#I...I can't draw claw-feet-things

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Ś̷̻̼͉͍̙̱̰͔͉̊̔͑͋̅͊̉̍͆̂̄́͘͜ų̷̯̬̅̎͌r̵̡̡̛͖̖͚̟̫̤̯̼͈̂͋͂̏͜v̴̧̠̳͛͠ḯ̶̝͈͈̩̖̳͎̒̃̈́͗͛̽̎̕v̶̨͚͚̪̜̥͓̩̲̖̿ę̶̡̨͇͙̬̮̪̗̓̐

Get In the Water Ruthlessness Hold Them Down

Danyal's blow forced Constantine to skid back several feet. The only reason it didn't cleave him in two was the magical shield he'd thrown up last minute. Damian could only watch as the white magic crawled up his brother's arm.

Danyal screeched, a shockwave erupting from his mouth and shaking the cavern. Gritting his teeth, Constantine grabbed Danyal's arm with both hands and yanked him off course. Whirling around, Constantine threw Danyal across the room. Danyal righted himself midair and lunged again, but Constantine was ready. With a flick of his wrist, a sigil burned into the air, and a barrier of golden light erupted between Danyal and Talia. Danyal’s claws raked against it, sparks flying, but it held—for now.

The whites of his eyes had turned green.

Constantine staggered back, sweat dripping from his brow. He looked worse than Damian had ever seen him, gaunt and exhausted. "That won't hold 'im for long," he remarked. "Lad's losing all sense of himself. It’s the Pits—too much exposure to ‘em. They’ve warped him, torn his essence to shreds." He grimaced. "But if we stay here much longer, he's going to tear us to shreds."

Damian looked away from his mother fleeing the room, to Danyal, hissing and spitting insults as his claws ripped into the magic shield. In the Lazarus Pit, Danyal had been... calm. Disdainful, but calm. It was only in the overworld where Danyal lost his reason-

"No!" Damian said. "We don't need to leave. He does."

"You want to inflict that thing on the rest of the world!?" Todd yelled back.

Damian snapped, snarling. "That thing is my twin brother, and you will treat him with the respect he deserves!"

Danyal screamed from behind the shield. "I'm your murder victim, not your brother!" Danyal cackled again. The green leaked out of Danyal's eyes in jagged cracks as his voice suddenly deepened. "Ṭ̴̢̢̻͓̱̯̭̊̄͊̀̐̐̏̃̊̊̉ê̶̢̱̪̰͇͇̻̺̆̏̋̃̾̓͑̄͘l̴̥̹̫̦̲̳̼̗̮̗̼̤̒͛̇̇̐̔͜l̷͖͕͇̯̹̖̲̬͔̈͑̒̈́̀̕͜ ̵̪̋̋̄̈͘ṱ̸͇͓̃̌̄̄͒̍̒̃̌̔͘h̵̡͈̝͈̠̜̞̳̻̮͕̻͓̯̘̒́̽̓͝e̵͎͔̼̘̺͓͎̹̅̊m̵̛̠̻̰̦̀͋͋̓̈́̿̊̓̈́̿̕̕."

Damian closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose. Upon his exhale, he opened his eyes again, certain of what he has to do. Damian stepped forward, Grayson's hand falling away as he squared himself against Danyal. His voice was steady, though it carried the weight of everything he’d been holding back. “I killed you. I snuck poison out of Mother's room and slipped it in your evening drink.”

The room fell deathly silent. Even the faint hum of the Lazarus Pit seemed to fade as Damian’s words echoed.

Danyal tilted his head, his twisted grin spreading wider. “There it is,” he said, his voice dripping with venom. “The truth, laid bare. But do you feel better now, little brother? Does admitting it cleanse you of your sins?”

“No,” Damian replied firmly. His hand drifted to his sword hilt, but he didn’t draw it. “But I’ll make it right.”

Danyal’s smile vanished, his eyes narrowing as he floated , green light crackling like static around him. “Make it right? You think you can fix this?” His voice was a roar, reverberating through the chamber.

Damian drew his sword, the blade glinting in the eerie light. He pointed the blade at Danyal, his stance resolute. “You said it before; me or them. Me or Gotham. So here I am. I challenge you to a duel. One last battle, brother. Just us.”

"No!" Grayson protested. "Damian, you can't-"

"T̷̲̳̀̋̈́͗͝h̵͓̦̹̪̟̤̀͂̓̃̍̍ȋ̶̖̞̝̐͑́̀̓͝͝s̶͍͎̩̱̫̰̟̈́ ̶̞̺̹̔̂͌͗͒͐͜ȋ̷̢̛̞̱̘͎̙̐ş̴͈̣͎͖̐̐̌͠ņ̴̟̥̟̉̓͂̐̑͗'̵̭͙̳̥̱̦̖̇͂̆̕ͅt̶̲̱̪̠͓̀́͋́ ̵̜͚̪͕̣̙̯̦̈͒a̶͔͔̫͖̹̝͗̀̓̚͜b̷̨̨͚̯̲̮̠̏̍͛̇͊͝ơ̴̙̥̪̰̦̭͆̀̒̐ư̵̻̰̍̇̅̾̎̅̃t̷̢͔̣̻͖̙̦̃̈́͆̆̈́̚̕ ̴͍̖̰͎̪̹̮̲͐̎ỳ̶̖̼͈̥́̀͊̂o̶̡̪͕̒́ư̴͍̬͗̀͗̿͐̊.̴̯̻̭̱̤̩̋́͛͠ͅ" Danyal sneered at Grayson. His claws finished slicing clean through Constantine's barrier. With a deafening screech, Danyal lunged, his hand glowing with green light that morphed into a sword. Damian met him head-on, their clash sending shockwaves through the chamber. His family scrambled to stay out of the way, their shouts of protest drowned out by the sound of steel against spectral energy.

Danyal fought like a demon, his movements erratic but deadly, each strike fueled by years of pent-up rage and pain. And Damian did not stay uninjured, as cuts and bruises built up as he, inch by torturous inch, forced Danyal back towards the Lazarus Pit.

With every strike Danyal landed, Damian gave him one in kind. The moment his feet touched the ground, Damian struck at his heel. In the air, he focused on attacking from behind. And Damian kept up his attack, without falter, because defeat was not allowed.

"I won't let you kill me," he said during a parry.

“You don’t know what it means to survive!” Danyal roared, slamming his claws into Damian’s blade. “You don’t know what it’s like to claw your way back, piece by piece, from the darkness you threw me into!”

“You’re wrong,” Damian shot back, his voice fierce. “I’ve been in that darkness too. I’ve fought my way out. And I won’t leave you there.”

Their battle raged on, but Damian slowly drove Danyal back, step by step, toward the Lazarus Pit. Finally, with a calculated feint, Damian disarmed Danyal, dispelling his etherial sword. Before Danyal could react, Damian lunged, tackling him with all his strength.

The two of them tumbled backward, plunging into the glowing green depths of the Lazarus Pit. The chamber shook, the waters surging violently as they disappeared beneath the surface.

And the world turned green.

[27spoons]

Abandoned Souls | Natalie Scatorccio

pairing: natalie scatorccio/gn!reader

request: just a short and sweet fic, you x natalie, my idea was that the whole sacrifice thing happens again, but you are chosen, so you get chased by everybody, but find some sort of hiding spot (up a tree? dunno), natalie finds you, but feeling terrible about javi and the past, chooses just to stay and comfort you until the night, cuddlefucking, fall asleep, undeterminate ending!! (anon)

wc: 3560

warnings: canon-typical violence/trauma, smut, bottom!nat, tribbing, fingering(nat!r), apology(?) sex, nat cannot catch a fucking break, it's really just angst with smut sprinkled on top, not proof-read we die like shauna's baby

a/n: post cabin fire, pre s3e1. like during the rebuilding phase ykwim

"We should draw cards," Misty's voice cuts through the sound of trees moving from the rough winds of deep winter, causing you to look up from the point of ground you've been staring at. "It's the best choice. Most fair."

"We aren't doing another fucking hunt, Misty," Nat replies sharply, warming her hands up in what remains of the cabin fire. "We aren't… eating someone else." Every word is laced with absolute disdain at the idea, but the clawing hunger that had shown itself in early winter is only getting louder. She already knows there won't be much choice soon, especially if no game is found, and the loss of the cabin only made everything more urgent. 

Taissa looks up from where she's seated next to Van, her face impassive. "So our two options are dying of exposure, or dying of hunger." She deadpans with a roll of her eyes. "Great options, Nat. Really." 

Nat's eyes snap to Tai, glaring daggers. "We aren't fucking killing anyone else."

"Misty is right," Lottie murmurs, barely audible. "It wants us to. The cards will decide."

"Majority vote? All those for drawing cards, raise your hands." Misty immediately raises her hand, looking around at the others.

Lottie is the first to follow. Close behind is Shauna, whom Melissa immediately follows. 

"You guys can't be serious!" Nat tries, her voice cracking as she glances around the group. "We can't just—"

"Let them vote, Nat!" Shauna snaps, cutting the Antler Queen off. "We were voting." Her gaze darts back around to those who haven't raised their hands, and speaks again. "All those for drawing cards so we can finally fucking eat, raise your hands."

For a second, no one moves. You hear Nat whisper something under her breath, maybe a curse or a prayer to a God she never believed loved her, but she doesn't argue further with Shauna. Then Tai lifts her hand, Van raises their hand, a very reluctant Akilah, and Mari seals the group's fate when she joins them. 

You watch a tear roll down Nat's cheek, her jaw clenching in an attempt to hold back genuine sobs.

"That's more than half the group." Shauna glares at Nat. "We draw cards."

"I know," Nat murmurs after a long, tense moment of silence. Her eyes flash between people, trying to come up with the right words for the situation. When her gaze lands on you, you see flashes of a terrified girl thrust into a position of power she never asked for. But when she looks down at her feet for a second, you already know she's resigned herself to following the will of the group. 

Shauna doesn't wait for Nat to respond. She just gets up, brushing her hands on her pants, and moves towards what's left of their supplies.

"Van. The deck."

There's no ceremony to it. No chanting or prayer. Just a silence that feels too big to speak through.

Van hesitantly pulls the battered card deck from the inside of her coat. The edges are warped from moisture, some cards curling at the corners. You've seen them before. Sometimes for card games, but recently? Recently, they've been an omen of something no one wants to name.

One by one, everyone gathers. A tight circle forms beside the flickering flames that still bleed from the cabin.

A few separate people shuffle the deck, as if to make sure no one's rigged the draw against anyone. When it's sufficiently scrambled, Van squeezes the deck a few times nervously before moving to stand next to Tai in the circle. "Should I..?" Van mumbles, unable to look at the emaciated teens who stand barely upright, fingers twitching like the nerves are misfiring. 

Shauna's eyes are glassy, distant. You're not sure she's actually heard a single word since the vote started. She turns to Van, but it's not focus—it's vacancy, like she's seeing a ghost, or nothing at all. "Yes. You can start."

So, they do.

Van draws the first card. Ten of spades.

Tai follows. Nine of diamonds.

Gen. Three of hearts.

Robin. Seven of spades.

You. The queen of hearts—

Time stops. Your pulse pounds in your ears, bile threatening to destroy what's left of your already damaged esophagus. You display the doomed card to the group, hands shaking from more than just the freezing cold.

No one speaks or sobs. No shocked gasps or anguished cries pierce the air.

Nat steps forward, steps laced with heavy reluctance, and removes Jackie's necklace from around her neck and loops it around yours. The golden heart settles solemnly against your chest, condemning you to a fate that may have been avoided at some point.

For a second, your eyes meet.

You see her jaw clench. You see the thousand words she wants to say die behind her teeth.

And then you speak.

"I'm not going to lie there and let you butcher me."

You step back. The pendant shifts against your sternum with the motion.

Lottie's voice is hauntingly devoid of emotion as she speaks. "I'll count to thirty."

You don't wait for one.

You turn and run.

The trees blur past you. Pine needles catch on your letterman as you nearly trip over a stray root peeking up from the snowy forest floor. The only noises you can make out are the vague sounds of girls howling and your panting breaths. 

You aren't sure how long you run for. It feels like hours—although it could very well be seconds—but your perception of time feels foggy on a good day, and this is far from a good day.

You don't recognize this part of the woods, and you gradually slow as you realise that you are helplessly lost. You no longer hear the animalistic cries of girls who have long since lost their sanity to the howling winds, and you're left with a crushing feeling of loneliness that you've never felt before.

Being out here was already isolating. Knowing you're completely alone, and that the only people you have left are the ones hunting you for sport, amplifies that tenfold. You subconsciously scratch dead skin flakes from your knuckles, a nervous habit you had before the crash that worsened once the hunger started to set in.

Your feet slowly resume their movements, carrying you in a random direction… hopefully away from the people actively tracking you.

Eventually, you stumble across a narrow gap in a moss-covered rock wall—no more than two feet wide, maybe less. Wide enough to slip through sideways or crawl, but you already know that your clothes are going to snag on the jagged edges.

It takes some maneuvering, but you manage to climb in through the opening, sacrificing a small scrap of fabric from your jacket on the way in.

It's already night outside, but the inside of the cave might as well be pitch black. Your hands guide you through the darkness, running along the walls until you reach a point you think is the far corner, and you shuffle down the rock until you're seated on the cold floor.

You aren't quite sure what your plan is, because either way, the ending doesn't look positive, but you decide to shelter in place temporarily. Maybe until morning, maybe until you're forced out, but you remain seated all the same.

An attempt at self-soothing is made, humming a song you barely remember from before your entire world got turned on its head. 

That's when you hear the quiet crunching of snow from outside your hideout, and your hand flies over your mouth in an attempt to muffle any and all sounds you can emit. You notice the flicker of firelight seeping in through the opening, and that's when you see a familiar ring-adorned hand clutching a torch.

When hazel-coloured eyes peer in, your heart drops into your stomach. She doesn't speak at first, watching you as though you were a cornered animal, and right now it sure as hell feels like you are. 

You inch closer to the wall, as though it could save you from an inevitable fate, and try pleading with whatever Gods exist in this long-forsaken forest.

Nat doesn't speak as she inches her way through the opening, but she does hiss when she accidentally hits her head on a protruding piece of rock. The flame from the torch flickers across the walls, revealing a far smaller cave than you originally thought, and you clutch the sleeves of your jacket in fear. 

She slings the rifle you didn't even realise she had from off her shoulder, but rather than pointing it at you like you thought she would, she tosses it to the ground. The sound reverberates in the confined space, and you can see the tears brimming in her eyes when you look up at her.

She's shaking like a leaf in high winds. She sits down opposite you, next to the crevice, and rests the piece of lit wood against a rock like a makeshift holder. Once her hands are free, she immediately presses her palms into her eyes in what appears to be an attempt to ground or comfort herself.

"I can't do it again," she finally mumbles, hands still covering her face as though she can't bear to look at you. "I can't… we can't…" 

The first sob slips out before she can stop it. The second tears through her chest. It's raw. Heartbreaking.

You want to comfort her, just like you want to be comforted, but the look on her face makes it feel all backwards. She's just as young as you. Just as fucked-up. Just as much as a high school kid pulled into something no one was meant to survive.

"Nat…" you whisper, inching a little closer. "It's… I know. I know you don't want this. I know you'd never want to hurt anyone. I know."

She looks up then, eyes rimmed red and tears streaking down her cheeks.

"I should." Her voice is flat. Cracked. "I should turn myself in. Or… I don't know. Something. But I—" Her breath hitches. "God, I'd rather die than have it be you. I can't watch that again."

Her body folds inward with the words, desperate attempts for air clawing their way from her chest, like the words physically hurt to say out loud.

And you're still scared. Of course you are. But underneath the fear is something else—something that says Nat would sooner freeze to death in knee-deep snow than lay a hand on you.

At some point, you realise you're crying too. It's pathetic. Gross, even.

You don't know who reaches out first, but it doesn't matter. You collapse into each other like gravity has given up trying to keep you apart. Her hands fist in your jacket, your face presses into her neck. The cave disappears. The cold fades. All that's left is the way she clings to you, like letting go might kill either one of you.

You curl into her because the cold hurts more than the fear does right now. The same girl you spent an entire childhood playing stupid games with, now comforting you after watching you be sentenced to death. 

For a long time, you just hold each other. Shivering. Breathing. Existing in the same collapsing silence.

Then her hand moves—slow, unsure—resting just above your hip. Not bold or groping, just there, like she needs the anchor as badly as you do.

You don't speak. You just shift closer and let her touch you.

When her fingers slip beneath your shirt, you gasp against the skin of her neck. She flinches, almost pulls away—but you kiss her instead.

It's clumsy. You don't know who moved first—just that it felt easier than talking. Cold mouths and chapped lips desperately meeting in the dim light the fire provides as it gradually dies out. You tell yourself it's just to swap body heat, maybe provide some semblance of comfort in a place that has none, but you know it's a lie when you tangle your fingers in her hair and pull her towards you.

She's trembling—or maybe you are. Whether it's the cold, the events of the night, or being in each other's arms that causes the shakes is left unsaid, but you aren't sure any answer would satisfy the deep-seated ache in your gut, regardless. 

You feel it before you see it: the hesitation in her hands, the way her breath hitches against your throat as she drags her lips up your pulse, and the quiet motion of her climbing into your lap like it's something she shouldn't ask for out loud.

She never used to have to ask, anyway. That spot was always hers.

Nat's knees press into the cold floor on either side of your hips. The weight of her settles across your thighs, warm and shaking, and for a moment neither of you moves. Her arms come up around your shoulders again, clinging tighter than before.

You brace her by the waist without thinking, fingers slipping under the multiple layers she's wearing to rest on the small of her back. Her skin's clammy, and you swear you can feel her heart thumping as if it belonged to a rabbit, and not a woman leading a group of girls. 

She leans back in, pressing her forehead to yours, and for a second, it feels like she might say something. But she doesn't. Just exhales.

Then her hips shift. Barely, but it's enough.

Your breath catches. Her lashes flutter. And then she does it again—slow, uneven, like she's not sure this is happening but knows she can't stop.

You don't stop her, either. Not when she shifts to straddle one of your thighs, and especially not when she bites on your lower lip, drawing it into her mouth and moaning at the taste. 

"Is this okay?" you tentatively ask between kisses, one of your hands sliding under the waistband of her jeans. "Are we—" You don't get a chance to finish the thought before she's pulling your head back in to slot her lips against yours once more, and you take that in place of a verbal answer.

Nat whines when your hand palms the rapidly dampening fabric of her boxers and eagerly presses her hips down in an attempt to find any form of friction. It's far from the first time the two of you have been together, but it feels like the first time—desperate hands and wanting bodies finding one another in the safety of night. Unlike your first time, neither of you makes an effort to discard anything that provides you with protection from the elements.

Hips frantically grinding against each other through layers upon layers of cloth, cold denim and rough seams scraping against each other as the final flame from the torch flickers out, leaving you and Nat in complete obscurity. 

"God, I fucking hate you," Nat whispers against your lips, somewhere between her hands sliding under your shirt and rolling her hips in a bid to find friction. "Why did you have to fucking…" A sob tears loose from her chest as she crashes into you again—mouth, hips, everything at once. It's a fleeting attempt to distract herself from the static that eats at her mind every time she's left alone too long.

"I'm sorry," you say in return, burying your face in the crook of her neck as your fingers start to circle her clit through her boxers. "God, I'm so fucking sorry." You aren't quite sure what you're apologising for, or why you're doing it so desperately, but the words keep spilling from you as you work her.

She sobs against your hair, nails digging into the skin of your back. You don't flinch. You just let her hold on, let her shake against you as your hand keeps moving in slow, uneven circles through the damp fabric of her boxers. 

"I hate you," she gasps again, but it doesn't sound like hate. It sounds like please don't stop.

Your mouth moves without thinking, pressing hot kisses across her throat and anywhere else you can reach. "I know. I know," you whisper, nudging her jaw with the tip of your nose. 

Tears continue to spill down her cheeks, soft sobs mingling with broken moans. She's desperate, just as eager as you are for some salvation in this forlorn forest—something to hold onto, even if it's only each other. Her thighs tremble where the straddle your leg, muscles twitching with every slow grind of your palm against her throbbing clit. 

You pull your hand back just enough to push it underneath the waistband of her underwear, fingers brushing through the thick curls at her center. There's no hesitation as you move lower, just the steady need to make her feel something other than fear.

Fingers slide through her folds, and you both groan as your middle finger starts circling her entrance. She clenches instinctively, breath catching in your ear, hips grinding down in an attempt to force your digits deeper. Maybe, if the situation were better, you'd make her wait. Tease her, draw it out… not tonight. You ease a finger into her, slow but steady, and feel her exhale like she's been holding her breath since the cards were drawn.

She's tight. Warm. Her cunt flutters around your finger, and you let her pull you deeper. Take what she needs. Her mouth finds your shoulder, canines digging into the wool body of your letterman as you push your index finger into her heat alongside your middle. Another sob escapes her, but this one is quieter, less afraid.

Muscle memory takes over any other course of action you had initially planned, finding those spots inside her like it's instinct.. It isn't long until you curve your fingers towards her belly button, finding that ridged patch on her inner walls. 

You settle into a steady rhythm, curling your fingers with every thrust, each movement rewarded with a breathy moan against your shoulder. It's messy and frantic, the kind of touch that's born not from lust but starvation—emotional, physical, and spiritual. Nat grinds down against your hand, chasing every ounce of friction you can offer, even as her body trembles from the cold and her mind tries to outrun the things it's seen.

Her mouth finds your neck, but she doesn't kiss you. She just breathes you in like she's trying to remember something—anything—good.

You press your cheek to hers, closing your eyes because you're unsure you could handle seeing her right now as she is—wrecked, falling apart at the seams, and trying not to cry again.

"I got you," you murmur as your fingers shift into a familiar rhythm that's brought her to orgasm a thousand times before. You keep going, stroking her from the inside with a practiced precision, feeling her slick streak down your wrist and further ruining her boxers.

Then her breath catches. 

Her whole body goes taut, a low sound slipping from her throat as her nails dig into your back. Her hips lock into place as her cunt clenches around you so tight it's almost painful. 

You don't stop, easing her through the orgasm that rakes her frame, each thrust of your fingers slower than the last, letting her ride the wave as it breaks over her in shudders and gasps. Her forehead presses to yours again, damp with cold sweat, and she lets out a trembling breath that sounds like it could tip into a sob if you weren't already holding her this close.

The last time you held her like this, it was the night her dad died.

That feels like a lifetime ago, now.

"I've got you," you repeat, brushing your lips against the corner of her mouth. 

She doesn't answer, just curls around you tighter as your hand eases out of her pants and comes to rest on her hip, rubbing small circles into the flesh as she attempts to make herself as small as possible, just a ghost of the girl she once was.

You aren't quite sure what time you wake up—or when you fall asleep—but when you do, you're still holding Nat in your arms, gripping her like a lifeline. You're freezing, but from what you can remember… you're still shivering, so it can't be that bad. 

Nat shifts in your arms when you begin to stir, turning to face you, her expression as numb as she probably feels.

"Hey," she murmurs, eyes meeting yours in the dim light. "You sleep like shit, too?" She tries to laugh, as if the past ten months had been nothing more than a cruel joke, but it falls flat when you both remember the events that transpired less than eight hours ago.

"What're we gonna do, Nat?" you whisper, running your digits through her matted hair. "We… they're still looking for us, aren't they? I… what if they—"

The crack of someone—or something—stepping on a branch outside yanks you from the conversation you had just started, and Nat slaps her hand over your mouth to cut you off. Her eyes bore into yours, and as footsteps and voices grow closer, you can only hope that they keep walking.

The torn shred of your letterman still attached to a jagged piece of rock on the crevice wall tells you they won't.

a/n: trying something new with the headers and shit we'll see if it sticks or not

[anakinstwinklebunny]

STUFF WE DID..

Kind of don't like it :///

It’s been weeks now since they kicked you out. Weeks since the memory of your mother’s screams replayed on a loop in your mind. The anger in her voice, the tears in her eyes. Your father, silent as ever, but his disappointment hung heavier than her shouts. They shattered you. Love, once unconditional, spat back in your face. Your clothes tossed from the window. Your name reduced to disgrace, slut, a waste of potential.

And now, it’s just you, Sam, and your little Vinnie.

Sam’s barely seventeen. A kid himself. But there he is, holding Vinnie, rocking him in his arms as if trying to anchor you all to something—anything—that feels stable. He kisses your forehead when you’re about to break, whispers soft words to calm you down, but you can see it. The fear in his eyes mirrors your own. The fear that wakes you in the middle of the night, clawing at your chest, telling you this can't, won't, work.

You’re drowning, both of you. Slowly, but surely.

Vinnie’s growing too fast. Faster than you’re ready for. Another pair of shoes is too small for his five-month-old feet, and it terrifies you. Is that normal? Should he be this big already? Questions swirl in your mind, but you can’t focus long enough to find much answers when all you have is nothing. Not enough money for food. No way to buy clothes. The thin blanket in Vinnie’s crib barely keeps him warm at night. And Sam—he’s trying, but it’s not enough. You’re both barely treading water.

So, when Sam isn’t looking, you slip out. You take the bus to the corner store and tell yourself it’s just this once. Just a can of beans or a loaf of bread. Something to keep you all alive for one more day. At first, the shame is unbearable. Your hands tremble as you tuck the food into your bag. But when Vinnie looks up at you, his tiny fingers reaching for yours, the shame fades. He has to eat.

Yet, it doesn’t stop at food.

A month later, Sam’s asleep, Vinnie curled up in his crib, and you’re back at the store. This time, it’s for a duvet. Something soft and plush, something that’ll keep Vinnie warm. Your hands shake as you slip it under your jacket, and your heart pounds louder than ever as you walk toward the exit.

Then you see him. A security guard who definitely wasn’t there before. His eyes narrowed, and fuck. Your breath catches, and for a moment, you freeze, imagining the worst—he stops you, finds you stealing things, and you can say good-bye to any job for a long time but say welcome prison.. But you play it casually, smile gently, keeping the walk.

But you keep walking. In those slow, steady steps. A forced smile. And when you step into the cold night air, the weight of the duvet presses against your chest like a secret you can’t confess.

When you get home, you lay the duvet in Vinnie’s crib. Your fingers trace the soft fabric, but it feels like a lie. Like pretending everything’s okay when it’s not. But..it's for the greater cause, right? Because at the end of the day, we do terrible things for the people we love

Sam comes in, few seconds later, eyes falling to the duvet immediately. He doesn’t say anything at first, just stops in his tracks, yet you can still feel his gaze on you

“I got it,” you whisper.

“You got it?” he repeats, voice breaking nonetheless, even if he tries to keep the whole independed vibe

“Yeah,”

"So.. um..you mean you stole it?" He shifts on his feet, finger brushing his nose

"I--" Sam knows you too much, too well to see so easily through your lies "I--yea..I---i stole it.."

But...Sam doesn’t yell. He doesn’t scold. He just takes a shaky breath, steps closer, and wraps his arms around you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, with your face buried in his chest.

It’s late. The only faint sound in the house is the soft flicker of the candlelight dancing back and forth on the tiny, wooden, older than you table. You and Sam sit across from each other, hands crossed, fingers digging into your skin, drawing white lines cause you know what's about to happen, and you hate yourself for it

“I think…” voice cracks, and he looks down, unable to meet your gaze. “We need to let him go.”

Your stomach drops.

“No,” you choke out, shaking your head violently. Tears blur your vision, and your hands dig into your arms, nails leaving red crescents.

“Y/N…” voice trembles, heavy with guilt. “He deserves more than this. More than this shit hole, more than an empty fridge every goddamn day”

You both know he’s right, but that doesn’t make it hurt less. You can't help but picture Vinnie’s tiny face, his chubby hands, the way his eyes light up when you sing to him. The thought of not waking up to his babbling or feeling his little fingers clutching yours—it’s unbearable.

But at the end, you know he's right

“Who do we…?” Your voice breaks, hands anxiously running over your face and Sam looks away, swallowing hard.

“Sarah and Mark.” His response is immediate, firm. “They’ll take care of him. Better than we ever could.”

The day came way too quickly.

You place Vinnie in his stroller, bundling him in his favorite jacket and tucking his stuffed bunny beside him. He grips the bunny tightly, babbling to it as if nothing’s wrong. You want to tell him, explain, but how do you tell a baby you’re leaving him?

The note feels heavier than it should as you place it beside him. You wrote everything—the way he hates carrots but loves mashed potatoes. How he can’t sleep without his bunny. How his giggles sound when you make silly faces. The way he clings to your finger when he’s tired. You write it all, desperate to hold onto him even as you let him go.

Leaving the note in Vinnie's pudgy hand, you stand there for what feels like hours, looking at the house then back at Vinnie who is clueless that his father is saying his last goodbye to him. ,

It feels like someone just stabbed your most sensitive places - chest, head, neck. It hurts knowing that you’ll never be able to see him again. Knowing Vinnie will never come back to you. Knowing you'll miss so much of his milestones

It’s Sam who finally takes your hand, pulling you away before you can break down again.

You don’t look back as you walk down the street. But you hear the sound of your heart breaking with every step when you hear the couple's shocked, surprised yet so welcoming for the little one reactions

That night, you and Sam sit in the grass under the moonlight. You can’t stop crying, the pain so deep it feels like you might drown in it. And Sam just holds you, hands running through your hair, his own tears falling silently.

It’s a week later, then a month, and the pain doesn’t fade. It deepens, carves a hole in your chest that nothing can fill. But you tell yourself it was the right thing. You tell yourself Vinnie’s safe, loved, taken care of.

You tell yourself it is love.

Even if it feels like the kind that leaves scars that aren't going to heal at all.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca

[fanaticsnail]

Cross-Guild Masterlist

Navigation Masterlist Here

Art link

Buggy D. Clown:

You Kissed the Clown? (15/15 Series)

An upper-class tinkerer finds herself amongst the crew of the Staw-Hat pirates. Falling within the blast of a giant flash of red smoke and captured with her crew in the claws of the Buggy Pirates; she is confronted by her flight, fight and freeze response. Immediately, she finds another way of distracting the infamous clown-captain: a passionate and disarming kiss. As time and distance fall between them, feelings of romance, infatuation, fascination and longing cling to the clown and the tinkerer in each other's absence. How could they feel so deeply for each other; they only shared one single kiss?

Happy Birthday, Pumpkin (one-shot)

Buggy longs to kiss you but always shies away in case his affection is not reciprocated. Finally, an opportunity presents itself for a consequence-free kiss and he can barely hold himself back in anticipation. Happy birthday!

I Can't Do This Without You (one-shot)(smut)

Buggy attempted to use some unusual, waxy pollen to form into a "buggy-ball". He was an idiot. He can't manage the consequences without his loyal and ever faithful crewmate to help him out.

A Small Kindness (Smut One-Shot)

A blue-haired man with a round red nose is down on his luck. He's lost everything, not a single berry to his name after being defeated again by the straw-hat crew. A small kindness from a stranger propels him to get back on his feet. How could he repay you? Surely you needed something in return.

Headcanons & Drabbles:

Soft-Dom BuggyBratty BuggyCross-Guild InterrogationThe Clown Apologises

Buggy x Reader x Mihawk:

Swing, Sway, Shag, Smimmy (Buggy x Reader x Mihawk) (4/4)

Buggy is infatuated with his prized acrobat. He issues a dance night-off for his pirate crew, choosing to "make a move" in the hopes of charming his beautiful acrobat under the hawk-like gaze of his guest of honour. Unbeknownst to Buggy, the feeling of infatuation is mutual regarding the acrobat. Can they learn to 'play nice' to woo the acrobat? Yes, yes they can.

Dracule Mihawk:

The Apprentice (6/7 Series)

Mihawk is a bitchy boss, the apprentice is his bratty underling. Professionalism, sword-mastery and affiliation for wine consumption drives their relationship.Mihawk pushed his apprentice a little too far, prompting her to submit a formal resignation effective immediately. Calling her bluff, he attempts to chaperone her towards a cellar door to begin an afternoon of wine-tasting, only to find absence at his side as his apprentice simply walked away from him. And he was angry about it.Ongoing series.

You Should Be Sad (Completed Series):

Upon rising to the title of Warlord and Worlds-Greatest-Swordsman, Dracule Mihawk began to neglect his fiancé and her desires. Unable to provide her with the one thing she truly longed for, he remained apathetic as she broke from their lengthy courtship.A decade later, and many a bottle of brandy relinquished, he drifts to Baratie in hopes of drowning away the memory of her: only to have his hopes shattered as the hired band begins to play with his ex-fiancé singing her vengeance at him.

Let Me Take Care of You (one-shot)

The personal assistant to Dracule Mihawk notices he is not quite acting himself: a small wince as he reaches for his breakfast wine glass, a grimace as he draws it to his lips and the narrowing of his eyes as he begins to slouch. Luckily for the both of them, the assistant has a resume of many a skill: remedial massage being the key element provided to the broody warlord. He reluctantly accepts their touch, longing for the burden to be released from his shoulders.

El Tango de Mihawk (one-shot)

A talented thief manages to obtain an invite to the marine ball and decides to utilize it as a great opportunity to steal from the wealthiest members of the world government. Mihawk immediately recognizes them and decides to toy with their scheming, tango dancing ensues.

The Marine's Mistake (request) (one-shot)

Something horrible occurred to rid the warlord of his signature facial hair. Cadets had gathered and began whispering in hushed tones as Garp held a seated meeting with the warlord at a table in a run of the mill tavern. A new transfer does not recognize the sleek cheeks of the handsome gentlemen and immediately decides to approach to flirtatiously engage him over a drink or two. Mihawk is amused.

My Love Mine All Mine (request) (one-shot)

Mihawk returns to his castle in kuraigana nine days after he was due to return. He finds his lover sleeping in his bed, face falling to rest atop his pillow. Soft drabble, pining, longing.

Hanahaki: The Hawk and the Fledgling (request) (one-shot) Part 2

Mihawk notices his Fledgling, an apprentice he took under his wing, has become lazy in their training. Upon one final vocal reprimand, they collapse; sputtering a cocktail of saliva, blood and... petals? Is that petals in their hand? Surely not.

The Spear and the Sword (request) (one shot)

Drabble Part 2

Mihawk is required by Vice-Admiral Garp to obliterate an approaching armada of barbaric pillagers from their attack on a marine base. As this army was not enough for him to handle alone, Garp calls in another warlord, a ferocious warrior-woman armed with a spear, to aid in his ability to complete this task with as much succession as possible with as little damage done to the defenseless base. Both begin their armed ascension, showcasing their abilities in contest to see how many troops they best by the end of battle, against how many injuries they themselves acquire in the thralls of combat.

Little Sparrow (one-shot: drabble)

Mihawk has been up with your daughter, soothing her as she experiences her leap weeks. You spend some moments with your husband as he holds her in his arms.

Sapsorrow: (10 Chaptered Series, Complete)

Upon receiving an invitation from the lord of Kuraigana to train his wards, you never expected your career as a governess to lead you here. As your tour of the keep was conducted, a ring was slipped onto your finger: invoking an ancient curse you truly did not understand. Setting three conditions for marriage, your newly betrothed immediately made haste to complete them with you blissfully ignorant that his life hung in the balance should be fail his task.

Macule Drihawk (drabble)

When Dracule Mihawk drinks, he becomes an entirely different person. That person's name is Macule Drihawk.

Pretty Bird (series)

Mihawk is an injured avarial trapped in his raven form while healing. You nurse him back to health, and he becomes smitten with you.

Obsession (one-shot)

Many believe Mihawk keeps the knowledge of his spouse a secret because he is a private man. Truth of it is, he is simply obsessed with you and doesn't believe any other pair of eyes is worthy of meeting their gaze with your majesty.

Happy Trail (mini fic)

Mihawk is not as well groomed as he usually keeps himself. You notice, and you can't help yourself.

My offer will stand (One-Shot)

After being reprimanded by your boss for another mismanaged and hierarchical transgression transfer, you found an unlikely hand offering you comfort in the hallway behind your superior officer's door.

Sir Crocodile:

My Favorite (Sir Crocodile x Reader)

Sir Crocodile has founded a league of highly trained assassins named "The Choirs" - all coded after the nine choirs of angelic influences. You are his favorite: his prized "Seraphim" who's ferocious brutality is only outmatched by your incredible beauty. Not truly knowing if your affection is all an act to continue being paid a wage in berry, he has not made a move of his own aside from calling upon you to sit on his knee of an evening, and have you utter praises into his ear. It is only when the two other members of the Cross-Guild begin flirting does he find his limit being tested. Will he bend, or will he break?

Sands of Time: Intentions of Series

Sir Crocodile thought he was safe from the intentions of the haunting Sapsorrow Queen. His soul has been laid claim, his time is running out. How can he have a stranger fall in love with his within the year? Would she truly take his sould should he fail?

When We Wake (one-shot)

Blissfully waking within the arms of your lover, you are both struck with the thoughts of how precious you have become to one another. Whispering confessions of adoration to one another while the other slumbers, you are both completely overcome with such deep devotion.

The Duality of Sir Crocodile (NSFW drabble)

The duality of a dominating gentleman. Spoiling and endearing, encumbering and brutal.

Warmth (One-Shot)

Sir Crocodile is out for a walk in Arabasta with his pug, and he is stopped by a curious child who desires to pet them. As you, their guardian, approaches, Sir Crocodile is intrigued by your candor.

Intimacy (NSFW One-Shot)

Sir Crocodile is patient while you take him for the first time.

Misc Multiples:

Get Well Soon (Drabble one-shot)

You're sick, and they do their best to support you through it. Zoro, Sanji, Mihawk

Please, I'll be good (one-shot)

After rescuing you in the heat of battle, he can no longer contain his desires for you. He was so good. He can keep being good if it means you'll keep kissing him.

Koby, Sanji, Corazon, Sabo, Buggy, Shachi, Ace, Penguin

How They Kiss (drabble)

Four different kisses with all of your favourites. Where would you place them in these categories?

Hallmark Piggyback (drabble)

Short piggyback on @indydonuts post about OP characters in a hallmark movie. Drabble is for Law x reader x Mihawk - amnesia trope

You're Angry at the Tall Men: Drabble (One-Shot)

He knows what he did to earn your wrath; your fury ignited in your eyes and the flames physically tangible and searing the room with your scorn. Your brow was furrowed, your lips curling into a snarl to bare your pearled teeth at him.Buggy, Shanks, Mihawk, Sir Crocodile, Corazon, Doflamingo.

An Affectionate Embrace: Drabble (One-Shot)

It was a simple reaction, an impulse you felt organic and out of your control. Their cheek was right there, and the swell in your chest and spike of adrenaline prompted you to lunge forward and capture their cheek beneath your lips. How do they react to such a soft touch? Do they shy away, or do they respond in kind?Buggy, Mihawk, Sir Crocodile, Shanks, Benn Beckman

Forehead Kisses (short drabble)

You're being a brat because they're neglecting you. Prepare to be greeted with the forehead kiss you crave from them.

Zoro, Crocodile, Kid, Killer, Beckman, Mihawk

Interrogation (crack dialogue)

Cross-Guild crack dialogue x reader

Dreaming of You (One-Shot) NSFW

They couldn't help it. You looked so heavenly in their dreams. The way they had you wrapped around their body as a marionette in their minds, dancing for them as they awoke to sticky blankets when they jolted upright. Their thoughts got the better of them, and they are wracked with guilt. Sir Crocodile, Buggy, Dracule Mihawk

[radidoes]

PRETTY PET

alastor/reader, sfw 'n nsfw headcannons. readers' soul is owned by alastor. MINORS DNI!

A/N: i haven't written in like a year especially smut so forgive me as this isn't my best work. i don't proof read sorry.. PLEASE SEND ME REQUESTS FOR ANYONE (I NEED ANONS TOO)

SFW-

he loves bringing you everywhere with him, in the hotel, cannibal town, overlord meetings etc..,, he just can't help but to flaunt you around town!! especially with that pretty green collar around ur neck...

enjoys buying you stuff, whether it be a flattering dress or matching brooches, he loves seeing his little doll all dressed up!!

takes u on romantic little dates around hell, you find it charming he spares so much time for you but it's his secret way of letting others know ur his; purposely holding you by your thick green chain.

makes sure everyone knows how much you've devoted your soul to him, making you speak on broadcast to list all the things you love about him; and how you'd never ever dare think about being with another person. hearing all of this inflates his already huge ego.

NSFW-

loves rutting into you while holding on your chain for stability, it turns him on even more if you struggle to keep your breath due to the pressure on your neck

markssss omgg, he loves marking your neck, chest, thighs ANYWHERE where he can make sure everyone knows ur his. hickies, bites, 'n claw marks. in return u leave cute little scratch marks on his back to find later! :3

your glossy eyes 'n fucked out face after being fucked dumb is something he enjoys seeing, it makes him feel good knowing he's the only one who makes YOU feel good.

if ur being bratty he makes you get urself off on his pants, not caring if ur big doe eyes are filled with tears and desperation,, such a meanie!! :( luckily he's more than happy to help if you apologize and promise to never have such devotion to anyone else!!

if you have animal features, he is so mean!! pulling 'n yanking on ur ears, tails, horns and anywhere he can grab on! but when u try to do the same with his horns when he's eating you out oh so nicely, he quickly shuts it down by tightning his grip on ur plush thighs, drawing a little blood he more than happily laps up.

the type of guy to get turned on by knowing he has more power over u, so it makes his cock hard when you have to crawl on your knees while he's pulling ur collar, watching you quickly scramble to his feet and look up at him with your eyes pricked with tears.

A/N- I AM SOOO TERRIBLY DOWN HORRENDOUS FOR THIS MAN.. I REALLY HOPE THIS DOES GOOD... I want requests for him 'n anyone else....

[itsyouch]

I'm so sick for him omfg he's so pretty I love him so much I will literally claw out my organs with no anesthesia and no help I will do it all myself for him THE THINGS I WOULD DO FOR HIM ok let's calm down im not about to start yelling rn I just love him soooooo much💖🌟💖💖🌟🌟✨✨💖✨🌟🎇✨💖🌟🌟✨💥💥🧨🧨🧨🧨💥💥🧨🧨🧨🧨💥🧨💥💥🧨💥🧨💥 I will do ANYTHING. ANYTHING to be known as the crazy person who only talks abt Doyle and draws him all the time no I will actually do anything AAAAAHHHH SCREW IT IM YELLEN AARRRGGHH. I LOVE HIM SO MUCH HES SO SILLY BILLY GRILLY IM KICKING MY FEET RN IM NOT EVEN JOKING HE SOLOS EVERY SINGLE CHARACTER IN THE ENTIRETY OF RVB IDC WHAT YOU SAY well I do cuz I every one has there own opinion and all the characters are actually peak and can't out peak each other💖💖

[whoops-all-jennas]

Past Lives pt. 5

Wednesday x witch!reader

"I've got this strangest feeling."

"This isn't our first time around."

Summary: It's the day of the Poe Cup and you and Wednesday are determined to beat Bianca.

Warnings: Small descriptions of blood and injury

Bianca gives Y/n and I a look as we pass her on our way to go talk to Enid. It's a perfectly cloudy day. Not too many clouds, but not too little.

Enid stands with a mischievous smile "We're all set."

"Good, Things in position." Enid and I's shoulders are touching as we talk just above a whisper.

"Wanna tell me what you three were up to?"

"And ruin the surprise?"

Enid's face lights up. "Speaking of surprises, your costume is in the tent!"

"Costume?" I look at Y/n who gives me an apologetic smile.

I leave the tent in my black cats costume, met with Enid and you approaching. The costume hugs your body tightly. As I stare at you I can't help but admire your figure.

"OMG, You look purrfect!" Enid says while doing a claw motion with her hands.

"Where are your whiskers?" You ask, pointing to the whiskers drawn on your face.

'Ask again and you'll be down to eight lives.' Is what I wanted to say, but there was this look on your face. A pleading look.

I look between Enid and you. "Fine, only if you draw it."

You practically jump with excitement as you run into the tent, grabbing the makeup.

You come back shortly after, taking the marker to my face. This is probably the happiest I've ever seen you. You stick your tongue out as you draw some small and simple whiskers on my face.

"Done!" You say with a smile.

"Do I look ridiculous?" I state, flatly.

You shake your head with the same smile. "You look cute, I swear."

For the first time, I feel my face feel a little warmer due to your words.

We finished getting prepared for the Poe Cup, lined up in our boats. Enid looks to the right, meeting eye contact with Ajax and smiling.

"Focus." I say to the back of Enid's head, her posture focusing forward to my words.

I feel Y/n's eyes on the back of my head for a moment causing me to turn around. I am met with her usual smile.

Xavier looks between Y/n and I, interrupted by Bianca. Her voice full of confidence.

"What do we have here? The runt of the litter."

I look at Bianca's face. I can't wait to wipe that look of it.

"For the record, I don't believe I'm better than everyone else. Just that I'm better than you."

Bianca's face loses confidence as Principal Weems starts to speak.

"I want to welcome you all to the Edgar Allen Poe Cup. This is one of Nevermore's proudest annual traditions dating back 125 years." Principal Weems says into a microphone with a smile.

"Each team must row across to Raven Island, pull their flag from Crackstone Crypt, and hustle back without sinking or being sunk."

I look at Thing crawling towards my feet for a moment near a couple of switches on the floor of the boat.

"The first team to cross the finish line with their flag wins the cup and bragging rights for a year, as well as some special privileges."

Weems points a gun to the sky, indicating the race is about to begin. The racers posture get prepared, their eyes focused in front of them.

"Let the Poe Cup begin!" The sound of the blank fires, the competitors immediately start rowing their oars. The sound of cheering fades as we get further from the bank.

"Oh, excuse us." Xavier says teasingly while cutting us off. Xavier's team all has jester hats driving a red boat along with some scary clown makeup. Or at least, trying to be.

A team in a purple boat show up next to us. They pull a lever on their boat followed by the sounds of gears turning.

The axes on the side rise up and swing side ways, going to slice us.

We all duck simultaneously, narrowly avoiding the axes.

Suddenly the purple boat starts moving towards a cone in the water, the competitors on the boats failing to regain stability with their oars until they smash into it. Their boat breaks in half as the competitors fall into the water, exclaiming words of annoyance.

"Y/n did you do that?" I ask, turning my head around to see her shake her head no.

I turn around to see a tail emerge from the water.

"Thing." I say, commanding him to make the next move.

Thing crawls over to the two different switches, pulling one of them down. There is the sound of gears moving and then the sound of a net shooting through the water.

There is the muted noise of a scream under the water. Whoever it was is gonna stay there for awhile.

We reach the shore of Raven Island a moment after Xavier's team does.

I stand to go grab the flag before turning around.

"You stay here and make sure Bianca doesn't sabotage our boat."

Enid and Y/n nod their heads before I go to run to get the flag.

I see the flags as I run to them. Xavier and their teammate running past with theirs.

"Later Wednesday!"

I glance back for a moment as Xavier and Ajax run past me.

I go to grab the black one, putting my hand on the pillar of Crackstone Crypt while grabbing the black flag to stop my motion.

It feels as if electricity is coursing through my body as I fall onto the ground, entering a vision.

I stand up, finding myself back at Crackstone Crypt, except it's foggier and the atmosphere is illuminated by the moon shining a deep red. I turn to find a woman facing away from me in a white bed dress with white hair past her hips.

Her hair looks ethereal as it reflects the moonlight and flows elegantly in the wind.

I notice she has cuts on her arms and legs, blood dripping from each wound down her limbs till they pool together. The blood dripping onto the floor from her fingertips.

I find myself turned around to meet a woman with blonde hair braided on each side of her head down in front on her shoulders and my face. It felt as if I was looking into a corrupted mirror. Its silent for a moment before she speaks.

"You are the key."

"Taking a cat nap?" I am brought back into reality as I open my eyes to Bianca grabbing the flag and running back towards the shoreline.

I glance at Crackstone Crypt, taking in what I saw in my vision for a moment before I quickly get back onto my feet as I run back to our boat.

"Come on, hurry up we have to go!" Enid says while I put the flag up and sit in my seat.

We start to catch up as Xavier's boat slows down, sinking into the water.

"See, ya jokers!" Enid shouts while we pass them.

"I just asked myself, WWWD, what would Wednesday do?" About time my deviousness started to rub off onto others.

We start to approach Bianca's team's boat. I pull down the second switch revealing four spears emerging for our boat.

We start to approach their boat, getting intimidatingly close until there's a sudden push on the boat pushing us away.

We're being pushed towards one of the cones like that other team. Y/n and I see Thing jump into the water. Thing swims through the water to see a siren pushing our boat. He swims to build up speed before punching him at full force in the face. A few seconds later the boat restabilizes with the pressure removed from the boat.

After we make some distance I hear Y/n from behind me

"Accio!" She has her hand out towards the water, The severed hand comes flying from the water into her grasp.

"Thing are you okay?!" She sets him down so she can keep rowing. "That was awesome!"

My eyes soften for a moment, only for a moment at your worry for my family member.

Soon we start to get closer to Bianca's boat again. When we start to get too close, all four of them push at our boat with their oars to keep the spears from penetrating theirs.

We keep trying to push our boat past their makeshift barrier, until I feel our boat slow down for a second as Y/n stopped rowing. She has her wand pulled out.

She flicks it towards their boat. "Aqua menti!"

Suddenly their boats starts rapidly filling with crystal clear water, sinking at the rapidly increasing weight in their boat.

"Y/n you're going to pay for that!" Bianca shouts with an angry expression on her face. Meanwhile Y/n is smiling at the satisfaction of outsmarting her.

We keep pushing our boat towards theirs so they can't attempt to get any of the water out of their boat until they have fully sunk.

"Quick thinking Y/n!" Enid shouts back to her.

"I never thought you had a competitive spirit in you!"

I glance back to see Y/n with a shy smile plastered onto her face.

We finally get the boat to the dock, all us of running to the finish line flag in hand.

Applause fills the air as we cross the finish line.

"We did!" Enid is jumping erratically, carrying the flag in hand

"This is the greatest moment of my life!" I see Enid shaking Y/n by her shoulders before turning her gaze to me.

"Admit it, you kinda got into the whole school spirit thing."

I glance to the water to see Bianca with an angry expression written on her face as she climbs onto the dock, before seeing Y/n's eyes on me full of admiration.

"You didn't tell me it was a dark, vengeful spirit."

I find myself standing awkwardly in front of the whole school with the rest of the black cats, I look to the side to see Wednesday probably the most annoyed I'll ever see her.

"The first Poe Cup took place in 1897 as a way to not only honor Nevermore's most famous alumni, but to celebrate those values that all outcasts share. Community, perseverance, and determination."

Enid's face is beaming as her metaphorical tail wags at the attention.

"And we certainly saw those values on display today."

Weems hands Enid the trophy as everyone cheers. "Congratulations to Ophelia Hall!"

I see Wednesday taking advantage of the applause to leave. So, like usual, I follow her as she sits under the Edgar Allen Poe statue at the end of a dark hallway.

"You okay?" I say as I catch up, her gaze meeting mine before she notices something in her peripheral vision, causing her to up at the book the statue is holding.

"What, did you see something?" I quickly approach and look under the book to see the symbol from before.

"Holy shit this is huge!" I look back down to Wednesday with excitement in my eyes.

Enid approaches from behind. "What are you two doing back here?"

"Hiding." Wednesday states flatly. "People keep randomly smiling at me, it's unsettling."

Enid grabs both of us by the arm, dragging us back towards the quad.

"It's called having your moment, you took down Bianca Barclay. Try to enjoy it."

We walk back out into the quad before Enid continues. "The girls wanna know if you two wanna hangout later."

Wednesday and I look at each other, as if confirming our plans to investigate the statue tonight.

"Oh come on, it won't kill you."

Wednesday takes a moment to respond. "I'll think about it."

Enid skips past us to a table with the trophy on it, with the biggest smile on her face.

"You two are starting to become quite the pair." Principal Weems sneaks up onto us.

"Impressive use of that spell Y/n. Your mother used that same spell when she was on Mrs. Addams and I's team back when we competed in the Poe Cup back in the day."

"Thank you Principal Weems." I say with a smile. I don't get to hear about my parents often, so any time is a welcome surprise.

"And you Wednesday." Principal Weems continues, her gaze moving to her. "I'm glad to see you finally fitting in."

Wednesday is silent for a moment before we both turn around to see Bianca seething at her table. I find a smile creeping on my face due to our true victory.

Wednesday and I approach the statue. The only light being casted from the moon and a light charm from the end of my wand.

We stand on the base of the statue to look inside the book to find a series of questions listed. Wednesday instantly starts writing down answers before I can help.

Soon she stops writing and comes down from the base, I follow her. She stands in front of the statue, staring at her notepad.

I take a step closer, our shoulders touching as I look into her notepad. "Can I?" I hold out my hand over the notepad.

Wednesday hands me her pen. I circle the letters to the left to form one word.

It clicks in Wednesday's head. She lowers the notepad, and holds her hand up. The sound of two snaps fill the hallway, followed by the sound of gears shifting and the scrapping of concrete as the statue moves backwards.

A staircase is revealed beyond the statue. Wednesday and I glance at a each before heading down.

At the bottom of the staircase we find a library with a marble floor with the symbol from before. The room is filled with dust and cobwebs.

Wednesday quickly finds that some dust is missing from a section of the bookshelf. Wednesday grabs the book, and finds the other half of the missing page.

She quickly closes the book, putting it in her bag. Wednesday turns around to leave.

"You think there's anything else down here that we need?" I ask, Wednesday turns around again to meet my face a few steps away from me.

Suddenly, I find a bag over my head as my vision goes dark. I drop my wand onto the floor out of fear, cancelling the light spell that use to illuminate the abandoned room.

Part 6.

Past Lives Masterlist

a/n: I was thinking about making this chapter longer, but it was so satisfying to end it at the end of the actual episode.

[assassiowl]

Outer Wilds - Owlk Undertale pixel animation - sprite update Process notes below - breaking down a sprite and how it feeds into my learning decisions:

I really liked this original sprite, at the time I thought it was really cool and captured the feeling I wanted to go for. With a sprite update, it's great to keep the original idea in tact. So going off of that, I wanted to see if I could make it more threatening overall and fix up some issues that were present. 1. Antlers This is a form and anatomy issue - based on how the antler is attached, it looks like it bends backwards, when you pair it with the left side, it makes the bird feel a little less scary. It clashes with the spikey, angular antlers and has a competing feeling. By turning the new antlers into a focal point, I exaggerated them to make them be extremely noticeable. It's wide, thick and intimidating. The big block of white draws the eye. This happens due to the size and the simplicity. The rest of the sprite has a lot more detail, so the thing that sticks out most is the least detailed part. You can achieve the same by reversing this, for example having simple clothes and extra detail around the head. 2. Left arm It's not particularly bad, it's just a bit idle and plain in comparison to the rest. I brough this in by rotating it, adding some claws and bolstered the intimidation by exaggerating the muscles. Checking for areas that don't really fit the mood is more of an emergent issue.

3. Feet Something that stood out was the weight behind the foot. I gave the sprite a grounded feeling. The issue was the shaky anatomy, since I didn't really know how to draw it from this front facing angle. I wanted to emphasise this weight factor, in the animated version the planted feet are the only static part. It's subtler in pixel art, but you can add a little bit of foreshortening to make it seem like it's stepping forward. 4. Ambiguous parts One of the most important things for pixel are is having a readable form. If you can read the silhouette when it's all painted in black, even when you add in details, it will really help keeping the form. I adjusted the mass so the bulk is now centered around this central torso and shuffled some of the leg positioning to be a bit clearer what is going on. 5. Right hand Hands are hard, sometimes it's about are you able to make it look passable, and it's ok. As you learn more things get easier, and you can start envisioning and making changes with intent instead of winging it. I went with a closed hand position, almost like it is grabbing, with this monochrome style it can be a little tricky to define form properly, or you end up with far too much going on. So I simplified this area with the power of suggestion to lift up this part. We can't explicitly see what it's grabbing onto, but that isn't necessary. This vague star shape moves in unison with the hand with a clutching motion, so we can tell it's holding -something- to imply a handle without explicitly drawing it.

6. Expression The face will make or break a sprite. You can tell SO much with just moving a couple of pixels. It's really evident when you are working with an iris on the whites of an eye, shifting it one pixel will change the entire vibe. In this case, I opted to simplify the whole head area, removing a lot of the dithering on the cheek and instead pushing the texture onto an elongated neck. I'll take on a reflection process after each piece to address what I like and don't like, making notes on what I should work on next. It's a really helpful exercise, especially if you can be specific as to what is happening with each issue. I'm a big fan of pixel art, the small canvas forces you to think about these things very concretely - it's using a magnifying glass to see which aspects are falling behind. So looking at this final one, I feel like I was compressing the torso a lot, and ended up with a much more compact design - which sometimes is the goal, especially if you're working within constraints for a game. Since I'm not working on it for a specific project, I'd then consider just using a taller canvas next time to allow more breathing room. My head is a bit more chaotic than this though. Pixel art let's me get those ideas out quickly - it's like thumbnailing or sketching.

[revelboo]

I just wanted to let you know, that post about Waspinator, Tarantulas and Grimlock and how they have more animal like instincts than other bots (which i can't find in your masterlist, btw) inspired the realization in me that this same truth would apply to ALL the characters in Beast Wars.

(This is not a request that you add Beast Wars to your ever expanding list unless you really want to. God knows you've got enough on your plate right now.)

Oh, yeah- they’d love hunting and pred/prey play

Sure! Sorry it took so long to get to it! 18+ 🌶️

Save World Get Girl

Silverbolt x Reader

• Head pounding, your eyes open and all you can see is green. Struggling upright and fighting off a wave of confused nausea, it all comes rushing back. The siren and the gate malfunctioning. Someone screaming. Turning to look around, your stomach sinks as you realize you’re alone. There’s no gate. You have no idea where you are and you’re alone. Eyes focusing on your helmet and the giant crack spiderwebbing the plexi, you at least know the air is breathable. Otherwise you’d be dead by now. Clumsily fumbling with the helmet until you get it detached, you stagger to your feet as panic begins to claw at you. Turning slowly in a circle as somewhere in the jungle you’re standing in, something screams out.

• Patrolling through the thick underbrush, there’s an unfamiliar scent on the breeze. And unfamiliar is rarely good. The Predacons? Growling softly he draws a feathered blade and stalks forward, wings drawn close to his body. What is that scent? Some trap laid by Tarantulas? A lure to draw them out, because it’s a curious smell. Servos carefully pushing a palm frond out of the way, he spots the small shape and he’s not sure what to make of the little biped. Watching it struggle with its round, bulbous head until it pries it loose and drops it to go bouncing and he sees it’s only a helmet. But the creature underneath is even stranger. A little organic, looking around with worried eyes. What are you?

• Skin crawling, you pick up a stick because you’re unarmed and it’s better than nothing. Wrapping the severed end of your tether around your arm, you’re not sure if you should stay put and wait on rescue or look for shelter. Because really? You seriously doubt rescue is coming. Had known when you’d signed up that you were risking your life. That you were expendable. You’d known and taken their money anyway.

• Whatever you are, you definitely don’t belong here. Watching you heft a pitiful, little stick and begin to walk, he scans for your ship and comes up with nothing. Keeping low, he follows you when you head into the brush. Doesn’t bother trying to trail you too closely since you’re making enough noise every predator for miles has to be alerted to your presence. Do you have no survival instincts at all?

• A branch cracks and you freeze, heart racing. And looking up, you stare at a monstrous, beaked, bird thing. That tilts its head to stare at you with a beady eye and you realize how big it is as it shuffles on the branch and makes a throaty croaking noise. Nope. As soon as it launches from the branch, wings flapping you drop your stick and run screaming.

Next

[roseytoesy]

Pssst! When you get a chance, do you have any Monster Doey headcannons? Because there are so many things you could do with him in that context pred wise. I know it happens within extreme circumstances and so far it’s Kevin, but what would happen if Matthew, Jack or all three were upset? Any other monster forms you have in mind as well? Just let the boys be selfish and greedy and protective and possessive as a TREAT

OOOOOOOooo! I honestly haven't thought of monster Doey as much due to it usually being a dangerous situation for all involved... But it is really cool to think about! Thanks for letting me ramble, and boy did I ramble.

I would try and draw this but unfortunately I don't have the time right now due to school, but I will add them once I get the time.

Realistically I think that the monster form was the first form Doey ever took, I mean 900 lbs. of dough and 3 young minds in a mess after being torn apart and put together would make something crazy. 

Kevin is usually the one to initiate transformation into monster mode

Mathew has only ever done it once after a cave in and he needed to be bigger to hold up the rocks and debris from crushing everyone. 

Jack doesn't like being the monster and has never wanted to transform.

As for monster shapes and stuff (if Jack ever wanted to for some reason) I have a few ideas to tell who's in control at that moment. And what forms they would choose if they had more control over it/ over time with practice. 

Kevin prefers the original shape, a mangled mass of dough, a huge head where he and his brothers are forced can see what's going on up front and center. 

But over time he morphs more to look like a large ferocious dragon. A longer maw, sharper longer teeth, clawed hands and feet, horns and a tail. The back hands looked more like bat wings with stretched out hands with webbing between the fingers. He can't actually fly but it's “sick as hell.”

Mathew would be next and he would try to make a softer form, something hopefully less intimidating but it's hard at that size. And without experience he can only hide some hands and close the doey mouth and have 3 eyes on the head rather than 3 heads out of the mouth. 

But over time he would try to look like a multi legged Chinese dragon, a symbol of peace and power in many stories and myths, long and sleek, the colors of the three swirling along the long slender body. Long whiskers and 3 eyes like before, yellow on his right, red center, and orange on his left. A tiny set of horns that keep his hat in place. 

Jack would take a few years of convincing to even take control of the larger form, the others helping support him as he doesn't really handle the body when stretching or forming. 

When Jack first takes over it's the usual monster form, very melted though and the back hands just kinda drag on the ground. 

After a few years of practice he found a comfortable form for himself, a unique mix of a bunny and jumping spider. Something to handle the arms and something cute! He likes loafing and dancing in this form.

Though with how you worded stuff if the boys were separate dough fellas and wanted to be monsters it would be:

Jack loves the idea of fairies! So he would give himself little wings. Though that's not much of a monster… maybe a simple slime. One of the ones that has a little angry face. But usually are pretty harmless.

Mathew would likely make himself a satyr, spreading laughter and care. But again not really a monster… so how about Frankenstein, the irony doesn't evade him either, but it's fitting since he is a monster but was more cordial than most of the humans in that story. 

Kevin would choose a minotaur! Something big and strong, yet isolated. Or maybe a really cool werewolf. 

And just because I do want to imagine the boys being protective and greedy. The deeper into the factory or into more feral areas the more protective they become,

Jack tries to have faith in you, but does hover close by at the ready to protect you or catch you should you fall. Noms may happen for protection but more likely he retreats back to let Kevin or Mathew handle it, unless you get hurt, then he will throw a stomping tantrum. Throwing whatever hurt you around until he calms down. Might nom you to soothe himself in that case.

While being greedy he would just be like a kid demanding attention, tugging on your pack or hands or even legs when he wants your attention, he will sulk if you ignore him. If he gets the idea to tuck you away you will be smothered in dough, cuddled and cooed at. He would just happily giggle as you shift around. Might try and sooth you if you try fighting while inside, just apologizing but saying that he just can't help it, and it keeps you safe! You can't blame him for trying to help. You wouldn't do that right? He would say with puppy eyes. 

Kevin becomes like a scary guard dog, and you better not do anything stupid or he will not hesitate to eat you. He tries to scout ahead since he knows that you are fairly capable. But still, as a being made of clay he can do a lot that you can’t, and will smugly open doors for you that you couldn’t. 

If he gets greedy for your attention you're in for a hell of a time, he will be very blunt with it and if you continue to ignore/upset him he will just eat you, squishing you into place and pushing you around and back should you try fighting or pushing out. You're HIS and he's making that clear now. Now sit still or maybe give him a nice belly rub and he’ll go easy on you. Lots of teasing and prodding at you to get reactions, your struggles are amusing and somewhat exhilarating for him. 

Mathew would keep a wary eye out for anything, doing his best to remember any safe places that you passed or might find up ahead with any info around. If there aren't any good hiding spaces he gets more and more worried about keeping you safe, and in those moments he will nom you to keep you safe if something bigger than both of you shows up. 

As for being greedy, it has to be a very very bad day for the poor kid. Where he just doesn’t care so much anymore. He would be more stone faced or even desperate, depending on the situation, and just snatch you up, a few swallows because he forgot about opening his stomach but also to allow himself the guilty pleasure of tasting you and eating you normally. He would apologize for being so snappish, but your presence helps him relax, its grounding. And he needs that right now.

[fairyhaos]

seventeen as teachers

requested by @weird-bookworm ! it's a little to the left of what you asked but i hope it's alright anyway ><

masterlist

seungcheol

architecture professor. kind of thanks to physics!cheol anon for this idea but he really encourages hands-on learning especially for his subject, and he draws big diagrams on the board and gestures wildly with his hands as he's explaining why the models work and what do the students think of it? also he definitely gives vibes of someone who high fives the students when their models withstand his shaking tests, but also laughs and claps when they fall apart. because it's all about learning, isn't it? and he's with you to help you learn every step of the way. 

jeonghan

kindergarten teacher. cannot for the life of him handle kids older than that because then they get too tricksy and talkative for him and he gets tired too easily to deal with that. actually really good at handling the toddlers. he's also very pretty so all the kids unironically hang onto his every word, basically making him the god at keeping children in line. when he gets too tired of running around after them he just goes “kids :((( jeonghan is tired :(((“ and they immediately settle down to do something else

joshua

music teacher (1). he's a total department crush (and even school-wide crush) amongst the other teachers because he's so pretty and so kind, always and accidentally keeps making teachers fall for him bc he talks to them so nicely w that pretty smile of his. renowned for his ability to compose melodies on the piano on the spot, and always has students wanting him to help (cough compose for them) parts of their composition work. no one knows what he does outside of work, though. it's like he disappears into thin air after school finishes. 

junhui

gives me eccentric uni professor vibes. sits on his desk with his feet dangling and asks all sorts of strange and irrelevant questions to the students that are, actually, not strange and entirely relevant. has everyone walking out of his lectures feeling like a changed person because he either a) managed to get horribly off track or b) made them rethink their entire life choices. loved by all, and maybe a bit too much. poor guy definitely had an obsessed student try to follow him home before he got lost himself and so they both ended up in the middle of nowhere

hoshi

chemistry teacher. no other reason other than i think he'd look great with a pair of goggles on his forehead pushing his fringe back at funny angles whilst he grins maniacally and goes, “hey, kids, today we're gonna set things on fire!!!!”. so passionate about teaching these things to the students, and rambles on like he only has 5 minutes left on earth and he's gonna use every second to cram in as much chemistry knowledge into the students’ brains as he can in that time. it works, too. his passion inspires so many of them to take chemistry further up in the school. 

wonwoo

history teacher. all the students want him for their teacher when they take history because he's actually, like, competent and knows stuff. known for taking no shit when it comes to doing assignments on time because he sets reasonable deadlines and if you can't make them, then that's on you, not him. students love him. also super duper helpful if you have any questions and is always free at lunch to help bc he'll do anything to escape the hyperactive claws of mr. kwon and mr. wen who are always up to shenanigans

woozi

music teacher (2). mans life literally revolves around music and i can't imagine him doing anything else. department ace. conductor of both the symphony and concert orchestra, and rearranges all of the parts himself when the students find it a little too difficult. also do Not engage this man in a conversation about anything to do with music theory because he will rant for ages and any quick question turns into half of your lunch break being missed. he means well, though, and always gets ridiculous amount of thank-you presents at the end of the year. 

minghao

art teacher (1). dresses like one, too, and has been voted as ‘best dressed teacher’ for the past 3 years in a row. all the art students are kind of afraid of him because if you ask for feedback, there is a 50/50 chance that he'll rip you a new one whilst explaining what you did wrong. there's never any true cruelty to his words, though, cuz hes always actually giving genuine advice and he's always right in what he advises, so students either love him or hate him for his criticisms, though mostly it's the former. he's pretty, too, and his works are pretty, so that's a plus

mingyu

teaches business studies to the older students, purely cz i think he gives maths-adjacent vibes. he teaches a “special” subject that's not available to the younger kids and he's ridiculously handsome so he's kind of like a legendary figure in the school. even if he's a bit silly and adorable at times, he's also super good at holding intellectual debates with his students about current economic and political affairs. can be found bickering with mr. yoon bc the kindergarten teacher wants him to help with his taxes.

dokyeom

art teacher (2). smiles brighter than the sun at all hours of the day, and when the senior students are drowning in coursework and artist research deadlines, he's like the one and only guiding light that helps them get through it because of how endlessly optimistic he is. half the seniors take art solely because of him, actually. also a firm believer that all art is good art and there's no such thing as a “non-artist”. scolds minghao after work when he feels like the other teacher was being too harsh to the students

seungkwan

part of the senior leadership team. takes his position veryyy seriously, strides briskly around the school with a jingle of w set of keys he managed to procure from…somewhere. is always on top of uniform inspections which is always annoying for the kids, but he's also melodramatic and smiley so they love him anyway. the students are always try to recruit him for teacher quizzes and events bc he makes everything way more fun. 

vernon

classics teacher. this might seem odd but hear me out!!! dude loves ancient history and Will do deep dives on old artefacts and cultures that interest him, and i think that passion can definitely be transferred to him teaching kids about latin, ancient greek, old civilizations. known for sharing nothing about his personal life but also being able to talk for ages about something that happened over 1000 years ago. the students all find him super cool and also super endearing. 

chan

the guy who's hired externally from some sports club to act as the teacher to students during after school clubs. teaches martial arts, mainly, but he supervised an impromptu dance club one semester and the students loved it so much that they managed to bring the dance club onto the permanent schedule. everyone loves him. his sports club is 10000% sure that half the children who come to them were recruited through chan's lovely personality alone. 

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[morhido]

I've been lost in the owl house sauce for about three years and as a result i've mentally compiled a list of the characters' speech patterns and body language. Then i realised i should probably do something with that information and decided to jot it all down :>>

This is just gonna be the hexsquad for now since my lists for other characters are fairly sparse but additions/requests are welcome! Mayhaps i'll add to it in the future sjdkshskj

(The 'other' category is for general quirks, or things that just didn't fit the other categories)

LUZ:

• Happy/excited: stamps feet with high knees, squeaks/makes high pitched sounds, makes fists and brings them to her chest/face

• Sad: will initially deny if she's upset, whether she fesses up is up to circumstance. Lowers her head, can become unresponsive, becomes tired, voice will generally remain quiet and flat even if something cheers her up, empathetic crier

• Stressed/overwhelmed: repeats phrases over ("no no no, you're belos, you're just belos!"), falls to her knees or puts on hood when overwhelmed, acts overly casual to compensate for her panicking ("yikes, my dude"), protective of others when in physical danger (usually holds amity's head). More comedically, can often make unnecessary/dramatic gestures (e.g. spinning, cartwheeling, flopping to the floor) when stressed

• Angry: gets louder, sometimes unwilling to hear the other person out, becomes very physical, loses volume control (often to her own detriment), sticks her elbows out to look more intimidating. More comedically, will sometimes make animal noises/gestures (e.g. hissing and clawing)

• Other: often prematurely assumes that people will react poorly to her ("she's gonna embarrass herself, i can't watch!" / "if amity sees this, she'll think i'm such a loser!" / "what if the palisman doesn't like me?"), can accidentally be inconsiderate of other people in favour of her impulse, resorts to violence quickly and generally doesn't try to make peace with adults, very easily becomes rambly with strong emotion and can repeat words and phrases, can become loud and panicky during combat if her goal is self-preservation but becomes much more focused if fighting with/protecting other people

WILLOW:

• Happy/excited: becomes very active and touchy, very straightforward, taps toes, will be oblivious if others are intimidated by her, voice pitches up when excited

• Sad: draws herself in, becomes quiet, looks down/closes her eyes, isolates herself, can become less responsive, talks to herself

• Stressed/overwhelmed: loses control of magic, covers hair, voice pitches up when extremely nervous, very rarely acts on impulse even when scared, high-pitched squeaks/screams when startled

• Angry: vines grow from the ground beneath her, shows vocal disdain for whatever is upsetting her, can become very sardonic ("you want me to give up? You want me to admit how stressed i am?"), can go from high and stern when upset ("you just met them, give them a chance!") to low and loud when fully angry ("what advice could you POSSIBLY give me??")

• Other: denial is default coping mechanism, very often does the gag of pretending to be intimidating and then doing something sweet/cute, will be oblivious to the other person's fear when this happens, love language is physical touch, makes her feelings known unless she's specifically not trying to upset people, can speak pretty formally ("enchanting!", "how dare you?"), talks to herself in second person when hyping herself up, takes offensive role in combat

AMITY:

• Happy/excited: voice can get louder, smiles with teeth when extremely excited, becomes more impulsive with what she says and does

• Sad: raises voice when trying to make a point, voice cracks, becomes quieter with remorse, remains very quiet and calm when comforting/confiding in someone else

• Stressed/overwhelmed: s1 amity would get extremely defensive if any vulnerability was exposed ("help? All you're doing is prying into your friends' lives!"), rambles when flustered, holds hem of skirt when she's nervous/doesn't know what to do, also generally moves hands a lot when nervous, attempts to leave situations that are upsetting her, high-pitched screams when startled (does this less throughout the series as she becomes more on-guard and impulsive)

• Angry: often gets louder and more animated (e.g. her trying to break out of the dome in clouds on the horizon), face turns red, pushes away the source of her anger, doesn't usually stay angry for long, moves her body forward (e.g. pointing, gesturing, or actually stepping forwards), will often stick her arms straight at her sides

• Other: generally uncomfortable leaving her comfort zone but extremely confident in fields that she already excels in, extremely accepting of change in other people, arguably the second most impulsive of the hexsquad (especially regarding luz's safety) and uses fire to solve a lot of her problems, will take control of a situation when she knows she's in the right ("you're gonna listen to me for once"), usually very perceptive to others' emotions

GUS:

• Happy/excited: draws fists up to face, big gestures (especially with hands/arms)

• Sad: self-blames/depricates ("yeah. It's all my fault"), curls up with his arms and head on his knees, usually very vocal about being upset with something, "you've done it again, augustus" (in the context of being tricked by someone), can remain in this state for a long time, draws in on himself but doesn't push other people away

• Stressed/overwhelmed: loses control of magic (finds it difficult to discern reality from illusions), often hides behind willow when scared, laughs/smiles nervously when anxious or flustered, can get tunnel vision on the thing that's upsetting him

• Angry: stays level-headed and doesn't often raise his voice, speech becomes more emphatic, can become snarkier ("hey belos, remember me?"), remains distant from the subject of his anger, usually stays in a stance

• Other: very eager to prove himself whenever he has the opportunity (love language is acts of service), most willing to resort to violence ("nobody's dying" "not with that attitude", usually in a joking manner), most annoyed by his friends' shenanigans but always willing to tag along, makes big gestures (especially when emphasising something), sometimes repeats phrases when feeling strong emotions ("gus? Nickname? HUMAN nickname?? GUS???" / "wait × 6, is this really what you wanna be doing with your life?")

HUNTER:

• Happy/excited: extremely animated with his hands, voice gets louder, becomes very confident. Is very playful and arrogant when in golden guard mode and will usually try to show off or start relying on empty threats

• Sad: voice goes quiet and airy, voice cracks, can become raspier

• Stressed/overwhelmed: doesn't like to be touched when upset, is overwhelmed by affection and will often start crying, goes silent and dissociates when processing upsetting information, voice cracks, becomes extremely snappy and irritable from long-term stress, freezes under pressure, draws in on himself when panicking, goes silent when flustered

• Angry: becomes grumpy when things don't go his way, is extremely animated and expressive when actually angry, can become sardonic, raises voice, makes small movements (e.g. shaking leg or pacing small area). As golden guard, would try to physically intimidate the other person (e.g. looming over or walking towards them)

• Other: doesn't tend to self-blame and will either pass the fault onto someone else ("you got us trapped in the emperor's mind!"), or acknowledge when someone else was in the wrong ("you were tricked. That's what belos does, he tricks people"). Almost never initiates combat and plays a more defensive role, extremely theatrical/expressive and talkative (will have to actively restrain himself to not talk about something), squeaks a lot

[quinloki]

Quin, for the kink headcanons, may I ask for the following:

Hate sex, stuck in a wall, and mutual masturbation for...

Pre time skip AND post time skip Eustass Kid. And also...Loki

Raven \o/ My love! My darling! My Partner in crime 💖🥰✨

After this we can get ice cream and then kidnap @icy-spicy before we hop a flight to Germany for some cookies >.>

Ahem, anyway, anyway -- Okay so Hate sex, mutual masturbation, and stuck in a wall. Mutual masturbation can be people in a room taking care of themselves OR getting each other off. I like the second one more, so I'm going with that.

Pre-TS Kid AND Post-TS Kid >.> hmm, hmm, gonna make me think about nuances and shit, I see how it is XD

Alright, let's get to it \o/

Pre-TS Eustass Kid:

Hate Sex - FUCK yes - Scratching, biting, slapping, hair pulling, calling each other names even as you're clawing your clothes off. There's nothing better. And given the whole hate part of hate sex, there's no messy emotions to get in the way afterward. You're both inclined to go your separate ways later. Hate's just as hot-button as love can be, so there's a comparable rush, and you don't have to give him your number afterward.

Unless you want him to call you up and degrade you when he feels like it. He might charge you for that privilege though.

Mutual Masturbation - Yes - Young Eustass Kid would rather be railing your ass into the floorboards, but there's nothing wrong with a little mutual masturbation. It's liable to turn into a contest, or edging, or both.

Who can hold out longer? You're definitely going to cum before him, and if you don't believe him that's okay. The way your fingers tremble against his shaft when he curls his fingers inside you, oh sweetheart, don't lie like that. Maybe this mutual masturbation stuff can be more fun than he thought.

Stuck in a wall - Oh god you don’t even know - A tight hole stuck in a tight hole, well who is he pass up such an opportunity? Don't worry too much, he'll get permission before he hilts inside you. He'll get you out of the wall when he's done too.

Might be a few hours.

Post-TS Eustass Kid:

Hate Sex - Sure - Don't get him wrong, the rough sex is still fun. Pull his hair and slap his face if it's going to get you off, he'll grin and rail you until you're too blissed out to show him any emotion except lust. You can call him names and he'll give as good as he gets, but at this point he's starting to find that there's things he enjoys more than the spice of anger.

Brat taming's more fun, and if a one-night-stand hate fuck turns into you being a snarky little mouse, collared at his feet, then he won't need the hate fucks anymore, will he?

Mutual Masturbation - FUCK Yes - The enthusiasm might be a little more than before, but the asshole behavior is still there. Refined, and more skillful, but still there. You're going to be on your 3rd orgasm, shivering and struggling to focus, and this bastard's going to be asking when you'll finally get him off.

If he stops it won't be mutual masturbation anymore, so of course he has to keep going. You can always throw the towel in and admit he's the best, and maybe he'll show you mercy. If not, you probably only have one or two more orgasms in you before you're not going to be able finish him off. Better stay focused, little mouse.

Stuck in a wall - FUCK Yes - Sure, it's great fun, and yes he's all here for it, but over time he's realized that while the whole scenario is Definitely Hot, it does have some draw backs.

Depending on the wall, he can't see you, and fuck you're a sight to see when you're losing your mind because of him. Depending on the wall he can't hear you clearly, and he deserves to enjoy all the sounds he's forcing out of you.

So yeah, it's a Fuck Yes, when you're stuck in the custom wall he's made. You can wriggle and struggle and you're not going to go anywhere, and he can still see and hear you. The best of everything. He'll even pad the hole so that when you pass out it's all nice and comfy for you.

Loki:

Hate Sex - Sure - Is there any other kind? (My vibes for Loki aren't set in stone by any means, so I'mma do my best).

I get the weird sense this guy's a romantic, but fuck if you get to know that. So sure, he's in for the hate sex, but he's just so godsdamned emo about it, cause is there any other kind? There's no reason to get excited about it, if all the sex you're having is hate sex.

Mutual Masturbation - FUCK Yes - There might be some logistical issues to sort out, given the size difference that you're dealing with. But he's willing to try all the adjustments and positions needed to make it work - much as he can.

This is one time you might see the softer side of him, or at least end up with a full understanding of just how careful his control can be.

>.> For some reason, I can't shake the idea that he makes you cum over and over and there's just the lil' satisfied smirk on his face when you finally cum so many times you fall asleep. He'll get himself off with one hand, and keep you safe and warm with the other

Stuck in a wall - I keep trying, I do, but this guy spent so long chained to a tree, and every time I'm like "What would his rating for this be" All I can see in my head is this:

And I can't

🤣

I'm sorry XD Forgive me Raven - I just - I feel like he's gonna need a few years before he find any appeal in anything restrictive. 😭 for him or his partners.

How May I Kink Your Head Canon?

[silvrash-797]

Febuwhump 2025 - A Siren's Song

Chapter 2: "I did good, right?"

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Legend shut his mouth, teeth clicking together with an audible snap. 

Time and Twilight took one more step then froze in place, eyes still glassy and distant, but blessedly clear of the water, which lapped at their chins.

Legend silently gnawed on a claw, panic rising in his chest. He had to get them back to shore. He refused to be the reason more people he loved died.

But if he took one back, the curse could drag the other under while he wasn't looking!

He needed to get them both back, together.

But how?

Wait.

The Siren's Song drew men to the water to drown.

The Siren's Song drew men to the water to drown!

Desperately, silently, Legend swam toward Twilight, pawing at the neck of his tunic until a claw caught at the leather thong that held the Rancher's dark crystal. Careful not to touch the black and orange stone - who knew what turning into a bunny now would do to their situation - he turned the stone onto Twilight and touched the Rancher's cheek.

Immediately, shadows surrounded Twilight's form, clearing after a moment to leave a wolf paddling in his place.

Wolfie blinked. Shook his head. His face contorted in a surprisingly Hylian look of confusion as he took in the water, his position in it, and Legend floating anxiously nearby.

Wolfie huffed a bark and tilted his head, the question clear. What happened?

Crap. Sign was nearly impossible with claws and webbed fingers, but Legend had to try. "Curse," he managed, letting his fingers speak for him. "Voice bad, need help!"

Wolfie's eyes widened as he looked around again. He gave a determined bark before tilting his head again. What do you need me to do? 

"You. Air under water. Yes?" Legend's fingers twisted, mangling the signs. He prayed Twilight would understand. 

Wolfie nodded, and Legend almost fainted from relief.

"Good!" he signed. "Put on, help Time. Z-O-R-A face."

Wolfie's eyes widened in understanding; moments later the shadowy cloud cleared, leaving Twilight floating in the wolf's place, his time as Wolfie having broken the spell.

Legend was not jealous at how easy his transformation had been.

"That's a pretty tail you've got there, Vet," Twilight grinned as he fished in his pack for his Zora gear.

"Shut up," Legend signed, pouting.

Twilight laughed as he donned the blue hat and golden helm of his Zora armor, pulling the black veil up and over his mouth and nose. 

"Right," he said, ducking under water to make sure it worked. "Now, why can't we just drag Time back like this? You 'n me together?"

Legend sighed bubbles into the water and made a gesture he hoped conveyed be my guest.

They each grabbed one of Time's arms and began to drag him backwards. They hadn't gone more than two strokes when Time's feet disappeared from underneath him; the weight of his armor dragged him down, causing him to sink beneath the waves.

Twilight yelped and dove to grab his mentor. Legend towed them back to the place Time had stopped, until the one-eyed hero stood placidly on his own again. 

Twilight turned wide eyes onto Legend.

Legend shrugged. "Song powerful," he signed as best he could. "Drown one way or another."

"So we have to break the song somehow," Twilight murmured.

Legend nodded and again signed, "Z-O-R-A face."

"Of course! You broke the song's power over me by usin' my crystal." Twilight dove underwater and grabbed Time's mask pouch, loosening it and pulling it up with him. He began to dig inside. "Only makes sense that Time's Zora mask would do the same thing." He exclaimed in triumph as he pulled out the mask.

"I've never seen him use one of these before," Twilight said, turning the mask over in his hands. "I don't know what to expect."

Legend shrugged minutely and opened his mouth, only to sink his needle-sharp teeth into the side of his hand. He'd been about to speak, and that would have signed Time's death sentence. Already, he could see the clouds in Time's eye drawing closer together - the cursed song would not be appeased for much longer. "Hurry," he signed anxiously.

Twilight nodded and carefully placed the mask over Time's face.

The mask seemed to clamp down, like it was digging into his skin; Time curled forward as every muscle contracted then threw back his head and screamed as the transformation coursed across his body. Legend and Twilight clung to his arms to keep him floating as skin and armor turned to scaly flesh.

Finally, Time hung from their grasp, panting slightly as the transformation finished. He opened bleary eyes and gazed around, much as Twilight had. "What happened?" he murmured. 

He'd done it. They were safe. Legend's voice burst from his throat before he could stop it. "I cursed you both, that's what happened!" Tears welled in his eyes. "I almost killed you both..."

Time flinched as the song ghosted across his mind, finding nothing to latch onto; Twilight’s eyes went glassy, and he sunk beneath the waves.

"Crap!" Legend left Time swimming under his own power and dove for Twilight, hauling him back to the surface. He turned to Time, all thoughts of the beauty of this era fled from his mind, haunted and exhausted by the last hour's ordeal. "We need to get him to shore, and get me out of this damned water."

Time nodded and took Twilight from Legend's grasp. With a flick of webbed feet and finned tail, they made their way back to the Spirit's spring. Twice more across the short distance, Twilight's weight dropped beneath the waves, but his Zora helm protected him.

Legend hauled himself up the stairs, arms trembling. As soon as he left the water's embrace, the mermaid's curse began to reverse. 

He cringed and sobbed as his tail shredded down the middle, growing Hylian bones and sinew once more. His skin burned as scales retracted, and the muted ache in his hands and mouth roared back to life as teeth and claws dulled. Distantly, he felt Time's hands flutter around him, trying to help, to comfort, to soothe, but he curled away from the contact, rolling tightly into himself to contain the raging inferno.

Legend coughed and hacked water from his lungs as his gills sewed themselves shut. He wanted to pass out this time, but as clean, cool air entered his lungs, it extinguished the flames of his transformation, leaving him shivering on the sun-warmed stone. 

"I did good, right?" he whimpered, to no one in particular. 

He startled as a warm blanket was draped across his body. "Yes, Vet," Time's deep voice soothed, "you did good. You saved us both."

"You just rest, Lege," Twilight's voice joined in, and oh, it was wonderful to hear them both, safe and sound and alive. "We'll find the others once you're feelin' up to it, 'kay?"

"Okay," Legend hummed, already drifting into sleep's embrace.

They were safe.

[curses-of-the-void]

Where The Shadow Ends

Fandom(s): Teen Wolf

Wordcount: 1074

Warning(s): Age gap, mentions of abuse/neglect, sacrifices mentioned, spoilers

Summary: Derek comes to check on her after the events that unfolded.

The scent of petrichor and decay surround her as she lay among crip leafs, her breath visible puffs in the air as she stares at the sky above her, stars twinkling in the dead of night, blurred by tears that are drying, sticky on her face. Deucalion was finally defeated, Jennifer was gone, Noah was safe, Chris was safe, Melissa was safe, her mom was safe- things were good. But, Gods and Goddesses above was she tired. She sacrificed herself with Scott, Allison, and Stiles, to save all four of their parents, leaving her feeling this darkness staining her soul, at every moment of every day, and if it wasn't for her friends, it would cripple her.

The crunch of footsteps make her suck in a sharp breath, reaching up to wipe her face as she sits up, pausing at the sight of the Beta standing a few feet from where she lay, hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket. His green gaze is piercing in the light of the moon, not quite full but reaching it, lips set in a firm line as she brushes some hair from her face. As if her movement spurns him into moving, he crosses to her, settling on the ground beside her, one arm thrown over his knee as he looks out at the forest that lines the back of her house.

"Why?" He asks, and she swallows thickly, looking away, already knowing the question he's referring to.

"Because... if I could help, then I should. She's my mother." Derek sighs at that, turning his head to look at her as she shrugs. "It's not like she abused me... she just ignored me. She didn't know how to cope after my dad's death." She pauses, looking up at the stars again. "I think she blamed more for it, because I survived the crash, and he didn't." She wraps her arms around her knees, drawing them to her chest.

"You corrupted your soul for her, only for her to act like she's terrified of you." She snorts, reaching up to palm her eye.

"I use magic Derek."

"And I have fangs and claws. Which of these do you think should cause her more concern?" He pauses, shaking his head. "Nevermind... I didn't come to fight." He looks at her. "How're you doing? How're... How are we doing?" The reference to the unspoken tension between the two of them makes her cheeks flood with heat, looking away as her heart skips in her chest.

"I dunno." She admits, and Derek frowns, looking away as he clenches his jaw, flexing it back and forth as he grinds his teeth. "Look, Derek, we both knew things wouldn't- couldn't- progress between us, at not while I'm still in school. But, you kinda slept with and sided with a murderer." She points out. "Again."

"You can't hold Kate against me. I didn't do that as an adult." He states, looking over at her. "I was a kid." She raises a hand and his brow furrows. "You're 18, about to be 19."

"Just because I'm a year older than Scott and Stiles, doesn't make me not a kid."

"Stop. Just stop." Derek reaches out to grab her hand. "You've made your point. I just... it's different. We're different." Silence lingers between them as she stares at him, at his hand, holding her own, warm and callused, and it makes her feel so much more than if Scott or Stiles or Isaac had grabbed it.

"I-I-" Derek seems to notice, because he pulls her to him, and she shifts to her knees, letting him all but pull her into his lap as he trails his other hand up to cup her face, thumb stroking her cheek.

"You were crying." A surprised laugh echoes in the clearing, escaping her as she nods, his brow furrowing again.

"Tends to happen when emotions come to a head. I needed a good cry." She admits, and Derek knows how hard that is for her to admit, to him, to herself, to anyone. She doesn't like to admit needing to be vulnerable, to anyone. "Can I have my arm back?" She asks, still stretched out with her wrist caught in his hand, pulled over his lap, straddling one of his legs. He releases her as she brings her arm to her chest, cradling it as she feels the burn of his touch lingering on her skin, his other hand is still stroking her cheek as she looks down, rocking back to sit back on her knees. "What're you gonna do now?" She asks quietly, and Derek looks down as he drops his hand from her cheek.

"Take Cora back to South America. That's where the rest of our remaining family is."

"Oh." She shifts, scooting further away as he flexes his hand, like he's trying to prevent himself from reaching for her again, to pull her back in his close proximity. "I-I see." She rubs her cheeks, as though trying to get heat back into them, but secretly trying, in vain, to wipe his touch from her skin. His touch still on her skin, seared into her cheek like a burn, a matching sensation gripping her chest. "W-Will you come back?"

"No." He visibly hesitates. "I... I don't know. Maybe? I have things that I have to do. Things that I need to do." He admits, and she bites her bottom lip, tugging at the chapped skin as he reaches out, lifting her face to look in her eyes, thumb tracing her lip to pull it from between her teeth. "Yes." He finally says, determination in his voice. "Yes. I will come back." He brushes a stray hair from her face, leaning closer as her breathing hitches. "I'll be back for you." His promise makes her heart skip another beat, before he presses a kiss to her lips, making her hum in surprise, leaning in to kiss him in return. "I'll come back for you." He promises again.

"You better." She murmurs, and then he's gone, the cold air surrounding her burns, the lingering touch and taste of his lips makes her skin sting blissfully. "Don't forget about me." She whispers into the air.

[venuslut]

tw: violence

I've just been obsessed with the whole strong evil man with an equally, maybe more, evil woman by his side.

Just think about it. Them sitting on a throne and you're sitting at his feet with your head in his lap, and he's running his hands through your hair as he kills off the useless or traitorous people to give you a show.

I would be on an absolute power trip in this position. My favorite pastime? Planning world domination with my man. My hobbies? Bathing in the blood of my enemies. What's my ideal date? Going on a shopping-turned-murder spree and then fucking while covered in blood.

Some may not be ok with participating in the killings and all that and that's ok. But imagine the pure sexiness your man emits when he kills someone. He's covered in blood but goddamn. Just being turned on by him being covered in his victims blood and just smirking so evilly as if he's getting off on it too.

Maybe it's after a major fight and you're both high off of adrenaline. You saw your lover cut down people with little effort and you can't help but shiver at the thought of him bringing his brutality into the bedroom. Him manhandling you like a ragdoll and treating you like a common whore. It sends tingles to your core and makes your enemies afraid of why you seem more energetic and bloodthirsty than before.

Then when you get home, you both can't keep your hands to yourself. Wanting desperately to take each other's clothes off and fuck until your both stupid and drooling. You don't even care about the blood staining your designer clothes or your silk bed sheets. You wanted the blood on you as well, you wanted to taste it as you passionately kissed him, to feel it on your skin as he thrusted his cock into you. As he bit you in different places, drawing your own blood while you clawed at his skin in pleasure, both clouded with overwhelming lust for each other.

Aside from the sex, he would treat you like the queen you are. If they insult you, they're insulting him. Of course, he wouldn't need to put the person back in their place as you were capable of doing so yourself. He would only need to stand on the sidelines and smile proudly while their screams of mercy echo out. He would be so in love with you and shower you with gifts 2417, ranging from new clothes and jewelry to expensive things.

I rave about you fighting alongside him and all that but in hindsight, he wouldn't let you lift a finger. Having you by his side was already a grueling task so he didn't want to run you off by overexerting yourself. Your room would be filled with the softest and lavish bed, and while gone, he would allow you to sit on his throne. You're not always by his feet, sometimes when you find the position to be demeaning you sit on his lap or arm-piece instead. After all, you wanted to get a good view of the impending blood bath or look just as menacing as your lover.

Sometimes, you don't want to be the bimbo or the nice and main girl y/n. Sometimes you want to be evil, cruel, and bloodthirsty. You want to ditch your morals and watch the world burn, and you want to do it with your lover by your side.

Or maybe that's just me.