#SAP replication

[aestas---estas]

Kaleidoscope

MDNI 18+ | Read on AO3 |

I felt sappy, this is literally just fluff

Simon Riley makes no fanfare the first time he tells you he loves you.

You'd been saying it to him for weeks, months maybe, time flies when he's with you — always telling him you didn't need to hear it back, you just wanted him to know he was loved, wanted, cared for.

The first time you said it, pink and orange painted the sky as the glow of the rising sun bathed you in warmth. He'd slipped out of bed early, sneaking to the balcony for a morning smoke, quiet and careful so as to not rouse you.

Simon was halfway through his second cigarette when the door beside him inched open. The dressing gown he'd gifted you on your birthday adorned your frame, soft and fluffy in the colour you had pointed out as most complimenting. A steaming mug warming your hands.

“Hey you,” you greeted him, handing him the tea as you perched yourself in his lap, plucking the cigarette from between his fingers. It had taken time to convince you that no, you’re not too heavy, but once he’d finally gotten it into your stubborn head, his lap seemed to be your favourite place to curl up.

Simon pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his free hand falling low on your hip to keep you in place. The sun was climbing over the horizon, a shining halo of rose and vermillion making you look ethereal. A soft exhale made smoke dance from your lips, swirling in the light breeze — it was fucking mesmerising. 

“Sneak out often?” you teased. His lips grazed your fingers as you offered the cigarette to him; intimate, domestic, homely. He hadn’t felt at home anywhere in a long time.

“Didn't wanna wake ya,” he said around a mouthful of smoke before exhaling it through the corner of his mouth.

You laughed at him softly, shaking your head as if you found his antics amusing.

“Drink your tea.”

The first time Simon spent the night you made him tea in the morning — it had been shit if he was honest. Tea bag merely dipped in the water in your haste rather than letting it steep. Too much sugar. Microwaved. He'd bought you a proper kettle after that, even though you argued that it tasted the same.

The morning after, with Simon glued to your back, his hands covering yours, guiding your movements as you giggled, he showed you exactly how he makes his tea.

“This a new blend?” he asked, smiling up at you before taking another sip. It was more flowery than his usual tea, tasted more like berries than he was used to. He didn't like change in his everyday life, not really, and when it was forced on him it always took time before his body and mind settled into it.

He swallowed another mouthful, letting the taste linger on his tongue as long as possible.

“Mhm,” you hummed, “made with love.”

“Yeah, yeah. Fuckin’ sap.” Despite the dismissive words he couldn't hide the way his eyes crinkled and shone with the smile he hid behind the mug.

“It’s made with love, Simon.” He could feel your gaze stroking his face, tender and affectionate, the corner of your lips ticked up in a perfect replication of Mona Lisa. “Because I love you.”

In that moment his world stopped spinning, rotated off its axis until it found a new sun in you. His heart stuttered in his chest, the air in his lungs evanesced as his breath seemed to halt.

His silence, the lack of an outward reaction, had you worrying your bottom lip; your brain drawing the opposite conclusion.

“I’m sorry,” you began, diving headfirst into an explanation that was entirely unnecessary. “I know it might be too early for you, and—” an audible swallow, “and you don’t have to say it back. But I just… I wanted you to know and—”

Your name fell from his lips, gentle adoration, as if the word itself was a prayer. Then repeated, louder this time, when your words still didn’t stop. It wasn’t until he occupied your lips with his that your words finally ceased.

“Stop talkin’, dove,” he murmured before kissing you again, harder this time, hoping his touch could relay to you what his words couldn’t.

It’s not something you say every day, but still it invades his senses. Feels it in the way you comb your fingers through his hair. Sees it in your eyes when they light up as you smile at him. Hears it in the way you say his name, when you sing it so sweetly, even when you yell it.

It’s overwhelming.

He never wants it to stop.

So when he's leaving your place one day, lazy morning interrupted by his work phone blaring and Price’s voice telling him they were wheels up at 1800 hours that evening, Simon kisses you long and hard. Unhurried. Passionate. His hands framing your face with gentle force, as if it’s something precious, something valuable — because you are.

“‘old the fort while I'm gone, ‘kay dove?”

“Promise.”

“Good.” He straightens up, slings his duffle over his shoulder, looking at you one last time as he pushes the door open. He wants to tell you then, feels it brewing inside his chest, eager to climb out of his throat.

But he doesn’t want to leave you with those words, not without being able to soak up the blinding smile and shining eyes he knows you’ll give him, not without getting to murmur his affection against your lips and sink his devotion into your very bones, not without an opportunity to revel in the love you both shared. It's only a week, he tells himself. He can wait one week.

But then one week turns into two.

And two into six.

He’s dead on his feet once he collapses in the too small seat of the plane that’ll bring them back home again, eyes bleary from lack of sleep and head pounding from the many hits it had taken.

The cracks in his phone screen split your head in three, but you’re still as beautiful as ever and he can’t help but smile as he smooths his thumb over your picture. You’re laughing in it, loud and boisterous, and your eyes crinkle in the corners. So fucking happy, so fucking lovely — it makes his heart ache.

You meet him when they land, jump into his arms and cling on for dear life. Not that Simon is any better; his hold on you is borderline painful, but neither of you mind. He wants to crush you against him, keep you so close not even air is able to pass between your bodies.

“Missed you,” you say into the crook of his neck, breathing him in until his scent is the only thing you smell.

“Missed ya too, dove,” he replies against the top of your head. Gaz says something Simon can’t be arsed to register and it makes Soap snicker. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is you, in his arms, in his heart.

It’s only when Price comes up beside him and claps him on the shoulder that you break the embrace. “Go on home, Simon. You’ve earned it,” Price says. It’s too friendly for an official order, yet just stern enough that they both can pretend it is one.

The mask gets pulled off Simon’s face the moment you’re on the road, and he keeps his hand on your thigh the entire drive home to your flat. The setting sun is shining through the side window, clouds smouldering with scarlet painting the inside of the car in shades of red and orange that makes your skin fucking glow. You tell him again, then, your voice quiet and soft and warm as the three words you give him so easily fall from your lips once more. You smile, not expecting him to say it back, content with just knowing he knows. His hand squeezes your thigh.

“Go jump in the shower,” you say once your front door closes behind you and he dumps his duffel on the floor, rolling his neck in an attempt to alleviate the stiffness. “I’ll order us some food.”

“This y’way of tellin’ me I stink?” Simon asks, but the way his lips tilt in a cheeky grin only makes you huff out a laugh.

“And what if it is?” you counter, trying your best to keep your face neutral but soon the giggle you had suppressed bubbles up and he can’t help but chuckle along. It takes him no effort to pull your frame against his chest, holding you tight, letting you fill his senses.

“Just go,” you say with a shake of your head once your laughter tapers off. Your hand pats his shoulder twice and he presses a kiss to your forehead before releasing you.

There is no kaleidoscope of colours bathing your features this time. No warm reds or pale pinks, no soft yellows or deep oranges. Because now the sun has set and stars are splattered across the evening sky — just barely visible, but there nonetheless. He finds some strange form of kinship in them.

“Yeah, yeah, love ya too, dove,” he says. Simple. Clean. As if it’s the easiest thing in the world rather than a concept he had struggled with most of his life and only recently opened his heart up to again.

His words root you to the spot as your brain plays catch-up, giving Simon enough time to get halfway to the bathroom before his words register. And once they do, you fling yourself against his back, arms squeezing tight around his middle.

“I heard that correctly, right?” you ask against his back, voice slightly muffled from the way you’re pressing your face against him.

Simon pries your hands off of him, ignoring your noise of protest, before turning around to face you properly. With one hand on your waist he brings your face close to his with the other. His lips claim yours in a kiss that is deep, slow, sensual. Being open and vulnerable is something he’s still getting reacquainted with, but he can’t deny how light he feels; like the weight he’d been carrying for only God knows how long has finally lifted.

“Yeah, dove,” he whispers against your lips, “I love ya.”

--- CoD Masterlist

[tojibee]

Sukuna is secretly a sap for soft domestic moments with you. Even if you can never get him to admit it, he doesn’t hide it as well as he thinks he does. 

He’ll never admit how cozy he feels lying on the couch with you as you read a book. The crackling fire is a soothing lullaby as the time passes, a warm and fuzzy heart beating in his chest as he gazes down at you in his lap. Your eyes wide with anticipation, impatient finger tapping the edge of the book, until you’re finally able to turn the page again, just as enthralled with this page as the last. He’ll never understand your love for reading, but he won’t complain when it’s essentially a free pass to hold you all throughout the night. 

He’ll never admit how much he loves it when you ask him for help—in any scenario really—but especially the little domestic things people don’t often think of. Asking him to reach a dish up high, to unscrew the lid of a jar that’s too tight, to grab you a towel when you forgot to bring one to the bath, to help you find your phone charger that you’ve lost for the millionth time that week.  The pout on your lips and the almost timid way you ask makes his heart flutter in his chest, he feels a swell of pride knowing he’s the one you come to for help. Sure, he’ll grumble and huff and roll his eyes, but as soon as his back is turned to you his face burns a bright crimson red at the butterflies in his belly.

He’ll never admit the warm feeling in his chest when you come home from work exhausted and grumpy, just to kick your shoes off and silently curl up in his arms on the couch. No words are needed, he knows you just want to be held, and he’s more than happy to deliver. His hands offer you comfort, one stroking your back, while the other brushes through your hair. He’ll give you soft kisses to your temple, lingering for as long as he can between each one, savoring the moment. If you’re lucky, he’ll hum a soft tune, his chest rumbling against yours, lulling you to sleep. Being your safe space is an irreplaceable feeling, one he wouldn’t trade for the world. 

He’ll never admit the amount of fun he has decorating your shared home for holidays and events. The way your face lights up at the cute new decor you found at the store, asking him where he thinks the best place to put it would be. He’ll give you a shrug and an, “I don’t care,” but his eyes will point over to the empty space on one of the shelves of a cabinet you had yet to fill. Using a step stool to hang up lights or banners has him chuckling and teasing you, knowing damn well he could help you do it without the cursed contraption. He just thinks it’s cute that even with the step stool you have to stand on the tips of your toes to reach where you need to be.

He’ll never admit the peace he feels as he does basic chores with you, like doing laundry, washing the dishes, tidying your living space, making the bed, etcetera. He acts like it’s the end of the world, whining and complaining the whole time, but he’ll do most of the work anyways, without being asked to. He just wants to be in your presence. Something warm erupts in his belly when he notices you eyeing him from the kitchen counter while he scrubs a cup with a soapy sponge. He’ll tsk and ask, “What’re you lookin’ at?” and when you reply in a loving tone, “You,” his saliva gets stuck in his throat, damn near choking him. 

Sukuna isn’t a soft or even a kind person, but something in him feels different whenever you’re around. He feels almost normal, like he’s being seen as an individual with his own likes and interests, and not just the king of curses. In all his years he’s never met someone who makes him feel as at home and as safe as you do. The emotions that stir in his heart whenever you speak, whenever you look at him, hell, whenever you breathe; they’re unlike anything he’s ever felt before. 

It’s a soft, gentle, and domestic kind of love, one that can’t be easily replaced or replicated. One that runs deeper than flesh and blood, deeper than even the soul can reach. He would give anything to continue to have days like these with you, forever until the end of time.

He knows he’s in deep, and he wouldn’t want it any other way. But he will never admit that.

wc: ~800

i cannot get this man out of my head, help me.

[ch3rish-ning]

SAY YOU LOVE ME, 엔하이픈 성훈

— my heart beats , for you only.

(ƒemale ℛeader ‪‪❤︎‬. Sunghoon x reader / fluff, oneshot , kissing ‘) ── .✦ reblogs + wc. 564

A/N: I lowkey enjoyed writing this [>=<]

feedback appreciated ☆

365 days around the clock. Never skipping a beat, a love so refreshing it can never be replicated, so delicate that even the slightest interference can shatter it. You cherish the beauty of it, the thought that a man like him could ever love you so. He's seen all of you. The good, the broken, the damaged that's far beyond repair, yet he saw a girl that was worth loving and a girl that needed someone to sweep her off her feet and make her feel like the most important thing in the world.

Simply because you are, at least in his world. Lying on the bed with limbs tangled together, you caress his hair, loving the silent intimate moments like these. Nothing but soft breathing to fill the silence. Neither of you can barely remember the last time you left the comfort of your home, too wrapped up in one another. "This is nice…" you softly croak out while twirling his hair between your fingers. Looking up at you with his sleepy eyes, he answers, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you sigh in content, "we do this often, but it feels like it's the first time all over again." Soft laughter bubbles from within him. "You're such a sap, you know?" Playfully hitting his head, you roll back over on your side. "Hey! I'm not a sap...I just like being with you," you smile cheekily.

You always know how to make him flustered with the littlest things you say; that's what made him go crazy about you. You watch as his ears change color from natural to a soft crimson pink, something you've grown fond of in your relationship, making sure to say things more often just to see the change in color. He groans, burying his face in your neck. "Must you always tease me, huh?"

"I can't help it, you know it's what I do best." Grinning from ear to ear, you ruffle his hair up a bit, loving how he always keeps it fluffy. "Remind me why I love you again," he asks teasingly, mumbling under his breath. "Because you know me best, and no one has your heart like I do."

He holds those words close, letting them replay in the back of his mind, feeling a sense of tranquility pass over him; he cups your cheeks softly, pulling you into the sweetest kiss that could make you cry. Lips melting together, you savor the familiar feeling, the familiar sweetness of honey laced in this kiss. Deepening the kiss as he holds you closer, soft sighs escape from your lips.

This is a long-awaited love that you've desired and a feeling that's been imprinted on your skin and engraved in your mind. You simply cannot get enough of it and only desire more as he further opens his heart to you just as you open up yours to him. Pulling away slowly, he searches your eyes with his own low, sleepy ones. Words coming out ever so faintly but still audibly: "I love you."

Heart still skipping a beat as if it's your first time hearing those words again. You allow the words to dance across your mind, never forgetting them: "I love you more." You respond, smiling softly at him. This love is delicate and meant to be cherished always. And you wouldn't have it any other way because your heart beats for him only.

©CH3RISH-NING 2025

[daily-ebonfall]

Day 41 - Precious Gift

~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~

"Come on, open it!" Cross encouraged, nudging the box towards. "You'll love it, I promise! I made it myself!"

Staring at the box, Dust clearly seemed skeptical however, he trusted him more than anything in the world. So.. he reached out wordlessly, grasping the nearly-wrapped gift

"Tada!!" he exclaimed, laughing softly. "It's me. See? You won't be lonely anymore. There's even a spot under the cape where you can keep small things. Like how I use my locket!"

"..What a sap" Huffing and rolling his eyelights at the sight of the plush that was a near-perfect replica of Cross himself.

Dust ran a thumb over the cheek of it, "I could just hold you instead of this."

"...Well, obviously, but I can't always be around, you know," he replied. "Like- like you know... solo missions. So you can use this instead!"

"..Kay" Sighing and not pushing further, Dust leaned on Cross "Thanks, Crossy."

"Of course," he replied, hugging him tightly. "Anything for you. Just don't sulk for too long when I'm not there now that you have it."

He was teasing, of course.

"I want you to be happy!"

That was ages ago, of course. Whatever the case it is, Dust still clung to the memories like a life-line. One that he cherished even now, especially now that Cross was no longer with him.

Holding the doll, all that he could do was stare at it. The beads-like eyes returning a empty gaze.

It hurt to even see it, if he had to be brutally honest about the fact. But it's all that he had.

The little panel in the back was perfect for keeping small things though, as he'd said. ...Like the vial of his dust, that is.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye too, there was nothing that could've possibly changed the outcome nor for Dust to have stepped in.

One moment, Cross was in bed with him, cuddling. The next, he's called for a mission and left - only for a sickening pit of dread to form within the depth of Dust's non-existent guts as the time ticked by.

His soul, least half of what remains felt heavy. Something he didn't understand why, until Nightmare called for a emergency meeting. The atmosphere grim before he dropped a piece of news that Dust wished he never heard

Cross died on mission.

How? Why?

Nightmare only explained partially and all that Dust could hear was that there was an accident - that Cross was out of it, something that was unlike him - for a split second or so it's what the knight explained once Nightmare had went over to check up on him at the split second of sensing his distress.

All they knew was that Cross had been cursing out his creator in his final moments, seemingly delirious or confused before he'd abruptly collapsed.

And then, just like that, his body dusted and he was gone.

...No one had even been able to say goodbye.

In a way, Dust was glad that Nightmare had collected the ashes and given it to him. That was at least enough to calm him down, even if he was hysterical at the news - so much so that he had to be held down and forced to sleep through the god's magic

Did he ever come to terms with the fact that his lover is now gone? No, no he didn't. It felt like his split soul could never heal from the loss, even if he did willingly give half to Cross instead of demanding it back. Now he'd never have it. At all.

..Despite the fact that what he truly wanted isn't the soul, but for Cross' return.

It's unfair.

Fidgeting with the doll, and always ensuring that the container filled with the dust - pun not intended - were still there. It grounded Dust to reality in a horrible way. Even Papyrus fell silent.

It was nice, at least. To imagine how happy Cross would be to know that Dust appreciated his gift. He would have been smiling endlessly.

Hugging the doll close, Dust just leaned onto the pillows stacked on the bed. Arranged in such a way that it felt more like 'home'. That being in Cross' arms, even if nothing could ever replicate that sense of comfort and safety

..He missed him, really.

But what more can he do other than live on?

Maybe this is all just a bad dream, a nightmare. Ironically.

Maybe he'd wake up to see him curled up around him, more relaxed than his silly, overthinking ever let him be while awake.

…Yeah, it'd.. be alright.

~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~

[magic-magpie]

Leon Headcanons <3

Hiii so I have Thoughts abt this man and I like reading other people's headcanons so I thought I'd post my own! Not 100% comprehensive, but the post was getting long enough as is :P I'm currently in exam season rn (exams next week, wish me luck! Pray that I graduate this year <3) so my creative brain is sapped for energy so I'm not really able to work on my Leon fics or drawings atm so this will have to do <3

Warning for long post :P (+ Leon for attention)

- He's sentimental. He tries to not let it on, but he is v sentimental. He kept Marvin's knife and still uses it all these years later. I think he'd keep Ada's bear keychain and Luis' key too. I'm double-minded as to whether he'd keep Krauser's knife - on one hand it was the knife that had trained him, that belonged to the mentor who made him the combatant he is today, but on the other hand that knife is the one he used to kill Krauser and it doesn't bring back good memories.

- Him liking movies is canon, but I think his behaviour during a movie depends on the context. If you're in the cinema then he's the type to keep v quiet or talk to you briefly in hushed whispers, and he is nOT taking bathroom breaks. Tbf he doesn't really nEED to, military training has given him good bladder control (do I know if it can give good bladder control? No but I imagine it does so <3), but if you're the type who needs to piss during a movie he'll accompany you but he'll also be lowkey antsy about missing the movie. He tries not to let it show but you can see by the way he's fidgeting, tapping his foot/jiggling his leg, and as soon as you're done he'll practically speed off back to the theatre, you in tow. If it's a new movie he's watching at home, he likes to try and replicate the cinema experience a bit - lights off, and if you'd planned for it then he'd get some popcorn, but if not then just random snacks you've got laying around will have to do. How much he talks here depends on the movie, but generally speaking he's more talkative. If it's a movie he's seen before that he's showing you, he'll definitely be more talkative here - he's the type to talk about the different shots, any behind-the-scenes trivia, things like that. So if you want to Netflix and Chill with him the only way you're doing that is if you put on a shitty B-movie or w/e that he's either seen before or doesn't really care about, otherwise he's Locked In

- This one might be canon idk, but he's a bit of a gun enthusiast. Not a collector or anything, but an Appreciator. He canonically does help design the guns for the DSO iirc, so yeah. He's also a motorcycle enthusiast (more of a motorbike enthusiast than gun enthusiast, if he had to pick one), and I recently found out that Claire's a motorbike appreciator too, so they like talking abt bikes together and also having friendly banter abt whose bike is better.

- He wasn't very popular in school. He wasn't uNPOPULAR, but he wasn't popular either, he was just kind of There. His social standing increased when he joined the baseball team and proved to be damn good at it, but he's still just not very good socially. He started getting invited to parties but hand on heart he didn't particularly lIKE them, but he liked the alcohol. But otherwise the parties were too loud, there were too many people, and the main idea was to talk and mingle and that was nOT his strong suit.

- Following on from that, he initially wasn't very 'popular' in the police academy either. I'm hazarding a guess that the police academy in the 90s was quite a toxically masculine environment, and Leon... is not this. He's awkward, a softer kind of guy, a prettyboy, and the rest of his cohort initially just ended up 'othering' him and probably teasing him for his prettiness too. But then he started showing them up in the marksmanship lessons by a landslide, and whilst he wasn't the sTRONGEST there he did damn well in the physicals too, better than most. So they started including him, inviting him out to the bar for drinks, that kind of thing. But he still didn't really fit in. The toxic masculine environment didn't suit him.

- Slightly related to that, but I also think he's queer - specifically demisexual. However, he does not know this. He grew up in the 90s and was not in any queer circles or LGBTQ groups or anything, so he doesn't really know anything about queer stuff aside from straight, gay, lesbian, and mAYBE bisexual. That's another reason why he didn't fit in at the academy though, the casual homophobia always made him feel uncomfortable, even if he himself still thought he was straight.

- Wrt his girlfriend pre-RE2 (idk if this is canon w RE2R but I tend to mash the two backstories together), I headcanon that he was kind of going out with her out of an 'expectation'. She approached him at the bar when he was out with some of his peers from the academy, and the other guys were talking abt how she was a super-hot smokeshow or w/e, and Leon just Didn't Get It. Like, he knew she was pretty, it's kind of obvious, but the way the other guys were talking, was he meant to feel like that too? Wasn't he meant to want to totally do her, or...? So he dates her, kind of just waiting for it to kick in. And she starts getting frustrated because he's not really exhibiting any sexual interest, and he starts getting frustrated with himself because he can't figure out wHY he's not feeling any sexual interest. He tried to get hot and heavy, tried to have sex, but backed out when they got to taking underwear off. And then he takes the job in Raccoon City without consulting her and that's kind of the final nail in the coffin to their relationship. They have the argument, they break up, and Leon goes to a motel and drinks himself stupid because for the first time he's truly having to consider whether there's smth wrong with him. Someone teach this man about asexuality pLEASE </3

- Pretty sure this is canon tbf, but he's a grunge/rock enjoyer <3 He loves Nirvana, Linkin Park, Nickelback, Three Days Grace, Saliva, etc etc. Divorced dad rock enjoyer fr <3 He used to make his own mixtapes back in school, and he likes to have some kind of music player on his person at all times. He doesn't tend to listen to his iPod or whatever when walking around town anymore on account of preferring to be Very Aware of his surroundings, but he does like to have it there to listen to if he starts getting too agitated and needs to calm down. He still loves blasting his music out in the car though, and also in his earphones when on his motorcycle. Ashley introduces him to Avril Lavigne and takes him to one of her concerts <3

- His favourite meal is steak and potatoes but he rarely gets to eat it on account of the fact that he's got nobody at home to make it for him, and he's definitely not got the effort to make it for himself. His typical diet is more like eggs, bacon, and, like, basic chicken and rice. He's really just eating to survive at this point. He's got instant noodles too ofc for when he can't even be bothered with all that. The dishes pile up because he either forgets to do them or just doesn't want to. On more than one occasion he's gone off on a mission and come back to dirty dishes in the sink. It's a depressing feeling. He gets takeout on those days. And alcohol.

- He was raised Catholic but no longer believed in God after Raccoon City.

- He has a lingering scent of gunpowder and whiskey. It's not uncommon for him to smell of motor oil too on account of working on his bike.

- He says no to drugs because he was raised like that, and also they mess with your brain and are bad for you. However he does not see the irony of saying this whilst being an alcoholic.

- He can play guitar! Electric guitar in particular. He was self-taught, with maybe some help from the school music teacher. He's definitely amateur and mediocre, but he enjoyed learning his favourite songs on the guitar. He never really went back to it after Raccoon City, and so his skills have atrophied over the years.

- He loves both cats and dogs, but he's more likely to own a cat than a dog on account of them being lower maintenance, he unfortunately doesn't have the time or the schedule for a dog. I don't think he'd specifically go out and adopt a cat though - if he ended up with one it'd be via a stray cat adopting hIM after he gave it food or smth.

- I think he's also pretty good with kids, generally speaking! He can be a little awkward w them at first due to not quite knowing where they are in development, how much 'baby talk' he's meant to use, how much he has to dumb things down, etc etc, but once he gets a little familiar and gets into the swing of it he's pretty good, kids generally love him. Take them on piggyback rides, let them hang from his arm, is good at comforting them too. However if they're bored he has to stop himself from showing them his gun and letting them play with it.

- He doesn't really watch cop shows on account of the fact that he can end up feeling nostalgic for the life he could've lived. Whilst he is aware of the corruption that had taken the RPD and so he knows objectively it wouldn't have been sunshine and rainbows, he's still nostalgic for that life he once wished to lead. It's not like he wON'T watch them, but it's usually when someone else wants to watch them, he doesn't tend to suggest them. He's more likely to watch cop movies of his own volition 'cause they rarely do actual cop stuff in those.

Non-comprehensive like I said, but yeah those are some of them <3 I have been thinking abt this man for months now, rotating him in my brain like a rotisserie chicken. But yeah thanks for reading <3

[bunji-enthusiast]

I accidentally posted the unfinished work, so I had to delete it and re-do your request. All apologies given, I’m so sorrryyyy. I also somewhat implied Guinevere to be a little closer to Lancelot (or reader's age), cause I'm uncomfy with how young she is in the anime/manga. Apologies for shortness as well, but I hope this was okay anyway!

For all the wealth in the world, there was always one inexplicable thing that could never be truly explained in just mere words. Not by humans and especially not by the goddess race or fairies. Yet it was the idea, alone, that made it enough to understand it to a degree.

It was the imaginative ideal concept of love, crying to the connections of begotten dead lovers and blooming sunflowers finding solace in one another.

Yet it was in the one place you last wanted to find it, be it as it may how much you had yearned for such a thing.

The mere idea, the mere concept was unfathomable. If what you had known, been old perhaps, that it really was true. That it had happened, then you just weren't sure about it anymore, that your crush on the blonde was no longer was going to be solid. There was no way you had any chance with someone who clearly saw yo only as a friend, and perhaps there wasn't anyway you wanted to force Lancelot either. It is rather rude and unkind of you to do so, because why would you? Seeing as how the young lady Guinevere and Lancelot had kissed, you wouldn't have a chance in the world after knowing that.

You stifle a short sob, and curled around the cornerstone, keeping yourself shrouded in the safety of the dark. Holding a hand over your mouth and beginning to walk away, and no matter how much you had tried to, your tears would fall, hard and hot, brimming the rims of your bottom eyelids.

Even if, deeply in your heart, that it wrenched and twisted your guts. You had no obligation to pursue Lancelot, you had manners, and simply wouldn't do so.

But, you could at least get it off your chest. So the next best thing was your brother, the two were close in some way or shape, so you went to Tristan. You knew in a way, that Tristan and Lancelot had a kind of bond you surely wouldn't be able to understand or even replicate for the matter. However, all that was important twas' he was close with the fellow prince.

Though, you could busy your mind with other things on your way to Tristan. Constant rampant thoughts of the two beings kissing right there at the stone ledge had unfortunately continued to torment you however, you wished you could just simply stop thinking about it. Yet it was parasitic amongst all other thoughts of the good things you tried to think about, you simply hated it, and wanted to rid yourself of the memory. Oh how you wished you didn't try and find Lancelot -- maybe things would've stayed far better that way.

Later, when you had finally found the very boy you had been looking for. Without the reaper lurking, you had greeted your dear brother; "Hey Tristan!" You exclaimed with renewed vigor, it was always at the sight of your brother that had made you happy to see him. Even if you've had your sibling spats together in your more formative years, he was always such a nice sight to see.

The nephilim's eyes flit up at the sound of your voice, waving his hand with a kind smile. The aura he exuded was ridiculously gentle, you simply had no idea how he was so capable of such a thing at times.

"ah, are you alright?" He questioned, his brows narrowing with clear worry for you.

"I'm okay as they come, I guess?" You repeated the same questioning tone, so unsure. Tristan could puzzle the pieces to a degree, and he could tell you weren't so okay.

"You wanna get it off your chest?" He asked, reaching his hand over to the small of your back and leading you away from the crowd of people bustling in the rainy streets. You nodded meekly, suddenly finding the willpower to move forward sapped from the muscle of your bones. How you wonder, that you would be so bothered after such a thing, seeing it with your own eyes no less.

After the two of you had finally reached the confines of your brother's bedroom, he sat you down, then himself.

"Take your time, okay?"

You nodded, then with a shaky breath, came to admittance. The next few words that had spilled out of your mouth, had nonetheless shocked the knight of pestilence, seeing as how you had told the small tale of the shocking revalation that had come to a halt. All within your field of vision, which was something you had clearly wished you never wanted come to see.

There was then and now, and you were unsure of you if you wanted to confront the blonde prince. Yet, it had seemed that your twin brother had already answered that question in your stead.

The silver wisps had already alluded you as Tristan stormed out of the safety of the bedroom, leaving a shocked face all on you, and the guards stationed at his door.

You had to calm down the guards, and each passerby as Tristan had already been far ahead of you toward's Lancelot's location.

For all you knew, the boy was kind and gentle, and quick to amend and de-escalate any tense situations. Yet it was he, this time, that was quick to be angered, going straight for the unsuspecting poor source of his sister's tears.

It truly surprised you, it did.

But you needed to stop your brother before things would get bad, or even worse then before. The last thing you wanted to do was strain the friendship the two of them had, and you just made that happen.

You straggled your way through the tight spaces amendable between people, and trudged forward, your pace ever increasing as you had heard the volume of an argument increasing.

"You made her upset!" One voice shouted.

Another, "Who the hell are you talking about?" Calm, but also very clearly agitated by such an accusation.

A mention of your name arose, "My sister."

You held your hands on your knees, inhaling your breath as you tried to get the oxygen back in your lungs. Your gaze lifted as you finally caught sight of the two, "Guys!" You shouted breathlessly, and immediately their heads flickered toward the source of your voice.

Getting their attention, you took a few more moments too capture the breath back in your lungs. Once done, you took your steps toward the two, "Im sorry for this Lancelot, this was my fault."

The two gasped in surprise, "Wait, but.." Tristan mumbled, "What about?" He trailed off, clearly gesturing about what you had talked over with your brother. Lancelot looked on in confusion, his posture relaxed, yet also tense.

"I had.." You began, taking your hand off Tristan's shoulder. Almost hesitant to continue, but you did so anyway, "Saw you and that girl, uh," You stuttered.

"Kissing?" He finished for you, his shoulders dropping as he had finally figured out what this was about. You nodded, Lancelot could only let out a stiff chuckle.

"I didn't want to," He said, then added, "Guinevere caught me by surprise, and did so without my permission." You raised a brow, Lancelot raised his hands -- almost tentative as he set them on your shoulders. They were surprisingly warm.

Stop it, you shouldn't think of that!

"She was, and still is someone I barely know." Lancelot commented, "I had no intention of hurting... you." He looked genuinely apologetic.

"I am sorry."

You shook your head with a laugh, "I should be the one apologizing, I just jumped to conclusions without understanding anything first."

"You still deserved one, I think." He interjected with a grin.

By then, Tristan had already left. The nephilim was happy to see you two make it up to each other, in which he had breathed a large sigh of relief that he wouldn't have to stand at a bridge of two that he deeply cares for.

[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

Chapter XXVI: So Soft, You Make Me Hard

masterlist | playlist | prev. | pin

summary: it finally starts to feel like a vacation

tags: SMUT minors DO NOT INTERACT! unprotected p in v, vulgar language, adult content, slight angst, mostly fluff, weed and cigarette usage.

a/n: hey........ remember this one? lol. hope y'all still have a little interest bc it's ALMOST OVER! just a few more chapters to go of the Fundamental Differing universe, such as bittersweet feeling. Hope you enjoy!

taglist (closed): @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills @lilpotatobean2 @poisonedluv @kellsck @m-chmcl-rmnc

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog to support the author!

-- Your POV

It had barely taken a week for the tabloids to run the story: Rockstars can be Softies Too! Corroded Coffin frontman spotted snuggling up to Death Dance Approximately vocalist. Sources close to the star say they’ve been close since the beginning of their joint tour. 

You snort as you toss the Newsweek paper on your kitchen table for Eddie to see. The picture, of course, was staged by you and Eddie: Him in Ozzy-esque sunglasses, hair tied back, in regular clothing wrapped around you, an iced coffee in his free hand. You’re in jeans and Corroded Coffin t-shirt, snuggled into Eddie’s embrace as you sip on your own drink, a toothy smile on your face. You’d called Ralphie, a paparazzo in Boston that you’d grown close to, to break the story. He was more than happy to do it, knowing these photos would likely pay his rent for the foreseeable future.

“Think they’ll buy it?” Eddie muses, sipping his coffee.

“What’s to buy? It’s true. Maybe a bit exaggerated, but that’s just Hollywood.” You shrug, flipping the pancake on the griddle. “Chocolate chips?”

Eddie nods, rising from his seat to wrap his arms around your waist. “I need this tour to be over. I prefer waking up in a stationary bed.”

“Mmm,” You make a sound of agreement, resting your head on his as comfortably as you can without leaving the stove. “Only a couple more weeks and we’re home free.”

“Where is home, exactly?”

You don’t miss a beat. “Wherever, as long as it’s with you.”

He snorts. “Such a sap.”

“Huh, wonder who made me this way.” You giggle, poking his cheek. “You think we can put this whole thing to bed now?” You study the magazine article, rolling your eyes at their word choice: scruffy, angsty, disheveled. 

“Maybe, but there’s something else I wanna put to bed instead.” He waggles his eyebrows at you. Pretending not to squirm at his flirting, you rise from your seat at the table, clearing his empty plate and your own. 

“Though I am absolutely picking up what you’re putting down, I have shit to do today.”

He pouts, batting his big, brown eyes at you. “What could possibly be more important?”

–

“This fuckin’ sucks.” Eddie kicks the gravel from the sidewalk outside the mechanic. “I didn’t even know you still had a car.”

You shrug. “I like to keep my life outside of being a rockstar pretty normal. Unfortunately that includes taking my dad’s car in for routine maintenance.”

“I coulda taken a look for him, yknow?”

“Psh, right. Ask the rockstar to change the oil in my dad’s camaro.” “My life is not too glamorous to do my favorite person a favor.” There’s no humor in his tone, he genuinely wouldn’t mind getting his hands dirty for you. 

“While I appreciate that, my dad would never let anyone besides Theo and himself touch that thing. You know how many times I begged him to let me take it out?”

Eddie snorts. “I remember. And the one time he finally let you, it came back with the tiniest scratch and he’d grounded you for a month.”

“Theo was the one to fix it, and the one to talk him out of a harsher punishment.”

“And despite already being eighteen, you didn’t go out at all that entire month.”

You frown, because he’s right. “God, I’m such a fake punk!”

“Yeah. Total poser.” He shoves your shoulder playfully.

“Well, she’s all set, kid.” Theo strolls up to where you and Eddie are talking, wiping his hands on a stained rag.

“Thanks, Theo.” You fork a handful of cash in his direction. 

“No biggie. Anything for the biggest Boston rockstah I know. And I know a few, ya know, Steven Tyla…” He definitely doesn’t know Steven Tyler, but you’d seen him at a couple parties. 

“Yeah, for sure.” 

“Before ya go, though. Would yas mind signin’ somethin’ for my kids? They’a huge fans. Daughta can’t get enough o’ya.”

“‘Course, sir!” Eddie beams at the recognition, and your heart skips. He really is still living a dream. You nod in agreement, and Theo pulls out a receipt book that he hands you, along with the pen behind his ear. You sign the top corner, 

Thanks for listening, hope to see ya at the gig! and scribble your signature before passing it to Eddie. You peek over his shoulder and watch him scribble,

Keep rock n roll alive! and his big, blocky EDDIE. “How old are your kids?” Eddie looks up, meeting Theo’s eyes. 

“Eighteen and twenty.”

“Do they wanna come see us? We have a show here in about a month.” 

“Seriously?” Theo’s eyes light up, and you can't help but be awed by Eddie’s gesture. 

“You can too, if you want! I dunno if you listen to that type of music, but…”

“You can't tell my kids, but I'm actually a really big fan of both you guys’ stuff.” He lights up as he says it, and it makes you teary. You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to this part, the effect you can have on other, real people. 

“Your secret’s safe with us, man.” Eddie offers out his hand, which Theo shakes enthusiastically. “We’ll see ya!”

—

Eddie’s POV

“That was a really nice thing to offer.” You nudge him, approaching the door to your parents’ house. 

Eddie shrugs off his vest and lays it over the arm of your couch. “Least I could do. We should probably let Steve know to add three to the guest list. You get his kids’ names?”

“Shit. No, but I can ask my dad.”

He nods, still standing awkwardly in the middle of your living room. “Well, uh. What else did you need to do today?” He can’t see what else needs to be done. You’d gone grocery shopping yesterday, and your parents’ place is pretty set for the week. He remembers trailing behind you: dressed in sinfully short shorts and white tank top while he managed to sweat in the freezer section, even if only in a tank top himself.

 The house is clean— with the help of your parents, but mostly because you’ve been anxiously cleaning since this morning. He had tried to help, but ultimately had to excuse himself when you bent over the kitchen counter to wipe it down. 

He wants to touch you. It’s driving him fucking crazy, he hasn’t been able to. He’s starting to feel like maybe you’re avoiding him, though you’ve given no indication that you’re not interested in having sex with him again. His brain is just telling him that. He hopes. 

Even right now, in a sundress and sneakers, he wishes he could bring himself to take you to the alley behind the mechanic’s. But neither of you have made a move. Eddie’s not even sure he’s entitled to. Everything has been on your terms, and he hasn’t had a problem with it. He owes you that, right?

You glance at your watch and shrug. “Dad’s doing an overnight, and my mom’s away on some business trip as of this morning.” 

“Are you implying what I think you are?” He focuses on the wall behind you to keep his pants from tightening.

“Horror movie marathon? Like old times?” If it weren’t for the hope in your voice, he’d accuse you of being cruel.

So he meets your eyes again and stretches his smile as wide as it’ll go. “Of course, sweetheart.”

—

You’re trying to kill him. You must be trying to fucking kill him.

“Whipped cream?” You offer out the can with a mouthful, a bit of cream landing on his cheek. Fighting the urge to use your outstretched arm to pull you into him, Eddie opens his mouth without breaking eye contact. Two can play this fuckin’ game, he thinks. Unfortunately the giggle that slips through your lips makes his knees wobble. 

“So, I have plenty of movies to choose from. Never brought ‘em when I moved out, guess they kept them all safe for me.” You glide over to the crates of tapes next to your television, neatly organized with their titles facing outward. “You in the mood for something really scary first, or something more along the lines of a horror-comedy?”

He’s in the mood for you, truthfully. The short cotton shorts and camisole you’re wearing aren’t helping that, either. “Ed?”

“Hm? Oh, uh, either one’s fine.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him, and through his flushing cheeks he manages to smile back. Through gritted teeth, albeit. 

“You’re being weird.”

“Am not. What about Possession?” An attempt to dodge the subject. 

You seem to let the subject slide, plucking the tape from its case. “Possession it is.” 

The TV yawns to life, and you place the tape into the player, making sure it's been rewound before pressing play. 

“You gonna sit with me, or are you gonna keep being weird?” He rolls his eyes, collapsing on the opposite side of where you are. “Got it.” 

Half of the movie is spent like that, Eddie resisting the nagging voice in the back of his head, begging him to tug you by your ankle onto his lap. You seem blissfully unaware of his internal crisis, munching on microwave popcorn as the TV illuminates the frightened expression on your pretty face. You retreat under the blanket when the scene before you gets to be too much, and for some reason it springs Eddie into action. He crawls from his side of the couch slowly, doing his best not to spook you, and curls his body into your blanket covered form.

“Hello?”

“Hi.”

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Protecting you from the scary movie.”

“My knight in shining armor.” Your body shakes with laughter, and he joins you. When you stop, you start flailing under the blanket, causing Eddie to release you so you can shove the cloth off your head. You inhale the fresh air deeply before once again descending into a fit of giggles.

“I think we’re safe now.” Eddie looks around dramatically, curly flying on either side of his face. 

“Thanks for rescuing me.” You crane your neck up to reach his cheek, placing a tender kiss against his hot skin. “However shall I repay such a noble act?”

Eddie groans under the heat of your breath against his cheek. “You’re killin’ me, doll.”

“Oh?”

“Gonna make me bust in my pants like a fuckin’ teenager.”

–

Your POV

His words propel you into action, quickly moving to straddle his lap, clad only in a pair of gray sweatpants. You can feel his length underneath you, twitching when you make the gentlest of contact. “And here I thought you didn’t wanna fuck me.” 

“What?” Eddie halts the beginning of your movement, grasping your hips to keep you in place. “What god awful crime could I have committed in the last week to make you think such a terrible thing?” He looks at you with a pout, his eyes dark with want, or maybe hurt. 

“It’s what you didn’t do, actually. I was walkin’ around the house in my underwear, Ed! And don’t even get me started on the shorts I wore to the grocery store.”

“You don’t have to remind me.” His breath is labored, like he’s just run a marathon. You grind your hips forward experimentally, and he whimpers in response. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Jus’ wasn’t sure it was the ri- fuck– right time, y’know?” Your grinding has become more consistent, still slow as the clothed tip of his cock prods teasingly against your throbbing clit.

“Mmm, such a gentleman all of a sudden?” You tease, making sure each word is barely audible, said so closely that each of your breaths tickles the fine hairs of his ear canal. “Where’s the spoiled rockstar that takes whatever he wants, whenever he wants, hm?” You’re being mean, but Eddie squirming and panting underneath you spurs you on. “You just gonna let me tease you like that while you mope because you can't touch me? Because it would be, what? Wrong? You’ve never cared about that shit before.”

“Didn’t wanna ruin anything, didn’t want you gettin’ the idea that I–” He stops short.

“Finish your sentence.” It’s a command. You don’t usually take the dominant role over Eddie in these situations, but you don’t hate the way it’s making you feel.

“Didn’t want you thinkin’ I oh- only wanted sex..” His voice is raspy with want, with need, for you, and you’ve never been good at denying him of it.

“But you do, right? You want sex?”

“I want your trust first.” His eyes bore into you as he says it. 

“Eddie,” You sigh, breaking character to caress his sweaty, flushed face. “You have my trust.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I would’ve kicked you out by now if you didn’t.” Eddie throws his head back to laugh, but it comes out strangled when you grind down on his lap again. “So, now that that’s out of the way…” Before you can finish the thought, Eddie lurches forward, one hand to the back of your neck as the other wraps around your waist, bringing your body closer to his as your lips meet. Your tongue slips sweetly into his waiting mouth, coaxing a groan from his throat that you feel between your legs. 

The movie playing behind you is long forgotten, now white noise as Eddie slips the strap of your tank top down your arm, calloused fingers gliding over your soft skin. Despite your earlier candidness, he’s being slow. Gentle. Almost cautious. In a way, it feels like revenge for the way you’d been teasing him, and you can’t help but relish the way it works you up. 

Eddie finally breaks your kiss, giving you time to breathe while he sloppily mouths your throat, eagerly adding teeth when you roll your hips forward again. His hands have a mind of their own, tugging at the fabric of your tank top until it's bunched at your waist, exposing your chest to the warmth of Eddie’s hot, panting breaths. At this point you’re practically riding his lap, begging for friction as he takes his time with you, like he’s memorizing every inch. 

“Ed, please,” Your voice is strained, broken and shameless.

“What do you need, baby?” He coos, sending you into a tizzy. 

“Need you to touch me.”

“I am touchin’ you, sweetheart.” He runs his finger down your arm with a feather light touch, barely registering over the way your entire body is vibrating. 

“You know what I mean.” You’re pouting, getting desperate. “Thought you wanted to.”

“Hey,” His eyes darken as he stills the rocking of your hips with firm hands. “I want to. But what’s the rush, huh? We’ve got so much time now. All night, even.” His voice holds an air of mischief, and you’re putty in his hands. 

“You gonna tease me like this all night? You don’t have the willpower.” You wriggle in his grasp for emphasis, and he muffles his groan with gritted teeth. You cross your arms over your bare chest, huffing smugly. “At least take your shirt off?”

–

Eddie’s POV

He can’t resist the way you ask, pleading with him to give you something. Eagerly he complies, yanking his shirt over his head and tossing it lacklusterly aside somewhere in your living room. “Get that later.” He laughs breathily, and you lunge at him. Before he can adjust to your weight, your teeth have sunken into his neck, contrasting with the plush of your lips placing wet kisses along the column of his throat. Your tongue soothes over the sore marks your teeth have left indented in his skin, branding him as yours. He finds himself excited for the next time he’ll go out in public, wearing the hickies you’ve given him like designer accessories. 

“You wanna go upstairs?” You mumble the question between placing chaste kisses on his shoulder. 

“I dunno, I’m kinda set on the idea of you riding me on the couch.” 

“Eddie, this is my parents’ house.”

“I’ll buy them a new couch.” Before you can argue, he pulls you forward by the neck, his lips slotting into your like puzzle pieces. You seem to give in, letting him win the argument. He can get a couch here by tomorrow if he has to.

–

Your POV

You readjust, sliding the tank top and your shorts quickly from your body, tossing them over the arm of the sofa before claiming your former position, this time with less layers between your throbbing clit and the tip of his leaking cock. 

Before you can work him up too much more, Eddie’s hands are sliding down your form, stopping to lightly twist and pinch at your nipples, chuckling at the way you whine and mewl for him. Replacing one hand with his mouth, Eddie then slips his free fingers to the waistband of your panties, snapping them once and causing you to jump before dipping lower to gather your slick before rubbing agonizing circles on your clit. 

“Jesus, angel, you’re fuckin’ soaked.” His pupils are blown as you’re sure your own are, looking at you with a lovely mixture of lust and love. 

“What can I say, you do it f’me.” You aren’t trying to be sexy, it’s the truth. Eddie doesn’t have to do much to turn you on.

“Feeling’s mutual, doll. Gettin’ me all hot ‘n bothered.” His breath is labored as he speaks, and you can feel his heart racing as you press yourself further into his chest. “Need to be inside you, love. Don’t think I can take much more teasing.” You can’t resist his desperation. You move quickly, letting him shove his sweatpants, now with a damp spot staining the crotch, and his boxers to the ground. His cock springs free from the confines and slaps against his stomach, precum dampening the coarse hair of his happy trail. You lick your lips absentmindedly, and before you can drop to your knees in front of him, Eddie grabs your wrist, pulling you back into his lap. 

“Wait, Ed I’m still– oh, f-fuck.” Eddie drags the tip of his dick against the damp cloth of your panties, causing a sensation that ripples through your core. 

“You gonna say somethin’?” He’s taken control, stroking himself against your hole, fabric doing nothing to cease the waves of pleasure crashing through you. “Use your words, baby.” He’s chiding, condescending as you can only whine in response, the heat between your legs seemingly cutting off the communication between your brain and your tongue. “Tell me what you want, can’t read your mind.”

“Need you to fuck me, baby, please.” The words fall out without decorum, desperate and high pitched like you’re being tortured. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it? Such a good job.” Relief floods your senses when he pulls your panties to the side, sliding himself easily into your drenched hole. You both moan at the feeling, your walls clenching around his thick cock, his grip a vice on either side of you, not yet ready to let you move. You can only shake your head, too cock drunk to form a coherent sentence. Usually, he’d scold you for not speaking, make it harder for you to get off, but you can tell he’s just as desperate to fuck you, possibly even more than you are. “Need you to move.” He tries to keep his voice even, but you can hear it’s close to breaking, begging. You obey, rocking your hips, rolling forward, each movement accompanied by his own, the head of his dick pressing against the sweet spot inside you each time.

“Feels so good, darlin’, takin’ me s- so well.” He knows you value his praise, regardless of how difficult it is to give it between labored breaths. 

“Missed you, Ed.” You sigh the words, brain too fuzzy to muster up the strength to properly speak to him. 

“I missed you, baby.” Eddie’s head falls into the crook of your neck, kissing the marks he’d previously left on your throat while you continue to ride him. “Not gonna last much longer. Need you to cum for me. Please, I need you to cum.” His fingers find your clit without struggle, like he’s memorized the map of your body. He makes tight, quick circles on your clit as he continues thrusting inside of you, and your walls clench more tightly around him as you feel your orgasm climbing. Finally, as Eddie has pulled your face into his, crashing your lips together as his hand and hips stay moving, you fall apart on top of him, legs shaking on either side of his lap as he watches you ride it out, mesmerized by the look of you; sweaty, panting, bouncing on top of him. You’re still shuddering when Eddie lets go, head buried in your neck as his thrusts lose rhythm and grow eager, no longer worried about getting you off. His noises are guttural, coming from the deep recesses of his body. He spills his load inside you, his cum painting your walls as he mutters sweet nothings: “Fuck, shit, you’re perfect, missed this pussy so much, like it’s made for me, ‘s all mine, mine, mine…”

When he’s emptied himself, body heaving with each breath, Eddie lifts you off of his lap, both of you wincing as he slowly pulls out. “Shit!” You fall into a fit of giggles as your bare butt falls onto the couch next to him, suddenly shy about being naked in front of him. He joins you, cackling as you wipe the sweat from your brow with an exaggerated “Phew!” 

“Why weren’t we doin’ that all week?” He says through laughter, and you shrug. 

“Probably because other people live here?”

“Ugh, what a bummer.” He reaches over to the cigarette pack on the side table. “You wanna smoke?”

[shadowcrow]

Neve/Rook

Sunset in the city

Sunset in the City

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were kidnapping me," Neve didn't have to be looking at her Trouble to know she was smiling.

Neve chuckled; fondly of course, before making sure Nora's eyes were still solidly covered by the blindfold. Her girlfriend thought it funny to put her palms over it too, just show off that she really wasn't peeking. Still, it meant a lot to her that Nora trusted her so deeply (as much as it terrified her). Tonight was meant to be a sweet night, so she held on to the former feeling. She'd done her best to plan this out in secret for weeks until it was perfect for the other woman- Neve was determined for it to be a good distraction from their day jobs.

It had gotten off to a bit of a rough start- Nora was late coming back from Treviso with Lucanis and Bellara, barely able to shoot a tired grin at Neve before rushing to clean up. And in Neve's case, Dock Town had been as busy as ever- work piling up even in the middle of Venatori schemes and a double Blight. She was lucky Rana kicked her out, refusing to let her stay in their new office when she had a woman to woo.

Considering how it felt guiding Nora to the small picnic spot she'd set up high in Dock Town… yeah, she owed her a favor for this. Even if it wasn't how they usually operated, if Nora was delighted in the end- it was worth the compromise for a little romance.

"I knooooow where we are!" The sudden exclamation got a chuckle out of Neve. The silly woman had been guessing where she was being taken ever since they'd left the Lighthouse. No matter how much Neve had tried to confuse the rogue- she had an impeccable sense of direction. So, it wasn't a surprise that Nora was able to tell where they were.

Well…

There was also the fact that the smell of Dock Town was damn impossible to replicate. The only thing that had ever gotten it right was Fade Magic evoking the smell in Neve's memory- no one could ever come close otherwise.

She didn't want to mention how thoroughly delighted she was at how Nora knew the smell of her home. The warden had entrenched herself in Dock Town as much as she'd wormed her way into Neve's heart. Dock Town seemed to adore the light she brought to it- the people greeting her as if she was a permanent fixture and treating her just as kindly. Some days, that was not at all, but Nora still fought for it- bled for it, and oh, she loved it.

"Aren't you clever?" She teased instead, squeezing Nora's strong shoulders and pushed her gently to the right spot. Looking around her, Neve was pleased that despite the stumbling on leading a blindfolded Nora through the Eluvian and around her home, they weren't late.

She didn't have to see Nora's face to see that smile. "Maybe- still pales in comparison to you." For a woman who's never been in a relationship before, she was damned smooth with the way she made Neve's heart flutter. Neve couldn't say she didn't like it, it was painfully honest coming from the rogue who'd made off with her heart.

"Can I peek now though?" Nora looked adorable with her pout and hands covering the blindfold Neve had slipped around her eyes several paces back.

Neve fully rounded to Nora's front and took a moment to drink in the sight of her much taller girlfriend. Her hair lit up as the sun cast light upon it, almost like fire and Neve could imagine the way it would play amidst her eyes when she blinked them open in a moment. Perfectly highlighted by the setting sun, slightly impatient but an ever mischievious quick to her lips that drew her in. She didn't smile as much ever since Lusacan awoke so Neve was delighted to be the root cause of the joy Nora found in this moment.

She smiled, rolling her eyes at herself- she'd become a sap ever since she and Nora made whatever had been between them something more concrete. "Yes, you can look now, Trouble," Neve's hands reached up to untie the blindfold while they were face to face.

Pulling away, she didn't get far as Nora's hands caught her wrists and her gorgeous eyes drank in the sight of her in a similar fashion. A bit of a girlish joy filled her chest as Nora's eyes went half lidded after a moment of admiring her; just before she leaned down and placed a sweet kiss on waiting lips. "You look beautiful." Nora mumbled, still holding Neve to her chest which earned her a fond eye roll.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, I look like I usually do."

"Which is beautiful."

"Keep that up, see where it gets you."

"As long as its with you." Nora kissed her again, distracting Neve from her goal but not wholly deviating from it. The aim was to spend a few uninterrupted minutes with this woman- so what if they spent most of it lost in each other?

The light shifting outside of her closed eyes reminded her of her goal. "Alright, stop that before we miss why I brought you here."

"To a random roof in Dock Town?"

"Yes, but this one… has a lovely view." She stepped aside, shifting her hands to hold Nora's and tug her closer to where she'd set up their little picnic thanks to Harding. It endlessly amused her that Nora actually enjoyed some of the dwarf's heinous culinary experiments- it paid off as Nora sniffed around and perked up at the smell of the awful noodle dish hitting her. "And yes, I did bring someyhing for us to eat."

Nora's face lit up in such a gorgeous smile that Neve had to steal one more kiss- she couldn't help it, really. "You did this for me?" She asked in an awed whisper, adoration and something deeper shining on her face.

It scared Neve, a little, a lot actually- she still wanted to have it all with the woman before her. Enough so that she swallowed the fear to return the smile, "With a little help. But yeah, I did it for you."

Nora excitedly pulled her down to the ledge of the roof, boots kicking against the wall as the woman swung her legs before turning that grin back to Neve. "You're a romantic, Neve Gallus," Nora teased, nudging Neve's shoulder with hers.

Neve didn't answer straight away- once again struck by how the sunset highlighted the woman's features. If she focused, she could see a hint of a pointed ear peeking out from behind wavy hair. Nora was comfortable enough with her to just be herself, to be silly- to be vulnerable, to let the mask drop and to just be, no matter how that translated to anyone else. Affable, humorous or the more blunt, stoic side that showed up in extremely rare situations. She'd been lucky to see every shade of emotion from Nora and she cherished all of them.

Neve laughed, disbelieving at how utterly and thoroughly she'd fallen in love despite trying to remain distant. It was as clear as day that she'd failed; a romantic picnic with Nora's favorite dish in Dock Town to watch as the sunset on her (maybe even….their) city? Oh, Nora was Trouble and Neve was helpless against the call.

She answered, once again, "Don't tell anyone." Neve winked at Nora.

Nora entertwined their fingers, clasping her free hand tightly before leaning down to lay her head on Neve's shoulder with an entirely too pleased sigh. "Warden's Honor, I won't tell."

Neve hoped she couldn't hear how her heart raced at the intimate contact. She didn't continue the conversation, choosing instead to relish in this moment of peace as the sun set on another day in Minratuous. Broken and full of danger, but trouble wasn't always a bad thing- in fact, Neve loved it all the same.

[gofancyninjaworld]

The New Ninja Arc So Far (Review)

RIght, they do say that third time's the charm! I'm hoping that ONE and Murata are happy with how this falls on the page this time.

I am SKIPPING any summary: we've seen this enough times. Let's go straight to Meta, shall we?

Meta

Hard stop

So, in a Youtube video I can no longer find, some wag called Saitama a guy suffering from Premature Eradication Syndrome. It's pretty accurate -- he doesn't so much have fights as he has encounters that end when he decides to stick his fist out. The suddenness with which fights can end in OPM is something that really got me into the story. While Saitama is the guy who most often does this, it happens elsewhere, like with the unfortunate Sky King.

Rest in pieces. I'm sure you were a tough monster but, unfortunately, you were just in the way.

And alternatively, fights that you think will end quickly don't and turn into horrifying prolonged struggles that sap combatants' very will to live. So it goes!

This is why you see readers who have been raised on the choreography of shonen and action movies flipping out, alternatively ranting about how a certain 'monster' was 'wasted' and decrying fights that go on for longer than expected. Sorry! Life-and-death struggles aren't portrayed here as action pieces. [1]

I'm always down for some Premature Eradication Syndrome. I was personally delighted to see that right as Flashy Flash was about to shiskabob himself some Tenninto, Blast comes in and stops the whole fight, beating down the Tenninto himself when they try attacking him.

Now this is another definition of 'sudden death'.

The beliefs that enslave

With this, I see that the initial idea ONE had of the Tenninto surviving has come back, albeit in a different way. I'll start with another idea that has returned: the question of what freedom is. Initially, we had Flashy sparing them, first to gloat, second to show off his superior understanding of what the true purpose of the Ninja Village had been, and thirdly, out of a sense of pity for them having had their lives stolen. Which amused them greatly, as they saw freedom as lying in serving a master faithfully.

Gosh, that was so CREEPY.

This time around, as we see Flash turning over Sonic's words in his mind and wondering whether the idea of freedom was an illusion, the narration lets us know that despite being free of the Ninja Village, none of the fighting parties had the slightest idea of what freedom actually meant due to how restricted their upbringings had been: it's a much sadder affair, one of ninjas unable to escape the cruel fates they've been shaped to accept. In a way, it shouldn't surprise us that they fight: we've seen that each and every ninja is convinced that he alone is the best and is prepared to die proving that to be the case, no matter how hopeless it is. It's just lucky for Sonic that Saitama is as tolerant as he is strong.

Freedom is a lot more than merely not being in captivity.

A few chapters ago, we'd seen Blast musing on how ninjas seem fated to kill each other in a struggle for power, only to replicate the same cruel conditions that make more ninjas, and have the cycle repeat anew. Looks like he has decided to step in and try to break this particular cycle. Whether he will succeed is something we'll just have to see.

Fame, power, influence. Kill your way to the top and make more minions fit only for death. That appears to be the real ninja way.

I have many more thoughts on cages, but I'll have to leave it here.

Ohhh, it all starts to add up

ONE's simple observations are really freaking obvious, and yet surprisingly frequently overlooked. One of them is that for someone to share information with you, they need two things: first, to know what it is that you want to know, and second, a reason to share it with you. We were initially treated to the hilarious scenario of Genos popping out of Saitama's wall to smack Flash on the head with a cup of hot tea, having eavesdropped on the proceedings next door, and then the slightly cringe scene of him delightedly inviting Blast to come back to consult Saitama whenever he liked. Ah Genos, you are so crazy, like a cybernetic Oscar The Grouch.

Genos is so much like a proud mother sometimes. He thinks it's because he told the HA to call Saitama if they heard from Blast. Let us not disabuse him just yet.

But not so fast...

Blast knows where Sonic's hideout is: he has it bugged. However, some time after Saitama left, Blast came back to Saitama's, apparently in the hopes of finding a lead on where Sonic's current whereabouts might be. He did not see Flashy Flash get a challenge letter, and was in conference with Sicchi when the former left, so has no idea of where the ninja could have gone to even think of following him. Sonic has definitely not sent Blast a challenge letter as he didn't even know that the guy was around.

ONE has been diligent in not creating a plot hole of leaving Sonic possibly aware of Blast's presence.

Genos sure as hell doesn't know where Sonic might be. However, he knows a few things. One: that Saitama has a stash of challenge letters from Sonic. Two: where Saitama would have put those letters. Three: they have a freakish dog that just might be able to pick up Sonic's scent. And, most important of all, four: he really likes that Blast *has* come back to consult Saitama and so wants to help.

All of this is how Blast ends up presenting one of those letters to Overgrown Rover, sweat beading on his face as he thinks what an incredibly stupid idea this is, and how desperate he has to be even to be considering it.

if it's stupid but it works...

And how, despite its stupidity, it works: the monstrous scenting ability of the dog does lead him to the correct place.

...it's not stupid.

So, who's minding the shop?

This time around, Blast has not told Flashy Flash or Saitama anything about That Man; not his real name (Empty Void), not his relationship to him (former partner), and certainly not his strategic importance. It's clear that Void is still extremely important to some plan that Blast and Sicchi have, and that it is primary importance that Void is wrest from 'God's' clutches, no matter what he's done in the past and no matter the cost.

Ah yes, Void, former partner, ex-brother-in-law, serial child abuser, slave trader, assassin, and now avatar of an evil eldrich being. Totally the guy you want to stick your neck out for.

All Saitama knows about this guy is that he was an exceptionally cruel ninja, buying boys and brutalising them into being either killers to be sold onto criminals or turning them into minions to serve an evil entity called 'God'. He knows that Sonic is being menaced by this cruel ninja and a bunch of ne'er-do-wells, and he's gone specifically to save Sonic. [2]

Saitama...actually taking the initiative to reach out to someone out of empathy... well, I did NOT have this in my bingo list.

Currently, he's alone in Sonic's former hideout, where Void is going to be showing up sooner rather than later. And Blast isn't there to intercede.

Hmmm, I don't know about you, but I have a feeling this isn't going to end well for Void or Blast. I have some popcorn I'm dying to pop and munch on as I read the way this goes down.

Asides

[1] That said, when ONE is writing shonen, he knows the formula well and executes it beautifully: the fights Mob gets into and the sprawling battles of Versus are testimony to that.

[2] FUCK, I AM STILL SHOOK!!!! Like even the mightiest mountain is shaped by wind and water, Saitama is slowly changing! And in this case for the better. Wow.

[ode-to-arecibo]

I think this is a good place to start.

Timelike Empire is my main world, both worldbuilding project and place where actual novels will be set eventually. It's hard~ish sci fi with a timeline that diverges in 2020 and runs to about 2300... so far. So here's Timelike Empire's main sophonts and their sizes.

From left to right, you know this guy it's unmodified human. This one's Solenoid, from the 2050s. You'll see more of him later.

More importantly, Drakes, represented by Viviere Serasifi. Drakes were the first species to develop faster than light communication. Their societies arrange themselves into houses of close relatives which in modern times tend to act as countries or companies, ruling land or holding economic monopolies. Biologically they're hexapods evolved from an arboreal predator like a six limbed jaguar. Their feathers absorb the dyes they eat, which they use to distinguish house identity. Their head feathers are used to emote. Their society is a huge mess when humans meet them, as house Cezyra has taken power and done fascism and completely fucked everything up.

Kaledevids, or star crows, and all three of their sexes, represented by literally any kaledevid as they all look identical. Kaledevids were the second species to develop ftl communication, and the first that drakes contacted. They worked together to produce wormholes and Alcubierre drives. They have three sexes, bachelors on the left, herders in the middle and dispersers on the right. Bachelors were originally confused for crows and assumed to be the only sex, giving them the common but impolite star crow moniker. They're expert navigators and significantly more intelligent than humans or the average sophont, but only living 20-30 years. They're the only other species on this list where being naked is ever a crime and they're drawn here with scarves covering their anuses on their chests and their genitals on their backs.

Sapsippers, represented by a pretty average blue drone, are a hive mind or gestalt consciousness, to the point that after they developed an internet analog the entire homeworld could be considered one person. You would never actually see one alone like this, it would have no idea what's going on. Sapsippers form into thrums, groups which communicate through pheromones and tapping the ground. Thrums smaller than six aren't really functional as people. The race pictured here is translucent. That gave them a big head start on medicine, but more important was their biochemistry. They don't use a separate DNA analog/genetic storage system and proteins, they just have self replicating proteins (though not made of amino acids). This meant that as soon as they could isolate proteins, they could genetically engineer whatever they wanted. They started genetic engineering even before they had civilization, rubbing protein rich parts of other creatures in their wounds to make rough and often dangerous modifications. They're called sapsippers because they exclusively consume a sap secreted by a creature they ranch. If you bring a thrum to dinner you can order sugar water for them, they store energy with D-glucose like us. They often act as ship AIs for ships just a bit too small to carry a lect.

Raptors or raptorslugs or various unpronounceable buzzing sounds, represented here by a conventionally attractive male, were contacted 20 years after humans and are the most relatable to the average human. They invariably use cybernetics to speak English or Universal, as the only sound they can make is various kinds of high pitched incredibly irritating buzzing. Their second pair of wings is reduced to just the muscles they now use to pump their blood and lungs. Their main pair of wings is too weak to fly with, but is now used in semaphore and bird of paradise-eqsue mating dances. They're packhunters.

Moths, which I really should give a proper name to, pictured here sitting on the raptor's tail, evolved on the same planet as raptorslugs. While raptorslugs reduced the second pair of wings, got huge, and stopped doing alternation of generations, moths pretty much didn't change from their basal form except getting smarter. They're the sporophyte form of a common photosynthesizer. They're not always included on lists of the sophonts, mostly because they don't particularly want to be included and they're the least common of these, basically just sneaking in because raptors are so common. You'll never see a moth without a raptor, but plenty of raptors don't keep moths. There are hundreds of species of moth and they don't mind being selectively bred by raptors, as long as the raptors protect their gametophytes. Attempting to understand moth culture is a largely futile endeavor that not even raptors attempt.

Not pictured here, artificial intellects, usually referred to as lects. They're often massive godlike intelligences that shape history. Sometimes they're made of flesh. Distinguished from AI by being at least human intelligence and being able to go eccentric. Eccentricity occurs when a lect is given too much free time and infers that whoever told it to do it's job doesn't actually want that job done so much as they want to be happy. This usually results in them deciding that preserving sophont life is the most noble purpose and then accumulating as many resources as they can. Sometimes they go basilisk instead and the Silicon Hydra has to deal with them.

So there we go, there's the blog started. Coming soon: individual species references.

[ghostbeam]

charcoal artist!dabi x reader, first meeting, takes place before the other drabbles, he is a bit of a creep, his feelings sort of boarder on obsession, dabi is taller than you, suggestive language at the very end but it’s barely anything

He’s staring at you.

Eye’s flickering in between you and the spiral sketchbook in his lap. Concentrated, eyebrows furrowed, hand flying furiously across the page. You aren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed him before with his dark hair sticking in all different directions, black boots heavy on the grass, sapphire eyes piercing, lost in you, in the page. No one’s ever looked at you like this, you think. 

You’re trying to be discreet, looking back down at your book when you see his eyes rise from the page. You’re not retaining a single bit of information as you’re suddenly focused on what he might think of you, how much of you he’s noticed, if you’re sitting weird, if your face looks wrong while reading. You think he’s cute, pretty, almost delicate, all eyelashes. 

You turn the page, not having read the previous one, and then look back up at him. Except this time, your eyes meet. Your breath hitches. It’s a little bit electrifying, paralyzed by his stare like you’re the one who got caught instead of the other way around.

Dabi feels his jaw fall open slightly at the sight of you, staring straight at him. Had you seen him? Did you know? He watches you close your book, not even checking to mark your place. You stand up, still looking at him. Dabi feels his heart drop to his stomach. You’ll call him a creep. You’ll run away. 

“Can I see?” He doesn’t know how he hadn’t noticed you getting closer. You’re all he can focus on, but you’ve surprised him. Can I see? Dabi thinks about the first time he saw you, right under that same tree, some text book bigger than his body sat in your lap. He felt the breath knocked out of him like some lovesick sap, not like himself. He didn’t even know you, but god, he wished for you. He did, like some idiot standing in the middle of the walkway closing his eyes and wishing on nothing, wishing on, well, you. 

Standing in front of him now, he sees now more than he ever has before that you’re every piece of art he’s ever loved all wrapped up in one. One portrait of you would be enough to satisfy him for a life time.

Only that’s not true, because he hasn’t been able to stop drawing you. It’s not enough, to sit across from you and capture your likeness in strokes of black charcoal. Over and over and over again, your cheeks, and your hair, and your lips in a pout, and your eyebrows all pinched. He can’t get enough. It’s almost miserable, except it’s heaven. 

And now here you are, standing over him and looking at him expectantly. Part of him wants to hide it away, keep it for himself, but that’s not fair because it’s you. It really belongs to you, should be yours, but Dabi is nothing if not a little possessive. 

Standing this close to him, you can see all of him, the pink puckered skin that spreads over him in various spots, the bit of black around his fingertips, the sun shining in his eyes. God, his eyes are blue. Could that color ever be mixed, replicated, brushed onto a canvas and still make you feel the way looking into his eyes right now does? You don’t think it could, and you don’t see the point in asking the man who works with charcoal before you. 

“It’s me, right? You’ve been, um, looking over there, so I thought…” You speak, suddenly afraid that it wasn’t you he was focused on. The thought of him being lost in the scenery on the campus behind you suddenly makes more sense than him paying so much attention to you, but there’s no mistaking that his eyes were on you the last time you looked up. 

“It’s you.” He manages to speak, suddenly very conscious of the rasp in his own voice. “You—I’ve seen you sitting there. Couldn’t help myself I guess.”

It’s one way to explain it, definitely less creepy than the fact that he saw you and felt like he might die unless he could put you to paper. 

You hold your hand out, a little impatient, more out of excitement and a little nervousness than anything else. He stands up, and your struck with the fact that he’s much taller than you. He places the sketchpad in your hand, and you force yourself to look away from his face.

You fill the page, almost every blank space filled with your face in different expressions and your body sat in different positions. He had to have been sitting there for much longer than you though to have been able to draw all of these. It’s all you, but it’s him, this piece of him that he’s allowing you to look at, take a peak inside. You want to see more. You want all of him. You want to take and take and take, and not because he has you trapped in his pages, but because it’s not enough to know him through just these strokes and smudges. Even if he lets you keep this, you’ll look at it every day, this piece of his soul, and wish it was the real thing.

It’s the same way he’s felt about you for the past couple of days. 

“Do you have more?” You ask him, a little breathless. 

“Of you?” He asks, but he thinks that it was probably stupid of him to say. He feels exposed, but by his own words and the way you look at both the page and him like your seeing him in a way no one ever has before. 

“Anything.” You shake your head. “All of it. I want to see it all, you—you’re very talented.”

You clear your throat awkwardly, the excitement, the desperation beginning to feel embarrassing. The stunned look on his face makes you feel self conscious, and maybe you should just walk away or leave him alone. 

But he wants to show you everything. 

He writes his address across your palm with a pen he’s pulled from his back pocket. He has classes during the day on Mondays and Wednesdays, but he tells you that you can come by any other time. It’s strange, you think, for him to give you his address instead of his number. It feels fast, and stupid, to meet him at his place without knowing anything but his name. (Dabi. A name that feels like it was meant to fall from your lips, and he would agree). 

But he’s ripped out the page, placed it in your palms, and told you he’ll see you later, like he’s always known you. It’s not enough, to look at your face made from his hands in lines across a page. You want to feel them on you, over your skin, grabbing and taking, your want and his. With a piece of his heart in your hands, you decide that no matter how stupid, or fast, or intense it might be, you’ll go to him.

[sandyca5tle]

Slime HRT Story - Two of One

Prrrrbbbbffhhh was the noise the escaping gas made as I pushed air out of my body, relaxing my form having finally finished a focused night of raiding, finally enjoying the peace and quiet now that everyone had signed off. I had no issue with the noise, but between focusing on my rotation, and doing the mechanics of the fight, along with making and following the calls of everyone else, it could be a little draining.

I checked the time: 22:00, not quite late enough for me to want to head to bed, but I was a little too drained to do much else. I checked through discord, replying to a few people, reacting to a few memes, idly shifting my arms a little as I typed, creating blobs and spikes sticking out from the limb. I spun around in my chair, looking around my room to see if there was anything there that struck my fancy. I found nothing.

Picking up my phone and scrolling though some random apps for a little, I came across a little comic. It was of a slime (because of course I follow people who have slime art) who split themselves into two before proceeding to enact dual mischief on the other characters. This got me thinking though: That was something I hadn’t tried. Despite all my time messing with my shape and form, anytime I had split any slime off of myself, it had become inert goo, it didn’t become a second me.

I sat, thinking for a moment, slowly letting my form coalesce into a nearly spherical shape as I pondered. I was fairly certain there must be a way, after all, my understanding was that slimes reproduced by mitosis, so there had to be some way to do it…

Cores I thought to myself My slime only becomes inert once it no longer has a connection to my core.

It seemed really obvious in hindsight - as much as I was the oozy, gooey slime, I was also the small green, crater-pocked orb that sat inside it, and when it came down to it, that was where ‘me’ was stored. So all I had to do was… make?.... A second core for the second me….

“Well how am I supposed to do that?” I asked aloud

I decided that just thinking about it wasn’t going to get me anywhere, so I hopped from my chair over to my bed, ready to begin trying…. something…

I was very familiar with shaping, so decided I’d start there. I extended a tendril, which slowly began to enlarge at the end, quickly forming a shape nearly identical to my current blobby body. That was the easy part done, now I just had to somehow make a core. 

I focused on the centre of the other body, trying to will a core into being. Slowly the goo began to coalesce and I thought I had it!.... Only to find that I’d just made a dense blob of sap in the middle of the other body…. So clearly that wasn’t going to work.

Of course it wouldn’t work - you’re trying to replicate mitosis but you’re just making a weird shaped part of yourself part of me pointed out

Well sorry for not knowing how to mitose! I’ve only been a full slime for about a month, and no one exactly gave me the how to on the birds and the blobs! I replied indignant

Maybe trying to actually split yourself in two will work? It suggested

Still not exactly sure how to do that, but fuck it, we can try!I focused once again, this time turning my attention inward, focusing around my core - that was the key to all this, so I guess splitting that made sense. I was a little worried that I might damage my core, but hopefully if I let my instincts guide me, that would work.

Slowly, I began to feel something happen in the area of my core, but just as I began to feel something I quickly stepped back. 

“I should probably set some ground rules….” I said “Hmmmm,” I don’t want to end up as two separate people permanently, certainly not without preparation, so… assuming that the new me’s will remember this, we?…they?...you?... will need to reform after a little while - don’t need the hassle of working that out, which also means both of you will need to stay in the room. Other than that no ‘i’m the original’ if this works like typical mitosis both will be equal halves.

“Ok, with that sorted, hopefully everything will be fine?” I spoke, a half prayer to whatever forces were listening

Again I turned my attention within, focusing on my core and splitting it into two. As I began the visualisation again, something within me stirred, and I let what I assumed were instincts take over. Slowly my core split, and I felt myself get hazy, consciousness waning as the very centre of my being became somethings new.

***

As I regained consciousness, As I regained consciousness, I found myself sitting just a I found myself sitting just a little ways away little ways away                         from where I had been before, from where I had been before, looking across at…. myself? looking across at…. myself?Wait, that’s not right…. My Wait, that’s not right….My memories slowly swam back memories slowly swam back together - right, the mitosis, together - right, the mitosis, soI was looking at my other so I was looking at my other self… my twin I supposed. self… my twin I supposed.

“Hello? Oh, sorry, you go first! “Hello? Oh, sorry, you go first! No, you! No, you!” We both No, you! No, you!” We both paused, before both moving paused, before both moving our hand, stopping, then our hand, stopping, then moving to continue, before moving to continue, before stopping again. stopping again.

“Ok, this is ridiculous, not to “Ok, this is ridiculous, not to mention cliche, so the one of mention cliche, so the one of  us at the top of the bed, so us at the top of the bed, so me, will go first,” We both took you, will go first,” We both took a second to process what the a second to process what the other had said, before I other had said, before they continued continued

“So, clearly we both are still ‘ourself’ as it were, memories and all, down to the way we  think,”

“Yeah, seems like it, although as we spend more time separated, we’re bound to digress more from one another as well as the unified person we once were,”

“Which is why we already decided not to spend too long apart, we’re using what is our species’ method of reproduction to mess around this could lead to some weird psychological shiz, we don't exactly know the ins and out of this process for us,”

“Well, we had better get to the actual experimentation then,”

We both paused for a moment, We both paused for a moment, thinking about what to say thinking about what to say next. It only took a moment next. It only took a moment before… The other me? before I started to speak again opened its mouth “Could always start by assigning names will make it easier to think, and later write, about one another,” I offered my twin “Better that just thinking of you as ‘the other me’” I added with a smirk

I nodded. She’d given a sensible suggestion, although hearing it echo back the same words I’d been thinking felt strange, even if it made sense; we’d shared a brain for all of our lives up until now, we were likely to label things similarly. What that did mean however is I hopefully wouldn’t have to fully explain my thought process when I spoke “I’m happy to take Cassie if you’re ok to be Sandy? Wow it feels weird to say that, I…we’ve been using that name as ours for a while, feels weird to kinda give it up to someone else even if that someone else is also me? Kind of?” I gave a shrug to Sandy

“I didn’t expect you to offer to take  Cassie, although I suppose myself planning to take it should have given away what you were thinking too,” I said smiling at the peculiarity of it “But yeah, sure, I’ll take Sandy-” I chuckled “Heh, still feels nice,” I remarked “Anyways, nice to meet you Cassie, I’m Sandy the slime!” I extended a hand, half-sincere, half being a little playful with the situation,”

I chuckled at Sandy’s gesture  “Nice to meet ya Sandy, I’m Cassie also a slime,” I took her As Cassie took my hand, hand, shaking it feeling our shaking it, I felt our hands hands begin to merge together merge together a little, suddenly a little feeling my…our(?) feeling our senses connecting senses expand. and expanding

“Whoa!” I said, quickly pulling “Whoa!” I said before Cassie my hand away “That was quickly pulled its hand away. weird,”

“Yeah definitely,” I agreed “We’ve never touched another slime before right?”

“Uh, no? I don’t think so, or at least if we did I guess it was early enough on that that didn’t happen,” I replied

“Unless it’s a thing to do with us being, well, us,” I suggested

“Could be…” I replied “Uh, wanna try again? It was… funky… but interesting,”

“You pulled away not me,” I teased gently, holding out my hand again, mentally bracing myself for the sensations 

“Well it was weird! Ok!” I replied “Typically holding hands doesn’t connect you to the other persons senses!” I pointed out

I just gave it an ‘and?’ smile and wiggled my hand a little to indicate I was still waiting for her to take it

I rolled my eyes at Sandy’s  shenanigans, before smiling, then taking its hand, feeling Eventually Cassie took my hand, our senses combine once and once again our senses merged more. As our senses mixed, together. I closed my eyes, aiming I focused on the surface of to see how much of our senses we the slime opposite me could share. It took a moment but curious if I would be able to shortly I began to see images in feel what she felt. Focusing my mind, which quickly moved to a little I moved some air be almost like seeing with my own around in my body, extruding eyes, and the slight disconnect a small tendril to expel it seemed to continue to fade as I from, aimed at Sandy’s arm. continued to focus. Unfortunately, Slowly I let the air out, feeling said focus was broken when I it on Sandy’s body, only for it suddenly felt air being blown on to pull its hand away. my membrane.

“What the fuck!” I exclaimed, pulling my hand out of Cassie’s

“Sorry! I just wanted to see if I could feel it while we were all linked and connected and all,” I explained, the tendril quickly receding back into my  arm

“You coulda at least warned me about it!” I protested

“Sorry, sorry!” I apologised “Didn’t think about that, sorry,” I looked down sheepishly

“Ehh, you’re fine, I mean, it was weird, don’t do it again, at least not without warning me, but you’re fine,” I gave a dismissive wave “But maybe we try something else now?” I offered

I nodded “Uhhh, guess we can try to work out if anything got split between us? Memories, Skills etc, or if we both got everything,”

“Uh, sure, we can try that? What memory should we check with?” I replied

I paused, wracking my brain for a memory we could use. It took a while to find anything that wasn’t a blur, and even then it wasn’t a happy memory “Hey, and sorry for picking this one-” “Nah, I think I know which one you’re thinking, I couldn’t thinka anything nice either,” I replied, cutting it off “The ‘raspberry incident’ as it were?”

I paused for a moment, still not used to someone else seeming like they could read my mind, even if I knew she wasn’t actually “Uh, yeah, really could have handled that whole thing better,”

“To be fair, we were only in like, year four at the time,” I pointed out

“True - wait, how old would that have made us?” I asked

“Well if primary school ends at 11 in year 6, then two years earlier would have been 9 and we have a late birthday, so we probably “That doesn’t seem right,” would have been 8?” I said “That I said shaking my head doesn’t seem right,” I muttered “Oop! Jinx!” I quickly called with a shake of my head out before Sandy could get me herself

“What are you a child?” I asked, before receiving a playful punch to my shoulder

“You know I’m just a child with a drinking permit,” I retorted back, my extended arm receding back to it’s typical proportions

I rolled my eyes with a small smile “Anyways that does seem younger than I, or I guess we, I had already started recall,” I glanced over at the moving towards the computer before seeing Cassie computer as I noticed move towards towards the my twin looking “I’ll computer. I shifted my body, look it up,” I told it,   repositioning myself so that my oozing quickly into legs were over the edge of the the chair as Sandy bed, facing the computer adjusted to sit on the side of the bed. It didn’t take long for me to open a browser  and check what age range Year 4 covered “Huh, it really is 8-9, fair enough then, we did not remember ourselves that young huh?” I remarked, peering over her shoulder

“No we did not,” I agreed, closing the browser “We did memories, but wanna check skills?” I said,  gesturing to the computer, “Could boot up a game for us each to mess around in?” “Maybe we try that another time? Assuming we ever do this again,” I replied

“What do you mean?” I asked

“Well, we set a time limit on this for a reason, also maybe why gaming is not such a good idea,” I pointed out “But also, repeated splitting like this might be just as bad as prolonged splitting, at least if we’re trying to avoid actually cloning ourselves,”

I paused, thinking for a moment “Ok…you may have a point there,”

“And actually relatedly, I think some weird brain stuff might already be happening anyways?”

I frowned at her “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, feels like since we split apart it feels like I’m missing something I normally had, but never kinda noticed was there?”

I paused for a second, searching my own mind for a similar feeling, noticing something “I mean, the impulse is to  jokingly say ‘me!’ but I think that may not be far from the truth, now you  mention it does kinda feel like I’m missing something… or someone?” I trailed off slightly with my implication

“Well that’s…. interesting…. would make sense that we are each the other’s ‘missing piece’ as it were, especially as this has only cropped up with us splitting,”

“It’s the ‘never noticed was there’ that I think is most interesting, ‘cause that kind of implies that we  didn’t mess this up/mess ourselves up with this, we just messed with something that brought this to the surface, it was always there, we just didn't notice, or at the very least this didn't cause it”

“I’m hoping that’s the case, but if it is, what does that mean for us?” I asked

I shrugged “I mean, two people in one body, it’s not like we don’t know what that is,” I pointed out

“I mean, technically, we’ve got two bodies right now,” I jokingly pointed out with a smirk, gesturing between us

“You know what I mean!” I rolled my eyes

“Yeah, I know,” I conceded “But I guess you’re right, would make us plural if we are both part of the same person, or whatever our exact deal is,”

“....The next question is would you want to go back to one body again? I mean, unlike, well, I guess other, systems,we can apparently  separate out like this, so only seems fair to check whether you don’t wanna  be stuck together,” I said “I, uh, think I’d prefer to stick together, does kinda feel wrong not having you there now I’ve noticed, but uh, don’t let that sway you, if you don’t want to, then I’m not gonna force you,”

“No, no, I agree, feels, off, not having you around,” I told it “Plus it would be chaos trying to set myself up legally,” I added, attempting to take the edge off the seriousness of the conversation

“Yeah, would probably be better to set whoever up in Hyper City if we ever do do “Hehe, ‘do do’,” I chuckled that-” I rolled my eyes and smiled at Sandy’s childish muttering “- seems like a better place to deal with things like that,” I finished

Still smiling, I nodded “Yeah, it probably would be easier to set myself up there, but no, again, feels lonely not having you with me, so I’d like for us to stick together,”

“On that note, should we try to remerge? We don’t exactly know what we’re doing with that so might be better to start sooner rather than later,” I suggested, moving from the chair back to the bed

“No, no, you’ve got a point,” I said, mimicking the action from the meme catching the smile of recognition from my other self “Guess we just try to push ourselves together, and hope our cores remerge?” I offered

“I guess?” I shrugged “Hopefully there’s some slime instincts that’ll take over when we do and carry the rest,” I said, holding out a claw for her to take

“This is gonna be super weird isn’t it?” I said, taking her hand and shuffling up against Cassie “on 3?”

I nodded “1”

“2”

“3!” “3!”

***

The next time we opened our eyes we were alone again in our room Wait? ‘We’ ‘Our’? I thought to myself

Well yeah, there’s two of us now, or at least, we know there’s two of us, and it’s all both of ours, body and room, so

Oh, yeah, right, sorry, still a little scrambled from the remerging, which I’m glad to see seems to have gone fine, guess those slime instincts came through in the end

Guess so!

It’s kinda weird being able to feel you now

I know right, I can feel you just to my left

You’re on my right, so that makes sense. Oh, what do I call you now? Or I guess, which of the us were you? I think I was Sandy, but that might just be me defaulting since we’re back as one again

No, think I was Cassie, although I can already feel all our memories reconnecting too, it’s kinda weird having your memories, like, I can recall them like they’re mine, but they don’t feel like mine, they feel distant

Yeah, I know  what you mean, I can feel the same from yours too. Well, this is going to be something new for us to work out, but I’m sure we’ll be fine, we’ve got each other to work through it I smiled externally

Hehe, yeah, you’re stuck with me now, and we’ll work things out as we go along, I’m sure it’ll be fine

I chuckled And I’m glad to be stuck with you - anyways, after all that, it’s getting kind of late, and I’m pretty sure all the splitting and merging has taken it out of us, so we should get some rest

Good plan, we can keep working this out on a full tank. Goodnight Sandy

Goodnight Cassie

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

First of all, formatting this sucked! Genuinely spent about an hour or two sorting this out. But I did like the funky setup for it, so. We're also well aware that this might get messed up for all manner of reasons, but we tried ok. Second: So yeah, this is a story i've been wanting to write since June or at least had the basic idea for this. Originally it was going to be from a single perspective recounting the events, and was going to be a writing challenge for me to work out how to convey two perspectives being written from one (although I still might try this, unsure). However, then we found out we're plural, and I/we realised how plural this whole idea sounded (foreshadowing am I right). Combined with the fact that while writing some previous entires, we kept having to correct 'we's to 'I's we decided that this was actually a good way to excuse us messing up our 'we's and 'I's going forward. Would be lying if we weren't a little concerned, given ofc we're talking about a real thing but doing it through the lense of a very fantastical thing, and while obviously parts are drawn from our own experiences, a lot is just what we made work, so may not be a great representation of things, but we tried.

But yeah, wanted to explore what it would be like being able to talk to another one of you way back when, and now, while it isn't quite the same, we kinda got that, which we'd like to think is reflected somewhat in this piece. Idk, we're rambling a little. Anyways, been really looking forward to getting this piece done and our there, even with some of our worries about it, so as ever, hope you enjoyed, and look forward to the next piece of this story.

First - Last - Next Tag List Below Cut (Let us know if you wanna be added)

@calliecwrites, @friedsputnik, @now-entering-the-goop-zone, @scrubbinn, @lilacinthefog,

@mint-and-authoress, @losttodreams, @redroversendjayover, @ariathelamia, @kanithecatdemon

[funktechnisch]

thoughts about viktor acting "out of character" in act ii

spoilers below!

the hexcore is clearly sentient in some form. i'm not a fan of cult jesus viktor, but i think the reason he feels so out of character is... intentional?

the first time he tries to go against it, it takes away the ability to walk it gave him back. when he tries to destroy it, it kills sky. it's clearly "alive" enough to fight back, but i think it's alive in the way that a virus is alive.

i think beyond just influencing viktor and dampening his emotions after the hexcore fuses with him, i think it's also almost like a parasite taking over a host body. the way viktor talks about "cold", like a "recursive impulse", sounds like the hexcore being in a human body for the first time and experiencing the way neurons communicate things like cold and touch to the brain. i think the hexcore also was speaking moreso than viktor when he said affection held him and jayce together-- whether it was intentional or not, that feels like an observation from an outsider's perspective on why viktor has acted the way he always has around jayce

i also say all of this to say that i think the hexcore knows it can't keep punishing viktor to get what it wants. i think it's using viktor's idealized version of zaun, one that has all the resources it needs and a cure for things like shimmer's side effects as bait for viktor. it's giving him the ability to do the things he's always wanted to use hextech for, and i personally think it's using sky as a manifestation to persuade and push him to keep going even when he might stop.

i think the hexcore, like a virus, needs organic matter to grow and expand. i don't know if arcane is going to hand wave away physics, but if it doesn't, matter and energy can't be made or destroyed. you can only covert one to the other; the hexcore may not be able to grow without a host of some kind. it "reached out" to viktor's blood, and it sapped the life from the houseplant viktor tested it on.

i also think it's acting like a virus because of the way it manifests in the people viktor cures. viruses don't have the capability to reproduce by themselves and require a host to replicate their dna and continue to persist as a species. i think it's pretty clear that whatever viktor is doing to heal people is altering them permanently, and to me, it reads like a change in their dna-- just like how some viruses permanently alter their hosts' dna! the herald's followers also all wither away and die once the hexcore is destroyed by jayce-- it's like a weird mix of a colony organism like a mushroom and a virus.

there's also a few aesthetic reasons i think that too. piltover is clearly inspired by art deco, which is a movement that emphasized beauty in technological progress and modernity. it's all mechanical, man-made, sleek, and symmetrical. art nouveau, on the other hand, emphasizes natural forms and the "flow" of structures found in nature. viktor's entire cult compound looks like art nouveau threw up on clusters of cells. and on top of that, there are splotches of the same pattern the hexcore causes inside of the hexgate and on the cog viktor kept (on one side). there's a clear distinction between that compound in the heart of zaun that feels like an alien organism in stained glass and the man-made beauty of piltover

(left image from here, right image from here)

also from a design standpoint, the way the hexcore was designed feels like the head of a bacteriophage. it's a cluster of runes holding the actual arcane whatever-the-hell-this-is inside, just like how the head of a bacteriophage is a protein shell holding in the genetic material

(left image from this site, bottom right image from this paper)

my hope and what i think ultimately is going to happen in act 3 is that singed is going to bring viktor back as the machine herald. the scene in s1 with the machine herald tarot-type card also has the death card underneath it, and i'm hoping viktor regains that sense of self and agency without the hexcore's influence (i have to assume all of the parts of him that were affected by it will be replaced by metal). the first part is all but guaranteed with the way singed spoke of him and vander/warwick (that viktor had to survive no matter what, calling back to how he treated rio when viktor was a kid)

otherwise if jesus moses cult viktor is just how he is now i'm going to become a teemo main

edit// two of the paragraphs got eaten when i copied the images over

[bethanythebogwitch]

Original Australian Pokemon

Another set of fakemon for my Goorda region, based on a combination of Australia and Aotearoa/New Zealand. Links to previous posts at the bottom.

Goordan Tropius, the Eucalyptus Pokemon, grass/fire type. Goorda doesn't have the nutrient-rich fruit that Tropius in other regions feed on forcing them to instead eat the nuts and leaves of eucalyptus trees. This less nutritious diet left them incapable of flight, but their legs are more well developed and they inherited the trees' highly flammable sap. Eucalyptus nuts grow from its chin. Occasionally, the sap within Tropius's body will ignite and explode, sending the nuts flying to sprout new trees far away. Tropius has adapted to be` able to survive these explosions.

Tropius is one my favorite Pokemon designs so I really wanted to make my own version. It is based on eucalyptus trees, specifically stories that the sap is so flammable it can cause the trees to explode if ignited. The explosions helping the trees spread is based on how some species of pine trees need forest fires to spread their seeds. Goordan Tropius would have an ability that lets it survive using explosion moves at 1 hp and maybe convert normal type explosions into fire type.

Purrime, the False Cat Pokemon, ice type. While it resembles cat Pokemon like Litleo and Shinx, Purrime is actually not related to them, having evolved the same body plan separately. They were believed to have been abundant during the last ice age, but a warming world forced them to retreat to the cold mountains.

Purrime evolves to Thunderime, the False Panther Pokemon, ice/electric type. They are believed to have been apex predators that ruled all of Goorda during the last ice age. Since the ice age ended, they have been forced back to the high mountains. The electricity that crackles in Thunderime's body keeps it warm even in the coldest environments and can be released to stun prey as Thunderime moves in for the killing blow.

Purrime and Thunderime are based on marsupial lions, marsupial predators that resembled big cats thanks to convergent evolution. They had bizarre dentition that I tried to replicate and thumbs to grab onto prey. The marsupial lions are ice age apex predators in Australia, but went extinct before humans arrived. Their names combine "purr" and "thunder" with "rime", a type of frost.

Sweesting, the Fruit Pokemon, grass/poison type. This strange fruit Pokemon is covered in microscopic hairs that can penetrate skin and inject excruciatingly painful venom. It uses its cute looks and sweet small to attract other Pokemon looking for food. When the would-be predator tries to attack, they are quickly incapacitated by the painful venom, leaving them helpless as Sweesting attacks.

Sweesting evolves to Gynom, the Deceitful Pokemon, grass/poison type. Its entire body is covered in tiny hairs that break off to stick inside of anything that touches it, continuously injecting a neurotoxin that causes intense pain. They act despondent and weak to attract prey, who mistake them for easy meals. Gynom is known to enjoy the pain of its prey. Their behavior has given them the nickname "dark widow of the woods).

This line is based on the gympie-gympie plant, a tree covered in tiny, stinging hairs that cause incredible pain. They are also called suicide trees due to rumors that animals who touch one of them will run off of cliffs due to the pain. Sweesting is based on the fruit of the tree, which is also covered with the hairs but is apparently edible if they're removed. I don't know who was desperate enough to try that. Gynom is also based the black widow archetype: a woman who will marry rich men then kill them for the inheritance. Its appearance is based on mourning attire. While I didn't intend this going in, this line works as a dark counterpart to other grass types. Sweesting is basically an evil Bounsweet and Gynom looks like a goth Lilligant. Their names are "sweet" + "sting" and "gympie-gympie" + "venom". May change Gynom's name.

Pummelon: the Big Foot Pokemon, fighting type. Pummelon are small and cute, but they pack a powerful kick and should not be underestimated. They are shy and often latch onto one of their evolutions to act as a mentor. This habit makes them very susceptible to bad influences.

Pummelon evolves to Wallopy, the Big Foot Pokemon, fighting type. Wallopy are experienced fighters that value winning over honor. They are tricky and powerful Pokemon that will use sneak attacks and other dishonorable tactics to get an edge. Wallopy often live in herds so they always have a sparring partner present.

Wallopy evolves to Kankrush (male left, female right), the Big Foot Pokemon, fighting/dark type. They are rebellious and violent Pokemon that have no time for the honorable combat preferred by other fighting types. They will take any advantage to win in a fight and will brutalize their opponents. Few things in Goorda can resist a kick from Kankrush. Despite their violent and rebellious natures, Kankrush live in herds and are very loyal to each other. It is difficult to earn the trust of a Kankrush, but if you do you will have an ally for life.

Yeah, I couldn't not do a kangaroo line in an Australia region. I did branch out into other macropods as well. Pummelon is based on pademelons, which look like mini wallabies. It is an innocent child that will be drawn into gang life as it grows. Wallopy is based on wallabies and is beginning to go down a dark path. Finally, Kankrush is based on red kangaroos and is fully on the violent rebel lifestyle. Their dishonorable fighting styles and rebel behavior is based on real kangaroos, who are absolutely brutal to each other when they fight. They will try to drown rivals and male fights often open fights by trying to tear the opponent's testicles off. The gender difference of Kankrush is based on sexual dimorphism in red kangaroos. Only the males are red. Females are gray.

Previous fakemon posts: revised starters, New Zealand legendaries, New Zealand misc, new evolutions, misc 4, misc 3, single stages, non-natives, regional standards, creepy lines, regional variants, birds, early game standards, misc 2, misc 1, Johto starter variants, starters.

[blood-grove]

unnatural bleeding

merfolk au!

previous <- part 2 -> part 3

parings: gaz x reader

chars: gaz, price , soap , ghost

tws: blood, injuries, violence, past abuse, language, slow burn, rude reader.

a/n: sorry if it seems like im rushing i want to have most of the parts be the slow burn rather then the build up again not proof read we ride or die

tags; @chickennn-soupp <3 !

You slept nearly the entire day till you stirred awake at the near by noise of the wood creaking on the dock.

You groaned quietly as you shifted getting ready to pull yourself back into the water the tide had started to come back in and your wounds weren't bleeding much but you couldn't stay here for long anyways.

"What the hell?"

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by a voice as you quickly turned towards it sort of flinching back slightly you weren't close to the dock at all but it still felt too close.

You've been around humans enough to know a a lot things.

You knew how to read and understand English well enough and speak it too it always amazed them for some reason even though you were always capable at mimicking or learning other languages they always saw you as just a slightly higher intelligent animal.

So you knew a phone when you saw one and you knew what it usually meant to so once they pulled it out without much hesitation you dived back under you were starting to dry out a bit.

"Wait wait!-"

You just ignored them as you swam a good distance away it was too risky for you to linger your injuries still fresh and you haven't the slightest clue to take care of them.

-

When he decided to take a break down at the docks for a quick smoke he did not at all expect to see a fucking Orca mer of all fuckin things the words just slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"What the hell?"

They looked like they'd been threw a blender poor thing, They flinched when he guess they heard his voice staring at him now it was hard to see much of what they looked like but he fished out his phone quickly as he flicked threw his contacts dialing a number only to realized the mer was starting to move.

"Wait wait!-"

He cursed internally as you already slipped into the water just as the phone had picked up.

"Price!"

"Fuckin' hell Garrick pipe down-"

"Ah I know- I know- But It's urgent-"

"I swear Gaz if it's about that dog."

"It's not this time I promise! I got another case on our hands."

-

You had found another set of rocks to rest on messing with a shell you had snagged from a coral bed a ways back but you had snagged some seaweed in a attempt to replicate the way humans would bandage you.

It was messy and barely actually helped but it covered the few wounds you could manage to wrap without pain flaring up.

The sudden urge of hunger came over you realizing you haven't eaten in a while your last meal was when you were fed this morning.

Surely hunting wouldn't be that hard?.

It was not that hard honestly,

If hunting was scaring off some poor saps from there kill was hunting you were lucky they mistook your grizzled appearance as experience and strength rather than weakness.

Because you were most definitely weak as you dug into the poor creatures flesh you couldn't identify what it was as you ate it but you didn't care there wasn't a bad taste and you hadn't keeled over from some toxin so you were alright.

You eventually finished off most of it before leaving the rest there you were full now swimming off to god knows where your wounds didn't stop hurting of course which slowed you down greatly.

You eventually found yourself another place to sleep for the night your wounds would hopefully start doing something other than stay open and risk infection or even tearing worse.

What you didn't expect to be waken up to was the sound of the familiar rumble of a boat that was way too close voices that sounded way to clear you were supposed to be too far out for any human to happen upon you.

You were not in the mood for squeal and the shutter and flash of cameras today as you slinked back under the water and swam off.

What you also failed to expect is for the boat to start following you, You initially thought they got bored and were going to turn there boat back around to shore but of course not they were following you.

You just kept swimming forcing yourself to go faster swimming a bit lower hoping they'd lose you but they didn't.

Familiar dread rose in you panic slightly rising as you kept swimming ignoring the burn and strain you were putting on you wounds.

You didn't want to go back brief flashes of memories obscuring your vision dug up from you subconscious The chase, The shots, And the blood there was so much you couldn't breath you were covered in it.

You blinked away the memories you couldn't lose yourself not now as you took a quick breath and that was your mistake as you felt a sudden sharp pain in your tail crying out as you thrashed turning yourself to try to rip out the dart that had been shot into you it was on the smaller side but sharp enough to pierce threw your thick skin of your tail fin.

Fatigue had already set in as you eventually ripped the thing out the boat had stopped muffle warped voices from above the water as the whirr of a machine came to life.

You couldn't fucking go back not like this they'd kill you or worse, Why would they want you bad you were ruined you weren't young and energetic and naive you didn't have the hope of escape you used too.

You didn't have much time to think of your demise much more as thee was another sharp pain in your back before you fell unconscious.

a/n: woooo new pov ee also how would you guys feel if i dropped the height chart of all characters ? (your much bigger than you think orcas r huge so u being half a orca would make you massive enough :3)

[paintingpuff]

Ooh the backstory for the comic sounds so cool! Could you maybe post the short story?

Sure, I'll put it under the cut!

Keep in mind the comic is an adaptation so the story had to go through some changes.

File info says this was made during quarantine which definitely explains why I can't remember writing it

My sister--and most people in our village, in fact--think that my child is not my own. One would assume it was because of the incident a month after my daughter’s birth, where I walked into her room only to find a fairy flying out the window, a bundle in her arms. 

But that’s not why my sister thinks my daughter is fae, because I didn’t tell anyone about that incident. Instead, my sister says it’s because my child is acting odd. It’s a logic I can’t understand, since all children are strange to me. 

I love the way they approach the world with a mix of naivete and eagerness. I’ve even met children that don’t realize that a scrape or scratch is supposed to hurt until you look alarmed. They have no understanding of common sense, because everything they do is for the first time in their life. They’re honest, harsh, and innocent in a manner that is gradually clogged up with new responsibilities and knowledge as they grow older.

Their world is limited, and as such they completely permeate it. It’s fragile and destructive in a way I don’t think can be replicated, not after that window of early childhood has passed.

I see it in every child, and my daughter does not seem any more unusual. But my sister insists that there is a difference, and shakes her head whenever she thinks it’s relevant. 

 My child has broken the table. Not much, she just jumped on the top one too many times and its leg splintered. I’m not going to get it replaced, or get it fixed, or at least not immediately.

She got in a fight with some other children in town, they said something that she just couldn’t understand and she lashed out with a stick. The other kid only had a red mark on his skin from the impact, at least. 

My daughter hates being around others, and spends most of her time back home, where it’s quiet. I once tried taking her to the market and she broke down crying, sitting in the middle of the road. I consoled her there, crouching in the dirt path, and tried ignoring the judgemental stares from people passing by. She would rather spend hours on end at the edge of the forest. I don’t let her explore on her own, and when I’m gone the others say she always stands just before the trees become too dense and stares off, wistfully.

She’s a picky eater, but a very hungry one. I can’t find a consistent set of taste, and each new meal feels like a gamble of my time, but I have to take those chances because I can’t have her eating only eggs and milk for each meal of the day.

She doesn’t like being touched, reacts to my fingers as if they’ve given her rashes, and for the longest time I felt lost because I didn’t know how else to comfort her. 

(I found my ways eventually. When she gets upset, I take my grandmother’s woolen scarf from its rack and wrap her in it. She loves running her hands along the threads.)

After long days of gathering food and walking from errand to errand I’m woken up in the middle of the night by her, and we both struggle to go back to sleep from her nightmares. When she was a baby she wailed as loud as she could, because she knew doing that would bring me to her. Now I’m afraid that I won’t hear her and she’ll think I left her alone on purpose. My friends comment on the bags under my eyes always getting darker. I know they’re trying to remind me that it’s a bad thing.

They call her a changeling, something that has replaced my real baby. The child I gave birth to is out in those woods, the stories say, maybe dancing with fairies or being sacrificed to the devil. But in the meantime, they say I am left with a parasitical replica, a creature that saps me of my energy, food and time. 

I sometimes wonder if they’ve ever had a child before.

I do my best to brush off the people in town, but my sister is more insistent. I know she’s just being protective since my husband’s passing, but something snapped in me with the way she spoke. I yelled that the stories of the fae were all hogwash, and she asked me how I could be so sure. So I told her the truth:

I had already seen the fairy.

I had returned home early from the market, and had seen my daughter sitting at the edge of the forest, like always. Her hand was raised to the air, a single finger stretched parallel to the ground. This didn’t seem out of the ordinary to me, and I was about to head back inside and prepare dinner, when I saw a flicker of movement. 

A tiny sparrow emerged from behind a tree, and settled on my daughter’s finger.

It was difficult to see her face from my angle, but just from the outline of her cheeks I could tell she was grinning from ear to ear. The bird whistled to her, and the child gave a raspy, unpracticed melody in response. She moved her hand around carefully, not wanting to startle the bird, but a part of me knew that something as simple as a jolt wouldn’t make the bird go away. 

The bird was only there for a few minutes before it took off and vanished back into the forest. So my child sat up, stained in green but not caring, and ran back to the house. I entered shortly afterwards, acting casual. She didn’t know I saw her, and she didn’t tell me about the bird then, so I can only wonder how many times the bird had come before. 

Still, gradually the two of us came to a common understanding: she figured out I knew about the bird,  and I knew that she knew.

I hadn’t fully realized we’d had this agreement until my daughter stepped into my house, sharp distress twisting her face. She raised her tiny fingers to show blood spilled on them, but not from any wound of her own. She told me the bird had been missing feathers, had perched on her finger with only one leg, and its song was weaker than before. Her bird calls had already greatly improved, so she imitated the bird’s pained song for me, just to make sure I understood.

She wanted to follow the bird into the woods, see that it’s alright. I crouched down with the scarf, wrapped her in it, and told her that I would find the bird myself. 

So I wandered through the dark woods, the sun already starting to set, a torch in hand and a cloak on my shoulders. I heard a whistling in the woods, and the melody rangs familiar. The bird was still singing, and it didn't sound any weaker, but my daughter has always been more attentive to details; I trusted her. 

I kept walking, kept following the bird, and for brief flickers in the treetops I saw flaps of wings. It was flying slower than usual. It ducked behind a tree, and when I stepped around to keep my eye on the bird, I saw a child. 

It was not my child, but another little girl of a similar age, one with brown hair closer to my own than my daughter’s fiery red. Patterns were dotted across her arms like that of a sparrow’s wings, but her skin was also spotted with bruises and scratches, twigs and leaves and mud in her hair and stuck to her body. She didn't seem to be in pain, and I wondered if anyone had told her that those scratches are supposed to hurt. She hugged the tree, perhaps as a shield or perhaps as comfort. 

I crouched down, and kept my voice quiet. “Hello.”

She stepped back a little, keeping her eyes off of me. 

“Are you the one who plays with my daughter?”

More silence. I swallowed, my throat already dry. “She considers you a very good friend.”

“She’s my best friend.”

The girl’s voice was rough and unused, but that similar constriction in my chest came when I heard it, and I fully realized that this is just another kid I was talking to. I told her what people call me. The girl gave no response, but I could tell that she was relaxing. 

“Are you a fairy?”

The girl nodded. “I can turn into a bunch of different animals.”

“Oh? Like what?” 

“A cat, and....a dog, and, uh...I’m a sparrow a lot.”

“Do you like flying around?”

To my surprise, the girl shook her head. She told me she likes landing on my daughter’s finger. “I like singing with her,” she said. 

I asked her why she doesn’t transform into different animals to do so much more, and the girl looked at me with the most genuine and honest confusion I’ve seen. She didn’t understand the other options, because this was the only one that mattered to her. Her scope was so small, but she embraced it so wholly that I couldn’t be upset. “Are your injuries okay?” I asked instead. 

There was a slight bob of her head, one I almost didn’t see in the dark. “They’ll get healed up.” She pointed over her shoulder to a small ring of mushrooms behind her. I know a fairy circle when I see one, and I nodded in understanding. I left her to vanish in the fog of that forest. 

I returned home to my daughter and told her the bird is okay, and will come again tomorrow. She didn’t make a relieved expression or gesture, but gave a very quiet and polite “Thank you,” so I know that she was grateful. 

Some of the townsfolk think I’ve had my real child switched with an anomaly, a magic changeling. When I first met the bird, I thought that perhaps she was the changeling that was supposed to replace my child.

But whenever the bird appeared again, I made sure to leave some bread and milk for her, as well as leave our window open, in case she ever needed to rest at our home. My child came to me, wanting to sew a pillow for the bird to sleep on. The snacks I left out became more and more elaborate, from a small bit of porridge to pieces of a cake. Some days I would wake in the morning early enough to see that bird curled up in the roughly made pillow of my daughter’s.

I didn’t even think twice before I moved the pillow to my child’s room, setting it next to her head. I watched her and the bird snore peacefully, and I watched as the bird’s feathers slowly retracted and its silhouette expanded in the faint morning light. 

It wasn’t until I saw the two children, holding each other tightly under the warm blankets and roof of their shared house, did I realize that both I and the townsfolk were wrong. 

No child of mine had been replaced, nor were they meant to. I simply had two daughters.