#sure hes a little sturdier than most

[an1muuarts]

it was around 1:30 am when this was recommended to me

and it was actually scary wtf

(also cw for drug overdose if youre gonna watch it)

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Michael Myers (1/3)

Word Count; 3.7k

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I rolled onto my side, hand slamming down on the alarm. A groggy yawn escaped my lips. Daylight cascaded past the curtains. Normally, I’d loiter a little longer, but it was my first day at a new job, and I was carpooling with Irene, a sweet neighbor and mother of four with whom I became acquainted.

So, I stepped out of bed and went to the bathroom, going through my morning routine with extra care. I was tired, but despite that, motivated. After all, it was my first job straight out of college after having received my nursing degree. Sure, the job would probably be more intense than most… but my parents wanted me to return home.

I finished up a thin layer of makeup and got dressed. I supposed that I wouldn’t need to be all flashy since I’d be wearing a nursing outfit upon arrival, but I still wanted to leave a good impression on my new boss, Samuel Loomis.

I took my time eating breakfast. I was quite nervous, but I knew things would go smoothly. Sure, working at a sanitarium could be unsafe, but even the most dangerous members of society deserve to be treated with humanity. 

It was approaching half-past-eight, so I zoomed out the door. Irene was parked out front and I walked up to the car. I opened the door, greeting,” Hey, Irene!”

“Good morning, Y/n,�� the black-haired Asian woman greeted. 

We headed through Haddonfield. The radio was turned to a minimum. We made some small talk on the drive, eventually exiting the main town and venturing through some forestry. We eventually approached the Smith’s Grove Sanitarium. I fiddled with my bag.

The guards let us through the front gate after confirming our identities. Irene parked near the front of the dismal grey building. All of the barred windows were off-putting. It must’ve gotten cold during the winter. 

“I hope you can last,” Irene sighed. “This job can be… stressful. It depends on who your assigned patients are, though. Mine are fairly nice, but some of our coworkers have experienced violence. And infrequently, death.”

Shivers rolled down my spine. I mustered no reply. We went to the front desk. “Hi, sir. I’m a new employee. Where am I supposed to go?” I asked the attendant, leaning against the counter.

He sent me a small smile. “I’ll call Doctor Loomis. He always insists on showing new employees around himself.”

He reached for the phone and pressed a button, calling for Doctor Loomis. Meanwhile, I sent Irene off since she had more pressing matters. 

A middle-aged man emerged from one of the doors a few minutes later. I recognized him immediately, as his book was incredibly popular, even today.

“Hello, sir!”

The man sent me a warm grin. “You must be Ms. L/n. There’s no time to waste. Let me show you around.”

“Great! Thank you for this opportunity, sir.”

A tour began. I was shaking in my boots, but hardly from the circumstances. I felt more at home in the sanitarium than in any other place, but I was determined to make a good impression on her new boss. The tour seemed almost redundant; it was as though I hadn’t been thoroughly introduced to the map in my pocket already.

“I have a patient that I’d like you to take special care of. Of course, there will be others, but this one… needs someone with such a sunny disposition such as yourself,” Dr. Loomis explained. “I’m sure you’ve heard and perhaps grown up with the stories of this particular patient: Michael Myers. He is a renowned serial killer.”

“Yes,” I replied chipperly. “I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

“Good, because you are going to right now.”

The abruptness took me aback. Anxiety attempted to curl against my insides, but I didn’t allow it. We halted in front of a door that was far sturdier than the others; the door looked fresh and new, which told a story all of its own. Dr. Loomis withdrew keys from his pocket and inserted one. I couldn’t help but gulp.

The door squeals open. I anticipate the deadpan stare as the man and I make immediate eye contact. I had only heard of his strange mask, but never had I seen what he actually looked like: brown, tussled, and overgrown hair. A sharp jawline. Bright blue eyes. Broad and tall. Everything that, under normal circumstances, would make a girl’s heart flutter. But mine was still. He sat in a perfect posture on the bed, and thick metal cuffs gave him little to no freedom with a chain stuck in the wall. 

“Michael. This is Y/n, your new nurse. I hired her to attend to — almost exclusively — your needs. I hope you two can get along. Ms. L/n?” Dr. Loomis introduced, ushering me in.

I grinned, trying to shake off the nerves. “Hello, Michael. I look forward to helping you out. Take it easy on me while I get used to the job, alright?”

“Very good. Now, Ms. L/n will get your lunch medication.”

I was startled but eagerly nodded, having already been shown and trained the how of it all. “Yes. It was wonderful to meet you, Michael.”

As Dr. Loomis and I exited, I felt his gaze glued to me. It was rather unnerving.

Ten minutes later, alone and armed only with my alarm, cell key, and medications, I returned. I took a deep breath. Little did Loomis know, but I had a vague history with Michael Myers. Although we never spoke, he had been in my kindergarten class all the way to when he went on a murder spree. I couldn’t help but wonder if he knew me, too.

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t want to work at this specific sanitarium, even though it was my dream job. However, due to parental pressure, I was urged not to leave the area. Coincidentally, this was the only place hiring. Michael Myers was old enough that my parents didn’t bat an eye when I mentioned where I would be working, so it all fit together perfectly.

I entered the room with the small metal tray. Michael hadn’t moved an inch. His eyes bore into me — or perhaps beyond me — and his fists were still clenched in his lap. “Now, although I’m new,” I began,” I’m sure you know the drill. A few pills and a shot.”

I approached warily. Michael did nothing but blink. I sat the tray down on the bedside table, my moves calculated. I grabbed the styrofoam cup of water and handed it to him. He downed his pills with ease and took the shot like a champ. It put me on edge how still the man was. I carefully sat on the bed next to him.

“Although I was advised against breaching the five feet of the chain’s length, I hope you won’t mind. I just… wanted you to get to know me a little since I’ll be working closely with you.” His gaze flitted toward me, cold. “I just recently graduated from nursing school with a specialization in psychiatrics. I was born and raised in Haddonfield, the same as you. And this kind of job is my dream job since I believe that even criminals deserve care and to be treated as humans. So, Michael, I hope you understand that I will do my best to ensure you are well cared for, even in these conditions.”

As I expected, there was hardly any indication he had heard me at all. I stood and nodded. “Anyways, I believe it’s time for lunch. I’ve heard you aren’t allowed to eat with the others, but… I’m hoping I can change that.”

~~~

And change that I did. Dr. Loomis was surprised by Michael’s supposed ‘obedience,’ which had been there from the start. By the time he allowed me to take him to the cafeteria, I had been working there for two months. And although I watched closely, I had hardly noticed any changes in his behavior. My coworker, Irene, convinced me otherwise. With the dangerous stunts I’d been pulling proximity-wise, it was shocking that I had yet to end up like the others.

I wasn’t one to play dumb. I knew that Michael had the highest kill count with the nurses. With giant hands and a large body, he could easily overpower me, but the encouragement I’d gotten from my superiors kept me going. And today was major progress.

Guards clutched at his elbows as we walked down the sanitarium halls. I frowned slightly, knowing that if Michael wanted to do anything, he certainly could, cuffs or otherwise. I walked slightly ahead, having been entrusted with the keys to the cuffs. Although Michael would be somewhat separated, Dr. Loomis believed this to be major news for Michael’s rehabilitation — and now, the doctor was supporting me in risky endeavors.

I grabbed lunch for him as the guards settled him in the corner of the cafeteria. Eyes from the other patients were stuck to me, as I’d only been vaguely introduced. I. Mainly worked with Michael, although I covered a shift for the nurse who works with Marcus — and I understood why she called off so often.

Marcus was an interesting subject. He was a serial rapist, and it showed. Despite his history, Dr. Loomis often had female nurses working with him. And when I did, he did nothing but spit cruel, perverse cat calls at me. I heard a familiar whistle and knew it had come from his general area. I wasn’t surprised that the serial killer made me more comfortable than the rapist.

I returned to Michael with his food. His eyes bore into me, and I smiled. “Now, Michael, I had to pull many strings for this. I hope you appreciate this, but I’m allowed to remove your cuffs for a more comfortable eating experience.”

Michael's eyes flickered to his hands and back to me. I noticed his lips twitched, too. Progress, I chanted in my head. This was progress.

The guards took the handcuffs and held them tightly. They were trained to assess everyone and everything as a threat. Michael was slow and calculated, rolling his wrists. He then took his fork and ate. A sense of intrigue fell over the other patients, and some of the other nurses had their eyes glued to Michael’s form. They were waiting for a freakout that wouldn’t happen, either because Michael was making progress or because he wasn’t dumb enough to plan a breakout in this environment.

Mealtime passed without a hitch. I spent the entire time saddled up beside him. My job felt meaningful as I sat with him. When it was time for him to be escorted back to his room, I told Michael I would see about more comfortable handcuffs for him. Exiting the cafeteria was without hitches, minus a loud holler from Marcus, to which I couldn’t help but notice how Michael’s hands clenched.

When he was safely back in his cell, I decided to try another risky maneuver; I set him free from his restraints and sat beside him on the bed. Michael was still; he always was. I cleared my throat, beginning my typical speech of positivity.

“I know it probably seems silly to you, Michael, but I’m quite proud of you. I’m glad you’re challenging expectations here. You’re really making progress, whether you admit to it or not, and I thank you for that.”

~~~ 

Or so I thought. That night, my landline awoke me from a deep slumber. I thought nothing of it, deciding I wouldn’t be a pushover and pick up another night shift at work. However, the ringing persisted. And when it stopped momentarily, it came again.

I rolled out of bed. My hair was disheveled, and my purple silk pajamas — a gracious housewarming gift from my mother — were crumpled and twisted slightly. I shuffled downstairs, the ringing getting louder the closer I grew. I finally made it to the phone. 

“Hello —“

“L/n, you need to get down here right now! It’s an emergency —“

“Dr. Loomis, what —“

“He’s gone on a rampage. Twelve nurses are dead, and so are five patients —“

“I’ll be right there!”

The line went dead instantly. My mouth no longer felt dry. I was fully alert, although some sleep persisted in the creases of my eyes. I dashed upstairs and pulled on my earlier clothes, which lay scattered on the ground. With that, I made it to my bright blue buggy and drove to my endangered work site.

I’m not entirely sure what motivated me. I thought the police would better handle the situation, and it felt as though all of my efforts had been reduced to nothing. Something had set him off. But I wasn’t a therapist. I shouldn’t have crossed that boundary of trying to give him opportunities.

I pulled into the parking lot.

The moment I exited the car, I heard screaming. Several police cars were parked in front of the sanitarium's entrance. A group of police officers was huddled, but even they seemed worried. I pushed past despite warnings to remain outside. I dashed through the entrance. I followed the sound of the screams. 

And upon entering the prisoner hallways, I found her. My dear friend and coworker, Irene. She lay in the middle of the hallway as a twitching, bloody mess. A weapon had clearly been used: the handcuffs. Her head was bashed in, but there was also bruising around her throat. She’s been bashed and choked to death.

The halls were eerily silent. All of the cells had been unlocked. Some of the patients’ corpses were scattered. All of this destruction… was done by one man.

What had I done? What part of Michael had I unlocked?

I skulked down the hallways. Where were the guards? Where were the police? Where was anybody?

I passed by deceased coworkers as I skulked carefully down the hallways. Occasionally, some of the corpses released dying breaths, but I was certain I was following the blood. And then, as I glanced at the floor, I noticed the smears stopped and bloody footsteps began. The feet were large, and the shoe prints belonged to prisoner shoewear. I gulped, recognizing that the footsteps went straight toward the cafeteria entrance. Worst of all, if Michael discovered the back exit for the cafeteria staff, he would be free.

The doors were wide open, and one was even off the hinges. I stood in the entrance. It was pitch black inside, although the lights sometimes flickered on and off. The footsteps seemed to fade out very quickly into the cafeteria. 

I gulped and took a step back. What was I thinking? That I could confront him? The man was a mammoth and a maniac. I was just the nurse who supported his development. He probably hated my guts, despite what Dr. Loomis thought.

None of the bodies belonged to Dr. Loomis. So where was he? And where was Michael?

I wasn’t left wondering for very long. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed some postils gleaming from the hallway to my right. The police were here, and I was nothing more than bait. No wonder they let me through so easily. Shivers rolled down my spine, and I took two steps into the blackness of the cafeteria.

As the lights flickered on, I saw him. He was holding the corpse of Marcus, that damned patient. I didn’t feel too bad about him, but I was shaking in my boots as the body fell to the ground, and Michael’s gaze turned directly toward me.

His expression had not changed from that of any other day. Cold. Calm. Empty.

And as though he was gliding, he made a beeline toward me. So many questions about his escape flashed through my cranium, and all I could do was freeze in place. A scream remained silent in my throat as I put my trust in the police to be right behind me. My fists clenched, and I opened my mouth just as Michael was a few feet away from me.

“Michael, stop!”

He did.

That made my heart drop to my stomach. However, I realized I did hold some power. I was waiting desperately for the police to enter and intervene, but they were waiting. I decidedly didn’t want them to and took a step back. Michael tilted his head, unblinking. He stayed frozen in place. A plastic knife with the handle broken off was in his bloodied hands, and I noticed some gelatin goo was sticking to the tips. His jumpsuit was drenched and sprayed, as was his face. His hair had never looked more tussled. And even without smiling, he had never seemed more gleeful.

“Michael, what… what is happening? Why did you… do this?”

Before Michael could even think, shuffling footsteps came from behind me. My jaw dropped as an arm suddenly looped around my waist and pulled me away. But Michael just stood standing still as gunshots drilled into his chest. And then, finally, he dropped.

~~~

“Ms. L/n, I understand —“

“No, Dr. Loomis, you don’t,” I pleaded, my aggravation present. “Michael is alive and detained. Something I did set him off, or he was planning it. Nothing I can do will help. I refuse to return to work. I am quitting, effective immediately.”

Dr. Loomis, from behind his work desk, suddenly banged his fists into the desk. “L/n! I know it’s been hard on everyone, but we need you here. We’ve lost twelve nurses. The nurse-to-patient ratio isn’t adding up. The sanitarium is overrun and, if even for the short term, we need you here. I know what we went through was hard, and what happened here can’t happen again.”

“But it will. Does anyone even know how he escaped?” I quipped snappily. “He never even managed to escape his handcuffs. He didn’t need to. So who’s to say it won’t happen again?”

“Because he is being sent away to a sanitarium called Smith’s Grove Sanitarium. It has a high level of security, far better than ours —“

“Good. But that doesn’t mean I am capable of returning to work. I am leaving now, Dr. Loomis.”

With an exasperated expression, Dr. Loomis grasped at the air where I once sat. I didn’t glance back as I exited the office. And I didn’t spare any moments to analyze my surroundings until I was in my car on the road heading far, far away from the sanitarium.

My parents, having finally connected the dots about my job, had been scared shitless. Luckily, it was summer, and the Haddonfield High School was hiring for a new biology position. I was planning to apply to keep things rolling. Deep down, though, I just wanted to ditch this town and escape the parental pressures I was forced into. It was a little late for that, though. The damage had been done.

~~~

For class that day, I had been gracious. I put on the Charlie Brown Halloween movie and sat at my desk. I couldn’t help but notice that as most kids were either passing notes, doodling, or watching, I had one student whose eyes were glued to the window. Laurie had her pen stuck in her mouth as she adamantly stared out.

Suddenly, Laurie looked rather alarmed and made direct eye contact with me. “Ma’am?”

“Yes, Laurie?”

“Can - can I go to the bathroom?”

I paused, glancing out the window for myself. A car was driving away. “Yes, Laurie, go ahead.”

Some of the kids snickered, to which I sent a stern glare. I went back to grading papers, instead getting lost in thought. Teaching was hardly my calling. I was a natural stutterer in the wrong element and did not enjoy disciplining undisciplined children. I also felt that it was dull to go back to the basics, which I would probably end up doing year after year with no change. I knew I had a lot of liberty and the job paid well, but it wasn’t like my time at the sanitarium, with doubled paychecks and a routine that wasn’t up to me. However, I promised my parents to stick around until a better job opportunity popped up.

The movie credits were suddenly rolling, and a student alerted me from my position. Laurie had rejoined the group at some point. I flicked off the television. 

“Well, since I’m everybody’s favorite teacher, and it’s Halloween, why don’t you all just head out early? Class dismissed. Don’t cause any ruckus. I’m looking at you, Tommy.” 

I sent a friendly grin, and the students whooped and hollered. Laurie only glanced away from the window and began packing her things. Laurie was a good student: studious, communicative, and attentive. Perhaps movie days just weren’t her style. Several students came up to talk to me in a line after class, wishing me a happy holiday or asking about grades. Laurie slunk out of the classroom quietly.

After the classroom had been evacuated, I sighed, and out of morbid curiosity, I wandered over to Laurie’s seat. I was taken aback as I recognized that the car from earlier had returned, but even more disturbing, a tall figure with a white mask and brown hair loomed over the vehicle. He made direct eye contact with me.

My brain began processing so many horrors all at once. I hadn’t thought about Michael specifically in months, but it all came flooding back. His history… but it was also Halloween. And no news had come to me about Michael’s escape. Not from Dr. Loomis or the papers.

Regardless, I stumbled back, blinking at the masked figure. We maintained a long, steady eye contact. Even when a man walking his dog strolled on the opposite side of the street, I knew the masked figure’s gaze remained glued to me. 

It couldn’t be Michael. It was a creepy Halloween prank…

I steeled myself and wandered back to my desk. I hurriedly packed up, abandoning the biology tests on the desk in a flurry. Prank or otherwise, I was thoroughly disturbed and wanted to escape that man’s gaze.

When I glanced out the window one last time, the car and man were long gone.

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Brick by Brick 🎄

Leon S. Kennedy x reader

A/N: The holiday season is upon us!!! This is the first fic for my Christmas event, Fi's Christmas Market ☃️ <3 feel free to check that out if you're curious who and what's to come 🤭

~ Fi 🐝

Warnings: pure, whole hearted X-mas fluff, Mentions of readers mom, healing Leon's inner child <3

Word count: 2.2k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

December was finally here. The most wonderful time of the year, undoubtedly. You'd been waiting all year for this. The lights, the beautiful tunes, and the atmosphere full of love and warmth. To say you were ecstatic was an understatement, the excitement had been burning in your veins since Halloween ended.

You were itching to pull out every box filled with Christmas decorations and absolutely drown your apartment in red, green and gold. Your Christmas PJs were already laid out, same as Leon's, and you'd jump him with holiday cheer the second he came home. You'd already prepared some apple cider and a few cookies. It would be such a nice evening, you knew it in your heart.

The Christmas songs would fill your apartment, the spicy apple cider and cookies would drench the room in nostalgic aromas. You'd decorate all the cabinets and tables while Leon would hang up the garlands around the living room. It was always a dream you had, decorating your little home with Leon. And since it was you we're talking about, you also got him a little something. An early present, if you will.

There was this tradition in your home, your Mother had started it one year and from then on it was something you'd enjoyed greatly. It might not be the most festive of activities but it reminded you of home, and you desperately wanted to share it with Leon. Your Mom made a habit of building Lego sets together as a family. Sitting around the table with a cup of cider, yuletide tunes playing in the background whil you were constructing your little plastic house brick by brick.

You were a little hesitant to share it with your lover since the anxiety of it being seen as childish always gnawed at your heart. But you knew him, he wouldn't judge you for something like that. He would appreciate that you wanted to share a part of your childhood with him, you were sure of it. You had gotten yourself a gingerbread house set, it was better than a real one in many ways; more fun to make, sturdier and there was no mess after.

But what you were really excited about was for Leon to see the set you had gotten him. It was a police station. As soon as your eyes landed on the set while you were scrolling through the internet, you knew it was perfect. You had warned him about a surprise so he wouldn't be caught off guard.

Your mother had an entire village of Lego houses that she'd rebuilt every year, and you couldn't wait to start your own little village with Leon. He was actually quite impressed when your mom proudly showed him last Christmas. He didn't stop talking about it for weeks after, it was quite endearing. If you could heal his inner child at least a little with this, it would be worth it.

You'd already changed into your PJs. You would've exploded if you hadn't gotten something plaid on your body. It was a long sleeve shirt with gingerbread men and women doing holiday activities. Ice skating, shopping, building a snowman. Your name was embroided in gold on the front.

The pants were a red and gold plaid, matching the embroided. It was a gift from your grandmother. She adored Leon and said that when she saw the matching sleep attire, she just had to get it. It was him who made sure they were always ready when Decemeber was around the corner.

Even if he wouldn't admit it, there was something about the holidays that made him lower his guard and just be himself. Not a rookie, not agent Kennedy, just Leon.

The jingling of keys made you jump up from your place at the table where you had been waiting patiently. Leon stepped inside with a huff, closing the door behind him. His cheeks and nose were red from the cold as he dropped his bag on the floor.

"Hi, Baby-" he was cut off by a grunt when you smashed into him, squeezing him in a bone crushing hug. "I missed you." Your words were muffled into his chest. He chuckled before leaning down to press a kiss to your head. "I missed you too, but I was only gone for 3 days." He stroked his hands down your back. "I know, I know, but it's extra special this time! We have lots to do, come on." You beamed, making him stumble as you dragged him behind you.

"Slow down, we've got all evening." He chuckled, still letting himself be pulled along by you.

You and Leon stood in the middle of the living room, admiring your work. The space was much cozier now, decked with and lights and ornaments. "We really outdid ourselves this year, huh?"

"But we need to decorate, and we have to make a shopping list for presents too, and then I have a surprise for you, and-" You stopped yourself. Leon had just come home, and you were already bombarding him with all the things you wanted to do. You cleared your throat, a little embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, I've just been waiting all year for this." You gave him a bashful smile. Leon cupped your cheeks and pulled you in for a kiss. All of your worries faded away. The chains of anxiety and embarrassment shattered the second you felt his touch.

"Don't be sorry. You're cute when you're all excited, you know." He teased, taking off his jacket and shoes. A blush settled on your cheeks. "Your PJs are on the bed, I'll heat up the apple cider, okay?" He nodded with a soft hum and you pressed a kiss to his still cold cheek.

You squealed in excitement when you thought Leon was out of reach to hear you, but you were wrong. He smiled to himself when he saw you being so happy over something so simple. He loved you so much, you made his life brighter.

The Christmas songs were already on, and you were stirring the apple cider while humming to the melody. "What's this surprise I've been hearing about, hm?" Two big arms engulfed you, wrapping themselves around your waist. You swayed from side to side, pulling him with you. You poured the cider into some very cheesy Christmas mugs and set them down on the coffee table.

"Decorating first, then you'll get your surprise, Baby." You smiled, kneeling on the floor to start unpacking the boxes. "I can't believe you're making me wait. You've been excited about this surprise for months!" He argued playfully, of course. "Shut it and come help me with the garlands, big guy!" You huffed. You weren't tall enough to hang them up yourself, but you had your tall and strong boyfriend who would do anything for you.

And the little perk of watching his shirt ride up and his biceps flex definitely didn't go unappreciated. "S'not my fault you came out so small." He grinned, ruffling your hair as he passed you. You pouted and continued getting out all of your decor from the boxes while quietly grumbling. Maybe he's just unnaturally tall?! You're not small, you're perfectly average height! Okay, maybe you were on the low end of the spectrum, but still. To be fair, those garlands have never been up faster.

Not to shabby, having a tree for a boyfriend.

"Time for the present!" You exclaimed, already dragging him back to the table. You were quiet strong for your height, you've almost knocked him off of his feet once or twice.

You glanced over to Leon who had you pressed against his side. "Yeah, but's gonna be a pain to take down.." he sighed.

"Let me enjoy my Christmas craze, will ya?" You huffed. Leon put his hands up defensively and laughed.

"Alright, alright."

You refilled the apple cider and then went to grab the surprise. You brought out the big box and Leon's brows raised both in shock and curiosity. You heaved it onto the table before taking a seat next to him.

"Christ, Honey, what's in that thing? You do know it's not Christmas yet, right?" Leon chuckled, turning the box in all directions. "Obviously. But I really wanted to get you this. Besides, can't I get my boyfriend presents regardless of the time of year?" You smiled, leaning over to kiss his cheek. He looked over at you with a buttery soft expression.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"Once or twice." You grinned, before returning a soft smile. "Go ahead, open it." You encouraged him. Your heart was pounding against your ribcage. You really hoped he liked it. It was a bit of a risky situation since you were worried it might open an old wound. He tore into the festive wrapping paper, revealing the gift inch by inch.

You were slightly squirming in your seat, both from anxiety and excitement. He examined the now revealed surprise. His brows furrowed but you saw the exact moment it clicked in his brain when he realized what it was. His eyes lit up like the ones of a little boy on Christmas morning, and a smile tugged at his lips.

Leon looked over to you and you caught the smallest glimpse of a shimmer of tears in his beautiful blue eyes. "Baby, I.. Thank you. Thank you for sharing this with me- you have no idea how much that means to me." He said it with so much vulnerability and love that you felt like your heart was about to give out.

"Why wouldn't I share it with you? You're my favorite person. Let me tell you, my mom was thrilled when she heard about this." You chuckled, making him snort in response. His expression softened slightly, taking your hands and guiding you from your chair into his lap.

His hands wrapped around you tightly as his head fell to the crook of your neck. "I love you. You're truly something special and I don't intend of ever letting you go." His heartfelt confession sent shivers up your spine, yet your heart has never felt warmer. Your grip around his neck tightened as you pulled him closer to your chest.

"Oh, Leon.." there was a slight crack in your voice that you had tried so hard to suppress but failed. "I love you so much. You deserve the world and so much more." You whispered into his ear lovingly, you could feel him smile against your skin. You held eachother, wrapped in a warm and loving embrace a hallmark movie could only wish of replicating.

He felt safe with you. You were his great love, his home, the keeper of his heart. He meant every word when he said he won't ever let you go.

"Please don't say that."

You could feel yourself drifting off to sleep in his comforting embrace, so you decided that now was the perfect time to pull yourself from his arms. You were dead set on putting some plastic bricks together today, and if you regrettably had to leave your lovers embrace for it, so be it.

"You wanna get started on building that thing?" You grinned, leaning back so you could see his face. "Hell yeah, I do. Let's get bricking."

You were impressed with him, though. He had never done it before but it came to him so easily. "Well, I'm very good with my hands, as you know." He smirked, giving you wink before continuing to attach the blocks to eachother. "Can't argue with the truth, I suppose." You mumbled, setting a brick on top of another.

Leon had gotten the hang of it pretty quickly. Although it might be a rather simple concept, you've seen great men fall to the tiny plastic pieces (your dad). Leon was quite the natural. It felt like in the blink of an eye, he had constructed half of the building.

"How are you so fast?! That's like half of it done!" You were sitting there with your sad little gingerbread foundation done, and he was putting up walls and furniture already.

Leon didn't know how he ended up in this situation. He had just placed the last block on his very own Lego police station. He looked over his work triumphantly, but when his gaze fell on you, he made an effort to look outside the window.

You were knocked out cold, softly snoring by his side. Your brick gingerbread house wasn't finished, the blocks were thrown across the table, and you were in the middle of it, looking as beautiful as ever to him.

But what scared him, though, was that the sun was starting to come up. He hadn't noticed how late, or early, it had gotten. He had gotten so lost in this simple pleasure it made him smile a bit. Leon couldn't help but think as he carried you to bed, to finally snuggle up and let his body rest.

You had stayed with him. The whole night you had stayed. You didn't leave when your eyelids got heavy or the intervals between your yawns got shorter. You stayed, and watched him with a smile. He realized that he wanted this with you. A life with you, one that he would spend with you until the very end.

You were definitely getting promoted from girlfriend to wife next year. It made him realize what love could and should be like. He never thought it was in the cards for him, truly. But he couldn't be more grateful to and for you. He wanted to build a future with you.

And he would, brick by brick.

[meraki-sunset]

Hi Meraki!

Can you draw Carapaces at different points in their lifespan? I wanna see babies, kids, and the elderly chess pieces.

Sure bro. here are some chess people and some headcanons i have

🧸👶BABIES!👶🧸

It's not confirmed if carapace can reproduce naturally or if they can only multiply using the ectobiology machines.

On sburb, the chess people are born as adults and with a specific purpose, with a barcode on their wrist to identify the, i guess, model. So there are no babies on Prospit or Derse.

The babies the players made in the post credits would be the first carapace children to exist.

I headcanon that they're born with a full set of teeth that fall eventually, like with any other child.

They're a little more squishy than an adult carapace but less than a human baby

i also though it'd be cool if sometimes they got black or white spots

(Also, even if chess people remember living for years before the arrival of the players, they effectively began to exist the moment the first player enters the game, those memories being an illusion, same as how, when you buy a game and turn it on, the NPCs might tell you about their childhood, when in reality, they were never kids in the real world, they were rendered as adults for the purpose of being there in the game. The same happens with the chess people)

🎈🎀KIDS🚀🪁

Like before, there are no carapace children in sburb, but I imagine they would be the quiet type of kids. Not necessarily shy, but not very talkative.

They would have a lot of energy and due to their physical endurance, they would play outside a lot, sometimes a little too rough with the human and troll kids

⚽⛱️TEENS🎮👗

I guess this is the period where they would become more vocal.

Also, I can see many of them using a lot of hats/accessories as a form of self-expression.

Suction-cup accessories would be their own version of hair clips and scrunchies

👠👓ADULTS💍🎓

They're the strongest, a lot of them have more pointy features than their teenage counterparts, some may retain the round face into adulthood, but they would still be sturdier than a teen. Their hands have now fully developed claws. They aren't strong enough to open a can, but they can hurt

EarthC adult carapace specifically would be more talkative than Sburb's carapace. Also, not having a predetermined role to fulfill, they would be more similar to humans. If you dropped one of them on one of the sburb moon, they would stand out a lot.

🌙SBURB CARAPACE🌙

Just some apreciation of the canon characters.

i love them to death

👨🏻‍🦳ELDER👩🏻‍🦳

Last but not least, the elderly carapace. Sburb carapace didn't seem able to age, or at least they did so very slowly, because their purpose was to live long enough to act as sort of guides to the players after being exiled.

I suppose they can grow old eventually, specially the ones born outside the game, as babies, they most likely have a shorter lifespan that their Prospit/Derse counterparts.

Probably you can tell they're old because of the damage to their external carapace, which isn't as hard as it used to and their posture, product of time taking a tool on them.

As for wrinkles, they're only visible in their faces, which are softer for facial expression, but they don't even get that many

(also, just so you know i cried drawing the chicken grampa carapace, he knows his wife loves birds so he bought her a chicken, that's not exactly the kind of bird she expected but loves it regarthless, the chicken's name is gertrude, the grampa loves gertrude, she's a chicken orb, a chorb if you will. they're all happy, i would die for chicken-grampa)

And that's all, that's how I imagine EarthC carapace work. They're not so different from the Sburb carapace, but they get to experience growing up and deciding what to do with their lives.

i really love the species and i want to explore them more in the casu epilogue

[a-chip-in-inosukes-nichirin]

The Hashira at the Gym

I just started going to the gym with a friend and now I have a brainworm about the Hashira and what they'd be like at the gym.

Tengen:

Tengen is a gym influencer. He's also the kind of guy who wears the tightest shirt possible every time he goes, and he spends just as much time working out as he does flexing in the mirror and taking selfies with other people. People don't mind though, because the amount of weight he can bench press is impressive. He's almost constantly on the ab machines and doing weights. This man lives off pre-workout and spends all his extra time at the gym. His girlfriends also workout, but mainly are into Pilates.

Rengoku:

This man wears muscle shirts but not because he wants to show off, just because they were on sale when he was getting gym clothes. He never skips leg day. Never. This man's thighs are sturdier than tree trunks. He could crush a watermelon between them without a second thought. Everyone loves him, even if he's a little loud. He drinks protein shakes every day, and will bring Senjuro to the gym sometimes.

Giyu:

He pretty much exclusively does treadmills and stair-steppers, but he also will use dumbbells. He only wears hoodies and basketball shorts. Headphones are in 100% of the time. Will stare at people until they are off the machine he's waiting for. Doesn't drink protein shakes, but will drink preworkout. The caffeine does not seem to affect him in the slightest.

Gyoumei:

He likes the treadmills for walking. They're meditative for him. He teaches yoga, but also does weightlifting. He can both bench-press and squat more than anyone in the gym. He has several of the same exact tracksuit for working out. Has never tried pre-workout and says he never will. He's a vegetarian and only drinks vegan protein shakes if he does drink them at all.

Shinobu:

She's into calisthenics and pilates, but mainly does a lot of running, especially on inclines. She can do the least amount of weights out of all the Hashira, but she makes up for it with endurance and speed. If she sees Giyu at the gym, she'll get on a machine next to him and make sure that she's on it longer than he is, on a harder setting. Giyu doesn't notice most of the time because he's wearing headphones, but occasionally he will and thinks that Shinobu is just being friendly and that she's trying to be his gym buddy. She is not. She's being passive aggressive.

Mitsuri:

Not an influencer, but she always wears cute matching sets in pink, green, black, or white and people assume she is. Everyone at the gym loves her. Mitsuri has a pink water bottle decorated with sakura stickers. She always has snacks on her; protein bars, protein mixes, fruit, and other goodies. She does pilates, yoga, and weightlifting (and gymnastics and ballet). Misturi surprises a lot of the new gym goers with her strength. She is regularly asked to crush watermelons between her thighs, and she loves doing it.

Obanai:

He goes to the gym only because his crush goes. He'll pick up dumbbells here and there, but mainly works out on the stair-steppers and bikes. His clothing of choice is a hoodie and joggers. Always wears a mask no matter the season or if he's sick. This man wipes down every machine and weight before and after he touches it. He has seen Misturi break open watermelons with her thighs no less than six times. He is smitten.

Sanemi:

This man works out at their weirdest hours and is never consistent with when he shows up but does appear almost every day. He does weights and calisthenics, and despite never touching pre-workout, he has incredible stamina. Sanemi wears tank tops to workout in, and half the time they're cut into v-necks because he "can't stand feeling like he's being suffocated". He's brought his brother a few times, but mostly works out alone. He has gotten in trouble for fighting a dude who was recording a girl doing squats without her knowledge.

Muichiro:

This boy does yoga and ellipticals, and not much else. He'll bike occasionally, but he only comes to the gym because his family has a gym pass and he likes to watch shows with his headphones in while he's walking or biking. Wears a t-shirt and basketball shorts, and sneakers with mismatched ankle socks. Doesn't take anything seriously, but enjoys how protein shakes taste.

[devildomwriter]

Riding Through a Winter Wonder Land | Mephistopheles x Reader

800+ Words | GN! MC | CW: mildly suggestive

It had been snowing since the previous morning and the Devildom was covered in a thin layer of beautiful snow. In the absence of sunlight, it wouldn’t melt until the weather warmed again. It was only cold thanks to Diavolo attempting to provide seasonal familiarity to the RAD exchange students, more specifically you. But the event of snow was something everyone found joy in. Some preferred shutting themselves in their rooms, some slept through it until it disappeared, and others, like yourself and Mephistopheles, thought it would be the most perfect time for horseback riding.

“I can’t say I’ve gone riding in the snow for millennia now. Why I must’ve been the last cold snap where there was any sign of snow and it was mostly ice then. What a wonderful opportunity Diavolo has given us, wouldn’t you agree?”

You nodded and listened to your boyfriend sing his friend’s praises. He was right though. Seeing his horses gallop through the field in the unfamiliar snow was a beautiful sight to behold. It was even more fun watching it all while riding horseback leaning against Mephistopheles’s chest.

Devildom horses were a tad bigger than ones from the human world and much sturdier. This mare had no trouble with two or more guests at once and was comfortable with the special saddle she’d been fitted in today. Mephistopheles had made it just for the two of you in anticipation of today.

You didn’t need to look directly at him to know he was beaming as the mare left the stables down the horse trail.

“Shall we have a ride through the forest first?” He asked you and you looked up a him and nodded, smiling.

He gave you a gentle smile and lightly kicked the mare’s side so she’d quicken her trot towards the woods.

As you rested against Mephistopheles he proceeded to give you a detailed explanation of the land topography, the history of the woods, the stables, and more as he loved to do. You were never more than a minute away from Mephistopheles’ trivial lectures. He loved to show off how much he knew, especially to you whom he most wanted to impress.

“Look, there,” he said in a hushed voice and pulled the mare’s reigns to stop her. You followed his finger to a tree where a small magenta bird hopped.

“I’ve never seen one like that…” The size of a finch and such an unusual color, the bird certainly didn’t exist in the human world.

“Yes, I rarely see them, how amazing it’s come out this late in the year,” he said with satisfaction.

“What is it called?”

“A bell-chime bird, because their wing flutter is barely enough to make wind chimes ring,” he explained with a huge grin.

“You see such beautiful things in the Devildom, huh?” You commented and he nodded.

“Yes, although I don’t recommend looking up pictures of its mouth.”

“Why…”

“Well, let’s just say there are tentacles involved…” he looked like he was remembering being told Santa wasn’t real.

“I think I’ll take your word for it…” you decided and Mephistopheles kicked the mare’s side to continue your path.

You weren’t sure how long you were out there but the snow slowly increased on the ground although the faint snowfall didn’t harshen. The world was becoming more quiet as the snow absorbed the sound and the darker-colored creatures of the Devildom were in plain view thanks to the bright moon.

“Are you getting tired?” Mephistopheles asked you as you neared the end of the trail.

“Not really, why?”

Mephistopheles blushed, “I was only making sure you were okay.” Mephistopheles always seemed to be concerned with whether or not you were enjoying yourself. He was a very doting boyfriend in that sense if not also a little nosy.

The stables of Mephistopheles mansion came into view again and you grinned up at your boyfriend and the snowflakes in his hair.

“Hm, what is it?” He asked seeing your playful grin.

“You know, Mephisto…as much as I loved riding horses there’s something else I’d like to ride.” You whispered.

“Oh? Whatever you wish to ride I can make it happen,” he said confidently.

You grinned triumphantly, “Promise?”

“Yes, of course; camel, llama, elephant, unicorn, anything at all!” he had his hand in his pocket ready to pull out his D.D.D. and make it happen. “So what is it you’d like to ride next?”

“You,” you say cheekily and you watch his calm composure fall apart as he turns a deep shade of red.

“I— well I— I… now I can’t …I can’t say I don’t agree…that…that that’d be more,” he clears his throat, “___…you really have a way of throwing me off, you know?”

You laughed and felt him prod the horse to quicken its pace.

“So is that a no…?” You tease.

“It’s a yes,” he said sharply, face beat red, “at least wait until we’ve finished with our horse-riding. Honestly, what am I going to do with you?”

[dollfaced-erin]

𝔻𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕠𝕟'𝕤 ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕝𝕖 (Blade x F!Reader x Jing Yuan)

PART 17

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , PART 10 , PART 11 , PART 12 , PART 13 , PART 14 , PART 15 , PART 16

A/n :

i have JUST finished Penacony, and i have to say, THAT WAS A WILD RIDE FR HELP ?!?! i did NOT expect it to end that way. Okok, hear me out, you might cancel me or whatever, but opinions are opinions right, and i LOVE how they made Sparkle some little gremlin that REALLY knows how to flame people good. ye ye i know about the things happening on twitter, but push that aside. that's merely a reference. all in all, the races in the game still dont exist. and getting mad at a fictional VILLAIN is somewhat hilarious to me ngl...i never even SAW the racism until i watched tiktok. my eyes. anything on tiktok is like...corrupting my brain rn and i hope your fyps are favoring you all too ! But still. We're all humans and we all have our opinions. so dont start messing around and bullshitting people online youre never gonna meet, okay ?

Taglist : -

@rebeccawinters , @nayukiyukihira , @pix-stuff , @fluffy-koalala , @swivy123 , @starxao , @kaoyamamegami , @kimura-uzuri , @rsvye , @seikouryuu , @just-here-reading , @matsulovesyou, @sincerely-aaronette , @prettyliliy , @chibiduck , @hermosacolibri , @la-diablas-thingz , @farelady-fate , @everi-eve , @shadowfoxey , @helloyuki , @immahuman , @samptlay , @boomie-123

Back then, he was only a young man, staring up at the starskiffs that flew by in the sky. He looked no older than a mere teen, but as a Xianzhou native, looks are VERY deceiving. Even for someone as young as Jing Yuan.

The young man looked up at the sky, his adolescence was only peaking up back then. But even so, he was a splendid Cloud Knight, already the climbing up the ranks to be a Sword Champion like his master. Though she had shielded him from much the horrors she had faced when she was a mere child, she tried her best to raise her student as her very own.

He remembered seeing his friends earlier, during the crowning of Jingliu as the Legendary Sword Master, entitling her with the nickname transcendent flash due to her movements that had seemingly cut through time and space within a blink of an eye. They all came around, wanting to congratulate her.

There was the legendary craftsmen, though hailing from another land and being a short-lived species, he had come to present to her the sword made of alien material, shining ebony matte black even under the bright sun. And not far behind him, was the Imbibator Lunae, coming over adorned with his robes of silk and jewelry of jade. Then, there was the mischievous Baiheng who roamed across the stars and set to stay on the Luofu.

But clinging to the sleeve of the High Elder of the Xianzhou Luofu, like a little lost girl, though he was sure that she was most likely just a couple decades younger than the Imbibator Lunae himself. And with the glaucous horns perched atop her head, he knew that she was inevitably the relative of this royal dragon before him, the one they called Saltator Lunae.

She was a beautiful young woman, with bright, curious (e/c) eyes that shone with wonder for the world. Her silky (h/c) hair was held up with a beautiful hairpin made of glass that seemed to be sturdier than plain ceramic he saw the nobles wear. But it matched her innocent look, and it seemed to him that she had yet to see more of the outside world.

He saw her for a mere glimpse, and she seemed to be talking to either her brother, or Yingxing the craftsman who seemed to be very much absorbed into his conversation with her. The middle-aged man even seemed to adore the young woman.

'Cute...' he remembered thinking as he saw her.

It was hot that day, and he was just fresh after training. But after remembering his master's swordsmanship, he quickly got back up, grabbing the sword he used to train, and went on with his practice. There was still much to learn, much to face before he could even dream of being half the person his master was.

"Jing Yuan, meet Imbibator Lunae's younger sister. Saltator Lunae." Jingliu said, appearing seemingly out of nowhere, as he was in the middle of training.

And he saw her again, from a much closer distance. The pretty girl from the other day, this time with an intricate hand fan in her hold, closed. This time she seemed much more...reserved ? Was it because her brother wasn't around ?

"Huh ? Sister ?"

"Yes, she'll be training with you. Other than Cloudhymn magic, she wants to learn about forming wind and water together to form ice. It doesn't hurt to learn more, especially from someone with core differences like you, Jing Yuan."

"Ah..." sighed the General as he shook his head, pulling himself out of his thoughts. He chuckled softly, looking at the item in his hand, which was a small decorative hand fan.

It was a beautiful oriental fan, with intricate designs carefully inked and dyed with care and professional handling. And it was no ordinary fan, instead it was a beautiful silk fan that he had seen her hold on the day they first met....

And was entrusted to him by Dan Feng who loved his sister very much before he had to part from this world.

The fan just...was just a reminder of what sunny days he blindly lived through, never anticipating the position he'd assume current day...

"General ?" A young voice piped up, snapping him out of his dampened mood.

The General turned to see his retainer by his side, peering cautiously at the fan in his master's hand, knowing that it must've belonged to someone of position and status. Especially since the wood forming it was no ordinary slice, but rather elaborately detailed to the smallest feature.

"Yes, Yanqing ?" He responded back, the lazy cat-grin on his lips as his golden eyes met one he considered his son.

"Lady Fu Xuan has given signal that she has deployed the anomaly team towards the suspected location of the Plagues Author's devotees." Yanqing said, the young boy nodding his head to signal to his master something.

"Thank you, Yanqing. It is time for me to depart, and reunite with the princess herself face to face. I cannot have the Ace of the deck be pulled out before its time." Jing Yuan said as he placed the fan onto the table, and rose to his feet.

"An...ace of the deck...?" Yanqing asked, cocking up an eyebrow as he suspiciously eyed the General of the Xianzhou Luofu.

"Yes. One of the keys in saving the Xianzhou itself." Jing Yuan said, giving no room for his retainer to further impose on his agenda.

"Now, Yanqing. I will be leaving to coincide with the Master Diviner's troupes, and those stationed in the Alchemy Commission." Jing Yuan said with that same smirk plastered on his lips.

"Do not lay your foot in a trap laid down by yourself, lest you be the hunted instead of the hunter." Was Jing Yuan's final warning before he walked off to leave the Seat of Divine Foresight.

But what he didn't know was that his little apprentice had been exposed to the sights of the legendary without either of them noticing it. And this youngling was very much eager to try his new profound knowledge in bringing justice to the land he served.

Though the General had yet just finished another meeting with the Master Diviner, even issued her with the official warrant to temporarily command the Cloud Knights, it was clear that things were far from over now. Affairs on the Xianzhou Luofu this time wouldn't be so easily averted, not with the interference of outsider hands in this matter.

He shook his head as he remembered the contents of the earlier discussion with Fu Xuan earlier. He remembered the troubled face of (Y/n) who had not dared utter a word as he issued another errand for the Astral express team to run.

He remembered his own words, spoken with his regular slyness and his lax tone in order to conceal what he truly felt inside...

"Miss Tingyun, I would like you to continue to serve as a guide for our Astral friends. And Lady (Y/n)..." he said, trailing off as he turned to look at her.

She looked...troubled. Biting her lower lip was a habit she had built long back during the prime era of the High-Cloud Quintet. Not only did she look troubled, she also seemed quite...saddened. Perhaps...it was the memories that surged her, or even the weight of her duties to reseal the Ambrosial Arbor. And everyone knows that...Lady (Y/n) isn't quite complete in herself...

"I hope you understand the importance of your presence within this mission. I am sure that the team will be able to safely escort you through the paths, and guide you safely to the Alchemy Commission."

He had once again broken the rules and regulations of the Luofu. With the next task he issued...was to get the Astral Express team towards the Ambrosial Arbor through the Alchemy Commission's delve. It was a hard decision, knowing the routes they needed to pass through were heavily infested and affected by the growth of the Ambrosial Arbor and it would be increasingly dangerous for (Y/n) to continue venturing along.

But he had no other choice yet in this matter. She was the King piece in this chessboard. Though her Queen piece...was nowhere in sight.

But he knew that man would appear sooner or later. Along with the young prince, who served the missing half of the current king's severed power.

He just hoped she was faring well.

"Phew ! That deer sure was a tough one !" March said, a relieved smile on her lips after the team had departed from the Alchemy Commission and saying good by to a certain...Furnace Master.

"Quite a deer friend indeed." Replied her companion, Stelle, who earned a tired groan from March due to her pathetic excuse of making jokes.

"But Lady (Y/n)..." March said, looking at the woman who was walking ahead of them, her back turned towards the team. Robes of expensive silk fluttered in the wind behind her, light shining off the material. Her (h/c) swayed in the wind, giving off nothing but an air of royalty.

But despite her ice cold gaze...everyone saw how shocked she looked when Gongshu had introduced himself as the Furnace of Creation's master. The woman was silent, merely staring at the man before her, uttering not a word. But she bit her lip, as a way to prevent herself from saying more than she should.

Then there was the deer, the Ebon Deer that was nothing but an abomination. Colors of blue, gold and green, representing life, vitality and wealth. A beautiful yet horrifying mix of colors forever ingrained in her mind.

"Are you alright, Lady (Y/n) ?" Welt asked, making sure that the young woman behind her was faring well.

Fighting against the Ebon Deer was hard work, at it seemed that even (Y/n) had trouble against it before they dispelled the outer source of power it was extracting from the power of Abundance.

He watched her horrified reaction as it withered and yet regained its former state, almost as if she were haunted by the extremes of power an Aeon can possess...

Or perhaps were those the same eyes of the people who fought in the War of Abundance...? The eyes that witnessed fear and loss time and time again. Maybe...perhaps even those eyes were included in the horrors of the abominations.

Powers of the Vidyadhara were nothing short of the definition of power itself, but she struggled to face it off, as if having second thoughts while fighting, or even extending the period of fighting just to conduct a couple observations and conclude a couple thoughts.

This woman...was trying to learn something. Gain an insight, perhaps...?

Even as Welt was making his own observations and conclusions regarding the change of paths from the Abundance to the Hunt, (Y/n) stood away from them, deep in her own circle of thought.

"I...am alright." Said the regal lady, dusting of the sleeves of her dress. It was tough, but she knew there was more to come, especially with the warning Jing Yuan had discretely yet undoubtedly been trying to relay to her.

Her presence was playing a crucial part in this play of his.

Did that mean...she had to meet...his reincarnation...?

Jing Yuan had never told her what had become past the period of molting rebirth. But did she really want to know...?

"It's just...that deer..." she said softly, shaking her head. "Reminded me of someone."

The man she loved, falling at the hand of the abundance, due to some...forbidden ritual they were trying to pursue. And he too...began one of the Abundance. Healing time after time, without even having a say in his own life.

The woman looked back to meet the gaze of her worried companions. All sorts of gazes landed on her form, pity, worry, concern, understanding...she appreciated them all, but...

"That's enough. We should keep going. The Alchemy Commission...shouldn't be far from here now..." said the dragon lady before she turned on her heel to leave the scene.

Right...there was no need to say anymore. Words...could not convey the feeling of loss she felt etched deep inside her heart. Nor did the memories even fulfil the void that grew day by day, with a certain longing for times of old to resurge...

Through the gates of the Artisanship Commission, it led the team straight towards the Alchemy Commission, a delve where all the medicinal and healing practices were carried out. It was the perfect place for concocting medicines out of herbs and materials of rare items to treat unknown diseases, or a place to jot down prescription after prescription while attending to the endless stream of natives that need the attention of professionals.

Some came here to learn, and some came here to help others. But ultimately, the desire of all here was one, to make the Xianzhou Luofu more prosperous and longevous than it ever was.

But this place...was also the same place for dubious plans to be carried out. With the high-tech equipment, materials only those in the alchemy would be able to obtain, should the Luofu fall into peril, this...would no doubt be their lair.

(Y/n) led the team into the commission, walking past the walls that were once so familiar to her. Though it has been centuries, this place...was almost as same as it used to be back when she was in her prime, looking over the apprentices like a protective mother watching her eggs.

Bodies of the mara-struck, celestial bodies and the Cloud Knights littered the stone ground left and right, for as far as the eye can see. It was no doubt that a fierce war had indeed taken place within these walls, no time to reach out for help since the delve had been sealed off, and the commission was deemed to be deserted.

"Whoa, looks like the battle here was intense..." March said, the poor girl looking around the blood-bathed battlefield with fear and horror in her young eyes. Her hands were to her mouth, almost in disbelief with what had occurred here.

Tingyun sighed, looking behind her to meet the gaze of the young girl. "Looks like the Master Diviner had launched a campaign while we were delayed in the Artisanship Commission."

"She must've divined it at the right time..." responded the usually silent Stelle, only ever opening her mouth to let out the most unheard of jokes (Y/n)'s pointed ears had heard of, or to say something incredibly out of character.

"Seems like she had sent in the Cloud Knights to clear out the way before we arrived. It would've been dreadfully dangerous had she let us in without proper preparation and training like the knights." (Y/n) said, her sharp and luminescent eyes scanning the area, the scene before her like flowers wilted on the ground.

But this...was nothing compared to the flooding blood rivers she had witnessed as a young maiden. Should things continue as they are...well...the Luofu would be drenched in mixed blood once again.

But unlike last time. She would do everything in her power to stop from memories of the past haunt and overshadow her future, refusing it to take shape it once took form as.

She wouldn't dare dream of losing another person dear to her.

Not the warm and kind-hearted General that had embraced her with loving arms the moment her eyes had revealed itself to the world. Not when she had to let go of her lover that remembered so little of her yet yearned for their long lost intimate moments.

Back then...she had so much to lose. And this time was no different.

She just hoped...that his reincarnation was doing well somewhere.

Welt noticed the unease in (Y/n)'s gaze. Being the attentive man he was, riddled with experience and written with history of a distant land, he knew better than to outright voice his concern over the Dragon Lady.

"Time is of the essence. The most important task for the Xianzhou Luofu is suppressing the Stellaron." Said the brunette, his arms crossing over his chest as he too observed the concluded battlefield before him. "General Jing Yuan tasked the Master Diviner with commanding the Cloud Knights-- he would've known she'd act on the results of her divination."

"Maybe that's why they sent us through the Artisanship Commission. To avoid direct contact with the battlefield. It is too dangerous for us here. If fighting the Ebon Deer was already breaking more than our usual threshold, imagine actually engaging in a real battle." (Y/n) said softly, looking sad at the loss before her.

"But...that's out of your scope." She whispered, walking towards one of the knights to check on their conditions.

"Lady (Y/n)..." March said worriedly, and Tingyun looked a little...somber at the Dragon Lady had returned back to her post as the Miracle Healer.

"This...must be hard for Lady (Y/n) to see." Tingyun said softly, shaking her head. "As I remember records...the past Dragon Lady was someone of immense caliber and knowledge, having pulled strings no one dared to interfere with."

"But this is nothing compared to what she had seen back in her days. Centuries ago, an Emanator of Abundance besieged the Luofu with the aim of the Ambrosial Arbor. They destroyed half our delves and killed most of the Cloud Knights." Tingyun said, looking up at the sky, perhaps wondering what the sky looked like when the ground was bathed in red.

"For long-life species, such events are more like yesterday's memories rather than ancient history. This awful spectacle is child's play in comparison to what they've seen and been through."

"It's...hard to tell if the Master Diviner won or lost here." Welt said with a heavy sigh, that was until (Y/n) walked back, her (e/c) clouded with regret and shame.

"There...are many losses here. I might be able to restore and patch some up, but...it would be too dangerous for me to venture further alone without back up." (Y/n) said, her eyes never leaving the fallen soldiers. "If only Yingxing and..."

She cut herself short, her thoughts snapping back to prevent herself from saying anymore of those forsaken memories of old. She shook her head and cleared her throat, as if to regain composure.

"Nevermind." She said sharply. "There aren't many Cloud Knights here, so I reckon there's a retreat nearby, or maybe they really did make it out with a minimal count of casualties. Deeper into the delve, perhaps."

"Will you try heal those here, Lady (Y/n) ?" Tingyun asked the horned woman before her, noticing her determined gaze. And (Y/n) nodded. "I'll...try my best. I'm a healer, a doctor even, or whoever I used to be, but I'm not miracle granter."

"Please be careful, Lady (Y/n), Stelle. These monsters seem pretty tough..." March warned carefully, fearing the safety of her companions and the lady they were meant to escort safely.

(Y/n) leaned down to inspect the wounds on one of the soldiers that seemed to have been ridden with mara, rooted deep inside its body. As she scanned the figure with her sharp eyes, she noticed how this individual...a woman, perhaps in her early 300s...was far too deep in mara.

Mara was plaguing her body like flies eating away at rotting flesh. Slow, constant, but unbearable. The wounds were shrinking away beyond a usual native's ability, and with the lack of injured vital signs, (Y/n) knew it was best for her to try freeze the cores and quickly move away.

So that was as she did. To those still blessed with life, she leaned down to bestow them the gift of her healing, hoping that they would be able to be to at least endure less pain than they should. She even froze cores, wishing that it was enough to prevent the rapid outbreak of the plague, harming others beyond control.

She knew...those mara struck before her...had their regrets and their ambitions to see another day. She knew another person who was just the same, bringing flesh of a fallen Emanator, striking his beloved with a fatal blow, yet he himself was a victim to another's plan who wished to deny the cruel nature of death.

The beloved who once held her hand so tenderly, an arrogant man who was yet so soft towards her, bestowing her with a gentle kiss on her forehead as he held her close by her waist.

(Y/n) looked up, knowing that those days were no more, and the sky above them...was never a witness to the moments she held dear to her frozen and recovering heart. Her heart that was facing conflict and turmoil with her current identity and her past self, knowing both were nonetheless one of the same.

Though she had forgotten most of her past, only bits and shred able to be brought forward to her current time, she knew it was time for her to step up and once again place the crown high on her head, though it weighed so heavily on her shoulders.

"Look ! There's someone over there." March called out, taking (Y/n)'s hand to point towards a woman wearing an Alchemy Commission uniform, and a kneeling Cloud Knight by her feet.

(Y/n) didn't have a good feeling about this.

[tired-biscuit]

(reader and bkg are 18+)

stepson!bakugo would kiss stepmom!reader’s pussy each morning to wake her up 🥺👉👈

my first bakugou thirst!! ahhhhh so exciting, everything is under the cut <3

cw: stepcest, infidelity // 18+ mdni, fem!reader

it starts when his dad leaves for one of his many excruciatingly long business trips.

the house is big and fancy, but it also feels eerily empty because of it. the days are long, the nights even longer. inside it is just you and your hot-tempered stepson, who you have no clue how to handle, because you're only a couple of years older than him anyway; it's obvious that he isn't going to see you as an authoritative figure when you could easily be mistaken for his girlfriend instead of his mother more often than not.

that fact just causes tension and makes him act awkward around you, which he hates. makes him avoid you like the plague because of it, too. and it's tiring: living like this. constantly walking on eggshells and hoping for the best, while there's nobody in your corner to pat you on the back.

so you try to build a sturdier relationship with him as you have nothing better to do anyway. you cook dinner - even though he comments it always lacks certain spices - and you clean and make sure his clothes are always fresh out of the laundry, even though he insists that he can do it himself. you try to play video games with him and ask him what book he's reading, at which he blushes and mutters something about you not liking it anyway. you tell him to have a good day whenever he goes out to go to the gym, and you always make sure he has plenty to drink and eat after he comes home red in the face from his workout and every inch of him is covered in sweat.

you even watch movies with him every other evening. he's quiet during most of them, sitting a reasonable distance away from you on the couch; his eyes barely open by the time it strikes ten o'clock. it's almost silly: the way you feel the need to drape a blanket over him later and place a quick peck onto the top of his head. you doubt he'd appreciate it, he sleeps through it all anyway, but you swear that you see his eyelids twitch from time to time and his lips curl.

and all of that works. with every dinner, he speaks more and starts giving little, grumpy compliments to your cooking. with every movie, you get more comfortable around each other. you sit closer together. chat a bit. he even smiles now sometimes, especially when you rest your head against his shoulder as you both pass out before most of the movies you're watching even hint at rolling the credits.

and when you wake up one night, you realize you've somehow ended up entwining together. limbs tangled, bodies pressed close. your spine to his chest, his arm is heavy as it drapes over your middle; his breath calm and even whilst tickling the back of your neck.

you can feel the ridge of his cock. it's snug between your thighs.

your instant reaction is to pull away, but then you realize how warm he is. how sweet he smells. how good it feels to be touched and not feel as alone. the house is still big, but now he's here with you.

so you stay put. do the same thing a couple of more times. you never talk about it, but it becomes a routine of sorts. a one strong enough that it feels like something is lacking if he's not there; sleeping with you. so you invite him to watch movies in your bed instead. pretend it's because your back hurts because of the couch, even though you know your acting sucks - you can see the upwards twitch of his lips as he acknowledges your fidgeting and badly sold lies.

and yet, katsuki still ends up complying. he warms your bed and keeps you company. pulls you real close and strokes you all over the places he thinks need to be stroked by a man's hand to make a woman like you not feel as alone. he gets more daring each time, treading that thin line of moral reasoning he shouldn't be crossing because you let him do it, of course you do.

he doesn't know why he does it. he's a smart boy - too smart for his own good - but it's just that seeing you so out of focus and distraught makes him pity you and turns him sad. he's become fond of you and wants you to feel good, and yet you're always so lost in your thoughts; every sentence starting with a "hm?" and a "huh?" while your eyes are practically glued to your phone, making sure his dad is doing all right. he can't help it, the little pout on your face makes him feel almost obligated to make sure you never feel as lonely again.

so it's not even a surprise when his head ends up between your legs one morning. it's just so easy, after all. so simple to crawl under your skin when you're vulnerable and longing to be touched. a rather quick fix that will surely cheer you up.

and it does. he makes you feel so much better when the flat of his tongue traces your sticky slit. when the tip of his nose nudges your clit and he makes you tug on his hair in response and squirm. before you know it, your soft moans are bouncing off the walls of the very room you share more with your stepson than your husband now; making you sound like the little bimbo wifey you fit the part of so well.

he makes you twitch in your still half-asleep state; stirring you awake by the time his thick fingers start pushing into you, pumping and coating his knuckles with your milky slick. his cheeks tinted a soft pink, he lazily begins to flick your clit with the tip of his tongue, all expert and languid before sucking it into his warm mouth.

and you know that you shouldn't be doing this, that it's so, so wrong, but everything is so slow, and delicate, and eventful. he's here for you and you're still soft and pliant from sleep - warm. you feel good for a change and taken care of. especially when he moves lower to spoil your tiny hole even more by using his mouth and not just his fingers. and instead of telling him no, to stop and leave; your hips raise, back arching so that you can make the job easier for him.

because that's what good mommies do, right?

[wannaeatramyeon]

Helloooo I just wanted to say I absolutely love your writing! I always look forward to your posts, they just make my day! When I‘m feeling down they cheer me up and when I‘m in high spirits they make me even happier. So keep up the good work :3

Btw I‘d also like to request the Lookism boys reacting to them accidentically hurting their S/O (especially Jake and Goo, I just love them) 🥹

If you don‘t want to it’s fine! I also just wanted to tell you I really appreciate your writing🫶🏻 Thx!

~Your fan

Hi Anon! SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY. I know it's been a while. Thank you so much for your kind words omg 🥹 your words are also a wonderful pickmeup for me too. I will work harder to keep making the most of this fixation with these silly boys 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️ And don't worry, as long as I keep putting out bullshit for Lookism, there will always be some Jake and Goo cos they are my faaaaaves.

Accidentally hurting S/O: Goo, Jake, Gun, Samuel, Vin

Neither of you ever go full force in your spars together. The intent was to improve, not maim.

However, seeing a gap in your defensive stance, their right fist jabs out. Quick as lightning, hitting you in the ribcage.

Which you usually would be able to tank, except.

Fucking liver shot.

All your focus and drive is knocked out with that one hit. You're breathless, trying desperately to stay standing-

Goo x Reader

"Princess?"

Goo raises his eyebrows, a smirk gracing his features. It's not the first time you've manipulated him and then punched him as soon as he was within reach. No chance is he falling for it again.

At the sound of your whimpers, and pathetic sight of you head down, clutching your side, Goo finally backs down.

Surely he didn't hit you that hard, right? He thought you were much sturdier than that especially with all the trash talk coming out of your mouth.

"Cupcake, you ok?" The mirth isn't entirely gone from his voice, but he tilts your face up towards him and gasps at the tears in your eyes.

"My little baby! Did I hurt you?" his fingers come up to wipe the tears from your cheeks, "I didn't know you were so weak. Such a delicate little flower, my buttercup. I didn't even try, and you couldn't withstand that? My sweet darling."

Your tears dry quickly when you hear his words. More gloating than concern. "You asshole, that was a cheap shot."

"If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen, sweetheart."

"Asshole," you repeat as he cackles like a hyena.

"C'mon," Goo gives you a loud obnoxious smooch on the forehead for your troubles, "Let your Goo bear look after you today."

Jake Kim x Reader

Jake realised the impact before you did. Already too late for his fist to change course and resulting in your face crumpling up in pain.

"Shit!" his hands come up, gingerly assessing the area and eyes frantically searching yours, "Y/N, are you ok?"

"No," you squeak out and Jake has never felt such panic before. Is that his life flashing before his eyes?

And then when your eyes well up with tears, lip starting to quiver, Jake feels his soul departing his body.

Shitshitshit-

The apologies tumble out.

Of course, you can't blame him. Accidents are a natural byproduct of sparring. Jake suffered a sprained ankle not too long ago, and you still can't bend your left middle finger fully.

You regain your breath as his hands rove all over to check for any other injuries. Needing to touch you and feel that you're still fine.

"Jake?" You interrupt his worried movements.

"Hmm?"

Probably an inopportune moment, yet even through the pain, it warms your heart seeing how much Jake cares about you. "Love you."

Oh. Jake wasn't expecting that. That's what you give him after a liver shot? You really are too adorable for words.

With a soft smile, he tells you he loves you too.

Gun Park x Reader

Clearly unimpressed, Gun watches you.

With anyone else, he would have called them pathetic, worthless and a waste of his time.

But with you, it's not time wasted. He would rather be with you, than not at all. Which he finds difficult to admit. That fact at complete odds with his drive and his self. A personal weakness he is willing to overlook.

From the offset, Gun could see there was zero possibility of you becoming his masterpiece. Simply put, you didn't have the body nor talent nor skill. When you first asked him to start sparring with you though, he acquiesced. Frankly, has he ever even said no to you.

You chance a peek at your boyfriend. Already you are expecting a look of disappointment, instead you see his retreating back, leaving you alone.

Tears spring to your eyes and you drop your head in shame. Damn, this hurts. You're no match for Gun, no match for most people really. Still, you've been trying to improve.

As you wallow, a blanket is wrapped around your shoulders. In the blink of an eye, Gun hoists you into an effortless bridal carry, calling you an idiot.

You know his words have no bite, his actions speak far louder.

Arms wrapping around his neck, the pain subsides as you nuzzle him.

Samuel Seo x Reader

Samuel feels it in his superiority complex first, always bubbling away and too deeply ingrained for anything else.

Incapacitating an opponent, dominating them, proving that he is better.

Followed quickly by fuck. This isn't an opponent. Not really. It's you.

"Y/N?" he holds you by the shoulders and you lean into it, your legs too weak to hold you up.

Samuel's eyes cloud with worry when you let out a feeble groan.

"Come on," he picks you up, maneuvering you into a fireman's lift with grace and you with anything but. Ass in the air, hair flopping down, still feeling waves of pain.

Samuel faintly recalls his packed calendar for the rest of his day. Meetings upon meetings. Calls and face-to-faces with vendors and investors and corporate fucks who can barely form a thought between them without a brainstorming meeting and a presentation.

"Ughhh Sammy I feel like shit," you gurgle from behind him, and that is all it takes for him to wipe his schedule clean.

None of it matters.

He'll be spending the rest of the day with you instead.

Vin Jin x Reader

Vin nudges you with his foot, "Get up."

In the end, your legs had crumpled beneath you until you're flat on the floor, hands clutched to your throbbing side.

At your lack of response, Vin tries again. "Get up you pussy."

Vin is Vin. An asshole to the end.

"Go away," your voice is weak, barely reaching his ears.

He squats down and squints through his shades, trying to get a closer look at what the hell is wrong with you. He barely even touched you.

"Yeesh, are you really this weak? You're no fun."

You can't bring yourself to say anything to that, just throwing a glare at him. So venomous that you hope it penetrates those stupid sunglasses and into his soul.

"Whatever, if this is what we're doing now." As if he wasn't the cause of your predicament, Vin lets out a melodramatic sigh and lies down beside you.

"You're such a loser," he says, even as he shuffles close, carefully positioning your head on his shoulder and pulling your body to his.

[ladyfogg]

Perfect Fit (Teaser)

Fic Summary: Since the first time you let him bite you, Astarion knew seducing you would be easy. What he didn’t anticipate were the feelings that came with it.

Fic Rating: 18+

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Drow!Monk Reader

Fic Warnings: Biting, Blood Drinking (Vampire and all that) Vaginal Sex, Fingering, Grinding, Cuddling

A/N: Back on my bullshit for a new fandom. As of right now, this is the only fic idea I’m working on since I have a ton of work-writing to do, but you know how it goes. This pale elf has taken control of my brain, laughing maniacally as he does.

Right now this fic around 3k and not even halfway done. Let me know if you want to be tagged when the full fic comes along.

The first part of fic follows the game in terms of his first bite but after that it's all from my horny brain.

Update: Full Fic

---

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

This is not the question he expects and he blinks, taken aback. You don’t sound angry, hells it would be easier if you were. Anger he’s used to, can handle with poise. But Astarion thinks he can work with this, whatever it is.

Because it’s not pity, it’s not empathy, it’s something he does not have a name for.

“At best, I was sure you’d say no, more likely you’ll run a stake through my ribs,” he explains. “No, I needed you to trust me. And you can trust me.”

Of course you can’t. Anyone who ever put their trust in him came to bloody ends. Yet, he’s seen you drop a gnoll with nothing but your fists and an insane high kick, so he feels you may be sturdier than most.

You study him closely, and Astarion does everything to appear docile and properly chastised, hunching his body to make himself smaller. There’s a beat where neither of you blink or speak. However, he catches the subtle slump of your shoulders and a sigh escapes your lips.

“I believe you,” you say. “And I do trust you.”

Astarion slowly exhales his own sigh, this one of relief. “Thank you,” he says.

Then, because he can’t help himself, because his empty stomach twists, because you’re still close enough for him to inhale your scent, he pushes his luck.

“Do you think you could trust me just a little further?” he asks, a hopeful lilt to his voice as he bats his eyelashes at you. “I only need a taste, I swear.”

He's fully expects your refusal and wouldn’t blame you in the slightest. As much as this hunger is driving him to madness, he is fully prepared to slink away with his tail tucked between his legs if it means he lives to seduce you another day.

Yet the next words out of your mouth throw him off his game.

“Fine, but not a drop more than you need.”

There’s no hiding the surprise on his face. He knows you see it and with his darkvision, he can just make out the corner of your lips twitch up into a smirk.

“Really? I—” He clears his throat and recovers, swagger in place as comfortable as a well-worn mask molded just for him. “Of course, not one drop more. Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?”

He motions towards your bedroll with a bow. As you brush past and turn towards the fire, your smirk is wider, as if you can tell how much excitement is building within him. Then again, with the tadpole and your uncanny ability to read people, you probably do.

The others are still silent and sleeping as you lay back onto your bedroll. Astarion’s chest heaves and he licks his lips as the prospect of blood, humanoid blood, becomes all he can focus on. He’s salivating again, red eyes drawn to the smooth expanse of your neck.

At first all he can hear is the crackling of the fire. But when you lay back and he leans in, the steady beating of your heart breaks through the noises of the night. Bloody hells, he can hear the blood rushing through your veins. It hypnotizes him, draws him forward as you roll your head to the side.

White fangs pierce dark skin, sliding clean through to find a thick, pulsing vein. Underneath the rush, he almost misses the soft gasp push past your lips.

Almost.

But he doesn’t have time to process it because the first drops of blood touch his tongue and nothing else matters. Not mind flayers, not tadpoles, not Cazador, nothing but the sweet, red liquid that is sliding down his throat carrying your scent.

Everything else before pales in comparison.

There’s no fear. When he hunts he can taste the deep fear of his prey in their final moments. But this, is different. You are different.

It’s such an onslaught of emotions he can’t process them right away. It’s secondhand, like trying to grab a rapidly fading echo in a dark cave.

Astarion doesn’t anticipate it and can’t recognize half of them at first. Sensation is what he does recognize. Pain is immediate, followed by warmth leading into heat in his cheeks and stomach. So much heat. He’s been cold for two-hundred years, he’s forgotten what it’s like to have body heat, to be hot.

His body naturally curls around yours, one hand sliding under your head to cradle it close. The fingers of his other hand dig into the packed soil, gripping for something solid yet finding nothing.

Your body arches into his, breasts pressed to his solid chest and for the briefest moment, he imagines how better this would be if he could feel your bare skin to his.

Then another splatter of blood hits the back of his throat as your heartrate increases and the thought is lost.

---

To Be Continued

[inexplicifics]

If you're still open for the heart prompts, here's a lil curveball- 💚 or 🖤 for milena/aiden(/lambert). Or 💘, if those are too tricky.

I want you to know that this was quite a challenge!

Aiden flings himself between Milena and the sorcerer without a second thought. Witchers are sturdier than humans - and Lambert would never forgive him if she died while under Aiden’s protection. Hell, Aiden would never forgive himself.

The spell hits like a charging bullvore, and Aiden goes arse-over-teakettle, landing heavily at Milena’s feet. It feels like his bones have been filled with hot lead and his muscles turned to stinging nettles. He wants to scream and can’t quite find the breath.

“Well, that takes care of that,” the mage sneers, and comes mincing towards them. “Now then, your family misses you very badly, girl. Or at least they’re willing to spend quite a lot of money to get you back.”

“I will not be returning to them,” Milena says firmly. “What have you done to him?”

The sorcerer snickers. “Nothing that can be undone,” he gloats. “He’ll die slowly unless his true love kisses him, and everyone knows witchers can’t love. Now come along, girl.”

He reaches over Aiden to grab Milena’s arm, and two things happen at once:

Aiden finds the strength, somewhere, to lift his arm just enough to drive his sword into the bastard’s leg, high up where the blood runs near the surface -

And Milena produces a dainty little silver dagger from somewhere and puts it neatly and precisely through the sorcerer’s throat.

The sorcerer topples backwards, thank fuck, instead of onto Aiden; he’s probably dead before he hits the ground.

Milena drops to her knees at Aiden’s side, dark eyes wide and frantic. “Aiden - my gods -”

“Worth it,” Aiden rasps. Fuck, he hadn’t realized the pain could get worse. It’s not as bad as the Grasses, not quite, but if it keeps increasing at this pace it will probably outstrip even that particular high-water mark of agony fairly soon. Fucking mages.

But better him than Milena.

“No,” Milena says, shaking her head desperately. “No, you can’t - you can’t die -”

But Lambert’s not close enough; he’s a good three days’ travel away at best, and Aiden is fairly sure he won’t survive that long. Especially given that he doesn’t think he can stand. That blow to the sorcerer’s leg used up most of his strength.

“‘S alright,” he says, finding a crooked smile somewhere. “‘S worth it.”

“No, it isn’t,” Milena says fiercely. “And - and what I feel for you is no less than what I feel for Lambert, and you are willing to give your life for me, so this ought to work -”

And she cups her slender hands around his face and leans down and kisses him fervently.

The shock of the pain ending is enough to startle a gasp out of Aiden, and Milena pulls back, wide-eyed, to stare down at him in desperate hope.

Aiden gapes up at her for a long, stunned moment. Finally he finds his wits enough to croak, “No less than what you feel for Lambert?”

Milena blushes, which is answer enough.

“Marvelous great-hearted girl,” Aiden murmurs, and reaches up to cup her head ever so gently in his hands and guide her down into a second, softer kiss. “I would die for you,” he adds quietly, as their lips part. “Even as I would for Lambert.”

Four days and quite a few miles later, Lambert looks from Aiden to Milena and back again with an expression of incredulous delight and says, “I am the luckiest fucking bastard in the world, holy shit.”

Milena blushes and giggles. Aiden grins. “Nah, I think that’s me,” he says cheerfully. “We can be joint-luckiest, though, if you like.”

“Sounds good,” Lambert agrees, and wraps his arms around them both, clinging tightly. Milena nestles against his chest, tucked safely between them, and Aiden kisses his lover - one of his lovers, because he is the luckiest bastard in the world - with all the joyful gratitude in his heart, because he’s alive to do it.

And then he kisses Milena again, just because he can.

(It's also here on AO3!)

[candycandy00]

The Pirate and the Mermaid - A Shigaraki x Reader Fanfic Part 1

This is the AU idea that won the poll, and I’d planned to write it after finishing some other fics but I just couldn’t stop myself. It was getting too long so I had to break it up into two parts. Part two will be posted in a few days, so check back for it. Part two will also be more smutty than part one. Any feedback at all would be greatly appreciated!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Smut. 18+. Dubcon. General rough treatment of Reader. Shigaraki is a pirate captain, Reader is a mermaid who gets caught in his net.

When you were a young mermaid, just old enough to begin exploring the waters around your home without being accompanied by your parents, you saved a human boy from drowning. 

He was around your age, and he’d fallen from a cliff near the sea, his body breaking the surface of the water like a rock, knocking him unconscious. You swam for him, easily catching him before he sank too deeply, and pulled him to the craggy shore. You turned him on his side so the water would pour out of his mouth, then, not knowing what else to do for him, you waited, and watched. After a few minutes, you began to worry that he was dead. You crawled over and leaned close to his face, trying to determine whether or not he was breathing. 

At that moment, his eyes snapped open, and you’ll never forget the strange red color of them. You’d never seen eyes that color on anyone before, human or merfolk. They reminded you of a bright burning sunset. 

He stared at you for a moment, then suddenly began coughing, his body attempting to force the remaining water from his lungs. You took the opportunity to slip back into the sea, swimming past the rolling waves and disappearing into the depths. 

It would be four years later before you saw the boy again. This time he was on a large wooden ship with black sails. The humans called this a pirate ship. He was working with several other teenage boys, scrubbing the deck, tying ropes, carrying buckets. When he came to pour some water over the side, he was close enough for you to see his face. He had two scars that hadn’t been there before, and his soft white hair was longer, touching his shoulders. 

You watched him from beneath the surface of the water all day, sometimes coming up to get a better look when you were sure he couldn’t see you. 

Humans had always fascinated you, with their strong legs and their loud, breathy voices. Though humans didn’t seem to know merfolk existed, merfolk were very much aware of humans and had learned much about them over the centuries. Some merfolk had even studied the corpses of humans that had been found on the ocean floor.  

You were amazed that humans had no gills or fins, but even more amazed by the similarities. Human and merfolk looked almost identical down to the legs, where merfolk had fins from the knees down while humans had feet. Merfolk also had gills on either side of their torsos, right below the rib cage, and small translucent fins on their outer thighs. 

Merfolk had learned to comprehend the human languages used near their seas, but they had trouble speaking it. Even when out of the water, breathing dry air, it was difficult to form words. Like most merfolk, you could say a few words, but anything more made you feel like all your oxygen was suddenly depleted. 

So when you heard humans laughing or singing, you were transfixed. This had led to you floating a little too close to ships sometimes, something your parents warned you against. 

On the day you saw the red-eyed boy again, you followed his ship for hours, even after the sky grew dark, just to catch glimpses of him on the deck. Eventually you had to abandon the ship, fearing that you would drift too far from home. 

Over the next few years, you spotted him occasionally when his ship passed through your seas. Each time he was a bit taller, wearing clothes that were a bit sturdier, like a leather coat and tall boots, now carrying a sword at his side. He stopped doing random tasks on the ship, now spending time at the helm or deeper inside the ship where you couldn’t see him. At one point you heard someone else call him “Captain”. From what you understood, this meant he was in charge of the entire ship. 

One night he came onto the deck late at night, when no one else was around, and looked out over the water. The moon was full and bright in the sky. You were watching, just under the water, daring to get a bit closer, depending on the darkness to hide you. His eyes suddenly shifted down to you, and they widened slightly. He leaned over the side, trying to get a better look, but you quickly dove deep, your heart thundering, worried that he’d seen you clearly enough to be certain of what you were. 

That night was half a year ago, and now you find yourself watching his ship again as it passes through the waters surrounding your home. You’ve seen him at the helm a couple of times, but he’s been lingering on the deck much more than usual, pacing around and inspecting the work of those doing the tasks he used to perform. More than once he’s went to the side to look out over the gently rolling water, and your heart races each time. Is he looking for you? 

You remain out of sight. Even if you’d love to properly meet him and interact with him, you can’t risk exposing your family and friends to humans. If you’re spotted here, the humans might search these waters carefully and find your home. 

He’s at the side again, looking down, and you worry that you might be too close to the surface. You quickly swim to the side, darting under the ship to move to the other side. Just as you clear the dark shadow cast by the enormous boat, you feel rough tendrils wrap around you, like the seaweed merfolk use to tie things together, only much stronger. Isn’t this what humans call rope? Wait, isn’t this a net? 

You try to swim away from it, but it’s tangled around your legs and through your hair. You struggle and pull, but that only seems to make it worse. At some point you realize you’re being pulled up, toward the surface. Toward the ship. 

When you’re lifted out of the water, still tangled in the net, you find the red eyed captain standing there, staring at you. For a few moments, you both look at each other with wonder, and then the spell breaks. 

“Haul her over,” he commands, then steps back to give his men room to swing the net over and drop you on the deck. You gasp at the pain of colliding with the hard wood, then try to disentangle yourself. If you can just get free of the net, you can crawl over and slip off the side of the ship. 

The captain walks over, holding a large knife in one hand. You watch apprehensively as he begins cutting through the net. He’s freeing you! Could it be that he remembers being saved by you when you were both young? 

After cutting most of the rope away, he gathers a long piece of it in his hands, then wraps it around your wrists. He stands up, hoisting your arms above your head so roughly that you give a little cry of pain. A couple of his men come over and secure the rope around your wrists to a tall wooden pole, effectively pulling you upright, your fins dangling a few inches from the wood. 

You wriggle and jerk at the rope, trying to slip out. Your arms and shoulders are aching, and the rope is biting into the wet skin of your wrists. You look at the captain pleadingly. You almost beg him to help you, but you hold back. Speaking the human tongue is difficult and drains your oxygen. You decide to wait. 

The men on the deck are staring at you with wide eyes. One of them steps a bit closer and says, “They really do exist!”

Another man turns to the captain and asks, “How did you know we’d find her here? When you accepted this job I thought you were crazy, but here she is right in front of our eyes!”

The captain’s eyes have never left you. “I thought I saw her around these parts a few months ago.” 

One of the other men gives a cheer. “She’ll catch us a fortune! This is the highest paying job we’ve ever taken!”

The captain nods to the two men who had tied you to the pole. They touch the seaweed wraps around your chest and waist, and you try to shrink back away from them. 

“It’s not cloth,” one of them says. “I think it’s seaweed.”

The captain is looking you in the eyes when he says, “Remove it.”

You immediately begin struggling against the ropes again. Merfolk have a tendency to be modest about certain parts of their body, only revealing them to lovers. Are they really going to strip you of your coverings, right here in front of all these men? 

The two men take out knives and begin ruthlessly cutting through the seaweed wraps until they fall to the floor, leaving you completely exposed. You whimper and try to clamp your legs shut in an attempt to cover yourself. 

One of the men reaches a hand toward you, as if to touch you, but the captain suddenly says, in a commanding voice, “No one is to touch her! Am I understood?”

The man who had reached for you quickly withdraws his hand as several calls of, “Yes, Captain!” sound over the deck. 

The captain himself walks over and stands in front of you, those red eyes roaming over your body. You blush crimson under his gaze, closing your eyes and turning your face away in shame. 

The sun is burning hot in the sky, already drying you out, making you feel like you’re on fire. Merfolk could survive outside the water, but after a short time it became painful to do so. It was hard to breathe without the added oxygen from the water. Your skin and fins dried, cracked, and bled. Some brave merfolk had tested the limits generations ago. Yes, they could live, but only in misery. 

You suddenly feel two warm, dry hands on your hips, sliding down your damp skin, roughly rubbing over your fins. You open your eyes and find the captain looking at the tiny fins on your thighs as he repeatedly runs his hands over them. They twitch from his touch, and he seems amazed. His hands move further down, past your knees, where they find your main fins. He strokes the scales there, sending tremors through your body. Then, all at once, he lifts your legs up by your knees and pulls them apart to stare between them. 

You struggle to free your legs, but his grip is strong. You let out a strangled cry as he shifts one of your legs to be held beneath his arm so his free hand can probe your most intimate place. “She’s just like a human woman down here,” he says, his voice cold and emotionless. “I wondered how her people mate. I guess they do it just like us.”

He drops your legs, the sudden weight of them pulling on your arms painfully. Then his hands are on the underside of your arms, moving down beside your breasts, stopping at your gills. You draw in a sharp breath, causing them to flutter as they attempt to draw in water that isn’t there. His fingers slide into the folds, and you cry out again. Your gills are very sensitive, and his fingers moving into them is more painful than you imagined. 

Withdrawing his hands, the captain steps back to look you up and down. One of the men beside him is looking at you as if you’re a deity. “She’s beautiful,” the man says in a reverent voice. “We should set her free.”

Still looking at you, the captain says, “She’s a monster, and she’s worth more than her weight in gold.”

The hot air is merciless on your skin, the sun’s heat unrelenting. You decide to finally speak, or at least try. 

“Please,” you say in a weak, small voice, causing the men to look at you in shock. “I need… water.”

“She speaks our language?” one of the men asks, suddenly seeming afraid. 

The captain calls for someone to bring him a bucket of water, then carries it over and sloshes the water over your body. The cool liquid feels so good on your dry scales, it almost overrides the soreness of your arms. 

You shiver from the pleasure of it, then look at the captain. “Thank you,” you manage to force out. 

He looks up at the sky, squinting at the sun, then turns to his men. “We’ll take her below deck. Get a cabin ready.”

You feel a small bit of relief to know he’s not going to leave you strung up under the blazing sun. 

“Do you… remember me?” you ask in your weak voice. 

The captain looks at you with those red eyes, but says nothing. 

“You fell… from a cliff… when you were young…”

His eyes widen slightly, and you can see the recognition there, like the pieces all coming together in his mind. For a moment, you think you’ve gotten through to him, but he suddenly turns his back to you and says, “I don’t remember.”

You droop in despair, realizing he’s not the kind hearted human you imagined him to be. 

Some time passes, and one of the men emerges from deeper into the ship and reports that they’ve readied a cabin for you. The captain approaches and cuts the rope holding you up, then catches you in his arms. Your own arms, sore and exhausted, drop over his head, effectively leaving your wrists tied together around his neck. It’s an intimate position that makes you redden. Your bodies are pressed together, you’re completely nude, and his hands are on you to keep you from falling. 

He carries you down the wooden steps leading beneath the deck, down a hall, and into a room. There’s another wooden post here and you make a whining sound as he pulls your arms up again and ties them above your head. Your arms are throbbing in pain. You look at the captain with tears in your eyes and say, “Please… it hurts.”

He turns away from you and motions two of his men in. They’re carrying tall buckets full of water. They sit them on the floor close to you, and the captain lifts your fins, one at a time, and places them in the buckets. The water reaches up to your knees, and feels so wonderful. Before you know it, he’s holding another bucket. This one he splashes over you, from your head down to your thighs. 

The captain hands the bucket to one of the men and says, “Pour water over her every hour. We have to keep her healthy until we sell her.”

Your eyes meet his. “Sell?”

He averts his gaze. “We have a buyer waiting to take you.”

“What will… they do to me?”

He heads toward the door as he replies, “I don’t know. It’s not my concern.” He hesitates, then adds, “Probably nothing good.”

Then, you’re left alone in the dimly lit room. 

You count the hours by the number of times someone comes to splash a bucket of water on you. Four times. Four times you feel some small measure of comfort. The men stare at you, but none dare touch you. 

Just before the fifth time, the captain walks into your room. He’s holding a plate piled with seaweed, kelp, and other sea vegetables. He steps closer to you and says, “I don’t know what your people eat, but I thought fish might be in poor taste.”

You nod at him, and he uses a metal fork to feed you. After you eat around half the items on the plate, he pulls a round orange object from his coat pocket, as well as a knife. He uses the knife to cut the outer layer of the object away. 

“Have you eaten one of these before?”

You shake your head. 

“It’s called a citrus fruit. They don’t grow on the lands around here.” He slices off a piece of the object’s flesh and holds it up to your mouth. You look at his thin fingers holding the “fruit”. They’re dripping with the object’s juice, and it looks delicious. You open your mouth, and he places the piece of fruit inside, his fingers grazing your tongue. 

An explosion of flavor bursts in your mouth. You’ve never tasted anything like this! It’s so juicy and refreshing. After swallowing it, you open your mouth again, waiting for the next piece. He stares at your open lips for a moment before cutting off another slice. 

He feeds you the rest of the fruit until only one slice remains. When he places it in your mouth, you instinctively close your lips around his fingers, licking the juice off. 

His eyes seem to flash with something as he pulls his hand away and looks at the thin string of your saliva connecting his fingertips to your lips. Then he puts those fingers in his own mouth and licks them clean. You’re unaccustomed to things of a sexual nature, but the act makes you feel heated somehow. 

He pulls off his coat and lets it fall to the wet, sticky floor, then walks around behind you. Not being able to see him makes you nervous, so you try to twist in your bonds. This causes a jolt of agony to race up your arms, and you cry out. 

“What hurts you?” you hear his voice behind you ask. “Your arms? Or the lack of water?”

It was both, but right now one was worse than the other. “My arms,” you say. 

His hands touch your upper arms, gently, and begin massaging them. It hurts at first, but then your muscles begin to relax slightly as his hands firmly but comfortably rub them. He moves down, working at your shoulders, then beneath your arms. You sigh in pleasure, just glad to feel something other than pain in your arms. 

He does this for a few minutes, his body so close that you can feel the fabric of his white shirt against your bare back. Then, his hands slip around to cup your breasts. You stiffen, your small gasp seeming loud in the silence of the room. He massages them as he did your arms, and though you’re embarrassed, you can’t say it feels unpleasant. Your breaths get more shallow, and you realize it’s probably been more than an hour since your last bucket of water. 

One of his hands slides down your stomach and moves between your thighs. You squirm, trying to escape his touch, but you’re helpless to stop him as his fingers press into your folds and rub circles around your clit. Your whole body trembles as he keeps up the motions, his other hand still groping your breast. 

“Please,” you manage to breathe out. 

His voice is calm, almost cold, as he asks, “Please what?”

You can’t answer, because you don’t know. Do you want him to stop? There’s a primal pleasure building inside you, making you quiver. Is it wrong to want to feel good, when you’ve only felt pain all day? 

For years, you’ve thought about this man. You’ve daydreamed about meeting him, interacting with him. And as you grew into an adult, those daydreams sometimes included being touched by him. But you never imagined, in your darkest nightmares, that he would have you strung up painfully in his ship, taking you to be sold to strangers who would most definitely do terrible things to you. 

Tears form in your eyes. Your heart is so confused! You feel his fingers stroking your clit, more roughly than before, as he pinches your nipple. You gasp again, loudly this time, then a moan escapes you as you shudder through rippling pleasure. 

The captain finally pulls away and steps around to stand in front of you. He holds up the hand he’d shoved between your legs, and clear sticky fluid is dripping from it. 

“Looks like you get aroused the same way humans do,” he says, examining his fingers. 

You blush furiously. Was this just some experiment? But then he licks his fingers again, his red eyes staring at yours. 

He walks over and picks up a bucket of water, then sloshes it over you. Without another word, he leaves the room. 

[cloudyyoimiya]

hii may i request more port mafia! Ranpo hcs can be yandere or not, i'm just so starved for port mafia ranpo fics but unfortunately they're quite hard to find 😭

And a scenario would be nice

ofc you can request this!! i won’t lie when i got the first pm! ranpo request it was the first time i heard of that au. i won’t lie i kinda wanna design him now… anyways! i also did just some headcanons because i think i’d rather do a oneshot than a scenario!! i’ll get to that in the future. thank you for requesting, anon!!

Port Mafia Headcanons; Ranpo Edogawa

Possible warnings: Mentions of murder, brief mention of Mori

At first, he was just a simple mission planner for the mafia. Dazai, being the mafias new boss, would often call him up to his office to go over some strategies that he formulated. He would always ask Ranpo to fact check each one of his plans just to make sure that they would go smoothly.

When he finally landed a spot as an executive, it was because he had lead well over fifty successful operations, each one with little to no casualties. This honestly impressed Dazai considering that Ranpo’s ability rivaled his own intelligence.

Much like the canon Ranpo, this version would still act childish. It wouldn’t be as much as he would be in the detective agency, but it would still be there.

He wouldn’t be the worst executive to work under, but he wouldn’t be the best either. Much like every one of them in canon, he’d have his positives and negatives. The most well known negative of his would be his childishness. Sometimes he’d send certain people to die on missions he planned only because he didn’t like something that they did. He of course would say that their death was a simple oversight, but he and Dazai knew that it was planned.

In his office he had a safe for his sweets much like he did in Dead Apple. Though this one would be bigger and much sturdier. He couldn’t risk his valuable snacks getting destroyed because of some raid by a rival group, now could he?

Instead of his glasses coming from Fukuzawa, they’d actually come from Dazai. Dazai gave them to Ranpo when he first joined the Port Mafia because of the tradition of giving one of your personal items to someone that you recruited. Ranpo got attached to these glasses because they were from the boss himself, and he wouldn’t trade them for the world.

Now, let’s get on to you.

When he first met you, you were only a mere assistant for him. He’d always give you random tasks like purchasing him some more snacks, or making you fill out battle reports that he didn’t want to do himself. Or maybe even sometimes he’d send you to meetings in his stead.

At first he really didn’t care if you lived or if you died as harsh as it was. You were just an assistant to him; a nobody. He could always get a new one and replace you like it was nothing. He was never one to maintain work related relationships, so it was to be expected.

But then he started to fall for you. At first he noticed how you’d do anything for him—albeit it being because he was your boss—but still, he grew to appreciate it after a while.

He then started to notice how you’d remember his food preferences and how you’d always get him his favorite brands.

Ranpo absolutely loved it.

Ranpo made sure that you’d never leave his side, figuratively and literally. If he was sent on a mission, then he’d drag you along with him. You were still his assistant at the time, so you really didn’t have a say in the matter. He’d also drag you along on meetings with all of the mafias executives. He’d say it was because he needed you to write down notes for him, but they were rather meaningless in his eyes. He didn’t need the notes because he was able to remember everything, but he wanting to stay in your company during the meetings.

Soon, word started to spread in the Port Mafia that you and Ranpo were dating. You of course would deny these rumors like your life depended on it, but Ranpo would just egg them on in the shadows. He wanted to date you, so why not get the mafia used to it before it was official?

Over time he’d become more lenient with your work. He’d make sure that you wouldn’t go on major life threatening missions only because he still wanted you around. He may have been sadistic towards other members of the mafia, but he’d never be that way towards you.

If you ever were sent on a life threatening mission though, he’d make sure to use his ability and make sure you’d be safe. If it would ever turn out that you got injured, he would force you to take time off. If you insisted on going to work during your recovery process, he’d personally go to your living quarters and lay down on you so you couldn’t get up. Yes, it was a childish solution, but hey it worked!

More often than not he’d just allow you to hang out in his office during your down time. It gave him an opportunity to study you, and you were able to feel at peace even in your hostile working environment.

He’d even let you eat some of his snacks while other people weren’t watching! You should feel honored because no one in the history of the Port Mafia has been able to do that.

He would send out someone to kill another if they ever saw you sharing his snacks though. He couldn’t let the fact that he grew fond of someone get out to the world. People may use that to their advantage and he doesn’t want that

If Dazai was to pick up on Ranpo’s feelings towards you, then he wouldn’t try to get in between you. He doesn’t wish to become like Mori and dictate everyone’s moves, so he’d allow it. Though, he would attempt to tease Ranpo during meetings if you weren’t there for some reason.

If you were ever to leave the mafia, then Ranpo would try to persuade you out of it. He didn’t want to be alone—be without you—but if he was unable to do so, he’d allow you to leave. He’d also use his ability to figure out ways to cover your tracks so no one will be able to cause you harm.

On that note though, I do think he does have a picture of Fukuzawa on his desk from before he joined the Port Mafia. He only joined because he had no other place to go, and the detective agency wouldn’t accept him back after he agreed to help Dazai with something.

Who knows, maybe he will add another picture next to it that had you in it.

[koorinokujira]

Logs from the OC Database: Sunrise ( TF IDW1)

(Finally decided to make a little introduction post for my main Transformers OC, Sunrise. This will most likely get updated often as I keep reading the IDW comics and learn new information).

The lovely art below is made by the amazing @the-prince-of-vos, aka Akkalis! Thank you again for bringing him to life!

"No matter how far I travel from it, Earth will always be my first and only home. After all, home is where the spark is, eh?"

Bright, loud, cheerful, and so energetic that it causes concern; those are just a few ways that the Autobots have described one of their newest additions to the faction. This friendly, large mech is sure to steal your attention with his cheeky personality, unapologetic love for the things and people he's fond of, along with the desire to do good, no matter how impossible it gets. A skilled fighter with a fondness for learning new things, Sunrise is definitely someone you call when you need a helping hand, or just a friend to talk to.

Names, Nicknames, Designations...

"Sunrise is the name, and brightening up your day is my game!"

Sunrise was a name chosen by himself, shortly after his unceremonious crashlanding to Earth. While it was mostly the natural phenomenon itself along with the color of his frame that inspired the designation, it is also a reference to his late predecessor and doctor, Sunset, and the small sliver of hope he felt that he refused to lose. It holds great significance to him, and he is more than determined to live up to it.

In the past, he was referred to as Aeroflare, or simply "Patient Zero", as he was the first (and only) documented case of a condition simply referred to as an "Acute Partial Spark Disconnect". While he doesn't actively use either of these (the second one for very obvious reasons), some Cybertronians know him as such thanks to the aformentioned Sunset and his Conjunx, Cloudwave, who took care of the unresponsive Sunrise. The name "Aeroflare" was created so they'd have a better way of referring to him.

As for nicknames, those tend to be either shortened or slightly altered versions of his name (Sun, Sunny, etc.). However, some humans have also likened his appearance to that of a moth because of his headshape, finials and the way he folds his wings. Variations of nicknames that include the insect aren't too uncommon thanks to that.

Important Physical Attributes

"You know... I worry about the humans sometimes. I'm pretty good at moving around them, but... what if I step on one on accident?"

Discounting his finials, Sunrise is around 36 feet (10.97 meters) tall. While his exact weight is unknown, he seems to be on the heavier side, despite being a jet. His bulkier, sturdier build easily supports his weight. The main color of his frame is a warm orange, with red, black, and sometimes even yellow/gold as his secondary colors. His face is mainly a lighter, metallic grey, with the sides being a grey-ish white. His optics seem to have a color somewhere between yellow and orange, and are particularly bright in comparison to some other Cybertronians.

Sunrise's alternate mode is based on a Canadair CL-415 plane, which is designed for aerial firefighting. Of course, his altmode is quite a bit smaller than the regular plane (which has the length of rougly 65 ft/19.81 m and a wingspan of rougly 94 ft/28.65 m), so the length of his altmode is almost 36 feet with a wingspan of around 52 ft (15.84 m). So, not as big, but forest fires still cower before him!

As for his weaponry, he prefers to get up close and personal, which tends to mean a blade or two. He eventually gets an inset blade in his right arm. But his firepower is nothing to scoff at, either, as his most used weapons are two massive energy cannons. Those are separate from his body unless he is in his altmode, however. In that case, they tend to take up some space in the compartment where the plane stores water. More often than not, his servos are also an effective weapon because of his large size.

Sunrise's spark is of a bright orange color, which occasionally seems to fade into red or blue.

His holoform is that of a young, tall man with freckled skin and wavy, fiery red hair. His eyes have a very light brown, almost orange color. His physique is nothing short of impressive, and even appears to have some tattoos and scars. Sunglasses are an often used accesorry.

Oddities and Anomalies

"Me? Oh, c'mon! I'm just a regular guy. Or mech? Ah, doesn't matter. Just don't treat me like I'm something special or awesome. Others deserve that more than me."

While Sunrise seems like a fairly regular (albeit tall) mech, many of his fellow Autobots very quickly found out that he's anything but ordinary. After some time of debating, Ratchet eventually classified him as an outlier. Everyone, including Sunrise himself, is still struggling to make sense of how his abilities make sense and come together. Most of them seem to have to do something with the spark itself. These are anomalies that have been verified to happen at least once:

Extreme stamina: While he is not that much stronger than his comrades, everyone will tell you that he can do everything for much longer than anyone else. He does need to refuel more often, but his body seems to distribute it with almost concerning effectiveness. His recharges are short and rare. And as any medic in his vicinity quickly finds out, he doesn't seem to realize when he's tired, either, which tends to result in him collapsing every few days (and sometimes even longer than that) in the middle of whatever he's doing. It has been debated whether this is an actual outlier ability, or some strange side effect of the Acute Spark Disconnect, or the current lack thereof.

Spark-hearing: Sunrise's hearing is already extremely good (purely through meddling with his audials and processors), but this ability is something completely different. It is a type of hearing focused purely on sparks; as he himself puts it, every spark has its own unique rhythm that can tell you a few things about its owner, and he insists he can hear it even without the use of any external tools. This was already a bit strange, but it got all the stranger when he admitted that from Optimus' Prime he not only hears a beat, but a melody as well. A short experiment proved that even when he was deprived of regular hearing, he could still hear sparkbeats of others around him with incredible accuracy. He never really divulges what exactly the rhythm tells him, but he has been known to be more perceptive to the moods of others, and many internal ailments have also been discovered when he noticed that someone's spark beats "wrong".

Spark-meld: So far, there has (luckily) only been one instance of this happening. An occassion where Sunrise's spark completely melded with two others despite a ridiculous distance between them. This essentially allowed him to "be" those other two mechs, as he heard, saw and felt all they did, and he even had access to their memories. It was, of course, an overwhelming and traumatizing affair that he had zero control over, and whenever he speaks about it, he insists that he wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy.

Faction and Role

"Mhm, I'm a proud Autobot! Whatever that means..."

Sunrise is an Autobot, though he could have been counted as neutral for a few years. He takes loyalty to his allies incredibly seriously, but he doesn't mind extending a friendly hand to a Decepticon that wishes to redeem themselves. He's quite disconnected from the entire conflict, and has been known to abide by a certain moral and honor code (such as not killing an opponent who cannot fight back).

As for his role in the faction, he is somewhat of a universal helper. He doesn't mind doing menial tasks if it means everything runs smoothly, and often goes around asking others whether they need help with something. He's an avid learner, so he slowly becomes a jack of all trades over the years, with a bit more focus on medical support as Ratchet teaches him how to help others. He's also unanimously considered to be a morale booster, as he's a great listener and his positivity is infectious to most.

Personality

"Well 'course I'm all happy and smiley! I'm not named after the Sun for nothing!"

On the outside, Sunrise is a bright, happy-go-lucky mech that often acts before he thinks. Boisterous and sometimes even a bit mischievous, he unapologetically goes through life doing whatever makes him the happiest. He's a friendly chatterbox, and every room is full of him once he enters. While he is a tad annoying to some, most don't say anything, as he's too endearing to interrupt while he speaks. However, this also often has the effect of some thinking he's a mech of the... simpler variety, and that he's very naive, which he most certainly isn't.

However, this bright exterior hides many complexeties, many of which aren't exactly happy ones. He often feels disconnected from his fellow Cybertronians and the entirety of their conflicts, leaving him feeling left out and lonely. Thanks to his previous ailments, he has missed much, and so he struggles to keep up with his peers. He rarely shows it, but his self-esteem is quite low and he tends to put others miles above himself. His ability to express negative emotions is also not the greatest, which he usually resolves by walking out of the conflict and losing himself in one physical activity or another. As more and more fellow Autobots come to him with their troubles, he feels trapped and a need to constantly appear strong, until he finally reaches a breaking point.

Some traumas have left him with some underlying feelings of paranoia, and he often needs guidance because he feels lost. Anger issues have been a problem in the past, not so much now.

Interests

"Did you know-"

If you ask Sunrise about what he likes the most, he'll probably pretend he's thinking for a few seconds, before he excitedly yells out "Earth!" or "Humans"! If it's related to our dear blue planet, he'll adore it, or at least be interested. He finds humans to be extremely adorable, even after years of living among them, and will talk your audial (or ear, if you have those) off about this or that human culture, or express his admiration for their inventiveness.

But his interests don't just stop with humans, as he's really into learning about nature, particularly animals. Nature documentaries are his favorite genre of film, and Sir David Attenborough may as well be a saint to him. His favorite books are sappy romances and he mostly likes upbeat, energetic music genres. The only exception are chansons, which have a calming effect on him.

He's also always interested in learning more about the home planet he never really got to know, and talking with older Cybertronians about what they've seen.

Tinkering with whatever he gets his hands on is therapeutic to him. It only becomes concerning when he learns more of Cybertronian anatomy and tries to give himself strange upgrades...

Relationships

"Hi there! No need to be scared, I'm harmless, just really big! Wanna be friends?"

The jet makes a point to always start out friendly and respectful when meeting someone, and to not judge a book by its cover. He considers all Autobots to be his friends, and tries to give a chance even to some Decepticons when they seem harmless.

He has a talent for awakening something akin to paternal instincts in most older mechs, which often causes humorous misunderstandings and someone always being there to try to teach him about this and that. This effect was always particularly strong with Ironhide, Kup, and even Ratchet to some extent, as he feels responsible for his wellbeing.

Sunrise is quite close with Optimus Prime and Ratchet and trusts them with everything. Hot Rod and Jazz are always welcome company to him, and he later also becomes good friends with Drift, with an extended friendliness and respect to the other Wreckers.

His relationship with Ultra Magnus is cordial, though it can't be said they're the best of friends considering Sunrise's ignorance of most laws and tendency for harmless mischief.

The only Autobot Sunrise has a fairly bad relationship with is Prowl. At the start, the both genuinely despise each other, until Sunrise lets it go and is satisfied with driving Prowl up to wall with his antics and witty banter. No one really knows where they stand in their relationship currently, and everyone is too afraid to ask.

An important part of Sunrise's inner circle is also a very unlikely friend; a troubled Decepticon seeker named Dustbite, with whom he forms an unlikely friendship based on them both sparing each other's lives. With mutual respect and understanding, their bond eventually becomes so deep that they become each other's Amica Endurae.

As for who he cares more than just a friend... well, only time will tell.

Other Fun Facts

When it comes to the chansons, Sunrise's favorite singer is Jacques Brel.

He himself is a fairly talented singer, though he mostly just hums to himself.

Sunrise's Cybertronian somehow has a vaguely Canadian accent.

He speaks Hand very fluently and uses it to express himself when speaking is difficult.

Even though he seems very innocent, the mech swears like a sailor when he can, even making horrible amalgamation of human and Cybertronian swear words and insults.

He dislikes Primus, blaming him for his previous illness.

Later on, he becomes a good friend and "calming agent" to Fortress Maximus.

He uses his (usual) enhanced hearing to check malfunctions in all sorts of machinery, including cables running through walls. However, he still struggles to find an appropriate way to announce it. "I hear it in the walls" is not something he should say to alert someone of a fried cable, he's been told.

His optics can get blindingly bright when he's very happy. On the other hand, they grow dim when he's feeling under the weather.

His voice claim is Canadian actor Ryan Reynolds.

Story/Story Involvement

(Empty for now... but some short scenes and chapters from his life will hopefully come soon).

[ssukidesu]

what friends do

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Pairing: Nalu

Rating: T

Nalu Week 2024 ( @thenaluarchive @allaboutnalu )

Summary: Lucy gets a little too happy and does something (maybe not) regrettable.

Chapter 4: what he'll always regret (protectiveness)

Read on AO3

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 5 Ch. 6

Read under the cut

This was bad.

The cut was a deep one—deep enough for blood to pour and his skin to pale. It wasn’t so bad that he couldn’t force himself to walk, but Lucy bore the burden of most of his weight on her shoulder. He seared the wound with his magic so that he wouldn’t lose any more blood, but the pain must have finally fought through the waning adrenaline. They needed to find some place where he could lay down—some place he could let his magic do its work and heal him quicker than a normal human’s ever would. For all intents and purposes, it should have been a lethal blow. But to her utter relief, he was far sturdier than most. Otherwise, she’d be robbed of a good night’s sleep for the rest of her life.

How many times had he done this over the years? Too many to count. The mage’s strike had been directed at her, of course, but he was a quick runner. The blade would have struck her straight on in the gut, but it impaled the side of his lower abdomen, right above his hipbone. 

They found a curve in the mountain’s rock that was less of a cave and more of a burrow—but it would have to work. It was secluded enough to provide them cover, and that’s what mattered. Lucy didn’t think there was anyone else out there—the mage they’d just defeated boasted his status as a lone wolf—but she couldn’t be too sure. 

They all but collapsed onto the hard ground. Lucy pulled a blanket from her knapsack and shoved it under his head as a makeshift pillow. Happy, who had been following sluggishly by foot, was now out cold from his own exhaustion.

She kept digging through her stuff until she found her supply of bandages. Though cauterized, his wound was still oozing blood slightly, and she didn’t like the idea of leaving it exposed. She pressed the bandages over his flank with shaking fingers. She was running low on medical tape, but what she had left would have to do. 

“Lucy?” he managed weakly.

"What?" she snapped, not sparing a glance toward his face. 

“Are you alright?” 

Her fingers fumbled. Her eyes burned. “Of course I’m alright.” The mage was dead now, after all, since Natsu was able to land a lethal blow to his back. He’d thought Natsu was dead. A fatal miscalculation that many had made in the past, and that many more would likely make in the future. 

She grit her teeth. "You're the one with a hole in your side. And…” she paused, swallowed hard, and continued with a broken voice, “…and it’s all my fault.”

His lips quirked into a smile, of all things. “I’d do it again,” he said, as if it was obvious.

"No," she whimpered, a single tear breaking through the dam of her lower lashes. “You’ve done it a hundred times already.”

His smile faded, and she realized her mistake. His look spoke for him, saying the words that she knew already were lodged in his throat, in his heart.

I’d give anything to have done it a hundred and one times.

She couldn’t speak about it, either. 

Once he was securely bandaged, Lucy finally felt like she could breathe again. He was hissing air through his teeth, beginning to drift in and out of consciousness from exhaustion. His eyes kept fluttering open to look at her, and every time their gazes locked, Lucy fought back crying more tears of relief. 

When he could hardly keep his eyes open longer than five seconds, he managed to speak her name with broken syllables.

She brought herself closer to lean near his face so that he didn’t have to project. Her hand came to brush his bangs from his eyes, and she couldn’t help the tears now. “Yeah, Natsu?”

Somehow, his arm found the strength to rise, and he slid his fingers behind her neck, tangling them in the hair near the base. He weakly clenched his fist, securing his hold without outright pulling her hair. 

“I’m glad you’re alright,” he managed weakly, tugging her down. As he brought her closer to where he wanted her, his fingers loosened around her hair and fell to cradle and turn her jaw. When his lips met her cheek, she released a sob she didn’t know she was holding. 

“Natsu…” she wept after he released her. She kept her head lowered where he had brought her and nuzzled her nose beside his, tears streaming. He had fallen asleep, but she stayed there, kissing his forehead and eyelids even though she knew he didn’t feel it. “You idiot..."

[not-a-space-alien]

Tinytopia Chapter 5: Endless Rebirth (Part 1)

Story Masterpost

On AO3

Thanks to my beta/sensitivity reader @appelsiinilight!

In this chapter: Marcy starts to refocus her efforts on life at home, just in time to receive yet another visitor.

Warning: This chapter features a dog mauling that goes slightly above the intensity usual for this story.

***

Out in the park, a young borrower wobbled through the grass.  Dirt stuck to his fur and under his fingernails, and he wandered around lost until a tree nearby turned and bent over to scrutinize him through the knots in its trunk.

“Oh, hello?” the borrower said, backing up nervously.

You seem lost, whispered a voice like wind creaking through branches.  What are you doing here?

“I don't really know,” the borrower said.  “Sorry.  I'm all alone, though.  Hey, what are you?  You're the only talking tree here, I think.”

The tree creaked and swayed for a moment. Then: I am a dryad, and I think I know where you should go.

***

Marcy’s first act as a full-time housekeeper was to take stock of everyone who was already in the house.  They’d been managing mostly fine without her, but Moon was right.  There were more little creatures running around, and if this was going to be Marcy’s main focus, she could spend her time thinking of ways to make life here better for them.

Thistle had always known Marcy was smart, but he was awed to see her in action.  She was a bundle of nerves, of course–she always was–but now that her attention was fully on things here at home, it became obvious just how passionate she was and how hard and quickly she worked.  It seemed like her failed PhD program was forgotten almost instantly.

The first step was to help Thistle, who also seemed similarly overwhelmed by everyone new showing up, make his guest book.  It was a large book for Thistle’s standards, but small for Marcy–the size that a human could write in it, albeit with some difficulty, and allow plenty of room for denizens with tinier hands to write without being overwhelmed.  It was a good compromise–and Marcy got something from the craft store that would be a bit sturdier than a notebook, a bound book with blank pages and a cover ready for decorating.  Thistle put off ramping up his sellable art projects for just a bit to decorate it.  It didn’t take too long.

Then he went around and made an entry for everyone.  Marcy at the same time made a note of their wants, needs, and habits, in case she could spot anything that could be coordinated or made better for everyone.

Thistle insisted Marcy be on the first page.  Then the other humans: Teddy and Colin.  They were here first, so might as well go in chronological order.

Teddy and Colin were the owners of the house, so it was important to make sure they were okay with everything going on.  Well, Colin was the owner of the house, but he mostly cared about using the house to make Teddy happy.  Both of them had been pretty gracious about everything, but Marcy would still need to ask permission for major changes.  They worked alternating schedules, sometimes on the weekends and sometimes off on weekdays.

Mochi was put in the basement when none of the humans were home–that was just for safety.  Marcy’s continual presence there would be good for her, too–the cat would have to spend less time locked away meowing mournfully to be let out, since Marcy could make sure she didn’t pose a threat to any of the tiny creatures.

Then there was Thistle, of course.  He was the star of the show, in Marcy’s opinion.  He was usually awake at 9 or 10AM until about midnight.  He slept either in Marcy’s hand or, more recently, he’d taken to sleeping with Moon on the desk or nightstand in Marcy’s room.  He alternated, wanting to sleep with them both but knowing Moon wasn’t comfortable sleeping on top of Marcy yet.  He spent most of his days in the living room: his art supplies were on the floor, his little painted castle with his clothes and knickknacks was there, and he could hop up on the couch to watch TV when he wanted to.  He made paintings and drawings and clay figurines and sold them all online.  He had his silkworms there, too, for petting and taking their silk and the occasional snack.  He would practice flying when he had someone to help him–which would be a lot more often now that Marcy would be home basically full-time.

Jewel, of course, spent all his time in the fish tank.  He’s been warming up to socializing more, albeit slowly–very slowly.  He was free to keep his own schedule, although he was mostly limited to sleeping at night when no one was in the living room with him to keep him awake.  Sometimes Colin would talk him into letting himself be scooped up and taken out for various social activities–Colin was really the only one he trusted to do that, although he was starting to open up to Marcy and Teddy a bit more, too.

Violet and Petunia had been given permission from the humans to live in the walls and very rarely came out–they were by the far the most introverted members of the household.  When Thistle wanted to get ahold of them, he usually walked over to this little crevice in the dining room baseboard, stuck his head in, and yelled for them.  If he did that for long enough, it would summon Violet eventually.  He had managed to get them to come to a few social gatherings, but never for very long at a time.  Violet always acted like she had places to be and important things to be doing, although maybe that was just because she was jittery, in more or less constant motion.  Petunia always loved coming out, although even she would start to obviously lose her stamina for socializing after two or three hours and start to nod off.

Severa spent most of her time occupied with whatever activity Thistle was doing, seeing him as her main source of nourishment now that she no longer hunted and relied on their bond to sustain herself.  She didn’t seem to have any strong preferences about socializing or activities, just sort of letting herself be subjected to whatever everyone else around her wanted to do.  The only exception was when Petunia came out, because she prioritized fawning over the baby above everything else.  She spent most of her time in the wooden house Thistle had helped her put together and decorate, which was on the living room floor beside his own.  Every time anyone gave her a gift she did not know how to properly use, she simply put it in there, so that she had a sort of miniature treasure hoard that she slept in like a dragon.  But she’d also stuffed the wooden house full of fluff and blankets to make it a proper nest.  Thistle could tell it was because she was half-hoping it would host an egg or a child someday, but for now it made it very cozy for Thistle to sit in with her when he felt like it.  He was getting more comfortable around her–he wasn’t scared to sit in her coils anymore, having complete confidence she wouldn’t attack him.

Moon kind of wandered around.  They were sure to always keep a window cracked open for him, so he could visit without feeling trapped in the house.  He vanished into the night outside sometimes, but he spent a lot of time bathing in the moonlight on a windowsill or roof.  Thistle kept asking him not to go out and seduce anyone else and Moon assured him he wouldn’t, just that he was often seized by wanderlust that he needed to get out of his system.  He complained endlessly about the light during the day, but he’d shifted to more of a half-diurnal, half-nocturnal schedule to spend more time with Thistle.  He made himself at home wherever he happened to be–and spent more time than not hanging around Thistle–but apparently felt no need for a house or nest to call his own.  He had his magical shrinking wardrobe that seemed to carry every possession he thought worth keeping.

And now Marigold and Córva were here.  Marigold was healthy enough that it was probably okay to leave him alone, but Thistle was still loath to leave him for any long amount of time.  He spent most of his time in the living room next to Thistle’s house, passing his time doing the exercises the vets recommended for him, writing in Pixish or drawing, watching TV, or reading on Thistle’s phone–Thistle had convinced him to start learning English, although he didn’t seem to be very excited for it.  They’d set up a baby gate to keep Mochi out of the room–Marigold was clearly afraid of her, although she’d shown no major signs of aggression around him.  Córva hung around outside, mostly in and around the lovely little birdhouse Colin had built for her, and she would swoop down to meet Marigold whenever Thistle wheeled him outside.  Teddy brought birdseed out for her, which she always ate happily, though she didn’t seem dependent on it, thankfully, since she was still a wild bird and could come and go as she pleased. 

That just left Trilloras, the social-phobic dryad.  Planted out in the yard.  Thistle had stood by her sapling and begged and pleaded for her to come out over and over again, but nobody ever got any response from her.  Marcy was starting to think maybe she’d imagined the whole thing, but Thistle and Moon always confirmed they’d seen Trilloras, too.

He really wanted her to sign the guest book, though.

“Come on,” he whined, lying out in the grass.  “Just for five minutes.  I won’t tell anyone!”

No response.

“You’re living in our yard, you know!”

No response.

Thistle groaned and rolled over.  Marcy retrieved the guest book from where it lay in the grass beside him.  “We could just try again tomorrow, hm?”

Thistle kicked his feet.  “Why won’t she just come out, though?  Ugh!”

Marcy scooped him up.  “Come on, if she doesn’t want to sign it, she won’t sign it.  It’s not the end of the world.”

Thistle crossed his arms and let himself be ferried back towards the porch.

Marcy smiled at him.

“What?”

“I just think you’re cute.”

Thistle blushed to the tips of his ears.  “What am I doing that’s cute?”

“You have so many friends back in the house, but you’re stuck on making one more out here.”

Thistle crossed his arms.  “It’s just not right that she’s in our yard and won’t talk to me.  Right?”

“Just be patient.”

Marcy stopped.  There was a borrower on the steps.  Looking up at Marcy with ears twitching and tail lashing.  He was young, fresh, and bright-eyed.

“Oh, hello!” Marcy said, keeping her voice low.  He must be new. She'd never seen him. That was a different one, right? “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.  Do you know Violet and Petunia?”

The borrower rubbed his hands nervously.

Thistle leaned over Marcy’s hand, peering at the unknown borrower curiously.  “Do you speak English?”

His mouth struggled to form words, then he nodded.  “Yes,” he said bashfully.  “I’m just shy.  Sor-sorry.”

“It’s okay.”  Marcy knelt down, letting Thistle off into the soft grass.  “It’s great to meet you.  What’s your name?  I’m Marcy, and this is Thistle.”

The borrower clambered down the stairs, hoisting himself with his strong arms.  “My name’s Jax.”

“It’s great to meet you.  Do you need something?”  Obviously it would be fine if he didn’t–Marcy would be excited about any magical creature staying here for any reason at all–but since borrowers seemed so shy, it felt… odd to see one approach so openly and directly, and with no apparent goal, as a complete stranger.

Jax stopped by Marcy’s shoe.  Thistle gave little jumps of excitement but said nothing.

“A dryad told me this is a place where lots of different magical creatures live in peace,” Jax said.  “Even predators.  Is that true?”

“Yes!” Thistle shouted, excited.  “Yes, it’s so true!  You can come live here, too!”

Marcy turned back towards Trilloras’s tree.  “A dryad told you that?”

Jax followed her gaze.  “A dryad far away.  Is that a dryad too?”  His tail swished excitedly.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t want to come out and talk,” Thistle said sourly.  “You talked to a different dryad?’

Jax nodded.  “And she said everyone lives in peace here, even predators! I wanted to see it for myself.  A bunch of different kinds of creatures living together! Even predators!”

How would a second dryad have known about their house, and why would it have told this random borrower to come here? It was... strange. Confusion overtook Marcy's excitement briefly.

“You’re welcome to see it!” Thistle cheered.  He didn't seem to care about the details much at all, too excited about the paradise they were building. “Yes, yes!  Come on inside!”

“Er, we just met Jax,” Marcy interjected, noting Jax’s demeanor.  “I don’t know if he’d be comfortable coming inside just yet.” And this whole thing felt...fishy.

Jax nervously swished his tail.

“We could bring someone out here to meet you,” Marcy said.  She had all day, after all.  She could bring Severa and Moon and Jewel and Violet out one at a time and just watch them all talk.  The thought made her giddy.  This was so much better than a PhD program.  “Did you want to meet… A predator?”  He’d sounded so excited about it.

Jax nodded.  “That sounds lovely!”

“Okay.  Wait right there.  Thistle, wanna come so you can translate?”  There was still a bit of a language barrier between Marcy and Severa, although they’d both been working to close it.  But best not to have any misunderstandings.

Thistle nodded, and Marcy picked him up.  “Okay.  Wait right there, Jax.  We’ll be right back.”

Marcy went inside and found Severa upstairs, looking out the second-story window.  “Who were you talking to?” she asked.

“There’s a new friend!” Thistle said.  “Another borrower!  Do you want to meet him?”

Severa flicked her tongue out.  “Yes, as long as he also wants to meet me.”

“He does!” Marcy said.  “He…”

She trailed off, because something caught her eye out the window behind Severa.  Oh no.  Oh, no.  Buster, the neighbor’s dog, was trotting right towards their front yard.

“Shit!”  Marcy dashed away immediately, leaving Thistle and Severa in the dust.  She leapt down the stairs as fast as humanly possible, nearly falling if not for the bannister.  She threw the front door open just as Buster started to bark.

Jax was standing in front of the dryad sapling, examining it while biting his finger.  His ears swiveled as he heard the dog rapidly approaching.

Apparently Jax did not possess very good survival instincts, because he turned to face the dog barreling towards him with its mouth open and teeth exposed–and did nothing.

“Shit!” Marcy shouted, sprinting over.  “Jax, run!”

It was too late.  Buster reached the borrower and snapped his jaws around him.  The tiny, furry body disappeared with a pained, high-pitch squeak.

“Buster!” Marcy shouted.  “Drop it!  Fuck!  Drop it!”

She tried to reach out to grab his collar, but he dashed away from her like they were playing a fun game.  “Drop it!” Marcy screamed. The image of Jax’s body disappearing into that maw was burned into her brain.

After an agonizing minute of chasing him in circles as his tail wagged, Marcy finally managed to catch his collar.  “Drop it!  Drop it!”  Tears streamed down her cheeks, blurring her vision, but she refused to let go or give up.  She forced Buster’s head towards the ground.

Buster finally opened his mouth and let the drool-covered bundle drop into the grass.

“Shit!” Marcy said, seizing Jax immediately.  His body ragdolled in her hand, and oh God, there was so much blood.

She clutched him to her chest and went back inside, slamming the door.

***

They made an emergency call to Lalitha and Jaden, but it was obvious Jax was dead on arrival.  Thistle tearfully pressed his ear to Jax’s chest to listen for a heartbeat.  Severa checked his pulse and smelled him over for signs of life.  Moon tried what healing magic he had, but the borrower’s body was so ravaged by the dog’s enormous teeth that he’d probably died more or less instantly.

Colin blew his lid when he found out what’d happened.  He stormed to the neighbor’s house immediately, and the volume of his shouting at her could be heard even all the way from Marcy’s bedroom.  He couldn’t very well say that Buster had murdered someone, though–so he settled for saying Buster had killed a small animal Marcy had been fond of, which wasn’t exactly a lie, and that this was the last straw and if he saw Buster loose on the lawn again, he was going to call animal control.

The neighbor promised to keep a closer eye on the dog, then got away from him as quickly as possible.  Colin was still fuming when he got back to the house.

He decided it was finally time to put up a fence. Their property was big enough that they couldn't really fence in the whole thing, but Colin had enough handyman know-how to put up a fence at least around the immediate vicinity of the house. Chainlink was the perfect option, since it'd allow small creatures to slip through but block bigger ones.  The humans all had to pool together their money to get the funds for it, but they all agreed it needed to be an immediate priority.  Marcy still walked around looking shellshocked, and she constantly stayed in the same room as Thistle, hovering protectively.

Not even Violet had any success getting ahold of Jax’s family or friends, so they buried his body in the backyard and had a little funeral themselves.  Marcy set up a little grave with a headstone, and they all stood around looking very solemn.

“A damn shame,” Teddy said.  “No little critter deserves that.”

“Yeah…” Thistle said.  He was crying mightily.

“Does anyone want to say anything else?” Marcy said.

“Um,” said a small, unknown voice.  “I could.  Who are we mourning?”

All eyes fell on the new voice–which was–

It was Jax.  Just standing there at his own funeral.  He looked just as fresh and bright-eyed as a few hours ago before he’d been mauled to death.  Not even a tear in his clothes, or a hair out of place.

Marcy blinked at him.  “Uhhh-”  She looked from the grave to the new Jax, as though trying to figure out how he might have crawled out of the little shoebox coffin they’d made him.  But no.  He’d clearly come from a different direction, approaching while they were all looking at the grave.

“You're dead,” Severa said bluntly.

Jax blushed.  “Um, no, I'm just fine.  See?”  He did a handstand, tail wiggling in the air.

“Hey, uh, Jax…” Thistle said.  “You're not… actually a borrower, are you?”

Jax inverted himself upright sheepishly.

***

@static-stars

@cloudwatchingtoday   @theepiccreatorofmagic-blog-blog  @waitisthatgt @itssmoltime @ratcatcher0325  @crazytinygirl @bittykimmy13  @whumpsday @theroyaleemily @kitn-underfoot 

@tinyguy42069

@jewel-fan-wys

@cheeseybeans8

@whumpshaped

@lucentbliss

@alilbitlesbian

@aceouttatime

@alarcomet

@becca-but-bitty

@tiny--pineapple

@bittykimmy13

@whumpsday

@kitn-underfoot

@gt-brainrot

@silent-orchid-lady

@starfields08000

@predacon-skydrift

@vidawhump

@whumpdreamz

@honeycollectswhump

@imber-rose