#now valuable resources to your side?

[drdemonprince]

Is there a polar opposite of transphobia?

Like I’m a newly transitioned trans man and suddenly everyone wants a piece of me. In a weird way. Like people have started asking me to join committees and talk to youth groups and shit so they have their “representation”. I’m now the token trans person. I live in a small lefty town. People either want to ask me allllll the questions or they are too scared to even talk to me in case they offend me. Suddenly everyone wants to be my friend. I feel like I’ve joined a club I did not agree to sign up to. Like is this normal? Is there a term for it? I have a lot of gay male friends who are awesome, no other trans people local. I’ve started connecting with people online.

I mean some people have been cunts for sure. But mostly it’s nauseating fawning. I know this is a stupid thing to be complaining about but I guess I’m curious.

I’m not that special, I’m actually just an angry little man.

My brother dear, what you are experiencing is a very common combination of the growing visibility & tokenization of being a newly out marginalized person, and the massive increased authority, social trust, social value that comes with being a man.

Welcome to male privilege baby, to put a spin on a far more undermining phrase that typically gets hurled at trans femmes. You will be considered a trustworthy authority on trans issues, a valuable contributor to panels and workshops, a needed (but also highly convenient to access) form of "diversity" for a workplace, a welcome attendee at all manner of events, and you'll be deferred to over women, especially trans women, for pretty much the entire rest of your life, if you continue to remain out about the trans side of things.

Guys like us are invited, centered, included, listened to, treated with respect, treated with WARMTH, viewed as intelligent, perceptive, sensitive, safe, trustworthy, reliable, and desirable to include. In the eyes of the cis public, we are a "safe" kind of trans person who does not make people uncomfortable to look at and who doesn't challenge their pre-existing understanding of gender hierarchy; when they listen to us, they get to trust in the certainty of a MAN giving them information, but they can also feel comfortable and safe around us as a kind of enlightened, sensitive nonthreatening figure.

We're men who can can explain sexism right back to women. We're trans people who went from being subjugated as women to being rewarded with privilege as dudes. In this way, trans men being positioned as an authority figure reinforces the existing gender hierarchy, which feels soothing and right to people's brains.

You will have to be conscious of this power differential for the rest of your life, around cis and trans women alike, because otherwise it plays out in a pretty traditionally sexist fashion: people (especially women) will go quiet when you start speaking, you will be given credit for ideas that were a collective effort, your emotions will be more likely to be taken seriously and seen as a sign of principle rather than weakness, and you will be regarded as special and memorable while dozens of other people and their concerns are passed over.

Another factor that is at play here is a phenomenon that is less specifically gendered, because it does happen to trans women too, and that's the phenomenon of cis groups making the newly-out trans person their token and educator, because typically it is the newly out person whom they have the most access to and power over.

The moment that a trans person transitions they immediately start getting singled out as an expert and resource on the trans experience, asked to lead workshops at their jobs and explain concepts to people and attend events and sit on panels. I think on some intuitive level cis people kinda *know* that the newly out are in a vulnerable, uncertain state and have fewer communities ties and less experience than more seasoned trans people do, and so they make the ideal "translator" of trans experiences to them as an audience.

In cis people's minds, you're not gonna push back, you're not going to complicate their narratives, you're not gonna be tired of answering offensive questions, and you will be freely available to them as a resource, because you've just come out. You'll put a friendly face on transition, one marked by newness and hope, rather than be jaded, complicated, or assertive at them. That's their expectation.

It makes no logical sense to make a newly out member of the community the arbiter of transness or the educator on the trans experience, but it DOES make sense that a powerful group would view such a disempowered and disconnected (relatively speaking) member of the trans community to be the most attractive to include.

Of course, this might not be true to who you actually are. But on a gut level, this is how the newly out trans person is typically seen: nonthreatening, moldable, convenient, so thankful to be included that they won't be angry. And you will be doubly rewarded for fulfilling that role if you are a man.

The only way to upend this narrative being forced onto you is for you to speak up, every single time you are invited to an event, and demand that just as many trans women be included in that event as trans men. Make sure to have a nice list of experienced, wise trans femme friends whom you can recommend as speakers and co-panelists in your pocket.

More often than not, you will be thanked by cis people and rewarded for having the brilliant idea of including women in a conversation about gender minority status. How the trans women in the equation get treated, well, you'll need to pay close attention to, and be ready to stand up and speak out the moment any passive aggressive exclusionary bio-essentialist fuckshit gets going. You can do it! And lots of times you ARE the person with the power to set things right. You're trans and you're being singled out, but you also are a man.

[exorcxqsm]

The price of desire.

ᯓWord Count: 4,4k

��� tags - WARNINGS: mdni, reader isn’t the lnds!mc, explicit sexual content, alterations to the main story, toxic relationship, dr/y humping, t/easing, (lowkey) o/rgasm control, b/egging, f!receiving oral, p in v, unprotected sex, breath play, sensory play, spanking, mention of breeding!kink (toxic if you squint really hard), creampies, dom!sylus, use of pet names (kitten, sweetie), violence, mentions of blood and injuries.

ᯓnotes: This is my first published work here, it took me some time to write but I believe I’m content with how it came out. At first, the idea was to keep it a part one which is connected to an event of the series. Ending this part, I can think of some ways this can go, but I’d still want your opinion:) If you want to see more of this, please go ahead and ask. Any reblogs and likes will be appreciated. 

You were a dangerous woman, a fact well-known throughout the N109 Zone. As the assistant to one of the most feared men in the underworld, your reputation was built on the edge of a knife. 

But today, the real danger sat directly across from you at the table—your boss's most formidable and deadly rival: Sylus.

His silver-white hair fell messily over his forehead, creating a disheveled yet intentional look that only added to his unsettling charisma. A smirk played on his lips, while his crimson eyes held an unreadable intensity,  as he sat on the table with his henchmen on each side of him. Luke and Kieran.

You had done your research, uncovering every scrap of information about the three men before you. It was a challenge, of course; the leader of the most notorious illegal organization in the N109 Zone wasn’t one to divulge valuable intel easily. Yet you had pieced together enough to know the depths of Sylus's ruthlessness.

You were certain of one thing: Sylus would not hesitate to sacrifice anyone—including his own men—if it suited his purpose. The black-red tendrils of his mist would mercilessly end the person and he wouldn’t blink an eye while his lethal capability, capable of extinguishing a life in an instant, would take over. 

The only individuals he seemed to protect were Luke and Kieran, his unwavering henchmen, whose loyalty was both a strength and a potential weakness in this deadly game.

Everyone claimed that the twins were somewhat adopted by him—a complex relationship in which he protected and provided for them in exchange for their loyalty and services.

If you were being honest with yourself, you found yourself drawn to the twins. They exuded a carefree spirit that brought an element of fun, even in the context of business. You often wished you could shed your own uptight demeanor and embrace life as they did.

Your thoughts were abruptly pulled back to the present when one of Sylus’s men dropped two large armory boxes onto the table that separated your group from his. As the man opened the boxes, a collection of modified and illegal firearms was revealed, each piece looking as lethal as the man who had crafted them.

Dante, your boss, rose from his chair beside you to inspect the guns. After all, that was the purpose of this meeting—a trade, a business transaction between two men who despised each other's very existence, yet could not deny that, in times of crisis, their respective resources could prove invaluable to one another.

Dante provided the protocores, and Sylus expertly modified them. When Dante requested his part of the deal, the modified protocores were returned to him in the form of firearms capable of ending a life in less than the blink of an eye.

“Resourceful as always, Mr. Sylus,” your boss mused, but Sylus’s gaze was locked onto yours, seemingly ignoring Dante entirely.

“Oh, Dante,” he said, the man’s name dripping with disdain, “my little black heart is shattered into pieces. One would think you’d have learned by now not to question my methods or my work.”

You rolled your eyes at the silver-haired menace, your heels clicking against the carpet in a rhythm of impatience. You were growing weary of this standoff. Dante needed to state the agreed price and move on already.

“Set the price.”

Sylus’s smirk widened at Dante’s request, his eyes now fully focused on him. He seemed to stall deliberately, taking slow, measured steps around the room. His imposing aura filled the space, the coat draped over his broad shoulders swaying slightly with each movement. Finally, he came to a halt by the table, gripping its edge with both hands and leaning forward.

“Such a pretty kitten you have with you, hm?” he taunted.

Your gaze turned icy as Dante’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Are you referring to Miss Y/N?”

Sylus tilted his head to the side, his crimson eyes locking onto you once more, studying you with an intensity that made you uneasy. “You’re a foolish man, Dante.”

“What the hell did you just say?” 

You exhaled through your nose, frustrated by your boss’s inability to keep his pride in check when it came to Sylus. This man ran an entire organization yet seemed unable to handle a little provocation.

“I said…” Sylus drawled, relishing the moment, “you’re a foolish man. Only someone with the brain capacity of a goldfish would keep a pretty kitten like her uncollared.”

You shot up from your seat faster than lightning, leaning dangerously close to Sylus, your hand itching to grab one of the weapons from the boxes in front of you.

“You should watch your mouth when speaking to a lady, Mr. Sylus,” you seethed, your voice low but fierce. “Only a man with the brain capacity of a goldfish would disrespect a woman for no apparent reason.”

Sylus chuckled at your retort, a wide grin spreading across his sharp features, revealing his teeth.

“Feisty,” he mouthed, a smirk playing on his lips, meant only for you to see.

Just then, Dante stepped up behind you, and you almost forgot he was there until his hand landed firmly on your behind, giving it a squeeze. Your hand was so close to the gun that it took all your willpower not to reach for it.

Sylus's expression shifted, the amusement fading as his brows furrowed, re-centering on his forehead.

“Set. Your. Price,” Dante reiterated, his body uncomfortably close to yours.

You had served as his assistant for far too many years, becoming accustomed to his unpredictable behavior. Yet, deep down, he knew you wouldn’t dare act against him with all his guards surrounding him.

You were a capable assassin, more than capable of matching his malevolence, but you were just one woman up against his entire army. He was well aware of your skills, which is precisely why he always kept a close contingent of guards present during your meetings in his office. You were his most valuable asset, yet he was frightened of what you could do if pushed too far.

Despite this knowledge, he often seemed to forget the extent of your capabilities, choosing instead to provoke Sylus.

“Her.”

“No.” Your response was immediate, your tone firm. He couldn’t be serious.

Dante’s chest shook with laughter beside you, his golden teeth glinting in the light.

“She’s off the table, I’m afraid,” he added, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Very well, then.” Sylus retracted from the table and rose to his full height, a shadow looming over both you and your boss. “So is the deal. Have a good one, Mr. Dante.”

Your shoulders relaxed for only a brief moment, but before you could even blink, you found yourself lifted off your feet and thrown over the table like a ragdoll.

Fucking bastard.

Of course, the deal was too important for him to let it slip away. Sylus knew exactly what he was doing when he pulled this stunt.

“Don’t even think about it,” you spat, your voice harsh and defiant. “I am your right hand; your business will crumble without me!”

Sylus seemed to revel in the chaos, leaning casually against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest. As his black-red mist began to swirl around the room, it coalesced around your body, lifting you off the table and bringing you effortlessly to his side.

Your struggles were utterly futile. No power could match his evol.

“Bastard!” you yelled, directing your fury at your boss.

Dante let out a deep sigh, visibly irritated but choosing to remain silent. His organization was already on the brink of collapse, a fact known only to you—and apparently Sylus too. That was the reason he had recently struck a deal with Onychinus; only their resources could possibly uplift him now—if anyone could, that is.

“Always a pleasure doing business with you, Dante.”

The plush sofa of his dimly lit living room felt uncomfortably rough against your bare thighs as you took in your surroundings. Your revealing dress had ridden up significantly due to the twins’ rough handling as they placed you there, while their boss prowled around the sofa like a predator circling its prey.

The record player in the corner emitted a classical melody that only heightened the unnerving atmosphere, each note echoing with an eerie elegance.

“So uptight,” Sylus whispered in your ear, causing you to jump as his breath brushed against your skin. You hadn’t even noticed when he had gotten so close. “My, my… and so jumpy, aren’t we, kitten? Just try not to scratch my ceiling.”

You turned to glare at him, and if looks could kill, he would have been slain by the fire in your eyes. Nevertheless, you managed to keep your voice steady. “Why am I here?”

He didn’t bother to meet your gaze as he sank into his enormous cushioned chair across from you. A black-and-red mist began to swirl around your body once more, and before you could react, it lifted you off the couch and positioned you right on his lap, straddling him.

“What the hell?”

His hand shot up, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Shh, just keep your claws sheathed for a moment.”

You could feel your patience wearing thin. “Why. am I. here?”

Sylus's jaw tightened slightly, and if you weren’t intently observing his every expression, you might have missed it. “Because, kitten, Dante and I had a transaction.”

“Isn’t your typical price protocores when dealing with my boss?”

“Typically…” Sylus’s gaze was fixed on your face as an eerie silence enveloped the room.

Before you could process his words, his hand snaked around your throat, pulling you closer. His eyes locked onto your lips, a predatory glint flickering within them.

“What are you doing…” you whispered, your body tensing in instinctive response.

“Show me, kitten.”

“What?”

Sylus chuckled softly, a mocking sound that sent shivers down your spine. “I know you’re a smart kitten; don’t play dumb with me. It won’t help you.”

Of course, you understood what he was implying, but how did he know?

“I have no idea what you want,” you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

His hand tightened around your throat, making it increasingly difficult to breathe. Then you noticed it—the red glow of his eye—and you realized what he was doing. “Show me.”

Ironically, he was now in control of your actions, even though he sought the opposite.

You slowly removed your glove, compelled by the white-haired man in front of you. Your bare hand pressed firmly against his chest, and in an instant, his heartbeat ceased.

Your breath hitched in your throat.

You stared at his face, dumbfounded, as the glow in his eye faded and his complexion turned an ashen pale. Before you could comprehend what was happening, a low chuckle echoed through the dimly lit room.

Sylus’s chuckle. He was alive. Wait, what the hell?

His laughter grew more vibrant with each passing second as he took in your horrified expression. You shot your hand out again, daring to touch him, but he caught your wrist, tossing it aside with ease.

“Ravishing…” he breathed, his eyes darkening to a richer shade.

You watched him for a moment, trying to make sense of everything that had unfolded in the past few hours, until suddenly, everything clicked into place.

You gasped.

“You fucking bastard!” you shouted, fury igniting in your voice. “Is this why you didn’t take the protocores? Is this why you asked for me?”

Sylus’s arrogant smirk returned, dominating his features. “He wasn’t aware of the precious possession he had in his own house, sweetie. But I am.”

“You are… sick.” The expression on his face darkened, and something twisted in your gut, though you wished it was anything but excitement at his subtle praise. “You will not control me. I belong to no one.”

“Oh, kitten, I’m not trying to control you. This is just… a deal.” His eyebrows shot up, his face tilting slightly to the side as if he found your defiance amusing. “Isn’t business what you excel at? Or do you want me to believe it was Dante who called the shots?”

Your own expression faltered, but your body began to relax atop his, a fact he noted with a small, apprehensive smile that curled at his lips. “Are you trying to extract intel from me?”

He rolled his eyes at your tactics, a playful smirk on his face. “You are so gullible, kitten.”

He leaned in impossibly close, your breath catching in your throat and a shiver coursing through you as your body responded to his proximity. This was all so wrong.

“He didn’t value you nearly enough, sweetie,” Sylus whispered against your pulse, his warm breath sending a jolt through you. “But I can.” His teeth grazed your throat, and as your mouth opened, no sound dared to escape your lips.

“I…” You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I have no idea what—”

In one swift movement, you found yourself perched on the edge of the chair, Sylus looming over you like a consuming inferno. Your chests were nearly touching, and his eyes held a dangerous allure as he stared directly into your own. “I believe you do.”

His hand drifted from beside your head, descending to your collarbone as his fingertips caressed the delicate skin with a featherlight touch. “You can end someone with just a touch…” he whispered against your neck, and you had to fight against the electric shivers coursing through your body. “I am the only person you can’t kill, even if you tried, kitten.”

Your mind was slowly turning to mush as his hand roamed over the sensitive swell of your breasts, his lips planting tender kisses against your throat. “Don’t you see where I’m going with this? We’re meant for each other. Kindred spirits.”

“You’re insane,” you wanted to accuse him, but your voice came out breathless, betraying your mounting desire. A soft grunt escaped his lips, a sound that only fueled the tension between you.

“If I’m insane, what does that say about you, sweetie?” He began kissing his way down from your neck to your collarbone, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “I can smell your arousal from up here.”

You gasped at his bold accusation, your body jerking in response, but it only heightened the sensation as your clothed core pressed against his torso. You tensed, and his lips curled into a dangerous smirk. “So insatiable…”

“This is so wrong…”

“I’ve never been a righteous man.”

You leaned back instinctively, your hands reaching out as if to find comfort around his neck, but he halted your movement just before contact.

In your hazy state, you noticed him licking his lips, his gaze searching the floor for something—your glove.

“As much as I can’t think of another way to go, I’d prefer to be fully conscious when your pretty cunt is all over my mouth.”

“You’re… outrageous,” your voice faltered, betraying the rush of emotions coursing through you. Your body reacted in ways that contradicted your words.

“Do you prefer gentle, kitten?” Sylus asked, his fingers teasingly tugging at the neckline of your dress, unveiling your flushed skin. His tongue flicked over your right nipple, while his other hand caressed the neglected one. “Would you rather I whisper sweet nothings and cherish you gently?”

His tone dripped with playful mockery, and you arched your back, responding instinctively to his touch and taunting words.

“Would you like me to take it slow? To tell you how beautiful you are?” he teased, his laughter rumbling softly in the air.

Your resolve crumbled as he nipped at your sensitive bud, his hand expertly working the other. “No!” you moaned, your gloved fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, caught in the intoxicating desire in the air.

He growled against your chest, his body pressing forcefully against your legs as they parted to accommodate him. He felt a thrill of compliance wash over you, nearly tempting him to follow through on his suggestion to take it easy.

“More,” you demanded, your fingers tugging insistently at his head, guiding him downward to where your dress had pooled around your waist, leaving your red lace panties tantalizingly exposed.

Sylus grinned at your eagerness, his gaze lingering on your clothed cunt. “God, kitten…” he grunted, pressing his nose against the damp spot on your panties, a rush of heat flooding your cheeks as a thrill of shame coursed through you. “Did you wear my favorite color on purpose?”

His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Or did you wear it for him?”

You could only whimper in response, arching your body desperately to bring his face where you craved it most. Instead, a sharp sting greeted your cunt, your eyes widening as a gasp of surprise escaped your lips.

He slapped your pussy again, his expression darkening into a scowl. “Answer me, kitten. Did you get all dolled up for him?”

You clenched around nothing, the possessiveness in his tone igniting a deeper need within you. “No,” you whimpered softly. “It wasn’t for him.”

In an instant, he tore your panties away, his mouth descending on your cunt, his tongue skillfully lapping at your folds. “Good girl. Good fucking girl.”

Your fingers clawed at his shoulder, sounds of pleasure escaping you uncontrollably as he toyed with your sensitive clit. “Such a sweet pussy,” he grunted against your core, sending shivers through your body. You slid down the chair, his face pressed firmly against you, your lower body lifted almost into the air. His strong arms wrapped around your thighs, hoisting your legs over his shoulders as he devoured you.

“Say my name, kitten.”

You felt yourself teetering on the edge, already giving him too much. “N-no.”

His teeth grazed your clit, sending waves of pleasure and frustration coursing through you as he slid one finger against your entrance, teasingly. “No?”

“No.” Your voice trembled, betraying the mix of emotions swelling within you as you neared your release with each stroke of his tongue, yet your stubbornness held firm.

“Very well, then.” In an instant, his mouth was gone, leaving you feeling cold and exposed as he stood to his full height.

“What…?”

Sylus leaned over you again, delivering a sharp slap to the side of your breasts that made you squirm and gasp. “This is my zone. My side of the board. Here, you either play by my rules and win, or you go against me and lose.” His voice was low and commanding as his hand reached down again, sliding two fingers inside you, curling them to find your sweet spot. “What will it be, kitten?”

By this point, your entire body felt like it belonged to someone else. “Please…” Your voice was laced with desperation, the plea spilling from your lips, unrecognizable even to you.

“Please what? Just say it, sweetie,” he urged, a teasing glint in his eyes.

His fingers quickened their pace, and your legs trembled under the mounting pleasure, each mewl that escaped your lips a symphony to his ears. “So—Oh my god… S-so close.”

The moment he sensed your walls beginning to clench around his fingers, a satisfied smile crept across his face, and you returned it through a haze of bliss—until you felt him start to withdraw.

Your hand shot out, wrapping around his wrist with a desperate grip, pulling him back toward you. “Sylus!” you cried, your stomach twisting in knots as sweet release threatened to crash over you.

“Sylus, yes, oh my god, yes…” You were barely coherent, the words tumbling from your mouth, but Sylus grunted, his pants taut against his rock-hard cock.

“That’s it… That’s it, sweetie, I know. Drench my fingers; they’re all yours.” He moved with an urgency that took your breath away, thrusting deeply inside you, sending shivers through your entire body as you rode the wave of your climax.

You panted, your chest rising and falling heavily. As the haze began to lift, your mouth fell open in awe, watching Sylus suckle on his fingers, his eyes glowing with satisfaction as he savored your essence.

A fresh wave of slickness coated your folds, and Sylus cursed under his breath as he stood, taking you with him. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your bare, wet cunt smearing against the fabric of his pants, leaving a tantalizing mess.

The coarse material of his attire heightened your senses, making your body arch in his arms as you ground your hips down, chasing that blissful friction.

“So eager…” he whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your skin before he nipped at your earlobe. “And so fucking wet.” He strode toward his desk just a few feet away, easing you onto your feet. “I’m going to devour you.”

In one swift motion, your belly pressed against the polished surface of his mahogany desk, your body bent over, your ass perfectly positioned for him. He didn’t allow you a moment to breathe before two sharp slaps landed on your cheeks, your body jolting forward in response.

Your moans filled the air, driving him wild, and the way your back arched instinctively shattered any semblance of his control.

You heard the unmistakable sound of his zipper, and a thrill raced through you as his cock was freed from its confines, teasingly brushing against your entrance.

Turning your head over your shoulder, your eyes fell on him, and a rush of desire coursed through you. He was enormous, his veins prominent and pulsing, the tip glistening with precum that trickled down, landing directly on your cunt.

“Sylus…” You brought his attention back to you, and the look on your face made his brows knot slightly in concern.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?” he asked, his voice thick with lust yet surprisingly calm. “Do you want me to stop?”

You placed your hand lightly against his abdomen, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, and shook your head. “No, it’s just…” Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson, almost mirroring the color of his eyes. “It’s not going to fit.”

Sylus paused, momentarily dumbfounded, before releasing the breath he had been holding along with a low chuckle. “We’re going to make it fit, kitten.”

Skepticism flickered in your eyes, and he noticed.

“Do you trust me?”

“No.” You answered honestly. He had been your rival until now, and you couldn’t fully grasp how your dynamic had shifted to this moment, you bent over his desk, spread  and exposed.

He grinned, shaking his head in amusement. “You shouldn’t.”

In one powerful thrust, he was inside you, and your eyes rolled back in your head as pleasure surged through your body, overwhelming your senses.

“Fuck!” you cried out, but there was no pain—he seemed to know exactly how to plunge into you.

“Shit… You’re so tight,” Sylus growled, his hips slapping against yours as he took you roughly, driving deep against the surface of his desk. “It would’ve hurt more if I’d taken it slow, sweetie.”

It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to speak, but even if he could, you wouldn’t have heard him. Your mind was consumed with the exquisite fullness of his cock filling you completely.

Your eyes crossed as he continued to thrust in and out, your lips parted in a silent gasp, drool escaping the corner of your mouth and trickling down to the polished surface of his desk.

“Cock-hungry little whore,” he grunted, folding his body over yours to penetrate you even deeper. “And you claim you hate me.”

“I d-do,” you managed to moan, your legs trembling from the intensity of the sensations.

“You hate me, yet your sweet cunt is squeezing my cock like it’s her lover.”

Your mewls and whimpers grew louder with each thrust, your head spinning from the overwhelming pleasure. “Sylus…” you moaned his name, urging him onward toward his own release.

“What is it, sweetie?”

“I-I’m… s’close. So so close.” Tears were welling up in your eyes, and Sylus moaned deeply behind you as he felt your cunt squeezing him, clenching around him like he belonged there. Because he did. 

His hand shot up, wrapping around your throat as he kept pounding you from behind, his whole desk shaking from the force of his thrusts. You were sure a bruise would form on your abdomen where it made contact with the wood. 

Your eyes rolled as he applied more pressure, making it difficult for you to breathe. “Such a pretty kitten…” He moaned in your ear. “And now she’s collared. As she should be.”

Your orgasm broke through you with a new force, the tears escaping your eyes and your cries lulling Sylus to fall on his own release right after you.

“Fuck.” He moaned, his teeth clamping down on your shoulder. Rope after rope of cum filled your cunt, his thighs shaking slightly from behind you as he emptied himself inside you. 

You were so overstimulated and sensitive by your encounter when Sylus caught his dripping cum from your thighs and pushed it right back in.

Your legs threatened to give out, your mind clouding the moment he began to fill you with his seed once more. “Such a pretty cunt, used and bred by me,” Sylus murmured, his voice low and possessive. “What will your boss say when my kids are running around his base, huh?”

You weren’t even aware of how or when it happened, but suddenly you were moaning his name, sweet and desperate, as you drenched him once again. This time, the force of your release was blinding, your vision fading to a brilliant white.

Confused, you turned to see Sylus, his abdomen glistening with your essence, his fingers slick and dripping as he stared at you with a manic edge in his eyes.

“Oh my God…” Heat rushed to your cheeks as the realization of what you had just done washed over you. “I’m sorry… Sylus, I’m—”

Before you could finish, his hand pressed firmly against your lower back, forcing you back into position as you tried to shrink away from his gaze. “Kitten…” His voice was taut, barely contained. “We’re not leaving this room until you do this again.”

[worldofstoriesanddreams]

Isn't there an age limit?

The Justice League gathered in the meeting room to deal with yet another potential world ending threat. On the screen was a projection of an incoming alien armada. The invaders were as numerous as the stars. Each spaceship looked like a skull with many tentacles.

“These mechanical ships harvest a world’s resources, destroying all life, while terraforming the planet into servers which become part of Brainiac’s interstellar network,” Batman explained.

“We don’t have sufficient numbers to take them all down,” Martian Manhunter pointed out. “Is there a weakness we can target? Or do they have a leader we can capture to force the entire fleet into submission?”

“We need to locate Brainiac and infiltrate the ship he’s on.” While Batman spoke, a hush silence fell on the entire room. Everyone stared at the screen behind him, with mouths wide open.

Turning around, Batman stared in unbelief.

A massive sphere - a dead star, moved between Earth and the alien army. 

The cameras zoomed in on a red dot pushing it - Fawcett’s new local hero with the demeanour of a golden retriever - Captain Marvel. 

Gripping the titanic star like an oversized plastic ball, he swung it forward, hitting the incoming spaceships out of the galaxy.  

The Herculean man’s face lit with childish glee as he pumped his fist in the air. 

Grinning like an idiot, he carted the unimaginably heavy celestial object away, while whistling a ditty. 

How powerful was that man? 

More importantly, does he have any weakness in case he needs to be taken down?

“Phew,” Flash was the first to get his voice back. “The new guy took care of that. So can we go home now?”

“No,” Batman raised his hand. “Change of agenda. It’s time we expanded our membership.” Keep your friends close but your enemies closer. What better way to keep an eye on the new guy than to bring him into the fold.

Superman had a silly hopeful grin on his face. “I vote we invite Captain Marvel to join the League.”  The Last Son of Krypton must suspect that the new hero is a fellow Kryptonian.

“We don’t know anything about him,” Green Lantern cautioned.

“Better get him on our side than have him join our enemies,” Batman replied as the screen showed photos and articles about Captain Marvel gleaned from the internet for all to study.

“He’s clean.” Cyborg ran his checks on the man. “He’s a boy scout. Half of all the footage I have found — and I mean exactly half — shows him rescuing cats from trees or helping little old ladies cross the road while carrying groceries for them.”

“Cast your votes,” Batman ordered. “Do we want Captain Marvel to be a member of the Justice League?”

*

The decision was unanimous. Captain Marvel has a place in the Justice League, that is, if he wants it. With his power set, he would be a valuable asset to the team. All appearances of the new hero have shown that he is one of the good guys.

“I’ll ask him,” Superman volunteered. He was dying to meet the new guy. He had to be a fellow Kryptonian. Though he must have a chat with The Captain about Bat-paranoia, to hide how much Kryptonians can really do. Otherwise Bats might break out his Kryptonite stores to hit them both.

For example, while pushing a titanic star, for goodness sake, please make it look a lot more challenging.

According to Cyborg, Captain Marvel would appear in Fawcett right after a massive lightning strike from the clear, cloudless sky. The hero tended to patrol Fawcett for an hour before seven in the morning and for an hour after three in the afternoon on weekdays. His schedule was more unpredictable during the weekends. 

Clark was a reporter. 

Could The Captain be an elementary school teacher in his civilian identity?

It was a quarter past three on a Wednesday afternoon. Superman hovered four hundred feet above Fawcett’s busiest square, drawing a curious crowd while he waited for Captain Marvel to make his appearance.

Lightning struck an alley near a local elementary school.

“S-superman!” Captain Marvel hovered in front of him. 

The man’s brilliant blue eyes brimmed with excitement as he stared at Superman with an open-mouthed grin. 

“What brings you to Fawcett?” The Captain’s cheeks flushed as he stiffened, arms crossing his heavily muscled chest. If Superman didn’t know any better, he’d think Captain Marvel was starstruck.

“Captain Marvel,” Superman began, feeling a little self conscious.“I come on behalf of the Justice League. We’ve seen what you can do and want you to join our team.”

“You want me to join the Justice League?” The big guy was practically bouncing with excitement. If he were a golden retriever with a tail, he’d be wagging it.

Just as abruptly, he looked down, slouching as if trying to shrink his large frame. “But isn’t there an age limit to join the League?”

“We don’t discriminate against anyone based on their ages.” 

Superman whispered conspiratorially. “I don’t even know how old I was when my ship landed on earth. For all you know, it could have taken lightyears to get here.”

“Hmm,” Captain Marvel rubbed the back of his neck. “If you say so.”

“Take your time to think about it,” Superman handed him a League communicator. “This is for you. If you want to talk to us, just press this button,” he showed The Captain how to use the device.

“For me?” The guy looked as excited as a kid who had received a shiny new toy. 

“Yes, for you,” Superman replied. “Call us when you’ve decided.”

“I want in,” Captain looked up, grinning from ear to ear.

“Then, welcome to the Justice League!” Superman shook his hand. “Come with me to our headquarters.”

*

The flight to the Justice League’s Headquarters with Superman was fun. 

That giant satellite that Cap often flew past when he left earth’s atmosphere was the Justice League’s Watchtower -  a secret meeting place for Justice League members.

Billy was flying with Superman. 

Elated.

The SUPERMAN!

How cool was that?

His hero was a lot chattier in person. 

Superman talked about Krypton, his home world. His dad uploaded all Krypton’s history and knowledge into the A.I. of the spaceship that brought Kal-el to earth. 

Kal-el was Superman’s birth name.

“What’s your birth name?” Superman asked?

“William,” Cap replied.

“Wil-em,” Superman looked deep in thought. 

“The Ems — I think I know your bloodline.”

“You do?” The thought that Superman even cared about Billy’s family warmed him like a cup of hot chocolate. But as far as Billy knew, he was a Batson, not an Em. He was four when he lost his family. It’s been three years since. His memories of Daddy, Mummy and Mary were beginning to fade.

“Come with me to my Fortress of Solitude after your induction and I’ll show you Krypton’s records about the Ems,” Superman grinned as he tapped on the satellite.

A panel slid open.

“Where is it?” Cap asked as he flew into the airlock.

“In the Arctic,” he accompanied Cap in the dock.

“Are there polar bears?” Cap felt giddy with excitement.

“Plenty,” Superman laughed as he walked Cap through the massive hall. It was like nothing Billy had ever seen. 

“I can introduce you to a family of friendly bears,” Superman grinned.

“I would love that,” Billy’s heart did flip flops over the thought of getting to meet polar bears who were friends with Superman. Cap could speak all languages. He’d have a great time chatting with Superman’s bear buddies.

“Holy Moley,” Captain Marvel exclaimed as he walked through the security checkpoint. The doorway opened into futuristic corridor with interactive walls and holographic displays. 

Announcing the arrival of Superman and his guest Captain Marvel, a tinny voice rang out.

“Brace yourself,” Superman whispered. “The rest of the League is waiting for us in the meeting room.”

A metallic panel slid open revealing a grand meeting room. Batman sat at the head of the long table. Wonder Woman, Flash, Green Lantern, Cyborg and Aquaman sat around it. There were two empty seats.

All eyes were on Captain Marvel.

“Holy Moley,” Cap whispered. He couldn’t help himself. It’s a bad habit he picked up from his late father.

“Guys,” Superman announced. “Captain Marvel has agreed to join the Justice League.”

The room broke into applause.

“Welcome to the team,” Flash whooped.

“Let’s celebrate,” Aquaman tilted a large bottle of whiskey, filled a glass and slid it across the table to Captain Marvel.

Cap looked at the glass in front of him and back at Aquaman. “Isn’t there an age limit?”

[buckets-and-trees]

No Way Out

Characters/Pairings: mean Alpha!Bucky x curvy Female!Omega!Reader Word Count: 5.9k Summary: Your first time witnessing a council meeting under Bucky's new regime. He sends a clear message about how things will go. (not a stand-alone read)

Content/Warnings: omegaverse; reluctant attraction; power dynamics; manipulation; threats; semi-violent murder; explicit smut: exhibitionism, cock-warming, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, unprotected vaginal intercourse and insemination, oral (female receiving), cum appreciation; beefy Bucky (is a warning)

Author Notes: Been a few months since the last part, but I couldn't let Alpha April pass without tossing you back into this verse and its cruel White Wolf now, could I?

Previous: Entanglement | Series List

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

The massive doors to the council chamber swing open, and all eyes turn to you and Bucky as you enter. The room falls silent, the previous murmurs of conversation dying instantly. The council chamber is imposing with its high vaulted ceilings, ornate woodwork, and a large oval table dominating the center. Around it sit two dozen men and women.

You recognize most of the faces - regional leaders, mayors, the city council for the capital, military leaders, heads of major industries, and a few of your father's most trusted advisors. Some were loyal to your father, others were known opportunists, and a few are new faces - Bucky's people, no doubt. Their expressions range from surprise to curiosity to barely concealed hostility as they take in your presence. 

Bucky's hand remains firmly at the small of your back as he guides you toward the head of the table. There are two chairs there - one slightly larger than the other. The symbolism isn't lost on you or anyone else in the room.

At Bucky’s side, you keep your head high and shoulders squared despite the scrutiny of those assembled. The tension in the room is palpable as Bucky pulls out your chair first. The gesture appears courteous, but you understand it for what it is - a display, establishing your position as his omega while simultaneously marking you as subordinate.

"As some of you may have heard," Bucky begins without preamble once you're both seated, his voice carrying effortlessly across the chamber, "my omega and I have completed our bonding ritual. She will be joining our council meetings as an observer for the foreseeable future." 

Murmurs ripple through the assembled council members. You catch snippets of whispered conversations - "didn't waste any time," "strategic alliance," "what does this mean for us?" - before Bucky silences them with a sharp look. 

"I expect her to be afforded every courtesy befitting her station," he continues, his tone leaving no room for argument. "She knows this territory and its people. Her insights will be valuable as we move forward with our integration plans."

You notice several council members exchange glances. You keep your face schooled in a stoic expression. You are navigating this dynamic and figuring out exactly what the extent of your position - or your station as he put it - really will be. You suspect you are both tool and asset, a prop and a resource. 

Bucky begins the meeting with a territorial status report. Various council members deliver updates on security, resources, infrastructure, and economic matters. You listen intently, mentally clock which council members that are new representation seem competent and which ones appear to be merely parroting what they believe Bucky wants to hear. Among all - old and new - you note which ones seem genuinely concerned about their people's welfare and which ones are merely posturing. You're familiar with most of their districts, having visited them with your father during his governance tours.

Throughout it all, you're acutely aware of Bucky beside you. His presence is commanding, his attention laser-focused on each speaker. When he asks questions, they're precise and probing, revealing a depth of understanding about territorial governance that surprises you. You'd expected a warlord with brute force, not this strategic mind that seems to grasp the complexities of civil administration.

"The agricultural sector in the western region is still underperforming," reports a thin man with wire-rimmed glasses. "There’s been a notable decline the last two years, but there’s a marked different in production since you came to power - numbers are down fifteen percent from the same month last year."

"Causes?" Bucky asks sharply.

"We believe it's a combination of factors. We have reports of labor shortages, continued drought conditions, and equipment failures," the man replies. "Additionally, there is some resistance from local farmers to the deliver on the quotas," the man explains, shuffling through his papers nervously.

You notice how he carefully avoids mentioning that the "resistance" is likely passive protest against Bucky's regime. The western region had been particularly loyal to your father. 

Bucky's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "And what solutions are you proposing?" 

"We've increased water rations for irrigation and implemented penalties for farms that don't meet their quotas. We’re sourcing new equipment in some cases. We're also bringing in workers from the northern territories to address the labor shortages."

You feel a flare of indignation. The western farmers are already struggling, and penalties will only worsen their situation. Before you can think better of it, you shift slightly in your seat. Bucky notices immediately, his eyes flicking to you before returning to the council member.

"And how are these northern workers being compensated?" Bucky asks. "Are they being given fair wages and adequate housing?" 

The thin man shifts uncomfortably. "They're being provided with basic accommodations and standard compensation packages for migrant workers." 

You recognize the euphemism for what it is - exploitation. Your father had worked hard to eliminate such practices. 

Bucky leans forward slightly. "Adjust the compensation to match local rates and ensure proper housing. We need those workers content, not brewing resentment. And the equipment - I want a detailed inventory by the end of the week of what's needed." 

The man nods quickly, clearly surprised by the directive. 

"As for the quotas," Bucky continues, "I want them reassessed based on current conditions. Punishing farmers for factors beyond their control is counterproductive." 

The meeting continues with reports from other regions. Throughout it all, you mentally catalog the information, noting discrepancies between what's being reported and what you know of these areas. You're particularly concerned about the reports from the eastern mining communities where production is supposedly up, but there's no mention of the respiratory ailments that historically plague those workers without proper safety protocols. 

When the discussion turns to security matters, the atmosphere in the room shifts noticeably. Rumlow steps forward from his position near the wall where the STRIKE team members stand at attention. 

"We've neutralized three resistance cells in the past week," he reports with cold efficiency. "Seventeen arrests, five casualties during apprehension. Intelligence suggests two more cells operating in the southern district." 

Your stomach clenches at the casual way he mentions the deaths. You wonder who these "resistance fighters" were - ordinary citizens pushed to desperate measures, or truly violent insurgents. Under your father's rule, public protests had been permitted within reasonable boundaries. Now, any dissent is labeled as terrorism.

"Details on the casualties?" Bucky asks, his voice neutral.

"Three armed combatants, two collateral during a firefight in a market square," Rumlow responds without hesitation.

You feel a chill run through you. Civilians. Dead in a market square. You keep your face carefully blank, but inside, your mind races with images of the bustling southern market you've visited many times.

"Interrogations?" Bucky asks. 

"Ongoing," Rumlow replies with a slight smirk that makes your skin crawl. "We've extracted some useful information already. Names, safe houses, potential targets." 

"And the southern district cells?" 

"We're tracking them. Should have locations within 48 hours." 

"I want the weapons traced," Bucky orders. "And I want to know who's coordinating these cells. They're too organized to be operating independently."

"Yes, sir. We're pursuing several leads."

Bucky nods, seemingly satisfied. "Good. And remember our approach - surgical precision. Civilian casualties undermine our objectives." 

You feel a flicker of surprise at his words. It's not the ruthless response you expected. 

"Sir," Rumlow acknowledges, though you detect a hint of disappointment in his tone. 

As the meeting progresses, you notice several council members glancing at you perhaps wondering where your sympathies lie. You keep your expression carefully neutral, though inside your thoughts race. 

The Mayor of Oakridge reports on about infrastructure concerns in his district, Bucky shifts slightly in his seat beside you. His large hand slides onto your thigh under the table, the heat of his palm burning through your skirt.

Keeping your expression neutral despite the unexpected touch, you continue to focus on the presentation. But then Bucky leans in close, his breath hot against your ear.

"Come sit on my lap," he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. "I want you warming my cock while we finish this meeting."

Your body goes rigid, eyes widening at his words. You turn your head slightly, certain you must have misheard him. But his expression is deadly serious, his eyes dark with expectation. There's no hint of teasing or arrogance in his face—just the clear command of an alpha who expects to be obeyed without hesitation.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you glance around the table. At least eight more representatives still need to speak. 

His fingers tighten on your thigh, not painfully but with unmistakable dominance. “Omega,” he growls quietly.

You feel heat flood your cheeks, there is no room for argument. The expectation in his eyes is clear—this is a test of your obedience, perhaps even a reminder of your place after he granted you the concession of attending this meeting.

With your heart in your throat, you slide from your chair as gracefully as possible. All conversation stops as you stand, and every eye in the room turns to you. The silence is deafening as you move to Bucky's chair. He pushes back slightly from the table, making room for you on his lap. 

You perch sideways across his thighs, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity despite the humiliating position. Your movements draws many curious glances, but enough of the men and women around the room remain focused on the mayor's report. Your legs feel like jelly as you stand, smoothing your skirt in a futile attempt to prepare for what's to come.

Bucky pushes his chair back slightly from the table, creating just enough space for you to take the place he wants. His attention remains focused on the report while also monitoring your actions. 

You glance down at his lap uncertainly, and Bucky gives you a subtle nod of confirmation. His eyes flick down to his groin then back up to the speaker who continues explaining their infrastructure needs. With trembling fingers, you reach for his zipper, carefully sliding it down to avoid making noise. The sound seems deafening to your ears, but the council meeting continues around you as if nothing unusual is happening.

His cock springs free, already mostly hard. You wrap your hand around his impressive girth, giving it two slow strokes, feeling it stiffen further in your palm. Bucky's breath hitches almost imperceptibly, the only indication that he's affected by your touch.

Moving with as much grace as you can, you shift to stand between his legs and the table. Your hands reach for the hem of your skirt, and Bucky assists, pushing the fabric higher up your thighs. In one swift motion, he hooks his fingers into your panties and tugs them down. You step out of them, and he pockets the delicate fabric.

With his cock fully erect between you, Bucky guides you as you carefully lower yourself onto his lap, feeling the blunt head of his erection press against your entrance. Despite the anxiety of your situation, the humiliation of it, your body responds to his touch, and you're still wet enough from when he played with you in the car that he slides in with minimal resistance. You bite your lip to suppress a gasp as he fills you completely, stretching you around his considerable girth.

Bucky's large hands grip your hips, adjusting your position. Then one large hand smoothes up your spine, and he guides you forward until you're leaning against the edge of the table, your forearms resting on its polished surface. The position forces you to bend at the waist, allowing him to see over you to the council members continuing their reports.

Which is when you register that the room finally has become silent, and all eyes are on the tw of you coupled together. 

"Continue with your report, Mayor Harrison," Bucky says, his voice remarkably steady despite being buried deep inside you. 

"The southeastern bridge requires immediate structural reinforcement," the mayor continues, his voice strained as he determinedly stares at his papers. "We estimate costs at approximately—"

The tension in the room is palpable as you sit impaled on Bucky's cock, trying desperately to maintain your composure. The council members' expressions range from shock to discomfort to poorly concealed fascination. Some avert their eyes, focusing intently on their notes or the table before them. Others stare openly, either unable to look away or deliberately watching to gauge your reaction.

Shame burns through you, but so does desire, both hot and consuming. This public display goes beyond anything you could have anticipated. It's a clear power move by Bucky - demonstrating his complete dominance over you while simultaneously establishing his authority over the council. The message is unmistakable: he can do whatever he wants, to whomever he wants, whenever he wants.

Your muscles clench involuntarily around Bucky's thick length as humiliation and unwanted arousal battle within you. Part of you wants to disappear, to melt into the floor, but there's nowhere to hide.

And there’s an undercurrent of something else there inside you, too. 

As the next dignitary begins his report, you begin to grapple with the dark, primal thrill that’s also coursing through your veins—the same electricity you felt when Bucky first claimed you in the town square after seizing power. You remember the hot shame that had flooded you then, but also the unexpected thrill of being the focal point of his dominance, the object of his desire amidst his conquest.

Then again at your bonding ceremony, when he'd claimed you before the assembled dignitaries, his mouth hot on yours, his hands possessive and demanding as he marked you publicly as his. You'd felt it then too - that forbidden pleasure in being displayed as his prize, his most valuable possession.

Then again at your bonding ceremony, when he'd claimed you before the assembled dignitaries, his mouth hot on yours, his hands possessive and demanding as he marked you publicly as his. You'd felt it then too - that forbidden pleasure in being displayed as his prize, his most valuable possession.

And now, as you sit impaled on his cock, the power dynamics are undeniable: you, the conquered omega, servicing your alpha while he conducts business as though you're simply an extension of his throne.

The meeting continues, your body responding to every subtle shift of Bucky's beneath you. You manage to maintain an outward appearance of composure, though inside you're a storm of conflicting emotions. Occasionally, Bucky's hand move to your hip, adjusting your position slightly when you begin to tremble.

Finally, as the last council member concludes their report, Bucky speaks up, his voice carrying effortlessly across the chamber. 

"That will be all for today's general council," he announces, his tone brooking no argument. His hand squeezes your hip firmly. "Except for..." His finger points to several faces around the table. "Martinez, Davis, Williams, Campbell, Richards, Cho, Price, Jackson, and Franklin. The rest of you are dismissed."

There's a moment of confusion as those not named gather their materials and leave, casting curious glances at those who remain. The door closes with a heavy thud, leaving you, Bucky, and the nine named council members alone in the suddenly silent chamber. 

The tension thickens as the remaining council members exchange nervous glances. You recognize each face - Martinez from Trade, Davis who managed Military Resources, Williams from the Eastern District, Campbell who oversees Transportation, Richards from the Treasury, Dr. Cho from Health Services, Price from the Southern District, Jackson from Energy, and Franklin from Communications. A perfect cross-section of your father's government.

Bucky's hand slides up your back, firm and possessive, until it reaches your neck. His fingers wrap around the nape, not squeezing but holding you in place as he addresses the room.

"I imagine you're wondering why you're still here," Bucky says, his tone conversational despite the tension thrumming through the room. His fingers trace idle patterns on your hip as he speaks.

"You nine share something in common," Bucky continues, his voice eerily calm. "Each of you provided information, access, or assistance that made my takeover of this territory possible." 

A wave of horrified realization washes over the faces of those assembled. Some pale visibly, while others shift uncomfortably in their seats. You feel a cold shock run through your body as you process his words. These nine people—trusted advisors and officials—had betrayed your father, betrayed their territory... betrayed you. 

"Some of you acted independently," Bucky explains, his fingers still tracing patterns on your skin. "Others coordinated. But all of you decided that your personal gain outweighed your loyalty." 

Your body is rigidly tense as the implications sink in. These were people your father trusted enough with pieces of his territory, with governing his people, stewards you had worked alongside. People who had smiled to your face while secretly undermining everything your family had built. These nine people—respected officials you've known for years—had helped Bucky overthrow your father's government. Had delivered you into his hands.

"Sit up straight, Omega," Bucky commands, his voice in the quiet chamber.

You comply immediately, straightening your spine while remaining impaled on his cock. The movement causes him to shift inside you, and you bite your lip to suppress a moan.

"I want to thank each of you," Bucky says, his voice deceptively pleasant. "Your assistance made my conquest considerably easier." 

The council members shift uncomfortably, exchanging nervous glances. Some look relieved at what sounds like gratitude, others more wary. None of them will look at you. 

"That said," Bucky continues, his tone hardening, "your actions demonstrated something troubling about your character."

Martinez starts to speak. "Sir, I assure you our loyalty—"

"Is for sale," Bucky interrupts. "You betrayed the man who trusted you with power and position. You betrayed his daughter," his hand squeezes your hip for emphasis, "to me. While I benefited from your treachery, I'm not foolish enough to trust traitors."

A cold silence falls over the room. You can see the realization dawning on their faces as they begin to understand this isn't a meeting of appreciation. 

"So I've arranged this little demonstration," Bucky says, his hand sliding up to grip one of your breasts over your clothing, and your breath hitches. 

"I'm going to fuck my omega now," Bucky announces, his voice echoing in the chamber. "Right here, in front of all of you who thought it clever to betray her father and deliver her to me."

A collective intake of breath fills the room. Several council members shift uncomfortably in their seats, still unable to meet your gaze.

Bucky’s metal hand slides up from your breast to cup your jaw, turning your face toward his. His eyes lock with yours, something unreadable in their depths before he turns back to address the council.

"I want you all to see exactly what you've done – who you've betrayed and to whom."

Bucky simultaneously stands while manhandling you easily with his preternatural strength, pressing your torso flat against the table in front of him. He withdraws his cock, then thrusts slowly back in. Once, twice, groaning on the third thrust that he draws out even more slowly. 

Your body betrays you, growing wetter around his cock as the reality of being displayed like this — being used as an omega in the most traditional, primal sense — awakens something you've tried to deny. The sheer audacity of it, the public nature, the way every person in this room now understands exactly who owns you — it's horrifying and intoxicating all at once.

You did like it before - both times - and you like it now. 

"I want no misunderstandings about who holds power here," Bucky says, establishing a steady rhythm as he moves you on his length. "No confusion about my control."

Your cheeks burn with humiliation as fucks you, but your body ripples with pleasure. The fabric of your skirt bunches around your waist as Bucky's hands grip your hips firmly.

Bucky's thrusts grow more forceful, the table unforgiving beneath your splayed body. Your fingernails clutch at the polished wood as you try to anchor yourself. The shame burns through you, but so does the pleasure, both sensations intensifying each other until you can barely distinguish between them.

You can feel the attention in the room on you as Bucky's pace increases. The council members' expressions range from horrified fascination to shamefaced avoidance. Some stare at the table, others at the ceiling, but they can't fully escape the sounds of skin against skin, the wet noises of Bucky's cock moving inside you.

Bucky grips your shoulder and pulls you back against his chest, one arm wraps possessively around your waist while the other goes to your throat. His lips brush against your ear as he speaks. "Look at them," Bucky commands, his voice a low growl at your ear before his hot tongue licks at the sensitive spot just behind your earlobe. "Look at the people who sold you out." 

You force your eyes back open, meeting the gaze of each council member in turn. Some look away immediately, unable to bear your scrutiny. Others meet your eyes briefly before dropping their gaze in shame. Only Price from the Southern District holds your gaze, a defiant tilt to his chin despite the obvious discomfort in his expression.

"You all thought yourselves so clever," he remarks, his pace unrelenting as his cock fills you over and over. "Trading information for promises of power, for guarantees of safety. Did any of you stop to consider her fate? The woman who would have been your leader one day?"

Martinez shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "We were assured no harm would—"

"Silence,” he has no need to shout. His power in this room is absolute. 

"Did you think I wouldn't remember?" Bucky continues, pumping in and out of your cunt. "That I would be foolish enough to forget exactly who played what role in betraying their territory?" His voice drops lower, more menacing. "In betraying my omega?"

His words send a shock through your system. My omega. Not just the territory's former heir apparent or the governor's daughter, but his omega—as though your betrayal personally offended him, as though you had belonged to him even before he conquered your lands.

"What you fail to understand is the gravity of your betrayal." His voice drops lower, more menacing. "This isn't just any omega you handed over to me. This is my omega."

The possessiveness in his tone sends a shiver through you. There's something different in the way he's speaking now, something that wasn't there before.

"You thought you were simply delivering a territory, offering up a political pawn," Bucky remarks. "But once I set my sites on her, she was going to be mine.”

His hand tightens your throat, not squeezing but holding you firmly against him as he speaks. Your own hands move up instinctively to cling to his bicep, encouraging his ownership. "I would have conquered this territory regardless. Your assistance merely hastened the inevitable.”

His voice drops to a dangerous whisper that somehow carries throughout the silent chamber.

"Let me be absolutely clear," he says, his rhythm never faltering as he continues to fuck you. "Your lives mean nothing to me compared to hers."

The declaration hangs in the air, shocking even you. The council members' faces drain of color as the implication sinks in.

"I may allow you to maintain your positions while you remain useful," Bucky continues, his voice cold and matter-of-fact. "But make no mistake—your continued existence is not guaranteed."

His words send a ripple of fear through the assembled council members. You can see it in their faces—the irrefutable comprehension that their calculated betrayal has placed them in a far more precarious position than they anticipated.

His pace increases, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he nears his climax. You're helpless to stop the pleasure building within you, your body responding instinctively to your alpha's dominant display.

"Can you smell how wet she is," Bucky growls in your ear, loud enough for everyone to hear. "How her body knows exactly who she belongs to? Claimed and bonded not once, but twice."

You whimper at his words, the humiliation of having your display warring with the undeniable pleasure coursing through your body, the forbidden thrill in being watched, and the satisfaction in their own fear. Your inner walls clench around him involuntarily, drawing a satisfied groan from his lips.

With a final, powerful thrust, Bucky buries himself deep inside you, his body tensing as he finds his release. You feel the hot pulse of his seed filling you, marking you from the inside in this most primal display of ownership. Your body trembles on the edge of your own climax.

Bucky's hand slides from your throat to grip your jaw, turning your face to the side so he can claim your mouth in a bruising kiss. His tongue invades your mouth, dominant and possessive, as his hips pump more slowly, emptying every last drop of his seed into you. 

When he breaks the kiss, he addresses the council once more. "Consider this your final warning. Your only value to me is your continued competence in service to this territory. Fail in that, or show even a hint of further disloyalty, and you will find an untimely end of service.”

Bucky withdraws his cock from your cunt, and you whimper, distraught at being denied your own release. 

"You're all dismissed," he says coolly. "Except for you, Price. You stay."

The council members scramble to gather their materials, eager to escape the tension-filled chamber. They all avoid looking at you as they file out.

Price remains seated, his face a mask of defiance despite a flicker of fear evident in his eyes. He was always one of your father's more outspoken critics, often challenging policies in council meetings. 

"You seem to have something to say," Bucky remarks, his pace slowing but not stopping as he addresses the man. "I saw it throughout the entirety of our meeting.”

Bucky takes a seat again and pulls you back into his lap. He pushes your thighs wide, encouraging your legs to fall on either side of his knees, leaving you open to him. 

Bucky's fingers slide between your folds, still slick with his release, and begin to circle your swollen clit with deliberate, measured strokes. His ministrations send jolts of pleasure through your oversensitized body, causing your hips to buck involuntarily against his touch. 

“Get on with it, Price."

Price's jaw tightens, his eyes darting between Bucky's face and his hand working between your thighs. He straightens his shoulders and meets Bucky's gaze with a cool stare of his own.

"I've been loyal to this territory for twenty years," Price says, his voice steady despite the charged atmosphere. "I supported your takeover because the former Governor’s policies were weakening our defenses and economy. The southern district suffered most under his leadership." 

Bucky's fingers continue their relentless attention between your thighs as he listens, making it difficult for you to focus on Price's words, but you work to concentrate. Your breathing becomes more ragged as pleasure builds within you.

"Is that so?" Bucky asks, his tone deceptively casual - you feel the display through your bond. "And your solution was betrayal rather than advocating for change through proper channels?"

Price's eyes flicker to your cunt momentarily before returning to Bucky. "The proper channels were closed to us. The southern district's petitions were repeatedly ignored." 

You want to protest, to defend your father's administration, but a particularly skilled movement of Bucky's fingers sends a particularly strong wave of increased pleasure through your core. 

"And yet," Bucky responds, his voice hardening, "my intelligence indicates you never filed a single formal petition with the governor's office. Not one in the past five years." 

Price's face pales slightly, but he maintains his composure. "That's not true. I personally delivered multiple petitions—" 

"Save it," Bucky cuts him off, his fingers still working between your thighs. "I have copies of every petition filed in the last decade. Your name isn't on any of them." 

Your breath catches, not just from the pleasure building between your legs, but from the realization of how thoroughly Bucky had studied your territory before he ever set foot in it. He'd known the inner workings, the political alliances, the weaknesses to exploit. He'd been gathering intelligence for years, not months. 

Price's expression shifts, a flicker of panic crossing his features before he regains his composure and defiance. "There were unofficial channels—"

"Rumlowe," Bucky calls out calmly, not taking his eyes off Price. The STRIKE team leader steps forward from his position near the wall, his expression impassive. "Show Price what happens to those who lie to my face."

Price's eyes widen in alarm as Rumlowe approaches, drawing a wicked-looking combat knife from his tactical vest. "Wait—you can't—"

In one swift, practiced motion, Rumlowe is behind Price's chair, the blade pressed against the man's throat. Price's hands grip the armrests, his knuckles white with terror.

"Tell me the truth, Price," Bucky says, his voice dangerously quiet. "One last chance."

Price's eyes dart frantically around the room, searching for mercy he won't find. "I... there were no petitions," he admits, voice shaking. "The southern district was actually thriving, but I wanted more power, more—" 

Bucky gives a nearly imperceptible nod. 

The blade slices cleanly across his throat, blood immediately spurting forward in a crimson arc. A choked gurgle escapes his lips as his hands fly up instinctively to the gaping wound, but it's already too late.

You gasp in horror, your body involuntarily tensing, but Bucky's fingers only increase their pressure against your clit, circling faster as his other arm locks around your waist to hold you firmly in place.

"Eyes on me, Omega," Bucky growls in your ear, his voice low and commanding. "Focus on what I'm giving you."

Your gaze snaps to his, unable to disobey. 

Your eyes locked with his, you only hear as Rumlow and another STRIKE member drag Price's limp body across the polished floor of the chamber. Bucky's fingers never stop their relentless attention on your clit, the horror of what you've just witnessed somehow intensifying the sensations coursing through your body. Your hips buck involuntarily against his hand as the pressure builds to an unbearable peak. 

"That's it," he growls, his voice dark with satisfaction. "Let go for me." 

The orgasm hits you with devastating force, tearing a cry from your throat as waves of pleasure crash through you. Your body convulses in Bucky's firm grip, inner walls clenching desperately around nothing as your body shudders with aftershocks, your mind caught in a haze between pleasure and horror.

As your breathing begins to steady, Bucky lifts you from his lap with ease, handling your body as if you weigh nothing. He turns you to face him, then guides you to sit on the edge of the polished council table. His hands remain on your hips as he positions himself between your spread thighs, the evidence of your coupling still glistening on your inner thighs. 

With deliberate slowness, he places one hand on your sternum and pushes you backward until you're lying flat on the cool surface. The position leaves you vulnerable, exposed, as you stare up at the ornate ceiling of the chamber where your father once governed. 

Bucky looms over you, his powerful frame blocking out the light, casting his face in shadow. His eyes, however, remain piercingly bright . 

"I hope you understand your position now," Bucky says, his voice low and resonant as he traces a finger along your inner thigh, collecting the mixture of your fluids. "And the true nature of this new regime."

His words hang in the air between you, weighted with significance. This isn't just about your body or your pleasure—it's about power, control, and the new order he's establishing. It’s cruel, yet measured as you saw him handle the formal meeting with the full council with unquestionable competence. 

He moves back, settling into his chair once more, but instead of pulling you onto his lap again, he lowers himself until his face is level with your exposed cunt. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of your combined spend glistening on your folds and thighs. 

"Beautiful," he murmurs, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh, making you shiver despite yourself. 

Without warning, he leans forward and puts his mouth to your cunt, his tongue laving a broad stripe through your folds, gathering your combined release. The sensation is so unexpected and intense that your back arches off the table, a strangled moan escaping your lips.

His hands grip your thighs firmly, holding you in place as he devours you, his tongue alternating between long, languid strokes and quick, precise flicks against your oversensitive clit. 

"Mine," he growls against your flesh, the vibration sending shivers through your core. "Every part of you belongs to me now." 

Your hands clutch at the edge of the table, desperate for purchase as he methodically takes you apart with his mouth. The room that just witnessed a cold-blooded execution now bears witness to an intimate moment. The dichotomy is jarring – death and pleasure, power and submission, all converging in this chamber that once represented order and governance.

Bucky's tongue works relentlessly between your thighs, his hands spreading you wider as he feasts on you. Your second climax builds faster than the first, your body still sensitive from his earlier attention. When it crashes over you, it's more intense, more consuming. You cry out, unable to hold back as your thighs tremble around Bucky's head. He doesn't relent, working you through the waves of pleasure until you're gasping and squirming from overstimulation.

Only then does he pull back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he rises to his full height. His eyes, dark with satisfaction and something deeper, more possessive, roam over your disheveled form sprawled across the council table.

"That's what loyalty to me earns," he says, his voice a low rumble. "Pleasure. Protection. Power. You will do well not to forget it, Omega.”

“Yes, Alpha,” you breathe. 

He helps you sit up, his hands surprisingly gentle as he adjusts your clothing, smoothing down your skirt and tucking stray hairs behind your ear. The tenderness is jarring after the brutality you've just witnessed, the public claiming, the execution. You're still trembling, your mind reeling as you try to reconcile the different facets of the man before you. 

"Come," he says, offering his hand to help you off the table. "We have other matters to attend to." 

You place your hand in his, allowing him to guide you to your feet. Your legs feel unsteady, and he seems to sense this, wrapping an arm around your waist to support you. The room still smells of copper and sex, a potent reminder of power asserted and lives ended. 

As you walk toward the door, you notice the blood has already been cleaned from the floor, no trace of Price remaining. The efficiency is chilling - as if he never existed at all.

You can’t help but wonder what else will be wiped away, wiped out, just as that dissenter and liar was today. 

next part: UNDER SIEGE

There's more story for you and Alpha!Bucky, but I'm desperately excited because this is the final piece that I wanted to share for this verse before introducing you to other alphas in the world of Fine Line. You're not ready. 😏

Introduction to General Ari Levinson: Rank and Promotion [7.5k]

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[astrofaeology]

Saturn in Aries

predictions for each Rising

paid readings | Masterlist

ᡣ𐭩 Please support me by reposting, liking, following me. From the 25th of May 2025 to September 1st 2025 (where saturn will station in mercury retrograde) and will become direct once again 27 November 2025, till the 13th of April 2025.

With saturn in aries, saturn will force you to build new foundations, and confronting fears related to independence and bold action. This period will challenge us to be more accountable for our individual drives and to find a mature balance between initiating new ventures and ensuring their long-term viability. Expect to learn valuable lessons about leadership, self-reliance, and the true cost of pioneering new paths.

Aries Rising - Saturn's transit through your first house of self and identity will be a profound period of redefinition. You may feel a significant pressure to solidify who you are, potentially leading to an "identity crisis" as old ways of being are challenged. This is a powerful time for self-mastery and reinvention, as Saturn encourages you to take responsibility for your life and build a more solid foundation for your future self. You'll learn to balance impulsivity with patience and strategic action, leading to a new, mature confidence. If you were born with Saturn in Aries, this is your Saturn Return, a pivotal period of adulting and making firm commitments.

Taurus Rising - will experience Saturn's influence in your twelfth house of the subconscious and hidden matters. This transit encourages deep spiritual growth and healing, calling you to go inward and confront your shadow side. Old patterns of escapism or avoidance may come to the surface, demanding to be addressed. While this can be a solitary period, it offers a chance to release fears and build a strong spiritual practice. By the end of this transit, you can emerge feeling more whole and ready to spread your "new, healed wings."

Gemini Rising - Saturn will be in your eleventh house of friendships, community, and aspirations. Your social circles and group connections may undergo a significant review, with some relationships feeling strained or karmic. You may need to prune your social circle, choosing quality over quantity. This is a time to solidify your long-term goals and choose meaningful alliances. You might be called to leadership within groups, taking on more responsibility. By releasing unhealthy connections, you make room for those who truly support your aspirations.

Cancer Rising - will feel Saturn's weight in your tenth house of career, public image, and destiny. You may feel intense pressure to succeed professionally, and recognition might not come as easily as you hoped, with every misstep feeling public. The road to achieving your goals might be steep and solitary, with delays feeling like failures. However, this is an excellent period for career advancement and building a solid reputation. If you're willing to play the long game, what you build now can define you for decades. You'll learn to take responsibility for your ambitions and step into leadership roles, even if it requires hard work and patience.

Leo Rising - will experience Saturn in your ninth house of higher learning, travel, and belief systems. Your beliefs may be challenged, and previous worldviews might crumble, possibly through disappointing teachers or systems. The way forward might not be obvious, and traditional avenues of expansion may feel restricted. However, your greatest growth will come through broadening your horizons. This is an excellent time to pursue advanced degrees or engage in structured learning. You'll learn what it truly costs to live your truth and build a more resilient and meaningful philosophy of life.

Virgo Rising - Saturn transits your eighth house of shared resources, intimacy, and transformation. This is a period for getting your financial house in order, with issues around taxes, wills, insurance, and inheritances potentially requiring your attention. You'll be encouraged to confront your relationship with vulnerability and power dynamics in intimate connections. This transit offers a chance for deep financial restructuring and psychological healing. By addressing these areas, you can set yourself up for a more secure future and develop a healthier approach to shared resources and intimacy, learning to navigate complex emotional and financial territories with maturity.

Libra Rising - Saturn in your seventh house of partnerships and relationships. Your one-on-one connections will be highlighted, and you'll be asked to consider the health and responsibility within them. You may face challenges in finding true reciprocity and give-and-take, with discussions around commitment and boundaries becoming intense. However, this is a time to build more committed and dependable partnerships. You'll learn to establish clearer boundaries and ensure your relationships are balanced. You'll seek long-term stability and won't be interested in casual connections, leading to deeper, more mature bonds.

Scorpio Rising - Saturn moves into your sixth house of health, daily routines, and service. You may feel pressure to restructure your daily life and become more disciplined with your health and routines, potentially involving addressing long-standing habits. Work responsibilities might increase, or you may face challenges in your work environment. This transit provides an opportunity to build healthier habits and a more organized daily life. You can become more efficient and productive in your work. It's a time to take responsibility for your well-being and establish sustainable routines that support your goals.

Saggiatrius Rising - will experience Saturn in your fifth house of creativity, self-expression, and joy. You might struggle to find time for hobbies, dating, or creative pursuits, and your sexual energy may be lower. There could be delays or challenges related to children, and joy might feel risky, with creative expression feeling blocked or like hard work. However, Saturn in Aries encourages you to develop a more mature relationship with joy and creativity. You're asked to create and love without expecting instant gratification. This is a time to carve out dedicated time for what truly brings you fulfillment and to be disciplined in your creative endeavors, leading to more lasting and meaningful expressions.

Capricorn Rising - Saturn transits your fourth house of home, family, and foundations. You may face increased responsibilities within your family, potentially needing to care for aging family members or deal with structural issues in your home. Some Capricorns might move to a longer-term home, which could come with its own set of challenges. This transit helps you solidify your home base and family foundations. You can create a more stable and secure living environment. It's a time to embrace your responsibilities within your family, leading to a deeper sense of belonging and inner security.

Aquarius Rising - will have Saturn in your third house of communication, learning, and local community. Communication might feel like a battlefield, and you may struggle to express yourself without being too blunt or moving too fast. Relationships with siblings or neighbors could become sources of stress. You're being asked to pause before speaking and to listen more effectively. This is a period to refine your communication skills and take your mental health seriously. You'll become more assured in your educational, writing, and public speaking abilities, and you can form deeper connections within your local community by practicing thoughtful and disciplined communication.

Pisces Rising - For Pisces rising, Saturn moves into your second house of personal finances, values, and self-worth. You may feel a strong urge to get your finances in order, pay off debts, or improve your credit score. You might initially feel a sense of scarcity, even if you are earning well. This transit encourages you to reconsider your outlook on wealth and self-worth. This is a prosperous cycle for establishing financial security, but it requires discipline and a reevaluation of your values. You'll learn to manage your resources more effectively and develop a stronger sense of self-respect and self-worth, leading to long-term financial stability.

DISCLAIMER: This post is a generalisation and may not resonate. I recommend you get a reading from an astrologer (me). If you want a reading from me check out my sales page.

@astrofaeology private services 2025 all rights reserved

[ranchstoryblog]

PRESS RELEASE: Adventure, Romance, and Village Building Begin in Rune Factory: Guardians of Azuma on May 30 on Nintendo Switch™ and PC, Welcoming Players to an Eastern Land of Adventure and Dragons

XSEED/Marvelous USA:

Marvelous USA Releases Gameplay Video Showcasing Guardians of Azuma’s

Action Combat, Relationship System, and Seasonal Village Life; Announces Jan. 22 Livestream Showcasing Additional Details and Special Guests

TORRANCE, Calif. — Jan. 16, 2025 — Marvelous USA announced today that Rune Factory: Guardians of Azuma will launch globally on the Nintendo Switch™ system and Windows PC via Steam on May 30, 2025. The latest entry in the popular action-RPG and life-simulation series introduces players to the Eastern territory of Azuma, a land of Japanese-inspired visuals and unique twists on familiar gameplay elements from the Rune Factory franchise. Alongside the reveal of the release date, Marvelous USA announced an upcoming livestream that will happen on Jan. 22 at 8AM PT/11AM ET on their YouTube channel, where the company will be revealing additional information and showcasing further looks into the land of Azuma. Host Ovilee May will be joined by voice actors Brandon McInnis (Subaru) and Suzie Yeung (Kaguya), who will discuss their roles and provide additional commentary alongside new reveals.

Ravaged by the effects of the Celestial Collapse and the cessation of power provided by the runes, the eastern lands of Azuma are a shadow of their prosperous past. Weakened by corruptive forces, the gods of nature retreated from the world, leaving mountains to crumble and fields to wither. The people of Azuma seek aid against a blight that has swept these once-bountiful lands. One young hero enters into a contract with a dragon and sets out on a journey. “Accept the might of the Earth Dancer. Use this power to save the land.”

Guardians of Azuma takes players on an all-new adventure in the never-before-seen country of Azuma. Here, players will assume the role of an Earth Dancer destined to return hope—and life—to the once-thriving land. Choose from one of two protagonists whose fates are closely tied together, and experience reimagined and expanded Rune Factory gameplay; as an Earth Dancer, players will farm with grace, restore and build entire villages, and fight with new weapons like the Bow and Talismans. Azuma is a vast world to explore with majestic villages to uncover, each taking inspiration from Japanese culture and each with a seasonal theme. In addition to exploration, combat, and village-building, players will also cultivate relationships with the locals, recruiting them to your side in battle or to help manage the villages. Wield sacred treasures of the gods and the Earth Dancer’s power of dance to purify the land and return Azuma to its former glory. The adventure of a new world awaits.

Rune Factory: Guardians of Azuma Key Features:

Bold New Abilities and Weapons: As an Earth Dancer, use the power of dance, sacred treasures, and fresh weapons like the Bow and Talismans to purify the land, farm, and undo the Blight’s damage.

It Takes a Village: Don’t just mind the farm—rebuild entire villages! Construct and place buildings strategically to entice people to return to the villages and contribute. Revive the gods to bring vitality and valuable resources back to the plagued lands.

Your Fantasy Japanese Life: Experience beautiful Japanese-inspired character designs and aesthetics—from festivals to events to monsters. Explore Azuma’s natural landscapes and its seasonal-themed locales steeped in tradition.

Classic Romance and Relationships: Choose between male and female protagonists, then befriend or romance any of the eligible candidates—god and mortal alike—in fully voiced scenarios. Recruit these new friends to aid in dynamic battles, too!

Pre-orders for the Rune Factory: Guardians of Azuma “Earth Dancer Edition” on Nintendo Switch™ are now available via the Marvelous USA Online Store and at participating retailers for an MSRP of $99.99. This stunning collection comes in a custom outer box featuring awe-inspiring art of a battle high above Azuma, and includes a physical copy of the game, an original soundtrack CD, an art book, an Azuma-inspired folding fan, a plush Woolby keychain, and the “Earth Dancer DLC Pack,” which includes the “Seasons of Love Bundle,” the “Festive Attire and Dark Woolby Bundle,” the “Rune Factory 4 Outfit Bundle,” and the Useful Item Bundle. The standard edition of the game is also available to pre-order for an MSRP of $59.99.

Rune Factory: Guardians of Azuma will also be available digitally on the Nintendo eShop for Nintendo Switch and Windows PC via Steam. Details on SKUs and pricing will be available at a later date.

Developed by Marvelous and published in the Americas by Marvelous USA, Rune Factory: Guardians of Azuma is scheduled for release globally on the Nintendo Switch™ and Windows PC via Steam on May 30, 2025. The title will be published in Japan by Marvelous Inc. and in Europe by Marvelous Europe. More information can be found on the official website, https://na.runefactory.com/azuma/, and on X @RuneFactory. This title has been rated “T for Teen” by the ESRB.

Information about Marvelous USA’s products can be found at www.marvelous-usa.com. Fans can also check out the latest videos from the Marvelous family of titles on YouTube and get updates by following on Facebook, X, Instagram, and Bluesky.

---

Marvelous Europe:

---

London, U.K. — 16 January 2025 — Marvelous Europe announced today that Rune Factory: Guardians of Azuma will launch globally on the Nintendo Switch™ system and Windows PC via Steam on May 30, 2025.

Alongside the reveal of the release date, Marvelous Europe announced an upcoming livestream that will happen on 22 January at 16:00 GMT/ 17:00 CEST on their YouTube channel, where the company will be revealing additional information and showcasing further looks into the land of Azuma. Host Ovilee May will be joined by voice actors Brandon McInnis (Subaru) and Suzie Yeung (Kaguya), who will discuss their roles and provide additional commentary alongside new reveals. 

The latest entry in the popular action-RPG and life-simulation series introduces players to the Eastern territory of Azuma, a land of Japanese-inspired visuals and unique twists on familiar gameplay elements from the Rune Factory franchise. 

Ravaged by the effects of the Celestial Collapse and the cessation of power provided by the runes, the eastern lands of Azuma are a shadow of their prosperous past. Weakened by corruptive forces, the gods of nature retreated from the world, leaving mountains to crumble and fields to wither. The people of Azuma seek aid against a blight that has swept these once-bountiful lands. One young hero enters into a contract with a dragon and sets out on a journey. “Accept the might of the Earth Dancer. Use this power to save the land.”

Guardians of Azuma takes players on an all-new adventure in the never-before-seen country of Azuma. Here, players will assume the role of an Earth Dancer destined to return hope—and life—to the once-thriving land. Choose from one of two protagonists whose fates are closely tied together, and experience reimagined and expanded Rune Factory gameplay; as an Earth Dancer, players will farm with grace, restore and build entire villages, and fight with new weapons like the Bow and Talismans. Azuma is a vast world to explore with majestic villages to uncover, each taking inspiration from Japanese culture and each with a seasonal theme. In addition to exploration, combat, and village-building, players will also cultivate relationships with the locals, recruiting them to your side in battle or to help manage the villages. Wield sacred treasures of the gods and the Earth Dancer’s power of dance to purify the land and return Azuma to its former glory. The adventure of a new world awaits.

Rune Factory: Guardians of Azuma Key Features:

Bold New Abilities and Weapons: As an Earth Dancer, use the power of dance, sacred treasures, and fresh weapons like the Bow and Talismans to purify the land, farm, and undo the Blight’s damage.

It Takes a Village: Don’t just mind the farm—rebuild entire villages! Construct and place buildings strategically to entice people to return to the villages and contribute. Revive the gods to bring vitality and valuable resources back to the plagued lands.

Your Fantasy Japanese Life: Experience beautiful Japanese-inspired character designs and aesthetics—from festivals to events to monsters. Explore Azuma’s natural landscapes and its seasonal-themed locales steeped in tradition.

Classic Romance and Relationships: Choose between male and female protagonists, then befriend or romance any of the eligible candidates—god and mortal alike—in fully voiced scenarios. Recruit these new friends to aid in dynamic battles, too!

Pre-orders for the Rune Factory: Guardians of Azuma  Limited Edition are now available at participating retailers via the Marvelous Europe website for an RRP of €99.99. This stunning collection comes in a custom outer box and includes a physical copy of the game, an original soundtrack CD, an art book, an Azuma-inspired folding fan, the “Seasons of Love” DLC bundle, additional DLC costumes for your protagonists and their divine sidekick Woolby, and a plush Woolby keychain. The standard edition of the game is also available to pre-order for an RRP of €59.99. Details on digital editions will be announced later.

Developed by Marvelous and published in Europe and Australia by Marvelous Europe, Rune Factory: Guardians of Azuma is scheduled for release on the Nintendo Switch™ and Windows PC via Steam on 30 May, 2025. The title will be published in Japan by Marvelous Inc. and in the Americas by Marvelous USA. More information can be found on the official website, https://marvelousgames.com/games/rune-factory-guardians-of-azuma, and on X @RuneFactory.

For more information regarding Marvelous Europe, please visit the official website, or follow @MarvelousEurope on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or YouTube.

[dollzstrology]

ꕥ — Found Someone Better / A New Tide

Genre — Chapter four: Part One

Artists — Tonowari x fem!avatar!reader

Lyrics — You’re finally adjusting to your new life among the Metkayina and your relationship with Tonowari is progressing into something more. While Tonowari is out in the village, fulfilling his Olo’eyktan duties, he hears some of his warriors talking about you when the topic of mating season comes up, which catches his attention.

Music Advisory — Pre-Atwow, implied timeskip, fluff, comfort, implied courting/courtship, act of courting [acts of service], kissing, mentions of Tonowari’s past relationship, emotional moment, Olo’eyktan!Tonowari, jealous!Tonowari, mention of mating season, secret relationship trope, featuring Ralak [Tonowari’s right hand man/best friend]

Notes — Reader and Tonowari’s relationship is slightly sped up [between chapter three and four] due to the length of series and that I believe the Na’vi (especially a traditional man like Tonowari) wouldn’t take longer than a few months before starting the courting process.

Duration — 5.2k

Index — Kaltxì - Hello・Syulang - Flower

Words From Artist — Chapter four is finally here!! I hope yall enjoy seeing this side of Reader and Tonowari’s relationship! I hope y’all enjoy and always feel free to comment and reblog, I love reading y’all reactions!

Current Platforms — Chapter One ・Chapter Two・Chapter Three・Series M.list ・Series Taglist・Main M.list

After months of living in Awa’atlu you’ve finally found your place in the clan, becoming a healer. When you lived in the forest you were a healer, working under Mo’at and learning all her ways and techniques. It’s a position you excel in and you were tired of doing odd tasks around the island so you spoke to the head healer and showed her your skills and after that she was happy to allow you a place in the healing pod.

You’ve learned to navigate the island’s resources, gathering medicinal herbs and understanding the local flora. Some flora is similar to what was back in the forest while other plants were completely different which sparked your interest. The knowledge you gained from Mo’at feels even more valuable here, as you adapt her teachings to the unique plants of Awa’atlu. You can now identify the subtle differences in the herbs and their uses, finding satisfaction in the skills you’ve obtained.

Your relationships with the villagers have grown since you first arrived, the initial curiosity that surrounded your arrival has shifted into friendship, with most members of the clan seeking your advice and sharing their stories. Even though it took a while for most of the clan to come around, Padma, who is now your best friend, is one person you’ve always been able to lean on. The kindness she showed you from the very beginning has helped you feel at home in Awa’atlu and it also helped show the clan that you were a good person and that they could trust you.

In addition to Padma, you’ve also grown close to other women in the clan. They’ve welcomed you into their circles. The camaraderie you share during communal activities, whether it’s preparing meals or participating in rituals, it has created a sense of sisterhood, something you’ve always wished for. Through all these connections, you find strength and support, enriching your experience in Awa’atlu.

While you’re sitting in your mauri, allowing the sun to shine its light into your home as you get ready for the day and start your duties, you can hear a familiar set of footsteps come through the entryway, causing a blush to creep onto your face. “Kaltxì, syulang.” The nickname ‘Flower’ was bestowed upon you a little after your relationship with the Olo’eyktan started to blossom. He thought it was perfect for you after he took you on a walk in the jungle and you couldn’t help but stop at almost every flora to take a whiff of its natural scent and focus on the beauty it held.

Tonowari's voice makes his presence known and soon after you hear a loud thud, making you slightly jump at the unexpected sound. When you turn around to see where the sound came from you see him standing next to a net full of descaled and fileted fish with a smile on his face, making a grin tug at your lips from yet another one of his gifts. You can always see the effort he puts into delivering these packages, whether it’s fish or some sort of meat from an animal that roams in the jungle he always makes sure it’s cleaned, skinned, and cut so all you have to worry about is taking them out of their leaf wrappings and cooking them anyway you see fit. “Another? I thought I told you I could hunt for myself. You don’t have to keep bringing me food.”

“Yes, you did tell me but why would I allow you to when you have a man that is fully capable of taking care of that for you.” Tonowari walks up to you, still wearing his bright smile while his hands rest on your hips once he’s in front of you, making the blush that’s rising on your cheeks even more apparent. “Plus, when I bring them to you it allows me to see the most beautiful woman in the village before I start my morning rounds.”

Tonowari knows exactly the words to use to make you feel swoon, his compliments always make your smile widen, making you feel like the luckiest woman on the planet to have such a loving and kind man. “Mmm, well who am I to deny you from that?” There’s an undertone of playfulness and affection in your tone while you speak and wrap your arms around Tonowari’s neck, allowing you the perfect opportunity to press your lips upon his. The Metkayina wasn’t expecting a kiss but he definitely isn’t mad at it. It's clear that his thoughtfulness and the fact he can provide is noticed by you and he can’t help but feel a sense of pride.

As you pull away from after the kiss, a playful glint shines in Tonowari’s eyes, and the world around you feels a little brighter. The connection you two share has grown effortlessly since the moment you shared on the beach. Since then you both have been spending more time together, going on dates, exchanging gifts, and learning more about each other in deeper ways. Since deciding to explore the potential of your relationship, both of you have prioritized open communication about your feelings. You both wanted to ensure that you were on the same page regarding how things were progressing and to avoid any sense of rushing into the next phase. After a few months, it became clear that you and Tonowari were on the brink of something deeper—courtship.

When the topic came up it felt natural and exciting but you were also nervous. The scars from your past marriage were still fresh and you didn’t want to deal with the same hurt and mistreatment again but you know that Tonowari aren’t your ex-mates, you know that he is so much different than them so it didn’t take too much thought before you agreed with Tonowari that courting was the right choice for your relationship.

“Alright, my mighty hunter.” You say with a teasing lilt, stepping a little bit closer to him while moving one of your hands and placing it on his shoulder. “How about I finish getting ready while you get the fish out of the walkway and into the cooking area? I don’t want to trip over them.”

Tonowari lets out a soft laugh, a hint of sheepishness in his expression as he glances down at the nets of fish he’d dropped right in front of the entryway instead of somewhere out of the way. “I suppose I was too focused on you to think about where I was putting them.” He admits, shaking his head slightly.

With a nod of determination Tonowari separates from you and allows you to finish your routine as he begins to move the fish. You can’t help but admire the sight of him lifting the heavy net, watching the muscles in his arms and back flex as he picks it up and walk it over to another area of the mauri. His strength and charm makes your heart flutter and makes you appreciate that you can have these small moments with him.

As Tonowari bends down to lower the fish in the area you want them to be in, your eyes catch a glimpse of something on his back. A thin dark line carved into his skin, a wound that looks fresh, meaning it could be causing him pain. “‘Wari,” you walk up to him and get a closer look, your voice laced with worry while you inspect the wound, gently running your finger over it. “What happened to your back?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” He replies dismissively while he stands straight up and shifts his weight in the process, meaning it’s not ‘nothing’ like he claims it to be.

“It’s definitely something, Tonowari.” Your healer instincts kick in and you walk over to your herbs and grab a salve and a liquid that will act as a disinfectant so the wound doesn’t become infected. “I can tell you're in pain, you must let me take a look at it.” At first, Tonowari wants to tell you that it’s fine and he’ll just patch it up later but he allows you to take a look, knowing you’ll take better care of it than he will. You bring over a wooden stool for him to sit on and you start working on him, cleaning off the droplets of dried blood before pouring a few drops of disinfectant. “How did you get this?”

“Accident from hunting,” He explains, trying to brush it off since it isn’t a big deal to him. “I was more focused on the catch than what was around me.”

A frown casts upon your face at how Tonowari just ignores his wounds and swallows the pain. “Well, you need to be more careful. You shouldn’t ignore wounds, even if they are small.”

Tonowari's expression relaxes as he feels your fingers across his back, a hint of admiration comes across his face, feeling grateful that he has someone in life that takes care of him again. "You always worry too much about me."

"It's my job," you reply playfully, but your tone is serious. "And I care about you."

“I know you do,” The Olo’eyktan murmurs, his gaze softening as he glances back at you, his usual stoic demeanor giving way to something more vulnerable. As you tend to his wound, Tonowari’s mind begins to drift, memories of Ronal slipping through his thoughts like the gentle pull of the tide. She’d always been the one to patch him up after his hunting or sparring accidents, her hands steady and sure, her voice lightly scolding him for being reckless. She’d always tell him that his strength didn’t mean he could ignore his injuries, and despite his grumbling, he’d let her care for him, feeling both humbled and cherished in those moments.

Now, as he feels the same careful touch in your hands and hears the same gentle concern in your voice, a pang of bittersweet longing stirs within him. It’s different with you, of course, but he realizes he’s missed this feeling of being looked after, having someone who sees past his strength to the person beneath. In some quiet, comforting way, your presence eases a part of him he thought he’d long buried, reminding him of the warmth he once felt with his widow.

As you finish dressing Tonowari’s wound, you notice that his gaze has drifted somewhere distant, a shadow passing over his usually calm expression. His expression is filled with something you can’t quite name—grief, maybe, or longing, like he’s carrying a memory too heavy to put into words. “‘Wari,” you say softly, catching his attention. “Is something on your mind?” You keep your hand on his shoulder, hoping to offer whatever comfort you can.

Tonowari hesitates, looking at you with an intensity that suggests he’s debating whether to answer. You and him haven’t talked much about your past marriages. Both of you are still hesitant to discuss those parts of your lives, and neither of you want to push the other to share before they’re ready. You both agreed early on to open up when the time feels right. Tonowari has only shared little details here and there about Ronal, he mentions her from time to time but it's usually quick and he breezes over it, not wanting to stay on the topic for too long or his emotions will get the best of him. He’s thought about having a full discussion about her with you before but he always chickens out, not wanting to be vulnerable in front of you but he also doesn't want to continue keeping you in the dark about his feelings.

After a long moment, he sighs, glancing away as though the words are easier to say to the air than to you. “My mate,” he says finally, his voice rougher than usual. “Ronal.” He looks down, his jaw tight, trying to hold himself together to tell you the story as emotions resurface in his heart. “She was… everything to me. Strong, kind, stubborn as the sea,” he continues, a small bittersweet smile tugging at his lips, memories of her reeling in his mind from the years they shared as a mated pair. “She always looked after me, kept me in line when I needed it.”

There’s a quiet, aching pause as he gathers himself, his gaze fixed somewhere in the distance, trying to collect his words and make sure he correctly phrases them based on how he feels in his heart. “She passed when an illness casted over the clan,” he says, his voice full of sorrow when he thinks about how the illness took over her body in a matter of days and soon after he could barely recognize the woman he fell in love with. “She went to help those who were sick, as she always did. She believed it was her duty as Tsahìk to protect others, even when it meant… risking herself in the process.”

You feel a pang in your chest as you watch him speak, seeing the grief he’s been carrying around all this time, a grief that’s only now finding voice. “After she was gone… I didn’t think I’d let anyone take care of me like that again,” he admits, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “I told myself I didn’t need it. But being here with you now, it… reminds me of her.” It was true, even though you and Ronal are different in many ways there are a few similarities he sees in the both of you. The way you care for others, how fiercely you protect those you love, sometimes when he looks at you he feels like he’s seeing pieces of Ronal again.

Your heart aches for him, you know how hard it was for him to share and you’re so glad that he felt brave enough to say how he feels. To show that you're here with him in the moment and are listening, you glide your hand down his arm until you reach his hand. When he feels your hand wrap around his he glances at you and you notice his expression softening from the painful one he once had. Tonowari’s grip tightens around your hand, a silent appreciation of your presence and support.

You take a moment, letting the weight of his confession settle between you before taking a deep breath and speaking, wanting to make sure you say the right things to him, wanting to give him the comfort he needs. “Tonowari,” you say gently, “I’m so glad you had Ronal as a mate, if you hadn’t had all those wonderful years with her you wouldn’t be the amazing man you are today or have your two beautiful children. She took care of you for as long as Eywa allowed and now she watches over you.”

Tonowari’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, and he nods slowly, absorbing your words. “You’re right,” he admits, a soft smile breaking through his sorrow. “Ronal taught me about love, strength and sacrifice.”

“And you carry everything you learned from her with you. You’re not alone on this journey of life, Tonowari. I’m here for you. I want to be that person that cares for you now, the one who always tends to your wounds and keeps you in line if you need it.”

Tonowari’s gaze deepens, reflecting a number of emotions—grief, gratitude, and an unmistakable warmth that radiates from the bond you share. Your words wrap around him like a gentle embrace, showing him that he can be in the present while honoring his past. “I didn’t know how much I needed to hear that,” he admits, his voice steadying, though it remains with hints of emotion.

You squeeze his hand tighter, feeling the strength of his grip and the connection that sparks between you. “It’s the truth,” you reply, your heart swelling with love for this man who has faced so much yet he continues to stand tall. “You’re a great father and a leader, and the love you shared with Ronal doesn’t diminish what we can build together.” You know that Ronal will always be a part of him, she’s the mother of his children and his first true love. Ronal will always be in his heart and you’re completely fine with that but you also want him to know that there is enough room for the love you both now share to grow as well.

A soft smile crosses his lips, the heaviness in his eyes lifting ever so slightly. “And I’m grateful for that, for everything.” He pauses for a moment, his earlier playfulness returning to his demeanor. “Besides, I’d be lost without you keeping me out of trouble.”

“Yes, you definitely need me to keep a close eye on you,” you tease, relief flooding through you as the mood lightens, meaning Tonowari is feeling better than he did a few minutes ago. “Just don’t expect me to let you get away with anything.”

Tonowari chuckles, the sound music to your ears. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, causing you to melt in the process. “Thank you for being my light. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Of course! Just keep bringing me gifts, and we’ll be just fine,” you tease once again, a playful grin stretching across your face as you look up at him. The warmth of the moment fills the small space of your mauri. You rise from your stool and begin to organize the salve and healing items, your fingers dancing over the familiar textures of the herbs and containers.

As you tidy up, sunlight shines brightly through the woven walls, casting a golden glow that warms up the air and takes away the coldness from the early morning breeze. The air is rich with the invigorating scent of fresh herbs, mingling with the distant sounds of Awa’atlu coming to life—laughter and chatter drifting in from outside, a gentle reminder of the community that surrounds you.

“You truly have a gift for healing, both the body and spirit.” Tonowari says in a low tone as he fills the space behind you, his presence a comforting weight as he rests his head in the crook of your neck, along with his warm breath sending a delightful shiver down your spine and his hands wrapping around your waist.

“Well, it’s easy when I have someone worth caring for.” you reply, raising your hand and placing it on his cheek, gently rubbing your thumb against his skin while your smile softens at the sincerity of your own words.

“And you make it impossible for me to focus on my duties. I could stay here with you all day,” he admits, using a playful yet serious tone as he starts to trail soft kisses across your neck, making your stomach flip.

“As tempting as that sounds, I think the clan might have something to say about it.” Thinking of the clan brings a familiar sense of responsibility, reminding you both of the lives that rely on your work. If you both disappeared for the day, when you’re both known to be dedicated to your duties, it would certainly raise suspicions.

Truthfully, the idea of spending the day in the quiet of your home with him is hard to resist, especially with the way his lips are brushing against your neck, causing your body to tingle all over. But you know, despite the attraction of staying close to him, that your duties come first, especially his come first. With a soft sigh, you gently pull away from and turn so you can look into his eyes, giving him a lingering look that speaks of how much you’d rather stay wrapped in his arms.

He chuckles, nodding with a sense of understanding, though his gaze still lingers on you with a quiet intensity. “You’re right, as usual,” he says, his tone resigned yet affectionate. “They need us, and I need to get started on my rounds.” Leaning in, he brushes a gentle kiss against your lips, his touch lingering, wanting one last kiss before you have to part ways. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”

“I will,” you assure him firmly, your voice resolute. “And you better do the same. I won’t be patching you up twice in one day.” The banter is light, but beneath it lies a genuine concern for his well-being. You and Tonowari walk out of your home at the same time and you both hold hands for as long as possible before you have to take different paths. You and him exchange loving gazes one more time before the two of you start to split off to different places on the island.

As you start walking towards the heart of the village and making your way to the healing pod, the vibrant colors of the village greet you, alive with the sounds of laughter and the salty breeze of the sea. The sun rises higher, illuminating the faces of your neighbors as they go about their morning tasks, a scene of harmony that fills you with purpose.

—

The early afternoon sun cast long shadows over the village as the Olo’eyktan gathered his warriors for a meeting. Tonowari finished his rounds a while ago, assessing the well-being of his people, making sure the hunters were collecting enough food to feed the clan, that the healers had sufficient supplies, and making sure that the warriors-in-training are up to par. Every so often Tonowari calls a meeting with all his warriors to discuss whatever he deems necessary for them to have knowledge of so currently he’s standing in front of a group of seasoned warriors with a steady and focused expression on his face. The warriors listen intently as he speaks, discussing plans for the coming weeks, the new resources they’ve gathered, and trade strategies with neighboring clans and how they’ll be conducted.

Once the meeting is concluded, the warriors begin to relax, their expressions easing as they fall into conversation. Mating season is approaching for the Metkayina, and the topic quickly shifts to the thrill of potential partners and possible courtships.

One of the younger warriors, a grinning Na’vi with bright eyes, leans in toward the group. “So, do any of you have someone in mind? I hear a few of the women in the northern pods are particularly interested this year.”

Another warrior laughs, elbowing his friend. “The northern pods? Well, I have my eye on someone a little closer.”

The group chuckles, sharing knowing looks and nudges. A third warrior, braver and bolder than his peers, leans back against a nearby tree and crosses his arms with a smirk. “Well, if we’re speaking of those who’ve been catching our eyes, I’d say that the newcomer is quite… intriguing.”

Tonowari’s ears perked up at that, his expression carefully neutral as he listened in on what his subordinates were saying. He feels a tightening in his chest as they continue their conversation and he can’t stop the slight clench of his jaw. He knows exactly who they mean when they say ‘newcomer’ and it’s stirring up a nasty emotion inside the Olo’eyktan at the mention of you.

The warriors exchange looks, some nodding their heads in agreement. “Ah, yes,” one said with a grin. “She has a spirit about her. There’s something different. And she’s been here long enough now, I’d say she’s part of the clan.”

Another warrior chimes in, his tone lighthearted but admiring. “She’s smart, too. Not to mention skilled in healing. I think any one of us would be lucky to court her.”

Tonowari’s fists tighten behind his back, his fingertips pressing into his palms as he fights the urge to respond. The mask of calm he wears, cultivated through years of leadership, is beginning to slip, and his tail flicks in irritation despite his best efforts to remain composed. His ears, trained on the voices of his warriors, catch every casual, careless words they speak about you—the admiration in their voices, the hints of desire, the presumptuous confidence they hold in their tone when they discuss you as if you’re an unclaimed woman waiting to be courted.

Each remark feels like a tiny ember dropped into his chest, sparking a jealousy he’s struggling to contain. He reminds himself of the choice you both made to keep your bond private, to protect the quiet intimacy of what you share, away from the curious eyes of the clan. And yet, in this moment, he feels the weight of that choice bearing down on him. These warriors—his own warriors, those who have fought by his side—speak of you like a prize to be won, an object of competition.

The restraint he shows is as much for himself as it is for them, for he knows that one slip in his expression, one moment of sharpness in his voice, would reveal more than he’s currently prepared to share. But with every laugh, every nudge, and every insinuation, the irritation coils tighter within him, a reminder of how fiercely he feels for you.

A laugh echoes from the group, and one of the warriors, with a mischievous smirk, declares his intent to “try his luck” with you, claiming you might need “someone strong to keep you grounded.” The remark brings a sharp, almost feral look to Tonowari’s eyes, a dangerous edge beneath his calm. He reminds himself—again—that they don’t know, that their casual interest is not meant as an offense. But his jaw clenches, and his heart beats faster, wrestling with the possessive surge that threatens to overtake him.

While the Olo’eyktan is having an emotional debate within himself, Ralak, looks across the circle of warriors, reading the slight tension in his leader’s stance. With a small, knowing smile, Ralak excuses himself from the conversation and walks over to Tonowari.

“Walk with me, Olo’eyktan.” Ralak says, his voice calm but with a hint of humor in his gaze. Tonowari gives him a nod, eager for the chance to leave the warriors’ chatter behind before he blows a fuse. They move a few paces away, leaving the others deep in their discussions about their pursuit for future mates. Once they’re out of earshot, Ralak chuckles softly. “You know, it’s quite amusing to see you like this, Tonowari. You, of all people, should be used to admiration. But hearing it directed at her—now that’s something new.”

Tonowari exhales, the tension easing slightly at Ralak’s teasing tone but not leaving completely. “They speak as if she’s theirs to court,” he mutters, his voice barely concealing his frustration. “As if they have any idea who she is.”

Ralak chuckles, crossing his arms as he leans against a nearby tree. “Of course they don’t know. You’ve kept things quiet. They see her as a woman who’s simply here, one who’s… available. And, well,” he smirks, “you cannot blame them for noticing. She’s a rare presence.” The Metkayina have always been curious of what Na’vi from different parts of Pandora look like so now that they’ve laid eyes on you a new curiosity has grown, what it’s like to be with a woman that's the opposite of them.

Tonowari sighs, a mixture of pride and frustration filling his chest as he knows that men in the clan want you yet you only have eyes for him. “I know that. But to hear them talk so casually, as if they could just… approach her, as if she would give them a second glance…” He shakes his head, fighting the urge to march back and make it clear that you shouldn’t be discussed this way.

“And yet, you’ve kept her hidden. Why?”

Tonowari hesitates, glancing toward the village beyond where he’s spent countless evenings with you. “She and I… we wanted something just for ourselves. Something apart from the clan’s expectations, the constant eyes on us. She wanted time to settle in, to find her place here, without everyone immediately knowing.”

Ralak nods, his expression softening as he begins to understand his reasoning for keeping your relationship under wraps. “Then don’t let their words get under your skin. They speak in ignorance, not knowing what you and her share.” He places a firm hand on Tonowari’s shoulder. “But… I would suggest you think about telling them soon. With mating season approaching, the interest in her will only grow.”

Tonowari grimaces, knowing his friend was right. His warriors are respectful, but also persistent when it comes to finding their potential mate. The last thing he wants is for you to be put in a situation where you feel uncomfortable, or worse, pressured by their advances.

Ralak raises an eyebrow, seeing that the Olo’eyktan is still facing an internal battle with his feelings and thoughts so he decides to give him a few more pieces of sound advice. “Or maybe, you should remind her just how deeply you feel. Make sure she knows she doesn’t need to keep your bond a secret if it causes you both trouble.”

A small smile breaks through Tonowari’s tense expression, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “She knows,” he says softly. “But I’ll admit, it’s hard to hide it when I feel this strongly.”

“Then perhaps a little less hiding wouldn’t hurt. You are the Olo’eyktan, after all. You have every right to make your intentions known.”

Tonowari nods, his resolve strengthening. The quiet, private moments with you are cherished by him when he wants to escape from the demands of his role, but he can’t deny the desire to stand by you openly, to show everyone that you are his.

Tonowari takes a steadying breath, the weight of his friend’s words settling into his mind. He knows now that if he doesn’t make his intentions clear, others will continue to see you as someone they could pursue and that is something he can no longer allow. “Thank you, Ralak,” he says, giving his friend a firm nod. “I’ll speak with her.”

Ralak nods with a smile, satisfied with Tonowari’s decision and glad to see him happy. “Good. She deserves to be seen as the one you’ve chosen, not just another face in the clan.”

As the two men part, Tonowari feels a new sense of purpose filling him. His jealousy sparked something that needs addressing, but more than that, it reminds him of how fully his heart has opened up for you. And if claiming you publicly means drawing a few surprised looks, he’ll gladly accept that challenge.

Previous — Chapter Three・Next — Chapter Four / Part Two

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[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.80)

(Sneak Peak)(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: none of your pack ever expected your heat to come with so many biological changes but now that your mate has a knot...you have but one thing on your mind.

Tags: Groupsex, fivesome? threesome? exhibitionism, voyeurism, praise kink, Knotfucking, dumbification, mindbreak, omegaspace sex, Mating cycles/in heat, lactation kink, false pregnancy, some good ol' tiddy sucking, omega x omega content, scissoring? pussy spanking, jungkook x m/c, mommy kink, daddy kink, trans charecters, discussion of girl knot/cock, girl on top, feral sex, biting, humor, this is soft and horny and funny,

W/c: 11.0k

A/n: Ahhhh i'm sorry it took so long for me to write this chapter- the good thing is the next one won't be that far off! Until then if you like this story and want to read a different version of the beginning that has like 5+ additional chapters of how yoongi and the m/c got together you can read it here

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

~-~

“Has anything like this ever happened before?” Seokjin asks, carefully. Pillow over his bare lap. Namjoon has the good sense to at least put on some shorts. Jimin looks at Tae quickly and Tae does not return his gaze. Some secret soulmate conversation going on between them that you can’t read.

When you look up at Hobi- he’s watching your face. He doesn’t look away but after a moment- he does shrug as if to say ‘our beta has a knot- so what?’

“I’ve never heard of a beta popping a knot. I’m not sure. I think this might just be us.”

You groan, hiding your face under Yoongi’s chin. His breath heaves, and he turns back to you, nuzzling back.

“Is it my slick? Or the mating mark? Did I do this to him-” your eyes are wet, tears already threatening. You are already generally sensitive, and even more so in heat. Yoongi eases away your worries with a quick kiss to the side of your face. Cutting off your guilt before it has a chance to build.

“None of that now, if I had to change for anyone, I’m glad it’s you.”

The pack is quiet around you, all in varying states of nudity. Quiet at the truth of what he says, how suddenly deep this has gotten. But he's right, you'd change for any of them. You wouldn't mind either.  Yoongi rubs your cheek and you pull yourself half into his lap for a cuddle. Needy, too worn down to let it go. Yoongi’s hands go around your waist keeping you close. You melt into his arms, still sniffling.

"Your dick was perfect before though-"

"Sweetheart " he groans.

"What? I'm just saying-"

Hoseok chokes back a laugh and tries to keep it in, but before you can help it everyone's laughing and covering their faces with their hands to keep from smiling. 

“You didn’t cum at all. Did you?" Namjoon asks, eyes dark. Yoongi starts to lift the hem of the shirt you wear, showing. “No, I didn’t.” Yoongi can feel a bit of skin at the base of his cock, still loose, still half popped. If you weren’t more preoccupied with holding your mate and shaking through a bit of weepiness, you’d be more curious about the knot pressed between your legs.

Maybe this is just resource-guarding. Classic omega in heat, of course, the most valuable resource is your mate. 

“You know” Namjoon hesitates, looking from Yoongi to Jin. “Popping a knot without ejaculating sperm is kind of medically dangerous-”

“Namjoon-” Jin scolds.

“Sorry, without Cuming is actually kind of dangerous, especially because it’s like, not typical for you to have a knot.”

You don’t know if it’s hornyness or just Namjoon being concerned for Yoongi’s health (probably a little bit of both) but you perk up. Blinking at the pack alpha who looks a little strained. A little like he’s trying not to look too much.

Across the nest, Jungkook shuffles forward, blatantly eyeing Yoongi’s knot like he’s just found his new favorite toy. But no sooner is he putting his hand on the beta’s tight before Jin is pulling him back the collar. "no no no pup, that's not yours yet."

He lets out a little bereft whimper, but you hardly notice. Eyes bright, directed up at Namjoon. Like it honestly hadn’t occurred to you that now that your mate has a knot that means he can use it.

Yoongi can knot you now. Pack alpha is so smart! you don't know how it didn't occur to you yet but.

oh, you really want that. You really want Yoongi to knot you.

Coming saturday Jan 25th at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below).

[authorautumn]

https://www.tumblr.com/authorautumn/780776592868802560/crk-characters-playing-minecraft?source=share

Saw this, adored this, loved the hcs and now I gotta ask for my own...

Would ask the usual character x reader hcs request but after seeing this prompt I just gotta try it!

White lily, affogato, Caramel arrow, dark choco, royal margarine, Clotted cream playing mine craft with you hcs plz!

May ask for this hc with other characters too because I got a LOT of characters I adore...

Also welcome to the cookie run x reader community! I've never seen anyone post specific senario hcs like this before and felt like I just had to give it a shot!

CRK characters playing Minecraft

A/n: I'm very surprised I gained requests so soon! Honestly I loved these cookies and defo had them on my team for a while. Thanks for reaching out, anon!

꓃⁠ Genre : fluffy fluff

꓃⁠ Summary: My headcannons on how these cookie run characters would play Minecraft with you

꓃⁠ Characters: white lily, affogato, caramel arrow, and dark choco

- [ ❇️⚪ ] White Lily Cookie -

• this woman is so lost 😭 she accidentally broke the torches in your home and a creeper spawned in

• "oops..sorry" is all she could slip out before the creeper blows y'all up 💔

• Very well when gaining resources, I feel like she would wander off while you build a house and come back with random valuables from chests she found

• saw a bunny and tried to feed it but accidentally killed it off 😞

• her head would rest on your shoulder as the both of you play, occasionally tracing her thumb in tiny circles on your knee

[ FAV MINECRAFT CHARACTER] : bunny and pigs! She absolutely adores them so don't let her see you kill one..

- [🔮] Affogato Cookie -

• okay let's be real. As soon as this guy sees anything valuable you have, he's taking it.

• you'll go back to your chest at the end of the night and your diamonds will be gone 😞 With high suspicion, you turn to affogato only to see him wearing a full diamond armor set 💔

• "well, I only deserve the best. I guess we'll just have to find you some more, hmm hmm" He assures with a slight chuckle underneath his breath

• he's the "I'm-just-here-for-the-ride" type of player. He'll see you fighting a whole mob outside and stay in to make items he'll never use or share

• if dating, will occasionally kiss your forehead to make up for his selfishness (it kinda works, but you never told him)

[FAV MINECRAFT CHARACTER] : no personal favorites by he absolutely despises endermen.

- [ 🟤🏹 ] Caramel Arrow -

• Literally one of the best cookies to play with. She always makes sure you have new weapons and armor, often giving her items to you ❤️‍🩹🙂‍↕️

• as soon as she found a bow in the game, that's all she ever used ( exceptionally her sword from time to time for close combat).

• one night you found her using the enchantment table to upgrade her bow. "what? I gotta make sure I can protect you, right?" was the only excuse she could come up with (which was partially true).

• never afraid to go in a cave. 🙂‍↔️ She'll put a torch up as she goes and you probably won't see her for another 45 minutes (unless you ventured off with her)

[ FAV MINECRAFT CHARACTER ] : skeletons and villagers.

- [🍫🗡️] Dark Choco Cookie -

• once he gets used to the game, he gets more comfortable letting his guard down. I can imagine him having a bit of trouble at first, and needing some guidance.

• always makes sure your in his sight, often asking "where..are you?" before he explored too far without your character by his side ❤️‍🩹😢

• I feel like he would have 64 blocks of every type of wood in his inventory 💀"just in case". He doesn't like to stay in the same place for too long and avoids villages bc you like to camp there 💔

•if dating, you're most likely resting on his shoulder and he'll sometimes rest his head on yours too

[FAV MINECRAFT CHARACTER] : none. He just enjoys your company!

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

[stellaspectral]

Hi! I love your writing, could I maybe request the boys (maybe 03, 2012, 07 or bayverse?) x vampire!reader?

A/N: Hello! I seem to have went overboard again with the plot set-up of this story. Oh, and for the setting, I went with the 2003 universe.

I hope you enjoy it! 💖

Centuries in Shadow (paranormal/action)

💚 2003 Turtles/Gender Neutral Reader 💚

CWs: Vampire Reader, violence, themes of being hunted, some injury details, depictions of torture (UV light exposure, etc.), found family with romantic undertones. All characters are aged-up.

You crouch low on the rooftop of a New York residence and scan your surroundings for trouble, your senses honed by centuries of survival.

You’ve lived discreetly here for a long time, using your resources to live a relatively quiet life. Blood bank deliveries, a secure income from decades of wise investments, and an almost pathological avoidance of attention have served you well. You’ve curated this mostly peaceful existence with painstaking care.

But now, someone is determined to destroy everything you’ve built.

Suddenly, the alley below erupts with activity. Figures in black tactical gear marked with the eagle-and-globe insignia of the Earth Protection Force rappel from the opposite rooftop.

“Target is designated Omega-Six. Subdue, do not terminate,” a harsh voice crackles over the comms, “at least not yet.”

“Roger, Bishop,” one man replies.

Of course, you recognize the name. He and the EPF seem to have gotten a credible lead on your existence. You surmise Bishop sees you as either a valuable biological weapon to be studied and controlled, or a significant threat to be neutralized. But you don’t intend to find out his true goal the hard way.

Because you won’t allow them to capture you—not without a fight.

You don’t wait for them to fully deploy and launch yourself towards the nearest agents. They expect you to flee, to scramble up a fire escape, seeking the shadows. They don’t expect a direct, silent assault. And the element of surprise is nearly always on your side.

One agent, his face obscured by a dark visor, raises a weapon. You pivot, the air where your head was moments before crackling with a discharged stun bolt. Balling your hand, you slam it into his chest. Not hard enough to shatter bone. You’re not trying to kill, merely incapacitate; you’re not a monster, after all. Though it’s enough to drop him to his knees, gasping, the wind knocked from his lungs.

“Omega-Six is engaging! Defensive pattern beta! Use the shock batons!” an unknown voice, probably the field leader, shouts.

More organized now, they try to encircle you.

High above, unseen by the EPF, four figures watch from the lip of an adjacent building. They’ve been tracking Bishop for weeks, and this sudden, violent confrontation has their full attention.

“Whoa, dudes, Bishop’s goons are trying to bag someone,” Mikey says.

“Quiet, Mikey,” Leo murmurs, eyes narrowed. “Donnie, what’s your take on the target?”

Donnie is peering through high-tech binoculars. “Strange. Definitely not human. They have enhanced speed, strength … and they don’t seem to be affected much by the agents’ retaliatory efforts.”

“Looks like they can defend themselves,” Raph remarks, his hands instinctively going to his weapons at his belt. “But Bishop’s playing rough.”

Meanwhile, you feel the sting as yet another baton glances off your arm. It’s an unpleasant jolt, but your ancient physiology shrugs off the worst of it, leaving only a dull ache—and a surge of cold fury. You lash out with a kick, sending another agent tumbling. They are persistent, these EPF soldiers, like well-trained hounds.

Then Bishop’s voice cuts through the comms again. “Omega-Six is proving more resilient than expected. Authorize the use of the nets and UV projectors. We need this specimen intact, but damage is acceptable if it ensures capture.”

Even a brief exposure to the UV could be agonizing and debilitating. Bishop’s casual disregard for your well-being—for your personhood—stokes the embers of your fury into a roaring inferno. You are not some thing to be cataloged and dissected!

You see the change in their tactics immediately. Two agents break formation, producing bulky, shoulder-mounted devices. Others unclip net-launchers from their thighs, aiming with precision.

Up on the rooftop, Leo watches the agents adjust their aim. “What are those?” he asks, his voice tight.

Donnie zooms in the optical sensors of the binoculars. “Those larger units—they’re high-intensity ultraviolet emitters. And those are pneumatic net launchers. They’re not playing around.”

“UV? Like, for vampires?” Mikey asks.

Raph shoves him lightly. “He said ‘specimen,’ Leo,” he growls, his gaze fixed on the scene below. “And ‘damage is acceptable.’ Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? They’re treating them, whatever they are, like an animal.” His grip tightens on his sai.

The first UV beam slices through the night, a searing white-violet ray that makes your skin crawl even from a near miss. You twist, the beam scorching the brickwork where you stood a microsecond before. Another agent fires a net; you drop, spin, and feel the weighted mesh whip over your head, snagging on a ventilation pipe. Too close.

You can’t afford to be hit by those beams. Your movements become sharper, more desperate, focused on evasion above all else. You leap back up the building and move from rooftop to rooftop, a blur of motion. The EPF agents scramble to keep up, their beams cutting erratic patterns in the darkness.

They are herding you, you realize too late, trying to force you into a kill box.

“Subject is agile,” Bishop’s voice crackles. “Flank them. Pin them between sectors three and four. Prioritize UV containment. I want it unable to fight back.”

You vault over an air conditioning unit, the hum of a charging UV projector dangerously close. You spin in mid-air, lashing out with a foot that connects with the agent’s device. It sparks, fizzles, and the agent stumbles back with a curse, momentarily blinded by his own malfunctioning weapon. A minor victory, but more are closing in.

A net catches your ankle, and you hit the roof hard, a grunt escaping your lips. The rough surface scrapes at your clothes, your skin.

“Got a partial hit!” one agent shouts.

Another beam cuts towards your downed form. You throw yourself sideways into a roll, the beam charring the spot where your torso was, the acrid smell of something burning filling your nostrils.

“They’re gonna fry ‘em!” Mikey exclaims, his earlier levity gone.

“Bishop’s not trying to subdue anymore. That was a kill shot, or close to it,” Donnie observes, his voice grim. “If they’re photosensitive, those beams are torture.”

Leo watches, his jaw set. The figure below, though clearly not human, is fighting with a desperate ferocity. They aren’t launching unprovoked attacks; they’re defending themselves against a heavily armed force that clearly wants them captured. Or worse. And Bishop’s cold, clinical orders remind him too much of the enemies who saw him and his brothers as mere obstacles or tools.

“Sector three, saturate the area with UV. Force it into the open!” Bishop commands.

Multiple beams converge, creating an inescapable cage of agonizing light. You hiss, shielding your face as the edges of the beams sear at your exposed hands. The pain is intense, a deep, burning ache that feels like your very cells are igniting. You can feel your strength beginning to wane under the assault; the primal urge to flee into the darkness is overwhelming.

“That’s it!” Raph snarls. “I don’t care what they are. Nobody deserves that. Bishop’s crossed the line!”

“Raph, wait!” Leo orders, but his voice lacks its usual conviction. He sees it too. The target is cornered and visibly in pain. Bishop’s tactics are brutal, excessive. This isn’t about protection; it’s about acquisition, at any cost.

“We can’t just watch this,” Donnie adds, lowering his binoculars.

As you struggle against the light, a flicker of movement from above catches your attention. Four distinct silhouettes detach themselves from the skyline, leaping with agile grace. They land between you and the advancing EPF line.

“Alright, Bishop!” a voice rings out—the one in blue. “Playtime’s over! Why don’t you try picking on someone your own size?”

The agents hesitate, surprised by the sudden appearance of these new, unknown combatants. You stare, momentarily stunned. Human-sized turtles? With ninja weapons? Your long existence has shown you many strange things, but this is … novel.

Are they here for you? Or are they merely another complication in this already disastrous night? Their stance, however, seems defensive, facing away from you, towards Bishop’s men. A flicker of something you haven’t felt in a long time—hope?—ignites in your chest.

“Who the shell are you?” the red one growls, shoulder-checking an EPF trooper away from you. “And what’s Bishop’s beef with ya?”

“Later, Raph!” the blue one orders, deflecting a dart aimed at your head, before he glances at you. “Come with us if you want to get out of this!”

There’s no time for formal introductions or lengthy explanations. With a final, coordinated push, you and the turtles break through the EPF cordon before melting into the labyrinthine network of back alleys, leaving Bishop’s forces to regroup.

“No one escapes the EPF, Omega-Six! No one!” his voice over the comms a promise of retribution.

You maintain a carefully neutral posture as a wise-looking rat in a kimono regards you with disconcertingly perceptive eyes.

“My sons,” he says, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable authority, “you have brought a most … unique guest into our home.”

Leo steps forward. “Master Splinter, this is … well, we don’t actually know who they are. Bishop and the EPF were trying to capture or kill them. We intervened.” He looks at you, his expression cautious. “We need to know what you are, and if you’re a threat to us.”

Raph scoffs, arms crossed tightly over his plastron. “Threat? Look at them, Leo. Pale skin, moves too fast, and I swear I saw fangs back there.”

Donnie, on the other hand, seems fascinated rather than suspicious. “Their physiology is astounding, unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Thermoregulation seems minimal, and cellular regeneration appears highly advanced. Are you nocturnal by nature? What are your dietary requirements?”

“Whoa, are you like … an actual vampire or something?” Mikey asks. “Can you turn into a bat? Or mist? Do you vant to suck our bloooood?” He mimes a classic Dracula pose, complete with hooked fingers, then shrinks back when Raph shoots him a withering glare.

You take a slow breath, meeting each of their gazes, before you tell them your name. “And yes, to answer your most pressing question—I am what you would call a vampire.”

There are a few beats of silence. Mikey’s eyes widen to the size of manhole covers. Donnie tilts his head, as if trying to analyze you. Raph tenses, his posture screaming ‘threat.’ Leo’s expression is unreadable, but his eyes narrow slightly. Only Splinter remains impassive, his gaze thoughtful.

“A vampire?” Mikey finally breathes, a strange mix of awe and terror in his voice. He looks from you to his brothers and back again. “So, like the garlic, the stakes, the not being able to cross running water—is all that stuff true? Dude, this is so much cooler than the movies!”

Raph snorts. “Cooler? Mikey, they could drain us dry before we even blink! If they are what they say they are.” His glare fixes on you, sharp and accusing. “How do we know you’re not just waiting for us to drop our guard?”

“Raphael,” Splinter scolds. He then turns his gaze to you, his whiskers twitching. “The legends surrounding your kind are many, and often contradictory. They speak of darkness, of predation, but also of ancient power and profound loneliness.” His eyes hold a surprising depth of understanding, or perhaps just a willingness to understand in general. “You sought to avoid Bishop. You fought only to defend yourself. This does not align with the monstrous caricature often painted.”

You incline your head respectfully towards the wise rat. “The tales are exaggerated. Twisted by fear and ignorance over centuries.” You carefully choose your words, aware that every syllable is being scrutinized. “I do not prey on the unwilling. My needs are met through … other means. I have no desire to harm any of you. You offered aid when I was vulnerable. I am in your debt.”

Donnie is practically vibrating with scientific curiosity. He has procured a PDA and taps away at the screen with a stylus. “Incredible! Are you truly immortal, or just exceptionally long-lived? Are there different blood types that are more palatable?”

His barrage of questions is almost overwhelming. You manage a faint smile. “Perhaps one question at a time?”

“Yeah, brainiac, let them breathe,” Mikey chimes in, though his own curiosity is palpable. He cautiously inches closer. “So, no bat-transforming then?”

You focus on Leo, who has remained silent and observant. “I understand your caution,” you say, meeting his gaze directly. “I am … different. My existence is a secret I have guarded for centuries. I suspect Bishop wishes to exploit that difference, to turn me into a weapon or a lab rat.” You wince as a sharp throb of pain emanates from your arm where the shock baton connected and the UV light grazed.

Leo notices the flicker of pain. His expression softens marginally. “You’re injured.” It’s a statement, not a question. “Donnie, can you …?”

Before Donnie can offer medical assistance, which you know would involve far too many invasive questions right now, you shake your head. “I heal quickly. The light—it’s the worst. But I will recover.” You pause, then decide a measure of honesty is warranted. “Sunlight, or concentrated UV like Bishop uses, is indeed a significant vulnerability. It doesn’t kill instantly, as some myths suggest, but it is excruciatingly painful and debilitating.”

Raph still looks unconvinced. “So you’re saying you’re a ‘good’ vampire? Like, you only drink … I dunno, tomato juice with iron supplements?” he sneers.

You resist the urge to bristle at his tone. “I told you, I do not prey on the unwilling. I have lived among humans for a very long time.”

Splinter strokes his chin. “It seems Agent Bishop has made an enemy of you, and now, by extension, he may consider my sons his enemies as well for their interference.” He looks at Leo. “Leonardo, what is your assessment?”

Leo finally looks away from you and to his father. “They were being hunted, Master. And Bishop’s methods were extreme. They didn’t attack until they cornered them. And they’re right; if they wanted to hurt us, they had ample opportunity when we brought them here.” He glances back at you. “But we still don’t know much. Why you? Why does Bishop want you specifically?”

“I don’t know another reason other than what I’ve said before,” you say. “But I know he has been hunting down rumors of my existence for years. And, obviously, he’d finally found a credible one.”

“So, you’re like super old?” Mikey asks, eyes wide. “How old? Older than Master Splinter? Uh, no offense, sensei!”

Splinter chuckles. “I suspect, Michelangelo, our guest may measure their years in centuries, not decades.”

You offer a small, almost sad smile. “Your Master is correct. My memory stretches back further than I sometimes care to recall.” You look around the lair. At these strange, honorable creatures who have offered you a lifeline. “I have always sought to live quietly, to remain unseen. Bishop threatens to shatter that peace, not just for me, but for anyone he deems abnormal.” You look pointedly at the turtles. “A sentiment I suspect you can understand.”

This strikes a chord. You see it in the shift in Raph’s posture, the flicker in Leo’s eyes, the thoughtful frown on Donnie’s face. They understand being hunted for being different.

“So, what now?” Raph asks, his tone still gruff but a fraction less hostile. “We just let Dracula’s cousin crash on our couch?”

Your gaze drifts towards him. “I have no intention of ‘crashing on your couch’ indefinitely. I have my own resources, a secure place. But returning there tonight would be unwise. Bishop will expect it.”

Leo nods in agreement. “He’ll have eyes on your known locations, if he has them. Staying off-grid for a bit is smart.” He looks around the lair. “We don’t exactly have a guest room, but we can make you comfortable.”

“You’ve already done more than I could have expected from strangers,” you reply, your voice sincere.

“Hospitality to those in need is a virtue, no matter how unconventional the guest is.” Splinter smiles gently. “Now, I believe some rest is in order for all of us. We’ll discuss strategies and Bishop after everyone rests.”

“I’ll set up a cot in my lab,” Donnie says. “It’s relatively quiet there, and I can monitor … well, ensure you’re undisturbed.”

You appreciate the offer, though the idea of being ‘monitored’ gives you a slight pause. Still, it’s better than the alternative. “Your lab will do fine. Thank you.”

As the turtles disperse, Raph lingers for a moment. He doesn’t approach, but his gaze is intense. “Just so we’re clear,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “You hurt my family, fangs or no fangs, and you’ll deal with me.”

You meet his stare unflinchingly. “I have no intention of harming anyone here. You have my word.”

He gives a curt nod, then turns and joins his brothers in retreating to their rooms. You follow Donnie towards his lab, where he clears a space and sets up a simple cot.

“The light controls are here,” he says, pointing to a panel. “I can ensure it remains completely dark, if you prefer.”

“I would appreciate that,” you say. The thought of any stray light, even artificial, makes your skin prickle after the UV assault.

“Right.” He adjusts the settings. “Emergency comm if you need anything.” He gestures to a small device on a nearby table. “Otherwise sleep well. Or, you know, rest. Whatever vampires do.” He gives an awkward smile.

You return it with a weary one of your own. “Rest will suffice. Thank you again. For everything.”

He nods, then quietly exits the lab, leaving you in the cool, encompassing darkness. You sink into the cot, the events of the night replaying in your mind. It’s a lot to process.

You are a creature of solitude, of carefully maintained secrecy. To be exposed, hunted, and then rescued by such improbable saviors is a paradigm shift you are still struggling to comprehend.

Eventually, you fall asleep, the faint hum of Donnie’s tech a strangely soothing lullaby in this hidden sanctuary beneath the city.

An uneasy truce settles over the lair.

Donnie, with your cautious permission, conducts a series of non-invasive scans and bombards you with a relentless barrage of questions. You answer patiently, detailing the science and history of your kind as you understand it.

Leo observes you constantly. He sees your restraint during training spars, your controlled movements, the way you never seem to lose your composure. He notices how you track conversations, picking up nuances others miss.

Raph remains the most openly suspicious. He makes pointed comments about your nocturnal habits (“Sun bothering ya, Fangs?”) and your diet (“So, what’s on the menu tonight? Bag O’ Positive?). Yet even he can’t entirely deny your unnerving effectiveness in a fight. He also, grudgingly, notes that you don’t flinch from danger.

Mikey, once he’s assured you won’t suddenly sprout wings and drain him, treats you with a weird mix of awe and friendliness. He grills you about traits of vampires from various media.

“So, can you, like, hypnotize people with your eyes? Is it true you can’t see your reflection? Oh! Oh! Do you sleep in a coffin? Because Donnie could totally build you a super-cool, souped-up one!” he says.

You smile. His genuine curiosity, free of the malice or fear you’ve encountered so often in your early life, feels refreshing. “Some of those are pure fiction. Others have a grain of truth.” You decide to indulge him, seeing the eager anticipation in his eyes. “I don’t want a coffin, but I prefer a dark, quiet space. And reflections—we cast them just like anyone else. It’s one of the more persistent, and frankly, annoying myths.”

Mikey’s face falls slightly at the coffin debunking, but brightens again. “Aww, man! But still, super cool!” He then looks at you, a softer, more earnest expression replacing his usual boisterousness. “It must be kinda lonely, though, huh? Being around for so long, seeing everything change.”

His unexpected insight catches you off guard, and you find yourself nodding slowly. “It has its moments.”

His gaze is gentle, and he offers you a hesitant, lopsided grin.

Later, Leo proposes a sparring session with everyone. And you agree.

Of course, you face Leo first. His movements are precise, disciplined. He attacks with focused intensity, testing your defenses. You meet him with fluid grace, parrying, deflecting, your own style a blend of ancient techniques and instinct. His eyes, usually so focused and serious, widen almost imperceptibly when you evade a complex maneuver with ease before you flow into a disarming counter.

He steps back, a thoughtful expression on his face. “You’re fast. Very fast.” There’s a new note in his voice, a hint of respect mixing with his usual caution. He looks at you, really looks at you. Not just as a potential threat or an unknown quantity, but as a warrior. His gaze lingers on your face for a moment longer than necessary, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths before he schools his features back into a neutral mask.

Raph is next, coming at you with raw power and aggression. “Alright, Fangs, let’s see if you’re more than just fancy moves!” he grunts, aiming to overwhelm you.

You meet his ferocity with calm, unyielding defense, redirecting his force, using his momentum against him. He’s strong, undeniably, but you’ve faced stronger, and certainly angrier. At one point, his sai skitters from his grasp after a clever wrist lock. He stares at it, then at you, a surprised, almost grudging admiration dawning on his face.

Raph says nothing, just grunts and picks up his weapon. But his usual taunts are notably absent for the rest of the spar. And when you finally pin him, he just lies there for a second, breathing hard, looking up at you with an expression you can’t quite decipher. It’s not anger. It’s … something else.

Something that makes your own pulse quicken.

He pushes himself up, still silent, and retreats to the side as Donnie takes his place. “I’m hoping to gather more data,” he says, readying his staff.

You meet his intellectual curiosity with a smile. “By all means, gather away.”

His fighting differs from Leo’s precision or Raph’s power. It’s analytical, probing, each strike and block a question. He’s testing your reaction times, your strength thresholds, and the limits of your agility. You find yourself enjoying it.

He lunges, a feint designed to draw you out. But you anticipate it, your hand brushing his arm as you evade. The contact is brief, almost accidental, but you see a faint flush rise on his green cheeks, his eyes widening a bit before he quickly refocuses.

“Remarkable,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, after you disarm him. He retrieves his staff, his gaze thoughtful and, you notice, lingering on your eyes for a moment longer than strictly necessary for combat assessment before he moves away.

Lastly, Mikey comes forward. “My turn, super-V! Let’s see if you can handle the whirlwind!”

His style is all wild exuberance, unpredictable and surprisingly effective because of it. He’s less about winning and more about the joy of the movement, the thrill of the exchange. You don’t go all out; there’s no need. Instead, you match his energy, turning the spar into something closer to a dance, albeit a fast one.

He whoops with delight when you catch his nunchaku mid-swing, your fingers brushing his. Unlike Donnie’s slight flush, Mikey just grins wider, his eyes sparkling. And he doesn’t seem to mind when you take advantage of an opening and come out on top. He just laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulders in a casual, friendly hug.

But he pulls back a little after a few moments, suddenly shy. “Uh, sorry. Got carried away. You’re just … really cool, you know?” His gaze is earnest, and you feel a warmth spread through you. His eyes flick down to your lips for a fleeting second before darting back up to meet your gaze, a boyish blush on his cheeks.

Leo nods, still studying you. “Your style is unique. Who taught you?”

“Time,” you reply simply. “And necessity.”

Your eyes meet his, and that unreadable flicker is there again, stronger this time. He seems to hold your gaze for a long moment, the noise of the lair fading into the background. You feel a strange pull—before he tears his gaze away as Raph addresses the group.

“Good to know Bishop’s lackeys won’t be the only ones getting a surprise if they try something.”

In the following weeks, you become a fixture in the lair.

Leo seeks you out for late-night conversations. Ostensibly, he wants to discuss potential EPF tactics or patrol routes. But you notice how his questions often stray to your long existence.

“It must give you a unique perspective,” he says one evening, his voice softer than usual, his gaze fixed on you.

His eyes, you note, don’t just skim over you anymore; they seem to search, to understand the centuries etched into your being. When you share a rare, wistful memory, a ghost of a smile touches his lips, and you feel a shared understanding of duty and the weight of carrying secrets. He often finds reasons to be near, a reassuring presence by your side when you’re all gathered, his hand sometimes brushing yours when passing an object, a touch that sends a jolt through you.

Raph’s taunts lessen, replaced by respect that manifests in odd ways. He still tries to provoke you into sparring matches. But now there’s a distinct energy to them. He pushes you, and when you push back, a fiery glint appears in his eyes that’s not entirely anger. He also starts using your name more often, the sound of it rough but no longer accusatory. It makes your stomach flutter.

Donnie shows you his latest inventions, his voice eager as he explains the complex mechanics, his eyes bright when you grasp a tough concept. He stammers a bit when you compliment his ingenuity. You notice him watching you when he thinks you’re not looking, a soft, almost tender expression on his face that makes your ancient heart beat a little faster.

Mikey wears his heart on his sleeve. His awe solidifies into a puppyish affection. He pesters you with endless questions about your ‘super vampire powers.’ Shares his comic books and watches movies with you. He saves you the best slice of pizza and dedicates his video game victories to you. Adoration beams from him, warming you from the inside out.

A sense of belonging washes over you, a feeling you haven’t allowed yourself to experience in centuries. You find yourself smiling more at these four remarkable brothers, so different, who chip away at your guard. You care about them, more than you thought possible. More than is perhaps wise.

Unfortunately, one evening, the fragile peace shatters without warning.

You are in the main living area, listening to Donnie explain a new security algorithm he’s designed for the lair’s perimeter, Leo nodding thoughtfully beside him, when a deafening explosion rips through the lair from the direction of one of the main tunnel access points. The ground heaves, lights flicker and die, plunging you into emergency backup power.

“What was that?!” Mikey yells, tumbling off the couch.

“Intruder alert! Multiple breaches!” Donnie shouts, already at his console, fingers flying across the keyboard. His voice is tight with alarm. “They’re coming in from the old subway access! And the storm drain junction! Heavy weapon signatures!”

“EPF!” Leo barks, katanas already in his hands, his eyes immediately finding yours. “They found us!”

Raph is already moving, sai drawn, a furious snarl twisting his features. “Let ‘em come! They want a fight, they’ll get one!”

Before anyone can formulate a more detailed plan, the first wave of EPF commandos, clad in reinforced black armor and new, heavier-grade UV projectors, smash through a weakened section of the wall, sending debris and dust flying.

“Targets acquired!” a voice shouts from the advancing line. “Prioritize Omega-Six and the terrapin subjects! Bishop wants them alive!”

The air crackles with energy blasts and the distinct hum of UV emitters powering up. You react instantly, a blur of motion. You shove Donnie away from his console just as a concentrated beam scorches the spot where he stood. The heat washes over your arm, a searing pain. But you grit your teeth against it.

You see Mikey, momentarily frozen as an agent wielding an electrified net advances on him. Without a second thought, you launch yourself across the room. You intercept the net with your forearm, the electricity coursing through you, agonizing but bearable for a moment. You snarl, and with your free hand, you disarm the agent with a single, brutal blow to his wrist, then hurl him into two of his comrades, clearing a path for Mikey.

A fervent gratitude fills his eyes when they meet yours for a fleeting second, making your chest ache. “Thanks!” he says, shaking off his fear and joining the fray.

Raph is a whirlwind of fury, taking down agents left and right, but he’s outnumbered. You see an agent take aim at his exposed back with a sonic cannon. And you move faster than you’ve allowed them to see before, smashing the cannon with a powerful kick before it can fire. Raph glances back at you, shocked, before something akin to awe flashes across his face.

“Impressive, Omega-Six!” Bishop’s voice echoes from a comm unit on one of the downed agents. “But you can’t protect them all. Your sentimentality is a weakness.”

More agents pour in. They’re using flashbangs, disorienting sonics, and those cursed UV lights, trying to box you all in. Leo is fighting valiantly. But he’s being forced back, a pained grunt escaping him as a beam grazes his shoulder. You feel an icy rage building, an ancient fury you’ve suppressed for centuries.

These are your turtles he’s threatening. These are the beings who showed you kindness, who have become so important to you.

“Fall back to the dojo!” Leo yells, clutching his injured shoulder, his voice strained.

You help cover their retreat. You’re not just incapacitating now; you’re disabling the agents with ruthless efficiency, breaking weapons, shattering visors, ensuring they stay down. The pain from your own burns and bruises is nothing compared to the adrenaline coursing through you, your protective instincts overriding everything else.

In the dojo, the fighting is close-quarters, brutal. Splinter joins the fray, a surprisingly formidable warrior despite his age, his movements economical and devastating. But Bishop’s forces are relentless.

Suddenly, a section of the ceiling explodes. Rappel lines drop, and more EPF troopers descend—among them Bishop himself, his cold eyes fixing on you. He’s holding a newly designed, high-powered UV rifle, its muzzle glowing ominously.

“Omega-Six,” he says, his voice devoid of emotion. “Your association with these aberrations has made this far more complicated than it needed to be. But ultimately, more rewarding. Six prizes instead of one.”

He aims the rifle, not at you, but at a stunned Mikey, who’s trying to help a winded Donnie to his feet after a nasty blow.

Time seems to slow. You see the barrel glow with deadly violet light. You see Mikey’s wide, terrified eyes turn towards the threat, too late to react. There’s no choice. Not really.

Not anymore.

You throw yourself in front of Mikey, your back to Bishop—

—and the UV beam hits you squarely in the spine.

Pain rips through you; it’s like being set on fire from the inside. Your vision whites out, a scream tearing from your throat. You collapse, twitching, the smell of your own scorched flesh filling your nostrils. You hear all four brothers scream your name.

Through the searing agony, you hear Raph roar, a sound of pure, murderous rage as he charges Bishop. Leo is there too, moving with a speed born of desperation, despite his injury, his katanas aimed at Bishop’s throat. Donnie fires an EMP pulse from a downed agent’s weapon, momentarily disabling some of the EPF tech.

Including Bishop’s weapon, which sputters and dies.

Mikey attacks the agents nearest you with a ferocity you’ve never seen from him. Bishop, momentarily distracted by Raph’s furious assault and his malfunctioning weapon, stumbles back. He fires wildly with a sidearm, but Leo deflects the shots.

“Fall back! Withdraw!” Bishop snarls into his comm, realizing the tide has turned too sharply, his element of surprise lost.

You’re on the ground, vision swimming, every nerve ending screaming. You can barely move. But you see Bishop, through a haze of pain, trying to make his escape as his remaining troopers cover his retreat. He’s getting away. The one who orchestrated this, the one who wants to dissect you, to weaponize you, the one who just tortured you.

Revenge. It burns even through the agony. You could try to push through the pain, but your eyes snag on Mikey who is scrambling towards you, his voice choked as he calls your name.

“You saved me! Oh, dudes, they’re … they’re really hurt!” he yells, skidding to a halt beside you, his hands hovering, afraid to touch.

Raph, having driven Bishop back, turns from the retreating EPF, his chest heaving. He sees you, and the murderous rage in his eyes momentarily flickers, replaced by a horrified concern. He deflects a stray blast meant for Mikey, roaring as he shoves an agent away from your vicinity, his gaze constantly returning to your fallen form.

Leo creates a defensive perimeter, his voice sharp with command but laced with an undercurrent of fear when he shouts your name, his eyes locking with yours for a heart-stopping second. He’s fighting to get to you, to shield you.

Donnie, having dispatched the agent near him, is already by your side, opposite Mikey. His usual calm is gone, replaced by a frantic urgency. “The burn … it’s … extensive,” he says, his hands gentle as he tries to assess the damage to your back without causing more pain.

You see them. Their fear. Their fight.

The desire for revenge on Bishop, potent as it is, dims. It cannot compare to the overwhelming, fierce need to ensure they are safe. He can wait. They are here, fighting for you.

“Don’t move,” Donnie orders, his voice trembling slightly. “Leo, we need to clear them out! Now!”

“Raph! Mikey! Push them back to the breach!” Leo commands.

Once the last of Bishop’s men are finally driven out or incapacitated, the turtles are all around you.

“You … you saved Mikey,” Leo says, his voice rough with emotion as he kneels beside you. He gently brushes a stray lock of hair from your forehead. His gaze holds yours, and in that moment, the tactical leader is gone, replaced by someone whose fear for you is heart-wrenchingly clear.

Donnie is still trying to assess the full extent of the damage. “Your healing factor—it’s working, but this is … bad.” He looks at you, his gaze filled with anguish as he smiles at you sadly. “Why did you do that?”

Raph stands over you, his usual scowl replaced by an expression of fury and guilt. “You didn’t have to do that,” he admonishes. He avoids looking directly at your injury. But the fierce protectiveness in his eyes, when they meet yours, catches your breath.

“You’re the bravest person I know,” Mikey says, carefully taking your hand. “Don’t worry, we’ll fix you up.”

You try to offer a reassuring smile, but it’s likely more of a grimace. “Bishop …”

“Forget Bishop,” Leo says, his voice firm, his gaze unwavering on yours. “He’s gone. You’re here. That’s all that matters right now.” His hand gently settles on your uninjured arm. “We’ve got you.”

Looking at their faces, seeing the raw emotion in their eyes, you realize the truth of Leo’s words. For now, Bishop doesn’t matter. Revenge can wait.

The four brothers, who are fast becoming your everything, cannot.

[yuri-for-businesswomen]

i have left

hey everyone this will probably be the last thing i post on this blog albeit im keeping it up for resources.

im eternally grateful for how this community has helped me through prostitution and everything, i have amazing mutuals and i have learned so much 💜

but it has become toxic. many of yall cant handle disagreement and default to being as condescending and obnoxious as possible. one of us calling out a post is not enough, we have to dog pile everyone with a slightly shitty opinion. some of yall have severely lost the plot if you ever had it in the first place. not everything is that serious, especially when it comes to online drama.

im sick of it. so many engage in the same bullshit we accuse online trans activists of. this is an echo chamber. so many just mindlessly parrot slogans and arguments. what im very sick of is seeing single tweets or posts by a nobody, usually anonymous, being spread as receipts and shit. you know how annoying it is when everything a self proclaimed terf somewhere on social media says is taken by trans activists at face value and representative of the community when theyre not even radical feminist, just transphobic? yeah. yet a lot of yall do the same by saving and sharing „receipts“ where some random person who claims theyre trans (or not even) says some fucked up or out of pocket shit. you will always find people like that online, from any politicial „camp“ or ideological alignment!

a lot of yall seem to think that debate is about winning and not like, having an exchange of arguments and let the audience come to their own conclusion

and i just dont hate trans people. in fact i feel kinship to any female or homosexual trans person, anyone except heterosexual males. many of yall dont even realise how male centered you are when you more or less equal the trans community to heterosexual men who have a fetish for humiliation and forced feminisation or whatever. who exist and are an issue and i do wish the trans community at large would distance themselves from those men, but its not all there is to it. yes i agree that we need to protect vulnerable young people, girls and especially lesbians and gay boys, from being pushed into transitioning, i think the age of consent should be put at 21 or something, but we have to acknowledge and consider that there are people who have already transitioned and will transition in the future and i just dont understand how you cant have any empathy for them. no matter what you think about transition, many trans people ARE vulnerable and marginalised. plus consider how many detransitioned women are in this community yet yall talk about trans people as mutilated and shit its gross. in the end we can only try to establish structures that keep people from self harming, but an adult of sound mind has the right to do so anyways, including plastic surgery and trans surgeries. and i want to keep my arms open to them; but a lot of rhetoric around it spread on here will only alienate them further.

right now im saving all my essays in notes so its out of my mind. i have missed the community a lot so maybe i will return at some point but i have also been feeling better since i stopped being on radblr. i miss the rare valuable input and thoughts by other women but overall i have felt unaligned with how things have been handled on here. it has been mostly negative instead of constructive and pragmatic. ive had the impression some of yall enjoy the „being in the in-group“ community aspect more than actually being here for feminist exchange. lack of nuance, lack of empathy, lack of reason. it pains me but i have more and more come to understand why people just block us without engaging on general suspicion because ive also come to be annoyed with some of yall engaging with posts - and im on „your side“.

anyways im doing okay, im going to drug counselling regularly now and am trying to establish a stable life for those of you who inquired, and i hope anyone reading this is self reflected enough to know whether this applies to her or not. bye

[bumblebeeswrite]

FLUFF PROMPT

Board game nights where their competitive sides come out

WITH JASON PLS like late night after campers are all asleep board game session???? (If you so choose🥹)

Ok bye for now

FRIENDLY FIRE | JASON HOCHBERG

summary: you and Jason go head to head

The cabin was quiet, the only sounds the soft rustle of the pines outside and the rhythmic click, click, click of dice against wood. The rest of the camp was asleep, or at least, they were supposed to be. You and Jason, however, were wide awake, locked in a battle of wits and strategy. The game of choice tonight? Settlers of Catan.

Jason, usually the picture of slightly awkward, endearing camp counselor, was transformed. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his eyes narrowed with a competitive fire you hadn't quite seen before. He wasn't the Jason who struggled to connect with the teenage counselors; he was a cunning strategist, a ruthless negotiator, a force to be reckoned with.

"Okay, okay," he said, his voice low, a conspiratorial whisper in the stillness of the cabin. "I'll trade you two wheat for one ore."

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair. The single, dim lantern cast long shadows across the game board, highlighting the colorful resource cards in your hand. "Two wheat? Jason, you know I'm swimming in wheat. I need ore, badly, but not that badly."

He sighed dramatically, running a hand through his already slightly disheveled hair. "Fine, fine. One wheat for one ore. But that's my final offer."

You considered it for a moment, tapping a finger against your chin. The offer was tempting, but you knew you could squeeze a little more out of him. "Throw in a sheep, and you've got a deal."

Jason's eyes widened slightly. "A sheep? That's highway robbery!"

"It's called negotiation, Hochberg," you said with a smirk, a playful glint in your eyes. "And you know you want this settlement."

He groaned, but a small smile played on his lips. "Fine. One wheat, one ore, and one very valuable sheep. But if you beat me, I'm blaming this trade."

"Deal," you said, reaching across the table to shake his hand. His hand was warm, calloused slightly from camp work, and a strange thrill shot through you at the contact. You quickly pulled your hand back, focusing on the game.

The game continued, the tension building with each roll of the dice. Jason was a surprisingly formidable opponent, blocking your settlements, stealing your resources, and generally making your life difficult. But you were determined to win. You'd spent countless summer nights at Camp Pineway, honing your board game skills against generations of counselors. You weren't about to lose to Jason Hochberg.

Hours passed, marked only by the shifting shadows in the cabin and the dwindling pile of resource cards. The game was close, neck-and-neck. You could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins, your heart pounding in your chest. This wasn't just a game; it was a battle of wills.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you were one point away from victory. You needed just one more settlement, one more strategic placement of your little wooden house, and the game would be yours.

Jason watched you intently, his expression unreadable. He knew you were close, and you could feel his competitive energy radiating across the table. It was almost…palpable.

You carefully surveyed the board, your eyes scanning the hexagonal tiles, searching for the perfect spot. You found it: a prime piece of real estate, bordering a wheat field, a forest, and a hill. It was perfect.

With a triumphant grin, you placed your final settlement on the board. "Victory is mine!" you declared, throwing your hands up in the air.

Jason slumped back in his chair, feigning defeat. "No! How could this happen? I was so close!"

"Beginner's luck," you teased, gathering up your victory points.

He chuckled, the sound warm and genuine in the quiet cabin. "Beginner's luck, my foot. You're a shark. A Catan-playing shark."

"And you're a good sport," you said, smiling at him. "Despite your…questionable trading strategies."

He grinned. "Hey, a guy's gotta try, right?" He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. "Well, that was fun. We should do this again sometime."

"Definitely," you agreed, already looking forward to your next late-night game session. There was something about the quiet intimacy of those late-night hours, the shared laughter and friendly competition, that you found…strangely appealing.

As you started to pack up the game, Jason reached across the table, his fingers brushing against yours. A spark of electricity shot through you, and you quickly pulled your hand away, your cheeks flushing slightly.

"Thanks for the game," he said, his voice soft. "It was…nice."

"Yeah, you too," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. You couldn't meet his gaze, your heart was beating too fast.

There was a moment of silence, a charged, unspoken connection hanging in the air between you. The only sound was the gentle ticking of the lantern, counting down the seconds until dawn.

Finally, Jason stood up, breaking the spell. "Well, I should probably…get some sleep. Big day tomorrow."

"Right, yeah, me too," you said, standing up as well. You gathered the last of the game pieces, your hands trembling slightly.

You walked to the door of the cabin, the cool night air hitting your face. You turned to say goodnight, and Jason was standing there, his eyes fixed on you.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)," he said, his voice low and sincere.

"Goodnight, Jason," you replied, your voice barely a whisper.

You stepped out of the cabin, the image of Jason's face burned into your memory. You couldn't deny it any longer: you were starting to feel something for the slightly awkward, surprisingly competitive camp counselor. And you had a feeling he felt it too.

The next day, camp life resumed its usual chaotic rhythm. The campers woke up, ready for another day of activities, and the counselors sprang into action, leading hikes, teaching crafts, and refereeing endless games of capture the flag. You and Jason were both caught up in the whirlwind of camp duties, but you couldn't shake the memory of your late-night game.

Every time you caught Jason's eye, a shy smile would play on his lips, and your heart would skip a beat. You found yourself looking for excuses to be near him, to talk to him, to simply be in his presence.

That evening, after the campers were tucked into bed and the campfire stories had ended, you found yourself drawn back to the cabin where you and Jason had played Catan. You weren't sure why, but you felt a strange pull, a sense of unfinished business.

As you approached the cabin, you saw a light flickering inside. Your heart leaped with anticipation. Was Jason still up?

You hesitated for a moment, your hand hovering over the doorknob. What if he wasn't there? What if you were just imagining things?

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Jason was sitting at the table, the same lantern casting the same warm glow on his face. He looked up as you entered, his eyes widening slightly.

"(Y/N)? What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice a mixture of surprise and…something else. Hope?

"I…I don't know," you stammered, feeling suddenly shy. "I just…I couldn't sleep. I guess I just wanted to…come back here."

Jason smiled, a soft, genuine smile that made your heart melt. "Me too," he said. "I couldn't stop thinking about last night. About…you."

He stood up and walked towards you, his steps slow and deliberate. You stood frozen, your heart pounding in your chest, your breath catching in your throat.

He stopped just a few feet away from you, his eyes searching yours. "I know this is probably crazy," he said, his voice low and earnest. "But I feel like…like we have something special. Something…real."

You couldn't speak, your emotions were overwhelming you. You had never felt this way about anyone before. It was a mixture of excitement, nervousness, and a deep, undeniable connection.

Jason reached out and gently took your hand in his. His touch sent a shiver down your spine.

"Can I…can I kiss you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your eyes filling with tears.

Jason leaned in, his lips soft and tentative against yours. It was a gentle kiss, a sweet and tender moment that felt like coming home.

As you kissed, all the doubts and uncertainties melted away. You knew, in that moment, that you and Jason were meant to be. The late-night game, the shared laughter, the competitive spirit…it had all led to this.

The kiss deepened, becoming more passionate, more urgent. You wrapped your arms around Jason's neck, pulling him closer, never wanting this moment to end.

Finally, you broke apart, gasping for breath, your foreheads resting against each other.

"Wow," Jason whispered, his voice hoarse.

"Wow is right," you said, your voice trembling.

You looked at Jason, really looked at him, and saw a depth of emotion in his eyes that mirrored your own. You knew that this was just the beginning of something amazing, something that would change your life forever.

And it all started with a simple board game, a late-night battle of wits, and a shared love for the quiet magic of Camp Pineway.

[stitch-away]

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 prologue - meeting joel ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮

pairing: joel miller x reader (gender unspecified)

summary: you find a man, alone, far beyond the walls of the boston qz. you think he might be infected but quickly you realise this man is feral.

tags: feral joel miller, violence (animal death), blood, ptsd, amnesia (not mentioned yet), grunty joel bc he can't speak

word count: 1.3k

series: feral joel miller

a/n: this just a little prologue before fully entering the meat, per se, of feral joel. the reader's gender is not mentioned and probably won't be for the early chapters at least. i plan on this becoming enemies to lovers, so once it gets more explicit etc it will probably become male reader. but for now it's gn!

life in the quarantine zones are rough. you work hard, back breaking labour that leaves you with scraps for food and barely anything to call your own. you're constantly under the thumb of fedra, never feeling like you can truly get a break or feel free. 

so at the first chance to slip out of there, you were gone. you knew you'd be back in the evening, you have no desire to spend the night amongst infected. but for now, you were free to scavenge for resources or just simply take a break from life in the qz. 

following a makeshift trail, you head towards a forest, a few miles from the qz boundary. it’s a bit of a walk but it’s not too far and the increasing silence the further away from the qz you get is well worth it. as you approach the forest, you can it’s dense and stretches beyond your eyeline. at the edge of it, you can see the magnificent greenery and wildlife that’s sparse from the qz. 

the forest casts a soft shadow over you, shielding you from the afternoon sun as you trek through the uneven terrain. it’s almost silent out here except for the soft whistle of the wind and the scuttle of wild animals. there’s a sense of peace and serenity the fills you, something you never get in the qz. you find some berries and a couple of tools that people have dropped over the years, but the sense you peace you get is the most valuable find.

as you get further in, you start to hear the sounds of animals. pulling your gun off your shoulder, you step softly towards the noise. you see the soft brown coat of a deer come into view and immediately move the gun into position. looking down the scope, you take aim at the deer's head. 

before you're finger can pull back on the trigger, you hear twigs snap under foot and the deer is covered by a blur. lowering your weapon you see what looks to be a man, clothes tattered and dirty and hair unkempt, with the deer now limp at his feet. he’s hunched low, almost on the ground, knife in hand that's dripping blood. for a second you think he might be infected. you've only seen runners move that fast before.

you pull your gun back up, preparing to shoot. there’s no way you’re dying to some runner on your first day of freedom. but as you stand there, weapon draw and finger on the trigger, you notice that the figure hasn’t bothered to look at you. runners can see and attack on sight, so he’s clearly not one of them. fuck– maybe it’s a stalker, trying to lull you into a false sense of security before it attacks. if it is a stalker, you know you shouldn’t waste your time with killing it.

you step closer to it and it immediately snaps it’s head round to face you. it’s teeth are bared and it’s brow is furrowed as it snarls at you back off. being closer to it now, it doesn't seem to be infected. it is in fact a man, but he doesn't really seem to exactly be in a state of humanity. 

"hey," you say, slinging the gun back over your shoulder and putting your hands up, "i ain’t gonna hurt you. i just want the deer." you gesture with your head towards the dead deer. 

the man grabs hold of the deer, hunching over it protectively as he growls at you. it's strange, almost frightening, to see a man in such a feral state. 

“what the fuck are you?” you mutter, tilting your head to the side as take tentative steps forwards. you stop a few feet away from him, not wanting to spook him or risk getting attacked. 

the man has dark brown, greying, hair that’s unkempt and looks like it’s been hacked at with a knife as a form grooming. he has a beard, equally as unkempt and greying. his clothes are tattered and dirty, practically caked in dirt and blood, and his boots are worn down and fraying. he has a deep scar on the bridge of his nose that looks years old.

you can see the knife gripped tight in his hand, ready to attack you at the first sign of a threat. 

“i just want some of the deer– i’m hungry,” you say, keeping your hands away from your gun so he can see them, “can you understand me?” the man glares at you for a second before nodding. he can understand. that’s a start.

“okay,” you breathe, “i’m not here to hurt you or anything. could you cut me some of it?” the man grunts, still on edge as he turns to the deer. he stabs the knife into the stomach of the deer, pushes it in deep and wrenches the knife back, cutting through the centre of the deer, break it’s spine. hands soaked in blood, the man grabs the front half of the deer and chucks it at your feet. you jump back to avoid to the splatters of blood the deer leaves. it’s a bit of a mess but it’s something.

“thank you,” you nod, picking up the deer by it’s antlers. the man doesn’t react, simply taking the deer’s hind leg in his mouth and shuffling back, maintaining eye contact the whole time. it’s clear the man wants you gone but your curiosity is getting the better of you.

“do you have a name?” you ask. the man tenses, stopping his movements and growling at you. “you can’t speak, can you?”

you should’ve taken his first growl as a sign to leave, because now he’s lept to his feet, striding to you. you could tell he was big before but now he’s in front of you, broad shoulders and snarling face above you, you can see he’s massive. he’s hard lines and straining muscle. he could surely kill you with his bare hands. 

the man growls, a horrific loud sound that hurts your ears as spit flies in your face. you squeeze your eyes shut, trembling as you feel his hot breath hitting your nose. as you reopen your eyes, you see him, face inches away from yours, contorted into a horrific scowl. he doesn’t want you here. 

“sorry,” you mutter, stepping back, “i– i’ll leave.” clutching the deer antlers tighter, you walk away from the man, who’s still standing there hunched and muscles coiled if you present a further threat. as you walk away, pulling the heavy weight of the deer, you can’t help but feel a sense of curiosity stewing inside you. despite how terrifying the man was as he growled at you and how obvious it is that he does not want to be disturbed, you can’t help but be drawn in by this strange, practically feral, man. 

you sit down at the edge of the forest, cutting up the deer into small pieces you can take back into the qz. as the blood mars your hands, you can’t but think of the man. he needs new clothes and boots. they’re far too torn and dirty for him not risk getting an infection if he gets an injury. why are you even thinking like this? the man is basically a feral animal and clearly hates you. but behind his threatening scowl, you swear you saw something more than a beast, something akin to a broken man, lost to a pain not even his mind wants to acknowledge. you know it’s dangerous but that flicker in his eyes is going to bring you back, back to him. whether he likes it or not.

[soppingwethog]

Odeur 53 by Comme des Garcons

Before I begin, I would just like to take a moment and apologize. I understand that this review is long. I understand that there are multiple paragraphs following this paragraph. I understand that reading is difficult. I understand that paying attention to anything for more than eleven seconds is nearly impossible. The earth is an increasingly demanding place and I am truly sorry for contributing to your grueling existence by writing a review about this perfume that is more than a few short lines. However, I believe that the information I provide below about this daring, unique fragrance is illuminating and valuable. I believe that writing anything less would not be true or fair to myself or the perfume. So please, forgive me if you can. I’m very sorry. If you simply cannot find it in your heart to forgive me, I understand.

When I was fifteen years old, I was suspended from school for a period of ten days. While I still maintain my innocence, there was little that could be done to convince the principal, vice principal, and school resource officer that I was blameless. I was just a child and they were three cold, rigid adults who made their living by not believing children. It did not take long for me to realize that any defense I attempted to mount for myself would be inefficacious, so I sat silently as they berated, ridiculed, blamed, harangued, judged, and pronounced me guilty for a crime I did not commit.

I will admit that the circumstances surrounding the event were strange and made it appear as though I had broken school rules as well as a bevy of local and federal statutes. To make a long story still sort of long, I was found by a member of the school staff in the lavatory. When I was discovered, I was soaked, filthy, unconscious, and my mouth was stuffed full of cigarettes. I would like to take a moment now and promise you, dear reader, that I have never smoked a cigarette or cigar in my life. Personally, I have absolutely no interest in the smoking of tobacco or any other flammable drug as I prefer to achieve my highs through other means like experiencing true love or drinking rare, exotic mammalian milks.

This event, like so many in my life, happened several years ago. As such, my memory is no longer crystal clear, but there are a few things which I can recall with certainty. I do remember leaving a very difficult mathematics class in order to use the restroom as I had eaten two cold cans of cream of mushroom soup for breakfast that morning and they ran through my guts like a slippery horse. I made my way to the dingy, graffiti-covered restroom where I immediately dropped trou and claimed my rightful place upon the porcelain throne and did what needed to be done which mainly consisted of focusing as hard as I could on not losing consciousness due to the incredible amount of wet matter that was rapidly escaping my body. Such a violent rush of solids and fluids leaving one’s entrails can sometimes cause a severe drop in blood pressure. There have been many, many times in my life when diarrhea has made me faint, and as far as I can tell, that is precisely what happened then.

Straddling the thunder bucket and gripping the sides of the bowl is the last thing I recall with any sort of coherence. The next thing I remember is the physical education instructor, Mr. Hamper, prodding me with some sort of wooden rod. I was utterly confused and began choking and coughing due to the incredible amount of wet cigarettes that had been shoved into my mouth and throat. I managed to hack most of them up, but I’m sure I inadvertently swallowed one or two in the process. It was terribly embarrassing. Like I said, I was completely soaked, I was in no small amount of pain, my trousers were soiled, and on top of that, it was picture day. It was not an ideal situation, to be sure.

I have spent years trying to piece together what might have happened while I was unconscious. I suppose I will never know for sure, but I assume that after I passed out while defecating, I slumped to the floor and made a complete mess of myself. Then, eventually, one or more of my schoolmates must have entered the water closet where they spotted me lying in my own filth on the lavatory floor. They then must have attempted to wake me by urinating on my face and into my ears and nose. When this failed to rouse me from my slumber, they decided to have a little fun by stuffing my mouth with at least a full pack of mentholated Camel Wides. Once they laughed themselves into submission, they left the washroom and notified the avaricious Mr. Hamper who then managed to agitate me into consciousness by poking me with a stick.

I can say for sure that this was not an enjoyable day and I was deeply ashamed to have been suspended, but, luckily, the suspension was not all bad as it was during those ten days of absence that one of my step-cousins visited and gifted me a nearly-empty bottle of Odeur 53 by Comme des Garcons that she said she had stolen from the fragrance counter at a shopping mall. It was an incredible display of kindness right when I needed it most. My spirits were lifted. It was as though she had applied a curative salve to my tatterdemalion soul.

Sadly, that was the last time I ever saw my dear step-cousin as she perished shortly after in a truly horrific accident that the local paper referred to as the “Oat Creek Squishing.” After attending her funeral, I decided that I would keep what remained of the Odeur 53 by Comme des Garcons in her honor. I would guard it. I would treasure it. As such, I have not yet sniffed any of the contents of this beautiful glass vessel and I do not ever plan to, but I have a strong feeling that if I did, it would smell of my sweet, dead step-cousin.

[lunarlianna]

Planets in the 8th house

I know a lot of you may don’t really like this house but trust me it’s more lovely than it seems and as with any other house it has it’s ups and downs. Now let’s understand what it’s up with this house, first it’s where Scorpio and Pluto rules, also as a side note Mars feels pretty comfortable here as well, in traditional astrology Mars was the ruler of Scorpio. It dives deep into subjects such as intimacy, sex, secrets, fears, death, rebirth, shared money and possession. It’s the house of transformation and occult, deep psychology inside as well. It’s also a pretty karmic house. Here is how each planet behaves in the house.

The Sun: an individual with the Sun in the 8th house seeks deep, intimate relationships but may face challenges as they tend to give excessively. They might experience ups and downs due to others' casual approach to relationships. Healing often involves addressing a father's emotional impact and seeking fulfilment through connections. The path to growth lies in balancing self-reliance with meaningful, committed partnerships, allowing for personal shine and transformation through shared resources. A curiosity for mysticism and the occult converges with a aspiration for financial stability, potentially influenced by inheritance.

The Moon: drives a deep desire for security, sometimes leading to seeking it through others' resources. This can evoke self-doubt, possessiveness, and psychic sensitivity. Transformative partnerships or marriages might bring financial gain. They approach relationships seriously, often overextending, leading to turmoil; finding balance through self-sufficiency brings happiness. Sensitive to unspoken nuances, they find peace by releasing expectations, channelling probing curiosity into worldly understanding, seeking connection through intimate relationships and a quest for broader meaning. Gains or inheritances linked to women are common, yet a sense of connection remains elusive.

Mercury: in the 8th House gifts you with analytical powers, suited for research, detective work, and understanding complex matters like taxes or insurance. Your inquisitive nature drives you to unravel the depths of life's mysteries, though this may lead to concerns over finances and a tendency to gossip. Your mind dwells on profound subjects like death, healing, and psychic phenomena. Mercury's presence here offers a valuable perspective, helping you discuss and process intense emotions, easing the pain associated with this house. It enhances rational clarity within the realm of misunderstood emotions, serving as a valve for emotional release and facilitating conscious understanding.

Venus: in the 8th House grants you access to material comforts and potential prosperity, often through a partner's contributions or inheritance. While you enjoy sensual pleasures, be mindful of avoiding overindulgence or laziness. Your attraction to healing, metaphysical pursuits, and magic might thrive. This placement bestows a harmonious touch to intimate connections, making give-and-take feel natural, appreciating the sensual without burdening the relationship. Challenges, such as losses and responsibilities, are handled with understanding, adding a sense of kindness to your relationships.

Mars: in the 8th House fuels your drive for research, uncovering secrets, and intense pursuits, but challenges arise as desires clash with the give-and-take nature of relationships. Financial issues, possibly through a partner, highlight the need to diminish money's importance. Struggles may emerge in sharing resources and emotions within partnerships, causing emotional outbursts. Learning to channel Mars' willpower constructively, alongside exploring healing or surgery interests, can lead to personal growth despite these challenges. Understanding and managing the intensity of your desires and their impact on relationships becomes key.

Jupiter: in the 8th House blesses you with optimism and faith in humanity. Financial gains through partnerships, marriage, or inheritance are possible. Your strong emotional depth can be harnessed for psychic abilities, enabling you to bring upliftment and healing to others. Jupiter's presence in this house facilitates an effortless give-and-take dynamic, aided by your universal outlook, allowing you to avoid getting entangled in overly emotional relationship issues. Your emphasis on genuine, giving connections attracts reciprocal generosity.

Saturn: in the 8th House endows you with diligent work ethic and patience, yet your pursuit of financial security might lead to self-imposed social and sexual restrictions. Transform this drive into soul growth via wisdom gained through partnership relationships. Issues around abuse, power, and past hurts may arise. Challenges involving inheritances, shared finances, and intimacy emerge due to Saturn's hesitance to let go. This position can make relationships tough, leading to commitment issues. Overcoming Saturn's grip fosters eventual happiness and harmony, teaching valuable lessons of release and trust.

Uranus: with this placement, your intuition and psychic senses are heightened, drawing you to the mysteries of life and the occult. Nervous tension may arise, and unexpected gains or losses in shared resources are possible. Balancing your need for freedom with emotional connection is key, as Uranus' resistance to commitment can challenge relationships. Remember to stay open to intimacy while navigating life's uncertainties.

Neptune: in the 8th House enhances your intuition and empathy, but it's important to set clear boundaries to avoid relationship challenges. Embrace healing and afterlife interests while ensuring honesty in financial matters. Remember to balance selflessness with self-care, fostering healthier and more fulfilling connections. Your compassionate nature is a strength in navigating these dynamics.

Pluto: In the 8th House, your intuition and business sense thrive, drawing you to metaphysical realms. While inheritance and clairvoyant potential shine, be cautious of financial complexities in partnerships. Transformative experiences spark a fascination with life's mysteries. Pluto's influence urges open communication to ease power struggles, offering healing through release and growth. Embrace vulnerability for stronger, more compassionate relationships.

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[notbecauseofvictories]

hello! longtime follower and current 1L - am starting the rounds of the law firms and there's always the "so what practice area are you interested in?" bit. i was curious what that is for you + what you do/don't like about it? iirc, you mentioned something abt being in-house, healthcare related, regulatory side of things? i'm interested in regulatory stuff but not sure if that takes the shape of litigation or an explicitly regulatory-focused practice. found your blog back in the star wars days, then got into silmarillion and the silt verses after seeing your posts abt it haha - hope you're doing well and staying warm!

Congrats! 1L summer is a fun, anxiety-ridden time that mostly involves telling people over and over, who you are and what you're interested in---which can be tricky if you're not sure what you're interested in.

Personally, I went in knowing that I liked healthcare (the field I worked in prior to law school) and that wanted to stay healthcare-adjacent.....but not much else.

I learned I was not destined for litigation pretty much the first time my Legal Writing professor handed back our appellate briefs. (Mine did not have the grade I wanted at the top.) This was compounded by our final project, where we presented in front of real live attorneys and I was a nervous, sweaty wreck. After that, I decided that becoming Atticus Finch was not in my future.

But there are still lots of other kinds of law to practice! I live in the healthcare regulatory space---and I work for a pretty under-resourced company, which means I have lots of contact with other areas like R&D, clinical research, data privacy, marketing and adtech, direct patient care, healthcare compliance, and negotiating between various international laws. Not to mention my scope is always expanding, which is...challenging, but I'm also the kind of person who enjoys spending a weekend reading about Brazilian law.

(One of my guiding stars through the whole law school/job search process was "I don't want to be bored." I am never, ever bored.)

And this wasn't even my first stop! When I was in law school, I spent my semesters interning/clerking at firms, consulting boutiques and government agencies; policy-focused clinics and hospitals and giant corporate behemoths. I've said before that observing all these different settings was valuable, that it gave me a better understanding of myself, how I work, and the kind of work I was looking for. While I won't ever claim that every experience I had was amazing (it was not) it did give me the opportunity to explore, in a way that most adult professionals simply can't.

I mean---look. If you're committed to the brass ring of OCR and a high-profile law firm, then you might have to make this decision now. (Or at least come up with a good answer for interviewers...) But I highly encourage you and everyone choosing that path to keep the other doors open, just a crack. There are interesting things that sneak through when you aren't looking.