#permanent-t-pose

[sunnygotsniped]

IS THAT A PANCHITO PLUSH NEXT TO DABI

Yeah!

I got it for Ale on his birthday from some Japanese site that was reselling them from the D/sney park

[estapa-edwards]

MEDIA GIRL - L. HUGHES

paring: Luke Hughes x fem! reader

word count: 2.4k

requested? yes - luke falling in love with the media girl at the new jersey devil and finally asking her out

warnings: use of y/n. multiple pov

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

I've been working closely with the Devils for the past couple of years, crafting content, capturing moments, and sharing the team's journey with fans around the world. It's a job I love, immersed in the world of hockey and surrounded by passionate individuals who share the same love for the sport.

One player, in particular, had caught my eye since he joined the team – Luke Hughes. As a rising star defenseman, he commanded attention on the ice with his skillful play and undeniable charisma. But it wasn't just his performance on the rink that intrigued me; there was something about his infectious smile and genuine personality that drew me in.

As the seasons passed and the rhythm of the hockey calendar dictated our lives, Luke and I found ourselves drawn together by the magnetic pull of our shared experiences. It was during those moments in between the action, the quiet lulls amidst the chaos, that our connection began to deepen.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

During interviews, our conversations would often veer off course, wandering into topics far beyond the scope of the game. Luke's genuine curiosity about my life outside of the arena was both surprising and endearing. We swapped stories about our childhoods, our favorite movies, and our shared love for good food. It was during these impromptu exchanges that I discovered the layers beneath the confident exterior of the hockey star – the insecurities, the dreams, the quirks that made him undeniably human.

Promotional shoots became an opportunity for us to explore our creative sides together. Whether we were brainstorming ideas for social media campaigns or striking poses for team merchandise, there was an undeniable synergy between us. Luke's playful nature brought out the best in me, inspiring me to push the boundaries of my creativity and embrace the spontaneity of the moment.

And then there were the social media campaigns – our bread and butter in the digital age of sports marketing. As the social media coordinator for the Devils, I was responsible for crafting content that resonated with fans and showcased the team's personality both on and off the ice. Luke, with his infectious energy and natural charisma, was the perfect partner in crime. Whether we were filming behind-the-scenes videos, hosting live Q&A sessions, or engaging with fans on Twitter, our dynamic duo captured the hearts of Devils fans everywhere.

But amidst the whirlwind of interviews, shoots, and campaigns, it was the quiet moments in between that I cherished the most. The stolen glances across a crowded room, the shared smiles that spoke volumes without a single word exchanged. It was during those moments that I felt the walls around my heart slowly crumbling, giving way to the possibility of something more than just friendship.

And as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, I couldn't shake the feeling that Luke Hughes had become more than just a teammate or a colleague – he had become a permanent fixture in my life, a constant presence that I couldn't imagine living without. 

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

As the final buzzer sounded, signaling the Devils' hard-fought victory on the ice, the arena erupted into a cacophony of cheers and applause. Luke and Y/N found themselves caught up in the swell of excitement and emotion, the electric atmosphere pulsating around them like a living, breathing entity.

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she watched with bated breath, her eyes fixed on Luke as he skated across the rink, his movements fluid and graceful, his arms raised triumphantly in the air. In that moment, he was more than just a hockey player – he was a hero, a symbol of strength and resilience in the face of adversity.

"That was incredible," Y/N exclaimed, her voice tinged with awe as she watched him bask in the glow of their win. The pride swelling in her chest was palpable, a surge of emotion threatening to overwhelm her as she realized the magnitude of what they had accomplished together.

Luke flashed her a grin, his eyes shining with adrenaline-fueled excitement. "Thanks, Y/N," he replied, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. "I couldn't have done it without your support."

Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat at his words, her heart skipping a beat as she absorbed the weight of his gratitude. It was a simple acknowledgment, a fleeting moment in the grand scheme of things, but to her, it meant everything. It was validation – validation of her hard work, her dedication, her unwavering belief in him and the team.

"You're welcome," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll always be here to cheer you on, no matter what." Her words were a promise, a pledge of allegiance to the man who had captured her heart without even realizing it.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

It was during one particularly intense game that everything changed. The Devils were down a goal with minutes left on the clock, tension thick in the air as the crowd held its breath. In a dramatic turn of events, Luke managed to score the tying goal, sending the arena into a frenzy of cheers and applause.

Amidst the celebration, our eyes met across the crowded arena, a shared moment of triumph and exhilaration. And in that instant, I knew – I was falling for Luke Hughes.

But as the game ended and the crowd began to disperse, doubt crept into my mind. What if I was misreading the signs? What if our connection was nothing more than professional courtesy? I pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand as I followed the team to the locker room for post-game interviews.

It was there, amidst the chaos of the locker room, that Luke sought me out. His eyes were bright with excitement, a victorious grin playing on his lips as he approached me.

"Hey, Y/N," he said, his voice filled with genuine warmth. "I just wanted to say thanks for all your hard work. That goal wouldn't have been possible without you."

I felt my cheeks flush with heat, a rush of emotions swirling inside me as I met his gaze. "It was all you out there," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "You played an amazing game."

Luke smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer. "Hey, do you maybe want to grab dinner sometime? You know, to celebrate the win?"

My heart skipped a beat, the world around us fading away as I processed his words. Luke Hughes, asking me out on a date? It felt like a dream come true.

"Um, yeah," I stammered, a smile spreading across my face. "I would love to."

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

LUKES POV

Luke Hughes sat in the locker room, his mind swirling with thoughts of the game ahead. The adrenaline coursed through his veins, his heart pounding with anticipation. But amidst the excitement of the upcoming match, there was another thought that lingered at the back of his mind – Y/N.

From the moment he first laid eyes on her, Luke knew there was something special about Y/N. It wasn't just her beauty or her infectious smile that drew him in; it was the way she carried herself, with a confidence and grace that was impossible to ignore. And as he got to know her better, he discovered that beneath the surface, there was a kindness and warmth that made her truly captivating.

As the seasons passed and their paths continued to intertwine, Luke found himself drawn to Y/N in ways he couldn't explain. There was a magnetic pull between them, a natural chemistry that made every interaction feel effortless and meaningful. Whether they were working together on promotional shoots or sharing moments of quiet camaraderie in between interviews, Luke felt a connection with Y/N that went beyond words.

But it wasn't just her professional prowess that impressed him – it was her passion for the game, her dedication to her craft, and her unwavering support for the team that truly captured his heart. In Y/N, Luke found a kindred spirit, someone who shared his love for hockey and understood the sacrifices he made to pursue his dreams.

And as he sat in the locker room, preparing to take the ice with his teammates, Luke couldn't shake the feeling that Y/N was more than just a colleague or a friend – she was someone he could see himself building a future with. But he also knew that crossing that line was fraught with uncertainty and risk. What if she didn't feel the same way? What if their relationship changed the dynamic of their team?

Luke Hughes leaned against the wall of the locker room, his heart pounding in his chest as he stole a glance at Y/N across the room. She was engrossed in conversation with a colleague, her laughter ringing out like music in the air. For a moment, he hesitated, his mind swirling with doubts and uncertainties. But then he remembered the way she had looked at him during the game, the spark of excitement in her eyes as they celebrated their victory together. And in that moment, he knew – he had to take a chance.

Pushing himself away from the wall, Luke crossed the room with determined strides, his heart racing with nerves as he approached Y/N. As he drew closer, he could feel the weight of his words hanging in the air, a lump forming in his throat as he struggled to find the right thing to say.

"Hey, Y/N," he said, his voice slightly shaky but filled with genuine warmth. "I just wanted to say thanks for all your hard work tonight. That goal wouldn't have been possible without you."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes shining with surprise and gratitude. "Oh, it was nothing," she replied, her voice soft but sincere. "You played an amazing game out there."

Luke smiled, his confidence growing with each passing moment. "Listen, I was thinking," he began, his words tumbling out in a rush of excitement. "Would you maybe want to grab dinner sometime? You know, to celebrate the win?"

As he waited for her response, Luke felt a surge of nervous energy coursing through his veins. What if she said no? What if he had misread the signs and made a fool of himself? But then Y/N's face broke into a radiant smile, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"Um, yeah," she stammered, her cheeks flushing with color. "I would love to."

A wave of relief washed over Luke as he took in her words, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Great," he said, unable to contain his excitement. "How about tomorrow night? I know this great Italian place downtown."

Y/N nodded eagerly, her smile widening with each passing second. "Sounds perfect," she replied, her voice filled with genuine enthusiasm.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

The soft glow of candlelight bathed the cozy Italian restaurant in a warm, inviting ambiance as Luke and I sat across from each other, our conversation flowing effortlessly like a river winding its way through the night. From the moment we arrived, there had been a palpable energy between us – a sense of anticipation that hung in the air like a promise waiting to be fulfilled.

As we sipped on glasses of red wine and savored bites of delicious pasta, the outside world faded away, leaving only the two of us lost in our own little bubble of bliss. Luke's laughter filled the air, a melodic symphony that echoed in my ears like music to my soul.

"So, tell me more about yourself," he said, his eyes sparkling with genuine curiosity. "What do you like to do when you're not busy running the Devils' social media empire?"

I couldn't help but smile at his playful tone, the warmth of his gaze sending shivers down my spine. "Well, I'm a bit of a bookworm," I confessed, feeling a rush of excitement as I shared a piece of myself with him. "I love getting lost in a good novel, especially anything with a bit of mystery or romance."

Luke nodded, his expression thoughtful as he leaned in closer. "I can relate to that," he admitted, his voice low and intimate. "There's something magical about getting lost in a story, isn't there? It's like you're transported to a whole other world."

As the night wore on and the hours slipped away, our conversation deepened, weaving through topics both trivial and profound. We talked about our hopes and dreams, our fears and insecurities, laying bare our souls like open books for the other to read.

And then, amidst the laughter and the shared moments of connection, there was a shift in the air – a subtle change that left me breathless with anticipation. As Luke reached across the table to refill my wine glass, his touch sent a jolt of electricity coursing through my veins, igniting a fire deep within my heart.

"Y/N," he began, his voice soft but filled with conviction. "There's something I need to tell you."

I held my breath, my heart pounding in my chest as I waited for him to continue. In that moment, the world around us seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us suspended in time, lost in a moment of shared intimacy.

"I know we've only known each other for a relatively short time," Luke continued, his eyes locked with mine, "but from the moment I met you, I felt something special – something I've never felt before."

I felt a rush of warmth flood my cheeks as I listened to his words, my heart swelling with emotion. "Luke," I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper. "I feel it too."

And then, without hesitation, he reached across the table and took my hand in his, his touch sending a wave of tingles dancing across my skin. "Y/N," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "I know this might sound crazy, but I think I'm falling for you."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I gazed into his, the depth of his feelings mirrored in the depths of his soul. In that moment, I knew – I was falling for him too, falling harder and faster than I ever thought possible.

And as we sat there, hand in hand, lost in the glow of the candlelight and the warmth of each other's presence, I couldn't help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world. For in Luke Hughes, I had found not just a teammate or a colleague, but a kindred spirit – someone who saw me for who I truly was and loved me all the more for it.

And as our eyes met across the table, a silent vow passed between us – a promise to cherish this moment, this connection, for as long as our hearts beat as one.

[swissmissficrecs]

A-Z Johnlock Tropes

This time it's all the tropes in my favorite fics! Limited to one fic per author, and I tried to include other authors than on my A-Z classics list.

A lternate Universe(s) - A Vintage Exceptionally to Your Liking by EmmyAngua (95K, E): A love story across alternate dimensions.

B DSM - Shames and Praises by s0mmerspr0ssen (51K, E): D/s AU with Dom!John / sub!Sherlock.

C rossover - More Things Than Are Dreamt Of by 1electricpirate (37K, M-E): HP crossover with Wizard!John / Muggle!Sherlock.

D omesticity - Where Else Would I Be? by cwb (34K, E): Retirement in Sussex with flashbacks.

E stablished Relationship - Breakable Not Broken by MissDavis (227K, E): Dealing with permanent injury together.

F uture - Software Malfunction by tiger_in_the_flightdeck (16K, E): Sherlock is a Companion android with a malfunction.

G en - The Green Blade by verityburns (72K, T): Serial killer casefic.

H istorical - The Beast of Baskerville by Mildredandbobbin (74K, E): 15th Century/fairy tale AU.

I llness - On Pins and Needles by 7PercentSolution, J_Baillier (588K, G-E): Sherlock contracts Guillain-Barré syndrome.

J ealousy - White Knight by DiscordantWords (69K, M): Sherlock fakes a relationship with Janine, to John's distress.

K idfic - Intentions by KeelieThompson1 (216K, G-M): Sherlock discovers he is the father of 10-year-old John.

L ongfic - Sketchy by serpentynka (876K, E): Johnlock and Mycroft/OMC slow-burn casefic(s).

M agical Realism - Shatter the Darkness (Let the Light In) by MojoFlower (109K, E): Sherlock is a djinn.

N SFW - The Great Sex Olympics of 221B by XistentialAngst (58K, E): Sherlock and John compete to see who's better at sex.

O megaverse - The Illusion of Control by starrysummernights (253K, E): Alpha!Sherlock / Omega!Johnwith mpreg.

P arentlock - The James Holmes Chronicles by prettyvk (338K, T-E): Sherlock and John raise Moriarty's son.

Q ueer Representation - The Adventure of the Consulting Woman by DancingGrimm (56K, E): Trans character assists in a case.

R etirement - Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (20K, E): Sherlock and John retire to Sussex.

S oulmates - Colors by Quesarasara (140K, E): When you meet your soulmate, you finally see the world in color.

T eenlock - The Frost is All Over by Chryse (148K, E): 19th-century AU, Sherlock is an Earl's son and John is a commoner.

U ndercover - Corpus Hominis by mycapeisplaid (47K, E): Posing as a couple at a spa retreat.

V ampires - Bleed Me Out by antietamfalls (87K, E): Vampire!Sherlock with whump, hurt/comfort, and fluff.

W hump - All the Best and Brightest Creatures by wordstrings (188K, E): Moriarty is back and out for blood.

X enomorphism - Names for the Galaxy by evadne (191K, E): 22nd-century Alien!Sherlock.

Y enta* - May Your Heart Purr Like A Bumblebee by destinationtoast (14K, M): Harry helps Johnlock happen.

Z oomorphism** - The Horse and His Doctor by khorazir (128K, T): Vet!John and Horse!Sherlock.

*Used here to mean a female character playing matchmaker. Y-word tropes are hard, you guys!

**Not sure this is technically correct, but I'm using it here to mean fics in which a character has animal form. Z-word fanfic tropes are also hard and I already used zombies on my previous list!

[sencrose]

-- SAPPHIRE PASSION

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

tags: dubcon, extremely dubious consent?, idol AU, object insertion, pain, coercion, praise, masturbation, fingering, creampie

wc: 5.1k

a/n: i'm taking notes from underground jp idol culture, if you have any questions feel free to ask (would love to talk more about it despite my pretty shallow knowledge, i am begging actually). in short: chekis -> polaroids, oshi -> fave/bias, oshikatsu -> showing support for your fave. ao3 link with alot more notes here

summary: you're too eager to please, and Satoru's all too willing to take advantage.

Sometimes you wish you had a more socially acceptable hobby. It’s hard maintaining friendships when your days are constantly blocked out by concerts, when you spend all your money on chekis and oshikatsu goods. Whenever you try to explain, you’re met with looks of disgust and snide comments about how you’re throwing money into an endless pit.  

In terms of romantic prospects, it’s not like you can invite anyone over to your apartment either, cramped and covered in a plethora of merch that most people would find strange at best and downright creepy at worst. But that wish washes away as soon as you step to the front of the line.

”Oh look who’s back! How have you been?” Satoru beams with a smile that puts the sun to shame.

”I’m doing great, how are you?” you greet back, handing him your ticket.

“I’m doing great as well!” He gestures to the staff member to get ready to shoot. 

”What kind of pose do you wanna do this time?” he asks. 

”Can we do heart cat ears?”

”Oh, I don’t think I’ve done that before,” his hands press together to show his excitement, “how do you do it?” His eyes peer into yours, sparkling with anticipation.

You bend your index finger while keeping your middle straight and put them on top of your head, two halves of a heart placed to look vaguely like cat ears.

”Aw, that’s so cute! As expected of my cutest fan.” 

He says that almost every time you’ve met him. You’re sure he says it to all the other fans as well, but it never fails to send blood rushing to your face.

The cameraman counts down from three and the two of you get posed up. With a flash, the picture is taken. The film slowly slides out of the polaroid camera, and Satoru swiftly takes it, shaking a paint pen in his other hand to get ready to sign it.

”Did you enjoy the show today?”

”I did!” You exclaim, maybe a bit too excitedly as your voice squeaks unexpectedly. “It was amazing as always.” 

”Aw, that’s great. We’ve been working really hard, I’m so glad you enjoyed it.”  Satoru signs the polaroid while talking, decorating it with hearts. “What was your favorite part?”

“I don’t know, everything was so great…” you hesitate, attempting to collect your thoughts. Your nerves creep up on you, and you curse how this happens no matter how many times you’ve done this. Satoru simply nods to show he’s listening as he continues signing the polaroid.

“T-the new stage outfits are so gorgeous and they really make you shine,” you pause, trying to think of the other highlights of the night, hands gesturing in an attempt to expel your nervous energy, “but I didn’t expect you guys to perform the new single so soon, so that was a really pleasant surprise.”

“I’m glad you had such a fun time.” Satoru responds, finishing signing the polaroid with a dramatic flick of the wrist, signaling that your time together is coming to an end.

”I’ll be here to cheer you on for all your future work as well!”

“I’ll be looking forward to seeing you then!” Satoru holds the polaroid gingerly, blowing on it to aid the drying paint. “Now remember, be careful, hold the picture by the edges so you don’t smear the paint.” 

“Of course.” You grab hold of the picture, holding it carefully by the edges as he’d demonstrated. 

“See you next time! Thanks for all your support!”

”See you next time!” You wave back. You take in the view of the polaroid, slowly developing, the smiles of you and your oshi permanently encapsulated in the thin film. Just looking at it puts a cheesy grin on your face as you make your way out of the venue.

After the paint has had ample time to dry, you place the picture in your wallet, in the transparent slot that’s usually reserved for your ID. This is more important anyways.

---

You must be losing your mind. There’s no way this is real.

You were adjusting all of your chekis, moving them between your mini photo albums. The most recent polaroid had something written on the back:

Text me sometime? xx-xxxx-5429

After finding this hidden message, you dug through the rest of the chekis you’ve collected over the years, only to find nothing. It’s just this one. When did he even get the chance to write this?

You can’t help but burst into laughter at the absurdity of it all. Should you even message it? Are you willing to cross that line?

…

You are. You definitely are. 

---

you: hey, is this Satoru?

Satoru, maybe?: depends, is this my cutest fan?

Satoru, maybe?: with the heart cat ears? ♡ॢ₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

You slam your phone down on your bed in a panic, as if it’s been possessed by a demon. Your heart races as you grab on to your chest, attempting to inhale deeply to collect yourself before unlocking your phone and typing again. 

you: haha yeah

you: but wait, how do i know it’s you?

Satoru, maybe?: <1 attachment>

Satoru, maybe?: does this prove it?

You open the picture with bated breath only to realize it really is him. It isn’t a picture you recognize from his SNS accounts, considering he barely uploads anything to them. 

you: i guess it does :)

Satoru, maybe?: then i was wondering

Satoru, maybe?: did you wanna go out sometime? 

Satoru, maybe?: my treat of course

Alright, play it cool, take a deep breath. This does nothing to still your racing heart. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity, after all. 

you: yes i’d love to!

Satoru, maybe?: awesome! are you free this saturday?

you: yeah i am! :)

Satoru, maybe?: cool, meet me at the station at 2?

you: sounds like a plan 

Satoru, maybe?: alright, see you then :)

you: see you then :)

---

Saturday couldn’t come fast enough. 

You spent all morning agonizing over what to wear, and you can only hope that it was the right choice. You wait anxiously by the station exit, keeping your phone on standby for any incoming texts. 

“Hey!” Satoru approaches you, although heavily obscured. Baggy black hoodie and pants swallow his figure, along with a baseball cap, mask, and sunglasses covering his face. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.” He tilts his face down towards you so you can get a look at his eyes, and prove that it is indeed him – not that you need the evidence, you would recognize his voice anywhere.

“Oh no worries,” you smile nervously, noting just how close he is to you, “I just got here.”

“That’s great!” he says, punctuating the end of his sentence with a clap, “Well, let’s get going!” 

“Where are we headed?” You follow behind him, letting him lead the way.

“I thought a cafe would be nice.” He looks over his shoulder to meet your eyes. “You like sweets?”

“I do!”

The two of you make your way to the cafe, engaging in casual small talk along the way. You feel like you’re walking on clouds alongside him, the distance between you so close that his hand occasionally grazes yours.

You find yourself in a quaint cafe hidden in an alleyway. It’s a hidden gem, you’d never find it without his recommendation. A quiet oasis in the middle of a bustling cityscape.

“They have really good pastries here. Feel free to get whatever you want.”

You look into the display case, dozens of artisan pastries and baked goods lined up neatly at your fingertips. 

After a moment of deliberation, the two of you order your food, an array of pastries, along with two coffees showing up at your table shortly after.

“I ordered some extras too in case you wanna try any of them.”

”Oh, thank you.” You reach towards what you assume is a chocolate croissant, ripping a piece off. It has a light crispy skin, melting in your mouth as soon as you take a bite. 

“Wow, this really is good.”

“Right? I love coming here.” Satoru exclaims, taking off some of his layers.

“Are you sure about that?”

”Yeah, don’t worry I come here all the time. Plus,” he says, gesturing to the empty tables, “Nobody’s really around.”

You already knew you were on a date with him, but it feels so much more real when his sunglasses and mask are off. You take in the sight of him and even under the dim lighting of the cafe, his beauty shines, almost blindingly so. You notice yourself staring a bit too long at his face, eyes shifting to the side.

”You can look all you want,” he teases, placing his hands on the back of his head as if he’s trying to show off, “I don’t mind.” 

You bring yourself to look at him again, but he has that award winning smile that has heat blazing a trail to your cheeks.

”So…” you trail off, unsure how to carry on the conversation. It’s one thing when you know you have two minutes in a controlled environment, it’s a whole other beast when you have all the time in the world. Any conversation topic that you’d usually keep slotted in your back pocket eludes you.

“You’re wearing a different outfit than usual. It’s cute.” Satoru picks up where you left off.

“Ah, I guess you’ve only seen me wearing merch at concerts, huh?”

“Yeah, but this is nice too,” he says before taking a sip of his coffee, “‘lets me see another side of you.” 

“I guess we’re both seeing different sides of each other.”

“Am I that different?”

“Maybe,” you pause, a hint of hesitance to your voice, “just a little.”

“What’s so different about me?” he asks, his chin leaning on his hand, tilting his head so he can show off his sharp jawline and the sparkle of his eyes with the sunlight shining through the window. Something about him seems just out of touch, like he’s hiding behind a mask. That said, it’s a beautiful mask.

“I’m not so sure,” you answer honestly. If you really put your head to it, he’s every bit as charming now as he is when he’s performing. Maybe even more so, but you’re not sure you have the guts to confess that. 

“You wanna know what I think is different about you?” he asks, his fork cutting a slice into his tart before pointing it at you, like an accusation of a crime, “You seem more nervous than usual.” 

“Am I right?” he asks, his voice dangerously low, before taking a bite of his tart. 

How could you not be? Your favorite idol is on a date with you of all people, and you’re well aware he’s well out of your league. 

“Yeah, you are,” you confess, eyes looking off to the side, unable to meet his gaze.

“Do I get a prize?”

“What do you want?” you ask awkwardly, shifting around in your seat ruminating on the possibilities. 

“What do you think?” He grins, his eyes tracing the features of your face until he lands on your lips. 

This might be the most forward you’ve been in your life. Time feels like it slows as you scoot your chair closer to his. With your eyes closed, you steel yourself, lips pouted, lean forward, closer — this is what he wants, right?

“Ah,” Satoru’s voice breaks your trance, “but I don’t wanna force you to do anything you don’t wanna do, that’s not fun.”

“O-oh,” you collect yourself, plopping back down in your seat a bit too fast, wishing you could curl up into a ball and disappear, “right.”

---

You messed up.

You wouldn’t be surprised if he just ghosted you after this. Maybe the rest of the date went fine, you’re not sure, too preoccupied with the embarrassment hanging over your head. Why did you try to kiss him?

The jingle of the door notes your departure and interrupts your spiraling thoughts as the two of you make your way back onto the busy street. The air shared between the two of you is stagnant, a clear cut contrast to the noises of the city. 

“Um, I had a lot of fun today,” you break the silence as you continue walking, “thanks for taking me out.”

“Of course! But it doesn’t have to end just yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe we could head back to yours?” he proposes casually, eyes meeting yours.

You look back at him, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as your grip on your bag strap tightens. Your gaze shoots nervously to the floor, staring at a crushed soda can that piques your interest for the moment. 

“I-it’s a bit messy,” you look back at him only to realize he’s staring right into you, “I don’t know if you would want-“

“I don’t mind a little mess,” he says, casually wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “You’re not scaring me off that easily.” There’s a tone behind his words you don’t recognize, something that doesn’t seem quite as rehearsed or put together like his usual self. You try to find it in yourself to protest, but the words on the tip of your tongue melt away as Satoru looks at you with a burning desire behind his eyes.

“S-sure.”

---

You make your way back to your apartment, with Satoru following right behind you. 

“Make yourself at home.”

Your place isn’t actually that messy, but it is small, feeling even more cramped when it’s covered in an embarrassing amount of merch. You didn’t actually expect him to come over, so you didn’t make any preparations to make your room seem like that of a normal person. Promotional flyers, album posters, concert apparel, smother your walls without a speck of empty space to be seen. 

His eyes are drawn to the display shelf in the corner, fit with several can badges and acrylic stands of his likeness, customized light sticks, and a fan with his face plastered on it. 

“Must be a little weird seeing this, huh?” you attempt to joke, but your awkwardness is too candid to be hidden. 

“I don’t think so. It makes you even cuter in my book.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he states with a conviction that catches you off guard, “you mind if I take a look?”

“Not at all.” You gesture towards the case with your hands and a slight bow, a bit too formally for the situation at hand. “Go ahead.” You swear his eyes sparkle as he looks over the case before settling on one of the light sticks.

“Did you decorate this one yourself?”

“I did! It was before you released official light sticks.”

“That’s so sweet of you. Do you mind?” he points at the stick.

“Sure.” You open the case, reaching for the light before handing it over to Satoru. Once in his hand, he taps on the buttons, cycling through the colors until it turns a beautiful shade of blue.

“Wow, this shines pretty bright.” he comments, admiration glimmering in his eyes.

“I have to show my support from the crowd.” you say, waving your fist as if you’re holding a lightstick in your hand.

Satoru mimics the chant patterns you yell at his shows with an earnestness that has you grinning ear to ear. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch him make a fool out of himself. He really is better suited to be on the stage. After a few moments of waving the light stick around he puts it down.

“God, your arms must be tired after doing this the whole show.” he says, holding onto his shoulder as he stretches. 

“I’m pretty used to it. If anything, it’s a great workout,” you say, raising your arm to flex the less than impressive muscle, “and you’re working out way more than I am!”

“Well with fans like you, I gotta be able to keep up.”

Before you know it, his face hovers dangerously close to yours. Your eyes meet his, an unreal crystalline blue you’ve never seen this close. His hand brushes against yours, fingers gently slotting into yours. His other hand caresses your chin with gentleness you’ve only dreamt of. Satoru brings his face towards you, sealing your lips with a kiss. The scent of vanilla and cardamom fills your lungs, a stark and welcome difference from the sweat and stale odor of the venues you usually see him in. 

It’s just a kiss, but you can feel yourself getting lost in his lips, heat building in your body as you press into him. He presses further into you with a fervor that overwhelms you as he wraps his hand around your waist. His kisses become more intense, like rain clouds swirling into a storm, asking, demanding for an entrance you’re all too willing to give him, parting your lips. The taste of coffee and sugar dance on his tongue, intoxicating like a spell, pulling you in further. Everything about him is overwhelming, the way his body is pressed flush against yours, his grip around your waist, how he maneuvers you closer to the foot of your bed until you fall gracelessly onto it. Satoru hovers above you, toned arms on either side of your head, white strands framing his face, eyes filled with lust. 

“Could you do something for me?” The question is simple enough, but you sense something darker behind his words. You’re not sure what you’re getting yourself into, but after that debacle at the cafe, you’re far too eager to please, to make amends in any way you can.

“Y-yeah.” 

“Show me how much of a fan you are.”

He places the penlight in your hand, wrapping his fingers against yours. His hand guides you to lift the hem of your skirt, the light now pressing against the fabric of your underwear.

“Would you do that for me?” he asks, sultry and sweet. 

Your breath catches in your lungs, face burning as if your cheeks are flint and he’s lit a match under your nose. The beat of your heart rings rhythmically in your ears, as you question if you heard his proposition correctly. Is he asking what you think he’s asking?

“I-I haven’t done anything like this.” you say, not exactly answering his question, hoping he accepts your answer. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you every step of the way.” His fingers hook into the side of your underwear, sliding up and down your slit. “I’ll even help you get started.”

You’re at a loss for words, nerves paralyzing your tongue, only able to give him a shy nod. 

He continues playing with you, fingers finding your clit and drawing languid circles that are just a bit too slow. An unfamiliar tension grows in your core, begging for release.

“You really are my cutest fan.” he whispers in your ear, honey dripping off every word.

His finger teases your hole, slowly inserting to a shallow depth before taking it out. Your muscles squeeze in anticipation only for him to play with your entrance, rubbing against your folds before entering you again. Your hole envelops his finger as he pushes it in. He starts with a curl, his finger digging around as if he’s searching for something. Within a moment, he’s pressing against the spot that has you leaning into him, chasing for more. 

You can’t keep your satisfaction hidden, low gasps spilling from your lips as you realize your hips are bucking into him. His fingers build a steady pace, and you meet him there, desperately humping into his touch. 

“So needy, huh?” he teases before inserting another finger into you. It slides in without any resistance, a testament to your arousal. 

A warmth builds in your body, your breathing labored as he has his way with you. You melt under his touch, like putty in his hands. It’s a wasted effort to keep your voice back, volume rising as you bite back on your hand.

Satoru pauses for a moment, fingers slowly exiting as he admires your arousal on his hands. He reaches out for the penlight, bringing it towards your hole. The plastic presses uncomfortably against your slit, collecting your slick he slides it up and down your lips. Your heart feels like it’s beating in your throat, and a twinge of fear hits you when you realize you’ve never had something so large inside you. 

“S-Satoru, I’m not sure about this.” You hold his wrist firmly, an attempt to have him pause.

“Don’t worry, it’ll feel really good, I promise.” Satoru ignores your grip, slowly pushing the light stick into your hole, the object feeling foreign inside of you. The stretch is uncomfortable, cold unfeeling plastic separating your walls. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, or the intrusion inside your body, eyes darting across the room to look at something, anything else — a daunting task when his likeness is plastered all over the walls. 

“Just like this.” He brings your attention back to him, patient hand holding onto yours, gripping you as he slowly fucks you with the light stick. Your pussy envelops the light, blue sheen disappearing as he pushes it in more. With every thrust, you can see your arousal glossing the surface of the light stick. You don’t recognize it as the object of your affection, custom made for him. It’s molded into something else altogether, a vessel solely there to deliver a hot tension to your core. 

The discomfort from the stretch slowly dissipates, a flare of pleasure building in its place. It starts to feel less foreign as it warms up to the temperature of your insides. Satoru starts to pick up the pace, lewd squelches escaping your cunt with each pump.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he coos. His lips graze the nape of your neck, a subtle lick to test the waters, earning a high pitched squeal that comes out more like an excited moan. You feel him grin against your skin, kisses tracing a line towards your shoulder. You can’t deny yourself the heat that builds in your core, the way your breath hitches in your chest with every kiss, every drag of the light stick.

“Show me how good you feel.” His eyes watch intently as his hand lets go of yours. You continue fucking yourself with the light stick, free hand rubbing circles on your clit, desperate to soothe that building ache for release. Satoru watches intently, his hand stroking himself through the fabric of his pants. 

Heat rises in your face, in disbelief that you’re doing this in front of him — but he’s getting off on it too, a blush painting his face as he unbuckles his belt and frees his cock from his briefs. Satoru lifts the hem of his shirt before biting onto the fabric, revealing muscles you’ve only seen on stage in fleeting moments of fanservice. Even from those short glimpses, you knew he had a well-maintained physique, but it’s much more sinful when it’s mere inches away, for your viewing pleasure alone.  There’s something arousing about watching the image of your picture perfect idol falling apart as he loses himself in the throes of passion. He moans under his breath, desperate for release as he strokes his cock harder.

The view’s enough to send you over the edge, waves of pleasure washing over your body as you gush over yourself, walls fluttering and clamping onto the illuminated plastic. Satoru’s close behind you, soft moans escaping him as he cums, hot ropes of semen covering your pussy.

You’re barely able to gather yourself, chest rising and falling at an abnormal pace, a sheen of sweat covering your back, causing the fabric of your shirt to cling to you. Aftershocks of your pleasure shoot through you, phantom spasms clamping to the intrusion inside your cunt. Your walls clings to the light stick, feeling a bit of resistance as you pull it out. Your muscles shiver at its absence, core aching at the emptiness. The light flickers before turning off permanently. Guess it wasn’t waterproof.

Satoru chuckles as he collects himself, still out of breath from his orgasm. “Wow, you actually did it. Maybe the rumors about my fans are true.”

“What rumors?”

“They’re sluts.”

His words deliver a sobering realization that brings you down from your high and back to reality. Your face twists in embarrassment, blood rushing to your cheeks in a wicked heat. 

“Don’t worry sweetheart, you’re the first,” he purrs low, kissing the nape of your neck. You’re not sure you can believe him. “And for what it’s worth, I really enjoyed it.” 

“Look what you did to me,” he teases, stroking his hard cock, already raring to go. “Gotta do something about it, yeah?” His cock presses against your slit, slowly humping into it, his pre and your juices mixing together. The stimulation so close after your orgasm makes you shiver.

“You’ll do it for me, right?” His head tilts inquisitively as the tip of his cock hovers over your hole, moments away from penetrating. The size of his cock strikes fear in your chest. Even compared to the light stick, you can tell you’ll struggle to take him in. You’re not sure if you’re ready for something like this, but when he asks with that honeyed tone dripping from his words, you feel charmed to say yes. You want to make him feel good too, giving another hesitant nod blessing him with the permission he craves.

“Good girl.” With a swift thrust, he forcefully pushes himself inside you, an uncomfortable stretch building into a harrowing pain. Of course a light stick doesn’t hold a candle to the real thing. Everything about it is just too much. There’s just too much resistance, too much of him inside of you. You struggle to take him in as he presses in further, holding your breath in hopes of a relief that never arrives – just a fullness you’ve never experienced before. A pained hiss escapes you as he starts humping into you recklessly, air knocked out of your lungs with each thrust, without any regard for your comfort.

“Wait, S-Satoru, it hurts.” You’re barely able to get the words out between pained groans. You attempt to squeeze your legs shut, but it does nothing to soothe the pain or slow Satoru’s pace.

“But you’re making me feel so good.” He spreads your legs apart further, fucking you with slow but hard strokes. His hands grip onto your inner thighs, using it as leverage to push himself deeper inside you. The slap of skin only gets louder, a pain striking in your core as he hits your cervix. Any attempt to drive your attention away from the pain fails, only leading to your hands gripping onto the sheets, knuckles turning a blistering white. The cool and collected facade of your idol fades away to dust. You don’t recognize the man in front of you, all greed and desire, rutting into you searching for his own high.

”Satoru, p-please, it’s too much!” you plead, hand momentarily letting go of the sheets to push against his chest.

”C’mon sweetie, I know you can do it,” whispering in that sweet yet hollow tone that hasn’t left his lips since the moment you met him, not that it does much to soothe. His tongue licks the shell of your ear, a gasp escaping your lips. 

You attempt to power through, biting down on your lip and letting your favorite idol have his way with you, ravaging your pussy like it was made just for this, just for him. Tears swell in your eyes as you try to put on a brave face. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, clenching your eyes closed as you let out choked back sobs.

”Don’t cry, you’re being so good for me,” he says in an artificially sweet tone that now sounds alien, overplayed like a broken record. One hand gently pets your head before gripping onto your hair, only serving as a support for him to push himself deeper into you. 

“You’ll feel real good soon, I promise.” You’re not sure you believe him, not sure you can believe him until his hand makes its way to your aching clit. The graze of his fingers is already enough to have you keening into him. Little shocks of ecstasy shoot through your body as he finally slows down, his hand focusing more on the bundle of nerves. His other hand reaches up to your chest, fingers crawling under the fabric to play with your tits, kneading the flesh before catching your nipple between his fingers. With his aid, your body gets acclimated to his size, the burn from being stretched out subsiding and a dull but undeniable pleasure taking its place.

You don’t recognize this version of yourself, desperate for a high you’ve never even tasted, falling back onto base, primal emotions as you start to match his tempo, pathetically pressing your body into his. You don’t recognize the salacious moans spilling from your lips, the look in Satoru’s half lidded eyes as he watches you give in to your desire. 

”See, what’d I tell you?” he pants into your ear, warmth from his breath sending a shiver up your spine, “feels good, right?”

And you hate to admit it, but he’s right: it does feel good. Better than good even, heavenly. How his length fills you up so deep, the way your cunt anticipates him with each thrust, your walls slowly taking the shape of him. Any words on the tip of your tongue disappear without a trace, head too fuzzy and scrambled to form any coherent thoughts.

The tension in your body comes to a head, body tight as your muscles clamp around his cock like a vice, panting his name with a reverence fit for an idol. Pleasure shoots through every nerve of your body, head light and hazy with bliss as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your hands ball into fists as he teeters the line of overstimulation, a whisper of pain too quiet to be felt before it fades. Satoru’s close behind too, pace erratic as he moans a string of hushed expletives under his breath. He comes with a deep thrust inside you, warm sticky ropes of cum coating your insides.

Satoru takes a moment to catch his breath before removing himself from you. Cum spills out of your hole, and you wince at the emptiness. You both lie on the cramped bed, out of breath, sweat clinging to your bodies. A gentle yet unreadable smile paints his face, and you’re not sure what to make of it. 

“You really are my cutest fan.”

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Test Track AU (T$$ AU Masterlist)

previous /// next (cw: injection)

combined suggestions from two different anons!

to answer the question posed in the branding ask: the shape of the brand wouldn't necessarily have a psychological impact, but that could change if it were permanent :)

@violets-whumperflies , @whump-me , @pirefyrelight , @soheavyaburden , @snakebites-and-ink , @whumpsday , @suspicious-whumping-egg @cryptidwritings

[yanaleese]

Hi! :D, i have 2 questions for karma, 1. Karma is tradicional vampire or is he like the Twilight vampires?. 2 He is willing to let me give him some kisses on his face and leave marks on him?. ;) PD(Sorry if i sound a bit rude, i am learning english and Google a helped me a litte haha)

Ooh! This was a question I've been waiting for!

Also your English is understandable relax bestie <3333

But first - let's get your smooching session out of the way ;)

Now, to answer your first question - Karma falls under the Twilight vampires; however he is not entirely a full vampire. In fact, his family and him fall under half-vampires.

Here is a basic (but LONG) comparison between half-breeds and pure-breeds!

Note that this is still in the works, so some information may be changed to fully tie in Karma's story and lineage!

(1) Yup! You read that right - pure-bloods are born with extra mouths, or none at all. They can be randomly placed anywhere on the body e.g. their backs, their hands, etc. However over time, pure-bloods have been able to move their mouths towards different areas thanks to genetics!

(2) Measured Enhancement is a state that allows pure-bloods to renew their strength and abilities. The blood acts like a charger to your phone battery, similar to how we need food and water to survive. It poses little to no risks due to a chemical called vialene, which helps them to resist losing control of themselves.

(3) No Sun Tolerance - Just like traditional vampires, they cannot go in sunlight, as it can lead to their bodies to burn, decay or even explode. Although these effects are dependent on the pure-blood's age, genetics and their decomposition process.

(4) Due to most mouths being permanent from birth, they cannot camouflage their mouths nor make it disappear. As a result, it causes pure-bloods to be susceptible to their environment, leading to these extra mouths being infected. It also does not help the fact that these pure-bloods are decomposing bodies, since decomposed areas can leave the mouths no longer usable. Thus, many vampires wear long-sleeved clothing to hide these mouths - and over time - learn how to gain blood without being detected!

(5) 99% of the time pure-bloods have pale, veiny skin since they lack blood; but that doesn't mean they don't have any. In fact, the chemical that makes up their blood is called Pyrotoxinum (fire + poison). Pyrotoxinum is a black, poisonous chemical that is highly reactive with sunlight and human blood. It's composition is similar to blood, and it tastes like oil and grease. It is corrosive to skin after being exposed in sunlight, can be colorless in sunlight, and is odorless. Lastly, Pyrotoxinum is also poisonous when being ingested, making it a useful tool for humans and vampires to kill people in their sleep, and cause explosions to occur. So be extremely careful when coming across pure-bloods!

(6) With so many mouths, extremely pale skin, and no sun tolerance - pure-bloods are super easy to detect. Hence, many pure-bloods do not openly integrate themselves within human society. This means they use their environment particularly well, making them incredible predators.

(7) Unfortunately, pure-bloods can only drink blood. Eating meats, grains, and dairy is out of the question, since all human food comes from the sun. Besides, pure-bloods are not a fan of organ failure and dying an explosive death lol

(8) Ductility - Pure-bloods are able to stretch their body parts whenever their please, and return to their normal size. This ability works well for middle-aged vampires, since in their younger years - their body goes through puberty and other hormonal changes. Although, it appears in teens, it is recommended by older vampires to not dabble in this ability until they're older. They can receive training for it though!

Bonus: Short comparison between PURE-bloods and TRADITIONAL vampires

(B - Both , P - Purebloods , T - Traditional , TBD - To Be Decided)

Undead? - B

Fangs? - B

No reflection? - T

Superhuman Strength, Speed, Senses and Healing? - B

Hypnotic Eyes? - B

Shapeshifting? - B

Aversion to Holy Symbols? - T

Stake Thru the Heart? - B

Fire? - B

Invitation Needed to Enter? - TBD

Running Water? - If you mean washing your hands and rubbing your face, then T. But if it's exposed to sunlight e.g. rivers, pools? Then B.

(1) Hemomancy is the ability to control your blood in the form of weaponry, shielding, etc. This is because the human blood in their body serves as fuel for their vampiric blood. The vampire blood acts a conductor, allowing them to channel the life energy within themselves! It is by far the easiest, and notable ability that most half-vampires have.

(2) Frenzied Enhancement is an uncontrolled, bloodthirsty state that occurs immediately when drinking blood or seconds after drinking. Although it's risky, it helps half-breeds activate their strength and abilities (huge difference!!!). In simpler terms, drinking blood acts like a key to a closed treasure chest. Drinking blood is purely optional, and simply an additional tool for half-breeds to survive. However, due to vialene being reduced, half-bloods are unable to lower their adrenaline - causing a lack of self-control.

(3) Sun Tolerance - Compared to pure-bloods, most half-bloods are able to go in the sunlight without problems. Their human halves need sunlight, so having sun tolerance is a major plus!

(4) Stemming from genetics and adaptation, half-bloods have the ability to camouflage their mouths. They are able to move these mouths around, assimilate it into their skin, and in rare cases remove it from their skin completely! This process is similar to blood clotting, which is why their body is compatible with such major changes. This ability is by far one of the most envied by pure-bloods!

(5) Another trait that half-bloods can have are patchy, mosaic skin. This skin condition can come in the form of stitches, spots and spirals. Most of the vampiric race believes that this patchy skin substitutes extra body parts, e.g. the mouth. However, the reasoning behind it remains a mystery to most, since this condition has become rarer in the current generation of half-breeds (which Karma falls into).

(6) Since half-bloods are practically human, they are hard to detect appearance-wise. This doesn't stop modern methods from finding them through vialene tests, sensory overload, starvation, etc. Hence, many half-bloods try to build their endurance and stamina to remain undetected. Sometimes half-bloods even try to live off without vialene, which normally goes to shit if you're not careful. But it is possible - there's even a myth about it!

(7) Another ability that pure-bloods envy are half-bloods being able to eat human food and drink blood! Usually, many half-bloods have a strong preference of one over the other. Either way, half-bloods can live on a blood-only diet or a human-based diet. But it is strongly recommended by older generations to ingest both, since it can cause hormonal and emotional imbalances. So it's best to be on the safe side!

(8) Fixed shape - Fortunately, half-bloods are unable to twist and stretch their body parts. This is thanks to their human side kicking in, and hemoglobin being pumped around the body. Pyrotoxinum in most cases, is quite dormant. It is only activated when half-bloods use hemomancy, in fight/flight/freeze mode and possibly more!

Bonus: Short comparison between HALF-bloods and TWILIGHT vampires

(B - Both , H - Halfbloods , T - Twilight , TBD - To Be Decided)

Do they have sparkling skin in sunlight? - T

Superhuman Beauty - B, but it is not as potent as the Twilight vampires in my honest opinion.

Superhuman Strength, Speed, Senses, and Stamina? - B

Invulnerable? - T

Diamond-Hard Skin? - T. But I'd argue that falls under pure-bloods lol

Thirst for Blood? - T

Superficial Sleep? - T

No Religious Restrictions? - B

Enhanced Emotions? - TBD

Vulnerable to Fire? - T

Decapitation? - B

Bloodlust? - DEF B

Covens? - T. I wouldn't describe their family-like groups as covens, but as cliques? I don't have a full on name for it as yet...

Mate Bonds? - T

Transformation? - TBD, but I think transformation would be more suited to pure-bloods.

<>

If you're curious about anything stated here, feel free to blast my inbox (lol)!

Once again thank you for the amazing ask @mylovelyhorror ! I hope you all continue sending your asks - thirsty, unthirsty, romantic, or just pure fluff! MWAH 💋💋💋 trust me guys i'm not dead i swear

[polish-art-tournament]

paintings* round 1 poll 55

The unveiling by Agnieszka Nienartowicz, 2021:

propaganda: - I love the usage of tattoos to represent how the culture we live in leaves a permanent mark on us - That's why I chose this one, the use of icons and religious imaginary always hits hard - also I had the chance to see an exhibition of her paintings irl an let me tell you they're gorgeous and imposing

about the artist: don't know much tbh she seemed perfectly sweet that time I met her

submitted by Nikita <3

Christmas card by Wiktoria Goryńska, 1929:

propaganda: I love the strong geometric shapes with the limited colors of a wood cut, it creates a striking and a bit otherworldly picture but also T-pose baby asserting dominance.

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

*t-poses into inbox* TIS I! 🎨 ANON!

We don’t talk about how I had to spend 5 minutes making sure this complies to your rules because I have a lot of mental disorders so I had to make sure this doesn’t cater to them lmaoooo

My hyperfixation is Tokyo Ghoul despite it being literal YEARS but whatever (I’m watching it again currently)

Ayato Kirishima with a male!S/O who has a hard time controlling his kagune (i.e when he’s scared he accidentally activates his kagune, when he’s angry it’s there. You can essentially think of it as emotion based) so he has a hard time hunting for food and doesn’t like to go out in public because of that

If you need more I gotchu but do your other requests before mine I know I get priority but nah I can wait

Kirishima Ayato - With Ghoul Male Reader Who Can't Control His Kagune

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Hello 🎨pallette anon, I'm finally going to write your request after however long after you sent it to me. Sorry about that. By the way, college classes have been a major reason why my posting schedule has been all over the place, I swear I meant to get to this sooner. Anywho, I hope this is to your liking, and once again sorry for the delay. —Benny🐰

Warnings -> Mentioned Death, Mentioned Cannibalism, Mentioned Murder, Alluded Past Trauma, Ayato Being a Sweety

                                                                                                   

🫀•♡•🫀•♡•🫀•♡•🫀•♡•🫀•♡•🫀•♡•🫀•♡•🫀

🐇 While he definitely wouldn't say it out loud, Ayato is incredibly concerned about you almost every hour of the day, though when he has important matters to attend to that worry is pushed to the background but is certainly still there. He's worried that you'll end up getting caught and killed or, worse, taken and experimented on by the CCG, so he's the slightest bit thankful that you stay inside more often than not. Ayato does make sure to drop by your place often to see if you're still there, and if you go out, he makes you tell him what you're leaving for and the exact time you left through the front door; he's not fucking around when it comes to your safety.

🐇  Usually, Ayato hunts for the both of you; he wants you to be able to go and get food on your own eventually, but until he's able to help you keep your emotions in check a bit better, he won't allow it. He may or may not enjoy being relied on by his cute boyfriend, but you didn't hear that from me. When he brings home a meal, he'll snack on it on the way to your place, but don't worry, he always makes sure to leave your favorite parts alone; Ayato just adores when you give him that happy grin while your cheeks are stuffed with the flesh of his latest game.

🐇  Often if you begin to have a panic attack or have strong emotions and your kagune begins to show itself, Ayato will 'reluctantly' grab onto your hand and give it a comforting squeeze. Although that squeeze tends to be a bit too tight most of the time and leaves you with an aching hand afterward, don't tell him that; he'll beat himself up for accidentally hurting you and won't touch you again for quite a while after that. If you're both at home, Ayato will drag you into bed and pull you against his chest, his hand rubbing your lower back under your emerged kagune to coax you into slumber.

🐇 When you both go out, be it for house essentials, food, or new clothes to replace the ones permanently stained with blood, Ayato always stands behind you and watches for potential threats or things that may stress you out. Suppose he sees that something is beginning to upset you, he'll grab you by the arm and physically turn you away from it, distracting you with an interesting object that's being displayed in a shop window or quietly telling you a piece of information about himself that you didn't know. Ayato is a pretty closed-off person even to those he's closest to, so he uses these hidden nuggets of information to his advantage whenever he's taking care of you.

🐇  Ayato is a very busy person, so he can't be with you as often as he'd like to be; to solve this problem, he's taken to leaving you little gifts around your place. A cute rabbit phone charm that he asked Uta to help him paint to look like his old mask, a few of his hoodies, random stuffed animals that he found on the side of the road, a couple of severed fingers for you to snack on in a take-out box, anything he thinks will make you feel better, to be honest. One time, Ayato even went out and bought you one of those cute squeaky stress balls whose eyes pop out when you squeeze them; it was a rabbit, of course.

🫀•♡•🫀•♡•🫀•♡•🫀•♡•🫀•♡•🫀•♡•🫀•♡•🫀

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my masterlist!

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi 👋. Do you know a fic that sherlock wants to kiss john so badly that he comes up with a fake case or experiment just to be able to kiss him?

Hi Nonny!!!

Ah, the one that immediately comes to mind is this one:

The Kissing Disease by cottonballz_of_death (E, 30,856 w., 15 Ch. || Sick Fic, Angst with Happy Ending, Case Fic, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Jealous Sherlock, Body Image Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, POV Sherlock, Oral / Anal, Thong, Frottage) – John brings home a boyfriend, shocking Sherlock, who long ago gave up hope that his straight flatmate would ever take a romantic interest in him. In a bid to reconnect with John, he tries to infect himself with a "harmless" virus. Neither of them is prepared for the emotional fallout that results.

====

Which isn't EXACTLY what you're looking for but for some reason it stuck in my head when you sent this ask!

I also have a few "Couple for a Case from Sherlock's POV" that I adore that could meet this criteria:

The Skin Over My Heart by standbygo (E, 8,849 w., 1 Ch. || Post-Hiatus, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, Dog Tags, Military, Homophobia, Gay Bashing, POV First Person Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Declarations of Love, Undercover, Haircuts, Flashbacks, Touching, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Metaphors, Introspection, Hand Jobs, On the Couch, John’s Past, Angst with Happy Ending) – Sherlock and John are still trying to adjust to Sherlock's return from his hiatus when John's friend Bill Murray brings them a case. Someone is targeting the LGBTQA+ members of Bill's unit. John and Sherlock go undercover at the unit, but when they end up having to flirt to flush out the suspect, Sherlock realizes he's in over his head.

A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w., 7 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, Primarily POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him.

Bridging the Ravine by SilentAuror (E, 58,887 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Couple For a Case, Bed-Sharing, First Times, Confessions, Awkwardness, Sex Trafficking, Massages, Wet T-Shirt Contest, Group Therapy, Past Loss of Child) – Sherlock and John go undercover at Ravine Valley, a therapy centre for same-sex male couples in an investigation into a possible human trafficking ring. As they pose as a couple and fake their way through the therapy sessions for the sake of the case, it quickly becomes difficult to avoid discussing their very real issues. Set roughly six nine months after series 4. Part 1 of the The Ravine Valley series series

====

AND you might find more on these lists:

It’s An Experiment!

It’s An Experiment! (Pt. 2)

It’s An Experiment! (Pt. 3)

But yeah, those are the closest I can think of to what you're looking for; if anyone can give something MUCH better than I have to offer, please PLEASE do, I know that there are others <3

[purpleyoonn]

The Line Between Love and War 10

C H A P T E R  10:  Bad Memories and Family Time

“It is said that the night sky is made up of tiny wishes that humans were never able to fulfill. That the stars only became bright by the fulfillment of those wishes. In your eyes, the stars that shine never seemed real, your childhood wishes dark and dim as you grow. But now, now you understand the twinkle in their eyes as they look down at you.”

Summary: Your experiences told you that soulmates were something you would never have the pleasure of having; something not given to you because of who you are, despite the soulmark that resides on your inner left wrist. During your solo trip to Los Angeles, you find out that you are more than capable, that your soulmates had been waiting for you for a long time, and would not be letting you go anytime soon.

Genre: soulmate au, bts au, idol bts, polyamory relationship, eventual smut

Paring: Idol!BTS x autistic!mc

Status: Ongoing (randomly updated)

Warnings: mental illness, talk of disability, lots of angst, miscommunication, feelings of depression, feelings of isolation, polyamory bts, stalking, dangerous behavior, eventual smut,

Chapter Warnings: a bad memory, major insecurities, family issues, sensory problems, mc is tense and uncomfortable, Hobi’s family is to sweet for the world, mc ptsd, 

Taglist: @azazel-nyx​​​  @yuzon3​​​ @hannahdinse8​​​ @quirkybtsarmy​​​ @mageprincess7​​​  @fluffy-canada-pancakes​​​ @suckerforv​​​ @chaoticthingpizza​​​ @drissteele​​​ @carolinexkpop​​​ @avadakadabra93​​​ @lachimolala22019​​​  @justaweird0​​​ @singukieee​​​  @welcometomyworld13​​​ @toughbook​​​ @kimana122​​​ @kpopmultistantrashsstuff​​​ @0funsite0​​ @joyless-living​​ @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered​ @elliott-calls​​ @psychosupernatural​​

Permanent Taglist: @m1sss1mp​​ @yourleftsock​​ @skyys-universe​​ @cryingpages​​ @strxwbloody​​  @drissteele​​ @dustyinkpages​​ @iamkookiesforyou​​ @crushedblackroses​​ @fluffy-canada-pancakes​​ @blaaiissee​​  @iiitsmaria​​  @carolinexkpop​​  @azazel-nyx​​ @strawberry-moonpies​​ @g-h-o-s-t-b-a-b-i​​ @knjkitten​​ @kleirielk​ @foreverweareyoung7​​ @lachimolala22019​​ @namuficxs​​ @94z-93​​ @kimgmzmc​​ @thenaverse​​ @dahliasbouqet​​ @black-rose-29​​ @tinyoonsblog​​ @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d​​ @stellauniverse​​ @stupendouscookiehumanmug​​ @tinyoonsblog​​ @veronawrites​​ @tatyhend​​ @singukieee​​ @m0v3m3ntsblog​​ @sidthesloth1305​​ @exfolitae​​ @butterymin​​ @queen-in-the-shadows​​

Masterlist // Chapter 9 // Chapter 11

————————————————–

Previously on The Line Between Love and War:

“Let’s take some pictures with our shirts on! You can post that!” You jumped from the couch at his words, the three of you quickly moving to change into the new shirts.

You had Jimin take the photos, your soulmate quick to have you doing different poses. You went with two of them, one with each of you showing your ‘muscles’, and the other was one that Jimin took when you all were laughing. You captioned it with a smiley face emoji and a laughing one before posting.

Jimin looked over at Jin, a happy yet sly smirk on his face as they realized his plan to change the subject worked, getting your mind off what happened and helping you make more memories with the boys.

When Namjoon returned, he was alone, and happy to find you laughing as you hung off Jungkook’s back, your arms around his neck as he spun in circles, Taehyung and Hobi recording the moment.

The following morning you woke up in the arms of Hobi, his low voice speaking into the phone he held to his ear. You couldn’t make out any words in your tired state, so you just continued to admire his morning voice from where you rested against his chest. You snuggled into the warmth your mate provided.

“She is not awake yet Mom. Yes, I promise. I booked the same restaurant as last time. Give her an hour or so.” You listened in as he spoke to his mom. You loved Hobi’s mom. She was the sweetest person you had met, even over the phone. And it made sense. Both of her children were also sweet.

“I know you’re awake pretty girl.” You felt his fingers trace alongside your jaw, moving until the bopped the tip of your nose.

“No, I’m not.” You mumbled back, oblivious to the loving grin on his lips. Pressing a kiss to your pouty lips, he moved his hand to brush back some hair from your face.

“My mother and sister are eagerly awaiting their day with you, baby. They’ve called me a couple of times now, wondering if you were awake.” Hobi mused as he watched you try to fight off your sleep.

It took a couple of seconds for his words to register, but when they did you almost knocked your forehead into his chin.

“Wait a minute! What time is it?” You ask him in a rush, your words almost slurring as they wake you up.

“It’s only nine o’clock, darling.” His words have you pushing yourself away from him, causing a sad groan to have his lips as you leave his embrace. He watches you rush around the room, gathering the clothes Jin had laid out for you the night before, the eldest picking matching clothes out for everyone, the creams and beiges creating a color-coded cohesive look.

“I promised them I would be ready by nine! Hobi, your mom is probably so mad with me! I’m never late for anything.” Your words are rushed, disappointment and sadness bursting from your body as you try to get changed as quickly as you can.

You were so upset with yourself for sleeping in, you didn’t want anyone to be mad at your or disappointed. You had enough of that at home and you didn’t thing you could handle the way you felt when you thought someone was upset with you, especially your soulmates or their families. You wanted them to see you as someone who had everything together, who never made mistakes or did anything wrong.

You could practically hear your mother sighing in your ear, could see the way she rolled her eyes and looked down at you.

“Would it kill you to do something right for once? I wanted you hear by six and its twenty past.” Your mother stood in front of you, her arms crossed against her chest as she stood next to her friends. Her eyebrows were perfectly sculpted and her makeup immaculate as she stared you down.

“You told me to be here at six thirty? I thought I was early…” You trailed off at the sound of one of her friends trying to muffler her laughter.

“No, darling.” You cringed at the nickname, hating the tone she said it with. “I told you to be here at six. And now you’ve embarrassed me by arriving so late. And dressed like this!” She gestured to you, causing you to look down.

You were dressed in what you thought was appropriate for a kid’s birthday party. You were wearing a pair of light wash jeans and a nice t-shirt, something you normally wouldn’t wear. You were itchy beyond belief and dug your nails into your palm to stop you from scratching at your skin.

“I don’t understand.” You say as you look back up at your mother. You watched as laughter fell from her lips and she turned to her friends.

“I swear, I have to pick out everything for her, she doesn’t know anything about clothes!” Her entire group of friends laugh as you now clutch the bottom of your shirt, feeling the tears build up in your eyes again.

“Go sit down, before you embarrass me even more.” You hear your mother tell you, nodding in response before moving to sit down at one of the tables at the edge of the large yard.

“Pretty girl, that’s it. Look at me.” You feel Hobi’s hands on your cheeks, turning your head to look at him. You could feel him wipe away tears you didn’t know had appeared.

“There you are. Hi baby.” He smiles at you, seeing the fog in your eyes disappear the longer he held your cheeks in his palms.

“Hi Hobi.” You whisper back, eyes focusing on his.

“Are you okay? You kind of just froze.” He moved some hair out of your face, placing it behind your ear as he watched you.

“It’s nothing. I just, uh, I need to get ready.” You moved out of his grip and returned to rushing to the bathroom, quickly changing your clothes and making sure not to wrinkle it, not wanting Jin’s wrath.

You do your skin care routine, trying to follow the steps that Jimin had Namjoon write out in English for you, but you skip a couple of steps, not wanting anyone to be annoyed that they had to wait on you.

It takes you all of five minutes to get ready, grabbing your small purse holding what you need for the day as you move into the living area, bumping into Yoongi who is munching on a small tangerine.

“Baby, what’s got you in such a rush?” Yoongi’s hands grasp onto your side, steadying you before you fall forward.

Yoongi notices the flush of your face and the way your eyes were red. He knew something was wrong, but he could tell by the way your jaw was clenched that you didn’t want to talk. He wondered if he knew what was wrong, having seen a lot of your past.

“I’m late to meet Hobi’s mom and Jiwoo and I don’t want them to have to wait for me.” Was your simple response, yet it had him confused.

“Why would they be upset with you? Didn’t Hobi tell them that you would be there in an hour?” Yoongi’s eyebrow raised as he walked with you to the couch where Jimin was relaxing, a movie on the large television.

“When we talked yesterday, we promised nine o’clock. That’s when we agreed to meet at the spa.” You muttered, not liking that his questions were making you even more late than you already were. You were becoming anxious, and the two in the room could tell.

Jimin adjusted his position on the couch so he could move to sit behind you, pulling you back into his chest and wrapping his arms around you. You tried to push him away, but he was strong as he held you to him.

Jimin started humming Serendipity, his voice coming out soft as you did what he hoped you would. You started to relax into him, letting your head rest on his chin as he peppered kisses along your jaw.

Jimin sang the song softly a couple of times, making sure that you were truly calm and your heart rate had lowered, no longer feeling it beat against his chest, before pulling away.

“Now baby, you have plenty of time because Hobi’s family isn’t going to be here until after ten, okay? So, sit with me, hmm?” He pulled you with him to lay down on the sofa, your body rested on top of his as he held you close to his chest.

You tried your hardest to be upset with the way Jimin just…rerouted your brain with his voice, but you couldn’t. You had never been able to work yourself out of an anxious spiral before, and you were amazed that he was able to help you stay afloat.

You felt like you were floating, muscles relaxed as you laid on top of your soulmate, his hand on your back, rubbing different patterns and words onto your sweater. Your hand was clinging to his shirt, fist clenched in the fabric as you breathed in his scent. Eyes closed as you listened to him laugh at something done on the tv.

You were so relaxed you didn’t even hear Namjoon open the door to Hobi’s family. His mom, dad, and sister walking through the door and placing their bags down.

You were supposed to be going out with his mom, Eunha, and his sister, Jiwoo, to the spa and lunch before doing some exploring with them. His dad, Hosung, was gonna spend the day with Hobi and Taehyung, who had wanted to join the two in their plans. The others were going to be relaxing as they had their first concert the next day.

“Now, where is our darling daughter at? I can’t wait for our spa day!” Eunha exclaimed, reaching forward to move past her son.

You were slowly moved into a seated position, Jimin doing the hard work and helping you both sit up. He had a smile on his face as he noticed your glazed over expression. Pressing a soft kiss to your lips, he helped you make sure your hair and clothes were nice before helping you stand.

“She’s right here mom!” Jimin hollered, a grin on his lips as Eunha rushed over and brought you into a tight hug. A grunt left your lips at the tightness now around your middle. You slowly brought your arms around Hobi’s mom before Hobi came over.

“Mom…” Hobi let out a warning tone, only for his mom to wave him off.

“I know, I’m sorry. I forgot.” His mom pulls away from you, taking a couple of steps back before noticing how tense your body had become.

“I am sorry for hugging you without asking. My son has told me about your sensory issues and I forgot about them in my excitement. I promise it won’t happen again.” You were absolutely stunned that she had apologized for hugging you. You’ve never had that happen before, and you completely ignored the wording of her sentences, trying to push away the already tense emotional feeling you were experiencing after the flashback of your own mom.

You nodded your head in response, which thankfully didn’t bother the older woman. She just looked at you with a soft expression, her smile permanently etched to her lips as she gestures you forward.

“Well, my daughter, I believe we have a spa appointment to get to.” Eunha talks slowly, remembering that you were still learning the Korean language. You appreciated her actions, reciprocating her smile as you moved forward and put your shoes on, standing in front of the door.

It took about ten minutes for you, Eunha, and Jiwoo to finally leave through the door. The boys were adamant about giving you their own goodbyes, Taehyung and Yoongi especially greedy as they kept pulling kisses from your lips. Namjoon practically had to pull Taehyung from around you, a large pout on his lips as he playfully whined, arms reaching for you as your elder mate pulled him away.

-*-*-

The spa was something you couldn’t have imagined.

It had baths of mud and beds where you could be wrapped in seaweed.

You hadn’t seen anything like it before, and didn’t feel comfortable with new textures, even with your desire to have Hoseok’s family like you. You were still a little anxious that you had kept them waiting, and still was unsure if they were going to be upset with you over it or not.

Yet, Eunha and Jiwoo reminded you of Hobi, their love palpable and their happiness and kindness visible as they smiled at you. You could feel yourself becoming relaxed in their presence, like you belonged with them.

You picked a soft lavender color for your nails, Eunha and Jiwoo choosing the same color with grins on their faces, mischief glowing on their cheeks.

“I want to match with my daughters.” Eunha had spoken in the same soft and slow tone, the nail tech smiling up at her. The spa was a Korean spa, one that Hobi and Yoongi had discovered on one of their exploration trips of the city.

You had felt loved and appreciated, like you belong, and it was a new and different feeling than what you had with your soulmates. This was…like you had family.

“Have you been here before?” Jiwoo asked you as you settled down in a private room at the back of the restaurant. You had been rubbing your hands, the lotion on your skin feeling like oil. You tried to tell the woman you didn’t want the lotion, but it seemed like you fumbled your Korean a bit.

You were originally going to be seated on the balcony of the restaurant, but you were unknowingly followed from the hotel. It seemed that your face was known, and people wanted to know more. This led to Hoseok calling the restaurant and changing the plans a little, sending two more security to accompany the already four you had, Seungho included.

Your pictures were all over army twitter, Namjoon had seen. Some calling for your privacy and others wanting to know more. It was all weird to you and had you feeling like bugs were crawling over your skin, making you remove your sweater to reveal the cream t-shirt and black leggings.

“I haven’t. This is my first time in the city.” You revealed as the waiter came by with the menus. You recognized some items on the menu, but your eyes caught on the option for chicken tenders and French fries, what you called the classic safe food.

You tempered over your options, going with something what was safe or choosing to fit in with Hobi’s family and pick something else. It all came down to how you already felt. Would a new pick trigger your sensory issues and make you melt down? Or would it not affect anything and you go on showing his family that you could fit in with them.

By the time you made your decision, the waiter had already come back with your choice of drinks and his notebook.

“Alright. What can I get for you?”

“I will have the chicken tenders and fries please.” Jiwoo spoke in her bets English, making your eyes widen in shock. You figured she would pick something else. When the waiter looked at you, you just told him you would have the same thing, adding ranch on the side. You didn’t hear what Eunha had picked because Jiwoo moved closer to you.

“I love their chicken tenders. They are so crispy and taste so good!” Jiwoo told you, bouncing a little in her seat, seemingly excited for her order. Hearing her words, your shoulders relaxed and you became way more at ease with everything.

Maybe you were overthinking everything…like normal.

“I am so happy that the boys have found you.” Eunha spoke as soon as the waiter had left, her gaze soft as she watched you sit forward in your seat. Eunha and Jiwoo had spent the entire day hoping that you would feel comfortable around them.

Hoseok had spoken with them, frequently over the years about his soul sight, everything he found out about you, he would confide in them. So, they knew more about you than you did them, unfortunately. Eunha and Jiwoo were aware of your disability and were aware of your wariness around strangers. They had just hoped that the number of times they had video-called with you had eased the tension and made them more familiar to you.

But it was okay, they were patient and had plenty of time to help you become more comfortable with them. They wanted to become your family, wanted to become the people in your corner.

“They all spent years looking for you. Had their eyes practically glued to social media for a long time. Hobi especially went through tiktok, hoping you used your actual picture as your profile picture, or that you posted videos of yourself.” Jiwoo followed her mom’s lead, trying to ease your discomfort.

“He always told us how sweet you were, any little thing you accomplished he would brag to us about it, proud of you.” You had little tears in your eyes now, blinking them away as you listened to them.

“I uh, never thought I would have a soulmate. I didn’t get a bond like that, with any of them. Thought something was wrong with me.” You laughed at yourself, self-deprecatingly as you remembered your years of research.

“I never expected this, any of it. I just wanted to come to the city, a vacation by myself so I didn’t have to stress. But now, I have seven soulmates who love me more than anything in the world. It’s…. like I’m dreaming.” You confess, trying to tell them that you didn’t know, that you didn’t mean to not look for them, thinking that was why they were telling you these things.

“I figure, things will happen when fate deems it to. We are just happy you were able to find your way to them. You don’t ever have to worry about anything with us…we just want you to feel comfortable with us.” Eunha’s hand moved to hold yours, pausing a couple inches from yours as she asked permission before continuing.

“I’m sorry I—” You paused, realizing that they knew you were uncomfortable.

“It’s okay, honey. We just wanted you to know that we already love you and see you as family.” Eunha’s words have you crying, tears streaming down your cheeks. You try to wipe them away with your palm, but Jiwoo moves, handing you her napkin and helping you so your eyes wouldn’t become puffy. That’s the sight the waiter walked up to, plates of food in hand.

This small moment, Jiwoo helping you and Eunha holding your hand, changed your entire mindset; you felt okay, like you were with people who genuinely cared for you. You were ready to do whatever you could to get the boys’ families to like you, but it seemed like you didn’t have to.

You hadn’t even imagined that their families could have known about you, that the boys had told them all about you, what they knew from the soul bonds. Hadn’t envisioned that their families would have already accepted you and your bond to their boys.

And it had you happy, knowing you didn’t have to mask around them. Didn’t have to create a persona that wasn’t you.

And you relaxed, even began to joke around and laugh with Jiwoo and Eunha as you finished your lunch and walked around outside, exploring your surroundings and taking pictures as you went.

You even took pictures upon Jiwoo’s insistence, her smile having you agree to her whims before you can even blink. A couple pictures of you and Jiwoo, of the three of you together, and then a couple of Eunha, with her arms wrapped around you in a hug.

“I need pictures with my daughter to show my friends.” Was her excuse for extra pictures, making you grin back at her. You didn’t mind, even posting some pictures on your Instagram afterwards, putting a small heart over her face to keep her anonymity like Hobi wanted.

You ended up spending the entire day with them, getting frozen yogurt and buying a couple of things that Jiwoo picked out for you, saying you would look beautiful in them. They were even cotton like you wanted.

It was an amazing day with family.

MC’s Instagram Post:

Next Chapter

[callmepelos]

The commission sale that I had planned in December and January was canceled for personal reasons BUT now it is back for February and March! (information about mini Gordon, Benrey and Tommy at the end of the post)

-Slot 1: -Slot 2:

(Payments only in US dollars)

These are NOT two permanent slots, when one opens I will announce that, managing two is much easier to handle refunds just in case

Extra pose and expression are $3 more (the default expression and first pose come with the initial price of $35, not only is the T Pose also a dynamic pose)

EDIT: if you want any accessories such as extra clothes, objects, jewelry, etc. that will have an extra cost of $3 to $5 (depending on the complexity, if it is very easy it may not charge you anything or if it is very complex it will cost over $5)

Waiting time one to two weeks (depending on the complexity of the character)

Before modeling we will work on the chibi design in drawing If you want, you can give me a specific chibi reference for your character, you can give me the references in T pose or you can send me just a drawing and I will take care of designing the reference in T pose (I won't start working until you are satisfied with your design, so Don't worry about asking for changes at this stage, the idea is that you like the design)

EDIT!!

If you want to add the Gordon ,Benrey and Tommy mini models to your commission it will be an extra $7 ,expressions are changeable, If you only want one of them it's $3 (I know you love Benrey and I don't judge you)

Thank you for reading!

[moodymisty]

slightly related to tying cato up (incapacitating??) but i fully stand by the idea that nobody on board understands that cato's seething '''hatred''' for the ambassador is just him being insanely horny for her EXCEPT guilliman and he's Ultra™Disappointed in his path of action and therefore permanently five seconds away from remotely locking Cato's armour whenever she's in the room or on deck with him because guilliman's tired of cringing at Cato trying to sneak glances at her tits between passive aggressive remarks,,, G-man gonna let him T pose that shit ass tactic out hissing and snarling face down on the floor LMFAO

Guilliman is so sick of his shit, but he can’t just go “Sicarius I order you to plow that woman so you don’t angrily jerk off every night” so he just puts his head in his hands whenever Sicarius does the space marine equivalent of pulling on her pigtails

[eskiworks]

Hi, I've been a fan of your art since the old DeviantArt days and really admire your dynamic poses. You recently posted about one of your commissions that was modelled on a cat picture. This is very intriguing. So I wanted to ask you, how do you come up with your poses? Do you have a big pile of reference photos to choose from, or do you use ones you happen to come across randomly? How do you know which one will work best for a character?

I want to get better at drawing dynamic poses. It's not easy for me to start drawing again after a long time and everything looks boring. Do you have any advice?

I know you're very busy and probably don't have time to answer every message you get. It would be great if you could show your drawing process again. Have a nice day.

Pose ideas come from all over the place! I try to consider what would be fun to draw for the particular character first, then narrow it down with ref photos. For cats and other animals, I do have folders of cool critter poses I've collected over the years. But googling stuff like "photo of cat jumping towards camera" helps too. I don't really know it's the right pose to use till I draw it, so I start VERY loosely and tell myself "this isn't permanent, it doesn't have to be good, I'm just trying it out real quick." I sat on this ask for a long time because I thought I could dig up a particular dynamic drawing tutorial another artist had made, but I can't remember who did it. ;__; Fortunately there are a lot of useful tutorials out there to help develop dynamic drawing more. I watched this one this morning to vet it, and it's got some good info. https://youtu.be/TRMcrElBRsM?si=dXB4BC3SBtnF7sbF&t=140

Mostly for me it's about imagining myself drawing something, and seeing if I have fun with it. I hope this helps some!

[bettyfrommars]

Stop the World and Melt with You//Part 3

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

In this part, reader meets the Nancy Wheeler and Joyce Byers of this au, and starts to feel a bond with Eddie as you navigate the Twilight Zone episode you are in. You also find out what happens when you try to leave this place called Hawkinsgate.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: reader feels lost and confused in general, talk of being an outcast, feeling misunderstood, mention of having a period, lots of 80's nostalgia, eventual smut (I think) but not for a while. Word count: 4.3k

🔸currently posting with my clown shoes on because this is the second Eddie series I have going 🤡 I really adore and appreciate the three of you who have been reading this, I know it is a little "out there".

-------

When you came out to lock the door of your motel room, you looked up at the ornate, brass, number ‘8’ and noticed that, at one point, someone wrote a ‘6’ right after it in permanent black marker. Another someone clearly tried to clean it off as best they could, but only succeed in fading the dark green paint down to a grass green. Claudia was locking up the lobby and putting a sign in the window that gave a number to call if you needed any assistance, and she waved at you, but then she looked you up and down, and her face pinched.

“You’re not going somewhere tonight, are you?” She shouted to you from halfway across the parking lot.

“Um, I’m meeting someone?” You posed it in the form of a question as if to see how she felt about it before you decided to get in your truck and drive the short distance instead of walking and having to answering more questions.

“Well, be safe. There’s a strict no noise policy after 9pm here, so no parties in your room.” She had a ring of keys on her wrist and her hands on her hips.

“I won’t. I mean, there won’t be. We’re just—”

But Claudia was already on the other side of the door, locking it, and waving goodbye to you.

Again, your eyes did a sweep of the empty motel parking lot; even the Police Blazer was gone now.

There were shallow puddles of water in the pavement from the rain earlier and you watched the reflection of the red MOTEL sign on the roof disappear into ripples as you stepped in it with your boot.

Eddie was already sitting at a booth in the diner when you walked in---in fact, you’re pretty sure he saw you from his window seat as you approached, because he was already standing up to greet you when you came in the door.

“Welcome to Newby’s,” a small, brunette waitress greeted you immediately, bending down to grab a laminate menu from the side of the wall. “Just one for this evening?”

You looked over and Eddie had his arm up, motioning you over. “She’s with me, Nance,” he called to the waitress.

The long diner had booths to the left and right, with a row of bar stools at a counter ahead of you and a kitchen beyond with what looked like a mom and a pop back there making the food. The place was getting busy, with only a few open booths available. The waitress looked you up and down, smiled uneasily, and then motioned for you to go ahead and continue down the linoleum aisle.

You scoot in across from Eddie, the vinyl seat squeaking as you go. Eddie had his hair down, and it was still damp from his shower; he wore a tattered denim vest and leather jacket on top of a clean, white t-shirt, and your eyes went right to the jewelry on his hands that you hadn’t noticed before—there were chunky, metal rings on his fingers.

He points to an item on the menu in front of you, and his face is serious. “They make the best homemade mac n’ cheese I’ve ever had in my life here.” He pauses and then, your gaze follows his finger up the length of his arm to meet his warm, hazelnut stare. Something about the eye contact flusters him and he loses his train of thought, but then he squints at you. “But why do I take you for more of a liver and onions kind of girl?”

You make a yuck face and wrinkle your nose, and he snorts a little laugh.

Running your finger down the menu, realizing you might need glasses soon, something odd catches your eye. “What do these letters next to the dollar amount mean?”

He lifts up out of his seat a hair to see what you are pointing at. “Oh, that means four dollars or ‘T’ for trade,” he points to another part of the menu. “And the ‘OT’ means trade only.”

“Well, I checked my wallet again just before I came here,” you gave a nervous chuckle. “And there are no more mysterious daffodils in there.” You scratched your head, listening to the preposterous things that were coming out of your own mouth.

Eddie sat back and winked at you as he reached into the front pocket of his denim vest. “Don’t worry, I got you. Dinner is on me tonight.”

With that, he procured a stack of ten or twelve Garbage Pail Kid cards and fanned them out, showing them to you covertly, as if they were hundred dollar bills. He raised both of his eyebrows several times to accentuate that the two of you would be living high on the hog for the evening, before tucking them back into his pocket and snapping the button closed.

A different waitress came by and you ordered the Mac n’ cheese Eddie had suggested; you could tell he was pleased that you went with his suggestion. He ordered a burger with waffle fries and a chocolate milkshake, and you weren’t sure why—but you hadn’t expected that. A soda maybe or a beer, but a milkshake? It was so wholesome in contrast with his persona.

You both ate in silence for a few minutes, each of you ravenous. Once your stomachs started to fill up, you whispered across the table at him: “Why do I feel like everyone in here is staring at us?”

He pushed some of his burger into the side of his cheek with is tongue like a chipmunk and leaned forward to whisper back at you. “Because they are.”

You turned your head to find the girl he called ‘Nance’ and one of the customers at the counter both looking at you as they talked. Their eyes shifted away immediately once you caught them.

Eddie swallowed his bite. “They’re staring at you because you’re here with me, and they’re staring at me because I’m here with you. Get used to it if you ever want to hang out again, sweetheart.”

Now, none of that made sense to you, and the confusion must’ve registered on your face, but the idea of seeing Eddie again made your heart flutter in its cage.

He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “It’s a stupid thing, I know, but we’re not supposed to...fraternize much with Visitors.”

You had a lot of questions, but you asked the obvious one first. “How do they know I’m a...that I’m not from here?”

Eddie gave you a patient look, as if the reason should be obvious. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with you, okay?” He assured. “It’s just...your hair, the way you dress, the fact that you’re staying at the motel. Most of these people have been here for so long, they can sniff out a new person right away.”

For a second, you felt like the proverbial sore thumb, like you had this throbbing, red bubble around you to let everyone know that you didn’t belong. You were a foreigner as Eddie had put it earlier. But, what you didn’t realize at the time is that—you were used to feeling that way.

“So,” you took in that information and pushed your shoulders back, trying not to appear like you cared about any of the spying eyes. “What about me with you? Why would it be a weird thing for me to agree to have dinner with you?”

Eddie picked up the last piece of his food and looked at it pensively, and then realized he was too full and put it back down. He scooted his plate to the side and put his arms on the table, interlacing his fingers. “The thing is, I’ve never fit in here either,” he opened his hands and looked at his palms. There was a lot more to the story, but he didn’t feel comfortable talking about it right there in the middle of the diner, maybe another day, if he ever saw you again.

You pushed your plate to the side as well and Nance (her name tag officially said Nancy) came by to collect them, and asked if you needed any refills. You both declined and Eddie asked for the check.

“I’m really grateful to you, for this, for...dinner and everything,” you stammered. You felt like it was time for you to both go your separate ways, and you weren’t ready. You weren’t ready to stop asking questions, and you weren’t ready to...say goodbye to Eddie. You felt your mouth drying up with anxiety, and you took the last sip of your tea through the straw; it made an audible sucking sound.

Eddie didn’t want the night to end, either. In his mind, he was panicking: should he ask for a dessert menu? He was full, but he’d have something with you if it meant you would stay. Should he walk you back to your motel? No, he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable—he was a stranger to you, after all. What about bowling? He could ask if you wanted to try the bowling alley next door or…? Nancy put the check down by Eddie’s arm and it forced him out of the trance he was in.

“You know what’s weird?” You asked, pulling your sweatshirt sleeves over your hands so that only the tips of your fingers were visible.

“You mean, besides everything?” Eddie gave you a wide-eyed, crazy look, and it made you giggle; forgetting, if only for a second, that you were stuck in some episode of The Twilight Zone. He looked down at the check and started sifting through his Garbage Pail Kid cards. He pulled out a ‘Duncan Pumpkin’, a ‘Manny Eater’, an ‘Undead Ed’, and a ‘Jay Decay’. He also pulled out some coins that looked like they were from the early 1900’s. You gasped and picked one up to see it closer.

“Where did you find these?” One was dated 1927.

Eddie shrugged, as if they were as common as mosquitoes. “You’d be surprised at the stuff that shows up here. Someone’s trash ends up being our treasure, I suppose. I’m still not entirely sure how it works.”

He noticed how you were looking at one of the coins. “You can keep that one if you want, I have a ton of them back at my place.”

You thought about it, only because, it was a rare coin worth a lot where you were from, but here, in Hawkinsgate---it didn’t seem to have much perceived value.

“Thank you, that’s okay,” you set it back down in the pile.

“What was it you were going to say?” Eddie interlocked his fingers again on the table.

For a second, you feared that perhaps you were losing your short term memory as well, but then he prompted you.

“You were about to tell me what you thought was weird, and I interrupted.”

“Oh,” you remembered. But for some reason, now you felt shy about saying it out loud. “I was just thinking that you feel really familiar to me. Have we met before? I mean, before today?”

Eddie unlaced his fingers and drummed them on the table softly, nodding, biting his lip. He had been thinking the same thing. Certain things you said, and the way you looked when you said them, were plaguing him with multiple instances of de ja vu.

“I highly doubt it,” he adjusted the collar of his jacket. “But anything is possible, I guess. You ready to get out of here?”

You each put your hands in your pockets as you shuffled outside, both dragging your feet, both of your mind’s racing on how to not let the night end. You stood under the awning as the rain drizzled, the sky threatening to burst open in a matter of seconds.

Eddie took a chance. “How about I drive you back to the motel?”

-----------

He parked his van next to your truck and turned the engine off because you were still going through his cassette tapes and he didn’t want to rush you. He also liked watching your face as you picked up each one to look at it---you were almost as excited as when you were looking at the coins.

“I haven’t seen these albums on cassette tape in...well…” you stopped short, picking up a few that came out in the ninties/early 2000’s, including a few you’d never heard of—and were almost certain had never existed. The sleeves were warped from water damage and a few of the plastic covers were cracked or broken. You should’ve been glad to see them, because it let you know that you weren’t trapped back in time. The thought occurred to you that Hawkinsgate was a place, and not a time.

“I found those,” Eddie told you with pride, answering the question before you could ask it.

“In the same place you found the coins?” Anyone else might have had a hard time wrapping their brain around the idea, but you were fascinated. His van smelled just like you imagined it would: clean, Irish Spring scent, mixed with vanilla, cigarette smoke, leather, and just a whiff of mold after a rainy season.

“No, princess,” he turned in his seat and stretched one of his legs down between the two seats. “They are usually in the abandoned cars we find and have to tow back to the junkyard.”

...abandoned cars…lost things...someone else’s trash…

You looked down at a mix tape that someone had made that said, “Sandy Loves Roger”, and then a bunch of handwritten song titles in blue ink that were too water damaged to be legible.

“Eddie?” Your voice wavered.

“Yes?” He returned in a sing-song way.

“How many Visitors like me have you met?”

“A few.”

“10? 15?”

He shrugged. “Hundreds, I think.”

“Hundreds?!”

You hadn’t been prepared for that number, and your reaction made him wish he had told you that he simply wasn’t sure, instead of giving you a number. Maybe this place was like those vortexes where balls roll up hill and magnets stop working.

“I’ve never taken one to dinner though,” he picked at something invisible on the steering wheel. “Some of them end up here for years, and some for only a few hours.”

You were staring at the dash in front of you now, your thoughts far away, trying to pinch a bubble of a memory before it floated away or broke. “Do they ever get their memories back while they are here?”

“Not usually until the end,” he cringed at his wording. “I mean, not until right before they go back.”

You looked down at the handful of cassette tapes in your hand. “Tomorrow I’m going to have to try and get back home, wherever that is.”

“I know,” Eddie swallowed. If you were still there in the morning, he knew you would try—everyone did.

“But I promise to come by the garage and say goodbye,” you smiled halfheartedly, but you couldn’t look at him.

Eddie turned to you with a genuine smile. “I’d really like that.”

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

In the morning, after getting some coffee from the lobby and eating a stale granola bar that had been stashed in your purse while watching an old Bugs Bunny cartoon, you showered and packed up your truck. You used the last one of your tampons and made a mental note to stop at the next grocery store you found to replenish. You locked up your room and drove over to park in front of the lobby to drop off your key and pay for the night.

Claudia gave you a concerned look when you told her you were checking out. “Well,” she took the key you were holding out to her, but kept her palm flat and didn’t close her fist around it. “Would you like me to hold the room for you, just in case?”

“That’s okay, I really need to get back,” you fumbled with your bag to get your wallet out, forgetting for a moment that it was empty.

“Back where, hon?” She meant it genuinely, but you had to look up at her to make sure she wasn’t being sarcastic.

“I’m not sure, but I’m just going to go back the way I came and get back to the freeway,” you said with all of the confidence you could muster. “Are there any internet cafes around here?”

Claudia looked almost offended by the question. You opened your wallet and, with a flood of relief, realized that your unused credit card with the $500 limit was still in there. The ID and the cash and the debit card were still gone, but at least you had something to work with.

You shook your head apologetically for expecting her to know what an internet cafe was. “Do you happen to know a place where I could buy a phone?”

But to that question, she had an answer. “There’s one over there you can use,” she told you with an enthusiastic expression, pointing to the payphone that was just inside the door. But then, she remembered that you were a Visitor, and she put her elbows on the counter, moving her fingers to make a rectangle shape as she talked. “Or do you mean one of those handheld devices with the computers in them?”

“Yes,” you were excited that she understood. “I need to get one of those. Do you know a place?”

“No, sorry,” she stood back up to make room for another cat to walk across the counter.

You tried to pay for the room with your credit card, but Claudia showed quite a bit of interest in the bracelet you had on, and so you traded that, and a can of half empty hairspray, and an unopened palette of six eye shadows for your stay. You weren’t attached to any of the items, so you felt like you got it for a steal.

Claudia stood in the window and watched you go, putting the key to your room in her pocket for when you came back.

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

There was an older man with gray hair at the pumps filling up another car when you pulled in. You drove right by him and over to the garage side of the building that had two open bays. You could see Eddie’s legs sticking out from under a car, and so you turned the engine off and tried to sneak up on him.

As you tip-toed into the bay you could hear Black Sabbath playing from a boombox on a nearby chair, and then the sound of a wrench turning and bolts tightening. You were just about to kick the bottom of his foot when---

“Don’t even think about it,” he said, giving you a start. And then he used the heels of his feet to roll out from underneath on the creeper, his hands braced on the bumper, and gave you a smile. “You must think I’m dumb as hell,” he teased. His hands were covered in dirt and grease, and there was a smudge of black on his cheek.

“I didn’t know you heard me drive up,” you wrapped your arms around yourself and waited for him to stand.

Eddie got to his feet with a bounce in his step, holding the wrench he was using in one hand. “Oh, I could feel you coming a mile away, sweetheart.”

It was a playful flirtation, mostly a joke, but it was also true.

Without realizing what you were doing, you stepped forward to cup his face in your hand and used your thumb to wipe some of the dirt off of his cheek. “Sorry, there,” your eyes met, and something stirred in you. His breath caught in his chest, grateful for your touch.

Flustered, you moved back, clasping your hands behind your back so that you wouldn’t be tempted to touch him again.

“I guess this is goodbye,” you told him. “And thank you again, for everything.”

He couldn’t lie, the fact that you hadn’t evaporated in the middle of the night made him happier than he should be under the circumstances.

“Take care of yourself,” Eddie told you. “If you need anything, you know where I’ll be.”

“I’ll come back to visit.” It was a promise you didn’t know if you could keep, but you wanted it to be true.

“I’ll be here,” he gave a chuckle, hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his coveralls.

You looked both ways and turned onto the highway, headed back in the direction you had come the day before. It was still overcast, but the sun was bright behind the clouds, and the rain had ceased for now. You flicked the radio on to Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now by Starship and took an unsteady breath as you drove down between cornfields, feeling like you were back on track; grateful for a new day, and looking forward to getting back to your life. Whatever that meant.

The two lane highway seemed to go on forever without any turn off or side roads, and you swore that you came off the exit ramp not too far down from Gary’s Garage. You reasoned that it had been pouring down rain, and you were...sad about something...so maybe you had driven for a longer distance and didn’t realize it.

45 minutes later, all of the radio channels went to static, and you pulled off to the side of the road to catch your bearings. You were the only car on the road that entire time, and at one point, you thought you saw a stop sign up ahead, but it ended up being a red piece of clothing hanging from a mile marker.

You swallowed back your fear and frustration and kept going, continuing to turn the radio dial, hoping for a song or some sign of life, but the static persisted.

“How do I not remember all of this corn?” The fields of tall, green corn stalks were endless, and you were sure that there had been tall trees at some point in your journey the day before.

God, you must’ve been really out of it that day.

Almost two hours later and you hadn’t passed a single street sign. The numbers on the mile markers were all out of order and didn’t make any sense. At one point you realized that there must’ve been some turn off that you missed, but it was too late to go back and find it, and if you just kept going, you were bound to run into a freeway or, at the very least, another town.

Later that day, after pulling over to weep frustrated tears several times and shout muffled screams into the palms of your hands, your heart leaped as you could see up ahead that the corn ended and turned into a cluster of trees. There were outlines of buildings and telephone poles: signs of life!

You pressed the gas to the floor, whispering “we did it we did it we did it” to your truck, choking on a sob of joy. You entered the city limits and wiped your eyes, glad to see an official speed limit sign. You passed by a friendly looking park and a Family Video, and then there was a quaint downtown area with a Radio Shack, and a general store. You yanked the wheel to park in front of the general store, because you were scared to know how well that one tampon was holding out, and you hoped to hell that they had a bathroom.

The woman named Joyce who worked there said they didn’t have a public restroom, but at second glance, she could tell that you were in a bad way, and said you could use the one in the break room. There were only a couple boxes of tampons on the shelf, and all of them were different brands and sizes. You had a weird feeling in your gut, but you disregarded it.

You tried to pay for the tampons and a bottle of water, but Joyce wouldn’t let you. She put her hand on top of yours, looked directly into your eyes, and what she said made the hair stand up all over your body. “Listen, I know it must be scary. But you’re going to be okay. Everything will be okay.”

She looked around to see if the other coworker on the opposite side of the room could hear her, and then she lowered her voice again, pushing the merchandise toward you discreetly on the counter. “These are on me, okay? You take care of yourself while you’re here.”

“...while you’re here…”

You were afraid to ask her where “here” was, and you wanted so badly for her to hug you and tell you it was all just a dream. She was just that type of person; the type you knew gave really tight, genuine hugs.

By the time you recognized Newby’s Diner and the Grove Motel from the road, you weren’t shocked to see them, in fact, a strange, empty resolve had begun to settle in you, one born of exhaustion, hunger, and mind-bending fear.

Later that night, on his way home from work, Eddie saw your truck parked at the motel again, and he felt guilty for being glad. He had this urge to check on you, to console you and let you know that everything would be okay—but he didn’t want to lie to you. There were two strands of your hair left on the passenger seat in his van, and he planned on leaving them there, just in case one day the rest of you didn’t exist, at least he would have that.

[boundinparchment]

Drown With the Sun (II/II)

Il Dottore's segment took care of her pain in his absence, as was his duty; Karina, as his second-in-command, returned the gesture when the segments were gone. Part 2 of The Heretic and the Forsaken series. Il Dottore/Female Original Character. On AO3 here.

Years passed in the blink of an eye, as they often did for the man of four-plus-centuries.  A sense of time was not required for one such as himself, especially not in relevance to others.  The phenomena made itself known in every other facet outside of himself anyway.

Karina surpassed every challenge thrown at her, and if she didn’t, she worked day and night until she did.  She earned her title, her place, and the right to make snide remarks in private.  Time carved itself across her flesh in the form of lean muscle and faint scars.  

Every time she arrived back from patrols near the Rift, she seemed to bear a new one, and Dottore suppressed the urge to kiss it.

Volkov tended to her wounds, the Harbinger well knew.  The two of them were stationed together, bonded by their rank and mutual survival.  The idea of another seeing her bare back, her toned arms, or any other parts of her only ever stirred a disgusting sense of jealousy that wove its way into his Segment network for days.  

She was his subordinate, Dottore rationalized.  Nothing more.

Besides, the conversations with her regarding Celestia’s hypocrisy and the cruelty of the Archons were ideas echoed by Pantalone and others.  He was not starved for companionship, for conversation.  There were plenty among the Fatuus with which he could voice his heresy and ideas.

She was simply the optimal choice.

When she was gone, the Creature toddled into his workshop or his office, blanket in claw, downtrodden and lost.  He had a sense of object permanence (Dottore had long since tested that), so the only conclusion the scientist could make was one involving a sense of loss and an understanding of absence.

The thing was the rawest emotional form he had left, packed away by accident and left outside of the network to prevent further infighting.  The last of his innocence was nothing more than a bundle of fur and teeth and sharp claws.  It clung to one of the only other people who suffered a fate as cruel as his.  Ironic, that the creature lacking higher cognition was the one so obvious in its affection and care.  Even more so that its creator would never give in to the base needs of emotional attachment and physicality, of intimacy.

He did not need it, not with his Segments around; no one else knew his needs and his mind better.

His Warden (for as much as he despised her presence, Karina would always be his Fontainian bargaining chip, his chevalière) was once again away and the little monster made its nest beneath Dottore’s chair.  It scrambled up and settled into his lap hours ago, content to listen to its older self explain the formula he was working on.  Even if the creature couldn’t respond except for screeches and squeaks, the action helped loosen ideas and see where potential problems laid.

Dottore would not, could not , admit he preferred Karina for such a task.  Her eyebrows knitted, lips tugged into a slight pout as she thought things through, eyes as fresh as the Avidiya Forest after rainfall when she posed a counter argument or idea.  She was strategic enough to be handy on the front lines in Natlan if Capitano had use of her eventually.

That would seal her fate; few came back from Natlan in one piece.  

And he couldn’t account for plans that did not include her.  Perhaps once.  But not anymore.  At least not until he knew what led to her Vision behaving as it did. 

Or so he told himself every time the thought of her laugh snagged on his almost non-existent heart.

Dottore sat back in his chair, lifting the little creature with ease and rearranging it so he could shift his weight comfortably.  The formula was long forgotten now and if he tried to force it, he would only end up more irritated than he already was by the distraction of absence.

Omega was in Sumeru now, ideally finishing the nonsense with the Akademiya.  The final Segment insisted that the chevalière did not need to stay behind but Dottore wondered if, perhaps, such an arrangement would have been better.  

If only to see what she made of the lush lands of the forests and the wasteland of the desert and her opinion on the divide between Sumeru’s people.  For an Electro user, she had a strong sense of justice and for the short time they were back in his homeland, Dottore wondered if she would side with the institution or the people gate-kept from it.  After all, exposing her to the Shouki No Kami, to Scaramouche’s grand designs and the Electro Gnosis itself, played with the threads of her perspective and showed her the gods were neither remarkable nor permanent.  They could be created out of anything, as long as the faith of the majority was high enough.

She had been remarkably quiet on the return to Snezhnaya and he saw little of her since.  Instead of accompanying Omega, she was once again pushing back creatures from the Abyss and beyond.  Hardly stimulating work.

The matter of her Vision, on the other hand… that was far more intriguing.  Not even being near the Gnosis did anything.  In fact, Karina specifically seemed to avoid that section of the laboratory entirely during her stay once the demonstration was finished.  

She never explicitly told him why .  He had not thought it odd, not then, but he had been too focused on perfecting negotiations.  And soon it would be too late to recreate the situation, for Omega was due to retrieve both Gnoses…

Speaking of…

The connection between himself and all of his Segments was, more often than not, mere white noise.  Some days, the Segments were louder; during others, especially when it came to the pesky chevalière , silence reigned (but never for long).  The average experience was, however, like trying to find a station on a Fontainian radio and he had to truly think of the Segment to make the proper connection.

He could take over any Segment’s body at any time but it limited himself to that particular perspective.  Helpful when he needed to truly explore an idea through another lens.  But more useful when it came to observation, in which he could simply monitor without anyone else the wiser.

What a tiny Archon.  Even awake, she was nothing more than a bean sprout and she hardly had the power befitting her station.

Omega’s voice rattled through Dottore’s mind.  “I see. If you think all those versions of me are worth a Gnosis...then, we have a deal, Lesser Lord Kusanali.”

Deal?  What sort of arrangement had the Segment just made?  

The rest happened quicker than he expected and the connection exploded into a cacophony of noise and voices and panic.  Each of his Segments, scattered across all of Teyvat, were struck with the startling realization at once, and not even their Prime origin point was spared.

“Sheer foolishness,” Dottore thought, targeting every word at Omega, at that blasted Archon.  “How could I have been so shortsighted back then?”

Lesser Lord Kusanali disappeared from his vision with a few blinks, his office coming in and out of focus.  Eyelids heavy, the last sound he recalled was not, in fact, his youngest self, hot-headed and arrogant, swearing vengeance on Omega. Paws pressed against his chest and the world around him faded away in a haze of screeches, whines, and watery singular eye.

Karina wove her way through the lower corridors until she came to the familiar workshop, divided into its different sections and projects.  Without parts of the Shouki No Kami lingering now, the space felt empty, devoid of life.  No doubt the floor would soon be home to numerous mechanical marvels and parts, as was the norm, but the prototypes were certainly remarkable.

She had yet to even see the usual Segment in the laboratory; usually he was around when she returned, staring at Volkov over an assistant’s shoulder.  It never bothered her colleague, or so he claimed, but she was never certain whether Dottore was sizing him up for battle or for dinner.  But he was nowhere to be found thus far.

Her footsteps echoed, unaccompanied by the usual sounds of activity down here.  Was he going to ambush her, remind her to keep on her toes?

He never did that on days she returned from the northern parts.  Karina dared not consider it a kindness but there was little else to describe it.  Perhaps he might call it inefficient.

“Lord Harbinger?” she called from the top of the staircase.  “Lord Dottore?”

She heard the familiar clung of metal on metal and her heart dropped into her stomach when she caught sight of a crop of teal hair.  He was working on something, as usual, some rectangular device she couldn’t make out from this angle.

Funny how comforting she found his presence, even in the form of a Segment.

“The rise time is too long…” she caught him muttering.  “If it can’t work quickly enough, it won’t reach bandwidth capacities…”

The Segment looked up from his notes when she came closer.  Any one of them never looked tired, despite the organic components used to make them.

“You were gone longer than usual,” he quipped, returning his gaze to the papers in front of him.  “Anything of note?”

“Not particularly,” Karina replied.  “We managed to capture a live Fenrir with specific mutations and corruption this time.  It should be making its way down within a few hours.”

“I see.  Prime doesn’t want to be disturbed so tend to the delivery and then see yourself out.”

He waved a hand at her, shooing her like a dog.  The Segment was acting strange, tapping a finger against the surface of the table as he stared at the notes; his eyes moved as though he was reading but he never once moved to act upon what he was reading.  Usually his focus was unparalleled, regardless of who was around.

“Get on it with, Omega, some of us have work to do,” he mumbled.

Oh, of course.  Omega was still in Sumeru.  The last she ever saw of him was an empty face plate, head tilted with a sharp-toothed grin as he said her services as a Warden were no longer required.

Out of all of the Segments, he was the most unsettling, in her opinion.  Too confident, too arrogant, five steps ahead of everyone while knowing exactly how to get what he wanted.  Her training kept her away from Omega to begin with and she did everything she could to avoid the last Segment while serving Dottore proper in Sumeru.  Something in the way he posed his questions, the way his gaze lingered on her, made Karina feel more like an object than a person, a rabbit in the jaws of a hungry wolf.  As if he did not want her so much as he wanted to root around inside her until he was bored.

There was an edge to Omega, one she balanced on before; one she was determined to never walk on again.

He must have been negotiating for the Gnoses, then.  Right on schedule.

The Segment before her gave up on the notes and began to meander around the table and sectioned-off workspace.  A gloved hand reached out and grasped her jaw, pulling Karina out of her thoughts and forcing her to look into eyes as deep as a blood moon.  His hand was cold compared to Dottore’s, lacking a proper circulatory system in the human sense, thumb brushing the corner of her bottom lip.

“If you insist on standing there, then, Alexandre, be useful and replace the pot of coffee from this morning.”

Karina watched as something foreign crossed the Segment’s features, his mouth parted and pupils narrowed, eyes blown wide.  He looked less shocked and more as if he had been blasted in the gut with a Fontainian blunderbuss at close range, completely paralyzed.  The fingers on her jaw flexed and gripped harder, pulling her down as the Segment’s joints gave out.  

She tried to grab onto him as he fell, muscles straining as she eased the limp mechanical body to the floor.  Was he short-circuiting?  She’d seen each Segment undergo maintenance more than once, fully aware they required upkeep, but they’d never simply collapsed…

Fear snaked its way through her muscles, freezing her in place as the Segment gave a half-hearted laugh.

“So it’s like this, huh?  You would betray even yourself. Good riddance!”

Crimson eyes glowed brighter for a moment, a final flare of life, before their color dimmed.  Ashes of a fire stamped out.

Karina’s head shot up, eyes scanning every visible area for movement.  No one ever made it down this far, save the now-dormant Segment, herself, and the true Dottore.  If the Segment was gone, her next concern was securing the area and finding the Harbinger himself.

She swallowed hard as she reached out a gauntleted hand and tried to close the Segment’s eyes.  His components complied much easier than a humans and if she didn’t know any better and ignored the lack of breathing (none of them needed air, after all), he simply looked like he was sleeping.  The stillness in the Segment’s limbs, the way its limp form responded to gravity and movement so easily, scratched at Karina’s memories; no resistance from muscles, no flexing or response to stimuli, just like the bodies of her comrades…like Rhiannon’s…

With a shaky breath, Karina shoved the Segment off of her and clamored to her feet.  This was different.  He was nothing more than an object, a thing , he felt no pain and suffered nothing in the end…

The layout of the workshop was rather straightforward despite its winding corridors.  One way in and one way out.  Karina made her way back to the elevator entrance and pulled the grate in front of the large doors and locked it in place; only someone with the proper clearance had a second key for the mechanism.  An easy security policy.  At least Dottore kept things simple in that regard.

Now for the man himself.

She tried to keep her eyes from lingering on the Segment as she drew her knife from her shoulder holster and held it close, stalking through the space.  From the furthest corner, she heard the clattering of a tray and its instruments, the sound echoing as loud as a gunshot.  Careful not to let her footfalls betray her, Karina arrived at the scene to find nothing but a metal instrument tray and various tools scattered on the floor, along with a bedsheet dangling off the vivisection table, stark white without a trace of blood.

An errant snapping of a jaw made Karina carefully duck to check under the table; tucked into the space between the table and a nearby cabinet, she could make out a single eye and a fluffy tail.

Before she could open her mouth, the blur of fur and teeth chattered and gave a high-pitched cry, diving for Karina.  She grunted at the impact, the creature nuzzling into her uniform, ears pulled down as it gave a series of smaller cries and whines.  Absently, she stroked the creature’s head, never quite lowering her knife.

What was the little creature doing down here?  More importantly, what was it doing down here unsupervised?

Usually it kept to Dottore’s office.  Or, if not there, it was always in the care of another or Dottore himself.  Like a child, this being was not to be trusted on its own in the laboratories (a lecture she received no less than three times when it was discovered the little thing clung to her so long ago).  If it was here , then…

“Where is the Doctor?” Karina asked when the little thing grew quiet.  “What happened?”

Her gaze met a singular eye, wide and wet and scared as the creature processed her words.  Its beak opened and then closed without a sound before it jumped from her lap and took her arm in its tiny claws.  It pulled with a surprising amount of force, chirping urgently when Karina didn’t move fast enough.  As soon as she rose to her feet, the creature dashed off on all fours and its fluffy tail disappeared around a corner.

There was only room in that direction to check.

And surely he wouldn’t have been stupid enough to be killed remotely.

He wasn’t, of course, Karina mused as she pulled off her gloves and pressed a bare finger to Dottore’s pulsepoint.  Solid and steady.

Alive.  That might not mean much if he were comatose, admittedly, but he was breathing, at least.

The Harbinger didn’t so much as flinch or moan when the creature nudged his leg or climbed and slapped its paw against his cheek.  Dottore was face-down on the desk, his mask discarded, looking as though he’d done nothing more than fall asleep while working.

First things first, he needed to be moved.  She couldn’t access his desk and see what needed to be prioritized (if even possible) if he was slumped over all of the paperwork.  Who knew, maybe moving him would wake him up from the stupor and all would be solved.

Life was rarely, if ever, so easy.

Karina’s eyes roamed the office and settled on the piece of furniture nearest the desk.  A different sofa than the one she laid on (which had mysteriously been replaced several years prior), tufted leather with arms as tall as the back.  It would do.  

She reached and tucked one arm beneath Dottore’s and pulled him up and then away from the desk, his boots dragging on the floor.  His head lolled from one side to another as she slowly carried him across the room, his earring occasionally swaying to tap at her temple.  This close, she could make out the lingering scent of aftershave, a crisp mint that gave way to warm musk and sandalwood, reminiscent of the hotel in Sumeru.  Nothing like the Segments, who often smelled of disinfectant and the persistent iron tang of blood.

Karina arranged him on the couch as best she could; unlike the last couch, it was long enough to consider his full height.  With help from the creature, she made quick work of his boots and placed them aside.  

Her eyes fell on his face, entirely unveiled now.  His jaw was just like Omega’s but his mask had hidden an aquiline nose, dark circles under his eyes, and a brow forever pinched in thought.  She could imagine how, if he were awake, his nostrils might flare and his eyes would narrow in indignation.  The Segments were, of course, still him and some manners never changed.  If he smiled more, Karina considered he might even be handsome in the right light.

She scoffed, gut immediately churning with guilt at seeing him like this.  A Harbinger’s visage, especially that of the top three, was their own private knowledge.  They were no longer the people they saw in the mirror but someone else, some thing else, entirely.  

And even she, with all of her work and her rank, was not worthy of that visual knowledge.

Karina tore her gaze from the Harbinger and retrieved his mask, clipping it into place over his eyes and forehead with ease.  There.  Perfect.

The creature tucked its creator in, little paws pressing a newly found blanket between the man’s biceps and the couch.  The chevalière watched as it paused and sat near Dottore’s feet, eye fixed on the sleeping Harbinger as it kicked its hind legs back and forth.  She didn’t count the minutes but when it finally hopped down, it immediately patted her boot and raised its arms, a silent plea to be carried.

Karina picked up the fluffy companion and sifted through Dottore’s desk with a single hand.  She left the office with her arms full of fur and papers, uncertain of all but the sleepless night ahead.

Her first note out of the laboratory had been not to the Jester but the Regrator, specifically through Volkov.  No one would question the correspondence chain and Volkov was being considered by Lord Pantalone as a potential Warden candidate.  Discretion was guaranteed.

She would deal with the Jester (and the Tsaritsa) at a later date.

The Fenris was handed off to the upper levels, contained and sedated.  Nothing the staff up there couldn’t handle.

Pantalone controlled the funding and if he wasn’t going to get results, he needed to be aware of the change in schedules.  Plus, he was familiar with Dottore’s handwriting; Karina could only look at the chicken scratch for so long before her eyes stung.  

Omega was in possession of two Gnoses, according to recent reports; Pantalone only mentioned that the Segment exchanged something of substantial value for both of them.

“One of them said something about a betrayal,” Karina said as she massaged water and broth down Dottore’s throat.  “Perhaps Omega offered up the Segments as collateral.  It would cripple the opposition and buy time without a true loss of life.  Archons never want to be responsible for the death of a human, no matter their moral standing.”

With a smirk as she cradled Dottore’s head just right, the Regrator agreed; after all, doing so would keep Lesser Lord Kusanali’s hands clean, too.  

When she wasn’t taking care of the Harbinger directly, she was making decisions about things she knew nothing about.  The written goals and hypotheses were not as clear as they initially seemed and it grew more difficult to ascertain priorities.  Not to mention the growing pile of Segments, the youngest of which was where the creature was now resting.

Her heart ached, reminded of when Rhiannon crawled into bed with her when she couldn’t sleep.  If she looked too closely, Karina felt sticky blood on her fingers and strong hands around her arms, prying her away from her sister’s lifeless body.

Did the little thing feel the agony of loneliness clawing from the inside out?  The fear, the fury?

When she admitted to Pantalone that it was almost impossible to keep the various projects Dottore gave his Segments straight, let alone what to do with the bodies, the banker gave a barking laugh of amusement.

“I know what I might do,” Pantalone drawled, golden eyes boring into her, “but this is your job.  No one else is as close to a Harbinger as their Warden.  It is your duty to consider what must be done and why.  After all, you’re meant to be an asset , Alexandre.”

Spoken as if she were nothing more than a number on a spreadsheet.

“Contrary to how he presents it, you would have been reassigned if he did not trust you,” the Ninth said.  “He never had a Warden previously.  Your presence will no doubt lend itself to a new perspective for him.”

He parted not long after for another meeting, a sickeningly kind smile on his lips.  Happy, no doubt, that he did not have to deal with Dottore’s condition and merely the fallout left behind.

Bastard.  

Both of them, bastards.

Without them, she wouldn’t even be alive now to be in this position.  Would it be better to be chained to a bed in Fontaine?  To have been killed with the rest of her family?

Dottore would laugh at her if he knew the thoughts running through her head.

Hadn’t training taught her anything?  Did her second chance mean nothing to her?  She accomplished enough to be promising by Fatui standards and yet she would squander it by wishing she were dead?

Wasteful, he would call her.  It was better to be alive, to know that the past didn’t matter, that it was only the here and now and the floor beneath one’s feet.

He was surprisingly grounded for a man who split himself into several branches.  Even if he was absolutely determined to find out the root cause of her Vision’s lack of power, even if he saw her as nothing more than a puzzle to solve.

At least he saw her and all she encompassed.

To the point that he neutralized the primordial water in her blood and turned her human.  How had no one in Fontaine realized that before?  Water as blood had been a metaphor but to think it held some truth…

Those files she read would no doubt be burned when he woke.

She scoffed as she settled back into her makeshift workstation and ran through what she knew.  The creature immediately returned to her lap, nestled close as it gave a sound close to a pur.

Dottore would want to part out the Segments.  They were expensive and difficult to make, full of dream solvent and something called primordial water, along with branches of Irminsul.  All of those could be repurposed in one way or another and Dottore hated nothing more than having to scout for or purchase parts.  

They were inorganic, which meant no concern for decomposition.  She could set up an area in the back and organize the branches; at least they’ll be out of the way and away from prying eyes.  

Most of them completed their major testing with a few exceptions for weaponry…next patrol left later this week under her charge…

She and Volkov could do the weapons testing.  The north would prove a good baseline and he at least understood instructions both verbal and written; whatever she couldn’t make sense of, he could.

Perfect.  The Segments could be rearranged in the morning and that gave her time to obtain the weapons and the rest of the details from other staff members.  She scribbled down the plans, complete with checklists and individuals involved, finally satisfied the issues were no longer intangible sensations in her brain.

Karina looked down at the creature, now curled up and fast asleep.  How easily he drifted off.  An enviable position from where she was sitting (and she was, now, stuck sitting; he slept too lightly for her to move him).  

She shifted down in the seat slightly and leaned back to put her feet on the desk, curling up a little in the seat.  Karina wrapped her arms around her new companion and held it close, her eyes and mind finally giving into the exhaustion of the last few days.  A little rest would not go amiss.

Dottore jolted awake, a strange weight on his neck and chest as his head throbbed.  His mouth tasted disgusting and felt like someone shoved a wade of cotton into his mouth to chew.  No, worse still, as if he was being asked to swallow a hairball.  

Hazily, he reached up and found a bulking mass on his face.  What the hell was this?

The Harbinger grabbed it and pulled it away from his face, instantly relieved as he spit out stray hairs and fibers.  The thing he held gave a series of sleepy protesting squeaks and when his vision settled again, Dottore came mask-to-eye with the single creature still alive after Omega’s destruction.

The fox-raven hybrid held out its tiny arms in victory, tail wagging at the realization its creator was awake.

Awake…that meant he’d been sleeping…no, that wasn’t quite sleep, was it?  It was too dark, too empty, too silent.  He might have brushed fingers with death once again in his extended lifetime.  It came close several times as a child, first with stones and then with swords and torches; by the time the desert itself tried to kill him, he was far too spiteful to die.

How long had he been…

Dottore released the creature’s scruff and it plopped back down into his lap.  The excitement died away, replaced with a need to make certain all was as it should be.  As the monster tapped its paws across his torso and arms, the Harbinger looked around and took stock of his surroundings.

His office.  Someone moved him from the chair and onto the couch, even went so far as to remove his shoes.  His mask felt slightly out of place and absently, he reached up and clicked it home, the screen beneath it flickering to life and displaying what he already knew.  All Segment vitals were zero’d out, signals dead, and the Segments themselves were unreachable.  He’d taken this off when he was last awake, he was certain.

It looked cleaner but maybe that was simply the dim light playing tricks on him.  The desk was void of papers and the table beside the couch had a pile of bowls and a cluster of glasses.  Neat and tidy but the remnants of one’s actions left behind?  By mere accident or did they want him to know they’d cared for him.

Cared for him.

Who the hell would care for a wretch like him?

It wasn’t as if the world did.

A paw tapped his cheek, sharp claws scratching his skin.  The Doctor looked down and found the creature looking at him, or trying to, eye narrowed.

“I’m fine,” Dottore said, voice hoarse.  “Nothing that can’t be rebuilt.  Omega is inherently selfish; you’re stuck with me from now on.”

A squeak that sounded like a human’s “nuh-uh” was the only reply he received before the fluffy tormentor climbed down and slowly made its way towards the door, left ajar.  When the Harbinger didn’t follow, it rolled its eye and waved its arms, beckoning him on.

“Alright, alright, fine.  Go on ahead.”

With his Segments gone, everything was bound to be close to shambles.  Even if Omega was successful, cutting off all of the Segments and silencing them was akin to cutting out his own eyes and chopping off an arm for good measure.  They weren’t just perspectives to use to examine problems; they were individuals, all of whom were good at what they did and furthered his work a hundred fold every year.  Culling them was tantamount to treason, depending on the Tsaritsa’s mood.

Even two Gnoses wouldn’t make up for the backlog of work and delays he would be facing.  

Dottore grimaced as his head pounded again.  He didn’t need this, any of this, and Omega had to go and throw everything back at him, naturally.  Anger initially flared deep in his stomach but it gave way to tasteless irony.  He’d been selfish at that age and perspective, focused only on what would bring him the most progress or further his understanding of the world.  

The Archon’s plan would not have worked if any other Segment had been sent, the clever sprout.  

Without them, he had a mountain of work ahead of him.

On the other hand, however, he’d gained an abundance of knowledge from all of their experiences.  His head swam with memories that were his but not, words and theories and concepts all at the ready, even if he never managed to be the one to gather them.

Amid all of them, a single memory of startled green eyes, a pang of fear.  

Surely he had not been so fortuitous?

The Second shoved his feet into his boots, pondering the expression as he buckled the fastenings.  Fear and uncertainty were friends to no one except those that knew how to use them but they were ugly on her; he lacked any other descriptors for it.  He usually relished in one’s terror, their instincts kicking in to debase oneself to their purest human form.  Yet now, that churn of fury returned, aimed at Omega not for his usurpation but the blast radius of it.

Why?

What did the chevalière even matter?

She was nothing but another face, doomed to expire before he would.  His Warden would die on the battlefield, or in servitude, probably in the next decade if she were lucky.

The Doctor stood, stretching only enough to rid his limbs of the lingering stiffness, and made his way out towards the workshop proper.

One day, the walls around him would not volley her laughs and quips around as they did today.  Dottore’s gaze settled on the chevalière , weary but no less dedicated, and his mouth went dry as he took in her visage.  The Creature was poised over her shoulders, more cat than anything; it appeared to nod before its attention shattered and it nuzzled closer to her.

Two cups on the table, steaming.  Already prepared, as always.

Without the Segments, it would be quieter in Haeresys, and her presence was…not unwelcome.  

He was no stranger to loss but the idea of being alone …

No.  Not before he had his answers and before he could give them to her.  She deserved that much.

She spared no details as she explained her plans, the breakdown of what he’d missed, where everything was organized.  Thorough, succinct, fairly logical; he knew her thought patterns well enough to work around her structure, if need be.

“Twelve Segments were brought back but I’m not certain that’s all of them.  Excluding Omega, naturally.  He should arrive tomorrow, based on the last raven received.”

Omega, Omega, Omega…whatever to do with him now that he outlived his usefulness?

Weapon testing would be finalized this week out in the wasteland of the north, specifically by both Wardens.  Not the ideal environment, especially given he would likely not be there to observe.  He would prefer to, of course, but…

She was only staying until he woke up, precisely with the intent to finish testing and provide details as soon as possible.  

“Unless your orders are different, Lord Harbinger?”

How he longed to hear her call him something else.  Anything else.  How would those two syllables of his, known only to himself and Omega, roll off her tongue?  Would she say it with disdain, perhaps, for all he did to her?  Or was that too much effort, too much to give him?

“No.  Your plan is sound, chevalière .”

Karina straightened and scooped the creature off of her shoulders.  Her lips quirked into a small comforting smile when the tell-tale cry of disappointment reached her, and she gave a habitual rub to its head.  Dottore’s heart seemed to misinterpret that he was not, in fact, dying, for it skipped a beat and then tried to make up for it, beating twice.

“Back before you know it, mon petit.  Don’t be so glum.”

The creature only seemed to sink into its disappointment further.  It used its one eye to boldly plead for her to stay, shameless in what it wanted.  

Shameless or simply direct?  Dottore couldn’t tell.  It knew nothing of the former and even less about being obtuse.

If he had blinked, he would have missed how she bent down and pecked the top of the creature’s head.  That cheered it up considerably and when she locked eyes with him again, Karina bowed.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll be going, sir.  The sleds leave at daybreak and I need to pack.”

Dottore nodded, turning his head away to assess the change in the workspace.  His ears felt hot now, too.  Seeing her be kind to the creature, to him , dredged up a tangled assortment of ideas, several of which involved genetics as his curious thoughts strayed if his red eyes were a dominant or recessive gene.

He had plenty of work ahead of him in just scraping the Segments, let alone being debriefed by others and examining the large corrupted wolf waiting for him upstairs.  

Karina turned and began to make her way out of the workshop when Dottore found his mouth opening of its own accord.

“Warden?”

He swore his ears burned hotter still just looking at her.  Ridiculous.  He might have helped her find her place here, potentially, and be the reason she was even still alive to begin with, but that didn’t mean she had to repay him.  No one held debts over him in that fashion.  Pantalone was an exception, of course, but Dottore wasn’t in the habit of equivalent exchange.

He didn’t understand this, the draw to her, the way he ached at the prospect of her being gone.  Even temporarily.

Dottore smiled, wide and sharp and playful.

“Come back in one piece, won’t you?” 

She smirked, and he could only assume by the shake of her head that she scoffed.  Karina broke her gaze away first, her eyes settling on a pile of parts before she looked at him again dead-on.

“As if I’d do anything else, Lord Harbinger.”

This time, he let her go, exhaling only when he heard the elevator grind shut and begin its ascent.  Dottore reached up and unclipped his mask, tossing it onto the table and leaning onto his palms.  

He looked up when he noticed movement; the creature stood proudly on its hind legs, eye narrowed in pride as it wagged its tail.  It gave a little chirp, reminiscent of a teasing whistle.  

Dottore glared.  “Oh, shut it, won’t you?”

She would be the death of him, that much was certain.  If Omega couldn’t kill him, Karina might.

[my-shields-are-down]

Chenford prompt + Chris used me!

I’m combining this with another prompt= + Chris cheated on me!

==============

“Are you Lucy Chen?”

Lucy had been laughing as Tim whispered naughty things he planned to do to the soft skin of her inner things later that night while standing in the rotunda of the LA County Courthouse. One benefit of having dated the former Court Liaison Sergeant, was that the scheduling system had somehow been permanently programmed to schedule all of your trial dates on Thursdays and Fridays-same as your fiancé, funny how that works. As soon as Lucy completed her last round of testimony she and Tim were headed to Big Bear for a long weekend.

Lucy was unintentionally oblivious of the young woman standing next to her. Tim commanded all of her attention as his lips ever so softly brushed up against her neck tattoo. As she was dressed in her dark blue “court” dress that skimmed her curves with her high heels, she didn’t look like a cop. Her badge was still in her bag and not yet looped on the rose gold chain Tim had bought her when she made detective. Between her hair up from her signature loose bun, and the v-neck of her dress, she had a large swath of exposed skin that Tim felt required to suck and kiss.

“Excuse me, are you Lucy Chen?”

This time while asking the woman had reached out and touched Lucy’s arm, triggering a noticeable change in her eyes - her cop eyes clicked on while she kept a casual pose with Tim.

Lucy assessed the woman in front of her before replying. Roughly the same age as Lucy herself, Asian, beautiful, but bouncing with nervous energy, black cargo pants, tight t-shirt and loose jacket. She looked familiar, but as her mind was flooded with endorphins she wasn’t exactly, 100% present in the moment.

Lucy put her hand on Tim’s forearm, and turned to the woman, saying, “why ? Who is asking?”

The young woman’s eyes started scanning the floor, and Lucy went instinctively on alert. Tim leaned down and whispered to her, “I’m gonna go check how long until they call you. I need to get you naked as soon as I can.” Lucy kissed him briefly on the cheek, her diamond engagement ring catching the sunlight pouring through the high windows.

Lucy then turned and dug around in her purse for her badge and upon finding it, stood up straight and turned to face the young woman, saying, “Yes, I’m Detective Lucy Chen.”

Lucy immediately felt the slice on her cheek and put her hands up in defense yelling “KNIFE!” as the young woman, her face contorted in rage, screaming at Lucy as she continued to swipe her razor sharp knife at Lucy, “I’m Ming - Chris Sanford’s one true love. He cheated on me! He used me! To be with you!”

Ming then turned and darted through the crowd of uniformed officers directing them to the melee behind her.

Tim, having witnessed the attack on Lucy sprinted across the foyer, leaping over a defense attorney kneeling to tie his shoe like the quarterback with a break in the offensive line ahead of him, tearing off his button down to put pressure on her cheek. Lucy, grabbed the shirt and redirected his focus to her hands, palms up with a deep lacerations showing across both hands. “Baby, my hands. She sliced my hands. Oh they hurt. Tim they really hurt.”