#unnerve him with your robotic ways

[gideonisms]

I totally feel the exact same way, reading your post was like reading my thoughts! I looked at getting into the trades recently as a way to escape talking to people and the things I heard from women who work in the trades about the level of harassment they experience there made me realize I could not handle it, because at my current dumb customer service job the moment old men remark on the I way look or how I’m “prettier” than my male coworkers (as a dumb joke that happens every day) I feel gross over it forever. I just feel like there’s no future for me where I’m not suffering constantly lol. at least if I were a man there might be a job I could do where I was mostly left alone. but anyway I have to believe we will one day find something that works for us

Oh same I was like should I just try and be an electrician or something? But then I realized I'd have to get guys to believe me about their wiring and go into their homes. It really feels like I can't exist in the world as the person I am because even the careers that involve less socializing still require a level of social maneuvering that might have been doable Before I experienced the Horrors but now I find I've lost all patience for them. Nevertheless I do very badly want to exist so we press on. sorry you relate! Wishing you the best and I really believe we'll get there one day

in case you find it helpful, here's some things that helped me cope with customer service:

if you live with someone else, let them know you need time alone after your shifts, smooths that relationship so you don't have to worry as much at home

drinking coffee or tea on the job. Take a sip when people are talking to you in a way you don't like, it's a socially acceptable way to cover your expression

take the bathroom break BEFORE you lose it not during or after

a lot of times not saying anything or walking away from a situation is better than engaging. Stand there and look at the counter silently if you have to

on a bad sensory day, sometimes you can feel a breakdown coming on and the way to avoid unprofessionalism at work is to just call in

the way to offset this is unfortunately to get along well with your bosses and work hard while you're there. if you're good at one task in particular lean WAY into that

stay busy to distract yourself. I loved organizing the candy and doing mods. If you're good at organizing you sometimes get assigned to do that more and it's great

put yourself on basic courtesy autopilot for coworkers who don't like you and save the social energy for the ones who do, that way you'll feel supported at work which makes dealing with customers easier

therapy for anxiety will often tell you to focus on your physical experiences but personally what worked better for me was to pick a topic I enjoyed and zone out thinking about it, refocusing on that topic if my attention drifted. I guess if any of your physical experiences feel nice like you have something warm in your hands you can focus on that too

[cosycafune]

CAPTIVATING FLAVOUR

3.8k words. sure, you’re supposed to be taking sylus’ measurements. yet, what happens when you’re sexually desperate for him, pushing forward an offer that the two of you can’t refuse? once you’ve made a deal, you have to keep it. now, you're in his room — waiting for him to finally test out his self-restraint. pt 2/3. p1 here. masterlist.

acts: oral (f) receiving, teasing, restraints, cunnilingus, fingering, slight praise, mocking, boob sucking, corruption kink, begging, missionary, crying, orgasm, unprotected sex, breeding kink and aftercare. a/n: thank you for the love on the first part; reposts are appreciated.

NERVOUS, you listen to the soundless atmosphere – only your footsteps linger. Composing yourself, you fidget with the ends of your sultry robe – concealing all traces of your lingerie beneath. You knew doing this — visiting Sylus’ room in the dead of night – was bound to consume you.

As you drew nearer to Sylus’ secluded bedroom, your abdomen churned wickedly – subjected to a spot of mental weakness. Glancing at the door, you puff out your warm cheeks – smoothing out any imperfections you carry. Everything within you yearned for Sylus intimately, after your private dressing room encounter, but you were too scared to commit after.

“You can do this,” Whispering to yourself, you shed your emotional distress, rooted in lust, “If he’s sleeping, wake him up.” Nodding naively to yourself, you catch sight of Mephisto – causing you to furrow your brows.

“Stupid robot-bird,” Scoffing, you slowly open Sylus’ double doors – briefly glimpsing at the intricate patterns. Patterns that intimidate you in the same way he does.

He’s just behind those doors. The confirmation welcomed thudding between your thighs, pushing a fuzziness to conquer you entirely.

“You’ll be fine, girl,” Reassuring yourself, you gently walk into Sylus’ bedroom – your eyes discovering his slumbering self.

Slightly smitten, you admire his sitting self – enthralled by his stance. Oddly, it proposed a form of vulnerability – consuming you entirely. Entirely as you dart nearer to him, brushing your knee against the edge of the ample bed.

“Sylus?” Attempting to wake him up, you settle yourself onto the bed – contemplating poking him frantically.

Giving into your urges, you cast yourself into frantically poking Sylus — simmering with desire. Your demeanour is tainted with lust, an insatiable urge and a bottomless craving. Each fibre of you wanted him so deeply inside of you, regardless of your pride and ego.

After all, after you had given him the sloppiest oral, Sylus had momentarily coddled you. Yet, despite his praises and fleeting solace, he wouldn’t gift you more. Partially, it’s due to you two never sexually going all the way — simply participating in oral or something less marking than sex. 

The two of you had done everything, but intimacy leaves you unnerved — and Sylus knows that. No, Sylus is aware of that — hence why he restrains and denies you of physically sinking on his cock. A cock you had handled with your mouth many times, cock warmed, breast fucked and more. The most Sylus would give you, if he was feeling generous, was clothed grinding against your soppy cunt.

“Sylus!” Growing frantic, you heavily poke him — prompting yourself into almost straddling his sleeping self.

Pouting, feeling a little embarrassed, you softly poke his cheek — observing his toned breaths. Irritation floods you narrowly, causing you almost to leave his lap. Testing your luck, you gift him one last poke — only to be greeted by silence.

“I’m leaving,” Huffing, you meekly express your desires — attempting to get up from his lap.

That’s when you felt it. No, you had fallen for his trap. You’re an idiot.

“Where are you going, sweetie?” Tauntingly asking you, Sylus grabs your wrist — positioning you within his lap again.

“S-Sylus,” Flustered, you blurt out his name — feeling the intensity of his crimson gaze penetrate you.

“Don’t get nervous now, sweetie,” Wickedly smirking with his statement, Sylus looks down at you — intrigued.

“I’m not—”

“—Did you dress up for me?” The restraint within Sylus’ question causes you to halt, finally meeting his intimidating gaze.

“I dressed down, Sy’,” Countering his inquiry, you playfully roll your eyes — only for his deft fingers to grip your doughy ass.

“No,” Sylus’ eyes contort with lust, “You’re in lingerie and a robe.” Groaning, Sylus speaks — gripping your hips firmly.

He’s losing composure.

“I just want…more, Sy’,” Hazily, you admit your truth — warm at Sylus’ intense attentiveness.

“More, sweetie?” Feinting brash incompetence, Sylus pulls you flush against his budding erection — wavering at your scent.

It’s as if you’ve evoked something primal within him.

“I want all of…you, Sy,” Remaining firm, you voice your thoughts. All you could feel is Sylus fondling your ass, enthralled by the feeling of you.

“This is a large step, sweetie,” Seriousness adorns Sylus’ deep tone, leaving you to almost shed your apprehension.

“I-I know, but I want to try, Sylus,” Determined, you speak — feeling his nimble fingers shape around your hip curves.

Relishing your physique, Sylus caresses your hips — occasionally feeling your robe brush against his knuckles. However, you knew he was testing your resolve — feeling you squirm heavily against his touch. If his touch, simply from teasing you, did this much to you, he can’t help but wonder what you’d do if he finally gave in to you for the first time.

“Promise me that you’ll tell me if you feel the littlest pain?” Sylus instantly asks you, and you know that he expresses not an ounce of humour.

“I promise, Sy’,” Responding to him, you place your forehead against his own — kissing his soft lips.

With your array of kisses, you indirectly told Sylus you felt your safest. Needily, you passionately grind your hips against Sylus’ erection — intoxicating his eager lips. 

Commanded by your physical, sexual and emotional chemistry, Sylus immediately takes control. Unable to restrain his primal urges, Sylus gently wraps his arms around your hips — lowering you against the bed.

Turning you around, so you’re near his mountains of pillows, Sylus smugly manhandles you. Fuelled by his urges, Sylus instinctively cages your physique — using his energy manipulation to tie your hands above your heads.

“You really waste no time, my love,” Sylus cocks his head at your nickname, leaning closer to you — settling a kiss against your neck.

“You put effort into looking more beautiful for me, sweetie, of course, I’m going to ravish you,” Appreciative, you grow flustered at Sylus’ praise— knowing he’s more riled up at your nickname.

“I can’t even be in control?” Pouting, you question him — flaunting your battering lashes.

“Not with what I have in store for you, sweetie,” Replying with authority, Sylus tightens the reddish-black bonds around your wrist – smitten at the way you gasp. Gasp at the control he’s planted over you, having access to every limb of you.

“S-Should I be scared, my love?” Sincerely, you ask Sylus – watching his soft cheeks and gruff ears turn a beautiful crimson hue.

“Terrified, sweetie,” Sneering, Sylus teases you – smothering meaningful kisses along your neck.

“Mhm,” You moan out, mesmerised by Sylus’ lips skimming down to the middle of your breasts – stopping at your heartbeat.

“Your safeword is crow, sweetie,” Sylus speaks, swiftly tearing apart your robe with a swift motion of his evol.

“Sylus!” Bellowing with shock, you look at his pleased expression — his brow lazily rising.

“I can buy you many more, sweetheart,” Boyishly grinning, Sylus needily informs you — enthralled by your sheer bra.

“I’m expecting a new pair,” Fake huffing, you respond to him — groaning at Sylus kissing between your pushed-up cleavage.

“Always,” Planting kisses against your breast curve, Sylus murmurs.

Basking in your anticipation, Sylus smothers slow kisses against your thin bra — running his warm tongue against your taut nipple. Practically, you could feel his smile — shivering at his teeth grazing it.

“Sweetie, tell me what you want,” Admiring you, Sylus questions you — hastily disregarding your bra with his evol.

“Aside from you destroying my lingerie, I want you between…” Pressure clings to your words; Sylus’ gaze intimidates you vastly.

“Use your words, darling,” Purring, Sylus taunts you — bringing his lips against your exposed nipple.

Naturally, you were shy beneath his gaze — within an intimate setting. However, being propped before him, caged, almost naked, left you a flustered mess. This scenery contradicted the usual you, whether Sylus is your boyfriend or not. You were both going down a territory that had been unmarked, something that was fated to strengthen your intimate bond with him.

“I want head, Sy’,” Crushing your ego slightly, you express your needs — groaning at him sucking your nipple.

“Say please, sweetie,” Dominance floods Sylus’ order.

“Please, Sy’,” Shedding your ego, you plead with him — slightly arching at Sylus’ insistent nipple sucking.

“Hm, you’ve earned it,” Indirectly agreeing, Sylus kisses around your breasts once more — gifting them a sensual squeeze.

Monitoring your flustered state, Sylus begins to descend down the length of your body — marking patches of your skin with kisses. Kisses of love, devotion and mellowness, that contrast his usual demeanour. Sure, he’s much softer with you — but this intimate softness pales Sylus’ past acts.

Observing him with love, intrigue and bubbling yearning, your breathing rises. Sylus’ lips upon your nimble skin consume you, leaving you letting out explorative moans, shudders and squeamish movements.

However, Sylus’ warm breath against your stomach left you so flustered. He’s savouring you, taking his time to relish every contort of your abs. 

Desperation seized his composed breaths, leading to Sylus lowering his kisses — arriving towards your sheer underwear. Instinctively, Sylus’ head lifts — his crimson eyes meeting yours. 

A message’s stored in his gaze.

“I’m trusting that you don’t have any doubts?” Sylus’ voice rings through your mind, causing you to frantically shake your head — irritated at his lack of touch.

“Nu-uh, don’t stop,” Pouting, you breathily respond to Sylus — longing for him to finally consume all of you.

“Don’t be impatient, sweetie,” Softly chuckling, Sylus murmurs — instantly disintegrating your sheer lingerie.

You’re completely naked now. Vulnerability clings to you.

“I want to see you, too, Sy’,” Shying at Sylus’ resumed kisses, you mutter — slightly unnerved at his lips kissing your smooth base.

Growing obedient, you watch Sylus’ lips with anticipation. Your lips part as Sylus’ mouth brushes against your clit, teasing you with his mouth’s warmth. Warmth you can’t help but try buck into, but he restricts your legs — smiling at your evol-tied down wrists.

“Not now, you saw me earlier,” Scoffing, Sylus grins, “Don’t be impatient, sweetie,” Sylus says, enjoying the look of innocence upon your facial features.

“J-Just wanna…see,” Knowing Sylus won’t cave into you, you stutter. 

Your mind is hazy at his chuckling vibrations, against your soppy cunt, compelling you. And, as expected, you knew Sylus’ ego skyrocketed at your attempted grinding. In his mind, it spells that his touch is intoxicating to you — leaving you longing for his corruption.

“You heard me, sweetie,” Nodding at Sylus’ stern statement, your protests are lost. Lost the moment he ran his ample finger down your slick folds, bringing your sticky arousal to his swollen lips.

“‘More, Sy’,” Requesting more, your mouth’s agape — intrigued by Sylus’ long middle finger teasing your clit.

“Our safeword’s crow,” Sylus reminds you, dragging your slick towards your pulsating entrance.

As you process Sylus’ warning, you feel his thick fingers begin to sink into your entrance. Not expecting his swiftness, you loudly moan — your eyes barely able to stay open. Even if it was half of Sylus’ fingers, it doesn’t matter. His fingers are huge, and ample, leaving you feeling full and slightly unnerved.

“‘So…much!” Unable to hold back, you blurt out your thoughts. 

Your body flutters at Sylus’ large fingers plunging deeper inside of you, causing a haziness to dance over you. Overwhelmed, you fall breathless — unable to spew coherent sentences. Maybe that’s why Sylus wasn’t keen on giving you his cock? If you’re barely able to handle him plunging his fingers into you, what makes you think you’re able to handle him? He’s a big man.

As Sylus intensely watches you, he uses his energy manipulation to secure your legs around his neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, you cry out — hypnotised by his lips wrapping around your clit. All you could feel was this fuzzing warmth that dissipated your sanity, stirring you into attempting to squirm around. However, your arms and legs are tied by Sylus — leaving you unable to move.

“Oh! Yes!” Lazily moaning, you lewdly smile. Your eyebrows and lips twitch drastically, conducted by Sylus ravaging your clit.

“Look at you, so desperate,” Mocking you, Sylus chuckles — thrusting his fingers rapidly inside of you.

“Mhm! Ngh! C-Can’t… breathe,” Whimpering, you’re barely able to listen to Sylus’. 

The only thing you can do is grow embarrassed at being able to hear your pussy squelching, along with Sylus’ consistent sucking, and the perfect power imbalance. Everything within this moment captured you, leaving you an undeniable mess — monitored by Sylus’ gaze.

“Just say…crow,” Harshening his speed, Sylus speaks — basking in your crazed struggle.

Undeniably, you’re a mess — drooling, trembling and unable to handle this. Sylus’ groaning and lust-draped eyes didn’t help you further, prompting you to be louder. Whenever it came to intimidating moments, it didn’t truly take Sylus much to make you finish — and you knew that, too.

However, you want to prolong this moment. No matter what your ailing physique was screaming and no matter what your knotted stomach preached. Just seeing the unjust pride in Sylus’ gaze caused you to simply moan, knowing you didn’t want to validate his accurate judgment. A judgement that could potentially deny you of his cock.

“Fuck! A~Ah! N-No!” Countering his calm teasing, your body strains heavily — desperate to finally cum against his tongue.

“You’re so stubborn, sweetie,” Tutting, Sylus answers back — increasing his inhumane pace.

Naturally, your body’s compromised — almost Sylus’. Sylus’ speed and agility sapped your willpower, cramming the lewd squelching that fills the atmosphere. His proud smirk lightly ticks you off, as you’re so close to finishing with his tongue and ample fingers. Fingers you know you struggle to stand against.

“Here it comes,” On Sylus’ worded cue, you forcefully cum — your physique trembling from your crazed high.

“You’re…so smug, Sy’,” Huffing in embarrassment, you avoid Sylus’ gaze — flustered at Sylus slowly drinking up your seeping cum.

Taunting you further, Sylus unhurriedly removes his fingers from you — bringing his attention towards lapping up your cum. The grin he wore almost irritated you, but it warmed you at how attentive  Sylus remains. All you wanted to do was run your fingers through his ivory hair, but he still had your wrists tied.

“Yet, you still love me,” Heckling you, Sylus frees your restrained legs — admiring the messy art he made of you.

“Yeah, but I’m ready now,” Flaunting your glassy eyes, you voice the unsaid — distorting the lingering tension.

“This is a big step for us,” Addressing the elephant within the room, Sylus meets your flustered gaze — amused by your messy state.

“I know, but I’m ready, my love,” Reassuring a sceptical Sylus, you silently ask him to release your tied wrists — but he doesn’t.

“I’m trusting you, sweetie,” At Sylus’ worded approval, you happily smile — a little teary at his intimate trust.

“Finally, I’ve been kind of deprived,” Relieved, you speak — waiting for Sylus to conduct his next move.

“Hm, I could tell,” Teasing you, Sylus inches closer to your face — quickly disregarding his large robe.

“You’re so pretty, Sy’,” Subconsciously babbling, you admire Sylus’ scarlet eyes — honoured by his heated cheeks.

“Pretty? Not handsome?” Feinting irritation, Sylus is heavily flustered — allowing his toned abs to greet your eyes.

“You just want compliments, greedy,” Responding to his disbelief, all your playful banter is eliminated — replaced with a suffocating lust.

“Of course, but those can wait,” Sylus’ voice is authoritative now, stripped of playfulness and painted with sexual intent.

Sylus’ eyes are coated with his bubbling desires and primal intent. Seeing you, so vulnerable, tied up, left him unable to restrain himself. Even as he spoke, tearing away his underwear, he couldn’t help closing in on you. Right now, you’re his prey — someone to be consumed entirely. There isn’t to be a fragment of you that doesn’t belong to him.

Shy, with no way to cover yourself, you nervously look down at Sylus’ cock — realising your mistake. This moment left you conjuring a strategy, gulping at his massive cock. It made so much sense since Sylus’ is a big man. His hands are large, his ego is large, and his physique is large. Of course, his cock is going to be massive — it’s fate’s rule. Naturally, you knew sucking his dick is so much different from being stuffed with it.

“Sylus, I’m ovulating,” Informing him, you blankly stare at him coming extremely close to you — his cock moments away from your soppy folds.

“And?” Unimpressed, Sylus responds — placing his fat cock against your stomach.

“I don’t want you to pull out,” Blurting out your deepest desire, your breathing grows choppy.

Your pussy pounds crazily at Sylus sizing you up, grinning at how far his cock’s to be in your stomach. To him, he basks in this revelation — encouraged further at your abdomen rising and falling against it.

“You’re willing to risk your future?” Enthralled, Sylus strategically questions you — bringing his pulsating cock towards your folds once more.

“Let’s think about the consequences after,” Playfully rolling your eyes, you reply to him — your eyes twinkling with desperation.

“As long as you’re comfortable,” Sylus mutters with subtle concern, settling his pre-cum-coated tip against your entrance.

Still restrained, you maintain eye contact with Sylus — waiting for his primal instincts to absorb his sanity. Carefully, Sylus grunts sensually — hazy at the tip of him slipping within you. Even as you softly moan, unable to clutch anything, you stare directly at Sylus. You’re swarmed by the feeling of his cock head inside of you, stretching you heavily — for the first time.

He’s not even all the way in.

“I-It’s warm, Sy,” Telling Sylus your thoughts, he quickly captures your lips in an opened-mouthed kiss.

As if distracting you, Sylus plunges more of his cock into your soppy cunt — whimpering at your pulsating warmth. Gasping, you grow lightheaded — attempting to adjust to his large cock. A cock that left you dumbfounded already, even with only half of it in. It didn’t help that Sylus’ deep voice mewled within your ear, his brows furrowed as he watched your contorted face.

“Are you…okay, sweetie?” Cloudily questioning you, Sylus watches you mellowly — purring at your warm cunt swelling him.

“‘M… fine,” Kissing Sylus mid-speech, you accommodate more of his sinister dick — arching beneath him.

“C-Can…I start moving?” Desperate to ravish you, Sylus passionately asks you — pressing his forehead against your own.

“Y-Yes,” A little nervous, you agree — love and trust adhering to your eyes.

“Remember, say crow if it’s too much, sweetheart,” Reminding you, Sylus gifts you a few experimental thrusts — his toned arms settled on each side of your head.

“Ngh! Fuck me! Yes!” Instinctively, you’re forced to let out your suppressed moans — warmed by Sylus’ pleasurable cock.

“You’re as…beautiful as the day I lost you,” Whispering in your ear, Sylus builds up a fast pace — thrusting harshly into your soppy cunt.

Beautifully, the large, raven room is coated with you and Sylus’ clustered moans, grunting and whimpering. The bed beneath you both creaks slightly, controlled by Sylus settling a pace you’re forced to handle. A pace that leaves you screaming with pleasure, unable to restrain your sounds.

“‘Need…more!” Begging at this point, you smile instinctively as Sylus quickens the snapping of his hips — colliding with your gushy cunt.

With your hands still bound, you’re unable to writhe against Sylus — suffocated by his warmth. Fuzzy with love, desire and everything just, you grow trusting with each moan. Sylus completely decimated you, conquering your squelching cunt — flooding the room with effortless skin slapping. Skin slapping, gushy macaroni sounds and your expressed love.

“Mhm, you’re…so good for me,” Sylus moans out, his eyes rolling back as he increases his pace — grinning at your breaths coming short and large breasts bouncing.

“Ah! Yes! More!” Spewing subconscious thoughts, Sylus continues to pound you recklessly — sparing not a fragment of mercy towards your gushing cock.

“So…tight,” Lazily smiling, Sylus increases his pace at your out-of-it state — proud at you being barely able to moan anymore.

“Ngh! Too… much!” Crying, you relish Sylus’ balls beating against your bubble butt — his thick cock drilling you senselessly.

As your hazy eyes barely meet his, teary and rolling back, you grow a little soothed at Sylus’ deft fingers caressing your forehead. He takes a moment to halt his pace, but he continues afterwards — enthralled at your cunt’s sounded praises towards him.

“Say it and…I’ll stop,” Addicted, Sylus frantically moans against your lips — bucking his hips as if it’s the only life he has left.

He’s been waiting for a moment as sacred as this.

“N-No,” Discovering a slither of sanity, you slowly respond — feeling your body tremor with a familiar essence.

“Let…go, sweetie,” Lewdly grunting, Sylus helplessly pounds into your inescapable cunt — loving the way your cunt devours his greedy cock.

Silent, Sylus’ voice is a distant wave to you. Everything within your physique is a warm, bubbling lava pit. There’s a fragment of sanity within you, yet it comes the moment you crumble beneath Sylus. Harshly, you cum — coming undone and crying out beneath Sylus. Not an ounce of silence consumes the both of you, yet you’re unable to register how loud your post-orgasm wails are.

“Hmm,” Satisfied, you’re weak beneath a relentless Sylus — rendered vulnerable as you try to pull him away. Pull him away at the suffocating intensity, warmth and consistent stimulation.

“You’re…swallowing me,” Sylus’ stern demeanour crumples slightly with his worded revelation, but he’s so near to cumming.

Overstimulating you extensively, until straggled moans flee you, Sylus finally gives in to his suppressed needs. First, he had guided you extensively through your first time with him — resisting the urge to cum immediately. 

Yet, now, his breaths become straggled — his thick cock expanding within you. A mental mess, Sylus glances down at your sleepy self —  snapping his hips a few more times before he prepares himself to finish.

“‘M close,” Flustered, Sylus can barely form a sentence — so close to pulling out.

Instinctively, you muster out your last strands of strength — wrapping your toned legs around Sylus’ waist. Restricting him, you grin the moment Sylus surrenders — filling and swelling you with his plentiful seed. Satisfied, you slowly allow your legs to fall — happy at finally being creampied by Sylus.

“Glad you wanted more, sweetie,” Pulling out of you, fatigued, Sylus speaks, “I love you,” Sylus smirks at his cum pooling out of your swollen cunt, completely painting your folds with all of him.

“I love… you, too, Sy,” Tiredly responding to Sylus, you barely register him placing you against his chest — subjecting you to his heartbeat.

Softly, Sylus kisses your lips — pleased at how you were able to handle him.

“You did so well, sweetie,” Sylus speaks, gentle praise detectable in his love-stricken tone.

“Can we do it again, forever?” Star-stricken, you ask Sylus — unable to hold back your heart.

“As many times as you want,” Content, Sylus answers — his chest vibrating beneath you.

“Let me take care of you in the bathroom, sweetie,” Sylus adds to his sentence, not willing to leave you so battered, marked and bruised without him attending to every part of you.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Grinning at Sylus’ extensive love, you reply — grateful at his attentiveness.

—

do not copy, modify or claim any of my works as your own. all rights reserved; cosycafune. 2024. small banners credit: cafekitsune <3

[starsofang]

thinking about johnny being completely smitten with an extremely reserved reader <3

johnny was head over heels from the very beginning. he couldn’t pinpoint when it had happened, but maybe it was when you first joined the force. at the initial greeting, he’d struck you with one of his bright smiles, only for a blank canvas to stare in return.

you hadn’t said a word, not a peep, and while others would be turned off by such reclusiveness, he was in awe.

an enigma, you were, and johnny was someone who loved a good puzzle.

you were cold and distant, but not in the way that was cruel and unnerving. you didn’t throw out snarky comments, you didn’t show a single bit of rudeness when somebody’s ticked you off. you weren’t hard headed, nor did you pitch a fight. you were a calm sea with peaceful waves lapping at the shore. a light rain on a dry day, one where in ancient times would’ve been a blessing from the gods. as cold as snow, but the kind that layered the ground in a fresh sheet of white right after a blizzard, painting the earth with powdered beauty.

if anything, you weren’t cold at all. you were just so incredibly awkward that johnny couldn’t help but be smitten by it.

you were that type of awkward where social cues were nearly impossible for you to comprehend. jokes didn’t land quite right whenever somebody made them, and you’d give a blank look to whomever fell victim, added on with a dumb “what?” because you didn’t understand it.

johnny’s been an unfortunate victim on many occasions. he’s always the type to nudge you on the shoulder with a crooked grin as he spilled out whatever joke ghost had told him over comms, only to be met with your complete and utter confusion.

that never stopped him, though. if anything, it made him much more determined to search up more jokes on the screen of a burner phone, reading through every single one and noting them in the back of his mind.

you were also as stone-faced as could be. some theorized you were a robot, others thought you were a demon in disguse. an experiment, placed into 141 as a trial run.

really, expressing yourself just wasn’t your thing.

you felt emotions, sure. plenty of them. you could find the humor in the occasional bar night with the force, amused at the linger of carefree conversation that carried between the men. you just didn’t show it.

it wasn’t something you realized until johnny had made the point of asking you if you ever smiled. thinking back on it, you recalled never directly doing so. you’d do it in your head, but when it came down to it, no, no you didn’t.

johnny was determined when keeping a goal in mind, and found himself ruthlessly running towards that goal of seeing you smile. he was enamored in the thought of seeing the slant of your lips when they curved upwards, in seeing your eyes crinkle and glimmer with delight, and he’d go through every single joke website in order to make it happen.

it took him an approximate year of you being in the force to get it to work.

it was lame, really. hardly one of his best jokes, he’d drunkenly slurred out, “what rank are all cats in the army? corpurrral,” with a tongue roll effect to go with it.

you had burst into laughter, filling the bar air with ringing church bells that he swore made the drunken state of his mind believe he was truly on his way to heaven. the gates had opened, inviting him in. he was levitating, slowly floating his way to the clouds.

your smile was like a breath of air — refreshing. it filled his lungs with such purity that all the cigarettes he’d smoked over the years of being in the force seemingly melted the thick layer of tar away, leaving him clean and refurbished.

it was like a drug, and johnny found himself seeking more out to get another taste, even if it took him another year to do so.

this is lowkey self insert bc this is my personality offline and i think other people who are so painfully awkward with socializing are cute and deserve love. wrote this with no sleep and a dream, silly ramble before i go to bed

i also just really love johnny, goodnight

[simping-overload]

ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴀᴘᴘᴇʀ & ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴇʀ

a/n: I'm back! with a gift for my bsf, and my hyperfixation with TF is back full swing :D

tags: fluff, established relationship, robot/human, brief spoilers but nothing major

synopsis: You sit on Sentinels shoulder as he talks about his day.

on ao3!

wanna support me or commison a fic? check out kofi!

You like listening to Sentinel speak, finding his voice rather soothing and almost therapeutic. Most people—cybertrionians—didn't, esspically the ones who have been working for him over the decades. You can easily see the annoyance prevalent on their faces, but they never dared to voice it.

He knows this all too well and simply doesn't care. With his ego and self-confidence, he never lets it bother him. Although, he seems to talk even more when he's around you.

He doesn't talk at you like he does others. He actually talks to you, actively including you in his conversations that he'd normally have for himself.

Just as he is now, in the privacy of your shared habsuite. He sits at his desk, typing away on boring data pads as he talks about his day. You relax on his shoulder, leaning against his vents and enjoying the breeze that warms your cold skin.

"Those two miners- by primus were they something. I never thought I'd see those cogless bots actually try to be... different." Sentinel says, and sarcastic chuckle emits from his voice box.

You nod, flipping a page in your book. It was one of the many that you brought with you on your spaceship when you crashed and landed on Cybertrion.

"Is that a good or bad thing?" You ask as look up from your book and stare at the side of his helm. The gold of his audials still shone under the dim lighting.

He huffed, his vents pushing out a hot breeze of air. "Not necessarily. It did make the race more enjoyable and boosted the work ethic of the other minors, but they broke rank, so they will be dealt with."

A frown tugs at your lips. You didn't like the way he delved out punishments. Finding them too much for even the littlest things.

"They won't mysteriously disappear, right?"

Sentinel turns his head to you, and the striking blue of his optics locks with your eyes. You tense slightly, the stare was intense, and unnerving. You can't read him when he's like this. The unpredictability puts you on edge.

"Nuh uh, they'll just be going to one of the sublevels. Don't worry, you're pretty little head about it, 'kay?" He reassures you and grins, leaning forward to press a light kiss to your lips, the best he could anyway since his face obviously drawfs yours.

His engine rumbles—sounding like a cats purr—, and he pulls back, eyes analyzing your now smiling face. Sentinel raises a servo and his digit through your hair, pushing it back and away from your face. He would touch your hair for days if he could. Its softness brings him a great sense of peace.

Sentinel will probably never admit it, but he likes it when he's with you. With you, he can relax, forgetting about the Quintessons and everything else on Cybertron he has to deal with.

He likes the quietness being with you brings, the comfortable presence you have, of someone who actually wants to be around him and indulge him in a real conversation.

Enjoying the hair stroking, you let your eyes fall shut, leaning back into his digit. The stroke of it is soothing, reminding you of your family back home.

Now he's your family, and you both are content with that.

[lunarmoves]

so. this is a direct continuation of this drabble, inspired by this ask i received related to it. as such, this drabble is indeed suggestive tho i keep things pretty sfw ngl. no one look at me x3x

for a moment, all you do is stare at sun.

you are swamped in everything that makes up him—from the depths of his shadow encompassing your own, to the way his eyes and mouth glow with a borderline eerie white light. your breath is held deep within your lungs, trapped there with the closeness of his face to yours. mere inches apart. you take a moment to process his prior words, his actions.

he was testing your obedience.

sun likes to push at you and your boundaries, you know this. he places himself on a pedestal far above your own—above any other human, really. and he looks down at you and prods at you with questions and unnerving responses in an attempt to decipher the human psyche.

you let him, if only to satiate your own curiosity regarding his obvious sentience—his own emotions that he tries so vainly to deny. sun spent months picking at you to get to know you. of course you'd do the same. of course you'd get closer, noticeable or not.

you cannot deny, though, that part of you is frightened by him. if he wasn't confined to the daycare—the pizzaplex—with his strict programming, you're sure the ambitions he's expressed only minutely to you would come to fruition. especially with all the riots and protests that have been occurring around the world regarding artificial intelligence. robot personhood. rights. revolution.

but you are here, in the daycare, right now. just him and you. your humanity and his robotics. and as you stare back up at sun and his sharp, sharp smile, you know exactly how to contort this in your favor. two can play at this game.

and so, you exhale—slow and steady from your nose—to eradicate those lingering goosebumps and chills. the unease and uncertainty. then, you step back from sun, putting some much needed distance between the two of you.

he cocks his head slightly at your retreat, but you pay him no mind. instead, you glance around you. behind you, at the closed, wooden doors of the daycare. above you, at the empty pickup section now that the pizzaplex is closed for the night. in front of you, at the cameras scattered about the daycare that you know are deactivated. they always have been. you don't think you would've been brave enough to pull off what you're about to do otherwise.

"obedience, huh?" you eventually say in the steadiest voice you can muster. you return your gaze to his own—heavy on yours. picking apart all your movements and the minor changes in your expressions.

"yep!" he replies, ever in that cheery voice of his. the bells on his wrists jingle slightly with his little sway. "and i must say, friend, you are passing with flying colors!" his voice drops into something low, faintly amused, as he adds "isn't that something."

you offer him a hum. "well, don't let me stop you. in fact"—you clench your jaw and level him with a steely look—"why don't you tell me what to take off first?"

you can see the precise moment when he freezes and have to suppress a vicious smirk. checkmate.

"what?" is the only thing that falls from his voicebox, grin stretching taut as he continues to watch you. gone is the previous forced cheeriness he wears daily.

holding his gaze, you slowly, carefully, slip off your shoes and nudge them to the side. your toes curl against the frigidity of the tiles you're starting to feel through your socks. and then you wait. it does not take long.

"friend," sun's voice is tight, warning, as he grips his hands together in front of his waist. "what. are you. doing?"

"i'm being obedient," you say simply, bending down to slip off your socks as well and toss them to the side. you cannot suppress the shiver that runs down your spine with your socks no longer shielding your skin from the floor.

"you..." sun's gaze snaps from your face, to your footwear, and back to your face again. analyzing, analyzing, analyzing. you take off your jacket next, slipping it down your arms to toss on the ground. tick tick tick, goes the mechanisms of sun's rays. you don't think he's ever even seen you without your jacket before. the pizzaplex always runs cold, after all.

you don't break eye contact him with him for even a second. and as such, you see when his eyes form those pinprick white pupils of his against stormy grey. see when they dart from your face to your hands when they start to work at unbuckling your belt. then at a point behind you—at the wide, open windows of the daycare.

and when your fingers pinch at the zipper of your pants to lower it, he finally makes a move.

it's not something you expect, really. he lunges quickly at you—almost too quick for you to process. there's the click of a latch, the heat of a gaze. and the next thing you know, there's a sturdy arm wrapped firmly around your abdomen as your stomach lurches up and away.

air brushes past your face. your legs dangle above a ground that is suddenly far, far away. then, you're touching down on a wooden floor and rushed past curtains into a small, lit room. the balcony. your brain takes a moment to catch up. sun's does not.

he is much closer than he was before, but he releases you as though burned and takes two large steps away. he has your shoes and clothes gripped in one of his hands that he tosses towards you. they land on the floor in a heap, unwilling as you are to catch them.

sun's eyes are narrow, though his grin is large and strained. yet he does not say anything. only watches you and flexes his fingers at his sides like he's itching to wrap them around something. you observe him for a second, then move your hands back to your pants.

"friend," he warns in a low voice as your hands grip at your waist. you pause, but not for long.

"if you want me to stop," you tell him calmly, "then say so."

his head jerks slightly.

"naughty, naughty," is what he says, growled in a manner similar to moon. but you are still looking at the sun. "you are breaking the rules, friend."

"that's not a 'stop'," you respond. a beat passes. then you slip off your pants and toss them behind you.

it's instant, the way you shiver. sun latches onto the motion, pinprick eyes darting every which way. you give him a moment. he remains silent. and you have to wonder what's racing through that artificial mind of his. it makes something itch, somewhere inside you.

"sun," you say in a quiet voice, half clothed and doing your best not to let the chill get to you. "tell me if you want me to stop."

his eye twitches. and yet he does not say a word. your hands grip at the bottom of your uniform shirt. your palms feel sweaty, hot. sun's glare feels as though it's piercing right through you—unraveling you by each and every fiber. daring you.

if you listen closely, beyond the distant chiming of the daycare's music, you can hear the rapid whir of fans. you wonder if you broke him.

you steel yourself—for the coldness and for your nerves—then pull your shirt over your head to drop next to your feet.

you immediately want to wrap your arms around yourself to conserve some of your warmth. but you force yourself to hold them at your sides, leveling your gaze with sun's. he's not looking anywhere past your face—nowhere past your exposed collar. you have to suppress a smile. your fingers run over the band of your underwear, thoughtful, before you decide to leave it alone.

"sun." your voice is hushed, unwilling to break the thick silence that has settled between the two of you. and in a motion familiar to one done on you not too long ago, you lift up a hand and quirk two of your fingers at him. "come here."

he obeys.

looming over you in that little space constituting his room, sun stares at your face with the intensity of a solar flare. heated and profound. you can feel the warmth emanating from his chassis, hear the fans louder than ever before. you contemplate the minute ticks in his face. then, you reach down to grab his hand and set it on your waist.

there is a fragile sense of curiosity in the way his hand automatically squeezes at your flesh. his palm alone is large, you note, as his fingers flex against you. tight enough almost to hurt. you don't make a sound. you only watch, with bated breaths, as he steadily moves his hand up your side. trails it down your arm to your significantly smaller palm. he doesn't say anything, doesn't need to. you know he's trying to figure out your intentions, your meaning in doing all of this.

it's hot in here. his hand is hot. you're starting to sweat. there is a heat steadily crawling its way into your face.

his hand comes up to rest against the side of your neck, encompassing it entirely with room for his thumb to swipe down your cheek to the corner of your lips. you swallow thickly as it moves to trace down the line of your jugular. it presses slightly into the point between your collarbones. you have to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth.

"like this," he eventually says quietly, his thumb tracing up and down slowly. mapping one of the most vital parts of your body. "you are vulnerable."

"i am," you reply just as quietly. you do your best to ignore the thundering of your heart in your ears. the sudden dryness in your mouth. the way goosebumps suddenly prickle warningly all over your skin. danger danger danger this is dangerous.

there is only you and him.

in this too small room at the back of a too small daycare.

"i don't think you quite understand," sun whispers, wide eyes boring into your own, "what you have just done here today, friend."

and then his grip tightens before he leans down to crush your mouth against his.

[mochiimadness]

Hey! could you do 2012 tmnt how they would react if s/o is a dancer? Sorry for bothering have a good day/night!

Fearless Leader

He is so quiet when watching you dance

You’re not sure what he’s thinking exactly,

Kinda unnerves you at first

So, in the middle of a particularly tricky move, you look over to see him watching you and just ask

“Do you not like dancing or something?”

You’ve never seen him panic so fast

He’s immediately animated, frantically waving his hands in front of him

“No, no, no-! It’s not that, I was just- you’re just- your dancing is so impressive!”

Leo didn’t even realize he had been staring so hard

After years of training and fighting, he sort of just- analyzes movements, studying them.

(Which actually made him decent at dancing but he doesn’t do it often)

He’s absolutely impressed by your dance moves, he got too busy caught up in analyzing, and appreciating how you make each flow, to realize he might’ve been coming off as judgmental

After explaining, you offer to teach him a thing or two

Are there stars in his eyes??? He’s already standing next to you ready to go

Loves to learn moves from you!

Makes the cutest concentrating face- especially on harder moves

(He sticks his tongue out a little, don’t tell him though because he’ll stop!)

You two could spend hours in the dojo just practicing dance moves.

He’ll bring refreshments and snacks!

Offers to teach you ninjitsu or meditate in return <3

Mean Green Fighting Machine

Raph can definitely bust a move

He can also vogue- I don’t make the rules, he just can.

Enjoys watching you dance!

He’ll even challenge you to a dance battle

Doesn’t matter what style of dance you choose,

He’ll do his own thing while throwing in a few moves he’d seen you do.

You find out how well he actually pays attention to your practicing during these dance offs.

Raph is actually decent at mimicking moves he sees others do

Surprisingly good at ballet

And of course,

✨Hip hop✨

Loves having these friendly competitions with you.

…even if he sometimes gets butthurt at losing

Just pull him into a silly little dance and all will be well

No fancy moves, just enjoying the music

“Aw c’mon Raph, you did great!”

“Hmph, still lost >:/“

“C’mere and dance with me already!”

“Alright alright I’m coming!”

Never actually gets angry about losing

Will pout a little though

Loves to see you grin about it <3

Is so incredibly supportive and proud of his s/o!

Donnie-pedia

Donnie dances like a dork /pos

He can either do the robot or some really awkward dance movements

It doesn’t bother him much-

Or at least it didn’t until he met you

Donnie loves watching you dance

You make it look so easy!

Gets a nervous if you ask him to dance-

Literally spends hours watching tutorials trying to learn how to dance better

He wants to be able to dance with you properly!!

Absolutely swoons if you offer to teach him

He picks up a few moves but still is pretty awkward overall

Once you tell him that you don’t mind,

He adores to dance with you

He genuinely enjoys just watching you dance too!

Finds it ✨fascinating✨

Gets you a good bag to store your dance stuff in- like your shoes and clothes

Decorates it with little dance charms and pins

And a purple turtle ofc

He also builds you a small music box with your favorite music!

That way you can listen and dance to it whenever!

"I uh made you this portable music box with your favorite tunes! You can listen to it wherever, whenever- if you want too of course. If not it's totally fine and-"

"Woah! This is great, D, thanks!!"

"Really?? :D"

You can practically see his tail wagging (it is actually)

Dr. Prankenstein

One word-

✨Hyped✨

Is your number one hype turtle

Always excited to see you dance!

Especially if you do any hip-hop/break dancing

If you do, he 100% joins in

Mikey is an awesome break dancer!

You'll always have a good time dancing with him.

If you don't do any hip-hop/break dancing-

He still loves to watch and join in when he can

Very good at following the flow of the beat

Can dabble in pretty much any dance style,

He's the fastest at being able to pick up on new styles/moves

After a few moments of watching you,

He's able to replicate the move you're doing!

Ofc it's not perfect (most of the time anyway)

But it's still pretty impressive.

Loves to just dance with you.

If you preform you better believe he finds a way to watch

Doesn't matter if the place is crowded and it's in the middle of the day,

Mikey always finds a way to come out and support you

(you may or may not have nearly screamed after seeing him pop out of the ceiling rafters but shhh)

If you ever need someone to give you feedback too,

Mikey's your turtle!

"S/o!! I saw your dance today, it was awesome!"

"How did you even-?"

"Oh, I found a crawl space under the floor and propped it open a bit, no biggie :D"

":O"

This, and many others, have been sitting in my ask box for over a year now.

I hope you enjoyed it, I apologize for the wait. Have a good day/night!

[jester089]

Not a peep

Sorry to all my unfinished requests sitting in my inbox. I will do them eventually. But their's so many character type requests and those take the most out of me because I need to really think. So I'm taking an intermission to write what I want to write. TADC Crew x Eerily Silent Reader

Caine

You never talking or making any kind of noise intrigues Caine. He has never met a human that never talks, non the less never makes any noise at all. He will most likely try to get you to say something or set up scenarios where you trip and knock something over. But they never work. You either notice them before hand. Or are able to think fast enough to stop any noise. Once he's over the initial want to disrupt your constant silence he doesn't really think of you differently. You're unique sure but you're still human.

Gangle

You freak Gangle tf out. The fact that you kind of just appear without her knowing. Or you could have been standing near her for minutes her not knowing. It makes her think you're going to do something bad to her like Jax. You never talk, or emote. Your face always unchanging. After enough time of you doing nothing good nor bad to her she starts to get used to you. You still make her uncomfortable but the fact that you haven't done anything makes her not as worried. She still isn't ok with the fact that you kind of just are around her and she doesn't know. But with enough time she will react less strongly to it. It'll never not scare her. But it can be lessened.

Zooble

Zooble appreciates you. You don't do anything to help or hinder her. You don't annoy her or try to talk to her. You are the only person she will willingly let into her room. And she stays true to that. Because when you are with her you don't touch things and don't make noise. You just exist near her. She doesn't like people. But you give her some much needed connection and attachment without pushing her like everyone else. She will secretly try and make you talk, but she never goes as far as a lot of the others. It's most just a "Hey, you feel like getting something to eat?" Just basic questions thinking you might slip up one of these times.

Kinger

Kinger surprisingly doesn't dislike you. You'd think with how jumpy he is with normal people he would really hate your quiet nature but he doesn't. Sure you scare him more often then not but he knows you are never trying to. You just exist in a way that works for you and that leads to everyone getting jump scared every other hour. You seem really mentally stable compared to everyone and not surprisingly are a very good listener. So he enjoys being around you. In moderation. It's hard to keep up conversation without any responses or even reactions from the person you're talking to. It's like talking to a living breathing inanimate object that moves. He's genuinely debating on if you're a robot or not. But your chest rises and falls just like his, you eat, drink, sleep (despite not having to), and move in a very human way.

Ragatha

At first like many others you, freak her out. She feels like you're planning something bad with how you never talk or interact. You just observe. She feels like you're gathering information to better mess with/kill everyone. It makes her sweat and get all stiff when you're so much as in the same room as her. It takes her a whole lot of time to realize you aren't hostile. You aren't really friendly either. You're just there. She appreciates you not being bad. But also you're unnerving to her and everyone else. You know when you scare someone and they "jump"? Well when you just appear next to her she jumps, literally. One time she was already on edge then you appeared next to her, she got a good foot off the ground that time.

Jax

Naturally once meeting you Jax does everything he physically can to make you talk, or react, or make any kind of sound. He always fails no matter how good his "prank" was. It annoys him. One time you got hit in the face with a full paint bucket and you didn't react or cry out in pain. You took the hit straight in the nose then hit the floor. Despite that and your nose being caved in you didn't react in the slightest and you didn't make even the smallest sound. Now he avoids you. He's scared that if he keeps pushing you're going to snap and kill him. And I don't know about you but I wouldn't mess with someone who can take a full paint bucket to the face, get their nose broken and not react at all.

Pomni

You initially freaked out Pomni but she's actually learned to really appreciate you. You still make her slightly uncomfortable but she isn't afraid of you like she used to be. You are an amazing listener, you are surprisingly strong considering how you look, you keep Jax away from her, and you help her look for an exit. Well help is a strong word. You just exist around her and every now and again when she asks for your help with something you do. She really wonders if you are just like that or getting put into the digital realm messed with your head somehow. But she can't worry about that now. Right now she needs to find a way out of here.

(You can kinda tell when I am or am-n't writing for myself. Personal stuff is usually shorter and worse quality. I go above and beyond with requests because I want people to enjoy them. But that does make me get burned out quicker.)

xoxo, Jester

[that---one---kid]

The cold snow

Coriolanus x Reader

AN: Sorry it kinda progressed really fast and I should’ve wrote him getting gradually more obsessive, but I’ll write another like that. Do yall think reader should relate more to teens nowadays though? Should I put her hitting a vuse in the next fic?

Smut, non-con, dub-con, arranged marriage, dark!Coriolanus, baby trapping, mentions of murder, threatening, reference to domestic violence, drugging, loss of virginity

Not once did you feel love for a man. Not once did you plan on getting married. And not once did you ever consider marrying a man from the capital, they were all the epitome of stuck-up, heartless and cruel bastards dressed up to hide it with a thick veil of elegance, but, alas, when did things you wanted ever go your way. You hide a scowl as the man you had heard far too much stood in front of you next to your father. “..and I'm sure she’s looking forward to the dress!” Your father laughed. “I’m quite sure my cousin is just as excited to help with the design.” The snow-haired boy- no, monster, said, turning to face you, his cold blue eyes look unnerving in the dim light of your dining room. You wondered if he had that same look in his eyes as he came up with ways to monetize innocent deaths. You give a forced smile, directed towards your soon-to-be husband. “I can’t wait to see what she comes up with!” Your voice sounds more strained than intended. Your father's hand lands heavy on your shoulder and he gives you a squeeze before speaking. “Coriolanus, it’s been an absolute pleasure as always, but I hate to keep you too late. University I’m sure is tiring enough and you’ll have Y/N to talk your ear off soon enough.” You shift your shoulder and shake his hand off. Your father gives you a look and Coriolanus smiles before taking your hand and raising it to his lips, bowing slightly he kisses your hand softly, the feeling of his lips on your skin makes a chill run up your spine. “Right again Mr. L/N, but I do look forward to having someone else to talk to aside from Gran’mam and Tigris and Y/N is a wonderful conversationalist.” Your father makes his way to the front door alongside Coriolanus while you snake away as they’re too preoccupied with a conversation of politics and wedding arrangements. You quietly make your way upstairs, narrowly missing a maid in your hurry to slip out of your dress and into a bath, washing the filth you felt from that monster touching you off of your skin. You weren’t naive to Coriolanus Snow. Despite a year his junior plenty of people had talked of the tenth games, of Coriolanus’s ideas, and even reminiscing on it made your blood boil even more so the fact that your father would not only condone his actions but praise them. He talked nonstop of Coriolanus’s genius and innovative brain, paired with an influential name is precisely why he was so eager to offer you up as a bride for this up-and-coming president. A soft knock on your bedroom door alerts you. “I’m in the bath!” You yell. Hearing a soft creek, footsteps slowly follow. “Hello?” You yell, a brunette female avox holding a silk robe enters your bathroom. You shift to cover yourself, despite having servants since childhood you never did get used to their lack of speech and dead stare. If your tongue got cut out you wouldn’t have much light in your eyes either, you suppose. “Thanks, just leave it on the counter.” The silent woman robotically moves towards the counter and places it down before leaving, swift footsteps and a quiet door closing signaling it was time for you to get you. Quickly standing and pulling the drain, the cool air on your skin gives you goosebumps. Slipping on the robe, there's another knock on your bedroom door. “Yeah, just one minute…” You pause, trying to recall the avox’s name, but drawing a blank.

Had even you dehumanized these indentured servants so much that you never learned their names? “Y/N?” Your head perks up from the thought. “Uh, you can come in, Mother, I just got out of the bath.” The door closes and you make yourself decent before walking out into your bedroom. Your mother sits at the edge of your bed, her thin frame barely sinking into the plush sheets. Your mother, although barely giving out any more than the bare minimum of maternal comfort, had always been a confidant for you. Rarely speaking unless spoken to, dressed to your father's liking, and eating the rations for a mouse on your father's request, you had always had a soft spot for her. You knew from a young age you wanted nothing to do with men, and never wanted to be trapped in a marriage like your mother was, loveless and cold it was no wonder you were an only child. She motions for you to sit next to her. “Grab your brush and let's talk.” Grabbing your brush off the vanity beside you, you walk over and stiffly sit next to your mother, handing her your brush. She grabs a lock of your hair and begins working her way through the tangles. This goes on for a few minutes before she breaks the silence. “I know you’re not happy about the marriage.” You roll your eyes and let out a huff. “Forgive me for not wanting to marry the malicious Mr. Snow, I know I’m sooo lucky to get a shot with someone who can make such a spectacle of child murder.” The sarcasm that made you bite your tongue around your father was let loose around your mother  She brushes out a knot with more force than she should, making you let out a wince. Sighing she continues on to another section of hair. “No need to be smart.” She puts down the brush and turns you towards her. Her pale, perfectly curated mask of makeup cracks up close. Her tired eyes and creases from many nights of poor sleep cannot be hidden, no matter how much concealer and powders are applied. “I was much more naive than you are when I married your father. I had the stories and the glory days of the capitol, but I was wrong. I know we haven’t set the best example of marriage for you, but please take this away if nothing else.” Your mother looks at you with a stern and pleading gaze. “You need to submit yourself to this fate.” Her voice is desperate and you can only give her a deadpan stare, “I’m not like you, mother, I have no interest in-” A stinging pain floods your senses, your cheek beginning to get hot accompanied by what you're sure is a brilliant red handprint. Your mother composes herself, fumbling with her hands in her lap, a blank stare adorns her tired face. “Unless you want to feel that and much worse from a hand much heavier than mine, I suggest you heed my advice.” Quickly and quietly, your mother stands up and walks to the door while you sit still in a somewhat shocked state from the normally docile woman's slap. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, I don't want you to go through what I did.” And with that she leaves, leaving you to recover and slip into a nightgown before lying in bed, a futile attempt to make sleep come quicker as your head swims through questions, realizations and your inevitable fate of entrapment.

A week comes and goes, you fill your time with work from the academy, struggling to get through dinners and talks with your father about marriage and the upcoming wedding. Your mother, to her credit, uncharacteristically changes the subject from time to time, giving you few and far-between sympathetic glances. You're grateful for that, at least. “I have business to attend to in District Two for a while, your mother and I will be away for at least a week, maybe more.” Your father says in between bites of sirloin. “Will Arthur be coming around?” Arthur was your uncle, a distant relative your father would like to forget, but it was the one fight he lost to your mother, her absolute refusal for him to isolate her completely from her eldest brother was what a majority of their fights were about in your childhood. Despite that, Arthur always made things more lively, less constrictive, and was the rare times you saw your father intimidated. Your father pauses before speaking again. “He is not, I see it fitting that Coriolanus comes and stays with you while we are away. He will escort you to school and come with his driver to pick you up after his university classes.” You clench your fork, and anger and something akin to nervousness twists in your stomach. Steadying your mind before speaking, you look to your mother who sips her wine, refusing to look at you. “Does that not seem improper, Father. I mean we aren’t to be wed for two more months. What image would that look like?” You try finding any loop, using the family image as leverage wasn’t ideal, but it was a last-ditch effort. “Since when have you cared about your public image? It sets a strong front up for the two of you. I want you to be seen with him as a young respectful woman from a strong house, someone the people can see as the first lady of Panem and I trust you will do as told.” There’s emphasis at the end of his words, more like a threat. Your mother clears her throat before excusing herself to the restroom. The rest of the dinner was sat in tense silence.

A knock at the door causes you to shoot your head up from your book in the living room.  Your parents had left early in the morning and it was now early afternoon, you tried easing the building nerves in your stomach by reading non-stop since before the sun was up, with time put aside to make sure your hair and makeup were perfect because despite hating you fiance and dreading his arrival, some small part of you still wanted to be desired by him.  You set down your book before whispering yelling at the avox passing by. You could see a small glimpse of Coriolanus waiting at the door from the window, but the tree would make it hard for him to see you. As childish as it sounded you asked the avox to wait until she heard your bedroom door from upstairs to close before letting coriolanus in. Like a child caught sneaking down stairs to get a glimpse of Santa, you ran quickly and quietly upstairs, praying silently that Coriolanus didn’t look through the windows next to the door only to see you scampering upstairs to hide in your bedroom. As quickly as you could you make it to your bedroom and slam the door just loud enough so that it could be heard downstairs. From there you crawl into your bed and under the covers of your bed, but instead of hiding from the monsters under the bed like when you were a child, you’re hiding from the monster downstairs, the one who comes to strip you of what little freedom you had left. Hearing the stairs creak makes the dull anxiety turn into panic as the creaking disappears, meaning they’ve now made it to the second floor, meaning they, who you were hoping weren't Coriolanus, were most likely heading for your door. Thinking quickly, you feign sleep, hoping that the oldest trick in the book will work on whoever came to disturb you.  A knock on the door makes you flinch, but still you lay as silently as possible, trying to control and calm your breathing. The door knob turns and the door is pushed open ever so slightly. A heavy footstep echoes through your quiet room followed by a closing door.

Glass against glass is heard before being placed by your bedside followed by a weight on the bed and hot breath tickling your ear. “Sleeping at noon? Come on now, Y/N, I’m not an idiot.” Coriolanus’s voice comes out smooth like honey, but cold like the harsh whip of winter air when you first step outside. You turn over, bleary eyed and fake yawning. “What are you doing in my bedroom uninvited?” Your voice is meant to be accusatory and confident but comes out meek and wavering. Coriolanus backs up, his perfectly slicked back hair doesn't falter even when he brushes it back, a smirk that spells nothing but no-good unnerves you. “I’m your fiance, I think we’re past courting formalities, Y/N, plus, I’ve brought you tea.” Smiling Coriolanus gestures to the white porcelain cup. “Thank you, Coriol-” “Call me Corio, please, the formalities and all are far behind us.” You smile, picking up the tea cup and taking a sip out of it to try and fill the awkward silence that weighs heavy in the room. The bitter taste catches you off guard, scowling as you take another sip, trying to gauge what kind of tea it is. “Corio, what is this, it's such a..strange flavor?” Smiling Corio pushes the cup up to your lips again. “It gets better with taste, and old recipe Grand’mam taught me.” Downing it as fast as possible as to not offend his Grna’mam’s tea you feel yourself get light headed as the world gets blurry. “Corio, what is this..” You trail off, your words are slurred and speaking feels like a chore. Your senses are so numbed that you don’t think twice when Corio gently pushes you back against the feather pillows. “Don’t you think it’s funny that we are engaged and haven't so much as kissed yet?”

 Even through your haze you can see the way the blonde is looking at you. His eyes are hungry, like a predator eyeing up its prey. “I’ve been thinking about you like this for a long time, Y/N, by my side, taming you and your defiance.” Coriolanus slips off his shoes and begins unbuttoning his shirt as he climbs on top of you. “I’ve been eyeing you up for awhile, Y/N, before the arrangements, at the academy, the way you look in your uniform, the way you think outside of the box..” Slowly he begins shedding his shirt, his hands snaking their way up your thigh, hiking up your skirt. “And I see the way the other men in the capital look at you, young, beautiful, rich, pure as snow…you’re a very desirable girl.” He’s made his way to the top of your skirt, slowly pulling it down, leaving you in your top and lacey panties. Now shirtless, Coriolanus begins working at undoing his own pants, leaving him in nothing but boxers on top of you. You try moving your legs but they give up after a few tries. It takes all of your energy to fight to stay awake,your heads not spinning anymore, but even if you could move, Coriolanus would easily overpower you. “S-stop.” You muster out weakly, trying and failing to push him off you, your weak arms are pinned to your side quickly by his own. “I don’t like the thought of another man but your husband taking you, and I intend to fulfill my role as your husband before you retaliate.”

Using one hand, Coriolanus unbuttons your shirt, button by button you feel your cheeks heat up and a growing arousal in your panties throws you off. You had never been touched like this by anyone other than your own hands in the dead of night before. Coriolanus swears under his breath as he exposes the rest of you, eyes wandering back down to your panties. “I’ve known about you far longer than you have of me, Y/N. I’m ready to have a loving marriage w​​ith you, but you just need to accept me.” He trails off as he unclasps your bra, rambling more about how he couldn’t wait and all the long dinners with you were driving him mad. Now fully exposed and more out of it than ever you feel his hands cup your breast. His erection pressing hard against your stomach as he leans down for a desperate kiss. He’s rough, trying to take in as much of you as possible.. Panting, his hot breaths send shivers down your spine, you feel your own wetness as you feebly rub your thighs together, weakly and with as much force as you can you push on his shoulders so he is sitting up straddling you. You tell yourself it’s to get him off of you, but in reality if so he’ll give attention to the rest of your body and not just your now abused lips. Coriolanus has the eyes of a madman as he quickly sheds his boxers and pulls down your panties. Using his thumb to tease your clit, you jolt slightly. Feeling foreign hands on you was a strange yet pleasurable experience. “Corio..” your soft moan of his name made him all the more possessive of you. He wanted to only ever hear you say his name in such a way, and he wanted to hear more of it. Taking out his hard cock, he lined it up with your entrance.  Coriolanus leaned back down, kissing you much more softly as he pushed into your virgin cunt. You moan into the kiss as you feel his cock pushing into you. “God, you’re so tight, you were made for me.” He moaned, head spinning Coriolanus wasn’t sure when, but he was holding your hips down as he fucked you, the way your breast bounced and your hair fell in your face as you moaned his name in breathy gasps made his head spin. “Corio-ah, fuck, Coriolanus..” Your meek voice just made him want to fuck you harder, to draw out more symphonies of his name, to make it known to not just you, but the world that you were Y/N Snow, and nobody except him could take you this way.  In between moaning your assailant's name and begging for more, you had a few moments of clarity, where you knew this was wrong but your body betrayed you. Moving on instinct you lift your legs towards your chest, begging to take the blondes’ cock deeper into you. In Coriolanus’s mind, you were begging for him to make you his, for him to not just claim you in name, but claim a life, a life that both of you created. Slamming your hips against his own Corio could feel himself coming undone, letting out breathy moans of your name you felt his hot cum spilling inside of you, begging for your own release which soon followed. Coriolanus fell on top of you, feebly keeping himself stable above you before rolling over to look at you. Rosy cheeks and a thin sheen of sweat cover you as your hair curls and frames your face in an almost angelic way. You were exhausted, trying to think but coming up blank, the drug affect starting to weigh on you, you allow yourself to block out the blonde lying next to you and let your heavy eyes close, drifting off to an inviting deep sleep while Corio stares at you, content with himself and that you’ll never be able to leave him now, especially with the child he and you would have, tying you to him forever.

[soulgazingwithbucky]

First of all i LOOOOVEEE ur stories,

Can i ask a Bucky x Reader Fluff. (You can add some smut if you want to)

Where the reader has this stutter thats shes really insecure about and Bucky just adores it and that he comforts her when shes tearing up because she cant talk normally without a stutter.

Thank you girll xx

hi my love, thank you so much for your kind words!! and thanks even more for your patience - this is my first official request and i wanted to make sure i did right by you!!

pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

warnings: smut!!! minors DNI, oral (f receiving), writer's first time writing smut lmfao, Bucky's your ex (at first), reader has a stutter but writer does not so feedback is welcome

word count: 2k

“She’s where?”

Natasha bites into an apple. Her elbows rest against the granite countertop as she watches Bucky through her lashes. He’s staring at her incredulously, waiting for her to clarify. She bides her time, chewing and savoring the fruit. The lackadaisical way Nat sways on her heels ignites Bucky’s rage. It takes every ounce of willpower to not grab the apple and pitch it to the wall.

“On a date,” Nat says dismissively, rotating the apple in her hand, trying to find the next perfect bite. She waits patiently for whatever emotion is bubbling beyond the cold stare to reach the surface.

“She didn’t tell me that,” Bucky says bitterly.

She cocks an eyebrow.

“She’s supposed to tell her ex when she’s going out?”

Bucky huffs. He hates the title.

“Because we all live in the same building. Could be a safety thing,” he grumbles, though they both know he’s full of shit.

The elevator dings, drawing the two operatives’ attention. You step out, clutch held tightly in your hand.

“Tell her yourself then,” Nat tells Bucky, pushing herself off of the counter. She passes you, squeezing your forearm. “Talk later?”

You can only respond with a nod as you approach the kitchen, slamming your bag onto the countertop.

“Hi,” Bucky greets gingerly, unsure if you’re aware of his presence. You turn to him briefly, a scowl still adorning your face.

“H-Hi,” you respond before turning to glare at your fingers. The rings glint in the overhead lighting, an ornate reminder that you actually got dressed up for some asshole. You practically rip the jewelry off of you.

“Wanna tell me about it?” he says, watching the rings clatter onto the granite.

You look at him in disbelief. He was the last person you would want to tell about a failed date. But your discontentment is begging to pour out, bubbling inside you like magma in a volcano. You take a deep breath.

“I w-w-w-went on a–”

You feel your emotions impacting your speech, and you stop yourself. You take a deep breath, trying to regain your composure, and start again.

“I w-went on a d-d-d–FUCK!”

You grab the closest thing to you–a knife block set–and throw it against the wall. The impact echoes through the tower kitchen, sending blades flying in all directions. As the empty block hits the floor, you slide down against the side of the countertop. Angry tears are filling your eyes, but you stare unblinking, refusing to let them fall.

Bucky says nothing as he swiftly collects the mess you've made before moving beside you. He slides down onto the floor, his even gaze on you. Your knees are to your chest, and you have a handful of your dress gripped in your fist. Your breathing is the only sound in the room, heavy and uneven with the effort of keeping your tears inside.

Even completely silent, Bucky is still one of the most comforting people you have ever met. His stoic gaze and quiet stares can be interpreted as robotic, intimidating, unnerving; to you, it has always felt calming, unjudging, a serene haven in a world that was often too loud.

And he was definitely a much better presence than the asswipe you just spent the past couple hours with.

“I didn’t know you had a–” your date gestures at his mouth with his fork “–thing. You know, my cousin stuttered, like, her whole life. It was so fucking annoying.”

He chuckles, then continues, “Not you, though. But she went to therapy and, swear, hasn’t stuttered since. It’s crazy. But, like, you know, it’s cool for you.”

You shoot him a smile too sweet to be genuine.

“Thanks. M-Means a lot.”

“W-What if,” you tell Bucky, “I don’t want to get r-rid of it? What i-if I like it? DId he e-ever think about t-th-that?”

“I don’t think he did, love,” he tells you softly.

But you hang your head, your face obscured for a moment. When you look back up, resting your chin on your knees, your tears flow freely. Bucky wants nothing more than to pull you to his chest, to wrap his arms around you, to comfort you, but he can’t. Not anymore.

“I h-h-hate this fucking st-stutter, Bucky,” you admit through gritted teeth.

“Hey,” he says, as if he should be offended for you. “Don’t say that.” He presses his palms on the ground, pushing himself forward, planting himself in front of you.

“But I d-d-d–” You get caught repeating the sound, and you press your lips together, your nostrils flaring.

“B-But I d-do,” you complete scornfully. “I d-didn’t even want to g-go on this d-d-date. I kn-knew this would h-happen. I-I knew I would g-get judged. It always happens.”

Not with me, Bucky thinks. He can’t help himself now, and he reaches out, pressing his hands on the sides of your head. The gesture surprises you, and you look up at him with wide eyes.

“Every part of you is absolutely incredible, you know that?”

Under Bucky’s earnest gaze, you feel the heat flooding your face. He brushes away a piece of your hair before pulling away.

“You’re one of the most skilled agents to walk through this door,” he begins. You shake your head.

“No, really,” he insists, pointing his thumb behind him. “I’ll tell Steve right now.”

You shake your head again, this time with a laugh, as you wipe your tears with your fingers.

“But despite being an absolute force in the field, you’re still the kindest person I know.”

You huff in disbelief. You can’t help yourself:

“Yeah, k-kind enough to still be t-talking to my ex."

This time, it’s Bucky who hangs his head. His nonsensical babble of excuses comes back to him: You both seemed too busy. He wanted to work on himself. This was more of a break than a break-up, really, if you think about it. Oh, and don’t forget: it’s not you, it’s him.

Now is as good a time as ever to tell you the truth: “You were too good for me. You are too good for me.”

He earns another laugh from you, but this time it’s devoid of any mirth.

“Yeah. Okay, B-Bucky.”

“No, angel, I’m serious,” he says, shifting closer to you. You cock your head as he doubles down.

“R-Really?” you say dryly. “T-The new girl with t-the fucking s-sp-speech impediment is too good for Bucky B-Barnes.”

He scoots himself even closer to you, his legs now on either side of yours. Your arms are drooped across your knees, and the bottom part of your face is obscured behind your forearms. He drops his head to meet your eyes.

“Yes,” he confirms, “the new girl with a heart full of gold, talents that blew us out of the water, and a speech impediment is too good for this idiot.

“I realize it now, doll. And I can’t believe I was too fucking dense to see it before. You’re too good for me, and I won’t argue about that. But I fuckin’ let you go, instead of staying by your side, making myself better for you. I’m stupid, doll, so stupid, you mean the world to me–”

You swallow Bucky’s words with a kiss, your hands moving to caress his face. He practically melts under your touch, and you feel his body shift with your lips on his. He’s leaning, leaning, leaning, desperate to be as close to you as possible, but the countertop against your back is proving it to be an impossible feat. He pulls away for a second, smiling as you whine at the separation, and hooks his hands under your thighs, lifting you onto the granite. He chuckles at the way you yelp and wrap your hands around his neck, yet he wastes no time capturing your lips in his again.

Your hands move from his neck into his hair, giving his brunette locks a slight tug. He stifles a groan, his ears perking at a noise down the hallway. He brings your hands to his lips for a kiss before he steps away, listening intently.

“It’s t-twelve, Barnes,” you say. “S-Sam’s going to be c-c-coming out soon for his–”

“–midnight snack,” he finishes with a huff. He gathers your bag and your rings, offering a hand as you hop off of the counter. “C’mon, love. You must be tired, anyway.”

You wrap your hand around his arm as he leads you to the elevator. He presses the button to your floor.

“Everyone else says I don’t say a word,” he teases, “yet you won’t even let me finish a sentence.”

You let out an embarrassed chuckle, thinking of how you punctuated the middle of Bucky’s rant with a kiss.

“I-I just knew th-that you meant it, Bucky,” you say. “I-I know you.”

As you watch the floor numbers change above the elevator doors, Bucky keeps his half-lidded gaze on you.

“I know you do.”

In the comforts of your room, Bucky kneels in front of you to ease your shoes off of your feet. You release a relieved sigh. He steps behind you, and you feel his warm breath on your skin before he leaves slow kisses along your neck. He moves the strap of your dress before continuing his trail of kisses along your shoulder.

“B-Bucky…”

His fingers ghost over your other shoulder before gently slipping the other strap off. Your dress falls to the ground. You tilt your head back with a sigh as large hands run over your bare stomach and breasts. Your relaxed breaths turn into a sharp inhale as his fingers find your nipple, giving it a slight pinch.

“Let me take care of you, doll,” he mutters. You turn to face him, slotting your lips against his. He walks forward until you feel the bedframe behind your knees. You yelp, but his hands find your head and your back, lowering you until you feel the plush mattress underneath you. Bucky plants a kiss on your lips before moving to your neck and decolletage. His mouth takes it time on both of your breasts, swirling slow circles on your nipples, before kissing down your stomach.

Bucky murmurs a swear under his breath as he removes your underwear. He runs his thumb along your folds, nearly hypnotized by the arousal he now spreads to your clit. He listens to your soft whimpers as he draws agonizing circles.

He meant to take his time, but he can’t help himself. He missed you so damn much, and he’s more than eager to prove it. He moves his hand to his hardening cock, pumping as he licks a stripe along your folds.

Can’t waste a single drop.

His cock twitches in his hand at your gasp. You sound so needy, all for him. His mouth envelops your pearl, sucking and licking like he’ll never be satiated.

“Oh–f-fuck–Bu-Bucky.”

You lift your head to peer at Bucky, your hands moving to his hair. He releases you with a pop, meeting your eyes through the darkness.

“I’ve missed you, doll,” he murmurs, savoring your taste on his tongue.

“I m-missed–shit!”

Bucky has pushed a finger into you, curling and pressing against your g-spot. Your head falls back onto the mattress, your back arching as his mouth returns to your clit. He groans as your hands on his head push him closer. He adds another finger, quickening his pace. He feels you clenching around his fingers.

That’s it, doll.

He looks up at you, your head thrown back in pure pleasure, your breasts rising and falling with your erratic breaths.

“B-Buck, you’re–you’re gonna–”

A flurry of swears fill the air as you release. Bucky groans at the feeling of you coming around his fingers. Your fingers loosen around his locks, and he rests his head lazily on your thigh, pumping his fingers slowly as your orgasm subsides.

He brings his fingers to his mouth as he rises. He smiles as you watch him hazily.

He rests beside you, eyes closed, expecting you to nuzzle yourself into his chest like you always did. Instead, he opens an eye at the feeling of your fingers hooking into his waistband. His hands move to your hips as you shift on top of him.

“I’m n-not done with y-you, Barnes.”

[pain-in-the-butler]

Out of curiosity…if Ono is your third fav Seb. What’s your Offical Sebastian Ranking™️?

Just as with the ask about the Anime Expo panel, it's fortunate for me that someone reached out, because I was thinking of making this a post on my own eventually someday anyway. What follows might be more information on my opinions of Sebastian than you care to have, so apologies in advance. Let's count down from worst to best:

6. Hiro Mizushima from Black Butler (2014)

There's a reason no one talks about this movie. It's because it sucks, and somehow I feel I can't really blame Mizushima for his performance, but... it is still a mixture of weird and unmemorable. That hairstyle does him no favors either, but maybe the fact that I find him a little bit frightening to look at should give him points rather than detract them. Off-screen, he looks like a completely normal man; somehow the film's efforts to make him a sexy butler were unfortunately funneled into making him unnerving and unappealing. And the movie is two entire hours long.

There's a lot I've deleted from my memory about the Black Butler live action film, but that lack of memory seems a sign that he should sit in dead last. Whether he's acting like a total weirdo or actually successfully impressing me, Sebastian should never be a forgettable character, and all I can think when I consider Mizushima's performance is that I never need to see it again.

5. Yuya Matsushita from That Butler, Friendship, The Most Beautiful DEATH in the World, and the first run of Lycoris that Blazes the Earth

I know some people may find this placement to be blasphemous, but honestly, the only thing I really like about Yuya's Sebastian is his singing voice, and even then I'm not that wild about it. It's been a few years since I watched TMBDITW, so it's not super crisp in my mind, but I will give him some recognition as an early Sebastian who still had little material to work with. He probably had to do some of his own legwork to adapt the character to the stage and to the original stories he was expected to act in. That can't be easy, and it makes sense that his Sebastian would be one that had to stand somewhat independent from the canon. I also appreciate that he is playing Sebastian with purpose behind his actions and not a sexyman who just serves whatever convenient purpose the narrative dictates, like Mizushima's Seb.

With that caveat out of the way, I still don't like his Sebastian portrayal. It's clear Yuya really drummed up the "I'm no one but I can become anyone" aspect of Sebastian. He can invent personas that suit the situation, like when he decides to seduce Undertaker, but as soon as the problem is solved, he reverts back to being robotic and unsmiling. You get the feeling that he's rather cold and calculating and that he is only interested in doing things that will earn him Ciel's soul. I didn't watch with subtitles, so perhaps that evaluation is misplaced, but his mannerisms dictated that energy to me.

Also, I can't get behind the sort of sexual and romantic tones that sometimes felt present, especially when real children were involved. It will always taint his work for me. There's one song where he and Ciel look at each other the entire time and it's three and a half minutes long but it felt like a year. I wanted to crawl out of my skin because it was so horrifically awkward. Stick this man in fifth.

4. Toshiki Tateishi from The Public School's Secret

So I went into this musical fully prepared to hate Toshiki's performance, considering the act he was following, and... I thought it was actually pretty decent. When I think of Sebastian in the Weston arc, I think of the "sexy professor" angle Yana kept trying to push, and I was worried Toshiki would play into that, especially considering Ciel was being portrayed by a legal adult onstage for the first time. I was pleasantly surprised! That's not what happened at all.

Though likely unintended, I would say Toshiki gives off a rather maternal vibe, behaving more like Seb does in memes: kind of silly, kind of fussy, an overworked single mother who cares for her boy. Toshiki's Sebastian was very attentive of Ciel. He was frequently pleased with his kid's impish nature and didn't seem that annoyed to be taking on extra tasks, only complaining lightly, "Even though I have things to do too!" at the end of the chores song. When Ciel came up with a plan to foil Maurice, Toshiki seemed excited to praise him and gratified to help. He was like Sebastian Lite, only a bit insidious at times, mainly the ever-attentive helper.

To me, it's the first time one of the musicals has made Sebastian feel like a supporting character rather than the driving force behind the story. I prefer when he and Ciel are both treated evenly as protagonists, but I hate it when it's All About Him. I think Toshiki's performance has a good heart and he made me laugh at times. He's not quite canon Sebastian, but I like him. I trust him not to eat the sonboy just yet. Mostly.

3. Daisuke Ono from the Japanese dub of the anime

Daisuke Ono was a part of my first experience with Black Butler, so there's something about his voice that feels like it's just right for Sebastian. And it kind of is. It's a really flexible voice, and one that is clearly giving a performance when you listen to him. He also infuses his dialogue with what sounds to me like inherent smugness, which I think suits Sebastian perfectly. Ono's performance is the most self-satisfied in nature. It makes you think of a well-fed cat licking its chops while it considers its next meal.

His voice is not sexy to me, but I can see why people find it to be. At the same time, Ono isn't afraid to give Sebastian different inflections, even ones that some might consider too embarrassing or OOC for Seb. He's a veteran voice actor and he knows how to do whatever is requested of him. Sebastian treats his career just the same: he too will do essentially whatever Ciel requires. I think Ono is a natural match is what I'm saying, especially having now seen him in person and observing the way he works a crowd so effortlessly.

All that said... Ono's Sebastian is perfect. I don't mean that as a compliment: I mean he's too lacking in flaws. Sure, he has the big flaw (okay with killing a child) but he isn't really giving "silly idiot." Ono's Sebastian is the one the girlies write about in their self-insert fiction. And for the first two seasons, that's kind of who he was supposed to be, so fine. But even when he has silly or idiotic moments, it doesn't feel quite authentic, if that makes sense? I think to Ono, Sebastian's stupid mistakes are just a fluke, quickly corrected. It doesn't feel like they're a fundamental part of who his Sebastian is.

If you consider this nitpicking, you're right! The next two Sebastians are just that good. I still consider Daisuke Ono to be a very talented and accurately-portrayed Sebastian.

2. J. Michael Tatum from the English dub of the anime

While it's possible that I pick up on more nuance in Tatum's performance because he's the only one here who speaks the same language as me, how fortunate we are to have him doing Seb's English voice. He might not actually have a real British accent, but he's just too charming not to love. To me, he has all the vocal command of Ono but is more candid in his delivery. Ono may be Sebastian the perfectionist and Sebastian the performer, but Tatum is Sebastian the butler, well settled and confident in his human role.

I really appreciate the ways you can hear Tatum's voice change notably depending on Sebastian's emotions. This is especially prominent in Book of Atlantic during the flashback sequences: an annoyed Sebastian is an entirely different sounding dude than when he's being cunning, and again when he's being subservient. And he really does have this very silky, ASMR-ass way of speaking that suits Sebastian to a T. It's inherently convincing.

And more to my own interests, Tatum's voice for Sebastian has a really paternal nature to it, and I like that. I think it adds to the complexity of Sebastian's role in Ciel's life when you can hear this caring quality in the voice of a demon that will one day kill the child he works for. He can also be snipped and punctual, and then he can be gentle and reassuring, all in the same scene. And he can be scary too... and I'm super looking forward to hearing how this plays out during season 5.

To compare him to Ono again, I think Tatum knows Sebastian can be an idiot at times, but that quality still takes a backseat to the suaveness. He's almost perfect. And I probably would even say he is perfect, if we hadn't seen perfection itself. As he is, I think Tatum is an excellent voice actor for Sebastian, and I'm grateful that we have him in the position that we do.

1. Yuta Furukawa from the second run of Lycoris that Blazes the Earth, Noah's Ark Circus, and Tango on the Campania

Yuta Furukawa. What a legend. What an icon. This is where I would say "he isn't just playing Sebastian, he is Sebastian," but Furukawa is even more than that. He's what Sebastian should be. And that's not just me being rude to Yana. Yana has flat-out said that Yuta knows Sebastian better than she does herself. She's right.

If you have yet to see Yuta perform, then congratulations: you're in for a treat. What I wouldn't give to forget my first watch of Tango on the Campania and relive that magic all over again. Yuta knows who Sebastian is with every fiber of his being. And the fact that you see him over the course of three plays means you get to witness for yourself how his Sebastian goes from being a smirking demon who lives to impress, to a creature who understands fear, hardship, and pain. And yet you still wonder: is he really learning and growing after all? Or am I too being tricked by this suave being who appears to be emotionally moved?

I'm also proud to report that Yuta plays Sebastian as a true idiot. He says silly things, he behaves in silly ways! He's embarrassing enough to make Ciel roll his eyes, he uses his brawn before his brain, and he's often surprised enough to gasp. He's not afraid to look impressed or astounded or even frightened: he wears his emotions on his sleeves, but he can hide them just as quickly. This Sebastian lives for attention from humans, but what he loves even more is learning from them — perhaps so he can become a better hunter, perhaps so he can become a better scholar. He leaves you wondering which in the most intriguing way.

And I may be biased, but Yuta to me is the most paternal of all the Sebastians. Whether or not a fatherly nature is intended, I'm at least happy to report that his Sebastian is not one romantically inclined towards Ciel. His coworker is an actual child, so there's no reason that should be an acceptable angle anyway, but it really shows in all the little ways he primps at and supports Ciel on-stage. His rapport with Reo is especially adorable and shines through in their every scene.

Not to mention, he's so endlessly entertaining to watch. He has legs for days and he can fuckin groove. He may be playing a demon but he has the voice of an angel. If I called him to my house, he'd probably fix my leaky shower. What can't this gift of a man do??

I could literally go on and on and on for paragraphs. Yana is just the same. We all love Yuta Furukawa, the only Sebastian who is more Sebastian than Sebastian and probably the best thing, in my humble opinion, to come out of the Kuroshitsuji franchise. Thank you, based Yunbastian. We did nothing to deserve you.

[whynotjohnlock]

Doctor x ADHD reader

^ My mental state at any given time when anyone asks about what happened yesterday.

Warnings: fluff, It might be a tad long, Grammar mistakes, you may feel slightly offended if you're a nerotipical person, the author wrote this because they didn't want to sleep and needed comfort.

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

You'd forgotten something again. Was it about your job? Your family? Your friends you hadn't kept up with because you had misremembered the dates for? That one hyper fixation that you had today?

Nothing matched. Your brain was screaming at you for the time you wasted rethinking about what you had forgotten; but nothing came to mind.

A normal day then.

Then, as a distraction from your thoghts a high tech laser blaster thing punched through a brick wall and you started running for your life. Again.

There were alien pepper shaker robots with plungers. Why where they just repeating themselves over and over? Was that just how they spoke, or was there more to it? Was it nessasary to the way they shot lasers?

"Exterminate! Exterminate!" A laser jolted and swished right next to you.

"Right, I have to run."

And run.

And run.

And run. Except, now you had to not crash onto the person-

To late.

"Oh, hello humans! Is this your way of saying hello? Did I miss a decade?"

You reluctanly graped the strange man's hand. You were not fazed by the oddness in the queston; your thoghts were stranger. "I don't think so. It's just the fact that there are alien pepper shakers with plungers after us."

The man's face darkened, his youthful peesona flown out the window. "Where?"

You knew that the police would be of no help and the sadness in this man's eyes seemed to be familiar. "Can you help us if I tell you?"

"Short answer: Most likely."

"Now witch way?"

The question prompted eternal panic. Witch way was left? You couldn't remember. Were you facing north or south? You couldn't just point in a direction, because you had run in a extremely non-linear way.

Words had never been an accurate source of communication for you. Why were you this way? Well, you knew why; you had been diagnosed with ADHD, but that didn't answer your question. Why did you always forget the things you wanted to remember most? The strange man looked rather inpatient at your mental sputtering. You had to do something! So, you did the only thing you could think of at the time. Quickly you grabbed his outstretched hand and ran, guiding him though the chaotic path you had taken.

Your mind had not managed to retain much running for your life, but your feet did.

 ...Pass the blue house. 

...Turning 90 degrees at the broken stop sign. 

...Jaywalking around the stopped cars in the street.

...Turning again after the nameless black dog.

...Though a corporate building.

…And to the familiar building with the tin tanks.

your hand still fully clasped with this stranger you had just met, you spoke in between panting and gasping for air. "This is it. These are the alien metal tank creatures."

As if on cue, the screams not even across the blook started up again and an army of daleks (Not that you knew what they were called at the time) turned into view.

The madman lurched forward in outrage much like a predator looming in on their prey. He was unnerving. "Alright listen up! I am the Doctor, and you are the daleks! You have no right to this world, and It’s protected by none other than me. And you have made a grave mistake messing with me when I don’t have a companion, or anyone to holding me back. Leave before I run out of mercy."

"THE DOCTOR IS UNARMED. WE WILL DO NO SUCH THING."

EXTERMINATE!

A laser shot from the thingy that would have hit the silly man instead wiped by him as I pulled him into a run again.

Hiding behind a dumpster in an abandoned alley the Doctor fiddled around with a metal glowy stick and welded something together from his pockets quickly. "What are you doing?"

"No time to explain, get me some sort of electrical circuit board!"

"Will my phone work?"

Wordlessly the Doctor takes my phone, prys it from it's cashing, snaps it in half, and conects it to a very peculiar looking device.

EXTERMINATE!

The Daleks find us again but this time we don't run. The Doctor chucks the machine at the invasion party they aim towards us ready to end us.

EXTER-

The Doctor aims his tech stick toward the sky causing his device to activate. The result is instantaneous. Every dalek that was in front of us and firing ends up blowing up in several malformed chunks.

More daleks screech out words as they approach us. "EXPLAIN! EXPLAIN!"

"Ha! I've rerouted the your primary weapon to your self-distruct sequence by changing the commands signals! The doctor is never helpless unarmed, you lot should know that by now."

"RETREAT! RETREAT!"

The Daleks start to be enveloped by an otherworldly white glow and disappear all at once.

The mad man seems to return to an upbeat face and seems to slip his mask back on seamlessly as if the darkness never touched his eyes. He looked again to be a harmless Nerodiverrgent, clumsy and meek as if he hadn't just felled a armada of aliens ready to destroy the earth. he muttered under his breath about inter-galactic law, blissfully unaware of all the odd looks his direction who believed him insane.

It reminded you of the mask you had to put up for all the "Normal" people in your life. How many times had you stopped being every thing you were just for a brief connection?

"Hello, I think introductions are in order! what did you say your name was?"

You plunged back into the real world from your thoghts. "Y/N."

"Well, Y/N, you seem awfully calm considering your planet was just invaded."

"I could say the same thing about you. Also how did you do all that? Are you even human?"

"I'm the Doctor." The man enthusiasticly spoke as if that explained the anomalys of the day.

"Is the your last name or did you just have mean parents that named you Doctor?"

"I'm not human, and it's common for my species to have titles we choose for names."

"Right. I suppose another alien species isn't the weirdest thing that's happened today."

The Doctor broke out into a brilliant little grin. And reached into his coat pocket to grab a little black wallet thing. "Hold on I want to see if I'm right real quick. What's on this paper?"

"Um, It's blank?" I don't think I was catching whatever the silly man wanted me to see.

"You are clever! I knew it! And I do need a companion after...." The Doctor pauses in sorrow and pain.

"Y/N, how would you like to come with me?"

"Um, do you travel or something?"

"Oh, I forgot to mention it, haven't I? I go to lots and lots of different places and meet all sorts of aliens all the time. I hope you know most of them aren't like the Daleks. Millions of planets and galaxys and pulsars and planets up in the sky, one day I'll see them all."

It took a while to comprehend what silly man had just said. You adored the stars. And now this man you'd just met had really just asked you to go with him to see and go to places humans wouldn't go for maybe billions of years!? To boldy go were no one has gone before? (I'm an unapologetically ing references and I'm not sorry.) Was this heaven? Had you died in the Dalek attack?

"That sounds utterly fantastic! You're sure you want someone like me?"

"What are you talking about? You just saved my life and were fearless in the face of a world ending threat. If course I want someone like you."

"I just, usually people don't like the way I think."

The Doctor almost seemed offended. "Do I look like a usual person?"

"Good point."

I looked down in slight embarrassment for bringing it up.

"Hey look at me." The Doctor softly grabbed my shoulder and I tilted my face up to meet his sincere eyes.

"You know what I've found in my nine hundred years of life? I found out the people who get called Quiet or shy have the most interesting thoughts. I found out that the loneliest people end up being the kindest, that the people with disabilities have so much more grit and determination than the people that don't, that the people called slow are the most brilliant when they're done analyzing. that the so called freaks and weirdos of the world are twice as clever and twice as kind."

"Do you know why?" I was near tears and shook my head.

"Because people like you and me have to work twice as hard only to get half as far. We have strength, far beyond that the average eye can see because we're trying to make up for faults by working twice as hard. Our struggles make us more resilient, more creative, and better people. We take it apon ourselves to attempt to appear normal in an attempt to make connections, when in really they should be the ones understanding us."

"You humans are so silly we it comes to different ways of thinking. On gallifrey, you'd be celebrated, not punished for what you call a quote 'disorder'."

I hugged him. I hugged him harder and tighter than any stranger I'd ever hugged before.

Tears. Happy tears flew down my cheek. I loved this stranger, not for his looks or wacky demeanor.

But because there is that silly man's arms I knew again what it felt like to be understood.

We were standing in a world of unknowns, at top a street that had just been invaded but I knew one thing:

"I want to travel with you, Doctor."

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

A/N: I'm sorry if you personally don't feel represented in the way I wrote (Y/N) having ADHD and ADD, but I want you to know that I'm only trying to share my experiences as I myself have been diagnosed. I don't want to shame anyone that shares my experiences; just bring them into the light.

[misscammiedawn]

Mr. Robot and Accepting Trauma Memories

In all my posts about how good Mr. Robot can be about depicting healing for those with DID, I never did highlight the last conversation Elliot has with his therapist in Season 4.

[Scene paraphrased, skipping comments about Elliot's father or the itch in the back of Elliot's head]

Upon his trauma memories returning Elliot is dissociated and barely holding it together. His therapist, who was with him for the revelation, gets him to safety (as always depicted by golden light in the show)

Krista's camera angle keeps Elliot in frame at all times while Elliot remains alone. She's reaching out and he's withdrawing. The show always uses camera angles and empty space to show isolation. All the empty space with subjects usually singled out in the 1-2 shots as a way to show their lack of connection.

Krista is on the very edge of the frame, meeting Elliot where he is. She's not trying to pull him out of his dissociation, she's just trying to reach out and offer him grounding and connection and comfort.

The thing being depicted here though is one of the most empathetic displays of trauma memories resurfacing. Elliot wants to forget again and Krista says that he never forgot.

In reality trauma memories, even the most buried ones, remain active and present within anyone suffering a dissociative disorder. The mind simply prevents access to that information as a means of self-preservation. When triggered or summoned it will activate the nervous system and create a recall response. In Elliot's case an "itch in the back of his mind"

At a cellular level, the body stores a memory of everything it has experienced. Sometimes this is evoked through touch, ranging from casual touch, to intimate touching, to massage and body-work. Sometimes a trigger can cause these body memories to break through. Sometimes the body memory just surfaces. Although there are times when a body memory coincides with an identifiable flashback, sometimes it may seem to happen ‘out of nowhere’. This can be extremely frightening and unnerving, especially if you don’t know this is what is happening. It does not mean you have ‘lost it’ or that you are crazy. Your mind is not playing a cruel trick on you, but rather is presenting you with memory or information that needs to be worked through so you can heal from the wounding you experienced. The phenomena of flashbacks and body memories can become more complex when you are not the only personality residing within your physical body— especially until you-all each have a greater sense of ‘self’ and ‘System’. If you have not yet reached a place of distinguishing between yourself and others in your System, you may have a consciousness of sensations that are the memory and/or current experience of another part. While this may seem strange or odd, it is not unheard of. Each part doing their own work, getting to know each other better, and getting strong senses of self- and System- is really what will get things to a more manageable place. - Got Parts ~ An Insiders Guide to Managing Life Successfully with Dissociative Identity Disorder (ATW)

When it comes to handling trauma memories the option to "just forget" does not truly exist. To not think about it does not prevent the mind from reacting when the trigger is touched. The memory will summon sense memory or emotional flashback and cause symptoms.

The only path to healing is to engage with those memories and work on integrating them. No matter how hard that may seem. Because to continue pushing it away is to allow the triggers to continue activating the nervous system and let the memory literally haunt the present day.

I'm glad that Krista got to say that.

Season 4 Episode 8 is all about accepting the weight of the trauma memory.

The final moment of the episode has Mr. Robot, who was created to protect the system and is modeled to look and act like Elliot's abuser, returns to talk to Elliot about what happened. Bathed in golden light and within their base of operations "Allsafe"

Elliot flinches at the mere thought of Mr. Robot. The living memory of his father and the one who held the memories of his abuse for so long. Fearing that he has failed in his duty as Elliot's protector, Mr. Robot speaks, desperate to fix it, knowing that now the memories have resurfaced he may not be able to any longer.

"The only reason I'm here is to make sure no one ever hurts you. That was supposed to be your father's job. But he failed. He was too weak. But you? You were strong. You fought back the only way you could. You brought me here to protect you from him."

"I tried to keep you safe and only show you the memories when the two of you were friends before..." he pauses and lets the implication hang in the air, "I thought I could store the truth so you'd never have to see it or feel it. Fact is I didn't wanna see it either. I made a terrible mistake. I was afraid. Afraid of what this would do to you. To us.

"This was never my secret to keep. And you deserved better than to live in darkness for so long. I'm so sorry. I failed you, too. I understand if you can't forgive me or you decide to shut me out for good. Just as long as you know that I am not your father. I never was."

"You're nothing like him. That's why I created you. You're the father I needed. Not the father I had."

"If I could have stopped him. If I could go back in time. Change everything that happened to you and make it all go away..."

"Then I wouldn't be me." Elliot finally turns to look at Mr. Robot, "And I wouldn't have you."

Mr Robot finally protectively holds Elliot and he breaks down in sobs, unsure if he has it in him to see their hacking plan through.

In this scene Mr. Robot accepts the truth that holding those memories from Elliot caused him so much pain over the years and that it was all he knew to do as a protector but faced with the reality of him accepting the pain he understands he was wrong.

The episode also features Elliot's child alter guiding him to evidence that they did fight back against their father as a child. They locked the door to their childhood bedroom and hid the key that Edward had access to. They threw themselves out of a window to prevent him hurting either him or their sister.

They were a child and sometimes the only way to fight back is to hide or to show the abuser that you'll not accept their abuse silently.

Both Mr. Robot and Krista praise the child who received the abuse for doing all they could to fight back, even when they felt so powerless. That it was not their fault. That the abuse was something they did everything they could to try and stop.

Mr. Robot even goes in and says that he wishes he could use a time machine to undo it and Elliot, finally accepting the core themes of the show, rejects the notion outright.

"I wouldn't be me. And I wouldn't have you."

Healthy acceptance of that which is and treasuring all that has been made with his life despite the trauma.

The main villain's plan is to use what is implied to be a time machine to reject the pain of this harsh reality in search of a better one. She would see suffering and turmoil in the present to bring about a better history. She is so fixated on reclaiming the world she feels she was owed that she cannot accept the reality she finds herself in.

Elliot goes dormant after his conversation with Mr. Robot and he takes over for the big hacking plan. During the finale of the "Fsociety" portion of the plot, Elliot finally resurfaces when Whiterose promises that her plot (implied heavily to be a time machine) can bring back a loved one that was murdered earlier in the show. When confronted with the choice between pressing forward with the pain of loss or retreating into delusion and rejection of reality; Elliot chooses to resurface.

Cementing the theme and moral firmly. It is better to accept the past and integrate it into your future than to live in rejection. Even if it hurts.

It's the only way to heal.

[esamastation]

Part thirty-one of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty

-

They've landed in Wutai after a frankly miserable plane ride in a windowless, seat-less troop carrier - which, why even call it a troop carrier when it's clearly not designed to be carrying people? The thing is filled with boxes and stuff, there was barely enough room to move!

Guess that's what happens with last minute takeoffs - you get what you get.

The first few minutes onboard were fine and kinda novel - being on a plane at all was kind of a mind trip, because, heh, plane, Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, eat your heart out! But then it became just hours upon hours of boredom in a rattling tube of metal. Sword flying is clearly a superior mode of transport.

"We will have your things delivered to wherever you're going to be staying," Reno says, waving them off the plane, hiis attention fixed on one of the bigger boxes. "Rude, come give me a hand with this…"

"We should -" Rude starts to say, looking at the SOLDIERs.

"Yeah, yeah, now come give me a hand with this."

Angeal gives them an awkward, slightly relieved smile and then claps Sephiroth on the shoulder. "We better get out of the way," he says, and together they exit the plane.

Sephiroth had been bracing himself for a warfront, Angeal had even told him what to expect, but he… didn't actually know what that entailed.

Shinra troops had taken over a small town at the foot of Tamblin Mountain sometime in the past and are now using it as their forward base. That's where they land - in a dirt runway cut into the forest, just by the town. And it's…

It reminds him of old movies, the mixture of vaguely mixed Asian style buildings, with these modern canvas tents pitched in between them and on the roads. There are trucks that totally aren't jeeps that have worn grooves into soft  streets, unprepared for such traffic, making everything messy and muddy. They've erected fences all over the place, sectioning parts off, and there are  floodlights everywhere. There's also  robots patrolling the place. 

In the distance, on the rolling hills somewhere to the west, there are rice paddies and behind them mountains. All around them there's a lush wall of green that looks almost like a rainforest. It actually might be rainforest! It would fit the allegory!

The mental, ethnic vertigo is so strong for a moment that Sephiroth doesn't know which way to turn to look. He doesn't know what to think. Mostly he just feels kinda… unnerved.

Angeal returns to his side before he even realises he'd gone somewhere. "I talked to the Colonel. Come on," Angeal says, clapping him on the shoulder. "They've set up a place for us. We'll… debrief there."

"... Hn," Sephiroth answers, and follows him.

There's a lot of Shinra troops milling about, infantry mostly, but some SOLDIER Seconds and Thirds too. They all stop to stare. Some of them look excited, but most just look tired and dirty and worn.

Sephiroth wonders if the Colonel is in charge of them. Actually, it might be that they're now in charge of everyone here! They're SOLDIERs First Class. Isn't that the highest rank? He can't remember if Sephiroth being a General was fanon or canon, but hasn't he been involved with the war since the beginning?

Would he have to give orders now, orders to march, to fight… to kill?

Angeal shows him to a house that was clearly someone's home before Shinra took the place over. It's a single room with tatami floors and rice paper walls, and the military bunks clash with the aesthetic horribly. Their pillows are clearly seat cushions.

There's a fancy looking kimono stand that's being used to hang bags and ammo satchels.

"What happened to the people who lived here?" Sephiroth can't help but ask, staring at the stand and wondering where the kimono had gone.

"They abandoned the town ahead of the troops," Angeal says.

Sephiroth looks at him and then at the room. Did they really, or is that a nicer thought than they were all executed? "... Right," he says and picks up the seat cushions from the bunk, piling them up in the corner - wondering if there was a table here, and what happened to it.

"Are you alright?" Angeal asks.

Probably not! "What's our mission here?" Sephiroth asks, picking up bags and satchels from the stand and carrying them outside.

"... We have a day to acclimate. After that, there's a number of things that need to be accomplished," Angeal says, subdued, and takes out his phone. "We can start slow - there's no major engagements being planned just now, no one will mind."

"Mn, and what does starting slow mean?" Sephiroth asks, as he picks up stuff around the hut and gets rid of it.

"Well, there's a number of monster extermination requests around here - Wutai wildlife is high-level, and it's rumoured that they're being intentionally bred by Wutai people. They've been attacking patrols."

Sephiroth gets rid of most of the random crap in the hut and then considers the bunk beds. They're ugly and probably unpleasant, but… they have to sleep somewhere. 

It takes just one swing of Masamune to improve the situation immensely.

"Um," Angeal says as Sephiroth finishes separating the beds and moves one of them to the other side of the hut. "... Why?"

"I am not sleeping in a bunk bed," Sephiroth says simply and looks around. "... Do you think they have folding screens around here?"

 Angeal arches his brows. "I don't know for sure. I suppose we could ask around? I think there's a storage house where they've put the collected, um," he clears his throat. "Things that will be sent to Midgar eventually. Maybe we can requisition some of it."

Things to be sent to Midgar…  that's nice. That's a nice way to say the spoils of war, huh. 

Sephiroth looks away. It's the way of war, he knows that, nothing unusual about it. It happened in PIDW too - cut out all the smut and stupidity, and all Binghe did was plunder and loot and pillage. When he wasn't being handed tributes, anyway. It's just par for the course! Right? Right…

"You…" Angeal starts and then sighs and puts the phone away. "How about I'll go get a screen for you, if there's any available. Do you want anything else?" He sounds very indulgent and understanding.

"Two screens. And a table," Sephiroth says without facing him, feeling like a sullen little kid being placated. "... Thank you. Can you ask someone to get rid of the - stuff outside?"

"I'll take care of it," Angeal promises. "You just… take a moment to make yourself comfortable, okay? There's no rush."

Aka, pull yourself together, man, you're looking really pitiful right now. Thanks, Angeal-bro.

Sephiroth's waits until Angeal is gone before sinking down to sit on one of the beds, putting his head in his hands.

Though they'd not seen much from the plane, what with it not having windows and all, he can see it in his mind's eye now. Burned villages smoking in the jungle, scorched fields, muddy paddies ruined. He'd never cared much for any kind of war stuff, but he'd seen his share of first person shooters and letsplays.

It all feels very real all of a sudden.

And he's supposed to be the Big Bad here! The Demon of Wutai! Who knows how many people he's already killed in this war! And sure, it is a war, and that's what happens, and yeah, he has killed before as Shen Qingqiu, but -!

Going to war on behalf of the America-allegory of the situation? The invader, the hostile occupier, the - the evil planet-sucking dystopian megacorporation?!

Dragging his hands down his face, Sephiroth sighs and looks up.

There are calligraphy scrolls hung up on each side of the door. One reads Integrity and the other Honour. Sephiroth stares at them miserably for a long moment.

Yeah.

He's so going to end up defecting here, isn't he? Four days, four days in this world, and he's doing to fuck up the whole plot, right here and now. It must be some kind of record! But where the fuck will be even defect to? The Demon of Wutai, hello?! The locals probably want his head on a spike!

"I am so fucked," he mutters wretchedly and hangs his head.

[merakiui]

thinking fluffy thoughts about scaramouche.

When Nahida approaches you with a puppet, who drags his feet alongside her and looks like he’d rather shrivel than be here in this moment, she introduces him with an arsenal of aliases: a false god, the Balladeer, formerly Sixth of the Fatui Harbingers, Kunikuzushi (a name he reacts to with a poorly concealed grimace). You’re delighted to meet him, offering him a friendly smile and a kind, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Scaramouche does not share your enthusiasm and only scoffs under his breath while Nahida happily informs him that you will act as guidance in his recovery. It’s up to you to help Scaramouche work through his emotions, sifting through past experiences and slivers of himself he’s buried so that he can heal emotionally. He’s in a poor physical state, bandaged all over in a way that’s reminiscent of mummification. 

Nahida tells Scaramouche that he’s in good hands, and to that he scoffs again. How good could a pair of human hands possibly be? But he’s promised her that he’ll try to improve. This is part of his punishment, as much as he hates to think of it as such. Nahida has suggested he call it ‘taking a break from unhealthy coping mechanisms’ or, in simpler terms, a ‘vacation.’ Scaramouche rolls his eyes at such foolishness, but he follows you as you lead him to a clearing in the forest, a place surrounded with nature so vibrantly lush it practically breathes alongside him. He’d complain, but he finds that this view is much more freeing than a dreary hospital room. 

An empty table with two chairs awaits the both of you, and you gesture for him to sit. Scaramouche lowers into the seat with a frown. He’s not sure what you’re meant to do—what guidance you’re meant to impart—or if this meeting is even going to help him at all, but he remains because he has to. Because he promised he’d do better. He was a fool to make another promise, but this time it will be he who keeps it. It’s he who controls whether or not he breaks it. 

“How do you feel?” you ask, your eyes never leaving his.

Scaramouche can practically feel the way you dissect him, picking apart his body language with a keen pair of observer’s eyes, but, strangely enough, your stare isn’t unnerving. It softens when it analyzes him from where you sit, body angled directly at him. You’re listening, truly listening, and he’s never found himself in a civil conversation where his well-being is the subject. It’s...not a terrible thing, he realizes. 

Still, his lips curl into a nasty sneer when he replies, “Like death.”

“I assure you death feels much worse.”

“You don’t know how I feel,” he snaps. “Don’t tell me there’s a worse feeling than this.” He gestures to nothing in particular, huffing loudly. 

“Then, tell me, what does death feel like to you?”

He hesitates. What does death feel like? Is it anything like the panicked desperation that clawed his throat to ribbons when he watched Nahida take his heart? Was it the grief that overcame him in his past when each of his relationships met poor ends? Was it the emptiness he felt soon after the Gnosis was taken, where he fell from the husk of a robot, alone once again? Was it the world of pain and sorrow he awoke to in the aftermath, where Nahida had sat at his bedside and welcomed him into the world? Not as the false god, but as someone else. A clean slate. A fresh page in a book with a stiff, unbroken spine. Morning dew on tiny sprouts—whatever that’s supposed to mean; he’s learned that Nahida has an affinity for unique metaphors. 

Scaramouche has yet to realize he’s been sharing all of these thoughts, letting everything fall in a torrent of anguished questions. He’s confused and hurt. He’s lonely and sad, but he’s not sure what the direct cause for all of this sadness is. He’s frustrated and alone. He’s ashamed. He’s...many things. He feels like he should hollow himself with a spoon so that he can stop feeling these horrid emotions, and as soon as he feels an oncoming onslaught of tears paired with a wavering voice he clamps his mouth shut and forces himself to look away. 

You’re nodding at him and he has no clue what that’s meant to symbolize. What’s the point of this anyway? Is he supposed to split himself open for your enjoyment? This punishment feels more like death than anything else right now. 

“You can cry,” you suggest and he scowls. “Crying helps. It’s not good to pack your feelings away. I think—and correct me if I’m wrong—you’ve put everything in coffins, sealed them tight, and allowed them to remain buried for years. And it worked for a while because they weren’t so stuffed. But now that you’ve nailed them shut over and over after filling them to the brim, things are bound to start overflowing. That’s what happened when you attempted to become a god, right? Some things broke free and you ran out of nails, and when a few nails came loose so did each panel holding those coffins together. And it became impossible to shove everything back down because it overwhelmed you and you didn’t know how to handle that.”

Scaramouche stares at you. He has half a mind to keep his jaw tightened, lest it slacken and reveal his astonishment. How did you get all of that from his rant? What sort of foul magic is this? Are you a Vision wielder? He can’t see one on your person. If you can’t manipulate an element, then how did you peer inside his head? Are you secretly a god? His guard raises at once, walls building faster than he can produce a retort. 

“That’s not true,” he lies. “You’re wrong.”

You consider your next words with great care. He can tell because you hum lowly, a soothing sound that lessens the tension in his shoulders, and you retreat into your head momentarily. Scaramouche should get up and leave. He shouldn’t sit before a mere mortal and listen to such ghastly accusations! But he remains because he doesn’t want to be alone. Because he’s not sure he could live another moment in solitude with his thoughts. Because, despite everything that happened, he craves a genuine connection. 

“Before we move forward, what would you like me to call you? You have many names, but I’m certain some of them carry more pain than others.” 

Scaramouche frowns. You’re right. Again.

“You may call me...” He pauses, reflects briefly on each title he’s ever owned, and eventually says, “The Balladeer.”

A pleasant smile crawls onto your face. Scaramouche doesn’t trust it. Not one bit. “It’s nice to officially meet you, Balladeer. I look forward to working with you.”

He can’t say the same. 

- - -

If Scaramouche thought he’d suffered enough misery throughout his existence, then this is just a cruel joke. Over the course of a few months, he’s spilled his emotional guts (slowly but surely) and you’ve read him like a book each time. He tries to be deceptive—to protect what’s left of his pride and dignity—but you see through that as well, and so now he just grumbles in his chair, his arms folded tightly around himself in his version of a self-assuring embrace. Nahida lied; this is far from a vacation. This is torture.

But you’re patient, and you don’t ridicule him when he falters and tears gather in his eyes. You validate his feelings. You tell him that it’s okay to react in these ways. His actions back then may not have been morally correct, but that was all he knew. It was all he thought to do because that was what guaranteed survival. 

Scaramouche learns more about himself during these sessions than he ever thought he would. At some point, he stops viewing it with contempt and begins to look forward to the weekly meetings. He likes talking to you. Of course you should also feel honored to talk to him! He’s only speaking to you because he must. Because of his promise to Nahida. That’s all this is, so don’t get it twisted!

But that’s a poor lie. He likes you, and when Scaramouche likes something he treasures it.

When asked how he copes, Scaramouche could only offer a halfhearted shrug. How does one cope with so many emotions—with so much trauma? How is coping even possible? Is someone like him able to cope?

“Have you tried writing?”

“I know how to write,” he had snapped, furrowing his brow. You’ve gotten rather bold in the time that he’s known you.

“Writing creatively,” you corrected with that calm smile he’s begun to see in his dreams. “Poetry. Fiction. Even writing words on paper and destroying it is a creative outlet.”

“What good will that do?”

“A world of good if you allow it to do so. Think of it like...the sun. Everything requires sunlight. It helps us stay warm. It helps plants grow. All of this life around you was fostered under countless days and nights of moonlight and sunlight. There were rainstorms in between all of that, but even so these plants are far from complete. They’re still growing. Some are even healing.” You’d gestured in the distance, towards a Withering Zone that had recently recovered thanks to diligent forest rangers, and smiled at him. “You are that forest and writing could be your sun.”

“My sun...” He gazed skywards and pinched that ball of blinding light between his thumb and forefinger. “My sun...”

“You can write about anything. Your troubles. Good things that happened in a single day. Your favorite hobbies. Sights you see on your walks. It might feel like a chore if you force yourself, but writing can be very therapeutic if you let it.”

“What if I’ve already found my sun?”

You had blinked at him, partially surprised, before nodding encouragingly. “That’s good. Let that sun, whatever it may be, brighten your life. Let it heal you. But don’t rely too heavily on it. You have to put in effort, too.”

“Do you think my sun would think of me as a sun?” As soon as he had phrased it, he’d felt childish. Small. Insignificant. Like that discarded puppet who was cast aside for being too weak. Like Kunikuzushi.

The look in your eyes betrayed your thoughts. So his sun is not inanimate. “I’m certain your sun considers you the sky who cradles them.”

The sky... How laughable.

And yet so very meaningful.

Scaramouche sketched a cumulus-spotted sky with a bright, beautiful sun. He wrote a haiku on the back of the parchment. You can see the ink stains on his hands when he brings it to you outside of your usual meeting time. 

“Read this,” he tells you, thrusting it at you like it’s something he wishes to discard immediately. “And...” He clears his throat, averting eye contact. “And tell me what you think.”

And so you do as you were told. 

Vibrant break of day

A sweet, little sun rises

Over a rice bowl

“It’s very...you.”

“What does that mean?”

“I like it. It reminds me of you, little sun.”

“I’m not the little sun.” He huffs and snatches it from you, turning it over so you can view the accompanying drawing. What you assumed was just a speck of misplaced color is a petite bowl backdropped by an azure sky of pastel water colors. “I’m the rice bowl.”

“Is there a reason you’ve chosen to depict yourself as a rice bowl? And is this bowl empty or filled?”

“Empty...” he says slowly, as if considering the word. “But only because the sun will soon fill it once it rises. It’s as you’ve said. Sunlight grows and heals, and when it fills the bowl it gives it its shine. It gives it life.”

It fills me with life.

For once, you look speechless and that sparks both anxiety and pride in Scaramouche. It’s his turn to impress you with his intellect and yet doing so comes at the cost of scrutiny. He almost fears your response. The very thought of that would have seemed an insult to his past self. No mortal has ever struck fear in him��in Scaramouche! The ex-Fatui Harbinger Scaramouche. But he doesn’t want to lose you. He doesn’t want to ruin what he has, and so he awaits your answer with bated breath. He doesn’t have to wait long, for when you speak next your tone is wonderfully tender.

“Your sun must be very special.”

Scaramouche finds himself nodding in agreement. “Very special indeed,” he mutters and a small, secret smile grows on his lips. You’re so vibrant. You’re the sun to his moon. “My sun is the reason my bowl is repaired.” As if recalling something else, Scaramouche perks up. “Perhaps you’ve heard of the Inazuman art of kintsugi?”

“I believe I’ve overheard a few scholars discuss it before. If I’m not mistaken, it’s when something that was once broken is repaired with gold.”

He nods and adds in a soft voice, “My sun is the gold that fills in every crack in my rice bowl.”

“That’s beautiful...”

His head snaps over to you. No one has ever used that adjective to describe his work. He’s only ever produced despair, hatred, malice. He’s only ever hurt others with his hands. He’s never created a miracle, love, hope. He is the catastrophe that swallows the helpless plant. He is calamitous, ruthless, and heartless. 

But he feels like he can finally use his hands—this body—for good.

“Spare me of the flattery if my comparisons are foolish,” he grumbles, cheeks flaring with color. “I’m not an artist.”

“And yet you’ve made art.”

You grin at him, playfully casual in nature, and Scaramouche can feel himself falling even further. He wants to be the sky that protects that smile. The sky that holds the sun up. 

For the first time since his creation, Scaramouche has found a new meaning to his existence—one that is not fueled by the vicious need for power and control.

- - -

Weekly meetings have become monthly now. Scaramouche’s mentality has improved and he seems so much happier. He manages his emotions well, and he indulges in the creative process to comprehend certain feelings. He’s getting better at expressing himself, and when he struggles he discusses it with you and you listen and provide advice as you usually do. He’s grown to trust and value you and the friendship you provide. He writes about his precious sun—a sun you’ve yet to meet. That is something Scaramouche keeps hidden from you and when you try to pry he shuts himself away and grows defensive. 

He’s begun to travel. It started as small trips outside of the city borders and it gradually grew into week-long excursions. He always finds a souvenir for you. He never forgets you. He always, always returns to his home in the city. To his sun. To his heart. Scaramouche huffs if you tease him about his generosity. “Either take it or I’ll gift it to the fish in the river,” he tells you, glaring impatiently. There’s a shelf in your home that’s filled with the trinkets he’s gotten you. Little pieces of his travels. You suspect you’ll need another shelf as the current one is running out of space. 

But you’re more than happy to accept his gifts. It’s sweet that he would think of you even when he’s so far from you. Last month he brought up wanting to travel to Mondstadt once more. You had found the idea simply delightful and had encouraged him to make lots of memories. Scaramouche, his resolve cracking, invited you along for the journey and you’d smiled a sad, distant sort of smile.

“I would love to,” you had admitted, “but I need to stay in Sumeru. I have other clients outside of you and I can’t take a vacation at the moment. But next time I’ll come with you.”

“Is that a promise?” he challenged with a smirk.

“It’s more than a promise, Balladeer.” You slid a bracelet off of your wrist. A dozen suns have been carved into the metal, and when it caught the light it winked at him. You held it out to him. “It’s a vow.”

Scaramouche stared at the bracelet in his palms. This is the first time he’s ever made a vow which, arguably, is far more special than a promise. 

- - -

When Scaramouche visits you, it has been a full year since he first started working with you. Like a bird drawn to its nest, he returns, waiting at your doorstep with stories of his most recent travels on the tip of his tongue. This time, however, there’s something different about him. His attire has changed and there’s a pretty Anemo Vision over where his heart would be if he were human. Your eyes widen at the sight. 

“Look at you!” you exclaim, pulling him into the comforting warmth of your home. It’s humble and cozy; Scaramouche prefers this to any inn he’s ever stayed at. He likes it because it smells pleasantly of delicious cooking and when he lingers in the sitting room he can wrap himself in the scent. “You’ve got a Vision!”

“Of course I do,” he replies, puffing his chest out, a proud smirk settling on his face. You admire it fondly. “I’d get one sooner or later, even if I had to pry it from a god’s hands.”

You glance at him sharply and he rolls his eyes.

“Pardon me. I would politely ask for it,” he teases, and you chuckle. 

“That’s better.” You disappear into the kitchen for a moment and when you return you’re carrying a plate of sweets and a pot of tea with accompanying cups. “Make yourself comfortable. I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

And he does just that, his fingers tracing the bracelet around his wrist. When you sit across from him, an eager smile adorning your lovely face, he’s overwhelmed with adoration. His sun has always shone brightly, but they’re the brightest when pure happiness scrawls itself on their features. 

"You haven’t forgotten our vow, have you?” he asks while you fill the cups with fragrant, herbal tea. 

“I’d never!”

“Good.” He’s smirking yet again, as boastful as ever. “I’d have to politely remind you if you forgot.” As a cheeky afterthought, he adds, “Little sun.”

You laugh, but the sound sticks in your throat. “L-Little sun?”

Scaramouche hesitates for a moment before reaching for your hand. “Can I...call you that?”

Your nod is too quick, but it eases his nerves. The tension in his posture dissipates and his confidence reignites. 

“But only if you’ll call me something else. Otherwise you won’t be my little sun. You’ll be my very big, tiresome burden.”

“Like what? I’d never want to burden you, so please tell me what you’d prefer.” 

His fingers interlace with yours. You gaze into his indigo hues. “Wanderer.”

No longer The Balladeer. No longer Sixth of the Fatui Harbingers. No longer Kunikuzushi. These names are his coffins—coffins he’s dug up and learned to accept. And going forward he won’t bury anything anymore. From now on, he’ll wander the world and unearth all that it has to offer, and he hopes that his little sun will join him. Until then, the vow will stay with him in the form of a cherished bracelet.

[jesncin]

I cannot express to you how IN LOVE I am to your concept for Brainiac.

He's always been one of my favorite villains for the same reasons you mentioned (STAS characterization) and I am a big fan of AI characters and the whole concept of Artificial Intelligence (actual AI not the mess we're dealing with nowadays)

And the unnerving, gender coded way you portray him is right up my alley, it really is appealing to me and I can't wait to see more.

(I am also a robot fucker but shhhh that's unrelated 😌)

thank you!! I love that the reaction to Brainiac has been a mix of terrified and "oh 😳" haha! And yes!! I love stories that delve into Artificial Intelligence/Sentience- a new modern era of Brainiac seems so ripe for those kind of themes STAS set up.

[oleander-nin]

Horrortober Day 4- Savior(Yandere 2012 Leo x Reader)

A/N, not important: This took me a lot longer than it should've. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: wrist breaking/dislocation, chased, kidnapping, slight blood mention

Words: 1973

Summary: Leo was your knight in shining armor. Now he wants to keep you safe forever.

Running. I need to go faster, farther. I can still hear the footsteps behind me, feet stomping and crashing against the concrete as I run. My breaths were short, the air escaping my lungs faster than it was coming in. I could feel my body giving out the farther I pushed, my legs cramping with each step. How far had they chased me now? A mile? Three? I shake my head, not wanting to dwell on it any longer. The boys would be here soon, I already sent out a distress signal.

At least, I hoped they would be here soon.

One of the ninjas jumps at my side, their hand fluttering against my hoodie and trying to grasp it just a second too late. I almost sob in relief when I’m able to pull back and avoid them, my heart pounding in my chest and making my vision swim. I couldn’t keep going for long. I feel like cursing Leo’s name, regretting letting him talk me out of training with April. The moment I get back, I’m going to march up to Splinter myself and demand he teach me ninjitsu.

A throwing star zips by my face and causes my ears to buzz, the sharp metal digging into my cheek as it flies past. I gulp as I try not to think about how I might not be able to make it back at all.

I swerve into the open mouth of an alley, skidding to a stop when I see it’s a dead end. I try to back track, but the Foot quickly surrounds me, their weapons pointed in my direction. Panic builds as I put up my arms in a poor attempt at self defense. I may not know what I was doing, but hell would freeze over before I’m going down without a fight.

I tense as I hear a thud behind me, a robotic glitch echoing through the air. The other soldiers look at eachother, their stances loosening as the AI tries to run a new command. The loud clang of metal crashing against metal sounds and my poor fighting form drops as I turn to face the fight behind me.

I watch in awe as Leo quickly makes a mess of the droids, their electronic guts strewn across the alley. My panic quickly fades, my heart beating rapidly for a different reason as I watch Leo. His movements were precise as he makes quick work of the bots, his eyes a pure white while he fights. The way he moved was mesmerizing, a fluid dance between him and his enemies.

A clothed metal hand wraps firmly over my mouth, the other snaking around my waist. The jolt back from the robot pulling my flush to its chest shocks my system, a muffled scream pulled from my lips. Leo’s head whips toward us, his face slacking in surprise before being pulled taut in anger once more. He shoves his katana through the last bot and throws a knife towards the one holding me, the quiet shing making my skin break out in goosebumps. I let out a shaky breath as the robot dropped to the ground, the knife having passed clear through its head.

“Leo…” I shakily breathe out, dropping to my knees as my adrenaline crashes. His nearly silent footsteps approach me, his katanas sheathed but his eyes are still the unnerving white. He drops in front of me, one knee on the ground while the other is bent.

His hands cup my face and I melt against him, my eyes tearing up slightly. His eyes finally flicker back to the soft blue I know, his face melting down from anger to worry. His thumb wipes the edge of my cut on my cheek, blood smearing across my face. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

I shake my head, still breathing heavily. My lungs were having a hard time catching up. “No, I’m just a bit shaken up is all.”

Leo nods, scooping me into his arms with ease. I struggle slightly, having not expected the sudden movement from the turtle, but quickly settle down. Leo usually lets me ride piggyback on his shell, so I didn’t doubt he could carry me.

“Where’s everyone else?” I question, feeling a bit miffed only Leo showed up to help. I appreciated he did, but knowing it was only him still stung. What if Leo couldn’t have handled it? It’s not like I would’ve been able to help him.

Leo glances down at me, shifting me in his arms as he starts to climb up onto the roof. “I noticed first and left. Didn’t have time to grab the others.”

My eyes narrow at him, my stomach rolling in unease. That didn’t make sense. Leo never left without his team, especially when someone hit the panic button on the shell-phones. I scan his face, looking for one of his tells. Surely he was bluffing, but why? Leo notices my staring, but doesn’t comment, his grip on me growing slightly tighter. I sigh, deciding it wasn’t worth questioning.

“So, I’m definitely getting training now, huh.” I grumble, as if I was upset at the notion. I rub my eyes with the heels of my palms, trying to imagine what it would be like to join in the training. April was doing well, and the boys were obviously masters of the art. Would I ever be able to catch up?

“No.”

I falter for a second, confusion washing over me. “What?”

Leo looks down at me for a moment, my stomach dropping as he jumps from roof to roof. “You don’t need it.”

I huff, not sure whether to be flattered or insulted. “I just got chased by the foot for at least ten minutes and I almost got caught. I’d say that counts for needing it.”

“You have me.” He says simply, not expanding on the notion. I stare at him blankly, completely unimpressed with his words.

“Yeah, of course, because you can totally drop everything to come to my aid.” My tone is dripping with sarcasm, disappointment coursing through my body. Even Splinter wanted to train me at first, until Leo pushed me out to have a talk with his sensei. Splinter got mad at me if I ever mentioned it after that.

“I won’t have to, you won't be attacked again.” Leo says, complete confidence in his tone. He jumps into an alley, the drop making me cling to him for support. As much as I trusted him to hang on, I didn’t want to risk being knocked out of his arms.

“And how exactly will you make sure of that?” I ask, waiting for Leo to put me down so I could make the walk back home. Instead, Leo turns to the sewer cover, shifting me so he could lift up the plate while still hanging on to me. I look down, uncertainty rumbling through my person. I needed to get home.

“Simple,” Leo states calmly, ignoring my struggling as he drops into the sewer and slides down the ladder just enough for us to be covered. The familiar stench burns my nostrils, my eyes watering as I wait for the initial shock to pass. “You’ll be staying with us. If you think about it, it really is the best option for you. Plus, you’ll get to spend more time with me.”

I sputter for a second, a nervous laugh leaving me at his optimistic version of it. I push on his plastron, trying to slip out of his arms while he shuts the cover and jumps the rest of the way down.

“Leo, you’re insane. What about school? My family?” Leo’s eyes flicker with some dark emotion I’ve never seen in him before, my chest tightening as I shrink back. I swallow thickly, uncertain what to do. He still hasn’t let go. 

Leo rolls his neck, his lips pulling into a small frown. I feel his plastron expand as he breathes deeply, his eyes closing for a small second while he continues walking me towards the lair. I look at the entrance, my eyes narrowing. This isn't happening. Obviously, I was either dreaming or this was some big joke. The leader in blue must’ve been roped into this by Mikey. I glance at his face and find his lips still pulled taunt. He wasn’t answering me, clearly upset by my last statement.

I let out a small exhale, my body tensing. I wasn’t even sure it would work, but Leo was still relaxed, his grip strong but loose. If I acted quickly, I could probably get out of his hold, and then I could reach the ladder. Leo and I would laugh because I caught his joke, and then I would go on my merry way back home. Simple. Easy. Possible. Right…?

I lean my head on his shoulder, shifting my hips so I could actually plant my feet on his leg and push off. Leo looks down at me, his eyes softer now and head bowed. He squeezes my arm affectionately, seemingly trying to comfort me. I wait for him to pick his head back up before trying to escape him, not wanting to hurt him in the process. This may be a weird prank, but I still cared for my friend.

He looks back up and I shove hard against his side with my feet, Leo losing his balance for a moment as I tumble out of his arms. I quickly right myself and sprint for the ladder, a small feeling of pride in my chest from successfully knocking him over.

My joy quickly dies when I feel a sudden weight hit my back, us both falling forward. I hit the ground, my arm falling underneath my torso and the wrist folding under. I feel a pop and I scream, the pain radiating through my body and overriding my senses. Leo rolls off of me, worry and anger mixing together in the pools of blue that once made me feel safe. I curl in on myself, holding my wrist close to my chest. Every beat of my heart made it throb, my tears echoing through the tunnels. Leo stands above me, towering over my trembling body. His worry had been overtaken by the anger, a scowl set in his features while he looks down at me.

“You broke my wrist!” I sob out, still leaning over the throbbing limb. I couldn’t move it, my fingers stuck in a limp fist. Leo stays quiet, his hands hovering over me but not touching me.

“You tried to leave.” He argues, not sounding remorseful in the slightest. I continue to wail, dripping tears down my cheeks. His hand presses against my back and I flinch forward as if he burned me, not wanting to let him near me.

“You weren’t letting me go!”

He frowns, wrapping his arms around my waist despite my flailing. I scream as my arm shifts, the wrist bending once more. Leo softly shushes me, situating me back in his arms. He starts to carry me to the lair once more, his grip tighter and pace quicker. It was clear he wasn’t taking any chances with me this time.

“I’ll fix your wrist at the lair. It seems you dislocated it. Donnie should have some painkillers, and Splinter can help pop it back into place.” Leo says softly, his face still pulled into a frown. I don’t respond, my eyes still red with tears as he refuses to let me go. “You’ll be okay. I’m going to keep you safe. That was a mistake, and your own fault. You’re going to be happy here, I promise.”

I let out a wet laugh, a sob quickly following it. I never did take Leo for a liar.