#stem croc

[arminreindl]

Venkatasuchus: Aetosaur from India

Once more I come bearing croc news. For the second time this year we are getting a new type of aetosaur, you know, those weird stem-crocodiles that somewhat converged with ankylosaurs? Yeah those guys. Much like Kryphioparma from just a few months ago, this new genus Venkatasuchus is a member of the Typothoracinae and known only from osteoderms. Thankfully, in the case of Venkatasuchus a lot more of them at least.

I mean sure 8 associated osteoderms plus the connected lateral elements is not that much, but it sure beats the few remains of Kryphioparma.

Anyhow, Venkatasuchus is from the middle Norian to Rhaetian stages of the Triassic of India, more specifically the Lower Dharmaram Formation in the east of the subcontinent. This is actually quite significant as aetosaurs are generally rare in Gondwanan parts of the world and the Dharmaram Formation actually has two: Venkatasuchus and an as of yet undescribed desmatosuchine. Furthermore, the formation actually represents a melting pot of Laurasian and Gondwanan fauna. The aetosaurs and phytosaurs are of Laurasian origin, but the dinosaurs of the formation are Gondwanan lineages.

Much to my surprise, there is ALREADY an illustration of this guy online courtesy of Scott Reid on Twitter, fantastic art, love how he cheekily hides the head and focuses on the armour.

Venkatasuchus - Wikipedia

Of course I jumped at the opportunity to write its wiki page, so far I do believe I managed to cover every new genus published this year.

[sordidmusings]

How to Break Rules (Sir Crocodile x Reader)

Art by xuchuan25 on x!

TUMBLR ATE THE FUCKING ASK WHEN I SAVED IT AS A DRAFT 🙃 luckily I had it saved in my doc and it was anon so they wouldn't have been notified anyway

Anon Ask: Crocodile doesn't seem like the type to kiss during sex unless he's down bad. Maybe he starts a casual relationship with a strict "no kissing on the lips" rule but anywhere else is fair game. It's fun to think of the different ways a possible "first kiss" could happen when he's already rawed you lol and the different reactions if he initiates it or you do and whether it's spur of the moment or calculated.

A/N: OOOOOOOOOO love this and have actually come across this in my own travails haha as someone who loves service, there is such a rush in being told “you can kiss me anywhere but my lips; you have to earn that” 😩 Like it’s just dangling that fruit of how much of a rush it’ll be when you earn the right, when you’re told you’ve been so good for so long. It is also kind of a wild and intense dynamic to be in to have done So Much Stuff but not a simple kiss 💀💀💀

I will also say that I have a WIP smut request in this vein that has been FIGHTING ME FOR MONTHS 🥲 except it’s reader who has put down the rule of “no kissing” and the reason is because love is a requirement for it. Hoping this exercise helps get more flowing for continuing that beloved behemoth 🙏🏻 Ficlets and thoughts in bulleted form below! They get longer as they go because that’s what tends to happen for me lol

Word Count: ~3k total over a few scenarios and such

Warnings: brief allusions to sex but nothing nsfw, gn!reader, not actually unrequited love, a few flavors of reader personality, from very bratty to docile, for dynamic variety 🤌🏻, jealousy/possessiveness

Goodies below the cut - dig in (‘∀’●)♡

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

At first I was a bit clinical in my brainstorming of this, more stuck on the grid of who does it to who 

He kisses you

Involuntarily

Poor croc is finally at his limit in keeping his lips from yours and being so deep in indulging in all the rest of you is his undoing. Every piece of you feels so good even though every moment with you is agony - agony from having you but not all of you, being with each other but not belonging to each other. He was Tantalus and you were his fruit and drink, always slipping just past his fingertips. If he could taste you, share your breaths, feel your voice, then maybe he’d finally stop wasting away. 

On purpose

You’ve been vexing him with your teasing, always gifting him the touch of your soft lips everywhere but his own. He didn’t want to be the one to fold on his own rule, but no matter how loose he got your mind, how far you were from forming words, how pliant and placating, you’d kiss him and kiss him and kiss him but never his lips. It didn’t matter if he hovered his own over yours close enough to taste your voice on the air, you’d never push forward. It was maddening. 

One day he finally barks at you after you turn your face away, “Why do you always run?” 

You answer, confused and honest, “You told me I wasn’t allowed.” 

The response is a hook at your neck, pulling you closer; a hand in your hair, cradling you; a mouth on your own, consuming you.

A promise to you that you’re truly his

This Sir Croc warms more to the idea of you being his with no qualms stemming from his own pride. 

It took a long while, but your home in Croc’s life was built brick by brick, sure and steady and obvious. He noticed it and kept an eye on it like he did with everything, but he did not reject nor rush it. No, it was inevitable beyond his will, the way you slipped into his head and chest and nested there. No stubbornness would stop the way it warmed him. No clinging would allow you deeper into a space that was always meant to be yours. As he first noticed the foundation you’d set, saw the promise of his future in your care and vision, he knew he was meant to exist next to you. 

He waited for this understanding to sink in you too. It never did. 

No matter his well-thought gifts, steadfast support, or opulent compliments, you never pressed to take more promises from him than he offered himself, never set to make claim to him outside of closed doors. He knew he had to change that. 

The thought possesses him the next time he brings you around with him and someone has the gaul to approach you. They ask about why Croc keeps you so close to see if they had a chance to stick to your side instead. That won’t do. 

Croc stalks over quickly, seeping dominance but not quite aggression. When he gets to you, he places a weighty hand on your right shoulder and leans over the left, fully encasing you in his presence. 

All the other man sees is the threat leaning over your shoulder and he scatters before you can finish saying “-my boss.”

Much happier with Croc surrounding you, you lean back into his warm chest. A low chuckle plays with the hair around your ear, causing you to shiver in delight.

“A boss? Is that all I am to you?” There’s a teasing lilt to his deep voice, one steeped in deep fondness.

“Of course not,” you assure. He guides you to turn with his hook under your chin, letting his fingers tickle the back of your neck to your other shoulder as you spin to face him. The smile on your lips is easy and familiar and softens Croc into clay, ready and happy to be molded into whatever you want. Yet you always just ease him back into his own shape, each time with fewer cracks and dents, waiting for him to be as solid as he’d like for when he enters the kiln.

“Then tell me, dear,” his voice is as warm and rich as the purple of his eyes. He pulls his cigar from his lips with two fingers. You watch his lips as he speaks. “What am I?”

Before the falter in your smile can fully steal it away, Croc slips forward to taste it on your lips. You freeze and Croc snakes his hook behind your neck to pull you forward, but by the time it gets there you’re already pressing into him. You’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t savor the feeling of finally belonging fully to each other.

You kiss him

Power Move

Sir Croc never seemed able to control you and he loved and loathed it in equal parts. It’s one of the reasons he sought you in the first place. You knew exactly when to push and when to follow, when to challenge and when to submit. It was a very rare day when you genuinely got on his nerves.

Today is a very rare day.

You’re clearly upset with Sir Croc - not leaning into his affection, barely answering his attempts at conversation, unwilling to look at his face for more than a second. More than anything you refuse to tell him what’s wrong.

Now, you’re not doing it just to piss him off; you don’t feel quite allowed to be upset about the issue so you don’t want to share. You don’t want to have an attitude but every time you see him it reminds you of the realization that you’d do anything for him. Worse than that, that thought was immediately followed by the Knowing that you aren’t his and the uncertainty that you ever will be.

Right now, you feel like you’re not his to have, but his to use.

Though, he does give you special treatment. He lets you closer to him than any others, treats you with gentleness except when you corner him into using a firm hand. He’s never even used his power over you when it’s not for play and pleasure. Except for one little rule.

No kissing on the lips. 

You thought you’d earn it months ago. You’ve earned everything else, every sweet treatment and treasure you could think of will be yours if you ask it of him. He’s come to spoil you even more rotten than a queen with her fat lap dog, and yet you’ve not gotten a single kiss to the lips.

It’s begun to feel like he’s keeping it from you to let you know he’ll never fully give himself to you because he never fully intended to keep you. And it hurts.

And now he’s mad because you’re mad but you can’t tell him why you’re mad and the whole thing is maddening.

You watch him knock the ash off his dwindling cigar into the ornate ceramic tray on his desk. The heavy sigh accompanying it annoys you. Why is he the one sighing?

Oh, now he’s rubbing at his temple. He thinks he’s frustrated? You’ll show him frustration.

“Should I go?” You ask, peeking at him from the corner of your narrowed eyes.

“Do you want to go?” Croc rebuts, sounding confounded and at the end of his rope.

You eye him unhappily. 

Instead of responding, you stand up from the leather sofa across from his grand desk. It’s a decent distance, two chairs to its sides are placed closer, but of course you chose to sit away from him today. It’s to your advantage now; you need space for your next move.

You make your way to him slowly, swerving your hips smoothly the way he likes and adding a teeny bit of weight to each step - both to be closer to stomping and to have the motion give a slight bounce to all the soft parts of you for him to watch.

And watch he does - his face melts into the hungry admiration he saves for you, albeit still a bit guarded. 

When you get to his desk, instead of addressing him you gracefully gather the papers spread across it into your hands. You take a moment to pretend to scan through and consider them, only to frisbee them onto one of the chairs.

Croc’s eyes turn sharp and burning.

“Brat-” he cuts himself off, looking at your face and picking up that you’re having even less fun than he is. He sucks in a tense breath and hisses it back out. Let’s try that again.

“Am I working too much and you need more attention? Is that why you’re having a fit?”

Good enough.

“If I was having a fit, the whole base would know,” you bite back at him.

Instead of arguing or redirecting, Sir Croc settles on watching you. Nothing’s worked, so he’ll just allow you to take this wherever it’s headed.

You plant your palms on his desk and let the quiet linger. He lets you lean into his space and stare him down. He’s unsure what you’re looking for and honestly so are you. You’re unsure if you find it but you do find some fortitude in the settling air. You finally speak up.

“Do you remember the rule you set when we started this…” your eyes flit around, searching for the right word, “agreement?”

“No kissing on the lips unti-”

Your hand is fisted in his shirt, your lips are warm and insistent against his.

You expect anger, pulling back, or even shoving hands. Instead, Croc is scrambling out of his seat, careful to keep your lips locked, and helping you to clamber over the desk towards him with a greedy grip. You won’t be free from his taste or hold the whole night through. Now that they’ve had you, they’ll haunt you all your days, keeping him alive with each time they possess you.

You sneak your way into it

Sir Crocodile doesn’t get to enjoy late risings often. That’s why he makes sure to wring them of all they’re worth, and that’s only become better with you there. 

Knowing that the morning lacked a rude awakening, you both indulged in a night of the senses - seeing the sights, hearing live music, eating and drinking with abandon before coming home to get your fill of each other in all five senses, especially touch.

As Sir Croc comes back to his body, floating from the abyss of sleep one breath at a time, he finds his sense of touch being coaxed and teased. Gentle fingers brush across his skin along familiar trails made to map and admire his large form. They round over muscles, press into places of softness, tickle at the sensitive skin of his wrist, his blunted forearm, his hips, his neck.

The touches all feel so full of adoration and something else he’s felt more and more from you. He’s finding it harder and harder to ignore, especially because he’s used to adoration and there’s something different in yours - something softer, gentler, surer. Something he is sure by now is genuine love.

Each time it comes out he lets it wash over him as best he can without solidifying its bond. After all, this was never meant to be love.

But feeling your affection made it impossible to ignore how much better life would be if he always woke up with you.

Sir Croc encourages more of your touches, following them where he could and bedding his cheek into the top of your head. You happily snuggle deeper against him and his heart leaps.

Knowing he’s awake, you begin placing sweet kisses against his skin, teasing at the edge of his trimmed chest hair. He lets out a long breath with the undertone of a content groan rumbling through it. You smile against the plush of his pec, happy he’s still fuzzy from sleep and primed for your plot

Your lips trail and massage higher, over clavicle and to neck. He tilts his jaw away to give you free reign of the sensitive skin from his throat to his ear. Your thigh mimics the rising of your lips, trailing slow and tender over Croc’s front until it brushes from his thigh to his stomach. The rise and fall with his breathing is calming under you and the steadiness made it easier to notice when his breathing hitched and his muscles twitched against you.

His hand returned your affection mindlessly, simply following whatever instinct compelled him. Mostly it trailed from the nape of your neck to your hip and back, taking small moments to press you closer when he didn’t want one of your kisses to move quite yet.

Everything was deep breaths echoing against skin, the comforting pressure of bodies melding wherever you touched, the dance of give and take with affection. Each place you pushed your love, Croc opened himself to feel more of it, even when you left his shoulder chest and neck to explore his scarred cheek

He doesn’t even hesitate to let you near when you first trail the tip of your nose over the strong angle cut by his jaw. The barely there stubble blended to a moment of pure softness before being interrupted by the ridges of his scar

Croc is fully and willingly enchanted by your soft and smooth actions. He couldn’t bear to make you stop, couldn’t care for any pretense or boundary of his it would break so long as you don’t stop touching him so sweetly. His whole body feels light and alive and he’s struck with the realization that he’s as in deep as you are.

You place your first kiss to his face on his scar where it cuts across his cheekbone. He presses just a millimeter deeper into the plush of your lips

You follow the path of the scar, feeling his lashes tickle the tip of your nose on your way. All the while Croc keeps his languid caresses going on your skin, still lulled by recent sleep and the comfort of your touch and warmth and the want for more.

When you get to the bridge of his nose, you break contact to press your foreheads together. His hand slips up your back to rest at the back of your neck, holding you to him. You bump your nose on his and he bumps back. You tilt to leave a kiss on his cheek. His finger tail up to softly scratch at the base of your skull. You smile against him and feel his own cheek rise momentarily against you.

Sir Crocodile feels more free of thought and obligation than he has in years. Your slow acts of worship have brought out a peace in him that he’s rarely known. There is no rush or push, just a calmness and sureness that this is where he should be and how he should feel. That you both belong here.

And then something changes when you kiss right outside the corner of his lip.

He is left wanting.

You linger at the spot before moving just barely away and coming back just a hair closer to his own lips.

Each near miss felt unnatural and unsatiating, quickening his heart and breath in his discomfort and discontent. The hand at your head goes from caressing to holding, urging you to stop fleeing and teasing.

You smile again against him and this time there’s no mirrored grin from him; he’s falling too quickly into a pit of need, one he didn’t notice you digging with every caress and kiss.

You tease  your lips to the corner of his, planning to press more firmly directly on target, but his hand grips you firmly and he’s turning and insistent lips slot hungrily against yours.

You gasp in delight while he shudders out a breath he’s been holding since he met you.

Then I had a better angle come to me by remembering a basic writing preference, that the circumstances around the kiss - the ‘why’ not just the ‘what’ are much better for generating a scene, luckily in the above I think I amended that mistake when I went into more detail! (keeping these more to the stream I originally wrote them in cuz I fear I went on too long above LOL)

He kisses you after fearing for your safety

He kisses you for fear you’ll leave

You kiss him in anger, wanting to prove you’re worthy

He kisses you while you sleep, too afraid for you to know the hold you’ve had on him all along

He kisses you to soothe you, pull you from your fears and sorrows to just float with him in your little bubble away from all the hurts of the world, held aloft by sensation and need and affection

He kisses you to possess you, someone else coming too close and needing the message

You kiss him in joy, ignoring all the dirt and grime that came back with him from Impel Down

You kiss him with a sorrowful heart, needing to comfort the man who was larger than life now sat sadly before you bare of all, even his golden hook and ego

You kiss each other, your lips had sweetly made their way up his neck and across that strong jaw, coming to rest unsure right at the corner of his lips, your shaky breathes puff sweetly across his cheek as he tilts his head to rest temple to forehead, the turn to face you fully is slow and caressing, his own breath coming to mingle with yours, your noses bushing gently. The barest tilt of his head has your lax lips tentatively brush his, just the faintest tickle of skin on skin. A shaky exhale - his or yours you’re not sure - and your lips press more surely, first easing in like the first step into dark waters before you both succumb to diving under. A fierce grip slips to the nape of your neck, endlessly dragging you closer

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Thank you for reading and thank you anon for your ask 💜 I'm gonna be better at getting back to the others (life was being life lol) and up next I have some comfort fics and x marine reader! And perhaps a little filth 👌🏻

Masterlist

[thesiltverses]

okay but what about faulkner light up sketchers?

I own two pairs of shoes and have no desire to possess any more or spend more time considering the topic of shoes in general, so I'm afraid this is not a distinction that's likely to sway me, but...

...just thinking about it, maybe the Parish would encourage their followers to wear some kind of parallel-universe crocs, since the holes would allow the sacred river to permeate through to our flesh. Are not impermeable shoes in fact a blasphemy, a kind of hubristic personal dam that seeks to stem the White Gull's flow?

And when our disciples are investigating the sacred river late at night, would it not be wise to wear some kind of discreet illuminating device to ensure that your pilgrimage partner can see you in the dark? And would such a device not be one that leaves the hands free in case of danger?

OK, you did it. You won me around on light-up crocs. They make total sense within the world. Sold.

[magicalbats]

Kinktober Day 8: Breeding

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 6762

Warnings: Afab!reader, Hunter/prey, noncon, baby trapping, lots of pregnancy talk, biting, marking, doggy style (Heh), vaginal sex, cream pie, pheromones, sex pollen? Kind of?? Don't know what else to call it lol

⭐

The forest could be a dangerous place if you didn’t keep your eyes open and pay attention. That was the very first thing he’d taught you. A hard lesson to learn after you’d nearly tumbled straight off a high embankment right into the croc infested waters below, just because you’d been a bit too distracted by the lush scenery to watch where you were going. He’d chided and lectured you for upwards of twenty minutes about safety, situational awareness, common sense and self preservation after none too gently yanking you back from the unseen ledge. 

A mother hen. That’s what you’d thought of him at the time. 

But he’d never warned you about this. Had never told you what to do when the impending threat did not stem from the forest itself or the wildlife that inhabited it. When he was the danger nipping at your heels rather than the crocs or the jaguars, or the territorial fungi defending their young. 

Somewhere along the way you seem to have forgotten that Tighnari was still a predator no matter how polite or friendly he may have otherwise seemed. 

Twigs and branches snap a deafening chorus around you as you barrel through the underbrush, barely even seeing where you’re running but just knowing you had to flee. It wasn’t so much a higher functioning thought as it was an instinctive compulsion that had gripped you in a chilling fist when you saw the way he’d looked at you back at the small camp. The way he’d prowled towards you, his well groomed tail stiff and flicking out behind him. You’d never seen Tighnari look at anyone like that before, least of all yourself, and it had scared you. There was no denying that when you were currently making a mad dash through the damp, sticky rainforest on the slim hope you’d be able to make it back to Gandharva Ville and dissuade him from further pursuit. 

But you also felt hot in a way that did not seem to have anything to do with exertion or the muggy, oppressive atmosphere in the oxygen dense environment. A bit dizzy, even though you should have had more than enough stamina to make the sprint without becoming faint. 

Confused and gasping, you reluctantly slow to a stop and reach out to brace your sweaty palm against the rough bark of a tree. The opposite hand presses over your middle, clutching at the deep stitch in your gut that was making it so difficult to breathe. What was happening to your body, now of all times? You don’t get to linger on that thought for very long. 

A soft, deliberate rustle of leaves somewhere behind you brings your head up with a sharp snap. Not only was Tighnari close but he wanted you to know it. You’d watched him track a large male boar that had turned overly aggressive at the height of its mating season rut without making more than a whisper on the forest floor. The wild, mindless thing hadn’t even realized it was in danger until it was much too late … He never would have allowed you to hear him moving around like that unless he wanted you to. 

Wait. 

Mating season? Rut? 

Your eyes go big, widening to the approximate size of dinner plates. But before you can fully process the implication of what that would mean, what it would suggest, you hear the snap of a branch directly behind you and quickly spin around. 

Tighnari offers you what you think is supposed to be an apologetic smile. But his usually crystal clear eyes are so shuttered and glazed over with some unknown heat that it does absolutely nothing to comfort you. The stark flush staining his round cheeks seems to stand out against his complexion like someone had taken harsh brushstrokes to his face. Perhaps most incriminating of all, though, is the way his sharply pointed, proud ears curl down to droop low over his skull. He was visibly a wreck, and he looks at you across the scant distance like you were dinner. 

“Sorry about that,” He murmurs in such a hushed voice you have to strain to hear it. “I knew this time of year was coming, but I thought I’d be able to better control myself than this. I wasn’t expecting you to start ovulating at the same time.” 

A shudder dances up your spine and you straighten, subconsciously digging your fingers into your stomach as you let go of the tree. So that was it, then. “It’s okay.” You whisper back. You were frantically trying to sort through your whirlwind thoughts without setting him off any further, avoiding both quick movements and loud noises. Maybe if you just stayed very, very still … “You just startled me, is all. I thought you were mad at me or something so I thought I’d head back early.” 

You force a quiet laugh, hoping to ease some of the tension sparking between you and him, but when Tighnari opens his mouth nothing comes out. He looks like he wants to groan as he slowly drags his gaze down your front, lingering briefly on your chest before sinking lower to lock on the hand you’ve got cupped around your middle. Shoulders stiffening in response, you force yourself to uncurl your arm and let it hang at your side. It doesn’t work though, and his hazy eyes remain locked on your belly even when you take a shuffling step back. 

Oh, this was not good. This wasn’t good at all. 

“Tighnari - -“ You start to say, but he cuts you off before you can try to reason with him. 

“Can you feel it too? The surge of hormones, the sensitivity … is your blood pumping as fast as mine is right now?” He takes a sedate step towards you then, and you quickly back up another pace. Looking a little sad about that, a little disappointed, he seems to force himself to stand still instead of pressing closer. “Humans can be funny creatures, you know. They’re just as susceptible to changes in environment as any other living organism, but they often overlook the real reason for their sudden mood swings or shifts in behavior. They think it’s some higher force dictating their actions. Like their sentience absolves them from hormonal influence.”

He pauses then, looking at you with such barely contained animal hunger it makes every single hair on your body stand on end. It was like he wanted to consume you. Rip you open and gorge himself on everything right down to the bones. Suddenly, you weren’t sure if he wanted to mate with you or eat you alive. 

But he just licks his lips after a time, clearly struggling to rein in his control. “I know you’re scared. I can taste it on the back of my tongue, but I promise I have no intention of hurting you. It’s just — sudden, isn’t it?” 

“That’s an understatement.” You grumble even as you force yourself to draw a deep, shuddering breath meant to ground you and calm your nerves.

But when you let it out with a stilted exhale Tighnari faintly shivers as if you’d physically touched him, his eyes slipping shut in what could only be savory pleasure. You can see his tail eagerly flicking behind him, like his every instinct was screaming at him to pounce and to claim, and to take; and a fresh wave of horror washes over you when you realize he’s scenting you on the air. Whatever you were currently feeling was only a very small, dulled fraction compared to his heightened senses. 

Idly, you think you should try running again, but he speaks before you can muster up the courage to follow through. 

“Do you know what else I taste? Arousal. So hot and thick it’s even overpowering your fear response. I don’t think you realize how innate your body’s reaction is to me right now.” Letting out a shuddering exhale of his own, Tighnari slowly looks at you again with an expression that is so miserable, so needy, it makes your knees grow weak.

And not because you were scared, you’re more than a little horrified to realize. 

“You’re so fertile it’s making it hard to even think straight. All I want to do is pin you down and bury myself in you for hours on end, and your subconscious hormonal response tells me you want the same. Humans can’t go into heat. Not really, anyway. They’ve long since lost the need for seasonal mating cues when they can reproduce at any time of the year thanks to their societal based advantages … but I think you’re the closest you can get to it right now. You don’t understand why you want me to take you to mate but you do feel compelled, don’t you?” 

You probably would have laughed if your heart wasn’t wedged inside your throat, threatening to choke you. Even at the height of his rut — that was the only thing you could think to call it — he was still so scientifically minded and intelligent that he was actively analyzing the situation, even lecturing you in the gentle, prodding way he always nudged you towards the right answer. It was almost insidious how benign this conversation would have otherwise been if you hadn’t been doing everything in your power to ignore the sharp throb in your lower belly. 

He was right. You did indeed feel a stifling amount of desire for him and your cunt seemed to squeeze around nothing every single time he mentioned or even alluded to mating, claiming, heat and, perhaps most alarming of all, reproduction. It was as if a venomous worm had crawled inside your brain while you were sleeping and taken up root there, influencing your decision making with its potent toxin. Your judgment was extremely clouded, yes, but even despite that you still recognized what a dangerous game this was. How foolish you would have been to play it. 

You wanted him, in that moment, more than you could ever remember wanting anything else, but the consequences of taking that plunge were another matter entirely. It was just too soon. You were still a young researcher, still had plenty of time to give yourself over to another and make a family together. Maybe it would be with Tighnari, maybe not. But like this? You just couldn’t rationalize it in your head. 

“Listen to me carefully,” You finally speak up, feeling like you were facing off with a very dangerous apex predator when his ears give an aggressive twitch and attentatively swivel towards you. “I understand what you’re saying. I feel it too. There’s no denying that, but I don’t think this is a good idea for either of us. You have so many responsibilities already and I do too. This isn’t the kind of decision we should make on a whim. I can’t — I don’t think I’m ready for that.” 

Rather than backing down, he surprises you by taking a sudden step forward. “If it’s your livelihood you’re worried about, I make more than enough to support you as well as any kits we might have. I can take care of you.” 

“K - kits!” You stammer, absolutely gobsmacked. 

“Yes, and it’s not like it’s unheard of for female researchers to suddenly become pregnant during their studies at the Akademiya or shortly after graduation. This is a normal part of life, and some of them even manage to return to their fields after having children. It doesn’t mean an end to your work, just a … pause in it.” 

You just stand there, gaping at him in shock and disbelief alike. That was all quite easy for him to say because he wouldn’t have to worry about the toll it would have on his body, the strain and stress of giving birth to another tiny, helpless life or taking care of it afterward the same way you would be expected to. He couldn’t make milk to feed a baby, he wouldn’t need to pause his work to stay up late tending to it or take hours out of his day to change and clean the damned thing. All of that would fall on you, and even if you could somehow manage to find enough energy to work on your research while juggling an infant at the same time … how much would you realistically be able to devote to those pursuits? How much would you waste just raising the offspring he was trying to foist on you? 

Going through with this would spell the end of your career and he had to have known that, so why? Why was he looking at you like what he’d said was perfectly reasonable and logical? Like you were the one with the problem? 

Your stomach cramps so hard it threatens to bowl you over on the spot and you stumble, blindly reaching back to brace against the tree again. He watches you do it with so much attentive interest it makes you feel vaguely like a bug being studied under a microscopic lens but you’re a bit too focused on trying not to hyperventilate to pay it much mind. You felt like you were going to be sick. Never before have you experienced such suffocating, oppressive dread and you have no idea how to process any of it. 

But then, he makes the decision for you. 

When he takes another step closer you bolt, lurching into a dead sprint that nearly sends you tripping head over heels into the underbrush. You manage to keep your balance though, somehow, and you careen through the trees at such a blind dash it’s a wonder you don’t knock yourself out slamming into anything. 

The heavy sound of his footfalls behind you doesn’t come as a shock but it does encourage you to run faster, harder, your legs screaming in protest while you gallop across the uneven terrain as fast as they can carry you. A stray root catches your foot and makes you stumble, but even then you don’t stop. It feels like your heart is going to erupt right out of your chest cavity at any given moment and you just keep running like your life depended on it because, well. It probably did. 

You aren’t sure how far you actually make it or for how long he lets the pursuit go on, but you’re distinctly aware of him right on your heels the entire time, much to the detriment of your quaking nerves. Tighnari keeps pace with you easily enough though, making it quite clear that you were at a sore disadvantage in the forest he knew like the back of his own hand, and you realize it’s a losing battle long before he actually puts an end to it. You weren’t sure how much more of this terrible hunt your body could handle. 

You’re so strung out that it almost comes as a relief when he finally slams into you from behind and lands on top of you in the dirt and grass, crushing you under his sturdy weight. Gasping and heaving from the impact as much as exertion, you jerk your head up as if to scream — thinking perhaps you were close enough to Gandharva Ville that someone might hear you — but you don’t get the chance. 

Aggressively curling himself over your shuddering body, Tighnari slips a gloved hand under your jaw to keep your neck craned back and slams his mouth against yours. It’s not so much a kiss as it is nipping teeth and bared fangs, but it still muffles the plaintive shriek you let out against his lips. You feel him shift on top of you and slowly grind against your ass, his knees forcing you to stay in place where they bracket your hips, and you outright choke at the hard press of his straining cock. He takes quick advantage of it and delves his tongue into your mouth, claiming every inch of you he can reach as you groan around the intrusion. 

It’s like there’s a second heartbeat between your legs now, just as frantic and uncontrollable as the one in your chest, and it pulses so hard it almost hurts when he humps you with increasingly fast, stuttering snaps of his hips. You think he’s completely lost control if he can’t even wait to get your pants down, the total absence of his usual calm, levelheaded demeanor a decidedly bad sign for how this was going to play out. You didn’t think you could stop him … but maybe, just maybe you could reason with him. 

“Tighnari!” You croak when he finally, abruptly disengages from your mouth. Sucking in harsh, gasping mouthfuls of air as he directs his attention to your jaw and your neck, mindlessly nipping at your skin, you desperately try to think of something to say that might persuade him to listen. Easier said than done, of course, but you finally settle on, “I don’t mind having sex with you - -“

“Thank you, thank you,” He practically sobs against your pulse, sounding so needy and desperate it inspires a sympathetic flutter low in your gut. “You’ll be an amazing mother, I just know it. Thank you.”

“N - no!” Blindly reaching around, you try to shove at him with one hand but it’s no use. He’s solid and unbudging on top of you. “We can have sex but — ahhn! But you can’t cum inside! Do you hear me? You have to pull out!” 

A vibrating growl rises low in his chest, bleeding into you as he seems to settle his weight more firmly across your back. You choke at the sensation of him laying out on top of you, his legs splayed wide to press the full brunt of his straining cock into your defenseless backside while his feet hook over your calves. In a move that would have greatly impressed you under better circumstances, he forces your legs apart in this prone position until it feels like the only thing stopping him from claiming you right then and there is the thin layer of clothes separating him from you. Completely vulnerable and helpless like this, all you can do is lay there and take it when he starts thrusting his hips again. 

“If we mate,” He snarls into your ear, grunting at the sensation of his cock dragging over your cunt. “There won’t be any stopping it. No pulling out. You will be mine and that will be the end of it.” 

Letting out a keening groan, so low and heavy it seems to make your eyes vibrate in their sockets, you weakly claw at the dirt in an attempt to ground yourself. You could tell you were slipping under now, your body running so hot on fast pumping adrenaline and potent endorphins that you couldn’t help but crave the release he promised. It was sickening, in a way, the instinctive arch of your back. The way you subtly angle your throbbing cunt up at him, welcoming the pressure of him digging into you. How he just keeps grinding and thrusting until you’re hyper aware of not only how soaked you were but how badly you actually wanted to feel him moving like that inside of you. 

You didn’t just want it, you needed it. 

“Ahhn … T - Tighnari! If you really get me pregnant - -“

“Not if.” He cuts across you so forcefully you seethe, squeezing your eyes shut in distress. “I will. There really isn’t any room for debate on this. You’re so fertile, sweetheart. I can taste it. Your mind might not be in agreement, but your body is just begging to be taken and bred. This is what you were made for, don’t you see?” 

Choking on your protests, you plaintively shake underneath him when he somehow manages to wedge his hands under your sweaty, heaving body. It’s a tight, pinching squeeze and you hiss as he palms at your top and roughly yanks to get it pulled up. Realizing what he’s doing, you twist underneath him with renewed frenzy but it’s useless. He’s got you so thoroughly pinned all you can do is let him inch it up bit by bit until your tits finally spill out and you seethe when they touch the cool ground. You didn’t really want to be taken like this, like an animal in the dirt, but even trying to desperately cling to your shirt isn’t enough to dissuade him, and he soon has it yanked right over your head. 

You just barely manage to snag at one of the sleeves when he carelessly tosses it aside, trying to pull it back towards you even if only so you can spread it out under your body, but you’re not quick enough. Tighnari’s hands immediately slip under you again, and you outright yelp when he squeezes at your chest in a much too tight hold. The sound that comes out of you is haggard and bleating, and he ignores it completely in favor of kneading the bountiful flesh with a quiet groan of his own. 

“You really were made for this,” He seems to marvel, the awed inflection in his raspy voice doing nothing to make you think it was a compliment. “Your breasts have a good shape and the weight of them is pleasing as well, but the fat distribution suggests you’ll not only produce high quality milk but plenty of it too. Even if we were to have twins, I suspect you would have no issues keeping them fed and happy.” 

You twist against his hold, hating the words as much as the way he squishes your tits in his fingers. “N - nooooo!” 

“Yes.” Shoving his face into the dampened crook of your neck, he issues another low snarl against your pulse. “Just thinking about you holding one of my kits to your chest is going to make me cum … I really don’t think I can control myself much longer. I'm so sorry, sweetheart, but … but I’m not going to let you up off the ground until I’m sure you’ve been properly bred. You’ll be with child long before I’m through with you today, I promise. I promise.” 

His breath catching as if just saying it was enough to make him feel pleasure unlike any other, Tighnari nuzzles into you with an affectionate little rumble in his throat that sounds oddly like a pur. It’s almost enough to stop you in your tracks, because you’ve never heard him make a sound like that before, but then he directs his fingers to the tips of your breasts and you can’t quite stop yourself from squawking when he latches onto the nipples. 

“These are also nice. A little small right now, but I’m sure that will quickly change once you start producing milk. They’re firm but pliant, and,” He pauses to give them a quick, biting pinch and a squeeze, making you wail underneath him. “Very receptive by the looks of it. That might prove to be an issue, though it shouldn’t be anything too major.” 

“Nghn … w - what do you mean?” 

“Hm? Oh, I just meant it might cause you some discomfort at first, with the fangs and all.” 

Groaning, you weakly drop your head to rest on the grass in complete and utter defeat. You were exhausted and horrified at how casually he was discussing this but even that was not enough to deter your own pulsing arousal from robbing you of the will to fight. His perfectly reasonable, if not breathless, manner of speaking on these matters wasn’t exactly helping either. It was a little hard to keep up the pretense of being an unwilling participant in all this when he made it sound so perfectly benign … so normal. So expected that you don’t protest when he hunches further over you to put his face close to yours; big, crystalline eyes taking in your expression from a scant few millimeters away. 

Evidently seeing that resignation reflected back at him, he tips his head and seals his mouth over yours. You accept his kiss without complaint this time, slowly giving yourself over to the steady pull of his lips. Rather than aggressive nipping and biting, it’s something much more tender and soft, and you moan faintly when he continues to flick over your nipples until they feel oversensitized and raw. It takes you a long beat to realize he’s stilled his hips, just resting on top of you now, but you don’t miss why. Even with a few layers of clothes between you and Tighnari, you can faintly make out the intense pulse of him where he’s pressed tight against your cunt. 

It doesn’t last long though, and you take a gasping breath of fresh air when he finally pulls back some moments later. His hands reluctantly drag down off your chest to find the hem of your pants, which he quickly fumbles with to get them pulled down. A fresh sense of urgency rushes in to replace the temporary calm that had fallen over the small clearing he’d pinned you in, and you quickly start to breathe harder as he works your last remaining clothes down your legs. You never thought you’d find yourself spread out on the forest floor like this … but there is no denying the way the vibrating tension in your body doubles, and then triples when you feel air hit your exposed backside. No denying how you shudder so intensely you feel sick with it, and arch your back to present yourself to him like — like a bitch in heat. 

“Tighnari, please!” 

Abruptly, he seems to give up and he leaves your slacks bunched around your thighs in favor of impatiently grabbing hold of your hips so he can yank you back against him. A startled yelp bursts out of you as you’re forced onto your hands and knees, trembling at the heavy press of his cock from behind. Tighnari grinds against you for a brief moment, emphasizing how very wet you are for him when his own slacks brush over your cunt to smear sticky slick, and then he’s quickly fumbling to get them shoved out of the way. 

Breasts swaying, you twist around to look back at him but you don’t get the chance to really see anything. One second he’s reaching between your bodies and the next he’s leaning into you, your mouth dropping open on a silent scream when the blunt head of him starts to sink into your entrance. You’d known you were heady with arousal but it still comes as something of a shock when he simply slides against your guts, gliding easily into your cunt until the sudden stretch becomes too much and you cry out. 

Softly shushing you, he readjusts his weight and brings both hands up to clutch at your hips again so he can hold you in place while he leans over you. You moan, haggard and strained, as he settles along your back not unlike before; but this time when he shoves his face into the crook of your neck he suddenly bites down. Hard. 

“Wait - -!”  

There’s nothing you can do to stop it. At first it’s just a sharp, debilitating pressure and then the next second you feel his teeth break the skin, tiny little canines sinking deep into flesh. The puncture wound burns on the tender side of your neck and you choke on some kind of hurt little animal sound, stiffly jerking against him. But you were effectively trapped with the risk of tearing open your own pulse hanging over your head like this, and all you can do is loose a frantic, pained groan when he starts to nudge his hips forward again, gradually sinking the rest of the way inside you. 

You understood now, why he’d delayed this long enough to let you relax into it and come to terms with the fact you even wanted it at all. He’d lulled you into a false sense of security just so you wouldn’t be fighting him tooth and nail when the time came for him to finally leave his mark on you … it was insidious and cruel, and you wince when each pulsing throb in your cunt seems to reflect in your neck. It’s not lost on you that this is a twofold attack meant to dominate and disable in the same breath, so stricken by the pain and the searing stretch that you just kneel there in the dirt without even making an attempt to struggle against it. 

Finally, he settles into your upturned ass and issues a huffy, muffled groan against your neck to send fresh jolts of hurt shooting through your nerves. His grip on your waist is bruising, but barely noticeable when compared to everything else you were feeling. For a drawn out beat, the two of you just stay like that, perfectly still and panting hard against each other until, at last Tighnari angles his cock back. It’s a stilted, painfully slow drag against your guts but he quickly pushes back in without pulling out all the way, jostling you slightly to make your tits sway. Hissing through clenched teeth, you dig your nails into the ground underneath you while he steadily works himself up to a quick, snappy pace that soon has you rocking against him to the loud plap, plap, plap of skin hitting skin. 

Without warning, he suddenly loosens his jaw and you outright wail at the sensation of his teeth receding from your skin. It’s immediately replaced by the soft, wet warmth of his tongue lapping at the wound as if to clean it, a soft whimper coming from him in apology. Still, though, he doesn’t stop fucking you, his rigid cock spearing up into your cunt so forcefully you sway unsteadily on your hands and knees. It was too much. He was jackhammering you way too hard, too fast, and you couldn’t brace against it. 

“Tighnari — wha - wait a second!” 

That faint, vaguely cat-like pur rises in him again and you shudder uncontrollably when it seems to vibrate straight through you. He turns his head to bury his face in your shoulder, panting and gasping while his hands abandon your aching hips in favor of groping at your front. Your tits were still tender after the first time though, and you can’t quite stop yourself from crying out when he pinches your nipples again. He grunts when your cunt clamps down around him in response then does it again, tugging at your sore little teats until you wildly buck underneath him. 

“Oh! Archons!”

That’s the last thing you manage to get out before the coil snaps. His cock is so hard and demanding that it seems to hit that spot deep inside you every time he plunges inside, and even devolving into a shuddering, writhing mess against him isn’t enough to make him slow down. He fucks you right through it even when you whine in overstimulated agony, pussy flexing around that stiff intrusion so hard it makes you feel faint. Dizzy. You felt like you were going to pass out, and you scrabble at the ground for something to hold on to. You were sure your body couldn’t take much more of this brutal pace but he showed no signs of slowing down anytime soon. 

“Please —!” 

“I told you, didn’t I?” Tighnari hisses against your skin, shuddering against your back. “I’m not going to let you up until - ngh! Until you’ve been properly bred! I’m sorry but I - I promised!” 

Bleating like a wounded animal, you futilely try to angle away from him — just for a moment's reprieve, even a short one — but he just follows you, pressing himself flush to your shuddering frame. The added weight of him settling on top of you like that is too much for your shaking arms and you collapse into the grass, moaning raggedly when he simply follows you down. 

His hands move to squeeze around your rib cage, making your already labored breath hitch, but he just drags his palms down to take hold of your hips again. Rather forcefully, he pulls you back against him until you were balanced on your knees, the upper half of your body stretched out along the ground. You choke on a flustered sound when you feel your tits drag across the dirt, swaying heavily in this position, but that hardly seemed to be the most pressing matter at the moment. 

Somehow Tighnari manages to piston into you even faster like this and each plunging thrust of his hips seems to steal the air from your lungs. The deafeningly loud sound of your sticky cunt sucking him in deep, readily welcoming him and trying to pull him in even deeper, rushes in to join the sharp slap of his pelvis meeting your ass. Your body responds eagerly though, even at the cost of your own dignity, and your eyes start to roll back when you feel a second orgasm fast approaching, much sooner than you could have ever anticipated. 

This was insane. No one single cock should have been perfectly tailor made to slot inside your body like a missing puzzle piece and yet, that’s exactly how it felt. The shape of him was contoured just right to hit every pleasure inducing bump and ridge along the way, the length perfect to stroke you right where you needed it most. Even the stiffness of his cock was exactly what your pulsing guts craved, unrelenting and hard but still pliant enough to adjust to your internal pressure. It was like … 

It was like you really had been made for this. 

That chilling thought is what sends you over the edge, and you shriek so wildly through the convulsions he has to slip his arm forward and cover your mouth. Squealing behind his palm, you jerk and ride out the waves of mind numbing pleasure, jerking uncontrollably on his cock, but even then he doesn’t relent for even a second. He’s got you so thoroughly pinned under the driving weight of his pelvis that you’re forced to keep your back arched even through your shuddering climax, and the sloppy wet sounds of penetration only seem to grow even louder. You felt like you were dripping all over yourself and leaving damp little patches in the dirt under your spread legs, and a hot jab of embarrassment spears through you at the thought. 

No one had ever made you feel like this before, so overwhelmed and helpless to do anything but shake and drool obscene amounts of slick out of your cunt. It was quite easily the hottest experience of your life. 

You’re so aroused, so very turned on by the total domination of your body that even your mind starts to slip, and by the time his breathing becomes sharply uneven you don’t even have the wherewithal to beg him to pull out. You just lay there, spread out underneath him, eyes rolling in doped out bliss while you heatedly groan behind his hand, and convulse on his stuttering cock. He was close and that was obvious even when you were lolling in and out of full consciousness from getting fucked within an inch of your life, but you still lift a shuddering hand to weakly grasp at his arm where it’s lock around your front. Something told you you’d want to hold on for this. 

“Oh! M’gonna’ cum! I’m cumming, sweetheart, I’m cumming! Are you ready? Ready for me to fill you up?” He wheezes against the side of your head, entire body juddering with the intensity of his impending release as much as the exertion. “I’m going to breed you, I’m — ahhn — I’m breeding you, sweetheart, I’m cumming!” 

Whining low in your throat, aching and sore, and well past the point of overstimulation, you writhe under him and instinctively tip your pelvis up to better accept his seed. He doesn’t miss it and a full bodied tremor overtakes him, making him shake so hard it’s a struggle to keep pounding into you. But he manages, somehow, his hips snapping at an uneven, frantic pace now until finally — finally, Tighnari lets out a deep, half strangled groan that rises in pitch, becoming gaspy and needy at the tail end as his cock jumps and sputters inside you. 

You’re distinctly aware of the moment his semen hits your clenching guts in a hot, stifling pulse and your mouth drops open but nothing comes out. Spurt after heavy spurt, it just keeps coming to settle deep within you until it feels like you’re drowning in it. The sensation alone is almost enough to send you quaking right over the edge into another orgasm, the weakly contracting muscles in your cunt locked up in dizzying tension, but you manage to stave it off as your head starts to clear. Barely, though. Just barely. 

Even in this fucked out state you still realized that the very last thing you needed was for another orgasm to pull his load even further into your body and run the risk of encouraging fertilization. There was still a chance you could reverse this, if you made it back to Gandharva Ville in time … 

Pulled from your muddled, hazy thoughts, you let out a quiet whimper when he slowly eases back and slips out with an embarrassingly loud wet pop. The motion seems to pull with it a quickly cooling dribble of cum that oozes down your cunt, running over sticky creases and folds. You shudder at the sensation even as you gingerly push up to your elbows and glance down at yourself only for your eyes to nearly pop right out of your skull when you see how much semen is actually coming out of you. It hadn’t felt like that much to your abused innards but the proof of it is right in front of you. It’s a thick, creamy thread that stretches from your cunt, dangling tauntingly between your legs, rather than the clear little droplet you'd expected, and you feel immediate panic rise in your chest. 

That couldn’t be right … if he’d ejaculated that much then  — how much was actually inside of you? 

You just couldn’t wrap your head around it. 

Shifting on his knees behind you and evidently oblivious to the internal crises you were currently facing, Tighnari reaches down and catches that sticky thread on his gloved finger so he can push it back inside you. Grimacing at the sight as much as the sensation, you screw your eyes shut and try counting to ten. This was fine. As long as you made it back before fertilization took place, you could still take a contraceptive herb. Maybe two, just to be sure. 

But, to your surprise, when you move to get up, still trembling and panting, he just grabs ahold of your hips to halt you in place and you prickle defensively. Twisting around to look back at him, you choke on whatever you’d wanted to say when you realize how he’s looking at you. Still hungry, still hazy. Oh, this was most assuredly not good. 

“Tighnari - -“

“Not yet.” He murmurs, dragging you closer to press his pelvis flush against yours, and you practically jump out of your skin when you realize his cock is already half hard, quickly filling out again. You stammer in protest, heart thudding a frightened little pitter patter against your chest, but he just leans across your back to put his face close to yours, focus attentively locked on your expression. “We need to make sure it took, sweetheart. I promised to breed you, didn’t I?” 

Ignoring your soft whimpers, he closes the distance and seals his mouth over yours, kissing you so slowly it makes your head spin. You couldn’t believe he still had the stamina or the desire to keep going after that … but more than anything you couldn’t believe yourself. 

Cunt eagerly throbbing in response, you rear back on him with a low, stilted moan, even when every fiber of your being was screaming at you to run. It was like you were intoxicated. Drunk on all the pheromones he was putting out and consumed with a need so great even your higher functioning mind couldn’t fight it. 

And so distantly you almost don’t even notice it, the bite on your neck pulses.

⭐

Crossposted here

[diminuel]

Given that it's confirmed that former Kuja Empress Gloriosa, was a member of the Rock's Pirates, after she fell in love with a different member of the Rock's... we could have in universe exploration of Crocodile being the child of Rock or Whitebeard and Gloriosa. Making the Kuja background a possibility, even if you've moved away from it. This also explains why Crocodile is being raised on the ship if both his parents are there.

This also gives a few avenues for Crocodile to escape God Valley! Crocodile could have left with his mom and snuck back to Amazon Lily. Or given it was known Crocodile is of Kuja decent it could be said all Kuja women give bith to only girls, and no one would be looking for a little boy matching Crocodile's description as you've said. Or Gloriosa knowing Crocodile is a boy, tells Crocodile to run and change his clothes with a girl who had been wearing more boy clothing, and Gloriosa then picks up the dead child and wails about her daughter being dead. This gives the world government "proof" the child of Xebec or Whitebeard is dead. If Whitebeard is Crocodile's dad maybe he didn't know Gloriosa lied like this, and believes his daughter really did die, and half the fight he and Crocodile get into later is Whitebeard becoming enraged for Crocodile claiming to be his child, thinking Crocodile is lying.

Regardless all options full of angst and more ways to incorporate some of your ideas together maybe.

(Some of Crocodile's bad time growing up with the Rock's Pirates could stem from his mother not understanding what being Trans is and not accepting him. I'm all for mother's being bad parents too, not just father's)

I do still have a Kuja Crocodile AU~ Though it wouldn't take too much wiggling around to make it work with Croc's parents being Gloriosa and either WB or Xebec. It might still be interesting.

Caveat to start out with though: in that AU Crocodile would grow up as a woman, especially if Gloriosa might have taken the kid on Amazon Lily. I think it might be interesting if Gloriosa also thought that the kid had died and finds her again because she's not that good at covering her trail yet and then brings her to Amazon Lily. But Gloriosa is ostracized, though if Shakky has already left Amazon Lily too she might be allowed to hang around a bit so as not to leave the island without a leader. And Crocodile would do well within Amazon Lily I think.

But I'm also in favor of bad female parents ;3 Though I don't think Crocodile being trans would be an issue that comes up that early. But there are other ways for Gloriosa to deal quite a bit of emotional damage to Crocodile. Especially if she would try to make her as different from the hissy child on Rocks' ship, raise her into someone feminine and beautiful and strong. Push the idea of community, of the good of the island outweighing her own interests - which is exactly the opposite thing Gloriosa did and would lead to some self-destructive behavior that makes Crocodile end up temporarily ship wrecked with the Freedom Fighters / Revolutionary Army.

I'm not sure what the confrontation with WB would be though. *scratches head* I didn't get that far in my Kuja Crocodile daydreaming X'D The timeline would have to be different anyway...

[ddejavvu]

hey! i just broke up w my bf of almost two years today and have been really sad.

I wanted to thank you for your works bc there helping me get through this. your hotch x reader works are keeping me sane

idk if your interested but maybe a request of reader breaking up with their partner and is very sad was bc they were so busy w the bau and life so they think its best and hotch is there for her and comforts them. he has feelings for them but doesnt want to make a move bc yk newly single. but he does little things to make her feel better bc he likes to see her smile :)

this is completely self service so you dont have to write but i love you works i think ur my fav writer on here :) i hope all is well love 💜

hi lovey! first off, i'm so sorry that you're going through a breakup. I hope that this can help even just a little bit, please take care of yourself and eat something yummy <333

--

Today holds new experiences for both you and Aaron. For example, you've never seen him in sweatpants before, and he's never seen you with 4 hours worth of tear-induced eye bags.

As luck would have it, when you turn into the tissue aisle, the metal bars of another cart smash into your own. They weren't going fast, but you were, hellbent on getting what you need and getting out again, so the screeching of metal on metal only makes your headache worse.

"Sorry," You rush, keeping your eyes averted as you yank your cart away from the other. You keep conversation short, but the voice that comes from the person you'd just rammed into makes you stiffen instinctually.

"Y/N?"

It's Hotch.

It's your boss, the man who you try extra hard to be nothing but professional around. The man who's seen you only in perfectly dry cleaned pantsuits and neat hair is seeing you in pajama pants and crocs with a nose so swollen it looks like you've been stung by a bee.

"Hotch," You cringe, nodding politely as you try maneuvering your cart around his, "Sorry for bumping into you. I was in a hurry."

"I can see that," He grabs onto the bars of your cart to stop you from pushing it anywhere, and you chance a cautious look up at his face; his brow is knit in concern, and his eyes are shining with the same look. But your glance upwards reveals that his son is with him, a boy no more than four years old sitting in the cart and looking at you with a tiny hint of terror on his little face, something that probably stems from your no-makeup zombie look. He's mid-chew on a tiny handful of popcorn that he'd probably begged his dad for at the front.

"What happened?" Aaron asks, pulling your attention back to him, and you're slightly relieved he doesn't go for 'Are you alright?'. Clearly, you're not.

"Uh," You sniffle, chuckling dryly, "Bad breakup. Just- getting some tissues, that's all."

"Oh." He hums, hand loosening on your cart, "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Um," You glance around the store, knowing not many people are there, but it would still be weird to open up a therapy session in the TP aisle, "No, it's okay. Thank you, though. Really, I appreciate it."

"Okay," Aaron nods, though none of the concern has left his expression, "But if you'd like to some other time, please remember I'm here if you need me. Even if it's late, if you need help I'll give it to you."

His sincerity brings a fresh wave of tears to your eyes that he smiles sadly at, and you smear a hand over your eyes to get rid of them, "Thanks, Hotch."

"Mhm," He hums, looking ready to let you go until his son hooks a chubby fist into his shirt.

"Hm?" Aaron looks down, and leans his head next to Jack's when the little boy tugs him closer.

They huddle for a moment, Jack whispering into Aaron's ear, and the man's hand tightens around your cart once more. Just when you thought you'd escaped.

"I think you should." Aaron nods, straightening up, glancing over, and nodding his head towards you, "Go ahead, buddy."

Jack looks up at you with that same hint of apprehension you'd seen earlier, but he digs a fist into his popcorn bucket and extends the hand to you. You actually feel your heart melting, the organ liquifying and dripping through your ribcage to pool like goo in your stomach.

"Uh- maybe," Aaron reaches for the bucket, intent on giving you a handful that hasn't touched sticky toddler hands, but you take Jack's offering without hesitation.

"Thank you, honey," You croon, and he drops the kernels into your open palm, "That does help, popcorn makes me much less sad."

"Daddy makes it for movie night." Jack's voice is soft and sweet, and you smile, sniffling weakly once more.

"Really? That sounds fun, what movies do you watch?"

"We're watching Monsters University tonight," Aaron informs you, then his posture straightens as an idea blooms in his brain, "Y'know, if popcorn makes you less sad, I think you should come and have some with us."

"Oh," Your eyes widen slightly, and you shake your head on impulse, "No, that's okay. I couldn't-"

"I'm asking you to." It's the firm voice Aaron uses whenever he's giving someone orders around the office; you suppose he can't separate his work life and home life completely.

"I don't like the thought of you being alone," Aaron admits, eyeing the ice cream already in your cart, "How about we pick up another pint and head to checkout?"

"I'll be okay," You reach for a package of tissues, extra large, "Don't worry about it, Aaron."

You don't see it, but Aaron pinches Jack's side lightly, spurring the boy into action.

"Please come over tonight," Jack begs, and you swear he's making his eyes shiny on purpose, "Mike Wazowski is funny, and you can't be sad if you're watching something funny."

Aaron raises his eyebrows at you, and you see the faint hint of a smirk playing at his lips; got you.

You take a deep breath in, speaking on the exhale, "Alright. Um, can I bring anything else?"

"Pajamas, maybe." Aaron hums, "Movie nights are always better in pajamas."

You glance disdainfully down at your outfit, ragged pajama pants and a sweatshirt, "Check."

"Perfect," Aaron chuckles, finally letting go of your cart and turning it towards the ice cream aisle, "Let's go, buddy, if Y/N's coming over tonight, you need a bath. She doesn't wanna sit with a stinky boy."

"I'm not stinky!" Jack insists, looking like he's never been more offended in his life.

Aaron leans in, theatrically sniffing at the space near Jack's shoulder. He bugs his eyes out, turning his head to the side and fake-coughing, "Woah."

Jack roars with laughter at his dad's dramatics, feet kicking at his Aaron's stomach, and the sound of his giggles make the popcorn you're munching on taste a little bit sweeter.

[the-fabled-void]

Headcanons I've written in my discord server over the span of ~10 months 

Warnings: Lust mentioned at the very end, will be under a cut, The last part of Horror's section is also under the cut for an implied ED, and emetophobia

Misc/AU instead of Sans related, multiple at once: 

All actual Sanses have the same birthday, but they celebrate their creation days as one too, if they know it most Sanses talk in sans-serif type fonts  Only Classic talks in Comic Sans  Dream, Nightmare, and Fresh don't talk in a sans serif font at all Error's* font is also different Outertale: When you're in a quiet spot, you can actually hear the stars twinkle (hc inspired by a part of my comfort MLP fan animation Snowdrop) AUs have cultural differences, and I'm not talking about stuff that's obvious like Underfell You know how some creators speak more than just english? What if it's because their underground is located under a mountain in a different part of the world Not only do AUs have different languages sometimes but also different accents

Classic

Classic doesn't have inside or outside clothes, he sleeps with the clothes he wears outside He'd love Weird Al's music Would absolutely wear crocs  Smells faintly like books and chemicals even if he hasn't been in a library or lab recently Do you think he washes that jacket if it's not stained? Absolutely not  Sci: smells like plastic wrapped books that have just been opened

Killer

is really good at pretending to be sober when drunk (In the more fanon bad sanses dynamic) forces the rest of the bad sanses do take stupid BuzzFeed quizzes Smells like handwritten books Stage 1/2 has a lot of quiet moments where he just analyses listens to Set It Off

Cross

listens to Nightcore music & Set It Off

hogs blankets

Cross, I love you...you use axe body spray

Absolutely illegal that people think Cross is taller than Dream, he's shorter

Any time Cross and Epic are in a room together, they're glued to each others side even if theyre currently arguing

Nightmare

has a high alcohol tolerance, you can't tell me those apples weren't rotten enough to be alcoholic would talk in the Money Penny font

Ink

The star sanses go to cafes and judge people's outfits jokingly, as if Ink with his toeless socks can judge anyone

Their  alcohol tolerance is highly dependand on what vials he drinks before 

sends either an insane amount of small voice notes or one really long one, no in between

They're strong enough to pick people up but it looks so funny because they're so short

Ink, as a parent, would be the exact opposite of those 'Beige moms' 

He refuses to deprive his kids of sensory input like that Would be fascinated by Killer's soul

They sneeze like a dad

Coffee has no effect on them

We all agree his vials are like mental illness medication right? 

Error: 

Can hear Undertale's soundtrack sometimes and it drives him wild 

*His font is partially comic sans, partially other sans serif fonts

Gets headaches very easily

Smells like comic books, especially those that smell more like printer ink

We already know Error's eyesight is shit, but it's especially horrible and close to nonexistent on his smaller eye

Geno 

Soul beats very unevenly

gets drunk really easily bc he's constantly bleeding, so there's less alcohol-free blood in his system for it to filter out (cough cough CPAU)

I feel like he would die from a sip of energy drink

Once he gets to the surface, he'll suffer from chronic headaches and other pains 

He would would drop his backstory exactly the way dads drop Dad Lore (if you know, you know) 

Geno looks like a coffee drinker but drinks tea

Smells like old books, specifically dry basement ones

Reaper

has haphephobia that stems from his death touch

At the same time, touch starved af

He drinks coffee despite having tea drinker vibes to people

Fell

Sometimes he just imagines random shit happening that would make him angry, and then gets angry over that

His summer outfit is the exact same but a sleeveless sweater under his jacket instead of a normal one

can only make 3 recipes and burns those sometimes too

giggles after getting kissed (he will deny this) 

Uses Old Spice deo 

Short king short king

has shoplifted before

Swap/Blue

gets hungry really fucking quickly

(I have a huge hc list specifically for him)

Dream

is a coffee drinker

He gives me the vibes of old people trying to use modern slang, but doing so incorrectly

sucks at modern technology

Once he finds out about emojis, it's over for everyone

is into astrology

the opposite of a Disney princess. Animals don't like him

Dream's insults hit harder than Nightmare's, he just knows what hurts you 

High alcohol tolerance

Ccino 

exhausted

has a Morning Special he makes himself before working at his cafe. It has way too much caffeine in it

One day Dream walked into his cafe, Ccino took a good look at him and gave him his Morning Special™

Only certain people can drink it though - this means both that only some tolerate it, but also that Ccino only gives it to some

Dust/Murder

Soul beats faster than others' souls

has absolutely horrible posture

jumps to conclusions easily 

Dust hated Swap as soon as he first met him 

I mean, Dust doesn't like himself much for he did, ESPECIALLY to his brother

So a Sans who acts kinda like a Papyrus? Nuh uh 

Is this the basis of Dustberry? 

Anyway

Smells like an old, slightly burnt book

Concept: Phantom Papyrus but he used to be a hallucination that turned into an actual ghost somehow -> Phantom and XChara can see each other

Horror

doesn't like horror movies much

he's seen enough shit

Likes chickens 

Hc for fanon horror: cooking for the bad sanses, at first didn't trust anyone else

Canon Horror probably can't cook very well 

Faint smell of damp books

TW ED, TW Lust

Horror has moments where he binge eats and then regrets it later

Lust

Is like the only Sans who enjoys warm weather

Infertile, compromises by being a cool ass babysitter

Loves flowers

A tea drinker

Transatlantic accent

Listens to Mitski 

When he's looking at something he likes/loves, his eye lights turn monster soul shaped instead of heart shaped

[trashogram]

Kinktober Day Seventeen — Aftercare

Warning: F!Reader, implied rough sex, blood mention, hypothetical sexual injury mention

You whined in protest as you were lifted up by rough hands, your back crushed against a solid wall of muscle and scales. The loss of almost immobilizing fullness as you were pulled off Waylon’s cock was disorienting, especially while you were still sensitive and twitching.

“Quit it.” He growled lowly. “‘F I don’t take ya off now, you ‘n I know you’re gonna be stuck on me.”

Despite his brusque reprimand, the infamous Killer Croc maneuvered you into a bridal carry with seasoned gentleness. You hummed, falling limp in his arms like a winter-run flower.

“Don’t pretend you wouldn’t love that.” You teased.

The con scoffed before your sliver-shaped eyes as you fell into a light doze. Croc rose from the couch, heedless of the way your combined fluids ran down his legs. You had to wonder how he was able to walk so steadily after fucking your pussy into oblivion, since objectively he’d done most of the work, but the thought drifted in and out like clouds over a placid sea.

When next you opened your eyes, you were propped on your bathroom sink. Water rushed from the bathtub faucet while Croc pivoted from checking the temperature to parting your legs. A breath shuddered out of your lungs, feeling tiny sparks of interest in your clit.

“… Looks ok.” The crocodilian man said. “No blood.”

“Mmm,” Words were still tricky for your post-mindblowing sex brain, but you reached for Croc to rest your hand on his cheek.

You tried to channel the appreciation and trust you held for Waylon into the simple gesture. He was still reticent about your lovemaking, always looking to see if he’d harmed you ever since the first time. It stemmed from a reasonable concern, although you’d reassured him on multiple occasions that if you were hurt, you’d alert him immediately.

The bathroom tilted downward, or perhaps that was you tipping over the sink counter onto your lover. Croc caught you before you truly fell, enveloping you in warmed, solid arms.

You blinked as you were submerged in warm, lavender-scented water. Moments had been misplaced again, but you felt Croc beneath you, comforting and stalwart, before you say his silvery-gray scales beneath the sudsy surface.

“Bubbles!” You chirped, head rested under his strong jaw. “Aw, you shouldn’t have.”

You splashed at the water with an indolent hand, muscles still too overworked.

Killer Croc snorted as he stroked your back with tender claws. “Just cos ya like ‘em, baby.”

[slightlyobsessedwitheverything]

TELL ME ABOUT GIRL DAD BUCK 🤲

oh my god ok i posted that and then almost immediately logged off to go to a concert 🙈

but girl dad buck! this has been a collaborative effort with my bestest friend @probablynotpoppin that all stemmed from this text

her name is lily :) she’s 5 years old

her mom was a one time hookup pre-abby. she did intend to raise lily, but exigent circumstances caused her to relinquish custody. that is when buck finds out about her. and of course he takes her. that’s his baby girl.

she was born in october of 2018, and came into buck’s custody only around a month or so before the firetruck bombing. so buck was STRUGGLING trying to take care of himself AND a 6 month old. luckily, his family (namely bobby and eddie) steps up.

but anyway, on to lily!!!!

she ends up with her mom’s dark hair and eyes, but she has buck’s smile. buck thinks she looks just like a little maddie :)

she LOVES bugs. she’s the kind of kid who walks around with worms in her pockets and catches bugs at recess. she wants to be a bug scientist when she grows up (eddie HATES bugs and Will Not let her bring them into his house)

she also loves crocs and the color yellow and having princess tea parties with her dad and eddie (and eventually tommy as well)

the first time tommy meets her, she’s a little shy but he explains that he used to work with her uncle chim and auntie hen and grandpa bobby, and he’s also friends with chris and her uncle eddie. that makes her giggle and hide her face in buck’s neck. tommy asks her what’s so funny, and she tells him through her giggles, “not uncle eddie, just eddie.” then buck asks her if they can be friends with tommy too and she says “ok daddy :)” and that’s that!

chris is definitely a big brother to her, but they don’t call each other that (yet). she tells everyone chris is her very best friend in the whole world. she loves to play video games with him (even though most of the time her controller isn’t even connected)

tommy never thought he’d have kids. first because he couldn’t hold down a girlfriend, then bc he was gay, then bc he was getting older. but he falls in love with lily so quickly and can truly see himself watching her grow up with buck by his side. but the longer he sticks around, the more he sees just how involved eddie is in their lives. that eddie, buck, chris, and lily are a little family, their lives are so intertwined. and the longer he stays, the more he knows how bad it will hurt when he has to give this all up.

(but it’s okay because eddie will love him too and they can be a family of 5 😌)

that’s about all i have for now 🫣 but i love lily so much, she is my baby 💕

[arminreindl]

Baru iylwenpeny: The Last Baru

Happy to announce that there's just been a major new publication for mekosuchines. The Alcoota Baru, which I briefly touched upon in my post on the genus, has finally been named. The new name, Baru iylwenpeny (pronounced eel-OON-bin-yah), derives from the Eastern Anmatyerr dialect (part of the Arrernte language) and means "good at hunting". A name that seems quite fitting when you look at the skull.

As a reminder, this animal stems from the Alcoota Fossil Site in Australia and dates to the Late Miocene, making it the youngest of the three recognized Baru species.

Previously this species was already referred to as being "the most robust Baru" and they weren't kidding. This thing looks more like something out of the Cretaceous than an animal that lived a mere 8 million years ago.

The morphology is interesting in many ways. Many of the ridges that are so prominent in Baru wickeni and less developed in Baru darrowi are absent. The seventh and eight tooth are so close they theres basically no space. Instead of four teeth like other Baru it has five in each premaxilla and the nasals reach the nares, like in Baru wickeni but unlike in Baru darrowi. The teeth also show the same small serrations as Baru darrowi and, unlike either of the other species, the jaws appear much less wavy not because they are but because the first festoon of the maxilla is followed up by a second one so developed it makes the first look almost flat. It's a fascinating mosaic of characters that makes its relation to the other species a puzzling question. You'd think that the ridges for instance point at it being derived? After all wouldn't it make sense? Baru wickeni had the most developed rigdes, Baru darrowi smaller ones and Baru iylwenpeny none. Plus, the teeth of Baru wickeni are smooth unlike those of later forms. Yet at the same time.... The fact that it has five teeth instead of four and the fact that the nasals reach the nares are both ancestral traits, so you'd expect it to be closer to the base.

Left: Baru wickeni Right: Baru darrowi

Well, while I think this isn't going to be the final place of this species among Baru, the most recent phylogenetic analysis suggests that Baru iylwenpeny was weirdly enough the basalmost species. Which means that it must have split from the other two species at the latest during the Late Oligocene and outlived the both of them without us ever knowing.

The paper also discusses how these animals may have gone extinct. If you look back at Kalthifrons, you might remember how I mentioned that mekosuchines kinda had a drop in diversity when transitioning from the Miocene to Pliocene. While the new paper avoids calling this a drop in diversity, it does highlight that there certainly was a turnover in fauna. The reason is an old enemy of mekosuchines. Climate. Yates and colleagues suggest that Australia was hit by an especially nasty dry period at the end of the Miocene, severe enough to drive Baru to its death but not severe enough to whipe out all mekosuchines. And after Baru was gone, Kalthifrons and Paludirex moved into the open niche.

There's also a final little piece of information that's not focused on yet really fascinating. Baru iylwenpeny had a friend. At least one other croc lived at the Alcoota site during the Late Miocene and tho it hasn't been studied in full yet, one thing is apparently known. It was a relative to the Bullock Creek taxon that coexisted with Baru darrowi and a relative to "Baru" huberi, the small croc that coexisted with Baru wickeni. This grouping has yet to be given a name, but its fascinating to me that each Baru species seemingly coexisted with a much smaller mekosuchine. Alas, like Baru this lineage seems to have fallen victim to climate change.

Baru wickeni and "Baru" huberi, in truth an unnamed genus.

The paper is accessible here for those that wan't to dive deeper into the matter. I'll also be working on an updated size chart, this time featuring all three species of Baru, tho I can already tell you that despite being more robust its surprisingly not that much larger.

The last Baru (Crocodylia, Mekosuchinae): a new species of ‘cleaver‐headed crocodile’ from central Australia and the turnover of crocodylians during the Late Miocene in Australia (wiley.com)

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

Pterosaurs being refered to as birds is as accurate as Postosuchus being refered to as a croc. Heck, or Smilosuchus, if phytosaurs are back into pseudosuchia. Even a better parallel; earliest diverging branch that fills a (generally speaking) niche comparable to the crown group. Nobody has an issue with deeming each and every stem-croc as a croc, but oh boy if the same is attempted with stem-birds.

omg I literally just wrote that in a response to someone commenting but this! exactly!

we call all sauropsids reptiles, even if only saurians should get the word. we call all pseudosuchians crocs, even if only Crocodylia should get the word.

In the end, the point is that all Avemetatarsalians are just as Birdie as Ornithosuchus is Crocky, and that double standard that we can call the latter a croc but not the former a bird is ridiculous

[sharpkiwislayer]

ANOTHER TR OC.. this time in one of the known gangs! Later they get into Virus gang../The cursed ones (my own oc gang!) STUFF ABOUT EM: -

NAME: Hibiki Ōshiro

HEIGHT: 160 cm

PRONOUNS: They/Them

PERSONALITY: Hibiki commands attention. They act like the 'main character' in every situation, their confidence infuriating. Always quick with a biting remark, Hibiki loves throwing others off their game. If it’s a backhanded compliment or a jab, their words cut deep… VERY Unpredictable and Manipulative… Hibiki thrives on chaos

ETYMOLOGY: The name Hibiki means "Sound, echo" (響). Hibiki's surname Ōshiro ( 大 )(ō) means "big, great", and 城 (shiro) means "castle"

TRIVIA:

Image colour is Maroon

Likes … still deciding

Dislikes … still deciding

Special skill …

Dream is …

Heroic/failure story: …

Favourite spot is…

Relationship chart:

Chome: Like

Hanma: mutual 'respect'… no trust

Kisaki: Rivals in scheming… works with him reluctantly

Croc(oc/sona): conflicted… doesn’t know whether to protect Croc or tear 'em down for being soft..

Mikey: Fascinated yet slightly cautious

With their amazing hearing, Hibiki often overhears conversations others assume are private. They find it amusing to drop strange comments that hint at what they’ve heard

Hibiki can recognize someone just by the sound of their voice, even after hearing them only once. This makes it almost impossible for people to fool or disguise themselves around them

Views Kindness as Pity: Hibiki has a hard time accepting acts of kindness, assuming they stem from pity or obligation rather than genuine care. This makes it nearly impossible for them to trust when someone shows them compassion

Despite Hibiki being fairly strong, Hibiki’s true strength appears when they’re nervous, stressed, or overwhelmed. NORMALLY they act like a huge jerk, Hibiki’s confidence cracks whenever they realize they’re in actual danger or a chance of losing. This nervousness triggers a surge of adrenaline that sharpens their hearing even further along with strength! However it’s not easy to make Hibiki nervous/overwhelmed and so on…they rarely show fear, even in life threatening situations and only when they truly feel cornered does their hidden strength appear

stuffed animal is their lucky charm and grounds them? …comfort!

2005 - Hibiki's first lover… 'Chō'

Hibiki had never let anyone in before, they were always the one pushing others away, hiding behind their sharp tongue and unshakable confidence. But… their first lover was different. This person saw past Hibiki’s 'blindness', their arrogance, and their defences, treating them with a kindness Hibiki had never known. For the first time Hibiki felt genuinely accepted. They fell HARD. The small gestures like helping them navigate new spaces or laughing off Hibiki’s cutting remarks instead of taking offence.. meant the world. Their lover didn’t make a big deal of their blindness, and Hibiki mistook this for true understanding. But things started to change. Hibiki began noticing expensive items disappearing… jewellery, even cash. Though a small voice in the back of their mind warned them it could be their partner, they ignored it. They couldn’t bear to confront the possibility that someone they loved so deeply could betray them. One day, it all cracked… Their partner left abruptly, cupping their face and saying, "Don’t love anyone else after me. It’s for the best." Hibiki didn’t ask why or fight back… they were too stunned, clinging to the words like they held some hidden meaning.

What Hibiki didn’t know was that their lover had left for someone else…a man. Worse, their 'lover' had confessed to friends that they were disgusted with Hibiki, unable to handle their flaws or the challenges that came with their blindness… Hibiki still wait for her. The girl/Hibiki's "lover" :

[maribeilschmidt]

tercermundista argentlaia au

below the argentina tercer mundo au

Edit because i got more ideas and mai friend say I should stop thinking in spanish that im not making italy drunken if not almost dead

he goes to a public argentina school (in the interior of Argentina to make it worse 😊😊) Thats why he use that ugly uniform, ARE WE MAIDS OR SERVANTS OR WHATEVER, LITTERALY ALL PUBLIC UNIFORMS LOOKS LIKE THAT

He wanted to choose arts or social studies as a modality in 8th grade but he didnt pass all the assignments and there were no vacancies in arts n social studies, so he had to chose natural sciences/stem with the nerds (Germany n japan)

He almost had to repeat the year, but Germany taught him EVERYTHING by February, but the stupif idiot failed PE and he has to re-take the exam in June

On the first day (aka UPD in arg) of his senior year he got like 2 liters of alcohol on his blood, but he went to school to attend to see Germany and Japan as flag bearers

He will go drunken and say stupid things all day with Germany just wanting to shut up, prob fell asleep at last course and Germanay will take his home

If germany and italy were dating at that time that night italy would have cheated on him like more than 6 TIMES

Also his BRC would say he doesnt care abt cheating in Bariloche lmao

He wears pajamas and wears Crocs in the summer, it's surprising that no one has told him anything about his clothing

IN THE 7TH GRADE THEIR CLASS ANTHEM WAS THE MAROLIO COMMERCIAL, AND THEY SANG IT AT RECESS

Plz Germany wanted to go to a boys polytechnic school but They thought he would end up gay and there was no money so they sent him to a public school

[aberooski]

Fuck it.

Random Yu-Gi-Oh GX headcanon dump part 2!

Part 1

Once again in no particular order, just the order they pop out of my brain.

Most of my headcanons are upsetting so we'll see what gets released from the vault this time 👀

Atticus takes care of anyone and everyone but himself, to an almost self-destructive degree at times.

The J-Squad kept in touch with Chumley after he left

Atticus is 100% a theater kid

Of the Primary Color Trio(tm), Syrus is the only one they trust to cook. As we've established, Jaden will burn down the kitchen if he tries, and Hassleberry isn't a bad cook, but he's the kinda guy who will have something really good and then walk away and accidentally wreck it.

Hassleberry has never measured ingredients in his life. He doesn't know what tea/tablespoons or measuring cups are.

Bastion's top artist on Spotify is Frank Sinatra

After graduation Atticus and Alexis made Chazz write down a list of things/experiences he's never done or had because of how restrictively he was brought up and they make it their mission to make sure he can cross off everything on the list.

Alexis has painted Chazz's nails for him more than once because she does a cleaner job than he does. 💅

Alexis also taught Chazz how to do eye liner

Jim tells people Shirley is his seeing eye croc when they ask why he has her

After graduation, every single one of them eventually starts going to therapy

Jesse was the one who finally convinced Jaden to at least try therapy after he repeatedly insisted to everyone that he didn't need it. He did

This is kinda canon actually, but Hassleberry doesn't remember what happens when he goes dinosaur berserk mode. The headcanon part is that it's not just like fuzzy memories or anything, there are just straight up holes in his memory. And it really bothers him.

Yuki is Jaden's mom's last name. She's Japanese but his dad is American and when they got married, he took her name.

Eventually, Bastion does return from the other dimension with Tania. Everyone is happy to see him. No one ever forgot him.

Aster carries Echo's memory with him until the day he dies. Just like his father, he'll always remember the poor girl who was murdered for a card. The girl he couldn’t save.

Crowler's the teacher everybody added on Facebook and all that after graduation because they're not his students anymore so they're allowed to be friends with him on social media 🤭

Syrus really does love his brother a lot, bit therapy really opens his eyes to how so many of his personal issues and fears and anxieties and inhibitions stem from Zane and how badly he treated him and how badly it stifled him as a person and is able to bring himself to hold Zane accountable for it all so he can actually find a way to heal from it all and they can truly mend their relationship.

Jaden regrets not holding Zane accountable for how he treated Syrus past their duel in episode 8 where the subsequently drops the issue because of Zane's dueling skills.

Bastion can play the piano

Chazz is the most bisexual little man on the planet 💖💙💜 pretty sure we all agree on this one

Atticus is pan 💖💛💙

Jaden and Jesse have gone as Jed and Octavius for Halloween at least once

One year Atticus used the fact that Halloween is his birthday as an excuse to convince Chazz be Snow White for Halloween so they could go as Snow White and Prince Florian.

By the time they're grown up and he and Atticus are living together/married the only family member of his that Chazz still keeps any contact with is his mom

Aster has intense trust issues after learning the truth about The D and his father's death

Hassleberry tilts his head like a dog when he's confused

Syrus actually gets sick a lot. 🤒

Zane giving kids cards to stop them from bullying Syrus was a common occurrence when they were little kids

Before Zane went off to train at Sheppard's dojo and before he started abusing Syrus in his own ways they were actually decently close considering Zane's inherent emotional distance

Slade and Jagger hated Chazz from day one.

Alexis has nightmares about Atticus being taken away again after he comes back. If they're bad enough, she'll go to his dorm in the middle of the night to check on him and make sure that he's safe, and often ends up sleeping on his couch for the rest of the night.

Chazz knows his family is homophobic so after he cuts his ties with his dad and his brothers, he comes out to Crowler because he's the closest thing to a genuine father figure he's really ever had

Crowler officiates Chazz and Atticus's wedding 💍

Inspired by Yusei, Jaden got a motorcycle post Bonds Beyond Time. He thought it would impress Jesse. It did.

Jesse is the first one to get their driver's license

Axel is the only one who has never crashed their car

Axel will always come whenever anyone needs help. No matter who, and no matter how far away they are.

While working on Chazz's experiences list Atticus and Alexis took him to the mall. She left them unsupervised for a few minutes to go to the bathroom. When she came back, they were gone, and when she found them again, Chazz had his ears pierced. Atticus had taken him to Claire's. She will never leave them unsupervised again. 🤦‍♀️

I think I'll call this one here for now!

Maybe next year I'll come back with part 3 🤭

[dragon-sentinel]

I have already seen my fair share of

"Barbie is great because it teaches girls they can be hyperfeminine and pink and glittery etc. etc. and still be empowered. Barbiecore!! It has nothing to do with pleasing men. Men hate the movie, see?

Also, it's not bad if girls are taught to "have fun" with make-up from an early age on."

And I just get so tired. I wish people would understand the effects and the role of femininity (even the version that "supposedly does not revolve around men and is hated by them") in our larger cultural context and how femininity is part of a gendered hierarchy.

It does not exist in a vacuum and cannot be divorced from the damaging history of femininity's social function as a reinforcement of sexism, patriarchal dynamics and gendered hierarchies.

It doesn't just go away because of a fun movie.

Don't get me wrong. Barbie is a good movie and I am not saying it has no value or doesn't also teach women many good things.

But two things can be true at the same time.

Barbie can reinforce good messages (women can have great careers, STEM jobs, be successful, call out sexual harassment etc.) while also reinforcing harmful messages with regard to other cultural facets such as beauty standards, make-up culture and the alienation of women's natural faces (and this being pushed onto young girls too), fear of aging, having to embody a set of pleasing "aesthetics", wearing clothing/looks that can be unpractical restricting and demand lots of self-monitoring (increasing a woman's cognitive load because part of her attention always has to check whether her skirt didn't go up too high to prevent flashing her underwear, whether her make-up smudged, whether her hair is in place etc.) and spending lots of time, money and resources on beauty and fashion-related products and practices.

Those things ARE harmful femininity. And only because you think a subset of men don't like it doesn't mean it doesn't reinforce and teach these basic concepts of women being valued immensely for their decorative appearance.

(Also, more on that whole "men don't like these aesthetics" down belove because I think this claim also needs to be looked at with more nuance.)

These messages are not mutually exclusive. The same piece of media can absolutely provide very good commentary on one topic while giving bad commentary on another.

"But pink is just a color and there is nothing wrong with glitter."

I agree! But Barbie's aesthetics are the full package of femininity.

Because it is not just about glitter or about pink. Barbie's default isn't running around in pink sweatpants with a glittery oversized hoodie and purple crocs with messy hair and no make-up. Or some funny fantasy clown make-up.

Barbie generally looks conventionally stunning.

She wears carefully selected, perfectly designed beautiful and feminine outfits, styled through and through from head to toe.

And even if there is some ironic twist somewhere in the movie, its entire advertisment and PR are very explicitly focused on those hyperfeminine aesthetics.

Her event and PR outfits referencing iconic Barbie looks and the hyperfeminine aesthetics in trailers and promotional material to grab people's attention are a core part of their campaign.

That is also socialization. It still presents these things as attractive and desirable, as it reinforces that people should find these things appealing and direct their attention towards them.

I am aware that the movie also comments on body odor or cellulite.

I know it has moments like America Ferrera's monologue and I appreciate these things but this doesn't erase the rest of the aesthetic narrative of the movie, which does want you to enjoy and have fun with those pink hyperfeminine aesthetics. It is part of your viewing pleasure.

Despite the good points it makes it simultaneously also wants you to be positively and genuinely entertained by the aesthetics.

When it comes to this, the movie has an "eat your cake and have it too" mentality because they want to (rightfully) criticize some damaging expectations superimposed on women by feminine gender roles, i.e., femininity. But they clearly also want to keep others. They think some of them are not actually harmful but fun, empowering, even though a thorough look at the femininity they promote as worth keeping will uncover that they still have disadvantaging effects on women and keep crucial parts of the patriarchal hierarchy intact.

And in some regards their messages are even contradictory. Because on the one hand they do want to criticize unrealistic beauty standards (see Gloria's monologue) but at the same time even "self-centered" femininity, wanting to look good, feminine, pretty "for yourself", expressing your "identity" with a certain type of feminine fashion, still has the aforementioned mental and material effects (altered relationships with our bare faces because of make-up, even if your "eyeliner that is so sharp that it can kill a man, is for yourself and yourself alone", spending lots of time and money on restrictive clothing and make-up products, placing a significant amount of value on your looks, constantly monitoring your outward appearance).

As women we have learned to lie to ourselves and live with this cognitive paradox constantly.

"We don't need to shave. But we do it because we "want to", because even though "we don't have to" for some reasons we all collectively still think it is unattractive and unfeminine. But hey we "choose" to shave so it's different!

Aging is totally fine! Women are allowed to age! But at the same time we invest lots of time and money in anti-aging products and routines but this time under the guise of self-care. We don't have to of course. We are perfectly fine with wrinkles! It's just an (odd, collective) "personal" preference that the majority of women would still rather look youthful forever. But this time it's different! It's a choice!"

Materially we are doing the exact same thing that we are conditioned to do by patriarchal norms but thanks to the rhetoric of positive femininity, choice and personal preference we do not need to actually change our behaviour. We can let the words, the impressive-sounding monologues, do "the work for us" to absolve us, while our actions remain the same.

At the end of the day, the movie doesn't really deconstruct the entire cage of femininity, its roots, and all the aspects that harm women. Instead they reframe and rename some of the same things as a celebration of positive femininity.

But simply keeping something damaging in place and renaming it doesn't remove its negative material effects.

It just serves as a dazzling, soothing paint job to distract you and make you feel better about liking it, even if it doesn't serve you.

Hence, it's clear that the movie wants you to think that these aesthetics themselves are or can be, on some level, still fun and good.

(Again, that doesn't mean that it doesn't also promote good messages at other moments.)

And the public reception proves it. Otherwise we wouldn't have those aforementioned takes on how "Barbiecore is empowering because it doesn't revolve around men and "women-centered" hyperfemininity is good."

(Though it has to be noted that whereas pink and glitter are inherently neutral, they have been assigned certain meanings, hence when they are used they do serve as social signifiers and messengers for certain ideas. They are like a condensed proxy or short-form of femininity that quickly and efficently evoke certain gendered ideas in the viewer just by having them look at it.

I think sub-cultures are a good example: Goth and emo fashion for women is not considered attractive by many average people, including average men. And I am pretty sure most goths and emos would tell you they wear this kind of fashion for themselves, to express themselves and not to fulfill any gendered (mainstream!) expectations.

But. Within these scenes there are very often STILL very distinct differences in the type of fashion men and women wear. And oddly enough they often align more with traditional gender expectations than they like to admit (even the higher degree of androgynity in male fashion in those scenes doesn't undo those dynamics - the sexualization and pornification of women in those scenes is very prominent).

Funny. One might wonder why this is the case.

So you still have feminine, pretty, sexy, lady-like goth and emo girls who might not appeal to the general public's taste. But within the scene they very much appeal to that scene-related male gaze.

So the basics of femininity are still taught and lived.

And in addition, if for some reason a woman were to change her style and leave those scenes she might let go of her specific fashion sense but she will most likely take the basic teachings of femininity with her: that there lies immense value in her being decorative (for men).

I honestly think many women are in denial about the fact that yes, even their "self-centered" femininity benefits men as it consolidates certain tranditional gendered roles. And I also think that women are often taught to lie themselves (amongst others by liberal feminism) with regard to how much they actually appreciate men's positive attention and feedback (and I don't blame them for wanting those things, that's how we are socialized, even on purely platonic levels. As a lesbian even I notice how much I often value and unconsciously want positive (platonic or professional) feedback from men in particular. We as a society value men's opinions and attention deeply.)

Coming back to Barbie I think all of this can be applied as well.

First, just as with non-mainstream femininity in alternative scenes "Barbiecore" still teaches the same basic concepts of decorative femininity, encouraging many of the aforementioned damaging behaviours connected to femininity (money, time, resources, cognitive load, value of external attractiveness/appeal), even if women believe they do it for themselves.

And if a woman moves on from pink, glittery Barbiecore to another type of feminine fashion these fundamental values will probably remain with her. At best they have not been challenged by Barbiecore, at worst they have been reinforced, but this time under the pretense of "self-love", self-care or focusing on one's self, ostensibly not serving the male gaze.

Second, it is naive to believe that no man finds Margot Robbie's Barbie and her looks attractive in the movie (just like there are enough men who think unconventional, i.e., non-mainstream, displays of femininity like gothic/emo etc. are attractive).

Given Margot Robbie's attractiveness and the fact that beyond the pink color palette, Barbie's feminine fashion itself is not really "outrageous" (vs. some scene clothing) I wouldn't be surprised if the number of men who are attracted to her movie character is actually higher than the "men hate barbiecore" idea wants to make one believe. They may say they don't but in my opinion it's an act to save face and demonstrate ostensible superiority, just like when they call beautiful women "mid". (Also as we know men are very well willing to fuck what they hate; it's just another display of "dominance").

I am actually very convinced that there is a significant amount of men who would totally dig the very same looks she is sporting if her behavior was different.

I believe they hate her despite her good looks because her personality does not align with their gendered expectations of what a woman should be.

So out of spite, as a punishment, they call her and her aesthetics ugly and childish - because they know beauty is one of the things women are primarily valued for in our society, hence it's an effective target to attack.

If she kept the look but acted like a 50s house wive I'm pretty sure many men would openly say how they are attracted to her (and objectify her).

And even if a portion of men may find the focus on pink genuinely childish they can still like the overall femininity the look reinforces. If you kept the same outfit but changed the colors and removed the glitter it would still be the same basic type of femininity. So with regard to fundamental gendered concepts nothing is really challenged here.

So yes, I genuinely think men hating on "girly" femininity is a lot more aligned with the "Margot Robbie is mid" defense.

They are very clearly attracted to her but they try to paint themselves as not interested, as above that, to display their "superior status and power" over her, because they hate her as a person now. (Or use it as an attempted power play to make girls insecure and - as another post said it perfectly - withold beauty from women because women are taught it's their social currency; so if even women like Margot Robbie are relegated to "mid" they feel self-conscious and weak and will try to win the men's favor to receive their approval - and thus be granted some of that withheld beauty.)

In essence, I really don't buy that men don't actually benefit from "women-centered hyperfemininity" and that it is the looks that don't appeal to them as a class (obviously individual tastes vary).

I am not saying that everything that received the label "feminine" is inherently bad. Compassion and empathy come to mind of course and in an ideal world we might also have separated the harmless parts of the aesthetics (cute fabric patterns like flowers etc., soft but also relaxing and practical cothing) from the harmful practices that reinforce regressive gendered ideas and also lead to increased cognitive load, self-image issues (esp. regarding our bare faces), spending lots of time, money and resources on these things etc.

But we do not live in this ideal world.

We need to treat femininity as the thing that it is in the real world right now. It already has a meaning and this meaning won't be deconstructed by elevating all of it and saying that the harmful parts are actually empowering, too, which is what is happening with those celebrations of barbiecore and pink hyperfemininity.

Your celebration of femininity does not occur in a vacuum.

You cannot pretend the social context in which you do this simply doesn't exist because it spoils your fun and pretend it doesn't actually have any unfavourable consequences for women.

It does.

Gender is a hierarchy, in which femininity is an active tool to place women below men.

That is the reality we need to deconstruct.

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A little extra that just came to my mind:

The gothic lolita scene used to have (and perhaps still has) the same kind of rhetoric, too: "We do it for ourselves. Not to appeal to the male gaze. Men don't like this kind of fashion anyway." But a) this is clearly…not true. Gothic lolita, including the non-revealing styles (which make up most of the styles actually), is still popular and fetishized by certain groups of men, precisely because of its (distinct interpretation of) feminine appeal. And b) it still ingrains many core believes of classic femininity into women that transcend the fashion style and reflect accepted and desired ideas about feminine gender roles in broader society.

So the mindset of "doing something that is in line with our sexist society's expectations "for yourself", hence it's different and does not reinforce the same sexist ideals" that women often adapt is a common, recurrent cognitive strategy to justify these preferences to ourselves and others.

Barbiecore is therefore not unique and suddenly above reproach. On the contrary. It perfectly fits a commonly found pattern.