#like. you are a person and one day you WILL need to be weak.

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Actor

The Golden Age of Hollywood. Stars are born every day and you're desperate to become one. Thanks to @laboodanda for requesting this!

Yandere! Actor who's well established in the industry - his name on the Walk of Fame, his face on all the posters, his agents calling day and night with new offers.

Yandere! Actor who meets you on the set of his latest movie. You're barely even part of the main cast - just a side character with a few lines. But you sparkle.

You have that razzle dazzle in you that makes a true star.

Yandere! Actor who knows it's just a matter of time before you make it big. You've already got your foot in the door and all it takes is a lucky break.

Yandere! Actor who comes up to talk to you during lunch, winks at you and grins at the way you blush. You're in awe of him and it takes a second before you can answer his questions.

Yandere! Actor who's used to starstruck fans, to women who shriek when he looks their way. But, it's somehow new and endearing when you're the one looking at him like that.

He can hear the other extras rushing to your side when he leaves, babbling about how lucky you are that he talked to you, the big stars never notice the little fish.

On the final day of filming, he congratulates you on your first ever role and invites you to dinner to celebrate.

Yandere! Actor who takes you to a cozy restaurant in a quiet seaside neighbourhood. He doesn't want to be interrupted by fans, but he also doesn't want to be seen in public with you. At least not yet.

You really impress him. You know quite a lot about acting techniques, about getting into and maintaining character, about catering to the camera.

But it's clear you're still a rookie. There's a slight nervousness to you that veteran starletts don't have. It's alright - he'll train it out of you in no time.

Yandere! Actor who shares he milkshake with you and offers you his jacket when the sea wind starts to nip.

When he drops you off, he squeezes your thigh and says he'll talk to his agent about you, that there might be a role in his next movie for such a pretty little thing.

Yandere! Actor who sees the innocent, love struck look in your eyes and revels in it.

Pretty soon he calls you and tells you about a private audition with some studio execs.

"Keep your hair loose and wear that short sundress you wore on our date."

It should be friendly advice, so why does it sound like an order?

The audition is in one of the studio's offices. A room filled with big shot executives and egotistical directors. Men in suits who are high on their own power, their own genius. They've seen a thousand hopeful girls and to them you're no different.

The way they look at you makes you feel like dirt, like the most untalented person in the whole world. You would have walked out then and there if it wasn't for him.

Yandere! Actor who volunteers to read the lines with you. He winks and smiles at you and by just being there makes you feel so much better. And a few sentences in, you find your stride. Immerse yourself in the scene.

You're playing the part of a jilted lover, a woman who gave everything to her man and has her heart shattered when he leaves. In the final act, you grab his collar and look up at him with tears in your eyes, your voice shaking.

"Please, please don't go. I love you. I need you."

You raise one hand to his cheek, your fingers trembling. "Don't you love me too?"

Yandere! Actor who actually forgets his line.

You're looking up at him so weak, so vulnerable that his mind goes blank. His director calls out the line and he repeats it blankly.

"And...End scene!"

Yandere! Actor who doesn't look away from you even when the directors start clapping and you turn to give them a bow. You were so raw that it didn't feel like a performance. The tears, the desperate way you pulled at him... It felt so real.

It's only when his agent slaps him on the back that he manages to snap out of it.

The director is already grabbing your arm and insisting to the studio executives that he needs you in his next movie.

Yandere! Actor who comes up behind you and drapes his arms around your shoulders. You don't realise it but he's staking his claim, showing all these rich and powerful men that anything to do with you has to go through him. He grins at his agent.

"She's perfect, isn't she?"

The man lowers his shades and drags his eyes across your body.

"You need to clean up her look a little, but you were right. She's the perfect girl for you."

You feel like there's more behind their conversation, things they've discussed that you aren't privy to. But you don't have the nerve to ask.

On your way out of the studio, Yandere! Actor curls his arm around your waist.

"You're gonna be a lead actress soon baby. The execs want you in a few supporting roles first, just to get you used to the camera, but the director has his mind set on you."

You smile at him, a megawatt grin filled with the thrill of having your dream come true. It makes him feel like the centre of your world, makes him feel like a man.

You throw your arms around his neck and hug him. "I owe you! Thank you thank you thank you thank -"

He cuts you off with a kiss. And in that moment you really do feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Yandere! Actor who slowly takes over your beauty routine. Who tells your hairdresser exactly what shade to tint your hair, exactly what shape to thread your eyebrows. Who buys you new clothes and tells you exactly how to style them.

You don't realise it, but he's shaping your look into something that compliments his own.

Yandere! Actor who almost invites you to his movie premiere until his agent advises against it. Who kisses you and apologises and says he'll bring you to the next one.

You understand, you really do. You're still relatively unknown and having you on his arm would just invite gossip. But it still stings watching him go to the premier on his own, his arm around his beautiful co-star. You go to bed that night with doubts nagging at your mind.

It's only when you hear him knocking at your door at three in the morning that your insecurities go silent.

Yandere! Actor who's still wearing his tuxedo from the red carpet. His hair falling out of its slicked back style as he dangles a bottle of champagne in front of you.

"Gotta celebrate with my girl."

He's barely three steps into your apartment before he's kissing you, his hands on your waist and dropping lower.

You try and push him away. Tell him it's your first time.

Yandere! Actor who nips at your neck. "Don't worry, 'm gonna be so gentle."

When you still try and slip away, he pulls back to look in your eyes. Despite the haze of alcohol, there's something piercing about the way he looks at you.

"How many girls can say their first time was with a Hollywood star?"

Yandere! Actor who let's his fingers climb higher up your thighs.

"I've been workin' so hard to make you an actress. Don't I get a reward?"

How are you supposed to say no to a man who holds your future in his palm? You nod your head just the slightest and he's back to kissing you, back to drawing you hands to his belt, back to growling in your ear.

Yandere! Actor who's a shameless liar. He isn't gentle with you at all.

Yandere! Actor who wakes up all groggy and hungover the next morning. Who pulls you closer to him and falls asleep again with his head on your chest. You look down at his dark hair and his chiseled features and for a little while, it doesn't feel like such a bad deal. Love him in exchange for a career.

And he is so easy to love.

Yandere! Actor who encourages the director to start filming your movie as soon as possible. A romance between a thief (you, in your very first lead role) and a jaded detective with a heart of gold (him, who's had so many lead roles he's lost count).

The schedule is gruelling and the director is a tyrant, but this is your big break. You give it everything you have. You learn the script inside and out, badger the screen writer until she discusses your character arc with you, follow the director around and beg him for tips.

Yandere! Actor who adores working with you. You're sweet and pliable and the chemistry between you is sizzling. Every scene with you makes him need a cold shower and a priestly intervention.

Yandere! Actor who pulls you into his trailer every chance he gets to "read lines." But it always ends with him holding you down and kissing you, claiming it's good practice for the camera.

"Character building," he pants from between your legs. "Just getting into the mindset."

Yandere! Actor who watches with satisfaction as the movie comes along. You remind him of himself when he just started, raw talent and a burning desire to please.

Yandere! Actor who is next to you every moment he isn't needed on set. Who gives you endless advice and makes you laugh with his stories about bad takes and wardrobe malfunctions.

Part of it is to keep an eye on you - there's a jealous bit inside him that thinks of you as his creation, your talent a reflection of his training - and part of it is to spark rumours.

It works exactly as he intends. Pretty soon the magazines and radio hosts are blabbering about a possible romance between him and his relatively unknown co-star.

Yandere! Actor who's determined to make this movie a success. On the premier night, he walks down the red carpet with his arm around your waist. When the cameras are at the height of their flashing, he takes your chin in his hand and kisses you.

The next morning, the papers are raving about it and the theatres are sold out before midday.

It's a critical and commercial success. Yandere! Actor who's high on the thrill of it. Who loves driving down Hollywood Boulevard and seeing you on the billboards, who loves having Hollywood's newest darling on his arm and in his bed.

But then the letters start coming.

Yandere! Actor who snarls at the piles and piles of fan mail you receive. Maybe, if it was all innocent praise, he could have accepted it. But most of the letters are absolutely filthy.

Men writing to you from all over the country, all over the world. Describing in detail all the things they want to do to you, all the ways they want you speared on their cocks. Men who promise to treat you so sweet you'd never want to leave them and men who threaten to whip you over their knee if you don't learn to say please when they fuck you.

Yandere! Actor who's never received mail with such perversion. His fans are mostly sweet young girls who timidly describe how nice it would be to find a man like him, to get taken to prom and courted.

Yandere! Actor who becomes suspicious of every man he sees. The gaffer that looks at you too long becomes the guy who promised to find you and fill your cunt with his come. The driver who holds your hand when you climb out of the car becomes the stalker who followed you home the other night.

Yandere! Actor who keeps his arm around you whenever you're outside. Who starts keeping his gun in the glove box of his car.

It's not only strangers he needs to worry about either. The studio executives keep pressuring you with stricter and stricter contract offers. The director wants you starring in a romance role with another man. Two dozen talent agencies are crawling over glass to try and sign you.

Yandere! Actor who tells you to let him handle the contracts and paper work.

"The bastards will try and trick you out of your money and your clothes. Trust me baby, I've had to deal with plenty of shitty deals. I don't want that for you."

Yandere! Actor who knows exactly how tightly binding a contract is. And it's no coincidence that the one he has you sign binds your career almost entirely to his. It ensures that the bulk of your roles are alongside him, that he has the final say in studio disputes, that he owns the rights to your name.

The studio executives might normally never sign a deal like that, but they're desperate to get you under contract. You're a blazing star and they aren't going to lose you to a competitor.

Yandere! Actor who drinks a toast to your success and kisses you infront of all those high flying executives. Despite all the attention and awards you've earned, you still look up at him with a blind sort of hero worship. He's the goal you've always aimed for, the standard you've tried to reach. To be his girl is still so dizzying you almost can't believe it.

In bed that night, Yandere! Actor thinks about proposing, about wifing you up. The wedding would be huge, generate massive press. His next big project with you is scheduled for half a year away. Maybe do a proposal during opening night? Or better yet, at the Academy Awards? Yeah, that would get cinemas sold out even faster than kissing you on the red carpet did.

Save the wedding for a few years down the line. When your career is more established and your image might need an upgrade.

You curl against his side and moan in your sleep, brow scrunched. Cute, naive little thing, aren't you? Hollywood would swallow you up and spit you out if it wasn't for him.

Yandere! Actor who kisses your forehead as you dream about cameras and lights and action.

"Don't worry baby, I'll take extra good care of you."

Yandere! Actor who's curated his image so carefully. Who wants a girlfriend who's light and talent make him shine all the brighter.

And who better than someone who owes him her career?

Extra!! Here's a short drabble I wrote when I was brainstorming the idea with @laboodanda

[snugglyporos]

// Christ I wish I could go back in time and erase concepts like 'unconscious bias' from the world of popular lingo because people apply it to things that they don't apply to. No, most people do not possess an unconscious bias that working class people are worth less than rich people, that's your classist ideology being applied to things that you shouldn't apply it to. We might call that a conscious bias.

What is actually happening is a mix of tropes being blended together and not changing over time. Namely, the idea that the more individuals there are, the weaker they are. We see this everywhere; fifty ninjas? Weak. Not a problem. One ninja? Super powerful. Legend. This exists in everything from James Bond movies to comics to Power Rangers.

The reality is that, narratively speaking, the random cannon fodder between the protagonist and the final boss do not matter. They don't! In real life they would, but if you tried to give ever goon a backstory and explain it you would have a shit story because the audience does not care about the backstory of unnamed good #23. After they take the punch from the protagonist, the audience has entirely forgotten they existed.

Which means that, narratively speaking, the killing of the main villain is more important and more impactful than the killing of some random goon. Now, if you're a good writer this shouldn't be the case. But this too, comes from the blending of genres and tropes.

In the late 1980s, fiction became more violent and more visceral. This means that a lot more violence was happening! And yet, writers still wanted to have their protagonist show that they were the protagonist, because people were all in on moral relativism. People would be like 'well, there's no difference between the hero and the villain if the hero kills the villain.'

The response was a lot of heroes started adopting a weird kind of no killing rule; Batman will break your fucking spine but kill the guy who just blew up a building? That's too far! 'I'm not like you, a guy who kills people, I just cripple them for life!'

And again, this is what happens when genre conventions (the hero should be morally superior than the villain, or at least attempt to be) mixing with trope developments (everything now needs to be brutal and violent to reflect real life).

Now, the circle has completed itself, where we're once again back to 1985, where people are like 'actually no, the hero should fucking kill that guy.' You'll probably be a big fan of the Death Wish movies and The Dark Knight Strikes Back; you know, things that lots of proto-fascists really love because they reinforce the notion that actually, heroes should wield violence against their enemies and impose their will through abject terror.

The reality is, people aren't sitting around going 'my work should reflect the idea that workers are less important than the boss' it's that narratively, the random goons exist to be smacked down to prepare the audience for the big bad, because rising action requires that there be rising challenges. This is mixing along with personal tastes in media.

Now, you could, for example, turn this new trope on its head and ask whether the Punisher murdering every jaywalker and low level drug dealer with extreme violence makes him a villain, because his ideal is that any lawbreaker should be murdered instantly no matter how low the crime. You might also argue that the trope should actually be that the grunts shouldn't be killed by the hero, but the guy who organized them should, because he's much worse than they are.

You could also argue that, the reason why the hero doesn't just kill the villain is that murder is wrong? Even if you think it's morally justified? I think people forget, when they fantasize about an ideal French Revolution, that the most common crime people were executed for was pickpocketing, and every day they would execute the guys who got caught working the crowds at the executions the day before. More poor people got killed in the French Revolution than rich people; you should probably keep that in mind!

Because the core reason you probably want your hero to not kill people in general is that you then have to ask who deserves it and your answer will inevitably include a lot of people you might actually like! You probably don't want heroes taking vague concepts like justice into their own hands because inevitably that makes them into the Death Wish protagonist, deciding that what really needs to happen is for a white guy with a gun to just start shooting up inner cities.

You don't want your hero to start killing people because this is corrosive and it will inevitably result in comparisons between people who got killed.

So no, it's not some kind of unconscious bias, it's because we've melted a worldwide demand for bloodshed and violence with established genre tropes and if you removed one or the other people would complain and be very unhappy.

Or, I guess you could go on and say that Freddy Kruger is anti-marxist because he only targets teenagers instead of people who really deserve it.

[slu7formen]

luke castellan x fem!reader

luke finds you after you went missing in quest. on the way back home, luke’s determined to take care of you.

warnings: mention of weight loss, wounds, bl00d, just overall crying, reader and luke shower together 🫣, intimacy, kinda angst ???? idk it’s one of my first times writing this

There was a tense silence in the car. The cold night air hitting your face was refreshing yet you couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of that nauseous feeling in your stomach and throat. Luke occasionally darted his gaze to you, but quickly looked back to the road, almost as if checking if you were still there or not.

"We´re almost there" he blurted out suddenly, glancing at you again. He´s been like this since he found you, trying to get you to talk, but you wouldn´t say a thing. It was ironic, how you used to spend so much time with Luke when you were younger and how he went through hell and back just to find you and yet, you were unable to form a word. Luke didn´t blame you though. He understood you more than anyone else. He didn´t want to talk to anyone when he came back from that quest that condemned him with more than one scar for the rest of his life.

And seeing you like this now, it was only like looking at his own reflection. He saw in you what everybody saw in him at seventeen.

The dirt on your clothes, or what was left of it, you were covered in a soft white blanket that Luke found in the back of the car. The dirt on your skin, your hair, under your nails. You didn´t have any old wounds visible, but fresh ones that were made just a few minutes ago when you and Luke had to fight your way out the cave of that cyclops. It stained the blanket.

You´ve lost weight, too much. Only you know how many hours or even days did that cyclops leave you to starve, weakening you more and more. Your skin seemed fragile, like a thin layer of glass, and that was your only protection.

It wasn't a pretty sight.

It took him time to find you, like a week or more. Chiron was convinced you´d find your way out of that mission, but when two weeks became three, and three became three more, that´s when camp started to get worried. No one dared to follow the same path you did, except Luke. What could he loose? Nothing but his own life. Chiron trusted him, and thank the Gods he did.

Luke couldn´t forget the sight of you when he found you, laying on the hard rocks, unconscious. If he hadn´t gotten there on time, you would have probably been eaten alive. When he lifted you up, he didn't want to admit the fact that you felt light, lighter than before. How weak he felt you.

He caught a glimpse of a tear when he got you into the car and put on your seatbelt, but again, he knew you wouldn´t make a sound. You both left the place silently, only trusting that Luke was driving you somewhere safe, that everything was over, that the cyclops stayed right in Tartarus where he belonged, and that Luke wasn´t going to be your second kidnapper.

At least the car, which was stolen, worked like wonders. The entire road trip was silent, sometimes broken by the sniffing of your nose or your uncomfortable movements. Luke couldn´t take you to camp, not yet at least, and as much as he wanted to, he also couldn´t. It was too far away now, and besides, you needed a proper rest.

"We´re here" he said as he parked the car. A solely motel stood there, on the side of the road, no sign of any other human or not human life around, just the dry and cold road, endless in the night. Luke knew this place was safe from any danger, he stayed there last night.

The receptionist didn´t even bother to look up and see that Luke was walking in with another person, wrapped in a white blanket and dirty. She just handed him the keys, her eyes glued to some fashion magazine.

The room was nothing special, just a small bed, a small table with two chairs, an old and uncomfortable looking sofa, a bathroom, and a closet. A tv was hanging on the wall, and a small fridge was standing in the corner. At least, you had a small balcony. You looked around, eyes trained and ready to decipher any type of danger, yet your head wouldn´t stop throbbing with pain, your eyes barely getting used to the artificial yellow light. Luke had placed his belongings on the bed, but as soon as your eyes caught them, he removed them and placed them over the table. "Sit" he demanded.

You obeyed, sitting on the bed and keeping a close eye on the older boy, watching as he opened the small fridge and brought out a bottle of water along with something wrapped in aluminum foil. "It´s what I have now" Luke stated, placing the wrapped food in your hands, if he was starved, he couldn´t imagine how your stomach was feeling. "I´ll get some more tomorrow, okay?"

You didn´t answer. Instead, you stared at the food. Luke was slightly startled when your fingers started to work rapidly around the foil, unwrapping the cold grilled cheese sandwich. You devoured it like a wild animal, taking big bites and barely even able to swallow before biting again. Luke chuckled slightly, placing a hand on your back, soothing slowly. "Easy there" he said, "It's all yours"

Your hands started to shake, your stomach protesting against the amount of food you were giving it after long weeks of starving. Tears started to prick your eyes, and Luke noticed. "Thank you, Luke" you sobbed out as soon as that sandwich disappeared. Your head crashed onto his shoulder, crying as Luke quickly wrapped an arm around you, "thank you" you kept repeating. Luke and you were close when you were younger, around fifteen or fourteen, but now a lot has changed. Yet, Luke never stopped looking after you.

It felt weird to cry on him. Your weeks of torture, pain, hunger and dirt and fear pressing onto Luke´s shoulders like a dark cloak, yet you couldn´t bring yourself to stop. You smelled the fresh air, clean one, how your back didn´t have goosebumps because you didn´t feel as if someone was behind you, waiting to attack. You felt safe and relaxed, but it was too overwhelming to feel thar way.

"Shh" Luke soothed, running a hand through your hair, "it's alright, I've got you"

And you stayed like that for a moment. You cried, and he held you. He knew how hard it was, and he didn't want to say anything that would hurt your feelings, so he remained quiet.

When your breathing evened out, your tears dried up and the shakiness of your hands died down, you brought yourself to stand up slowly. "I'm sorry" you whispered. You hated how your face got all red and puffy from crying, how the tears blurred your vision and how your voice sounded hoarse and shaky.

"No need," Luke smiled, "how about you take a shower?" he suggested, eyebrows rising softly.

You didn´t answer, Gods, you totally forgot what even a shower felt like. You suddenly felt embarrassed, what did you look like now? Your hair was probably way too dirty, all hard and tangled, not to mention the rest of your body. You were so disgusting, you didn't even know where to begin. That cyclops spat on you way too many times for you to not smell like his saliva, some of it even stuck to your clothes. Your breath must´ve been horrific, and you were sure you´d have to ask Luke for some extra underwear.

He stands up quick and jumps to the bathroom. You stand there, smelling your hair and immediately feeling as disgusted as ever. You hear the water running, Luke had turned on the shower for you. He must´ve noticed the way your eyes darted around nervously, a hundred thoughts and questions invading your mind in just a second. You wondered how much time you were there, standing like an idiot, for him to offer to turn on the water.

He came back quick, smiling softly and patting your shoulder. "It's all yours, don't worry, I won't watch"

You nod, a little embarrassed that you couldn´t even do the simplest tasks and he had to help you with it. "Thanks" you said again, removing the blanket over your shoulders and placing it over the bed. Luke watched as you walked away, the dried blood on your arms and fresh wounds decorating your pale skin like a canvas, he was sure he had some bandages or ambrosia to help you with that.

He sighed and threw himself on the bed, grabbing the remote and turning on the tv, trying his best not to think about you. He couldn't let his mind go back to the moment he found you, and the state you were in. It reminded him so much of him just a few years back. He promised himself to change, to not care, to foil his own heart with a thick layer of ice, but as soon as he realized how ugly things were turning after you didn´t come back, who was once his friend, that ice started to melt.

He wondered why were you even the one to leave in the first place, what were you thinking? Why did you accept the mission? Why didn't you say no? Luke couldn't bring himself to hate Chiron for sending you out there. It wasn't his fault, nor yours. You were young, and Luke knew it wasn't your first time either, but the danger was worse than any other mission you accomplished. He couldn´t stop thinking about you for some reason, maybe even way before you left, you were a part of his mind.

He was like an eagle, keeping an eye on you, watching, but never attacking. Never making his presence known. But then, the news of your missing broke his silence, his invisibility. It was just the same as if you were dead, and he was forced to watch as his friends cried over your absence.

"Luke?"

He jumped out of his position, startled by the sudden sound of your voice. The water was still running, he heard it, but you walked out of the bathroom with a towel around your fragile body. You were dripping little droplets, but you weren´t done, you weren´t clean. Still dirty, still bloody.

"What´s wrong?" he asked, maintaining his position on the bed.

"I-" you stuttered, embarrassed, "I can't do it"

Luke tilted his head in confusion "Do what?"

"Wash my hair, or- myself"

Your hair was wet, but not completely soaked, meaning you must´ve tried to wash it yourself but couldn't do it. "You can't reach it?" he asked, almost in disbelief rather than worry.

You shake your head, your cheeks red in embarrassment. You looked at Luke, and then at the ground, hoping that it would just open up and swallow you whole. "My arms hurt too much" you explain.

Luke stands up then, walking slowly towards you. As he does, you extend your arms to him, for him to see. Luke never noticed the purple rings that decorated your wrists, a clear sign of handcuffs or some type of chain. In the darkness of the night and the cave, he must´ve mistaken it with dirt on your skin, just as the rest of your body, covered in soot and dirt. He follows the path up to your forearms, which were a little better, but filled with cuts, fresh and old ones. He looks at your left bicep then, where a nasty purple bruise stood, three fat lines, just as fat as the cyclops’ hand.

Luke´s about to say something, that he understands, the he´ll help, but you turn around then. Luke sees the old wound on your other arm, your triceps, a clean deep cut probably executed with a knife or a pointy rock, the yellow, green and blue nebula-like image staining your skin.

His fingers tent to grab you softly, but he looks somewhere else. Slowly, he moves your hair out of the way, placing it over your shoulder softly. He stares then, looking at what the towel wasn´t able to cover. More bruises, although small, looked painful over your muscles. There were more cuts too. Scratches. Near your spine, a long pale pink stripe, stood proudly on your skin. It looked fine, but it must've hurt like hell, even more with such a slow healing. It would scar. If only Luke had come sooner.

"Get back in the shower" he demanded softly, placing his hands on your naked shoulders. "I´ll help you get clean"

You nod, not bothering to turn and look at him, but rather, just obeying. "Will you-, get in with me?"

Luke feels his heart race. He didn't mean to sound suggestive, no. His face was red. Your body was hot, he was sweaty, and the bathroom was filled with steam. His clothes started to stick to his skin, making him feel hotter and hotter, and the thought of being in the shower with you only made him want to slap himself and stay awake.

"Um-," he breathed out, trying to hide the way his voice cracked slightly, the way his throat went dry. "If you want to, I mean" he clears his throat, "I don´t want to make you uncomfortable"

"You won´t" you assure him. "But if it´s uncomfortable for you-"

"No" he interrupts you, way too quickly. "I mean, I´ll help you if that's what you want"

You don't bother to turn around, instead, you walk in the bathroom. Luke watches, his eyes trained on the back of your body, how some of your bones poked out slightly, the bruises, the cuts, the scratches. You close the door then, and Luke stands there, waiting. His heart starts to race and beat harder and harder, his hands sweat, his knees feel weak. He didn't even realize how bad his palms were sweating, and he rubs them over his shorts. Why was he so nervous? It wasn´t as if you were asking him to do anything weird, you just needed help and it was pitiful. You couldn´t even move properly, for God´s sake.

"You can come in" he hears you say.

He gulps, and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and letting the air fill his lungs. He opens the door then, and walks in. He sees the towel hanging on the doorknob when he begins to remove his clothes. He grabs the edge of his boxers, wondering if it was really necessary to take it off. He takes a look at the shower, the curtain closed, the water running, he barely saw a glimpse of your shadow. Just the thought of walking in there made cold sweat drip down his spine.

He takes a deep breath, and removes his underwear. He figures that if nothing was meant to happen, and that you were fine with him seeing you, then he didn´t have to worry about you seeing him.

When he enters, the hot steam hits his body like a soft cloud, enveloping him in a warm embrace, and the water feels hot. He sees you, under the shower, the water running down your body, though it looked unpleasant. He doesn´t dare to look down or somewhere else that isn´t your face, yet he doesn´t feel like it´s a forced action. You make him comfortable, even when you´re in the most vulnerable state you´ll ever be in your life, he doesn´t feel anything else other than comfort.

You smile softly at him then, and he steps behind you. You hear him breathe heavily once or twice, but neither of you say anything. "Can I?" he asks then, pointing at the cheap motel shampoo. You nod, and let him do whatever he has to. It felt weird, having someone else take care of you this way. You didn´t know why you felt the need of him protecting you this way, but it wasn´t bad.

He pours some in his hands and places it over your hair, slowly working his way through the knots. You relax, the feeling was strange yet welcome. You forgot how pleasant and orgasmic showers were. He massages softly, avoiding to pull at any strand, and it feels nice. Soothing, almost. Your head throbs less, and the headache that had been bothering you since Luke took you out of that cave started to disappear slowly. His hands were gentle, caring, and his breathing was soft behind your neck.

It was hard for him, though. To pretend as if nothing was happening. His heart was beating harder and faster with each second, the blood rushing through his veins, his palms sweaty and his eyes wanting to look elsewhere. But he was afraid, he couldn´t risk losing his cool and making you feel uncomfortable, so he didn´t dare. He was thankful you were facing away, that way, you couldn't see the way his cheeks blushed.

"Thank you" you whispered, the water running down your face and hair. Luke had managed to get rid of all the knots in your hair, and you felt so much better already.

"Don't thank me" he replied, letting the shampoo fall of your hair to cleanse. He took the little bottle again then, and repeated the process. He figured that just one round of shampoo wouldn´t be enough for you.

He followed the same path with the hair conditioner. He looked down briefly when he was done, careful not to go too low, but he noticed the dirt still lingering on your skin, the one that the splash of hot water couldn´t clean. He grabbed the soap then, and lathered it softly in his hands. His eyes lingered on the scars that decorated your body, he wondered what did they come from, where were you hit and how, why did you get them and how did they look like before.

He got close to your ear, "Let me know if anything hurts, okay?" he asked softly. You barely look at him over your shoulder, and you nod. It was more than obvious that everything would hurt, even the water splashing on your skin, yet you wouldn´t complain about it all.

He pressed the soap against your skin, but he didn’t dare to touch you any more than that. His free hand remained in his side, away from you. You didn´t know if he was doing it because he didn't want to touch you, or because he wanted you to tell him it was okay to do so, and that he was allowed to touch. His hands rubbed the soap, creating a thin layer over the dirt and grime. You closed your eyes. it was better to think of anything else other than the feeling of his hands on you, but you found your mind wandering to his body, only separated by air.

His hand rubbed circles on your shoulder almost as a kind gesture for you to warm up, but you couldn’t help but interpret it more than that. It was such a small kind gesture, but your body reacted in such ways to it ― goose bumps spreading like wildfire across your skin, a shiver running down your spine.

You hissed when he started rubbing your back, the soapy water stung your wounds, the smaller they where, the worse it hurt.

Luke stopped. "Are you okay?"

You nodded, but it wasn´t convincing. "It just burns a little" you explain, little tears stung your eyes.

He understood, and continued. He was careful not to press too hard or anything, the last thing he wanted was to hurt you more. He watched as the soap did its magic, how it got rid of the dirt and grime that stuck on your skin.

He dared to step a little closer when he reached your neck. He felt warm, his hands were soft, his grip gentle. You felt like you could fall asleep in the comfort of his embrace, warm and soft, not daring to harm. You closed your eyes, the water running down your face. Your breathing was soft, and you didn't have a clue of what you were doing to him.

His fingers on your neck tickle a little, yet it feels as if the most precious touch someone could ever give you. It felt sweet, tender, and you couldn't help but lean into the touch. Just slightly, just a little bit, you let your hair fall. It reaches Luke´s shoulder barely, yet Luke feels a wake of warm comfort over him.

He feels the need to grab you, to hold you. He wants to wrap his arms around you, he wants to tell you it's going to be alright, and that he's got you, but he can't. Not yet.

The soap´s smell impregnates in your body. Though cheap, it´s sweet. It smells like peaches, a deep artificial version of it at least. It was relaxing, almost like a lullaby. He stops then, his fingers lingering over the bruise on your triceps. The cut looks a little better without all the dirt and irritation, yet the bruise around it remains the same. He brushes it softly with his thumb, like a comforting caress. It doesn´t hurt, so you say nothing.

That same hand travels up then, careful not to brush any other wound, not allowing himself to hear a single cry come out from your lips. The water´s still hot when he reaches your shoulder, and your breathing has slowed down, yet his heart beats faster than ever.

He lets himself get lower, his torso leaning into you, his head lowering. His nose grazes your shoulder softly, just a slight movement, almost an innocent gesture. Your skin was soft, delicate. And he lets himself go lower, his lips placing a kiss on your shoulder.

It´s small and tender, lasted less than a few seconds. But he stays there, his hair getting wet, the water dripping down the side of your body, like you and him got frozen in time. The waters keeps on running but the room is filled with silence, as if it had to be broken by one of you. You say nothing, nor him.

Luke doesn´t have the heart to pull away. He doesn´t know why did he kiss you, he doesn´t know why did he allow himself to be this close, but he wanted to do it again, and he couldn´t bring himself to regret it. It felt like the most natural thing, and he wonders if he had gone mad, if he was still sane or not. But you did not reject him, nor did you pull away.

Your hand is tentative when you reach for his, the one placed on your shoulder. You feel his chest pressed onto your back, and you can feel the heat coming from him, how the water droplets run down his hair, his neck and his face, and how his breath is soft against your skin, warm, and it tickles a little.

He kisses again, the same spot, and then once more. Your hand is warm in his, and your fingers brush softly against his knuckles, like an encouraging gesture. He kisses once more, and then his lips travel further up, reaching your neck, and the next thing you feel is his lips on your pulse point. They press there, and stay still. It tingles your whole skin, goosebumps travelling from your ribs to your toes, the feeling exciting you.

He´s the one holding your hand then, flipping it and taking a soft hold of your wrist, careful not to squeeze your bruises around it. He lifts your hand close to his face, but his lips travel directly to your wrist, maybe a little lower, kissing your forearm. Over the tiny cuts, the scratches. He doesn´t press, and he doesn´t hurt. The warmth of his lips is inviting, and his tongue is soft, the way his mouth opens and closes over your skin like a delicate flower. When you dare to look a little closer, to look at him, his lips go to your knuckles, pressing softly over the dry blood that stained your hands. His lips were soft, like a cloud, and tender. He kisses them all, so gentle and soft that it makes you forget about the pain, how sore you are, and it makes you want to touch him too.

Just from one of his kisses on your hand.

He stops then, his sweet lips separating from your skin, but his hand still held yours. He wrapped his hand around yours, your fingers curling inside the grip of his own, trapping it in his warm embrace. Your body still faces the front, the water splashing both of your bodies as you lock eyes with him. He presses his forehead to yours, and his nose gently brushes against yours, the tip of it going up and down your own.

Your hear and feel his breath, even though it feels steady. Your heart beats a thousand miles, and you can´t help yourself but to close your eyes and feel. He leans closer then, his lips inches away from yours, and you can feel his breath and taste the water that runs down his lips and his chin, and suddenly, the space between your bodies doesn't feel big.

But it was. Because when the distance was about to be broken and Luke´s lips would finally press against yours, you had to pull away.

He doesn't look upset, he doesn't look hurt, his expression doesn't change. He knows. And that's the best part, how he doesn't feel bad for the mistake. You pull away almost as if you were pulling yourself away from him fully, yet you didn´t. You stayed close enough to feel his presence pressing behind you, yet far enough for him to not be able to reach your lips. He lets go of your hand, and you can´t help but think of yourself as someone stupid. Such a warm feeling, such a comfortable and protected embraced, destroyed by you, and your fears.

"I, uh..." you darted, facing the wall, your wet hands pressed to your face. "I'm sorry, I-"

"No, it's fine" he said, his voice was still soft, yet the way his tone changed was noticeable. You could hear the embarrassment in his words. ¨You don't have to apologize, really. I'm sorry"

"No, don't-" you breathed out, trying to find the right words. You didn't want him to apologize for something he didn't do. It was all your fault. "I didn't mean to ruin the moment, it's just... I-"

"Really, don't worry about it" Luke insisted, trying to keep the situation calm. The water was starting to feel cold, and the room was getting less steamy, but neither of you bothered. He placed a hand on your shoulder again, careful not to startle you. "Can I still help you?" he asks.

You look down at yourself, how weird your body looked like this now. Almost clean. "It's fine, I can clean my... front"

You slapped yourself in your mind for that. Luke chuckled silently behind you. "Okay" he sighed. He opened the curtain and slowly stepped outside the shower, partly because he didn´t want to leave, and partly because he didn´t want to slip in the wet floor. "Let me know if you need me for when you're done"

You nodded, and then he was gone. As soon as he walked out the door, you leaned back, letting your head rest on the wall behind you. Your breathing was shaky, and your legs felt weak. The room was filled with the sound of the running water and the beating of your heart. It felt like a dream, yet you couldn't believe how stupid were you. The both of you naked? In the shower? You let him see you like this? What the hell were you thinking?

You felt a little desperate for human touch, that was a fact but, did you have to go this far? What if he thought you were easy? He probably felt pity, and that was why he was helping you. What if you made things weird between you two now?

You finished quickly, cleaning yourself up the best you could, but the process was long. Your body hurt, and no matter how hard you tried, there were still wounds that refused to be cleaned, and it only frustrated you more. You got out of the shower nicely though, wrapped in two surprisingly cozy towels. You noticed the unfamiliar clothes resting on a wooden chair that wasn´t there when you got in the shower. You recognized those sweatpants; Luke brought you clothes.

Luke was lying on the bed watching tv, some old crappy show that distracted him barely from the previous shower experience. You walked slowly, the pain on your legs was almost unbearable. "Um, I'm done"

Luke turned his head to look at you. He was dressed too, wearing a plain shirt and some old sweats. A toothy grin appeared on his lips, "Too big?" he asked, eyes darting down to your covered legs. You blushed a little, startled by the sudden confidence and embarrassed by the fact that you had to hold tight onto those sweats as you walked or else, they'd fall. You sat on the bed next to him, looking for some miracle hairbrush in the empty motel cabinets. You weren´t lucky enough. "I wanted to get you something to eat from the vending machine, but I didn't want to leave you alone" he explained.

You shook your head, "You said we were safe here but it only works when you're in the same room as me?" you suggest, jokingly.

Luke shrugged, "I was sent to find and protect you, so that's what I'll do" he simply replied.

You looked at him, and smiled. How could he be so nice after all the stupid things you've done?

"Don't worry, I'm not even hungry" you stated, completely ignoring his bravery. "I'm just tired, I wanna sleep"

"Sure" Luke smiled. "I'll just turn off the lights and-" he said as he stood up from the bed, walking towards the light switch. "I'll let you sleep"

You frowned your brows though. "Wait, you won't sleep here?" you asked, confused.

Luke reached the switch, yet he didn't touch it. Instead, he glared towards the other side of the room, where the old sofa laid. Now, it was covered in sheets and a pillow, a homemade bed. You noticed the way he tried to avoid your eyes. "I thought you wouldn't want to, you know..." he pointed the bed, followed by a quick scratch on the back of his neck.

You couldn't blame him, honestly. After what happened in the shower, he had all the rights to assume that. But that didn't mean you were okay with it. You didn't want him to sleep uncomfortably on the couch, nor did you want to kick him out of the bed. It was big enough for the two of you. Luke has been having quite rough days, you couldn't help but notice on his tired face. It was his first time resting properly since the mission and he was going to sleep in an old and creaky sofa?

You hissed with pain when you positioned yourself differently on the bed, Luke attempted to grab you as if you were falling, but you got yourself comfortable fast enough. "Don't be silly. Sleep on the bed" you said.

 Luke frowned his brows, followed by a shook of his head in denial "I don't mind sleeping there" he reassured, pointing the couch. "It's not even uncomfortable" he lied, remembering the way he struggled to make it into a bed. ¨At least the sheets are clean, I made sure of that" he added.

"Luke, stop it" you said, behaving tough for a second, "I know you want to sleep here. It´s a bed"

Luke stared at you for a moment, thinking of the way his body was already screaming at him to lay down and sleep. It wasn't that he didn't want to sleep there, it was that he wanted to. He knew the bed was big enough, but the shower incident had him doubting himself. Was it alright? Did you even want him there? Or was he invading your privacy? The questions invaded his mind like a disease, and the way you looked at him with pleading eyes was almost enough to convince him, but the last thing he wanted was for you to feel pressured.

"You saved me. It's the least I could do for you now"

Luke felt his heart melt, and he had the biggest urge to hold you and protect you. But instead, he nodded and smiled briefly. He pressed his sweaty hands against his sweatpants as he started walking, but quickly walked back again to do the previous task he didn't finish; turning off the light. You took the sheets of the bed and slipped in slowly, Luke helped you by holding your arms softly. He slipped after quietly, trying not to disturb the peace.

The silence hugged the room, the only sound erupting from a bunch of crickets outside and the low volume coming from the TV. It was a weird sensation, sharing a bed with someone else after being rescued from a cyclops’ cave, and not knowing what was okay or not. It felt wrong, yet you didn't want him to leave. It felt right, though.

"Good night" you whispered then, closing your eyes, the fatigue in your body screaming for a proper sleep.

"Good night" Luke replied, turning to his side, giving you his back. The bed wasn't small, but it wasn't that big either, yet he didn't dare to move a single inch.

You weren't asleep yet. You heard him for a couple minutes, his breathing, the way he moved slightly, how the sheets brushed against his skin. It was a little distracting, but you felt the tiredness take over you, the darkness surrounding you easily. Luke closed his eyes, but the only thing he could think about was your warmth. It was like an oven, and even if he was sweaty, his whole body was hot. He knew exactly what he had to do, what to say, and he stood there, in that abyss in which someone doesn't know what to do, if step forward or step back.

He needed to get it out of his chest, or else, he would regret it forever.

"I've always liked you"

His voice was barely a whisper, but in the silence of the room, it was loud. The air hitched on your throat. You turned your head to see him, but you only perceived he was turning his back to you.

"What?" you asked. Fearing that maybe, he was talking in his sleep.

Your heart began beating fast. It felt like the shower, a hot embrace.

"I've always liked you, yn" he repeated.

There was a moment of silence. Your eyes were trained on his figure, yet he didn't dare to look back at you. You felt a knot in your stomach, butterflies. Your breathing was calm, yet your heart was beating a thousand miles. Why was he telling you this now?

"I know you have a million things running through your mind right now and I know I'm being selfish, but" he said, words coming out like vomit, "I was so glad that I found you. I'm relieved that you're alive. I guess I'm letting all my emotions get in the way and that's why I'm telling you this now"

It was hard to formulate the right words. He didn't know what was going on, or what he was doing, he didn't know why. Maybe the heat had gotten into his head. It was stupid, the feeling, but he couldn't deny it. He knew that, sooner or later, he'd have to tell you.

Fuck, and if he was telling you this he was going to have to do it the right way.

He turned his body around once again, the bed creaking with his weight. You couldn't see much because of the dark, yet the tv light did just enough for you to see his glistening eyes.

"I know we haven't spoken in a while" he admitted, embarrassed. "But I've always cared for you and you know it. I realized why I cared so much after I lost you"

You stared at him, his brown eyes shining under the yellow light. He was right, the two of you didn't speak since a few years ago, but he was the one to blame. After his own mission, he blew everyone away, every person that tried to help him, including you. He though you did it for pity; he hates pity.

"So seeing you now, after nobody knew anything about you, it's just..." he continued, unable to find the right words. "I'm just glad I'm the one who found you. And I'm sorry about the shower, I-" he rushed himself to correct that mistake before you thought of him as a pervert. "I don't want you to think that I'm trying to do something with you. I wouldn't take advantage of you, and I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable. I know that-"

You cut him off, "I know" you said, reassuring him. You let your hand fall back, placing it over the mattress. "Gods, relax, Luke" you breath out.

You let your hand hover his for a second, until he took the initiative to brush his fingers against yours, carefully and slow. The warmth spread from his hand to yours, and soon, the contact was enough. His eyes darted down, and his thumb brushed softly over the bruises and cuts on your skin.

He had so many things he wanted to say, but none of them left his mouth. He'd have time to do it later.

"Thank you" you said once again. One more time before the day ended didn't hurt anybody.

The corner of his lip twitched in a small smile. "Let's get to sleep, yeah?"

"Yeah" you whispered, "But, can you still hold my hand?" you asked.

Luke chuckled softly, squeezing your hand softly, almost pressing it against his chest. "Anytime"

[justanothermemestrider]

Jago Sevetarion x F! Reader - Assorted Headcanons

Because at the moment, I've got the Night Lord bug really, really bad.

Hope you guys enjoy these couple lil tid bits :)

If any of you have any requests for fics or headcanons, then please leave a comment or send through an ask!

- While most of his brothers would leap at the opportunity to taunt, tease or even hurt you, Jago's own squad, First Claw, are like big brothers to you. Sev has told them explicitly that they are to protect you and show you respect, and out of loyalty they do so from day one. Eventually, though, they don't need to be ordered to look after you: they come to actually quite like you. Talos and Cyrion are particular stand outs, here. Cyrion takes it upon himself to teach you Nostraman, both for your betterment and his own amusement. If Sev isn't around to keep the other, more problematic Night Lords off your back, Talos steps in as your bodyguard.

- All of that said, Jago is absolutely teaching you how to fight. He will show you how to use a bolter and sword, as well as how to kill with your hands. You will spar together often (Jago is shirtless, of course ;)) and more often than not, those sessions will devolve from fighting into... well, other things, shall we say.

- He tells you about Altani. He says her vulnerability and soft nature reminded him of you. Not being able to save her weighs heavily on him, more so than anyone else realises. And after his experience in loosing her, you notice a subtle, yet significant change in his behaviour. He's more physically affectionate, tells you that he loves you more often, and he's even more concerned with your safety than usual.

- You're the best dressed and groomed person in the entire Legion- be they spacemarine, serf or ship crew. Where most humans in the Legion wear little more than tattered robes, your attire is as layered, colourful and stylish as you want. Jago is an absolute sugar daddy; he couldn't bear the thought of the woman he loves having nothing but rags to her name. Also, your clothes are a status symbol. A mark of your importance both to Sevetar and First Claw. Simply put, no one is going to look at you and mistake you for anyone other than Jago Sevetarion's wife.

- Your and Jago's relationship is the one thing that he and Konrad Curze disagree about. Konrad says you're making Jago weak. That you're making him soft, giving him empathy. But that isn't the truth. Yes, when he is with you Jago is a soft and loving man. But in every other aspect of his, you have, if anything, made him even more deadly. Now, he's not just fighting for bloodlust or hatred; he's fighting to protect someone he loves. He'll kill anyone to keep you safe, and therein lies the real reason Konrad doesn't like you. Because between you and him, Jago is choosing you. And Konrad absolutely hates that.

Tags: @solspina @beckyninja @egrets-not-regrets @wolf-feathers12 @jaghatai-khock @lemon-russ @moodymisty @nereidof40k @yanagikou @hatsubara-8chan

[rom-e-o]

Imagine Emmrich getting sick or hurt enough he needs nursing for the first time after wifey is in his life.

Ohhh, yes. Emmrich. The always-giving, charitable healer. The eternal gentleman who has built a career on helping students learn, regularly uses his talents to help the dead find peace, risks life and limb to help Rook despite his fear of death, and BUILDS A BODY for a wisp who stays loyally by his side.

That Emmrich, who has pined for love and marriage but never found connection.

That Emmrich, who probably hasn't someone take care of him in decades. Who, if he got sick, always had to tend to himself, despite exhaustion and achiness. When was the last time you think he had someone at his side when he was sick? Probably his mother or father, when he was a young boy.

Maybe Manfred has helped sometimes, but of course, Emmrich doesn't ask much. Maybe for him to make some tea or wake him if someone knocks at the door, but that's not tending to him. But he can fudge it with a cold.

When he is bedbound will illness/injury for the first time since his relationship with Rook, feeling the caring presence of another at his beck and call is probably a little uncomfortable at first. ("D-Darling, I'll get you sick. P-Please don't worry. I-I'll be okay.") He says this while feverish and shaking, a cold sweat casting a sheen over his brow. Yet, he smiles. "Please, g-go enjoy the day, dearest."

He feels guilty of being a burden. He's a man who has always sought connection, and to over-compensate for his 'faults' (and even his age), he pushes himself hard. He likes to feel needed. He likes to GIVE.

So, to be in a position where he is forced to TAKE? He's hesitant. Maybe it makes him feel nostalgia in a horrible, raw way. He strikes me as a man that only feels worthwhile as a person if he's giving his energy (metaphorically or literally) to others. This feeling amplifies as he ages, and especially as he fails to find that love he yearns for so deeply.

Rook, his lovely wife, understands that. So she sets up a post. Manfred helps, of course. They make sure he's comfortable in bed. Plenty of books are placed nearby, even though he mostly sleeps. The window is opened, if the weather is nice-ish. Candles are lit. The fire roars. Plenty of tea is on tap. Even though he can't eat much, Rook brings porridge and potatoes to him.

She brushes his hair, dabs a cloth over his face, and draws him baths when he's strong enough to leave the bed.

"I-I'm sorry, dearest."

"Why are you apologizing?"

"F-For forcing you to care for me like this," he says as she brings a soapy cloth across his face, cleaning the latest sheen of fever-sweat from his brow.

He can't help but feel like an incompetent fool. He hates her seeing him in such a state. What if she sees him looking so weak and pathetic and decides to leave? It's not that he doesn't trust her. It's that his fear of somehow losing her or driving her away is one of the few things that can usurp logic in his mind.

"I don't recall you forcing me," she parries swiftly, lifting one of his toned arms to bring the cloth down the length of it. "In fact, you urged me to leave you and go enjoy my day. You encouraged me to leave with a handsome smile that was almost dashing enough to make me ignore that pesky blue pallor of yours."

He sighs wearily, still unable to look at her. "Even when I'm in such a sorry state, you still bestow those comforting compliments upon me."

"Because you deserve them." She undoes the top buttons of his nightgown and runs the cold cloth over his chest and neck. He sighs in relief, the cold feeling refreshing against his skin. "And you deserve to be cared for. Doted on. Now ... does that feel nice?"

He doesn't open his eyes immediately. Instead, he takes a moment to fill his lungs with air, the shakiness ebbing. Then, his gaze finds hers, hazel eyes blazing more brightly than they have in days. "It feels heavenly."

"Good." She leans down and kisses the tip of his nose. "Not too heavenly, though. I enjoy your company far too much to be without it for long. I'll start clawing the walls."

"Ha! W-Well, I shall endeavor to make a full recovery as swiftly as possible. How could I not, when I have such a sterling nurse?"

That night, Emmrich asks Rook to read to him. He loves the sound of her voice, and he so rarely has the chance to fall to sleep to it. She obliges, of course, reading him "Hard in Hightown", a fast-paced adventure by the infamous Varric Tethras. ("'You harassed a magistrate's widow. And you practically broke down a comte's door.' She turned to glare at him. 'All before dawn!'")  As she reads and acts out the lines with vigor, she hears him react according. He might gasp in shock, or laugh, or roll his eyes at a pun.

All the while, he uses her arm as a pillow, and gazes up at her, the very image of a besotted fool. A besotted fool with some color in his cheeks and a distinct glint returning to his lovely eyes.

[thatonesillyfrog]

Which category of alterhumanity do you belong to? I'm a therianthrope and a phytanthrope (aka greenkin, woodkin, or plantkin)!

What/who is/are your type(s)? (if you have any) Dingo, cougar, and resurrection fern are my highest kins, and some sort of avian (red hawk, I believe) as well as rodent (most likely an eastern gray squirrel) as well. Some of my headmasters have different ones.

Do you experience shifts? If so, can you tell us your most common shifts and your strangest cameo shift (if you've ever had a cameo shift)? I'm a contherian, so I always have a phantom tail, phantom legs, or phantom something else. I'm also often sensory shifted and sometimes on a weak mental shift. My weirdest cameo shift was either a snake or an airplane.

How do you experience your alterhumanity in everyday life? I am a kemonomimi (which is just a person who likes wearing animal ears and tails, and sometimes other similar accessories) and wear my gear in day to day life. I use my kemonomimi gear to express my nonhumanity and feel happier in my own skin. I do experience species dysphoria, especially around my phantom shifts, so this helps a lot.

What do you think of the community? Depends on the platform! Here, I love the amount of information and fun facts and the way that people really strive to be able to see themselves and be seen as how they identify. I also really love the TikTok therian community as a lot of it is just fun!

What are the things that make you most comfortable and euphoric in your alterhumanity? Wearing tails and ears and collars, quads are fun, laying in specific animalistic positions while doing something like eating or watching TV, etc. I also really like keeping my nails long. Specific kinds of movements are very affirming. I also love doing voice training for therian and transgender purposes. Makes vocals easier and more fun.

Are you experiencing species dysphoria? Yup. Pretty often. It doesn't often get super severe, but one of my headmastes recently shaved off every inch of hair on our entire body and it has not been fun being furless :/ It's also sad whenever somebody bumps into my tail and say sorry and I didn't feel it or notice it. Makes it feel disconnected.

What advice would you like to say to a young alterhuman who has just awakened? Don't try and figure out anything right now! Take your time and let it come naturally. Nothing except a nonhuman identity is required to be alterhuman. You don't need gear, quads, or to be out. Finding community, though, is wonderful. Have fun with your identity, but also feel free to acknowledge the hard stuff. Just remember, it's not all bad. :)

Do you have/want to have gears? I do! I have multiple tails, all of which I've either made myself or (for the taxidermy tails) gotten at yard sales and I make ears on a regular basis. I love making collars as well. I have a buncha puppy stuffies that I consider my pups (in my past life as a dingo I was a mum) and I also have some jangly bracelets that bring me joy. I have a lot of animal themed knicknacks sitting about my room.

Do you know/have any theories about the origin of your alterhumanity? If so, tell us! (all beliefs are legitimate) Trauma, neurodivergency, past lives, imprinting, and simple psychological differences. All of these are valid and (to me) fascinating theories about the origin of alterhumanity in general! For me personally, I think mine comes from trauma and past lives, as well as some neurodivergency.

Tag someone/a creature to answer these questions! @hyprfixed

If you are an alter/nonhuman, reblog and answer these questions!

(don't be afraid to write a lot, do what you want ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯)

1/ Which category of alterhumanity do you belong to?

2/ What/who is/are your type(s)? (if you have any)

3/ Do you experience shifts? If so, can you tell us your most common shifts and your strangest cameo shift (if you've ever had a cameo shift)?

4/ How do you experience your alterhumanity in everyday life?

5/ What do you think of the community?

6/ What are the things that make you most comfortable and euphoric in your alterhumanity?

7/ Are you experiencing species dysphoria?

8/ What advice would you like to say to a young alterhuman who has just awakened?

9/ Do you have/want to have gears?

10/ Do you know/have any theories about the origin of your alterhumanity? If so, tell us! (all beliefs are legitimate)

11/ Tag someone/a creature to answer these questions!ㅤᵕ̈

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Can you please do young hayden coming home to you after meeting some "fans" but lots of them just gave him hate (Since he got hate when he was acting in SW) and he just cries in your arms needing to be comforted and assured.

HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN stepped into the apartment quietly, clearly not wanting you to notice him. His steps were slow, feet barely lifting from the floor, just gliding against the wooden panels. Yet, what he didn't know was that you were curled on the couch, already glancing up at him from your book. Your eyes noticed the slouched set of his shoulders and the way his hands fidgeted at his sides, as if not knowing what to do to them filly.

He looked like a kicked puppy.

"Hayden?" you called gently, setting your book aside.

He didn't answer right away, and you already wanted to stand up from the soft cushion, but he was faster, getting on the couch you were on, using your chest as his personal space to lay down. His cheek squished against your chest, one hand wrapping around your waist and the other falling by his side

"Hey," you mumbled softly, hands coming up to his tousled curls "What happened?"

His lip trembled, and he tried to shake his head, but the moment your hand touched his hair, he broke. A sharp, shuddering breath escaped him as he pulled you into a desperate hug, burying his face in your cleavage.

"I--" His voice cracked. "Just a bad day."

You wrapped your arms tightly around him, one hand gently stroking the back of his head, twirling the curl around your finger. "What was bad, baby? Tell me."

He stayed quiet for a moment, breathing shaky. "The event," he mumbled "Some of them... they just wouldn't stop. Kept saying shit about me, about my acting, about the movies, straight to my fucking face. It was... loud. And mean. Really mean."

Your heart squeezed painfully. "Oh, Hayden."

"I tried to ignore it," he went on, voice muffled against your skin. "But it was just... I don't know. It felt like they weren't there to meet me. They were there to tear me apart. It was so fucking exhausting."

You pulled back just enough to look at him, cupping his face in your hands. You squished his cheeks in your palms, his eyes glassy and too full of doubt. "You listen to me now," you said firmly, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. "None of that shit matters. Not a word of it. They don't know you, Hay. They don't know how hard you work, how much you care, how... amazing you are."

His brows pulled together, and he let out a shaky laugh. "You have to say that. You're biased."

"I'm not biased," tone serious. "I'm honest. You're talented as hell, and anyone who says otherwise is just... I don't know, bitter or jealous or a miserable asshole. Take your pick."

A weak smile tugged at his lips. "You think I'm talented, huh?"

"I know you're talented," you corrected, leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead. "And I know you're also way too good to let a bunch of jerks get to you. They don't deserve you."

He exhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he leaned into your touch. "Why does it feel so heavy, though? Like... like they're right, and I'm just..." He trailed off, swallowing hard.

"Hey," you said softly, fingers sliding back into his hair. "They're not right. Not even close. You're incredible, Hayden. And if you ever doubt that, I'll remind you. Every damn day if I have to."

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca

[pandajaye]

🧸 Changbin as a Father 🧸

✨ Headcanons ✨ (Part 1)

A/N: I'm writing this bcs I was getting baby fever and then I got cuteness aggression from thinking about Changbin as a father sooo here we are now hehe yippee I hope you like it pls enjoy :)

🩷 Reacting to the news 🩷

- Eyes wide and blinking excessively in disbelief with a weak “What?”

- You confirm the news and a smile is creeping up so he does his upside down smile trying to control it

- “I’m gonna be a… I’M GONNA BE A DAD?! FOR REAL?! ME?! HAHAHA!” he’s SO excited 😭

- He was sitting on the bed with you but he gets up and does a little happy dance because he’s ecstatic, but then he sits back down and gives you a hug

- “Thank you so much. I love you so much. This is so important to me.” he just wants to hold you and love on you, he didn’t know when he’d become a dad or even if he’d become one but he was always interested in the concept

- He pulls back away from you and looks at your stomach that is only soft from the satisfying brunch date from earlier in the day

- “I promise to stick to my principles and be genuine to you. I will love you and teach you how to be a good person. Because you are our baby.” he gets quiet… saying ‘our baby’ got to him, his eyes start to fill with tears

- You give him a hug and let him know that everything is going to be okay and that you’ll get through this together, he hugs you again and says “Yes. We will. I promise.”

- He kisses your cheek and side hugs you while holding a hand against your lower belly, he’ll start to call those ‘family hugs’

⭐️ 5 weeks ⭐️

- You’ve already started going to doctor appointments, coming home to flowers and your favorite snacks that he prepared beforehand, turning on your favorite television show to help you relax and ease your mind

- You held his hand as you two spoke to the managers and leaders at JYPE about what’s going to happen in the near future, things regarding his schedules and contracts and discretion

- The members were so excited to find out and were immediately supportive, calling you two after the meeting to see how things went

- “Everything will work out, you two. Don’t worry about anything.” says Skz's amazing leader Bang Chan, and it does make the two of you, especially Changbin, feel better, he tells his hyung thank you for the comforting words

🐽 8 weeks 🐽

- The past three weeks have been a little… textured, you’re starting to feel the emotions everyone warns about with pregnancy which aren’t terrible but you are a more emotional person, Changbin understands this and makes an effort to sit and listen to you as much as he can

- He tells you to text him while he’s at the studio or dance practice and he’ll call you when he has a long enough break to speak with you

- Physically, there’s a small difference in your body that he notices easily since you’ve been together for some years now

- He gives you lots of body massages when you’re tired and researches healthy recipes that you’ll need to start eating, most of the time he just calls his mother and asks her what you may need which leads to her coming over to bring you some lunch or bring you back to her house (if he's working), you’ve been close with his family forever and marriage only made that bond stronger, their house is basically like a second home already

- Both of you had a wonderful time at your ultrasound appointment, he quickly went from chatting it up with you to quietly staring at the screen where the doctor pointed to your baby, he couldn’t believe it despite staring right at the images, that’s your guys' baby!

- This pregnancy was really sinking in for him, well, every day, but it was especially sinking in at this very moment, when the doctor left the room to let you get ready to go home, Changbin gave you a passionate kiss and restated his promise to you that you two would get through this together

- Together you showed the printed copies of the ultrasound images to his family and yours, when you showed the members they were excited and almost couldn’t look away, it was definitely setting in for them as well

🐰 12 weeks 🐰

- Pregnancy is hitting you like a truck, sure life is beautiful or whatever but you're really only good at making things look good when you're in front of others

- Changbin's mom noticed you were trying to hold back how you were really feeling and she tells you to be honest and let it out, you both end up crying, just a little emotional, but she tells you that everything is okay, that you're okay, that they love you, and that Bin loves you, too

- She tells you to take a nap while she makes some lunch that will be healthy but also serve as some nice comfort food to help you feel better

- When you wake up, you can indulge not only in how the smell of the food isn't nauseating, Changbin's there, he was able to leave the studio early and wanted to come see his special lady and his special baby (and his mom of course)

- Unfortunately, you sometimes get sick at home when he's wearing too much of his colognes, you tell him you'll power through it but he insists that he'll either spray them outside of the entire apartment or he'll hold off on wearing them for a while, you're appreciative but it makes you feel a little bit like a bully, you're grateful for him being so understanding

- When the two of you go shopping, he just HAS to go to the baby section and look at all the tiny clothes, did he almost lose his mind when he saw a pink hoodie onesie with a bunny on the front? yes, yes he did, he's trying to be patient but it's hard, you're practically forced to drag him out of the store and rub his back to comfort him, you want to enjoy these next few months while you're still a just duo

🌸🌸🌸 ~ End of Part 1 ~ 🌸🌸🌸

A/N: Was this good? I went by a whole week by week guide from the national health organization to give me some idea of what I was writing here, I hope this seems accurate and is somewhat if not definitely enjoyable bcs I definitely enjoyed writing! part 2 will come out.. at some point, hopefully not too long from now, especiall if this does well! anyways thanks for reading, have a great day!!

Edit: If you’d like to be tagged in the next part, drop your @ in the comments and I’ll start a taglist!!!!

[justabigassnerd]

'Till The End pt. 1

Pairing - JJ Maybank x reader

Word Count - 4,597

Series Warnings - swearing, smoking, angst, fluff, violence, weapons, blood, injuries, death, some canon divergence, drugs, alcohol, mentions of physical abuse

Summary - After coming back from your adventures discovering El Dorado with the Pogues, you thought your treasure-hunting days were behind you. However, soon enough, you and your friends are dragged into another race for a priceless treasure with twists and turns you never could’ve anticipated.

'Till The End masterlist

'Till The End playlist

A/N - hey y'all! it's time for the first part of one of my two JJ Maybank series and I'm super excited to be giving this out into the tumblr world! this is a little birthday gift from me to y'all so I truly hope you guys enjoy this because I have been working on it for a couple of months now and I never want to let y'all down or disappoint you. as per y'all please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

You couldn’t help but smile as you followed behind JJ as he took in every inch of the newly built ‘Poguelandia’, it was like watching a puppy discover his new home. Everyone followed JJ as he excitedly led them through the house, designating rooms for everyone before excitedly dragging you into what he had dubbed as your shared room.

“I can see it now. The business takes off, and then you and I can get a place of our own. Oh, maybe we could use some of our share of the gold money to put aside for a house.” JJ rambles, taking in the new room as your eyes widen slightly in shock at his words.

“Hey, Baby. Eyes on me for a second, okay?” You stay, smoothly stepping in front of JJ and cupping his face in your hands, his eyes struggling to focus on you for more than a millisecond.

“My eyes are here JJ, just look right here.” You say softly, gently coaxing JJ into looking you in the eyes.

“Sorry. I’m getting too ahead of myself aren’t I?” JJ says apologetically, his eyes flicking down to the floor as you brush your thumbs over his cheeks softly, a small smile on your face.

“No, Baby. You’re excited and that’s okay. But we don’t need to worry too much about that stuff at the moment. Let’s focus on getting the business up on its feet with the others first, huh? I’m so unbelievably happy with you and that’s not going to change even if we live in a house with the others.” You say softly, smiling as you shake your head. At your words, JJ gets the courage to look back up at you and offers you a weak smile.

“You sure?” JJ asks quietly, and your heart sinks at his words. You knew about the damage his dad had done to him over the years which had an everlasting impact on his attachment issues. He clung to his found family like they were his lifeline and you knew he would burn down all of society if it meant you and the other Pogues were safe.

“I’m positive, JJ. All I want is to be by your side.” You assure him softly, your smile refusing to falter for even a second. At your words, JJ’s shoulders sag slightly in his relief before he carefully manoeuvres closer, silently asking for permission to kiss you. Without even answering his question verbally, you lean closer, pressing your lips against his in a delicate kiss, your hands traversing up to his hair, messing with the fluffy strands as he deepens the kiss, his hands drifting to your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer. The two of you continued the soft kiss until the need for air became too much and you pulled away slightly, immediately resting your foreheads against each other as you gazed lovingly into each other's eyes.

“I love you so much,” JJ mumbles gently, his smile boyish and lovestruck as his eyes refuse to break the gaze.

“I love you too.” You reply, your voice matching JJ’s in softness as you smile back before he pulls you back in for another kiss. You didn’t know it was possible to love a person as much as you loved JJ.

Both of you had been part of John B’s friendship group for years and as you grew up, your crush on JJ hit you like a giant wave all at once. At first, you thought you could ride it out, act as if it was nothing more than the waves you so regularly surfed on but it soon pulled you under. You often found yourself searching for JJ in a crowd, longing to be near him as much as possible. For the longest time, you thought your crush was unrequited and that JJ would never look at you the way you looked at him. But by some miracle, JJ did reciprocate your feelings, and after a particularly close call, you and JJ had been separated from the rest of the Pogues and while you hid, JJ hurriedly confessed his feelings, both of you terrified that it was going to be your last few moments alive.

Hearing JJ confess that he had feelings for you made your heart flutter, a feeling you’re sure you weren’t supposed to be feeling when your life was at risk. All you could do at the moment was stare, wide-eyed before the sound of footsteps approached nearby and instinctively, JJ wrapped an arm around you, tugging you as far back against the wall as he could, making sure he was shielding you from any potential harm. You both waited anxiously with bated breath, swearing you could feel his heart pounding strongly against your side. You heard the people mingling nearby, their footsteps scuffling along the concrete as they called for you to come out from wherever you were hiding, their voices growing angrier by the second. When one of the men suddenly shouted, you let out a slight whimper which made JJ suddenly press a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet when the men thought they heard something. Your eyes had flicked over to JJ’s in a panic, your shaky breaths now muffled by his hand. Yet somehow, JJ looked calmer than you did. He still carried the tension of a prey animal listening out for a predator, but his eyes were ever gentle, like he was convincing you that everything was going to be okay. When the men began to grow frustrated and walk off, JJ carefully removed his hand from your mouth and apologised quietly. Sensing that the coast was now clear, JJ helped you to your feet and with your hand in his, quickly rushed you back to the Chateau where you discovered that you were alone, giving you the chance to finally confess your feelings to him after his sudden confession. This led you to where you are now, both of you insanely happy and in love.

You were shaken from your thoughts when you heard someone's fist slamming against your closed bedroom door, making you and JJ jump apart in shock.

“Are you guys done sucking face in there? We want to make some food and then set up a campfire or something.” You hear John B call through the door before hearing the unmistakable sound of Sarah giggling outside as well, making you roll your eyes at your friends.

“I’m going to kick his ass,” JJ mumbles as you chuckle at his faux annoyance at his best friend.

“Come on, we should probably eat, it’s been a long day.” You say with a smile, getting ready to exit the room, grabbing one of JJ’s stray hoodies and tugging it on, smiling at the faint scent of his cologne that still clung to the fabric. Just as you moved towards the door, you felt your phone buzz in the pocket of your shorts and you pulled it out without a second thought, turning it on and eyebrows furrowing when you saw the text displayed across the screen.

“What is it?” JJ asks, picking up on your change in mood and instantly wanting to protect you.

“It’s Mom and Dad. They know we’re back from the Oricono and they want me to go over for dinner.” You say with a sigh.

You didn’t have the worst relationship with your parents. They just constantly pushed you to do things that they wanted you to do as opposed to letting you pick your own path. Your family was an outlier in the Outer Banks. You had enough money to get by, so most of the Pogues considered you a Kook. But you weren’t rich enough to own a yacht or a membership to a country club, so the Kooks all considered you a Pogue. It didn’t help your family’s reputation that you were constantly hanging out with the most troublemaking group of Pogues and it definitely added to the tension between your family. And with the way your dad’s business was going, your family was inching closer and closer to becoming Kooks and you knew it was only a matter of time before they bought a house on Figure Eight so the last thing they wanted was a daughter who associated with the Pogues as much as you did.

“Do you want to go? You know you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” JJ says softly, instinctively taking your hand in his and squeezing it softly. He knew about the growing tension between you and your parents. JJ had been witness to a lot of arguments and it broke his heart to see the hurt on your face when your parents tried to convince you to leave behind the Pogues and dubbed it ‘silly’ that you hung out with them.

“I owe it to them to go. It’s just dinner and I can come back home after. I don’t want to miss out on a campfire.” You say, seeing the smallest of smiles crossing JJ’s face when he realised that you had referred to Poguelandia as ‘home’.

“I’ll drive you over. I’m not letting you head over alone.” JJ says, ever the protective boyfriend as you sigh softly before nodding, knowing you’ve lost the battle before you even tried.

“Okay.” You reply softly, opening your phone so you can reply to the message, letting your parents know that you’ll be coming over.

“Let’s go then. John B will let us use the Twinkie.” JJ decides, already leading you by the hand towards the door, quickly locating John B the moment the two of you leave the room and whistling quickly to get his attention.

“Yo, John B! I need the keys to the Twinkie,” JJ says as the two of you approach John B.

“You need the keys to the Twinkie? What if I need the keys to the Twinkie?” John B says, placing a hand on his chest as if he was scandalised by JJ’s demand.

“You boys are ridiculous,” Sarah murmurs with a roll of the eyes and an amused smirk on her face at the antics of JJ and John B.

“It’ll be for a few minutes max. JJ is just dropping me off at my parent's house for dinner. He’ll come straight back after.” You say quickly, conscious of the time and what your parents could be like and at your words, John B was instantly digging in his pocket for the keys to the Twinkie, handing the keys to JJ before offering you a friendly smile.

“You’ll be back for the campfire, right?” John B asks with a raised eyebrow as you nod.

“I’m planning on coming back as soon as I can but also no promises.” You say as John B and Sarah nod.

“Well, we’ll keep stuff aside for you just in case,” Sarah says, her smile ever-friendly as you nod, grateful for your friends.

“Hey, tell the others I haven’t ditched them and I’ll make dinner next time, promise.” You say as you and JJ make your way out of the house to head for the Twinkie, smiling as John B offers you a salute and a friendly wink.

“I won’t have anything to drink tonight. You can text me when you want me to come pick you up.” JJ says, opening the driver's side door and getting behind the wheel while you clamber into the passenger seat.

“You don’t need to do that J, I can make my own way back.” You say with a smile, not wanting him to miss out on the fun.

“I want to. I’m not letting you walk home in the dark. Especially if those damn Kooks decide to roam around.” JJ says, his eyes narrowing at the thought of any Kooks trying to seek out and hurt Pogues and finding you in the process.

“JJ…” You mumble, thinking of another fighting point but just seeing the look on his face was enough to get you to back down. He had made his decision and you knew there was no way you’d be able to talk him out of his choice.

It took no more than ten minutes for JJ to drive you over to your house, and when you saw the all-familiar Jeep parked in the driveway you couldn’t help but tense up slightly, a movement that JJ noticed instantly.

“Is that…?”

“Leo’s car.” You confirm, feeling your stomach twist as your anxiety takes hold. You had a much more tense relationship with your older brother. Leo had always tried to fit in with the Kooks while you were happy and felt much more at home with the Pogues which helped to aid the tension between the two of you.

“Do you want me to come with you? The others won’t miss me.” JJ offers, resting his forearms on the wheel as he looks over at you with a soft gaze that was reserved for you only.

“It’s best you head back to Poguelandia. The last thing I need is a fight breaking out.” You say, looking over at JJ who fights back a frown.

“I’ll be on my best behaviour.” JJ tries bargaining, not wanting you to be alone.

“I love you, JJ. But it’s best I go in alone.” You say softly. JJ was very vocal in his hatred towards your brother, he often enjoyed pushing his buttons to get a rise out of him and there had been multiple occasions where you’d had to step in when it grew physical. You knew JJ’s heart was in the right place, it always was, but you didn’t want him getting hurt on your behalf.

“If you need me, call me. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.” JJ says, his gaze focused solely on you as you lean forward to press a tender kiss to his lips, the moment gentle before you pull away offering JJ a small smile to convince him you’ll be okay.

“I’ll be okay. I’ll come home before it gets too late.” You vow quietly, giving JJ one final soft kiss before turning to get out of the vehicle, offering him one final wave before approaching the front door of the house, knocking tenderly and waiting for the door to open.

“y/n, it’s good to see you.” Your dad says as he opens the door, his smile faltering when he catches sight of the Twinkie, his glare hardening when he sees JJ behind the wheel, studying the interaction carefully.

“Is JJ staying?” Your dad then asks, his tone sharp as he continues to glare.

“No, he just wanted to drop me off. He didn’t like the idea of me walking over alone.” You explain, looking over your shoulder, smiling and waving at JJ to let him know you are okay.

“He better not be hanging out here the whole time. I don’t need people thinking I tolerate that boy.” Your mom then says, sidling up alongside your father as they both watch JJ carefully.

“He’s not staying I just said that. He’ll move on in a minute.” You insist, navigating your way into the house just so your parents would stop glaring at JJ. The moment you were in the house, the door was slammed behind you and you made your way through to the living room where Leo was lounging on the sofa, watching some tv show you knew most Kooks loved.

“y/n. Didn’t think I’d see you around here.” Leo says snarkily as he rises to his feet, the tv show now forgotten as he stares down at you.

“Mom and Dad are my parents too in case you forgot. I could be asking you why you’re here.” You snap back, glaring at your older brother.

“Figured I earned myself a break. I wasn’t going to spend all my time at college was I?” Leo says with the roll of his eyes as he folds his arms across his chest.

“I wish you did.” You mutter under your breath as you turn around, already beginning to make your way through to the dining room.

“What did you just say?” You hear Leo ask as you leave, beginning to trail behind you.

“It doesn’t matter Leo. I was just thinking out loud.” You say, annoyed by your brother bothering you.

“You’ve gotten real mouthy because of those Pogues. Why do you hang out with those assholes?” Leo asks, goading you.

“Those assholes are my best friends and one of them is my boyfriend. I don’t give a shit about what you think of me but don’t you say a fucking word about any of them.” You growl angrily, turning to face Leo.

“Language y/n. What have those Pogues taught you? To disrespect your family?” Your dad interrupts, a steaming dish of food in his hands as he enters the hallway to make his way to the dining room. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at your dad’s comment, he always took Leo’s side.

“I wasn’t- you know what? Let’s just eat dinner. I’ll help bring food out.” You say, throwing up your hands in exasperation as you move to the kitchen where your mom is organising the food into separate dishes.

“I’ll take the vegetables through, Mom.” You say, forcing a smile as you pick up the dish of steaming vegetables.

“Thank you.” Your mom says, barely glancing over at you, her focus staying on what she was doing. You take the dish through to the dining room, fighting the urge to roll your eyes when you see Leo sitting at the table, already plating up his own food while no one is sitting at the table. When all the food was brought through, you and your parents finally settled down at the table and plated up your meals. At first, the silence was welcomed, nothing more than the sounds of cutlery against plates. And then Leo decided to open his mouth.

“So, how well did that supposed ‘treasure hunt’ go?” Leo says with a smirk, convinced he was going to embarrass you.

“It went well enough that we were able to get a business starting soon.” You answer nonchalantly, bringing another forkful of food to your mouth.

“What do you mean?” Your mother enquires, all eyes suddenly on you.

“We bought the Maybank plot. Did up the house and built a little shack out the back, a little waterside surf shop. We’re going to sell live bait, snacks, drinks, all that stuff.” You shrug, watching as Leo’s eyebrows furrow in annoyance.

“You Pogues think you’re actually going to get anywhere with that? No one will want to buy from you guys. Especially using the Maybank plot as your home. No one wants to go near land associated with Luke or JJ, they’re both as bad as each other.” Leo says, raising an eyebrow as you clench your jaw.

“Don’t say that about JJ. He’s nothing like Luke.” You say firmly, fighting the urge to slam your fists down. You’d seen the damage Luke had done to JJ over the years. You had been the one cleaning his wounds and hugging him even when he insisted he was okay. JJ was nothing like his pathetic excuse of a father and you told him as much.

“We all know JJ has a temper to match his old man’s. It’s only a matter of time.” Leo taunts, smirking as he senses your growing anger.

“JJ is ten times the man you’ll ever be. You look down on the Pogues because you’re so damn desperate for the Kooks to notice you. News flash, the Kooks think our family are Pogues. They don’t give a shit about you. Just because you splashed Mom and Dad’s money on a fancy Jeep, people aren’t suddenly going to accept you. Going to college is the best thing you’re ever going to achieve so use it. Get the fuck out of OBX.” You say angrily, your eyes narrowing as you stare at your brother, his shit-eating grin only angering you further.

“Enough of the language, y/n.” Your father snaps, his glare cold as he looks over at you.

“That’s a good point you mentioned, y/n. When are you planning to go to college? Have you looked at any?” Your mother changes the subject, looking pointedly over at you.

“No, Mom. I don’t want to go to college.” You say, exasperated by the question you had been on the receiving end of for years.

“y/n, you can’t throw your whole life away for a silly group of friends. This treasure hunting isn’t a career and neither is that silly surf shop. You can’t make a life like that. You’re only eighteen years old.” Your father says, his voice gruff and firm.

“Dad, they’re not a silly group of friends. They’re my family. I don’t recall many silly groups of friends becoming millionaires the way we have.” You say firmly.

“No. We are your family, not those Pogues. That money will run out sooner or later. You lot don’t know what to do with it.” Your father then says, his fist pounding against the wooden table loudly.

“My bet is JJ will waste it all. Just like his dad.” Leo mutters, making you fight the urge to throw something at him.

“Look, what we’re trying to say is that you’re not going to stay friends with those Pogues forever. And your relationship with JJ won’t last forever either. You’re on a time limit and we don’t want you throwing your life away just for a boy and his friends.” Your mom says, painting on her faux kind voice as you feel your eyes building with tears. Without warning, you push your chair back and get to your feet, darting for the front door and ignoring the annoyed calls of your parents as you exit the house. As you stepped into the cool night air, you debated on texting JJ, but you didn’t want to bother him, he deserved to have a good night with his family. You could make your own way back to Poguelandia.

You tugged JJ’s hoodie further around you as the cool night air settled around you. You couldn’t stop the tears from falling as you relive the comments your family made about your friends and your boyfriend. The walk wasn’t one that would take you too long, but JJ’s concerns about the potential of Kooks roaming around just to bother Pogues rattled you slightly. Every time a car drove past, you felt yourself tense up, worrying about whether you needed to get ready to protect yourself from anyone. When you were about halfway back to Poguelandia, you heard a car pull up alongside you, and your head whipped around, ready to come face to face with a Kook and instead seeing the Twinkie and JJ sticking his head out the window.

“y/n, you gave me a damn heart attack when I saw you were walking home. I said you could text me.” JJ says, holding his phone up and showing you the screen where it displayed your location.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, your voice thick with tears as you look at JJ, seeing his whole demeanour shift when he notices your glassy eyes.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” JJ asks, his eyes growing wide in shock as you shake your head, crossing to the Twinkie and climbing in, tugging the hoodie sleeves over your hand so you can furiously wipe at your eyes.

“Can we just go home?” You ask before JJ can begin asking more questions.

“Yeah, of course. We’ll head home and go to our room, call it a night.” JJ says, looking over at you as a tear rolls down your cheeks despite you trying to conceal your tears.

“No, I want to hang out with the others. I need to take my mind off everything.” You mumble thickly, not wanting to ruin the mood.

“You sure?” JJ asks, briefly removing his gaze from the road to look at you, concerned.

“I’m sure.” You confirm with a nod, your focus on the world going by. Wordlessly, JJ reaches over and rests his right hand on your thigh, squeezing lightly which brings a small smile to your face. Without even trying, JJ was always able to bring the smallest of smiles to your face. It took practically no time to get back to Poguelandia and you were greeted happily by the Pogues who were all sat by the campfire, waving you over.

“You were gone too long, y/n. You could’ve saved us from John B’s cooking.” Kiara teases as you approach the group, turning down the offer of beer from Cleo.

“Sorry guys. Tomorrow, I’ll make the food.” You reply, trying to sound as upbeat as normal but your parent's words were plaguing you. Hovering over you like a cloud. Instead of joining the others by the campfire, you beeline for the hammock, climbing into it and curling up.

“Room for one more?” JJ asks quietly, asking for permission to join you.

“Always.” You mumble in response, waiting patiently for JJ to clamber in alongside you, settling in the hammock alongside you as it sways gently. JJ soon tucks you against his side, his warmth inviting and comforting as you curl into him, resting your head on his chest and watching the others at the campfire whistle and hoot.

“You two lovebirds.” Cleo teases as Pope laughs, wrapping his arm around Cleo.

“I mean come on, Baby, we’re just as bad,” Pope says teasingly, pressing kisses to Cleo’s cheek as she laughs but leans into the embrace. You laughed quietly at their antics, feeling JJ press a soft kiss to the top of your head as his hand tightened around your waist in an attempt to hold you closer.

“You doing, okay?” You hear JJ ask quietly, wanting to check in on you.

“Better. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” You mutter in response, curling impossibly further into JJ, his cologne and his natural warmth comforting and making your eyelids flutter shut, the exhaustion of the day sneaking up on you. JJ seemed to sense your exhaustion, and so his hand moved from your waist to play with your hair, setting his free hand near yours so you could tiredly reach out and fiddle with the rings that sat proudly on his fingers. It had become a nightly routine for you to play with his rings as you dozed off, it helped you relax and take your mind off anything that might’ve bothered you during the day. You were vaguely aware of JJ whispering over at someone but you didn’t bother to strain your ears to try and listen. All you heard was hushed voices and then the sounds of footsteps and twigs crunching before a blanket was placed over you. It was one of the fluffy blankets you and the others used when sat around the campfire. The smell of smoke clung to the blanket after nights of use and it helped to provide even more comfort to you as you pulled the blanket up to your nose, making sure it covered JJ enough too.

“I love you, y/n.” You hear JJ whisper softly as you begin to drift off to sleep, only able to cuddle closer to JJ before you finally slip under the comfort of sleep with JJ’s steady heartbeat pounding beneath your head.

[popculturealchemy]

giant masses

black spears

.

climbed your everest

sherpa, my brain

sherpa, hiding red flags

sherpa, casting shadow on your flaws

highlighting your strength

.

uncanny valley.

you think you're deep

mariana trench vibes coming from your end

Interesting at first

submarines sinking

you sinking them

shallowness,

I was unprepared for the kiddie pool of your truth

.

this shouldn't feel like myst

a complicated turn based point and click wtf nightmare game.

puzzles without answers

you're just fucking vague.

not the same

no solutions; = solution

.

rather be like nintendogs

rubbing my sylus on your bottom screen

doggy style multiplayer coop mission

finding that back and forth frequency we need

.

can't find you now

not sure sure if you had one

someone else got it.

new orbit or something

.

shedding you like leaves

hurting at first

nourishing my roots

creating ecology at my feet.

belonging to the streets

putting things where they go when they go there

.

.

someothing about you died

and you never told me

.

you felt it change

I'm noticing

I'm waiting

el niño

hurricane on the east coast of your phase

waxing and waning

.

no explanation

feeling dark, distance. erasure.

your face is stuck in my vision

.

no explaination needed,

your face is terrifying though

thought I'd give you a warning

.

dropped like a hot stone

falling like a leaf

.

time healing wound of separation

no one at fault

just hurting, foggy

discrete depression all day now

till this things fades

.

oh yeah. that persons not here no more

.

they are but, just different or something

black spear

red rover sent right over

hot girl summer

hot girl stone

warming my bed, thank you

leaves feeling cold now.

.

didn't break my chain.

you found my weak links

actually, I told you

you pulled on them right away

Information used on me

supposed to be used to protect me

complete. utter. lack. of. partnership. skills.

seeing an opening and taking it

full force

my weak weakspot becomes a fulcrum

a toggle switch

trigger my seizures

howd you get in here weirdo

you did this to your grandma too.

i'm so glad you accidentally told me that

feeling protected and hurt by luck

four leaf clover

knowing how to use it

.

not sure what else to say

bon voyage

no hard feelings but feeling only hard feelings

.

focusing on something else now

blurry feeling.

snuffed by the spear

.

feeling like a good year thats mine today

leaves falling

spears forming

nests revealed

needing exploring

.

new changes for new nests

less pesky birds

birds that don't peck

.

ctrl alt del this feeling

rebooting

trying off and on again.

living in the present..

eventually getting there

a lifelong test

.

one moment eclipsing the rest

break up

light shining behind this black prism

waiting to crest

already cresting

glass 1% full today

.

get back together?

.

surely, you jest.

.

I don't want to friends.

Neither did you.

It was supposed us

weird labels

archaic words

wanting to feel special

feeling reductive

reductive popculture moment in your mind.

doing "the thing."

.

enemies feels too personal.

memory halflife

redflags in view now

unraveling.

like a bathbomb fractal galaxy bath

poising the well

my water

black spear to your memory

you're poisoning me know

you're think you're smart because your friends smile while you're talking

dollar store connection

Impetus/ response

.

and now your falling from my memory

.

letting you fall gracefully is my gift to you

and it keeps on giving

enjoy the worms

fly high

.

focusing on my 1% water and black spear

old farmer painting

feeling rugged and dragged around by horses

.

cruel tricks

.

black spear not cruelty

.

third party I need for protection

people like you exist

I know that know

.

Ted talk running late

pixel's remembering my thoughts

you're a leaf now

I'm a tree

[confused-disaster32]

hi I'm here regarding your tags: Cara's terminal illness? He's not having a good time with it but the presence of his rash means he's in secondary stage, which comes prior to latent, asymptomatic phase. The vast majority of people who suffer from syphilis don't actually live long enough for any other reason to EVER hit the tertiary stage which causes death. I think it's safe to say Caracalla's immune system is weak as all hell and he probably won't be that lucky, but he has the best part of his infection ahead - the part where it stops existing, sometimes for decades, before coming back with a vengeance. In theory, if he made it through the fevers and the rest of all that is going wrong with him in the time we get to know him, eventually, it would ease up. For years.

Also, without Macrinus - Geta was actually coming to learn to play the crowds. He listened to Lucilla when Lucilla chose mercy for Lucius against their rhino rider. He hesitates to make the call to the archers - despite all of his rage and hurt - when Lucius refuses to execute Acacius on command. Without Macrinus egging him on, he was hearing the crowd. Despite everything.

This is such a cope but it's also all true. They had hope. They're so goddamn young, but they were going through their hard lessons, and at least one of them was learning. The other one needed bed rest and antibiotics.

Oh - the terminal part I tagged that mostly cause I saw someone else who tagged it the same way and saw that syphilis could possibly get to a worst stage which I knew you could treat with antibiotics nowadays but wasn't entirely sure what happened back then when that wasn't really a thing.. (though I'll admit that I should've done a bit more of a search before that because I don't have a very in depth knowledge of how syphilis works and didn't know how long syphilis takes to get to the terminal point) - and honestly I'm still kinda learning a lot about their characters, which is why I honestly adore your posts though I do still always feel quite awkward/bad whenever I mischaracterise them cause they're genuinely such wonderful characters and I think sometimes I'm a bit too caught up with what they were in the films (manipulated and therefore not rlly having a great time...) and I don't give enough time to think about what they could've been had things gone different ways such as if Geta had had a chance to continue to grow as a person/emperor without Macrinus messing around in the background (though I was mostly basing that tag off of the fact that on the night of Geta's death people were really starting to riot and I didn't think enough about the fact that those rioters don't even get in that night cause like the next day Caracalla has a chance to announce the new consuls and eventually continue with the games and stuff - so my brain decided to just hand me a scenario that wasn't even all that canon compliant in the first place).

Idk if I'm actually getting my thoughts down as much as I'd like bc it's a little late for me rn but

Thank u for this tho bc I much prefer when someone tells me when I'm off then they just let me be cause I hate it when I accidentally mischaracterise a character esp if I'm fond of them 😭

[fallenwhumpee]

Back

Year of whump tropes, January 8, 2025

• Day 8: Emotions | Going through motions • Masterlist •

• Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Masterlist •

Warnings: Self-dehumanisation, unconsciousness.

Right Hand settled next to the couch, their head leaning on Leader's arm. They could feel the rapid pulse, drumming against their ear and fingertips. There was nothing more to do rather than waiting.

But patience wasn’t their strong suit.

Right Hand didn't want to sleep. Didn't want to lose the assuring pulse. They feared, illogically, if they closed their eyes, Leader would disappear. Just like anyone in back there who showed them kindness.

Right Hand knew it was paranoia. They were in the middle of nowhere. Alone. No one could harm them. Except, Right Hand feared the harm was already done. Leader's struggling and quick breaths could stop any moment. Because no matter how much Leader tried to prove othervise, they were fragile. A lot fragile than Right Hand, Youngest, and even Medic, who had undergone so few changes. The one person they all looked up to was the weakest one among them. That was the opposite of what the facility taught.

They all should've been decomissioned by the lab before such a mistake was allowed in the first place.

Leader stirred, as if feeling Right Hand's thoughts. Right Hand ran their hand through the older soldier's hair, undoing the knots on short, neat cut. They knew Leader would be horrified at the thought of anyone touching Right Hand or the team, let alone taking them for decommissioning or reconditioning. Leader always protected them.

Leader was the weakest of them.

It was hard to keep that in mind. Leader pulled stunts no one could. Leader protected the team in a way Right Hand never could. And Leader basically raised them all, when they had no handbook that told them what to do. For Right Hand, no one could be stronger. No one could be better than Leader.

Yet, Leader tried to run away when they crumbled. Right Hand knew calling it as an escape was ignorance, but it was the first time ever that Leader left them for any amount of time. It was the first selfish thing they had ever done. It felt like abandonment despite knowing it was not.

Because  Leader wasn’t supposed to falter. They weren’t supposed to lie there, pale and still, like all the others who had never come back. Leader had no right to scare Right Hand like this.

"You can't leave us alone, you know," Right Hand whispered, knowing they wouldn't have the courage to say if Leader was awake. "Not when we need you."

Right Hand didn't allow themselves to tear up. This was going to be alright. Leader always pulled through. Besides, this was just a healing enchanter. It was just supposed to fasten up the progress. Leader assured them it was going to be alright. And Right Hand believed Leader.

They would call it childish. To trust someone less than a person. To trust someone who was made for simple-mindedly accomplishing the given task. But Right Hand believed Leader because that one task Leader always pursued was keeping the team safe and giving the team a normal life.

For a while, Right Hand just sat there, tracing the tattoo marking Leader as military property, faded with time, and disoriented with scars. Leader would scold them for sitting on the floor without anything beneath or just not sleeping for such 'crude' matter. Eventually, Right Hand did fall asleep, even if it didn't feel restful at all. It was a short break. They didn't need sleep much, their body wasn't weak like humans. And they didn’t like sleep, unlike their teammates. So it wasn't a surprise to wake up before sunrise.

Standing up, Right Hand stretched their limbs. The soreness of sleeping on the floor faded soon enough, leaving them only with their emotions.

Right Hand hated it. Hated that no matter how fast they healed, no matter how their body regulated their heartbeat or breaths, they always felt. There was no way to heal their feelings, and it was the biggest design flaw. What were they thinking while designing Right Hand?

Apparently, the conditioning, too, was immune to healing. Right Hand had been a respected soldier for years now, yet they were feeling like they were going to be dragged to a room to be chastised about being emotional and not acting like what they were going to be just because of showing care.

But lack of punishment made Right Hand so prone to feeling, and it was concerning. They couldn’t deal with their feelings. They were going to be completely useless once - because it was inevitable and Right Hand was somewhat rational to know that - they lost someone. They were going to be barely a shell when they lost Leader, since even one week of absence made Right Hand seek comfort and their foolish mind told them to go back to the place they were raised.

They were supposed to be independent now. That’s what Leader had taught them, even though it took a while to break the thoughts the facility had drilled into their skulls. But how could they stand on their own when their foundation was crumbling? What kind of soldier needed someone like this, so desperately, that they couldn’t even imagine a world without them?

Sometimes, it felt like the trainers were right. It was wrong to feel. They had been told this countless times. But here they were, unable to step away from Leader's unmoving body. Irrational. Not making any sense.

Right Hand adjusted the blanket around Leader’s shoulders, their hands lingering for a moment longer than necessary. It was unnerving to see them so still. Too still.

Right Hand turned back, getting the woods stacked under the stairs and feeding the fire. They couldn't do much at that moment, and while their mind understood that, their heart didn’t. It didn’t make any sense. Their chest squeezing didn't make any sense.

Flames blew out, warming their skin. Leader stirred, turning on their side and tucking their exposed arm into blanket. Right Hand silently stood guard.

[tf2occontest]

Katherine Slyvia / The Burglar VS The Mecha

(Full matchup list here)

Alright team, here's a recap: This is a contest to determine who amongst you will take the top of the leaderboards and be hired at TFI! Simply put, whoever gets the most votes gets to move on, and whoever doesn't... Well. They'll be put down swiftly and cleanly. :}

So, mann your stations, because here are your next contestants! Vote for your favorite mercenary who you want to win the TF2 OC Contest! - P

OC INFO UNDER THE CUT!

We highly encourage you to take a peek to make your decision!

Katherine Slyvia / The Burglar

@kleptomaniask

Image credit: @/shepswrath

Katherine Slyvia - or Kat, to those who know her, is quite the character. Born and shortly raised in Salt Lake City, Utah, She skipped town very young, after years of confinement… if only to menace several American states and almost get caught in a heist at the Met. Fearing the Law was now aware of her, she hopped the pond and landed in Europe, where she went from country to country and continued to silently torment anyone who didn't know to keep everything bolted to the ground. She's especially trained at the art of theft, deadly quiet and intelligent, but she's never been particularly personable. Most people who speak to her find her strange, though they aren't sure if it's the wide-eyed stare or the complete lack of emotional reaction. What they fail to take into account, however, is the empty pocket where their wallet used to be.

The Mecha

@clovert3a

Image credit: @/clovert3a

Meet The Mecha!

Born around Osaka, Japan, the Mecha is the not-so-typical nerdy girl with her gigantic robots and mech suits and a reserved personality. When you need a tank to absorb bullets and protect a team, she is one of your best bets. With her 20-foot mech suit, her shield, and machine gun, she can become quite a threat to the enemy team. She is best used to lead a charge and absorb potential damage for her teammates, with her mech’s HP being 400 (overheal being 550).

Mecha’s main weakness is (like Heavy’s) her lack of speed. Because of her large mech size, she is unable to run off quickly from danger (especially when firing her machine gun or spreading her shield). But! When she uses her ability, Auto-Pilot, this isn’t an issue anymore.

Auto-Pilot is Mecha’s ultimate ability and must be charged up by the amount of damage she shields from her teammates. Auto-Pilot is when Mecha puts her mech on “auto-pilot” and jumps out of her mech to fight in the battle on her own. She isn’t fully vulnerable though, as her speed is only slightly lower than the Scout’s (120%) and she has her trusty Tachi sword which can do a lot of damage in the right circumstance.

Mecha’s typical primary weapon is her machine gun (while in mech), out of mech her primary weapon is a Glock 17 (full-sized handgun). Mecha’s typical secondary weapon is an AR-15 (in mech and out of mech). Her typical melee weapon is either her Tachi sword or her Katana.

Mecha was born in Osaka, Japan. The exact location is unknown, even to Mecha herself. She has lived only with her single father, and Mecha has been told that her mother passed away from childbirth and her father doesn’t like talking much about it, so that’s all she knows. She was raised with the intention that one day she’d become a mercenary. And that is what happened. She started doing mercenary work alongside her father at the young age of 13. She would use her high intellect and passion for robotics and machinery to aid her in battle. Things she’d create such as new and “improved” weapons she had stolen from her dad, drones, etc.

After years of her mercenary work she one day, at the age of 16, presented her first ever mech suit to a robotics fair in Tokyo and was asked to move to Australia and learn more about robotics and engineering there. She took the offer and stayed in school for 3 years. After 3 years of schooling, she surprised her dad one day by visiting him and telling him how she’d continue mercenary work with his help.

Now her father after a few years of working with him, wants Mecha to go off on her own without him. Hence why she's now applying to work at the RED team!

[ewwww-what]

It will be the cry of an animal in pain.

[icewindandboringhorror]

On average, what is the total MONTHLY amount that you spend on dining out*?

*(This doesn't only count going out to restaurants, but also stuff like picking up fast food to bring home, getting a coffee on the way to work, getting a premade sandwich from a grocery store deli during lunch, buying a quick snack from a convenience store or food cart whilst walking somewhere, ordering a pizza or any other food to be delivered to your home, etc.)

*(If you often dine out in groups/as a household: calculate and divide the costs so that you get a Per Person average. This is for YOU individually, NOT the total household/group costs)

(I'm sure polls similar to this have been made before (very common topic), I just haven't personally seen one that I can remember, so, I was curious to do my own! I was discussing this with a group of people today and it was very interesting to see how widely the number varied between individuals. :0c )

(Reblog for bigger sample size if you can, and feel free to explain your answer in tags if there's anything extra to add!)

[sluckythewizard]

BUT IM NOT A WRITER. something strange possessed me to write my first proper fanfic in maybe a decade. be niceys to me but also grill me so i can get stronger. this one is a stupidly self indulgent bit between Soda and Emizel, a day or so after emizel was sired. CW for gore descriptions, but thats about it i think. image below is a snippet of the start. the rest of the whole dang thing will be under the cut. ive never posted fanfic ever in my life. read my tags for secret behind da scenes commentary

"Oh shit… I think hes dead…" It was another night, another patrol, another fight, and another win, for Emizel and Soda.

Under moonlight, under street light, under interwoven wires above, the two stood here in a quiet and damp alleyway. The air was drenched with the smell of a previous rain, and the puddles of said storm remain huddled in corners and pot holes.

One splashed as soda found himself stepping forwards into one. The residual adrenaline of the fight had left his body shaking, his heart still pounding, his wounds still throbbing. They had still won; or more-so, Emizel had won. A particularly nasty blow to the side had Soda reduced to the side lines for most of the fight, left to watch as his newly vampiric comrade had absolutely eviscerated the competition.

Emizel had only been turned a day ago, but it was impossible not to notice how it had changed him. He already acted so goddamn confident, so on top of the world, and this newfound power, newfound speed and strength, only built upon his insane ego.

The Fangs that they encountered here on this night stood no fucking chance. Emizel was too quick, too strong, and he easily chased off the rivals. It was only now, as the final unfortunate opponent had turned to flee, a clean clock in the jaw sent the human tumbling to the ground with a dull thump, and it did not move afterward.

Soda shifts his shoe out of the puddle, the cold seeping into his sock being one of the few things keeping his mind in his body in the moment. Is the guy breathing?

A low laugh bleeds from Emizel as he stretches his arms, licking his sharpened teeth as he stares off in the direction the remaining Fangs went. Soda knew that look on his face, the look of a tiger pondering on its next kill, he knew well that Emizel wanted to chase them.

But the guy on the ground.. It was one punch to the face, and the wicked crack sound that came from it had planted a seeding dread within Sodas chest.

As he steps forward, around the puddle, the resulting sound made Emizels attention click back over to Soda, the snap of his gaze making Soda flinch.

The two lock eyes, and Soda weakly gestures to the limp body on the floor. "The uh.. I think.. Is that guy dead?" He finally asks, having a hard time keeping contact with Emizels intensely red eyes.

Emizel turns his attention to said body, tilting his head as he goes to kick at the thing, turning it over. "Man no way hes dead, I punched him once." He mutters.

"Well, yeah, but his head almost twisted all the way around when you did.." Soda steps up to stand beside Emizel, the two boys standing with their hands in their pockets, down at this unfortunate, limp body.

"Should we hide it?" Soda asks, glancing back over at Emizel, who had.. An odd look on his face. He was clearly pondering something, but Soda could only guess whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his. He knew and trusted that Emizel was smart. If anyone could figure out what to do about this, it would be him.

But the lack of an answer had anxiety chewing at the back of Sodas rib cage, and after a second, he speaks up again, compelled to fill what he perceived as a tense silence. "Like.. I dunno, I've never uh... killed a guy..." He shrugs, prompting Emizel to let out a big sigh.

"He's not dead man, just out fuckin cold." Emizel kneels down next to the body, putting an ear up to its chest, and pondering on that for a moment. An uncertainty twists his expression, as he decides to instead place a hand on the victims throat, checking for a pulse. A moment passes, and seemingly finding nothing, he pulls back.

"Uh... Okay, so he might be dead."

Something about the confirmation from Emizel made a shiver run up Sodas spine. That, or maybe it was just the breeze agitating the cold water in his shoe.

"Huh… Damn.." Was all that Soda could really get to leave his mouth. Which was hardly a splash compared to the torrent that was slowly churning in his head. They just killed a guy. Or, Emizel just killed a guy. And it was so easy. They had to hide the body now, right? That was the usual progression here? Getting caught for murder was way more extreme than getting caught for breaking mailboxes with soda cans. It was so, so disturbingly easy. It really was just one punch. It's not like the Fangs are weak by any means, so just one punch? And this guy is dead? Forever?

Or, perhaps by human means, their rivals were fairly tough. But Emizel was on a whole other level. No mortal could stand up to him now...

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question had pulled Soda back from his head, his gaze flicking back over to Emizel, who was looking up at him with those eerie, piercing red eyes. Soda felt another shiver.

"Uh, ieah man, I'm all good." Soda nods, swallowing down whatever anxiety was bubbling up in his throat.

But Emizel didn't seem satisfied by his answer, standing back up and staring down his human comrade. Soda couldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead traveling downward, and pausing on Emizels red, cut-up shirt. There was something off about the color, the way it seemed darker in some spots, brighter in others.. Wait, wasn't Emizel wearing a white shirt before all this?

The vampire boy seems to pick up on Sodas expression, following his eyes down to his shirt. "Oh, yeah! While you were on the floor, the knife guy got me a little" He says, a stupidly simple smile on his face. Soda was about to let out a laugh at how unbothered his friend seemed by it, but it gets caught in his throat when Emizel goes to pull his shirt up.

The sound of the bloodied fabric peeling away from skin made Sodas own skin crawl, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the sight of the intense gash running from his collar bone, down to his stomach.

"Oh, fuck dude!" Soda gasps, but Emizel laughs it off. Even despite knowing Emizel well, Soda was still surprised by just how much Emizel could shrug off. "Shit, doesn't that hurt, dude?"

"Oh yeah this fucking hurts!" he says with a laugh, his smile big and toothy and proud as he presents this egregious wound. Swollen and angry, pulsing with a slow heartbeat, and still oozing with thick, dark blood.

The sight of the split flesh, and the glints of bone beneath the dark, dark red all tugged at Sodas gag reflex, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. So Emizel's just been walking and talking so normally this whole time with his chest just cleaved wide open? Soda felt just as impressed as he felt horrified.

It wasn't until Emizel reaches down to poke at the abhorrent wound that Soda snaps out of it. Watching his friend press his fingers into the bloodied flesh, and slowly pulling it apart, allowing more ichor to seep from the gash, it was too much to watch at this point.

Soda reaches up to put a hand on Emizels wrist, the vampire boy stopping, and looking up at his friend.

Soda found himself freezing again when he locks eyes with Emizel. He was going to say something now, right? "U-uhm.." Is all he really chokes out, giving Emizels wrist a gentle tug. "D-do you. Uh. I suppose a hospital Isn't a place you can go anymore..?"

Emizel just smirks at that, letting Soda pull his hand away from the wound. "Oh, yeah no, but it's fine. I mean, I don't think it's gonna kill me" He shrugs. It was so, so impressive just how unphased Emizel was by all this. Fuck he's actually so cool.

"Well yeah man but it's like, still a bleeding hole. Like you're soaked in blood dude, I'm pretty sure that even a vampire needs that stuff on like, the inside." Soda rubs the back of his head, still unnerved by the sight of it all. "Vampires have like, super healing, don't they?"

"Oh yeah like, regeneration powers. I know I heal faster sometimes but I dunno how to just, activate it on command.." Emizel hums, his eyes narrowing down at his own injury, as if trying to will it into mending. Soda looks away, unable to watch that vile gash ooze any longer.

"I dunno man, how do they do it in like, video games?" Soda tosses the question out, trying to click together some sort of solution in his own head.

"Uhhh.. Huh, video games.." Emizel repeats to himself, chewing on the thought while idly poking at the laceration; until an idea audibly flickers to life in his head. "Oh, I just gotta refill my blood meter. Or whatever."

"Oooh yeah, blood meter!" Soda perks up, "Of course, see this is why you're the brains, man" Soda smiles, glancing back over to his cool friend, but immediately needing to look away again when the sight of that egregious gash tugs bile back into his throat.

While Soda averts his eyes, Emizels eyes wander back over to the body, and that classic 'Emizel has a bad idea' smile creeps across his face.

"Well, if this guys dead, I'm sure he's not gonna need all that blood.." He grins, kneeling down next to the body again.

The word 'wait' had hardly gotten the chance to crawl from Sodas mouth, before Emizel lifts up the arm of the unfortunate body, pulling the sleeve back, and immediately sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist.

The sound and the sight of blood gushing around Emizels teeth made Soda cringe, his hand impulsively coming up to aide his own wrist. An empathetic phantom pain made his wrist ache, his imagination simulating the feeling of shark teeth cutting into skin, sinking deep into the flesh, and clacking against bone. That was a lot of blood, that was streaming down the arm of this fodder.

A low growl bleeds from Emizel as he adjusts his teeth, cutting into more flesh, opening the wound further, and allowing a pulsing torrent of red to stream down his chin, onto his coat. It was an annoying thing, to clean blood out of clothing. Most of the Demons deemed it easier to just let the stains remain. But the night that Emizels throat was torn open, and liters upon liters were granted freedom from his human form, the unbelievable mess had practically changed half the color of Emizels iconic coat.

That was the first time Soda had ever seen that much blood from one person. And well. This would probably be the second.

The sight was unnerving, but it was impossible to look away. The alley was quiet, save for the distant bustle of a distant city, which made the noisy squish and squelch of teeth gnawing on flesh all the more apparent and nauseating.

Emizel had become a monster for sure, and watching it feed on something was… thrilling, in a way. It reminded Soda of feeding a pet spider, or lizard. A mouse for a snake.

It's a heavy thing to witness, the end of a human life. The fear of death is a primal thing, and Soda was no different from any other living thing. He figured everyone else feared death just as much as he does. Well, maybe except for Emizel, of course.

It made sense. Emizel was such a cocky and noisy kind of guy, but hes always had the power to back it up. Even when he lost, or seemed at his lowest, Soda still saw this sort of fire in him, one that Soda admired.

Of course Emizel would be the one to become something like a vampire. Something that Soda had always figured was just a fantasy creature thing. He wondered; if vampires were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Zombies? Unicorns? Are there real demons? Like from hell? Is hell real? Is he going to hell?

The sudden ttteeeeaaaaarrrr of flesh rips soda from his wandering thoughts. Emizel was tugging his head away from the arm of his kill, his teeth clamped down into the chewed meat, and pulling it apart. Soda had seldom seen so much of the inside of a human arm, and the sight of spilling threads and squirming veins was hardly something he ever wanted to stomach again.

"Oh fuck, dude, hey-" Soda steps forward, raising a hand, but the way Emizel snaps his head back over to him, twisting to an unnatural degree, Soda cant help jolting back.

Reddened teeth glint menacingly in the low light, a threatening growl thundering from its clenched, dripping jaws. Emizels eyes were focused, yet wild, glowing with whatever light they could reflect.

Sodas eyes were wide, and his body was frozen in the thick, electric tension within the air. It was like staring down an angry dog.. Suddenly a light bulb in his head flickers to life. It was kind of like an angry dog, right? One hunched over a meal it didn't want to give up. Memories of old encounters and unfortunate dog bites resurface in Sodas head, and with that experience, and with those lessons learned, he gathers the courage to react.

He shuts his eyes, keeping them closed for a few seconds, as he slowly pulls back his arm, and slowly steps back. It was an eye contact thing, wasn't it? Eye contact makes dogs angry, right? That was how you dealt with an angry dog? As he pulls back, and takes in a breath for composure, he finally dares to peek at the angry vampire before him again.

Its snarling had died down, but its eyes were still trained intently on Soda. After a tense, and agonizingly, slow pause... It blinks back, lowering its head back down to its meal, but keeping its anxious stare on this potential threat.

A relieved sigh falls from soda as the tension finally melts. He didnt realize he was holding in so much of his breath. "O-okay, man.. It's yours, you uh.. Earned it.." Soda mutters, stepping back further, until he was standing in a sufficiently dry enough space to sit down in. Now that he wasn't standing, he was finally taking into mind just how much his hands were shaking.

It's odd. Soda couldn't really describe this feeling thrumming in his chest as something like fear.. Nausea? For sure. Disturbed and rattled? Oh absolutely. This was certainly a sight he would have a hard time scrubbing from his eyelids when he sleeps tonight. But he wasn't scared. The memory of the night that Emizel was sired still coated the inside of his mind like an unwashable film. Even in that moment, when the unnatural teeth from the unnatural maw of an unnatural thing hovered over his throat, he couldn't say with confidence that he was scared.

Emizel really is his best friend in the world. And he knows with his whole heart that Emizel feels the same. He knew and trusted that his best friend would never hurt him. Not too badly at least. He loves Emizel, and would give anything to support him.

Like a mouse to a snake.

This really is an incredible power that his comrade had come across, and Soda especially felt a sort of pride in his friend. He felt it was worth it to help him feed it.

The bile in his throat had made its point, and Soda agreed, that watching someone die, and get torn apart and drained might be too much for him. Despite how much he hated the Fangs, the end of any human life seemed like such a jarring thing. To have such an intense fear finally get confronted. Would he go to hell?

Maybe he couldn't just feed people to his friend. So an alternative could be donated blood, right? Soda wouldn't mind giving up something like blood. His body makes it for free, after all. Maybe some other Demons would agree to give up some blood too. But they shouldn't have to take on such a burden. Soda wouldn't mind being the only one. The only one. The only one.

His hand comes up to rub at his neck, as his imagination conjures up what it might feel like to have teeth sink into his flesh. He's been stabbed before, is that sort of what it would feel like? Would he have to get stitches? He didn't really want to get stitches, so maybe there could be a more effective way to get the blood out of him. And there was so much vital stuff in his neck too. There's' a vein that's safe to cut into somewhere, right? He would have to look that up later.

A STARTLING RINGING;

Splits the moment,

Prompting both Soda and Emizel to jolt in shock,

As the phone in Emizels pocket rings away.

Acting as if nothing abnormal had taken place, Emizel pulls out his phone, and answers it.

"Heyy, Johnny! Yeah we chased em off, I don't think those bastards will be infesting this street again anytime soon. Yeah, ieah we'll be heading back soon. Oh fuck yeah dude, save us some!"

Emizel covers the speaker of his Nokia, turning back to Soda with a big smile on his violently bloodied face. "They got some pizza waiting for us back home, dude!" he whispers out to him.

Soda does his best to crack a smile, and to suppress the look of unease that probably stained his face, as he stares at the literal murder scene that's been splattered about in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, hell yeah man.." He swallows down the bile again. "What kind of uh.. Soda did they get?"

Emizel ponders that, before turning back to the phone to ask Sodas question.

"Sprite and a big pack of that one strawberry mountain dew" Emizel tosses the answer back over to Soda, who gives a nod, and thumbs up.

Mountain dew is so neat, Soda really liked all the wacky flavors those guys come up with. The thought of going home and opening a can of soda was certainly a comfort. After witnessing all this blood and gore and viscera, Soda absolutely needed to get back home and get a nice cold glass of something bright red .

As Sodas mind wanders off to soda, Emizel wraps up the conversation on the phone, before hanging up, and standing up.

The movement had pulled Sodas mind back into the moment, enough for him to timidly voice a concern he's had since the start of this debacle.

"Uh, hey, so.. The body, should we… Uh.." He gestures vaguely to it, and Emizel grants it a nonchalant glance.

"Eh, I can toss it into a dumpster or something, I dunno. I'm sure its fine. I'll handle it."

The vampire boy goes to pick up the corpse, the wound in its mangled arm no longer even dripping with blood, the flesh pale from the absolute absence of red in its veins.

"Go ahead and meet me by that one mailbox, the one with the bullet hole in it." Emizel casually instructs, tossing the drained body over his shoulder. "I'll catch up."

"Uh, yeah, okay.." Soda musters up a nod, and the strength to rise back up to his feet, wincing as that bruise on his side makes itself loudly known again. He still felt anxious, but even despite it all, he knew he could trust Emizel to take care of things. He always does. "Just stay safe man, I'll see you there." Soda assures with a smile, and Emizel matches it, tossing him a wink. And then suddenly- -He's gone! If Soda had blinked he would've missed it, but he was fortunate enough to just barely catch the glimpse of Emizel darting off at an inhuman speed, probably looking for a place to dump the body. Right, he would take care of it. Emizel always makes sure his crew is taken care of. Well... Guess all that's left for Soda is for him to walk back to that meeting spot. He looks around the alley for a moment, taking in the sight of that enormous pool of blood in the middle of the concrete. Or whatever the floor of this alley is made from. He ponders on the present moment a little longer than he meant to, the shock of it all leaving him aimless for just a few, soothing moments of just, decompression. The night is quiet, vast, and cold, but the stresses of just the past 5 hours had left his body radiating with fiery aches and pains, so the chill of the occasional clawing breeze was welcomed. Except for when said breeze agitated the cold water still soaked into his sock. He should step in another puddle on his way back to even it out. The smell of rain still rested heavy in the air, heralding another storm on the horizon. There was that, and then, well, there was also the blood. The stench of it felt far too intense to just ignore it, the metallic miasma making itself maliciously unmistakable. Maybe the impending storm will wash this mess away... He looked forward to putting this unfortunate night behind him. With one last rattled, but deep breath, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns away, strolling back over to the mailbox that Emizel had described.

He couldn't wait to get home and drink some soda with his friends.