#and regular circles but put it in a function

[mas-que-loucura-menina]

Circlescirclescircles

[saladscream]

Merlin’s forearms are a mystery.

Truly.

Now, in the interest of putting things into context, everyone within Arthur’s circle of daily acquaintances can be said to boast a pair of forearms (except that stable lad who still does a good job with the one remaining arm at his disposal). So, with the exception of Alfred, everyone has a pair of functioning upper limbs. Some of those forearms are hairy, some are smooth. Some are dark, some are pale. Some are spindly, and some are Percival’s. But the one thing they all have in common is that whatever their appearance, they all serve their purpose – and Arthur has absolutely no interest in them beyond the tasks they can accomplish.

Therefore, pray someone explain to Arthur why it is that the sight of Merlin’s bare forearms inevitably makes his mouth run dry.

It is a complete and irksome mystery.

Arthur is inclined to think that they are, on the whole, just regular forearms. But the way they affect him is both baffling and irresistible.

Percival’s battering rams are arguably a thing of beauty, yet Arthur has never had his heart stumble in his chest while gazing upon them wringing laundry. Elyan has the steel arms of a blacksmith for Heaven’s sake, and Arthur’s breath has never hitched in his throat from catching a glimpse of them carrying hauberks and assorted weaponry. Nor has he lost his train of thought from being unexpectedly confronted with Leon’s fine forearms glistening wet and dripping with bath water.

No – all these things have only ever happened for and with Merlin’s forearms.

Arthur would like to think he is suffering from some kind of weird affliction, or maybe some sort of pointless enchantment. But it all feels much too shamefully visceral and instinctive to be so easily excused by exterior influences.

When Arthur tries to be rational about his untoward obsession, he can argue objectively that Merlin’s forearms are aesthetically average. Neither too hairy nor too smooth. Neither too pale nor too dark. Neither too thin nor too thick.

They’re just… long and solid and beautifully virile.

And they make Arthur’s heart do sickening flips in his ribcage whenever they’re on display.

It is just as well that Merlin favours ill-fitting garments that are too long in the sleeves, for otherwise the spellbound prince would probably get very little done – these forearms are impossible to ignore when they’re in the room in all their twin, deceptively strong, masculine glory.

They’re so unchaste somehow. Arthur finds them entrancing.

Who even heard of such a thing as entrancing forearms?!

A mixed clamour erupts in the tavern, half-cheer, half-groan. Merlin has won his arm-wrestling match, much to the uninformed bystanders’ dismay. Arthur’s knights are in stitches, though, and a raucous Gwaine raises Merlin’s victorious arm high in celebration. He rattles him so vigorously in his drunken mirth that Merlin ends up chuckling with his tunic askew and a more plunging neckline than intended.

Which means Arthur is awarded this rarest of impossible visions – a wanton sliver of pale chest – and has to down his tankard of mead a little too fast to put out the nascent heat in the pit of his stomach.

Tagged: @miyriu @neptunesyellowsands @dollopole @shuukichan @merlininthedogpark @kintsugikid-moonysversion @toomanyfanficsbruh @blueliketheclues @solnishkomoon @evedaser @storigami @bertytravelsfar

1 - Merlin's eyes

2 - Merlin's lips

3 - Merlin's hands

4 - Merlin's throat

5 - Merlin's hair

6 - Merlin's ears

7 - Merlin's legs

8 - Merlin's forearms

9 - Merlin's chest

10 - Merlin's penis

11 - Merlin's arse

[parasolladyansy]

Link's hand is an interesting question. There are multiple distinct possibilities.

Something that can't happen is link getting Rauru's arm. He wasn't there to give it to link, and as such link would still have his dead arm.

So that leaves Arceus with these options:

Leave it

Heal it

Give Link a new arm.

Leaving it be is an interesting option. It would leave some questions, namely "WTF happened" on the end of Galaxy team, since Link's arm would be a burnt, scarred, unusable mess. Also, Most Links have been left handed, It'd be an interesting premise if this one went left handed because of necessity.

Healing it outright would be an option, although you'd run into the problem of "why does he not use it" and "What happened to the malice/gloom" Link got severely crippled by Ganondorf, and even with Rauru's arm, he still suffered the effects (namely, the missing 17 hearts) Arceus being able to just fix his arm like that would leave you with the question "why does he not just recover the gloomed strength too?" since both were the effect of Ganon, it would be weird for Arceus to do one but not the other. Rauru got around that dilemma by outright removing and Replacing Link's arm.

Which brings us to option 3, Arceus makes a new arm for Link. This one would be neat because of the same reason Rauru's arm was. Link got a completely new arm from someone, In TOTK, Rauru sacrificed his own, Arceus can't (or more likely Won't) do that, since it'd be more a hoof. So Arcy'd have to design one for link.

For that design We'd have to look at Arceus themselves, Rauru's arm, and the Arc phone.

Arceus has two skin types, The white stuff, and the black stuff. with the black stuff being mostly undersides, where regular animals would have white fur that indicate their "weak spots" (picture of fox attached as reference.)

Furthermore, Arceus and the things it designs (see, Arc phone) are marred with gold and green highlights.

I imagine that the armor bit would consist of more straight, sleek, interconnected lines, like you see on the Spacetime trio, Of course that would be made of Arceus's golden bits. With Arcy's Sigil Where the big circle thing is on the back of link's hand. The arm itself would be white, with gold or emerald green nails, no visible blood vessels, and be mostly white on the top, and black on the palms and bottom of fingers, base of the wrist (again the bottom) and elbow pit. (See pic below, I marked the areas I'd put black bits in red. The rest would be white)

It'd still be super weird which is why Link would probably hide it from the paranoid villagers.

Hmmm! OuO! This is a well thought-out analysis.

I had similar thoughts about the “Arc-Arm” route, though couldn’t figure out how to make it look good, you know? I actually had some more ideas as I was drawing Link - just gotta sketch them out. Certainly will think about what you said, too.

It’s interesting - at first I was like “of course Arceus would heal / replace poor Link’s arm”, but then I had the thought of how it’d be if it was still crippled (Rauru said it was a life-threatening condition, but maybe the Galaxy Team medical corps would be able to treat him, whether by amputation or at least address the life-threatening part). It would give him more of a reason to rely on his Pokémon (I HC he’s ambidextrous, but favors his right), & maybe it would help endear him to the Galaxy Team or the villagers like “the poor boy (ignoring Link is in his 20’s now lol), wild Pokémon must’ve done that”.

However, I think I really do favor the “Arc-Arm” option. Like functionally, it can do the more mystical stuff the Arc Phone can (eg. open the Lake Trio’s caves) while maybe the Purah Pad (that he gets back in a similar way he did in TotK, minus the Construct) can do the more technical functions (eg. the digital map of Hisui).

Cool stuff!

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

when people (esp lower support needs ppl) talk about how autism “spectrum” as in like rainbow color instead of light to dark or green to red single gradient mild to severe n about spiky profile n like. always make me wince.

“ehhhh— no—ye—but no—but also yes—”

n when have this reaction people expect condense that into binary “yes” “no”, n in this case “must” be say “no”

but that not… really right

what be call “spiky profile” exist, right? like pretty common in online autism community, for example, someone struggle with like, put thought into word lot more than what most be expect for someone verbal & high vocab & bubbly & stuff.

so if ask that person rate struggles 1-5, 5 be most difficult 1 be least difficult, may rate like “word communication” (can’t think of word rn) as 5, because they exist in nondisabled neurotypical world so keep be compare to nondisabled NT people n so feel extreme out of place. n let’s say they not struggle with hyper & hyposensitivity as much, so rate as 2.

but what 5 mean n what 2 mean? is struggle be define as how distressed by it? or by more objective amount skill you have in that area?

another autistic person minimally verbal, in both speech & language can only use like, 10 words on regular basis. n at best can only combine 2 words together. but they have very violent n distressing meltdowns so they n caregivers rate meltdown n aggression as 5 n look at language, n go, well struggle lots, but like, meltdown most distressing symptom, n speech language not compare, n their circle of people is people at self contained moderate/severe special education classroom where so many kids fully nonverbal, so hey at least can speak n language some right? so rate it 4.

is first person’s 5 more struggle than second person’s 4 then? after all, 5 greater than 4, right? (rhetorical question)

do outside people get bump first person’s 5 down to 2 or 1 then? even tho they very distress by it in world where expect 0?

what 5 mean? what 2 mean?

.

another example. autistic person diagnose “severe” “profound”

they do not speak by mouth, n also have extreme struggle in use language, so both speech language rate 5. they have big n small routine from which bowl use which brand of specific food eat at what time sit where to big day routines, and meltdown whenever any “smallest” change happen, so that also be 5. they extremely sensitive to touch to sound to clothes to texture to point scream when touch n have feeding tube bc not eat enough malnutrition bc food texture n only have like 3 clothes wear n refuse throw them away will meltdown if do bc change, so that also be 5. they not look at people (not to mention eye contact) not respond to name when called no joint attention, so 5 on reciprocity. can go on n on, but u get point.

n when say they scream n meltdown do mean that n they broken walls n object n furniture n bones n bled n had to ER n had permanent body damage from meltdowns. so also 5.

if put on that rainbow circle chart, would be whole circle.

is not gotcha. these people exist. it not bad negative insult say they exist.

n maybe still too “extreme” of example, but there even more people who maybe few of these, 1, 2, 3, be rate lower number, but majority still be rate 5.

maybe their “better skill” still rate at 4. or maybe even still enough to be 5 - just slightly less intense 5.

know people like this.

in this rainbow spectrum circle wheel. if we go by “amount skill you have/not have in compare to all autistic people”. not all, but many people diagnose “severe” “profound” “low functioning” “high support needs” would have majority 4-5s.

.

want be clear that not saying like, spiky profile false. wrong. not exist. or that linear better, more accurate, that we should go back to it.

n also not say rainbow spectrum circle wheel not have place in high support needs autistic people lives. or that all high support needs autistic people lall struggle with things in different parts (speech, language, cues, restricted interest, repetitive behaviors, etc) all same amount all extremely.

it’s just that. you all don’t understand high support needs people, or people diagnose level 3, “severe” “profound” “low functioning.” n create new way measure autism not going make that magically better or hide that fact.

rainbow spectrum circle wheel can be better system. except a lot you all using it to erase for lack better word, “severity” (or “sheer amount”?) of high support needs struggles, you use that wheel not to talk about how all autism dynamic. you actually use that to erase autism dynamic different. you use it to make us all same. you use it to try get close to us in not accurate way.

autism dynamic different only allowed if it for you.

but whenever we say hey we also pretty different you get mad because that invalidating your struggles, or whatever.

all autistic people similar but this not it.

rainbow circle wheel have use n purpose n improve but this not it.

[xomarzz]

fore your heart

~3.8k words, countryclub!golfer! caleb x black!cart girl! reader, au, semi-strangers to lovers, smut, very subtle mentions of micro-agreessions/racism, yearningg because i’m a yearner if nothing elseee, unprotected sex, dirty talk, a little (i think) aggressive dirty talk, condescending talk, oral (f receiving), hair pulling, black reader intended, minors and ageless blogs do not interact, i WILL block you!!

a/n: this was initially intended for gojo from jjk, but in the process, my lads brainrot decided it’d be great for caleb, especially after the release of his myth. also inspired by a story i read and a few tiktoks i saw about being a cart girl :). idk if i hate this or not yet, so i hope it isn’t bad, and that you enjoy :p ♡ (if it randomly disappears, i decided i hated it)

another saturday morning at skyhaven country club, the kind where the air is warm enough for the golf course to glow, but not quite hot enough to melt you into a puddle. you’ve been working as a cart girl here for the past two summers. you’re good at it, knowledgeable about the different drink orders, friendly but not overbearing, and always quick to get back to the clubhouse before your shift ends.

your boho braids fall neatly down your back, giving you a relaxed yet put-together look. it’s the perfect balance between practical and a little bit of personal flair, stylish enough for the country club, but still easy to manage as you navigate the course. you adorn a crisp white polo shirt that’s a little snug around the shoulders. paired with it is a soft pink tennis skirt that gives you plenty of freedom to move as you dart between carts, and a comfortable pair of well-worn sneakers complete the look, that are ready for hours on your feet. the outfit is simple, but it works, a mix of cute and functional that fits perfectly into the country club’s atmosphere, letting you blend in while still feeling like yourself. there’s something about the way the sun highlights your skin, making the job feel less like work and more like a momentary escape.

your job mostly consists of pushing a golf cart full of snacks, drinks, and golf balls around to rich, annoying, and sometimes rude members. the regulars don’t stand out much, all of them wearing their pastel polos, oversized sunglasses, and acting like the world revolves around them.

you’ve heard their subtle comments, the kind that come with quiet judgment, the looks that linger just a little too long when you pass by like you don’t quite fit into this space. most of them glance at you with that familiar sense of entitlement, as if you’re just part of the scenery, something to be moved around.

except for one.

caleb is different. you don’t know what it is exactly. maybe it’s the way he holds himself, confident but not entirely arrogant. maybe it’s the fact that his eyes are a striking shade of purple, deep and captivating, always seeming to find you, even when you’re not looking. he’s one of the club’s most frequent members, the type who gets a tee time at 7 a.m. sharp and spends most of his day on the course. his gaze doesn’t linger with suspicion or superiority. instead, it feels different, like he’s genuinely seeing you, not just the job you’re doing or the uniform you’re wearing.

he’s been coming in for months now, but it wasn’t until last week that he started making small talk.

it was a brief conversation, something about how hot the sun was, but there was a glint in his eye that made you think he was interested in more than just your knowledge of the weather.

today, he was on the course again. you were circling the green, leaning back on the cart as you fiddled with the radio. you’d seen him earlier, walking towards the first tee, his perfectly tailored golf clothes fitting him in ways that made you wonder why anyone needed that much attention to detail for a round of golf. he didn’t even look like he was sweating.

as you sipped on your arnold palmer, the sound of your name being called made you turn sharply. there he was, caleb, standing at the edge of the fairway, waving you over with a grin that made your stomach do somersaults.

hey, [name]!" his voice was warm and casual, with that friendly charm that made even the simplest words feel like an invitation. "got anything cold in there?"

you smiled and leaned over to grab a bottle of water, your eyes scanning his broad shoulders, his hands gripping the club as if he’d spent a lifetime mastering it. his stance was so effortlessly perfect that you almost felt like he should be posing for a magazine, not just playing a round of golf. you quickly pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on your job instead.

“sure do,” you said, trying to keep it casual as you reach into the cart for a bottle of water, your eyes briefly scanning him, broad shoulders, muscular forearms gripping the club with an easy confidence that makes you wonder how someone so... effortlessly perfect can exist in real life. you quickly shake the thought out of your head. focus, girl.

you grabbed a cold bottle of water and made your way over to him, giving your cart a little push as you maneuvered it between the sand traps. you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes followed your every move, the curve of his lips twitching upward as you got closer. he took the bottle from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours for a split second, sending a warm jolt through your body. his gaze didn’t leave you, and you tried to keep your composure, but his presence made it hard to focus.

“thanks,” he said, cracking the bottle open and taking a long sip. “how’s your day going?”

you shrugged, leaning against the cart, trying to sound nonchalant. “same old. been keeping busy, you know, the usual.”

he nodded, but something in the way his eyes lingered on you made your skin tingle. “well, you’re making it look easy,” he said, his voice lower than before, almost as if he was saying something more than just a compliment.

your cheeks warmed slightly. “you think so?” you chuckled, trying to brush off the sudden wave of nervous energy. “i try to keep it moving. cant stay out here in the sun for too long or i’ll melt.”

he laughed softly, the sound smooth and rich. “you don’t look like you’re in any danger of melting, [name].” He paused, then added, “i don’t mind the sun, actually. it’s... kind of perfect, especially when I get to take a break and enjoy some company.”

you raised an eyebrow, unsure if he meant that as just casual banter or something a little more. you leaned on your cart, trying to hide the slight fluttering in your chest.

"well, you certainly don’t seem like the kind of guy who needs a break. you’ve got the whole ‘effortless rich guy’ thing down." you emphasized the air quotes with a playful roll of your eyes.

he smirked at you, stepping closer as he wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. "i don’t know about that. you’d be surprised how much work goes into this." he gestured to his golf attire, then back to you. "but maybe you’re right. some things just come naturally."

you freeze for a second. that was... direct. "is that so? well, i guess i can’t argue with that." you gave him a teasing smile, then glanced at the golfers behind him. “i better get going before i end up talking your ear off. you’ve got a game to finish.”

his smile never faltered. “i wouldn’t mind you sticking around, actually. i’m not in a rush.”

you paused, taken aback. he was being direct, and it made your pulse race even faster. it wasn’t like him to be this forward, was it? “you sure about that? don’t want me distracting you from your... game?”

his smile turned into something more playful, his eyes glinting mischievously. “well, maybe a little distraction wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” his eyes flicker down to your cart. “you’ve got some time, don’t you?”

you felt heat rise in your cheeks at his implication, your mouth suddenly dry. you hadn’t expected this,, any of this, but something in the way he was looking at you made it clear that the connection between you wasn’t just in your head.

"i’ve got a little time," you said, your voice soft as you tried to hide the nervousness creeping in.

he took a step closer, his tone changing slightly. “good,” he said, his voice quieter now. “maybe you could... take a little break with me.”

you looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and for a moment, everything around you seemed to disappear. just you and him. you didn’t need to question anything more. there was something in the air, a tension that had been building between you for weeks now, and it was finally palpable.

before you could respond, a shout rang out from the far side of the course, and the moment is shattered. you both turned to look at the source of the noise, and caleb let out a frustrated sigh.

“guess i’ll get back to it,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

you nodded, suddenly feeling a little too self-conscious. “yeah, you don’t want to keep them waiting.”

he gave you a lingering look, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “i’ll see you later, [name].” he winked before turning to head back toward his group.

he winks, and you watch him lightly jog away, your heart still racing from the lingering tension in the air. you had no idea where things were going, but you had a feeling that your time at skyhaven country club was about to get a lot more interesting.

weeks pass, and each one seems to build on the last. you and caleb have exchanged more than a few lingering glances and moments that keep you on edge, unsure of what's next. it feels like he is testing the waters, and you can’t deny that you aren’t doing the same.

every time you saw him on the course, there was a quiet understanding between you. it wasn’t always just small talk anymore. the flirtation was unmistakable, and you both seemed to enjoy every second of it. still, there was a hesitation, a line that neither of you had crossed until today.

the sun began its descent behind the mountains, casting the sky in warm oranges and pinks as the last few members of the club finished up their rounds. you’re busy making your usual rounds, drinks, snacks, golf balls to the late golfers, when a sudden shift in the weather took you by surprise. dark clouds rolled in quickly, blocking out the setting sun, as the wind picked up, carrying with it the scent of rain.

you barely had time to react before the first raindrops began to fall, light at first but quickly turning into a torrential downpour. panicked, you quickly jumped into your cart, grabbing the rain cover for your supplies and trying to shield yourself from the storm.

you had to get back to the clubhouse, but the golf course was muddy, and the cart was struggling to move fast enough to outrun the rain.

just as you were about to take a sharp turn, the cart slid on the wet grass and got stuck in a deep puddle. "fuck," you muttered to yourself, hopping out and trying to push it free. but no matter how hard you tried, the cart refused to budge. before you could even consider walking back, you heard his voice.

"need some help?" caleb appeared out of nowhere, walking toward you with his golf bag slung over his shoulder. he was soaked, his perfectly tailored clothes clinging to his body, but there was a grin on his face as though the situation didn’t faze him in the slightest.

you shot him a surprised glance. "why are you out here? the rain came out of nowhere."

"i guess i’m just lucky," he said with a shrug, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "looks like you’re stuck, though. need a hand?"

you couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. "i think i’m the lucky one. i’d appreciate it. i’m not going to get this cart out of here by myself." together, you both tried to push the cart free. but as the storm raged on, the mud only made things worse. soon, the two of you were laughing in between pushes, the absurdity of the situation lightening the tension that had been building between you for weeks.

eventually, the rain was falling so hard that the ground beneath your feet became slick, and you could barely see in front of you through the downpour. caleb sighed and then did something you didn’t expect, he grabbed your hand, tugging you away from the cart.

"forget the cart," he said. "there’s a shelter just a few yards away. let’s head there."

before you could protest, he was already pulling you through the rain, and you followed with no choice but to keep up. the storm so loud that the world felt muffled, the only sounds being the thunder and your laughter. after a few minutes, you both found an old, small gazebo at the edge of the course, small, quiet, and the perfect place to escape the storm.

breathing heavily, caleb pulled you in, you both collapsing into the small space, the rain coming down hard around you. the air smelled fresh, earthy, and cool, but the proximity between you two in such an intimate space was enough to make your pulse race.

caleb stood beside you, his chest rising and falling with each breath, eyes scanning you in a way that made your stomach flip. he steps closer, and everything about the world outside fades away. you can barely hear the thunder over the pounding of your own heartbeat.

"i didn’t think i’d be spending my evening stuck in a gazebo with a cart girl," he said with a teasing grin, the rainwater dripping from his smoky ashen-brown hair. "but i have to admit, this is probably the most fun i’ve had all day."

you glance up at him, and for the first time, you let yourself fully take in the way he’s looking at you. it’s no longer just playful, there’s a hunger in his eyes, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

you shook your head with a small laugh, lightly shoving caleb, then looking out at the rain. "well, it’s not how i imagined spending my evening either."

he took a step closer, the space between you narrowing, and for a moment, the world outside the gazebo seemed to disappear. the storm raged on, but inside, it was just the two of you.

his eyes dropped to your lips, and you caught the movement. your breath hitched, the air between you suddenly thick with something that neither of you had been brave enough to address until now. you’d been dancing around each other for weeks, but now, with the rain pounding against the roof and the quiet intimacy of being stuck together, it felt like the tension had finally reached its peak.

he reached out slowly, push a wet braid out of your face, his touch gentle but electric. his hand lingered on your face, and you could feel your heart racing in your chest. he was so close now, close enough that you could hear his soft breath, could smell the subtle cologne mixed with rain and something just... him.

"how long do you think we’ll be stuck here?" he asked, his voice low, teasing but with an edge of something else, something more serious.

you bit your lip, trying to hold back a smile as the words felt stuck in your throat. "does it matter?"

"no," he whispered, his thumb tracing your jawline gently. "i don’t think it does."

the silence stretched between you two, filled only with the sound of the rain. his gaze dropped from your lips to your eyes, searching for any hesitation. there was none. you felt the same pull, the same desire, and you could no longer deny it.

before you could second-guess yourself, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, soft at first but with a growing intensity that left you breathless. the kiss was slow, exploratory, like you were both savoring the moment like you had finally reached the point where neither of you could hold back anymore.

as the kiss deepened, your hands found their way to the front of his soaked shirt, pulling him closer. his hands slipped around your waist, tugging you into him, the heat from his body mingling with the coolness of the rain.

caleb pushed you up against the glass wall of the gazebo, while continuing to pull you into him, grabbing roughly, as if to keep you from escaping. “i want you��. so badly.” escaping his lips, between kisses. “wanted you for so long.”

he breaks the kiss only for a moment, his eyes full of adoration and desire, searching yours for confirmation.

you nod breathlessly, the tension from the past few weeks finally exploding in this gazebo. “caleb, i want you too....need you” you reply, continuing to kiss and grind into him.

“caleb…please.” you whisper, now with a throbbing heat growing between your legs.

caleb, in a silent understanding, moves his hands from your waist to your tits, grabbing handfuls of both roughly while you continued to grind into him. “so pretty…please [name], need you so bad” caleb says with a whine, removing your shirt. you simply allow him, wiggling your body in aid to his efforts.

he bends over, popping one of your tits in his mouth, while continuing to fondle the other. you gasp and whine back in response, tracing your fingers along his face that was beneath you, running your fingers through his drenched hair.

caleb moves one hand from your chest, trailing down, while tugging down the band of your tennis skirt. “take this off,” caleb purred like a man starved, mouth still full.

he parts for a moment as you obey his request, ditching the now dirty, white tennis skirt. caleb puts one of your tits back into his mouth, sucking harder as he slides a finger in your pussy after pushing aside your now —though not from the rain, soaked panties.

“ahh! shiit” you moan as caleb thrusts his finger in and out of your soaked cunt. his mouth leaves your tit and his finger leaves your cunt, as he stands, picking you up, once again attaching you to the wall as he greedily kisses from your lips, down to your neck, to your chest, finally trailing back down to between your thighs.

“can i taste her [name]” he asks, looking at you with a lust-filled hunger in his eyes. “please” you mewl in response as he dips down, dragging his tongue up and down your soaked cunt while holding you up onto his shoulders. you reach behind you, grabbing onto the wall as he devours you.

“caleb ahh~ fuck!” you moan as you grab a fistful of his smoky hair causing him to moan and suck harder, sending vibrations to your clit.

“this what you wanted [name]?” he moans into you, increasing his pace, flattening out his tongue as he licks stripes from near your ass up to your clit. you buck your hips into his face, only being supported by his strong arms and the wall behind you. “mmm~ yesss!” you whine, bucking harder, while being cautious from only being supported by caleb’s shoulders. “fuck! i’m gonna-“

“you’re gonna what?” he replied condescendingly, continuing his assault on your clit. “what are you going to do? hm?” his tone sets you off, “gonna cum! please!” you scream, pulling him into you harder while bucking into him more.

“give it to me [name], please, you know what i want..what i need.” he whines, continuing his pace aggressively while coaching you through your orgasm. “fuck ohmygod yess!” you scream as your orgasm washes over you, coating caleb’s chin in your essence.

while still coming down from your high, caleb gently lets you off his shoulders, kissing you gently, but aggressively. he’s unbelievably hard now and determined to make you his. he spins you around, pressing you back against the glass wall of the gazebo. he frees himself from the confines of the wet, neatly tailored pants he adorned as well as the high-end briefs, leaving no longer any of the refinements of skyhaven country club, but only the two, rawly, [name] and caleb.

“wanted you for so long, please be mine [name],” he begs, while lining himself along your entrance. the teasing causing you to push back into him. “stop teasing,” you mewl. “not yet, fuck, tell me you’re mine.” he whines, slapping his length up along your folds, and slightly thrusting. “fuck, i always wa~ah” you don’t get to finish your statement as he sinks into you, though the message was well received. his pace starts rhythmic, moving your boho braids aside to kiss you lovingly up your back, as he slides in and out of you. loving the sounds of your pathetic whines.

“fuh~ah caleb faster!” you moan. “not yet. tell me again,” he purred, teasingly, “what?” you cried out, “tell me you’ll be mine, again, [name],” he moans, slowing his rhythmic pace to an aching rate.

“i’m yours caleb! always was, fuuck!” you sob, caleb kissing along your neck, with his pace now showing his hunger and desperation for you. “and i’m yours, always” he releases in a breath, then another kiss to your back, moving back up to push your head up into the wall of the gazebo to maintain his brutal, but loving pace.

you attempted reach around to grab onto his hand against your head, tears brimming your eyes, chest bouncing with each thrust. “fuck, fuck, fuuck! ~it’s so good!” “such a sloppy pussy, fuck” caleb grunts, “my pussy”

“yesss your pussyyy,” you cry out, clenching onto caleb’s dick.

“make a mess on it, on me, please [name], i need it, fuuck!” that was all it took before your orgasm washed over you again, hard, toes curling against the hard floor, and eyes rolling back. caleb continued his sloppily thrusts into you before pulling himself out and painting your beautiful skin with his seed.

you fall limp into his arms as he gently kisses your forehead. he carries you like his bride, sitting you prettily in his lap in one of the small armchairs present in the gazebo.

the rain had ceased by now, leaving the air fresh and crisp, the scent of wet earth lingering in the stillness around you. the calmness of the night caused the world outside to feel like it had paused, holding its breath, just like you both were. you pulled away slightly, both of you smiling softly, an unspoken understanding between you clear. he brushed a wet strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle, and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of everything shifting into something new. now, sitting there together, there was no uncertainty, no second-guessing. it was just the two of you, content in this new chapter, the sound of lingering raindrops retreating into the distance as you finally embraced the quiet peace of simply being together.

~gg ♡

[zaezz-zaets]

I noticed that a lot of people headcannoning Albedo to have long hair and I am one of them ✨ it's just a quick sketch of my hc Albedo cause I have tooooooooooons of homework and i don't have time for a full drawing but eh here it is so my headcanons!!!!

> long messy hair > long and(!) white lashes > full on galvan eyes > dark circles under them > gills on his cheeks, neck and chest > pale skin

explanation for some of them:

It's sorta an aged up Albedo (around 19-21 yo) that adjusted his body for his needs. So, Galvan eyes = no more dizziness and headaches (His old broken and altered Ben's body had regular human eyes, to which he couldn't get used to since of the malfunctioning of his omnitrix copy and cause you know... with horizontal pupils you see everything differently rather than with the circle ones) More gills = more oxygen = better brain functioning = feeling confident and smart again! yay! Long lashes - why the hell not, look at him, he looks so pretty :3 Long Hair - I always thought that if Albedo would something with his hair, he would rather: 1) shave everything and go bald, cause Galvans naturally don't have any hair and he's like 'ewww hair, gross' 2) ain't touching a thing and leave them as is, putting them away with rubber bands or hair clips, maybe simultaneously cutting them with a kitchen knife or something totally not made for hair dressing kinda freaky ahh albedo under the cut

[never-rxne]

I think if Vika had the money and the accessibility ((didn't need 2 yknow be a death trap all the time and avoid getting death trapped herself)) she wld lovee wearing and stacking on jewellery

Like she has her piercings and whatnot but Sevika w stacks of bracelets ?? Bangles ?? Sevika wearing eight gold necklaces, a helix cuff, wearing stacks of beautiful rings. Let's circle back 2 bangles. Goddd like nothing else ab her style changes but she has stacks of jewellery I think she wld !!! And she'd look soo beautiful

YEAH!!!

i'm still bitter they got rid of her cunty choker because think of it like. Sevika. arguably the most resourceful, practical, level-headed, logistical character in the show. whose outfit in EVERY OTHER aspect looks like she patched it together for the sake of efficiency and durability. still decided to fashion herself a leather CHOKER which has literally no other function for her other than letting her SERVE CUNT.

mind you. this is also the woman who decides to take the time to put in a labret piercing in the midst of sociopolitical dissolution.

also i can see modern!sevika being a regular iggy pop with her accessories. piercings, necklaces, rings, bracelets, charms dangling from the carabiners on her belt...you'll hear her jingling towards you from a mile away

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

CIRCLE HAUNTS | TAKAMI KEIGO (HAWKS)

✮ tags ; dead dove: do not eat, gender neutral reader, no quirk au, horror + suspense, themes of cannibalism, implied / depicted cannibalism, noncon kissing + biting/drawing blood and flesh, intentionally open-ended, institutionalized cannibalism, white collar crime, yandere!hawks, 18+

✮ wc ; 9.9k (??)

✮ a/n ; another comm for the beloved @bitchkiss, thank you for your patience and also for letting me post.

✮ synopsis ; you move into a suspiciously nice house in the shizuoka prefecture, and meet your good-looking and unnerving neighbor. nothing is how it seems.

An abandoned house. Mostly functional in the outskirts of the Shizuoka prefectures in a lived-in district. 

On auction for a little less than 7 million-yen. Located in a  not quite suburb. Too much land between acres and backyards to qualify that way. All the other houses are within walking distance though, and there’s no shortage of places to go with a fair bit of time and energy. 

By all measures, a perfectly good house in a perfectly good prefecture. Even now you’re not sure why it went on sale. You stare at it, outside cream colored with a gate and a cat bowl left on the porch from the previous owner - food gone to dust. Something looms on at the doorsteps, the sun-cast shadows almost as dark as oblivion night. In the front yard are wild strawberries and bushes of ivy. 

It’s a home, no matter which way you look at it. 

But you can’t bring yourself to walk inside. 

You placed your bets on this house completely on a whim months ago.

You’d been looking for a house. No that’s not it - it was more that you’d started to look at houses. An important distinction in this instance, because you weren’t looking to move when you began. You wonder if it’s a rite of passage in your adulthood to peruse listings for places you can’t afford. Dreaming habitually of your landlord's body on a cross or of in unit washer/dryers. You weren’t unhappy with your living arrangements when you started doing it, but the longing for autonomy sunk its teeth into you and showed no plans of letting go. So browsing through houses idly, wine-drunk and exhausted, became something of a regular practice. 

It was three months ago, during that practice (and after an especially scathing argument with your roommates) you’d gotten drunk and committed your usual routine. Cracked open a wine cooler, took off your clothes until you were down to your underwear, and cracked open your laptop to look at more property listings. That time, with a little more weary bitterness in your heart than all times before. 

The search process for Japanese property could range  anywhere from uneventful to laughably cruel at any given time. Whether it be listings for upend mansions in Tokyo or worn down one-bedrooms in Osaka. For every house that seemed livable, there were ten or fifteen completely out of reach or in complete shambles. 

When you came up on thee listing initially, it felt too good to be true. A house in Shizuoka with lots of yard space. A house with decent upkeep and an even larger kitchen - and nice tatami in one of the siderooms. A beautiful house in a beautiful area, on auction instead of the normal sale. Some people had bid on it - but the pool was still low. Seven million yen was your final bet - the mortgage would only be a little more than your rent. You’d put your name down on a whim. With a laugh. 

Laughed yourself unconscious and forgot about it until a month passed. A call from an unknown number to your personal cell. 

A call from a realtor. Your name, miraculously, got chosen with the highest bid. The house was yours if you wanted it. You could move in as early as May.

You were convinced it was a scam at first - like any normal person with common sense would be. Immediately rejected. But the realtors assured you over the line that it wasn’t a scam, that the previous owners just didn’t want it anymore. Some kind of emergency. Of course - you didn’t believe them at face value either. So you did some research, went to tour the house, tried to gather information proving the whole thing was a hoax. 

But there was nothing you could find even after plenty of internet sleuthing and asking everyone in your life to help you vet. When you mentioned to everyone, not a single person advocated for you staying in the city. Your job even offered to move you to the Shizuoka branch. 

It was a good opportunity. There’s a coastal path not too far from where the house is. The previous family didn’t take the cat or any of his papers with him - but he’s friendly from what they say. There’s lots of space indoors and out. 

It’s a cheap price, for a good house and you’d probably never get an opportunity like it again. 

Something is wrong with it. You can tell that just looking at it now, despite how picture-esque it is on the surface. It’s a beautiful house. There’s even a second story and a balcony. You could plant a garden in the yard and still have space for grilling outside. 

It’s a beautiful house. 

And something is wrong with it - but you’ll never get an opportunity like this again. 

Maybe you’re more of a conspiratorial person than you thought. 

You look at the truck you’ve hauled all your things in. Your loved ones have been helping you in moving in the rest of your belongings over the last few months - so what's left is mostly lightweight knick-knacks and essentials. Clothes too. The car is parked along the side of the road with the back popped open for easy access. You shake yourself off your thoughts like you’re trying to banish them. 

It’s a beautiful day outside. Early June heat that’s enough to warm but not enough to burn or swelter. The sun beats down on your skin, the sounds of gnats buzzing and the breeze rustling the overgrown fields makes your heart swell. You take a breath and remind yourself it’s a good opportunity. Stretching your arms over your head, your spine cracks. Putting your hands on your hips, you nod enthusiastically, encouraging yourself to try harder. 

“Let’s just rip the bandaid off,” You mutter. You pull your keys from your front pocket, planning on opening the door first before hauling the rest in. 

The sound of an engine makes you turn your head towards the road. A silver car, something compact - drives along the edge of the pavement. Your expression changes as the car starts to slow in front of the house. Your house. You’re never going to be used to that. Are the realtors coming for a visit? Your move-in date was set months ago, so they should know you’re here. 

The car halts to a stop a few feet from your own truck, the tinted windows rolling down to reveal a good looking blonde man. He can’t be much older than you. He lets his arm hang out from one side of the window. 

His hair is pushed back and shiny, and he’s wearing a button up shirt and brown pants. There’s sunglasses resting on top of his head. He kind of looks like a douche, but you try not to let first impressions sour your views. You give him a confused look, instinctively backing away as he smiles at you. 

“You must be the new neighbor. Heard someone was moving into this place after the Nakamura’s left, but there’s always rumors like that floating around here,” He says, talking so much at once. You kind of have a hard time getting used to him.”But I’m glad to see that it’s true. Gets a little lonely out here if all the houses don’t have people in it. In my opinion, at least.” 

You give him a blank stare. He holds out his arm to you through the car window. You have no reason not to take it, and it seems rude for you to decline - so you shake his hand. His grip is firm and assured, golden eyes narrowing into something pleased. You feel a shiver run through you. 

There’s something about him. 

“Uh, do I know you?” You say instinctually. This catches him off guard. He pauses before breaking out into a laugh. 

“I’m Takami Keigo! You’ll hear people call me Hawks too though. I’m your neighbor. My house is..” He points north, “..the one ‘bout two minutes that way. I’m very involved with the community here. It’s pretty tight knit.” He explains to you. It doesn’t reassure you for some reason. You think it’s supposed to. “Is there anything I can help you with? Looks like you’re still moving in.” 

You make an expression of distrust towards him but his smile remains unfaltering.

“I’m alright,” You supplement, trying to keep the peace. “I wouldn’t wanna keep you but I appreciate you coming to meet me.” 

He looks like he’s considering the words, enough to turn himself around and leave. After a few seconds though, he pulls away and parks his car on the side of the road in front of your house. When he emerges from the front door - his expression doesn’t change at all. His smile is disarming. He’s not a terrible guy to look at  - but you wonder what he’s doing so far from the city. 

The way he dresses is metropolitan. His shirt is loose but his pants are fitted like their tailored - expensive fabrics that the big suits from your job wear. He’s wearing slacks when he’s not working, and loafer shoes that don’t seem suited for the outdoors. You’re not far enough in the country to be expecting country folk, but the area is relegated to families. Something suburban and simple about the people you’ve met so far, yourself included in some ways. No one like him. 

You go with your gut about him and keep a distance. 

It might be too early to completely shut him out - and you do want to get along with the people here if you’re going to take permanent residence. Not friendly, but comfortable. You figure it might be less precarious to go with whatever he’s interested in. He’s not going to harm you in broad daylight, not when he’s dressed like that. And you’ve already had so much apprehension since you’ve moved - you’re almost hoping there’s something you’ve overlooked about him. Something to assure you’re just engaging in some self-sabotage about everything. 

You soften your posture and put on a business smile. There’s a ghost of something - intrigue maybe, but it’s gone before you catch wind of it. You wonder if you imagined it. 

“Well if you insist, but I don’t want to leave you with nothing,” You offer to him, as charismatic and naive as you can spin yourself. Neither of you seem to believe it, and the whole conversation feels like a sham. But he hasn’t turned to leave in offense, so you keep going “I do have some drinks inside and I’m curious about the neighborhood.”

His grin widens. 

“June heat like this is the perfect weather for a cold beer. Would be great with some meat,” He hums noncommittally. You try your best not to let your face crack into distrust. “What do you need? Just some boxes carried inside?” 

You nod. 

“Yeah. It’d be nice to only make a few trips here and there.” 

“Easy peasy. You didn’t give me your name though. Little impersonal, don’t you think?” 

You’d prefer he didn’t know it - but perhaps that’s asking too much since you’re letting him move things into your house. You give it to him neutrally, picking up a tote that you can carry along with your keys. Takami picks up your things swiftly. The boxes he chooses are heavy - you know that because of the way they’re labeled. The gesture is effortless though, and you’re not sure if it’s good or bad that you’ve noticed. 

“Pretty name.” He tells you, and you do your best to not make a face. When he notices your staring, he tilts his head to one side. His teeth gleam an unnerving white. You can’t get over the yellow-gold of his eyes. “Surprising, right? But I’m stronger than I look.” 

He waits for you to walk in front of him. Maybe it’s the paranoia, but it strikes you somehow. How he’s trying to appear. He’s perceptive. You walk in front of him, starting down the concrete path to the front of the house. 

“Any reason or are you just a gym buff?” 

He thinks about how he’s going to reply, but doesn’t meet your eyes to look at you when he does. 

“Got into a lot of fights as a kid so I had to get strong. Something like that.” 

When your eyes meet the second time, you can tell he’s seeing what you’ll probe out of him. Wanting to know what questions you’ll ask. 

“Rough childhood, then?” 

Bullseye, if his reaction is anything to go by. He hums and chuckles, still carrying the boxes. You fidget with your keys, the door sounding with a faint click as you push it open with the weight. 

The lights are all turned off. It’s not your first time seeing the house - but the first time seeing it furnished in full. For weeks you’d been putting your furniture in it, and putting food in the fridge to make moving in smooth. All the other times you’ve been inside, you’ve never felt one way or another about it. Living there wasn’t actualized for all those months - but looking at your things, new and old, makes it all feel real. 

It’s a moment too intimate for a stranger to bear witness to and you think he’s probably well-aware. He doesn’t say a word, just observes you from the corner of his eye. When you come out of whatever trance you were just under, he whistles. 

“Nice decor,” He compliments - a fair attempt at lightening the mood. “Where should I put these?”

“Those can just go behind the couch for now, thanks.” 

He listens to you wordlessly, dropping the boxes off. You watch the light of the sun reflect onto him. He’s yellow gold. You think your mother might find him good looking. He stands back up and meets your eyes. Piercing, underneath everything.  He has marks on the corners of his eyes that give you the impression of a bird. A hawk scoping for something to peck at. 

“Two down, about how many more to go do you think?” 

“I think 6, give or take. And then some luggage with my clothes.” 

“Let’s get to work then, shall we?” 

You give him a tight lipped smile. 

“Of course,” 

__ 

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to bring all of your belongings into the house. It’s a short few trips and there isn’t really much small talk for the two of you to engage in during it. 

Once it’s over you, you thank Takami for his hard work and reward him with a beer as promised. You’re sure he knows that it’s only formality - but he’s completely  comfortable in overstaying his welcome. 

The two of you sit on the steps leading up to the front of your house - a cold beer in hand. The sun is starting to hide behind the clouds, and that deep shadow seems to cast once again. Over the both of you this time, and not just on your front steps. You let your nail push the tab of the can open, a soft carbonated hiss sounding as you depressurize it. Takami follows suit. He holds the can up to yours and looks at you before you can drink. 

“Cheers to our hard work,” 

You try not to balk at him, indulging his odd behavior per your own sanity. He’s aware of your apprehension, but his persistence is almost impressive. Another tight lipped smile. “Cheers, Takami-san.” 

You take your first sips in complete silence and don’t look his way for any reason. You need the brief respite of peace to deal with the terrible weight of the pit in your stomach, still lingering. You wonder if his presence is worsening it, or if this is another thing your imagination decides to supplement. The cool liquid and faint sourness of Sapporo ease your mind, if barely. You observe the can in your hand momentarily, pretending to read the label. 

He takes a similarly long sip of his drink and then lets out a semi-obnoxious aah. You peer over at him. 

“Thanks again for helping with the move.” You say, mostly trying to fill the space with conversation so you don’t have to talk to him more than necessary. “I appreciate it.” 

“Of course,” He says, waving his hand around in front of him. “Like I said, it’s a pretty tight knit community around here. I’ll introduce you to everyone whenever you’re free. They’re good folk.” 

There’s something in his voice when he adds the last words. You wonder if you’re overthinking it again. 

“Is that so?” 

He looks at you, but you don’t meet his gaze. “Mm. A lot of people move out here to get a break from the hustle and bustle of the city. Hard-working folks. Families. It’s good to know them,” 

You wonder if you’re being too honest about yourself - but decide that there isn’t anything he could do with the information you’re about to tell him. 

“Interesting. I always grew up in the heart of the industrial district, so that’s lost on me. I even lived in Shinjuku for a while.” You offer mindlessly. “A good change of pace I guess.”

“Oh, we’re the same then,” He offers. You want to ask him to elaborate on what that means, but he brushes over it just as quickly “You’ll like it here then. Just knock on my door if you need something.” 

He looks at you again that time, some knowing in his gaze. You try not to react in either direction, just nodding your head silently as you drink more of your beer. 

“Yeah,” You offer, not looking towards him, “I’ll do that.” 

__ 

For all the evading you down when you speak to Keigo, it was no lie that you spent most of your life living in the heart of the city. 

The hustle and bustle of Musutafu, in the industrial districts of various prefectures - all of that was what you were accustomed too. When you were in your late teens and moved out for the first time - you lived in Shinjuku for two years and worked in the nightlife trying to pay for your tuition. 

You would’ve never predicted a suburb for your future. It’s not the environment you know well. You can’t help but wonder if it’s always so… quiet. 

In the time you’ve started living in your new home, not much has changed in your daily life. 

Your initial paranoia has faded out enough to go about your responsibilities in peace. The previous family’s cat occasionally returns back to the porch, and you’ve started to buy it food just in case it decides it wants to stay permanently. A brown tortoiseshell who is always a little worried. You eat breakfast at the same time, but sleep in later since the Shizuoka branch you’ve moved to is a shorter commute. You still take your daily walks, and sometimes you’ll take some time to visit the coastal path and lay your eyes on the open water. 

(The ocean doesn’t feel as comforting as it once did. Maybe it’s symptomatic of your own grievances, but looking at the endless expanse - your throat closes with the fear of it swallowing you along with it. 

If it did, who would come find you? So far from everything you know?) 

You’re entering into mid June, brushing along the edges of July. The heat is starting to be too much. You can’t stay outdoors for too long without feeling like your whole body is going to melt into the concrete and evaporate you from the inside. The nights get chilly, but the days are long. Humidity makes your skin sticky with sweat, and you’re running up your water bill with just how often you bathe. 

Everything here is by all means much more uneventful. Some parts of it unsettle you. The nights are eerily quiet and before dawn breaks, there’s always a thick head of something perspiring in the horizon like fog.

Most days, the only people you talk to in person are your co-workers. Your friends live back in your hometown, so you only see them on weekends. Same with your family. It’s just you, and some after work dinners. 

But mostly you.

And Hawks. You call him Hawks, in your head and Takami when he speaks. But Hawks feels more apt. 

Hawks, seemingly, does not care what face you show him. Nothing stops him from showing up at your door at one time or another - always before you’re going on your walks.

(You want to ask how he even knows your schedule, but you doubt he’d give you any straight answers.) 

And he doesn’t leave. You don’t think he would, no matter how rough you were about telling to fuck off. How demanding. You don’t want to confront him out of self preservation. It’s not easy to tell him to fuck off for some reason you have trouble placing. When you normally would, when it’d normally be so easy. You do it at your job all the time, to men much more important than him. 

When he comes by, he hangs at your gate and never crosses the threshold to enter. He won’t move unless he’s invited in. You give up on being nice. If you offer him a glass of water, he’ll always agree just to see your expression change. He’s polite to make you uncomfortable. Says please and thank you, and makes conversation with you like he’s interested. An amalgam of reasons that you don’t like his company. Inescapable kindness that lends itself to plausible deniability. 

What do you do for work? Oh, what’d you study for? Where are you from? Where are your parents from?

You never want to answer his questions. But he stays, lingers longer if you don’t. He archives the information, you’re sure - but you don’t know what for. 

He knows what he needs to know. You live by yourself and your family is farther away. But he always wants to know more, always lingers at the gates - waiting to be let in despite how tight you’ve got your fingers on the lock. 

You try not to involve yourself with him more than necessary. You avoid him if you’re walking around the neighborhood for any reason, and you never ask him about himself. He never tells you about himself either - but you can’t be sure why that is. If it’s for your sake or for his. 

You try not to get used to him, but it doesn’t surprise you to see him just outside of your door. Sun pours over him in white rays like melted iron, but he’s the same as always. Same smile, same golden eyes, same unnerving expression. 

He waves at you politely as you let your bodycon bag hang off of one side - a single headphone in as you look at him. You don’t bother smiling. 

If it bothers him, it doesn’t show on his face. 

“Hi neighbor,” 

“Hey,” You reply, walking closer to the gate. It’s almost routine, but you try your best not to get used to it. No point in getting comfortable. “You’re here again,” 

He laughs good-naturedly. “I am. Good to check in, no? Don’t want you getting lonely out here by yourself.” 

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” 

He laughs again, but he sounds more sincere. 

“Going on another walk? You should be careful in this heat, you know. Take care of your body and everything.” 

“I’ll be fine,” You offer, standing in limbo and waiting for him to leave. “Thanks for your concern.” 

“So cold to me,” He quips. So he does know. “Hope it’s a nice little workout for you.” 

You sigh as you make more small talk, mostly tuned out of whatever he’s saying. 

“Got any plans for today, Takami-san?” 

He pauses before smiling to himself. He lets his arms cross over the metal of your gate, but doesn’t flinch when the heated edge touches his bare skin. You wonder about it, go to ask - but he’s talking again before you can. 

“I do, actually.  Gonna go into the shop today and get a new fridge,” He tells you, his grin bright and unusual. You’re surprised. He never tells you anything about what he’s doing, no matter how casual. Nothing more than whether he’s working or not. “I’m out of room in my old fridge, so I’m upsizing.” 

“Out of room?”

You ask before you can calculate the correct move. It’s a slip up, you both know it. His smile widens just barely, nodding his head and closing his eyes. 

“Mm. Ran out of space. A lot of mouths to feed.” He says, and opens one eye playful. “A lot of people live with me. Too big of a house to leave everything all empty.” 

“I wouldn’t have guessed that.” 

“Oh my roommates?” Hawks says, and you nod. His smile gets bigger. “They’re kind of  a rag-tag bunch. Not sociable like me. I can always bring them to meet you - if you’d like.” 

“No need to trouble them.” 

“But you should get to know the people who live here a little better,” He insists, finally backing away from your gate. “It’s good to be familiar with your neighbors. I’ll try and direct people to you. Word’ll get out faster that way,” 

You go again to protest, but he cuts you off a second time - seeming faux apologetic about your upset. 

“You should come over for dinner next week, too. Meet my roommates. At 7 ish, we should all be together. They’d love to meet you,” 

You meet his eyes and wonder if his invitation is as deliberate as you assume. When you peer into them, you confirm that it is. He’s not forcing you. You’re sure that if you rejected him now, he’d return to the way he was. He might fake being hurt, but he’d still visit you at your door. He’d still linger, still be there. He’s inviting you in on purpose. Dinner with his roommates is a less than casual affair - and nonsense for your relationship. 

It’s a bad idea, and maybe a trap. You’re almost positive of that. 

But if you did go - it’d confirm things. You’re positive of that too. You’d know for sure if you were being paranoid, if you went into that house that looks just two minutes away and saw the inside of it. You feel your heart pump through your body as the sun moves away from the clouds. There’s no longer a shadow cast on your face. Just pure, blinding heat. 

You shield your eyes with your hand, all too conscious of the heat crawling up your back and the tightness forming in your stomach. 

“Sure,” You reply, noncommittally - trying not to show too much of any one feeling. No advantages. But you feel like you’ve already lost. “I’ll see if I can make it,” 

“See you then, neighbor,” He waves, finally turning to leave. “Looking forward to it.” 

__ 

He’s true to his word on multiple fronts. Which. Doesn’t comfort you.

 An official dinner invitation, and more importantly - sending out the other neighbors to come and meet you. He’s made a point of making good on both vaguely threatening promises. 

Like your old living arrangements, you don’t go out of your way to talk to anyone here. You’re busier in the Shizuoka branch (though you like it there) and you find that there’s more daily upkeep with the new and improved space. Plus it’s mostly family folks and retired couples - no one you have any business speaking with for more than five minutes. So you’re not really going out of your way to socialize. 

You never planned on being buddy-buddy with any of the people who live in the area, anyway. Acquainted and friendly at best. 

But  in these last few weeks, folks from all up and down the streets have arrived at your doorstep bearing all sorts of gifts. Fruits and desserts and other housewarming things they think you'd find helpful. They come so often even you have a hard time refusing them, though you’ve wormed your way out of any of them coming inside of your home or crossing far-past the threshold of the gate. 

On the surface, they’re good folks like he described them to be. There’s no distrust to the conversation, nothing they want to wield against you. 

But something's off. And isn’t that always the case here? You’re starting to feel like you’re repeating yourself. Stuck in a loop, some kind of odd deja vu. 

It’s two things you notice. They’re both minor, but they bother you. 

The first is the way they describe Hawks. 

Nothing but good things. Which makes you sound like a bitch, even to yourself. But it’s weird. The kind of kindness that doesn’t feel real. Empty praises like a helium balloon. Last week one of your neighbors described him as benevolent and his wife agreed whole-heartedly. Each time you wonder if you’re thinking too much about it. Benevolent isn’t a word you’d use to describe anyone you like, no matter how well acquainted. 

You know people as charismatic as him so you know that it’s something people do. He’s a good guy, but you don’t know him so you say empty, kind things. Still, it bothers you. And it’s like they say. A friend to everyone is a friend to no one. 

It’s uncomfortable that no one shows any sign of disagreement about how kind he is. That there’s no hesitant glances or country gossip. That not one old lady has pulled you in for gossip and wine. There’s no character. No humanity. 

It’s backwards but there’s too much harmony. In the people, in the weather, in the road - paved perfectly with no cracks. Everyday of June since moving in has been nothing but blue, cloudless skies. A bright vivid sun concentrated into one shape, heat casting the illusion of waves. No June rain to water the gardens or wash off the dusty roads. No lightning storms that send all the animals howling, no winds strong enough to dust a city into the sea. 

It’s not nothingness. There’s something to that at least. If it felt abandoned, it might feel less unsettling. An abandoned place is a familiar one, a memory from your hometown. An abandoned place usually means that someone lived there before you. At least ghosts are the promises of people, even deceased. 

Is there something more nonexistent than a ghost, while still being material? You don’t know what that would be. 

Hollow but not empty - the skeleton of a suburb. Like something has been carved out of it and replaced. Unnatural, man-made. It never fails to make all the hair on your neck stand. 

Then there is the other thing. 

Well it’s a stretch. Even you can acknowledge that it might just be coincidence. But nothing here feels like sole coincidence except for the fact you’ve been unfortunate enough to end up here. 

A lot of people in town have… injuries. Particular ones. The elderly couple up the street has a lost leg and missing pinky between the two of them. Of the few other people living alone here - all three of them have some type of it - a part of them completely gone. A lost eye or arm, or visible scars along their sides like something’s been … cut out of them. 

You know how it sounds. Even to yourself, you’ll reprimand your imagination. It’s not something you can discern meaning from, not something to draw conclusions from. This is Japan, a Japanese suburb with little kids playing in fucking mud and wild strawberries and bushes of ivy. 

Maybe the people who retire here are veterans, or maybe Hawks has some kind of charity. 

Maybe it’s something not sinister, because what else could it really be?

You keep trying to convince yourself that this time it really is your paranoia. Because even if you examine that, try to unravel - what does it leave you with but more questions? 

You want answers. Need them so you stop tossing and turning. But even if you’re to get answers, you aren’t sure if you could trust them. You trust your gut - yourself and only yourself. 

You know something is wrong, but just how wrong do things get before the point of no return?

But you can’t help living here if something is wrong. As wrong as you think. If it doesn't go away, what then? What happens to you? Neighbors keep meeting you and people keep being injured and tight-lipped and hollow eyed. Something is always waiting for you in the dark. 

You want to get ahead of it, no matter how fucking sick it makes you.  You have to know or it'll swallow you up. 

You just want to put the whole thing to rest, and get answers. You’d take fake ones to placate you if they were believable, you’d take anything to get your fucking mind off of it. 

But the longer you stay, the longer you live at the edge of the road, the longer Hawks  waves to you as he passes by your place - makes you feel like you can’t rest until you know. 

You need to know for sure. 

_

It rains. 

The day he invites you over for dinner, just two minutes down the street - it rains. Harsh, July rain that sounds like it’s running against the ground. Thudding as it floods the streets and turns the Earth to mush. You couldn’t have expected it. It’d been sunny in the morning, but it’d all gone gray outside while in the office. And then it got darker and heavier, like nightfall early. 

You were soaked on public transport on the way home, tracking mud into your front door as you walked along the grass back to your own home. You had enough time, at least - between getting home and going over to shower and sit down. 

In the two hours of your arrival from the office and your invitation - you pretend for a while that none of it is happening. You read on your couch and pet the cat you didn’t adopt. You listen to music and pleasantly paint your nails up until you have to get ready, because you don’t really want to get ready. 

You’re being dramatic. Or you’re not. But you don’t want to go. You don’t want to know what happens when you get there. You think about canceling. Taking a raincheck because of the weather. Feigning an illness for your not-cat. 

Something is wrong with this place, and it’s bothering you. But you don’t know if you’re prepared to find out what.

You decide to go, because the other option is remaining in the dark. You could tell him that you want to reschedule, but just like you trust your gut on most things - you get a feeling this is the only window you’ll get to find out anything important. Like if you do it another day, you’ll get the same hollow facade as always. 

So you dress yourself slowly. You take an umbrella, and lock your door shut. You even say goodbye to that cat that isn’t yours. You’ll make it back in one piece but something will change once you go.  Both of these you believe with full conviction. 

But you go. You go. 

When you get outside, you open your umbrella up and put it over your head - walking out past your front gate and onto the sidewalk. 

It’s not a lie that Hawks is the neighbor closest to you. He lives within walking distance, less than ten minutes from you. The neighborhood is more compact closer to his place, your own house being more isolated - the first house when cars turn the corner.

You don't know what the house looks properly, only what it's like vaguely in shape and color. On the walk there, it’s the only thing your eyes can focus on. You stare at it aimlessly as it comes into your vision line. 

It’s obscenely big. You don’t know how many people are living inside for that to be the case, but it sticks out. Even in your time in the city, you’ve never seen a house that size just out in the open, so protruding. It feels invasive. 

You feel something forming in your gut as you start to approach the gate. It doesn’t look so different to yours. 

Clearing your throat, you approach.

In the clear distance is Hawks, in front of the open door like he’s waiting for you. It’s still light outside, but the weather makes everything dark. The warm light pouring out of the open door casting shadow onto the concrete above it. Hawks runs to meet you at the gate to open it, not bothering to grab something to cover himself with. The rain soaks his head, makes his hair fall a little flat. 

There’s a girl waiting by the door with him, younger than you both - who’s looking at you with a wide smile. Her teeth are sharp like fangs. You can see them from afar, and better as you get closer. 

Hawks is quick as he unlocks the latch for you. He pulls the gate back and ushers you with his hands on your waist. Instinctually - you hold out the umbrella to cover his head. He gives you a smile as he leads you through to the front of the house. The rain feels like it gets heavier as he does. 

When you’re underneath cover, you’re rushed into the foyer of their place before you can think twice.

The door shuts behind you, the noise of the rain muffled. You miss it and you want to go outside again. You look at the door as it shuts, and the girl with him closes it and looks at you. 

She’s cute. She has to be a student, but she looks nothing like Hawks. He walks over to her and pats her head. 

“This is Toga. She’s the youngest of us. She won’t be joining us for dinner ‘cause she’s going to see her girlfriend, but she wanted to see the new neighbor.” 

You give her a passive glance. She smiles at you. 

“Nice to meet you, neighbor,” She drawls the end of the word, then looks you up and down. “Hawks keeps talking about you all the time,” 

“Aw, c’mon now Himiko-chan, don’t embarrass me in front of our guest,” Is what he says, but he doesn’t look embarrassed at all. “Take your raincoat and umbrella. Say hi Uraraka-san for me,” 

“Uh-huh, I will. Bye-bye,” 

You watch her get dressed for the rain and turn to leave. The brief sound of the rain returns and you’re all but too aware of how much you want to turn back from whence you came. 

Hawks takes your jacket for you. His voice guides you to putting your shoes in the rack, telling you where the house slippers are for guests. 

You’re not particularly trying to listen, but you’re out of your own body. The muffled rain thunders, cries out - makes you jump in your own skin. Lightning flashes through the whole house. 

He looks at you bemused. “Just a little rain,” 

“Right,” You reply, itching to get control of yourself “Been such a clear summer, so it spooked me,” 

“Are you off put easily?” Hawks asks. You close up your umbrella and hang it against a wall “You seem like it,”

You shake the water off your face and neck and shake your head. “Not particularly. Just not used to living here yet.” 

He nods sagely. “You’ll get used to it. But enough out of me, I’m here to introduce you to my roommates. You’ll have to forgive their curiosity, especially Touya.” 

Curiously, Hawks doesn’t proceed with his usual testimony and fair. He doesn’t tell you that they’re good people, like he normally does. Just smiles, coyly, and gestures you to the corner of the hall. 

From the kitchen on the other end of the foyer, you can hear sizzling and cutting - something being hacked away with a butcher's knife. Hawks waves your thoughts away as you turn your head towards it. “That’s Kurogiri. He learned we were having guests so he took up cooking. He’s the best at it, and I’m pretty decent. Himiko too.” 

“Oh, that’s kind. What are we having for dinner?” 

He stops to look at you. He holds his stare too long.“Meat. With some sides and rice, of course. I think it’s steak but Kurogiri doesn’t like western sides. You eat meat, right? You mentioned wanting to barbecue,” 

You hesitate. Something slips in his face, but it’s gone before you can catch it. You nod. “I uh do meat. I try not to lately, to save money.” 

He laughs. “Well, we have plenty to go around. Please eat as much as you like,” 

You frown at him. 

“...Thanks for the offer,” 

He doesn’t say anything more. Doesn’t make a punchy quip, or have a fresh joke like normal. Just nods aimlessly before giving you another familiar business smile. 

“Lets not keep ‘em waiting,” Hawks offers, as he walks you into the basement. The darkness at the end of the stairwell puts a familiar gnawing in your stomach. “I’m sure they’ll want to meet you sooner, rather than later.” 

__ 

They’re not what you expect. 

His roommates. You’re expecting people like him. Metropolitan, overly friendly types. You’re expecting people he gets along with well, and some of them do. 

But they’re nothing like Hawks at all, not even close.

Most of his roommates remind you of the kids living on the street during your life in the industrial districts. Rag-tag bunches who got in trouble with the law frequently, always in and out of the penal system. 

Of his roommates, Shigaraki is the most antisocial. He doesn’t say anything when Hawks drags you to his room. Hawks doesn’t seem to be expecting anything either, but he does ask if the former will join you for dinner. Shigaraki looks you up and down, then laughs for the first time, and says not tonight. Hawks shrugs and moves on.  

There’s Twice too, and he’s kind. Of them, you think he’s the nicest. He’s the closest with Toga. A bad past, he’s fond of Hawks (though you can’t be sure Hawk’s is fond of him.) Apparently he has some kind of condition and disorder, he tells you candidly - but he’s not unpleasant all the same. At the very least, he doesn’t offset some baser instinct to run far in the other direction. 

You meet Magne, an older girl and another man who doesn’t tell you his full name. Hawks calls him Compress, but he introduces himself to you as Sako. He tells you he won’t join you all for dinner - holds your hand, places a kiss on the back of your palm as an apology. The gesture weirds you out, but you try to keep the peace.

Hawks tells you he’s a performer and you believe him. 

The last person you meet is Touya. 

Touya is interesting. He has thick scars along his face and neck, burn marks - but he’s got a handsome face. Hawks seems most hesitant to introduce you two, but they room together. You want to ask if that’s necessary, given that there’s so much space in the house but refrain.

When Touya greets you, his grip is casual and firm. He mostly seems disinterested, except when you’re in closer proximity to him.

 Enough for him to flash you something pitiful. Something knowing, something… like he’s condescending you and pitying you all at once. 

He’s the one, of all of them, that leers at you the most openly. He assesses you, polite in his introduction before turning to Hawks. They communicate something to each other wordlessly and you don’t like any of it. After whatever that had been, Touya simply turned to examine you, shrugging as he agrees to dinner and slinking back down into his room.

After a while, you go back downstairs. Hawks doesn’t tell you anything about his living space. Just sits you in a living room and chats with you until dinner is ready. Chats hollowly about the same pointless dialogue fodder he always does. He stares at you with each word, and you try your best to ignore the shivering it incites. 

He’s relaxed with the charade here, but he keeps it up exceptionally well irregardless. 

Nothing is strange in a way that makes all of it strange. The rain pounds against every window like it’s begging to be inside and the doors sometimes shake when thunder claps. But nothing is wrong in a way you can prove. His roommates are nothing like you thought they’d be, and only serve to prove that you know even less about him than you might’ve assumed. 

He’s quick, on all fronts, to brush over any questions. 

Whatever you want to know about, Hawks won’t let you. But it’s not out of secrecy. If he could tell you to be patient without spoiling your little game, you’re sure he would. 

The pit of your stomach only grows heavier as the evening continues. Even though he hasn’t done anything to warrant your increasing distrust. Nothing feels as it seems. 

It’s nearly eight o’clock when Kurogiri calls you all to have dinner.

Hawks send you into the dining room alone. 

The walk into the dining room feels like it goes on forever. The hallway remains dark. At the end of the tunnel is a kitchen. A brightly lit dining room with warm lights and a table that seats many people. On the table, there's a bottle of sake and glasses. A pitcher of water with lemons cut into it, and plenty of sides. 

On display though is meat. A lot of meat. Meat you can’t identify any one way, and that doesn’t smell like any other meat you’ve ever had. Hawks mentioned steak, and you can’t be sure it’s not that. It just doesn’t look like it from this distance.

 The tables are all set-out, and there’s a steak on each plate. 

Kurogiri is polite when he greets you. 

“Oh,” He says, thinking to himself. “You must be the guest. Sit here. Keigo insisted I sit you next to him,” 

You’re startled, but nod your head. “Nice to meet you, Kurogiri-san,” 

He shakes his head. “The pleasure is all mine,”

You sit at the far end of the table, and let Kurogiri pour you a glass of water. The rest of the housemates start coming into the kitchen. Magne, and Twice, and Touya mostly - along with Hawks at the tail end. He comes around the redwood table to join you. He sits at the very head while everyone sits in what seems to be their own assigned seats. Touya sits directly to your right. Kurogiri sits at the opposite end of the table, glancing at Hawks. 

“Master Shigaraki won’t be joining us?” 

Hawks shakes his head. “Said he wasn’t. You can always bring  him something to eat.I can take care of your guest.” 

Kurogiri pauses, then looks at you. He shakes his head. “Just be careful, Hawks.”

“Have some faith in my hosting skills, Kurogiri,” 

You watch on in silence as Kurogiri fixes things in a tupperware. Master Shigaraki?

“Sorry about the delay!” Hawks offers, all of a sudden. You look at the plate in front of you, and all the bowls alongside it before looking back towards Hawks. “Thanks for joining us for dinner. Please eat as much as you like and consider this our formal welcome to the neighborhood,” 

Touya laughs hard beside you. “Laying it on thick aren’t you, Keigo?” 

He replies in his unflinchingly calm voice. Touya must really get under his skin though, because you can hear his demeanor crack just barely. “Just being welcoming. Wouldn’t kill you to take a page out of my book, I don’t think,” 

“Enough bickering,” He supplements, throwing his hands up. “Let’s eat,” 

There’s a resounding itadakimasu around the table before the sound of cutlery begins to scrape against the ceramic plates alike. 

For the first time all night, you check into your body and stare down at the plate in front of you. It feels like all your blood is rushing to your ears. Your heart pounds, blood thrumming through your nerves as you examine the plate. There’s a cut of meat on it, tender with herbs - and a side of rice and pickled vegetables. The ceramic plate it’s on is red, a deep sort of maroon. Painted birds decorate the sides along with thin leaves and branches. The other cutlery is nice. Heavy stuff, nothing cheap. Even the chopsticks have good weight. 

You feel out of body as your hand reaches for them, swallowing thickly and not looking up at anyone for any reason. From the corner of your eye, you see Touya who seems to be watching your every move. Hawks doesn’t pay you any mind. You wonder why he’s doing so deliberately. 

You use a spoon to help pick up rice. You eat the vegetables plain. It hurts to chew and swallow even though none of it’s dry. The lemon water you drink from the cold glass cup doesn’t soothe your throat. 

The blonde glances at you. He reaches towards the sake bottle and cups circling the centerpiece of the decor and hands you a glass. “This’ll warm you you,” 

You look at him, and briefly at his plate. He hasn’t touched the meat yet. You take the glass from him and sip in long drinks until you reach the bottom. 

But the feeling doesn’t leave you. You wonder if you’re imagining it. 

It’s meat. Beef, from what they tell you. You look up to see Twice across the table, tearing into the flesh with his teeth - and something inside your gut churns hard. Your focus is unbreaking as you see it. Teeth sinking into flesh. The outside a golden brown but the inside raw and red, fatty and bleeding. Twice’s plate pools with what looks like blood. Steaks bleed, you know that. 

And everyone is eating comfortably, like nothing is wrong. Except Hawks. He has yet to cut into anything. He mimics you. He’s waiting for you to eat first.

“You should eat first,” He goes as far as telling you. His smile gleams. Pearlescent white teeth, golden yellow eyes, blackness in his pupils like oblivion. “Feels a little rude as the host.”

Fuck. Something is wrong. It’s screaming at you. The sound of scraping and chewing and swallowing becomes a cacophony as it grates on your mind. You try your best to be unaffected and drink more sake. You keep your voice calm. 

You won’t panic. You can’t panic. You steel yourself. 

“No no, please - go ahead. I’m a little tired so I don’t feel like chewing, is all. It’s fine, I promise.” You offer, then stare at him. “Eat.” 

He looks at you surprised, and Touya laughs besides you. 

He shrugs though, and eats. Unconcerned with you, with refined manners and well practiced etiquette. Hawks is polite when he eats. 

He cuts through the thick hunk of meat with a sharpened knife in precise, even squares. He’s an expert at it. You watch as the outside cuts open. Underneath the brown is tender red. Bleeding red. It’s practically raw on the inside, blood spilling out from the open slices. It has that soft texture of raw meat. Hawks uses his chopsticks to grab the piece, and it yields underneath the pressure - squished between the ends.

You watch as he chews it. You watch carefully. 

There’s delight in the act of eating. He savors when he chews, slow and deliberate and when he swallows - he seems especially pleased. His expression changes after the first few bites, repeating it over and over. You feel bile rise in your throat. 

“It’s good you know,” Hawks hums, looking at you so deeply you feel suffocated. Flying close to the ground to pin you right when you’re least expecting, how typical. It’s so like him it makes you sick. “You should give it a try,” 

You clear your throat. 

“I will. I uh, I do need to use the restroom though.” You say quickly, trying not to heave. “Where would that be?” 

Touya snorts. “Down the hall on your left.” 

Before he can get a word in edgewise - you bolt. You nearly knock the dining chair over with how swift you carry yourself on your legs. You run, speeding off towards the bathroom. Grabbing the handle you nearly slam the door as you hurry yourself inside.

Your chest feels tight as a sense of nausea overwhelms you, mixed with some morbid sense of relief. You were right. You were right about everything. 

They’re taking body parts - this much you’re sure of. You can think of what they do with them. Selling them is a lucrative business. But eating them? It’s a level of depravity so far beyond your scope - you can’t help but feel nauseated. 

Your hands grip the linoleum sink as the fluorescent lights of the bathroom flicker overhead. Your complexion has gone pale with disgust. Your stomach feels especially tight, soured. It’s almost painful how sick you are. Sweat drips along your back and into your shirt - all down the crown of your head. White knuckling the edge of the sink, you stare into the linoleum and take deep breaths trying not to fucking puke. 

You��re in too deep. You were weeks ago. Maybe the minute you clocked that something was wrong about him, like you’ve seen past a carefully set-up illusion. 

By rights of the illusionist, it’s only inevitable that he comes after you. You either die with his secret or become part of his magic act. 

You don’t know which things he wants more. 

By the time you steady your breathing at all, you hear the bathroom door click open behind you. 

You nearly scream. 

Hawks closes the door behind him. The enclosed space of the bathroom makes your chest ache, as you back into the sink. He looks calm. You ready yourself to run. 

His eyes no longer shine. They’re almost dull, copper in color as he stares at you with a lazed smile. It’s like the mask has all but shattered. Leaving you two in this cramped, airless, stale room. Your stomach clenches, muscles tight with adrenaline. You think of all the ways out, but Hawks leans his weight on the door to keep you from running. 

“Relax,” He offers, no longer pretending. “I won’t hurt you. And you’d rather not get the attention of my housemates, I’m guessing,” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You fucking—you eat people?” 

He smiles. “You know, it’s pretty clever of you to figure it out. Most folks here are too stupid to see through it, but you noticed right away. I was really interested in that when we first met,” 

He stands up straight, readying himself to approach you. 

“Stay the fuck away from me,”

He leans against the door and puts his hands up, but not because he’s trying to appear unthreatening. 

“It’s a good gig. Cheap property, more people move in, more business. When someone proves loyalty, they get a cheap mortgage and live for a small price. Up until now, no one just moving has been able to get out of it. Except for the family before yours. Still feel sorry about that one.” 

The dread that washes over nearly has you throwing up. You dry heave. Hawks smile only grows. 

“But you noticed right away, which was interesting. So I started getting intrigued by you. I wondered how far you’d go to find things out, and it was farther than I expected. It’s good to be clever,” Hawks offers. He steps closer to you this time and you go to defend yourself, grabbing something from the counter to hit him with. You find nothing. “Not so good to be nosy. But you couldn’t help yourself, huh? I like the spunk, at least.” 

“You’re a monster,” You say and you mean it. 

“It’s a house full of them. I’m just the spokesperson. And this is a lucrative business practice. My colleagues aren’t the social type, so I handle all the HR. I can’t have some newbie who just moved in fucking the protocol,” Hawks hums, tilting his head at you. “In a way I’m helping you,”

“Helping me? How in the fuck are you helping me?” 

It’s a swift movement where Hawks pins you. You go to move, to hit him - to scream. But Hawks is fast. He’s strong, and completely swift - and when he grabs you to pin you to the sink, you’ve never felt more completely helpless in your life. You bite his hand, but he looks at you steadily. Cold.

“No one will help you even if you scream, so don’t scream,” Hawks reprimands, almost bored. “Cops don’t come here anyways. I would know.” 

He pulls his hand away from you. 

“What do you want from me?” 

Hawks looks surprised then laughs. 

Before you can protest any further, you feel the grip on your arms and body tighten painfully. Hawks ducks his head down against your throat, and in one motion bites. He bites hard. You can feel it break the skin, and that time you scream. You pull away, but his teeth scrape and scrape and scrape till you’re bleeding. 

He sucks the blood and licks the flesh, like someone might eat bone marrow from a carcass. You can feel it then. He’d devour you into nothing if he could - while you’re still all pieced together. You look at his mouth when he pulls away, covered in your blood. Some of the skin he’s taken off, just barely. Your whole body feels feeble as he goes again to lick up and clean the sensitive wound. 

Your knees feel weak as he pulls away. Your blood is on his mouth. There’s surely more on his hands. You feel sick all over again. You’re gonna throw up. 

“It’s simple what I want,” Hawk’s says, and then narrows his eyes at you “I like to play with my food before I eat it,” 

Your eyes narrow. 

“There’s no way  I’d let myself wait around here to be killed.” 

“Who said anything about killing, stranger? Just eating. It’s good practice to eat. We’ll eat together. We’ll eat each other. It’s romantic, don’t you think?” Hawks hums, hugging you to him. And it’s like you’re seeing him for the first time, for exactly what he really is.  “Eating together is a basic facet of a healthy connection.” 

“A healthy connection? You’re insane.” 

He shakes his head. 

“I’m in like. Different things.”

You try again to pull away, but remain stone still in his arms. For now, there’s no escaping. But you thrash and thrash and thrash. It comforts you.

“I’ll never take it lying down.” You tell him, as seriously as you can. 

He gives you a smile. It’s pearly white. It’s unnerving. It’s genuine. Your heart feels heavy as the weight and implications all sink in. Oh, he’ll chase you - if it means getting to eat you alive. 

Thunder strikes the house. The walls shake. July is unwelcoming and gloomy. 

But Hawks’ eyes shine yellow gold like a false sin as he looks down at you in awe. 

“I’m looking forward to it, neighbor.” 

[rea-grimm]

Sleep protector Jinbe

After school, you went straight to work and managed to find a job at the local aquarium, which was one of the biggest and nicest in the country. You loved it here as a kid and you love it here now. 

But now you started working there, not as a tour guide or in the gift shop or as a caregiver and similar day jobs, no. You got a job as a night guard.

It was something completely new for you because you had to adjust your sleeping pattern to it. You never minded staying up late, but never until the very early hours of the morning, and that too regularly every day in a row. Plus, you had trouble sleeping during the day, but you had no choice. 

You didn't sleep well and even when you tried sleeping pills, you had to give them up because they didn't suit you and only made you feel worse. They left you groggy and unable to work properly and you nearly fell asleep at work.

You had regular rounds where you didn't just sit in the office behind the cameras, but you made regular rounds of all the entrances. Some sections were magical in the dark, but others were terrifying.

One was a section that contained some rather creepy fish and creatures, along with one creature that had a nickname as a local monster that no one had ever seen properly, but which appeared as a ghost and disappeared again to god knows where. 

Your sleep problem was still there, but you were somehow able to function with circles under your eyes and a very poor sleeping pattern. At work, you sometimes worry about giving yourself a heart attack from drinking one coffee after another, alternating it with an energy drink.

You were getting ready for your next night shift when you saw the kindergartner finishing their field trip at the aquarium. Among the kids, you saw your little niece, who immediately started waving at you when she noticed you. You walked over to her and she immediately ran over to you so she could hug you.

"Look what we got." She smiled at you and showed you a teddy bear that was sort of a combination of a teddy bear and a whale shark. 

"He's very cute," you complimented her. 

"You think so? It's for you! He's so cute, I'm sure he'll make you sleep better and protect you. He'll be there to help you and keep you company so you won't be scared to be alone," she said, stuffing the bear into your arms. 

You wanted to give it back to her, but her teacher had already started leading them on. So you ruffled her hair, thanked her for the teddy bear, said goodbye, and sent her to the others so they wouldn't run away.

You took the teddy bear and walked it over to the security office where you relieved the day shift. 

"Nice teddy bear," smiled an elderly colleague who vacated your chair and was about to go home.

"Thanks, he's another addition to the night watch," you laughed lightly. 

You sat down at your desk, checking the cameras before looking at the teddy bear. You picked him up and stroked his short blue fur. The teddy bear had clear signs of a whale shark, with white spots on its back. He was wearing an orange robe and had black fur on his head. In addition, large bottom fangs peeked out of his mouth and he had a red sun mark on his chest.

You had no idea what exactly the stuffed animal was supposed to represent, and you even thought it was the dreaded sea monster aquarium, but that didn't seem likely. Plus, it was quite cute and, as your niece said, the teddy bear was soft and nice to touch. In the end, you decided to keep the bear. 

You hugged it and put your head on it and you thought the teddy smelled like the sea itself, but in a nice way.

Your night shift went by pretty quickly that day, and you didn't even have to pour that much caffeine into yourself. After changing with the next patrol, you went straight home with the teddy bear in your bag. 

You changed, took a quick shower, and fell into bed. After a long time, you fell asleep almost immediately with the teddy bear in your hand.

In your dream, you were in a dark building that felt like a giant maze in which nightmares haunted you. After a while, the walls turned to glass, with dark water on the other side, in which you saw scary, almost grotesque fish that sent shivers down your spine. 

You came to a crossroads where you saw a giant shark with a mouth full of sharp teeth swimming towards you in the transparent wall. It looked like it was swimming through the glass wall and heading towards you. 

Automatically, you reached for the gun you kept on your belt while you worked, but there was nothing there. Plus, you felt like your feet were frozen to the ground and you couldn't get away. You wanted to duck so the shark would miss you when someone else appeared. 

He jumped in front of you and hit the shark with such force that it shattered like a sheet of glass into shards that shattered on the ground. The surrounding labyrinth dissolved in the same way, and now you were on the beach of an exotic island where the sun was shining, warming your soul. 

Your rescuer was much larger than you, had blue skin and looked like a combination of man and fish, or rather a whale shark. When you looked at him, you realized he looked like a teddy bear. 

Fish-man made sure you were okay and wanted to make sure you weren't hurt in any way. You were sure he introduced himself to you afterwards, but all you remembered was that he was your protector.

He took you on adventures in your dreams and you even had relaxing moments with him. You visited all sorts of islands and he even took you underwater when you were in a giant bubble and he swam around and showed you everything. 

It was strange to wake up full of energy and strength. You felt surprisingly good and still had plenty of time to yourself before it was time to go to work. 

From that day on you slept much better and you also clearly cut down on caffeine consumption and felt better. You even stopped being afraid of the sea monster at work and the shadows the exposures cast. You were calmer and more focused. Plus, you started to look forward to work more and more. And now you weren't alone. You always brought a stuffed animal with you. 

From that day on, your fish guardian began to teach you karate in your dreams, which you envied. You admired his talent and always watched him practice or show you some kind of moves.

In addition, he thought that karate would be useful in your new profession when you couldn't rely on your weapon and that you would be able to defend yourself better. 

It was almost surprising to you that even though he taught you in your dreams, you knew the moves in the real, waking world when you tried to imitate them. Sometimes you found yourself repeating the moves when you were alone at work away from the cameras. 

One night on your watch, you had your first incident. Some troublemakers got in through one of the side doors and were walking the halls with bottles of alcohol. 

They were making a terrible racket and it wasn't difficult to figure out what part of the aquarium they were in. Plus, they were leaving a trail of garbage behind them. 

You reported it and went to chase them away, they had no business being there. At first, you warned them to leave quietly, but they didn't listen to you but rather made fun of you. One of them was so drunk he had the nerve to attack you. 

At that moment, you finally used karate and easily pacified the rioters. You handcuffed them and then handed them over to the police.

For this act you earned praise and as a gift from the aquarium management you were given a seaside holiday in a five-star hotel with all the luxuries available there. 

You enjoyed your holiday to the full and for the first time in a long time, you could sleep at night, which was a strange feeling at first. But you soon got used to it. You even had your stuffed animal with you for good luck.

You decided to use one day to go snorkelling at the coral, which was right on the beach next to the hotel. You swam and looked at the life underwater, completely forgetting how far you had gotten from shore. 

Something flashed in front of you, you thought it was a cuttlefish, but when you lifted your head to watch it, you were startled as a shark swam right in front of you. You panicked and had no idea what to do. You were frozen in place.

You feared that was the end of you as someone pulled you aside with a great force and like a torpedo, you were led to the shore. The speed almost took your breath away and water rushed into your glasses. Someone pulled you out onto the sand. You ripped your glasses off your face and splashed the water you accidentally drank. 

"Are you okay?" A familiar voice echoed, and someone put a large hand on your back, their touch soothing. 

"Jinbe?" You asked, your voice hoarse with surprise from the way you were still coughing. You squinted at the fish-man as salt burned your eyes before you hugged him. You felt like it was a very vivid dream. When you closed your eyes, you could still see the shark's teeth in front of you. "I was so scared..." you said. 

"You don't have to be scared. I won't let anything happen to you. I'm your protector," he said, stroking your back.

"Thank you," you whispered, kissing his cheek before burying your face into his shoulder.

Sleep Protector Masterlist

[fisheito]

*rings the service bell* hi um i was wondering.. if there's any yakumo temperature play in here? sounds silly but i only realised after i circled the building a few times... that i haven't seen it at all. Seems to be common practice, actually- to not have it. i've visited several other buildings and there's been no sight of it.

which is... strange? if i think about it, it's surprising that i haven't encountered it yet! it sort of makes sense to have them together, you know? considering that temperature is so vital to a snake's perception of the world. and how sensitive reptiles are to temperature fluctuations.

so there's a lot of control to be had here. can you imagine controlling someone's energy level just by adjusting the thermostat? er- well, i guess we already do that. but imagine you put yakumo in an ice bath and he immediately falls asleep. brumation happens instantly now, sorry. and the only way to snap him out of it is to stick a flaming dildo up his ass

what?. no, i mean, restore his regular energy level with a soft warm-up. a heated blanket and a gentle steam. hahaha.

people plunge themselves into ice water before jumping into hot tubs and vice versa- for fun! they do this recreationally!! they call it a "spa treatment" and pay a premium for it! what's wrong with giving yakumo a spa treatment? who are we to deprive him of such sensory luxury?

i'm JUST SAYING that since he naturally gravitates toward heat, you could put him in a hurt AND comfort scenario he could be naked and cold, banished to the distant corner of the room.. but when you offer him a source of warmth, whether that be a hot rock or a warm hand or 20 lit candles suspended above him dripping wax on him at random intervals,,, wouldn't he have a tough time turning down your generosity?

i mean, he certainly would if he was tied up.

see, here's the other thing i cannot quite comprehend-- it's that--- how has a snake yokai not featured bondage scenes yet? i guess there was that one time with the.. hm. no, we shan't talk about the cellar. besides, ONLY ONE TIME is unacceptable for a sentient rope!! although yakumo would love to wrap up his prey and squeeze the cum out of em, i feel like we're missing out on a lot by not OutSnaking the Snake. tie up and restrain the Restrainer. it's just a liiiiittle step farther than putting him in a pillowcase! so mild!!!!

here's a guy who is always worried about losing control/// about being free to wreak havoc on his loved ones, despite his best intentions. so how about we give him a moment of peace? a moment where he believes he's subdued and unable to cause harm? just tie him up! keep him under TIGHT lock and key. (or some nice soft cloths for his sensitive skin, if we're being nice.) honestly, his brain will do the rest of the work. even if he's not truly incapacitated, his desire to BE So can fill the gaps in any questionable knotwork.

while he's half in the prison of his mind and half in the confines you've created for him, take some time to squeeze some whimpers out of him. although it pains me to cover up those soggy eyes, a blindfold may be an intriguing option. is yakumo the type of snake to rely on heat vision? WHY NOT FIND OUT! (if he's not terrified at his loss of sight, then i guess his pit organs are functioning . in which case, the blindfold doesn't really need to stay on. if he IS terrified and feels the loss of visuals acutely, this would be an excellent opportunity to soak in his panic. just for a bit though. we're not so cruel. guide him back with a warm touch. see? playing with fire temperature contrasts can bring such relief!)

maybe i'm getting ahead of myself. i don't expect yakumo temperature play to show up WITH bondage , why- that would be asking a lot, right?

but the basics are simple enough, yes? give the wretched creature the comforting warmth he wants, then perhaps inch closer to something bordering uncomfortable? Too Much? have him seek out what he craves, only to be burned (metaphorically and/or literally) if he indulges himself too much? oops! someone's become a slave to their senses!

i'm just saying that the sensory perception of yokai vs kink is (relatively) unknown territory. if temperature play already messes with humans, what could it possibly do to yakumo? he could experience it in facets unknown to others.-=- to levels others are incapable of appreciating---- like someone with synesthesia who can experience music with another layer of enjoyment.

if you give a snake ice cream, followed by a hot piece of meat [unknown origin], it'll really make him aware of the contrast, hmm??????

anyway. sorry about that. i'm not super clear on the specifics of it all. i just thought it peculiar that i haven't seen the yaku-hot-cold-sensitivity-finagling. out there, in here, nowhere as far as i've seen..

...or is it located in a part of the building i overlooked? if so, could you direct me there? i would really appreciate it.

if you don't have it after all, that's ok. i'll keep a careful watch now that i know what i'm looking for. maybe it's one of those things where, once i actively search for it, i'll notice it everywhere! wouldn't that be delightful!

with that, i guess i'll be on my way. thanks for your patience. yeah, i hope i find it too. have a good one!!

[starrz-n-waffl3-fries]

Official introduction post 🙂‍↕️

EDIT: I got tired of scrolling past this pinned post so I put a cut on it- woh :3c

Anyway!!! That’s me!!! :3

My real name is Maxfield or Max, but you can call me Starrz!!! Considering it’s my name online :D

I am a digital artist who is very flexible in their craft, I see art very structurally so I don’t really have a set art style, but rather multiple art styles depending on what media I am drawing for! <3

examples of this include;

YDB(You Deserve Better) art style

C+B(Cuts And Bruises) art style

SJ(Soweli Jan) art style

And my signature doodle art style I use for everything!! :3

Fandoms I’m apart of!!!

-Btd(boyfriend to death)

-ykmet(you kill me every time)

-Undertale

-Deltarune

Circling back to the drawing of me with all of the symbols and flags that I identify with at the start of the post; let me tell you about those!!! :0

Country flags

America— I live in America, self-explanatory

Michigan— I was born and raised in Michigan, a Midwestern state in America

Germany— most of my roots are from Germany, making me German American

Disability flags

ASD(Autism Spectrum Disorder)— I was officially diagnosed at seven years old with Asperger’s syndrome; an outdated term for high functioning autism. This is a learning disability, however people with this disability(myself included) are very capable of wonderful things and we are all very intelligent in our own right<3

ADHD(attention deficit hyperactivity disorder)— I’m not sure when I was officially diagnosed with this, however I was diagnosed with this later in my life(I think). This one overlaps with autism a lot as it is also a learning disability, however it tackles more so the inability to focus on tasks more so- but much like autism, ADHD is also a spectrum! So everyone experiences it differently and manages it differently. For myself; I like to keep checklists and stuff!!! :3

Disability pride flag— this one is a general term for anyone who has a disability. I already explained two that I have, but I also additionally have two more regarding mobility. I walked on my tip-toes ever since I learned how to walk and this hindered how long I can walk on my feet without it hurting like a bitch(even after surgery)- another thing that this caused was huge back problems that I have yet to tackle, so that’s fun! I don’t use any mobility aids as I am scared to ask for them, but I do believe I would benefit from them some days when I have to walk for extended periods of time.

Mental health related disorders

C-PTSD(complex post traumatic stress disorder)— much like regular PTSD, this is something that you get from traumatic memories from your childhood. Emphasis on memories, because regular PTSD is only from one traumatic memory. As for people like me, I have several things floating around my head that make it so that even today I am deeply affected by what has happened to me. Make no mistake, however; this disorder is not and never will be an excuse for any actions performed by a person with this disability. I am responsible for my own actions, and this disability does not define me. Although it very much affects me every day, it is not my only personality trait, nor is it a way to excuse any actions of mine :3

Depression and Anxiety— these are pretty well researched Disorders that I don’t feel comfortable discussing too deeply, as they are very difficult to manage for me and they are kind of distressing topics for me, however I fully encourage you to do your own research! Stay safe!!!<3

LGBTQIA+ Labels

Transgender(ftm)— I was born biologically female, however when I started puberty I quickly realized I did not like the body I was growing into, and somewhere in 2021 or 2022 I figured it out I was a trans man, and so far I haven’t had any identity crisis about my gender, so I think it’s a permanent label of mine! Which is very nice<3

Panromantic— much like pansexual, this means you experience attraction to anyone no matter their gender! Many people with this have gender blindness, I don’t know what that means, so you should probably look that up on your own time as well! :3 but the reason why I say panromantic instead of pansexual, is because I do not experience sexual attraction to people! Which we will get into in a minute🙂‍↕️

Asexual— little to no sexual attraction, this does not inherently mean you have a low libido, however- you can have a high libido and still be asexual, so do not confuse those!!! me personally, I am sex neutral and asexual! So I’m not inherently bothered by the topic, just make sure not to get me involved or I will sob in self defense! :33

Other labels

Age regression pride flag— so age regression is basically a coping mechanism for people who want to experience their childhood again, for some people that can look like re-experiencing childhood joys, or reverting back to a child like state to make up for the fact that they feel like their childhood was lackluster or they grew up too fast! Me core :3

Therian/otherkin symbol— people who are spiritually connected to animals!! For me, my therio-type is a red fox!! So I feel naturally connected to them- this does not mean that I believe I am a fox, nor does it mean I am a zoo- there is a huge difference, and I am tired of people thinking they overlap. They do not. I am aware that I am a human, however I believe that I am spiritually connected to foxes<3

Cool people in my circle that you should follow!!<3

@0lizard-shark0 -my lovely partner<3

@watermelonolemretaw -my other awesome significant other depending on how this polyamory thing goes!<3

@burntmarshmallowqueen -their sibling that is helping write ydb with both of us and has a very nice and detailed art style >:0c

@blueleon-blog -my awesome older brother figure and my ride or die🙂‍↕️

@finnsworldz -bestie with the coolest art I’ve ever fucking seen!!! >:3

@gourd-n-cord a really cool friend of mine that I go to school with!! >:33

@m0nst3r-clawz A guy- that is also blood related to me- you can follow him if you want, his oc is pretty cool :3c

@f0rk-kidd a tulpa of mine!!!

For information on my tulpas; this post should take you to the formal introduction post of all of them!! This will be updated if need be so be wary! I have also tagged it ‘salami’ so that you search it easier bc it’s the only post with that tag :3333

I hope that my page brings some whimsy to your day or whatever٩( 'ω' )و🎉‼️✨

[candyswirls]

Crying in the Dark: PT 6 - Revelation

Previous - Next - MasterPost

Summary: the Little One’s past is revealed. But only to the reader >:3

His death and pain echoed across the warp. His brother had shattered his soul. Pieces glittered as they flew and small vermin tried leaping up and catching them.

Slowly, through the years and centuries, they found their way back to the main piece. Each time he found a part of himself, he grew more whole. He gained more power.

He could appear to others, his sons. He began creating a paradise for his sons. Doing what he could as he was dead.

He’d come across splinters of Magnus. Bits of Vulkan from each time their brother Curze tortured and killed him.

He tried to help them. But how could he when he was in such a state?

H…. Him. He couldn’t even refer to Him by name. The way He had killed him… the brutality… the look of pure hatred and rage… it haunted him. Waking visions of… Him attacked him throughout the day.

He was weak. Still healing. He feared he’d never stop healing. That these wounds would never become scars. The pain his brother inflicted would never leave him.

It took so much power to appear to his sons as a glorified and magnificent being. As if he was whole. He didn’t want the living ones or the imperium to worry and fear. He also didn’t have much time with this visage. As soon as he finished in a dream or vision, he retreated back to the warp where his perfect Angel persona faded away to his regular horrifying appearance. He had to have some of his sons describe it to him.

Constantly bleeding from cracks and fissures in his skin, leaving a trail wherever he moved. Dark blood stains that formed a mask on his face and ran part way up his arms and legs. His extremities faded to pitch black. Both wings were mangled and sparse with feathers. One was stiff and held tightly to his body. The other was limp and dragged behind him. One arm was hard to move and he held it close to his stomach. One knee was mangled and caused his foot to stuck out. He walked with a limp. His hair appeared dull and paler. Ratted and dirty. Choppy and brittle.

Scars of his battle with… Him littered his body. His eyes sported dark circles and bags under them. His sclera was bloodshot. His sons all said the same thing. He looked haunted and hurt. He looked exhausted. He was. It took so much just to function. To move. Often times he’d fall into deep sleeps that could last up to years. A few times had lasted near a century.

He used to cry. Cry at how far he’d fallen. No one would recognize him as a Primarch or son of the emperor now. Often times when he went to meet recently passed sons, they took him as a crude daemon attempting to pass as their Primarch. It broke his heart. Now he had his other sons go meet them.

But each piece of his soul he found, he got better. The souls of his sons were always near. The best he could do for his living ones was visions and sending the Sanguinor.

He found himself often ravished with hunger. Out hunting creatures of the warp, draining their vitality. It was his only moment of solitude. Though his sons always trailed behind him some distance.

He was hunting now, wheezing as he tracked the same type of small vermin that had tried to get bits of his soul.

He had put some distance between his sons and rested within a ravine. Sand whipped around him.

“Far prey from that cat you slayed and sported,” a voice said.

He whipped around, snarling and barring teeth.

He froze.

“Malcador?” He questioned.

“Hello Sanguinius,” the Sigilite greeted. “I’d say you are looking well but…”

He stood atop a ledge near the path.

“This is a trick,” Sang wheezed. “A figment of my…”

“There’s no need for that,” Malcador assured as he moved down. “I have some pieces of your soul.”

He presented three golden and glowing flecks that floated just above his hand.

Sanguinius didn’t think, staggering forward and snatching them from his father’s right hand man and absorbing them in. The blood stains receded a few centimeters as did the cracks and fissures.

These pieces felt good. Well taken care of. They had been safe and hadn’t needed to survive.

He looked at the Sigilite.

“Why are you here?” He questioned. “You died. Right before we to fight… that… H… Him… the one…”

Sang gripped his hair as he breathed heavily. A hand steadied him.

“I know how it affects you,” Malcador spoke. “The pain. The horror. Even now I come concerning remnants of your soul.”

“You have more?” Sang questioned, he wrinkled his nose. “Why not bring them here and now? Are they trapped?”

The Sigilite spoke, “There is much that can and cannot be explained. But yes, I know where more pieces of your soul are. Fifteen to be exact. But you cannot take them back.”

“Why?” He demanded, emotion in his voice. “Are you holding them from me? That is my soul! I need it! I-“

“Easy, easy,” Malcador soothed. “When you see, I don’t think you could bring yourself to do so. They are… well, you’ll see.”

“What?” The Angel questioned. “What do you mean?”

Malcador removed a pendant that had been hidden in his robes and held it out to Sanguinius. The ninth Primarch slowly reached out and took it. It was ceramite. On it was a common lizard from Baal, carved into it. Other Baalian symbols were upon it. The pattern and sequence was a declaration of familial love, adoration, and gratitude. Children typically gave less precise and skilled versions back on his home planet to family members.

“Th-this was given to you,” Sanguinius deduced. “Where? Who?”

“Come and see,” Malcador said. “Come and see the power of your soul.”

“My sons are tracking me now,” he mumbled.

“I know.”

“The Sanguinor too.”

“I know. They will be fine without you for a bit.”

Malcador offered a hand and a soft smile. He took his hand and followed.

Whether by powers of the warp or the Sigilite’s power, Sanguinius found himself stepping into a courtyard modeled after the older sections of the imperial palace. Vines and trees over grown onto the architecture. But what caught his attention was a large mural just below a veranda.

With intense detail and miriad of glorious colors was a portrait of him. Eyes closed, facing down, smiling.

He found himself limping towards it. He had seen countless remembrancers and artisans create visages of him. But this… this spoke to him. It wasn’t a glorified piece or one that had the artists awe in it. It was… him.

He gently ran fingers along it. Another painting, just down a hallway caught his eye.

He moved to see a similar mural. This time of his brother Vulkan. He was laughing.

Then further down was one of Magnus. Proud as psychic waves surrounded him.

As he followed the hall he found countless depictions of him and them. Some together. Different styles. Different mediums. Some carvings done with utmost skill and expertise.

The final was the biggest. It had him, Vulkan, and Magnus in separate panels. Images of them caught mid laugh. Then there was a fourth. An eldar woman with utmost beauty.

“Wh-who painted these?” He asked.

A gasp rang out.

He looked in its direction searching the brush. It was a small humanoid creature. Metallic skin. Her hair glowed yellow. Eyes glowed blue. She had long ears that flopped to the side of her head. A tail that split in two.

He could not take his eyes off of her. He felt like was peering through a mirror. The face seemed to change and he could see Magnus. No, Vulkan. Him again.

Malcador trailed behind him.

He said softly. “This is Hapipola.”

Sanguinius mouthed the word.

“Joy in Baalian,” he whispered.

Hapipola approached him, eyes staring up into his own and he collapsed to his knees.

He reached out his hands, the connection between them growing strong till his hands brushed her cheeks and she rested her palms over them.

Suddenly he was transported. Back. Back to the moment his soul shattered. The moment… his… his brother… Him.. killed him. The brutality of it. He saw the shattered pieces go flying off. Just as he remembered. But a group of them stayed together. Confused hurt. Looking for familiarity. They went to the astronomicon. There was something else there.

Then he saw countless images of Curze killing him. Bits of him being torn off. They went flying to the astronomicon as well.

Then, the screams of his world and sons dying. The wolf king slamming him down, breaking his back in two. Parts of his soul splintered off. A group looking for safety.

All three met one another. Confused, afraid, not fully understanding what happened. They clung to each other and they search. For what? They don’t know. They travel the warp and begin fusing together. Each with a piece of Magnus, a Piece of vulkan, and a piece of Sanguinius.

They’re in a horrible realm. Foul and rancid. But something draws them in. A tune. Incredibly lovely.

They see her. Trapped. They come to her. Eldar. She is kind.

“My only hope,” she says.

She speaks to the owner of the garden. Horrid and large. Yet he happily gives her what she asks for. Various materials.

Then she makes something. Then she takes them and combines them then breathes life into them. Memories of creatures from youth and human from their fathers take over as they form.

Everything goes dark for a moment. Then… they each wake up. They’re in her embrace. She is exhausted from creating. Yet so proud of them.

They’re alive. Each an individual. Fifteen of them. Daughters. Each with their own quirks and personalities. Each with the memory of their three father’s deaths.

They cannot stay long. Master of the Garden has plans for them. They’re vessels. They could carry his wretched gifts to others.

They have to flee. They’re so little.

Mother whispers a prayer before she sends them off.

“Emperor of Mankind,” she cries. “Please, find these members of your progeny.”

As they exit the garden and escape… the soul of the Sigilite is waiting for them.

His eyes finally open again. It’s not just Hapipola with him. It’s all fifteen. Different colors. Different hair lengths and styles. But they’re here and they’re his. They’re all his. His daughters.

He pulls them into an embrace the best he can, tears streaming down his cheeks.

They squeal and giggle as they swarm him. Calling him father and nestling into him. Some cry with bright eyes and wide smiles. Overjoyed he’s here.

He can feel that they did have a portion of his soul. It is now one with the other two pieces. They are their own persons now. He couldn’t take it back even if he wanted to.

“They are called the Angessa.”

He looked up, still in shock.

“Malcador,” he half laughed. “I-“

He put up a hand, “Easy Sanguinius. You have endured much. Your soul is weary.”

He moved forward and Sang took his hand.

“These are your daughters,” Malcador continued. “They discovered them right before they entered Nurgle’s garden and I could not follow. I was there when they exited. The Eldar goddess of Life, Isha’s plea with them. I call them the Adeptus Angessa.”

Malcador sighed as he sat next to Sanguinius.

“Your father is weak in his current stare,” Malcador told him. “He has… I fear he has lost all hope. I have helped raise them but they cannot stay here. I need to help your father. These little ones long for a father. Vulkan is not available and Magnus is out of the question. They can help you. I-“

One of his daughters said something in a language he didn’t recognize to one of her sisters.

“Kettra!” The sigilite scolded.

Her ears went back as he berated her in another language.

She held her arms to her chest, pouting and looking ashamed.

“I swear,” Malcador muttered. “

“What did she say?” Sanguinius questioned. “I’ve never heard this language.”

“It is my native tongue,” Malcador explained. “It is now extinct. She has a habit of using swears and other crude words just like many of her sisters. She knows better. They do not know high gothic. The plague god managed to curse them to not be able to learn it. For some reason he did not want them communicating with the Death Guard. They know a few words but otherwise cannot speak it or understand it. You can teach them Baalian though. They can only learn one’s native tongue.”

One of them offered a carved reptilian figurine to Sanguinius.

“Thank you,” he smiled at her. She giggled and ran off.

“They’re so sweet,” he laughed as another rubbed her face against him.

The Sigilite sighed, “They’re are. Except when they’re not. They’re little gremlins. Destructive and feral. I suspect they act a lot like you before you were taken in by that tribe.”

Sang just smiled while glancing at Malcador.

“I will warn you,” Malcador added. “They have a quirk from your brother Vulkan. They can and like to set themselves on fire.”

***

The cherub was now cinder and ashes.

A son of the Phoenix held an angry Hapipola outward. She pouted, smoke still coming off of her.

Smyne cackled as Lion held her outward. She sparked and blew raspberries at the cherub.

“No, no Daemon,” hissed ChiChi-Bon.

An ad mech cried over “pookie”.

Lion sighed as he turned Smyne to face him, “You just add more and more mystery to who your father is.”

She giggled at him.

[ask-asexual-crystal-gems]

lol trying to be so woke about solar opposites that you just circle back around to regular ass homophobia

sometimes characters are in gay love and have gay sex and i'd say that's way more valuable representation than a show saying "ugh they're just friends, can't two men be friends nowadays???" for the hundredth time

not to mention that their entire romantic arc parallels their acceptance of their lives on earth and roles in their found family, but who cares about that, how dare they put sex jokes in the funny sex show amiright

“I don’t understand the concept of gay baiting and/or can’t understand how it can apply to more than just being gay”

“I don’t understand the difference between committed life partners and friends”

Grumbling about representation is ONLY for the allosexuals folx!! Didn’t you get the memo? Nobody else is allowed to feel frustration for being baited! That’s homophobic!

And it’s totally not QPR erasure to send this message!

Typical, someone has no actual confidence in their take on trying (and failing) to tar and punch downwards on ace/aro people, so they go Anon.

And you know what? The show is DOUBLY baiting functionally, because the aliens' WHOLE SHTICK in the first season was they DON'T HAVE GENITALS! They don't do sex, and ostensibly, then, they wouldn't do mating or courtship rituals, or not in a way humans could understand. Buuuut of course, alloromantics have no imagination, so it HAS to go in a romantic and/or sexual direction because that's all they can think of. If an aroace were writing the series . . . anyway

The post Anon is busily misinterpreting, for context:

See also:

[codecicle-archive]

honestly im just in a complaining mood but im gonna make this it's own stand-alone post. the current state of youtube is really really disheartening. it's insane to me that we've entered an era where it's actually incredibly normal for video-making to be people's Real Actual Jobs, yet the youtube algorithm is still not very understood and changes on a whim with little to no warning. it's so goddamn stupid for people to have to edit certain ways, or title their videos in certain ways, or just create ugly-ass thumbnails with red circles and shitty clickbait graphics, JUST to get the algorithm to pay enough attention and push their shit. it's been like this for years, but you'd think in a post-2020 shutdown world they'd find ways to take it seriously, ESPECIALLY considering how heavy of a boost their platform got during that era. it's sad to see this taken as "just one of those #influencer things" and not something that could be changed for the better, and currently isnt being changed by a major multi-billion dollar corperation. because at the end of the day, youtube CAN change their algorithm. they have in the past, and the final "major change" they made was the push to make it more advertiser/brand friendly. remember when people couldn't swear before the first minute of the video? remember how that was actually a community-discovered function through youtube mature-content-labeling thousands of people's videos and limiting their income they relied on to live? they were told first 10-20 seconds, and that number varied SO heavily they ended up running with a full minute into the video. not to mention how you can't get most strikes appealed through regular functions, but instead have to BEG youtube publically on twitter and use your clout to shame them. people have to bend over backwards and pray to the algorithm gods if they want to be happy making what they love, and if they don't? their videos won't be seen. they CAN make content without caring about the algorithm, but it's discouraged every step of the way. and even people who appease the algorithm and try their very best to lick the corporate boot will REGULARLY have their income COMPLETELY RANDOMLY struck, and their livelihoods put on the line, all because of youtubes shitty copyright system and even worse demonetization system. all im saying is it's crazy my phone will autocorrect it to their brand name of YouTube, and they have such a focus on keeping advertisers and ad-revenue, but most youtubers have to use shitty clickbait circles and arrows while taking sponsorship deals every video to stay afloat "living the dream."

[gay-disabled-characters-showdown]

LGBTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Round 2, Wave 1, Poll 1

A character being totally canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included.

Check out the other polls in this wave and prior here.

Hiccup Haddock-How To Train Your Dragon

Qualifications:

1. The man is missing a leg 2. He's bi in fanon (and in my heart) 3. Blorbo original flavor. Need I say more?

He has a prosthetic leg, and at least in my circles is quite often hcd as bi

Propaganda:

He's so cool. He builds his own prosthetics that interface with the prosthetics he built for his disabled dragon. First viking to ride a dragon. Chief that brought a new era of prosperity to Berk.

Probably one of the most popular physically disabled characters. And although I personally am not disabled, I have heard a bunch of disabled ppl say that they like him as rep. As he pretty much just exists with his disability. It is not ignored. He doesn't not always function the same as people with 2 regular legs. But it is not made into a tragedy. He just has a prosthetic leg after an accident which caused him to loose one. And nobody really makes a big deal out of it, which makes sense in the society they live in. Idk, here's a link to a video discussing the disability representation in httyd: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PvwRhb_ocPM

The qualifications and propaganda paragraphs correspond, @flammableengineering is the first submitter.

Harrowhark Nonagesimus-The Locked Tomb

Qualifications:

She's a lesbian and the author Tamsyn Muir has confirmed she's written as schizophrenic, based on her own experience.

Okay SO Harrow is a necromancer nun who is also a huge lesbian. She spends the books of TLT series being super gay and repressed about her emotions for 1. Butch lesbian Jesus and 2. Human Barbie the death of God. She narrates the second book (Harrow the Ninth) and is author-confirmed schizophrenic. She experiences hallucinations thru the whole book and has since childhood. She’s also WIDELY headcannoned as autistic by the fandom (me too) because. Because she IS SO FUCKING AUTISTIC (source: I am autistic too)

Schizophrenic lesbian with a traumatic brain injury

Schizophrenic and sapphic

canonically a schizophrenic lesbian. neither word is used in series, she isn't in a position to get a diagnosis and queer identities are so normalised in the universe that labels just don't get mentioned, but she is written as both by an author who is also both.

Canon schizophrenia

Canon lesbian with canon schizophrenia

She's a schizophrenic lesbian with a traumatic brain injury

Propaganda:

The Locked Tomb is pretty popular on tumblr but I might as well submit her anyway

She’s a lesbian necromancer nun. She’s a saint and also woke up the death of God, who is a human Barbie, who she is in love with, tho she’s also kind of married to lesbian Jesus. She’s schizophrenic. She’s scrungly. She puts bread in a drawer. She’s even autistic

Harrow first started hallucinating (visual and auditory) when she was ten years old! The traumatic brain injury and seizures are much more recent. Unironically gotta love a pov protagonist who makes you struggle along with her in sorting out hallucination and false memory to figure out what's going on. Also while Harrow's disability shapes the narrative, the book isn't at all about her being disabled. It's a fantasy/scifi gothic horror novel about being trapped at a work retreat with God.

so many women want her but she’s determined to be in love with the soul of the dead earth trapped in a 10ft barbie doll instead. she’s a lesbian disaster and is trying to deal with both schizophrenia and over 200 actual ghosts haunting her.

Author Tamsyn Muir has discussed how Harrow's schizophrenia is modeled after her own experiences. It matters a lot in her eponymous novel, where her inability to trust what she sees and hears is compounded by her self-inflicted lobotomy to save her girlfriend's soul from getting absorbed into her own.

Harrow is one of the protagonists of her series & both her lesbianism & her schizophrenia play major parts in the story. The author has spoken about how she wrote Harrow based on her own experiences, and the authenticity comes through strongly. Beyond that, she's a teenage gothic nun in love with a holy corpse & she's the greatest bone magician ever born. What more needs be said.

She's a lesbian, she's psychotic, she has seizures, she faints regularly and can't rely on her own memory worth shit. And the only reason she's not going to kill god is so she and her girl can escape the cycle of violence. Basically, Harrowhark Nonagesimus is the entire package.

Anything Else?:

Listen. Listen. I’m not doing Harrow justice here. I LOVE her (Submitter 2)

The author is also schizophrenic! Which is pretty cool. (Submitter 3)

The author of the series is openly schizophrenic, and has mentioned in interviews that she's drawing on that experience when writing Harrow :) (Submitter 8)

[rosalesbeausderholle]

My first book of the year (well, almost, 50 pages to go!) has been Doppelganger by Naomi Klein, which is an absolutely amazing book about the way people get radicalized by alt-right grifters and how that radicalization is fueled subconsciously by very real fear, pain and paranoia fostered on regular people by our system of savage, predatory capitalism. They just don't know where to direct that fear to, so they end up in conspiracy anti-vaxx circles rather than becoming leftists.

I heartily recommend it to anyone. If you've read anything by Klein, you'll love it. She's a masterful writer and she addresses our current issues with incredible insight and in a thoroughly entertaining way. A solid 4.5/5 stars (and that's high praise, I hardly ever give 5 stars to anything). I'm putting the rest of this under a readmore because I need you guys to understand that I honestly really recommend this book:

That being said, I have one complaint:

And it's the way Klein is, not dismissive, just subconsciously doesn't realize or give enough importance to feminism to analyze the issues she's talking about through a feminist lenses. She talks about feminism and about abortion rights and about sexual violence and about women's issues and gender issues but it's all through the lenses of class and not feminism.

For example, she mentions people being marginalized, among other characteristics "because of their gender expression". Trans people are marginalized because of their gender expression, so are some gay people. Women though are marginalized BY gender. Gender expression is (one of) the means, not the motive.

More damningly, in this book she mentions Naomi Wolf a lot (hence the title). Author of The Beauty Myth, now turned conspiracy right-wing, COVID denialist, anti-vaxx grifter. About Wolf's book, Klein claims that she was engaged in conspirational thinking when she claimed that marketing agencies where purposefully keeping women insecure and down so that we were thinking about our bodies and not our power. According to Klein, that's just how capitalism works. And yes, it is but you, Naomi Klein, also go on to claim several paragraphs later that capitalism does indeed function as a conspiracy. And also, the way women and men are marketed to differently, for us emphasizing our powerlessness; for men, their power, is not just a quirk of capitalism. It's a gendered issue. It's MISOGYNY. It's not conspiratorial thinking to watch how misogyny works and how it affects women. It's just watching reality through feminist lenses. Yes, Wolf did wrong in her book by not acknowledging capitalism much, but Klein not acknowledging the misogyny/patriarchy aspect of it (and dismissing the idea as just Naomi Wolf being crazy again, lol) is not much better (and is misogynistic in and of itself). Both of their analyses are tables standing only on two legs.

The next part is just... absolutely bizarre but it really jumped out at me, and it's really an example about what non-feminist sexual "liberation" politics do your brain, even when you're Naomi fucking Klein. When talking about people feeling disempowered and helpless in the face of injustice, oligarchies and reckless capitalism, she goes: "Knowing that this kind of unmasked plutocracy can take root in democratic societies without so much as an effort to hide it is like being forced to watch your spouse cheat on you when that is not your kink"

Like hello, WHAT. What is the need? Why is that disclaimer there? Is this a Twitter thread about problematic shipping? Is this Klein revealing her own kinks? (No one asked!). She's a damn good writer, she knows what sentences are impactful and hit. She KNOWS that putting that disclaimer there at the end inherently makes the statement less impactful. Why would you add it? I cannot wrap my head around it.

Finally, there's the way she off-handedly mentions how her partner was campaigning for a political party and how she took him to look into the way even left wing people were being drawn into conspiracies and how to appeal to them. And the guy just, dismissed her. Like, imagine that, you're THE Naomi Klein, one of the best investigative journalist there are and your partner of however many years dismisses your advice about an issue you have been investigating for years when you're over 20 years into your career producing hit after hit of investigative journalism and books. Just like that. Eventually, he listens to her because he runs into some nut jobs, but like, hello? I wouldn't have put that in the book for the sheer humiliation of it (unless that is your kink, I guess 😭) but a feminist writer MIGHT have had something to say about how this is an example of men never taking women seriously, no matter how much expertise they have.

It's just... Tiny things like this, or not analyzing through a feminist lenses why women so easily fall into wellness conspiracies, or why the cancellation of Wolf which led her to her current grift (which Klein acknowledges) was also made worse because mobs rising up against women online are ALWAYS worse, that let me know that feminism is just not a lenses through which she was analyzing these issues at all. And it's very subtle throughout the book but very much There if you're like me who's a feminist first and foremost. And it's disappointing.

The book is still very much great and I do recommend it though.