#mywritings

[it-happened-one-fic]

Hi, sorry to bother you but I would like to ask for a post from Leona, where Cheka is trying to get her two favorite people married (ie Leona and the reader)

Hi! Sorry it took me so long to respond to your ask! I had a bit of trouble writing this one, but over all I had fun too. I hope you enjoy!

Duly-Noted - Leona

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ fluff/ sfw/ featuring Cheka/ request

Word Count: 1790

Leona huffed out a sigh as he watched Cheka play with you on the floor of the Ramshackle dorm from his relaxed lounging on the couch.

It hadn’t taken him long to figure out his nephew’s scheme when, as soon as the little fuzzball had appeared, he’d cheerfully stated that he wanted to come and play with you. Of course, Cheka had given himself as soon as he’d included his demands that Leona come along with him, even though he’d been to visit you at Ramshackle dorm plenty of times on his own.

Cheka was definitely fond of you, and Leona couldn’t really blame the kid considering how you patiently played along with the child. But that wasn’t what was really going on here.

What was going on here had more to do with Cheka’s pressing questions about why Leona so often told family members that he wasn’t particularly attached to anyone at school.

He could still see Cheka’s bright eyes looking up at him with an insistent frown on his face, “You know that is true, Unca! You like Y/n!”

Leona had snorted at his nephew, shaking his head at the child and, for once, was genuinely amused, “And what makes you think that?”

“You look at them the same way Papa looks at Mama. And Y/n likes you too! Why don’t you just take them home with you? Then you don’t have to worry about leaving them here while you visit us!” Cheka was as determined as Leona had ever seen him, but it was a drastic misreading of the situation.

Leona had plenty of reasons to not want to visit home, and none of them had a thing to do with you. But the moment he’d told the child that, Cheka had smiled. 

He’d been all but beaming up at Leona from where he sat on his lap, hands fisted in Leona’s shirt like he thought his uncle would run away, “But you do like them.”

There were moments, like right then, when Leona almost wondered if Cheka was more intelligent than his father. Perhaps he’d taken after his mother in that sense. But then Cheka’s hare-brained plot for tricking you and Leona into a relationship certainly hadn’t been well schemed.

After all, Leona wasn’t the only one who'd caught on. You had, too. Though, to be fair, Cheka wasn’t exactly being stealthy with his questions about how, “Wouldn’t it be great if we all lived together?”

Leona had fully planned on handling it, but you'd only smiled, shaking your head and saying you’d talk to Cheka about it, “He’s just a kid after all, and he doesn’t mean any harm. There’s no need to come down on him so hard.”

Leona had only eyed you with rising eyebrows before shrugging, “Have it your way. But he won’t drop this easily. He’s a stubborn little thing.”

You’d snorted, elbowing him lightly as you went by to rejoin his nephew, “Must run in the Kingscholar family.”

And that had been that.

Truthfully, Leona hadn’t known what you’d told his nephew, but Cheka had fallen largely silent on the matter of a possible romance with you after that. 

In hindsight, though, Leona really should have known better to think that was all there was going to be to it. Nothing was ever that simple. Especially when you or his nephew were involved.

He had to hand it to Cheka, though; he’d been completely caught off-guard when the child had suddenly questioned him about his wedding plans. Especially since it happened during a trip to Sam’s with Ruggie.

Cheka held up the little ring-shaped lollipop, and before Leona could even start to refuse to buy the treat for him, the child spoke with innocent curiosity, “What kind of ring are you going to get for Y/n when you two get married?”

Leona blinked, his eyes widening as he stared at the child who just stared up at him while Ruggie did a spit-take and Sam’s eyebrows lifted. The only sound that broke the silence was the occasional beep as Sam continued to scan items.

Leona finally frowned, crossing his arms as he eyed the child, “What makes you think I’m going to marry the Herbivore?”

Cheka frowned almost immediately, as if he were trying to mirror his uncle’s expression, “Y/n and you like each other. But Y/n said they couldn’t move in with us until you two had gotten married. They said people would talk since we’re royals and they aren’t if you didn’t.” 

Cheka’s expression slowly shifted to one of concern, his tiny hand reaching out and grasping Leona’s pants leg, “You are going to marry them, aren’t you, Unca? Y/n’ll be sad if you don’t.”

Ruggie only barely managed to contain his laughter in an ugly-sounding snort that had Leona shooting him a look while a smile began to creep across Sam’s face.

“Did they?” Leona’s gaze shifted back to his nephew as he spoke, his tone careful as he eyed the child. But he was already putting two and two together without Cheka having to say anything.

You certainly had talked to Cheka about it, but now Leona was going to have to talk to you about this.

Ruggie wiped his eyes lightly before kneeling, humor still flooding his voice even as he eyed Cheka, “Well, marriage is a pretty big deal, Cheka. Leona can’t just go proposing without putting some real thought into it.”

Cheka frowned, but Ruggie only titled his head, reasoning with the child easily, “Y/n deserves the best, don’t you think?”

Leona watched, eyebrows raised, as Cheka frowned thoughtfully before his tiny face cleared like a sun coming out from behind clouds, and he nodded, smiling widely, “Oh! I see! Leona wants to sweep Y/n off their feet like those princes in the stories Mama likes so much.”

Leona didn’t even bother hiding his groan as Ruggie snickered mischievously, nodding and egging on the child, “Exactly, so you’re going to have to give him some time to do just that.”

Ruggie paused, glancing up at Leona with a grin that had Leona glaring at him warningly. But the hyena beastman was hardly even phased as he looked back at the child seriously, his eyes sparkling with poorly disguised mischievousness, “We’ll both have to support him, Cheka.”

Cheka’s expression turned determined as he nodded before looking up at Leona, “Good luck, Unca!”

Leona sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out an annoyed, “Uh-huh,” as he watched Ruggie lead his nephew out of the store.

 He would get Ruggie for what a mess this was inevitably going to end up being, as well as deal with whatever the little mercenary wanted in exchange for his assistance later. First, he had a certain herbivore to find.

And he couldn’t complain that you were hard to find. But then you never were.

You were, as ever, at Ramshackle. Working on upkeep for the run-down building on your day-off, just like you usually did on the weekends when you weren’t working at the Mostro Lounge.

Leona didn’t even have to call out since Grim handled letting you know he was here for him.

You turned, blinking up at him in surprise, before a smile split its way across your face. Leona wasn’t really looking at you, though. Instead, he was staring at the busted chair you were apparently working on with a frown. 

How the crossbar had wiggled its way out, was beyond him, but that was evidently enough, what had happened.

“Leona! No little prince with you today?” Your voice was bright, and Leona found himself looking back your way as he propped himself in the doorway.

He crossed his arms as he looked down at where you were seated on the floor, tilting his head at you, “Nope, but a certain little prince did tell me what you told him the other day.”

You blinked in confusion before your eyes slowly cleared, and you let out a small chuckle, shaking your head slightly, “Oh, that. He bought the marriage excuse pretty easily, and at least that way I didn’t have to lie or something like that to him.”

Leona felt his eyebrows rise at your words as you twisted to go back to work on the chair, seemingly unconcerned by what side effects your words might have had.

“Yeah, but now that he’s found out we’re dating when no one else has, he’s going to report directly back to either Falena or his wife,” Leona pushed himself off the wall as he spoke, walking over to where you were.

You simply shook your head at his disgruntled words, a smile on your face, “I still don’t see why it would be so horrible for them to know. But even if he does tell them, they probably won’t believe him. Not if Falena is as concerned about your love life as you say he is.”

Leona frowned as he watched you before kneeling and reaching around you to help you support the chair while you fought the crossbar into place, “No, he’ll call and ask all sorts of questions or, worse, have his wife ask me all sorts of questions.”

You hummed, tilting your head slightly, “You’ll be able to handle it if it comes to that. But, like I said, I really don’t see why it’s a big deal if they know or not. I’d like to meet your family.”

Your words caused his eyebrows to lift once more as he glanced over at you, watching as a frown crossed your face.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, confusion accenting your voice as soon as you spoke, “How did you find out what I’d told Cheka anyway? Did he just tell you?”

Leona let out a huff, his ears twitching as he glanced off to the side, “He saw one of those lollipop ring thingies at Sam’s and asked me what sort of ring I was going to get you for the wedding.”

You laughed aloud, earning yourself a look even as you shook your head in light-hearted amusement before glancing at him, “Hopefully nothing like a Ring-pop. That would be hideous.”

Leona grinned, leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder, “You don’t want something big like that?”

You snorted, shaking your head, “No. I think a rock that size, even a fake one, would be a little heavy.”

He let out an amused huff, turning his eyes back to the chair as he idly considered what sort of ring might actually be best, “Duly noted.”

After all, your thoughts on it all mattered too, even if you didn’t know that held actually had been looking at some rings already.

[jiosoull]

Imagine Doctor Zayne trailing his fingers along the side of your neck. It was cool to the touch and a soft sigh left you, fluttering your eyes close before he softly kissed your lips.

Angling his head slightly and leaning into you a bit more, savouring the taste of your lips on his. Slow and meticulous, unraveling you bit by bit.

His hand cupped your cheek. The ticklish sensation of his fingers at the back of your neck before he held you there, slowly massaging it and coaxing a soft moan out of you.

He was relishing the warmth of your body pressing closer to his chest and he lightly bit your bottom lip in response. It made you whimper.

An amused chuckle left his lips. You seem to enjoy that.

His tongue darted out and gave a teasing lick on your lip before pulling back, smirking at the sight of your pout and whining as he stopped you from going any further.

"We will continue this another time," He mused, rubbing his thumb over your lips and staring down at you. His intense gaze made you blush, tilting your head away shyly and avoiding his stare.

He didn't let you ignore him for too long before he gently pulled you back to face him again. Eyes widening in surprise when he was much closer to you now, his forehead resting against yours. That doe-eyed look makes him want to tease you some more.

His hooded eyes were twinkling with interest, glancing down at your parted lips while he held back the growing urge to taste more than just your lips.

No, not now... There was no need to rush. He will take his time with you, figuring out your weak spots and teasing you while he's at it. It will be entertaining to see how long you'll last before he takes you.

[welshoot]

Theory/Analysis of Malleus's Signature Spell and The Nature of Happy Endings

So, with the various information that’s been slowly coming as updates roll out, I’ve been thinking about the events of the Diasomnia chapter thus far, Malleus’s signature spell, and the nature of happy endings. For fear of spoilers, the rest of this is going to be under-the-cut, and, fair warning, it has spoilers for the Diasomnia chapter (both English and Japanese spoilers) and gets kind of long.

Alright, so Malleus has asserted that, via dreams, he is going to give everyone their happy endings and thus give them a perfect life they won’t want to live, right? In comes his signature spell, “Fae of Maleficence,” that puts everyone to sleep and seems to grant him some level of control over what they dream about. Supposedly, it makes everyone dream of a wonderful life where everything is just how they would want it. This supposed real happy ending is a sort of callback to the Twisted Wonderland slogan “Let us show you the real happily-ever-after” or “I’ll show you a real happy ending,” depending on the translation you look at. Now, I’ve already done an entire analysis of that slogan here, so we won’t get into that here. Instead, I’m more interested in whether or not Malleus can actually construct a dream where everyone has their ‘real’ happy ending.

The thing is, what makes a person happy is very subjective, and it can be very difficult or even impossible to tell what that thing will be. And, to make a long story short, I don’t think Malleus is omnipotent or all-knowing enough to be able to do that for the entirety of NRC, the cast of the game, or all of Sage Island, much less everyone in the world of Twisted Wonderland. Instead, I think the dreams people have are Malleus's best guess at what their version of happily-ever-after would look like.

Let’s look at Idia’s first, because right now that is quite possibly Malleus’s strongest one. In Idia’s dream, we see a world where Ortho didn’t die and is going to RSA. Idia is still housewarden, and the dream is taking place during the first day of the semester, when new freshmen are coming in and being placed in dorms.

Now, I’ll be honest, this is a good guess as to what Idia would want most. Bluntly put, Idia will forever regret what happened to the original Ortho because he is at fault for his little brother’s death, even if it was an honest mistake that was made when he was only a child. 

However, this dream does not account for some very simple facts. First, Idia is the way he is, largely because of what happened to Ortho. He would quite possibly be very different if Ortho hadn’t died the way he did. Second, what about the current Ortho? Say what you like, but Idia has been shown numerous times to genuinely love the robot, who is his little brother. Yes, he regrets what happened to his little brother, the OG Ortho, but he also loves his current little brother. In no way is Idia ever shown to hold himself back from Ortho because he genuinely views the Ortho we know, our Ortho, as his brother. The fact that our Ortho is a robot does not matter to Idia because, in Idia’s eyes, that’s his little brother just as much as OG Ortho was. 

Because of that, I don’t think Idia’s happy ending would remove the Ortho we know and love from his life, because I don’t think Idia wants that. In fact, it would quite likely be like losing yet another brother to Idia. And that is where the flaw in the dream Malleus has shown him is. Because, bluntly put, Malleus doesn’t know Idia well enough to realize any of this and has been shown to not entirely view Ortho as human. And that is fair. Ortho is technically not human, but even then, he is still Idia’s brother, who is as close to human as a robot as one can ever hope to reach. In fact, Ortho is a wonderful example of the entire argument about what really makes someone a ‘human’ because if it's a soul and emotions, then Ortho has those. He received them at the very end of Ignihyde, but that’s a discourse for another time.

Moving on, we have Epel’s dream and the ordeal that is buff Epel. This is currently the most amusing outcome of these supposed happy endings. From a totally cold, logical point of view, Epel has what he’s always wanted. He’s tall, he’s strong, both Savanaclaw and Pomefiore want him in their dorm, and the list goes on and on. But, when one looks at this dream Epel’s appearance, the problems become pretty obvious. Because, let’s be honest, there is no way Epel would ever want to look like that. The entire thing looks exactly like Malleus trying his best to give Epel what he wants while not thinking about how some adjustments need to be made in order for this particular happy ending to come true. Interestingly, it ought to be noted that Malleus has shown some curious insight into Epel, though, in that Epel still has his pretty face in this dream form. Because, as Epel has grown as a character, he seems to slowly be getting attached to the unique power that comes from being quite so cute. Specifically, that people will underestimate him, and he can use that to his advantage. Nonetheless, in Epel’s dream, just like in Idia’s, we see that the happy ending is flawed and shows that, if Malleus did engineer to keep people happy and not wanting to wake up, Malleus’s understanding of the characters is too flawed for him to make a flawlessly happy ending tailored perfectly to them.

Onwards to Rook! Much like with Epel and Idia’s dreams, this one has echoes of the truth. Rook would no doubt love for Neige and Vil to be friends, and it is incredibly interesting that, rather than being the quaffed Rook we know, dream Rook is rougher around the edges in terms of his appearance. However, there are glaring issues with this dream too, though. The thing is, Rook adores Vil the way he is, and even though he would love to see him befriend Neige, he knows it's wrong to try and force Vil’s hand. In fact, doing such a thing would mean changing Vil, which would lead to him not being the Vil that Rook knows and loves anymore. In many ways, the beauty that Rook sees in Vil is Vil’s ability to keep pushing himself even after a loss and the way Vil is constantly striving for greater heights. Making him friends with Neige would damage this, though, because Neige is one of the reasons Vil always pushes himself. He doesn’t want to fall behind and lose to Neige, so he constantly works to improve himself. So here, the flaw to the supposed happy ending is that Rook cannot have this dream and still have the Vil he loves and respects.

Finally, we have Vil’s dream, and this is one of the uglier examples. Vil’s dream is kind of messed up, after all. So we have a super popular Vil with Neige as Vil’s notably downtrodden assistant that Vil is bullying. As Vil’s dream starts to fall apart/get shattered by the dream-hopper squad, stuff starts to go awry very quickly with the dreamscape shifting and taking us back to Vil’s overblot at the VDC stage. Except this time, Neige really does die. Stuff naturally spirals from there, but it is in this that the supposedly happy ending is flawed. Because yes, Vil does want to be popular and recognized for his hard work, and yes, Vil does want to triumph over Neige. I’m going to go out on a limb here that I’m sure some won’t agree with me about and say that Vil doesn’t want it to happen this way. In fact, I would say that Vil would never want it to happen this way. And the main reason I say that is actually because of Vil’s overblot. When Vil was overblotting, he described himself as hideous and stated that he could never forgive himself. Now, there is a lot to unpack in just those statements, but the baseline is that Vil was horrified by his own actions. Not only had he sunk to the lowest of lows, he’d become the very thing everyone had always typecasted him as and the thing he’d never wanted to be. The villain. Killing Neige is the last thing Vil would ever want to do, which is probably as far from his happy ending as one could ever get. Now, it could be argued that the dream was already fraying and that it was doing its best not to crumble, but even then, this doesn’t make sense. Because taking Vil back to that moment actually helped him wake up, because that wasn’t a happy ending. That was a nightmare and it actually helped jar Vil back awake because it was just that upsetting for him.

But would Malleus realize that when he doesn’t know Vil that well? His interactions with Vil have been limited at best. It is quite possible that all he really knows is that Vil wants to be popular and hates Neige, who is in his way. And if that is the case, Malleus, in his overblotted state, might have assumed that the disappearance of Neige would be a truly joyful thing for Vil.

Now, while they came earlier in the story, I’ve saved Sebek and Lilia until the end for a reason. Simply put, Malleus knows them. Sebek’s dream was well-put together as a happy ending because he knows Sebek well. For Sebek, Lilia getting to go on a trip and being honored by everyone would be a happy thing. Especially since Sebek didn’t realize the exact reasons for Lilia’s going away.

As for Lilia’s dream, it is interesting. Because it is less of a dream and more of an amalgamation of Lilia’s memories all leading to the moment of Malleus hatching. In it, we see some hard times for Lilia. Moments that would hardly be described as happy. But it all culminated in the moment he saved Malleus’s life. And that would be a joyful memory for Lilia. Because Malleus, the only son of Meleanor, who’d entrusted her son to Lilia, and he was still unhatched at the time, had been dying in his egg, crying out for help, and Lilia saved him. It would be a difficult moment to triumph over in terms of importance and happiness. Because while I’m sure Lilia has many happy memories of Silver, Sebek, and Malleus growing up and his times with Meleanor and Revan, this would be a big one.

It is worth noting here that neither Lilia nor Sebek’s dreams are really endings of any sort. Which quite possibly reflects the fact that they are important to Malleus. Malleus doesn’t want an ending here. He wants things to continue forward in a happy, perfect manner for these people he cares about.

So, in conclusion, I think Malleus is crafting what he believes will be everyone’s happy ending and that these dreams are less of an insight into each character and more of an insight into how Malleus views them. And it’s understandable that he can’t perfectly craft a happy ending for everyone. Like I said, I imagine happily-ever-after is very subjective for everyone and that, even if you know someone well, you might not know what their perfect happy ending would be.

Anyhow, this is just my theory, and I look forward to seeing how things move forward through the story. I would love to hear everyone's thoughts on this because I’m sure I missed some points. After all, I only play on the English server and so I used translations from the Japanese server, and I wrote this very quickly.

[definitelynottony]

Starker High School AU wip

(Peter is a sophomore and Tony a senior. Peter is a somewhat new kid, too smart, too anxious, and too pent up. Tony understands him the most and knows exactly what the kid needs. BDSM, Daddy kink, underaged, angsty)

"Bad boys get punished, Pete." Tony rumbled lowly.

"...holy shit." Peter panted, out of breath. A bolt of heat shot through him, an electrical shock that left him tingling. "Fuck. Yeah, punish me then Daddy, please." Peter didn't realize he had whispered it out loud until after it was said. Until after it was too late to take it back.

... The whole time, Tony had been corralling Peter to the closest wall available. When they got close enough, Tony shoved the younger teen against it. Peter winced; more from the shock of the cool, pale toned sheetrock against his back than the force itself. Tony kept firm against him. Chest to chest, pressing Peter's arms above his head, pinning him to the wall.

"Say it again." The darker haired teen demanded in a rough whisper against Peter's ear.

"Punish me... Daddy." Peter's tongue felt heavy. The tension was heady, and the younger teen had no idea what was happening, but he never wanted it to stop.

"Fuuuck" Tony drawled out. His head dropped to the crook of Peter's neck, like the air was too thick and he needed a second to just breathe. That thought alone turned Peter on almost as much as the mouth that was licking its way to his ear.

"God." Tony huffed out, irritated. Why was he irritated? Peter was feeling amazing! "Alright, sweetheart, if we're doing this, then we need to get a couple of things outta the way first."

"Holy fuck…" Tony groaned, head back, eyes closed. He was on some cloud nine shit. "Jesus! You're so fucking good, baby. Sound like a spoiled little princess." Tony crooned, feeling that familiar bullet of heat going straight to his cock. It was honestly starting to hurt at this point, the way it strained against his jeans. "But I need you to shut up-"

"Yeah. I thought that's what we were doing?” Peter gestured down to their very noticeable situations. “Come on, I thought you were gonna punish me? Punish me! Please, Daddy." He whined like a brat because Peter Parker is a brat. A bossy brat and Tony fucking loved it.

"Bu-"

"I said shut it."

[crystalsenergy]

The worst part of self-imposed pressure is wanting to finish a sculpture in one day,

forgetting and failing to recognize that the beauty of any work comes from repeated effort, not from the rush to complete it.

Every day, we have a unique palette of colors 🎨, according to the fluctuations of our moods and our own vital energy. And that’s normal.

It's important to understand that each day, our different color palette helps us see what has already been done and what we can improve.

We float, our color palette floats, and that's exactly why one day we add brown, another day purple, another day orange and yellow, until the work is fully composed with the colors it needs.

And that's how we get there.

Of course, we should always avoid self-criticism and instead look forward, not backward.

Much of what is done in haste, simply to finish a task, lacks appreciation, presence, and self-recognition.

Beauty lies in the step-by-step process, in the lightness, and in the small investments!

Little by little is how we get there.

Trust in that! 🩷

Understand that the most productive things in your life are not those you finish quickly, but those you dedicate yourself to little by little. In your own time and with consistency. In your time.

So, right now, look at the things you’ve done until today with appreciative eyes, rather than focusing on what is lacking.

You're on a journey!

Tomorrow is another day. Calm down 🩵

[igzsatelier]

Even though you've only recently met him, Death was so kind to you. Probably the most polite wolf you've ever met, compared to the least pleasing encounters with humans.

Aloof to some extent, but he has interesting stories. You watched his annoyed and unfiltered hatred for an orange cat in boots. You giggled at his exasperated sigh.

In return, you shared a few stories of your own. The nightsky moving idly as you two sat there casually conversing between yourselves.

His compliments combined with that intimidating snarl was charming in its own right. A little unnerving with his eager gaze on you, but you know he was enjoying your company.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

But you were aware of his job, right?

His duty to greet the souls who have passed on and help guide them into the afterlife. Whether it was naturally or by force.

Why'd you think he was here for?

[disastersteps]

mans i wonder how mortum get to hear anita playing guitar for the first time. julia had always knew and points out that they can sing which mortum scoffs, doesn't believe it because if anything aoyun had said had before, especially "oh no, i don't sing that much." to be from anita themself.... she would've assumed that maybe anita's bad at it.

but anita looks sheepishly and julia encourages them.

"dont laugh." was anita's warning and mortum feel amused at that.

"bring it on, cheri mwen." she teases, smiling, and thinking that she doesnt care that anita sing bad. but her smile drops slightly, her eyes widen in shock and surprise as anita begin to play the guitar.

and their voice.

for all the talking, the discussing, the laughing, the sacrastic comments, the everything.

they sing so beautiful.

and julia nudges mortum's shoulder with a "told you so."

and mortum is. simply. frankly. stunned. loss of science.

if you told her a few years ago that a regene could sing beautifully, she have to believe its artificial. they are trained. but here in the living room, watching someone who sings so differently from what she had thought to be artificially and a case of 'i'm bad at it.

and absolutely not of these fits anita.

mortum is smitten. she had always been with anita, but she truly, very, and just warm in her chest to hear it lovingly.

[sysba]

cal x edith - ropes

...anyway. caledith smut era. i've posted (and deleted) this before but i have, expanded it a bunch lmao. promised @night-triumphantt this wld be here when she woke up so yeet.

3.2k words; 18+/E; warnings under the cut

(cw soft bondage, unprotected s/ex)

“Too tight?”

She hovers above him, studying Cal’s every move as she secures the bindings on his wrists, ready to stop at even the smallest twitch in his expression. He doesn’t flinch, though. Just shakes his head lightly, deep red eyes focused on her. She ties the last knot quickly enough.

Edith’s lips find his a second later; it’s tentative at first, a feather-like peck on the corner of his mouth (it’s enough to make him shudder). Then a real kiss follows, a proper one, intent yet still gentle. It doesn’t take much to coax his mouth open. Instead he docilely allows her to deepen the kiss, drinking her in as if parched yet unwilling to take more than he’s been offered. If it were up to him, if she ever wished to, he’d let her break his skin and flow through his veins.

She’s soft, too soft as she kisses him— Cal has seen her fangs, seen just how deep her teeth can sink into flesh till bloody, but her mouth is silk and honey and smooth as whiskey whenever she kisses him. Yielding; just like the steel of her eyes whenever they rest on him. The bluntness of it still catches him off guard after all this time.

Cal’s breath hitches once more when she nibbles on his bottom lip, soothing the sting with her tongue. It’s all too intense. Her weight on him as she straddles him, and… 

He pulls on the restraints almost experimentally; like he’s trying to gauge if they’ll hold. They do. The cotton bandages (the ones usually binding Edith’s hands during training) are now expertly wrapped around Cal’s wrists and then the headboard, keeping him in place. He could probably tear himself free, if he really tried. But he only gives another weak yank while Edith kisses him more, a strangled sound escaping him helplessly when he finds himself unable to hold her. 

“Does it hurt?” She pauses, leaning back to get a better look at him. There’s an edge to her tone that he misses as his eyes flutter close in focus, a feeble attempt at calming his panting. But he senses her waiting for an answer, and when words don’t come out he shakes his head. It really doesn’t hurt. 

“I need you to use your words, Cal.” 

He thinks she’s teasing him, at first, enjoying the effect she has on him. But then he sees her, and his heart lurches. Because she’s pleading with him, he realises. 

Edith watches him expectantly, frozen in place, tense as she readies herself to put a stop to all this. She half-expects him to ask her, but would he? Worry hisses and coils in her stomach, and then it vanishes in a single moment, replaced by kindled warmth as Cal flashes a reassuring smile at her.

“I’m alright. Just feeling a bit…”

“Out of control?” She finishes for him when he hesitates, and Cal swallows.

“Mmh.”

Edith lets out a shaky huff, halfway between a sigh and a chuckle. Her head dips to rest on him, lodged between his neck and shoulder (right where his tattoo coils elegantly across his skin, as if marking her place on a map), letting her lips brush against his pulse. It’s strong. Alive.

“Tell me about it,” she murmurs, and he wishes he could look at her and see the frenzy pooling in her eyes. The same frenzy that’s making her voice shake as she admits darkly, “‘m losing my fucking mind, here.”

He thinks he gets it, now, why she looked at him so desperately just now, like she was the one unable to move and not the other way around. ‘Out of control’, she said… He does feel quite helpless, tied up as he is. But giving up that control is the whole point, and Cal doesn’t find it in him to feel uneasy. Not when it’s Edith he has to trust; that’s always been rather easy, with his life or anything more.

No, out of the two of them the one struggling the most right now isn’t him. Edith is holding back for his sake, unwilling to ruin what’s most dear to her, Cal realises. Dear. Treasured. Delicate. Never would he think of those words to describe himself, except for when she holds him. Except for when she buries her fingers in his inky hair and kisses down his throat lightly, as she’s doing now. 

That’s what he thinks of as her tongue runs along his jugular, one hand reaching over to rub his tied wrists, and the other placed on his bare chest; right above his heart. And if he is all that she believes, if he is priceless and fragile, he’d let her break him over and over again, as long as it were her hands piecing him together.

But he wouldn’t know how to say all that.

“It’s okay,” he blurts out instead, voice ragged, “You can—” 

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence, choking back the words as she descends on him. At last. It’s her hand that finds him first, touching him in a way that has Cal’s thighs tense, his muscles spasming at the warmth of her palm that so easily seeps through the fabric of his clothes. She thinks herself cold, so why does her skin always burn like this?

“Tell me what you want.” 

An order. But if he could see her face now, he’d know she’s begging.

You. What else could he want? His head feels completely empty, yet buzzing all the same. It’s taking all of his focus not to grind into her touch, a frantic need for more clouding his thoughts. He thinks she asks a second time— he can’t be sure. The dizziness only fades when Edith grasps his chin and tilts it up so he meets her gaze. She’s smiling a bit. That helps.

“Kiss me?” He finally finds his voice again; it comes out as a question, though he’s not sure if he means it that way. She laughs, then. A real laugh, bright and airy, and a fond shake of her head before she takes pity on him and complies.

Everything that happens after, Cal can barely register. He doesn’t notice the button of his pants being undone, or the cool air on his skin; he doesn’t notice his own hips shifting restlessly, or his fingers gripping and pulling at the bindings whenever she grips him in a way that has his back arch beautifully, just like a bowstring. 

All he knows is the taste of her tongue (sugar and lemon), the torment of waiting for more. The wetness of the sickly sweet lube that’s so foreign it’s almost unpleasant, until Cal reminds himself whose hands are toying with him. 

Edith’s mouth muffles the low whine pulled from him as she strokes him, her grasp firm and blissful and inescapable. My darling, my baby, so perfect… A shameless string of coos washes over him as her head moves lower, each word making the tips of his ears burn hotter. And with every praise he feels her breath inch lower, her mouth leaving a trail of bruised prints in its wake. It feels maddening, maddeningly good. He can’t cover his face like this, Cal realises suddenly; and so does Edith, smiling as she drinks in the sight.

And what a sight he is, head thrown back against the pillows, silky strands of hair splayed around him like a halo, the curve of his throat completely exposed. His chest is flushed, rising and falling so breathlessly. From where she’s nuzzling his stomach, nipping at the flesh right below his navel, Edith watches his lips part in a silent gasp. It turns into a moan when she lowers her head again.

“I love you.” 

How much time has passed? Edith’s voice sounds rougher, almost as if scorched by his heat. The way she says those words so easily while slotted in between his legs, feasting on the most sensitive parts of him… Cal would want to hide if he weren’t so lost, fumbling to chase his high.

“Please,” he twitches under her, trying to keep still, to not bury himself deeper (not that she’d mind) and drown into her.

“Please what?”

The husked taunt almost makes him want to whimper, to cry for mercy. Maybe he will.

“Edith…”

“Anything you want,” she cuts him off before he can, and even in his haze he hears the want barely concealed in her tone. A want to claim that makes her breath taut. “Anything, everything, I’ll give it to you, so just tell me.”

Her voice is nearer, now. Cal’s eyelids flutter open, pure black pupils blown wide as he takes her in, sees the gentleness in her gaze as she leans in to kiss away the tears at the corners of his eyes. He barely hears himself answer, a slurred mumble of pleas that sounds a bit like “…inside you,” but it’s enough for Edith. He only knows she’s freed his hands when he rushes to pull her closer, the force of it startling him more than it does her.

There’s a certain decisiveness to his movements, to the wanton way he kneads the back of her thighs and then yanks down her hips so she’s flush against his hardness; no blank space or hesitation when he flips her onto her back and presses against her side. So driven when he lowers his mouth to her chest, the cold metallic taste of her piercings on his tongue, so selfish when he wordlessly taps her lips until she parts them to suck on his fingers… It’s a kind of selfishness he only shows when she pushes him past his limit, something she’s been doing more and more lately. 

When he slips a hand past the elastic of her briefs Edith doesn’t make a sound, but he feels her breathing grow more ragged as he easily pushes a finger inside her, and then two barely a minute after. It’s not usually this rushed, this sloppy —Cal has always liked to take his time with her— but she seems to understand his urgency, meeting it with her own. 

For one maddening moment Cal forgets where he is; the salt of Edith’s skin is a stray thought in the back of his mind as he chases something he can’t see, his blood ringing loud in his ears. Like always, she’s the one who brings him back.

Edith wears the same expression the whole time. From when she wraps a hand around his wrist to still his movements to when she hastily discards the rest of her clothes, she smiles. It’s wide and a bit crazed, a flash of white teeth and wet lips. She watches him twitch, desperate to hold her again. The colour of his irises is a thin, barely visible ring, pupils blown wide as he fixes her with a drunk stare. Still, he waits. 

It’s admirable, how he wills himself to be patient; she’s never had much patience to begin with. His chest, which has been heaving frantically ever since she released him, stops completely when she touches him. For just a moment, he’s breathless. And it makes her smile grow sharper. 

She doesn’t need to guide him to her, with the way he pounces on her almost instantly. He thinks he hears her laugh, though the sound is lost beneath the feeling of sinking into her. He does so slowly– or at least tries to. She feels him tremble with the effort of staying still, waiting for her to adjust, but the burning ache does nothing to hinder her when she digs her heels in the back of his legs.

“Move or I will,” is the threat grumbled against the shell of his ear, a roll of her hips to show she means it, and he lets out a sound that’s one part laugh and three parts moan.

He complies, ever the soldier. Fast and loose, painstakingly patient as he carves his way into her and her nails dig into his shoulders. 

It doesn’t take her long to grow restless, but Cal expects it; she never likes feeling caged. He leans back before she has to ask him, not pulling out as he lifts her, and when her weight falls on top of him again he buries so deep inside of her that they both hiss. She presses her lips to his brow and his lashes quiver. 

When she moves again she has none of his patience. She seems to have outlasted whatever tenderness has been colouring her actions so far, hooded eyes barely concealing the hunger in them. Cal turns to kiss her wrist where it rests at the side of his face, and the next time she captures his lips it’s even rougher than before, bruising; he doesn’t mind, he thinks to himself while he writhes beneath her. His hips meet hers with just as much abandon. Chasing the friction that has her clench tight around him, the heat of it so torturous and addicting he thinks he’ll come undone without a warning. 

She reaches it first– heavy breaths and muscles convulsing, a hand at the base of his throat to steady herself (a gentle grip). He can feel her pulse around him as he rocks into her, and knows he’ll soon follow; almost as if to agree, Edith’s hips stubbornly jerk above him. Taunting and imploring. Cal sits up in a fluid motion just in time to keep her upright as she falls against him, coming to a halt after a few urgent thrusts when he finally spills into her. 

They stay like that for a while, limp against one another, Edith on Cal’s lap and Cal panting against her collarbone. There’s a few more slurred words exchanged in whispers, sweet nothings and promises and stunned praises.

Only when the stickiness between them gets too uncomfortable to ignore do they force themselves to move, both wincing when Cal pulls out; they clean up quickly, barely enough just so they can lie back down.

***

It takes them minutes to come down from their high, heady heat subsiding into something quieter, something intimate. There’s still a faint thrum at the back of Cal’s mind as he lies on her chest, both of them still gleaming with sweat, but his mind feels clearer– less wonderstruck.

“Good?” Edith rakes her fingers through his long hair as asks. Her heart pounds steadily within her ribcage, the sound lulling Cal to peace. 

There’s a dull, pleasant ache spreading through him; it feels way better than ‘good’.

A quiet hum answers her, and he shifts in her arms to caress her cheek and press a kiss to her temple. 

The contented smile on his face wavers when she catches his hand to stop him; then disappears entirely when he sees her expression.

It confuses him at first, the anger in her eyes. He almost apologises out of reflex— for what, he’s yet to find out. And then he follows her gaze to his wrist, and it clicks. 

He understands, suddenly, that it’s not anger darkening her face. Fright, maybe. Guilt, definitely. Cal curses inwardly for not having noticed just how carefully she’s been holding his hand, staring at the reddened lines on his skin and rubbing gently at them as if to try and erase the soreness.

“That was too much,” is her only comment, more to herself than him. It sounds almost dejected. He sees her eyes dart from his hand to the rest of him, examining his state in silence. He knows what she sees without having to look down, if only from the way her jaw clenches.

“I’m sorry.” I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry—

His torso, covered in marks from neck to belt, large lovebites blooming dark on his beige skin while the imprint of her teeth is barely starting to fade. There’s scratches on his arms, and more on his back that she can’t see but knows are there. She takes it all in, the criss-cross patterns of old pale scars already peppered on his body, and then the new swollen marks she dared to leave on him. 

Do they sting? She can’t help but wonder. Forgive me.

Cal says something. It takes her a moment to even realise he did, but he patiently waits for her to focus back and look at him before repeating it.

“It doesn’t hurt.” 

He gathers her in his arms, embracing her as tightly as he did earlier.  Dozens of kisses peppered from her jawline to her collarbone, unhurried. She sighs, a bit shakily. 

“You could never hurt me,” he whispers it softly into her hair, firmly enough that she has to believe it. She clings to him, gripping his shoulders.

What a liar. She could hurt him in so many ways, this beautiful man in her arms who can only ever smile at her so brightly; the problem is he’d let her. Probably smile even brighter as she did.

He senses the stillness in her, guesses the train of her thoughts, and it fills him with such sudden grief that he shudders. 

He doesn’t know, exactly, what possesses him to act next. But he grabs her hand and pushes it down between their bodies where it’s still slick, so she can feel him. Feel the growing hardness against her fingertips, searing and eager to be hers again. The oddly bold action, so at war with the bashfulness tinging Cal’s cheeks, seems to surprise her. But she simply waits. 

“It didn’t hurt.” It didn’t hurt, I liked it. Still can’t bring himself to say that last part aloud.

He says it with such conviction, yet heat rushes to his face. It makes for a lovely view that finally pulls a faint smile from Edith.

“Mmh. Then it’s fine,” she hums after a moment, placing a small kiss to the bridge of his nose, “‘Cause I’m still hungry.” 

He’s about to ask what she feels like and sprint to the kitchen, for just a moment. And then he catches her meaning and sees that grin of hers, that ravenous light in her eyes that tells him he’s the next meal— he can’t stop the rush of excitement that ripples through him at that, and she feels it in her palm before he pulls her flush against him.

She laughs at the impatient look he gives her.

“That’s a good puppy,” she teases, lips ghosting over his without touching them.

Cal, who seemed about to dive in to kiss her himself a second earlier, sobers a bit at that. 

“Don’t— don’t call me that.” Oh, he’s flustered. So much so that he can barely hide the way he trembles as he turns to the side, hiding his face from her for a moment. 

She doesn’t have it in her to be merciful, though; not when he’s just offered himself so enthusiastically… Her smile only grows wider. His throat bobs nervously as he stares back at her.

“Husband, then.” 

That does it. A weak groan of protest, and then he’s burying his face in the crook of her neck as if he plans to live there, strong arms locked in place around her waist. 

Another laugh shakes her at the ridiculousness of it, of him, and then it softens into something else. Happiness, and disbelief, at how they found such ease despite the world outside this small, bare room. She sighs against his hair, pressing a kiss against the crown of his head that sends pleased shivers down his spine and through his marrow.

“Mine,” she declares, and this time he doesn’t object to the choice of words. Revels in it, even.

Hers.

[beautopia]

One-off MyBeauty script. Enjoy!

[musicmyxiii]

Tyannie + ty reveals his feelings in an argument

Thanks for the prompt, here is the story. Quick note that there might be some mistakes in it so sorry about that! Enjoy!

“I simply don’t want you to go, how many times do I have to repeat myself?!” Ty was almost shouting out of frustration. He was at Annie’s place, because she had asked him to come over to ask him for a favour. If he had known what it was beforehand, he would have stayed home.

“I don’t get why you’re so against it. Who do you think you are? My mom?! I’m not going to let you tell me what I should do and what I shouldn’t!” Annie said. She was tired being treated like a kid by everyone surrounding her. It was bad enough that her mom treated her like a ten year old, but now Ty?!

“I don’t even get why you’re asking me! I thought I made it very clear that I didn’t want to drive you to Jackson anymore” Ty said, remembering very well the moment he had told her and their hands had touched on the handle of the door and sparks flew. Unfortunately, this argument was kind of the opposite. The room was filled with tension, but it wasn’t a romantic one.

“I know, but I thought that maybe you would have changed your mind. And I get that you don’t want to do it because you’re afraid to get into trouble with his mom again but-“

“That’s not the reason I don’t want to go, I don’t care one bit about what his mom thinks” Ty interrupted her.

“Then what’s the reason? Because I don’t get it.” Annie said, getting tired of this fight. All she did was ask Ty for a ride to Jackson, because he wanted to talk to her. She thought it was a good idea to ask Ty to drive her since they had been on way better terms these last couple of months.

“Because I love you Annie”

Annie didn’t realise the gravity behind these words: “I know you’re my best friend too, and I know you want to protect me and you think he’s going to hurt me again…”

“No, Annie. I love you. I am in love with you and I don’t want to drive you there because I don’t want you getting back together with Jackson. Just the thought of you two alone drives me insane.”

Silence. Ty could die right now. Annie’s mouth was a little bit open, while she was trying to process what Ty had just blurted out. “You… You’re… in love… with me?” She said very slowly. She pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. 

“Yes, I am” Ty softly said and he took a step closer to her. “I am in love with you Annie Sullivan” He took her head between his hands and kissed her. He kissed her like he had never kissed someone before.

So this was the first story. I hoped you enjoyed it. I'm working on the other prompts as well (so don't worry these are coming, also the Quogan ones).

[sluggybasson107]

Random thoughts but I’ve been building an adventure AU based around the idea of the dark masters plotline being longer after the group separated.

Minor details of the warped Digital World have been changed but the story is mostly the same. So far in the story only Metal Seadramon has been defeated.

Of course, this idea continued till evolve into its own “failed” storyline where without everyone’s help. The main group (Taichi, Koushirou, Takeru, and Hikari) cannot seem to defeat Mugendramon and Piemon. They’re the ones trying to fight against the Dark Masters and their followers (more on this later) the most. With two members being younger, they move slower and are a bigger target than the other groups.

Due to the war continuing for so long, there have been a good amount of Digimon who have started siding with the Dark Masters and wanting them to fully take over and rule the world, as they promised less violence and more stability if resistance from other Digimon were to decrease (they blamed the fighting and patrol like Lady Devimon on the Chosen Children).

The major reason why so many Digimon are willingly following the Dark Masters now is because of Mimi. Unfortunately, due to a losing battle against a one on one with Lady Devimon, Mimi begged her not to kill her friends. Piemon, who knew her influence in the Digital World, ordered Lady Devimon to take her in with the Digimon. She’s furious about working with the Dark Masters, but she knows Palmon isn’t strong enough to fight against Piemon. This causes a dynamic of wanting to save as many Digimon as possible and being ordered to kill them or convince them to join “her” side.

Jyou, perhaps the most unique case in this storyline, met up with Leomon after Mimi was captured and both of them have been traveling for some time. However, after finding an injured Ogremon and patching him up, he decides to take refugee in the nearby Village of Beginnings. With Elecmon’s help, he unintentionally builds a small community in the area similar to a small clinic to help Digimon recover. He’s hoping to gain information from nice Digimon passing by who knows the whereabouts of his friends. A part of him wants to leave and start searching, but he feels guilty about leaving the injured Digimon behind as there’s a huge amount of Digimon who needs help.

Finally, there’s Yamato and Gabumon. There’s little known about him and his partner ever since he left the group as they were fighting Pinocchimon. Most Digimon aren’t sure if they went rogue or if they opted out of fighting. Regardless, most Digimon are scared of the duo.

Edit: I found this in my drafts from writing this at five in the morning and thought I’d share. I hope to develop this idea further as this AU would hopefully contain all Ultimate evolutions and more world building of the Digital World.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Gluttony - Leona

Author Notes: It was actually really difficult to choose what I was going to post this week. But I've been a little busy lately, so I finally just chose this one rather than working on polishing some of my other fics. I wrote this one to the song "Too Sweet" by Hozier and that most certainly showed in the writing. With that said though, I'm pretty pleased with how this fic turned out. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender neutral reader/ fluff/ some angst with comfort/ romance implied/ some pining/ sfw

Word count: 1528

Leona opened his eyes groggily, a frown on his face, as soon as the sun shone down through the leaves of the tree that hung over him, briefly blinding him before he sat up.

A hum from his left had his ears twitching before he twisted to see you lying right by his side. A slight smile on your face as the shadows of the leaves swayed across your form, and he felt his eyebrows raise.

He wasn’t particularly surprised to see you, though he knew the same couldn’t be said for anyone who might have seen you here.

Leona was no fool. He knew that you and him were pretty much perfect opposites. That’s why everyone always looked so confused when you were walking along beside him. Chattering away with a happy expression or teasing him about something that had recently gone in a way he hadn’t planned for it to.

Leona was the hated second prince. It was his burden, and it was one he’d carried his entire life. It was nothing new.

He was bitter, unpleasant, and something that people preferred to avoid either out of fear or powerful levels of distaste.

And then there was you. Sweet and far more optimistic than he thought he could ever be. And perhaps more interestingly, you were no fool. You knew everything wasn’t flowers and dreams. How could you not when you lived in a place like Ramshackle dorm and didn’t even have a way to get home? 

You were seemingly trapped in a world that wasn’t your own, but you didn’t let that stop you. Instead, you just keep going with your head held high, a smile on your face, and a laugh on your lips as you shrugged it off. It was admirable.

But it also simply wasn’t him. And that was something he knew perfectly well.

That simple fact was also the exact reason your classmates would find it so odd to see you slumbering here by his side and not somewhere else with someone who was a better match for your sweet disposition.

Leona leaned forward, propping his head on his chin as he looked down at where you slept by his side. You’d come here to study in the botanical garden while he’d slumbered next to you. It was something you often did, though he couldn’t fathom why.

It was almost like you either wanted the company or didn’t want him to be lonely. Either of which was ridiculous, since he could think of plenty of people who’d want to be your study buddy, and he certainly didn't want company for his naps.

But then, Leona also didn’t mind your presence, though he had his own reasons for not running you off.

Leona titled his head slightly, sighing at the sight of you, before pulling the book whose corner was jabbing into your side out of your hands and setting it off to the side where you’d quickly find it after waking up.

He idly scanned the area, half rolling his eyes as he confirmed that your feline companion was nowhere to be seen.

Grim had no doubt long since abandoned you in favor of avoiding anything even close to work.

As for you, Leona didn’t know if you were foolish or bold to have fallen asleep right next to him with no one around to protect you. But here you were curled up at his side, as if he weren’t someone who could easily harm you and were instead someone who would take care of you should you need it.

Which wasn’t something he could really deny to himself, but you didn’t need to know that.

After all, you’d seen him when he’d overblotted and you knew he wasn’t a good person. That should have been enough to send you scrambling to get away from him. But instead, here you were. 

And it was ridiculous.

It was true that it might have taken Jack a little while to realize that Leona wasn’t someone he needed to look up to, but Leona’s actions at the Spelldrive competition had cleared up Jack’s misunderstandings about him. 

Ruggie had always known what sort of person Leona was. It was one of the reasons he hung around. After all, there was safety in sticking close to people like Leona, so long as you remembered what they were truly like.

Both realized, for better or worse, that Leona was not a misunderstood individual who was secretly good. He was jaded, always beaten by others, and essentially worthless.

But then there was you, who was seemingly unbothered by any of this. 

And it wasn’t even like you didn’t believe Leona’s flaws existed; he could work with that. Instead, it was almost like you didn’t care. Like you didn’t really expect him to change outside of your occasional prodding for him to take better care of himself.

You saw his flaws—that much he knew from the times you had bickered with him over something—but you just seemed to accept them. The same way you just seemed to accept other people’s flaws as something that was just a part of them. Only ever really scolding others, or even Leona himself, when their actions either harmed themselves or others.

And that's how Leona knew you were simply too sweet for him. Too sweet for him to endure being near, but simultaneously too sweet for him to turn away.

It was just another show of how worthless he was at anything he tried to do and how little his own efforts mattered. He could try to push you away, but he couldn’t ever stop himself from clinging to you. 

As if you were one of the last sweet bits of his otherwise bitter life. A potent method of making everything else seem to fall away and be ignored so long as he just gets a fleeting taste of that kindness.

And Leona had tried to ignore you, but it was somehow impossible, even when he knew that being close to him could easily taint that sweetness of yours and turn it into a bitterness more like his.

But Leona also knew that you and him were all but opposites, and that was probably where the attraction of being near you lay.

Though that realization did nothing to lessen that attraction, no matter how frustrating it might be.

You shifted, letting out some sort of groggy sound and causing him to snort in amusement at your lethargic movements that had you shifting closer to him as if you craved his warmth. Coming closer to him instead of distancing yourself like you should.

It was ridiculous, watching you now, to think that you’d somehow bested him in the past. But you had. You’d beaten him as well as numerous others at their own game. Making them look like fools, as you seemed to change things simply by existing.

And maybe you did. After all, you weren’t of this world. And perhaps that was why it was so hard for him to detach himself from you.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you twisted to look up at the lion beastman, who didn’t even bother hiding his amusement as you blinked up at him before groggily sitting up, “What time is it?”

Leona glanced around, his ears twitching slightly as he listened to the distant sounds of students chattering as they left their club areas before he looked back your way, “Time to be getting back to the dorms. Club practice has already let out.”

You nodded, not looking terribly surprised and seemingly resigned to having lost the rest of your study period.

“Have you seen Grim?” You frowned lightly as you glanced around, and Leona snorted, leaning back and relaxing once more against the ground, lazily watching you as you collected your books.

“Nope,” At the single word you glanced over at him with raised eyebrows that almost made him want to take back all the previous thoughts he’d had about you being sweet.

But then that tiny bit of bite you had to you only ever seemed to emphasize your sweetness. It was what kept you interesting and at odds with the fools at RSA.

Because, unlike them, you managed to have a certain degree of cunning even with your sweetness. After all, he hadn’t been lying that day when he’d told Azul that you were far more dastardly than the scheming cephalo-punk was.

That was probably another reason why Leona had given up on pushing you away and had even come to expect your presence. He was a glutton for punishment, and with you being a villain that was sweet enough to even catch him unawares, you were certainly enough to keep him on his toes. 

His gaze held yours even as he felt yet another chip in the wall of his defenses fall away, despite the fact that he’d always maintained these walls around himself.

He may not want to let you in, but you really were too sweet for him, and it was reaching the point that Leona was becoming more and more willing to let himself give into his gluttony.

[jiosoull]

POV: You look adorable and he needs to pet you. Now.

🐼

"What's the matter?" You finally asked him after noticing his restrained movements as you turned your head up at him. The dark, fluffy bangs covering his eyes made it hard to guess his normally aloof demeanor, but the way he had been fidgeting lately was enough to tickle your confusion.

"...It's nothing." He replied, although you noted the forced control in his strained tone while he acted nonchalant. You doubted him, eyeing him up and down.

He nearly took a step back at your narrowed gaze and stubbornly stayed silent, refusing to elaborate on his weird behaviour.

You lightly shrug in response, failing to realize that he was actually focusing on your hat. The panda hat... It looked too cute not to notice!

The knitted panda hat comforts you and it kept your head protected from the chilly day. Your hand patted the black, wooly ears after you readjusted it, completely oblivious to the tall man's inner struggle at your actions.

He gritted his teeth and clenched the fabric of his sweater in frustration. His pointy ears reddened slightly as he heavily fixated his gaze on your adorable knitted panda hat resting on your head.

By sheer impulse and an aggressive urge to express his feelings, he cleared his throat and grabbed your attention. Once he caught your gaze, his lips parted. Closing them awkwardly and grunted sharply in annoyance before he spoke up.

"May I... pet you?"

He muttered out hesitantly, his fingers trembling by his sides with a frown on his face. A flicker of emotions was shown on your face— bewilderment, thoughtful and finally understanding. A small realization and a small grin widened on you.

Without a word, you stepped closer to him and lowered your head, showing more of your knitted hat to him.

His breath hitched quietly at how easily you went along with his request, gulping dryly as he reached out to you slowly with a trembling hand.

You stood there patiently. Until a comforting warmth was laid on the top of your head. It moved carefully and gently as his big hand stroke your head. The soft wool beneath his palm sent a shiver down his spine as he imagined himself petting a real panda, and the sight of your knitted panda hat was encouraging it.

The two of you stayed there for quite a while, and you were stifling back your giggles as you watched his body trembling with excitement. His lips quivered at this tender moment and a small blush dusted his cheeks.

[welshoot]

Talent and Overblots: An Interesting Relationship

So I read an analysis about Leona and his overblot and it has gotten me to thinking and, only just realizing that talent is a bit of a theme for Twisted Wonderland. Or rather, talent in a more negative lighting than it is often portrayed in. 

Simply put, everyone who has overblotted is also talented and said talents (+ the side effects of being talented) really seem to be a large part of their trauma, stress, and varying issues that culminate in their overblot. I’m going to put the rest of the analysis under the cut for fear of any spoilers and due to length (and it is long), but this is something that is incredibly fascinating to me since this portrayal of talent is so wildly different from what is typically seen.

Starting with Overblot #1, Riddle is obviously talented. He became a housewarden in his first year, has an incredibly powerful signature spell, knows all the rules of Heartslabyul, and is a top student in a school filled to the brim with geniuses. We know from his overblot backstory that his mom held him to strict rules and pushed him too far, always demanding he be better than the best. Talented wasn’t enough. He had to be perfect. And that is, quite simply, what led to his overblot. He was holding others to that same horrifying strict regime. Talent isn’t enough, you must be perfect. But Riddle’s talent(s) is what made this drive for perfection truly frightening. That talent of his is what helped to lead to the pedestal that he (and others) placed himself on. And then his view was an incredibly simplistic, and even relatable one. If I can do it, so can they. But that viewpoint is what led  to  him pushing too far and breaking down when he realized exactly what he’d done. Ace quite possibly put it best when he informed Riddle that he was, “An extension of her”. Her, being Riddle’s mother. Realizing that he’d become that same tyrant, constantly pushing that talent wasn’t enough and you had to be perfect, was a big part of Riddle’s overblot. Because what is worse than becoming the very thing you’ve feared and toiled under since you were a child?

Leona is obviously talented. He is one of NRC’s geniuses, implied to be a very physically strong beastman, possesses an incredibly powerful signature spell, and has the cleverness to think his way out of any situation on top of the fact that he can power his way out of most problems due to his incredible persistence. But those talents were little more than weights around his neck when nothing he did mattered. He would never be king no matter what he did. But how much of Leona’s overblot was ever really being about king, when the crown that just the image that stuck with him? After all, the crown was the first thing that he was probably told he could never have no matter how talented he was. So kingship became a symbol of all he can never succeed in, despite his many talents. In the Savannaclaw chapter, story vignettes, and even in events people are constantly telling Leona that if he just tried he could do it. He is talented after all. And how much must that sting? You’re talented, and you have tried, but no matter what anyone tells you, it doesn’t seem to matter. The words of encouragement others give him are just like a slap in the face because failure keeps rearing its head. Thoughts like that can easily lead to or worsen depression and self-loathing. Especially when he gets his hope up once more that maybe he can do something, he keeps getting dragged back down, either by life’s machinations or his own occasionally self-destructive behavior. As a culmination of this, we find Leona exactly where he was in the Savannaclaw chapter. Failing once more and finally breaking apart as it occurs in front of those who have placed him as their head, the leader of their Pride. Not only has he failed himself, he has failed those who place their faith in him. To Leona, it no doubt looked like his greatest fears were true. Even with all of those talents, Leona feels worthless because he can’t succeed even once.

Azul is talented even if he himself doesn’t see it. Not many can say they have a successful restaurant business, and have hoodooed both the headmage and a good number of one’s fellow students at his age. Azul’s talent isn’t the one he wants though. He wants something more flashy and easily seen. Something that will make others not bother him. He never wants to be a silly little octotwerp who gets made fun of again. And, at this point, Azul can’t seem to see his knack for business for what it is. A talent. Being surrounded by so many obvious talents at NRC is bound to crush him, because everywhere he looks there is someone better than him in some way. So Azul gets greedy. He won’t let them make fun of him and look down on him like his previous classmates did. He can’t take that again. But then all of his carefully calculated actions come crashing down around him. Leona destroys his contracts and asserts, no less, that Azul has been beaten by a magicless prefect. And that is when Azul truly starts to crumble to pieces. He can’t even beat someone that he no doubt viewed, at that point, as a nobody. His actions turn desperate as he fears that Jade and Floyd, the two who’d actually taken a look at young Azul and saw talent there, are abandoning him because he’s been beaten at his own game. In Azul’s eyes, he has no talents, so why would they stay? All those feelings come racing back and Azul really does feel like a nobody. Just a silly little octotwerp even despite all his efforts. And so he overblots. Because obviously if you aren’t talented, then no one wants you and it doesn’t matter.

Jamil is talented in numerous ways and, unlike Azul, he knows it. But Jamil’s talents consistently get ignored or downplayed by everyone, even his own family. And it’s all because of the fact he works under another family so in the eyes of those around him, Jamil can’t and shouldn’t be better than Kalim. So he blames Kalim, even though he knows it isn’t Kalim’s fault that they were born in the positions they are in. Even though Kalim is someone who has always lavished praise on Jamil’s talents and never downplayed them. Even though Kalim is his friend. It’s too much. Because each time Kalim, the source of Jamil’s woe (at least in his eyes), praises him, it’s like a slap in the face. A reminder that even though you’re talented, you aren’t allowed to reach the full height of your abilities. All because of this fellow, who is your friend and greatest supporter. When Jamil’s grand scheme is foiled, it breaks him. It’s a hard hit to his ego and probably feels like yet another reminder that he can’t outdo Kalim. And, to top it all off, there’s the guilt. Because like it or not, Jamil knows it’s not Kalim’s fault because Kalim, for all that he doesn’t understand or realize about their situation, would never put Jamil in the situation that he has found himself in. And so Jamil overblots. His talents don’t matter because he isn’t allowed to show them. He’s restrained, and all of that frustration is suddenly coming out.

Next is Vil, whose troubles are so curiously (and perhaps amusingly) similar to Leona’s. Because for all of Vil’s talent as an actor, he can’t get the role he so desperately longs for. To be the hero, standing on stage till the very end where people will notice him. But it is Vil’s talent (and beauty) that weighs him down and makes people speak of how special he is. And isn’t special so similar to being unrelatable? So talented is he, so special is he, so unrelatable is he, that he must be the villain. Because no one wants a hero that seems so otherworldly, perfectly beautiful and talented. No, they want a hero they understand. A more relatable type of attractiveness, a more mundane level of skill. A villain is, as Vil’s dad asserts in the overblot flashback, a hard role to play. But Vil knows that it’s also the role everyone hates. No one wants to be the bad guy. And how often do people actually pay attention to the villain? Everyone’s eyes are on the star of the show, the good guy. Getting typecast because of his talents is a big part of what leads to Vil’s overblot. He is so weighed down by how inescapable the role of villain seems that he quite literally becomes a villain. And, mirroring Riddle, the realization that he has become that thing he so loathes and maybe even fears is what causes his overblot. The golden child that he was has finally fallen and become mired in the hideous filth that remains when one’s talent becomes a set of shackles that makes you ‘special.’

Idia is, like the others, talented. But interestingly he seems to loathe his talent just as much as he loathes a crowd. Despite his amazing technological achievements, Idia doesn’t want the recognition of fame that comes from his talents. In many ways, he almost behaves like he wants to be free of his talents. As if that talent is a chain. And perhaps it is, that talent makes him well-suited to the position he was born into is yet another chain that binds him to the Island of Woe. His wishes don’t matter. Idia is doomed to his position by both his family name and his talents. The stress of such a truth paired his past with Ortho’s death, and the constant reminder that he is at fault for it (or so he constantly tells himself) is what causes his overblot. Because at least this way, maybe Idia can use his talents once more to do something he wants. To save his brother, and atone for what he has done.

Finally, there is Malleus. Another individual with undeniable talent. Someone who is already listed amongst the most powerful of magicians and who comes from a long line of talented people. But Malleus’s talent, skill, and power for magic is what causes others to fear him, worship him, and avoid him. No one wishes to approach someone so fearsome and talented, because how could they? He is a royal who seems so far beyond them, they cannot comprehend such talent and power. Surely he is beyond them. And when they can’t understand him, perhaps it is better to fear him. It’s only natural to fear that which we can’t understand, so that is what happens to Malleus and his incomprehensible power. The isolation that stems from other’s fear and misunderstandings leads Malleus to do what is only natural. To cling to those few people that remain near him. Those who don’t fear him and instead accept him. And that isolation, paired with the need to cling onto those precious few while all others continue to stare at him in awed horror, is what contributes so greatly to his overblot. Because if those few leave him, what does he have left in his ivory tower of talent?

Anyway, I just find it fascinating that Twisted Wonderland has portrayed the darker side of talent and how it can lead to so many issues for those that hold it. Talent is a blessing in many ways, but there are two sides to every coin and it appears that talent can just as easily be a curse in the wrong situation.

[definitelynottony]

Could you do starkercest? But fem!peter? 🥺 pls?

Her there nonny. Fem!Peter isn't something I've done before, but I gave it a shot because you asked so nicely~

TW: Female Peter, incest (Daddy x daughter)

Tony thought he's been a good father. He's spoiled his baby girl rotten over the years, sure, but she's perfect. And when she gives him those big bambi eyes, like hell he'd ever say no to her. Except when it comes to boys.

"Daddy! Everyone else has a date, why can't I? There was at least three guys that already asked me to the dance!"

"Because, princess, you're not old enough to date yet." That has been Tony's excuse for the last four years. It's even getting old to his own ears.

"That's bullshit and you know it! I'm seventeen, Dad! Most of my class have been dating since they were twelve!"

"I'm sorry you're going to school with a bunch of heathens, but i'm raising my little girl with some class. You can date when I'm dead!"

"But that'll take forever!!!"

"Brat." Tony rolled his eyes at her.

"Meanie!" Parker pouted out to her Dad. Tony can't stand that.

"Come on, tesoro. Don't be like that. Daddy bought you that pretty dress you wanted, bought you all new makeup, and you're going to go get your hair done. Why do you need a boy bringing you down when you're going to be the bell of the ball?"

Parker's eyes started to shine with tears. She was good... too damn good. She knows how to play her Dad's heartstrings. Crying, without fail, always got her what she wanted. She learned that by age five. Tony never had the heart to say no.

"Parker Maria Stark. Do not cry over a boy. I taught you better than that."

"Who am I going to slow dance with, Daddy? I'll look like a loser... everyone already thinks I'm weird."

Tony pulled his little girl into a tight hug. "No one thinks that, baby. You're the prettiest girl in that whole school."

"You have to say that! You're my dad."

"I'm also a man. I know what I'm talking about."

Parker's face flushed at that comment. She turned away and pouted, trying to hide her face. Tony saw it, though. Felt it. How his little girl clenched her thighs... he's just a man. God. A lonely man with a gorgeous seventeen year old daughter. These intrusive thoughts aren't the first time they came to the old man.

Honestly, they've been happening more and more. Even more sinful after Tony saw what his little girl bought herself with her Daddy's credit card. Tony had to dig a bit. Had to threaten the company with the fact that they sold over a five hundred dollars worth of products to a minor. But it was worth it. To see all the lingerie that now sits in his little girls dresser. The dildos and vibrators she's hiding under her bed.

Yeah. There's no way he's letting his little girl with an awakening sexual appetite go off with a teen boy. Tony was a teen boy at one point. He knows how they are. What they want. The only thing they want. The joke is that thing doesn't go away with age. When he's holding his little girl like this, thinking about what she might be thinking about... okay. He should probably let go now.

"Daddy?" Parker asks in a shy voice as her Dad let go of her and stepped back.

"Yes, baby girl?"

"Why don't you want me to have a boyfriend? You know, statistically, kids with strict rules tend to do worse things when they're legal..."

"Are you threatening me, princess?" Tony's face gets serious. Eyes small in a glare, eyebrow cocked.

"All I'm saying is if I don't get to date boys my own age now, maybe I'll end up dating an older man next year when I go off to college." She shrugs.

"Excuse me? You will do no such thing. You're my child, you'll follow my rules."

"No! If I want to go date a forty year old when I turn eighteen in a few months, I will! And you can't stop me!"

Tony's never felt this possessive before. He sees red when he grabs his girl by the wrist and pulls her in against him. When he growls out, "if you're so desperate for a man to fuck you, sweetheart, let Daddy show you exactly what you're asking for."

He might not win "father of the year award," especially after this. But he made his little girl scream and pass out after her third orgasm and you know, that's enough for him.

[crystalsenergy]

Echoes of Separateness:

Ego, bullying, and the illogical path of the wounded ego #2

(I demand that the person be here, but in reality, I didn't even want that…)

Part 1: posted yesterday, previous post ✨

In this post, we introduced some examples of this problem that is so present in our lives:

In the case of school,

we see those groups of people who don't like person X. Person X doesn't want to participate in events that are held, for example, outside of school, and that many in the class attend. This person doesn't go because they know it won't be good for them, that there will be insincerity, and they won't feel good. This person prefers to be sincere with themselves and their peers, showing that they prefer to be themselves.

The peers, who already reinforced criticisms, gossip, and other malicious behaviors towards this person X, suddenly get offended and/or demand that this person attend. They complain that they didn't go.

Why, if in the end, there wasn't even a real desire to have the person there?

In the case of religion,

being bothered because the person you don't have a friendship with, don't have a relationship with, and, in fact, do quite the opposite, doesn't attend meetings because it didn't make sense for them to go to one or another, let's imagine due to a topic that was going to be discussed and they didn't want to participate.

You don't like the person… according to what you yourself show them. So why demand their presence?

In the case of workplaces,

situations that strengthen through exclusion, gossip, and badmouthing.

Let's suppose a group notice that a certain colleague has the habit of preferring to be more truthful, keeping to themselves, knowing that their ideas don't resonate with the group's ideas, including the ways these groups use to feel "good" (gossiping, excluding, etc.).

The people in this situation, noticing this colleague's independence and feeling bothered by it, reinforce their exclusion daily, gossiping and/or creating unpleasant situations.

One day, there is a gathering, and the colleague doesn't go, choosing instead to use their time on something that actually makes them feel good, knowing that it wouldn't be genuine, that there would be a lot of insincerity, and wanting to nurture different things in their life.

And then the colleagues get offended and believe in their minds that it makes sense to demand the presence of a person… even a person they exclude so much.

In the case of "friendships",

excluding people who are different from you because others do it, and you, unfortunately, depend on your group to feel belonging; or you do it and attract others to the same path…

and someone in the group starts to become more independent, wanting to move away from dependence, gets criticized for not attending all the meetings, outings. And the one who was "your buddy" yesterday becomes your main target for gossip and intrigue, just because the person is no longer present to nurture your ego.

My dears, it is time to learn the real concept and value of Freedom. Those who truly like us don't hold us back… if we really like someone, we don't hold them back.

And one of the ways to identify who likes us or not is: to observe what their first reaction is when we distance ourselves from them. Do they ask you why? Do they change their behavior towards you, acting sometimes with resentment, sometimes with insincerity? How do they act from a distance, if they haven't yet come to talk to you?

Unfortunately, those who are still on this path personalize everything. And they believe it will always be about them. It doesn't cross their minds that you might need to rediscover yourself, recognize yourself, self-discover, or be going through a turbulent period. Or that there really is a conflict, friction between you, and that this should be discussed.

These are people who, unfortunately, are extremely connected to their wounded ego. And they act and react most of the time based on this, on unconsciousness and the ego that at the moment is negative.

In the case of family,

people who exclude other relatives, blood-related or not, over ego issues, even very senseless things (which consciousness knows, but the person doesn't want to admit, after all, energies don't lie and not everything needs to be said for us to notice who people are):

being bothered by being near my truer, even more humble (not in terms of money, but personality) relatives, and then reinforcing the idea of exclusion to make them feel bad,

because I am still very insecure and live in the energy of appearances, of reinforcing something good about myself through my possessions and material goods… because it seems that without them, I feel empty.

Because I haven't yet realized that my meaning goes beyond anything ephemeral, that contains "glamour" in appearance and aesthetics, but often can be without content and meaning.

The person who is aware of the exclusion in relation to them, of the unpleasant things, doesn't attend all family gatherings, wisely acting in such a manner, but the relative who forces exclusion, separation, gossip, criticism, control, comes demanding this person's presence, often using as a foundation for "anger" precisely the fact that the person didn't go.

But what logic and sense does that have, if you don't even like the person's presence?

It is a cycle of nurturing bad things… that people seem not to notice!

It is important to wake up to this to put an end to these toxic processes in our lives and in others'. And this message of ending or setting a limit applies to all cases and to all "sides",

both the demanded and the demanding. Freedom and truth are the only keys and real solutions…

All this that I pointed out makes no sense, following a raw and straightforward logic, but it makes sense based on the idea that these people act this way, from beginning to end,

out of FEAR of abandonment.

FEAR of being alone.

FEAR of judgment.

And in a process of badmouthing, not accepting to look at this at the moment with openness, care, they spill this pain that they hide from themselves onto others.