#something something dangerous beauty idk

[official-deified-defiled]

Tumblr stop eating my fucking resolution challenge

[wereh0gz]

The Minecraft movie would've been so good if they'd just. Made it in earnest

[lord-squiggletits]

I know most ppl (at least the ones following me) are all on the same, correct page about Pharma not being "obsessed with his hands," but it still grinds my gears that that even became a fandom take in the first place bc like. Bro Pharma was not "obsessed" with his hands, he had a very normal attachment to his hands that manifested as anger about them being harvested and used as organ replacements without his permission (while he, still alive, was left to die alone by his own best friend). Ppl just couldn't conceive of the idea of antagonists being people with realistic, understandable emotions back then I guess. Had to filter everything through the lens of "Pharma is evil therefore if he's upset about Ratchet taking his hands it's because he's obsessed."

But no like for fucking real, how do your eyes pass over the sentences "...But then I saw you took my hands. That took things to a whole new level. You declared war on my body, Ratchet. I'm retaliating." and not realize that Pharma was pissed off about being objectified and treated as no better than a pair of body parts to be harvested??? When someone uses "declaring war" as a metaphor, that's an image that invokes life-or-death, sovereignty, independence, conquest/trying to avoid being conquered, etc. LITERALLY HOW did people look at Ratchet stealing Pharma's hands while leaving him for dead and go "Oh yeah Pharma is the one who's obsessive over hands" like COME ON

Ratchet was even on screen in MTMTE multiple times talking about how he's worse now bc his hands don't work and how when they stop working he'll be literally useless. How did ppl miss the obvious differences between Pharma and Ratchet in this category so badly.

[arcadianico]

i’m having thoughts about the federation and water. something about felps being frozen in a cube of ice and quackity being drowned(?) and the island being at point nemo surrounded by unending ocean

[thisghosts-obsessions-again]

Allow me, lovelies, to share this beauty of a Clark Kent look-alike who may as well be a brooding melancholic romantic from the mid-19th century 🤤

[steakout-05]

staffy expectations vs staffy reality (by someone who has an absolute sweetheart of an american staffy <3)

[hecksupremechips]

Girl like. The reason he said "this is how it should be" and faced death with a smile....is cuz he wanted to die. For 2 years he sat there thinking he was worthless and deserved to die. If he hadn’t be shot, his death would’ve been suicide, he was fully planning to die in a gutter somewhere undetected. When saying "this is how it should be" hes literally saying "don’t cry because I’m dying, my death is a good thing actually because I fucking suck and you are better off without me". I don’t think that’s badass even slightly, it’s actually really sad and really shitty. Shinjiro is so convinced that he deserves to die and hates the idea of anyone giving a shit about him because he literally can’t wrap his mind around the idea that he will be missed when he’s gone, that his death is a bad thing actually. And his last words were meant to be comforting because he fully did not intend for anyone to be there when he died, he intended to die alone, so he says them as a reminder that he’s not worth crying over

Personally, if it were me, if I was holding my dying best friend in my arms who was deeply depressed and suicidal and he said "this is how it should be" uh. I wouldn’t admire him for it??? Like am I losing my mind when I say the way this game handles Shinji is bad or is anyone else seeing this too 😰

[colloquialcolors]

huh so. watership down. is a solid book. solid. book. compelling characters, thought through world building, build up and payoff in good amounts, somehow pretty hopeful despite the ongoing danger and threats throughout. like. damn. nice.

and honestly. less tragic than i was expecting! excellent. holding these little rabbits in my hands.

[luvsupa]

BUT YOU’RE A …VAMPIRE?!

terrible summary: fucking the towns hottest college student—a bonus. . . he’s a vampire!

tags: vampire!choso x fem!reader, choso and reader are in college, reader babysits yuji, heavily inspired by tvd 🙂‍↕️, lowkey long before smut scene sorryyy, smut (p in v), face sitting, mating press, blōod play, sqūirting, feral choso, sub!choso (a little), hes insanely fast and strong, errmm idk what else, mdni

w.c: 2.3k

a/n: 1. TY GUYS FOR 1.5K ???? THIS IS INSANEEE, 2. I hope u guys enjoy bc this is my first kinktober so I hope I satisfy y’all 🧟���♀️

kinktober masterlist

“this movie’s not even scary,” yuji mutters from under the blankets, trying to hide the tremble in his voice. he begged you to play halloween, the most gruesome movie you’ve ever seen. maybe it wasn’t the best idea for a teenage boy—he’d probably have nightmares—but you just wanted him to stop whining. you giggle as he shrieks when michael myers catches a screaming woman, his eyes glued to the screen despite his words.

suddenly, the movie pauses, and you glance up from your phone, wondering why. “can you do my halloween makeup now? megumi’s coming soon, and we’re going trick-or-treating,” yuji asks, hopeful. you sigh internally, not because of him, but because this isn’t how you planned to spend your halloween. midterms are next week, and you haven’t even started studying!

you nod, grabbing your makeup bag already packed with halloween supplies. yuji sits in the dining room—where the lighting is better—facing the television. he’s jumpy as the movie resumes, flinching at every scare, ruining the makeup more than once. you’re just applying fake blood to his mouth to piece together the vampire look when the front door slams open, the sound deafening. you both scream, your heart pounding as your eyes dart toward the source.

choso.

you nearly drop the makeup brush, fake blood splattering the polished floor. choso’s laughter echoes through the room, and you stare at him in shock, your heart racing from the scare—and the sight of him. you haven’t seen him in nearly a year since he moved abroad for school. you thought your crush on him had faded, but now, seeing him again…he’s even more attractive. more buff. and is he dressed as a vampire? how fitting for the brothers.

choso brings in, a beautiful girl trailing behind him, her expression uneasy. you notice something odd—they’re matching.

“that wasn’t funny, choso,” yuji grumbles, pushing him away when choso messes up his slicked-back hair. but your attention is elsewhere, drawn to choso’s costume. the fangs look too real, and dried blood stains the corners of his lips. your stomach twists with unease.

“hey, choso, your costume is… really cool,” you manage to say, your voice catching as his gaze locks onto yours. his eyes—there’s a tint of red. it feels like he’s staring straight through you, searching for something deeper. and then, you notice the girl again, her pale complexion, her exhausted, haunted look.

and her neck.

multiple bite marks—no, fang marks—line her skin, and you swear you see blood trickling from one of them. who in the hell did their makeup?

“costume? oh no, we’re not—”

“teenage versions of dracula and draculara,” choso cuts in coldly, his gaze never leaving yours. your heart pounds, the tension in the room thickening. you know what dracula looks like and it’s not what he’s wearing.

the movie continues playing in the background as it fades into nothing. choso’s lips twitch as he stares at your neck, his eyes darkening when they land on the pulsing vein just beneath the surface. you feel a lump form in your throat, and yuji shifts awkwardly between you both, oblivious to the growing danger.

without another word, choso snaps out of it, pulling the girl upstairs in a hurry. loud, frantic footsteps echo as the door slams shut behind them. you release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

after finishing yuji’s costume, the movie mercifully ends. you take a few photos of yuji with his plastic vampire fangs before megumi and nobara arrive in matching outfits. they thank you, and with a final warning to stay close to the block, you send them off. at last, you’re alone—ready to relax.

but when you return to the dining room, your peace is shattered. the mess from the makeup is worse than you remembered, and you groan. you huff as you start cleaning up, scrubbing the floor and tossing used brushes into the nearby sink. and then, you feel it.

someone’s watching you.

you freeze, a chill running down your spine. slowly, you turn around, your heart racing, and nearly scream again. choso is leaning against the staircase, his dark eyes fixed on you, an unsettling smile tugging at his lips.

“gosh, choso, you scared me,” you exclaim, clutching the counter for support.

“no need to be scared,” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous as he walks closer following you into the kitchen. “i was just… admiring the view.”

heat rushes to your cheeks, but there’s a sinister edge to his words that makes you uneasy. still, you mutter a soft “pervert,” hoping to shake off the tension. but choso hears you clearly, his dark chuckle sending shivers down your spine.

you walk to the dirty dishes as you start cleaning up the previous mess, trying to ignore the growing sense of dread as he offers to help, standing too close for comfort. his presence is suffocating, his body radiating cold as he dries each dish you hand him. “so… you got a boyfriend?” he asks bluntly, and your breath catches.

“no… i’ve been busy with school,” you stammer, your heart pounding in your chest. his lips curl into a smirk, and you hear him whisper, “good girl.”

your knees weaken, and you squeeze your thighs together, feeling a surge of warmth between your legs. he knows. he can smell it. your mind spins as you struggle to focus on washing the dishes. when your hand accidentally brushes his, the icy coldness jolts you, your breath hitching.

you glance at him through the window in front of the sink. dread pooling in your stomach. no way…

the fangs. the eyes. the ice cold touch.

he’s a—

“c’monnn, you’re letting the water run too long,” choso interrupts, snapping you back to reality. you quickly apologize, shaking off the thought as you rinse off the next dirty dish. holding a tiny kitchen knife, you stare at your reflection in the window. choso stands impatiently, waiting for you to hurry up. biting your lip, you rinse the knife, but just before you hand it to him, you ‘accidentally’ slice the tip of your finger.

you watch the way his eyes darken, his pupils dilating as veins bulge beneath his skin. his lips part, his fangs elongating as he watches your blood dribble down with the almost animalistic hunger.

panic grips you and instinct kicks in, and you sprint for the front door, tears stinging your eyes, terrified of ending up like the victims in the horror movies. you twist the doorknob, but choso is suddenly in front of you, covering your mouth with his hand as he dragging you back inside, the door slams behind you with a deafening thud.

“shh, baby…I know, ’m not gonna hurt you,” choso whispers, his voice rough as he coaxes you to the couch. you tremble, tears blurring your vision.

“cho… you’re a—a vampire?” you manage to choke out, the words feeling unreal in your mouth. choso nods, his eyes fixed on the blood still oozing from your finger. something inside you shifts, your fear dissolving as something darker takes over.

fuck it.

“you want it, cho’?” you murmur, lifting your finger to his lips, smearing your blood across them. his eyes roll back, his fangs glistening as he lets out a desperate moan, his hunger consuming him.

you lean closer, your voice a seductive whisper, “then take it.”

and oh did you truly mess up. badly.

choso had never tasted anything as sweet and addicting as you—the sweetest he’s ever known since his transformation into a vampire. that’s why he has you sitting on his face, your pussy suffocating him as his icy hands pull you deeper against his mouth. your thighs tremble on either side of his head, fingers gripping the armrest for support. your eyes roll back as his slick tongue plunges deep into your pulsing walls, his nose brushing against your swollen clit.

“ch-cho’. . slow d-down..” you wail, trying to pull away from his inhuman tongue—but he growls. the wet, messy sounds of slurping and groans fill your ears as you’re losing yourself on his tongue. you can’t help it—you start grinding even deeper into his face, chasing that high as he hums against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core. your nails dig into the armrest, knuckles white, as you glance down with glazed eyes—his brows are furrowed, veins pulsing under his skin, soft brown hair that was once tied up now sprawled wildly across the couch.

he’s slurping you up like you’re his last meal, completely lost in the taste of you. it’s like you’ve got him under some kind of spell, and he can’t stop. he pulls you deeper into his face until you’re sure you’ll break. your thighs shake uncontrollably, your stomach tightening as you feel your orgasm slam into you, broken cries spilling from your lips, soaking his tongue in your release.

“mmf— ‘m gonna—”

“not yet,” choso commands, lifting you off his face and tossing you flat on your back with a rough ‘oof’ escaping your lips. your mind is too foggy to register anything as he grabs your ankles, placing them on either side of his shoulders. your cunt spasms uncontrollably, slick dripping down as you whimper, watching him grip the base of his thick cock. his chubby tip parts your swollen folds, sliding up and down your dripping slit, teasing your twitching hole, not giving you what you desperately need. your gaze locks with his, and your heart skips a beat—his eyes fixed on the pulsing vein in your neck, his mouth trembling as his fangs grow longer.

“hahh— I need a t-taste,” he moans, the whites of his eyes turning black as he repeats the same words, over and over, to himself. before you can even respond, he slams into you, balls-deep, a broken sob tearing from your throat he’s stretching you so wide it hurts so good as his thick crown head bullies your sweet spot. your whole body jiggles with each brutal thrust, clenching down hard as his cock stretches you abnormally wide. he’s lost in the feeling, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you swear he’s leaving bruises, all while he keeps mumbling to himself, lost in a frenzy.

he’s completely feral, growling with every thrust, eyes locked on your neck like he’s about to tear into you, his cock stretching you wide as your body shakes from the sheer force of his inhumane thrusts.

“y-yes… cho’, have a t-taste,” you stutter, tilting your head to the side, exposing the throbbing vein he’s been eyeing with hunger. his eyes gleam with feral desire as he leans down, his thick cock still relentlessly jackhammering deep inside you. 

he groans into your neck, inhaling your scent, and your shaking hands pull him closer, legs wrapping tight around his waist, locking him in as your eyes roll back. the sharp sting of his fangs sinking deep into your neck pulls a guttural moan from you, his mouth latched onto your skin as he drinks, each slurp sending electric shocks through your body. his thrusts become erratic, vicious, slamming into your poor cervix as he drinks greedily from you.

“s-such a good vampire,” you pant, praising him as he pulls away from your neck, rising up to look at you—and fuck, he’s completely lost in it. his blacked-out eyes, mouth hanging open, dripping with blood, his chin smeared in a mess of fluids. his monstrous look beyond attractive you don’t even think—you grab him by the face and yank him down to your lips, moaning as the metallic tang of your blood touches your tongue. your lips move against his hungrily, tasting the mix of your blood and his spit as he pounds into your sloppy, swollen cunt that grips him so tight it’s driving him crazy. his thrusts become more brutal, more desperate, his cock throbbing as you cling to him, completely helpless under his inhuman strength.

he pulls away from the kiss with a growl, leaving you breathless, licking your lips as the taste of blood lingers. with no warning, choso grabs your thighs and folds you in half—ankles pressed right up against your ears. he fucks you deeper, so deep you swear he’s going to break you, every thrust harder, more punishing than the last as you whimper and sob beneath him.

“fuckkk— pussy’s suckin’ the s-soul outta me,” he groans, forcing your thighs deeper into your chest, bending you in half like you’re nothing. all you can do is take it, your body completely at his mercy, trembling under his brutal, inhuman pace. his cock pounds into you relentlessly, each thrust sending shockwaves through your entire body, your mind turning into a haze of desperate moans and babbled pleas.

and then, it hits—your orgasm slams into you, hard and fast, like a wave crashing over you. eyes rolling back as your walls clamp down around him, milking his cock, spasming so hard you’re seeing stars. your legs shake uncontrollably as you feel the hot rush of your release soaking both of you, dripping down your thighs, adding to the messy slick between your bodies. you’re screaming, but it’s incoherent—just broken sobs and moans, completely overwhelmed by the pleasure ripping through you.

choso feels it too, your pussy squeezing him so tight he can barely move, and with a deep growl, he spills inside you, thick, hot ropes of cum filling you to the brim. you can feel him pulsing inside you, filling you so full that it starts to leak out, your stomach bulging slightly from how much he’s pumped into you. your whole body trembles, completely spent, as your cunt flutters around him, milking every last drop.

“heyy pretty, c’mon—wake up,” choso coos, giving your swollen, throbbing cunt a hard slap. the impact makes you jolt, and the wet, sticky sound echoes through the living room as your mixed juices splatter everywhere, slick covering your lower stomach and seeping into the couch. broken moans slip past your lips, your eyes fluttering open just in time to see him towering over you, his cock still hard and dripping with cum, more spilling from his tip.

“we’re nowhere near done.” 

[talaok]

Win Again

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x sex worker f!reader

Summary: Marcus has won yet another match, so to reward him, his master has granted him another hour with you.

warning: smut| unprotected piv, oral (f receiving), a whole lot of manhandling, he like uses your body idk how to explain it, multiple orgasms, and once again unnecessary feelings cause im not able to write something where they just fuck for some reason

a/n: i know im two days late but PLEASE read this still. (also) basic things for this guy that i've decided are canon: 1)he has a monster cock, like actually scarily big, 2) he's real fucking strong (hulk typa shit), 3) he's not a big talker (but he is a grunter). I need this man to fuck me more than i need my next breath (real), also i did so much research for this fic and you cant even fucking tell

It wasn't often that you didn't dread going to the barracks.

These were strong, ferocious, and dangerous men, and you were but a meek lamb in comparison.

But today was different, today you were seeing him, him who fit the previous description to a tee, and yet was so different from any man you had ever offered your services to.

And perhaps it was because it never felt like you were ever offering anything, ever since that first night, you had never given anything you hadn't wanted to.

The guards stopped as you arrived at his room and you felt a wave of excitement crawl up your spine the moment they opened the door, waiting for you to enter.

The armored men stepped aside to let you pass, the cobblestones on the ground sounding against your sandals as you made your way inside, looking back at the door just in time to see it being shut close.

It was his breathing you heard first, his heavy breathing coming from where you knew his bed sat on the room's left, and seconds after, the creaks of the wood as he stood up, his feet stalking your way.

You turned to him then, a smile almost making it to your lips as you saw him alive before you once again, granting yourself a second to relish in the fact he still breathed, he was still here.

"You've won again" you spoke softly, your hands slowly finding the string holding your dress together.

He didn't respond. The window behind him caused the moon's soft glow to fall on the stone floor, but not on his beautiful face, that, you had to watch closely to inspect.

A newer cut right above his left eyebrow had appeared, and his right arm was bandaged almost completely, but otherwise, he looked fine.

His eyes remained on yours until you'd undone the dress, until it fell at your feet- then, a low groan rumbled from his chest as he took you in, and took his turn inspecting every inch of your bare figure.

"How do you want m-"

You didn't have time to finish your sentence that he'd picked you up, effortlessly pulling your body up until your legs slung over his shoulders and his face was buried in your cunt.

He hadn't even given you a second to realize what was happening that his tongue was already lapping between your folds, desperately drinking everything your body gave him.

"Oh my g-" you threw your head back, your skull finding the wall behind you being the only reason you realized he'd moved, and you were now caged between him and stone as you forgot how to speak.

The moans you had faked so many times for so many clients were nothing like the ones your mouth was spilling now, these were higher, coarser, feral, and the way you were gripping his hair... there was no way that didn't hurt.

"Y-You only" a whine interrupted your words when you felt his tongue plunge into your hole, when he started fucking you with it just like he would with his cock "You only h-have me for an hour" you breathed, your thighs squeezing tighter around him contradicting the words you were about to speak "d-don't you want me to p-please you?"

His grip on your ass only tightened and his mouth halfheartedly parted from your core to answer you.

"You are"

And just like that, he'd gone back to work. The moment his mouth closed around your clit you knew you were done for, you knew there was no point in fighting what was inevitably going to come, and so you shut your eyes, as he brought you to heaven.

Your moans were getting higher and higher as your back arched to feed more of yourself to him, desperately craving the feel of his touch, of his nouse, of his beard against your thighs, of the lips he so devoutly was using to suck on your most sensitive spot.

"F-fuck- general I-" The fist you had wrapped around his hair tightened as every muscle in your belly did the same "Oh!"

Somehow, through all the chaos, while you were coming all over his face, while your moans reached levels never reached before, the only thing you could feel or hear, besides pure ecstasy of course, were his groans, his groans as he drank up every drop of your juices, as if your orgasm was bringing his as much pleasure as it was to you.

You barely had time to open your eyes that his strong, big hands and even stronger, bigger arms had pulled you down until your legs hugged his waist instead.

You really did weigh nothing for him, and if that wasn't enough to prove it, the next minutes definitely would.

Your heavy breathing was fanning over his mouth as he freed his cock from his pants, but while you were expecting him to kiss you, having been blatantly staring at your mouth since he had any way of seeing it, every thought in your brain turned to dust when with one hard fucking thrust, he drove his cock into you- or the first few inches at least.

You couldn't talk, you could do nothing but throw your head back as your eyes rolled to the back of it, and let him take whatever he wanted to take.

"I'm not a general anymore," he said with another thrust, stretching you out even further, even deeper.

You wanted to laugh at his words. Now? Now he was feeling the need to correct you? When you could barely breathe, let alone think?

But he didn't look interested in hearing a response from you, not when he grabbed your waist, and definitely not when he started moving you up and down on his shaft with just the sheer force of his muscles.

The moans, the lewd moans that crawled up your throat were filthy, even filthier than the sound of how wet, how unbelievably drenched you were as he plunged into you over and over, as he literally used you as a fucktoy, filling you up more and more, until he was finally sat inside you to the very hilt, until his pubic hairs were grazing your skin and the tip of his cock was touching your cervix.

"Oh my god" you whimpered, feeling tears prick your eyes as your toes curled at the feeling.

You could feel him everywhere, everywhere.

But he didn't pause, he wasn't one to take his time, and perhaps that was because he didn't have much; he resumed his movements again, retracting his hips while he pulled you up his cock, and slamming into you while pushing you down on it, leaving you breathless, a simple doll at his mercy.

His groans and growls were deep and filled with lust, just like the way he bent down to take your left tit into his mouth, just like the way he was fucking you, deep and hard, and God- God it was happening again.

"s-shit" you squeaked, your walls squeezing around him as you bit your lip, so fucked out you could barely remember your name or anything at all that wasn't how good he was making you feel.

"O-Oh my fuck-"

The arms you had intertwined behind his neck tightened with every spasm of your hole, with every flutter of your belly, until you'd come once more.

You opened your eyes, letting them trail downwards, to where his lips parted to suck in ragged breaths, begging him for a kiss.

"again" he said instead, and your eyes widened as you felt him starting to move anew

"I-I can't"

He looked at you now, really looked at you, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, his chest heaving as he breathed heavily, and then- then he kissed you. Marcus Acacius kissed you the same way he'd been fucking you for the last hour: like an animal.

It was a mess of teeth and tongues and yet it felt like the best thing on earth, better than wine, better than life, even better than the sex- it was perfect.

"again" he ordered once more, and what could you do, if not comply?

So he started again, he started fucking you again, even more ferociously than the previous time, even if you didn't think it possible.

The way his skin slapped with yours was drowned by both your desperate sounds, your legs started to tremble, beginning to fall from his hips as he moved you up and down his cock like it were nothing, and you- you didn't even know where you were anymore.

"please" you begged, a single tear of pleasure, of overstimulation falling to your cheek as he kissed you again, muting all your cries as he drove himself into you like a madman, like he was possessed.

"Time's up"

Two knocks sounded from the other side of the wall together with the warning, and you thanked Marcus for having rendered you such a mess because otherwise, that would have reminded you of how little time you two ever had, and how miserable everything really was.

His movements sped up at the notice, his dick plunging into you over and over and over until finally, it was happening again.

"give it to me" he said, and you did exactly as he asked- you gave it all to him, screaming and crying you let him have all you had to offer, feeling his eyes on you the whole time.

He came loudly just after you, groaning deeply as he filled you up to the very brim.

Out of all the words you could have said to him then, all the things you wanted to tell him at that moment, you chose none, because none would have said anything he didn't already know from the look in your eyes, from the same exact spark in your irises that ignited his own.

So he helped you to the ground until you stood on shaky legs, walked to where your dress lay on the floor, and dressed yourself again, his eyes never leaving you.

The door opened just as you were done, and you turned to him one last time again, a smile pulling at your lips.

"Win again for me, general"

He looked at you too for one last time again, as he thought about how you didn't know, you didn't know how big of a role you played in his victories, how many times he could only think of the taste of you, smell of you, feel and voice of you as he took his opponent's life, as he fought for another hour with you, another second.

"I will" he promised

[magpie-trinkets]

(writing my brain stew on here because tags are difficult. also spoilers. also i haven't finished azran legacy so I don't know how much that plays into this)

This is difficult, because it's both for me. Like a tragicomedy, a contradiction, a puzzle itself borne from his very existence.

Because on the one hand, it's a sort of joy. That he carries these people around with him, that he cares so much he adopts parts of them into his life. We are ourselves but we are also the people we surround ourselves with. It's a joy that these people live through him and that he's happy, carrying them around. The pieces he has found for himself fit him, and they never seen to have jagged edges that make him hurt or be contradicting. He's a gentleman archeologist, a professor, a smart man with a good heart. There's joy in the person he has become, a successful person that everyone loves, everyone looks up to. There's joy in the genuine good heart of him, of helping others and caring a lot about them. There's joy that he can be kind even to enemies, that he can reach out and understand. He's a joy.

But it's a tragedy, too. A very sad tragedy, because these pieces of him are there because of grief. He carries them and can't let go of these people that influenced him, that he loved, that left and left him empty. To fill that gap, he carried their dreams with him. With Randall, he was just an average teenager. He had friends, he didn't want anything to do with puzzles or archaeology, he just followed Randall around. When Randall finally pressured him into going deeper into the ruins, he lost his friend. He decided to carry on his dream of becoming an archaeologist and liking puzzles, because that was what he had left from him. When he met Claire, she bought him that hat as a gift, and told him he looked like a gentleman – he probably expressed a desire to become one once. When she was gone, all that was left was thay hat, and he became a gentleman.

Thus, all he is, a puzzle lover, an archeologist, a gentleman, all these vital pieces that shape his life come from people he can't let go of. And maybe he shouldn't, maybe forgetting isn't the answer. Because these people were influential to him, and he has to accept he'll live with the grief their disappeareances caused. He has to accept that he can let go a little, maybe soften the grip, but not release it altogether. He can meet new people thay will leave their pieces on him too.

And he isn't just a gentleman professor. He has other facets, other traits that are probably his own! He isn't just made of other people, he is a person. He loves his car, he's a bit of a father, he loves music, he doesn't do his job, he has a hidden sense of humour, he's sympathetic, he likes tea and candy and loves the drama of revealing the answer to a mystery when it's more, well, dramatic.

So, on the one hand, it's a joy that he's become this messy, human but wonderful man, but it's a tragedy he reached this point through coping mechanisms and unhealthy repression of grief, that what makes him whole is pieces left after being abandoned by someone. And even if Randall is still alive, he came too late, when Layton had already gotten too deep into archaeology, a subject he genuinely likes now! And we don't know if Randall is in jail for all the stuff he did, and how in touch are they now.

So it depends how you look at the glass of water, is it half-full or half-empty? As a character, ofc. Because it's a joy he is what he is, he's a fun character to analyse, read and poke fun at, he's a kind, heroic character everyone else loves in canon, but he also reached this point through unholy amounts of suffering. He is still suffering, he hasn't really moved on, because if he does he may forget them, and lose what he is.

So, um, it's a good outcome that eas reached through a lot of bad. He does a lot of good, and he generally looks good and happy and content with the life he has, he has made good of the lot he has been thrown, but it's also all the bad he keeps close, all the bad he has allowed himself to cling to. It's probably scary for him. What if one day he starts taking off the hat? It's become part of him. Will he stop being a gentleman? Will the façade break? Will everyone else see him for the mess he is? Will they abandon him, too? Will he forget Claire? Does this mask he wears give him power or stifle him?

Ejem.

THERE'S A TAG LIMIT OF 30 TAGS I'M LOSING MY SHIT

Inspired by this tlt poll: https://www.tumblr.com/whoopseydaisy/730772080893755392/paul-is-a-joy-a-tragedy

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ green is the color of envy (and poison)

type of post: fic characters: neige, vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, vague possessiveness maybe angst idk, oooh drama author's note: I wanted a break from headcanons and had this strange urge to do a character study for neige. here I am, writing this at midnight

Neige Leblanche does not hate Vil Schoenheit.

The thought had not even occurred to him.

In fact, if you had even asked as much, his wide, doe-like eyes would fill with pretty tears, and he would ask you, in a trembling voice, if you really thought of him so cruelly.

Neige Leblanche did not hate anyone. On the contrary, he had so much love, it practically overflowed from him, touching the ground at his feet and imprinting itself on everything he held.

He was, for all intents and purposes, a vision of loveliness, a sunrise, morning dew on the petal of a white lily. He would have gladly, if you asked him, plucked each star out of the sky for you, written you a thousand songs, laid himself at your feet in adoration.

He was cupid, a chubby-faced, blushing cherub.

He had been content, for a time. Happy, even, with his little life, the family and career he had built with his own two hands, though you wouldn't know it from their softness.

Then, there was you.

You. You. The magicless prefect of Night Raven College. An otherworldly being. A hero.

You. So kindhearted, always gentle with the first years and animals. So polite, with him and his friends. So brave, facing danger and coming out unscathed. Your hope and gratefulness despite your circumstances reminded him, in a way, of himself.

There was no other explanation for it. You were sent for him.

Neige had simply never been so sure of anything. It felt right. It felt perfect. You were the one he'd been waiting for. You were his.

After the VDC, he couldn't stop thinking about you. You! You were perfect for him, his soulmate, and he didn't need to know you to know that. He'd never felt like this before, after all. It must be love.

You feel it too, don't you?

Limb by limb, he sews together a ragdoll of you in his mind. Something simple. Soft. Beautiful. Something for his thoughts to play with. He gives you a sword, one day, and he makes you a knight. He dresses you in the finest of silks, and he makes you a noble. He pushes up the corners of your sewn-together mouth, and he makes you smile back at him.

You're kind. You're brave. You're loving. You're loyal. You're chivalrous. You're anything he could want or need, anything at all, because you're his.

Why would fate lead him to someone who wasn't already perfect?

And, oh, how he wants to pick you flowers. Neige will make you breakfast in bed, and sing for you. Everyone loves him; and he loves everyone. But it isn't enough. You're his soulmate. Don't you know?

Why do you keep looking at each other like that.

You're so friendly, just like Neige, always so eager to please. Right? That's what it is. Right?

There could be no other reason for you and Vil Schoenheit to look at each other like that. As if you know something that Neige doesn't. As if you're having a conversation with only your eyes. What is that? What does it mean?

Why does he feel so comfortable touching you?

A hand on the small of your back, an arm around your waist. He corrects your posture with both hands on your shoulders. He taps your thigh when you're distracted. He holds your face in both palms to scold you for smudging the eyeliner he had so tediously put on you before coming here...

Why do you smile at him when he lectures you? Why does he smile back?

This strange, dizzying feeling, this tightness in Neige's chest, this unwelcomed weight, can't just be confusion.

He can only lie to himself for so long.

You feel it, too... don't you? Don't you get butterflies when you look at him? Don't you feel dizzy? Don't you think of him?

Vil murmurs something in your ear with a sly smile, and you laugh.

And you haven't even looked at Neige once yet. The thought makes him clench his fists under the table.

As this new, painful weight settles in his stomach, a dizzying thought sits with it.

Neige Leblanche is jealous.

Of Vil Schoenheit.

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — SATORU GOJO. pretty brown eyes.

about. gojo might be the one with the six eyes, but there’s nothing special about those. your brown eyes are real weapon, here.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! sfw, fluff, hurt comfort. slight hints to insomnia, idk how infinity works sorry, reader has brown eyes, afab!reader.

“you could kill me if you wanted to.”

it’s the dead of night when he whispers your name. though low in volume, his tongue curls around each syllable loud enough for you to hear him. “

“‘toru, what are you on about—” digging the heal of your palm into your eyes, you dislodge the crust from your lash line and groan. the red lines on your digital clock read sometime between three and four am— but the digits blur as your mind swims with sleep.

“your eyes. they’re so perfect.” a loving grin etches itself onto his face when you crack one open to look at him, masking over the exhaustion seeping from his pores and the anxiety that spikes in the sapphire pools of his own eyes. “you should be able to get away with anything because of them.”

“baby,” you reiterate and roll over to face him fully. gojo gets like this when he’s overworked and worried, when there’s something big on his mind you’re not quite sure you’d understand. you move to jab a thumb into his forehead, right between his brows to alleviate the ache in his skull but you don’t let your disappointment show when rough skin meets the dull buzz of his infinity.

you forget that his six eyes flow in the dark — that his blue eyes are not as blue as they seem. “you’re talking nonsense, it’s late. get some sleep.”

“my eyes. they could kill me if i worked too hard.”

satoru’s eyes are a lot stormier than most would expect, they can be dark and cold. like an angry ocean tired of tournament. they can be bright, full of hope and loving — you notice that change whenever he’s with your students. they hide behind the frame of his ability, the one that hardly ever turns off despite how it really could kill him.

his mind is always running, his body almost always on empty.

in the moonlight, you see a faint sliver of silver between the flecks of diamond and stormy skies.

he swipes a gentle thumb just over cheek yours to catch a fallen lash. “but yours,” gojo continues, voice thoughtful and low. tired above all else. “those pretty brown eyes…baby, they’re dangerous in a different way. beautiful in another that makes me feel safe. puts my mind at ease or somethin’. one look ‘nd I’d be doing anything for you,”

there the two of you are, face to face in the dark — cheeks pressed to pillows and heads under the covers as if you’re children shielding yourself from the world. creating the safe space to let satoru confess.

“if those pretty brown eyes were the last thing i got to see before i died. then i think i’d be okay.”

“don’t say that.” your face crumples and his infinity falls away as if gojo had been anticipating your touch, the buzz just shocking through your skin as you wrap your arms around his larger frame, pull his head down to your heart beating in your chest. “you’re not allowed to die, satoru. not yet.”

“i know.” for once he’s grateful he can’t see your eyes — he hates the way they shine when you cry.

“i need you.”

“i know.” he’s quiet. “i need you too.”

“then rest, you don’t have to keep watch.” gojo feels the shake in your lungs as you speak. you worry too much about him. but with your hand cascading through his soft locks, and the other squeezing him close he’s finding it hard to resist.

usually when he lays next to you, he’s stiff as a board, always anticipating whatever danger might come next. but the biggest threat to him of all is you, and those big brown bambi eyes of yours — the way they’re wet with love, shiny with tears because you adore satoru gojo. you care about him way too much for your own good.

those eyes of yours are convincingly treacherous , he can’t help but let his body sag and let go of his cursed technique while you rub his back and soothe him.

“you’re dangerous, yanno,” satoru grunts, lips dragging along your skin with every word. “especially when you look at me like that, with those puppy dog eyes…can’t say no to you.”

but you smile as he drifts off, his tall frame heavy against you — your lashes blinking soft against his forehead as you curl around him protectively. “i’d rather use them to get you to rest, rather than kill you. ‘toru.”

your words are wasted on deaf ears — his deep snore indicating that gojo is finally asleep, doing himself a favour and locking his pretty blue eyes away.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[fangswbenefits]

Pointy Ears

Summary: You accidentally find just how sensitive Astarion is when it comes to a certain part of his body…

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Sub-ish Astarion. Ear sensitivity. Blood drinking. Fangs. Astarion being a whimpering mess. He's also a big shooter (idk if there is a more accurate terminology in fanfiction haha). Handjob. Cumplay. Praise kink. Edging (if you squint). Nipple play.

Word count: 1.8k

You could feel Astarion was nearly done, as your fingers raked across his scalp and through unruly curls, the warmth of your blood spreading gradually across his skin.

He was comfortably nestled between your legs, occasionally bucking his hips into you as his cock hardened with each passing second.

Even as your vision began to blur, the pleasure vastly overcame the impending sense of dread. After all, he could easily send you over the edge between life and death if he lacked the restraint to stop himself.

Your other hand caressed the lukewarm skin of his arm and traveled up to his neck, where you could feel his throat shift rhythmically under your touch as he downed mouthfuls of your blood.

“Astarion…” you whimpered faintly, as life slipped from you dangerously fast.

He grunted once but didn't budge.

Bringing your hand to his face, you felt a growing wave of panic take over.

He had never gone too far.

But dizziness and chilling shivers quickly enveloped your body, rendering you nearly helpless.

“Astarion…”

He rolled his hips into you but kept his mouth firmly latched onto your neck, his concentration never wavering.

With eyes pressed shut, your fingers reached up until they faintly brushed past the tip of his ear.

And then he instantly froze.

As if stung by some unseen entity, he quickly pulled back from you, wide-eyed and lips stained with blood.

“What's wrong?”

He reached out for the scroll of Lesser Restoration on the bedside table and placed it in your hand before rolling off of you and onto his back.

You uttered quick words and watched as the piece of paper dissolved into thin air, quickly feeling your life force being restored as warmth and vigour sprawled along your body once again.

“Astarion?”

He had his eyes closed shut, and you watched as his hand hurriedly made its way to unlace the front of his trousers, alleviating the constricted erection.

Had you done something wrong?

He didn't seem troubled or uncomfortable, and merely let out a sigh of pure relief as he freed his cock.

“Do that again. Please.”

You arched an eyebrow as you rolled on your side, utterly confused. “Do… what?”

“My ear… touch it…”

Oh?

Your eyes landed on his flushed, pointy ear, and you proceeded to give the sharp edge a tentative caress with the pad of your thumb.

His lips parted with a soft gasp and he arched his back ever so slightly.

This was new.

Your gaze shifted to his lower half, noticing how his hardened cock twitched as you brushed the warm skin of his ear.

Seeing his cock fully hardened and with this faint blush to it thanks to your own blood coursing through his body, never failed to send the most delicious jolts of pleasure between your legs, effectively igniting a gentle throb.

“Does that feel good?” You cooed, staring back at his face again as he let out a few whimpers.

“Ridiculously good.”

That was all the incentive you needed, bringing your forefinger to his ear and giving it a soft squeeze between your thumb.

“Gods…”

This time, he rolled his hips, and you could only stare in complete awe as the first beads of precum began to drip from the tip.

You involuntarily licked your lips and lowered your head to rest on his unmoving bare chest.

He felt cozily warm from having fed on you and couldn't help but to reach down with your other hand, tracing a finger along a single bulging and thick vein that spread along his cock.

Your feather-like touches kept drawing out the most beautiful whimpers and gasps from him.

His mouth watering cock was always so responsive to your touch, that you found yourself grinding your hips instinctively against him.

A needy moan parted your lips slightly at the mesmerising sight of a single string of precum bridging the flushed tip of his cock to his lower abdomen, and beginning to pool on his skin as a few droplets threatened to spill down.

Once again, you ran your finger along the protruding underside of his length, too entranced with how it twitched so eagerly for you.

Unsurprisingly, Astarion reached down with one hand, wanting to wrap his fingers around his length, but you intercepted him halfway through.

“Allow me, lover.” You whispered sweetly, lifting your head to take a look at him.

As expected, he looked positively ethereal; his face tinted with the faintest blush and his half-hooded crimson eyes set on you.

“You don't have to.”

You shifted higher, letting go of his hand, which he dropped to his side, and you leaned in until your lips brushed against the pointy edge of his ear.

“Do you want me to?”

He chuckled lowly. “If I want you to pleasure me? What a silly question, darling.”

You smiled at his bluntness before darting out your tongue to join your fingers.

Another guttural groan escaped his lips, and his eyes fluttered shut once again.

Leaning back, you positioned yourself to sit next to him, wanting to keep your focus on both his cock and ear.

His eyes flew open, and he began to prop himself on one elbow and hand reaching out for your trousers, clearly trying to be the one setting the pace.

But you shoved him back with a chuckle. “Just lay back and allow me to take care of you.”

He arched an elegant brow at you.

He was too used to being the one taking the lead. It was instinctive for him to have control over each other's pleasure.

But you wanted him to lose himself in the moment, not having to concern himself with anything but his own bliss.

“Pretty,” you said truthfully as his eyelids nearly dropped when you brushed a finger along his tip. “So pretty…”

He immediately whimpered, lust-blown eyes never leaving yours. “Yes. Yes, you are.”

Gods…

Astarion was truly a natural at leaving you speechless with his words.

You kept the gentle and unwavering caresses along his sensitive ear.

As you shifted your gaze, you noticed the pool of precum on his lower abdomen already overflowing, droplets rolling down his skin.

Instinctively, you swiped two fingers to collect some of it, and began spreading them along his cock, earning a hiss of approval.

“You delectable little vixen.” He groaned out with a few rolls of his hips.

The swell between your legs throbbed viciously from his praise, and it had you wrapping your fingers around him.

His own wetness aided you in your initial strokes, feeling the bulging veins under your touch caving in momentarily before filling up with your blood once more.

You could get used to having Astarion like this for eternity.

Just too lost in genuine pleasure and lust.

Trusting you to guide him to unheard of heights and fully letting go.

The pace was set.

The perfect balance between steadiness and tightness, and more than enough to have him jerk his hips upwards as he fucked your hand.

You reckoned he wouldn't last long given how his whimpers intensified each time you applied the slightest pressure to the shell of his ear.

Suddenly, he moved one hand to your chest, and you gave him a disapproving pout, not wanting him to take over.

But…

“Let me see them…”

His words came out laced with desire and whimpers, eyes set on your eyes as the hint of a plea made you gasp.

You kept the pace on his cock as his experienced fingers tugged at the lacing of your shirt. He worked his way down agonisingly slow, chills spreading throughout your body as more and more of your skin was exposed to his gaze.

He halted once he found what he was looking for.

With a soft tug, he moved the fabric out of the way, your swaying breasts in full view.

A violent jolt of pleasure nearly has you halt at once, too taken aback by the eroticism of all of it.

“Keep going, darling…” he urged, honey dripping from his words. “You can grip it tighter, can't you?”

Gods above…

He then brushed his thumb across a hardened nipple and your mouth fell open in a strained gasp.

Your breasts moved in unison with the pace on his cock, lewd sounds echoing around the room.

You had to bite down hard on your lip to muffle the moan stuck in your throat.

“Ah-ah-ah,” he tutted disapprovingly, his thumb releasing the trapped lip and moving to press down on your chin to pry your mouth open. “Let me hear those sweet moans.”

It annoyed you how he was so quick to reverse the roles and how easily you fell for his traps.

But you weren't ready to let him win just yet.

"Maybe you shouldn't make such demands when I have you in the palm of my hand - quite literally."

The glaring pun made him scowl.

You offered a devious smile instead.

Then, you increased the pressure on his ear, and the effect nearly had you chuckle viciously at the sight of him immediately crumbling down, back pressed flat against the mattress again.

“Gods!”

The whine of frustration mixed with a moan let you know you were victorious in having him right where you wanted.

His hips snapped more aggressively into you as you squeezed him even tighter.

He was so close.

There was something so incredibly hypnotic about having this man coming undone for you.

Because of you.

You couldn't think of a more effective ego-booster.

So by the time he reached his peak, you could only glare in utmost wonder as you felt his cock twitch violently under your palm as the first spurts of cum shot out, reaching as far as his chest - one even reaching his neck.

Your mouth fell open.

He had balled his fists, gripping the bedsheets so fiercely as he rode out the untameable wave of pleasure. His head was thrown back as he arched and shuddered, profanities spilling from his pretty lips.

And the sound of fabric tearing echoed in the room.

Oh.

You aided his cock as best you could, squeezing the final drops of cum, mesmerised by the amount of thick liquid that now covered him.

Still driven by your own unrequited pleasure, you leaned to swipe your tongue across his nipple, collecting as much as you could.

His hand moved to the back of your head, silently urging you.

It only took a couple of swipes to gather enough cum to pool on your tongue.

Astarion's half-hooded eyes met yours. “Does it taste good?”

With the most sultry look you could conjure, you swung your leg over his torso, effectively straddling him as your mouth hovered over his.

“You tell me.”

He furrowed his brows inquisitively.

And you promptly took his lips in yours, which he eagerly parted. You seized the opportunity to push your tongue against his, allowing the liquid to drip down.

He groaned as he tasted himself on you, deepening the searing kiss, both hands on your hips, grounding you.

Yes.

You could definitely get used to this.

Masterlist

[hxney-lemcn]

The Dragon's Savior — Malleus Draconia x gn! reader

summery: you were tasked with slaying the dragon...so how did you end up living with the fae prince?

tw: death (?), idk (if I miss something tell me)

a/n: I'm so tired and I wanted this to be done, so sorry if the ending is a bit rushed.

wc: 3.9k

Master List

The dungeon was dimly lit, dank, and eerily silent. You were unsure how the torches were alight as this dungeon had been long abandoned. A plume of green flames in the distance seemed to answer your curiosity. You had been ordered by the high king to slay the beast. You were no knight or hero, but it seems like they were running out of men to send. Honestly, you didn’t want to do this. Everyone who’d entered this place hadn’t been seen again, and you didn’t want to become another victim of the scaly beast, yet it was either death by dragon or locked in prison for life. You’d take your chances with the chained creature. 

You weren’t sure how such a creature was chained down. As you continued on, you wondered why they only locked it up instead of killing it. As you continued through the giant halls, you paused at the entrance of a giant room. Large pillars rose on both sides, the room empty except for the metal of armor and bones that littered the floor…well, there are the previous knights and heroes that had their try at the dragon. Unlike them, you stood in just your tunic, a small sword and a satchel of miscellaneous items you brought just in case. As your eyes roamed the cavernous room, they landed on ink black scales, green slitted eyes narrowed on your figure. 

As you stood there, staring at the beast as it snarled at you, you felt your heart twist and break. You had never seen anything so beautiful before. A muzzle laid hazardously over its snout. The metal of the muzzle twisted and singed, the leather straps frayed if not completely snapped. You could hardly call it a muzzle as it rested above its snout, not covering its snarling mouth in the slightest. Perhaps whomever put this creature here planned for it to starve? Then your eyes landed on the chains that were clasped around its four limbs, a shiny silvery color, glittering gallantly under the green puffs that threatened past the dragon's lips. You were surprised it hadn’t killed you already, the two of you watching the other cautiously. 

Rage had started to consume you. It reminded you of a dog that had been abused and was going to be put down. A cornered animal that was merely trying to keep itself alive against whatever threatened it. Such a beautiful creature, whether it was a danger to people or not, had no right to be treated so inhumanely. You’ve only read old tales of dragons, they had nearly been wiped out, and the ones left remaining were in hiding. Apparently they lived for hundreds, if not thousands of years, and you wondered what all the dragons in front of you had witnessed. How long was its life spent in a cage, hunted and threatened? The dragon was clearly here first, humans had no right to put them on a leash. 

Slowly, you lowered your sword to the ground, “Hello.” It’s ear twitched, eyes never leaving your form. It let out a huff and you took that as your cue to continue. Telling the creature your name, you felt a little silly, but it seemed to comprehend what you were saying, “I was sent here to kill you.” Maybe you shouldn’t have started with that as the being snarled, the frills on the side of its head standing. “W-wait, sorry, I just want you to know I’m not going to do that!” Its eyes narrowed, not seeming to trust you. Perhaps someone’s done this before, but tried to kill it when they got close enough. 

“I swear!” You exclaimed. “Here, I’ll kick the sword out of the room so I’m harmless.” When you did what you said, the dragon slumped down once more. It felt unnerving, having such a scary beast watch you so intensely, but you decided to continue on, even if you ended up becoming the beast's next snack. “Can I take your muzzle off?” You hoped that would show your intentions were pure, that you’d put your trust in the beast’s claws so it would let you help it. If you were going to jail for life for failing to kill it, you might as well let it free, no? You fidgeted as it watched you for a few seconds, seeming to contemplate your offer. You never realized how smart dragons were, it was almost like it wasn’t just a beast.

You jumped as the dragon set its head on the stoney ground and let out a small huff. Hesitating, you asked if that was it agreeing, in which it nodded. Taking in a deep breath, you felt yourself shake with each step you took. It really set in just how big the creature was when you finally were face to face. With its head fully on the ground, the top of its head (excluding its horns) reached up to your thighs. You stated your next move before you did anything, not wanting to startle it. Gently, you managed to remove the muzzle although it took a bit of work with the frayed edges. Out of nowhere, the dragon hit the piece of metal, quickly tossing the offending mouthpiece out of the room with a growl. The quick movements caused you to jump back, lifting your arms in a weak defense. When its mini tantrum was over, it let out a low grumble at you, its head once again resting on the ground. Blinking owlishly, you realized it was trying to calm you, almost looking sorry for its previous actions. 

“I…I can try to get y-your chains off,” You mumbled, trying to calm your shaking limbs. Its head tilted, so you explained, “I-I don’t have a key or anything, but I brought my lockpicking set. I’m pretty good at it, so I can try to remove your chains…” 

With its huff of approval, you dug through your satchel, taking out your lockpicking set. Kneeling down in front of one of its powerful front arms, you took in the type of lock and what best to use. Expertly, you stuck in two picks, slowly moving your tools until you heard the soft clicks. After a few minutes of trial and error, you managed to get the lock to open, and you gently tugged the metal off its wrist. To your horror, its scales seemed to have rubbed off, its skin a bright red. You felt yourself fret, now searching for anything you may have brought that can ease pain. What lowly, disgusting people to harm such a creature. Your scowl diminished when the dragon lightly nuzzled you with its nose, its eyes brightening slightly, then it motioned to its other wrist. Against your wishes, you ignored the chafed wrists of the being, focusing on lock picking the three remaining chains instead. 

When you finished, you weren’t sure what to expect. You hoped you had proven yourself worthy to the dragon, that you were worth to be left alive. Though, you wouldn’t blame it if it swallowed you whole, as it probably hasn’t had anything to eat in a while. To your shock, the dragon laid flat, fluttering its wings lightly. It stared at you expectantly, its head motioning to its back. Wait…it wanted you to ride it? You saw your life spiraling before your eyes…perhaps it was the moment it was declared you were to kill the beast. Between going to jail for life or…being a dragon's friend (?) you decided the latter wouldn’t be too bad. So you carefully climbed onto its back. You felt like you were on top of the world as it walked through the dungeon. As it climbed up the steps, you realized this dungeon must’ve been made specifically for dragons as everything was to scale for the giant beast. 

The bright sun shone on you both, the inky black scales turning an iridescent purple, its green eyes glittering. Your heart swelled at the sight, if you thought it was beautiful before, it is absolutely stunning now. You were quickly snapped out of your reverie when it snapped its wings, lifting off the ground with a gust. Trembling once more, you wrapped yourself around the dragon to your best ability to keep yourself from falling to your doom. You weren't sure how long the flight was as you kept your face in its neck, only glancing out every now and then. Your surroundings grew darker as clouds filled the sky, looking out, you noticed a castle that was surrounded by thorny vines. You blinked as that seemed to be your destination. The castle looked abandoned…and you suppose it was since the dragon was held prisoner. The place looked uninviting. Your dragon friend landed gently on the land in front of the castle, and you slid off slowly. Your legs shook, unused to riding any type of mount, but it didn’t seem to mind you holding onto it for stability. The stone bridge that led to the castle was completely covered in the thorny vines, the stones crumbling slightly. It seems the only way in or out was to fly. 

Once you trusted yourself to walk, the dragon led you into the castle. The dark bricks that built the castle made the space feel small even though it was grand, the silence felt unsettling and you felt a shiver run up your spine at the chill that filled the space. Even for how old the place seemed to be, it was still mainly all intact. Some debris here or there, but the stairs you passed seemed safe to climb and the walls weren’t crumbling. The dragon stopped in what seemed to be a throne room, two empty chairs sat up ahead, dust collecting over the room. Sitting, the dragon faced you, its eyes blinking at you like a lost puppy. If anything, you were the lost puppy here.

Before you could speak up and question what the course of action was now, a figure appeared out of seemingly nowhere. He looked human, but some of his features were warped. Pointed ears, slitted eyes, fangs. You felt your heart jump when you realized he was a fae, a being that was thought to be wiped out, the only proof of their existence being dilapidated buildings (that were slowly being taken over by humans) and mentions in history books of the great fae war. You coward next to your dragon friend, watching as the fae knelt to the ground, his next words shaking your entire being.

“Prince Draconia, it’s good to see you back.”

Prince? Prince of…the fae? You…what have you got yourself into? The surname Draconia has been drilled into your head when you read history books. The terrible Fae War that was meant to save humanity. To fight against the Draconia lineage and get rid of fae once and for all. Apparently the books had missed one important issue. And now you were in the dragon's den, literally and figuratively. 

“It seems like you’ve brought a friend,” The fae continued, crimson eyes falling onto your figure. 

The dragon beside you shifted, his form turning more human in nature. He could’ve fooled you if it weren’t for the horns that sat on top of his head or the green slitted eyes that seemed to stare through you. 

“This child of man broke me free from the prison they held me in,” Draconia explained, his bright eyes softening when they landed on you. “A truly strange individual indeed.”

“Should I prepare a room?” The fae responded, his smile seemed more mischievous than anything. 

“Yes,” Draconia nodded calmly while you felt like you were going to explode. This was all happening too fast. You thought you were going to be eaten by a dragon for Pete’s sake! Not end up saving a prince that humans wanted dead and end up as a guest in his palace! Although you felt like a whirlwind was storming through your mind, you were too meek to speak up, left to watch the events unfold before you. 

“I shall inform the servants of your return then, my liege,” The fae nodded. “Silver and Sebek shall be here shortly.”

Then in a poof, the fae disappeared. You turned to Draconia, unsure what to do or say. You were a mere peasant. A pickpocket, a lockpicker. You were not prepared for such a situation as you found yourself in. 

“Thank you, dear child of man,” The fae prince bowed his head towards you. “If not for your kindness and bravery, I would not be here for my people. In return, you will be granted whatever your heart desires.” Once again, you found yourself blinking owlishly, and saying the first thing that came to mind.

“That’s a dangerous offer.”

Stupid. Why the hell would you say that? Now he’s going to think you’re a threat and-

Is he…chuckling? Why was his voice so smooth? What the hell is going on? You needed some time to yourself to clear your thoughts. 

“Perhaps it is,” Draconia nodded, a fond smile resting on his lips (his fangs made it look a bit sinister but you could tell he wasn’t trying to be intimidating). “But I have trust in someone who was selfless enough to save not only a prisoner, but a dragon.”

You bit your lip nervously, unsure of what to ask for, “That’s a lot of trust for someone you don’t know.”

“Hmm,” He hummed, his amusement shining through his eyes. “Then perhaps we should get to know each other better.”

Damn he was smooth.

…

You found yourself not so easily forgetting about your past. The life on the streets, swiping food when you could, stealing others hard earned money. You weren’t proud, in fact, it was always like a cloud hung over your head. You could never keep a job, not that they paid well. And when you got the notice from the high king to slay a dragon you knew it was karma for living a dastardly life. 

But now you found yourself living in luxury, something you found hard getting used to. A bed bigger than you’ve ever seen, sheets so silky you felt like you were sliding around, meals so extravagant your stomach hurt just looking at it. Not to mention the handsome prince who’d watch you like you’ve hung the stars. 

It all felt wrong. Like you were an imposter. You have hurt people. It didn’t matter if you felt guilty because innocent people still dealt with the consequences of your thievery. How many went hungry because they ‘lost’ their coins? How many only broke even because you got your hands on their food without them noticing? You didn’t deserve the royal treatment you were currently receiving. Especially when your original goal wasn’t to save any prince or prisoner. You were sent there to kill a beast, and you merely found yourself empathizing with it. It was like stumbling upon a poor rabbit stuck in a trap, it would feel wrong to let it struggle until it died.

You felt sick as beautiful fabric draped over you, tailored to fit your every curve to the t. Jewelry covering any spots that may show skin. You weren’t stupid, you saw the way the servants would gaze at you coldly, the whispers that they carefully covered as small talk. Not only were you terrible to humans, but you were also a human. To fae that was the harbinger of doom. Apart of a people who attacked the fae for merely being different. Yes, fae were more powerful, but they kept to themselves. 

You were practically drowning in riches, and you could only think about the people who could use it more than you. Sure you’ve had your fair share of going to bed hungry, sleeping outside and being dirty more than you’d like to think, but you weren’t the only one. Perhaps you weren’t as built for living rich like you thought you were, you couldn’t help but muse. Oh how naive you were when you dreamt of riches beyond your imagination. 

Malleus observed your downtrodden state. How reluctant you were during meals, or how you looked at the jewelry adorning your body with so much disdain he could nearly feel it. You had managed to worm your way into his heart. Like in those human tales of the knight rescuing the royal, he found himself falling for his savior. Not because you were tasked to save him, or that you could’ve killed him but didn’t (it was clear the power imbalance between you both). It was because you saw him, in his full powerfully dangerous glory, and instead of choosing to kill, you chose to help. Something he hadn’t seen in any human before (not that he’s met many).  You continued to surprise him. You were clearly not from noble descent. Your ragged tunic and chipped sword were clear indicators of that when you both met. Not to mention how you seemed so afraid to touch anything, even after he stated you could have what you want, you were still considerate of him and his property. Instead of asking for riches or gems, you seemed lost. Unsure of what you may desire. During your stay, your personality truly shined. You were naturally polite, treating the servants and knights like they were people instead of objects (something even most nobles failed at). So when your curious shining gaze turned into one of guilt, Malleus couldn’t just do nothing. 

It was a gloomy afternoon. Briar Valley wasn’t the sunniest of places, you had learned. Malleus had invited you to have some tea in the palace garden, and who were you to deny him? You both sipped at your tea in a pleasant silence.

“How has your stay been?” Malleus was the first to break the silence. His bright green eyes watching you intently.

“More than I could ask for,” You replied, gaze falling onto your teacup. 

“...and that is a bad thing?” He read you perfectly.

“I…I just don’t feel like, like I deserve any of this,” You muttered. “I’m not a good person. Not in the eyes of my people or yours.”

“So that’s the problem,” Malleus hummed. His features softened, but determination shone clearly in his eyes. “I promise you that you are not as bad as you view yourself, child of man. You have been nothing but lovely since the day I met you. Your heart is truly bigger than most, you’re intelligent, and you’re strong. I couldn’t think of a better person to spoil.”

“I think you have a bias,” You grumbled, trying to recover from how easy it was for him to fluster you.

“I think you have one as well, dear child of man,” Malleus chuckled. 

…

You felt yourself slowly warm to your new life. Looked forward to seeing Malleus in the morning, seeing him off to his princely duties (as well as bidding farewell to Lilia). Although Silver and Sebek were Malleus’ retainers, he had ordered them to watch over you. At first it was daunting, but Silver was a sweetheart, and you slowly learned that Sebek didn’t actually hate you (hopefully), he was just very invested in Malleus’ wellbeing. 

Over time, you found yourself wanting one thing. One thing that seemed impossible for Malleus to grant. You wanted to stay. Not just as some random human who saved the fae prince, but as a part of the weird family that they seemed to shape. You hadn’t felt so happy in a long, long time. You couldn’t recall the last time you had no worries, felt relaxed, found someone so comforting. And as you sat at the dining room table, pushing around your food, Lilia decided to point out the very thing you’ve been avoiding.

“So,” The pink and black haired fae said your name mischievously. “Have you thought of what you desire from Prince Draconia?” This question caught the attention of said prince, his gaze steady like he was pinning you down. 

“Not really,” You smiled, waving off the question.

“Really?” Lilia asked with a fake pout. “‘Cus I’m pretty sure you thought of something quite specific.”

You tensed, shoulders raising, could he read minds? Was that even possible? Is he bluffing? Did your body language give you away? 

“Did you have something in mind, child of man?” Malleus joined in. When you glanced at him, you noticed how he seemed a bit deflated. 

“W-well…I have…” You stumbled. “I don’t…I don’t think it’s something you can grant…”

“You won’t know if you don’t ask~” Lilia chirped with a wink. “Malleus can grant more than you could imagine.” 

“Lilia is right,” Malleus agreed. “There is little I won’t give you.” Your heart raced at his deeply sincere vow. You kept yelling in your mind that he didn’t mean it romantically. 

Biting your lip, you decided to spill your wish, “I want to stay here…with you all…”

“Is that all?” Malleus asked, a bright grin tugging at his lips (it would be quite off putting as he always seemed so stoic, but you were too lovesick to think such a thought). “I would be delighted to host you here for as long as you wish.”

“Really?” You couldn’t help but ask. “Won’t that be weird? I’m no noble, or royal, or related to anyone here.”

“If that is a problem for you, there is a way to solve such a problem,” Malleus declared. 

“Khehe~” Lilia giggled. “It seems we’ll have some planning to do.”

You stared at the two confused, and they refused to elaborate. 

…

“Thank you,” You spoke up one evening as you stared at the roses that littered the garden. Malleus stood by your side, watching you lovingly. “For everything. You’ve done so much for me I can’t even explain it all.”

“I must thank you as well, child of man,” He replied in kind. “You have also shaped my future to be significantly brighter.”

“I suppose being freed from prison does that,” You teased, but Malleus didn’t smile nor did he laugh. 

“You’ve done much more for me than merely unbuckling chains,” Malleus stated, gaze intense with an emotion you couldn’t put a finger on. “You have also unburdened my heart from its lonely cage, each day is brighter with your smile, with your love, with your kindness. I wish for you to stay by my side for as long as you’ll have me.”

You hadn’t expected your small gratitude to be taken to such an extent. You felt your heart flutter and your knees get weak. Just what was he leading up to? There was only one end in sight and you weren’t sure if you were ready for such a proposal. 

“Would you do me the honor of ruling Briar Valley by my side?”

“M-mal…” Your voice trembled. You stared at him wide eyed, all the ways this could go wrong running through your head. “B-but I’m human…” 

“Such trivial things do not matter to me.”

“But your people!” You exclaimed. “Th-they’ll riot!”

“My people trust in my judgment,” He muttered. “Besides, isn’t this like your human tales? The knight marries the royal and they live happily ever after?”

Malleus was right. You were truly living in your own fairytale. Sure, it was a bit backwards, but as you stared into his bright green eyes, you knew you wouldn’t have it any other way. After all, what knight wouldn’t choose the dragon?

[cheriecelestial]

Jacob Black's Self Saving System Pt.1

disclaimer *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ crack.swearing.not proofread

synopsis *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Jason, a self-proclaimed no. 1 Stephenie Meyer hater, finds himself unexpectedly transmigrated into the very novel he disdained. Following this ironic twist of fate, he is now tasked with the challenge of creating a better version of the story himself.

a/n *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Inspired from @duckysprouts ’s series. It’s so good ⁉️‼️. If you haven’t seen it already, PLEASE GO CHECK IT OUT. Like finally svsss content that isn’t shizun sphinx cats or binghe skin creature abomination. Art and concept so fresh it made my heart cry with joy and pulled me out of my three-month long writing slump. So, I humbly present this as an offering to our lord and savior, Ducky. Comment, Reblog and Like (∩˃o˂∩)♡

Twilight by Stephanie Meyer was a modern classic in its renaissance era with a large cult that loved to hate it. Set in a place with relentless rain, mist shrouded forest and an ethereal light piercing the gloom — the light being the one of only Edward Cullen. Though the statement is subject to fan bias — he was a man, rather sparkly vampire, who somehow managed to be both irresistible and perpetually constipated. 

Nonetheless, his charms never overshadowed the stellar performance of our female lead, Isabella Marie Swan— better known as Bella — a teenager who gained worldwide fame for having a personality less vibrant than a wet cabbage. Together, they navigated the perilous world of teenage angst, vampire baseball, millenia old racist italian politicians and werewolves with a curious t-shirt allergy, all in an impressively monotone palette.

It was a heartwarming tale that began with awkward stares, cryptic yet nauseatingly clichéd conversations and Bella’s inexplicable attraction to danger, making the romance as thrilling as it was perplexing. Meanwhile, the supporting cast of her high school friends, each with their own irrelevant quirks and subplots, served as convenient plot devices — appearing and disappearing at the whim of the author.

And as if her love life wasn’t tumultuous enough, Bella befriended Jacob Black. A werewolf who, unsurprisingly, hated all things vampire and Edward Cullen in particular. Between Edward’s brooding, Jacob’s abs and Bella’s classic damsel-in-distress antics that made poor Elena Gilbert seem unremarkable by comparison — the story unfolded with the subtlety of a glitter bomb and reached unprecedented heights of melodrama. Something that helped the tale become a global phenomenon, demonstrating that improbable love stories can indeed shine in their own sparkly “skin-of-a-killer” fashion.

“This has to be the worst piece of literature I’ve ever read in my life.” Those were strong words from a man who spent years and at least six hundred dollars collecting softbacks and hardbacks in every special and limited edition the series offered. Jason Black was an anti-fan who lived to scoff at the literary mediocrities of authors who, after taking one look at their drafts, believed they deserved to be released into the world as actual literature. Such people, often inspired by similar works, spawned their own deranged narratives, subsequently contaminating the sanctity of literature. 

In layman’s terms, Jason was a fervent hater of the highest order. He had a long list of things he despised about the series, yet curiously, re-watching the movies and re-reading the books always found its way to the top of his to-do list every other weekend. But do not get him wrong, not once did he say anything in favour of the series. Jason simply considered it one of those brain-rotting pieces that needed to be experienced to truly appreciate the beauty of classics like Emily Brontë and Jane Austen.

_username_1 : Bruh stfu. You’re probably an unemployed loner with nothing better to do in life than to be a keyboard warrior.  

_username_2 : then idk buddy don’t read it ? It’s not that hard. 

Jason huffed at the screen crossily, his fingers dancing over the keyboard unsure of what to type next. With a sigh, he stretched his arms as if preparing for battle. And a battle it was — being an anti-fan required more dedication, practice and patience than being a regular fan. What he didn’t realize was that he had knocked a water bottle off the table onto the frayed cord of his PC.

He couldn't fathom why people defended it as if their lives depended on it. If he ever met Stephenie Meyer, Jason would have a long talk with her about the plot—or rather, the lack thereof. With the number of plot holes in the books, they could qualify as swiss cheese. The inconsistencies were glaring: if sunlight made them sparkle, wouldn't they still sparkle during the day, just less brilliantly ? How did Jasper and Alice not overhear the phone call despite having super-hearing ? Why did Jasper go ballistic over a papercut when he attended a school where students would get paper cuts and scrapes all the time ? Why were vampires and werewolves the only species to exist ? And why was Bella, or more specifically her blood, so exceptional ? Did she perhaps descend from a line of flavourful blood havers or was it due to her mother's partial albinism ?

Was she special because she was the female lead, or was she the female lead because she was special ? There were so many unanswered questions and half-assed excuses for the events in the story that most explanations came from clever fans trying to make sense of things the author clearly put no effort into planning or thinking through. These questions had plagued him since he first read the series, and the lack of satisfying answers only fueled his irritation. So much so that Jason was embarrassed for the author. Regardless, he didn’t like the direction this conversation was going so he did what any intelligent person would do, i.e., spew hate comments and log off. 

edward_my_bbg : Dumbfuck novel, Dumbfuck author 

And as if on cue, a new notification popped up, dragging him back into the fray. It was another comment, this time mocking his apparent obsession with the series he claimed to hate. Jason’s face flushed with irritation as he furiously typed a retort, but before he could hit send, his screen flickered and went black. 

He looked down and realized the water bottle he had knocked over had short-circuited his PC. With a groan, Jason leaned back in his chair, staring at the dark screen. It seemed the universe had decided to give him a break from his self-imposed battle. His hand fumbled in the dark for the plug only to feel water on the surface. The sharp pain and crackle of electricity were the last things he knew before he plunged headfirst into endless darkness.

[Activation Code:「Dumbfuck Author, Dumbfuck Novel」 ]

[System activated] 

[Pairing command successful]

“What system ?” Jason asked out loud into the void even though he knew that it was most likely a figment of his imagination. He hadn’t expected to receive a reply however he did receive one much to his surprise. 

[Welcome to the system. During the opening of the 「you can you up」system currently in its development phase, we wish to provide you with the best experience. It is our sincere hope that during the process, you will achieve what you have stated: to transform a piece of stupid writing in accordance with your wishes into a high-end, expansive, and classic work. We wish you happiness.]

Jason blinked, trying to make sense of the message. He glanced around the dim room, half-expecting to see some kind of holographic interface or futuristic display but there was nothing. Just the voice in his head and the darkness. “What the hell is this ?” he muttered, feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity.

[You have been selected to participate in the beta phase of the 「you can you up」 system. Your task is to improve the story you despise, turning it into a masterpiece. All resources and guidance will be provided to you. Do you accept this challenge ?]

Jason hesitated, the situation seemed absurd, yet a part of him was intrigued. As he sat in silence, a thought occurred to him—what if he could actually fix all the plot holes that drove him up a wall ? Maybe this was his chance to prove he could do better. But then, the possibility of all of this being real seemed too slim. How did he get here ? What happened to him after the electric shock? Was he dying, or was he already dead ? "And if I don't accept ?" he asked, uncertainty and fear bleeding into his voice despite his attempt at maintaining his composure. The system responded quickly in the same mechanical tone as before.

[Your connection between your former body and soul was severed before the initiation of the program. If you choose not to accept, you will be returned to your previous reality with no changes made. This opportunity is unique and will not be offered again.]

“Severed from my body ? Wait— doesn’t that mean I’ll die if I don’t accept ?” Jason's question hung in the air, met with nothing but silence from the system. The lack of response only confirmed his fear.

The system's silence was deafening, seemingly pressing him to make a decision. Realizing he had little choice, Jason took a deep breath. “Fine, I accept,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. How bad could it possibly be ? 

[Command acknowledged. Initializing story rewrite mode.]

The void around him began to shift and wrap. Till now he felt as though he was floating with no sensation except the system’s sound. His reality dissolved into swirling colours and Jason felt himself being pulled into a vortex. When the chaos settled, he heard a man’s voice call out to him. Unlike the clinical tone of system, this voice felt comforting and personal. He could feel tender warmth run through him however he couldn’t quite figure out what the voice was saying. 

“Son ? Can you hear me ?” 

“Dad ?” Jason murmured involuntarily, his voice hoarse as if he had just woken up from a long sleep. The gravel in the voice reminded him of the joys of his childhood when his dad was still — wait a second. Who the hell is that ?

His eyes struggled to focus as his eyelids fluttered a few times. Eventually, he was able to make out his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the ceiling. Unlike the damp ceiling of his old apartment with its peeling plaster and harsh lighting, this one had old glow-in-the-dark moon and star stickers. It wasn’t familiar, but it seemed oddly comforting, like he had known it all his life. He slowly turned his head and saw a middle-aged man sitting on a wheelchair beside him with concern clouding his face. The man's russet complexion was lined with wrinkles yet his hair was long and lustrous.

“Where am I ?” 

“You’re at home. You’ve been asleep for so long, it’s alright if you’re confused. Take your time son.” The man he called ‘dad’ answered sincerely.

Jason’s mind raced as he tried to piece together what had happened. The familiarity of the room and the comforting presence of the man didn’t align with the reality he remembered. In that moment, everything came back to him—his death, the void, the system, everything. Jason went into what could only be described as psychological shock. His brain went on autopilot.

The man reached out to grab Jason’s hand, but Jason flinched and pulled away. Slivers of hurt flashed in the old man’s eyes as he slowly withdrew his hand. Jason hadn’t meant to react so harshly, but the information dump combined with the influx of sensory input, he was simply too overwhelmed to cope.

“I-I think i need some space. Do you mind ?” Jason spoke each word carefully, then added, “...dad,” feeling strangely guilty for hurting his feelings. The old man nodded slowly and wheeled himself out of the room. As soon as he was gone, Jason jumped out of bed and ran to the mirror. "Who the FUCK is this?"

Staring back at him was a boy, fifteen or sixteen, with the same russet skin as the old man and glossy black hair that looked like it belonged in a shampoo commercial. Recognizing the features, Jason knew this could only be one person.

 [System activation successful ! Binding your role as : Jacob Black]

[System : Booting Up]

Jason, now Jacob Black, stared at his reflection in disbelief. The reality of his situation hit him like a shit ton of bricks. He brought his fist to his mouth and sobbed into it, and here he thought college was devastating. “But I’m Team Edward,” he choked out between sobs. “That’s so fucked up.”

[Thank you for initiating the execution of the system. You are not bound with the account ‘Jacob Black’. All resources and guidance will be provided to you in due time. Initial B points : 100]

Jason—Jacob—felt a rush of confusion and frustration. “Now what the hell are B points ?!” he yelled, his voice reverberating off the walls of the unfamiliar room. The loudness of his own voice startled him, making him realize just how different everything felt in this new body.

[As the plot progresses, a number of opportunities to gain more points will be available. Please make sure your B points are not lower than 0. Otherwise, the system will automatically impose penalties.]

He stumbled back from the mirror, running a hand through his hair, which was definitely longer and thicker than he remembered. He could feel the strength in his limbs, the vitality of youth coursing through him. Yet, despite the physical vigor, his mind was in turmoil. He had transmigrated into the very novel he hated; the universe always seemed to have a field day when it came to ruining his life. Jacob looked around the room that was littered with the relics of a life he had to now live — a cozy bed with rumpled sheets, a desk cluttered with schoolbooks and posters of motorcycles, bands and scenic landscapes on the walls.

“Um, so is Bella here ?” Jacob asked, scarfing down the bacon his dad made for him. Despite stressing over the role he was supposed to play in the story, he quickly adapted to his new life. He had a family, a house to live in, no worries about finding employment, no bills or taxes, a social life—or at least he assumed he had one—and, most importantly, no backaches. In hindsight, this might not be all that bad.

“Oh, you remember that ? Charlie said she’s arriving in a couple of days,” his dad, Billy, replied. Jacob felt a strange mix of anticipation and relief. Unlike most unfortunate transmigratees, he had no death flags to worry about, so he could sit back and watch Bella and Edward fall in love without “Jacob” interrupting them. Maybe he could even make things easier for Bella by acting like the perfect wingman. Who cared about making a better story anyway ? And once he had seen his OTP together, he could take his ticket out of town after the wedding and never return so that he could avoid the whole Renesmee business because some fates are worse than death.

[WARNING: Your plan is extremely dangerous and constitutes a violation. Please do not attempt it, or the system will impose strict penalties.]

Jacob choked on his water as the sudden warning window popped up in front of him. For a moment, he was so immersed in the domestic comfort of his new life that he almost forgot about the cursed system. His father looked at him with concern.

“Water went down the wrong pipe, that’s all. Nothing to worry about,” Jacob said awkwardly, trying to reassure his father. So you can read minds now ? He internally taunted the system.

[It is a feature designed to ensure maximum support for the user.]

“That’s bullshit. Also, what do you mean by violation ?” Jacob asked. Does this system really have no respect for privacy ? If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was some kind of Zuckerberg’s meta gimmick.

[You are currently at the beginning stage. OOC function freeze is activated. You must complete the beginning stage before any functions can be unlocked. If you perform any actions against the original ‘Jacob Black’ role before the functions are unfrozen, a certain number of B points will be deducted.]

Given his extensive time spent on the internet, Jacob was well aware of what OOC meant, and he knew it wasn’t a good sign. OOC stood for Out Of Character, referring to actions taken by a role that deviated from how the character was originally written.

“FUCK OFF. I’m an adult. I already finished my degree and Bella is like, a baby. And you can forget the whole Renesmee shit too. Bella belongs with Edward and and I have no intention of pursuing either her or her future daughter. So back off, you creep of a system.”

[WARNING: The system is issuing another alert. If your B points fall below 0, you will incur a penalty, which involves being automatically transported back to your original world.]

“You know, threatening me with death is really getting old,” Jacob stared at the warning message with his anger mounting. It felt like the system was encroaching on every aspect of his new life, imposing rules and restrictions without offering any clarity or real support.

He took a deep breath, trying to push past his irritation. There was no point in arguing with an automated system, especially one that clearly had its own agenda. Jacob decided to focus on what he could control. He needed to immerse himself in his role as Jacob Black and complete the introductory stage without attracting undue attention. The system’s warnings might be annoying, but he couldn’t let them derail his efforts to adapt to his new life.

As he finished his breakfast, Jacob glanced around the house. It was warm and welcoming, albeit a little messy, which was understandable. He and his dad were the only ones living there and according to his dad, he had been inexplicably unconscious for almost a week. Keeping the house tidy wasn't exactly a priority for a man worried sick about his son.

“Thanks for breakfast… Dad,” Jacob said, still not used to the idea of having a father again. There was the whole issue of stealing the real “Jacob” ’s life, dealing with imposter syndrome, and the guilt of replacing the memory of his own father by calling this old man his dad. But that was an existential crisis he chose not to mull over at the moment, especially on the precipice of the story's start. Call him selfish, but he preferred to focus on his blessings.

“I’ll go take a walk. I’ve been asleep for a while, so I need to… uh, stretch my legs,” Jacob said awkwardly, hoping Billy wouldn’t notice anything strange about his behavior.

“Sure thing, son. Also grab some red meat from the store for dinner. A growing kid like you needs that protein. And buy yourself something nice with the leftover money,” Billy replied, taking out his wallet and handing him some cash.

Jacob stared at the man in awe. As a kid who had bounced around the foster system after his dad died, he was used to being scorned and neglected. This might be part of the reason why he had become a social recluse, spending his time bashing bad literature and authors online. To him, Billy Black was the closest thing he had ever seen to an angel.

Jacob took the money, still feeling a bit dazed. “Thanks, Dad,” he managed to say, pocketing the cash. The air filling his lungs was much fresher than the pollution-riddled air of the city he used to live in. Nature seemed a lot nicer than he remembered. So, here's a lesson for the kids—don’t wait until you die and get transmigrated into a novel you hate to understand the importance of getting outside and appreciating nature. In short, go touch some fucking grass before it’s too late.

Almost as if by instinct he found himself at La Push beach. He wandered through the familiar yet new surroundings, trying to piece together his plan. If he was going to be stuck in this world, he might as well make the best of it. He thought about the story and mentally reviewed his plan. He would stay under the radar, be friendly but unobtrusive and focus on blending in with the locals. If he played his cards right, he might just manage to navigate this strange new life without getting points deducted by the system’s restrictions.

After strolling along the shore for a while, Jacob found a rock to sit on and watch the ocean. It was a stark contrast to the urban jungle he was accustomed to, this place was serene and almost idyllic.

“Ayo, is that Jacob ? Hey, Jake !” he heard someone call out. A moment later, a boy close to his age ran up to him, followed by one more. “Um, hey guys. How’s it... going ?” Socializing wasn’t one of Jacob’s strong suits; in fact, it was the exact opposite of the skill he had meticulously avoided developing over the years.

“Man, the whole crew was freaking out about you. You were out cold for a week and for no reason !” One thing Jacob appreciated about the system was the introduction tags above each character’s head. The boy speaking was named Quil, his cousin from the Quileute tribe. He knew these interactions were unavoidable, given their significance to his new role in the plot.

“Well, I got better ?” Jacob attempted a witty quip but cringed at how poorly it landed. To his surprise, the two boys just laughed. “I’m just glad you’re okay. Stop by Sam’s sometime; he’s been asking about you,” Embry said, giving Jacob a friendly slap on the shoulder.

“Wait Sam ? Right of course. Duh. Sam’s place. Got it.” Jacob replied, blinking in confusion for a moment. Sam Uley was the Alpha—or at least the to-be Alpha—of the pack Jacob was supposed to join during New Moon.

[Mild OOC warning]

“Ay man, you feeling okay ?” Embry asked again, noticing Jacob’s hesitation. Jacob froze, Embry Call was the real Jacob’s best friend and if he figured out that Jason wasn’t really Jacob, it would spell massive trouble for him.

Jacob forced a smile. “Uh, yeah. I just—” He quickly tried to think of something. What would Jacob Black say in this situation ? What does he do to feel better ? He racked his brain for answers, knowing he needed to play the part convincingly, at least till he found a way to unfreeze the OOC function.

Go bother Bella ? a small voice suggested. Bella’s not here yet dumbass, another voice countered sharply. After years of social isolation, Jason’s inner dialogue had evolved to the point where he could have entire discussions with himself. No, he wasn’t schizophrenic.

“—I was just going to grab some red meat to chow on and uh y’know, work on my bike,” he finished, hoping his voice didn’t betray his nerves.

Embry and Quil exchanged a knowing look, which made Jacob's anxiety spike only to burst into laughter. “Classic Jake. At this rate, you might end up marrying your bike,” Quil teased and Jacob laughed along, though he desperately wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out again.

“Just take it easy, yeah ? We don’t want you passing out on us again. By the way, there's a sale at the store on the other side of town,” Embry squeezed Jacob’s shoulder reassuringly again. The familiarity they seemed to share with him was comforting, even if he felt like an imposter. He knew he had to get up to speed quickly if he wanted to maintain this facade. They soon parted ways and Jacob headed towards the store.

The store lady was overly enthusiastic upon seeing Jacob. He couldn’t tell if it was because of his face or the fact that he was a regular. As Jason, he had always been below average in looks and physique. Whereas, by the virtue of being the second male lead of a popular teenage romance novel, Jacob Black was undeniably attractive. With his deep-set dark eyes, prominent cheekbones, and beautiful long hair, he looked like someone Jason would have envied. Maybe he could try his hand at modeling once the story ended, because there was no way he was putting himself through college again.

And as unpredictable as the weather of Forks was, it began to rain. Normally, Jason would wait it out and then go but now that he as in Jacob’s body, he thought to test his body’s limits. Like c’mon a little drizzle isn’t going to hurt a big strong werewolf alpha-to-be. He stepped out into the rain, feeling the cool droplets on his skin. It was refreshing, almost invigorating. Jacob’s body seemed to handle the cold and wet far better than Jason’s ever did. As he made his way back the store, he noticed people giving him friendly nods and waves. It felt strange to be acknowledged so warmly, a stark contrast to the anonymity he was used to.

At the red light he stopped, waiting for it to turn green. Sure, there were no cars around and he could have just walked, but road rules were no joke. He liked this life too much to risk having it taken away by truck-kun. “Hey system, is double isekai a thing?” he asked. The system didn’t reply, so that was probably a no.

Jacob glanced to his side and saw a person standing under a large black umbrella. A strong sweet scent pricked his nose. How strong does this guy’s cologne have to be to reach me even with the rain ? There was a name tag hovering above the person’s head, but it was obscured by the umbrella, as was his face. One thing he had learned was that only people relevant to the story had name tags over their heads, which meant this person was a character in the story. He looked down at the stranger’s hand—it looked like porcelain.

Jacob felt a sense of foreboding, creeping up his veins. His instincts were on high alert, telling him that this stranger was no ordinary person. The rain began to pour harder, each drop bouncing off the asphalt with increasing intensity.

The person probably noticed Jacob staring and as he did, the umbrella tilted slightly, revealing a glimpse of a pale, almost ethereal face with piercing golden eyes. The moment their gazes met, Jacob was momentarily blinded by a brilliant golden aura radiating from the name tag above the person’s head.

[Edward Cullen]

Jacob’s heart skipped a beat. Of course, it had to be Edward. What were the odds of encountering your favorite character on the very first day of your new life ? He felt his knees weaken. Despite the dim lighting and gloomy setting, Edward was undeniably striking. The rain seemed to fall more slowly around him, as if even the weather was reluctant to mar his flawlessness . His tousled bronze hair framed his face perfectly and Jacob felt an inexplicable urge to reach out and touch it. Despite all his criticisms of the novel, Edward had always held a special place in his heart for reasons Jacob couldn’t quite explain.

Damn, this mf looks anemic as hell. Maybe I should feed him. It was a half-serious thought, borne from both concern and his internal struggle to reconcile his feelings towards the character with the reality of his situation.

[OOC WARNING! OOC WARNING!]

[Edward Cullen is your enemy.]

“Fuck off, he’s my babygirl,”Jacob shot a mental retort at the system in exasperation and a streak of protectiveness. The system’s declaration that Edward was an enemy wasn’t misplaced given Jacob’s role in the novel but that didn’t mean it wasn’t at odds with his feelings.

Edward had always been his favorite character, a source of fascination and admiration. This was supposed to be his chance to explore and perhaps even improve upon the narrative, not to be embroiled in conflict with a character he held dear.

Jacob didn't even notice when the light turned green and Edward started walking away, his steps soundless on the wet pavement. Acting on impulse or perhaps some hidden desire, Jacob found himself walking towards Edward and grabbing his elbow, accidentally knocking his umbrella aside. Edward stopped and turned to him as the rain continued to soak them both. His gaze was like a sharp, unyielding beam of light, cutting through the rain. His eyes, an unusual shade of golden amber, held a depth that seemed to pierce directly into Jacob's soul, scrutinizing every hidden corner of his being.

[OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC!]

[EDWARD CULLEN IS YOUR ENEMY]

I’m so stupid — I forgot completely. Jacob and Edward haven’t met yet. Maybe… maybe I can salvage this ? Be a dick and still be nice ? He definitely didn’t want to end up on Edward’s bad side, nor did he want to break the system’s rules. Annoying as it was, the system was what kept him alive. Though he’d never say it out loud, he was terrified at the thought of dying, again. The system’s constant reminders of their supposed enmity were starting to grate on him, but he couldn’t afford to make more mistakes. What was a man to do when every choice seemed fraught with peril ?

Ack — he’s staring. Can he hear my thoughts ? I hope not. He and Bella meet soon, if I remember correctly so— Jacob’s anxiety skyrocketed under the weight of that gaze. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat drumming in his ears. A tight knot of dread twisted in his stomach and whether it was the rain or not, he could feel cold sweat forming on his palms. He needed to say something—anything—that wouldn’t completely derail the plot but also wouldn’t make Edward hate him from the start, even if it was inevitable.

“Oh uh — my bad, dude. I just thought you looked kinda sick so I thought — I mean,” Jacob scrambled for an explanation, forcing a nonchalant tone as he released Edward’s elbow. He felt like a small animal trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car, desperately searching for a way to escape unscathed.

“—Uh, here.” He shoved the raw steak he had just bought into Edward’s arms. The system fell silent for a moment, as stunned by his actions as Jacob was. The sound of the rain was almost deafening as awkward silence stretched between them. Edward looked down at the raw steak in his hands, confusion and surprise painting his features.

Without waiting for a reply, Jacob quickly turned on his heel and hurried away, his footsteps splashing through the rain-soaked pavement. “Later ! Get that iron up and be the lady killer you were born to be !” he called over his shoulder. After walking a few metres, he paused briefly and added,“ And seriously lay off the sauvage man !”

As he put more distance between them, Jacob’s thoughts began to spiral. What had he just done ? Did Edward think he was completely nuts ? Or worse, could Edward have read his thoughts and seen through his facade ? Jacob shuddered at the possibility.

[Why did you do that ?]

“I don’t know okay !? I thought it’d help with looking y’know less dead when he meets Bella.” He shrugged. Explaining himself to the system felt pointless considering it was neither his parent nor his babysitter. The system remained silent, as if considering his response, Jacob rolled his eyes.

[OOC ! -20 B points ↓ ↓ ↓]

“Oh come on !”

“Still staring at that bag of steak, Ed ?” The pixie-haired woman leaned over her brother’s shoulder, teasing him.

“Go away, Alice,” Edward muttered, his gaze still locked on the steak as if it held some profound answers of the universe. His fingers occasionally running over the plastic, making the blood inside to squelch against the surface.

“Seriously what’s up with you ?” Alice frowned, dropping the banter. Ever since Edward had returned, he’d been fixated on this bag of steak that suspiciously smelled like wet dog. What was even more peculiar was the fact that she hadn’t had any visions of this event. Normally, Alice caught glimpses of all the interesting things happening with her family throughout the day but she had no clue how Edward had ended up with that steak. And from the look on his face, Edward didn’t look like he was divulging anything either.

“Nothing just… trying to figure someone out.” Edward sighed. Alice was his favorite family member, and he seldom told her off but this was something he couldn’t even make sense of himself. If he told Alice, she’d likely blow the whole thing out of proportion. But despite everything, one question kept lingering in his mind.

Who was that man ?

A.n - should I make this into a series ? If yes please lemme know if you want to be added to the taglist.