#they're always different depending on the sound

[shepherds-of-haven]

hey, this is the anon who sent in the ask about loving the idea of a red - mc - briony triangle lol! you asked what i'm intrigued by so here it is (sorry if i'm butchering your characters with this, maybe it only works with my own mc and the vibes in my head)

it's a couple different things. first, i feel like the safety of that relationship would be unbelievable. the trust and genuine love would be insane. red and briony are both such compassionate and empathetic people and in that triad any one of them would have a soft place to land with the other two. so many steadying conversations and so much quiet comfort when it's needed, distractions (especially from briony lol) from difficult feelings or situations when it's needed. just the idea that, as fun and lighthearted as that relationship would be, there's always that undercurrent of deep deep understanding and unconditional space held. yeah

and god that relationship just seems like it Would be so fun and they would all so obviously adore each other....it could get to the point of being almost annoying for the other shepherds if it wasn't also so sweet lol. can't imagine them trying to rub it in anyone's faces at all but it would be SO heartbreaking for all those secret admirers to watch briony light up at the sight of red or mc and go bounding off to them across the courtyard, or to hear the way red can't seem to finish an entire thought out loud without managing to work some aside about one or both of mc and briony into it. (feeling like the relationship gets completely outed when a recruit heading down to the kitchens for a snack in the early morning catches briony and red coming out of mc's room. at the same time.)

i also think i just love the sort of natural push and pull that relationship would probably have to involve??? you've got briony there as a force for justice and assertiveness when it's necessary, when red tries valiantly to make conversation work in a situation where it simply won't, or when mc allows an insult to slide for the sake of maintaining professionalism. but red (and mc, depending on who exactly they are lmao) would also be able to curb the worst excesses of that and make sure she doesn't tip over into recklessness. and then briony and mc could immediately help pump the brakes on the more self-destructive tendencies red has, especially when it comes to his research- there are two people there who are perceptive enough to know whether or not he's eating, who can persuade him to come to bed instead of falling asleep at his desk (and who put blankets over his shoulders and pillows under his head on the nights he doesn't quite make it there). and of course, bigger picture, briony and mc (at least mien lol) would be knowledagble enough about magic and concerned enough about red's experiments w the worldwalkers to keep an eye out and who would notice, intervene, and have a serious conversation with him if his drive started to go down a dark or dangerous path. mc's trickier lol but at least in my little world with my mc, he really trusts both of them with some of his most private thoughts re: his fear of what's coming and his worries about failure, letting everyone down up to and including the gods, his past, etc.- they're people who are steadfastly loyal, and for mcs who would need space to talk about their anxieties they seem like they would be so safe, willing to challenge things that don't sound right or border on self-sacrificial but also gentle when they do it....i just think they would all bring out the best in each other, while also helping each other avoid the pitfalls of the most passionate (but consuming) parts of themselves. the stuff that's good in moderation but can get scary when it's too far

i could actually write a dissertation on this lmao i started typing and just kept realizing i had more to say. thank you SO SO MUCH for characters that are this fascinating and fun to imagine lol, i hope this wasn’t too much!!

Ahhhh thanks so much for sharing!!! I absolutely love reading thoughts like this, I think you're absolutely spot on with the characters and how a poly relationship between them would go! :) This was lovely, thanks so much for the fun read! 💖

[arrgh-whatever]

asked my friends none of them had this but i surely can't be the only one so

has any of you ever seen these.. tv static kinda pictures whenever you're almost asleep and then a sudden sound wakes you up

[starry-bi-sky]

i have... ✨Danyal Al Ghul Headcanons✨ but specifically for my yaelokre danyal oneshot

There's also the tumblr post here but I recommend the link in the title because its the ao3 version, and that one is edited and has some stuff in it that's not in the tumblr post, and will be the version I'm using.

So for summary: this Danyal is also from a Demon Siblings Au where Danny is five years older than Damian. However, things turned out a bit differently, and Danny and Damian had a fantastic relationship with one another. Danny loved music and regularly came up with songs to sing to Damian with. Specifically the folk band Yaelokre's EP "Hayfields" (seriously go fucking listen to it its sooo good. Harpy Hare is the second song but its my favorite. Special shoutout to @gascansposts for introducing the band to me)

He falls off a train when he's twelve and Damian is seven while the two of them and Talia are on mission. He ends up with magically induced amnesia and wakes up in Arkansas while the Fentons are on their yearly Divorce-iversary visit to Aunt Alica, and since he can only remember his name, he ends up being taken into their care.

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

Yaelokre Danny has the same facial scar as Things in Threes Danyal, since he was initially another version of him where things turned out better. I'm debating on whether or not I should take it away however, and give him a different scar (maybe from when he fell off the train?), just because the scar is a pretty key identifier for Ti3 Danyal.

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

Danny frequently visits Aunt Alicia in Arkansas! Well, only after he gets settled in and stuff. He doesn't really like the city that much and prefers the countryside where Alicia lives. I know she lives in a cabin but I'm changing it to a farm, so she puts Danny to work and gets him to help her.

I don't want to confine his hobbies to only being star stuff, because people tend to have more than one hobby and I feel like it reduces him to one-dimensionality, so he likes to garden, and learns guitar. His room becomes filled with plants, and he turns their roof into a rooftop greenhouse right below to OPS Center.

He has a complex relationship with the weapons from his past, but he's not... like... appalled by it? When he finds his weapons in the Fenton attic all he thinks is that they're his weapons, and he starts carrying a knife on him afterwards. Essentially he becomes fascinated with weaponry because its one of the few physical ties he has to his past, and while he's not training like he is in the League, he allows his strong muscle memory to guide him through his katas.

Danny likes climbing things. This causes Problems For Everyone Else.

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

Danny was not the "kinder Al Ghul" in the League. His kindness extended to his brother and family, and that's it. To everyone else he had high expectations out of them, and the pride you'd expect from the grandson of Ra's Al Ghul and trained by its top members. While he wasn't like, unnecessarily cruel or anything, he wasn't merciful either.

This transfers post-train fall as him coming off as no-nonsense and unforgiving. He's not fond of the idea of giving people second chances, and is skeptical of the idea. He's disgusted by incompetency and views it as an unforgivable offense, especially if he thinks that the person should know better, although he's not sure why. Some egocentrism for the soul.

He doesn't like being touched by anyone who isn't family, and gets irritated when anyone grabs him or holds onto him for extended amounts of time. Dash has gotten hit so many times. With Jack Fenton's tendency for abrupt physical affection, it doesn't make it any better. I'd argue it'd make it worse because Danny doesn't want to be touched more often than not.

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

Danyal had a red scarf in the League that he wore on his last mission, it came off before he fell off and caught itself on the roof. Damian still has it and took it with him to Wayne Manor. He's got it locked in his room and takes it out when he's alone and missing Danny the most. One time he forgot to put it away before leaving his room, and Dick was visiting the manor for something and found it. Damian found him holding it and freaked out.

Dick could only say "I've never seen you wear this, Damian, this is really pretty--" before Damian shoved him to the floor and stole it out of his hands, before screaming at him; "Don't touch this! You don't ever touch this! This is mine! You hear me!?"

It caused such a commotion that the rest of the family present came to see what the fuss was about, and Damian kicked them all out of his room. Dick is the one brother Damian's the closest with, so the fact he reacted so strongly shocked them all.

This is likely what leads to the "Danyal" conversation.

[huntershowl]

verse drop: bnha !!

general info.

name: persephone aisa alias (villain): hellhound allegiance: the unseen (organized crime) quirk: voidsmoke. persephone's hair dissolves into plumes of inky black smoke that she can directly manipulate. the smoke darkens any patch of shadow that it enters, allowing her to obscure her body in dim light and darkness. additionally, as their quirk evolves, they become able to manipulate its solidity, size and shape, which allows her to temporarily create small objects from the smoke (bullets, knives) & spread it outwards to fill an entire space with pitch-darkness. all created objects must eventually return to shadow; she can only make/maintain a few at a time before they start disintegrating. additionally, there is an upper limit to how large of a space she can turn pitch-black. (this limit can be trained, though, as can the amount/size/complexity of existing objects!) additionally, it is much more taxing to create darkness in a brightly-lit area than a dimly-lit one. enhancements: advanced prosthetic arms, upper-body skeletal reinforcement preferred gear: sniper rifle, several knives, brass knuckles, climbing shoes, grappling-hook arm attachment, reinforced clothing

two versions of this verse are described under the cut:

main ( villain, age/timeline-agnostic ) — inside your head the sound of glass.

UA ( student, early seasons ) — snake in the garden.

main ( villain, age/timeline-agnostic ) — inside your head the sound of glass.

the villain HELLHOUND has only been terrorizing the world for one year. for the first several months of that year, they only plagued the U.S. with their murders. japan was unfortunate enough to become their next target one month ago, but even in that short time they have already made quite the stir.

the strange thing about her — well. one of many, lol. — is that not only does she go after civilians and heroes, but other villains as well. it seems hellhound is indiscriminate in the moral alignment of those she eviscerates in the streets. additionally, sources are inconsistent and conflicting about what her quirk actually is. most are in agreement that it has to do with their hair, which melts into shadowy smoke at the ends, but those in the U.S. who endured her presence longer insist that it is some kind of lycanthropic transformation quirk. a beast-form, a giant wolf made of shadow and rage. as time goes on, more and more of japan's populace have begun to subscribe to this belief as well.

this verse can take place after the UA student verse or independent of it, depending on how sad we want to be. if it takes place afterwards, seph was pulled out of japan at some point in the timeline and sent to the US by her employer in THE UNSEEN. she completely vanishes, going zero-contact with everyone (including her brother), and comes back two years later as a villain — a monstrous shell of her former self.

UA ( student, early seasons ) — snake in the garden.

in this verse, persephone is sent by the unseen to infiltrate class 1-A and feed back information about the next wave of pro heroes. she has not yet experienced the events that lead to her becoming hellhound, but regrettably, that doesn't make her THAT much less aggressive. sorry to add to the angy energy bakugou brings to the class, but. whooops.

as a student, persephone is a little punk. she struggles to work with others and reacts to even the smallest provocation with anger. she doesn’t go out of her way to bully anyone, unless they do it to her first, but she is known for being prickly and very solitary. they are incredibly easy to rile and often get into fights. the only person they treat with kindness is their twin brother orion, who is in the support class.

that being said, she is still much easier to get along with — and importantly, quite a bit more trusting — than she is in hellhound verses. there are certainly things she likes, for instance (wild i know): being a delinquent, alternative metal music, raspberry sweets, cool knives!

unlike the other alleged UA mole, persephone's operation as a spy does not directly threaten the other students in any way. the unseen is a criminal organization that operates primarily for profit. its leader ( amari fletch, an ex-pro hero ) is perfectly fine letting the world run the way it runs, so long as the global leaders in their pocket continue to turn a blind eye to their highly illegal operations around the world. if someone goes against them, they are violently made an example of.

all of that being said, persephone is still a trained killer. she slips away from school often, as does orion, without any explanation to where she's gone — occasionally for days at a time. she is always diligent with make-up training and assignments, however, and her grades are solid despite the distractions.

when the war starts, the unseen's allegiance is to no one. (though this is subject to change, of course. an attractive enough offer could sway them.) this allows one of two branches to take place:

either the unseen allies with all for one and sends persephone to work with him & the league,

or they remain neutral and allow her to work with her peers against all for one.

[yawnderu]

CW: mentions of kidnapping and stolen body autonomy.

Find a way in, kill the enemy, retrieve the hostages, leave. A routine of sorts that gave his life some sense of purpose to avoid going insane for the past two decades. Simon liked to believe he got over what happened in his past... truly, he did; and yet Manuel Roba’s horrors seem to haunt him no matter where how many years pass.

“C’mere.” Simon’s voice held no hostility, he made sure of it, yet your stiff position never changed. Legs angled to the right, hands folded on your lap, and eyes looking forward, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze even if it’s been hours since your rescue. Garrick, Price and Johnny have already tried to get you to talk multiple times, all of them with different approaches. 

Garrick was friendly, trying his best to seem approachable, a bright smile on his lips that you didn’t seem to notice, too busy staring at a wall no matter how much he tried to hold a conversation.

Price seemed fatherly, never once laying a hand on you even if it was itching to comfort you, and so he settled with telling you you’re safe now, how no one will ever get you again now that they're here. His words didn’t seem to do much, either. 

Johnny was… something else. His first attempt was a shitty pick up line, getting a reaction out of you for the first time— a nose scrunched up in disgust, but a reaction nonetheless.  

And Simon… Simon’s approach was different. The man was used to barking out orders and obeying them himself, not to deal with an unresponsive hostage. His behemoth frame was nestled next to you, putting a tray on the table and observing your reactions. From the way you swallowed thickly the moment the meal was presented to you, to the sound of your stomach growling. 

“Go on, then.” Your gaze follows his movements for the first time, the feeling of your stomach rumbling makes you more aware of your hunger, so many years being fed nothing but what was necessary to keep you alive by Manuel and his associates, so many years of being trained like a dog to obey to their very order. 

Simon can see the hesitation in your body language, too tense to allow yourself to dig in the way you wanted, yet no longer as stiff as before. There was a sense of relief at the fact that they didn’t seem to want to hurt you —unlike Roba—, yet years of non-stop brutal training can’t be erased within hours.

Roba’s training was engraved into your brain, and while the sense of security the SAS blokes gave you is something you’re thankful for, nothing guarantees they’re not working for him. You’ve seen other military men come and go throughout the years, always Roba’s friends, and always sharing the same disgusting, sadistic desires.

“Eat up.” The rest of the men watch the way you move, curiosity and amusement mixing at how strange your movements seem, almost robotic. Your forearms rest on the table, elbows away from the cheap wood as you attempt to hold your own cutlery— attempt, because it looks fully foreign to you, trying out different angles to make it work, and yet it's the first time in years you've been allowed to try and feed yourself.

Simon is the first one to catch on, having lived under Roba’s rules for long enough to know he enjoys taking people’s autonomy, to reduce them to nothing but a pathetic mess that depends on him. His gloved fingers are gentle as he takes the spoon from your hand, scooping up some food before holding it up to your lips. His full attention is on you, relief starting to make its way into his body as sees your rather soft lips wrap around the spoon, eating whatever he was feeding you. Lucky for you, this time it wasn’t an MRE… or beans on toast.

His gloved thumb wipes the corners of your lips every time you’re done chewing, and he’s quick to pick up more food from the plate, nothing but patience and kindness shown in his actions, so unlike the brooding soldier he's known to be.

“... two goldfish are in a tank…?” Johnny’s loud groan gets your attention for a second, yet you quickly glance back at Simon, curious eyes looking up at him, almost as if asking him to go on. 

“One turns to the other and says… ‘you know how to drive this thing?’” You can see the corners of his eyes crinkle before he even finishes his joke, clearly trying his best not to laugh at just how awful it was. A small smile hides in the corners of your lips, and Simon takes that as a victory, ignoring the questioning looks he’s getting from his team, for now.

[shanastoryteller]

i know spn hates good writing and also sam, but the dumpster fire of s4 really could have been salvaged if they'd just played ruby and castiel straight

by which i mean

ruby should have been one of the good guys (honestly it feels like the writers changed their minds last second regarding her anyway)

castiel should have been the villain (which, let's be clear, he totally was)

the point of this is that it would force dean to confront his own bullshit and maybe figure himself out, which not only would have been good television but would have been satisfying to me, personally

sam's problem is that he wants there to be a good equal to every evil. that he believes goodness exists even where it doesn't, that he always wants to give things a chance, that he always has hope. they sound like good traits, up until they're used against him. they reach the station of angels are bad eventually, but it should have been more immediate and visceral, that there is no greater good here. sam should have had this knocked out of him, which would have shattered him in way, to lose this thing he's depended on his whole life, but it really would have hammered home that it's choices that really do matter, not circumstances

dean's problem is always that he sees monsters as monsters with no grey area, that sam always has to play his moral center the second anything becomes complicated. then he goes to hell, breaks, tortures innocents, and an angel yanks him out and tells him that he's a righteous man

dean desperately desperately wants this to be true

because it's sam who they had to look out for, sam who was destined to go darkside, sam with the demon blood

dean doesn't have that excuse

he's just a human man with a hunger for violence who never learned to curb his appetite. who was instead pushed to gorging himself on it, who is left broken and desperate and angry by what he did to save himself. his whole life, his whole self perception for thirty years, was about protecting innocents. then he betrays that in hell. do you think he kept count? how many innocents he destroyed against how many he saved? the day it equaled out, do you think he wished he could weep?

dean is so unbelievably messed up by hell. not the torture he endured, that's barely a blip, but the torture he inflicted is what haunts him

so he needs for sam to be the bad guy

he's using his powers, he's hanging out with demons, he's drinking demon blood. he's the monster. he's inhuman

(he's using his powers and hanging out with demons and drinking demon blood and still he's doing less harm than dean, still he's trying to save people. dean can't accept this, because he can't be the rotten one. he'll forgive sam anything, but never himself, so it has to be sam. because he can fix sam, he'll always love his brother, so if he's evil there's stil a path forward there. but if it's dean? if he's the one going evil? sam's left him before. why would he stay now? if dean is the one going darkside then he loses everything. himself. his brother. it has to be sam)

dean is projecting all his own shit onto sam because he can't deal with any of it, which is why he treats sam like shit, why he treats him in a way that he's never treated him before. it's how he treats himself. and sam has no idea what to do with this, is left reeling and hurt and broken himself by dean doing this to him. sam never thought dean would leave him to die in the panic room, because dean wouldn't, not the dean he's known his whole life, not the dean that loves him. not alone.

but dean would do that to himself. and since sam is his proxy for himself, it's what he does to sam, but sam doesn't know that so all he feels is the weight of betrayal and grief and rage

isn't it funny, almost? the demons brought sam back just as he was, exactly the same. the angels bring back dean but he's not the same. dean comes back wrong, comes back different. but no one wants to say that. to deal with it

having ruby be evil and castiel venerated justifies all of dean's spiraling, all of his punishment. he was right all along, sam was the problem, don't you see?

boring

ruby stays loyal to sam, a demon who chooses something different, who chooses the boy with the demon blood because there's something compelling about sam winchester, as tempting as the apple before eve, and ruby didn't get where she is by knowing better

(remember when sam pulled all the psychic kids together, acted as leader, and resisted azazel? there is a leader in sam, a compassion in him, that azazel had to cheat in order to beat. and if ruby can show him how to win against demons then-)

castiel let sam out of the panic room. he's following orders, because that's his job, and damn the consequences. this should have been seen as the act of betrayal and evil that it was, castiel proving he was never really on their side at all, never on the side of preventing harm. it also would have made his redemption arc mean something, it would have given castiel a lot more to work with if they'd had to really bring him back over

ruby realizes too late what killing lilith means. tries to stop sam, but now that she's here it's too late, kill or be killed. sam accepts that, is willing to die rather than start the apocalypse. but then dean is there, and he can't watch his brother die again, he just can't. so he kills lilith to save dean, when he would have been willing to die himself

ruby gets them out of there. they discover what castiel did, that he pushed forward the apocalypse rather than prevented it

this breaks dean. he finally snaps, but it's good, because everything he'd used to shore himself up before had been terrible and rotted and corrosive

a righteous man is not a good man. dean is forced to confront everything he's done in hell, and after he'd gotten back, everything he put sam through, how he left him in that panic room and almost killed him, how he's treated him for the past year. how it was a demon who tried to help in the end and an angel that damned them

and how sam saved him anyway, damn the consequences

we should have returned to what the show had been building up to from the beginning - that sam loves his brother enough to do terrible things and dean has no idea how to deal with that

so we've got sam and dean on the run with ruby, castiel's slower and much juicier redemption arc, and dean having to pick up the pieces of himself while sam tries to figure out how he gets them out this mess. and sam's guilt is justified here, his aching sense of responsibility, because this time he kills lilith knowing it'll free lucifer. he makes that choice, for dean. and he's determined to fix it

just. demon blood tainted sam and turncoat ruby trying to save the world. the angels trying to end it. all while dean finally accepts the crushing guilt of what he's done and starts to work through it, starts to work on becoming the brother sam lost, on once more being the steady thing sam can hold onto no matter what it takes, because sam choosing him reminds him of something he'd told himself he forgot

he doesn't want to be a righteous man, a torturer, a demon, a victim, a martyr

he just wants to be sam's brother. the one he looks up to, depends on, loves

he wants what he's always wanted

to feel worthy of his little brother's affection

[cyberl6ve]

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑! 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 ─ 𝐅 𝐄 ! 𝐍

CHECK 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 FOR MORE!! (NSFW!!)

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

── .✦ : Y/N, in need of more weed, recalls her best friend Matt Sturniolo once mentioning that his brother, Chris, could help her restock. With Chris's number saved in her phone but never having met him, Y/N decides to reach out, stepping into an unexpected world linked to her friend’s mysterious brother.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · 𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 !! · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

⋆˙⟡ STORY CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT !! ⋆˙⟡

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ : 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐈’𝐦 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, but I need more weed. I take out my phone and scroll through my contacts until I find the number for Chris Sturniolo, my best friend Matt's brother. I've never met Chris in person before, but I've heard enough stories from Matt to know he's trouble. Despite this, I send him a text message asking if he could sell me some weed.

“Hey, is this Chris?”

A few minutes later, I get a reply from him.

“Depends. Who's asking?”

I roll my eyes at his response, but I type back anyway.

“I’m one of Matt's friend. Y/N. I need to restock my supply, and I heard you could help me out.”

There’s a bit of a pause before he replies.

“Ah, Matt’s girl. Yeah, I can hook you up. Come by my place in an hour.”

An hour later, I find myself standing outside of Chris’s house, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. I take a deep breath and ring the doorbell. A few moments later, the door swings open and I find myself face-to-face with Chris.

“Hey there,” he says, leaning against the doorway. “You must be Y/N.”

I nod, eyeing him up and down. He's wearing a plain black hoodie and a pair of jeans, his hair tousled in that carefree way that makes girls swoon. But I'm not about to let him see that I find him attractive.

As I look at him, it's impossible to ignore the similarities between him and Matt. They share the same colored hair, the same sharp features, the same easy smile. Matt had told me once that he was an identical triplet, and seeing Chris for the first time, I could believe it.

But the differences between them are obvious too. While Matt was always friendly and approachable, Chris exudes a confident charisma that's hard to ignore. It's like he knows he can get anything he wants, and he's not afraid to use it to his advantage.

He steps aside to let me in, and I walk past him into the house. “Make yourself at home,” he says, shutting the door behind us. “Can I get you anything to drink?” I shake my head, still trying to play it cool. “I'm good,” I say.

He looks at me for a moment, his eyes roaming over my body in a way that makes me feel both self-conscious and flattered at the same time.

“So, how much do you need?” he asks. “An eighth, a quarter, a whole ounce?” I shrug, trying to act like I don't care. “Whatever you've got,” I say.

He seems amused by my nonchalance. “You don't mess around, do you? I like that.” He grins and moves closer to me, leaning against the wall.

“How about an ounce? Does that sound alright?” he asks, his voice low and silky. Despite myself, I feel a flutter in my stomach at his proximity. “Yeah, an ounce is great,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “How much will that cost me?”

He smirks and crosses his arms across his chest. “Normally it would cost you $50, but since you're a first-time buyer it's on the house.”

I shake my head, trying to keep up the nonchalant act. “No, no, I can't let you give me a free ounce,” I say. “Let me pay you something at least.”

He grins and hands me the ounce, his fingers brushing against mine as he does. “Well, you can pay me in another way, if you're willing,” he says, his voice low and sultry.

I raise an eyebrow at his words, trying not to show how much they're affecting me. “And what way would that be?” I ask, playing along.

Without warning, he takes a step forward, closing the distance between us. His gaze locks with mine as he leans in, his lips hovering just inches from my own. “Maybe I can show you,” he says, his voice a low murmur.

He closes the gap between us, his lips meeting mine in a soft, but firm kiss. I find myself melting into him, my hands moving up to wrap around his neck as we kiss. He pulls me closer to him, his arms wrapping around my waist tightly.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping into my mouth. I moan softly, pressing myself against him, feeling the heat of his body against mine. For a moment, all thoughts of being nonchalant fly out of my head as I lose myself in his embrace.

As the kiss deepens, I can't help but notice how different it is from any other kiss I've had before. His lips are firm and confident, yet tinged with a hint of gentleness that I can't quite place. It's like he knows exactly what he's doing, and he's using it to his advantage. He's a far better kisser than any of the guys I've dated in the past, and I find myself getting lost in the sensation of his mouth on mine.

He breaks the kiss, but only to move his attention to my neck. His lips trail down my jawline, his teeth nipping at my skin as he sucks lightly at my pulse point. I tilt my head back, exposing more of my neck to him, unable to stop myself from letting out a soft moan.

He grins against my skin, his hands moving to my hips as he continues his assault on my neck. He kisses and sucks at the sensitive skin, his tongue darting out every now and then to tease me. His fingers dig into my hips, pressing me against him tightly, and I can feel the heat of his body through our clothes.

He pulls back from my neck for a moment, looking up at me with a sly smile. “Jump,” he says, his voice a low command. Before I can protest, he taps my thighs, signaling me to jump.

Without thinking, I obey, jumping up and wrapping my legs around his waist. He catches me easily, his hands moving to support me under my thighs, holding me tightly against him.

He moves quickly toward the stairs, carrying me with ease. His hands grip my thighs tightly as he ascends the stairs, his strides purposeful and assured. I wrap my arms around his neck, my heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves.

We reach the top of the stairs and he turns down the hallway, stopping in front of a door at the end. Without breaking stride, he pushes the door open and carries me inside, kicking it shut behind us.

The room is dimly lit, with a king-size bed in the center. He walks over to it, still holding me in his arms, and lowers me down onto the bed. I sink into the soft comforter, my heart racing as he hovers over me, his eyes roaming over my body.

He leans down, his body pressing against mine, his weight pinning me to the bed. He kisses me hungrily, his hands roaming over my body, tracing the curves of my hips and sides. I kiss him back just as eagerly, my fingers tangling in his hair as I arch up against him.

He breaks the kiss, his lips moving down to my neck again. His hands reach up to the hem of my shirt, pulling it up over my head, exposing my bare skin to him. I shiver as his fingers trace patterns on my stomach, his touch sending jolts of electricity racing through me.

He moves down, kissing and nipping at my collarbone, his hands moving to unclasp my bra. I arch into his touch, my breath coming in short gasps as he worships my body with his mouth. He lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine as he pulls the bra off and throws it aside.

His gaze wanders down, taking in the sight of my bare chest, his pupils dilating as he takes in the sight of me. He licks his lips, his hands roaming over me once again. He touches me like he owns me, like he has the right to, and I find myself craving more of his touch.

He kisses his way down my body, his lips moving over my breasts, his tongue swirling over my nipples, making me gasp and arch up against him.

Chris's lips continue to trail downwards, his hands moving to my waistband. With a gentle tug, he slowly pulls my pants down, revealing my underwear. His breath hitches as he takes in the sight, his desire growing stronger.

With my fingers grazing the hem of his black hoodie, I slowly help him take it off, revealing his toned chest beneath. I can't help but run my hands over his bare skin, my touch sending sparks through his body.

As the hoodie comes off, I take a moment to appreciate the sight before me. His muscles tense under my touch, and I can feel his breath hitch as I trace my fingers over his chest.

I get up from the bed, my eyes locked on his. Using all my strength, I pull him up, and we stand there for a moment before I reach for his pants. Slowly, I begin to undo them, the sound of the zipper filling the room.

His pants fall to the floor, leaving him in just his boxers. I push him gently onto the bed, making sure he lands with a soft thud. As he lies there, I kneel in front of him, my hands moving to the waistband of his Calvin Klein boxers.

With a gentle tug, I pull down his boxers, revealing his erection. My eyes widen at the sight, and I can't help but let out a soft moan. His cock is hard and pulsing, begging for attention.

“Mmm, look at you,” I whisper, my hot breath caressing his sensitive skin. “So hard and ready for me. Do you want my mouth on you, baby? Do you need me to suck that big, thick cock?”

“Fuck, yes,” he groans, his hips bucking up towards me involuntarily. “I need your mouth, baby. Suck my dick, make me cum on your tongue.” His words are dripping with lust, and I can feel his desire radiating off him in waves.

I waste no time, leaning in closer and taking his throbbing head into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it as I suck. He moans loudly, his hands moving to tangle in my hair as he thrusts his hips up, trying to get more of his cock into my mouth.

“Oh, shit, yeah...just like that,” he grunts, his breathing heavy and labored. His fingers tighten in my hair, pulling slightly as he rocks his hips against my face. “Oh fuck,” he whimpers, his legs shaking as I continue to suck him off. I can feel him getting closer and closer to the edge.

I pull back just enough to tease him, then sink back down, taking him all the way to the root. He cries out in pleasure, his hips bucking wildly. “Holy fuck, Ma,” he groans, starting to fuck my mouth, unable to control himself any longer.

He starts to thrust into me harder and faster, using my mouth like a personal fuck toy. I gag and choke as he plows into me, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful stroke. “Ah, fuck yeah, take it all!” he growls, his eyes blazing with raw animal lust.

With a roar of primal pleasure, he slams into me one final time, his cock erupting deep in my throat as he unleashes a torrent of hot, sticky cum. I feel it pulsing and spilling over my tongue, the salty taste of him filling my mouth.

As he finishes, he slowly pulls out, his softening cock slipping from my lips with a wet pop. Gasping for air, a string of saliva and his cum connecting my mouth to his spent erection. His chest heaves as he looks at me, his eyes still glazed with lust.

He picks me up effortlessly, his strength still present and impressive, and lays me onto the bed. He then kneels between my legs, spreading them open with ease. Without a word, he yanks off the last piece of my clothing, throwing it aside carelessly with a flick of his wrist.

He smirks at me from his dominant position, admiring the view before he leans in and takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking it hard and tugging at it with his teeth. He watches my reaction, gauging how rough or gentle he should be.

Encouraged by my reactions, he moves lower, kissing and nipping his way down my body. He settles between my legs, his hot breath tickling my sensitive flesh. Without further hesitation, he dives in, his tongue lapping at my pussy, eager to taste my arousal.

“Oh no you don't, Ma,” Chris murmurs, shaking his head when he sees me closing my legs instinctively. He gently pushes them open again, keeping them spread apart. “You're going to take it,” he commands, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Like this,” he says, before he dives back in, his tongue delving deep into my core. He laps at my pussy, sucking and flicking my clit with expert precision. I gasp and writhing under his ministrations, the pleasure building inside me with each passing second.

Chris continues to feast on me, his tongue never leaving my pussy. He eats me out with reckless abandon, making sure to hit all my sweet spots. My moans fill the room as I lose myself to the pleasure, my hips bucking against his face.

His tongue continues to work its magic, his fingers joining the fray. He slides one finger inside me, then two, stretching me open as he curls them upwards, finding the rough patch on the front wall of my pussy.

Once he finds that sensitive spot, Chris focuses his attention on it, rubbing and stroking it with his fingers. He sucks my clit between his lips, drawing it into his mouth and flicking the tip of his tongue against it. The pressure builds inside me, my orgasm just out of reach.

He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, smirking at me. He stands up, pulling my legs up with him until my knees are by my chest.

“Oh my god...” I breathe, my eyes widening as I take in the sight before me. Chris stands tall, his erection jutting out proudly, thick and long. It's clear it's not going to fit, not without some serious effort on his part. “Look at me,” he growls, positioning his cock at the entrance of my pussy. I look down, taking in his length and girth. “It's not going to fit,”

“It'll fit,” Chris grins, seeing the look of apprehension on my face. “Just relax.” He uses his thumb to rub in circles on my clit, trying to distract me as he slowly starts to push in.

“Good girl,” Chris praises, feeling me start to relax around him. He takes it slow, inch by inch. “You're doing so well, baby. Just keep breathing, and when it hurts too much just tell me to stop.”

“That's it,” he says, his voice a low rumble as he sinks deeper inside me. “You're so tight, I can barely move.” He pauses, letting me adjust to his size. “Breathe through it. It'll get easier.”

“Atta girl,” Chris coos, his voice soothing. “Just like that. You're doing so good for me.” He slowly starts to fuck me again, inch by inch, watching my face as he does so. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

Chris' thrusts start to get deeper and faster as he gets more into it. “You like that, baby? You like the way I feel inside you?” He starts to pound me harder, using one hand to grab at my breast and tweak my nipple.

Chris smirks at the look of pleasure on my face. “You like it when I fuck you like this, don't you, Ma?” He starts really pounding me then, hard and fast. His other hand grabs at my thigh, pulling it up so he can go even deeper.

I moan his name, unable to help myself as I feel pleasure building up inside me. “Chris,” I gasp, my voice breathy. He grins at the sound, loving the way it sounds coming from my lips. “You're so fucking hot when you say my name like that.”

I reach up and grab onto Chris' bicep, holding on for dear life as he continues to fuck me hard and fast. He grunts in approval, loving the way it feels having me hold onto him like that. “That's it, baby,” he growls. “Hold onto me.”

Chris pulls out of me, grabbing onto my hips as he turns me around. He positions me on all fours before thrusting back into me from behind. “Oh fuck,” I moan, feeling him fill me up once again. Chris starts to fuck me harder than before, using my hips for leverage.

Chris grabs my wrists, pushing my hands behind my back as he arches my back. I feel his cock throbbing deep inside me as he starts to pound into me harder. “Look at that ass,” he groans, his voice low and gravelly with lust. “So perfect for me.”

Chris takes advantage of my moan, thrusting harder and deeper into me. He knows he's found a weak spot and decides to milk it. “You like that, baby?” he taunts, smacking my ass hard. The combination of pleasure and a little pain sends me reeling.

Chris chuckles darkly at my breathy moan. “That's it, baby. Take it.” He continues to pound into me relentlessly, the bed creaking beneath us. I can feel his balls slapping against my clit with every thrust, sending jolts of pleasure through my body.

Chris smirks, enjoying the power he has over me. He picks up the pace even more, the bed shaking as he fucks me harder. “You're such a good little slut for me,” he growls, reaching around to rub my clit. “You love getting fucked like this, don't you?”

Chris leans over me, his breath hot against my ear. “Tell me what you want, baby. I'll give it to you.” I gasp, my hips bucking back against him. “You want my cock deeper? You want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, please,” I whimper, my voice strained with pleasure. “I need it... need you deeper.” Chris grunts, his hips snapping forward to oblige. He's so deep now, I can feel him touching my cervix with every thrust.

Chris's thrusts become erratic, the bed shaking beneath us. I can feel his cock swelling inside me, his balls drawing up as he prepares to cum. “Fuck, Ma,” he groans, driving into me one last time and stilling.

Chris pulls out with a wet pop, cum spilling out of me and onto his black sheets. He looks down at the mess with a satisfied smirk before leaning over me again. “Ride me,” he whispers, his voice husky with desire.

I straddle Chris's hips as he lies back, his cock hard and ready beneath me. I lift myself up and sink back down, grinding against him roughly. “Mmm, fuck yes,” he moans, grabbing my hips to meet my movements.

I line myself up with his cock, slowly lowering down onto him with a loud moan. He's so big, filling me up completely and stretching me deliciously. “Oh fuck,” I gasp as he reaches up to squeeze my breasts.

I start riding him, my hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm. Chris's hands are all over me, touching and caressing every inch of my skin. “That's it, baby,” he murmurs, his eyes dark with desire. “Ride my cock like a good girl.”

Chris's hands grip my hips tightly as I bounce on top of him, his cock hitting deep inside me with each thrust. “Oh fuck, you're so tight,” he groans, his eyes locked on mine. “Take it all, Ma, milk my cock dry.”

“Mmmm, yes... so deep,” I moan, my head thrown back as Chris's cock fills me up. He's hitting all the right spots, making me whimper with pleasure. “Harder, Chris, please... I need it harder.”

Chris's hands grip my hips even tighter, pulling me down onto his cock over and over again. I can feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, my moans growing louder and more desperate. “Fuck, yes... you're gonna make me cum,”

I lean forward, my breasts pressing against Chris's chest as I ride him harder and faster. My nails dig into his skin as I hold on for support, my body trembling with the force of my movements. “Don't stop, please... I'm so close,” I pant, my voice ragged with need.

Chris's hips slam up into me, meeting my own thrusts as we race towards the finish line together. His hands are all over me, touching and caressing every inch of my skin. “Cum for me, baby... cum all over my cock,”

Still buried deep inside me, Chris suddenly flips us over, pinning me beneath him as he continues to thrust into me relentlessly. “C’mon I know you can keep going, baby... don't even think about catching your breath,” he growls, his eyes dark with lust.

Chris reaches down, grabbing hold of my wrists and pinning them firmly above my head as he pounds into me relentlessly. The feeling of being completely at his mercy only adds to the intensity of my pleasure, and I moan loudly, arching my back as he fucks me hard and fast.

“Please, Chris, don't stop... I need this, need you,” I plead, my voice desperate and breathless. I'm completely at his mercy, unable to move my hands or break free from his grip as he continues to take me with a force that's almost brutal. “More, harder...”

The chain around Chris's neck keeps hitting against his chest as he pounds into me, adding an extra layer of stimulation that has me begging and moaning loud enough to wake the dead. “Fuck me, baby, fuck me harder!”

With a primal snarl, Chris redoubles his efforts, slamming into me with a force that makes the bed creak and the headboard hit the wall. The chain around his neck clanks rhythmically against his skin as he takes me with a raw, animal intensity. “You like that, slut?”

The filthy words only spur him on, and Chris fucks me with reckless abandon, the chain hitting a staccato beat against his chest. I'm completely lost in the sensations, my mind fogged with pleasure as I scream his name over and over again.

With a sudden surge of power, Chris releases my wrist and pushes down on my stomach, forcing me to arch my back even more as he continues to thrust into me with wild abandon. The added pressure has me seeing stars, my orgasm building to a crescendo. “Yes, yes, yes... just like that!”

As I feel my climax approaching, I reach up and grab the chain around Chris's neck, pulling him down into a searing kiss. Our tongues dance wildly together as he continues to pound into me, the chain clanking against my breasts with each powerful thrust.

As our kiss deepens, I moan into Chris's mouth, the sheer intensity of our joining overwhelming me. “This is crazy... we just met and now I'm fucking you,” I pant against his lips, the words barely coherent in my lust-fogged brain.

Chris pulls back, his eyes blazing with a feral intensity as he gazes down at me. “You're mine now, Y/N,” he growls, his voice rough with desire. “I'm going to fuck you every way I can, whenever I want.”

“You're going to be my personal plaything, Ma,” Chris continues, his words dripping with dark promise. “I'll use your tight little cunt whenever I please, make you scream my name until your throat is raw. You'll be addicted to my cock, craving it morning, noon, and night.”

I can feel my orgasm building once again as Chris talks dirty to me, his words fueling the fire burning inside of me. “Do you like that, baby?” he asks, his tone taunting and dominant. “Do you like the thought of being my personal fucktoy?”

“Yes, Chris,” I cry out, arching my back as he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside of me. “I'm your fucktoy, your slut, your dirty little secret. Do whatever you want with me, I'm yours.”

“I bet Matt hasn't even gotten to fuck this tight cunt,” Chris taunts, a smirk on his face as he thrusts into me, hitting me deeper and harder. “Tell me, Y/N, have you ever let him fuck you like this?”

I moan loudly, my voice high and needy, “No, just you. Nobody else has been inside me like this.” Chris chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating against my skin. “I guess I'm the luckiest person then, getting to claim this sweet little cunt all to myself.”

“Yes, Chris, yes!” I moan, my voice breathless with pleasure. Chris smirks, thrusting deeper into me. “Look at you letting me fuck the shit out of you for payment for an ounce of weed. You're such a dirty little slut.”

Chris leans down, whispering in my ear as he continues to thrust into me. “You like that, Ma? You like the way I fuck you hard and slow, making you take every inch? Fuck, you're so sexy, so perfect.”

Chris lets out a deep, guttural groan as my nails dig into his back. As if unable to resist, he leans down and starts leaving bite marks along the sensitive skin of my neck. I gasp at the sudden flash of pain, followed by an even more intense wave of pleasure.

Chris' thrusts become erratic, and I can feel him tensing up as he reaches his climax. “Fuck, I'm gonna cum,” he growls in my ear.

I moan out his name, “Chris!”, as the intense pleasure overtakes me, my vision blurring and stars exploding behind my eyelids. Chris' thrusts become frantic, his cock pulsing inside me as he fills me with his hot cum.

Chris collapses on top of me, both of us gasping for air as the aftershocks of our orgasms ripple through our bodies. He nuzzles into my neck, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. “That was incredible, baby,” he murmurs, his voice husky with satisfaction.

“I bet you do that with every girl who comes here to buy from you,” I say, trying to catch my breath. Chris chuckles, a low, intimate sound. “You're the first, actually,” he admits, his fingers trailing down my side. “Let's keep it that way” I said, looking down at him.

Chris smirks, leaning in to capture my lips in a searing kiss. His tongue dances with mine, the taste of sweat and sex filling my mouth. As we break apart, he whispers, “I'll make sure of it.”

Chris slowly pulls out of me, a satisfied smile on his face as he admires the sight of my naked body, covered in the marks of our passionate encounter. He reaches over to his nightstand, grabbing his phone and angling it to capture the perfect shot. “Damn, you're beautiful like this,”

“Chris!” I protest, cover my chest with my arms as he snaps a photo. He chuckles, setting the phone down and hovering over me, his eyes full of desire. He pulls me into a kiss, his hand sliding down to rest on my thigh possessively.

Chris trails his lips down my neck, pressing kisses to the bite marks he left earlier. I arch my back, a moan escaping my lips as he touches me again. “I won't show anyone, I promise,” he murmurs against my skin. “Just a little reminder of this moment.”

Authors Note: Sorry this took so long, literally fell asleep twice typing this but thank you for 100 followers!! Hope you all are having a good day/night <3 (might turn this into a book who knows🤷)

© CYBERL6VE

[velvetvexations]

I'm a trans woman. You need to stop being weird about men.

The idea that trans women should be allowed in single sex spaces for cis women is completely contradicted by the man vs. bear discourse. Ignore that I keep going back to the meme - maybe it's still doing numbers, I don't know, but it's good shorthand either way. If you think men are inherently suspicious and dangerous, ask yourself: why does that not apply to trans women?

What, exactly, does a trans woman do to make herself different from cis men? How are you not advocating a belief in people being tainted by the way they were raised* which can only logically apply to trans women as much as it does cis men? It boggles the mind how, if that's a true concept, one could simply self-identify out it. Yet, the way transradfems talk, literally the only thing that distinguishes an AMAB better-than-bear from an AMAB worse-than-bear is that the former says they're totally better than a bear and you should take their word for it, which if men are really Like That should be of little comfort or security.

Some, even, will make impassioned defenses of butch trans women, which as a butch trans woman is great. But then they'll go on about how evil men are, and how innocent and victimized trans women are, and I wonder, what, exactly, differs an especially butch trans woman from a man to them? If, like me, a trans butch woman doesn't always wear clearly feminine clothes, has body hair, maybe even a shade of facial hair, and doesn't at all try to train her voice, are you going to be uncomfortable with her right up until she realizes she forgot to put their pin on and you see the she/her? Apparently that flips the switch from someone you desperately don't want to be alone with to someone you're totally fine undressing in front of?

All that sounds like TERFism, which is exactly the problem. The transradfem version of reality is one where TERF talking points are completely logical, because they're both based in the same radfem reality. That's not my reality, YOU have constructed a system perfect for them to operate in, that their ideology is fantastic for pointing out errors of reasoning in, as if it was deliberately crafted by them to be deconstructed. I would not at all be surprised if that's the origin of a lot of trans radical feminism, a psyop to make the trans community weaker with logic twists that TERFism can swing through like the Gordian Knot.

If you accept man vs. bear, TERFism is the only logical conclusion. If you don't, as I don't, then it isn't.

The only alternative is that you think being a woman is the only thing anyone should be and "choosing" to be a man is morally inferior. Which I shouldn't have to tell you is horrifying. It's also again incongruous with at least your defense of butch trans women - what exactly defines a "man" and a "woman" when a butch trans woman doesn't have to try to pass at all? You are literally saying all of this, gender, transmisogyny, misogyny, hinges entirely on pronouns and a difference of two letters in the name of what they call themselves, someone is dangerous or not depending on if they go by he/him.

TERFs will see this and be like "yeah! exactly!" BUT MY POINT IS USING THAT TO SHOW YOU SHARE THE SAME FOUNDATIONAL LOGIC AS THEM. If you don't want TERFs to have a point then you can stop accepting their worldview any day now! Come join me and frolic freely where we think TERFs are wrong!

*socialization is real and the idea pre-dates TERFs who incorrectly use the idea that to say that because a trans woman may or may not** have been pressured by external forces to play sportsball she must be hardcoded to be a sex offender, which is completely ridiculous

**no one can be said to have the same experiences, it's a generalization

[woso-dreamzzz]

Natalia II

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adeventures Universe

Summary: Talia and her obsession with your hands

For as long as Talia can remember, she's noticed people's hands first.

Usually, it's as simple as a handshake.

You can tell a lot by people's hands, Talia thinks. If they're rough and calloused or soft or if they're big or small. The way people throw. The way they catch. The way that someone squeezes her hand slightly when they shakes.

There is a lot about hands that Talia finds interesting.

Yours especially.

She has different answers to questions depending on who asks. If someone asks her your prettiest feature, she'd say your eyes. If you asked her that same question then she'd say the way you smile when you see someone you love.

If someone asked her your hottest feature, she'd say your abs. She's not wrong. You have good abs, from all the sits ups and planks you do at training. If you were to ask her then she'd confess and say it was your hands.

You have large hands. A big palm topped off with long fingers. They're rough but not too rough, rough enough that on the occasions where you pin her down, she can feel each callous. They're strong too. Strong enough that you can dangle from the climbing wall with one hand and strong enough to squeeze her throat just how she likes when you fuck her.

They're a little bit veiny too, enough that she can see them clearly when you flex and Talia can always count on being distracted by them when you do weights.

Your hands are the most perfect hands in the entire world and she will die on that hill.

She'd noticed them when you first met all those years ago, pulling off your gloves to shake her hand. They'd been less rough then, less strong and less big but she'd still been impressed by them.

Still been impressed enough by you to go back to the hotel and watch your matches with Linköping again and again. Impressed enough to follow your career at Arsenal.

The birth of her secret fan account happened then. It started off as a burner Twitter account that had been sparked when against Aston Villa, you pulled off your gloves and ran a hand down your throat.

To this day, Talia can't thank that camera man enough for staying on you.

You'd dragged your entire hand down the expanse of your throat and Talia was treated to the slight flex of it as you curled your fingers around your own neck for reasons unknown.

Her burner Twitter account very quickly became a little shrine to you and your games that carried on even after you'd come to Barcelona. The TikTok account using the same handle had been born during the World Cup.

Talia hadn't really been expecting much when she randomly posted an edit about you but it had blown up a little bit and as Sweden's first choice keeper, she was given a lot of video footage to go off of.

There was even a shot of you at training with your team as they poured water all over you and you stripped off your shirt displaying your abs.

That had been a very popular edit.

"You're both quite popular on TikTok," Pernille mentions one evening over dinner.

You're all at home a day after a match, enjoying one last meal together before your parents fly home.

Prins sits at your feet happily, mouth open waiting for any food to drop while Reina lazes on the back of the sofa and Kung bounces around the room with a stick of celery.

"What? With the edits?" You ask," Yeah, I've seen a few of them. I think they're kind of cool."

"I don't." Magda, as always, sounds grumpy and Talia wonders briefly if she was this grumpy when you were growing up. "You're a baby. You shouldn't have people thirsting over you."

"I've not been a baby for a while," You reply but Magda just huffs.

"You're my baby," Magda insists," And I've had enough for edits showing up of your abs."

"She has good abs," Talia can't help but put in and she smiles as the tips of your ears turn red. Only for a flush to go through her body as you pick up her beer bottle and flick off the top with one hand.

It's unbelievably hot when you do that and you don't even know it.

"Of course you would say that," Magda replies before somewhat smugly saying," She got them from me."

Pernille rolls her eyes. "Yes, Magda," She says, slightly patronising," You have good abs too."

Talia would usually tease Magda for the way she turns red after the compliment but she's once again focussed on your hands as you easily lift Prins up onto your lap, your good boy wagging his tail happily at being included.

"It's the hand edits though," Magda continues," I just don't get the hand edits. They're just hands. I think I've saved one to show you."

Talia's heart drops as Magda shows the table what edit she's talking about.

It's one of hers.

Very clearly featuring a game a few weeks ago when you'd gotten uncharacteristically wound up and had fisted the shirt of an opposing play and dragged her away from you, pushing her further back to keep some distance.

Again, the camera man was a godsend because the image was still clear even as Talia zoomed in on your hands.

You watch the edit, unaware of the crisis that Talia's currently in next to you.

The caption is even more embarrassing.

'I'd let her manhandle me like that any day 🥵🥵🥵'

Just when Talia thinks it can't get worse, it does. Magda starts scrolling through the account and each caption is worse than the other.

'Just want her to pin me to the mattress 🥵🥵🥵'

'I'd love to have finger shaped bruises from her 🥵🥵🥵'

'I bet she spanks super hard 🥵🥵🥵'

You stare down at your hands in confusion, clenching and unclenching them as Talia tries very hard to stop the blush from her chest rising up to her face.

"Are they good hands?" You wonder aloud, brow furrowed. You turn them over to inspect before getting distracted with Prins trying to lunge forward to lick the sauce off your plate.

"They're reliable hands," Pernille replies before turning to her wife," God, Magda, it's just an edit. People are allowed to thirst over her hands if they want."

"No they're not! I won't allow it!"

"Unless you're going to cyber stalk the owner of the account, Magda, then there's not much else you can do."

A thoughtful look appears on Magda's face.

"No, Magda, you can't cyber stalk the account owner."

"But-"

"No."

The conversation, thankfully for Talia, is dropped and by the time Magda and Pernille leave for the airport, she thinks you've forgotten about it.

Out of nowhere though, you slip onto her lip, pulling her into a heady kiss.

Talia gasps into it when you slip your tongue into her mouth as one hand tugs her back by her hair as you have more access.

By the time you pull away, that hand has migrated to exactly where she wants it.

Wrapped around her throat.

"So," You say, whispering in her ear," You'd let me manhandle you any day?"

"You-?"

She can feel your grin against her skin. "It's the same username as that Twitter account you've dedicated to me."

[pretzel-box]

woe, Reverse AU angst be upon ye (not necessarily a request, just a thought i had, but if anything strikes feel free to go ham :3 i also like to think about this with the og universe because i love feeling emotional pain 🧘🏾)

but instead of the reader having a classified file for themselves (& having it for sale), there are videotapes (or maybe different colored pendrives? CDs work too, i guess!!) scattered across the abandoned offices, and at first Sebastian isn't sure what to do with them, but then he meets p.ai.nter and they recognize those immediately, questioning why Sebastian is carrying that stuff with him in a concerned tone, and Sebastian just stares at the computer like, "??? okay, what's up with it?"

p.ai.nter is hesitant to show him what those hide at first, but eventually agrees to let him watch, then warns him that he is not going to like any second of it

Sebastian gets comfortable in front of the screen but is only greeted with an extremely heartbreaking scene– it's (now an experiment) reader visibly shaking as they stare in horror at their new body, unable to speak in any way while sobbing and whimpering, hugging themselves (or maybe their tail? guess it depends on the way readers want to look) and wondering what they had done to deserve this outcome, to be stripped of their humanity

now i personally like to think that the reader struggling to speak is something that comes with their body being altered, like everything is big so they're not used to any of it so really all they can do is cry and struggle to say a coherent sentence because it sounds like a garbled mess, but that is also me wanting to add salt to the wound because this is supposed to be sad ooooo ⚡⚡

anyway, at the end of it all (cause there was more than one video, a whole documentary on reader and the experiments done on them), Sebastian is left feeling too many emotions and he doesn't even know when he started crying but he is (since the reader he knows now is different from the one he just saw in the videos but deep down it hurts so much because that is the same person in different years of their life) and p.ai.nter isn't sure how to comfort him so they keep apologizing till Sebastian finally chooses to leave

next time he stops by reader's shop he can't even bring himself to stare at them properly because he's afraid he'll start bawling his eyes out, meanwhile, reader is just staring at him like ":3? no snarky comments or banter today wow what happened to him" unaware that he has seen The Horrors

that's all thanks for coming to my tedtalk

Authors Note: This is inspired by this request but not 1:1 written like it. This is pure angst and some gore. READ AT OWN RISK.

Tags: GORE, Angst, Reversed AU, mentions of syringes, drugs and operations.

Words: 2,7k

The sound of a click filled the room, followed by the small red light blinking on the video camera, indicating it was recording. Sebastian glanced at you with irritation as you held the camera—a little relic you'd scavenged from a deeper part of the facility—not too long ago. He shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of the leather jacket you had once sold him.

"And we are live!~ Say hello to the viewers, Seb!" you teased, shoving the camera playfully in his face. He immediately pushed it away with his hand, his scowl deepening.

"I get it, I get it," he grumbled, pointing at the camera with a mock glare. "You found a new toy. Now what? You planning to make a movie or something?"

You shot him a sharp look, the room growing colder as if you were subtly irritated by his comment. Sebastian could sense he'd hit a nerve, a rare feat considering your usual carefree attitude. But then, unexpectedly, you burst out laughing, clutching your stomach and flashing him the signature grin that always greeted him when he came to your shop.

"I’ve already starred in plenty,” you replied cryptically, your words hanging in the air with an eerie undertone. Sebastian opened his mouth to ask what you meant, but you cut him off with another sly comment. “Maybe you’re the next big star, Solace.”

After leaving your shop, Sebastian wandered through the halls of the Hadal Blackside facility, the encounter with you replaying in his mind. He’d grown to enjoy your company—your banter, your teasing, the way you challenged him. But today, something about your behavior felt off. Beneath the jokes and sarcasm, there was something else—something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. And that unsettled him like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

How could he be in a relationship with someone so different, so complex? You were like a puzzle with missing pieces, a riddle that refused to be solved. The more he thought about it, the more it nagged at him. His legs carried him on autopilot through the winding corridors, his mind consumed by thoughts of you.

It wasn’t until he found himself in the office segment of the building that he realized he’d been walking without really paying attention. His hand hovered over the keycard reader, and it struck him that he hadn’t even looked for the blue plastic card he needed to get through the next door. The desk was a mess of papers, ink, and tapes.

His eyes fell on an old, unlabeled tape, the kind they'd used for surveillance back in the day. Scrawled on it in red ink was a series of numbers: *Z-13.* The sight of it piqued his curiosity, a nagging feeling that it was significant. Without thinking, he slipped it into his pocket. He’d find a way to watch it later.

Sebastian rummaged through countless drawers, lockers, and cabinets, searching for the keycard, but instead, he kept finding more of those mysterious tapes. Each one seemed older than the last, covered in dust and marked with strange codes.

His practical side told him he should probably look through all of them, not just the one he had picked up. So, he gathered them into a makeshift box he'd found lying around and continued his search for the keycard, all the while wondering what secrets these tapes might hold—and what they had to do with you. He know the Name Z-13 was related to you.

If there was anything he knew for sure, it was that you were full of surprises. And maybe, just maybe, these tapes would help him understand you a little better.

By pure coincidence, Sebastian ran into P.AI.nter a while later as he continued through the seemingly endless corridors of the facility, taking casual steps despite the weight of the wonky box filled with random tapes he was carrying. The AI's sketched face flickered to life, its eyes narrowing with a curious gaze. "Quite the haul today, Sebastian," it remarked, its voice tinged with artificial cheerfulness. "Planning to deliver all of that to our trusty shopkeeper?"

Sebastian grunted in response, setting the box down on the floor with a thud. He raised his hands above his head, stretching to relieve the ache that had settled in his shoulders from lugging the heavy box around. "Can you play them?" he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and exhaustion. It was a simple question, and he knew the answer even as he asked it—of course P.AI.nter could play a few tapes.

But as soon as the question left his lips, the room fell into an uneasy silence. P.AI.nter’s usual cheerful demeanor seemed to shift, its sketched form glitching for a moment as if processing something more than just data. The AI stared at Sebastian and the tapes, an uncharacteristic hesitation creeping into its expression.

"It's just a tape, Sebastian," P.AI.nter finally replied, its voice flat, devoid of its usual light-heartedness. There was something in the way it spoke—something guarded, almost cautious—that only fueled Sebastian's curiosity further. The AI’s reluctance was like gasoline on a fire.

“A tape I want to watch,” Sebastian shot back, his patience wearing thin. He was tired of the evasiveness, the constant roadblocks whenever he sought answers. He moved with purpose, selecting one of the tapes and sliding it into the nearest recorder, right next to P.AI.nter’s screen.

“I have to warn you, Sebastian,” P.AI.nter said, its tone shifting to something closer to pleading. The air between them grew heavy, the tension thickening as the tape began to whirl in the machine. Sebastian paused, the gravity of the AI's words weighing on him.

"You won’t like any second of it," P.AI.nter added, its voice barely more than a whisper. There was a finality in its tone, a sense of foreboding that hung in the air like a storm about to break. The familiar face of his AI friend got replaced by some white noise and then a black screen.

Sebastian’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched the screen flicker to life, unsure of what he was about to see but certain of one thing: whatever was on these tapes, it was something the facility—and P.AI.nter—wanted to keep hidden.

“Hellooo! I'm one of the new researchers here at the Hadal Blackside. I'm recording Tape Nr. XXXX in Containment Cell XXXX. Wish me luck!”

Sebastian watched as a cheerful person appeared on the screen, holding a camera up to their face. Excitement radiated from their eyes, and despite the poor quality of the footage, their energy was infectious. Some of the information on the screen glitched out, redacting key details as if the tape had deliberately scrambled those moments, keeping certain things obscured.

The person on the screen shifted their stance, and the camera followed their movement. “This is a video for my friend who was super excited to hear about my job. I totally stole the camera for this, so shhh, we can't get caught,” they whispered conspiratorially, a playful grin spreading across their face. There was something unsettling about their carefree demeanor, yet Sebastian couldn't help but feel a small flicker of amusement. The tape felt like a low-quality YouTube vlog, reminiscent of simpler times, with this familiar-looking worker goofing off for the amusement of a friend.

“They told me this is super secret stuff,” the voice continued, the lens panning around the containment cell. “But I just have to show you this.”

The video abruptly cut to another segment, the view shifting to reveal a massive anglerfish-like entity lurking behind an enormous glass wall. The waters it swam in were inky black, like thick oil, giving the creature an unsettling and eerie aura as it moved in the dark liquid.

“Isn't it cool?” the person behind the camera asked with an almost childlike wonder, pressing their flat hand against the glass. “They’re hiding this here! They do some voodoo fish shit in this facility. Even the human centipede would turn pale in envy.”

Sebastian froze as he watched the footage. The creature behind the glass was terrifying—a monstrous anglerfish, its grotesque form barely discernible in the murky waters. It was an unsettling sight, made even more disturbing by the fact that this reckless researcher was standing mere inches from one of the most dangerous entities imaginable, their tone light and casual as if they were commenting on the weather.

A chill ran down Sebastian’s spine as he continued to watch the video, his breath caught in his throat. The footage shifted again, but the image of the monstrous fish remained burned into his mind. His gut twisted with unease. What was this person thinking, standing so close to something so deadly? And why did they seem so familiar?

As the old tape continued to play, the weight of the discovery settled on Sebastian’s shoulders like a heavy boulder. Whatever secrets were buried in these tapes, he was certain they weren’t meant to be uncovered—especially not by him. Yet here he was, staring at a reality that seemed more and more like a nightmare. The things he saw so far in the blackside were not as terrifying as this giant monster that rested behind that glass wall.

The tape ended abruptly, and for a moment, there was only silence. Sebastian’s hands trembled as he reached down to turn the cassette over, the worn edges rough against his fingertips. He knew there were at least four more tapes waiting in the box at his feet, each one a potential gateway to another nightmare. His breath caught in his throat, a cold sweat forming on his brow. Still, his curiosity and a gnawing need for answers compelled him to continue.

With a shaky breath, he pressed the tape back into the player, flipping it to the other side. The screen flickered to life again, this time showing a cold, sterile operating room. Several figures in hazmat suits moved with practiced precision, their faces obscured by masks and goggles. The room was pristine, a stark contrast to the horror Sebastian knew was about to unfold.

“This is Experiment Nr. XXXX,” a calm, clinical voice narrated. “And our newest trial patient, Z-13, who volunteered for their transformation.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened as he recognized the person strapped to the operating chair—the same person from the earlier footage. They were bound tightly, their limbs secured as though they were a dangerous criminal. There was no mistaking the fear and confusion in their eyes, even through the drug-induced haze.

“Z-13 was administered XXXX, XXXX, and XXXX 20 minutes prior to the start of this procedure,” the voice continued with an unsettling detachment. “Their pupils are dilated, and the patient has entered a state of delirium, necessary for the next phase of the experiment.”

The camera zoomed in on the bound figure, their eyes bloodshot and unnaturally wide, darting around the room in a frantic, unfocused search for something familiar. Sebastian felt his stomach churn with a sickening realization—this was no volunteer. This was a person trapped, forced into an unimaginable horror. The idea of volunteering was just another lie, a thin veneer over a darker truth.

Sebastian’s fingers dug into his knees as he watched, his body tense with dread. He knew what was coming next, but the tape did not shy away from the gruesome details. The hours that followed were a blur of pain and suffering, each tape more harrowing than the last. Scenes of torn flesh and oily blood filled the screen, detached limbs falling to the sterile floor with sickening thuds. Each cut, each scream was more unbearable than the last. And those eyes—those haunted, slowly awakening eyes—followed Sebastian throughout each frame, pleading silently for mercy.

With each passing minute, it became painfully clear that the drugs were losing its effectiveness and the person that was tied to the chair gained the ability to feel every single thing that happened there. The delirium ended and the terror began.

The scream tore through the speakers with such intensity that Sebastian flinched. It wasn’t just a scream—it was a raw, visceral sound, a guttural cry filled with a mix of agony, fear, and desperation. It was a sound so primal that it clawed its way into his very bones, settling there with an uncomfortable weight. It was the worst thing he had heard in ages. Every nerve in his body screamed in empathy for the poor soul on the screen, the person whose existence had been reduced to nothing but a vessel for pain.

“Silence them,” a cold, emotionless voice commanded from off-screen.

Almost immediately, a set of cruel, metal clamps were forcefully shoved into the patient's mouth, prying it open with a brutality that made Sebastian wince. These were the kind of instruments used for people with severe jaw fractures, designed to immobilize and inflict pain to prevent further injury. But here, they were used as a tool of torture, a means to quiet the suffering that had become too loud for the facility’s sterile walls. The rough, unyielding metal dug into their flesh, tearing into the soft tissue of their mouth, blood trickling down their chin. The sight was gruesome, and Sebastian could feel his stomach twist with disgust.

The person’s screams were abruptly cut off, replaced by a wet, choking gurgle. They were left to suffer in silence, their jaw now clamped shut, the metal rods cruelly keeping it from moving even a fraction. Tears streamed down their face, their eyes wide with terror and pain, every muscle in their body taut with agony.

And just when Sebastian thought it couldn’t possibly get any worse, the camera shifted. The surgeon, clad in a sterile suit that seemed to mock the very concept of humanity, moved over the patient's eyes. Those eyes—once filled with life, now wide with shock, pain, and a frantic, animalistic fear—darted around in sheer terror. They were crying frantically, tears mingling with the blood on their face.

“We will now begin our final part,” the disembodied voice continued with a chilling detachment. “Removal of the natural human eyes to replace them with XXXX using XXXX and XXXX. The expected results will lead to an ability to see underwater.”

Sebastian’s breath caught in his throat as he watched a gloved hand reach for a long, thin needle, the metal glinting ominously under the harsh, fluorescent lights. The needle was positioned directly over the patient's eye, the sharp tip hovering just above the delicate orb. Their wide, terrified gaze seemed to plead with the unseen surgeons, with the camera, with anyone who might be watching—to stop, to help, to do something.

But there was no help. There was no mercy.

The screen flickered for a moment, and then, mercifully, the tape cut to black. The room was plunged into darkness, the only sound the low hum of the equipment around him. Sebastian sat frozen, his heart pounding in his chest, his mind racing with the horrific images he had just witnessed. His hands were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white, the tension radiating through his entire body.

He was left alone in the darkness, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind. The horror of what he had seen, of what had been done to someone who had likely never asked for any of this, crashed over him.

Then P.AI.nters face greeted him on the screen.

“They first drugged them, then they put in a row of ocean animal dna into their body.”

He was pointing out the steps that the surgeons did in the tape.

“They cut off their fingers, waiting for them to grow back. They took of the part from the knees to the feet…and then they noticed that it wasn't enough.”

Sebastian raised his hands, to put them over his ears.

“They lost both their healthy legs. Next was their ears, they cut it off. And then…they silenced them by closing their jaw.”

He could still hear P.AI.nter.

“And then they lost their eyes. The transformation from the human self to…the thing they are now…took 7 weeks. They attached and deattached plenty of stuff on them.”

For a moment he felt the urge to shut P.AI.nter off for good.

“Our shopkeeper went through much, don't you think?”

A loud sound filled the room and then there was darkness.

[the-hydroxian-artblog]

Any tips or guides on how you draw such wonderful mechanical/toy-like characters? It feels robust but not overwhelming, love it.

Thank you! So a lot of it is just knowing how to slap the joints on a normal humanoid body. If you research stuff like figma action figures and real life robots, you'll quickly build up a mental library of mechanical joints that correspond to different body parts. Many things that apply to robots apply to toys and things, though it always depends.

Once you have this library built up, you can kinda just do Whatever. Answered a similar ask a long while back that goes into more detail as well.

Some robots are much more detailed than this though, and the main inspirations I have for Normal Robots in particular are from Portal 2, particularly in Atlas and P-Body; the trick they use is having all the mechanical bits (usually pistons) being colored black and dark-grays, with the shells and casings being white or some other contrasting color.

This is an excellent way of having your cake and getting to eat it as well, because the colored casing draws your eye, and you get rewarded with taking in all the finer mechanical bits without getting distracted by them first.

This main principle is what I use for Kaita, who has mechanical parts, but often shows more subtly in her neck and torso/abdomen.

If you just quickly glanced at this closeup of Kaita from this older bit of art I did here, you'd probably not completely realize she's a robot, but seeing the strange geometric shapes etched into those areas might clue you in. To reiterate: while robots like Kaita are more complicated than toys, they share a good deal of mechanisms for stuff like rotating the arms, turning wrists, etc.

It's also just kinda a character design thing in general, is using strong shape language and going for something... toyetic. Which sounds redundant, but you'd quickly understand what I mean when you look at something like, say, Fortnite characters, or the designs to Ben10 aliens. They're not toys, but they all kinda have that Look to em, and they look like that not just because they do in fact have merchandise, but because that kinda blocky look is really readable, and excellent for action scenes and poses. Just that blocky shape language and strong color-schemes can do a lot of heavy lifting on even the simplest designs.

My main inspirations are Sonic and TF2, which I feel is weirdly obvious when you look at someone like Victor if you look at the blockiness of his body and the way I stick to a limited color palette. As-is he wouldn't fit in either universe visually, but you can kinda see how the design principles bleed into how he looks now.

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters Get Asked Their Pronouns

As requested by @dewypeach :)

I'm weirdly anxious about contradicting other people's pronoun headcanons, ha ha. But then...I guess the thing about headcanons is that everyone can have different ones... Anyway, here's how I think Cosmere characters might respond if asked their pronouns!

1. Shallan

Shallan: She/they. Adolin: Just out of curiosity, is the "they" a gender thing or an alters thing? Shallan: Yes.

2. Adolin

Adolin: I like to say that I use whatever pronouns are fashionable! Adolin: I like to say it around Sadeas. Adolin: It makes him shudder. Shallan: You should collect pronouns like swords. Adolin: You say that like I don't already.

3. Kaladin

Kaladin: I use he/him. [Adolin & Shallan look at him] Kaladin: What? I'm just a simple guy!

4. Syl

Syl: I use neopronouns! Kaladin: Y-You do? I thought you went by "she/her"! Syl: Yeah, exactly! Syl: I use the neopronouns that humans invented!

5. Pattern

Pattern: Cryptic pronouns are unpronounceable in the human tongue! Shallan: Are they...a math thing? Pattern: They're a math thing, yeah! Shallan: What do you want us to use in human speech? Pattern: You always use "he" which is mmmm an interesting lie!

6. Harmony

Harmony: As a being that is male, female, both, and neither, I let my followers refer to me however. Harmony: Privately, I think "they/them" fits the most these days.

7. Wayne

Wayne: Like, what I'm using right now? Wayne: It obviously depends on the hat, mate. Wax: I still can't believe you got he/him-ed yesterday. Wayne: I know! In THAT hat?!

8. MeLaan

MeLaan: [currently in the body of a tall, handsome man] MeLaan: She/her. Why?

9. Vin

Vin: I've always used whichever pronouns are safest in the moment. Elend: And if you were safe to use any of them? Vin: ... Vin: I still think I'd put on and off pronouns like a fancy dress, to be honest.

10. Vasher

Vasher: As far as you're concerned, I don't use pronouns. Vasher: How dare you refer to me

11. Dalinar

Dalinar: As a man who reads and writes, it's important to me to use "he/him." Navani: We're having to invent new forms of written pronouns in real time. Dalinar: Doing my part for change.

12. Nightblood

Nightblood: Oooh, what are pronouns?? Szeth: They're how people refer to you, Sword-nimi. Nightblood: My pronouns are Nightblood! Szeth: No, Sword-nimi. Like how they refer to you without using your name. Nightblood: My pronouns are screams! Szeth: ... Szeth: That does seem oddly correct.

13. Lift

Lift: Haven't got a gender. Wyndle: B-But mistress (Mister? Mastress?), how should refer to you? Lift: Sounds like a you problem.

14. Painter

Painter: ... Painter: ... Painter: YOU CAN CHOOSE?!?

[talekinesis]

Random Gravity Falls Headcanons

Stan

This guy smokes to help deal with the stress of everything. He picked up the habit after he was kicked out by his father and hasn't quit since. He used to be a chainsmoker but after getting to look after the kids for the summer, he drastically cut back and is actually thinking of quitting altogether because he wants to be around long enough to watch Mabel and Dipper grow up

Actually a pretty decent cook, it's just baking he sucks at. With cooking you can sort of eyeball the ingredients and add more or less depending on your own personal taste, but with how strict baking is with its ingredients, he never really picked it up. He's only baked a cake twice in his life, once for his mom when he was a kid, with the help of Ford, and once for the kids' birthday (it was lopsided and runny and they decided to just go out for pancakes instead)

He can play the guitar really well. He had to teach himself how to play when he was young and homeless, playing for tips. He still has his original guitar and occasionally, on a good day, will get it out and play it. He played it once for Mabel, who, for once in her life, actually sat still and listened

Part of his daily routine is kicking gnomes out of the trash because they keep trying to eat leftovers. He just bats them off with a broom like they're raccoons

He grew up a huge mama's boy since she was the only supportive parent he had. After he got kicked out of the house, he called her from a pay phone a couple times to ask to come back home and to wish her a happy birthday. To this day he still makes it a point to get a cupcake on her birthday since he can't celebrate it with her, and sometimes he'll tell the kids stories about her, like how she would have loved Mabel since Mabel has all these different unique sweaters, and his ma used to collect different, big, unique earrings

Stan coaches Mabel in boxing, and actually helped her discover a passion for it, he attends all of her matches. He even taught her a couple illegal moves that she can't use in the ring but can use in real self defense

Even in his early 60s, he still thinks it's funny to bother Ford as if they were still kids. He'll randomly snatch his glasses off his face (forgetting that he also wears glasses and Ford can retaliate), he'll just start copying Ford and repeat what he says, he once even dressed up as Ford, but it didn't last very long because Ford wears a much smaller size of pants, and Stan has a bit of a gut on him. He changed after about five or ten minutes.

He's a die-hard fan of Chappell Roan

He's actually the more responsible of the Stan-Twins. He breaks laws sure, but he always makes sure everyone is fed and safe. He's like this close 🤏 to putting Ford and Mabel on leashes when they go out because they have a tendency to run off

"I'd like to make an announcement to the store, I lost someone." "Oh, did your kid run off?" "My 60 year old brother, yeah. No he doesn't have a cellphone."

Has a biological kid out there somewhere but the mom cut him off. I just think the scene where he said, "Scary movies are great, the girl cuddles up next to ya... next thing you know you gotta raise a kid.. And your life falls apart.." sounded too much like he was speaking from experience and not as a hypothetical. He wants so badly to be a dad though and regrets not keeping contact. (let me know if I should make an oc for this :] )

Ford

He can't eat doritos or any triangle shaped chip because one time Bill hid inside a chip bag just to startle him

It took him a while to adjust to this dimension's laws of physics. He was frustrated for a while that he couldn't just leave his coffee floating in the air. He broke three mugs and one of them was Stan's.

Despises pickles as if he held a personal grudge against them. He hates them an irrational amount, and even gets irritated with Stan for just having them in the house. He acts like a child about it too, arms crossed and everything. "Here, Poindexter, you want me to take the pickles off your sandwich? Like a child?" "Don't bother, the meal's ruined >:( "

He gets sucked into those soap operas that Stan watches, and will sometimes watch from the doorway or over his shoulder. He won't admit it, but Stan knows.

He lights his face on fire because he saw someone else do it in a different dimension where that was normal

Unlike Stan, he's actually amazing at baking (he likes to follow precise measurements and instructions) But sucks at cooking. Caught a pot of water on fire.

When he first discovered the shape shifter, he kept it as a pet because he found it cute, but ended up letting it go when he found out it had a human-like sentience and could speak. But for a while he raised it the same way Mabel raises Waddles, putting it in little shirts, hats, and just absolutely adoring it

Used to play 'Dungeons, Dungeons, and more Dungeons' with a group in college as the DM, and it was the first time he actually had a friend group. The other players loved the way he set things up

Doesn't like alchohol. At least from this dimension, he got used to alternate dimension alchohols that tasted way better, so when he came back to Earth everything tasted way too strong and almost like dirt to him so he just quit

Used to know a little banjo since Fiddleford taught him but forgot it while in other dimensions

Used to babysit Tate on occasion and sucked at it

He also used to babysit Shermie and *also* sucked at it. He'd have to pass him off to Stan if he got fussy or started crying since only Stan and their mom could calm him down

• Used to play David Bowie in his lab and would occasionally lip sync or dance to it. Even when traveling dimensions, he'd introduce David Bowie music to the people, creatures, and beings he met, until he lost the cassette tape and was devastated

Mabel

Allergic to chocolate and makes up for it by eating way too much of other candies. She still tries to eat it though because "Maybe I'm not allergic anymore," but Dipper has to stop her. Stan even makes it a point not to keep chocolate in the Shack when they visit because he knows Mabel is a heathen with little self preservation. It's not epi-pen bad, but it will burn and itch her throat and get her coughing (Ford will use chocolate substitutes when baking for her and Dipper)

She likes to tell people that she and Dipper were originally two of three, and that she ate their triplet in the womb to become stronger. This is not true.

She wants to be a big sister really bad and sometimes that comes out onto Dipper despite him only being 5 minutes younger, much to his dismay and protest

She found a passion for boxing after Stan taught her how, and even asked her parents to let her start doing it as a sport, which she got really into. Coincidentally, after she picked up boxing, Gideon suddenly left her alone completely. Future Headcanon: She grows up to box professionally and one day even faces Grenda in the ring, but there's obviously a mutual respect between them. They agreed ahead of time that if they ever had to face each other, neither of them would hold back and it would be a fair match. Even after there's a winner, they meet up afterward and go out for dinner with Candy, who posts their matches to social media. Waddles is her mascot.

Mabel makes even more friends when she returns home from Gravity Falls because she takes Waddles for walks on a leash and it's a pretty good conversation starter

She is convinced that if she eats all the ingredients for a cake, she'll have successfully made a cake in her stomach. Once again, Dipper has to physically stop her from doing this. Ford does too, the first time he heard her say this (through a mouthful of flour) he went, "That certainly is an interesting theory, Mabel, but no-"

Dipper

Let's get it out of the way, I really like the 'Trans Dipper' headcanon. It just fits really well and I, as a trans person, can relate to him a lot

I think he knows how to dance a little because his mom taught him and used to take him to 'Mother-Son' events

He secretly keeps a tally of how many times Mabel rolls herself out of bed because it always wakes him up but he also kind of thinks it's funny because she just sleeps through it. Even if they don't share rooms back at home, he can always here the distance "thunk" of his sister hitting the floor. The tally isn't a sheet of paper, it's a small notebook with multiple pages filled in

He sometimes gets the courage to try and roughhouse with Stan, who is always on board but purposely takes it easy on the kid because he's like "baby bird" fragile

Dipper was the one to break the news to his Grandpa Shermie that Stanley was still alive and Stanford was actually missing for 30 years with Stan taking his place, almost giving the poor man a heart attack. (Shermie ended up booking a flight to Gravity Falls to yell at his brothers in person because that's not a conversation you can have over the phone)

Dipper was the one to introduce Stan to Chappell Roan by accident, but now they listen to her if they're in the car together

his DD&MD character is a female orc fighter named Yotula and he got very excited to info-dump about her to Ford (who was equally as excited to listen)

Has an odd addiction to chocolate milk. He makes a glass of chocolate milk at least once a day. Twice if it's been a rough day. He actually gets a little upset if he misses his daily cup of chocolate milk, its just routine. Stan one time made an offhand joke that since Mabel's allergic, Dipper has to consume twice as much for the both of them, but Mabel took that seriously and now to her its just the truth.

[ahhhwomen]

I don’t know why I bite.

Vampire Empire

Part 1

Pairing: DarkVamp!Wanda Maximoff x DarkVamp!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: We are going to ignore how long I disappeared, okay thank you. Also, y/n will not be in a proper relationship with the girls, she will very much be viewed and treated like a pet not a partner, but she will obvi still get the love.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. All mistakes are my own.

AU Warnings: Human pets, abuse, violence, possessiveness, probably incorrect vampire lore, angst, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, kitten play (?), also this is not a Carol positive fic (I have nothing against her, but I needed a villain), death (later on)Minors DNI 18+

Summary: Your Master is a cruel woman, but you would never stand a chance against her, but what if they can?

Word Count: 3.5k

The keys jingle in a pattern.

With each step, the clash of metal calls out. It changes tune, depending on the day. If she’s tired, she drags her feet, it’s a slower melody. When she’s angry, there is a harshness to the smashing of the chain against her belt and a thud to her heavy boots.

You don’t know what her happy steps are, you think the sound would be smooth. Maybe, like she´s floating?

You wonder if you are ever going to hear it? If you are being honest with yourself, you don’t really know if you want to. At least her other behaviors are predictable, you can handle predictable, uncertainty however, that is an entirely different game. Not one you are very keen on playing.

Today, her steps boom like thunder, and her keys shriek like lighting.

Chills run down your spine; you press against the cold concrete wall. It scratches your skin. You press harder and cower closer.

You are shaking as she sweeps around the corner of your prison; she’s frowning today.

But…?

It hurts.

From yesterday. It still hurts.

She always gives you a day.

It still hurts.

You need a day.

It doesn't matter. You know you can’t stop it.

You close your eyes and submerge yourself in the void. You don’t like the dark, but she doesn't like it when you see.

Your cage opens with a shriek. You flinch as she touches your face, she is breathing down your neck and you feel yourself panic as she struggles with your collar.

It's never good when she takes away your collar.

Before you do something stupid, like fight back, a soothing voice guides you. It’s a whisper, that only you can hear. Drag in slow breaths, in for four, hold for seven, out for eight. Rinse and repeat. You do as they tell you.

You're in a sunflower field.

The heavy feeling in your stomach is from the big dinner you had, half an hour earlier.

The sun is setting, and you are smiling and laughing as you run through the field of flowers. They're ginormous, almost bigger than you. There is a weight to them as you push past. They scratch and irritate, but it's only temporary, so you keep laughing to yourself.

There is a whip to the wind, the sound loud and frightening. The flowers are louder, so you pretend not to hear. They rustle and dance in the harsh wind.

It's dark, but the yellow glow of plant life guides you. You don’t know where you are running to, maybe home, maybe the ocean. It matters not. You are happy, just you and the flowers.

When the wind calms and the sun peaks over the horizon you know it’s time to leave.

You trek through the soil and ignore the sharp stones that prick your pale skin, you wish you could stay, but it’s time to return.

You open your eyes when she leaves. She almost killed you today.

It's okay.

You deserved it.

Tomorrow, you rest.

Maybe.

Natasha smirks over the rim of her whisky glass. One would think the blonde would be professional after almost a century of doing business, yet she still stomps around like a child throwing a tantrum when she doesn't get it her way. The redhead almost feels bad for the poor pet that was going to be at the end of Carol's rath tonight, almost.

“Knock, knock.” Wanda stands in the doorway, her knuckles lightly tapping against the dark oak.

She’s dressed modern today. Her suit is fitted to perfection, it hugs her waist and expands her hips. She also went for a smokey makeup look, her eyeshadow a mix of dark brown and black, her lips a deep amber, just like her suit.

If attraction could kill Natasha would be one dead woman.

She smiles at her wife before signaling her in with a wave. She’s surprised to see Wanda, her wife comes by occasionally, and she has always dressed nicely, but this is new. Due to her desk stealing her view, Natasha can't see, but she can hear her wife's high heels as she passes through the threshold. Same color as the suit she imagines.  

“What brings you here?” Natasha questions as she pours her wife a drink.

Wanda settles herself in the plush chair in front of her wife before bothering to answer. “Do I need a reason lovely? Maybe I just want to see my beautiful wife in her place of work.” Wanda grins while the other redhead hands her a glass of whiskey. Neat, just how she likes it.

Natasha scans her wife with suspicion, she wants something. She can tell by the way Wanda leans her body slightly to the left while her lips lift into a flirtatious half-smirk.

The shorter redhead lifts her eyebrow. “As nice as that may be, why are you really here?”

Wanda deflates slightly at her wife’s accusatory tone. She is right, of course, but Wanda was hoping she could butter her up a little before getting to that. Wanda will have to ask her out on a date soon and make herself a little less predictable.

She is ashamed to say it's been a while since their last dinner date, or movie night for that matter. However, it's hard to find the time when you have been married since the eighteen hundreds, and you both work more than any human would be capable of.

Which brings her to her point.

Wanda pulls in a breath, “I want a pet.”

Before Natasha can get a word in Wanda continues to ramble all in the same breath, “And I know, I know, we have already gone over this. But I'm lonely. The business has been slow since the Stark clan agreed to our peace offering. And while you are busy here, I want someone to come home too.” Wanda keeps her tone open and light.

She wasn’t here to accuse her wife of not giving her enough attention, they both knew that their different work would keep them apart, but while Wanda would spend long nights in her home office, Natasha would spend them in her company office on the other side of the city.

Natasha drums her fingers sharply against her desk, she wants to shut the idea down immediately.

Having a frail human pet would mean having a weakness. Natasha knows her wife well. She knows her wife will get attached, and she knows it will never end well for either of them.

On the other hand, she understands her wife's needs. Natasha spends most of her days in the office, working to uphold their cover, while Wanda spends her days all over the city settling their other business. Their schedules never align either, Natasha works days, Wanda nights. She has to admit, it doesn't sound half bad to have someone to come home to the few nights she can afford it.

Wanda is waiting with bated breath as her wife concludes.

“You have already set up the meet, haven’t you?”

Wanda gapes slightly but conceals it before her wife sees. She knows her too well indeed.

She slumps into her chair, “Yes.” She lifts her finger to stop Natasha from commenting, “In my defense, I was coming here to get your approval.” Natasha chuckles to herself.

“And if you didn’t get it your way?”

Wanda smiles bashfully, “Then I would go without you.” Natasha has to blink away tears from how hard she laughs, she is gripping her stomach, wheezing while answering, “I would expect nothing less my love.” She rights her posture and wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. She glances at her wife hiding her blush behind luscious red locks.

She can never say no to her.

Clapping her hands together, she responds. “Fine, you win.”

Wanda practically shines with mirth and joy, “But,” her companion eyes her carefully, nodding to confirm she´s listening. “I get to pick the name that goes on her collar.”

The other redhead huffs, “Fine, but it better not be something stupid.”

Natasha shrugs and her wife leans over the table to slap her shoulder in warning. Natasha smiles all the same and shakes her head, “Yeah, yeah, nothing dumb.” As much fun as she is having with this, she is a busy woman.

She runs her hands down her black suit, thinks of what paperwork to finish, and mumbles a question about when they need to leave while sorting through the latest update about their progress on Project X. Wanda, without missing a beat, states a simple, “Now.”

Nat drops her pen and pinches the skin between her eyebrows. Wanda shrugs half apologetically as Natasha fixes her with a hard glare.

Rolling her eyes, Natasha grumbles a short, “Right, we better get going then.”

It's been almost a decade since she has set foot in one of these shitholes. Nothing has changed, the cages are just as small, and the odor stinks the same, alcohol, blood, and fear.

Wanda shifts uncomfortably as they wait for the salesman to get his spreadsheet, Natasha silently watches from the sideline as he sorts through a mess of paper and fast-food containers to find what he is looking for. She chastises Wanda for not finding a better establishment. Back in their time, this was the usual, but nowadays they have far better alternatives.

Wanda leans against Natasha to whisper, “It was the only place by a few miles Tash, and it’s the only place we have time for.” Natasha stays unimpressed. Wanda smirks at her wife and tucks a strand of loose hair behind the other redhead's ear before discreetly licking the shell of it and whispering sweetly, “I will make it up to you.” Natasha shivers under the attention and the salesman grunts a weak, “found it” before leading them into the main hall.

The ocean swishes in the background as you lie on your blue, shark-themed blanket in your modern bikini. The sun gleams over your head. Your skin stings and you shift onto your stomach, you must have forgotten sunscreen again.

Nonetheless, you purr under the shine of good weather; you wish you had taken a book with you. Maybe next time. For now, you stretch out and lay your bare arms against the warm sand. It will be stuck in every crevice, but it's nice.

A light breeze passes you.

You suck in a big breath, it burns, but you ignore it. It smells of salt and….. salt… and….?

Ice-cream.

It smells of salt and ice cream.

You think you may stay for a while today. You might visit tomorrow, but you would rather not.

If it doesn't burn too much, you hope to sleep tomorrow through. After all, if you are really lucky, you may not wake up again.

This place is even more depressing than Wanda had anticipated.

She and the other redhead had been to a similar place a few decades ago, but this was just sad. Not even the potent scent of blood can get her to ignore the uncomfortable sound of churning, empty, stomachs.

If they lived in a different city she would have taken her wife to a more humane operation, but with limited time comes limited opportunity.

The male and female sections are separate, in the left hall she can smell the odor of young men eager to please, while in this hall she can see the curious and smell the fearful. The gruff man showing them around had introduced them to a few pets by now, but she had to admit they were not what she was hoping for.

There had been one pet she took a slight liking to; a young woman, in her mid-twenties, she was in the puppy section, an enthusiastic little thing. But in the end, she was a little too pushy for Wanda’s liking, Natasha hadn’t seemed too keen either, so they left it there.

The kitten section wasn’t too bad, but every time she thought she was building a connection, Natasha would step into the pet's line of sight and they would cower away one by one. She knows her wife is putting on a stern face to test the poor little things, but it was starting to piss her off big time.

Wanda rolls her eyes as the feeble man struggles with yet another lock, she lifts her suit jacket and checks the expensive gold watch ticking away, fifteen more minutes or they will have to come back another time. Given that this was the only available time she and Nat had had in a few weeks the dire truth of not getting a pet today was settling in.

“Here she is, now she's not much to look at, but since you wanted to see them all,” the man shrugs and Wanda has half the mind to bite his head off. Before she can do anything of the sort Natasha takes her by surprise by stepping into the cage before her.

Nat ignores her wife as she steps into your cage, she has seen you before.

You were Carol's pet, or at least she thought you were. But it seems you were a less permanent part of the blonde’s life. Your cage was different, it was slightly bigger, the poorly dressed man had said something earlier about you being a leased pet.

You look horrible. She is studying you from a few feet away and she can still see the horrors you must have been through.

She knows Carol is violent, it's why she has spent so long trying to negotiate with blondie. Their clans were never on the same page and yes, threats were constantly made, but this was something else. Natasha would never think the pathetic woman would do this just because she could.

She hears Wanda step in and gasp at the sight of you.

You are lying on the hard floor with your back turned to them, a rag the size of a hand towel barely covering your bottom. Your hands are stretched out under the lamp, the only heat source you have, you have been beaten to a pulp. There are deep lacerations covering you, your entire body is one big bruise, and dried blood covers every crevice of both your skin and even part of the walls. But that was not what caught either of their attention, no, it was the lack of life they could sense from you.

Natasha kneels a few feet away from you and studies you carefully.  Her hand rests against her cheek as she tries to focus on your heartbeat. It beats, but there was something off about it. It's slow like you are asleep, but she can hear in your breathing that you are still conscious.

She tilts her head and talks off-handedly at the man behind her.

“Is she sick?” She hears him scoff but ignores it in favor of closing her eyes and trying to feel you.

“Of course not-“ He waves his hand, “all that,” he gestures at your body, “was her own fault.”

Before Natasha has time to reprimand the pig, she hears a crunch behind her followed by a heavy thud.

She huffs and raises herself slowly before opening her eyes and looking at her wife with her peripheral vision. “I thought we agreed to not kill anyone today.”

Wanda stares at her with empty eyes. “No. We agreed on not killing any innocent people tonight. As far as I am concerned, I am just following his logic, after all this was all his fault.” Wanda gestures at the dead man's body.

Natasha turns to her wife while rolling her eyes.

Wanda ignores her wife's sass and looks past her to take you in once more. “Who is she?”

Natasha shrugs and gazes at you over her shoulder. “She was Carol´s plaything, but I guess Carol never owned her like I thought.” Wanda raised her eyebrows in surprise and stared at Nat, “That’s y/n?”. Her eyes move down to you again, “last time I saw her she sure as hell didn’t look like that.”

Natasha nods and crosses her arms in thought, “well it seems Carol is an even worse owner than she is a negotiator.”

The last time Wanda had seen you was when she joined one of Natasha’s meetings a few months ago, you were a new thing back then. You had scars, but they were pink and healed, you were a skittish little thing, but you ate, you had some color to you, and you sure as hell didn’t feel like this.

You could feel their eyes all over your body. You hated it, you never liked it when people looked too hard or thought too long, it always meant the same thing. They were assessing whether or not you are a feasible option as a pet. You know you aren’t, you know they will scoff and turn their backs to you as if you disgust them, like you don’t deserve to breathe the same air as them.

You get it though, they are probably right.

Usually, such a thing wouldn’t bother you, you are used to it by now, but there was something about their scents that put you off, you felt out of place even more than usual, and you hated it.  

You were too focused on pretending to be asleep to assess what the heavy thud against the concrete could have been.

Whatever it was, must have had something breakable inside of it as you could hear a clear crack as something bounced off the floor. You decided you didn’t care, you only cared about the sudden voice that took over all the space of your enclosure. Powerful enough to command any and every room, you know this voice. It belongs to one Natasha Romanoff, and suddenly the voice behind her made sense too. You had only seen the redhead once, but you would remember her anywhere, just as commanding as her wife, and even more scary, Wanda Maximoff.

If you weren’t scared before, you were positively shitting your nonexistent pants now.

You try to keep your breathing even so as to not show any hint of awareness, you have no idea what they could be doing here. Had Master sent them? Were these the last moments you would have, were you going to die in this tiny, claustrophobic hellhole?

You were panicking, and you know they can sense it. Feel it. No matter how many times Master called you such, you weren’t an idiot. You know what they are, you know what they can do, what they will do.

As you hear one of them take a step closer you turn into a stiff board. You stay completely still as you feel your lungs start resisting the air you desperately try to force into them, you have this sudden need to flee or to bear your neck and beg for them to finish it quickly. Right after the thought passes your mind you shrink in shame, Master will kill you for ever thinking of bearing your neck to another.

You can hear them pause for a moment as you feel their eyes on you again. You have been made.

You don’t know what comes over you, you don’t know where you suddenly find the strength, but before you even know what you are doing you are leaping towards the women, your hands ready to claw out their eyes if need be.

You know they are stronger, faster, and smarter than you could ever wish to be, but this is a survival instinct, nothing makes sense, nothing matters. And as you collide into a warm body and start ripping into it, to the best of your ability, you realize, you have no idea what you are doing.

Natasha knew what you were about to do, possibly before you, and as you crashed into her and started scratching and ripping at anything you could get your hands on, she realized that maybe you still have a chance at this life. For the first time during their little visit, she can feel something in you, it’s small, scared, abused, but there is a will there, a will to live, a will to fight. That is more than most in this bleak city.

She holds you gently as you rip apart her coat, tear at her skin, and bite her hands. She hears Wanda take an uncertain step toward the both of you, unsure of what to do. But Natasha waves her hands nonchalantly and asks Wanda with a calm voice to stay back.

Natasha understands that to her wife you must look positively rabid. You were in the kitten class, but you were fighting Natasha as if you were a fighter dog. All teeth and claws. However, compared to Natasha, you might as well have been a mite.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t pierce her skin, can’t topple her balance, you can’t win.

Your fingers dig into the soft skin, your nails gripping and tearing, but nothing happens. There is no skin underneath your nails, no blood, no sight of damage against pale skin. You bite the hands that hold you, and you can hear your jaw creek as you strain your weak body, but the skin doesn't break, the only blood you taste is your own.

You are scared, you don’t know what to do, there is no sunflower field to hide behind, no sea to drown in, you feel powerless, even more so than she makes you feel.

You don’t know what they want, you don’t want to die like this.

Even after all your effort goes to waste you can’t give up, you have to keep trying, you have to-

“Stop.”

Wanda looks at you with an unreadable expression, you look up in terror as you realize you can’t move your body. One simple word, in one simple tone, has made you paralyzed.

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

The interview

90sRadiohost!Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: You decided to have a little fun with your boyfriend while he's busy during an interview.

Warnings: smut, hurt/comfort 90s!Eddie, tommy lee, oral (female & male receiving), slight throat fucking, some dirty talk. orgasm denial. Jealous reader. If I missed anything, please let me know nicely.

Workd cound: little over 4.1k

Mini series masterlist

A/n: Not proofread. Ignore any mistakes. This was kind of rushed, but I hope you all still enjoy it. I recommend at least reading the first fic, but you really don't have to to understand this.

18+ minors dni

Year 1991

Eddie had been teasing you all day. His hands kept inching up your skirt while you were busy organizing his desk. In between commercial breaks, he would lean over and whisper the filthiest things in your ear. He was trying to get prepared for his interview later today, but he couldn't help himself when it came to you. You could tell he was nervous. He always got nervous before a really big interview.

Any time you worked in the studio with him, his hands never left your skin. He was constantly touching you. He'd bend you over his desk before or after his show and take you slow or hard. Depending on his work day.

Today was no different. Even with his anxiety spiked high, Eddie still couldn't take a second to try something with you. You've never dated someone who made you feel this desirable before. The way he looked at you was enough to have you giving in.

You were straighting paper next to him while he was talking to someone who called in for some advice.

"Yeah, but she's got all of these toys. I feel like I'm being replaced." The man on the opposite end of the phone complained. He had called in because he found his girlfriends sex toys, and now he's insecure about them.

Eddie leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes. He looked over at you and bit his lip before responding. "Her vibrators are not your competition. They're your friend. Use them."

The mention of vibrators reminds you both immediately of your first introduction together. The phone call that started it all and a romance blossomed soon after.

"So is that all you called to cry about?" Eddie smirked. He keeps eyeing you up and down as you straighten up his mess.

"Uhh yeah man, that's all." The man awkwardly replied. You could tell he felt embarrassed now after Eddie said what he said to him.

You felt kind of bad for him. But Eddie was always harder on the men who called in than the women. He'd always tell you most of the time the women needed reassurance, and the guys were just selfish assholes in bed. He wasn't a dick to all of them who called for help just the ones who deserved it. The guy that just called in got it the worst from Eddie.

He had been practically sweating bullets all day long about this interview. Some of the callers were getting his smart ass remarks the most because of it. Eddie wasn't like that with you. All day, he tried to have you in some way.

"Come on, baby. They'll never hear you whimperin' my name with Megadeth playing. Jus' let me taste you." He whined and begged.

You immediately shook your head. "You stay back Munson."

Eddie pouted, pushing his bottom lip out. He got on his hands and knees crawling over to you. You couldn't help but smile and try to back away from him in your chair.

"Ah ah baby, get back here. All I wanna do is make my cute girl cum on my tongue. That's all." Eddie tried to make it sound so innocent as he grabbed at your ankle to pull you back.

He's grinning from ear to ear. "You like keepin' your man starvin?"

"I swear to God, Eddie." You giggled and squirmed. His hand had such a tight grip on your leg.

"I've fucked you on that desk so many times. Let me lick your pussy for a little while. It'll help with my jangled nerves." He made his voice low and seductive. Just the way you like it. He knew how to send a shiver up your spine. "What if I laid back on the floor, and you got to ride my face?"

"Eddie, I'm warning you." You tried to sound serious, but your smile gave it away. You liked it when he talked to you like this.

Eddie crawled his way up to you while you sat in your rolling chair, throwing your legs over his shoulders. Your skirt drapping over his head. You could hear him hum to himself and with one finger pushed your panties to the side. His tongue darting out to lick a long strip up your wet folds.

You gripped at the arm rests "maybe just for a little while."

"Thank you, baby." His voice muffled under your skirt. He kept your panties pushed to the side while his tongue flicked over your aching clit.

"Goddamn sweetheart you're always so fucking wet for me" Eddie practically groaned at the sight before him.

You tried so hard, not to moan. Which only spurred Eddie on more. The thought of his co-workers and boss hearing you both outside that door turned him on so much. Having you screaming his name while his face was buried between your thighs. He could cum in pants just imagining it. He has before when all alone in that tiny studio. With nothing to occupy himself but his dirty thoughts of you.

Eddie gave your clit a quick kiss before wrapped his plump lips around it sucking softly. You gasped before one of your hands flew to tug and pull at his hair."

"Mmmm--Eddie!." You covered your own mouth to quiet a moan. He sucked even harder when he noticed you were trying to be quiet. Your eyes flutter closed. You tried to put one of your feet to the floor and get away from him.

"Where ya goin' baby?" He lifted his head from out under your skirt and yanks you roughly back to his mouth. He lapped at your wet folds before going back to your clit.

You tried to push his head away only to end up pulling him closer. Your thighs shake as they hang over his broad shoulders.

"Eddie, don't stop." You mewled. You kept your voice as low as possible. You could feel him smiling against you. You know he enjoys seeing the effect he has on you.

Just as he really got into it, there was a loud bang at the door. Eddie lifted his head out from under your skirt once again. He looked to you and then back to the door, waiting for another knock. Two more loud bangs rattled the hinges and he was quick on his feet.

"Fuck." He muttered under his breath while answering. Eddie swung open the door to come face to face with his boss.

"We have Tommy Lee on in five for that interview. Stop fucking around in here." His boss scolded him and you.

"Yea yea no one cares, but alright." He slammed the door back closed. He was frustrated that he had to stop what he was in the middle of doing. "We'll finish after this, I promise."

You nodded and fixed yourself back up, trying to regain composure. "Don't worry about it."

Eddie shot you look but couldn't say anything as he put his headphones on and got close to his mic again.

"Welcome back. Everyone, hope you enjoyed that little break, but now we're about to talk with Tommy Lee." He greeted his listeners back after a few songs.

You handed Eddie his notes for the interview. He really didn't want to talk to him but knew his boss would kick his ass if he didn't. You snorted when he looked annoyed. His face still glistening from your slick. You picked up a napkin and went to clean off his face. He quickly grabbed at your wrist, mouthing "no," so you mouthed "fine" right back. Which earned you a small laugh from him before he playfully swatted your ass making you yelp.

You let him get situated as a little idea popped in your head. Since he loves to tease and torment you all the time. Since he just can't seem to keep those hands off of you. Maybe you'll show him a little "appreciation."

"Hey Tommy, so uhh tell us what's it like with the new lead singer you guys got now?" Eddie looked over his questions he was allowed to ask. They were the same dull, bland questions every interviewer did.

You could tell he was bored out of his mind. He did not want to do this at all. You were going to wait until for a song break or even after his show went off air. But the looks of pure agony on his face made you pity him in this moment.

Eddie was currently leaning back in his chair, his feet propped up on the table, struggling to untangle his yoyo. The notes resting on his lap, as he asked them in a monotone voice.

"Yeah, it's going good so far, different sound, but I think our fans are digging him so far." Tommy sighed into his phone. You could also tell he didn't want to do the interview with Eddie.

You walk over, tapping his feet. He immediately drops them to the floor on command. You pick up his interview notes, placing them nicely on the table. He thinks you're trying to keep him looking professional, but you had other plans.

You smiled and moved behind him to whisper in his ear. "Will you let me suck your cock?"

His eyes buldge out of his skull. "NOW?"

He practically yelled into the mic while Tommy was discussing Motley's new album.

You nodded and went back in front of him to get on your knees between his legs. His hand moved to your face, and his thumb smoothed across your bottom lip. You took it in your mouth sucking it gently. Earning you a low whimper from him.

"Oh my bad, sorry." Eddie spoke, clearing his throat. He snatched his thumb from your mouth. "You were saying?"

Your hands start rubbing his thighs up and down. You could tell he was trying so hard to hold it together. He pinched the bridge of his nose, getting frustrated with himself and you.

"I've been a good girl. Can I pretty please have your cock in my throat?" You whisper.

You forward to kiss his prominent buldge straining in his jeans. He dropped his head down, and his headphones slipped off and landed on his desk. Eddie fumbled around to put them back on. He prayed no one heard any of that.

Eddie's expression was something of shock and lust. He's not used to you being this forward. Normally, he had to work you up to get you like this. You're getting brave, and he couldn't be happier.

You slowly unzipped his pants. Your eyes never left his, and his eyes never left yours. It was like he was in some sort of trance watching you. He wasn't even paying attention to the interview anymore. Everything Tommy was saying fell on deaf ears. His focus was solely on you. You glance over at the mic, signaling him he needed to focus.

"Baby, please." He pleaded covering up the mic so no one can hear. You freed his painfully hard cock out of his pants. He let out a sigh of brief relief. His pants were getting increasingly uncomfortable the harder he became.

Licking your lips, you take him in your hand and kiss his leaking tip as you begin sucking it. Your tongue swirling around the head, cleaning off every bit of his precum. He rolled his head to the side. Eddie's struggling to remain calm and collected for this interview. His boss will kill him if he fucks this up.

You stopped and pulled your mouth away slightly to spit right on his cock. Using your spit and the little bit of his precum as lubricant. You gave him a few good strokes twisting your wrists pumping cock. He gulps as he watches you. Beads of sweat coated his forehead making his bangs stick to his skin. His hands were gripping hard onto the table. His knuckles turning white. His rings scratch at the surface.

"I can't wait to have you inside me." You teased. Your voice low enough under the table for only him to hear. "Thinkin' about you struggling to fit it all in at once."

You take his cock in your mouth slowly until he hit the back of your throat. You stayed still for a moment, allowing yourself to breathe through your nose.

He lets out a shakey breath and covers up the mic once more. "I'm gonna make you feel every inch. You just wait until I get your ass home."

You smiled around his cock at his threat. Can't be much of a threat if you'd enjoy every second of it.

"So Tommy!" Eddie piped up with too much enthusiasm even for him.

You began bobbing your head up and down, taking him as deep in your mouth as he could go. You moaned when one of his hands rested on the back of your head. Drool was spilling from the corners of your mouth and down your chin. The head of his cock hitting so far at the back of your throat.

"I-I HEARD--" He stuttered after you swallowed around him. "I heard you guys are planning a tour."

Eddie was quick to fix himself. This whole interview, he had been battling to stay on task. His abs flexed when you reached to push up his t-shirt. He's biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

Your mouth working on him lazily giving the messiest blow job you could. Your spit dripping down from your chin onto the tuft of soft curls peeking out from under his pants. Your nose nestled into the them, taking in his musky scent.

"Uh huh yeah, a tour within the next year or so." You could hear Tommy's distorted voice over the speakers.

"Ohmyfuckinggod...." Eddie grunted through gritted teeth. His jaw clenching.

Your mouth sucking on his cock harder. Your head moving up and down faster. One of your other hands creeped higher under his shirt to pinch his nipples. His face is beet red. All he wants to do is shut off his mic and moan out your name. The fact that he can't properly give you any praise is driving him insane.

Eddie shakes his head, taking a long, deep breath. The interview is almost over. Couple more questions, and he can let go.

"I--I mean, very exciting to hear that as well. He laughed slightly. Not at what Tommy says, but at the disbelief of what you're doing to him right now.

Usually, it's the other way around. Nine times out of ten Eddie is the one with his cock buried in you while hes live on his show. You've gotten so bold and brave over this last year of dating. He wasn't complaining.

Eddie's just so used to the shy girl he first met. But then again, you did call him and have your first orgasm on his radio show with hundreds of people listening in. That boldness was always there.

You pinched his nipple harder and ran your fingernails down his abdomen, leaving a tiny red trails behind. He bucked his hips roughly pushing his cock further in your throat. Nearly causing the back of your head to hit the table. His cock throbbing and pulsating in your mouth.

You pulled him almost all the way out. Your lips wrapped perfectly around his sensitive tip, still sucking firmly on it. Taking your other hand you stroke his cock giving you're throat a break for a couple of minutes. His strangled moans are enough to make you want to keep going.

Your lips leave his tip for you to whisper up at him. "You wanna fuck me so bad right now. It's driving you crazy that you cant."

"Oooh my god, you're gonna get it--fking hell, you're gonna get it." He growled lowly, covering his mic with a shakey hand.

The corners of your mouth quirked up when your hand starts pumping his cock faster. A line of spit connecting from your lips and to his head. Your mouth and chin covered in drool. It was a sight to see, and he was mesmerized by it. He hastily snaps out of it and readjusts his headphones.

Eddie cackles into the mic and runs a hand down his face. "Tommy, tell me about your love life really quick...saw that hot blonde on your arm recently."

"She's good. we're thinking about getting married." Tommy announced to Eddie and the show.

Eddie looks down at you and pats your head. "I saw her in that music video last year. I can see why you'd want to marry her."

"She's uhhh somethin" else." He whistled, fixing his collar as if he was getting hot thinking about her.

He stops patting your head to cup your jaw gently.

You stop stroking his cock taking your hand away. You slip him back in your mouth, relaxing your throat, taking him in inch by inch again. You swallowed hard around him purposely. His body twitching from the sensation. Your mouth felt amazing and so warm.

"Ahh...uhhmm--well, that's good." He blurted out. Eddie felt like he was going to burst at any moment. Your throat closed around him each time you took him further down. "Hey man, listen, we gotta cut to a small intermission."

"No no it's cool." Tommy laughed in the phone.

"On our small intermission how about we play somethin' this next song is called "a letter to Elise by the cure"

You continued to bob your head as if you weren't preoccupied with what he said. That tinge of jealousy coursing through your veins. Your face was growing hot, replaying what he said about that girl.

The lustful look in his eyes when talked about the music video she was in. It pissed you off but also made you incredibly sad, too. You try to keep those feelings at bay and pay no mind to them. Eddie pushed his chair away from the table to give you more room. You move around on your knees following him.

"Fuck baby, you're doing so good." He purred, relaxing back.

His hips bucking up thrusting his cock in your mouth. He repeated his movements over and over. His cock going down your throat feverishly with little to no warnings. Eddie wasn't rough, but he wasn't gentle about it either. He was tired of all the teasing. Tears springing to your eyes each time his cock slides down your throat harder. You could tell he was getting close. You could sense it.

"Love you, s'much sweet girl." Eddie brought his hand out to caress and wipe your tears. He smiled warmly down at you. You were still feeling jealous by his comment towards Tommy's girlfriend.

Eddie groaned, rolling his head from side to side. His mouth hanging open. "Shiiiiiiit I'm gonna cum."

"You're gonna be my good girl and swallow it?....maybe if you're lucky ill cum on your tits later. He chuckled a cocky smile appearing on his face.

You look up at him through your lashes and whined. His hand on your hair, and he roughly pushes you down on him and pulls you back up. Your mouth making the sloppiest wet sounds while fucked your throat. You had to stop. Your emotions were beginning to be too much.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you released him from your mouth with a loud wet pop. You slapped his hands away from your head. You coughed and gasped, trying to catch your breath. You weren't going to let him cum. Not after what he said about some other girl he clearly liked a lot.

You stomped over to your chair and sat down, crossing your arms over your chest. Eddies mouth drops open in shock, too stunned to speak. His cock laying flat against his belly coated with your spit just begging for your attention.

"Baby, why'd you stop?" He rasped. His face full of concern at your sudden attitude. He doesn't know what he did or said to make you upset. Where you upset at how rough he was being with you? You normally liked it when he used your throat like that.

That hint of jealousy is getting stronger, and you can't help but not ignore it any longer.

"Nothing," you scowled, not daring to look over at him.

His chest rose and fell fast. He's panting and trying to catch his breath. He was so close cumming until you removed him completely from your throat.

"Something is obviously wrong. Talk to me." He spoke tenderly. He didn't care about finishing at the moment. All he cared about was you and fixing whatever it was that upset you.

"Why don't you ask his girlfriend to help you cum." You sneered still looking ahead.

"Is that what this is about?" Eddie grinned but quickly got rid of it. He knew better than to let you see him smiling. He wasn't laughing at you. He just thought it was kind of cute how you are obviously jealous over that.

"Sweetheart, come here."

You gave him a side eye and saw he was motioning you over to him. You rolled your eyes and got up to sit down in his lap.

His hands instinctively go to hold your waist. His chin resting on your shoulder with those big brown eyes of his looking up at you. You resisted the urge to look at him.

"Now you know because I said that doesn't mean I want her. You're my whole world baby." Eddie kissed your neck, trying his best to reassure you.

"You didn't have to say it while I was busy doing.....that to you." You finally looked back at him, and that's when he saw the hurt in your eyes.

he knows where he screwed up, but he was just doing his job. He truly didn't mean it. He has to flatter the guests. Inflate their already too big of an ego. Give them a bigger head than what they already had.

"Sweetheart, that was inappropriate, but you have to remember this is just part of my job. I have to say these things, it's just my radio persona." Eddie explained in a calm manner. He didn't want you being hurt by anything he said.

You know this is part of his job, but for some reason, that really did hurt you and filled you with so much jealousy. You know that type of stuff comes with the territory of what he does for a living. You used to listen to his show all the time before you got together.

You should be used to it by now. For the most part, you are. You chalked up your problem with him saying that to that stupid face he made when thinking about her as his cock was in your mouth. It made you feel like he was picturing her doing that to him and not you.

You look down picking at your nails. "I know. I don't know why it bothered me it just did....I guess I thought you were thinking of her while I was doing that to you."

He shakes head but lets you finish before speaking. "You're the only one I want and need. You're the only girl I've ever been with that makes my heart skip a beat every time you look at me. You're the only person I think about day and night. Always. You're my first thought in the morning and my last thought before bed."

Eddie hooks a finger under your chin to make you look at him again. You fight back the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes.

"You really mean all of that?" You sniffle leaning back against his chest.

He held you tighter to him. "I've never lied to you once, and I don't plan on starting now."

You smiled, playing with the ends of his long curly hair. "Did--You want me to help you finish?"

"I'll be okay. All I want to do is hold you. Can I do that?" He turns his head to kiss your forehead and rubs your back soothingly.

"Yeah, you can hold me." You got yourself more comfortable in his lap. If he wanted to coddle you, then you'll let him and milk it for all its worth.

Eddie's hold was strong, almost like he was afraid if he let go, you'd dissappear. He doesn't like seeing you this way. You're beautiful and have no reason to ever question his loyalty to you. Especially over dumb questions, his boss hounds him to ask.

"The interview will be over before you know it, then I'm all yours." He exhaled, resting his head on top of yours. You felt horrible for what you did earlier. The guilt finally settled in.

He shifts in his seat. "Don't worry, I'm gonna have you begging for me in the back of my van after this. I don't think I can wait to get you home."

You knew he wasn't exaggerating either. He's been craving you all day long, and he's not going to pass up on any opportunity to have you. He's also feels bad about hurting you and wants to worship every part of your body.

Eddie needs you to understand just how much he loves you. He's always been better at showing you than telling you. His love language has always been touch and music. So you'll be getting all of that and more tonight.

[koegama]

Hanasei

Avg. height: 1.70-2.20m | Avg. weight: 80-150 kg | Hyper-carnivores | Semi-aquatic lifestyle | Lifespan: ~120 years

Hanasei are a semi-aquatic species that originate from lakes, but expanded their settlements into rivers and other large bodies of water. They're a medium-sized biped with a hard keratin helmet where horns sprout from and a tail with large fins. Their skin is slightly damp, and can range from smooth to bumpy, that affects their transpiration and how often they must hydrate. They have both two nostrils located at their helmet and from 2 to 4 gills on both sides of their neck, of which are used for speech in land and breathing underwater, while the nostril's only function is on land respiration. Their necks are strong and well develop, and can expand or contract.

Both hands and feet have webbed fingers to facilitate swimming, but the webbing on the hands can retract for better dexterity when handling utensils. Their amphibious lifestyle left them being only decent at both types of locomotion, but their versatility makes up for it as they can comfortably transition to both environments. They're hyper-carnivores and will eat anything made of animal matter, including bones.

They are the only sexless sophont in Koegama, using Aether as a reproduction tool instead of a biological system.

More physiology dump undercut! Warning, long

Head

The common head structure of a Hanasei is somewhat flat, with a stout snout and large jaws. Proportions and shape vary per individual, and slight deviations from standard models are common. Sometimes, small barbels, whisker-like structures, will grow from their jaw and upper lip area. They give a small boon to the olfactory systems, but otherwise have no major benefits.

Horns

While the protrusions on Hanasei's heads are not anatomically horns but a different keratin appendage, horns are the most common colloquial term. Their main purpose were for fighting and a display of health and fitness to potential partners. Nowadays, most Hanasei have no real use for their horns other than decorative, but individuals may favor different horn styles compared to others.

They don't shed, growing through their infancy and plateauing around 23 to 27 years old. If a horn is broken mid-development, it will continue to grow, resulting in mismatched horns and branched protrusions depending on the type of damage. Once the horns stop growing, the blood and nerve system will shrink and be absorbed, leaving the area with no sensation and regrowth impossible. Cracks and missing pieces being a common sign of age.

Variance

Horns are very vulnerable to Aether tampering, leading to a numerous amount of styles and types to exist. Larger, more elaborate horns can make swimming more difficult, but overall the range is stable and harmless.

The presence of horns and the pair number is not affected, with 2 horns always present.

Eyes & Ears

Hanasei have good night vision, but poor eyesight in general. They can recognize the shapes around them and a few colors, but their daylight and night vision are almost the same otherwise. Their eyes can have different shapes and colors, but the effect is purely visual as their eye sensors work the same regardless of their appearance.

Hanasei don't have visible ears, but a tympanic membrane around their cheek area, which is able to pick up vibrations both in and out of water. They have great hearing, and are more aware of vibrations such as tremors and footsteps. They can voluntarily close their inner ear and stop themselves from picking up sounds, a common method for falling asleep.

Mouth

Hanasei lack teeth, using their upper jaw protrusions to hold and rip food instead. They have a powerful bite, being able to hold down things with immense pressure. Their tongues function like a catapult, with the tip facing the inside of the mouth on a resting position and launched outwards when needed, their saliva being sticky and helping trap prey inside their mouths. With cooking and more efficient methods of getting food, this isn't a common practice anymore, unless one spotted a quick snack. Unlike the other sophonts, Hanasei are still able to eat raw meat and may supplement their normal diet with bugs, fish and other easy to snag creatures in between activities.

They have very powerful and sensitive taste buds, coupled with a taste disc that lets them distinct between minute differences in food. Their mouth, just like most of their organs, tend to take the most prominent color of their Aether.

Respiratory system & Speech

Hanasei has two different systems for breathing. Outside of water, their nostrils are open and air moves through their cavity into their respiratory organs, and their gills are used for channeling sound. Air can be directed to their larynx, which is specialized for manipulating air into sound similar to vocal cords, which is only connected to the gills and not nostrils. This separate system means Hanasei can talk while breathing, and their vocalizations are very impressive, being able to mimic almost any sound they hear with practice. They can alter these sounds with the opening and closing of the larynx openings and changing how open or closed their gills are. To keep their gills from drying, the parts used for respiration often retract or close, but Hanasei in drier climates must moisturize their gills at intervals to prevent internal damage.

Underwater, their nostrils close and their gills stay open. Most of their larynx close, and filter capillaries expand to better capture oxygen diffused in the water. This makes vocalization underwater impossible, and sign language is the most common replacement. Hanasei can have 2, 3 or 4 gills on each side of their neck, and the shape of the gill can be varied, creating "accents" for each Hanasei in their relaxed voice.

They have a good olfactory system, being one of their most reliable senses. They're able to smell the humidity in the air and incoming rains and droughts. Because this uses their nostrils, they're unable to smell anything underwater.

Body

Hanasei size and builds are diverse, with individuals building muscle mass, fat and other outside factors influencing how they look. Their proportions stay consistent, with necks around the same size of their torso, short arms and elongated legs bigger than the torso itself, but deviations aren't uncommon.

Limbs

Hanasei arms start with their shoulders placed at the lower area of their torso, and stop with hands on their hips. Despite the shorter length, they have impressive arm strength and weaker Hanasei are known to rival other species' average. This makes them great at carrying things, and grabbing and holding down prey and foes. Their hands are dexterous when the webbing is retracted, but they lose a lot of maneuverability when extended.

Their legs are long and muscular, granting them an upright walk. They're not very fast, averaging 7 km/h running speed, but they have great endurance and the ability to jump high vertical distances and can pounce forward if crouched. Their muscle system can lock into a crouching stance, a comfortable stance comparable to sitting. Their feet are digitigrade but their fingers are big and wide, with a large base, keeping their body in balance and stable at the cost of mobility and grace.

Tail

Hanasei tails are long, with a vertical caudal fin that often extends beyond the base and helps them swim. This fin can regenerate when damaged, and broken or rotten tissue can lead into an entire chunk or the fin removed to speed recovery and promote an even replacement.

Fins are classified into two types, regular and segmented. Regular fins are connected into one piece, while segmented fins are broken down into various fins of different sizes and shapes, similar to fish fins. No matter the type, their shapes are kept hydrodynamic and tailored for swimming. Sometimes, the size of the base tail will also be shorter or longer than average.

Hanasei swim in two ways: a horizontal wave movement and by kicking their legs. The former is done with the help of their tail fins and is the slower of the two, but costs less energy. Hanasei will often alter the surrounding current with Aether to make this movement faster, with an average of 11 km/h. Leg kicks are less common as long term swimming and rather used for short bursts of speed and distance, and the longer one uses it the more they'll tire and may be unable to swim without resting. The peak swimming speed of Hanasei is around 20 km/h, taking leg kicks into account. As they were ambush and endurance predators, the lack of speed was not an issue for them. Depending on their fin shape, individuals may have different ways of swimming.

Aether

Their natural Aether is Nam Aether. They make use of it to help their swimming and underwater hunting, and to keep themselves damp. They tend to cast Aether from their mouths, as their Aether glands are present on their throat.

In their breeding months, their Aether start producing cells for reproduction and lose their usual abilities. This months-long limitation leads Hanasei to not be involved with using their Aether proactively or learn new skills, preferring to rely on technology to harness and utilize Aether instead.

Reproduction

Egg

To create an egg, two or more Hanasei spit out and mix their Aether together in a body of water. The resulting foam will stick together and in 3 days will develop into an egg, and one healthy Hanasei can produce enough reproductive Aether to make 200 eggs. This can only happen in the breeding period of Hanasei, usually on the 2nd and 8th month of the year. Modern Hanasei societies will instead send their reproductive Aether to the labs of the area, which will store it to create eggs with more efficient mixing machines and incubators.

The Aether inside the egg will segregate itself into larva stem cells and the nutritious yolk. After 12~14 days, the egg will be completely dry and the larva will eclode. The volatility of Aether means many larva never form or form incorrectly, and these eggs are discarded and repurposed or eaten. Only 1 in 50 eggs actually eclode, and this high rate of failure leads Hanasei to not view eggs as their young or a new generation, but more of a vessel that can fail or succeed. They have no qualms with re-purposing eggs in food, experiments or any other procedure.

Larva

Larva, often called notes, are very different from their adult counterparts. They're not considered sapient when they first hatch, but their growth is rapid and by 3 months in, they'll have the intelligence of a one year old toddler and have legs and arm stubs growing, alongside the keratin helmet and an underdeveloped nostril. This growth is fueled by a great appetite, and Hanasei larvae are omnivores and will eat almost anything they can fit in their mouths.

At the 9th month, they'll have most of their limbs developed to their young proportions, but their respiratory system will need an additional 3 months to allow for respiration outside water. Larvae at this stage will take short dips into land to push their muscles and lungs, until they no longer need to return to water to breathe.

Young

Once a larva can leave the water, they're called a young. "Young" encompasses the children and teenager years, lumped together as they no longer share any major physical differences from each other or to adults. The rest of their growth will be in size and intellect, slowing down from the quick pace of their larval years into a more normal 20 or so years to reach maturity. The main exception are horns, which only start growing around their 5th year and can take over a decade to finish growing. Smaller horns may plateau faster.