, Beast VERY solidly force-fronted and in doing so with taking complete ""control"" made it so neither Killer NOR Chosen were there for the ending of Showdown. A lot of the actions done once TSC came back were just done out of shock, and a very rare show of trust - TSC had shown Beast that they were willing to fight to protect them, collectively, even if it was really in response to their friends being harmed - protect one, protect them all, if that makes sense. TSC had removed the threat, and thus, Beast had sorta filed them away as one of the very few ""trustworthy"" sticks - even if it's not necessarily trust, it's the closest thing to it.

3: Going once again off the post Beast is non-verbal/ mute/ straight up doesn't know how to talk, is that why he resorted immediately to violence upon returning from Alans PC? Assuming that was Beast

Beast totally had a hand in it, yeah. Despite it and Killer being relatively equally "there" so to speak during the return to the PC in Showdown, Beast did have a MASSIVE influence on their collective actions. Killer fought because it knew it had to prevent bad things from happening, while Beast fought because it was the ONLY thing it knew to do to prevent bad things from getting WORSE. That is to say you're pretty spot on there lol

4: Was Chosen co-conscious during showdown? Simply watching as someone else used his hands to tear his best friend apart? Or did he come back to find his life destroyed, and best friend killed, with no idea how any of it happened

As briefly explained previously, Chosen wasn't the only fronter for a lot of it, and got completely booted out of co-consciousness after a point. Thus, while he knows logically that he fought with Dark, and when he DID front again, he could connect two-and-two together and realize that Dark got fucking murked, you're right to assume has remembers VERY little of the in-between and the specifics.

In fact, quite a few memories from even the co-conning were instead "given" to Beast and Killer. That's not exactly how it works but it's the best way I can describe it, based off my own experiences with co-conning with others -- sometimes you just don't end up getting the memories if there's multiple people in front, for one reason or another.

Anyhow, yeah, most memories of that day are kinda stuffed in the metaphorical closet. Chosen knows something happened between him confronting Dark and him ending up at home on the couch with a hole in the 2nd floor walls, but he just.. doesn't remember any of it. He can make the connections - he can look out the window and see the result of TSC's final blow to Dark from their house, after all. He can tell Dark isn't just hiding out somewhere. He's forgetful, not a fool. But he doesn't know what happened in the fight, or necessarily who killed Dark, and honestly Chosen's internal communication with his systemmates is absolute shit and there's no way in hell Killer OR Beast are leaving notes about a Really Traumatic Event in a journal for him, so his ass is NEVER finding out unless someone tells him.

[Which, to explain why he knows of TSC's powers in Wanted in that case, on some occasions memories do get ""passed"" from alter to alter. This is usually done in the case of "filling in" for the host, for example, where the alter requires information that another alter had taken in. This is commonly seen in situations where, for instance, a system is out at the store, but whoever entered had switched out for one reason or another, and the new fronter needs to mask as the other one to finish their task without "giving away" that something happened. This isn't the most common thing for Everyone I'd say, but it happens with my system sometimes, and also happens with some of my system buddies too. Thus, in my mind, it happens to Chosen too sometimes. It doesn't ALWAYS happen! Ie, that time Killer had no idea who Dark was. But it Can and so I'm portraying it here lol.]

5: Also, what are Chosen, Killer's and Beasts pronouns? I assume they differ from eachother. And are your Chosen and Dark siblings?

They do, yeah! While I've seen some systems sorta default to one or two sets of pronouns collectively, a lot of alters DO have preferences for pronouns pretty commonly. I mean, I myself vary wildly from some of my systemmates, a lot of whom, for example, use she/her, but I myself don't at all! It's honestly pretty interesting to see the differences, from a curiosity standpoint.

Anyways, back to Chosen. I would once again like to state that these are my personal headcanons and also I don't own Killer OR Beast, I'm just giving them character, and thus not everyone may agree necessarily.

Chosen: He/him primarily, but doesn't mind they/them too. He's kinda like that one tweet that's like "I think I'm nonbinary but I have a job so idc about that right now" in a way lol

Killer: They/them. Has a very wavery sense of identity though, so it's not like they'll get mad or anything at other pronoun usage. They honestly encourage people to get a little fun with it.

Beast: It/it's. Not in a dehumanizing way, but in a reclaiming sort of way.

Lastly, in my interp of Chosen and Dark, they are indeed siblings, yeah! I really adore the headcanon of all 4 hollowheads being siblings, it makes me incredibly happy, so it's like that in pretty much all of my interps/AUs. If it's work done by me, you can probably assue Chosen and Dark are related lol.

anyway yeah that's about it i'd say :] once again i love you so very much for asking questions, and i hope these answered them and didn't just run you in circles for twenty minutes ! i do have a bit of a habit of just yapping on and on and not being very clear, so if anything doesn't make sense or if you want me to expand on any points, or even if i've just repeated or even contradicted myself, then feel free to point it out or ask anything else! ^_^

[icharchivist]

if solas was on tumblr / had a blog, what do you think it would look like? 2 note posts? fandom drama? mutuals? history blogger w/ incomprehensible “source: i was there” at the end?

HELPPP

I think he'd be a history blogger as well as heavily into social justice in general.

He'd post extremely long posts about some particularly niche history. He wouldn't say he was there but he would say "i have my sources", because he can't just admit on being an immortal. this is the modern equivalent of "i saw it in the Fade".

i got too long, you know the drill,

He'd also make very long posts about social issues and how they came to be, and he'd also just make thin veiled (lol) post about how "sometimes the only thing you can do is overthrow a tyrant" and everyone thinks he's joking. But he's not. (to echo those dialogues where he's like "unless i tear down the Veil and casually rewrite reality, no, i can't do that" on the disapproval path).

usually, since his posts are pretty long, he gets like 2 or 3 notes (it's usually Lavellan and Cole, sometimes it's Dorian. I'd say Felassan used to be a huge mutual of him until Solas reported him for an opinion he didn't agree with and it nuked his account. Only for solas to develop the same opinion three months later).

HOWEVER Solas is also the type of person to openly vague people he thinks are shitty, and once in a while you'll see him on a post that is Wrong about History and he'd add to it while also lowkey insulting the OP. "Since it seems listening in school is optional for some of you, here what actually happened." type of passive aggressive shit.

But as such it means he gets a lot of anon hates, which just makes him grumpier. Lavellan tells him to just delete them but Solas constantly replies to them, sassing them off his blog.

Eventually it's his insane replies to his anon hates that goes viral.

for example:

this would happen to him.

This eventually gets attention to the rest of his blog and people are constantly trying to debate him in mention, and he tends to reply aggressively to most of them. When you are kind and humble he adjusts, but sometimes he read so many bad opinions he just remains a bit aggressive. He believes the whole of tumblr is a bunch of fools without reading comprehension.

But he reblogs stories sometimes. Like, little things that sound insignificant. Like someone talking about meeting an old woman in the bus who told him he reminded her of her grandson and they talked the whole way through. Someone who paid the fare for another one only to receive a flower later. Solas loves this type of very lovely story that shows the casual kindness of humanity.

Anyway like i say he also posts a lot of very radical revolution take (like "if you want to make an impact you'd want to attack this specific building because it's not important enough for it to look like a t*rrorist attack, but it's not insignificant enough to be written out as arson") and people genuinely believe he's joking, until he makes a very long list of "what to do as a protest" that includes some fighting back and actual damage and people start to question whether he's serious (he is.)

Sometimes you'll find him having conversation with Cole's blog from reblog to reblog. Cole posts about people's emotions and stories he's seen in the Fade, but he doesn't tell that so people believe he is some sort of incomprehensible writer who does poetry. Solas replies knowing exactly what Cole says. Sometimes it's a way to describe movies, sometimes it's genuinely just cutting on the philosophy of this. Like this:

He also gets in heated debates with various DAI companions who have blogs and he's mutual with all of them. People start to realize that even though he can still be mean he specifically seems chill with those people.

Like he will reply meanly to some asks, but then they see TheRealRedJenny send him asks that are insulting him and somehow he... jokes with her instead? and it drives her mad?

like this.

(also people swear he talked with TheRealRedJenny on how to pettily attack the elites and it's where people start to believe he's serious because TheRealRedJenny often posts pictures of like. having stolen a senator's underwear and then found a way to tell the wife he was cheating on her in the most humiliating and public way possible. No one manages to catch her despite her very publically posting about it on her tumblr. So when they see a thread of Solas just replying to her something she could do, and she goes "omg Piss off." only for two weeks later for her to post a picture of having done that thing, and Solas just posts :) in the replies and she's like "don't be smug you asstwit i thought of this myself you... you nerd!" people start to be scared about him. But then they try to look for the original post again and it has been deleted, even from archives. No one knows where it is.)

And if he gets in relationship with Lavellan (which is what will happen in any AU for me, "in another world" ect) he'd just start to reblog her posts and pictures indiscriminately. This is where people sees his softest additions to post (aside from Cole's), and sometimes it's just reblogging an aesthetic picture of Lavellan's garden that she had been tending to, and he just reblogs it lovingly. People just thinks he's into aesthetics except his close mutuals who Know. He definitely got an ask by TheRealRedJenny about how "of course you twat wants to explore her garden" but he deleted it and never posted it. Which annoyed the HELL out of her.

...... So yeah this is how i picture Solas blog adventure honestly.

[jazeswhbhaven]

🖤New Year, New Blog. Who dis?🖤 (not rly)

banner credit: @/omkookie

I realized that I was pretty much over halfway into the month and didn't make a damn monthly update lmaooo. I won't lie to ya'll I've been overly exhausted and trying to keep up the momentum so things may be falling behind as I'm still regaining my energy from being sick for pretty much a month straight. 😭

But as always I'm appreciative of all my followers and mooties who have stuck around and have been patient with me!!

Now as always, I gotta lay down the ground rules...especially since the pg14+ version is out.

🖤None, nada, absolutely no minors allowed here. Do not interact with me or my posts please. If I catch you, you will be blocked.

🖤Requests are slow, please be assured your reply is coming!

🖤No "he said, she said" bs in my DM's. I'm not a mediator. If it's important such as harassment/etc. that is something to alert me about so I can handle it.

🖤Feel free to brain rot with me in my inbox too even if it's about other things and not WHB!

🖤Any paid card content is either shared with me via moot/friend or an anonymous source. Please understand when asking me for specific things I have to gatekeep due to PB's warning last year. This doesn't mean I don't want to share for the sake of not sharing, I literally don't want trouble for folks who go out of their way to share in case someone feels like snitching...

My plans for January! (even though we're literally two weeks from it being over)

🖤Luci Blow, Satan Victory, Mammon Victory (Prologue in case I don't get him), Chapter 7 (Recap) React

🖤Completing Requests <3

🖤Finally finishing Satan Torture Rewrite fic!

With that being said, this is all subject to rollover into next month~ Even though requests are slow, please feel free to send them in still. They will be answered.

My thoughts on the "censored" version of WHB and what this means for this blog

I haven't downloaded it (and won't), but from what I'm seeing and hearing from various sources, they barely censored anything. Threw a band-aid on it took out the H-scenes. That's the bare minimum I saw when it was showed. Everything else still appears as if we were using the Google Play version which also didn't have much censoring.

When it comes to emailing the company they sort of just pick what to respond to and leave the rest in the dark. Another complaint about the 14+ version obviously would end up in the trash at this point.

What it means for this blog is, nothing. Nothing is changing. My boundaries are the same, I have never allowed minors in my spaces in the first place so the bare minimum I ask folks is to be honest. I get some of ya'll don't want to reveal your age for safety reasons, but this is literally important.

So there's not really much to update on this month! With all the new content out, things have been poppin' lately and I love that. Ofc this does mean here in a bit there's going to be some kind of event and I wonder if it will be an Abaddon one so we can get more Ronove, Phenix and Dantalian content! Those are the nobles I really would like to get more lore about.

Otherwise, whether you're a new follower or have been here a minute, stay awesome, stay lovely, and welcome to hell <3

-yourlovelyadmin Jaze~(～￣▽￣)～

[moviesludge]

guy from high school added me on fb a few months ago. i was never really close with him. he was more of a friend of a friend type. i thought I remembered him getting involved in military somehow. And I remember it seeming like he was one of those guys that is very intense. like you get the vibe that he might snap some day and kill somebody or something. freaked me out a bit but I think he disappeared back then. So he pops up as a friend request a couple of months ago. Super courteous and polite guy but political vibes were off to me even though he didn't seem to post anything really overt. Then I posted a MARS ATTACKS painting of three kids that had just beaten down one of the martians with weapons. One of the kids was Black and this guy comes in making a comment about "DEI" something something. I acted like I didn't know what it was and asked him about it. He described it in a sort of innocuous way and I replied like "oh ok" and then he deleted his comment.

He had weighed in a couple times on other posts I made, with a helpful and constructive spirit. He seemed thoughtful and proactive, which I appreciated, but I felt like I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. So Just a few minutes ago, I saw that he posted a link to a Matt Walsh documentary called "what is a woman?". I'm not familiar with that guy or the doc but right away I'm like ughhhh shit. So I look up Matt Walsh on twitter and of course I have him blocked. (I block everybody who sucks), so I check out his profile and of course it's an anti-trans pile of shit doc and the guy describes himself as a "fascist theocracy" guy. I don't consider myself a really sharp guy, but if you're perusing the "market of ideas" or whatever and you see "FASCIST THEOCRACY" you can stop reading. And if you don't, there is something seriously wrong with you.

So you know. 5 or 10 years ago I might have messaged the guy and had a conversation telling him that I don't want to be friends with someone who is into stupid hateful shit like that and posts about it, but I've tried that a few times and it goes about as well as you can imagine. I'm not interested in explaining why you should shut the fuck up and let people live their lives the way that feels right to them, as long as they aren't hurting anyone. That is some basic life shit, and I think you either get that or you don't. And if you don't get that and you feel the need to spread some stupid chudbrain garbage like that, I do not want to be your friend, no matter how nice and helpful and courteous you act towards me. And maybe that's shameful of me. I own that. Because I am far too angry of a person to have the patience to entertain the idea of trying to guide people back from embracing hate and fascism. I know it's probably better to be a good influence to people like that, but I need all the peace and calm I can get in my life right now (especially now), and I go from 0 to psychotically pissed off and stressed out when I have to see people floating dumb hateful garbage in my periphery. Maybe I can work on this in the future and achieve my own robust source of patience and peace, but I'm not there yet.

I've already cut ties with a couple of people I used to work with who were more or less acquaintances. It was the same type of thing as this military guy but I probably was a little closer to them and liked them a lot more. I worked with the guy at Blockbuster and he ended up marrying this girl who worked at the cafe at Borders where I worked. I don't know if he did, but she came from a really religious family. They were both really funny, nice people. Over the years she started to post about all this nutrition stuff. Like you shouldn't eat something that has x thing in it or y thing in it, etc. And then she actually became a sort of social media nutritionist. I don't know if it was like a full time job or not but it always seemed just slightly weird to me. Like the weird you feel when you have a friend who is just way too likely to believe a conspiracy theory and go down an internet rabbit hole. But I never saw anything really overt from either of them. And then J6 happened and I remember the husband was like arguing with me about how the rioters were "trying to fight a wealthy elite system" or something like that. And I was just so pissed off about it that I was like extremely adamant in my replies that these people were all scumbags and shitheads working for trump. So I guess I overwhelmed him with how pissed off I was and he responded like "ok then they should lock em all up" but I think he was just sarcastically agreeing with me so I would stop telling him about exactly what was really happening.

I recently heard someone mention that the nutritionist thing is some kind of common red flag for weirdo fascist qanon adjacent bullshit. I had suspected that to be true but was never really sure until very recently, just after the election when she was praising trump and rfk for the things they did and planned to do. That's where I finally had to draw the line. Although I did see a photo that one of them posted and one of their friends was wearing a "let's go brandon" shirt. I probably should have known then. I think I did but I didn't want to believe it.

I guess this is a good time to praise the people that stay friends with people like these and do their best to influence them. I've read stories about people who really did help their friends back from the verge by meeting them where they are and kind of showing them the harm of what they're doing. It's crazy because I see friends of mine who stay friends with people like this and I like want to punch their friend through the internet. I just cannot stand them. If you can tolerate that shit, you're a more patient and understanding person than I am, and I applaud your efforts.

[partofmycharm]

The Neon Project - Part Two (Male Yautja x GN Reader)

Awkwardly popping in to finally post the second part. Genuine apologies to anyone who was interested in this story and thought I lost interest. I never did, I was just stumped on how to continue. Also just letting everyone know that I saw every comment on the first part. I love and appreciate all of them, and I'm sorry I never replied - I'll do better.

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Summary: You lead Hadt'yk'e to a club to find an audit log necessary to kick-start your rocky alliance.

Content Warnings: mentions of drugs and alcohol use, mentions of nudity (not the reader), swearing, SFW.

Wordcount: 3130

Tag List: @fall-myriad (happy to tag anyone who asks😁)

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Part One

Sirens wailed in the distance, audible even from your position, presumably loud and echoing amongst the empty streets. You guessed it was one of the street kids caught prowling the shopfronts for some faulty security systems. It only ever was because no seasoned city dweller dared to even touch the metal sidewalks past shakedown hour. Kids often thought they were invincible, though. Until it happened to them, where the military plucked them off the street and shoved them into the juvenile detention centres on the outskirts to never be seen again.

You took the backroads — an interconnected web of tunnels that sat just below the surface. They’d been built years ago, a cooperative project between multiple rebel groups across the entire city. But they were old and a little precarious. Excessive foot traffic had worn down the stone, and the electrical equipment smugglers were able to source back then was poor quality at best, so there was a myriad of malfunctions that existed to screw someone over one day.

Hadt’yk’e hardly fit; the tunnels weren’t built for an individual his size. He kept his head low as you led him through the crumbling tunnels. You looked back at him as crumbs fell from the ceiling and rolled down his body. The claps of the debris hitting the stone ground echoed up and down the expanse of the tunnel.

It was difficult to not find his predicament amusing. When Hadt’yk’e clocked the mirth on your expression, he snarled lowly. It was an empty threat, perhaps just a warning, so you turned your head back to hide the growing, mocking smile.

An elevator sat up ahead. Your shoes scuffed the pebbles on the ground as you approached it and slammed your palm against the red button that jutted from the stone. There was a harsh creaking noise, and you waited in silence for a few seconds as the elevator jolted down to your level.

You pulled open the protective gate, which shuddered and groaned as it folded into each other. It revealed an old elevator covered in graffiti and peeling stickers. You entered first, but you never took your eye off Hadt’yk’e; not here, alone. He stepped inside after you, and it shook precariously under his weight.

“Watch it,” you said coolly. “Lift can only handle so many pounds.”

Hadt’yk’e glanced around, and when you pressed the only up button inside, he placed his hand on the wall. There was a horrible groaning sound as the elevator started to rise. The Yautja’s head craned up to carefully watch the grinding mechanics.

He wondered how many times it’d fallen, if ever. And exactly how far it would fall before coming to a crashing stop. His grip on the wall tightened, and he looked over at you to make sure you hadn’t noticed.

When the elevator stopped at the top, you stepped forward and pried open the metal gate. The antechamber was cold, and a green hologram glitched and bounced just ahead. ‘Human Only Territory’ glared at the both of you, almost mockingly.

At the grand double doors behind it stood a burly, silent man. You walked through the hologram, which disappeared inside your body for just a second before you approached the bouncer. He looked past you and at Hadt’yk’e, who came to a stop just a few steps behind you.

“What? You can’t read?” The bouncer remarked casually.

“Just biz,” you said harshly, leaving little room for argument in your voice. But the bouncer only sneered down at you with his one eye.

“This ain’t no grounds for business,” he said just as resolutely.

“It is now.”

The bouncer leaned down towards you, his breath ripe with spearmint. He spoke slowly as if he was spelling it out for you. “Humans. Only.”

Hadt’yk’e stepped forward, his shoulders squared. “Must I treat you like a youngling? This is business beyond your scope of practice. Step aside.”

“I’m no thug. I don’t get intimidated by freaks,” the bouncer said coldly. He leaned back and flicked his cool gaze to the purple Yautja. “Now beat it.”

There was a split second of tense silence before a loud crack echoed throughout the antechamber. You stepped back as the bouncer suddenly collapsed to the ground, blood dripping down the side of his face after the thorough hit Hadt’yk’e had delivered to his temple.

The Yautja stepped back and turned to you. You glared sharply. “No more of that shit. This isn’t a good cop, bad cop, action comedy.”

You pushed open the double doors and stepped over the bouncer’s thick, unconscious body. The club was basked with UV light — no strobes or flashing lights that made you feel nauseous. Most of the booths were occupied, and the smoking stations were blurred by a haze of white smoke. And, as the icing on top of the cake, just about everyone was topless, their skin painted with glowing designs of various colours. Psychedelic music vibrated the walls, floating up and down the two storeys of the club.

Immediately, eyes were on you. Well, not exactly — behind you, actually. Hadt’yk’e’s presence garnered an abundance of stares, sculpting him into an object of scrutiny. You could only imagine his discomfort, or perhaps confusion. No one went running, no one screamed, they all just glared as if his presence was a nuisance, like a persistent mosquito. Their red eyes followed his every step, gazing up and down the length of his tall body with a clear sheen of judgment.

The UV lights made the whites of your eyes and your teeth glow. You looked up to the second floor, which overlooked the club below. The railing was cold on your palm, and the metal stairs rattled under your combined weight.

Hadt’yk’e shouldered off the abundance of unwanted attention as he kept his head straight. He looked up at you as you trekked up the stairs, trying to gauge how you were feeling. But you, too, wore your emotions glacially cold.  To be fair, you weren’t the centre of these drugged people’s attention, whose eyes still followed the hulking purple figure until he disappeared onto the second floor.

You turned and held your hand up. “Leave it to me this time,” you said, if anything, quite coldly. The last thing the both of you needed was more trouble, especially here. When Hadt’yk’e chuffed behind his mask, you exhaled roughly through your nose and turned on your heel. Fletch was certainly going to get an earful for what he was putting you through.

A black leather booth wrapped around a corner. It was occupied by a middle-aged man with a metal left hand. He sips from a tumbler glass while two women sit on either side of him, dressed in only short skirts. Their upper bodies were painted with glowing red as they blew smoke from a small machine that bubbled on the glass table in front of them.

A security guard leaned against the balcony, watching you and Hadt’yk’e with careful eyes as you both approached. He folded his arms over his burly chest as if to puff it out more. When you got closer, the guard held out a hand and then made a shooing gesture.

“No, no, Sean. Let 'em through,” the man on the couch said. Isaac, his name was, the CEO of a technology company founded on Elysium. His products were popularly used in warfare. There were also rumours he had dealings with President Eustance, but that was neither here nor there.

Isaac pointed at you. “Fletch send you?” He asked, his voice deep and gravelly from years of chain smoking. The two women in the booth shifted, sending you and Hadt’yk’e selective looks.

“Yeah,” you said, folding your arms over your chest. “Just some side biz.”

“Huh.” Isaac nodded almost as if he was unimpressed. He hid it well as his sly gaze slid to Hadt’yk’e. “Who’s your friend?”

You sighed, your shoulders heaving. “Just a shadow,” you said through an exhale. Hadt’yk’e looked at you for a second, unimpressed, but not visibly so.

“Hmm.” Isaac’s hum rumbled over the music. “Yautja.” He grinned, pointing his pinkie finger at Hadt’yk’e. You raised your eyebrows at the blatantly insulting gesture. “They’re everywhere. Even when you can’t see ‘em.” Isaac looked at Hadt’yk’e, then. “Como las ratas.”

Hadt’yk’e squared his shoulders. He didn’t rise to the bait, though, You cut in before anything serious happened.

“As much as I’d love to sit here and discuss the quintessence of Yautja’s, I’m actually wanting to discuss something a little more important,” you said without even bothering to hide the sarcasm that dripped from your voice. Isaac raised his brows and gestured for you to continue. “Did Fletch send you the deets or not?”

“Fletch and I are no longer in correspondence with each other,” Isaac said. He pointed at Hadt’yk’e again. “It seems my absence has opened a few holes in your resolve.”

“Quite the opposite, actually,” you said easily, raising your brows as if to emphasise your point. “You have something that we need. A chip.”

Isaac shrugged. “I have many of those.”

“It’s an audit log of all the crafts that have registered on the touch-down pads,” you said coolly, breezing past his sarcasm. “As far as we know, yours is the only company that tracks that kind of data.”

The only company that does dealings with the Cobras, but you left that part out.

“Hmm.” Isaac hummed again, lifting his chin a little higher. “First you get some Yautja to fight your battles for you, and now you want to, what? Stalk some people? Neon City isn’t yours, you know.” He leaned back, placing his arms around the two women. “Maybe I should get back in touch with Fletch. Provide some moral support.”

“Do you have it or not?” You asked bluntly. Hadt’yk’e remained as stiff as a rock beside you. He’d crossed his arms at some point, trying to reinforce an imposing presence behind you.

“That depends on how much you’re talking.”

“A thousand credits for a night,” you said. Credits were the underworld currency across most human colonies, Elysium included. “I’ll get Temperance to return the chip tomorrow.”

Isaac waved a hand. “Two thousand. And an extra five hundred for the bouncer you almost killed.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

With a heavy sigh, Isaac leaned forward and turned a glass tablet around. There were a few live video camera feeds, and the man tapped his knuckle on the entrance surveillance camera, which showed the unconscious bouncer. “Perhaps this will recall a memory.”

You slowly looked over your shoulder to glare at Hadt’yk’e. When you turned back around, you tilted your head to the side. “Deal. But we need it now.”

Isaac smiled, his gaze darkening with sick pleasure and greed. He snapped his fingers at the security guard. “Sean will retrieve it for you.” He nodded once at Sean, who made a point of directing the weight of his ire onto you before purposely bumping shoulders with Hadt’yk’e on his way past. Isaac watched, a sly glint in his eyes. “But I need to see the credits now.”

“Half,” you responded quickly. The jacket you wore only seemed to make your body temperature feel sweltering in this psychedelic club. You felt you were about to get high just listening to the music.

“I don’t think so.” Isaac wagged a finger. “I’m not about to be scammed.”

“Fletch isn’t interested in ripping you off.”

“Maybe not Fletch.”

You stayed silent for a few seconds. You then lifted your hand and yanked down your jacket sleeve to reveal the clear thin strap around your wrist. There was a small chip in the centre below the soft flesh underneath. “Transactions in his name.”

 Isaac sucked on his teeth as he observed you with a glinting gaze. “He trusts you.”

“Trust is scarce,” you responded quickly. You pulled the jacket sleeve back down and shot a pointed look at Hadt’yk’e, who remained unnervingly silent. Though, you supposed you had told him to just shut up and let you do the work.

“Right, you are.” Isaac leaned forward to grab his tumbler glass. He sipped the dark liquid inside that, upon closer inspection, emitted a faint smoke.

Conversation dwindled until Sean returned with a plastic baggy, inside it the audit log chip. He showed it to Isaac, who tsked and leaned forward to grab his tablet. His fingers tapped roughly on the screen, and when he turned it back around, you found that he’d brought up the secure payment tool developed long ago for non-legally authorised exchanges.

When you confirmed it was half of the agreed price, you brought Fletch’s transaction ship to the screen. There was an audible ding as the app processed the payment. Only then did Sean allow you to snatch the baggy from his hand.

“One day,” Isaac warned, holding up a finger. You almost scoffed — as if you would forget his rigid conditions. “And I want it back in perfect condition.”

“Your biz is with Temperance after this, Isaac. Not me,” you said coolly. You tucked the baggy into your pocket and took several steps back, almost bumping into Hadt’yk’e.

“Watch your shadow,” Isaac said, again gesturing at the purple Yautja with his pinkie finger. “Oh, and (Y/N)?” When you turned to look at him, he grinned. “You should visit more often. I’ll save you a nice warm seat.” As if to emphasise his point, he wrapped his arms around the women’s shoulders and squeezed their bare breasts.

You pretended to think about it for a moment. “Hmm. Pass.” You turned back around, walking off quickly to escape the heated conversation.

Isaac sighed heavily as he pulled his arms away from the women, who were both dazed, the whites of their eyes red from the drugs. “Chingado,” Isaac muttered as he sipped his drink.

Neither you nor Hadt’yk’e spoke until you exited the club. The bouncer was still unconscious, though he was being tended to by a topless man whose body paint didn’t seem so impressive with no UV lights. He glared sharply at the both of you, and you kept your head down until the shuttering elevator started to move.

“That was Isaac.” Your voice rang in the tight space, bouncing off the yellow metal walls.

Hadt’yk’e grunted. “He is no saint.” He folded his arms over his chest, evidently bruised by the unexpected ego attacks.

“He’s a CEO. Corp motherfuckers who think they’ve earned the right to treat others like trash,” you spoke quietly, staring at the chipped concrete ahead as the elevator rattled dangerously against it. “When in reality, they’re no better than us, creeping around after dark like rats. Only difference is, they’re only here to flaunt the money in their pockets.”

“Hmm. And referring to me as your shadow is not treating others like trash?” Hadt’yk’e asked casually, looking down at you through the eyes of his mask.

You glanced at him, quickly answering with a snappy response. “I don’t know if you noticed, but outsiders aren’t welcome here. You’re lucky no one tried to fuck anything up.”

The elevator came to a shaking stop, and you stepped out into one of the tunnels in the backroads, the same one that led back to one of the Cobra’s’ safehouses. Hadt’yk’e stepped out after you, watching as the elevator precariously shuddered in the absence of his weight.

“Only I’m lucky?” Hadt’yk’e asked after you both started walking through the tunnel.

“You think I care about the credits?” You made a point of scoffing loudly.

“Yes,” Hadt’yk’e replied quickly. “Is your survival not dependent on the lowly payments your temporary employers promise you with?”

“You’re dumber than you look if you think it’s difficult for me to find another contract that pays the same, if not more.”

Hadt’yk’e chuffed, almost with a disbelieving aura. “If it were me, I would be more concerned about what my superior would say if they found out I left my partner at the hands of intoxicated scum.”

You quickly turned on the Yautja, who paused in his path before he ran you over. “Let me get one thing straight. We are not partners. We are not allies.” You pointed between the both of you. “You are nothing but yet another Arbitrator dirtying his name to pay the likes of me, who is nothing but a criminal who could destroy your life if anyone else found out that you were here with me.” You lowered your hand. “Don’t fool yourself and think this is anything more than just a job. Don’t make yourself look like an idiot by thinking that Fletch would give a single fuck if you were to die at the hands of ‘intoxicated scum.’”

“Not even after paying so many credits for a useless chip?” Hadt’yk’e jutted his chin at you.

You squinted. “It’s two a half thousand credits. We have this thing called debts, and that’s nothing off my back.” You turned around and started to walk again. “And, by the way, this chip isn’t useless. It’s an audit log that tracks the movement of spacecrafts.”

“So, mine would be registered on this log, I assume?” Hadt’yk’e just about breathed down your neck.

“Don’t sweat it. Temp will give back the polished audit log.” You rested your hands in the pockets of your jackets as you walked, protectively curling your fingers around the baggy. “And besides, we’ll be able to track the precise location of the handover that occurred. You know, with your so-called buddy.”

“Hmm. Yes. The one you handed over to Weyland-Yutani.”

“Yada, yada, yeah, that one,” you said sarcastically. “We can record all the activity in that area and try to triangulate the possible coordinates of their facility. Could be in there within a few days, granted your friend is still alive.” You said the last part quietly.

“He will be,” Hadt’yk’e said.

You hummed. “I didn’t know Yautja communicated telepathically.”

“I don’t know what this means, and I don’t appreciate your goading.” Hadt’yk’e’s voice was stern as he followed behind you.

“I wasn’t goading,” you replied coolly. The end of the conversation saw you reaching the Cobra’s’ safehouse. The steel door was painted red, and you banged your fist a few times on it before a small hatch opened. Two eyes peered through, and when they landed on your figure, the hatch slammed shut, and the door rolled open.

You waved Hadt’yk’e through. “Ladies first.”

Hadt’yk’e grunted, staring down at you with his mask for a few seconds before he turned and strolled past the man who waited for you both to enter. You sighed, smiled in mirth, and followed the large male before the door rattled shut.