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tiredmamaissy · 1 year ago

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Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Special Episode III

Calm After the Storm

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, profanity, age gap, rut cycle, heat cycle, extreme knotting, marking, scenting, territorial/possessive behaviour, breeding kink, p in v, mating/bonding, multiple climaxes, creampie, belly bulge, actual breeding, let me know if I forgot anything?

Word Count: 6.3k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Happy halloween guys! I know I literally fell off the face of the earth and I will make another post to address that. But I know I haven’t participated for @pandoraslxna ‘s kinktober event (I’m so sorry bby) but if I could only participate for one of the days it would be today for sure. So I definitely wanted to get this out before midnight. It’s not purely a/b/o but honestly entails all the aspects of it. I think we can all definitely tell who’s the alpha and omega here (Ralak is alpha material hands down, ofc). I hope you guys enjoy this one, and I apologize for such a wait <3 Also I feel like I’m a bit rusty, so apologies for any typos, errors, or just plain suckish writing.

ALSO a big happy birthday to my babe @neteyamsoare <3 love you and hope it was a good one!!

Synopsis: Your heat starts to subside, but Ralak’s rut is only getting stronger. What could possibly go wrong?

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——

Only an hour has passed before you feel your not-so-gentle giant stirring behind you, waking you from your sleep. You’d both been on your sides for too long now and everywhere seems to ache. You whine when you feel his hips shift against you, tugging at the immense pressure between your hips. The bulge protruding from your lower abdomen has barely gone down and you feel almost as full as you did when he initially emptied his load inside you.

Silken strands of his hair fall onto your prickled skin as he props himself up on his elbow from behind you, perching his chin on your throbbing shoulder. He inhales deeply – longingly. His hot breath gently blows against your neck just as you feel his arm snake under your leg and yank it back in one rough tug.

“Ralak.” His name falls from your lips through a nearly inaudible croak. “‘m so full.” You barely mumble out, rolling your head to the side. Yet, the flame within you is without a doubt reigniting with a vengeance.

And he can sense it.

Simply by the way you push back into him, making that bulge in your belly protrude a little more. His large hand resting on your stomach can indubitably feel it. And the smile that it puts on his face is almost baleful, bearing his lengthy canines that yearn to sink deep into you once more. “Sorry, tìyawn [love].”

He just can’t help it.

No matter how hard he tried. The desire—no, the need—to fuck into you and claim you as his time and time again is… irrepressible. In this moment, nothing else felt better than your little, used cunt hugging his cock so tightly that it almost hurts. He yearns to fill you over and over. Again and again until your womb is overflowing with his seed. The mere thought has his balls pulling tight to his body, firming up by the second all just to flood your womb again.

“Muntxate [wife].” Ralak growls into your neck, sliding his hand down to your inner thigh. “I will try to be–” He groans slowly, his pointer finger now burrowing itself between your tied pelvises, “–flrr [gentle].”

The final accented word comes out roughly, and if it weren’t for his finger slipping past his knot and into your cunt, you would’ve probably heard it clearly. You yelp out when he traces his finger around his knot, stretching your already taut skin, attempting to work a little space to allow his bulge to slip out.

It's all consuming and you’re simply too overwhelmed with his size that you fail to realise how your body is synced with his and bearing down to push him out. All whilst he’s struggling to fight the snap of hips to avoid hurting you. But the tugging is nothing like you’ve felt before adn you can finally understand why he was so insistent in the first place.

ut there was no getting out of this now, not that you even wanted to.

“It–it’s…” You brace yourself by grabbing onto his forearm, “...t-too big.”

“Ngaytxoa [sorry]” He huffs out his fourth apology, losing himself once again as his hips finally jerk back out of his control.

Pop.

His knot slips out of you with such force that the squelch it makes is as loud as your whimper. It’s so wet and slippery that his cock follows behind his knot, sliding out of you effortlessly. He’s more than half-hard yet so heavy and hung it rests close to your knee. Then you feel it. His cum dribbling down your thigh, still warm and sticky as if he just filled you up seconds ago.

It’s such a conflicting feeling — a mixture of relief and pent up frustration. Your heat is still in full bloom, despite it being so quenched until you’re almost nauseated. It’s as if you were two pieces perfectly linked together, allowing nature to run its course with no second thought. He grunts when he feels the crisp night air against his groin, his cock now springing up to its full length in just a few seconds.

He, too, feels some sort of feverish way now. Itching to be back inside your warmth, enveloped by your gummy, slimy walls. He opts to pepper wet kisses along your neck, and then up to your jaw, lingering there as he tries to distract himself from the ache to shove it back inside you.

Until it becomes too much.

“Tanhì.” He moans into your ear, heavy lidded eyes struggling to stay open as his tongue trails the skin on the back of your neck. “Need you.” It’s his way of begging for permission. Permission to slam his cock back inside you and hammer into you until the annoying itch deep in his core goes away again. You were the only one to make it go away. To stop the hurt. “Please.” He whines out a plea of desperation, now gritting his teeth from the way his stomach is tensing. “Now.”

But that last plea wasn’t much of a question, no. It was more of a demand. A way of saying, ‘give it to me, or I’ll take you on my own terms’.

“Fuck.” You mumble under your breath, sliding your free hand down your side to hook it under your leg. You pull it back and reposition your hips to give him access to your cunt. “P-Put it in, ‘Lak.”

Ralak’s hips begin to stutter — the leaking, mushroomy tip of his cock now repeatedly prodding between your puffed up folds. His breath turns raggedy as he tries to guide himself back inside you handsfree. Your slick is overflowing, making it even more difficult for him to align himself with your entrance. The frustration brewing within him bubbles over when his cockhead glides past your swollen clit instead of sinking in your cunt. So he pulls back in one swift move and —

Thrust.

Your body jolts from how quickly he slams every inch of his cock inside you, forcing you split-open. Ralak huffs a shaky sigh of relief, his breathing growing a little steadier now that he’s deep inside his mate. Meanwhile, your mouth hangs agape yet no sound falls from your lips. Your eyes well up with tears and your ears lay flat against your skull. Your body is in complete submission to the beast dominating it and there’s nothing else you can do but give in to the pleasure.

“Your scent.” He whispers open-mouthed, tips of his canines grazing the nape of your neck. “It is driving me crazy.” You release the breath that you didn’t even realise you were holding. You didn’t even know what to say. Not like you could really say much right now anyways. You’re too lost in the fog of your own heat. For once, Ralak is doing most of the talking. “It makes me…” He snaps his hips back, only leaving half of his length inside you. “...lose myself completely.”

A deep roll of his hips.

A lewd moan dripping off your lips.

“How do you do that?” He huffs, pressing his teeth against your neck. You don’t answer yet again. You just can’t find the words. Not right now. Not when he’s so deep inside you. “Hm?” A deep growl vibrates up his throat, his teeth just barely piercing the first layer of your silken skin.

“I—” You’re cut off by your own squeal when you feel the sting of his bite. Your breath catches in your throat and he immediately unlatches, lapping at the nicked skin to soothe it. “Sorry.” He whispers breathlessly, planting a quick kiss on each of your marks. “Sorry. Sorry.” A few more apologies flow from his mouth, as if he were drunk off of too much fermented fruit. Somewhat lucid but still so spaced. “I cannot —ngh— help myself.”

Thrust.

“‘M sorry.”

He knows he went a little too deep just now. But you feel so fucking good around his cock.

Chomp.

Another mark. Right on the bend of your shoulder, next to your first.

“Ngaytxoa [I’m sorry]”

A small cry from your quivering lips.

“S-Stop. No more apologies. I am yours to do what you p-please with.” You finally get out in one, weary breath.

Ralak’s languid, deep thrusts are laced with desperation. And with each stroke they become harsher and harsher. Faster and faster. Now he’s got your full permission he lets go once more, falling into the thick fog of his rut.

Within seconds his cock is pumping in and out of you, his half-deflated knot continuously prodding and poking at your entrance. The tip of his cock drags against your walls, putting an immense pressure right on your sweet spot. Yet still, sounds barely fall from your flushed lips. You’re too out of it. Too focused on the raw sensations rippling through you all at once. His overwhelming pheromones. His marking. His relentless pounding.

Rather, hot tears well over your eyes and stream down your face.

He can’t stop slamming himself inside you. He doesn’t want it to stop. It’s absolute rapture and he’s unapologetically drowning in it.

“Tanhì. Tanhì.” He groans needily. “y/n.”

He only says your name when he’s serious about something.

And hearing it drip from his tongue onto the nape of your neck has your hairs standing high and your clit throbbing.

“Eywa. Yes, ‘lak? T-Tell me what you need.” You blubber out, tightening your grip on his forearm.

“Haa — spread yourself.” He demands, prompting you to tuck your leg back as far as you can. His pace quickens, hips striking you with a sinful vengeance. But no matter how hard he fucks you, or how deep he buries himself inside you — its just not enough. He needs to be closer. To be deeper. To really be inside you. To knot you.

“More.” He grunts, slowing his thrusts into rocking, grinding himself inside your slippery, tight cunt.

You go to tug at your leg and meet nothing but resistance. “I-I’m trying.” You can feel it now. Perhaps it’s the bond or maybe it’s the way his knot is working you open but he’s growing more and more frustrated by the thrust.

“Mmmh. Wider.”

“I can’t. I can’t.” You’re quick to answer, feeling nothing but pressure from the way he’s trying to shove more of himself inside you.

“Agh.” He growls in frustration, pulling out of you and grabbing you by the ankle to flip you onto your back.

Ralak situates himself between your legs without hesitation and pushes them so far back your knees graze against the tips of your ears. You can barely breathe in this position and are having a hard time seeing anything else but his raging cock at your entrance. You can feel the burn in your thighs from how far back he’s shoving your knees but that sting is masked by the pleasure of him plunging himself back into your pussy.

The moan that rips from your lips is obscene and like no other. The crown of his cock is drilling itself directly into your sweet spot, causing it to swell with unadulterated pleasure. And each time he pulls out just to sink it back inside you he winds you in the process – making you sputter out absolute nonsense. Even he knows you're close, despite being in the thick of his rut.

But frankly, he doesn't care.

All he’s concerned about is satisfying his own urges.

“Not enough.” He grits through his teeth as his eyes shift to an even deeper shade of mauve. “‘ts not enough.” He pants, voice laced with something of worry. Panic that this feeling won’t go away. It makes you panic too, wondering if you’re doing enough for him. If he’s going to take even more from you. If you can manage it.

“You’re okay. Do what you need.” You try to reassure him, grasping your feet and holding them back–opening yourself up even more. But fuck, that only made things worst for you.

And by worst, you mean better. It feels like you’ll burst any second now, especially with how much pressure is on your bladder. “Fu-ck me. God, fuck–ahaa-fuck me.”

His brows bunch together as he peers down at you, beads of sweat rolling off his face to drip onto your chest. His jaw is so tense it looks as if it may fracture. He’s grunting with every push and huffing with every pull.

“Right there! Fuck. I’m close. I’m so fucking close. I-I need you to cum i-inside me. Oh—please ‘lak. Please!” Your cries are choked and muffled, breaths short and raggedy. The heat pooling in your core is unbearable. It needs out. Now.

Ralak swallows. Hard. Through his own haze he can see that you’re in need too. He shuffles closer to you, tucking his feet under him to assume a squatting position. Now he’s all but on top of you, folding you into a merciless mating press. This one shift in position has you coming undone on his cock, coating it in your thick slick as you sob from the white hot pleasure. The force of your climax has you pushing him out and only has him drilling himself further inside you. If it’s not for the way your pussy walls tighten around him surely his knot would have popped inside you by now.

He’s still fucking into you, right through your orgasm and towards his.

“Say what you need.” He panics through a tightened jaw, grinding himself inside you – pushing his knot against the resistance.

You know what he’s actually asking from you. To say something. Anything to tip him over the edge. To rid him of this maddening itch.

“Breed me.” You whisper, locking eyes with him. You watch as his pupils blow into thin rings and then constrict into nothing but dots. You try to swallow what spit you could, attempting to clear your throat. “Breed me. Please.”

“Then take it.” He lets loose a sinister growl, putting all his weight into his final push. For the first time, you feel his knot pop inside you, veiny and as thick as can be. You let out a high-pitched whimper, and feel your teeth begin to chatter. That doesn’t make him ease up, though. He continues to grind himself inside you until you feel the familiar, warm sensation of his sticky seed spraying inside you – filling your womb to the brim. His cock throbs wildly, in perfect synchrony with his own heartbeat, and soon yours too as the bond equilibrates your souls once more.

Strangely, you thought you’d be sore and overstimulated by now, but your body has never felt better. You’re full and content and more than satiated. Ralak heaves a sigh — one of pure relief. It’s glued to his face. All panic washes away and he’s feeling more at peace the longer he remains inside you. He’s rigid, firmly holding his position on top of you — ensuring he empties every single drop inside you. Yet, his heavy lidded eyes begin to close.

“I can’t breathe.” You mumble, snapping him out of his tranquil trance. His eyes meet yours and the corner of his mouth pulls into a little smirk. He exhales a breathy chuckle and carefully manoeuvres you both into a more comfortable position. He settles himself on his back and supports your body whilst positioning you on top of him.

“Better?” Ralak husks, drawing circles into your back with the tip of his finger.

You take a deep breath, filling your lungs to full capacity and then slowly release it. “Much.”

“Nga yawne lu oer [I love you]” His accented words slur together as he dozes off.

“Nga yawne lu oer, Ralak [I love you].”

——

Ralak woke repeatedly throughout the night for his fill. If it wasn’t him, it was you. Waking up in a clammy state, shaking and nuzzling into his chest from your heat. You honestly thought that the more time passed — the more rounds you went — the more he would calm down.

But, you thought wrong.

He’d start by leaving tender kisses wherever he could, whispering he’d do his best to be as gentle as he can be. Then, he’d slip a finger inside you, stretching you out in attempts to pull his knot out without hurting you. But it would always sting, even just a little bit. After that he’d beg. Pleading with you to let him back in, and apologize right after plunging inside you regardless of your answer—which was always yes.

At this point your own foggy haze would take over. Perhaps it was your body’s way of coping with the overstimulation, but you pined for every single second of it. Sometimes it would last for a few minutes. Where he’d be quick to fold you in two and growl in the shell of your ear, ‘you’re mine, haah — fuck, take me’.

Sometimes it was closer to an hour. Where you’d both be so tired you’d take breaks, lazily taking turns fucking each other, telling him to ‘put it back in’ whenever he’d slip out. But one thing remained the same every time. You’d sob when you’d cum and then beg him to breed you. And he would, without a doubt, breed you.

Mercilessly.

And with each breeding, he’d lose himself a little deeper. Knotting you over and over. Marking you repeatedly until your body’s littered with bites. Until you were so fucked out you’d lost the feeling in your legs. Until your throat was so dry you could barely speak. Until you needed a break.

——

“Wait.” You crawl towards the bedside table with wobbly knees. “Just need some water, Lak.”

Ralak pounces on you, knocking you onto your stomach and pressing himself against you. You extend an arm out, fingers splayed out and shaking from you trying to reach the cup of water Ka’ani left there more than a day ago. Ralak grabs your hips and hoists you up onto your knees and elbows, and mounts you from behind.

“Water. Water, Lak.” You beg with a hoarse cry, only for him to line the crown of his cock up with your sopping cunt. He growls next to your ear as he stretches over you and reaches for the cup of water, filling his cheeks and putting it back down within a couple seconds. With a quick grip of your jaw, he turns your head and meets his lips with yours.

Before you can process what’s going on you’re gulping down water as fast as you can. And when he pulls away, you’re yet again met with the hazy eyes of his rut. That’s when it dawns on you that whilst your heat is coming to an end, his rut is only getting stronger.

Rather than looking away, he locks his gaze onto you, just so he can watch your face screw as he slams his cock inside of you in one, hard thrust. It works a sudden, breathy moan from your mouth, eyebrows pinching together from the stretch. He holds his position, basking in the warmth and tightness of your cunt as his breath goes shaky.

“Wait.” You mumble weakly, shoving a hand behind you to push against his lower stomach. “Please.”

For the first time, you were telling him to stop.

His jawbone flutters as his eyes search yours. Restraint plasters to his face, and the only audible thing is his heavy breathing. He nods. Just once. A firm and intentional nod. He swallows the residual water left in his mouth and tenderly pulls out of you. You hear the thud of his footsteps quiet down as he nears the marui door, and then the splash of the water when he dives into the rough sea.

It’s pouring outside.

Storming, actually. Thundering and lightning. Yet he feels this is the only way he’d be able to resist the urge to storm back in and fuck you. But the instinct to protect his mate, even if it’s from himself, is more than enough to give him the willpower to walk away.

You take this moment to just breathe, turning your head to face the plush bed beneath you as you gather your thoughts. Did he just show that much restraint? Enough to walk away from a female na’vi during her heat cycle… all whilst in the height of his own rut cycle?

“Lekye’ung [insane]” You mutter, using your trembling hand to grab and bring the cup to your lips. They, too, are sore and chapped. Having gone so many hours without any food or water, you knock it back, shaking the cup to get out every drop. Finished already? You think to yourself, looking inside the cup with hazed vision, confirming it’s indeed empty.

After setting it back down onto the table, you slump back into the bedhead, relaxing your body. You’re sore. Actually, sore is an understatement. Every single muscle and fiber in your body burns—and that isn’t entirely due to your heat either now that it’s finally subsiding. Perhaps you should be taking this time to have a look at your… condition, but you’re finding it harder and harder to keep your eyes open.

So you give in, sinking further and further into the bed as you doze off.

—

A few hours go by and Ralak returns with a net of fish thrown over his shoulder and a bucket of fresh water perched on his hip. He carefully sets down the bucket and rests the net next to the fire pit. He’s cautious not to wake you, nor come too close to you. Ralak ignites the fire and fans the flame. As quietly as possible, he prepares and cooks the fish, setting them aside to wrap in the leaves of a spartan tree.

Since coming to Awa’atltu, one of your biggest adjustments—despite the obvious—has been your change in diet. Fish weren’t uncommon back home, but they certainly weren’t the main source of food. You prefer the other foods here, your favourite being what you call ‘inland boar’, which is an animal that resembles what your father calls a ‘pig’ from his star.

But not even that, (boar) could smell better than this (fish).

The aroma alone rouses you from your sleep.

Your eyes open to a dark room and a glowing fire pit. The fire is out but the wood remains hot, shifting among different shades of orange and red. Ralak sits beside it, with his back leaning against the support beam of the pod. His arms are crossed over his chest and his knees are slightly bent. It’s hard to see more than just his silhouette with the lack of moonlight.

“That smells good.” You rasp. Ralak’s eyes fly open to reveal a familiar shade of deep blue. Like the sea. They glow and flicker before you, examining you now that you’re sitting up out of bed.

Crack.

A bolt of lightning strikes in the distance, illuminating the room. For a moment, you were able to see every single bike mark, scratch and bruise you’ve given him. It also reveals that he’s shaking. Trembling from being wet and cold, or possibly from the strain he was putting himself through from just being in the same room as you.

Ralak moves quickly, shuffling to his feet and going right for the leaf that holds a few sloppily rolled fish. He brings it to you, setting it slowly on your lap, being overly cautious not to touch you. Grabbing your cup on the table, he dunks it in the bucket and sets it beside you.

“Eat.” He whispers, backing away to sit next to the pit. You watch as he slides down the beam and into a sitting position, and then glance down at your food. Saliva pools in your mouth from the aroma wafting up your nose.

You’re hungry.

“Thank you.” You say quietly, hastily stuffing an entire roll into your mouth.

You moan as you chew, nodding your head from how good it tastes. It’s hard to swallow, given that you bit off more than you could chew—literally—but when it finally goesdown you feel your stomach grumble for more. Ralak watches you intently. A wince screwing his face with every swallow he witnesses. And when you finish, you chug down your water and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

Another crack of lightning strikes, and then a low, lengthy rumble of thunder follows.

“That was… one of the best you’ve made, lak.” You say with a wobbly smile, slowly getting on your feet to wash your hands. The bucket is nearby your mate, who is still fixed in position. Although he remains unmoving, his eyes follow your every move. You shake your hands to dry them and shuffle over to Ralak and sit next to him.

“so… how do you feel?” You ask quietly, raising your hand to check if he’s feverish. He turns his head before your hand can make contact with his skin and his gaze locks onto the charred wood in the fire pit.

“Fine.” Ralak mutters.

Eyebrows pinching in confusion, you tilt your head to try and look him in the eye. Your brows relax when you come to the realisation that he’s already taken care of himself. And only Eywa knows how many times.

“You know, you didn’t have to do that. I would have—”

“Ma’ muntxate [my wife]”He croaks, swiftly turning his head to look directly into your eyes. “Oeru txoa livu [please forgive me].”

“Txoa? [forgive?] What for, ma’ muntxatan? [husband]”

“I have… neglected you.” He’s struggling to speak. You can hear it in the strain of his voice.

Regardless, none of his words are really making any sense to you right now. How has he been neglectful? Despite the circumstances, it’s obvious he’s been trying his hardest to be good to you. Somehow, even conjuring up the strength to pull out of you and walk away.

“Ralak. You have not. Please, I—”

“Look at yourself.” He snaps, taking a quick glance at your body before dropping his head in his hands.

Crack.

Conveniently, another strike of lightning and boom of thunder, revealing exactly what he’s talking about. For a few seconds, you’re met with the sight of your battered body—scabbed and bruised. You lift your head, staring at his shameful demeanour. But the more you stare, the more you see your own reflection.

“And have you looked at yourself?” Your words bounce as you shuffle closer to him. “I bet you can’t even feel all that damage I’ve done to you.” You coo, using your thumb to gently graze past an easy six-inch scratch mark on his bicep. “I haven’t been so gentle with you either.”

Ralak shakes his head, allowing it to sink further into his hands. “You were starved.” He mumbles into the palms of his hands.

You sigh, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin in the dip between them. Your eyes wander over to the fire pit, catching sight of the outline of a few fish rolls.

Has he really punished himself by not eating?

“Have you eaten?” You ask, resting a gentle hand on his back.

“No need.”

“You should, you know. Don’t want you starving on me, lak.” You say lightheartedly, allowing your hand to slide up his spine and to the base of his skull.

He lets loose a quiet groan, fighting the twitch of his ears. Your fingers smooth over the base of his kuru, playing with the braid encasing that covers it. “If you do that—”

“Do what?” You whisper coyly, quickly running your hand down the length of his kuru.

His spine immediately straightens, his head lifting from his hands. The tips of your fingers gently make their way to his tendrils, carefully teasing them as they try to wrap around your digits. He sucks in a sharp breath and closes his eyes, allowing a shiver to run through him. It feels like your fingers were inside his skull, tickling his brain in the best way possible.

Reaching for your kuru with your free hand, you bring it up and over your shoulder. You lean into Ralak, your lips only inches away from his. You pull away your fingers to grip and pull his queue forth. The loss of contact has him sitting up straight, opening his eyes to look at you.

“I will not let you suffer alone.” You whisper, lessening the distance between the two of you, tilting your head to the side ever so slightly. He stills himself, even limiting his own breath so as not to make any sudden moves. “Okay?”

You wait for just a moment. For him to say something. To move away. But he remains stock-still, waiting for you to initiate this. You smile, your top teeth briefly rubbing against this lower lip, and lock your lips with his. He exhales through his nose, coming to life from your kiss and returning it full force. You take this as a good sign. A sign that you’ve broken through that wall once again, and bring your kurus together — making tsaheylu [the bond].

Both your eyes fly open, blown pupils staring into one another as your spirits unify. You both pull back, shoulders and chests heaving from your quick, unsteady breaths. You feel all that he feels – the frustration, the panic, the tension. It’s all fading, now finally nearing the end. He feels your subsiding heat, your soreness, your overpowering urge to care for him.

Before another second could pass, your lips crash into each other again—tongues intertwining as they explore one another’s mouth. Using his hand to support your upper back, he slowly lowers you onto the woven floor, parting your legs with his free hand. He situates himself between them, pressing his crotch firmly against yours. He’s warm, just like the toasty fire pit next to you.

I will try to be gentle. Ralak thinks to you, just like he’s been promising to be night after night.

I know you will. You smile, moving your kisses down his jawline as he slides his hands between your sticky pelvises.

——

It hasn’t even been two full weeks since the synchronous heat that had you and your mate locked away in your marui pod for a little over two days. Your back and thighs–and honestly everywhere else– still ache but outside of that, you feel like a brand new person. You weren’t able to confidently say that Ralak feels the same way, however.

Of course, he was adamant on limiting intimacy until you were ‘healed and recovered’. But, he had a bounce in his step. As if he were physically lighter. As if the weight of six years of pent up sexual frustration and self neglect melted off his back when you satiated the ‘insatiable’.

The constant aftercare was almost sickening. Even after most of your marks had faded he remained adamant on treating them with your own omaticayan herbs from back home. He praised them at every use, thanking your people for making such exceptional ’umtsa [medicine].

But as you entered the second week, after tons of reassurance, things dissipated and went back to normal. Ralak went back to his usual routine—fishing, hunting, responding to a few calls to Tonowari and your father. Ralak, without a doubt, made a vow to you and himself not to initiate anything until you were more than healed. But nonetheless clung to you in the nights.

He even, in fact, added a new step into your usual nighttime regimen. As usual, it began with the snuggles and tucking you under his arm just right, providing you with enough warmth to endure the cool night air. Then, he would release the perfect amount of pheromones to get you drowsy enough for bed.

But recently, he’s spent the past seven nights delaying the nightly routine until he’s had his fill of your scent. He’d lay himself down on your chest, nuzzling his face into your bosom and just breathe. You allowed it, thinking it was his own newfound way to wind down for bed.

Yet, the real reason was much different.

——

Right on the two week mark, Tsireya had roped you in with helping her with some of her Tsakrem duties. You were always happy to help her though, as it meant getting away from the marui pod for a little even if it meant being poked and prodded at.

And it certainly didn’t take long for that to happen.

Tsireya lets out a frustrated sigh and plops the medicinal pouch she’s weaving in her lap. “I can no longer ignore it, y/n. You smell different.”

You lift your head, tearing your focus from your task of weaving and look at her with a puzzled expression on your face. You bring the end of your tail to your nose and sniff, but smell… nothing. “Like what?” Her brows lower and her eyes glisten with concern. She purses her lips and unsheathes the lengthy pin from its casing and grabs your hand. “Here we go.” You mutter to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut as you anticipate the sting.

Prick.

“Sss—ah! You need to be careful with how deep you go with that, you know. You could really—” The tsahik in training puts the wooden stick to her tongue and stares at you wide eyed, mouth agape. It’s as if she wants to speak but the words are lodged in her throat. “What? What is it?”

“You—perhaps I am wrong.” She stutters, quickly sheathing the tool back into its casing. “You should see my mother, y/n.”

“What? Why? Just tell me.” The words come out in a haste, and your voice is laced with panic. Do you have some sort of disease of the sea? Is there a cure?

“You — you are with child.” Her lips tremble as she says the words in an uncertain tone of voice.

“What?” You stare at her dumbfounded, a little caught off guard by her choice of words.

“Pregnant. You’re pregnant. But I am likely mistaken. I am only in training. Which is why I said you should see my moth—”

“Oh. No. You’re… you’re probably right, Tsireya.” You swallow the spit pooling in your cheeks, avoiding eye contact.

“H-How? I mean. I know how. But how? Surely Ralak knows not to do such a thing during your heat. He can control himself. R-Right?”

“Right. If I were the only one… in heat.” You say the last few words under your breath, fixing your shawl before picking back up your task.

“What do you mean?” Tsireya leans in with a tilted head, looking a little closer at your covered shoulder. “Did you help him with his rut?” Tsireya asks bluntly. “He’s been unmated for six years, y/n. Did you reall—”

“I am his mate. Of course I did.” You nearly snap, baffled by the tone she’s having with you.

“H-How did that even work?” Tsireya shakes her head, slowly raising her hand towards you.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You finally lift your head to shoot her a puzzled, yet offended stare. “It worked like it would for any other Na’vi.”

“Y/n…” Tsireya quickly grabs your shawl, pulling it off your shoulder to reveal a large, deep and scabbed up bite mark. It looks almost infected because of the strange omaticayan herbal concoction smeared over it. “You should have just let him ease you into it. Look at you, you’re all bruised and—”

“Tsireya.” You interject, “thank you for the concern, but—” you aggressively pull up your shawl, “I feel just fine. Besides, being in heat was the best way to ‘ease me into it’…He was as gentle as he could be.” You mutter, twiddling with the twine as you think back to the way he tried to handle you with care.

“By the looks of it, he was anything but gentle with you.” Tsireya seethes, angry that the man she grew up looking at like a brother would do something like this to you.

You wince at her words. They’re like a knife to the heart.

A long, awkward silence fills the space between you and Tsireya. She reflects on everything she’s said, realising that perhaps she was a little more harsh than needed. She softens her gaze, “I’m sorry. I should not have said that. I just hate seeing you hurt.”

“I get it. I know you’re just looking out for me. It’s alright, ‘reya.”

You exchange lighthearted smiles.

“You are definitely pregnant then. After six years, he must have really filled you—”

“Tsireya!” You laugh, giving her shoulder a light shove.

Tsireya’s grin morphs into a more serious expression. “See mother to make sure. Okay?”

Your smile also fades into something softer as you nod your head in agreement. “Okay.”

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mamaspeckles · 9 months ago

Note

SFW AND NSFW LUCIFER HEAD CANONS PLSLSLSLSSLSL

I am back!!! And kinda rusty with my writing ideas😭 god bless me because these headcanons are going to be crazy!!!

Lucifer SFW and NSFW Headcanons

CHARACTER IS OLDER THAN EARTH

✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡

SFW

-Lucifer is an absolute sweetheart to you– his personality is so fatherly so he is bound to be kind and caring to everyone but the respect bar goes up when it’s for Charlie or you ·

-he goes out of his way to praise and compliment you even if it’s for basic deeds like cleaning up or taking care of yourself.

-Lucifer is surprisingly hard to fluster, any sort of affection or flirtatious banter you throw at him doesn’t really make him freak out or melt into your hands like putty.- minus his hard shell for your remarks he does enjoy complimenting you for your smarts and beauty. “You are so beautiful and strong minded my love~..you awe me!”

-if you tend to like flowers or perfumes as gifts, he is the perfect man for you. Lucifers favourite things to gift you are yellow, pink, or black tulips as swell as vanilla or midnight scented perfumes, he will always hand gift them to you when he gets the chance.

-this man loves making you laugh! He will pull any corny dad joke out just to make you snort and wheeze.

-lucifer will only call you honey, beautiful, or darling unless he is being stern with you.

-Lucifer is the supreme gentleman in public and behind closed doors. He will allow you to do the talking when you two spend time with each other- he finds allowing his lover to voice their opinion’s or pick the topic of conversation is the most One of the main respectful thing a man can do.

-he would straight up die if you asked him to make a rubber duck version of you- his face glowing up as he drags you into his work room and makes you watch him create a mini duck of you.

NSFW

--Lucifer never refers sex as ‘fucking’ but is the type of man to say and refer it to ‘making love’ , it’s not just ‘sex’ or ‘fucking’ to him- it’s deeper and more spiritual in his eyes- Unfortunately if you are impatient it’s a bad thing, Because making love with the king of hell means you will be waiting quite awhile for the first time between the two of you.- Lucifer doesn’t look for sweet release but rather for a sensual and spiritual connection whilst your bodies rub together.

-Lucifer undoubtedly possesses the mindset and a switch dynamic. While he does lean towards a more dominant nature, he is open to bottoming if you approach him with the request with curtesy.

-I can honestly see Lucifer a thing for BDSM. Nothing too extreme but more of the end of the stick type of kinks such as handcuffs, blindfold, hot and cold play, etc.

-Lucifer HATES using a condom. He even tends to forget to put one on/ He doesn’t want to stop in the heat of the moment just to wrap a rubber around what is supposed to bring life. And due to him despising Condoms he tends to pull of if you don’t want him finishing inside.

-this man got some good old angelic power if you know what I mean.. like this man’s stamina is crazy! Once he starts, he’s never stopping. Not until you are absolutely wrecked.

-Lucifer isn’t very loud, but he is vocal. Low grunts and gasps to say the least,sometimes a low desperate groan escapes his throat when he gets closer to an orgasm.

✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡

This was actually so hard to write bruv…the NSFW part was SO HARDDDD😭 but anyways if you want more just request!(reblogs and liking it is appreciated btw)

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eggynsfw · 3 months ago

Text

rot bonus

warnings: 18+ only, minors dni, chapter four of rot reposted but with the smut written in the first scene, gagging, sub/dom power dynamic, slight degradation if u squint, kind of out of character for rot if u even care

an: this may be hard to believe but this is actually my first time writing smut ever actually so please please please be gentle with my pour soul i also wrote this drunk so that probably speaks to the quality of it. if this is bad dont tell me or ill kms. actually now that i think abt it no one fucking read this.

She’s become an on-call nurse.

It’s never anything worse than the stabbing (which she’s grateful for, because she’s started having reoccurring nightmares where every towel she owns becomes oversaturated with blood, but the flow never slows).

If there’s any sort of silver lining, it’s that her skills have improved. No longer are the wounds she stitches up angry, crooked red lines of over-agitation slathered in too much Neosporin to compensate for it. Her precision and steadiness have both improved; she figures she’s just gotten used to threading through skin.

She would go to nursing school, if she had any semblance of drive or determination. But she doesn’t, so she doesn’t. She just sits on her couch and waits for the call to come so she can go complete some of her back-alley medical procedures.

Iwaizumi’s her favorite patient. Kunimi complains the least and Kyotani has the best pain tolerance. But Iwaizumi’s still her favorite.

He’s sitting on one of the kitchen stools in his apartment, one of his hands lazily grazing against the back of her thigh as she stands in between his legs, focused intensely on the gash that decorates his cheek. He’s had plenty of these, she can see the faint markings of them underneath her fingers as she works. Most of them were never deep enough to become anything other than a faint mark you can only see if you squint. Some of them are pale and in stark contrast to his tanned skin.

You see him and you see them.

There’s no sound but the overworked rotating fan that spits and gurgles and begs to be put out of its misery. Iwaizumi watches her as she works to close his wound. “You know you always do that when you concentrate,” he says, tired voice rough and low. He draws circles just above the back of her knee with his thumb.

“Do what?” she asks, reaching for a pair of old kitchen scissors on the counter. She resolves to disinfect them later. But it’s not like Iwaizumi has actually ever cooked anything in his life. At least nothing edible. She snips the end of the suture.

“You stick out the end of your tongue,” he tells her, grinning. And she abandons her task of tearing into her alcohol wipes in favor of narrowing her eyes at him. “Like this,” he says, and pokes the very tip of his tongue out between his two lips, brow furrowed in a bit of mock concentration. “It’s cute.”

He winces slightly as she cleans off his wound with the alcohol wipe. He tries to play it off like he doesn’t, but she notices, and smiles, just a bit. “You think everything I do is cute,” she tells him, as if he needs reminding.

And it’s true. Iwaizumi’s liberal with the word. Everything about her gets the label. When she wakes up in the morning and her hair is a mess and there’s still sleep in her eyes. When he drives her home from work and she tugs at the collar of her uniform, complaining loudly about how much she hates it. The way she eats. How she texts. Everything.

“Cause you’re cute,” he asserts. And she deposits the now rusty alcohol wipe onto the counter with the remainder of the discarded medical equipment she’s used on him.

He doesn’t say anything else as she places a bandage over the stitched-up slice on his cheek and she doesn’t go anywhere when it’s done. Even though there’s nothing left for her to do. Even those there’s no reason for her to be standing in between his legs still, she doesn’t want to leave.

Iwaizumi doesn’t ask her to, so she doesn’t. She stays, and his hand slowly creeps up the back of her thigh. “Thanks,” he tells her, grinning. “I’ll pay you.”

“Fuck off,” she rolls her eyes. “You and me both know you don’t have money to pay me with.”

His hand squeezes slightly. “I’ll get some.”

“Don’t do anything that’ll get you hurt again,” she chastises lightly, and raises a hand to cup his cheek, and she brushes her thumb just under the bandage, careful to dodge any bruises that have blossomed. “Swear to fucking god, you’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

“Aww,” he coos, and uses the grip he has on her thigh to pull her forward. She stumbles, just a bit, and a hand automatically goes to his shoulder to steady herself. “You’re worried about me.”

There’s no part of her that is inclined to take her hand off of him. She slips it behind his neck and lifts her other hand to meet it, fingers twining together. “Course I’m worried about you,” she tells him, unashamed. “You dickhead. How could I not be?”

Iwaizumi studies her. His eyes are bright and green and as they scan over the details of her face they’re all she can focus on. He has pretty eyes. They might be one of the prettiest things about him. Iwaizumi blinks at her, and then swallows. “Can I tell you something?”

She nods, still thinking of his eyes. “Yeah.”

“I think I might be in love with you.”

“I know.”

He uses his free hand grip the tip of her chin, softly, but in a way that gives him control. She can’t look away from his eyes, and she doesn’t have to say it.

When Iwaizumi kisses her, it doesn’t feel like it’s the first time. It feels familiar, like she’s returning to something she didn’t know she had. It’s chaste for only a second. Like Iwaizumi got a taste of her and then could not hold back for even a second longer. The hand on her chin tangles in the roots of her hair, the one on her thigh shoots up to her back, inching up under her shirt.

Iwaizumi’s something special to her, she thinks, as he nibbles on her bottom lip. Something she doesn’t quiet understand. All of her life has been rot and decay. It has been death and violence and blood and those are all things that are tacked right alongside Iwaizumi’s name. They come with him just as they come with her.

With his hand knotted in the roots of her hair, and pulls her head back, exposing the bare skin of her neck to him. He takes the tip of his tongue and drags it along the length of her neck, up to the corner of her jaw, and it’s all she can do to breathe deeply, her chest heaving with inhalation. Iwaizumi nibbles at the bottom of her ear once he reaches it, and whispers, “Tell me you love me, too,” he pleads. “Say it.”

She swallows, her throat feeling thick. “Earn it.”

Iwaizumi takes the challenge that presented to him. He grabs at the bottom of each one of her thighs, fingers pressing neatly into the soft skin, and lifts, hauling her up and pressing her close to him, all the while his lips firmly attached to her neck. He doesn’t look up as he approaches his bedroom door, and instead uses the heel of boot to kick the door open.

He then, unceremoniously, tosses her onto the bed. She recoils, bouncing off of the plush surface and settling back down again. Iwaizumi watches her with a smug sort of satisfaction, gripping at the bottom of his shirt and pulling it over his head in one swift motion. “Take your clothes off,” he commands of her, no room for argument.

And, like the obedient girl she is, she does as she’s told, hands reaching for the buttons on her jean shorts. She feels stupid as she squirms to pull them down over her hips, but Iwaizumi stands at the edge of the bed, watching her with this glint in his eyes that makes her feel like prey. Once she kicks them off and onto the floor, she pulls the t-shirt that hung loosely on her body over her head, leaving it discarded to the side, and her completely exposed. Iwaizumi doesn’t break eye contact as he tugs off his own belt, tossing it to the floor and letting his jeans fall straight past his hips and straight to the ground, leaving him in boxers that hang low on his hips.

He pounces, then.

Iwaizumi hovers, elbows on either side of her, drinking in the sight of her, almost completely naked and vulnerable beneath him. She thinks he’s going to kiss her again, but instead he reaches down, looping a finger around the cotton panties that sit on her hips. Without being prompted, she lifts her hips, like she knows she’s meant to, and he pulls them straight past her thighs.

She’s again proven wrong when Iwaizumi doesn’t toss them off to join the pile of the rest of her discarded, suddenly useless clothes, but instead, balls them up in his hand, and stuffs them into her mouth. He presses his clothed, hard cock to her core. “I don’t wanna hear a fucking sound from you, unless its you telling me how much you love me, understand?”

She already wants to cry. She already feels dizzy with desire. She tries to squirm against the slight pressure he’s applied, but the slight movement from her has Iwaizumi jerking his hips away. He holds his weight in his knees on either side of her hips, and uses his hands to pin both of her hands above her head. “Understand?” he asks again, more impatient this time.

The underwear stuffed into her mouth blocks any words from her mouth, and the only thing that comes out is this strangled sort of noise. Iwaizumi, seemingly satisfied with this, lets out a hushed, “Good girl,” before he dives back down to resume his assault on her neck.

When his teeth drag along the soft flesh of her neck, goosebumps erupt on her skin. When his tongue trails down between the valley of her breasts, she gets impatient, her hips rising for some sort of friction. And Iwaizumi raises his head to look at her as he uses his free hand to press down on her belly. “Be patient,” he chides, the pressure on her lower stomach doing nothing but making the aching between her thighs worse.

Iwaizumi lowers his head once more, teeth leaving marks all over her neck, her chest. He takes his time in tasting her, in unraveling her. Iwaizumi works his tongue over her like he’s been waiting for the opportunity to, like he’s been plotting his path and biding his time until he had the perfect moment to execute it. All the while she squirms and moans and tries to plead underneath him, trying to release her hands from his grip, trying to find any sort of release. She tries to squeeze her thighs together, and Iwaizumi responds to this by placing each one of his knees on the inside of her thighs, parting her legs and allowing her no reprieve.

He takes a nipple between his teeth and pulls. Her back arches, and a guttural moan comes from deep in her chest. And she can feel Iwaizumi chuckle, rolling it between his teeth before releasing.

With her wrists still collected in his hands, he rises up to look her in the eye. Her vision is blurry, stars in the corner of her eyes, but she can see how his nose sits crookedly, can see the deep gash in his cheek that she had just stitched up moments before, can see the old, paled scars that decorate his features. He places a soft, gentle kiss to the center of her forehead. “You want me, baby?”

She nods, as enthusiastically as she can manage. Iwaizumi takes a thumb and drags it along the skin of her cheek. “C’mon, that’s not good enough. Use your words. Or did you forget how?”

And, despite the panties still shoved into her mouth, she tries to form the words. It comes out muffled, unintelligible, and she feels stupid. She’s pretty sure a bit of drool is starting to leak out of the corner of her mouth. Iwa chuckles, and presses his hips against her once more. A shudder runs up her spine. “Try again, baby. Tell me how bad you want me, and then I’ll fuck you.”

And she tries. I want you, I want you, I want you. She says it over and over, desperately and wriggling, trying to feel as much of him as he can. Iwaziumi laughs again. “Alright, since you said it so nicely.”

Iwaizumi releases her wrists to tug his boxers down past his hips, and when he does, she leaves her hands in the place that he left him, like she knows she’s supposed to. She’s rewarded with another, “Good girl,” as he aligns himself with her entrance, using one hand to hold her hips down as he does so, the other reaching back to hold her wrists in place. “Ready?”

She nods, and that’s all he needs. Iwaizumi thrusts, and the string of words that leave her tongue might in a language she doesn’t know, incomprehensible even without the gag.

Iwaizumi doesn’t fuck her like he loves her. He fucks her like she is flesh, molded and designed for this exact purpose, a sheath for his cock, and object for his pleasure. And her eyes roll back, definitely drooling now. She tries to say it then, as Iwaizumi circles an arm around her hips and lifts them slightly off the bed. She tries to say it, over and over.

His eyes shoot up to her face. Iwaizumi releases her wrists to reach down and pull the gag out of her mouth. “Say it again,” he tells her, his hips snapping into her. “Now that I’ve earned it.”

“I love you!” she cries out, thinking that maybe the neighbors might hear, but not really caring either way. “I love you, I love you, I love you!”

Iwaizumi’s something special to her, she thinks. Something she doesn’t quiet understand. All of her life has been rot and decay. It has been death and violence and blood and those are all things that are tacked right alongside Iwaizumi’s name. They come with him just as they come with her.

But he doesn’t make her feel like the wooden boards that hold her home up are soft and wet and termite ridden. He doesn’t make her feel like the flesh of every fruit she touches is squishy and leaking and smelling of something foul. For the first time in her life, she feels like she’s tasting something fresh.

The persistent summer heat melts them both, sweat sticking to their skin. The fan still sputters. A small cut on Iwaizumi’s lip makes him taste of rust and iron. The integrity of the walls around them are soiled, and one day, maybe someday soon, they will fall in on themselves.

But still, in his sheets, she feels fresh.

★⋆. ࿐࿔

#what the fuck u guys #u guys what the fuck #no one read this im so serious #iwaizumi x reader smut #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi x yn smut

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livingdeadmlm · 11 months ago

Note

saw MK on your list i am clicking my heels and bursting into song. a kung lao fic would be awesome. i feel like no one gives him the attention he deserves

I LOVE KUNG LAO hes so silly I'm a little rusty with MK characters but I'm using what i remember from the games since i played it as a kid

Ill do some SFW and NSFW hcs of dating kung lao a mix of modern day hcs and in game hcs

SFW

What a cutie am I right? he knows it and you know it so he uses that to his advantage.

He likes to say some weird shit and when you ask about it he just looks at you confused

"Did you let in the grass light morning?"

What did you say?"

"??? Nothing babe what are you talking about?"

dinner dates ooooo

Going out to eat and cooking together he considers a good date

In the modern age, he definitely is a gym goer and loves to go to Planet Fitness to set off the lunk alarm. You don't have to work out yourself but if you go with him he tries to show off more than usual hoping that you'd throw some praise his way.

Either has the latest phone or the oldest one known to man no in between

in-game you are his assisted fighter and have a duo fatalities. kinda like In Eyes of Heaven

matching accessories can be bought for the two of you.

calls you baby girl even if you're a guy.

thinks about you all the time at work and how he can't wait to get home and eat and lay down with you

he flirts with you in public places like he's a stranger and you are the lead in a romcom

people in the shop staring as it seems like a romance blossoming before them but it's less interesting when they see once again it is Kung lao flirting with the same man as many times before

NSFW

He believes in fairness so you best believe that both of you leave satisfied no matter what.

Probably not much experience to be had out on the farms but man does he get the hang of everything quick

Head game goes crazy, He is scarily good at it and loves doing it as well

He is not into hitting or anything, he doesn't like the idea of actually hurting each other.

Tug his hair though that's his one exception

He understands taking things slow and will most of the time but at the start of the relationship he gets pretty excited fast and is really hansy grabbing at your hips, legs, and ass like you'll vanish once he lets go

occasionally he still gets that way but has some more self-control

kinda likes getting frisky in risky places and alleyways and when there are people up and walking around in a shared place

his adrenaline spikes but never goes all the way, he insists that that's too far.

if there is distance he sends nudes for sure

with shitty camera quality, he means well and sends them seriously but its hard to keep the mood up when all you have is an 8-bit photo to work with

When you've been on top he has placed his hat on your head, strokes his pride to see it on you while you're enjoying yourself

Probability a Power bottom

#male reader #mortal kombat x male reader #Kung lao x male reader #Kung lao x nb reader #M!Reader #x male reader

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stareiiez · 7 months ago

Text

𝑭𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒔 & 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅

-- seven

Leonard Church ( Epsilon) x Reader

Lavernius Tucker x Reader

note: GETUP RVB FANS I'm here to serve something that's been sitting here for two years. Who's ready for restoration??

content: angst. slow burn relationships. love triangle. potential character death. smut in later chapters. pining. hanahaki disease. blood. bodily fluids. female reader. dark topics are used here a lot. 2.1k words.

The once steady thump- thump- thump- of your heart shattered at the image of Church standing in front of you. His presence, short but broad nearly blended into the lilac-altering shades that were painted on Doc's walls. You blink, once, twice, thrice, four or five times until the burning of your lungs quells your brain to force oxygen to filter into your nose and down your esophagus.

Your lungs fill, expanding in your brittle ribcage that tickles against the lung sacs. The carbon monoxide you exhale sounds shaky as it flows out of parted, chapped lips. You can't help it, not one sense of you, for the most part, is stable in this situation. You can nearly see the small, rusty wheel cogs turning in his brain as his helmeted head flows from your ashen face to the flower sitting calmly in Doc's hand. The smell doesn't hit him, it can't hit him because he's an A.I.; well .... 'ghost' for the most part. Your stomach turns as his head tilts back to you once his vision is glued to the wilting flower. Its petals were curling inwards like the oxygen surrounding it was lethal and would only kill it the more exposure it got to it.

"Well?" after a beat of silence, he speaks up again. His voice nearly makes you flinch, but with Doc by your side, you can't do much but slowly press your weight into his forearm armor. "What's with the flower? Actually, fuck that, what are you two talking about?"

His feet, soundless against the hard steel floor, take three steps to the two of you. His head tilts back and forth between the plant to yours, slowly turning, ashen face. You can only blink, sometimes you don't even dare to break the shocked eye contact you have with the pale gold visor of Church's helmet. "I'm waiting." His voice drips in sarcasm, and the heady impatience in the underlying tone of his words are only magnified when his hands are planted on his hips.

Doc clears his throat, his hand instantly curling around the flower in his bare palm. His nose wrinkles at the feel of the velvety soft petals crumbling and growing damp and squishy in his fist. "She was just showing me the first real flower that she managed to grow out here. Who knew stale old cave water could grow marvelous things! "

Church turns his scrutinizing gaze away from you just long enough to have his pale eyes look Doc up and down slowly. So slow in a way like he's trying to read out every single cell in the medic's body. "I didn't know you were into flowers, Doc."

The latter throws Church a smile, one that looks so nervous and not genuine, but he's trying his damn best to get all eyes off you and your borderline panic attack. "Sure! Botonology was going to be my new major if I didn't get immediately accepted into med school and shipped out here. Donut even offered to help me run my little flower shop when we get back home after this cruddy war." Doc stutters nervously, his cheeks flushing at the vain attempt to lie his way smoothly towards Church.

If you were in any right mind, you would have had a mark of your palm in the middle of your forehead from how hard you would have facepalmed. Instead, you can only breathe, count to ten in your whirring head, and try to come back to reality as fast as humanly possible. Your head tilts and catches the glint of light that bounces off Church's visor. He hadn't even been listening to whatever bullshit Doc spewed out of his mouth. He was busy watching you, studying, trying to figure out why you looked so tense and why your chest hadn't moved since the first moment he had even appeared in the room.

"Can I talk to you for a moment--" Church reaches for you, his fingers don't even have the chance to grasp at you because you're moving your arm away from his transparent touch. "Alone."

"Are you kicking me out of my room? You can't do that! I'll tell Sarge and he will . . . he'll come to yell at you and ---"

"It's fine, Doc." Your voice breaks the nearly growing ramble that leaves Doc's mouth, his cheeks are red and his glasses are growing just a tad hazy from how much he speaks. "It'll be fine."

Doc blinks, mouth snapping shut with the loudest clack of his molars striking against each other in abrupt shock. He blinks twice or three more times until he scurries out of the room. Your eyes faintly trail after the back of Doc's head. He doesn't have time to even turn back to you and offer some silent look of support before the sliding doors have closed and locked behind him. Church's part, how he hasn't grown aware he can hack into the ' mainframe ' of Red Base and manipulate objects by his will is a shock. The idiot has grown smarter. Your head tilts. The corner of your mouth lits in a soft curve upwards, shoulders shrug and you silently have one moment of smug to yourself. Shocker.

However, that feeling goes away when Church swims into your vision and his visor is locked onto your eyes. You knew his own were trained on you. The light color of his irises would be trying to drink your expression in. Figuring out emotions and trying his fucking best to start up a conversation. If he wasn't dead he would have approached you like some fucking feral animal that was backed into a corner, fear in its eyes and ready to pounce on whoever was there to help it.

You probably look like that feral animal. You haven't bathed in a couple of days ever since your coughing fits have turned into full-on vomit moments of colorful flowers. You couldn't sleep. Nightmares of drowning on dry land while blood and flower vines would seep from your nose and open mouth, your eyes would roll back and be poked out by sharp rose thorns that would rapidly creep from your body.

It was like hell on earth, and for some reason, Church was your Lucifer.

"Are you starting some kind of garden with Doc in the caves? You know they're used for Tucker to masturbate in right?" Church quips, his voice breaking the short moment of silence between you two.

"Do you think I care what Tucker does on his own?" More importantly, do you care about what he sexually does on his own? No. No, you don't.

"More importantly did you just decide to pop up because of my little 'garden adventures' with Doc, or is there something else you needed." Your voice sounds snappy. The longer he is here, standing around like he's the second dumbest person on the fucking planet. The more you start to ache.

Nausea smacks you around nearly as fast as the rate Church's hand tries to reach for your own. To hold and caress in that soft little way he used to do. For someone that was such a bitch boy. Who whined, complained, and threw temper tantrums if things didn't go his way or his team brought him to temperamental suicidal thoughts. He could always melt some of you into his open palm like putty.

Some part of you yearns for that feel of warm skin on your skin. Nerves fizzle, your skin twitches and you swear you nearly close your eyes just when you're about to picture a smooth palm grace your fingers. Hell, you would even take his hand to your cheek. A soft hand, fingers brushing against your cheekbone. Those same fingers tangling into your hair or brushing a strand away from your features. Your nose twitches briefly and you nearly hallucinate the smell of gunpowder, metal, and faint cologne. It smells like Tucker.

Your eyes blink the unfocused look you have in your colored orbs. The temporary daydream you have about the one fucking man who touched you, and not managed to have flowers sprout in your lungs, has ended. What you could have pictured as smooth and soft pale-colored skin was replaced and shifted back to the see-through baby blue of Church.

It's disappointing. Not only disappointing but it's weird how desperate the human body is when they crave physical contact or warmth. Your own body has you craving Tucker rather than the man who's trying to figure out what in the hell is wrong with you. It seemed like if you could close your eyes once again, really squeeze them shut, and pretend like Church didn't even exist in front of you, you could imagine the rich and earthy tones of Lavernius Tucker.

What the fuck.

Instead, Church is standing in front of you, concern etched in his eyes behind the visor of his helmet, and it's only growing more in the zeros and ones that make up his pupils. A sharp inhale leaves your lungs. You wish you could crumble the same way as the way the flower folded so easily against Doc's palm. You wanted to be ended rather than deal with the sharp questioning eyes of your situation.

"I'm concerned about you, and I never get concerned about anyone. You should be lucky." You couldn't help the scoff that leaves your bleeding lungs. Well, soon to be bleeding lungs.

"Except for Texas, glad I share the same area of concern with an old flame." Church flinches, his digital frame laps in the way those fuzzy vertical lines ran over an old TV screen. Nostalgia.

"It's different with you. You don't infest my brain. You also don't beat the shit out of me whenever I breathe too loud next to you." A smile would crack behind his visor if he could muster it. It's forced at best, just to try and ease the scowl you have on your face. " Just---- . . are you, healing? Feeling better? We can call someone if Doc isn't help-"

"NO." You bark. The thought of involving more people in your disease is the nightmare you wish not to experience. The UNSC would take you under the knife and scalpel. They'd treat you like some freakish science experiment and run tests before they ever attempt to find some cure for you. They'd make you worse before they decided to be humane enough to make you feel better.

"No, I'm okay. Besides it's only been a couple of days at least, I'll heal. Besides you get worse before you get better, right?" Your voice softens around the edges. It's a sign that has Church exhaling heavily like he, himself, was in your shoes and stressed behind compare. His frame wanders closer, golden visor tilting to look closer at you.

"Right. Well enough of asking about you, aren't you going to give a fuck about me and my travels as being a full-on ghost?" The tension between you two drastically shifts, it's a lot lighter now that the subject changed. It's accepted quickly, you don't have it in you to be mad he's back to his old selfish self once again. Your mouth tilts up into a small smile.

Lungs wetly rattle with a chuckle you grant him. If 'ghosts' could experience warmth from somewhere in their cores; Church would feel it. He'd give anything to feel the small flutter in his heart again whenever he witnessed the soft crinkles in your eyes and nose when you laughed because of him. Tex never laughed around him like you did. It was always rough and demeaning when she laughed at him. Your laugh was a drink of water for a man who didn't know he was dying of thirst. Something something, poetic bullshit. He just liked it when you lit up in amusement around his presence. That's all.

"Let me hear it. Tell me all about where you've been and if you've scared the shit out of anyone that deserves it." Your eyes soften in the corners as you focus your gaze on his armor. The walls that were surrounding you have lowered enough to let your shoulders lower from around your ears. The knots that have formed in your neck and back ache less now when you two settle into your banter back and forth like you used to when Church prattles on about his adventures in his 'haunts' around Blood Gulch.

It feels perfectly normal for the first time in what feels like forever.

#red vs blue #rvb #rvb tucker #lavernius tucker #rvb x reader #leonard church x reader #leonard church #doc dufrense #rvb doc #flower petals and blood #rvb church x reader #rvb church #rvb fic

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andheresthething · 2 years ago

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I Got So Fucking Romantic, I Apologize

Summary: Cute lazy morning (afternoon) with Nightowl.

[No use of y/n] [Lazy Mornings] [But it's really 2 pm] [Cuddling & Snuggling] [Kissing] [Love Bites] [Pet Names] [Dorks in Love] [I cannot stress it enough you act like teenagers in love] [Implied Sexual Content] [You're smaller than him] [Established Relationship]

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Notes:

I recently played Blooming Panic and absolutely fell HARD for Nightowl. This is the first time I've ever posted any of my writing and it's been a while since I've written at all so this will probably be rusty. I might write more (could make a spicy follow-up) if people like this one, though it might be delayed because carpal tunnel is a bitch.

Gender-neutral reader for yall :)

I wrote this while listening to my character playlist for him

Reposted from AO3

Also, I haven't used Tumblr since MIDDLE SCHOOL so I apologize for things being strange to the platform

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Rays of light shone through the drawn blinds of the bedroom you and Nightowl shared. The small beams laid across the two of you sleeping well into early afternoon. You slowly blink and let out a yawn, taking a moment to come into the conscious world.

Once your eyes adjusted you finally get a look at the blonde sleeping on his side next to you. His chest slowly rising and falling and an arm draped over you. Lips slightly apart, just enough to show a sliver of his front teeth, and his neck and collar bones covered in spots that ranged in shades of purple. Though a familiar sight for you to see each day, it never grew old. Each day, without fail, your heart would flutter the same way it did when you spent your first night together. You cracked a smile, just watching and waiting for your partner to wake.

Sometimes it was still baffling to you that clicking on a discord invite led to this. How fast everything moved between the two of you was unexpected, but not unwelcomed in the slightest. You recall all the nights the two of you would spend up, talking about anything and everything until you fell asleep. Nightowl would follow shortly after, but would never hang up the call. Some of the time right before he’d turn in as well, you were just conscious to hear him say, ‘I can’t wait until we can do this in person. Goodnight, Cutie. Sweet dreams.’

Your smile grew thinking about those early times of your relationship, though soon enough you were broken from the little daydream with the feeling of Nightowl lifting his arm off of you, stretching himself awake with a yawn.

“Mornin, sweetheart,” you said as he lowered his arm back to hold you. He sleepily smiled, then placed a light kiss on your forehead.

“Good morning, cutie,” he smiled, “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

“Impossible, plus I lost myself in thought, so I doubt I would have noticed an hour going by.”

“Care to indulge me?” Nightowl asked while moving his hand to hold yours.

“I was just thinking about our old late-night calls before I got to move in with you and how sometimes when I was half asleep I’d hear you say how you couldn’t wait for this to happen for real and wished me goodnight”

Nightowl squeezed your hand, eyes lighting up slightly. Your little story seemed to help wake him up from his groggy state, “Awe, I love you getting all sappy and nostalgic on me first thing in the morning, cutie.”

“I always felt all stupid and happy whenever I heard it.”

“You know,” he scootched as close as he could be to you without being completely on top of you, “I did it every. Single. Night.” he hummed, peppering a kiss on your face between every word, and you giggled with each one.

“Really?”

He put on a serious face, sharply nodding, “Without fail. I still do actually. Granted, I’ve changed that first part a tiny bit considering you’re now actually here with me, in the flesh.”

“Awe, sweetheart, you’re literally the best. How’d I get so lucky?” you reached to hug him. Maybe a bit too enthusiastically, though, as you managed to push Nightowl over on his back and put yourself on top of him, burying your face in his neck in the process, “Seriously, I could have never imagined having someone who does stuff like that for me all to myself.”

“ You can’t believe you have me all to yourself?” Nightowl laughed, “I should be the one saying that. I was such a hungover ass to you after knowing you for, like, five days, and you still wanted to be with me after that night. You’re the one here that's the best,” he refuted, placing a kiss on the side of your head, “To have someone as precious as you makes me the lucky one here, darling.”

“Mmm, I’d have to disagree with you.”

“Incorrect and unfactual statement.”

You lifted yourself enough to meet your eyes with his, “As much as I’d love to continue this to prove I’m, in fact, correct on this matter, I think I’m a little too tired to try.”

“So what you're saying is that I win?” he said with the biggest shit-eating grin. You groaned at his playful antic and started to push yourself up, now straddling his lap as he still laid underneath you, which also effectively pushed the blanket once covering the two of you off and behind you.

“Sure, you win, dumbass. What shall your prize be?”

“Can it be anything?” he said excitedly.

You knew you might regret the answer you were going to give, but went through with it anyway, “Sure, anything you want, sweetheart,” with that, you sealed your fate.

“Hmm, what a tough decision to make,” Nightowl exaggeratedly pondered while pushing himself back slightly to be able to sit up with his arms supporting him from behind. You also moved so that you were sitting in his lap, legs wrapped around his bare lower waist, and brought your arms around his neck. Your arms sat on the soft fabric that was the straps of his crop top, “The possibilities are endless, cutie. How could I ever just choose one thing?”

You giggled at his complaint, “You better, the offer is going to expire soon. Then you just get bragging rights.”

“Oh, how cruel! How could you?” he moved his arms from behind him to hold your hips.

“I know, I’m such a horrible person,” you said, matching his sarcastic and playful tone.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, you took the time to admire his face. The small beams of light highlighted his softer features. They made his messy hair shine and his brown eyes sparkle, revealing all the little flakes of different shades that resided in them.

The light also reflected off of his cartilage piercings. Nightowl had a bad habit of not taking out his earrings before bed. No matter how many times you reminded him, he always forgot. It wasn’t the end of the world that he didn’t, though. At least he remembered to take out his statement piece each night.

In that time, Nightowl did the same, soaking in the sight of you. Hair just as messy as his own, a stupid wide smile, and a pair of beaming eyes staring into his own. But your shirt, God it was killing him. It was one of his own that you’d steal regularly to wear almost anywhere. While purposefully somewhat oversized on him, you were swimming in it, allowing your neck and collar bones, covered in marks (courtesy of him), to be exposed. Maybe it was his somewhat possessive nature, but the mix of the shirt and hickies fogged his mind with a myriad of thoughts ranging from wholesome to extremely sexual.

“Have you made a decision yet?” your words snapped him out of his short, albeit very vivid, daydream, “Or are we just going to settle for bragging rights?”

“Nope! I’ve come up with my prize.”

“That would be?”

“One super lazy, stay-in-date day complete with stupid horror movies and possibly some more… intimate affairs later on,” he paused, “Please.”

You pretended to think it over, despite the arrangement of this prize. While you, of course, got tasked with a pile of work for the weekend, you couldn’t care less about it. Getting ripped by your boss on Monday would be worth it, especially with the not-at-all-subtle proposition for later in the day. Knowing Nightowl though, it would probably come way sooner than nightfall. “You, sir, have yourself a deal.”

You gave him a small peck, but Nightowl being Nightowl, was having none of that. He immediately put his lips back on yours, tightening his grip on your hips. While it took you slightly by surprise, you gladly accepted the act, kissing him back. Quickly things became heated, pulling each other closer, the movement of your lips becoming desperate. Your hands drifted to his hair, lightly grabbing at it, which Nightowl responded to by letting out a small moan into your mouth. That noise of his set you off, eager to continue the sudden act of intimacy.

Unfortunately, as quickly as it picked up, it stopped. Nightowl pulled away and loosened his hold on you, causing you to let out a small whine of disappointment.

“As much as I don’t want to stop this right now, cutie, I’m starving for some actual food, not just you.”

You let out a chuckle, arms going back down to rest on his shoulders, “You’re such a tease.”

“Says the one wearing nothing but my shirt,” he flirted, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face once again. “Looks great on you, by the way. Makes your ass and thighs look fantastic. Especially your thighs.”

“I do, in fact, have something on under, mister,” you retorted, “But if you’re that hungry, I guess we could go scrounge up something, but by we, I mean me. We both know you can't cook for shit.”

“Ouch, that one stung.”

“It’s not that bad if I like cooking and you like eating it. Plus, you get to stare at my thighs all you want while I do so.”

“A win is a win,” he lifted one hand off your hips to cup your cheek. “Shall we then?”

“To the kitchen!” you giggled.

Nightowl gave you one last kiss on your forehead before putting his hand down, allowing you to get up off of him and the bed. He followed suit, loosely holding your hand. With that, you led the way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to start your long date day at 2 pm.

#blooming panic #bloomic #blooming panic fanfic #bloomic fanfic #nightowl #blooming panic nightowl #bp nightowl #bloomic nightowl #blooming panic x reader #nightowl x reader #bp nightowl x reader #bloomic nightowl x reader #sfw

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siryouarebeingmocked · 11 months ago

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Someone recently claimed that the new Davies era of doctor who has no more wokism* than the show used to.

Now, maybe I've just changed in the past few decades, but from what I've heard of the 60th anniversary specials it does seem a tad more concentrated. Cherry-picking SPOILERS, sweeties.

- Donna got married offscreen. To what I can only assume is the last black cab driver in London.

- Her kid is trans. Specifically, non-binary, female presenting, says the wiki.** - In the next episode, we learn the Doctor is gay/bi when he thinks Sir Isaac Newton is hot. I'd smugly say this bit has no real relevance, but...the actual scene does carry the episode theme of accidentally changing reality. It's just the queer bit that seems tacked on. Though it does carry forward themes from 10s era. - Sir Zack himself is played by a half-Indian actor. It's not exactly hard to tell. I'm assuming they're running on Bridgerton logic. https://twitter.com/frozenaesthetic/status/1731332492282429950 - This episode is basically just Donna and the Doc exploring a weird location, and running into monsters, who happen to look like them. It would be a bottle episode, except for the large vfx budget. And yet ol' Rusty somehow managed to awkwardly wedge in an progressive issue. - In the next episode, the villain explains how he's just exploiting the divisions that already exist in human society, including cancel culture. - no wait he's got a point. Jpg - This is ironic, given that Davies and/or his broadcasting house masters are pretty blatantly on the team that a) coined the word, b) cancels people the most often, and c) defends the idea of Internet lynch mobs*** (***as long as they're left wing. If not, they're *ist "trolls", even if they're just complaining about the latest sacred cow.) Maybe the Davies was criticizing his own team. * Because the Toymaker was kind of racist back in the day (white dude dressed like a stereotypical Chinese dude), Davies made the new version a bit racist "as a callback to his original, problematic depiction back in 1966." - TVtropes, ref. DW Unleashed. On the other hand, the Toymaker also mocks and dresses as several other cultural archetypes. All the ones I've seen were white European ones. He just does this to everyone, apparently. - Toymaker also weaponizes the Spice Girls hit "Spice Up Your Life". No, I will not explain. Though I will note that a line about the "Yellow man in Timbuktu" was apparently drowned out in the episode. Probably for being a tad spicy. - One new UNIT character is a lady in a wheelchair. When the new Tardis - no, I will not explain - has a wheelchair ramp, she happily points it out. Which makes me wonder why the blue box would be so limited, considering it often deals with alien species. - Also, the same actress played a disabled Companion in the Big Finish audio dramas. I'm not sure why it was considered essential to do so in an entirely audio format, but there have been controversies over this sort of thing before (EG Artie on Glee, various racial voice acting controversies). - At this point, casting Ncuti Gatwa as 15 doesn't even register. Not really a blip on my radar. Black Doc? Whatevs. His sonic screwdriver has Rwandan words on it? So? I go to church with lots of Africans. Heck, I'm a black immigrant to ol' Blighty myself, just from the other side of the pond. Ncuti is, chronologically speaking, more British than I am. - Though given that he's Rwandan-Scottish, there may be some debate on the "British" part. - Wikipedia says the actor is pretty left-wing, but the actor seems good so far, so I'm willing to give him a sha-

Oh, come ON!

Maybe the original person speaking was comparing it to the Chibnall “history has always been a whitewash” era, which had a character who was a paper thin Trump satire. A tad ironic, when the whole point of bringing Davies, Tennant, and Tate back is to play on nostalgia.

*Tangent: that word was apparently voted the most annoying words in English. Which is kind of hilarious if you know that it was originally created to self-describe certain progressives. And the "you can't even define that word!" meme was almost certainly ripped off from the right wing "what is a woman?" Meme. ** This is apparently because she's part Time Lord, through Donna. It seems a tad interesting to me that a few works featuring non binary characters happen to make them enby due to some sort of supernatural (Omniscient Reader) or sci-fi (SW Squadrons) influence which the vast majority of IRL enbies don't have. ...As far as I know.

#doctor who

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klausinamarink · 6 months ago

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! for your prompt i'd love to see how you do Steve with the prompt "And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here someday burns down" because its just too perfect hfdkaslhfdkl maybe hes explaining some of this trauma (to whichever character you'd like) maybe hes just getting a good yell out about it

It was stupid to be outside at this hour when half of Hawkins was raining ash and the other half was crumbling from the abyssal veins in the earth. But Jonathan was suffocating from staying inside Hopper’s cabin and listening to the endless strategy plans for so long that he was almost willing to taste the ash on his tongue. Let them sit inside his mouth and wait for the rot to spread across his jawline and skull and maybe he could finally breathe.

Despite this tempation, Jonathan still wore his mask. He also brought his rusty pipe wrench and flare gun just in case. He wasn’t that stupid.

At first, he wandered aimlessly. Walked between the boundaries of the trees and the still-flat roads. Then Jonathan went further into the woods and eventually found himself just at the edge of the junkyard.

Before he could turn around and head back to the cabin, a sound made him pause.

Thud. Thuck. Thud. Thuck.

Despite the sirens going off in his head, Jonathan brandished his pipe wrench and slowly stalked forward.

As he rounded closer to the source of the noise, Jonathan thought he could vaguely determine what it actually was. It was definitely metallic. Repetitive but slow. A little bit of tearing.

Like something hitting rhythmically at one of the rusty car doors.

As Jonathan hopped behind one pile to another, he could make out grunting noises too. Human, for sure.

Once he felt he was close enough, Jonathan slowly peeked over, holding back the urge to wipe his sweaty palms on his jeans.

It was a person. Judging from the broadness of the shoulders and torso, it was a man. He wore a dark camo jacket and pants that almost made him invisible. Jonathan watched with both caution and curiosity as the man swung an object over his shoulder and slammed it against a concave car door. It got stuck for a second, so the man ripped it out.

It was hard to see at first, but Jonathan knew the sight of a baseball bat with nails from anywhere.

He jumped out from his hiding spot and called out, “Steve?”

Steve did not stop or acknowledge Jonathan. He just kept hitting his bat over and over, his grunts growing audibly more ragged and watery. Jonathan suddenly remembered that Steve was fighting off a vicious cold.

Jonathan shouted this time, “Steve!”

Steve whirled around mid-swing, directing his nailbat in Jonathan’s direction. Much to his horror, Steve had his mask and protective eyewear missing.

Despite this, Steve greeted him casually like they were just passing by each other, “Oh, hey, Jonathan. What’s up?”

This threw Jonathan off. He looked over Steve from head to toe. Steve looked utterly disheveled with baggy bloodshot eyes, too-pale skin, and messy hair.

Everyone looked like that these days but Steve looked, well, shittier.

“Fine.” Jonathan said slowly, already calculating the time it would take to walk back with Steve in tow. “Are you-?”

“Perfect!” Steve interrupted with a too-wide grin. “Just fine too, really. You gotta be positive these days, ya’know?”

Steve threw his head back with a strained laugh that turned into a cough. It was enough for Jonathan to move his feet and grab Steve by the arm.

“Yeah, let’s get back to the cabin.” Jonathan pulled but Steve barely budged. When Jonathan looked back, Steve was still smiling but his stance was more defensive.

He laughed nervously, “Uh, why?”

Jonathan stared at him, “Dude, I don’t know where you lost your mask, but you still have a cold and-”

Steve laughed-coughed again, “Oh right, right! But, uh, you can just go back by yourself. I’ll catch up soon.”

Jonathan had a horrible thought. He did a double-take over Steve before he asked very slowly, “Steve, are you getting visions from Vecna?”

This time, Steve’s laugh was short and awfully genuine. “Nah, no way, dude. My skull’s too thick for him apparently.” Steve shook off from Jonathan’s grasp just to knock mockingly at his head, “I’m just Steve Harrington. The guy who goes through everything for those little shits but gets told to shut up, you’re an idiot for not knowing basic science, thank you very much, Henderson.”

Those last words were Steve just talking to himself as he examined his hand. Jonathan

“Okay, Steve, let’s just go. You’re still sick. You have no idea how bad it is to breathe in the Upside Down.”

“No idea.” Steve repeated slowly. Then he scoffed, “Yeah, of course I don’t have any idea about how gross monster air is like I hadn’t already walked through this shit twice, with and without protection.”

“Wait, you did?” Jonathan frowned, trying to remember from the previous Upside Down encounters. “I don’t think I had any idea-”

“Yeah, of course you don’t,” Steve suddenly spat at him so viciously that Jonathan stumbled back.

“You had no idea about the shit I went through even though you saw me beaten up again and again. Did you ask if I was okay? No, you just shrugged and never spoke to me. If you thought your shitshow at California was hard, then you have no idea what ours was like here.”

Steve jabbed a finger at Jonathan’s chest. “You never saw how Max had wrote these letters for us because she felt she would die anyway before we found a way to stop Vecna from killing her! Max shouldn’t have to feel like that but, hey, I guess I had no idea how to stop her from floating in the air anyway!”

“Steve-” Jonathan tried to speak, but Steve barrelled on, seemingly ignorant of the tears streaming down his eyes.

“I definitely had no idea how to look at Max in the eyes when she offered herself as the bait for Vecna! I promised to Max that she’s going to be okay no matter what! I promised to her like I was her brother and- you saw her, right? Did she even looked okay after that? I don’t know how to talk to Lucas when he also had Max die in his arms and still reads to her like she’s going to wake up any minute!”

“Steve-”

“When Eddie died from those fucking bats, you can say I had no idea how to save him! He was just bleeding all over and I used CPR on him like an idiot! I have his dead blood on my lips and I can still taste it! I still don’t know how to comfort Dustin when he saw his favorite person die in his arms and he acts like I killed Eddie!”

Steve broke into a coughing fit and dropped to his knees. Jonathan followed, finally clenching his hands on Steve’s arms. Steve tried to pry away but Jonathan wasn’t letting him.

Finally, Steve stopped resisting and just let out a horrible wail that went beyond the junkyard. Jonathan grabbed him and held Steve’s face against his chest to muffle his cries.

Jonathan’s mind was spinning. He knew - had seen - that Steve tended to be the most injured of the Party, but Steve always brushed it off. Jonathan never wanted to assume that Steve wasn’t hurting, at least physically.

But to hear him in a state like this…

Steve lifted his head up, a mess of snot and tears and spit. “Why didn’t Vecna come after me? Why Max and not me? None of this would happen if Vecna had me!”

He stared at Jonathan, his redder eyes all the more pleading. Discomfort grew under Jonathan’s skin, but not for the wrong reasons. He just doesn’t know how to exactly comfort anyone who isn’t Will or his mom or even El. Let alone someone like Steve Harrington.

None of them had seen Steve crying anyway.

But as Steve dropped his head and gave out another pathetic and wet cough, Jonathan slowly pulled Steve closer and wrapped his arms around the other man’s shoulders in what he hoped was a gentle hug.

It doesn’t stop the next round of tears, but with how Steve’s went limp and his hands clutching tighter on the back of his jacket, Jonathan took that as something of a good sign.

#alexa play angela’s hell from silent hill 2 after no children is done #the klaus birthday special #klaus writes #klaus answers #jonathan byers #steve harrington #stranger things

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featherglum · 1 year ago

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Silly transformers ocs that came to me in a dream (except I heavily altered the designs and lore from the original vision)

In the dream, I was browsing a website similar to artfight and saw a transformers oc named Priest ( @sonia-aquamarineson 's oc Gusty was on there too, but he was called Herring. This has no bearing on the rest of the lore, it was just funny). Priest's original design was a bit different from the current one and looked more like this:

(Made with this picrew and edited a bit to be more accurate. I didn't draw him because I wanted to get his design down ASAP before forgetting everything + I wasn't very confident in drawing tf characters yet.)

His lore was very inconsistent. A picture on his page implied that his alt mode was a speaker, but the first line of his description said it was a set of silverware. But that was contradicted too at the end where it said he was "a book with pages as brittle as his trust". There was also a mention of how someone cursed him and since then he just stayed at home.

There were also these 3 pictures that were, (allegedly) related to his backstory:

(Some nun looking with disapproval, Priest's human version looking sad or scared and finally, a weird Christmas tree with a face [what])

So yeah. Priest's backstory was pretty nonsensical, but thankfully after sharing the dream with Sonia (because Gusty was there briefly) we were both so normal about the guy that we decided to make his lore make sense.

Basically:

Pine was a cringefail scientist fed up with having his lab at some abandoned, rusty old base next to a junkyard in the middle of nowhere and wanted the other cons to finally respect him. So when his inventions weren't impressive enough, he had a different plan

He was going to kidnap some autobot and then contact their friends with a typical "grr hand over the secret info or your friend will die >:-[" message. But here's the twist! Before that, he would put a bomb inside the bot's chassis, which would activate when they leave the base. So even if the friends showed up to heroically rescue their bestie, they would still die anyway! Yippee!!

He managed to catch an unsuspecting bot, which happened to be Priest, and all seemed to be going well...

.. Until it turned out Priest was about as respected by the autobots as Pine was by the decepticons. When contacted, Priest's acquaintances couldn't care less about him possibly dying. They didn't seem too keen on heroically rescuing him, but didn't hand over the information Pine wanted, either.

Pine wasn't sure what to do. Sure, the bomb was already there, just waiting to be detonated. But on the other hand... was it really worth it? What's the point of this kind of murder when no one is watching?! When there's no one the lament the loss of their loved one?! And as much as he hated to admit it, he felt some sympathy for Priest, who was as much of a loser as he was.

Pine was like "ok, kidnapping's over, your murder is cancelled. Lemme take that bomb out of your chassis real quick. Then you can go wherever you want and forget this ever happened. Sorry for wasting your time". And yeah he took that bomb out but there was another problem.

Priest didn't really have anywhere to go and didn't want to come back to the autobots, considering how little they cared about him.

And so, he ended up staying with Pine and joining the decepticons (which had little to do with the actual ideology and more with wanting their partnership to look less suspicious). Priest spends his days helping Pine with his inventions and digging through the junkyard for any interesting devices he could use as an alt mode (since there isn't much else to do there, really). As such, he changes his alt mode very often and it's a bit hard to keep up with sometimes. However, one form he often comes back to is an arcade machine (which is the design pictured in his ref!)

Also don't ask how an arcade machine ended up in space. This is a ridiculous little story about a pathetic pine tree robot and and a guy named Priest. And it was based on a dream. Weirdness is unavoidable here.

Oh that was long. If you're still reading say. Uh. Idk just say something.

And shoutout to @sonia-aquamarineson yet again for helping me figure out the lore and her contributions to Pine's design!!

If anyone has questions about them, my asks are always open

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set-wingedwarrior · 2 years ago

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The Right time

So. It's been a hot minute, huh?

I'll spare you the long list of reasons why I haven't written for a while, and I can't even promise a full comeback because of my studies and stuff. I've written this very randomly, it's short, and I'm rusty, but I'm still happy I've been able to write something. I hope you'll like it :)

Shout out to @phoenix-fell for proofreading this very last minute, thanks bud!

AO3

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

Saying that they were shocked was an euphemism. Finding out that one of your friends is now decades older than you and turned into one of the main characters of your favorite childhood book isn’t a commonplace event. It makes you wonder how it must have felt for Jaune to realize that the guy he read about as a kid was actually his future self.

He surely knew how hard it was to process, which is why he left Team RWBY alone for some time, giving their minds the time to ease into that new reality before going straight back to business. In the meantime he’d use that spared hour to help the people of the Ever After that got hurt by the earlier attack, which is hardly a bad idea.

Ruby is visibly shaken, another hit on her sense of duty, feeling once again the failure to save a friend. Weiss is right beside her as the two take comfort in each other’s presence, and Yang feels particularly grateful that Weiss is still fighting to keep her promise to be the best partner she can be. It means that, at least for a little moment, Yang can take time for herself, and address the inner struggles regarding her own partner..

“Are you okay?” Blake, always the observant one, doesn’t miss the betraying flick of worry in Yang’s eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Yang’s quick to answer “It’s just- I think I need to talk to you.” She says, before she can change her mind. She’s aware that it’s not the right time, probably the worst actually, but when was there ever a right one?

“Oh! I- I mean- sure.” Blake’s nervousness is obvious, which is why Yang doesn’t hesitate to take her hand in hers and give it a reassuring squeeze. It works, and Blake lets herself be led outside. “So, what do you need to talk about? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes- no- I mean-“ looking down, Yang can see the Rusted Knight, Jaune, moving around with Juniper to help people. She takes a deep breath; she can do this. She has to. “Listen. I know that this, whatever this is going on between us, is still new. And I wanted to wait for the right moment before bringing it up but… then I saw him.” she nodded towards Jaune “Did he even try to get home? How long has he been waiting for us to find him? Or for him to find us?” Yang knows she’s pretty much rambling right now, but Blake’s focused gaze and pointed ears tell her that she still has her undivided attention. “And now I keep wondering: what if that was me? Or you?”

“Yang, we don’t know how things work here, and this is all just a conjecture. But I know that if that was me, I would have waited for you. No matter if I had the chance to escape, I’d never leave you behind.”

“This is not what I meant. I…” now it’s Blakes turn to give her a comforting squeeze.

“What do you mean then? It’s okay, go on.”

“It just… it made me realize: there’s no right time. There’s just here and now. And I don’t wanna force anything on you, you don’t have to answer me in any way. But I can’t risk spending my whole life waiting; I just need to tell you. Blake, I lo-“

Yang doesn’t get the chance to finish, interrupted by a pair of lips pressing on her own. Her first instinct is to freeze, - this is her first kiss, their first kiss! – but she gets one second to reciprocate before Blake pulls back.

“Are you really telling me about waiting and what ifs?” Blake starts, her voice breaking “Yang, I watched you die.” She grips on Yang’s jacket, not holding her but keeping her close “I saw you fall and disappear into a void that I was sure was certain death, and everything just stopped. Atlas, the relics, the evacuation, all gone; all I could think about was that I needed to reach you. I would have jumped if Weiss hadn’t stopped me.”

“Blake…”

“Finding you here has been the greatest relief I have ever felt in my whole life. But, most importantly, it gave me, us, a second chance. I am not risking it, and I am not waiting anymore.” She says solemnly, before looking up and right into her eyes, the amber shining like gold “Yang Xiao Long, I am in love with-“

Yang tries, she really does, but she just can’t resist. She just has to lean down to kiss her again. This time it lasts a little longer, Blake has the time to adjust and kiss her back while both of their arms find their way around each other.

“I’m sorry.” Yang says after pulling back, with a wide grin that says she’s not sorry at all. Somehow Blake can’t bring herself to be mad.

Then, the next time they speak is together, like they’re one person, one mind, one soul.

“I love you.”

They grin at each other. Grins that turn into smiles, that turn into giggles, until they let out a full blown laughter. It’s not even that funny, but they laugh so hard that they start crying.

All of their stress and fears finally find a way out through that pure unrestricted laughter. All of the feelings, good and bad, but most importantly all the love that has been held close to their hearts, are now free and out into the air of that unique and magical world. And they laugh like crazy, like in love.

When it finally calms down, the two women look at each other, catch their breaths, then kiss again.

There’s never a right time for this sort of thing, especially when you’re a huntress and the world has fallen onto your shoulders. They could be gone tomorrow, or live long enough to witness the end of the world.

Now is the right time. So they kiss, and laugh, and enjoy it to its fullest. Because that’s what makes it all more perfect: it’s the present.

#rwby #bumbleby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #rwby fic #bumbleby fic #my fic #rwby9 #rwby spoiler #rwby spoilers #ruby rose #weiss schnee #jaune arc #whiterose if you squint #i haven't written fanfiction in a while be nice pls lol

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prinz-vassago · 8 months ago

Note

Gou has an older brother, right? What happens to him later on? Did Gou ever resent him for insulting him and being cold to him?

First of all, I'm sorry for the delay in answering your questions. I'm busy with commissions and now my tablet cable is broken so I'm waiting for the new one to arrive. I did some drawings for this post, but they look ugly, I'm so rusty for traditional art so don't mind how weird they look!! Secondly, thank you for sending an ask about it, I struggle a bit to post details of my characters' stories, so this kind of question is very important to me.

Okay so, It's hard to explain correctly what will happen to him due to the lack of characters posted yet. (I ended up taking a break due to burnout and now my Mugen No Kagi stuff is late!! But I have tons of dudes and girls to post very soon.) Gou's brother is an antagonist that I created so that Gou's backstory wouldn't feel so empty. He doesn't have a name (and I don't intend to give him one); he simply serves to add depth and cause events that will impact the stories of the main characters. An abusive older brother who thinks he can do whatever he wants because he has a respected status in the Japanese imperial army (He's an Officer). In fact he is just very bitter about the things that have happened in his life and takes it out on people. He also feels very burdened having full responsibility for his younger brother, and knows that if Gou fails, it will be his fault. Regarding Gou's feelings towards him, I can say that Gou would definitely like to receive affection in some way, but as his life has been hard since his birth and he has practically never felt real affection from his family, he understands that his brother's way of demanding a lot from him is just a concern so he doesn't end up failing and ruining the family reputation.

(The blade cuts on Gou's face were actually made during katana training with his brother) the cut is also mirrored, but who cares?

Gou see his brother as an extremely exemplary person, and want to be an officer like him, or at least an important soldier. If his brother is mad at him for any reason, he understands that there is something wrong with himself, so he is always trying to be the "perfect young brother". His brother imposes a lot of rules in the house, so Gou's routine boils down to: going to school, returning home, taking care of the corpses and doing daily chores. When he's done he spends the rest of the afternoon and night doing his stuff and reuniting with the club.

Gou's brother knows that he has a girlfriend (wait for her), and also knows that he is a strange child, but he doesn't really care about it at first and have no idea what really happens. (When he's off work, he basically watches television and listens to the radio all day while Gou does his chores. Sometimes he spends the day with a woman he has romantic interests in.) Eventually, Gou will start to disobey some rules and return to the house after days and this will greatly irritate his brother who will be bothered by Gou's strange behavior. He will also notice strange smells on him, and will soon discover a pile of stolen skulls and creepy stuff Inside Gou's room. He will then start following Gou to find out what he is doing while outside, and will find out about the occult club and the graves desecration.

What I plan for him is an unexpected encounter with Akumu during a fucked up moment, and Akumu ends up killing him (Eventually this will be clearer?? I don't have many details about what his end will be as I might change my mind, so take this with a grain of salt! ) You can actually read more about Gou in his Toyhouse page.

btw bonus

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keepyourpantsongohan · 2 months ago

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Ayesha Liveblogs Given S1

I have no knowledge of this show aside from that it is a Boyband Romance Anime, but I love the little puppy they've introduced in the first scene, fingers crossed for a recurring role

[Dreaming of snapped guitar strings, staring up at a dark figure and cans scattered on the floor] Your Lie in April has really set a very strange precedent for musician romance anime, I hope for a different vibe. The haunting dreams do not bode well

I like the proportions of these characters, it feels very realistic

"Seriously, say something, would you?! Use your damn words! You're creepy as hell! And your strings are rusty, that's why one of 'em broke! Fix it already!" 1) I gather by this unsolicited rant that Uenoyama and Sulky Redhead are love interests, and 2) Is that the voice of Megumi Fushiguro, Boy Kisser?

It IS the voice of Megumi Fushiguro, Boy Kisser!!!! Criticizing someone's guitar maintenance but then immediately dropping everything to fix it bc they look sweet and sad is SO Megumi. [Todo voice] I know what you are

"I had no idea that I was strumming hard on his heartstrings with my own fingers." Surely there was a better way to say this, Uenoyama?

Also, he makes it seem like the other guy fell first, when it appears to me that Uenoyama is stressing BECAUSE he thinks the other guy is cute

HAHAHA not Uenoyama listening to the Artistic Monkeys

JKHGKJH I wondered why Uenoyama first sat down, I guess it's because this stairwell is where he naps. Terrible choice, both uncomfortable and in the way

"You carry a guitar around knowing nothing about it?" A fair point

HAHAHA the way that Kaji and Haruki immediately want to show off and play a song for Sato. Accurate band vibes

"Teach me guitar... please." "Would you knock that off? I've never taught anyone. I don't even know how to teach." Gkjhgkjgh the way Sato keeps ignoring Uenoyama's very reasonable concerns and suggestions and insists he should be his teacher

[Saves Sato from gettins sideswiped] "You need to watch behind you." "But I can't see behind me."I think perhaps Sato has a condition of the mind

I love Yayoi, because this is exactly how I am lounging at home:

"I haven't been over there [to the stairwell] since yesterday. Because I had a feeling I'd break if he asked me again." LOL Uenoyama said: I never claimed to be a strongwilled man

"Was it... actually showing on my face?" Iknowwhatyouare.jpg

HAHAHAH Uenoyama worried about Sato not showing up in the stairwell (that Uenoyama had purposely been avoiding!!) but it's because Sato was holding hands with Uenoyama's bassist while waiting for him in the music studio

"Didn't you... go to the light music club?" "I did. But you were cooler, Uenoyama." AWWWW Sato

"We're gonna go for a smoke." I gather that Kaji and Haruki are a bit older than Uenoyama?

They did shortly elaborate that Haruki is in grad school and Kaji is a second year in university/college. I agree with Sato, it is impressive that Uenoyama is at the same level given they've had more time to learn!

"I want to play the first [chord] you played for me." Now this is a trope I've heard MANY times LOL. And somehow they always remember which chord that is

"He might've seemed bratty just because, y'know, he's going through puberty." LMAO real, Kaji

Ggkjghkjghg the realness of the fact to be a musician you need to have tons of disposable income. 10/10 accuracy

They've already mentioned Kaji going out with Yayoi, but with the hair tugging and the "When did you do all that?" "You wanted to see?" with Haruki, I feel like Kaji is perhaps a bisexual king

"Because I don't want to hurl from seeing some high school cover band play basic-ass J-Pop songs." Hahaha, you're a pretentious little prick, aren't you, Uenoyama?

"I'm not sure... But I had fun." [Blushes] "I see." Tee hee

"Why are you guys so buddy-buddy?" Uenoyama's friends have clocked his peculiar dynamic with Sato LOL

"Well, neither of you are exactly sociable. You're in different classes and have different personalities. All the girls have been wondering what's up too." "They're actually wondering?" "Yup, I mean Sato-kun's pretty hot, y'know? He has a lot of secret fans, but he seems so unapproachable." They are the Toya and Yuki of their school, admired widely and having their own Intimate Rituals for Touching the Skin of Other Men LOL

"No, I don't have a dad." "Huh? Oh, sorry. Uh, in that case... what kind of music do you like?" Uenoyama, King of Subtle Topic Changes

Uenoyama aftering haring Sato sing one (1) time: Oh no, I hope this doesn't awaken anything within me

"I'm not lonely. Even though I'll never see you again... Even though I still don't have any words... I'll take the thing you loved with me." Are we about to elaborate on Sato's tragic backstory and random expensive guitar?

This shot is definitely giving Bisexual Love Triangle for Kaji and Haruki and Yayoi, I love this for them:

[Haruki, internally] "Drop dead, you oblivious heartbreaker." OH????? I wasn't expecting confirmation so soon!! And from Haruki!! Tell me more

"He's the damn weirdo, here. You know Sato Mafuyu, right?" "Yeah, the guy from the class next door. I invited him to join our band." I also wasn't expecting Uenoyama to loop his Basketball friend into the music situation LOL

LOL @ Uenoyama being so upset at being rejected. Now the Chase this Guy to Be Involved in My Music Journey Vibe is on the other foot!!

"How do you keep getting a hold of Kaji-san, even though he dumped you—" HAHAH not Uenoyama seeking advice from a romantic dynamic for his Sato struggles. Telling, I think

HJKGHJGHGKJHG the Wikihow article he's consulting:

"When you were wondering why he declined, did you think to actually ask him why?" A piercing shot from Haruki LOL.

"You should probably hear him out. Music is all about communication." My favourite romance trope is when a friend (Haruki) asks the main character: Have you tried listening? And the main character is like: :o!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"There's no way Akihiko is two years younger than me..." Is that cause you have a crush on him, Haruki?

Also I love the consistency of Haruki calling everyone casually, either by first name like Akihiko and Mafuyu or by diminutive like calling Uenoyama "Uecchi"

"You just... fell off the face of the earth... Hey, wait a sec... What the hell? That thing on your back... Is that Yuki's guitar?" We've circled back to tragic backstory

Also, not the same Yuki I was referencing before lol. I was thinking of Cardcaptor Sakura's Yukito

So, I gather from the funeral shot that Yuki is extremely dead:

[Sato, internally] "Just like how everyone laughs and cries. I just... can't do it well." Oh, Sato's for sure got something. Do you think they're getting at him being autistic?

Sato running away until Uenoyama calls him by name (Mafuyu)!!!

"Are, are you crying?" asked Uenoyama, not knowing that that was a sensitive subject for Sato

"When you're in a band, you have to express yourself in front of people, right? People always tell me, I look like I'm not thinking about anything." I wasn't expecting the neurodivergence to be a plot point!

"You're not good at expressing yourself? The whole reason I invited you into our band, is because your song shook me to my core." It DID awaken something within Uenoyama! Reignited love of music, or attraction to men, or both, only time will tell

[Uenoyama, internally] "How could you say something like that with such a pained look on your face?" Ohhhhh Uenoyama understands how Sato emotes

"Ever since I met you, I'm pretty sure I've been a complete mess," thought Uenoyama, as Sato serenaded him in the street

What the fuck does Kaji make of this conversation LMAO

"I'll do it. I want to join your band." Yeehaw, here we go!

Do Ritsuka and Yayoi have parents? We haven't seen them once yet LOL

Fascinated by the College Love Triangle Subplot. It seems like Haruki is in love with Kaji, but I want them to elaborate!!

"It's like he went back to how he used to be." What happened to make Uenoyama lose his drive for music before? Just growing up?

Also Uenoyama's right, how is Yayoi so close to Kaji when they've supposedly broken up LOL?

"Looks like Sato-kun stole Uenoyama-kun from you..." LMAO not Uenoyama being more responsive to Sato's call from literally like 15 feet away than to Kasai who was literally poking him repeatedly while calling out right next to him

Oh ho ho, I think with Kasai prompting some jealousy for Sato, the romance factor might amp up (pun intended)

"That song in your head. I figured I might be able to turn into an actual song." "You remember it?" "Huh? Of course I do. I've heard it twice now." Uenoyama King of, If He Wanted To, He Would

Hee hee, I love music shopping date. What 2gether didn't have the budget for LMAO:

"Why are they always together?" "Huh?" "They're all over each other, day after day... Why are they hanging out after school, too? Why? Are they dating or something?" There's always one girl per gay romance show that goes, Hey, Men Having Friends is For Homosexuals. Which like, accurate for the duo, but not as a general rule

"Do you have finals around then?" "Uh..." [Camera pans, Uenoyama looks at Sato] [Sato shakes his head] "We're good." "You really don't give a crap about anything besides the band, do you?" HAHAHA a direct and accurate hit from Kaji

"Sorry, but can I come over tonight?" Wow, modelling drinking and not driving AND we get a Kaji-Haruki sleepover? I'm thrilled!

"Ever since I fell in love with Akihiko, it's been like my prayer for something to happen." VINDICATION!!!!!!!!!

"But that was also when I first encountered the child prodigy, Ritsuka Uenoyama." Omg, child prodigy? Go Uenoyama!

"That was the first time in my life I'd stared at another guy's face so intensely. The light hitting his eyes made them look even brighter, and the edges looked almost green." Haruki said: Move over Sato-Uenoyama slowburn, I fell hard and discovered by sexuality fast!!! Pack it up, gay people

IT'S NOT A LOVE TRIANGLE, IT'S A LOVE SQUARE, AND THERE'S ALREADY A MAN IN AKIHIKO (KAJI)'S BED!!! I LOVE THE COLLEGE ROMANCE SUBPLOT

"Wanna play some basketball?" "Are you sure?" Awww, Sato's making new friends!

"So he can smile!" said Uenoyama, as if Sato had not smiled at him numerous times already

LOL @ Haruki trying to discuss band logistics while all three other band members are focused too much on the barbecue. Accurate young men representation, based on my experiences at all-you-can-eat restaurants

This is an insane choice of where to sleep if Akihiko (Kaji) is dating someone else???? EXPLAIN THE MAN

The puppy is making a return appearance!! (Aside from the end credits, which are entirely puppy.) Woo!

"I wonder... if Sato-kun likes you." "I mean, I don't think he hates me." Kasai's initial gay accusation going right over Uenoyama's head

"Sato-kun was dating another boy from his middle school. On top of that, the guy... suddenly killed himself last year. There are rumours that Sato-kun was part of the reason he killed himself." 1) Insane way to bring this up, Uenoyama is currently Sato's best friend and 2) Did you consider, Kasai, that gay teens are at high risk of suicide not usually because of their boyfriends, but because of the lack of support and hostility from people around them?

Also the terrible revelation at why this episode is called The Reason. I'm having a bad time at this juncture

"What the hell is this weird feeling twisting in my stomach?" 50-50 on whether Uenoyama thinks it's jealousy or homophobia

"That's Yuki's guitar, right?" "His mom asked me to take it. "I guess you guys basically had both your parents' approval." Ohhhhh Mafuyu

[Mafuyu, relieved] "You are here to criticize me, then." Oh, what a fucked up and weird dynamic between Sato and Hiiragi

"Of course I'll worry. How can I help it? We've all been friends since we were little." This Yuki backstory continues to unfold

"I know it's not really fair of me, but I haven't breathed a word of what I heard that day to anyone." If anything, it would be more unfair if Uenoyama DID say anything about it

"What is that feeling, anyway? Part of me wants to run away when I hear it. Though part of me also really likes it." I'd wager that's a personal problem, Uenoyama

Akihiko said, laughing: Ah, Gay Music Anger, we've all been there

"I believe in you, son." "Are you his boss now?" The vaguely threatening aura Uenoyama has with Mafuyu when he's encouraging him musically kills me

"Oh, I know. Why not write lyrics about past relationships? That's pretty classic." "Shut your mouth, son." HAHAHA Kaji said: You will NOT hurt the feelings of our band's teen romance, Haruki

"I really admire that about you. And you know how to make coffee using a siphon." [Haruki, blushing] "Please stop killing me with kindness!" They really gotta elaborate on the man in bed in what seems like Kaji's studio apartment before I can actively root for Haruki and Kaji

What with how long Mafuyu's been travelling around, I can only imagine he's visiting Yuki's grave

I haven't said much about them, but I like that Ueki and Itaya have immediately taken to Mafuyu

[Uenoyama, internally] "Someone he loved? Oh, yeah. This is... This is definitely jealousy." He got there eventually!

They're ealborating on the man from Kaji's apartment, finally. Also, hilarious that seemingly everyone in this band is gay, but they're all keeping it from each other, despite several of them having feelings for other members. Quadruple glass closet

"If this goes any further, our band's going to fall apart." They can't be expected to work under these romantic conditions:

"Did something happen between you and Mafuyu?" [Uenoyama makes strangled noises while blushing] "Wait, what?! You already put your mitts on him?!" HAHAHA WHAT A THING TO SAY

"What do you even think happened?! Put my mitts on him? Late bloomer?!" PLEASE SOMEONE EDIT MEGUMI TO THIS DIALOGUE HAHAHAHAHA

"Your face basically says, 'I'm in love with Mafuyu.'" Uenoyama found dead on Aisle 10 kjghkjghgj

"Is there something wrong with me?" "No? What's wrong about it? That you like a guy? 'I'm only supposed to be into girls,' or something? Don't worry. That's what I thought about myself, but I've been with guys, too." BISEXUAL KAJI CONFIRMED AND WE GET A YOUNG QUEER PERSON BEING SUPPORTED BY AN OLDER QUEER PERSON? I LOOOOOOVE

"I mean, it was kinda petty [to bring up rumours about Sato being gay]. But I guess I'm glad I found out... or something." Uenoyama, Prince of Honestly Confronting His Feelings

Kaji both wants the teen romance to blossom but also has deep concerns about the state of their band

"When his hand touched my skin through my clothes, there was so much tension, it was like I'd been pierced by needles. I wanted to rip all of these needles out, strip him naked, and sully that sound." This is way more intense than Haruki's monologue, Kaji, what are they teaching you at this college?

I still have no idea what's going on between Kaji and his roommate. They've gotta be dating right? There's one bed!

"Well, yeah... I'm just striving to my usual level of performance... Isn't that enough?" "It's not. Or at least, that's what Akihiko thinks. I don't know if you're just too worried about Mafuyu to even notice, but if you go on like this, you're gonna be swallowed up by Mafuyu's sound." They really are giving these teens Musical Ultimatums for Improvement

Of all the things in this show, I am most thrown by the concept of a disposable umbrella. People in Japan just be buying cheap umbrellas for a few uses to break and throw out? What? Why? It's like a raincoat, single-use doesn't make sense! How have you marketed this successfully???

(I know how. From my limited experience in Japan, the single-use plastic industry is everywhere. It's perplexing. We aren't even allowed plastic grocery bags here!!! There's a national ban!)

"Ugetsu. You should come." "There's no point in seeing a show if the performers aren't even trying." "I'm trying! Hell, that's all I really have going for me right now!" Akihiko what's wrong with your roommate and also your self-esteem?

"Play with your new viola-playing boyfriend." "Nah, I just like his face." So they're not dating???? And Ugetsu's boyfriend doesn't mind them sharing one studio apartment and bed? WHAT'S THE DYNAMIC HERE

Mafuyu is better than me, I would NOT be leaving my place to hang out with someone I was fighting with in the rain

We finally get a boyfriend reveal, and it turns out Yuki was blond and they were macking in classrooms

"I get how you feel but—" "You have no idea how I feel!" "You're right. I don't." A fair point, Hiiragi really doesn't know what it's like to have a dead boyfriend

"Kashima Hiiragi wants to be forgiven. It doesn't matter by who. He just wants to be forgiven." Why is Kashima Hiiragi talking about himself in the third person?

Awwww we get a flashback to Baby Mafuyu and his friend group

"They were both missing something from the start. It was like they each had what the other was lacking, so Yuki needed Mafuyu, and Mafuyu needed Yuki." It's hard getting this childhood retrospective knowing that Yuki is dead

"Two days later, Yuki, who couldn't even drink, downed a huge amount of booze. And Mafuyu found him." So Yuki died of alcohol poisoning? Rough. That does explain the haunting dream from the first few scenes

"Call me sometime, you dumbass." I think this talk has been healing for Hiiragi and Mafuyu

"But more than anyone else, [Hiiragi] wants Mafuyu to forgive him." For not speaking out to Yuki? Baby, you couldn't have known

"When I talk, my dad hits me." "You know, I'm not your dad." MAFUYU AND YUKI MAKE ME SO SAD 😭😭😭😭😭😭

On one hand, totally reasonable for Uenoyama to say let's shelve the singing for now. On the other hand, poor Mafuyu, he's so sad

The guitar strings seem like a metaphor for Mafuyu's emotional state (currently broken)

"Say, Haruki. You can be a little more conceited, you know." Is now the time for stairwell flirting? Sure!

"Mafuyu, I like your sound. I was trying to give you a little push, but before I realized it, you were the one pulling me up. Ever since you showed up, my sound's been scattered, disconnected and warped. It's just a mess. But I'm having so much more fun now than when I was just playing the chords I was told to play. Damn it, what am I trying to say? I guess I suck at putting my feelings into words, too." Mafuyu took til the end to realize this was a confession LOL, he fully thought it was a criticism:

"But in reality, even if I really wanted to, I can't cry properly, and it hurts to bad... It hurts so bad I just want to scream. I always wanted someone to understand that. Even just a little bit..." Mafuyu is actively processing his trauma on stage

HAHAHAHA I kind of expected that Mafuyu would sing, but it is still funny to see how flabbergasted his bandmates are

Baby Yuki's litte glare as they take Mafuyu's dad away. The montage of their friendship and love. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh this song is getting to me

"Are you willing to die for me, then?!" Top 10 Most Haunting Options for Things You Can Say To Someone Right Before They Die. Deeply rough for Mafuyu

Every High Schooler at This Concert Venue: So we're all thinking about the same dead boyfriend, right?

HAHAHA the way that Uenoyama and Mafuyu just immediately leave the stage for a sad cuddle, ignoring the rest of their setlist and band. Wild but great

"Thank y—" [Uenoyama kisses Mafuyu] "You did so good out there. I'm gonna go play another song." DERANGED BOY KISSER, ALWAYS, 10,000/10ZO

"I'm not lonely. I'm having fun. I love music. I'm having fun during lunch. And I have someone new I'm in love with. If only I could talk to you again." Oh, Mafuyu 💔

"Yuki wanted to write a song for you. But you wanted him to say, 'Let's do this together,' didn't you?" Hiiragi said: Is your new boyfriend helping you resolve your past relationship trauma?

"A date? You never even asked me out." "Well, that goes for both of us. You never did either." Yuki and Mafuyu's relationship was quite sweet, they're really selling me on it

"Let's have sex in the bathroom when we get back." "Yeah. Let's not." HAHAHAH Yuki, so bold. I guess the shirtless bed scene in the romance montage wasn't for nothing!

After all those episodes, we finally get an appearance from Uenoyama and Yayoi's dad LOL, trying to help his daughter avoid an impulse haircut

Also, apparently Yayoi and Kaji did not date, he only gently let her down. Things are looking up for Haruki

"Man, being in love must be rough. Love?" [Flashbacks to the previous night and kissing Mafuyu] LMAO @ UENOYAMA JUST PROCESSING HIS OWN ACTIONS NOW. Also, this dialogue is another excellent opportunity for a Megumi edit

"My boyfriend was kinda surprised to see that side of Sato-san." Is Waka's boyfriend Hiiragi or Shizusumi?

"I think I was just hit with your band's passion. I want to see where you guys go from here." [Haruki blushes and hides his face in his hands] "You react in a really cute way, you know that? Wait, I feel like I just tried to make a pass at you." You did, Yatake

Poor Kaji walking in, I wonder how the stairwell flirt concluded

KHDKHHKJH the sudden narrator interjection after 10 episodes: "Uenoyama came to a conclusion. 'Whatever. If I'm gonna die, might as well go while I'm still young.'" UENOYAMA PLS

"You can stay a bit longer." "You're surprisingly pushy." "Just five more minutes." [Uenoyama blushes and caves immediately] Hahaha I'd say new dynamic unlocked but actually think this has been the dynamic the whole show

"Where could he have possibly stored all that sadness in that skinny body of his?" LNKGJLKGJ what??? This just in: Skinny people can't be sad

"My dead boyfriend's mom gave me this guitar." Insane reasoning for why you want the word 'give' in your band's title LMAO?????

"Would a CD work for you?" This is the only thing that has dated the show to a specific era hahaha RIP CDs

[Ugetsu, internally] "But that's why it's such a waste. This kid could be really big if he had the right kind of trigger." Kaji's roommate really brings a sinister aura everywhere he goes

"I like you, Uenoyama-kun." "Huh?" Mafuyu said: I am not one for beating around the bush

PLS I want more scenes from inside Uenoyama's brain, the dinosaurs and gradient rainbow "It's mutual" really got me

HAHAHAHA they immediately delivered on my request with a more unhinged version of Inside Out, also taking place inside Uenoyama's brain:

"No matter how you spin it, hooking up with bandmates is only gonna cause trouble [...] I'd be totally against it, no matter what." Hahahaha not Uenoyama forcing himself to watch a mental video of past regrettable statements

"You guys are going to start dating? You're not dating yet, are you?" "Not yet. I just told him how I felt." HHAHAHA NOT THE POLLING THEIR BAND MEMBERS

[Bowing] "Please let us have this. We'll do our best." Awwww Uenoyama's so cute

HAHAHAAHA THEY HEADLOCK HARUKI INTO A GROUP HUG IN GRATITUDE FOR BEING ALLOWED TO DATE

Kaji being like: Alright, fair enough, the fact you're dating is partially my fault anyway

"But you don't have a guitarist right now, right? You don't have any friends, Hiiragi," said Mafuyu, in what was both a cutting insult but also an accurate statement since both of Hiiragi's friends were in this room

"How are we supposed to know what anyone born in the 1000s was thinking?" NOT BORN IN THE 1000S HAHAHAH. All of the adults looks of horror. Been there, baby

This birthday pie reminds me that there was a time in my life where being pied was more of an active threat than it is now. Times, they change

"You're in love, aren't you? What kind of girl is she?" A six foot tall, burly and pierced man named Akihiko Kaji

Also, both Kaji and Haruki are bi! Love that for them. This band is somewhere between 1/2 and 3/4 bisexual, which is my preferred ratio for bisexual characters LOL <3

"What kind of song do you want to write next?" I guess I'll find out in the sequel film

#ayesha liveblogs given #liveblogging #ayesha talks anime #suicide warning #it's not graphic but it is a topic throughout the latter half #debated putting the films in this same liveblog but since there's 2 more films and little image space it made more sense to split it #long post #given #given series #moqueueton

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ethereousdelirious · 1 year ago

Text

Welcome to the sediment layer of "fills I had to write on a 10+ y/o iPhone because I post my real phone in Canada"

It has since been replaced, but. That was a dark time

Sicktember 2023 Day 28

Prompt: "I should have stayed home"

Fandom: Pokémon

Characters: W.allace, St.even

Notes: Emeto emeto emeto

Now, at this very moment, linguists were re-writing the Official Hoennese Dialect Dictionary. Flip to the 'D' section— there, under 'down bad,' a picture of Wallace sweating through his shirt.

Definition: whatever; example sentence: "Wallace is down bad for Steven Stone."

Down so bad that he'd agreed to come to this hours-long lecture on rocks. Down so bad that he hadn't canceled despite waking up with the stomach ache of the century. Despite the near-misses he'd had throughout the day, stifled gags behind closed lips and hoping the challenger of the hour wouldn't notice anything. And thank the Makers that he hadn't actually gotten sick in his Gym, because then some poor janitor would have had to melt the ice and drain the water and that would have been a nightmare.

Wallace's stomach bucked beneath his waistband. Oh, right. He was already in a nightmare. A never ending stream of lectures on rocks and stones and boulders and minerals and whatever else and he was right up front, so when he inevitably left to go puke his guts up in the university bathroom, everyone would notice.

And then, once he'd recovered, he'd have to find his seat again and sweat through some more lectures, because of course Steven was speaking last.

There was just no way Wallace could miss his speech, not after months of late-night phone calls helping Steven workshop subheading names and sentence structures. He'd been so excited that Wallace had agreed to come.

So Wallace was going to sit and swallow back the waves of nausea and shiver in his custom white suit (with the diamond-studded tulle capelet, thank you very much) and be there for his best friend.

All he had to do was wait.

And wait.

And w— and not throw up, do not, do not.

And wait.

The misery came in waves: first a cold sweat on his brow and pressure in his stomach, then more sweat rolling down his back, then a heavy urge to retch sitting in the back of his throat. His breaths came so loud through his nose it interfered with his ability to hear the lectures and surely his neighbors resented the chill of his exhalations on their wrists, but he couldn't control it. Not if he wanted to control his stomach.

Worst of all, the longer he held back, the more his stomach hurt, cramping like Nolan's Pinsir had him in a Vise Grip.

Pressure and pain built up in his belly until he just couldn't ignore it any more. Brackish saliva flooded his mouth and every attempt to swallow it down met increased resistance at the back of his throat.

He stood just as applause filled the auditorium— a stroke of luck. Keeping his head down, he stumbled over his neighbors' legs on his way out of the auditorium. How rude, to leave like this. But still, it was better than vomiting all over the carpet.

Wallace staggered into the atrium with the next speaker's voice booming in his head— "...the significance of Kanto's Mt Moon. How many of you have had the chance to visit—"

Wallace's stomach lurched and all his senses slammed inward with it, frantic focus on self and now and oh no I'm not going to make it.

Giving up on the bathroom, he steered himself toward the nearest trash can and immediately coated its contents with a thin wash of watery stomach acid. The edge of the can rammed into his sore abdomen and he heaved again, this time bringing up nothing but a quiet noise of distress.

Tears flooded his eyes and his knees gave out. He hit the ground hard, further irritating his stomach, which now felt like the Rusturf Tunnel: violently hollowed with rusty digging equipment.

He sat there on the floor for a moment. Just enough to collect himself, calm his breathing. He felt better now, really, a little better. Better enough that he could do the stupid, thirsty thing and stay long enough to listen to Steven's speech. Otherwise, what was it all for?

All he had to do was picture the grateful look on Steven's beautiful face and it would all be okay.

The feeling of tentative stability stayed through the second half of the speech he'd bailed on, even backing off enough to let him enjoy honest butterflies in his stomach when Steven finally took the stage.

Wallace's front row seat gave him a perfect view of the way Steven's silvery-green eyes sparkled in the spotlights. They were especially captivating tonight, probably because of the fever cooking Wallace's brain. Or, no, Steven really was that magical, wasn't he? From the easy way he commanded a room to his effortless presence in battle, he really was divine.

"...Wallace, whom I really cannot thank enough."

Wallace shook himself. Was that a blush on Steven's cheeks?

"Please stand up, Wallace; I really could not have done this without you." Steven gestured into the audience. "Gym Leader Wallace, everyone."

With his own cheeks burning, Wallace stood. He would have waved to Steven if he hadn't immediately come over dizzy. All his focus shifted at once to the monumental task of staying upright; he had to lock his knees and lean back against his chair for the modicum of stability it offered him.

He all but collapsed when the applause died down and Steven's next few sentences faded away to the roar in his ears.

Oh.

He was really sick.

He should have realized it earlier, probably, as though gagging into a trash can and collapsing hadn't been enough of an indicator. He was… too sick to be here and too stubborn to leave.

Even when the roar in his ears died out, silver spots blinked in his eyes and refused to go away no matter how he tried to ignore them. Worse still, the cramping pain in his stomach came back, low and constant.

And still.

He refused to regret his decision to stay. Steven really had blushed and that meant something and damned if Wallace was going to leave before reaping the rest of tonight's rewards. If staying earned him even one more smile, then he would stay.

"Wallace! There you are!" Steven beamed, his smile no less dazzling for the muddy yellow lights beaming down from the exterior of the auditorium. "I wondered where you'd gotten off to."

"Smoke break," Wallace said, uncrossing his arms before Steven could notice how desperately he'd been holding his stomach.

It seemed Steven was too caught up to notice anyway, because he didn't even pretend to laugh at Wallace's bad joke. "I'm so glad you came," he said, taking one of Wallace's hands between both of his own. "Really, I can't thank you enough. You look wonderful."

Wallace's stomach did a flip, half nerves and half real nausea. "I wouldn't miss it," he said. Steven had no idea.

"I'm glad you're alone, actually." Steven held tight to Wallace's hand, somehow not noticing the cold sweat on his palm.

Another flip.

Well, less of a flip and more of a triple lutz, triple flip combination that kicked up a dangerous splash of briny saliva in the back of Wallace's throat. He swallowed with difficulty, trying to keep focused on Steven's face when every instinct in his body screamed at him to curl up on his side and get ready to turn his stomach inside-out.

"Wallace, I wanted to ask you to dinner," Steven said, "just the two of us." His eyes shined green and earnest in the yellow light, putting to rest any lingering suspicion that this was just another dinner between friends.

He had left Wallace the perfect opening to say something charming or, better yet, heartfelt. But the only thing behind his lips was a strangled gag. He swallowed it down and managed to squeak out, "A date?" without painting Steven's shoes, but it was a near thing. Oh, he could cry. All he'd wanted, it was all he'd wanted...

"Yes," Steven said slowly, "a date. Wallace, are you—"

Wallace turned and heaved into the bushes, yanking his hand out of Steven's. There really, really wasn't anything left to come up and he coughed on the empty gags crawling up his throat.

"Wallace!" Steven's warm palm found his forehead, the other anchoring on his back.

The leaves tickled Wallace's face. He batted feebly at them, hands shaking, heaved again, and then his knees buckled and Steven had him, Steven had him.

"Wallace, can you look at me?"

Ugh, leave it to Steven to start testing his mental orientation instead of immediately administering mouth to mouth. With tongue.

"M'fine." Not strictly true. "Not having an aneurysm." A shudder ran through him and Wallace stifled a groan into the warmth of Steven's thigh. "My stomach hurts."

Steven's muscles shifted beneath Wallace's cheek and warm fingers began to brush his hair back. "Did you eat anything questionable earlier?"

Wallace shook his head as much as his positioning would allow. Ah, yes, he was mostly on the pavement, wasn't he? He should get up; his suit would get all dirty. "Haven't… felt well all day. Had to close my Gym early."

"Then why—" Steven's hand stilled for a moment. "Not that I'm not grateful, but why did you come if you weren't feeling well?"

Wallace tried to shift so he could look Steven in the eye, but his stomach cramped fiercely, so he stayed still. "I was hoping you'd ask me out on a date."

"Ohhh..." Steven sighed. "Wallace." He took a deep breath and released it, running his hands through his hair. "Can you sit up? Apparently we're having our first date at the ER."

The nurses spared Wallace some indignities and let him keep his suit on. Steven had to help him with his jacket and with rolling up his sleeve and even held his hand when it was time for the IV (which was very, very soon after arriving, because Wallace passed out in the lobby like some kind of waifish soap opera star).

"Did you know you have a fever?" Steven asked, reaching over to put a hand on Wallace's forehead.

Wallace closed his eyes, anchoring one hand on the emesis basin in his lap in case he needed it. "No," he said. The fluids had cleared his mind a little, but all he could picture was Steven's spotlight-dazzling smile. "I would've come anyway."

"I—" Steven broke off with a sigh. "You really don't think you should have stayed home?"

"Do you know how long I've been waiting for you to ask me out on a date?" Wallace countered. "I had a feeling tonight would be the night."

"You could have asked me out if you were so sure," Steven said, strangely subdued. Wallace opened his eyes and found Steven frowning at him, a furrow between his brows.

"I wanted you to ask me."

"But does that mean that you only agreed to help me with my speech because you wanted—"

"Steven Stone." Wallace held up a hand to stop him and winced when he pulled on the tape holding his IV line in place. "I risked throwing up all over your parents tonight because I wanted you to ask me out on a date. I helped you with your speech because I love— Ah." Searing heat flooded Wallace's face and his stomach dropped, though not in a way that indicated a strong need for the emesis basin. He white-knuckled it anyway, drawing it closer. "...rocks," he finished weakly. "Because I love rocks."

Steven, who had yet to let go of Wallace's hand, pressed a kiss to the back of it like he couldn't help himself, like it was something as reflexive as breathing. "You know, Wallace," he said, gazing at him like he was more beautiful than any diamond, "I love rocks, too."

And this time, Wallace and his upset stomach managed to not ruin the moment.

That honor went to the doctor, who interrupted their adorable little mutual confession with questions about Wallace's health and wellbeing, like that mattered when he could have been canoodling in a hospital bed with Steven.

When the doctor was finally satisfied, thankfully clearing Wallace to go home, Steven took his hand again. "Have you at least learned a lesson from all this?"

"Oh, sure." Wallace squeezed his hand and smiled despite his exhaustion. "Steven Stone rewards bad behavior."

#ethereous writes #sicktember 2023 #emeto

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