#that little hint of tattoo i'm going feral

[samgirard]

└ woody in the scrum rosco started | col vs. det | 3.6.24

[hairmetal666]

What if, after Vecna is defeated, Eddie lives and is recovering in the hospital and one day he's just gone. Like, Steve and the kids come to visit and his hospital room doesn't even exist anymore. It's just a blank stretch of wall. The nurses, nurses they know worked with Eddie, say they've never heard of Eddie Munson and there's never been a room where the kids insist there was the day before. Anyone else they ask says they've never heard the name, even though it was only weeks ago that the entire town formed a mob to hunt him down. Hopper and Murray look into it and there's no record of an Edward Munson in any database anywhere. His previous arrests are gone, his fingerprints, record of Wayne becoming his legal guardian, his social security number, his birth certificate. Even his Uncle Wayne, gone without a trace. Like neither man ever existed.

They search for years, always hoping for word, or a return, or anything. But Eddie was there one day and gone the next. Apparently forever.

They mourn, all of them. He was part of the group, part of the family, and then he was gone with no fanfare or goodbye. Then he was gone and every force in the world pretended like he'd never been there in the first place.

Steve, quietly, takes it hard. He spends weeks crying himself to sleep, clutching the ruined battle vest to his chest. It's just unfair, is all, Steve thinks. '86 was supposed to be Eddie's year.

Time passes and they all grow up, all move away from Hawkins. Steve and Robin move to Indy; she starts college and Steve gets a job at a little bakery because he's a regular already and they're hiring.

He loves baking, finds it calming in a way very few things are for him anymore. After a few good years, the store becomes his, and he didn't know he could be this happy or satisfied with his life, after everything.

He never stops thinking of Eddie.

Close to Steve's 30th birthday, a little bookstore opens up in the vacant building across the way. Steve sees the owner sometimes, dark hair pulled into a sloppy bun, pale skin, the occasional hint of black ink under his dark clothes. Beautiful. They wave at each other almost every morning and Steve ignores the reminders of Eddie. They're commonplace now. Any man with long dark hair, tattoos, and black clothing stirs a spark of recognition in Steve's gut, and the disappointment still hurts even after a decade.

Weeks pass and Steve notices a new display in the window of the bookstore; those dnd guides all the boys have, the dice with too many sides, the little plastic figures and pots of paints and delicate brushes. He vows, the next time the kids are in town, they'll go over and he'll finally introduce himself to that probably nice man whose only sin was a slight resemblance to a boy from Steve's past.

The kids come for a visit only a few weeks later, and are just as enthusiastic about going to the bookstore as he is to take them. He has them help bake his secret-recipe sugar cookies, decorate them in a dnd theme (Erica and Max say they're dorky, and he agrees, despite being pleased with the results).

Steve heads to the bookstore first, to warn the guy about the veritable horde of feral young adults about to descend on his quiet store.

He walks in to the sound of a gently ringing bell and Metallica playing at low volume on the store's speakers. Steve has to ignore it or he'll walk out.

"Be right with you," a muffled voice calls out.

"Take your time," he responds. He browses with the container of cookies in his arms, taking in all the dnd stuff, the signs about dnd club meetings, the stacks of new release books and a couple cds.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," a soft, husky voice says back at the front of the store. It breaks Steve out in goosebumps.

"Don't worry about it. I'm from the bakery across the street, wanted to finally introduce myself. I brought goodies," he adds, sort of blushing.

He steps back up to the cash register, eyes finally settling on the owner he's only seen from afar and all the breath leaves his body. It leaves him lightheaded, dizzy.

Eddie Munson. Eddie. Munson. Stands behind the counter, hair in a bun with messy tendrils around his face. He looks the exact same. Maybe a few more lines around his mouth and eyes. But the same.

"Ed--Eddie?" Steve's voice croaks out. He barely manages to drop the cookies onto the counter and not the floor.

Eddie's deep brown eyes flood with tears, a hand--every finger with a ring--covers his mouth. "Steve," the other man sobs.

There's no hesitation as Steve flings himself into Eddie's arms, the other man catching him and holding him tight.

Eddie squeezes him, crying against Steve's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he repeats.

"I can't believe you're real," Steve murmurs between soft sobs, pressing his face against Eddie's neck.

"I'm real. I'm here," Eddie agrees. "I'm right here, sweetheart."

Steve pulls out of the embrace a little, just to look at Eddie's face. To see after all these years. He presses trembling fingers against the line of Eddie's jaw, and the other man leans into the touch, lets Steve trace the contours of his cheeks, his mouth.

"You're here," Steve agrees.

Their eyes lock, drink each other in, ten years of longing dancing at the knobs of Steve's spine.

"They took me away," Eddie says, deep brown of his eyes serious and pleading. "The government. They snuck me out in the middle of the night and forced me and Wayne to adopt new identities, sent us to New Mexico. Monitored us so I couldn't contact any of you. It killed me, Stevie. To be away from you. From Robin. The kids."

That snaps Steve out of his daze. "Oh, shit. The kids."

It's too late, though. The bell at the door jingles, the usual cacophony that accompanies the seven of them filling the little store in an instant.

Dustin's voice rings out, above the others, "this store is so fucking cool."

"Language," Eddie scolds on auto-pilot. When he realizes what he said and why, his eyes wash with new tears.

The kids turn, as one, to the man they never thought they'd see again.

Steve's fingers dance down Eddie's arm, finding his hand, twining their fingers together. Eddie tightens his grip. Steve's never letting go of this man ever again, and he knows with some deep, element certainty that Eddie feels the same.

"Eddie?" Dustin exclaims.

"Hiya, kid." Eddie smiles a little, ducks his head.

"What the fuck," Max says.

"Anyone have time for a story?" Eddie asks. He dashes away the few tears that track down his cheeks.

"We have all the time in the world," Steve agrees. Doesn't think before he lifts Eddie's hand and presses a kiss just below his knuckles.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

I went feral for Touch and I've seen your post about some possible future Spiderman 2099 projects, so.... would you mind dropping some hints? Give us something to look forward to? Please? <3 (I really go absolutely feral when he speaks in Spanish so bonus points from those moments in Touch)

(Edit: Part 2 to Touch is up!)

AHHHH I'm gonna scream, I'm so glad someone asked!!!

current Miguel wips include:

- Miguel o'hara x secretary!reader

(this was an ask, I do read them, it just takes some time for me to get round to it)

Miguel is your boss who's weirdly closed off, constantly high strung, makes you do a ton of last minute projects. He asks you to work overtime again, and when you're leaving the building you get approached by some unsavory types... cue spiderman who swoops in to save you! he insists on keeping an eye on you every night you work overtime, and you build a little friendship that blossoms into something more.....

- camboy!Miguel x reader

You're a top subscriber to your favourite camboy, w3bhe4dd, who streams every Thursday and Saturday without fail. He's everything you'd ever want in a partner; funny and charismatic and hot asf, even though you never see his face. His hands are your favourite part; big, rough palms with a spider tattoo at its base. As a college student who works and studies basically fulltime, it's one of the only times you get to relax. Your usual routine is interrupted when your usual professor for Organic Chem quits suddenly, and is replaced by none other than Mr O'hara - a PhD student trying to fill his teaching hours. He's rude and snarky, you don't make the best first impression and you're already failing his class. But when you spot a spider tattoo at the base of his palm, exactly like a certain favourite streamer of yours, it clicks. But is it well-timed leverage or more trouble than its worth...?

- HCs and little drabbles

things like dating HCs, some fluff and some smut. I'm open to requests if anyone wants me to write a drabble!!

I'm just under 400 subs (thank you, everyone!), so maybe I'll do a subscriber event/thank you when I hit 500? Or whatever milestone. I'm thinking 7 days of Miguel O'hara fics, ngl. But we'll see.

Thanks for the ask anon, hope this was helpful <33

[storiesofmyhead]

Sukuna X Reader Series

Sukuna takes in interest in Itadori's rival, a special grade cursed spirit in which he is supposed to exercise.

I've decided to make this a series! I will always be updating on Wattpad as well!

Pt.2

"Sukuna, No," Yuji yelled at the spirit, frustration and helplessness gnawing at him.

"Well, don't you just look divinely delicious," Sukuna cooed, his gaze unabashedly roaming over her form with a dangerous smirk playing on his lips.

"Itadori? What the fuck. Why do you look like that? I mean, you weren't so good-looking before but now~" She teased, her voice flowing smoothly. "Where did that second set of eyes come from? And those tattoos~ God, you're kinda hot now~" Her giggles were a mix of amusement and flirtation.

The girl's confidence and flirtatious banter intrigued Sukuna. There was something different about her, an energy that suggested she was more than just an ordinary human. She clearly held significance to the boy whose body Sukuna currently inhabited. He felt a tug of curiosity, a desire to learn more about her.

"Sweetheart~" a voice interrupted.

Turning the corner, Mahito spotted the young girl he had seen before, this time with the familiar boy in tow.

"Ahh~ I hope I'm not interrupting a little rendezvous here. I didn't expect you two to be getting along so well," Mahito's laughter was grating, his stride confident as he approached and casually draped an arm over the girl's shoulders.

"I don't know. Something about him today doesn't scream annoying Idatori. I don't feel the urge to disfigure him like usual," she smirked, her eyes glinting with a hint of mischief.

"Mmm, well darling, I don't have much control over his body left, so sadly, I must bid you adieu. But~ I'll be seeing you again," Sukuna's departure left her puzzled, her brows furrowing in confusion.

"Why are you acting so weird, Itadori?" she questioned, her expression turning skeptical.

"Oh, Sweetie. I'm not Itadori. How rude of me. I'll introduce myself properly. I'm Ryomen Sukuna," he smirked flirtatiously at her, his eyes briefly flickering to Mahito's arm still resting on her shoulders.

Mahito froze, his eyes widening in realization. This was no ordinary encounter. THE Ryomen Sukuna had taken an interest in his student. He would need to report this to Geto immediately.

The girl's confusion persisted. "Who?" she asked innocently, earning a sharp smack from Mahito. Nervously giggling, he turned her around, eager to avoid any further interaction that could anger Sukuna.

"Wait—Mahito—stop," she protested, twisting back to glance at the boy who had once been her nemesis. Perhaps this 'Sukuna' was a trick Itadori was playing on her. Or maybe not? Curiosity getting the better of her, she waved uncertainly.

Sukuna smirked, watching her wave as Mahito led her away. His possessive instincts flared, a surge of jealousy sparking within him. The cursed spirit's arm resting on the girl's shoulder seemed an offense that demanded retribution. He couldn't let anyone lay claim to what piqued his interest.

As she disappeared from view, Sukuna's smirk widened into a feral grin. His mind already plotting how he would deal with the interruption, and how he might soon have this intriguing girl all to himself.

~~

Ophelia sat wide-eyed, absorbing the weight of Mahito's revelation about Ryomen Sukuna.

"And by the way Mahito said he was talking to you, he has already obviously taken an interest in you. This is very good for us, Ophelia," Geto explained calmly, his demeanor serious and calculated.

She nodded quietly, her mind racing with thoughts about the notorious sorcerer now intertwined with her fate.

"So, I am going to need you to be cooperative about this situation. Ok?" Geto's tone brooked no argument as he clasped his hands together. "Alright now. We need to get you in front of him again." His hand rested thoughtfully on his chin, contemplating their next move.

"But what if it's Itadori again? I won't give him another chance to control me. He's getting stronger—so am I, but still..." Ophelia voiced her concern, her apprehension palpable.

"Oh, don't worry. We won't let that happen, and I'm sure Sukuna won't either," Geto reassured her, a glimmer of confidence in his eyes. "We'll devise a plan to ensure your safety. Sukuna's interest could be advantageous for us, but only if we approach it strategically."

As they discussed their strategy, plotting their next encounter with the enigmatic Ryomen Sukuna, Ophelia couldn't shake the mix of fear and curiosity that now defined her perception of the powerful figure who had taken an interest in her. She knew the stakes were high, but she also understood that this moment could define her path in ways she hadn't imagined before.

[spacemagicandlaserswords]

Feral Hunter

I wrote most of this in a reblog but thought it deserved its own post as my unwieldy response took on a life of its own, which they have a tendency to do. I’ve added more to it as well so there’s some new extra ramblings on one of my favourite ideas/headcanons/theories for season 3 of The Bad Batch. 

Give me Feral Hunter. My kingdom for Feral Hunter. Completely unhinged, vengeance fueled, feral Hunter. He can go on his Joel Miller/The Mandalorian/John Wick/Liam Neeson in Taken/The Punisher arc, as a little treat.

I've been trying to figure out why I love this idea so much. I think it's because we never really see any of the Batch actually, properly unleash. Sure, they're unconventional and a bit bonkers in their approach but they're still a very well-oiled machine. When they're on a mission, they all know exactly what they're doing, what their roles are, and where their squad mates are. Even when they improvise on the fly, they all adapt fairly easily and smoothly. Everything is still all rather professional, smooth, and efficient. Like they're all operating on muscle memory, which they basically are given how many countless times I'm sure they've trained and done missions together.

Even when the Batch is fighting their way through Kamino, they still operate with that same smooth, efficient, hyper competent professionalism. Despite their unorthodox approach, there's still this sense that they're contained. Never throwing off the shackles and being completely unrestrained. The full unbridled force of their abilities and skills simmering just below the surface, waiting to be given free rein and just obliterate everything.

There's a little hint of this in the opening scene of episode 2x14 'Tipping Point', where the ARC Trooper in Echo comes out to play. But oh, how I would love to see more. From all of them, but especially Hunter. 

Look at his face. Look at that expression and all those emotions from Sergeant Stoic himself, who is usually fairly reserved and contained. Dorito Bod Bandana Space Dad on the warpath to get his ad'ika back, cutting a swathe through the Imperials, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake, and taking out anything and everything that even thinks about getting in his way. Hunter goes full Space Rambo mode, ruthlessly taking out Stormtroopers, blood dripping off his vibroblade, eyes wide and deranged, as he turns into a complete animal. His half tattooed skull now completed by the blood of his enemies covering the other side of his face. For extra angst, when he finds Omega, she doesn’t recognise him. The figure standing in the smoking remains of the door to her cell looks like Hunter. Is wearing Hunter’s armour. Is holding Hunter’s vibroknife. But that’s not Hunter. That’s not her buir. Not anymore. And she’s afraid of him. We get a little hint of this at the very end of season 2 and oh ho ho, I am so ready for more. I am so ready for Hunter’s descent into vengeance, revenge and rage. Not just Hunter either, I’d love to see the rest of the Batch unleash as well.

Can you just imagine Wrecker properly unleashing? All of that strength and power finally freed as he rips limbs off Stormtroopers, snapping necks and crushing skulls with his bare hands. The crumpled, pulverised bodies of his enemies discarded behind him as he rages down corridor after corridor of whatever Imperial base they’ve infiltrated. We got a hint of how damaging Wrecker can be when his chip activated but that was chip controlled. This would just be pure Wrecker. 

We see a little more of this in Crosshair's actions and you could also argue that this is chip controlled. Or if his chip has actually been removed, then Crosshair’s actions are definitely still clouded by his Imperial mindset and blind delusion that the Empire is right. Right up until it all goes horribly wrong on Barton-4 and he finally wakes up to the reality of his nightmare. Either way, that unrestrained part of him is still there. The amount of rage and anger that must be building up and festering inside Crosshair is eventually going to explode. When he snaps like he did at the end of 'The Outpost' then there isn’t going to be an Imperial left without a blaster bolt between their eyes. When Hemlock ends up dying (he better), my bet is on Crosshair taking him out and getting revenge. And it won't be pretty. He'd shoot him execution style at the very least. 

I'd love to see Tech (shut up he's alive) completely lose it and finally snap off every ounce of his carefully crafted control. I've written about this before but Tech's combat is exceptionally efficient and precise. He only ever uses the minimum number of shots or moves to take out an enemy because he doesn't need to expend anything beyond what is necessary. Complete economy of form. His combat style is very contained, almost like a mirror of his personality and character. Can you just imagine him snarling and growling like a beast, teeth bared, eyes dark, face distorted in rage, as he slams a Stormtrooper's head into a control panel desk with enough force to crack their helmet and shatter their visor. 

I mentioned above that we've seen a tiny bit of this slightly unhinged quality from Echo. There's another little hint of it when they're all in that training simulation on Kamino.

This gifset from @starqueensthings shows this perfectly, especially the above gif. I love the line they wrote at the top of their post as well, which I'm going to quote in part here: "I’d like to introduce my scomp arm TO YOUR JUGULAR WIRE." This perfectly encapsulates the unhinged quality lurking in Echo. He just leaps onto the back of what looks like the Kaminoan version of a B2 super battle droid and then proceeds to flail and stab madly before plunging his scomp arm into the battle droid's chest and ripping out the droid version of its jugular. Absolutely unhinged behaviour. The absolute madlad.

Now picture Echo finally snapping and doing this to a bunch of Imperials and just absolutely annihilating them. There is so much in him that is screaming to be let out. The general batshittery that comes with being an ARC Trooper. The insanity and chaos of coming from the 501st and Torrent Company. The unconventional, yeet-the-reg-manual-out-the-airlock, bonkers existence of The Bad Batch. Plus all that trauma, fury and rage of what has happened to him, what was done to him, and everything that he’s seen, experienced, endured, suffered, and survived. When the last few frayed threads holding Echo back finally snap he is going to go completely postal.

Is it healthy? No. Is it "good"? Probably not. But my god, would I love to see it.

The Clone Wars has a history of tackling and portraying difficult, multilayered and nuanced topics and we've seen that in The Bad Batch as well. More recent Star Wars series, such as Andor and The Mandalorian, have also had a real interest in showing the murky areas that exist between the good (Republic) and the bad (Imperial). There's been a particular focus on showing that there's a lot more grey than we think, rather than the pure dichotomy between cliched black and white. That sometimes there is no right or wrong decision. That sometimes everything is awful and everyone is stuck in a shitty situation from which there is no way to escape unscathed. In order to make it out alive, lines are going to be crossed. The battle of good vs evil takes on a new edge and the line between good and bad gets very murky.

That quote about how “You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain” comes to mind. In this instance, the Batch are still fighting tooth and nail for each other but their sacrifices and actions are starting to take them to much darker places. It’s a classic example of good people being driven to do bad, awful, terrible things when those they love are in danger and they will do whatever it takes to save them.  

The whole 'deeply flawed parental figure seeking vengeance' is a popular trope at the moment as well so Feral Hunter would make sense narratively for a number of reasons.

Will we actually get it? Probably not. And even if we do, it'll probably still be a watered-down kid friendly version.

But oh, just imagine if we did.

[rivnedell]

Wip Wednesday

I've been completely feral for the past weeks, and over productive of new wips. My brain feels like a kettle rn.... Someone send some help 🥲

Soo, here some of a wip I've been working on.

Images are nor mine, just here to set the mood

English is not my mother tongue and this is a SUPER rough draft.. I'm sorry for off wording by advance.

-

Joel x Reader (I fell in love with second person writing..)

The following week, each day that passed, you've been thinking of him. You want to touch him again; you want your fingers to press against his skin again. You need it. Fortunately, Joel visits you 5 or 6 days after he got his little tattoo. You're finishing a client's project, a giant dragon on his back when you see him enter the shop your breath just stopped, your heart nearly ceased functioning. Trying to get your emotions together, you apply the healing cream on the man's back, and take photos for your socials. How you wish it has been Joel's back.. Again. Once payment is done, the client gone and the tattoo room cleaned up, you head back to the waiting room, leaning your back against the counter. Joel's looking at the flashes pinned to the wall, his back facing you. "Can't let go of my needles ?" You say with a smile, a hint of a flirty tone in your voice, that actually didn't plan to be but.. Your guts have commanded your mouth. You get no answer, Joel just smiles back lightly over his shoulder, lightly turning his face to you. "Do.. You need another one ?" You tried with a more serious tone this time, tilting your face right, trying to guess his expression. His dark eyes suddenly lock on you as he turns his strong body around and steps forward, close to you, until his neck has to bend over you as you are much smaller than him. "It's not a tattoo that I need," He says looking above you, his arms still along his body. His body is a knot of tension and lust at this moment; it's showing and evident. A knot forms in your throat, breathing out any word that could have come out, leaving your lips parted in a soft gasp. "What do you need then, Joel ?" You breathe, glancing at his parted lips, starting to feel greed and lust devouring your guts. "I need you,"

-

Aawww, can't wait to write more with these two !!

Thank you for reading ! ✨

Tagging : @thegreatwicked @the-mandawhor1an @crowandmousewritingco @lady-bess @baronessvonglitter @fhatbhabiee @notjustjavierpena , no pressure of course.

Let me know if you want to be added 🥰

[thelooniemoonie]

It's been quite a hectic time for me right now so focusing on art is hard, but if you want to listen to me schpeel about some OC wips feel free to read below:

So I've been working on making a ref sheet and design remake for my OC Frenzy, one of my oldest OCs from before junior high. I'm thinking of going with the following design:

This next pic was the previous wip i was doing back in 2021, but I've changed some stuff inbetween them:

Notes:

The 2021 design while did include a lot of elements pertaining to Frenzy and their personality, it felt a little too "formal". It didn't feel fitting for a character that's known to be hedonistic and gets into a lot of violent fights, so the outfit was toned down to a more "ruffian" kind of look.

Some elements are kept the same, like the jacket with the fur brim, which is a callback to even earlier designs I did of Frenzy where they wore a hoodie as part of their design. Trying to incorporate more "sharper" elements of the diamonds/eyes and the fur giving a wider more "feral" look pertaining to their personality.

Keeping the tail to a single feather to streamline the design and will keep the 3 tailed one for their full god form.

Frenzy's chest scar cannot be seen in the 2023 design unlike the 2021 one (the branching veins on the chest), but to switch it up I added the chaos symbol tattoo on their arm that would hint to their identity as the god of chaos.

Might incorporate some black in the design? The 2023 one resembles a little too much like Greed from FMA, so I don't want to put too much black. Frenzy is also always must be seen in white clothing, so perhaps some shades of red can be incorporated instead.

Designs can outfits can still be played around with for story purposes, it's simply that Frenzy has a "bleaching" effect to all their clothing, so they all turn white eventually. So parts like hair, eyes, and outfits can be freely switched around due to Frenzy being both a shapeshifter and genderfluid. General rules are white base, red and/or gold accents, and black accessories.

For fun here are some comparisons of my older art of this character, which can be repurposed:

Overall there tends to be a part of me that leans towards very maximalist and detailed designs, so I'm trying to make it more focused.

[valkyrie-kun]

Hello again! I'm so glad you enjoyed my little rant 💙 Yeah, I agree with you, I believe Erika and especially Daichi had the purpose to symbolize, like you said, 1- Sato still has a gentle heart and 2- The desire for something his lifestyle deprives him from (stableness and a family unit), and the thing that sticked out the most for me was that there are many scenes were you can see how much Sato DESIRES Samantha, how much he earns for her, showing vulnerability to her, going absolutely feral and ballistic for her (he literally smashed a guy's skull once he started talking nasty about how he was going to use her body), the way he cooked for her, gosh, the way he LOOKS at her and listens to her, they never showed that with Erika, and I believe it was intentional and why they put more effort on his scenes with Daichi. This is why I liked the decision of making Samantha going back to make amends with her past with the mormons and facing her family (especially her dad) bc it sets ground for A LOT of improvement to be made with her character, so her and Sato can have a more solid relationship and come to a level of settling down togheter, bc like you said, she is not only aware of his lifestyle but I believe she is also one the things that could help to ground him to not become like Hayama or Tozawa, also, I don't think Sato is the kind of guy who would have a oopsie irresponsably made baby, he strikes me as being very careful, so I don't see him knocking a woman up if he does not wish to have a child with her, so yeah, Samantha is the "obvious" choice if they want him to have a child eventually or going to the "I shall have no descendants to curse, it dies with me" route. I hope we have a s3 🤞🏻

i agree with everything! though i am not 100% sure if Samantha is going home to make amends (could have forgotten from earlier episodes some hints, my brain has literally so many tabs open) even if it makes the most sense, she could be literally going anywhere - even to face Akira again even if they had their confrotation already. who knows, but if she is reconnecting with them, all the better for Sato on the long term - as you said, it will help him ground him even more.

and i want s3 but i am at the same time very sceptical! i've seen so many shows that my current opinion is that rightful, respectful ending is often the best option for a show. and ending of s2 was just perfect, and left just enough space for it to be very satisfying open ending for some characters. so idek. but if we get more sato with full body tattoo god knows i won't complain hehe 💜

[valeriasfragments]

The Rigors and the Heft - Part 2

She's in the kitchen now. She doesn't remember getting up off the floor but that's not unusual, she dissociates all the time. She has apparently started some scrambled eggs, so now she finish them up real quick and she doesn't even bother getting a plate, she stands over the stove with a fork eating the eggs straight from the pan, less dishes this way, laziness wins once again.

The alarm on her phone goes off to remind her to take her medications, some for the depression, some for the voices in her head, some to keep growing her cute little breasts, and an anti-nausea to keep it all down. One gulp, a handful of pills down the chute, and she quickly eats a slightly-too-ripe banana, can't risk the meds getting stuck in her throat.

She rolls a joint with shaking hands, the Goddess' Hands, the hands of her mother. She steps out onto her patio and lights the poorly twisted thing, drawing the smoke deep into her lungs, the immediate relief in her spine, hips, and knees as the wonderful drug eases her suffering. She watches a pair of crows fighting over something she can't quite make out..

There is a thunderstorm on the horizon rumbling in from the ocean. A shock of light illuminates the world for a brief moment, a single bolt touching the ground on the other side of town, lightning like the finger of Zeus probing sweet Gaea for an opening, and the thundercrack her defiant rejection.

Chance ashes her joint into the coffee can she keeps out here and she turns her back to the bickering birds and stares into the half-shadow of her apartment to the chair in the corner. The chair where she sees him sitting out of the corner of her eyes in middle of the night, a hateful memory, a spirit of unforgiven past, a wound with a ragged smoker's cough.

She's lost in thought about the chair and the sounds of birds behind her slowly shifts into the sounds of shredding bloody meat and it is getting louder every moment as the squawking becomes a scream, flesh being torn and infants crying. Evil laughter from small angry horned men and it's deafening and she can't think, the ash on her joint dropping onto her bare feet, and it is coming to a crescendo, the screams and the blood and the moaning. Metal screeching-

"Chance!"

Chance is shivering, soaked to the bone in just a Suspiria t-shirt and a pair of black panties. Her legs covered in an assortment of tattoos, the initials of her loser ex-boyfriend, the only man she had ever willingly fucked; a whole thigh of cherry blossoms, her favorite and most meaningful tattoo; a few horror monsters and a Gigan tattoo too. The joint between her fingers still dangling there, damp and mostly unsmoked, a burnout like its creator.

Before Chance can even turn around, sluggish Chance, drownedrat Chance, before she can even—Elise is there, firm grip and burninghot warm hands guiding her back into Chance's apartment Elise. Elise in her black leather jacket and ripped jeans, strong jaw, and big beautiful hands, outwardly hard and secretly soft Elise, gentle but firm Elise.

Chance looks up to Elise, a good 10 inches shorter than the woman she stares at with such reverence, Chance's heart swells with love she begins to tear up. Chance who is so hopelessly in love with Elise, since the moment she first saw her, at first it was lust, primal, feral, rutting her pillow for days lust. But very quickly she became smitten, silly school yard crush Chance, foolish little jester Chance, would do anything in the world to make her laugh Chance.

Chance is set gently down on her ratty old couch in the warm darkness of her living room, her loving gaze steady on Elise even with all the brain fog, all she can summon up love in the face of this angel of her singing heart. Even if she was clear of head she would be marvelling at the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

"I'm just going to get you some warm clothes, wait here." Elise stressed but still tender, always a hint of tenderness there.

"As you wish, Miss Elise." Chance would almost sound childlike and precious if only she could stop her teeth from chattering.

Elise stands at the bottom of the hill caked in mud and sorrow as the rain pours down, rain so heavy she can't see in front of her face. Soaked to the bone Elise, only 12 years old and already so broken. Not that anybody could see her anyway, hiding in the Shadows Elise, quiet and invisible Elise.

She could still feel the hot shape of his hand on her arm even though all that showed were tiny bruises, burning hands leaving small planets of purple and yellow all over her arms, a solar system of hurting that haunts her for the rest of her life.

She walks the whole way home, nobody stops her or even bothers to see her, shivering the entire 2 miles from the burnt down house in the hills above her trailer park to her single wide mobile home the color of rust and depression. For years she is convinced she died this night and every night since has been her purgatory or hell, she's so convinced she deserved this for another decade still.

It's so late, it has been dark for at least 2 hours and she is supposed to come home before dark. The porch light is off and she gingerly makes her way up the rickety, cobbled together stairs that groan with each step, the door isn't even locked, and if luck is on her side (and it rarely is) then their dog Cody won't run up to greet her.

Stumbling in and nobody even knows she was even gone, nobody even awake because it is nearly midnight, nobody in this house to care anyway but they would pretend anyway. Elise puts her muddy clothes in a garbage bag, shame to hide until daylight. The shower she takes hurts so bad, she collapses from exhaustion and lets the water flow over her.

"He should have killed me like he promised." The words echo in her mind over and over, bouncing erratically. She can still feel his hands around her neck, dainty neck completely engulfed by him. Officer's hands meant to serve and protect.

The dark thoughts swirl, slowly consuming her already damaged mind. When the water cools and she is shivering again she finally dries herself off and climbs into bed to cry herself to sleep.

In the morning she is jolted awake by her screaming mother, never happy mother, always snide mother. The trash bag full of muddy clothes clenched firmly in her fist, invasive and controlling mother.

Elise has no words to explain why she has a bag of wet and muddy clothes stashed under her bed, she just her open wound heart bleeding into her hands before her burning sword mother's wrathful scrutiny, inquisition matron with a thousand angry faces and none with love to be found. 

And when no suitable answer is given, she's grounded for a month, locked in her room to bleed alone, left with her bruises and broken heart. Always bleeding alone, never comfort when she most needs it, only more pain for not having been the world's most self sufficient 11 year old. Always wrong Elise, always in trouble Elise, always too loud Elise.

She is despondent for days and nobody noticed or worse pretended not to notice. Slowly shrinking into herself until the pain becomes numb. But she can always feel his hands, burning touch on her arms and neck, she can feel him and the hot agony and can't sit only anything harder than a pillow for days.

[brandstifter-sys]

Thorns

@dukexietyweek Day 3 - Tattoo Shop/Florist

Word Count: 1100 (Ao3)

Pairing: Dukexiety

Rating: T

Warnings: mild transphobia, sex mention, ftm!Remus, genderfluid!Virgil

Remus is an inky florist boy and he likes his tattoo artist, so when she comes in looking to make a trade, Remus can't help but sweeten it for both of them

---

Remus did not look like a typical florist. He sure knew his way around plants, but anyone who passed by would think he ran a biker bar or the tattoo studio next door. He was covered in ink, from his arm sleeve to his leg.

He had the single most elaborate kraken on his arm, wrapping its tentacles around a frigate in a rough sea. It was embellished with latitude and longitude lines and a compass, like an old map. The best part of it was that when Remus bent his elbow, the kraken head looked like a skull. Remus absolutely adored it and how it hid his surgery scar.

He liked it more than the red shield on his calf he got from some new artist as a kid. His sister had a black and green sword on her leg to match. Ro, of course, got hers fixed up and detailed before he could—she didn't have to pay for gender-affirming surgery! Remus was going to get his fixed up by the kraken artist when he had the time and decided on a design. He was taking a long time to settle on one, but he had a good reason for scheduling multiple consultations!

He might have wanted to make any and every excuse to see the tattoo artist next door. He really liked her (or him depending on the day) and liked spending time with her. Sure, Virgil might only tolerate him as a client, but Remus could hope that they were at least friends, since he was cutting into her business time and constantly talking about gore. He was hoping that she might be into short kings with mustaches and a little bit of a feral streak—he rarely had feelings for anyone and he was smitten!

It was just another day for Remus, arranging some bouquets in the back of his shop, when he heard the telltale ringing of the bell on the front door. He finished placing the last two carnations and headed to greet the customer.

He was pleasantly surprised to see a genderfluid babe scanning the price list on the wall behind the counter. Virge was biting her lip nervously and twisting her fingers in her short ponytail as she scanned the prices, and Remus was more than tempted to bite it for her. She was just too pretty even when she was trying to be inconspicuous.

"Well, isn't this a sight for sore eyes!" Remus cheered and leaned on the counter, catching her off guard. She jolted and squeaked adorably.

"So what brings the most metal babe in town to my most unmetal business?" Remus asked, "I'm not complaining, just curious!"

"I, uh, need to get some flowers for my mom's birthday," Virge admitted shyly, "and I thought maybe we could make a trade since cash is tight."

"I'm sorry but I'm not giving you a full bouquet for a make out session and a quickie, I have some standards!" Remus jeered. Virge blushed up to her ears and shook her head. She should have expected that, and if she did and still gave Remus the opportunity to make that joke, he would probably fall to his knees for her and hug her legs like a desperate urchin.

"You want me to adjust some ink, right? I was thinking more like, I fix your tatt for the flowers," she clarified with more confidence.

"How fancy do you want the bouquet?" Remus asked. If it was something giant with lots of different flowers and decorations, he might have to take up the trade.

"It just has to be nice enough to make it look like I'm doing well enough to spite her," Virge said with a hint of venom in her voice. Remus perked up and grinned darkly.

"She's the one who didn't want you to go to art school or get top surgery? I'll give you the most beautiful spite bouquet imaginable!"

"Really? Thanks. Did you want to schedule some time for your ink now or later?"

"I'll do that when I can pay with a tip, after I get some ink on my hip scars," Remus laughed, "Spite flowers don't sell well, and maybe I was going to give it to you for free anyway. That way I can pretend like I'm giving you flowers like a charming prince or some bullshit like that!"

"You don't have to pretend," she said softly and rubbed her neck. Remus stood up straight and clapped his hands together in front of him.

"You mean you don't mind that I want to be your tiny trans boyfriend and you'd be into that?"

"I mean, I didn't say that, but yeah, I kinda like the idea," Virge admitted and focused her attention on the nearest display of purple roses. She always tended to look at the purple flowers, but especially the roses, especially when she was flustered.

Remus smiled and silently came up behind her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and hummed softly. She didn't flinch or inch away from him, which was a plus.

"You know, those flowers mean enchantment, royalty, and majesty, and they represent lasting love?" he asked and picked up one of them, "And they remind me of you. They're beautiful when they're closed and when they're open, and they can be prickly. And they're purple like your hair! I wouldn't mind putting one on your grave every day if you were dead—you wouldn't happen to be a vampire, would you? It would explain why you're so hot!"

"Where are you going with this?" she asked and raised an eyebrow at him. As far as she was concerned, he just asked her out in a roundabout way and tried to get her more flustered.

"Will you be my boyfriend and girlfriend?" he asked and handed her the blossom. She took it and smiled softly.

"Yeah," she said and kissed his cheek, "Wanna stop by after work and we can watch a movie?"

"You live on top of your studio, right? If you give me extra time I can bring falafel!" Remus beamed.

"I hope you like slashers and hideous monsters."

"You're trying to seduce me!" Remus jeered and bumped her with his hip.

Virge snickered and shook her head, "I'm pretty sure I'm succeeding. I'll see you tonight."

"I'll see you then!" Remus grinned and let her leave the shop with a rose and a small smile on her face.

He ran into the back and squealed, bouncing on his heels. Virge said yes! He had never been happier in his life!

[mochikeiji]

Troublesome Baby

↠ Pairing: Akaashi Keiji x Reader

↠ Warning: SMUT! Slight size kink, nipple play, overstimulation, hint of breeding, Akaashi wanting to make his baby know how pretty she is and how wrong people are about her.

↬ Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: Pissing a delinquent is never a persons choice. And what pisses off Akaashi most was when people picked on you instead of him.

⇢ Day 2: Delinquent

A person's feelings can be confusing. One minute they're saying they like a good guy who knows how to keep track in time and hs his future planned out and the second they're liking someone whom their parent's had warned them about.

If you like someone who was always up to no good, are you a masochist? They would ask. Are you out of your mind? They would scold. Do you have any idea how this'll affect your life? They would judge.

You'd like to think otherwise of people who wore tattoos, have so many scars, are always picking fights or having that gangsta stance and aura. You prefer to see them as still a human being with a cold outer shell in order to protect themselves from the cruel world, shielding their gentleness deep within.

It was cliche; a bad person getting soft for one person. But that's how it is even in reality. Sometimes, we can only be vulnerable to the ones we trust the most. And the ones we trust the most are the loved ones.

And those who we love, never deserve how they spit at the world.

That's how Akaashi was with you.

Everyone was shock by the time the former first year had a drastic demeanor change. He was timid, reserved back at his first year in highschool. Polite, and what you'd expect to have an astounding school performance. Hey never would've thought that joining the volleyball club would change someone so idly.

They always thought they were a team filled with passionate players who loved to play fair, but it turns out they loved to get rough around games and outside matches.

Roughness was never Akaashi's agenda. But with a stoic facade and built, athletic feature, he fits in perfectly to look like someone you should stay away from. Still, he kept on being the reserved person he was by hiding his wounds underneath his uniform or volleyball jacket. He doesn't admit it outloud, but he was insecure about his beating wounds.

The times where he and the team would go on random beatings after losing a bet or if someone dares to mess with anyone close to them happened often. Now that word was spread that you, sweet little you, happened to be the pretty faced setters girlfriend is targeted by many disgusting comments.

No man would want to tolerate that or will tolerate their beloved pummeled onto the ground. From all the members of the team he was voted to be the most terrifying one, he doesn't stand down from a fight especially for his baby, he wouldn't stop until the person who made a worthless comment about you, the person who would make you look down at yourself, the person who would make you cry is at their mercy.

His delinquent phase soon carried on until he reached his 20s. Even though now he was an editor and his teammates had their own domestic lives and jobs ahead, they kept up with their ways to earn a bit of cash during the night. Minus Bokuto on some occasions due to his volleyball tournaments world wide, it was mostly just him and the former third years. Even the two females had managed to know their ways into the dangers in joining as long as it helped them raise the cash up a bit.

And that leads the scenario now, you cleaning up his wounds again at the peak of 1 am in the morning after a misunderstanding beat down the past hour. He came home more bruised and bloodied than before— that meant they were outnumbered. Usually, it's Bokuto who would bark at the people who would mess with them. He was known to be feared due to his popularity, but inside the group, it's really just Akaashi who was the monster amongst all of them when he was angry.

You didn't know how long you were going to tolerate this. Him always coming back to you with new scars drawing his skin and you patching him up. It was always like this since highschool, but as you grew, people get tougher, bolder. This was too much.

"Keiji, please stop doing this."

Dabbing the cotton on the alcohol a little and tapping his skin gently to avoid stinging him, you were sat on your study chair whilst he was sitting on your shared bed. You were already trying to hold in the dam from breaking as you had been cleaning all his wounds for the past minute, but as you do, they only seem to get bigger and painful for you to bear.

"I don't want you to keep getting hurt."

Finally putting ointments on his arm, he uses his free hand to cup the side of your face, and raises you too look into his eyes. Ones that weren't feral as they were a couple of hours ago.

"They were bad mouthing about you, I wasn't letting that slip."

"But it's fine! People bad mouth about me a lot even before.."

Inside it still stung. To be growing up mocked by society in any way they see flaw in you. You were always an insecure woman up until now, any little words from others can make you into a brawling mess. What more if some threatened you, you'd be a fleeting coward.

Akaashi knew that about you when you began dating. At first he didn't pay mind into it, but the more he got to know what a kind and loving person you were, he realized just how cruel people can be to those with soft hearts. He hated those to the bone, he would never tolerate that kind of person throwing a pile of crap to someone above them.

"I just don't want to keep thinking one day you won't be coming by the door because of this..I'd rather you just stop being like this after years than to get more bruises. I don't care about the money, Keiji, I earn a lot too."

Your trembling figure was obvious, he knew how emotional you get for whenever he gets reckless, and how you over think of the things the people he has placed back in their place said about you. He never liked the fact you tried to be strong for him so many times and not even reaching out for comfort from him.

"Baby."

He cooes softly, moving away the medical kit from your side and hoisting you up from your chair with ease, allowing you to straddle his lap. You were easy for him to carry considering the height difference, thus making him more protective of you seeing as you look like a small child in fear.

Protesting softly at him to put you down since he was just freshly fixed up, Akaashi let's your head fall on his naked shoulder blade with his hand behind your head, giving your hair a slow stroke down to your back.

That's where you started to cry on his skin.

"I don't care about the money that much, I just hate it when someone threatens or mocks you without even having to know you."

He hears you sniffle at his skin, your tears wetting a small patch on it along with your face. He hushes you for a second before patting your bum, indicating he wants to see your face. With head lowered, you pulled away from his shoulder, sniffling down the tears while roughly using your wrist to wipe your eyes.

He grabs one of your wrist as his soften eyes met your red ones. He lowers your hand down to your lap, with your other one following as he was the one to wipe your tears away.

"It hurts me to have them say such things and have you crying like this. You have no idea how far you are from what they say."

The both of you took a small pause, letting him squish your cheeks with his thumbs rubbing underneath your eyes as small, left over tears escaped. Your hands below pressing against his bandaged abdomen, wondering how much trouble he's gone through just for you with a new batch of tears ready to fall.

"You don't cause me trouble, baby. I did this because you didn't deserve it. It was my decision, not yours or anyones. You will never be the reason for my troubles."

He was an observant guy, any little sign of of your body he knows what's going on. He slides your hands up from his abdomen, to his chest and placing them on his shoulders for you to hold onto. Tilting his head a bit to get an angle of your view, he gives you an adoring smile at the sight of your lips slightly pouting out and your eyes wide and glossy.

"You look cute right now."

Blinking away the blurred vision, your heart thumps a little from the way he was looking at you and his small compliment. You loved it when he gave you a lot of assurance and reminders about yourself. Even in times where they seemed unnecessary.

His finger tracing your cheeks to your nose, tapping at the tip making you shut your eyes and crinkle a little. When he groaned at the shift of your hips now snugging against his growing bulge, he quickly places his hands on your hips to hold you in place.

Your eyes popped out, stammering apologies saying you didn't mean to do it on purpose while gripping his shoulders. You hear him sigh out, worried you might've hurt him but soon vanished when you felt his hands sliding down once again to your bum.

"Why don't I show you how pretty you really are?"

He moves from his position. By instinct, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he lays you down on bed and pushes himself up.

"W-wait, your wounds."

"I'm fine, baby, don't worry."

His hands found their way down to your pajama shorts and pulls them down with ease. He let's his shirt that you were wearing on as it only fueled his arousal at the sight of you looking smaller compared to him.

Thighs shaking and biting back a moan when his index finger slid down on your clothed slit, he repeats his actions upwards and downwards until you shortly got the middle part of your panties wet.

"Just enjoy and relax for me." 

You clutched the pillow underneath your head when his finger started to press in your clothed slit, his warmth radiating strongly against your sensitive regions, it made you grind shyly on the finger teasingly trying to intrude your entrance. 

He bites lip at the delicious sight and pulls his fingers away, spreading your legs apart so that he could settle himself on his stomach and his face near your lower lips. Sliding your panties down almost too quickly, he pushes your inner thighs to spread for him, giving him a better view of what his teasings done to your body and blowing cool air on your twitching hole, drooling with more arousal.

He hears a small whimper from you and looks up, you covering your mouth with the back of your hand, and your other fisting the sheets. Giving your inner thighs a kiss to calm you down, he winks at you before repeatinf his early ministrations on your now bare pussy.

"You're so easily aroused."

It came out like a breathy whisper from his lips as he watches his finger slide up and down. The thought of you tight and clenching to nothing makes him want to plunge in immediately.

He hums pleasingly at the sight and slowly inserts his index finger in. You moan out loudly in surprise, hiding your face to side and not wanting to look down thinking you might just cum from the sight. He began pulling his finger out and then pushing it back in, he wiggles a little inside of your hole loving how warm and wet it was, until he inserted a nother finger in to stretch you.

"Keiji!!"

He thrusts both fingers in with a decent pace, not wanting to go fast knowing how sensitive and easily you'll cum. His mouth was watering at the sight of his fingers being swallowed in your small pussy, and leans his face down with his other hand spreading your lips and giving it a small kiss that made your hips jolt up as he began to attack your clit.

"K-keiji! Too good!"

His free hand holds one of your thighs way to keep you spread amd at his mercy. The two fingers inside of you thrusting erratically when you tightened around them, now hearing the sloshing noises and his mouth sucking you to death.

He watches your head move from side to side and your chest heaving from his treatment. He can feel his own cock painfully erect inside his pants and moves bit, moaning against your clit at his boxers friction, and your hands finding their way to his hair and begging him not to stop.

"Keiji! Please, please, don't stop! Please, I'm close!"

His fingers beckoning inside of you knowing what he was now pressing at and flattens his tongue on your pussy before smirking up and saying,

"Go on, pretty girl, cum for me."

Hearing his voice was like a knock out for you as your hips arched up and the grip on his hair tightened. The pads of his fingers pressing and teasing your sweet spot until you were cumming hard for his mouth to take in.

He pumps a few more thrust until your orgasm faded. You whimpered from the additional thrust and grabbed his wrist to stop.

"Too much, Keiji.."

Hungry eyes raking your sweating body and wet folds, his pants getting unbearable at the moment and zips it down immediately along with his boxers, letting his cock free and breathes in the cool air as it hits his cock that made it twitch in need.

How much he wanted to keep eating you out despite being sensitive, but the need to be inside of you caves in as he hovers above your quivering body and attatching his lips with yours. He slips in his tongue to deepen the kiss, grinding his cock against your wet slit as you moaned inside his mouth from the much needed friction and something inside your needy cunt.

But Akaashi wanted to savor the moment, he knows you were a virgin. He's only fingered and eaten you out during the years of relationship. Even though the thought of having his cock a taste of your cunt drives him insane, he wanted to make sure every part of your body was touched, kissed and adored like he promised.

"Mmh!"

Fingers now tweaking your right nipples as your legs tried to close themselves from now having to be stimulated from your torso, to his hard cock still grinding tantalizing. But his body was in between them, and his mouth was practically eating your whines and mewls for him. Seeing how sensitive you were getting over the little touches he was giving made him moan against your lips. His hand moves to tweak your other untouched nipple and pulled a little, your back arching as he releases his mouth from yours letting you moan loud.

Your back still arched giving him a quick access to suck on your erected nipple, biting softly yet playfully in synch with his pinching on the other nub.

"KEIJI! HAH— PLEASE!"

Trying to move away from his mouth and fingers by pushing his head gently, he uses other hand to pin both of your smaller ones above your head and releases your nipple with a pop, shivering from the air.

He stops playing with the other one and moves there to suck on it. His finger moving to the soaked one and pulling it softly. You trashed on his hold as he continued to assault your breast. Not seeing the way his eyes are now getting half lidded at the sight of your teary ones from the amount of pleasure and the sound of your pleading singing in his ears.

"AH! Keiji!! Please— no more!"

But he knows how much you didn't want this to stop. If you really did want to stop, you would've used your safe word. But just smiles at you fondly, letting his finger move from breast to breast and pulling and pinching quickly.

"Mm, I just love," he pulls a little harder on your left nub, but not to painfully for you, "How your body reacts to me." you hear his chuckled laugh when he stops to massage your breast alternatively, leaving you whimpering from how skillful his hands were.

"You're getting cuter and prettier as time goes by."

Shamefully, your walls clenched from his words. He knows judging by how you bit your lip and shutting your eyes and grins at you. He knows how much you loved getting praised and told all the lewd things he wants to do to you.

"You'll be prettier with my cock stuffing inside you, won't you, baby? 

Hands trying to pry his stronger ones away so that you can hold him, hide on his skin and let him ravage you. He does however, using both his hands, he separated your arms and pins them at the side of your head and proceeds to attack your neck.

"Baby."

He cooes at the side of your skin, cock now lubed from his pre cum and yours with the tip just poking on your lower lips impatiently.

"Please..inside, Keiji, please."

Yours legs widened themselves, preparing for what you've both been wanting that evening. He laces his hands on yours, the position you now had more vulnerable for him and he wanted nothing more than to take you and make you feel protected and pleased.

"Tell me if it hurts, okay?"

Lips pressing on your forehead as you relaxed on the sweet sensation, but as seconds went by, your body tensed when he entered the head of his cock in, inching slowly his hard length.

Akaashi's hands gripped yours harder when he feels your cunt fluttering and hugging his member tighter than he expected. His breating becoming ragged so he started leaving trail marks of love bites on your neck to calm the both of you down from the foreign feeling.

Each mark he gave came with a soft praise, telling you how good you were doing taking his cock perfectly and how beautiful you were breathless underneath him. He told you, you were doing a good job holding in and with that you let out a shaky breath before telling him he can move.

Thrusting out slowly, letting your juice slide freely on his cock before thrusting back in with force, enough for you to choke a moan. His hips taking their pace into what he knows is bearable for a first timer like you, but the way he was clenching his jaw tight indicates how much he wants to have his way and fuck you like he was on a rut. You were so tight and small compared to his impressive length that it was getting painful for him to be in a vice like grip down there.

It was a struggle to take him, but at the back of your head as you feel his cock move in and out of you felt so right, you wondered if it could be more pleasurable as it is. His face was alarming to you so you rubbed your thumb on his hand letting him pause and exhale harshly. He didn't know he was holding back so much to the point he forgot how to breathe.

"Are you okay?"

He panted above you as you stared in daze and in euphoria from being stuffed. Trying to stay grounded, you attempted to grind your hips to rile him up, only for him to growl and thrust in, forcing your hips down with a squeal from your lips.

"Don't do that."

"But you're struggling."

He breathes through his nose, he hates to admit it but he had to hold himself together not to take you like a freak in bed. He reminds himself that tonight was about you and only you. How wrong the words were of the people he's beaten for you.

"It's fine, I don't want to hurt you."

Nuzzling his nose on your cheek, he hums happily on your skin when you press your cheek in reply. As your eyes stared at each other, you knew how gentle your Keiji was with you. You knew he would never hurt you even if he could. He wasn't going to.

"Please Keiji."

Moaning wantonly when your shifted your hips in a good angle for his cock to thrust on, you looked at him with pleading eyes and drooling mouth.

"Please go harder."

Groaning on your skin, he thrusts in suddenly, lettinf your back arch once more as he placed his chin on your chest and licks his lips in hunger.

"You asked for it, baby girl."

The thrusts he was making was now audible inside your room; his balls slapping below your bum, your cunts lewd juices being messed up on both your bodies and your moans slowly becoming screams.

"KEIJI!!"

His mouth found their way back on your nipple, biting roughly and licking away the pain followed by a good sucking. Hips never faltering or holding back anymore and engulfs your shaking body.

"Fuckers were so wrong about you, love. Look at you,"

Your mouth was drooling from the side, hair messed up in display on the pillow that made  them look soft and angelic on you, eyes, your hands holding onto him tight with your body jiggling up everytime he thrusts in.

"You look absolutely ravaging."

He lets go of your other hand and places his on the back of your leg, hoisting it up and placing it on his shoulder, letting his cock piston deeper into you and making a mess out of you.

"I can't even move a lot from how small and tight your cunt is."

He laughs breathlessly as he aims to find your sweet spot again. You were trying to pull away from his hold but with your thigh up on his shoudler, you were stuck taking this all in like a good girl.

"I think I may be too lucky to have you in my life."

The tip of his cock was now kissing that spot that made you scream out in the blue, Akaashi cursed when your cunt clenched his raging member as he kept aiming at your precious spot.

"Fuck, do you like that, baby?"

"AHN— YES! PLEASE, PLEASE, I WANT TO CUM!"

Sobbing for the much needed orgasm, your body gives up and lets the male above you use it to please you both.

"Fuck, my hips can't stop."

He buries himself at the crook of your neck, moaning near your ear, edging you close to your release to the sound of him. He lets out small whimpers and groans, his cock twitching violently inside you with his thrusts losing their rhythm.

"Baby girl."

"KEIJI, SLOW DOWN! AHH— I'M GOING TO CUM!"

The heat in your stomach felt different from your previous orgasms. This felt hotter, tighter, and a whole lot messier. But Akaashi showed no mercy and carried on,

"Cum for me, baby."

The freed hand he had a minute ago now being a teasing bastard and rubbed your swollen clit. Pinching and rolling all four of his fingers on, making you scream and thrash. Panting with the thought of dying frkm the immense sex he was giving until the last line made you scream without a sound,

"I'm going to cum inside."

Your eyes rolled sinfully at the last line, your bodh ascending above not hearing Akaashi gasp from the way you came and groan as both his cock and abdomen get soaked from your cum and your stomach filled with his thick load and kept thrusting in a slower pace. Your cunt spasming on his member, milking him dry until you were taking all of his load in.

Exhausted, his body stills and lays a bit above you, not wanting to squish you with his member remaining inside you. Sniffles can be heard coming from you as you calmed down from your high, Akaashi stroking your hand that was still clamped on his and peppered you with small kisses and sweet confessions.

"You did so good."

"That's my baby."

"Always so beautiful even like this."

You other arm came and wrapped themselves on his neck, pulling close to you as you inhaled his masculine scent, anchoring you down back to earth before coming to realization on how damp your bottom was.

"I—"

"Squirted?"

Blushing, you buried your head on his neck followed by a laugh from your boyfriend, listening to you blabber multiple apologies.

"I'm sorry!"

"It's okay, I liked it," He captured your lips with kiss, kissing you lovingly and a little longer before pulling away only to give you small pecks repeatedly, "It was sexy."

"You sound so different when you use that word, Keiji.."

"But it's true."

He didn't bother pulling out after you pleaded him not to. Even if it was your first time, it was addicting to have something fill you up to the brim. It made you feel snug and full, and it felt right. Akaashi wasn't complaining on the cock warming, in fact he held you closer to his chest and twirled your hair nonetheless.

"You're really not what they describe you, love," he admires how the dim light from your room manages to create a good lighting that made your skin glow. The hairs that sticked to you forehead after the intimacy you both caught up made you look like a soft baby with eyes looking at him full of love,

"I can't even describe you anymore."

Your eyes trailed down to his wounded torso from his face. Even though he was tainted, Akaashi was sculptured beautifully like no other. But inside you prayed that he wouldn't go home another day with freshly opened wounds just to defend you as you traced your fingertips on each bruise and scar.

He spots on and grabs one of your hands and pulls it in for a kiss on the knuckles, "I promise, I won't make you worry anymore."

Smiling, you snuggled on his chest pleased and full of bliss, feeling his lips kissing the top of your head repeatedly and his arms hugging you closer to his body.

"Keiji?"

"Hm?"

Pressing your cheek on his chest, you looked up to him and asked, with a small tint of blush on your face in embarrassment, "Um..W-why did you you know...In me?"

For a second he blushes as well, but in the end he seemed to be smiling excitedly as you missed the way his eyes glanced somewhere down your stomach.

"So I can have another pretty baby to love."

[fangirlandtheories]

Ahh!! Your answers were so good. I LOVE THE FRIENDSHIP BRACELET ANSWER SO MUCH ;_; here are some more questions: Dream scene with Steve and Robin? What character,that he hasn't interacted much with, would you like Steve to have a scene with in s5? Whats something you REALLY hope doesn't happen to Steve in s5 (besides dying or a romantic relationship)? Can we get a vague hint at an upcoming plot point in They Built You A Temple And Locked You Away? (Like that game where you describe something poorly.) If Steve ever got a tattoo what would it be of, and where would it be placed? Steve gets a cat, how did he come by it and what does he name it? Do you think they should end the series with a where are they now segment like they used to do at the end of 80s movies, or would you rather they ended it on a fade to black sappy scene (though lets be real they'd probably end it on a WHAT IF ITS NOT OVER bad guy opening their eye thing)?

Bonus: Do you have a favorite stranger things meme? If so, lets see it!

Thank you!!!! I love these so much omg

Okay so this is like polar opposite of what I described with the last question and how I want scenes of emotional vulnerability, not just banter between the two, BUT there's this fic I read and I will link it here (please read the tags for possible tws as it's an intense fic but so wonderfully written) but essentially there is a moment where Steve is attacked (in the case of this fic he's assaulted) and Robin goes absolutely feral and I would pay so much money to see Maya Hawke kick some ass on screen instead of just making jokes about clumsiness. I want to see her launch herself, full claws out, jut to defend her best friend because he's fucking worth it.

Okay this one took me a few minutes of thought because I couldn't think of anyone that he hasn't interacted with at least a little, but then it hit me like a ton of bricks: Joyce and Hopper. Give the boy a set of loving, doting parents.

Okay well I reaaaally don't want to see him die but this sounds terrible but like I don't want to see him be okay right away. I thrive on angst and h/c and these people have been through serious trauma. I want to see him struggling but ultimately living with and coping with it in a healthy way. I don't want him to cope right away though, no one would be able to just move on, but I mostly don't want to see Steve end up with Nancy if I'm being honest. I have no qualms with Stancy shipper, to each their own, but for me it isn't it. I feel like as a couple it's a backslide for both of them in terms of character development and it also kinda feels a bit like lazy writing to just shove them back together instead of strengthening their bond as friends. They have hurt each other deeply and moved on without really fixing anything so it doesn't seem right to just pretend that it never happened.

What a fun and deviously interesting question. I hope I can answer it with as much devilish delight.

Steve's tattoo is a tricky one, I've never thought about it. He definitely keeps it hidden much to Eddie's delight, but I bet it's something sappy like the date of their wedding or a quote or something. Or maybe his baseball bat to match Eddie's arm bats. 100% Steve would find a stray cat, he's an adopt/rescue not shop kinda guy, look at all the children he's adopted inadvertently. He's going to name that cat either Dart or Mews 3 just to fuck with Dustin.

Listen I know it's cheesy but I'd be thrilled with either. I hope it'll be a happy ending and I'm sure that if they were to ever do a spinoff it would either be in the future with the kids of the main characters or it would be a prequel with Dr. Brenner about how the Upside Down really started but I do think there will be a "10 years later" segment and it will definitely be cheesy.

I don't have any specific memes that I love in particular, I tend to either reblog them if they're on here or just laugh and keep scrolling if they are on a different site, but I love all of the "Incorrect Quotes" posts because somehow they are always 10000000% accurate.

[itsclydebitches]

So I'm curious what are some character designs you love? Not from RWBY, but just i general. I'm the same anon who got you to check out Berserk and I'd say essentially all of the designs are done damn well. Fit the character. Changes that makes sense for growth. Also make sense given the setting. Even women in armor that doesn't have those massive boob plates. Good designs impact so much subconsciously to have much we enjoy other aspects of a story.

Congratulations! You’ve unlocked my never-ending need to praise Yu Yu Hakusho! :D 

This long, picture-laden post needs two disclaimers going forward: 

I’m not an artist. In the sense that I’m not a visual artist who knows anything about what makes character design good from a technical/community approved standpoint. This is purely based on my own, personal reaction to a beloved series. 

Connected to that, I’m going into this under the assumption that people might really disagree with me (?). Based on the cartoons and anime that I see praised for character design, I don’t think YYH fits whatever list more knowledgeable viewers are pulling from. But I’m gonna lay out my thinking anyway! 

Major spoilers for Yu Yu Hakusho below. 

Alright let’s do this. 

First off, when people start talking character design they often reference how cool a character is. Which makes sense. You want a character to be visually engaging and distinct. Something that makes you go “Wow!” whenever you look at them. However, one of the things I love about the YYH cast is how normal they are. Because they’re supposed to be normal. The trope of the main character having a crazy hair color has become so prominent that we’ve got memes about it now and that works for a lot of stories. You know who is important because, despite the assumption that they’re average people not dying their hair, they stick out like a sore thumb among the rest of the cast. 

However, normalcy is a really important part of YYH. The entire point at the start is that Yusuke is not special. He’s not unique. He’s a delinquent kid who most assume isn’t going anywhere in life. When he dies this doesn’t unlock some Super Special Backstory - you were innately amazing all along! - he just gets caught up in the plot because of a paperwork issue. The afterlife doesn’t know what to do with an asshole kid who unexpectedly saved another kid’s life so they just kind of... shuffle him around until he’s given another chance to live. Then he gets to pay back that second chance by becoming a Spirit Detective. Yeah, Yusuke is talented when it comes to fighting and spirit energy, but at the start that’s rarely emphasized outside of “He’s the best street fighter among no-name street fighters so really, it’s not impressive once you take Yusuke out of his tiny world of school parking lots and the occasional alleyway.” The takeaway is that he’s a dime-a-dozen troubled teen who got involved in the spirit world due to an impulsive act and a bunch of bureaucracy. Indeed, it’s a HUGE moment of emotional growth for Yusuke to realize that people do love him despite his supposedly average, unremarkable, and otherwise negative personality. His normal-ness - and others’ expectation that he could someday make himself great if he learns to work at it - is crucial to where Yusuke starts out. Making him visually distinct in terms of Anime Protagonist Looks would undermine a lot of that. This isn’t supposed to be a Super Special Kid Destined For Greatness. He’s just... a kid. A normal kid. A kid who has to work and learn and grow if he wants to make something of himself. So he gets black hair, brown yes, and a green school uniform. He’s pretty damn average looking. 

Same with Kuwabara. Same with Keiko. Same with Atsuko. They’re just normal people going about their lives and I always appreciated that they looked the part. You can still easily tell them apart thanks to different hair colors, texture, jaw lines, and outfits, but none of them seem out of place in the average world they start out in. Which, as said, is crucial to a lot of YYH’s themes. The ones who look more visually distinct - Hiei and Botan - aren’t human. It makes sense that they wouldn’t obey these same average laws of the rest of the cast and they are our first taste of a world that, in terms of character design, will eventually get pretty wonderfully weird. They function as stepping stones. 

This eventually becomes a story about the demon world and those demons wouldn’t come across as particularly scary/other if you begin the story with equally strange looking humans. Or even just “I don’t see people who look like that walking down the street” humans. Alongside many themes, there’s a contrast at work here. Yusuke stepping out into a stadium full of demons who despise him because of his species hits home when he is so clearly distinct from them. Suddenly, his normal is abnormal. 

Once the ball gets rolling, Yusuke’s looks are constantly in contrast with both his environment and his inner self. He looks like a scary thug but then unexpectedly saves a life. He looks like an average human but is actually the strongest among a group of scary-looking demons. He looks like this badass spirit detective who everyone assumes with have an equally badass spirit beast but, uh... 

Oh my god that’s a precious baby. By the time our cast is family and everyone accepts that Yusuke looks scarier than he actually is or ever was - once the core group is made up of not just humans but demon loving humans who are equally soft - we turn it all on its head again and reveal that Yusuke has demon blood. For the first time he looks as strange and powerful as he is. Yusuke’s normality is done away with the second he’s fully accepted his place in these worlds, throwing everything back into chaos. 

Yusuke’s demon form becomes even more foreign looking  when he’s being controlled by his ancestral father. The above is a Yusuke who is still Yusuke and in many respects the design reflects that: natural hair color, human body, tattoos easily covered up with a shirt. When he’s gone full Mazoku though, something dangerous, the white, wilder hair and change to his expressions ensure we read him as something feral. For the first time in the series Yusuke is truly the dangerous creature he’s pretended to be since his principal was running after him at school. 

As a side-note about character costumes, we see this emphasis on normality in their outfits as well. Obviously a story like RWBY is limited by how much time/money they have for animation, but it nevertheless has an impact to see the group almost constantly in their battle gear. They’re never not the main characters of an action-fantasy show, not even while just out around town with no expectation of entering a fight.  

In contrast, Yusuke and Kuwabara are often animated in everyday clothing that remind us that they’re really just teens trying to live their lives outside of this crazy nonsense. Kuwabara wasn’t even formally hired for all this! The cast wears sweaters and jackets while out and about. More formal clothes for special occasions. Jeans and t-shirts when they’re unexpectedly caught up in a fight because, you know, they’re not ready for battle every second of every day. They’re drawn like normal folks because, outside of the ring, they are. 

(We’ve also got a lot of parallels between Yusuke and Kuwabara’s civilian clothing, visually reminding us that they’re far more alike than they might be willing to admit.)

Despite often changing outfits, the group maintains a basic color pallet that makes them recognizable, yet it’s also not so limited that they appear strange for sticking to one (1) color for the entire time we know them. Yusuke, like most people, is drawn to particular colors, mostly greens, yellows, and blues, so each time we see him he’s familiar while also being distinct from the last time he changed. 

Hiei, as someone who initially wants nothing to do with anyone else and relies on assassin-like speed to take out his enemies, is dressed almost entirely in black. Without that bit of white in his scarf/hair you’d lose him in the shadows... which is the point. 

When he opens up and actually becomes friends with the team, his color pallet starts opening up a great deal too.  

And we’re shown all the little changes he starts incorporating that speak to his growth: his Jagan eye, a bandaged arm hiding his Dragon of the Darkness Flame, the necklace connecting him to Yukina. 

I’ve blathered on about the outfits enough but as a quick final note: EVERYONE WEARS APPROPRIATE FIGHTING CLOTHES. 

No one (even the women to my recollection) wear heels. Everything is loose-fitted and looks easy to move in. They’ve got sensible belts, bandages if they need them, and... that’s it. No unnecessary bells and whistles that distract from what’s supposed to be the story’s real draw: good fights and good characterization. Even the more elaborately styled characters (usually) look like they chose their outfits practically first and for the aesthetic after. At no point do I recall watching this show and going, “WHY would you wear that to a fight??” 

Anyway, back to the designs. 

The exceptions to either side of these extremes - from human normal to demon monstrous - are Genkai and Kurama, both of whom straddle the line. Genkai is someone who has pushed her spirit and body far past the norm. She’s the first human we meet who truly goes beyond that normality, even if you don’t immediately realize it. Her pink hair (such a soft color in her old age it’s not at all distracting) is a slight hint that something isn’t quite right with her. She’s obviously human... but not a normal human. Not anymore. 

Those unnatural looks are emphasized in her youth when she was at the height of her power. 

Genkai as a young woman has vibrantly pink hair (a bright pastel like Botan’s), a softer face, and far more emotive eyes. She looks ethereal, which fits not just her own journey to power but Togoru’s as well. Her story is intimately tied up in what that power does to the human body/soul. So Toguro starts out like this 

a pretty normal looking guy who is on the far end of what the human body is naturally capable of. He’s buff as hell, but not so much that it looks unreasonable. I’ve seen body builders bigger than him. He’s the average (dehydrated...) MCU superhero. However, he ends up like this

In Togoru’s case his abnormality is explicitly presented as grotesque. Rather than giving him a cool looking characteristic that’s clearly supernatural (blue hair, an extra eye, curly horns, etc.), we’ve taken a human characteristic (muscles) and expanded them to an unnatural degree. He’s got some uncanny valley shit going on. 

Paralleling Genkai, we likewise see Kurama subtly standing out among his human allies. 

He’s a demon in a human’s body. By in-world logic his appearance should be just as normal as anyone else’s, but a bit of his true nature shines through. His hair is long in a style not popular in YYH’s Japan. His red is far less of a natural shade than Kuwabara’s. He carries himself with the air of someone who is ancient, because he is. His human design deliberately reflects his true demon form so when that’s finally revealed we still recognize him as Kurama. 

(Same sort of work with Hiei’s demon form.) 

When we look at the cast together we have an immediate, visual impression as to who is normal and who is not - and those assumptions are embedded into the story. Yusuke is someone you’d overlook in the crowd, but he’s the most powerful. Kurama is clearly other in some way, but he’s desperate to live an average, human life. Kuwabara is designed to look and move like the fool and a lot of his development (his and others’ in relation to him, really. Like Hiei) is built around respecting him despite those looks. Hiei is tiny but will kick your ass. Genkai is tinier and will kick your ass worse. 

Her size combined with her age - combined with her status as Yusuke’s teacher - is a continuous reminder not to judge power by looks alone. Don’t underestimate your opponent and get overconfident (a major flaw of Yusuke’s). Know that you still have a LOT to learn about the world. That woman you assume is just a rude grandma? She’s going to break your expectations over and over and over again. 

Speaking of size, that’s a major aspect of Koenma’s design as well. When Yusuke learns he’s meeting the head of the underworld he starts picturing a massive, demonic beast who (sensing a theme here) looks the part of a supernatural ruler. Seeing Koenma for the first time - an adorable toddler-like being - is an absolute shock. 

It’s a gag for the audience, but it’s not just a gag. Due to his looks Yusuke is unable to take Koenma seriously, despite knowing the power he holds. 

Which, even more-so than arrogance, is Yusuke’s greatest flaw throughout the series. He doesn’t take school seriously. His death seriously. Ruler of the underworld seriously. His teacher seriously, etc. Yusuke constantly acts like he doesn’t care, throwing basic respect and effort in the face of whatever authority figure is desperately trying to keep him from self-destructing. He’s on the receiving end of multiple speeches throughout the series (mostly from Genkai) that boil down to, “Care about something, dammit. Take this seriously!” and when he does it’s GREAT. It’s a moment of growth we’ve really built to in a hundred different ways, including how he reacts to others’ looks. Koenma’s design feeds directly into the primary flaw Yusuke is working to overcome. How will he go from a delinquent laughing in the face of the most powerful being to someone multiple worlds can put their trust in? Design assists with that. 

When Yusuke does respect Koenma (even if he still insults/teases him because that’s just an ingrained part of Yusuke’s personality) Koenma’s appearance can change. It’s no longer serving its original function, so he evolves into a very good looking young man (with references to Tuxedo Mask to emphasize those good looks) that just... happens to still carry a pacifier. 

A pacifier that is revealed as an incredibly powerful weapon that will help save the world. Again: don’t judge anyone or anything solely on their looks. They’re never precisely what you’d assume they are based on your first glance - with the exception of minor villains whose looks serve only to convey their villainy: 

For everyone else, looks are complex. Two of the most different looking characters (color-wise anyway) are actually siblings, their contrasts reflecting both differing cultures and the emotional distance between them. 

The scariest looking monsters are just paper-pushers. It’s the handsome humans you should watch out for.  

And this is our hero, a man charged with protecting three worlds. 

I could say SO MUCH MORE but this is already disgustingly long so basically YYH (I think) does a great job of: 

Crafting characters that are distinct but not different for the sake of different. They always feel like they belong to their individual worlds and adhere to whatever “normal” is by those standards. 

Tying character looks really closely to the show’s themes and individual growth. Which, frankly, is something I think all good character design should do. 

It’s not nearly as flashy as other anime... but YYH knows what it wants to accomplish and went about it beautifully. Catch me still weeping over this show fifty years from now. 

Peace ✌️

[nocherryblood]

Hey! Just a couple of random drawings here!I'll list all the ideas and explanations behind these drawings here:

1) Idea: Will is sick (Mason's come down with it too- and by how close Mabel is to him by trying to comfort him, she'll get it too... aww), the Gleeful twins (they're about 10 or 11 here) refuse to go to bed (which may or may not have been down to a dangerous mix of Mabel Juice and Smile Dip), Bill refuses to leave his twin until he's better so he let himself into the mansion, and Kill's playing the big brother card and refusing to leave too, instead deciding to settle down on Bill's head to watch it all. :) Ah, bliss. So, what does Stanford do? The only thing he can, drug them into submission begrudgingly read them a bedtime story about a few "adventures" he's had. Oh well...

2) Idea: Stanford and Fiddleford find one of those novelty character photo stands, and stick their heads in the holes to take a photo for a laugh. The end result is two quite weird looking "disney princess " photos.

3) Idea: Vampire Will! I'll run through what's happening in each Still!

(Top left) Will is blood-starved (which is when he's either refused or unable to get, blood) and goes crazy trying to get some. He still manages to looks cute to me in a way. And yes, when he gets mad, he goes red, just like his twin! Aww! (But don't laugh, he's thirsty and it looks like you're next...)

(Top right) Will feeding off of someone, but they've been fed from many times before... can you guess who it is (Hint, look at that "tattoo"...)?

(Left middle) During one of the times that Will is blood-starved, he walks to Dipper's college dorm (crossing through a portal to get to Gravity Falls- thankfully, DipDop is out that evening; the two of them "share" a dorm in college, even if Bill doesn't actually go to classes, he's just there to spend time with his Pine Tree), stumbling a little. Bill smiles, just happy to see his little bro, and lets him in without even questioning it (and here we see the very rare thing called "Bill's innocence"). Will asks him for a hug, saying only that he felt a bit lonely so he came to see him, and Bill accepts straight away, going in for the hug. But he's horrified to see Will's face flicker from sad to lust (FOR BLOOD. FOR BLOOD!) for just a second, but before he can do anything, Will's already bitten him several times in just a matter of a few seconds (vampire speed + vampire magic + demon speed + demonic powers = run the hell away from that OP b*tch). Bill staggers back, falling to the floor, and although Will tries to "switch back" to himself, he can't, and getting a taste of (demon) blood didn't help. The end result is... well... Bill ends up losing a heck of a lot of blood, there is one very surprised Pine Tree who comes home in the morning to find Bill passed out on the floor, and one very drunken Will, who drank way too much (especially because it's demon) blood, and it has an effect like being high/stoned or being intoxicated, it just depends. That was a fun morning.

(Middle right) Someone forcing Will's hunger to grow by smashing a vial of angel blood in his face (which by the way, tastes irresistible to him), which can be used to lure said vampire-demon if used in the right way... A smear of angel blood here on a victim and a smear of angel blood there on a victim, aaaaannnndddd... it'd be enough to send him reeling; poor victim :( And no, they (a normal victim at least; 'angel blood' victims don't stand a chance) won't get turned, they'll bleed out unless someone helps them out, because there's a special venom that Will has to inject with his fangs if he wants to turn someone... so don't think you have a chance of survival, unless:

A) He manages to get himself back and decides to help you out

B) You're a child- because Will will NOT attack children, no matter how much he wants to. There has been only one time (he was forced to by Fidds and Ford for an experiment), and he had to be left in the basement for a week before he calmed down...

C) You find him another victim quick enough (of all the three options, this is the one with the least hope- so say goodbye now while you're at it)

(Bottom right) Will's coffin! It's white, with his name written on the front in black letters written on it in cursive (though as he grows 'older', he does prefer a less 'curly' font, but at first, he likes to stick to his old style of writing- from when he was just a demon). He doesn't have to sleep in it, he can sleep in a bed-, which he does do at first, but he finds it safer in case he accidentally wakes up to find the sun's rays glaring down at him... which won't hurt him exactly, but it's not exactly the nicest feeling either...

(Middle) Blood-starved Will...

Will: "I'-It's [the restraining belt] a little t-tight, Bill. Could you t-take it off, p-please? It hurts...."

Bill: "I know Blue, I-I'm... sorry... but I can't... It's not... It's not..."

Will: "It's not... safe... is it?

Bill: "Oh, Will... No... If course it's safe, I just-"

Will (distorted): "WELL THEN WHAT, BILL?! WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO? I'M STARVING!" *grabs bars, shakes them, growls*

Bill (quietly): *backs away* Will... this isn't you... St-stop it...

Will (quietly): *backs away into 'cell', sniff* Bill...?

Bill: *looks up*

Both: *run to each other, hug through bars*

Bill: "I love you, Blue..." (AS BROTHERS!)

Will: "What's happening to m-me, Bill...?"

Bill: *runs hand through Will's hair* "I don't know, Will..."

Both: *crying profusely*

Aww...

Backstory time! (This could change a little, in time, but here's the rough idea-)

Well, at first, no-one thinks that being bitten by a rogue vampire is going to affect a demon that much...

At first the signs on Will are subtle, like becoming more and more sensitive to sunlight and tending to stay away from more people, unless he trusts them or knows them well... but he was fine.

Soon the signs become more severe, and he develops a sort of hunger eating (that pun tho...) away at him, and his senses are starting to get overwhelmed. But he was fine.

All in all, for first few months, Will can pretty much (mostly) just try to ignore the signs, just blaming it in being stressed rather than everything else. He could still serve under the Gleefuls (especially Stanford and Mason, hint hint ;)) without them noticing too much; the only people to noticeably be worried about him were Dipper and Mabel (Pines), and his brother- whom he was allowed to visit every once in a while. So things weren't exactly alright, but he was fine.

Until his bite marks disappear...

One Friday evening, after a particularly draining show (in which he had to use quite a bit of energy), Will is set to serve the evening tea. At first, everything is fine, and he barely notices anything is wrong.

But just as he walks into the dining room, a sharp pain pierces his neck, causing him to shriek, fall, and drop the dinner plates all over the floor. He quickly attempts to get up to clean it up, and Mason tries to help him too (if only to mock him at first), but before he can leave a snidy remark and walk away with a smirk, Will grabs his hand.

The blue demon switches back and forth between himself and the fledgling merging with him, letting go of Mason's hand as he tries to stay in control. He has visions of blood running down the walls, making him panic and feel like he's drowning, and then feeling like he can't breathe.

Flashes of consciousness of him feeding on Mason (whilst the poor boy frantically struggles to get away from him) phase through the visions to him, but ultimately, he cannot stop it. He "wakes up"on the floor, with Mason bleeding out by the wrist next to him, before Mabel rushes to help Mason. Will sees Stanford approach him, and Ford drags Will up by the collar, and down to the basement, locking him down there. He observes Will from a distance- from a camera in another room- before he begins to notice Will losing himself as he soon tries to get out as his vampire side lets paranoia about being trapped, set in. Will essentially goes "feral" banging on the bars, baring his teeth/currently-lengthened fangs, growling, hissing, rocking back and forth, pounding on the walls... you get the message. After a while, Stanford decided (even though he would usually just let Will suffer) to try to anathetise Will, before eventually just giving up and filling the room with narcotic gases to make him sleep. After a couple of coughing fits, Will finally passes out, and Stanford comes in, resolving to typing his arms next to him with an enchanted belt, so that Will can't free himself, no matter how hard he tries. He also puts a special collar on him, like a shock collar but it can also administer small amounts of the narcotics, if Stanford so wishes. So, with done, he lets Will sleep until the morning, just waiting to observe his actions... And so, when Will is denied/refused, or unable to obtain blood or energy (because he can feed off of people's energy too, it's just not a effective and fills the hunger for much less longer) then that, is when he is blood-starved, so he'll probably anything just to get some, though let it be said, the longer he has to wait, the greeider he'll become. There have been numerous experiments between Fidds and Ford, to see how long will could actually go for without attacking someone whilst blood-starved, unbeknownst to poor Will :(. But regardless of that, the record if around 2 hours and 1 minute...

(If you have any further questions, ask away!)

[mishaelle-starsong]

A Tuneless Requiem

Scarred, callused fingers played over the harp strings with little direction, lofting gentle disharmonies into the air. She could have made something from them, could have chosen a piece to play, but why? There was no audience to please, no events worth praising. Something for Elune, perhaps? No, nothing for the goddess. The Moon received her worship in the aspect of the Night Warrior now, and Star had left offerings all over Darkshore.

The coincidental unsong continued unabated, doing little but providing a focusing outlet. Her mind was… not what it once was, she supposed. Not a deterioration of function; rather she felt the edges sharpening again. She'd been mostly feral in the past. As the remnants of "civilizing" fell away, she knew she was becoming so again. I shouldn't let myself go. It was a thought she acknowledged without necessarily agreeing to. There were reasons to be wary, yes, but they were few.

A sudden confluence of notes produced a chord she thought she recognized, sliding her play into a learned pattern before she noticed what was happening. The song was an old one, full of meaning, though she couldn't recall the proper name anymore. The words escaped her as well, though they felt on the edge of her consciousness. She couldn't blame them for being evasive: most of her mind was being drawn back through years of memory.

Most of what she saw was painful. Vae was there, her quiet strength filling the space in her mind that was now vacant in her heart. A decade wasn't much in the span of a Kaldorei lifetime, but their decade had meant more to her than any other. It hurt, but she let the memories in anyway. A little suffering was fine; what was a life without it?

"Do you remember how we met?" The voice was clear in her mind, a perfect crystallization of Vae's gentleness. "You arrived in Shattrath such a mess, covered in blood and mostly incoherent. Your friend was there, too, though she seemed in much better shape. You said you'd jumped out a window, using your own body to cushion her landing. None of us knew why you'd done it, and you never did explain…"

The story went on, flowing over and through her, narrated by the most important voice in her life and one she expected to never hear again. There had been some flirting, of course; back then Star had done so regularly and one's options became extremely limited while recovering from a broken leg. It had become more than that, of course. The drift from joking to hesitant to serious had taken nearly a year. She'd told Vae her real name shortly after that, providing a clear demarcation of the change in status.

"Misha," said the voice, laughter clear in the way the name was formed, "aren't we such a pair? Both too stubborn for our own good, intent on keeping even the worst promises we make, no matter how they hurt us. Oh, mush'al, we're the most perfect fools, aren't we?"

Star nodded slowly, a tear escaping her good eye. How long since she'd been called mush'al, beloved, in their shared tongue? How long since she'd heard it without the heartache caused by her actions? How long since--

She twitched aside, the arrow burying itself in the thick wood of the harp. Others were coming, she knew, but this was nothing to her. Star was rolling, turning, evading, even as she calculated the source.

"Very rude of you," she said, loud enough to be heard, "to interrupt a private performance with violence. I suppose undeath shouldn't be expected to improve manners, should it?"

Another arrow missed, narrowly; the next deflected from her blade.

"Come now, sister, surely you have something to say. I would like to hear it before I kill you. Believe it or not, I do care about our fallen." She paused to deal with a barrage of projectiles, weapons blurring with the speed of her movement. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"You left us to die," came the accusation, twisted and hollowed out by the cruelties of undeath. "Keep your lies."

Under the hatred was something recognizable, something she'd heard years before. Familiarity. Where? When? She let her memory range as she continued her circuitous trek.

"Is that you, Myrastra? No, you don't have to answer, I know it is. Do you recognize my voice? It's understandable if not, we've both been through so much since then." Incongruously, she found herself laughing. "I guess we could say the same for the stronghold, too. Just a washed out ruin off the coast now. Rebuilt or not, it's not the same. The new one isn't really home for us, is it?"

The growl was quiet, off to one side, not as distant as before. It preceded the creak of a bow being drawn, also barely audible, providing better direction. Star dove from the ruined building in the opposite direction, fractional seconds ahead of the next volley.

"Shandris spoke highly of you. I should have been more open with my praise, too. I wasn't good at it then." Another chuckle. "Not that I'm any better now, but I sometimes manage to recognize when someone deserves to be told something clearly rather than assuming they know. I was never a good leader like that."

"Then shut up," the risen Sentinel hissed, an arrow accompanying her words. "Shut up and die."

Star ignored the request. "I can help you, you know. Not give back your old life, but at least free you from this one. It's bad enough to find yourself enslaved by the foolish descendants of the Highborne who fled rather than be reasonable. I can only imagine what it must be like to have them be undead as well. The levels of abomination are striking, no?"

A snarl, filled with words. "You're hardly one to talk, Illidari. How you even found time to betray us is-"

"Shut your fool mouth, Astra." Even she was surprised at the anger in her voice. "I'm as Illidari as you are Azshari."

Conversation paused briefly, arrows providing their own input.

"These runes," Star continued, "are not a sign that I follow the Betrayer. I helped recapture him, you know, and would have gladly removed his head given the chance. My tattoos exist because, like you, I would do anything to save our people and this world. Others fought the Legion. With these markings? I destroyed the Legion."

The fallen Sentinel was silent then, though her bowstring continued to sing. She was nearly in position. Star decided to delay her death, hoping to get through first. She owed one of Shandris's troops that much.

"You died for our home, as did so many before you. I sacrificed the only happiness I've known since the Sundering to keep this world whole. We share the same commitment, Astra, the same goal. I just haven't been twisted to serve the Blighter."

"I serve no one!" The cry of denial would have been more believable if the accompanying shot had been remotely steady.

"You're doing what Sylvanas wants," Star went on, "even after she burned Teldrassil. She poisoned our lands and murdered our families, and now you help her make it even worse. You can't blame this on being 'betrayed', Myrastra. Every one of us knows we may have to give our lives in defense of our people. I'm sorry you died like that, but don't make it worse."

She found shelter in the moonshadow of a great tree, waiting. No sound from her opponent for a minute, then another and another. Nothing at all until the keening wail split the darkness, standing every hair on Star's body on end. Hardened as she was, it still put a shiver down her spine. Beneath the cry, though, she heard something else and something more: the latter was regret, the former a bowstave snapping.

The one-eyed warrior rushed over to the risen Kaldorei, ready to kill at the slightest hint of deception. Myrastra was on her knees, staring into the sky without seeing, clutching at her eyes. Bloodless furrows had been gouged into the flesh of her face; the curls of skin were still stuck under her fingernails.

"Astra," she said as gently as she knew, "it's not your fault."

The blank gaze lowered to her, the undead expression still one of shock. "I… let her make me one of them," she whispered, horrified. "I became one of them. A tool, a… a traitor. Goddess help me, I…"

She trailed off, leaving it to Star to put more words between them. "You're not the only one. But you're not a traitor. You didn't get a choice. What she did to you is… irredeemable, but that doesn't mean you are."

Myrastra shook her head, unfocused once more. "I can't. I don't know what's happening anymore, I'm losing it all suddenly, I… who are you?" Her voice lowered further. "Who am I?"

"You're Sentinel Captain Myrastra Duskarbor, one of General Shandris Feathermoon's officers. You're a skilled archer, a good leader, someone your troops can look up to."

"No, I… I don't think that's right. I'm… I'm fairly certain, actually, that I… that I… that-"

A softer heart would have been caught offguard then, but Star had never been one of those. Whatever cruel magic Astra had broken free of reasserted itself, contorting her features once more into a mask of hate. She ignored the undead Kaldorei's dagger entirely, twisting so as to let it get buried and stuck in the part of her side where it would do the least damage. That left her free to cleanly separate the head and body with a quick stroke of her sword.

She cleaned her blades and sheathed them before removing the dagger, grunting as it pulled free. Star held it out without looking, knowing her constant companion was nearly there. "I don't think it's poisoned, Ora, but you should check to be sure. There's no burning indicating it, and most of the time they only apply it to arrows anyway, but assumptions get people killed."

The young druid resumed her elven form to take the weapon, turning her focus toward its bloody blade. "I sense no toxins on this or in your blood upon it. What about your wound, Shan'do? Shall I heal it?"

Star glanced down then back to her peculiar apprentice. "No, I don't think so. The runes would likely interfere and it won't slow me down while it heals."

"But it may leave blood that would allow us to be followed."

"Very true. Excellent thinking." She didn't smile but her eye reflected the approval. "No healing, though, we'll just burn it closed."

Orellanine nodded. "Will we also burn her?" She pointed to the decapitated remains.

Star shook her head, sighing. "No. We'll… I'll carry her with us and we'll make sure she's properly dedicated to Elune. Myrastra deserves that much for breaking through. I almost regret killing her."

Ora didn't ask why. Star didn't elaborate.