#but like. sometimes its not remotely the same character

[spearxwind]

Thinking about the time i commissioned an artist i rly liked for something and the result was kind of really catastrophic just from the preview image in the email so i just. never opened the actual image

[c0eu4]

CL16 | Real orgasm ♡

Summary: Y/n confess to Charles that she doesn't know what true orgasm is. And he shows her what it is.

Warning: oral (f receiving), fluff?

A/N: Hope you'll like it <3

MASTERLIST request are open

Charles sits down on her sofa, putting his feet on the coffee table. She sits next to him, putting the blanket over them.

He takes the remote and turns on the TV. ''What do we watch tonight?'' He asked her, scrolling through the thumbnails on Netflix.

She makes herself comfortable with cushions behind her back and brings her cup of tea. ''I let you choose this time.''

He sighs and keeps scrolling, sometimes reading the summary before finally putting something on.

As the movie starts, she sips her tea, passing her cup to Charles who take a sip too. They're not best friends for nothing. They have known each other since they were little and they always share everything. So him drinking in the same cup as her is certainly not a problem.

And tonight he came to her house to comfort her. Her boyfriend cowardly cheated on her then left her, like a poor toy. Charles helps her to go through this. Even when she were at her lower, he was there.

And what an irony that he put a movie where the main character cheats on her boyfriend with everyone.

''Uhm you might wanna change ?'' He asks her about the third sex scene that happens, where the main character seems really excited about the idea of getting caught.

''Mh no it's ok.'' She squeezed her thighs, wishing her boyfriend was like in the movie, who knows how to bring pleasure to a woman.

''You ok?'' He asked her, putting his hand on her thigh. He really shouldn't have done that. Despite the fact that he's her best friend, she can't control her hormones and can't help but get a little wetter.

''I..I was just thinking about the fact that I have never cum so brutally. Maybe I never cum, I don't know haha.'' He looked at her, stunned. Not because they never talk about sex. But rather by the fact that she admits to him that she has never had an orgasm.

''Was your boyfriend that bad? For never having made you cum?'' She shrugged her shoulders.

Charles finds himself blushing just thinking about Y/n, actually cumming for the first time.

''You..you want me to show you what real orgasm is ?'' He asked her, almost whispering because of his shyness.

She turned her head towards him, her cheeks red. What should she do? She's so horny now that she can't say no. But does that also mean maybe ruining their friendship?

''Y-yes... Please.'' Charles himself didn't expect her to say yes. He brings his head closer to hers, his lips a few millimeters from hers. She can feel his breath on her lips and it gives her goosebumps. She closes her eyes, hoping that Charles will make the first move, because she doesn't dare to.

Just as she was about to open her eyes again, because she thought Charles wouldn't move, his lips stuck to her. His hand slides down her neck and brings her head closer to his, deepening the kiss with small movements. He moves forward so much that she lies down on the sofa, him on top of her.

''You have to tell me now if you want to stop.'' He kisses her cheeks.

''K-keep please..'' He kisses her jaw, under her ear, her neck and her collarbone. His hands slip under her t-shirt, removing it slowly. She feels shivers down her spine when he starts to rub his hands against her waist, hips, thighs and upper ass.

She found herself moaning softly, but naturally, not faking it. His kisses tease her breasts, unclipping her bra easily. He looked up at her, as if he was asking her if he could touch it.

''You..you can..'' She whispered, shyly. One of his hands found its way to massage her breasts, licking the nipples of the other one.

Charles is a smart man. And seeing that she didn't react more than that when he teased her with her breasts, he didn't dwell on it too much.

His kisses keep going lower, until he nibbles softly in her flat belly, removing her pants gently. He takes one of her hands and places it on his hair, indicating for her to play with it.

She runs her hand through it, stroking his soft hair and playing with a few strands with her fingertips. He tries to spread her legs but she unconsciously resists.

''Don't be stressed, princess.. Is it ok if I call you princess?'' She relaxes a little and Charles manages to position himself correctly between her legs.

''Y-Yes.. I like it.'' She whines softly when she feels him blowing on her panties.

He bites his bottom lip, looking at her, full of lust and hunger. A white stain is visible through her panties and Charles wants to eat her out so badly.

As if to answer him, she lightly presses Charles' head towards her privacy. He doesn't wait for a second signal and lets his fingers slide between her folds through her panties.

''Charles !'' She moaned, surprising him and herself. He allows himself to remove her panties, seeing her completely naked in front of him.

''You're so beautiful, princess..'' She put her hand over her mouth and her eyes widened when she felt Charles's lips against her bundle of nerves. He grabs her arm that's hiding her mouth, taking her hand and intertwining his fingers with hers.

''Close your eyes and don't hold back your beautiful voice..'' She closes her eyes like Charles told her, enjoying his lips and tongue.

He makes small circles with his tongue, using his free hand to push a finger inside her. She grips his hair a little tighter, digging her nails into the skin of his hand with her other hand.

The room is filled with her moans, sounding like a melody to the ears of Charles's. He inserts a second finger, making her moan louder. She feels a sensation she has never felt. Her whole body is tense and her legs are shaking uncontrollably.

She can't help but moan, Charles moving his fingers in and out quickly, in a wet and tight song. And when her whole body relaxes, without even realizing it, she drowns Charles with her precious liquid.

Charles is proud of himself. He succeeded in his mission. He made her cum. Probably for the first time in her life, given how quickly she let it go.

He gets up from between her legs after cleaning her as best he could with his tongue. He licks his two fingers, full of her liquid and also cleans his chin with his hand.

She sits up a little straighter on the sofa, not knowing what to do.

''How was it ?'' He looked at her with a naughty smile. She blushes when she sees him like that, his hair all messy by her hand.

''Incredible.'' She finds herself blushing even more when she admits that Charles makes her feel good.

''You.. want to go further?'' She smiles tenderly at him.

''I'm sorry but I'm so tired after.. my first orgasm.'' Charles chuckled and passed to her, her clothes that were on the floor.

''Never say sorry for refusing to go further.'' He passed his hand through his hair, trying to fix it.

''Can you..Sleep with me ?'' She puts her t-shirt back on and takes out her hair with a gesture of her hands. Charles looks at her doing that, his eyes full of love.

''Of course, princess.'' He winked at him, carrying her suddenly like a princess. She clutches her t-shirt, feeling slightly afraid.

''Cha! Careful!!'' He giggles and places her on her bed.

''Do you mind if I sleep in boxers?'' She finds herself blushing again. She knows that their relationship is no longer the same now.

''No no it's ok.'' He removes his jeans and t-shirt quickly, lying down beside her. She doesn't dare to go against him, not really knowing his reaction.

''Y/n?'' He asked her with a soft voice, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear.

''Yes Charlie?'' Her eyes are wide open, a knot in her stomach.

''Do you want to be my girlfriend?'' She turns red at his request.

''I..I would love to.'' Charles chuckles and moves his head towards her, kissing her tenderly. His hand resting on her waist, pulling her closer to him.

[hephaestiions]

author reclist: wolfpants

over the last few months, i've been devouring @wolfpants' works. ever since reading pages of you in two days, their rendering of harry, draco and a vast array of incredibly compelling side characters have irrevocably hooked me.

wolf is an author in enthralling motion. their fics often feature places, temporalities and contexts far removed from where canon holds & leaves us, while simultaneously being tenderly familiar, like coming home. wolf's sense of & grasp over setting leaves me breathless and dumbstruck. their different spatialities inform & infuse character in admirable ways, at various levels of craft, enjoyment and inspiration. this fandom knows and loves the draco and harry they give us, but we delight in discovering new dimensions & aspects of these characters. it's always done brilliantly believably, especially in the framework of the worlds they construct— a breath of fresh air in a forest where the trees still know your name.

wolf's works also demonstrate, sometimes explicitly, sometimes implicitly, a really significant political sensibility. most of their fics are set against backdrops tight with political tension bleeding into the characters' circumstances and interpersonal dynamics. whether through a spectrality haunting the narrative or the crucial central diegetic thread, wolf's works are layered, interrogating and collapsing delineations among private, public and political, between history and contemporaneity and between narrative and commentary.

in the interests of length & theme of this list, i've specifically selected some fics that, for me, showcase wolf's mastery & playfulness with setting, understood as deviations in place, time and universe. the broader recommendation is, of course, to check out everything wolf has ever written!

nightcall (E, 1k) ft. a long distance phone call

On a top secret Unspeakable misson, Harry calls Draco from a remote phone booth on the Isle of Skye.

a stunning portrait of desire, longing and familiarity that uses distance as a device to intensify every element. it's unbelievable how much character & context 1k words of (mostly) smut can pack in. the slivers of backstory demand your investment, inform the dynamic in crucial ways and set up some delicious stakes and tension. and some absolutely fantastic dirty talk. see also: @getawayfox's gorgeous art for this fic!

long haul (E, 8.6k) ft. plane rides, mile high club, nyc

The last person Harry expects to run into on a long haul flight to New York City is Draco Malfoy.

the way wolf writes movement— between places, between people— strokes its way up your spine, warms you, walks with you. draco and harry, buoyed in the air, let preconceived notions fall away, to be replaced by startlingly rapid and exquisite intimacy. the liminal settings, specifically, allow mature, open-minded, desirous characterisation & some of the most glorious, soft, tender sex to fall into like a warm bed.

look for me in the sun (M, 8.7k) ft. americana, roadtrip/on-the-run vibes

Harry and Draco are on the run in America after a mysterious string of werewolf-like attacks in the Muggle community causes the Ministry to impose new and harsh anti-werewolf legislation.

atmospheric writing dialled up to eleven, like the smell of ozone in the air before a thunderstorm. the sense of limbo— transience, out of place and time, the complication of home— that afflicts the circumstances of draco & harry here is heart-wrenching. a taut rumination on otherness in a variety of ways, rendered through some of the most tense and subtle writing i've encountered.

under giant mountains (E, 33.7k) ft. norwegian dragon reserves & rampant escapist tendencies

Harry doesn't know where he's going. Everyone else has their life paths figured out; he doesn't even know where his map is. Who'd have thought Draco Malfoy bathing in a Norwegian forest would be the guidepost Harry needed?

opens with harry, stuck in the same place for far too long, and draco, avoiding fixity like the plague. this fic looks at both stagnation and escapism as iterations of each other & treats them with the gentlest empathy. the norwegian dragon reserve setting, whose visuality wolf's writing captures beautifully, becomes the canvas to explore both. desire, here, was simultaneously so evident from the outset and took its time to build— longing tinged every interaction & payoff, in the form of a sequence of some of the most emotionally fraught sex scenes i've ever read, was that much sweeter.

romp and circumstance (E, 35k) ft. a historical au set in the 1800s, regency era england

Since the war, Harry Potter has gone from Saviour to Scoundrel—not that he’s complaining. With a schedule full of gorgeous men, alcohol, and late nights, why would he want to change? Enter Draco Malfoy: beautiful, sharp, and completely untouchable. When Draco comes to Harry with a proposition to help him attract an engagement, Harry’s up for it—after all, how hard can it be not falling for his former nemesis? Very hard, apparently.

the very first wolf fic i read, in a brief little fandom interlude back in 2022. i remember thinking, then, what an author, i'm really missing out these days. one of my favourite post-war harry characterisations— raucous, promiscuous, messy and at heart, a hopeless romantic. also one of my favourite draco characterisations— pristine, a little uptight, cool and distant and untouchable, except what he really wants is to be unbuttoned, messed up. the transforming sentiments of their relationship were so compelling, the build of harry's feelings was perfectly achey and tender and this draco was a complex, nuanced, frightfully sexy version that i just couldn't turn away from.

pages of you (E, 101k) ft. a 1980s non-magical au

Summer, 1980. Harry is floating between university and becoming a Real Certified Adult. He's not ready. He really isn't. In a desperate attempt to have the Best Last Summer ever, he takes a casual job at his godfather's bookshop in London, starts an illicit pen pal affair with a wordy posh boy that he's catching feelings for, all while dealing with the son of Sirius's business rival, one Draco Malfoy, insufferable know-it-all extraordinaire.

gosh, what a fic. sensitive and sprawling, this work brings the spatialities of london, sirius and remus' queer comfort of a bookshop and harry's room at the residence halls to pulsing, colourful, splendid life. i can still close my eyes and imagine the spaces this fic occurs in, how important they are to the push and pull, ups and downs of the dynamic between harry and draco. a coming-of-age/sexual awakening & exploration story, summer romance and queer political fiction rolled into one, this is a fic that's hard to summarise and easy to obsess over. perfect characterisations, writing that burrows into your soul and a plot that unfolds with the slow and steady depth of gentle lake.

and lastly, a fic that's on my tbr:

terrible people (E, 52.7k) ft. cruises, beach holidays and more of @getawayfox's masterpieces

What happens when Harry and Draco end up on the same Muggle gay cruise? They certainly didn't plan for it to happen (but their friends might have). They're stuck with each other for a week, they might as well make the most of it, right?

in conclusion: vivid, descriptive, immersive storytelling from an author who understands the intricacies of different narrative elements and leverages them masterfully. can't wait to read the works i haven't, and for everything wolf writes in the future!

[stayevildarling]

bonjour :) can I request some of this prompts for a story? with any of them (cordelia, billie, wilhemina or ally) I like your multiple character fics too

❛ i’m not going anywhere. ❜

❛ is there anything i can do to help? ❜

❛ i don’t even recognize you anymore.

❛ can’t sleep? ❜

❛ it’s just a scratch, don’t worry. ❜

tyyy <3

Cordelia Goode x Wilhemina Venable x Billie Dean Howard x Reader - Falling

A/N: thank you to whoever sent this to me. I'm not too sure if its angsty enough but the prompts actually hit close to home. the fall is also inspired by me actually falling over at work the other day and afterwards looking like I got into a fight 😂

word count: 3.8k

tw: very mild mention of blood, insomnia, angst, slight arguing

taglist: @lunaticwhittaker, @billiebeanhoward, @lanawinters-ily, @kenzbro, @minaslittleone, @httpfiftyshadesofgay,@whitelotus00, @ninaahs, @vintagepaulson,@isle-of-earle,@paulsonsratched, @stepintomyworld, @grilledcheeseandguavajellyy, @lucyintheskywithxanax, @fanfics4world, @mymiraclewitch, @hazard-to-myself, @awritersometime

The moon hangs high in the sky, casting it's silver-white light through the windows and onto the bed where you lay, warmth surrounding you in the form of your lovers, Delia, Billie and Mina. Despite the usual comfort and warmth this scene would give you, sleep continues to be a stranger, slipping through your fingers.

Cordelia shifts beside you slightly, her voice breaking the silence of the night. ,,Sweetheart, why are you awake?'' she asks softly, her voice filled with concern. Her soft hands reach out to brush a strand of hair from your face. You return her gesture by smiling softly, hoping this will cause the concern to fade from her beautiful features.

,,I'm okay Delia, just woke up for a second'' you whisper, trying your best to mask what's been going on. Cordelia's brow furrows with worry, but she doesn't press the subject further, instead pulling you closer to her in an a comforting embrace. You close your eyes in return, grateful for her presence, even if it couldn't chase away the shadows that had haunted your mind lately.

As the night stretches on, you toss and turn, your mind racing with thoughts and worries that refused to be silenced. Despite your best efforts to find comfort in the arms of your lovers, sleep remained a stranger to you, leaving you tired and drained.

The following night, plays out the exact same way. You would be wrapped up in between your lovers, taking turns between cuddling into two blondes or your redhead lover. Lately your days had been exactly the same. Unable to sleep, you would be the first one out of bed, getting ready for your day ahead, helping around the academy by preparing things for teaching or helping your lovers out in any way you can, a small price to repay for all of the things they had done for you in the past. Throughout the day they would be busy, Wilhemina working in her office remotely for the company she works for. Billie would be in meetings either online or travel to them for her show. Filming only happening in certain months, while Cordelia looked after the academy. This contained teaching, council meetings and making sure the girls are looked after. Despite having your own work and shifts, you would help out wherever you can. Eventually the four of you would have dinner, liking the ritual of it being spent in the presence of each other.

The evenings looked a little different each day, sometimes board game nights, sometimes movie nights and sometimes just the familiar picture of snuggling on the sofa, Mina knitting or reading, Billie on her phone and Delia doing some work on her laptop or watching the tv. You would eventually all go to bed together, sometimes spending hours of quality time and sometimes quiet nights, where the three of them would quickly fall asleep due to their demanding careers. Tonight was no different, the three of them worked hard, before they all relaxed in the living room by the fireplace together with you.

As you again toss and turn, you eventually grow frustrated and leave the bedroom as quietly as possible, before sneaking off to the garden and having a smoke. Cordelia and Wilhemina hated the habit but Billie didn't exactly help you and only fed into your addiction. As you exhale the smoke, you look up to the sky, admiring the view of a clear moon and some stars. After returning a while later, you turn around only to see Billie looking at you with a cheeky smile.

,,Did you just sneak out for a smoke without me?'' she teases, her playful nature a nice change to the loneliness of the night. She arches an eyebrow, a playful smirk still on her lips. You can't help but chuckle. ,,No'' you smile and do that little head tilt which she knows means you are lying.

Her laughter fills the room a little, easing the tension in the air. She cups your cheeks gently, her other hand trailing off to your scalp, giving you little scratches with her nails. ,,Well if you ever need a smoking buddy, you know where to find me'' she smirks before pulling you into a tight embrace. For a moment, the weight of sleepiness lifted with Billie's words, the warmth of her affection. But as the night wears on, you long for sleeping yet again.

The third night, brings Wilhemina's quiet concern, her gentle touch soothing to the ache in your heart. As you lay awake, lost in thoughts, her hand finds yours in the darkness, a silent gesture of love and understanding.

,,Can't sleep, little one?'' the redheads voice is soft, filled with concern as she squeezes your hand gently, her eyes searching yours for answers, despite the darkness.

You swallow the lump in your throat, struggling to find the words to explain and having learnt by now to work things out on your own. ,,It's nothing really...'' you finally speak but the answer isn't sufficient for Wilhemina and by her reaction you can tell.

,,Is there anything I can do to help?'' she asks, her brow furrows with concern, her gaze never leaving yours. She reaches out to brush a tear from your cheek. ,,You don't have to do this alone, little one'' she gently whispers into your ear.

For a moment the walls around your heart crumble, her words so full of reassurance and warmth. It makes you melt, knowing Wilhemina struggled with her own emotions but never how to take care of yours or your other two lovers. A flood of emotions washes over you and in response you cling onto her hand, grateful for her support. ,,Turn around little one'' she whispers gently before pressing a kiss to your forehead. You comply of course and before you know it, you feel her arms wrap around you, holding you close. As she knows her little one loves being spooned.

As the hours stretched on, you still couldn't sleep a wink but the comfort of being in Wilhemina's arms, at least pushed the worries and heartache away for now.

The days slowly turned into a week, still sleep remained a distant dream and insomnia has been slowly catching up on you. It was a Thursday afternoon, your workday finally coming to an end. The thought of driving home to your lovers, gives you great comfort and causes you to smile as you walk towards your car.

Suddenly, your feet betray you and you trip, trying to not fall over, you try and balance yourself but your body not stable enough to keep you up. As your face makes contact with the floor, your hands at least preventing further injuries, you lay there for a second, feeling both defeated and dizzy. Little stars blur your vision momentarily. For a good second you consider just staying there, waiting for sleep or someone to eventually find you, however you decide against it, making your way over to your car, having a sip of water until the dizzy spell slowly fades.

As you start the car you notice your knuckles and hands bleeding but carry on heading towards home, not being in the mood to even deal with it right away. After a while you finally make it home, just wanting to hide away after the day you have had. With trembling hands you enter through the front door, hoping the three of them would still be occupied with work, so you could clean yourself up without further questioning or concern. However your plan quickly comes to a stop as the three of them wait for you in the kitchen, being able to tell by the smell that Delia had cooked and seeing them wait so patiently and excitedly makes your heart melt a little.

Delia gets up to greet you first, taking your bag for you and setting it aside before greeting you by pulling you into a hug. As you enter the kitchen, you try your best to hide your trembling and bleeding hands but as Billie equally pulls you into a hug, Wilhemina instantly stares in horror at your hands.

,,Y/N? What is that?'' she questions sternly, concern lacing in her voice. Cordelia stops serving the food, before walking over and taking your hands into her own. ,,Sweetheart what happened?'' she asks softly, instantly ushering you to the sink, to tend to your wounds. Billie walks over, taking one look at your hands before her eyebrows furrow ,,Did you get in a fight babydoll?'' she asks, usually a joke would have followed the question but your serious expression and trembling, leaves no room for her jokes.

Cordelia hooks your chin, making your eyes meet hers. ,,Darling, this will sting but I don't want it to get infected alright?'' you simply nod. You discard your gaze and look out the window, feeling embarassed that they have seen it in the first place. After Cordelia finishes cleaning and tending to your wounds, she kisses them gently and after the trembling stops, she suggests for you to get changed before dinner.

,,Something is going on'' Wilhemina states after giving it enough time for you to make it up the stairs. Her voice laced with concern, her features stern.

,,She wouldn't have gotten into a fight, that's not like her'' Cordelia softly suggests to calm her lover down but her voice and features betraying her.

,,Let's just talk to her'' Billie softly suggests as she hears you enter the kitchen.

Nervously, you take a seat next to Billie. Cordelia hovering nearby, her eyes filled with concern and empathy as she serves dinner. The room is deadly quiet. The only noises being heard, the cutlery moving across the plates.

,,So what happened babydoll?'' Billie asks softly, giving you a comforting yet reassuring smile.

,,It's just a scratch, no need to worry'' you mumble, having no idea how to explain the whole thing altogether.

As you look up, you can tell this answer isn't sufficient and as you see Wilhemina's gaze lingering on yours you quickly add ,,I just fell at work earlier''.

Billie's brow furrows with concern as she inspects your hands yet again, her hand meeting your leg and placing it there to comfort you. ,,Poor sweetheart, how did that happen?'' Cordelia asks, being able to tell through her supreme abilities that you are in fact telling the truth.

,,I don't know, I was just walking to the car, then I tripped and tried to balance and then I fell'' you explain, the embarrassment of the situation and their gazes on you coating your cheeks in a dark tone of red.

,,Looks like you took quite a spill'' Billie adds, pouting a little as Delia tilts her head in that worried but adoring way.

,,Did you hurt yourself anywhere else sweetheart?'' Cordelia quickly asks but you shake your head.

Hoping the conversation is over, you look around the room, seeing content yet still worried faces, Delia and Billie knowing the truth. For a moment the weight lifts off your shoulders replaced by the warmths of your lovers and support. However, as your eyes meet Wilhemina's you shiver a little. You see a flicker of something else, lurking behind her brown eyes.

,,Wh- What's wrong Mina?'' you ask, your voice tinged with uncertainty as you meet her icy gaze. Causing for Billie and Cordelia to meet the redheads eyes as well.

Wilhemina's expression hardens, her jaw set in a tight line as she averts her gaze, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

,,What's wrong?' she spits, her voice sharp with anger as she fixes you with her gaze.

,,What' wrong is that I don't even't recognise you anymore'' she states. Your breath gets caught in your throat and before Cordelia can open her mouth to deescalate the situation, the redhead opens hers yet again. ,,What's wrong is that you aren't honest with us''. she states bluntly.

You recoil at the force of Wilhemina's words, the weight of her anger crashing down upon you like a tidal wave. ,,I-'' you stammer, trying to find the right thing to say, your voice barely above a whisper, as you struggle to find the words to express what has been going on.

Cordelia is quick to intervene, her gentle words breaking through Wilhemina's icy ones. ,,She isn't lying darling, I can tell''. But Wilhemina isn't so easily appeased. With a frustration sigh, her gaze averts yours yet again, her shoulders tense with anger. ,,She may not be lying about the fall but she hasn't been honest with us either''.

Billie now turns to her confused, her hand still on your thigh now squeezing it slightly. ,,What you mean?'' she asks, impatience lacing her words.

,,Are you going to tell them?'' Wilhemina turns to you again, her words cutting through you like knifes. The strictness in her voice and the sharpness of her words, cause your vulnerability to get ahold of you, tears spilling from your eyes.

Your chair scrapes across the kitchen floor, as you get up, Billie's hand leaving from your thigh. ,,I'm sorry for spoiling dinner'' you apologise to Cordelia before walking away.

The three of them watch you leave, each of them contemplating whether to follow you. Billie gets up first, but Cordelia gently stops her ,,Let her calm down a minute, honey'' she coos.

,,What was that all about?'' Billie snaps, angry with Wilhemina's harsh words and how they affected you. The redhead looks down, hating for the way the conversation and evening took a turn.

,,I know you didn't mean to upset her my love but can you explain please?'' Delia pleas, her hand reaching for Wilhemina's across the dining table.

Wilhemina inhales sharply before meeting Cordelia's eyes, her calmness keeping her centred. ,,Haven't you noticed?'' the redhead asks confused, worry overtaking her that she read the signs wrong.

,,Noticed what?'' Billie asks confused, her eyes pleading for answers.

,,Y/N hasn't been sleeping. I think it's been about a week, I assume that's why she fell also'' Wilhemina states.

Her words suddenly hit the other two in the face like a slap from reality. Of course Billie had noticed the tossing and turning and the way the ashtray was always full in the morning, an indication you did in fact steal away in the middle of the night. The supreme had noticed but didn't know the extend of the situation as she faces an internal battle of fear and worries. She feels like she let you down, not noticing and intervening before this happened.

As you retreat to the comfort of the bedroom, the weight of Wilhemina's words hang heavy in the air, the harshness cutting through you like a knife. Tears stream down your cheeks as you collapse onto the bed, the weight of this day and the insomnia crashing down on you.

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Cordelia, Billie and Wilhemina sit in silence the weight of the evening's revelations weighing heavily upon them each in their own ways. Cordelia's brow furrows with concern again as she squeezes Wilhemina's hand. ,,My love, I know you didn't mean to upset her'' she begins, her voice soft and soothing as she meets the redheads gaze.

,,We need to talk to her about what's going on and how we can help her'' she suggests softly. Wilhemina's shoulders tense in response but she nods, her heart heavy with regret. ,,I know'' she whispers her voice filled with remorse.

,,I just didn't realise how bad the insomnia has been until today. I feel like I have failed her'' Billie admits. Cordelia reaches out her other hand to the blonde woman, holding it gently. ,,You haven't failed anyone, Billie''.

,,Our little one is great at hiding things from us unfortunately'' Delia explains. ,,I think we should try and talk to her'' she adds afterwards, having let some time pass by now. With a heavy sigh Billie and Wilhemina nod in agreement. As they stand from the table, their gazes fixed on the staircase, they all agree. ,,Let's try''.

As the three of them enter your shared bedroom, the weight of their concern hangs heavy in the air, their footsteps soft against the wooden floor as they approach you, including gentle cane taps from Wilhemina. Their hearts filled with a mixture of worry and love.

You look up from where you are sitting on the edge of the bed, your tear stained cheeks betraying how you truly feel and have been feeling. The sight in front of you only causes for more tears to spill as you see their faces filled with so much worry. You hated this, this is exactly why you didn't want to tell them about the sleeping problem or the fall. You always feel as if they have more important things to do and worry about, not wanting to burden them with your stuff, unbeknownst to you that ,,your stuff'' was all they wanted to hear about and support you with.

Cordelia is the first to speak, her voice soft yet filled with determination as she take a seat beside you, her gaze filled with empathy and understanding. ,,Darling, do you think you are ready to talk to us?'' her voice gentle yet tinged with a sense of urgency as she reaches out to take your hand into her own. Her perfume lingering in the air, honey and vanilla momentarily make you feel calm and content.

You simply nod in response, knowing now you couldn't keep it in any longer, also the exhaustion from the insomnia slowly clouding your senses and making it hard to think. The room fills with silence as you struggle to express the depth of your exhaustion. Billie moves to sit on your other side, her presence and smell of expensive perfume and a hint of cigarette, causing you to feel a little more calmer. ,,We're here babydoll'' she says, her voice filled with warmth as she wraps you into her arms.

Wilhemina remains leaning on her cane from a slight distance, her gaze fixated on you. ,,Y/N.. I-'' she struggles, fighting her internal battles. ,,I'm sorry for what I said before, I was simply worried about you''. Her voice is filled with regret as she approaches you slowly. Tears swell in your eyes at hearing Wilhemina's words, knowing she isn't usually one to apologise and the burden of the argument from before lifting off your shoulders a little. With a trembling hand you reach out to take hers, offering her a silent reassurance of gratitude and forgiveness.

,,Sweetie'' Cordelia asks after a while as the four of you sit beside each other. ,,Hm?'' you ask feeling tired from the past couple of days. ,,How long haven't you been sleeping?'' she asks gently and your gaze averts hers. Billie watches as you chew your bottom lip anxiously, squeezing you a little closer.

,,A week'' you whisper, scared of their reaction. Cordelia's brow furrows with worry, her heart aching at the thought of your suffering. ,,A week?!'' Billie questions, unable to believe the depth of your statement.

,,Oh darling, why haven't you told us? We could have helped you'' Cordelia questions, her head tilting as she tries to meet your gaze.

Tears well up in your eyes, Wilhemina quick to catch them this time. ,,I didn't want to burden you, the three of you have enough on your plate'' you whisper again, barely audible. Your voice filled with remorse before you struggle to meet her brown eyes.

,,Darling girl, you couldn't ever burden us'' Billie is quick to reassure. ,,You bring so much joy into our lives'' the medium adds, her features brightening at the love confession.

,,Sweetheart, we are here for you always, but I think we need to do something about this hm?'' Cordelia softly suggests and you nod tiredly, at this point ready to try anything they suggest or do.

Three sets of brown eyes meet each other, being able to tell they might have a shot at this tonight as you seem as exhausted as ever before. ,,Billie, would you be okay to heat her up some dinner, she barely ate?'' Cordelia asks gently and Billie nods, before pressing a kiss to your cheek and doing as she was asked to.

,,Come on sweetheart'' Cordelia suggests and helps you up. ,,Where are we going?'' you ask confused before she softly chuckles and explains ,,We are going to have a nice relaxing bath, that sounds good?'' she asks with an adorable beaming smile that makes you melt.

Before you approach the bathroom, you turn around to see your redhead lover still sitting on the bed, smiling softly at you. Your features suddenly crease and her eyes are quick to meet yours. ,,Mina?'' you whisper and she is quick to pull herself up, holding onto her cane and making her way over. ,,Please don't go anywhere'' you whisper and Cordelia's heart aches at the statement as her eyes meet the redheads. Her lip forms into a small pout before explaining ,,I'm not going anywhere, little one''. She presses a kiss to your cheek before you smile relieved at her words and follow Cordelia into the bathroom.

Delia makes sure to use some of her favourite lavender bath salts as she runs the bath. In a few quick swift motions, she helps you undress and as you settle into the warm embrace of the water, Cordelia sitting beside you, her presence making you feel comfortable. She reaches out to take your hand into hers before asking ,,Is it okay if I wash your hair sweetheart?'' and you nod sleepily in response.

With gentle hands, she massages the shampoo into your scalp and soon after the conditioner. With each splash of warm water and her soft touch, gentle against your skin, she eases the tension from your tired muscles. She speaks softly, her voice filled with warmth and affection as she whispers words of affection and comfort, reminding you that you aren't alone and will never be.

As the minutes pass, the tension slowly begins to melt away, replaced by a sense of peace that washers over you like a gentle tide. Cordelia continues to show you her lovely care, as she helps you dry off, putting you in some of her comfortable pjs, some socks Mina had knitted a while ago. Sensing your exhaustion and sleep slowly and finally creeping up on you, she simply scoops you up into her arms. As she carries you back to the bedroom, her steps are light, her touch comforting and reassuring as she whispers words of love and reassuring into your ears.

As Cordelia sits you down gently, wrapping you in some blankets, she can tell that sleep is about to consume you, but she makes sure that you at least have some food and water beforehand. After doing as they ask your eyes feel heavy and with each blink you can see their faces as they sit next to you at the edge of the bed, smiling softly at you, each with loving and adoring eyes.

,,Tired'' you mumble and this causes for Billie to chuckle softly. ,,You rest now my love'' Cordelia whispers gently, her voice filled with content and tenderness as she presses a soft kiss to your forehead. Before your eyes close they wander to Wilhemina one more time ,,It' okay, I'll be right here and I won't go anyway she reassures.

At last sleep washes over your exhausted and tired body. The soft low light in the corner of the room providing you the feeling of safety, the warmth of the covers making you feel comfortable and their presence making you feel safe. They keep their promise, staying with you throughout the night. Neither of them leaving your side and with each little noise or movement that escapes you, they are right there, ready to tend to their strong little fighter, relieved you opened up to them eventually and that they could be by your side.

[gatorbites-imagines]

I wanted to ask if you’d be willing to do John Constantine x male!reader who is like Dean from spn, maybe just a one shot of him meeting the reader and being like “I want that one.” Preferably no smut but if that’s what you’d like go for it! Ofc feel free to deny the request if you don’t want it!

-Crow

John Constantine x male reader

Headcanons

I honestly don’t know a lot about supernatural, the closest I’ve gotten to it has been reading smut about the characters sometimes. So, if the personality is wrong, its cuz I got no supernatural experience.

You were a hunter in the magical world, but you were different from most of the others. That difference being you had no magic or supernatural powers. You were just a guy, with his gun, his car, and his knowledge gained from the lifestyle.

You were well known because you had stopped the apocalypse side by side with your brother and some other allies, some of those allies being angels, demons, and anything in-between. But through it all, you stayed human, which is pretty damn impressive.

After saving the world from yet another apocalypse, you and your friends and family had decided to slow down with the whole hunter thing. Your brother found his other half and got married, they’re expecting their first kid. Your angel allies seem to be out experiencing the world, though you all keep in touch.

You were the only one still active in the hunger community, though you had settled away from the extreme, world devouring demons and beasts and returned to your roots. Those being smalltown issues, like werewolves running berserk, or some fae putting a village under her spell.

It helped settle some of the constant anxiety and paranoia in your bones, as these small things felt like coming home after fighting for humanity for many years.

That was what led you to where you were now. Sitting in a bar in some small village out in the boonies, the kind of place that had one grocery store, one bar, and one liquor store. A vampire seemed to have settled on turning this small remote down into their own personal blood bank, so you’d settled out and gotten rid of the thing.

Constantine had been passing through, headed for the exact same vampire as you. Both to kill them, but also to take their collection of ancient magical tombs. Sadly, for Constantine, you had made a habit of burning down the homebases of the things you hunted, so nothing like it would settle there again.

Constantine had tracked you down using magic, maybe wanting to whoop your ass just a bit for destroying the books he had been after. He expected some green hunter, who’d just picked up their first silver dagger or bottle of holy water, so color him surprised when he saw you of all people.

Constantine would know who you were, because of the whole, saving humanity from the apocalypse thing. Hed think you were a lot more handsome than the rumors told, even with your scars and tattoos. There was something about the way you carried yourself that got under his skin in the best way.

So, instead of starting anything, Constantine would saddle up beside you and start his flirting spiel. You, of course, would also know who he was. What respectful hunter wouldn’t know John Constantine, because anywhere he went, trouble always followed.

You being you though, flirted with him in return in your own way, though neither of you expected much to come out of your meeting, even as you shared numbers after stumbling out of the bar drunk off your asses.

You had completely forgotten about having his number, and Constantine was the same, until one of you found the number and texted the other in a moment of boredom.

It would take a while for the two of you to become close, as this business always came with paranoia and a lot of backstabbing. But your mutual interest grew, though Constantine will never admit it, he fell hardest, and he fell first.

Expect a lot of flirting from him, which you always respond too by flirting right back at him. It would probably take you both a whole to accept that you have feelings for the other, and even longer for either of you to confess because you’re both emotionally constipated and don’t think you deserve happiness.

It ends up being your brother that gets you to confess, or he would probably tell Constantine that you like him on accident or in a passing comment. Constantine wouldn’t believe it in the beginning, until he would mention it around you, and you end up confirming that you feel that way.

You both try to play it cool, not wanting to come across as desperate or too lovesick, but one thing leads to another and you two become a thing.

It doesn’t change your dynamic a whole lot, outside of the fact that you can kiss whenever you want now. Constantine might also be sneaking protective magic and runes into everything you own, just in case, even though you are only taking small hunts now.

In the same way you always find ways to protect Constantine even without magic, resulting in at some point pummeling a demon half to death for trying to demand Constantine’s soul. It just makes your lover even more attracted to you, so win for you.

Your relationship has moments of long distance, as you drive around wherever your job takes you, and Constantine is needed all over the world, but you are both loyal and just make up for lost time next time you see each other.

[what-even-is-thiss]

I’ve been wondering why I keep trying to give starfield a fair chance even though I’ve got so many complaints about it and I think the problem is that there really is a lot of fun bits and the components of a good game are in there somewhere but it misses the mark in so many spots. Like even I, a person who doesn’t make video games, can see how parts of it could’ve been improved with just a few tweaks. Tweaks that Bethesda clearly wasn’t willing to make.

Like they’ve made procedurally generated worlds before. I rag on Daggerfall a lot but there’s a reason that game still has fans to this day. Instead of making procedurally generated dungeons for starfield though they just made a small set of copy/paste dungeons you run into over and over again.

The random filler NPCs have no soul to them. You can’t chat with anyone but the named characters. But sometimes they have oblivion style random conversations. It desperately makes me wish there were more named NPCs with schedules.

The ships can’t even fly to other planets in the same system, the creature design clashes with the environmental design, there’s only one major city per inhabited planet, and small towns and colonies are basically nonexistent. There’s no survival mode for hardcore players even though they developed that.

There’s not enough dirt. Everything in this world feels clean and sterile. Instead of starting farms colonists in remote areas live in clean communal pods. They don’t have any face dirt or oil on them. They don’t wear hard hats, they don’t have children outside of the cities, they don’t herd animals or wear weather specific clothing. There’s no local problems they want you to help fix. No community drama or poisoned watering holes.

There’s so much stuff that feels like concept art not realized to its full potential. It feels like this game is the bones of three different okay games shoved into a too-small box together. Is this a survival game, a role playing exploration game, or a mindless first person shooter? It hasn’t decided which one it wants to be and the art and gameplay styles of these different ideas don’t quite fit together and as a player it’s incredibly frustrating because you can see how it could’ve been more fun but it’s just not

[laroserie]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𖥻 yandere incubus

— character : yandere!incubus oc ( not named yet )

— content : x gender neutral reader , bullets points fic , yandere , unhealthy / toxic behavior , suggestive , incubus force himself on reader ( not in a sexual way )

— authors note : plan on writing somes kind of drabbles about him, i like this character :), but for the moments accept this fic ? ( i dont know how to name it. )

⦁ yandere!incubus how just stumble into you in school or at the supermarket, he see you and decide that he found his dinner, he will follow you home like he do for all his preys, its nothings out of the usual for him.

⦁ he just follow people he found somewhat attractive to their house and then go about his day, until it noon, only then will he go to their house and decide to feed himself

⦁ so he just do like usual for you, he doesn't think much of it, he enter your bedroom thought the window, silly human forgot to close it properly ( and even if you did, he could get inside, incubus are demons after all ), and once he make sure he get right to business.

⦁ he climb on top of your sleeping body, and start intruding your dreams, taking of course someone else appearance, someone you like or just find pretty and couldn't mind doing indecent activities.

⦁ as he finish feeding himself, something click inside of him, he feel weird. a bit disturbed ? he can't quite put the finger on it but it felt weird. an enticing kind of weird. it make the demon want for more, more of it, more of you.

⦁ and then he find himself coming back a second, third, fourth time, and suddenly he come to you every-night, the incubus doesn't need to feed himself every days, so some nights he just stare at your sleeping form, all cuddled up in your blanket as you sleep peacefully not aware of the demon being in the same room as you

⦁ at first it out of curiosity, how can an human, such an inferior being make him feel like this, but suddenly the curiosity transform into interest, which become love to finally be obsession.

⦁ the incubus want more than just seeing you at night so he start stalking you in your every days life, he learn your schedule, he may even go as far as going to the same school or try to get hired at your work-place ( and if the 'regular' way doesn't work, he will just use his power, remember darling, he is an demon ), he will befriend you, try to become your 'best-friend'. he often make suggestive jokes, or comments, always trying to fluster you, he sometime out right propose you to have 'fun' together. ( just to be rejected , by you thinking he was once again joking )

⦁ now that he is your friend he doesn't have to stalk you as much as he used to do ! he insist on walking you home, going to the grocery store together ect ... ( he will still stand watching you sleep in your bedroom though )

⦁ and at some point, he just can't support having to change himself, having to take the appearance of someone else. after all how could you love someone that isn't him ? after all, if he is so obsessed by you why aren't you with him, its not fair right darling ?

⦁ so he decided that the best thing to do was to take out the competition, your cute classmate that helped you on your science homework ? he felt down the stairs in his house and broke his neck ! your work colleague that you always found attractive ? he killed himself after a series of unlucky events ! he even go as far as taking out anyone you found remotely attractive ( make sense as to why the gas station near your house keep having new cashiers ), and how did he know about all those persons ? well silly, you tell him everything about your love life, after all isn't he your closest friend ?

⦁ soon enough, the demon doesn't have to shapeshift into some else to feed himself

⦁ – oh beloved you finally realised i'm who you truly want ? ♡

⦁ after that point on, be ready for him to confess his love for you at any moment.

⦁ the incubus could most likely do it in the following week, he can't contain himself any longer ! do you know how much you made him wait ?

⦁ he will confess in a classic way, ask you to join him at a restaurant and tell you that he hold very strong feelings toward you

⦁ you of course accept, after all why not ? he is attractive, fun and kind toward you ( if you forget his habits of teasing you and making not so appropriate jokes )

⦁ from that point on you are dammed. you cannot get rid of him ever, he will be even more clingy.

⦁ and worst, he will be openly possessive and jealous, before it could be limited to some comments, now its full on lectures about why its wrong to smile to the cashier, to help your classmate on their work, to make a cup of coffee for a work colleague.

⦁ adding to that the fact that you won't be able to leave him, he is a demon, an incubus, he know how to use his charm and words to guilt trip you into thinking that yes, you are the bad guy, you are in the wrong, you should feel bad for what you did.

⦁ after all your boyfriend is just looking out for you ! what if they misunderstood your kindness for flirting and tried to put their dirty hands on you !

⦁ outside of that, he could probably tell you about his non-human nature soon after starting officially dating ( for him you starting unofficially dating the third time he came feed himself on you ), he feel the need to tell you the truth and what could go wrong right ?

⦁ well if you don't believe him, he will show you his wings and others demonic characteristics.

⦁ if you decide that it's too much and try to break up with him, no you can't. he will try to persuade you to stay with him and if that do not work he will resort to more extreme ways. drug you and tie you up in his basement is not off limit but don't worry he will take good care of you ! the incubus will make sure you have silky ribbons to tie your hands and ankles when he isn't home, when he is you will be free to walk around his basement, sorry darling the rest of the house is off limit but look ! all of your favourites books, dvds, games, music are here. you won't get bored that quickly ! oh also the entire basement is soundproof and babyproof so good luck trying to hurt yourself or get the outside attention

⦁ if you decide to stay with him his 'affection' will only growth, he will only be more possessive, jealous ... overall crazy about you ! and you soon will end up in the same position as if you decided to broke up with you. overall he can't let anyone steal you away, you are so much safer in his basement ! hided from the outside world !

[downundergarfield]

Dude, the day I finally get ahold of that Sniper ass… anyway… please a sniper x f!reader who is also pretty introverted and the two start hanging out together in private bc she cannot stand how loud the other mercs be sometimes. Thank you <3

That sounds so sweet, dear anon. This is what I managed to compose:

Sniper × F!reader they start hanging out together because they can't stand how noisy everyone else is.

Friday afternoon. The sun was covered with clouds and the whole day was flooded with a hundred shades of gray. A sticky feeling of some kind of fatigue and sadness hung heavily on your shoulders. You looked at the bustling mercenaries who were preparing for some kind of holiday or party. The Soldier shouted something commanding at the others, the Scout shouted something in response. Everyone was fussing and the noise made your head spin. You sighed after looking at it and went to a place familiar to you, and only to you. Along the way, Pyro stuck to you, they asked where you were going, mumbling something worriedly. You said you wanted to be alone and Pyro understood that.

A small library. The mercenaries could not boast of a special zeal for reading, there were not many books on this. Shelves, too, but they served more as the walls of a small maze. There was no light in the room. Because no one is sitting here, why conduct electricity here?

You sat down between the shelves, sighing heavily. You took out a flashlight, a favorite book and were able to enjoy quiet solitude in this dusty remote room. There was almost no noise, except that the rain was drumming on the glass. When did it start? Apparently the weather is also not up to the festivities. Calm and quiet. Even your head almost doesn't hurt.

You were already beginning to nod off, when your rest was interrupted by a sound on the left. You looked there, peering fearfully into the darkness. A tall, stooped figure stood in the thick black darkness. Hastily grabbing a flashlight, you shone it in its direction. The light fell on the scarlet shirt. There was a hoarse little moan.

"-aagh, not in the eyes, mate!"

He was covering his blinded eyes with his hands. Oh, thank God, it's just the Sniper.

"what are you doing here?"

You whispered, looking at the lanky man.

"that's what I 'ave to ask ya"

He rubbed his blinded eyes and then put his glasses back on.

You raised one eyebrow.

"- I'm taking a break from these goons. Too much noise."

He chuckled.

"-surprised. 'm also hiding from these wanka's."

Silence reigned. You shone on his body without getting into his eyes. He was looking at you through reflective glasses. An awkward pause. Damn, what else can you say?

"-sit down?"

You nod, he carefully sits down next to you, looking into the empty darkness of the library.

"-often here?"

You nod.

"- when they start making noise."

"-same."

You're both at a loss for words. But it's nice for you to realize that you're not the only one. Not one quiet guy. He pauses, looks at you in this light lantern light and slowly leans closer. You can smell tobacco and fresh wood.

"what are you reading?"

You don't immediately gather your words and tell him about the contents of the book, about the characters, about your favorite story from there. He smiles softly, listening to you attentively. You don't raise your voice, speak softly, and he answers you no less softly. Here his hoarse raspy voice feels really cozy. It's like hanging out with a cool uncle.

"- This is quite interestin', also have something to tell...."

He tells you about the things he has seen, and you respond. Once you philosophize. Once you discuss others. Gently laugh it off, chuckling softly. And then be silent again.

Comfort warms you and you do not notice how you are leaning on his shoulder. He shudders and is ready to swear that an army of goosebumps ran over his skin. But he didn't object. The sound of the rain lulled, and the warmth from his body warmed. You didn't even notice how you fell asleep, having knocked out the flashlight. You will wake up later when the sun hits your eyes. The Sniper will be right there, sleeping on one of the bookshelves. One thing will catch your attention. His vest covers you. How cute.

[extralively]

Movie Night

Gojo Satoru/Original Female Character NSFW (it's just smut) 4,936 words Also posted on AO3 Summary: Satoru has Yura over for a little movie night, but what he has in mind is something completely different. So Yura decides to teach him to have a little patience as she... 'enjoys the movie'.

While I'm editing the next chapter of the main fic (coming soon!), lemme just post this oneshot here on tumblr. If you've been keeping up with the series on AO3, you might have already read this one!

Anyway, this is just pure filth and can be read as standalone. Enjoy!

Whenever Satoru asked Yura to watch a movie with him nowadays, it was an inevitability that it would eventually lead to sex. When it would happen was always up in the air—as in, if they were going to actually get through the entire movie or not—but in general, whenever they decided to hang out at each other’s apartments alone, sex was a foregone conclusion.

Of course, Yura sometimes still wanted to watch the damn movie.

...But she also had to admit that sometimes, she too had something else in mind.

“So, what’s the movie this time?” Yura asked, flopping down onto Satoru’s comfy leather couch.

Satoru soon joined her after he grabbed the TV’s remote, sitting next to her. “It’s a romcom,” he said, stretching out his long legs to rest his feet on the coffee table. “It came out recently.”

Yura shifted on her side, resting her head on the back cushion as she let her legs curl on top of his, her body halfway on his lap. “...It’s not porn again this time, is it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Satoru let out a huff. “That wasn’t porn! That was... an erotic movie. It’s a Japanese classic!”

“I mean...” Yura tilted her head. “The movie is like ninety percent very explicit sex—until the woman cuts the guy’s dick off at the end.”

“Well...” Satoru sighed. “That was only after the guy was already dead...”

Yura snorted.

Satoru eventually started the movie up, and their attention shifted to his ridiculously large TV screen. This time, it really seemed to be a mostly light-hearted movie, and Yura quickly relaxed into the couch cushions, letting her head rest against his shoulder as she curled further into his side.

As the main characters of the story started being introduced, Yura’s hand came up to hold onto the crook of Satoru’s elbow, the one trapped between her body and his—which meant that his other arm was free to caress her leg as he pleased. And Yura sighed in approval, enjoying his touch on her bare skin; she had already changed into what could pass off as comfortable pajamas: an old pair of shorts and an oversized sweater—she’d figured she would not be leaving Satoru’s apartment again until tomorrow so she might as well make herself comfortable, right? And Satoru had also had the same idea, having already changed out of his street clothes and into sweatpants and a loose t-shirt—both now perfectly cozy until all these clothes were inevitably chucked off somewhere later in the night.

Familiar story beats were happening on screen—nothing too innovative, bordering on cliché. Yura tried to focus on the movie, she really did, but it wasn’t particularly gripping... and Satoru’s hand on her leg was more than a little distracting. And that was before his other hand moved despite its limited mobility between the two of them, coming up to gently caress her thigh; that, she was more than certain, was completely deliberate. The bastard definitely knew what he was doing here.

“Satoru, it’s been like ten minutes since the start of the movie,” she told him, amused.

“Hmm?” Satoru replied, tilting his head towards her ever so slightly. “I’m not doing anything, I’m just... watching the movie.”

The smile on his face clearly contradicted his words. Sly bastard.

Satoru turned his head to press his lips to the top of her head. “Not doing anything at all...” He pressed another kiss there. “Wouldn’t want to miss this amazing movie.” And another kiss. “I think it’s good enough to win an Oscar.”

Yura was trying to bite back a grin, as she didn’t want to give in too easily. By now, she was fairly sure Satoru had picked any random movie just so he could have the excuse of a movie night, when in reality, what he wanted was sex. She had no idea why he went the roundabout way sometimes, since he wasn’t exactly shy about just asking for it directly—so the least he could do was play along a little bit more, couldn’t he?

“The movie does seem pretty promising,” Yura said, still trying (and failing) to keep a smile off her face. “It would be a shame if we missed it.”

Her hand slid up from his arm to his chest, and she started drawing random imaginary figures on his shirt.

“Such a shame,” Satoru agreed, his hand wrapping around her thigh to hitch her leg higher on his lap.

Yura let her hand trail downward on his torso, reaching the waistband of his sweatpants and sliding her fingers over it. She could feel Satoru’s stomach contracting briefly at the pressure, and she couldn’t help herself; she let her hand slip under his t-shirt to brush against the bare skin there, her fingers finding the contours of his muscles and gently tracing along.

...Well, that might have been a bit too much, because Satoru suddenly lifted his free hand to hold her head, tilting it up as his lips immediately found hers and—goodbye movie.

Yura smiled against Satoru’s mouth as he shifted on the couch, maneuvering both of their bodies so she would fully turn towards him as he moved between her legs. Her hand had to leave his stomach with the movement, and she briefly lamented the lack of contact before he was quickly on her again.

As her hands came up to cradle his face close to her, his lips were a bit insistent as they moved against hers, no soft and slow movements this time—instead, Satoru locked their lips together in deep kisses that had her head spinning. He kept pushing her backwards too, until she eventually ended up lying back on the couch, Satoru always moving with her as he settled right between her legs. He was quick to pull off his sunglasses and toss them away, and Yura had to smile again at his clear impatience before his lips were immediately back on hers. Why had he even suggested a movie night when what he wanted for tonight was clearly this?

Oh well. Yura let her hands slip underneath Satoru’s shirt again to caress his back, while his tongue pushed its way into her mouth. One of his hands made its way down her waist, tilting her hips up and making sure they were perfectly slotted against his—so that once he started grinding his hips down onto hers, she would definitely feel it.

“...Someone’s a little impatient,” Yura breathed out as they disconnected their mouths. And Satoru didn’t even give himself a chance to breathe, as he immediately pressed his lips to her cheek and started trailing down kisses all the way to her neck.

“I was out all week,” he said, in between kisses to her skin.

Yura snorted. “We had sex yesterday.”

“...Still plenty of time we need to make up for.”

She was pretty sure Satoru was grinning against her neck, and Yura huffed out a laugh that ended up turning into a moan when Satoru started sucking on that one spot and ground his hips onto hers at the same time.

Satoru certainly seemed to be up and ready himself, didn’t he?

“You sure that you didn’t get turned on thinking about that porn movie from last time?” Yura huffed out as Satoru’s hips started insistently grinding against hers, effectively starting to dry hump her. Yura let her thighs spread a bit wider, tilting her hips so the pressure would be on just the right spot.

“...That was an erotic movie,” Satoru insisted, lifting his head back up. “And no... Maybe.” He shot her a crooked grin.

Satoru’s mouth found hers again. When his hands slipped down to start tugging at her shorts, Yura simply lifted her hips to assist their removal, and Satoru pulled away from her so he could tug her shorts and panties away in one go. She looked up at him, amused; so that was how eager he was? Zero patience for anything else, not even bothering to remove her oversized sweater as he completely bared her bottom to him.

And he, of course, wasn’t too far behind; after tossing her shorts and underwear somewhere, he immediately started pushing down his own pants, also neglecting to remove his own t-shirt. Yura could help, she thought, still amused as she looked up at Satoru rushing to remove his sweatpants. But Satoru was just so darn eager, that maybe... he could learn to have a little patience.

Yura sat up as Satoru was about to return to her, sans pants. And as she placed a hand on his chest to hold him back, making him look at her in confusion, she tried biting back a smile. “...I still want to watch the movie, though,” she said, and Satoru continued to stare, completely befuddled—he’d clearly been expecting something else.

He was so confused that when she started urging him backwards, he just let her guide him without a word. His blue eyes were blinking up at her as if to ask ‘what are you doing?’, but Yura only smiled in return, pushing him back until he was finally sitting again on the couch. She gave him no chance to say anything then, quickly climbing onto his lap—except it was to sit on it with her back to his chest. Not exactly what he had in mind, and as she grabbed his hands to wrap his arms around her body in an innocuous embrace, she could feel the sheer confusion radiating from all over him.

“...Yura,” Satoru eventually spoke up behind her as she settled onto his lap, facing the TV. Never mind that both of their bottom halves were completely bare, and she had purposefully sat with his erection under her... “What—”

“Shh,” she interrupted him. “It’s movie night, and I wanna watch a movie.”

She was desperately trying to bite back a grin.

“Yuraaaa,” he whined behind her, his arms tightening around her body as he dropped his forehead against her shoulder. “There are more fun things to do than a movie.”

Satoru’s hands tried moving up her chest, but she grabbed them again and held them in place. “You said we were going to watch a movie—so we’re watching a movie,” she said again. But her hips shifted around, rubbing against him, and Satoru drew in a sharp exhale.

Yura kept her eyes on the TV, even though she wasn’t actually paying attention. And neither was Satoru, although she wasn’t surprised in the least—she could still see a mess of white hair against the side of her head, his face still pressed against her shoulder as his arms held her tightly to him. His hips tried grinding up into her, and she could feel him tantalizingly close to her unclothed core—but patience. She shifted on his lap, sitting up straighter, and it made him whine again.

She unwrapped his arms from around her, removing them from her body. “Behave. It’s movie night, remember?” she said, and Satoru whined again.

...But the thing was, she had shifted on his lap, with a purpose. She could now open her thighs just a bit more, and, there you go—his member was slotted right against the crack of her buttocks. And Satoru sure had noticed that, suddenly going still as he seemed to be waiting for what she was going to do next.

And what she did next was grind her hips down, slowly. Satoru let out a shaky breath, and she did it again, and again, and to be honest, the more she shifted back, the more she could feel him rubbing against her outer folds. She was teasing him, yes, but it also left her wanting more, despite her little plan to act as blasé about it as possible—so Yura couldn’t help herself. She shifted back some more, sitting further back on his lap so she could feel his entire length resting right outside her core.

Yura bit her lip, looking down at her thighs to see the head of him poking out from between them. What a sight, she thought, but when she ground her hips down again, it didn’t really provide enough pressure to satisfy her properly, his member still remaining outside of her folds.

So she took matter into her own hands, literally—she reached down with one hand and used it to press him up against her, slotting him between her folds and finally rubbing herself against him. Her nether lips were hugging his length tightly, increasingly coating him in her wetness with every movement she made. Satoru’s hands were gripping her hips, trying to urge her further, and despite all that, Yura was still trying to pretend that she was fully engrossed in the movie in front of them.

“Satoru, you’re missing the best part,” Yura spoke up, and Satoru only let out a questioning hum behind her. “Of the movie,” she clarified. She shifted her hips again, and she let her thumb caress the head of his length for a moment.

“This is not... the best part,” Satoru responded. “We haven’t reached the climax yet.”

Yura’s grin widened. “No, but we can’t just skip there,” she said, paired with another roll of her hips, the feeling of his member dragging against her folds way too good for her to stop. “Gotta go through the rest of the movie first.”

Yura let her thighs fall open some more, spreading her legs further on his lap. Maybe it was time to move on to the ‘next scene’, she thought, amused, and she finally shifted on his lap, folding her legs back as she essentially knelt down outside of his thighs. She still kept him pressed against her folds throughout, unwilling to break the connection, but once she was in the right position with her knees on either side of him, she finally shifted enough to let the head notch against her entrance, and she slowly sank down on him.

Satoru let out a long, shuddering breath as she took him in, and Yura herself did the same. Her hands came to rest on his thighs for support, the feeling of her walls being stretched open as she pushed him into her completely frying her brain for a moment, but not enough for her to stop. Quite the opposite; she continued sinking down until he was all the way inside, her hips meeting his and she let her weight drop onto his lap, taking a moment to just... enjoy the feeling.

“...Okay,” she eventually breathed out, opening her eyes back up. “Let’s watch the movie.”

Satoru let out a confused ‘hm?’ as Yura bit back a grin again, keeping her hips still. Her eyes were glued to the screen, and once Satoru realized she was not going to move, he whined again. “Yuraa—”

His hands started creeping up from her hips, and she had to knock them away from her. “It’s movie night,” she said, and even if she couldn’t see his face, she could tell he was pouting. His hands tried returning to her body, but she once again slapped them away. “Behave. Let me watch the damn thing.”

She wasn’t really watching the damn thing. Her eyes were glued to the screen, yes, but Yura had no idea what was going on anymore. Something something the main character needed to find a date, but that seemed almost irrelevant—not when she could feel Satoru hot and heavy inside of her, feeling him stretch her open on the inside. Satoru dropped his hands to the couch cushions once he realized she wasn’t going to let him touch, and he eventually let his body fall back against the couch as he seemingly decided to just roll with it.

“Is the movie really that good?” he asked, almost like making conversation. But to be honest, Yura had gotten a little distracted—when Satoru had moved, she’d felt him shift inside of her, and she bit her lip at the feeling.

“...Sure,” she replied. The fact that she was sitting directly on him made the feeling of him even better, seemingly increasing all the pressure there inside of her. Of course, sitting still for too long made her get too used to it, so Yura shifted her hips just a bit, just so she could feel him moving inside of her and she bit her lip some more.

“I was the one who picked it,” Satoru commented. Yura suddenly felt him start caressing the curve of her ass ever so slightly, brushing the skin there up and down until it reached where she was pressed against him. “I do have good taste.”

Yura hummed out a vague response, still trying to pay attention to the screen. But it was too distracting, feeling him slotted snugly inside of her; she thought she could feel something throbbing down there, but at this point, she couldn’t be sure whether that was him or her anymore.

Maybe both.

The main character on the TV was asking her best friend for advice, who seemed to be trying to talk some sense into her. Or at least that’s what Yura guessed, because her mind was elsewhere entirely—the feeling of him was almost too much, and even after all this time of them sleeping together, she was often taken aback by how deep Satoru could go.

One of her hands left his thigh, coming up to rest on her lower stomach instead. Her fingers splayed open on her own skin, slipping under her sweater as she absentmindedly caressed herself there. She wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination or not, but there were times that when she pressed down on her stomach like that, she thought she could almost feel him inside that way. Well, she could definitely feel him inside in another way, and she let her hips shift just the slightest bit again just so she could feel him sliding against her walls once more.

...This was actually really nice, she thought. What a fun movie night.

The main character in the movie seemed to have finally gotten somewhere with the male lead, and they were moving in for their first kiss. But before their lips could make contact, someone interrupted them, and then Yura suddenly jumped when Satoru decided to brush a finger over the sole of her foot—her walls immediately contracting around him at the tickling sensation.

“...Honestly,” Yura breathed out, though she was pretty sure Satoru had also let out a small gasp at the feeling. “You just won’t let me watch the movie in peace, will you?” she said, even as her lips were tugging upwards.

“What are you talking about,” Satoru said, and she could feel the sly tone in his voice even without seeing the accompanying grin. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Honestly,” Yura repeated, except that this time, she rolled her hips along with it. “Just let me watch the movie.”

Satoru, however, had nothing to complain about this time as Yura started moving her hips against his, pushing him in and out of her. In fact, she was sure she felt him fall back down against the cushions with a long sigh, his hands coming up to hold on to her calves as her hips rolled on top of him.

Yura set out at a quick pace, her hips moving with purpose. Her eyes also never left the screen, even if it was all a blur at this point—the feeling of him dragging along her walls was too good for her to pay attention to anything else. She adjusted the angle and quickened her pace, feeling Satoru’s fingers tighten against her skin as she heard his breathing pick up behind her, and it only encouraged her further.

Yura was completely focused on her own movements, her hands holding on to his thighs for support as her hips never stopped rolling on top of him. She did eventually change the angle again, her hips starting to move back and forth now, and that’s when she felt Satoru’s hand leave her calf to come up to her hip. She felt his upper body lift off the couch behind her, shifting closer to let his hand trail to her front—and she slapped it away.

“I’m busy,” she chided, still trying to bite back her own sly grin. “This movie is really good.”

“...Yeah?” Satoru breathed out, seeming confused again for a second.

“Hm-hm,” Yura nodded, returning her hands to his thighs, using them as leverage... but also caressing his thighs a bit. “You’re the one... otherwise distracted.”

Satoru let out a shaky breath, his torso dropping back to the couch. “I’m very distracted. Getting... more distracted by the second.”

She did allow herself to grin this time. “Then just be done with it... and get back to the movie.” Her pace increased.

Satoru’s hands gripped her calves again, breathing out her name. It wouldn’t be long now, she figured, letting her inner muscles contract around him; his fingers tightened on her skin at the feeling and she did it again.

Yura couldn’t help but glance behind her now, catching Satoru with his head thrown back against the cushions and his chest heaving up and down, almost in synch with her own movements. He seemed to be really into it, she thought, smiling, as she turned her head back to the front. She let her inner muscles squeeze him again, increasing her pace, and it didn’t take long for him to finally snap—his hips pushed up into hers, and she finally felt him start releasing himself deep inside of her with a long, drawn-out groan.

As Yura felt the warmth inside of her increasing, she let her hips slow down even as she squeezed him with her inner muscles once more, urging on his release. She closed her eyes this time, enjoying the feeling, letting her hips come to a halt by sinking back down on him completely and staying there.

As Satoru panted behind her, Yura let herself catch her own breath even if her body was still tense from the lack of release. This felt good, though, and she was enjoying it as part of the experience—the way she could still feel him inside, the way he made her feel full. And suddenly, one of her hands ended up returning to her lower stomach, pressing down gently, the thought of heirs and babies suddenly passing through her mind and Yura tried not to think about how those intrusive thoughts weren’t quite as unwelcome as they used to be. Feeling Satoru’s release inside of her was making her stomach do strange, but not unpleasant, flip flops—was this some sort of weird kink she had suddenly developed? She would definitely have to blame Satoru for this one. There would be no Gojo babies any time soon with her IUD in place, but the thought of them...

Maybe one day, echoed around in her mind, and Yura didn’t chase it away. Instead, she let her palm warm up her stomach, just as she could still feel Satoru warming up her insides.

...and he was definitely still warm and hard inside of her. So much stamina, she mentally laughed; he was showing no signs of softening anytime soon.

Yura’s lips tugged up.

Round two, then?

“...You still watching that movie?” Satoru eventually spoke up, still a little breathless.

“Yep,” she answered. But she let the hand on her stomach trail down, slipping between her legs until she reached the spot where their bodies were joined. Yura let her fingers brush against the base of his length, even if there wasn’t much space for it as she had sunk down on him completely. She teased both him and her there with gentle touches, and she couldn’t tell whether the stickiness she was feeling was from her or him or both.

One thing that did occur to her, though, was the fact that, hold on, there was a bit of him left that she could still take in, right? Her fingers rubbed against it and then against her folds wrapped around him, feeling his fingers tightening on her calves again. So Yura shifted her hips back, adjusting the angle and pushing down, and yeah—just a little bit deeper.

She stayed like that for a while longer, enjoying how it felt. It was almost like she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began—they were completely joined as one like this. She would have never imagined this feeling could be so intoxicating, a sudden wish for them to stay there forever passing through her—if only her body hadn’t started craving more.

The characters on the screen seemed to be finally hooking up, a modestly filmed sex scene starting up that couldn’t compare to what was going on outside of the TV. Satoru’s hands found her buttocks again, but instead of caressing them, he began squeezing them in his hold, playing with the flesh there. Yura briefly wondered if he was enjoying the sight back there, but her brain was suddenly emptied when she started shifting her hips slightly, enjoying the way Satoru was prodding at the deepest parts of her. Just lightly shifting her hips on top of him, pressing down to feel the pressure of him inside, but her movements eventually started to increase bit by bit. She began raising her hips and sinking back down, feeling him drag in and out of her and then in again—and this time, she was focusing on herself.

Yura’s hips kept moving up and down, making sure to adjust the angle so she could take him in as deep as she could with every thrust. Her movements couldn’t be too fast if she wanted to keep sinking in all the way, so she made up for it in intensity. She was almost bouncing on his lap, her hands gripping his thighs again as she adjusted her hips to push him in harder, stimulating something deep inside of her every time. And all the while, Satoru did nothing but let her do as she pleased, his hands cupping her ass almost like he was holding it up for her.

The movie in front of them was long forgotten as Yura let her head fall down, too immersed in the way her walls were being forced open every time she pushed him in. She could definitely feel something leaking out from where they were joined, her mind briefly registering it as his previous release—while the other part of her mind was saying more.

“Yura,” he breathed out her name, his hands sliding down from her behind until they were gripping her calves again. Yeah, she wanted more—more of him, more of this, just... more. So one of her hands eventually left his thigh, pressing down on her stomach again (was she really feeling him there or...?), and slowly, she slipped it down between her legs. As she started rubbing herself, her desperation only increased, her movements becoming erratic as she gripped his thigh harder. Her legs tensed and relaxed and tensed again, and she could feel Satoru’s legs doing the same under her. Come on, now, she thought to herself. A little more—

And it finally hit her, her hips roughly sinking down completely as her walls clamped around him, squeezing him, as her orgasm crashed over her. Satoru seemed to join her right after, his hips thrusting himself even deeper as she felt his warmth filling her up again.

Yura stayed still, letting the waves of pleasure wash over her. Her walls were spasming around him and she suddenly felt full again—not even realizing her hand had moved up from between her legs to rest on her stomach once more.

...Ah, shit. Definitely a new kink.

She could feel Satoru’s heavy breathing behind her as they both struggled to catch their breaths. His tight grip on her calves eventually loosened, and he was the one to finally break the silence.

“That’s... one hell of a movie,” Satoru spoke up, still breathless.

Yura laughed.

Once her eyes were unscrewed shut, her gaze eventually landed on the TV again. The movie was still playing.

With a long exhale, Yura let her torso fall back against him, feeling his chest heaving against her back in synch with hers. He sadly ended up slipping out of her with the movement, but his arms eventually came to circle her body, holding her close.

She sighed. Her hands came up to rest on top of his, her eyes landing on the TV screen again. The movie seemed to be close to its end, the main characters trying to resolve a misunderstanding between the two, but Yura was too busy feeling Satoru’s release slipping out of her to pay attention to the screen.

(...His couch was leather, it should be fine...)

“You know,” Satoru started, pressing his lips to the side of her head. “We could put on another movie after this...”

Yura laughed again, awkwardly unfurling her legs from under her and stretching them out. “We could,” she agreed.

She felt Satoru grinning against her cheek. “We could even go watch a movie in the bedroom, and then in the bathroom—”

“You don’t have a TV in the bathroom,” she reminded him.

Satoru huffed out a laugh. “We can get creative.”

Yura laughed with him; that they could...

[theharrowing]

An Ghealach

Field Linguist Jimin Park travels to a remote island called An Ghealach off the coast of Ireland to research and document an endangered language, just in time for the community’s Beltane festivities. What he encounters is both horrifying and mesmerizing beyond his wildest dreams.

🌑 Jimin x Female Reader 🌒 word count: 9k 🌓 speculative horror, gore, major character death, dub con, smut, nsfw, 21+ 🌔 warnings: 🕊 dead dove! creepy folk horror themes (shapeshifting, human sacrifice), unable to tell dreams from reality, gore (mention of entrails, mention of bleeding someone dry, cutting palm and drinking/smearing blood), dubious consent (use of magic to put into a trance & coerce), angst, infidelity (mention of an engagement), smut (voyeurism & exhibitionism, oral & vaginal sex, a bit of ass eating, rough sex, holding of throat, blood licking, a little biting, forest sex, a need to be cum inside of), nickname "pet", major character cloning & off-screen death. 🌕 note: hello, and welcome to my fun little Beltane horror fic! appearance of reader in this fic shifts, and is therefore described. sometimes she has pale skin, other times dark, purposefully left vague aside from hair and occasionally eye detail. this story is a bit rushed because of yoongi concert week and final exams happening in the same month; i had a lot of ideas, but the time just kept creeping up and up and up, and here we are, at the end of May!

🌖 i also made a lot of shit up in terms of the magic, left a lot of shit vague, and did not worry much about whether things make any sense, so...go into this with a grain of salt; this is not meant to reflect any real Beltane rites or rituals, even if certain things (like the maypole) sound familiar. it is also not meant to depict a real place or a real dialect of a language. the Gaelic words are meant to feel wrong and strange because this place is wrong and strange. (a friend of mine who is Irish & a linguist helped me with the words; i promise you, the intent is to feel wrong.) enjoy!

🌗 mc goes by the name Rí; Jimin's pov appears in italic paragraphs

🌘 written for A Spring Offering Collab! check out the other works! 🌑 beta read by @neoneunnajimin 🌒posted may. 2023 | read on ao3

Cross his heart, hope to die Hang his entrails, bleed him dry

He is Here. He is here. Heard, have you? He is here.

The women of the island chirp and coo at one another, heads tilted inward, as if sharing a profound secret. Their voices are low but lilted with excitement, and the language in which they whisper is old – nearly extinct. 

Your footfalls crunch through grass that has hardly seen rain – unseasonably dry, despite the air holding onto a thick, shrouding dampness. Soon, the sun will stay risen for more than eight hours, and, if this summer is bountiful, the clouds will open up and shower your island with abundance. 

Seen the man, have you? They whisper, unused to men from outside the confines of the island; unused to skin darker than porcelain. No outsider has stepped foot permanently on this land since your father had, all those years ago; only mysterious strangers who last as long as the holiday allows. 

Strange, his name is. They whisper. And the sun, his skin shines with deep hints of its rays. 

"Girls," you call in a tongue that whisps through your lips, wind fluttering between delicate petals, ancient. "Our manners, let us not forget."

"Our manners, Rí," the women respond in a chorus, pulling their expressions straight, only to begin giggling the moment they think you are no longer listening. 

Bright orange hair falls in tight curls to your shoulders, which are exposed to the sunlight. You wear a white long-sleeve chemise that rests mid-bicep and is tied loosely in the front over perky cleavage. Your emerald green bodice sits under-breast and opens to a long emerald skirt that falls to your bare feet over a hoop skirt made of layers of cloth. 

Your girls are dressed much more simply in white chemise dresses and underpants. Some wear modest green or burgundy bodice dresses, and some wear plain white or black cloth shoes. 

The propellers on the white aquatic plane whirr as you approach, and you hear two male voices speaking loudly over its engine. One man, dressed head-to-toe in a white pilot uniform, docks with the help of four of your women, and he exits the small aircraft. 

After a pause, another man appears wearing a tan blazer over a white tee that is tucked into fitted blue jeans, with a black leather belt and black boots. Around his neck, a white kerchief is tied, and his hair is coiffed delicately off his forehead, casting a beautiful wave of silvery-blond that hardly blows in the winds coming from the sea. He looks as if he is dressed for a weekend getaway to somewhere far more exotic than here, and you find it absolutely adorable. He is more petit than you anticipated – average height and slender – but what stands out the most is the man's face. 

Even from this distance, the man is breathtaking. His full lips pout as he straightens himself out, and he seems surprised and apologetic when the girls begin to assist with his things, pulling suitcases from the plane. 

At his shocked expression and attempts to communicate with precious creatures who do not speak a common tongue, you make your way forward, holding your many skirts in hand so your feet do not trip. As soon as you approach and begin to shout to the girls to be careful, the man's eyes lift, lips part, and you watch the moment he notices you, deeply breathing in and holding it while you speak. 

"Girls, girls," you call in the ancient tongue, "handle gently."

As his things are brought to the pier, the man begins to organize them. Everything is on wheels, and he must deem a certain suitcase more important than the others, taking it by its extending handle and dragging it to dry land first. There is a short set of steps between the path and the pier, and you walk down and reach a hand out to offer help. 

"Thank you," the man mutters, seemingly uncertain whether you are one of the many who do not speak English. 

"You must be Jimin Park," you say, reaching for the handle and watching as recognition and relief paint his pretty features. 

Up close, Jimin is a thing out of fairytales. Wide, dark eyes glance curiously at the landscape, and each curve of his face is soft and delicate, despite his profile being sharp lines. An anomaly of beauty, carved with careful hands. 

Jimin guesses at your name and you nod, flashing a sweet, welcoming smile – you had been the one corresponding with him before his arrival. He must relax, because as you begin to tug for his suitcase to lift it up the three short wooden steps, his hold loosens, and he eventually allows you to take it, only letting his gaze linger a moment before he turns to grab more of his things. 

You help him with his belongings – four black cases in total – and each of you take two to wheel down the dirt path past the open field, along the edge of the woods that peeks out into the village, to the inn that sits ahead, to the left. Although your home is in the woods, you have prepared a room in the inn, sharing a wall with Jimin.

The village is quaint. There are a few homes at the far end of the walk, along a stretch of foothills. A town hall rests between the homes and the inn, and there is a small store room holding onto all imported wares, farmed goods, and hunted items. To the right is all forest until the cliffs open up to the vast ocean, and on the other side of the wood, village elders live out their days, never minding what you and girls do on this side, so long as their bellies stay full and hearths stay ablaze. 

"Have you lived here your entire life?" Jimin asks slowly, annunciating each word with precision. There is a hint of his own accent giving the English a very pretty lilt. 

"Nearly," you respond, eyes slowly wandering from the inn, sweeping the small hints of village that come into view, landing on the forest. "My parents arrived when I was little, but my mother was born here. The island is in my blood."

"And you are the only person here who speaks English?" Jimin asks, voice a bit shaky and hesitant.

As you turn to gauge his expression, you find hints of anxiety. You wonder if Jimin is not the kind of person who likes to seek the help of others; if, perhaps, you will have to be assertive in offering assistance with everything he may need. 

"I am," you respond with a smile, "which means you and I are going to become quite well acquainted, Jimin Park."

Over dinner on the first night, Jimin opens up about growing up in South Korea and attending university both at home, and in the United States. As girls come to fill your plates with more cured meats, he notices that they call you Rí. 

Jimin is an inquisitive fellow, whose pretty dark eyes are wide and curious – and somewhat glossy after two cups of honey wine – and you smile with feigned shyness, nodding your head demurely when he asks you about the nickname. 

"It means king," you tell him with a grin.

"Ah," Jimin responds with a growing smile of his own. "So are you their king?"

With a chuckle, you shrug and say, "I suppose I am. We have elders but they live on another part of the island. I'm the one who takes care of the girls."

"And the hunting and farming?" Jimin asks. 

"Much of our bounty is from the autumn equinox," you admit shyly, vaguely. "We had an abundant winter."

"Wow," Jimin responds curiously. "Good weather last year?"

It was luck that two cops came snooping around the island just before Samhain; their blood was the perfect offering to the old gods. With their entrails strung up, dangling from the trees, and slowly drip-draining into the grass below, the skies shined favorably through the cold season, and wild animals practically skittered and galloped happily into your traps. 

"Yes," you respond simply, smiling fondly at the memory of the two transmuted squirrels who were sent home in the men's stead with nothing to report on but normal goings-on, on the island. 

Magic of that caliber works best on the holidays, when the passages are open and the power from the other side covers your island like a rich fog, sparking it to life with intrinsic energy. A shame you used that power to create two men of the law, but the last thing your little homestead needs is more blue-capped guards snooping around for their missing men. 

With the perfect specimen for this year's festival sitting beside you, your excitement shimmers, vibrating under your skin and making the air around you feel charged. You had hoped that, being as young as he is, you would be sent someone without a spouse, making it easier to fall under your spell – buying you a little time before having to clone the poor guy and send him back. 

A shame that this season's sacrifice not only comes with a gold engagement band around his finger, but is so dreadfully pretty that you almost lament the thought of watching the light drain from his eyes. 

But the land is hungry, and feed, she must.

“Cross his heart, hope to die. Hang his entrails…will he have pretty entrails, do you think?” you sing-song, lifting a handsome red squirrel in both hands, holding it eye-level to inspect. It had come to your window at the stroke of midnight, cheery and pliant. 

An offering from the land. 

A host. 

“What a shame I can’t just keep him for myself,” you muse, considering the fact that you were able to transmute two men before. “Perhaps I will have to make a second clone, this time. Can you bring me a friend?”

The sound of thumping is what wakes Jimin up. At first, he thinks it may be a tree branch tap, tap, tapping against the window. But as sleep falls away to wakefulness, he realizes the sound must be coming from the other side of the wall. 

Your wall.

Falling asleep was difficult, in the first place. Something about the island, and especially the inn, feels incredibly ominous, like there is a presence looming just out of the peripheral, never fully seen. And the scent that you carry – spiced cloves and fresh bouquet of wildflowers – lingered in the air, filling his head with thoughts of you. 

Now, as he blinks through the darkness, he wonders if he had slept a wink, at all. 

Jimin rolls over, attempting to ignore the sounds in favor of getting more sleep, noticing in his brief moment of wakefulness that it is still pitch black outside. But then he hears it…humming…low and inviting, causing all the little hairs on his arms to stand at attention. 

Somewhat mindlessly, Jimin pushes the thick quilted blanket away and climbs out of bed, heavy-lidded and barely aware of his surroundings in the mostly-empty room. Golden lantern light glows in through the window, allowing him to see ahead of him just enough to make a clear path toward the sound.

In his dreamy haze, Jimin imagines voices whispering – beckoning him forward. Come to me, they say, tangling and slipping over one another, mostly incomprehensible flits of lips, teeth, and tongue, spoken too softly to truly be fully heard. 

Jimin places his hands against the wall, presses his ear against the wood, and listens. The humming continues, muffled delicately by the layers that separate it from him. Is it Rí, he wonders.

As he continues to listen, his eyelids flutter closed. The thumping sound is rhythmic and soft, and the humming has shifted into something more sensual. Moaning, perhaps? Whimpering, even? He feels entranced by it and presses harder against the wall, feeling the cool wood against his cheek gradually heat, until his breath huffs out sticky-warm against it.

Come to me, Jimin, he is certain he hears in a voice that can only be yours. Don't be shy.

He feels drunk and loose-limbed, rubbery and pliant, and he sways his hips to the inviting song, dragging his blunt fingernails over the wall. The humming – the moaning – it intensifies, drawing his breath ragged, forcing small sounds of his own to come falling past his lips. His body feels electric – charged with a current that runs ultraviolet through his bloodstream, desperate for more, picking up hints of spiced clove and musky floral notes.

With a crescendo of whimpers, the thumping quickens and abruptly ends, and Jimin gasps, waking from his stupor, stumbling listlessly from the wall and wiping drool from his face. His head feels hazy as he blinks and turns, taking in the dark room and wondering what kind of dream he was just having. 

In the quietude of the night, he stands still and listens. Had he imagined hearing something before? Was it all a dream? Only the scent of the trees below his cracked-open window fills the space, but he inhales deeply in search of something more. 

Silence settles, heavy but somehow light, and he sighs, runs a hand through his damp silver-blond hair, and returns to the bed, trying his best to ignore the ache in his pants – hard and neglected. 

"Not tonight," he whispers, scolding himself. Not over the thought of you. Not when he has someone waiting for him back home. 

"Sleep well?" you ask at the sight of Jimin exiting the inn. 

He wears a black tee tucked into black fitted jeans, with his black belt and shiny black leather boots, and you smile to yourself, both over the simplicity of it all, and from how much he stands out in a place like this. 

Although denim is not frowned upon in the village, and is worn often by the elders on the other side of the island, the girls love to dress up in renaissance-reminiscent clothing and make believe that every day is a fairytale. After all, on An Ghealach, it can be. 

You are modestly outfitted in a white chemise dress that is cinched at the waist, with an undershirt to hold your breasts in place, and simple cloth white shoes. Your straight, black hair falls waist-length, braided intricately away from your face, letting the sun hit your deep-golden skin. 

"I slept alright," he responds, voice rough from disuse. 

Jimin smiles softly, and you check for any glimmer that he has noticed the shifting of your appearance, of the outside of the inn, of the stone path that stretches around the forest edge. When Jimin smiles and asks if there is anything he can do to help set up for Beltane, seemingly unaware, you nod and lead the way. 

"All there is to do today is prepare the land, which the girls have under control," you inform. "We can discuss phonemes in the meantime, if you have your equipment handy.”

With a wide smile, Jimin pulls a small recording device and notebook from his back pocket and holds them up. "Always prepared."

You chuckle and mutter, "Perfect," continuing along the path to the field where the girls are cutting the grass with old, metal devices on wheels, and gathering all the prettiest weeds and wildflowers to fashion into crowns.

Jimin makes good company, curious and open-minded without asking too much. You can see in the way he watches the girls that there is so much he would like to know – can read each question that flits over his eyes, only to be blinked away. Where did they come from? Why do none of them speak English? Where are the men? These are questions that just hang for brief seconds at the tip of his tongue but that he never works up the courage to ask.

Perhaps he knows it is best not to know. Perhaps some part of him is aware of the horrors that might lurk behind the corner of posing one question too many. 

The two of you spend the day discussing vowels, consonants, and syntax. His grasp on modern dialects of Irish Gaelic is enough that he instantly begins to draw similarities between those and the older language spoken on the island.

And as the sun moves from burning hot overhead to sinking beneath the horizon, moving your studies into the inn's tavern, you find yourself scooting close on the bench while offering more honey wine to your eager, beautiful guest. 

Jimin has never sleepwalked before. In fact, he tends to lay so still that often, his neck and limbs are sore the next morning, popping as he stretches in an attempt to get the blood flowing adequately. 

So when he opens his eyes to find himself standing barefoot in the woods, hands outstretched toward the trunk of a tree, he yelps and jumps backward, nearly fumbling to his butt. 

“What the fuck,” Jimin mutters to himself as he glances around, eyes becoming more alert. 

The woods are nearly pitch dark, save for the bright glow of the waxing gibbous moon shining through the trees. What luck, he thinks, that the clouds are scarce tonight. 

Although there is no foreseeable path, the ground appears mostly clear of thick brush. Jimin turns and makes his way out, careful not to step too hard, gently shuffling his bare feet outward with each step, avoiding sticks and rocks as best as he can. 

Fear simmers just below Jimin’s skin. He attempts not to spiral, telling himself that he could not have possibly walked far. His blue flannel pajamas are warm, but thin enough that the chilly night air would likely have woken him quickly. And so, onward he presses. 

A flickering yellow flame glows through trees ahead, just to the left, and Jimin lets out a deep sigh of relief as he changes course. Although he is pleased to be making his way back to civilization, his new worry is being disruptive as he walks back through the old, creaky inn. He does not want to disturb Rí, who he imagines must be asleep at this hour. 

Despite the island being mostly covered in dense forest, the night is surprisingly quiet. Eerily so. Even in the daytime, insects and rodents are lively to the point of seeming cacophonous. How is it possible for everything to be so…still?

The sound of a particularly loud stick snapping – not underfoot but ahead – has Jimin tensing and freezing with fear. He holds his breath while his shoulders raise to his ears, trying his hardest not to be detected, until smoked clove hits his senses, and—

“Jimin!” you call softly, certain that his fear has spiked nearby, radiating like heavy, bright fumes between the birch trees. 

And then you hear it, a soft, delicate voice, calling a tentative, “Rí?”  

Ah, so the pretty thing is just ahead, and your plan to at least get him into the woods has worked without a hitch. You wonder what it was that snapped him out of his trance too soon. Next time, you think to yourself. You still have one more night to get him into the passage of his own volition. 

“What are you doing out here?” you ask, feigning worry and exasperation. 

“Ah—“ Jimin begins, voice sounding somewhat closer. “I don’t know. I must have been sleepwalking.”

“Is that something you do often?” you ask, holding the lamp higher. 

Jimin’s pretty face comes into view, peeking from between a thin birch that separates you, and you smile wide and welcome, taking in the blend of fear and affection that wafts from his pores and surrounds you. 

“No,” he responds softly, eyes wide and curious. “Never.”

“Strange,” you mutter, momentarily stuck in time and space from him standing so close to someone so dreadfully beautiful. 

“Yeah,” he says soft as a whisper, blinking heavily before standing straight and rounding the tree. 

You also straighten out and take two steps backward to give him room. When Jimin appears before you, your eyes drop to his bare feet, and you frown, making a mental note for the next time. 

With skin shades darker and hair shorter than earlier, you wonder if Jimin catches onto the new appearance. But his face gives nothing away. So the spell is just as strong, even if he broke the call of the other side just before entering the passage. Interesting. 

“How did you find me out here?” Jimin asks as you turn and lead the way back to the inn, searching the shifted dirt path for a believable excuse. 

You slowly lead the way toward the inn, and Jimin quickly falls into step beside you. When you walked outside to follow your guest just moments ago, you had left doors open and lights on intentionally, and you raise a hand to point in the general direction of the building. 

“I came out of my room and your bedroom door was wide open," you say. "The front door, as well. So I grabbed a lantern and ran outside; I figured you could not have gone too far.”

“Oh,” he responds, already sounding ashamed even from one syllable. “I’m so sorry.”

With an insistent shake of your head, you say, “Not at all. I am just glad I found you.”

“What if an animal, or—“ Jimin begins, but you cut him off. 

“There is nothing on this island that we fear. Closed doors are only such to keep the cool air out where it belongs. In the temperate months, doors and windows are left wide open.”

You are the witch of the wood, after all. Nothing that lives and breathes on this isle exhibits an ounce of free will if you wish it otherwise. Which reminds you… Slowly, you will the creatures of the night to stir – a scurry here and a dance of wings there – gentle enough to keep Jimin from noticing. 

Except he does notice. You can practically feel each hair on his body stand at attention the moment a squirrel is heard clawing up a tree, and you take a step just a little too far to the right, bumping into him softly with the hope of providing a bit of a distraction. 

"S-sorry," Jimin mutters, rubbing his hands on his blue pajamas. He seems nervous. Cute. 

"Lost my balance," you respond, shaking your head with a gentle chuckle. "It is past bedtime, I am afraid."

"Sorry again for the trouble," Jimin says as you reach the inn, passing through the threshold and stopping just at the foot of the stairs. 

You turn to Jimin and give a soft, sympathetic gaze. 

"It is no trouble at all," you mutter sweetly, smile saccharine. "I'm just glad I was able to find you."

Jimin hums, nods, and says, "It won't happen again," with a light bow of his head, then makes his way up the stairs, dirt-dusted feet falling quietly on each step until he is down the hallway, past your room, and closing his door softly behind him. 

The look of wonderment on Jimin's face really is something. As you walk through the small town, past the stretch of woods in which you found him last night, he keeps turning his gaze back to the trees. Is he wondering what it is he was doing there when he woke up from sleepwalking? Is he curious what drew him to that spot? 

You watch his micro-expressions as his brows knit and he wets his lower lip with just the tip of his tongue. He had been mid-sentence before, trailing off the moment you approached the spot through which he emerged. 

Jimin's gaze drifts to you, and he seems shy suddenly, cracking a soft smile while blush rises to his cheeks. Once you pass the wooded area and come up to the opening of the field, he seems a little more present. 

"Sorry," he mutters, and you continue to study him, noticing how his shyness seems to steadily build the more you watch him. 

"Has something caught your eye?" you ask, glancing over your shoulder toward the line of trees. 

A dark mist pulsates between the slender, white and brown trunks and branches, beckoning with tendrils that billow out and evaporate – yearning for the pretty man with the soft smile. Soon, you want to tell it. Be patient. 

"Ah," Jimin mutters, scratching the back of his head with his face scrunched as if searching for a memory. "I guess I feel a little strange about sleepwalking last night. How did I end up in the woods, of all places?"

You hum in understanding and say, "The wood calls to us all, I suppose."

Without giving Jimin much time to dwell on your words, you hold out your hand and point him to where, in the center of the open field, some of the girls are setting up a maypole, and others are building a tall triangle of logs in the center of a stone circle. 

Jimin takes out his small recording device and field notebook, and you begin to describe the scene before you in a mix of English and the ancient tongue, carrying your studies through the evening and into the early night.

In the woods again. 

Jimin stares down at his hands covered in dirt and wonders how he has managed to sleepwalk two nights in a row. He stands with his shoulders slumped forward, bent slightly at the knee with an arm outstretched as if he was reaching for something before waking up. In front of him is the u-shaped opening between two thick tree trunks. Or is it the same tree? Jimin cannot quite tell – too difficult to parse in the dark – and he tucks the information away to ask Rí about later.

He would be freaked out, only the smell of the wood – rich, earthy, and damp, with the sweet, musky smell of blooming flowers – feels calming now that he is confident that he can find his way back. He takes a deep breath and resists the urge to wipe his hands on his pajama pants.

The walk back to the inn is short, and although there is no path where he is, a golden lantern glow flickering past the thin birch trunks guides him. As twigs snap underfoot, he notes that he took the time to put his sneakers on before sleepwalking, relieved to not be barefoot again.

Jimin thinks he can hear faint sounds of voices – whispering, or, perhaps, chattering. Maybe singing. The island inhabitants certainly are an interesting bunch. He supposes that being far from modern civilization and with minimal technology would make people behave a little strangely. With Rí being the exception. 

Something about you seems…different. And not just because of your appearance. There is an aura about you that feels almost otherworldly. Perhaps in the way you carry yourself. Jimin finds himself intrigued by you...he wants to know more…

"Right there," you sigh in a tongue as rich and ancient as the soil, tilting your head back to reveal more of your neck, switching to English. "Feels so good, little pet. Don't stop." 

His kisses are tentative and shaky, but he grips onto your hips with purpose, pressing his chest firmly against your back to hold you steady. Golden lantern light flickers through the curtains, one long, bright glow of a lamp that hangs just below your window, signaling that your friend is awake and that he has not entered the passage. 

The woods are calm tonight, seeing Jimin swiftly return to tilled earth without interference. It is only a matter of time before he breaks through the forest edge, and you huff impatiently. Tomorrow is your last shot; you will need to beckon him with a blood ritual. 

You reach for the ties on your chemise and begin to pull them open, but your pet takes over, raising his hands to deftly do the work while his lips and teeth drag over your neck, sending a small but steady tingle of arousal through you as the sticky-sweet huffs of breath warm your skin. With the top undone, his hands freeze in place, and you yank the fabric open, exposing your breasts as they fall past the thin white material. 

"Touch me," you sigh, needy. "Touch me the way he desires to."

On your command, his hands cup your breasts eagerly, fondling your nipples until the skin is pebbled and sensitive, making you hiss with pleasure. Your dress falls down one shoulder and he sinks his teeth gently into the skin, sending a flow of electricity through your body, exiting in the form of a moan. 

You tremble and tilt your head further to the side, giving his mouth more room to explore while his hands fall lower, attempting to gently lift the cotton layers of skirt and farthingale hoops before impatiently taking handfuls of the garments and shoving them up, over your hips.

Clear of the woods, Jimin moseys along the path, in no rush to return to his room, enjoying the crisp but warm night air. Something about tonight feels ominous, and he tips his head toward the sky, noticing a bright moon shining back. Is it full, he wonders. It must be, given the way it glows past the thin sheets of cloud, illuminating his path even more so than the lantern light that hangs from the inn. 

As he approaches the inn, Jimin glances up, noticing light coming from one of the windows on the second floor. He wonders if it is the room you stay in, and what you might be doing awake at this hour.

Gravel and dirt crunch underfoot, quiet and calming as he walks down the path. Shadows seem to dance over the window above, and Jimin finds himself gazing upward. Briefly, he thinks he sees the appearance of palms pressing into the window, halting his steps. But the glass is frosted, and he cannot clearly see through. 

Shame travels up Jimin's neck as he gets his bearings, realizing he had been trying to peer through someone's window. He shakes his head and takes in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the cool night air as he presses forward. 

Voices continue to chatter and sing, but Jimin does not see where they are coming from. Rather, the sounds seem to be lifting and floating with the wind, settling around him on all sides only to slip away into the night. Despite feeling fully awake mere moments ago, shivering against a chilly gust that blows his hair into his eyes, there is a heavy sense of drowsiness that begins to tug at him, pulling him forward, as if willing his feet to take each new step, craving his bed. 

The man behind you grips your hips tightly, then sinks to his knees, sliding his hands down to your ass as he lowers. He grabs firmly and spreads you, causing you to fumble forward and place both hands against the glass. Below, Jimin glances upward, attention caught by the movement. You wonder what he would think if he saw you like this – breasts exposed and mouth parted with surprise. 

Perhaps it is the way eagerness and curiosity emit from Jimin, or how your own excitement from being touched has mewls and gasps falling from your lips, but the man digs his tongue eagerly into your ass, slurping and sucking over your hole, sending a steady wave pleasure and arousal coursing through you. 

"That's it, pet," you whimper, nails scraping down the glass as you get your bearings. "Don't stop."

The man attempts to bend you further, tongue trailing down to your cunt, in search of your clit, but bending more would be too precarious, especially with the layers of material gathered, making it tough to move. He shuffles back instead and takes you by the hips to spin you roughly, causing you to yelp as you attempt to get your bearings and not fall over. 

When you look down at the man – the imposter that was spawned from the flesh and blood of a mature red squirrel, crafted perfectly to look just like him – you gasp. 

His plump lips are slick, glistening, and soft, reddened by the dim lamplight, and his short, silver-blond hair is a mess as he stares up with an eagerness that has you burning with desire. Ordinarily, you keep the clone for a bit; play with them a little until you have to wash their memories of you and send them home. But staring down at an imitation of Jimin just makes you want him – the real deal. 

“Please,” you mutter, breathy and aroused. “Don’t hold back.”

The imposture rakes his blunt fingernails up your thighs, sending a shiver through you that escapes with a gasp, and he leans forward, eagerly lapping over your cunt with his tongue. It feels charged and galvanic – a hum that vibrates in your bloodstream on a low but steady frequency. 

As your head lolls back you hear a gentle footfall on the bottom step. 

Jimin finds it odd that your light is on at this hour. He hopes that somehow his absence from the inn has not awakened you again, and he does his best to tiptoe up to the landing. 

It is soft, but he hears what sounds like a moan coming from your room, and he freezes, foot suspended in air just before your doorway, which is cracked open two enticing inches. A sliver of golden light casts a streak against the otherwise dark hallway, and Jimin feels a pull to it, eager to have just a tiny peek.

A whimper of the words please don't stop has the hairs on his arms standing tall. 

Come to me, Jimin, he thinks he hears the voice say lowly, inside his head. Don't be shy.

Jimin wills his feet to move – exerts all the force he can muster into taking three more steps ahead. And then he stops in the light that shines from within, and he looks.

Surely, he must be dreaming. There is no other way to explain how he is standing in the doorway to your room, watching as a man who has his exact same hair and body type devours you. Your legs are spread, one ankle over his shoulder, toes outstretched as you hold him close, and your bare breasts heave as you pant softly and beg him not to stop. 

Since this must be a dream, he allows himself to watch. As your fingernails dig into the wooden edge of whatever the look-alike has you pressed against, you unravel from his mouth. His sounds are lewd and wet, slurping and humming in a low tenor that Jimin recognizes as his own, and arousal stirs between Jimin's legs. He grants himself permission to touch, just this once, gently grasping onto his erection and squeezing it over his pants. 

Since this must be a dream, he allows himself to whimper from the warmth of his palm, eyelids flitting from pleasure as he listens to the man who looks just like him eat you out. He wonders what you must taste like – wonders if you would let him crawl in there on his hands and knees and try for himself. 

The man stands, turns his head slightly to the side, and wipes his hand over his mouth, leaving a trail of slick behind. The jaw, the nose, the shape of the brow – he is a spitting image of Jimin. How Jimin is in two places at once, he does not know, but he keeps his eye on the man who undresses in a flash, displaying his own tattoos exactly where he remembers them, flexing familiar taut muscle that he has spent years building and maintaining. 

When you wrap your leg around his hip and pull him close, your eyes find Jimin, gazing over his look-alike's shoulder, and he gasps, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. You shift before his eyes, hair turning black and then orange and then blonde, and he begins to question how you are supposed to look; he cannot remember your hair, nor eyes, nor skin, but nothing he sees now feels incorrect. 

"That's it, Jimin," you moan, eyes trained on him, looking over the look-alike's shoulder, and causing his aching cock to twitch in his pants. "Don't stop."

Jimin squeezes his eyes closed tight, and when he wakes up suddenly in his bed, he gasps for air, covered in sweat. The heat from what he presumes had to be a dream covers him like a blanket, and he cannot stop himself from relieving the ache between his legs. 

Guilt and shame do nothing to stave off just how hard he cums thinking about you. 

"Just this once," he tells himself, whispered softly like a prayer. "Just this once."

Today, you have returned to the long, orange curls, with piercing green eyes. Shadow and light morph your skin tone with each passing step, as the full strength of the island's magic fills you from the crown of your head to the tips of your fingers and toes. When Whitman waxed poetic about the body electric, could this have been his meaning? Certainly not. 

Beltane begins today. 

Around the maypole, you and Jimin will dance, with a belly full of cured meats and a heady concoction of honey wine laced with blood and a generous dash of magic. But first, you must greet your sleepy guest, and you tiptoe to his bedroom door dressed only in a thin, white chemise dress with light blue embroidered hems, and rap your knuckles three times against the stained wood. 

"Just a moment," Jimin mutters from the other side, sounding sleep deprived. 

What must he have dreamt about after stumbling like a lust-sick zombie back to his bed to the sight and sound of his clone fucking you breathless? Did he come to in a cold sweat, gasping for air? Did he touch himself thinking of you?

When Jimin opens his door, he is dressed in a loose-fitting white cotton shirt hanging over matching cotton pants. Along each hem is an embroidered design of light blue rounded flourishes that match those on your dress, and on his feet are plain white shoes. You offered the clothing to him last night, to be worn for today's festivities, and you are pleased to find him outfitted in the attire. 

His silver-blond hair is somewhat disheveled, and he has a hint of bags under his pretty, deep brown eyes. As he takes in your appearance, his petal-soft lips part, and you watch as his eyes linger here and there, as if tracing the faint outline of a memory, for split, fleeting moments. 

"Good morning, sunshine," you tease, adding, "May the fires of Beltane light your path," with a gentle bow of your head. 

When you glance up once more, Jimin is still staring, curious eyes glowing with a new spark that seems entranced and somewhat foggy. Here but also not. You allow him to stare until he begins to blink and shake his head, and then he smiles softly and returns your greeting with a hint of blush darkening his cheeks. 

"Merry Beltane, Rí," he says with a slight bow to his head. "May the fires of Beltane light your path."

At the breakfast table, down in the decorated inn tavern, Jimin laments having no pockets for his recorder and field notebook. "What if there are things I want to make note of?" he pouts so cutely beside you. 

"Today is a day for celebration," you insist, dropping a generous serving of spiced honey into his tea and scraping the wooden spoon against the porcelain just enough to make Jimin stir where he sits. 

"For celebration," he responds in a tired, malleable haze.

Lust and curiosity pour from Jimin, covering him in a rich cloud. Each time you speak, his body shifts ever so slightly closer, gaze lingering on your lips and throat, flitting down to your breasts. Shameless, the way he does not seem to care that you take notice.

"My dear, did you sleep poorly last night?" you ask, trying not to tease, pretending not to notice the way his cheeks darken further and he heavy-blinks again and again.

"I had a dream I woke up in the woods again," Jimin responds, slowly reaching for his tea and raising it to his lips. His eyes flutter closed as he breathes in the sweetened chamomile and spice. "And then…you were there."

"In the woods?" you ask, tilting your head with feigned curiosity. 

Jimin shakes his head. "In the inn. Your door was cracked open and I walked by. I saw you—"

Pulled from his trance just enough to mind his tongue, Jimin cracks a soft smile and lets out a breathy chuckle. 

"My dreams have never quite been so lucid before," he continues after a quiet moment. 

You hum in response and mutter, "Perhaps the magic of the wood is calling to you."

Jimin nods, slow and shallow movements, brows knitting a hair before he concedes to the notion. "Perhaps."

Jimin certainly is an eager man. 

Eager to drink from the wineskins and learn all the steps to the harvest dance and dangle colorful ribbons from nearby trees. Eager to join the girls around the maypole and cast his wishes and fears and desires into the tall bonfire which licks at the stars above. 

At nightfall, under the glow of the full moon, you slice open the palm of your hand with a stone dagger and allow droplets of blood to fall into his cup of magic-imbued wine. Jimin sits unaware, eyes glazed over as he watches nude bodies jump over the dying fire. You lick over your wound, tasting brassy warmth, and pass him his cup, which he grabs automatically to sip from. 

"Enjoying yourself?" you ask, leaning close. 

Jimin hums in response, downs his cup, and turns to you with wide, ever-eager eyes, hair sticking out on the sides from beneath a daisy crown. 

"What have you done to me?" he mutters after a long moment, and you giggle in reply.

"What do you mean?" you ask, watching as his eyes travel to your lips and back up.

"I feel…" he begins, eyes widening as he gazes at the celebratory scene before him, then back at you again. "I don't know. High?" 

Jimin searches your features, which shift in the flickering flame light, and he shakes his head lightly. "How do I feel so high?"

"Blood ritual," you respond with a grin, noticing as Jimin's face and scent alternate between fear, acceptance, and confusion – unsure where to land. 

"Blood ritual?" he asks, tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy.

With a nod, you lift your hand and begin to stand from the wooden bench, beckoning Jimin to follow you with your index finger. Blood trickles down from your palm to your wrist, tickling the skin. 

"Your hand," Jimin mutters as he stands in a rush, stepping forward to inspect your wound. 

"Follow me," you sing-song, taking large strides into the wood as the dripping red begins to stain your sleeve. 

"Rí," Jimin mutters sadly, following dutifully with his eyes trained to your wrist, reaching out with limbs that are just slightly too slow to grasp. "you're hurt."

As your footfalls snap twigs and the world around you darkens under the cover of trees and long rainbow ribbons, you press yourself against a thick trunk and reach your uninjured hand out to grab onto Jimin's wrist and pull him close. 

"Rí," Jimin pouts, "I can't—"

With a whispered, "Shh," you reach up and smear your spilled blood over Jimin's lips and chin, pulling a surprised gasp from his lungs. 

"You're mine now," you say, and Jimin nods as he lunges forward, slotting a knee between your thighs as his hands lift to your chin to draw you close. 

Jimin's lips are pillow-soft and tangy-sweet with blood and wine mingling deliciously. He moans as you open your mouth for him, and he eagerly licks inside, tasting and taking like a man starved. 

Blood smears across his neck and into his hair as you pull him close, and he gasps and moans between your lips as his hands begin to untie your modest cloth dress and push it down past your arms, past your hips, to the forest floor. 

"Need you," Jimin growls as his fingertips press harshly into hips and, waist and he lifts one of your legs to rest over his hip. 

He shoves his pants down and in one swift movement, spears you on his hard cock, stretching you with a pleasure-pain that has you sobbing into the night. Jimin fucks you in a rough tangle of balanced limbs, skin slapping desperately against skin, and you clench around him, working yourself up as pleasure unfurls in rich tendrils through your bloodstream. 

Once he cums inside you, there will be no going back. He will belong to you – to the land – and the passage to the other side will open up and swallow him whole.

But his hips still before he reaches his orgasm, and he pulls out and drops to his knees, making you whimper in confusion before clawing at the tree for stability from pleasure the moment he tastes you. Your eager pet was good at mimicking just how greedy and talented Jimin's mouth is, but pales in comparison to the real thing. Jimin hums and moans as his tongue laps at your cunt, devouring you while his fingertips sink into your soft flesh. 

How can you sacrifice something so remarkable? Will the lands forgive you if you keep this one, just this once?

Pleasure builds and breaks suddenly, and you cum on Jimin's tongue, gasping and sobbing into the cool night air as the trees flutter and rejoice all around you. The air is effervescent, filled with power, engulfing and billowing around you, reaching its greedy fingers for your sacrifice as you ride your high, trembling on his soft, kiss-swollen lips.

When Jimin stands, covered in a pink smear of blood and your slick release, he yanks his borrowed white shirt over his head and throws it to the ground. You pull him into a kiss, sucking his tongue into your mouth until only faint traces of your essence remain.  

"Please," you whine as you spin and grip onto the tree, rubbing your ass against his throbbing cock. "Please, Jimin."

Never have you needed to be filled with the seed of a sacrifice so badly; never has the oxygen coursing through your bloodstream shimmered opalescent for someone like it does tonight.

Jimin lines himself up with your entrance and wraps one hand around your throat, sinking himself in slowly while manicured fingernails dig into your hip. The pleasure is white-hot intense, quaking through you as you tilt your hips backward, desperate to feel full.

"So tight," he groans as he pulls out and snaps his hips forward. "Been wanting you so bad."

You moan as Jimin slowly pulls out and roughly thrusts in, asking, "Yeah?" when you find that no other words are able to form.

"Feels like I'm going fucking crazy," Jimin groans, slowly pulling back and roughly snapping forward, back and forward, back and forward. "These woods…the blood…what are you doing to me?"

Before you can respond, Jimin's grip on your throat tightens, and he fucks you at a rough, quick pace, forcing air to punch from your lungs as arousal and pleasure ebb and ebb endlessly. 

You scratch at the tree, ripping away chunks of bark while you lean your head against your wrists and try not to collapse under the treacherous, horrifying weight of euphoria as Jimin thrusts hard and deep, filling the night with the sounds of skin against skin and feral, animalistic grunts. 

The hand on your hip reaches down between your legs, and as the pads of Jimin's fingers swirl deliciously over your clit, he growls, "Cum for me" into your ear. 

Your walls pulsate and squeeze, and you follow his command, building and building your pleasure until you can no longer hold back, allowing the floodgates to burst as you cum once more. 

"Fuck, that's it," Jimin moans with a drag of his lips and teeth over your shoulder and neck. "Feels so good. So fucking good. I'm so close."

"Cum inside me," you beg, desperate, squeezing around him with every last ounce of willpower you have.

As if having a sudden moment of clarity pulling him from your spell, Jimin quietly mutters, "Wait…I can't," against your shoulder, dropping his hand from around your throat. 

"You must," you beg, petulance rising as Jimin's hips begin to slow and his whimpers die. 

"What are we…" Jimin mutters softly, "I shouldn't be doing this."

With an exasperated huff, you pull away from Jimin, letting his cock slide out, then spin, resting your back against the tree once more. Jimin's eyes are wide and afraid as he takes you in, and he begins to glance around as if searching for a way out. 

You reach the hand that remains covered in blood and drag it over one of your shoulders, scraping tiny pieces of tree bark against your skin as you tilt your head and say, "Have a taste."

Drawn by the scent of your blood, still under its spell, Jimin leans in close and drags his lips over your skin, chest lightly grazing over your hard nipples, and he hums as it fully takes over his senses once more. Jimin's fingers grip roughly at your hips, and you lift your leg, wrapping it around his hips and pulling him forward as you reach for his hard, slick cock and guide it back inside you. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding him close while you adjust once more to the stretch – your pussy feeling used and sore. Jimin licks over your skin and begins to move his hips, and when he straightens out and fixes you with his dark gaze, he appears equal parts entranced with bliss, and afraid. 

Jimin's eyes are somewhat absent of their full glaze when he thrusts forward, and you watch as slivers of doubt cast over his features. Although your magic is strong, the will of a man can be difficult to break, even on a holiday such as this, when the ritual is strongest. 

But as you squeeze around him and let your scent of spiced clove and musky wildflowers fill the air, Jimin's pupils blow wide, and he leans forward, dragging his lips and teeth once more over your bloodstained skin.

As he sets a steady pace and chases his high, Jimin begins to suck and nip at your skin, huffing moans and groans while holding your ass firmly in two hands. Your body is tired and sore, back scratched, and hair matted from rough tree bark, but the pleasure overpowers, building like the clouds of an impending storm, thick and foreboding. 

Cross his heart…

"Close," Jimin whimpers, and you tighten your leg around him, keeping him from pulling out as his hips thrust and quake unevenly.

"Come for me, Jimin," you command, sinking your fingernails into his shoulder while your other hand tugs at his soft, silvery hair and holds him close. 

Hope to die…

Jimin mouths at your shoulder and neck, digging nails into your hips so hard you wonder if the skin might break. And then, with a desperate, almost pained groan, Jimin's hips still and then shake, and he fills you with his release. 

Tendrils of fog wrap around each of Jimin's limbs, dancing over his throat, as the passage opens up and begins to swallow the two of you whole. Once he is on the other side, he can be prepared for sacrifice, and in the light of the morning sun, this land can drink of his blood. 

Hang his entrails…

"Good boy," you mutter softly, as Jimin's teeth clamp down weakly, and he sobs through his orgasm, pressing his body into you as it convulses and quakes. "You've done so well."

"What—" Jimin mutters into your skin, then moans deeply as his cock continues to pulse and drain. "I can't s-s-stop."

"Shhh," you whisper softly, stroking blood-slicked silver-blond hair and pulling him close. 

Jimin shivers as the smoke dissipates, skin sweat-sheened and shining in the bright moonlight, and you run your palms up and down his back. His body begins to give out, and he leans his weight into you, dropping slowly to the ground. Around you, the voices of the others – the inhabitants of this side – whisper, sing, and chant. As you assist Jimin to lay on the forest floor, exhausted from his journey to the other side, you kneel and then drape yourself over his chest, playing softly with his hair as you fall fast asleep. 

Bleed him dry…

Dawn breaks as you stand tippy-toe, dangling dripping tissue and sinew from branch to low branch like a holiday garland. 

"Pretty entrails, indeed," you beam as you take a step back, covered in dripping blood, to admire your work. 

"Merry Beltane, Rí," Jimin's rich tenor greets you, just before two strong, warm arms wrap around your bare waist and pull you into a back-hug, skin against skin.

"Merry Beltane, pretty," you respond, turning your head to the side just enough to greet him with a soft, chaste kiss. 

Upstairs, in the inn, a copy of the man sleeps soundly. Today is his last day on the island before his research is concluded, and you pull your nude, love-struck Jimin past the edge of the forest, where you will leave him with one last kiss before shifting the wood to appear normal and free of bloodied guts. 

You bow your head to the land and thank it for the bountiful summer you will undoubtedly receive, then turn your head to the rising sun, and beg it with eyes closed to allow you to be greedy and keep a pet, just this once. At least until the long days shift to long nights, and, on the precipice of Lughnasadh or Samhain, a new eager stranger comes along. 

comments & reblogs are the lifeblood of this site! and likes are nice, too! thank you so much for reading!!!

tags: no tag list for dead dove oneshots.

An Ghealach is copyright 2023 theharrowing, all rights reserved.

[turnstechgodhead]

ok to the anon thats talkin w me about mental eelness and bro and the "knight of time" line:

id post your entire ask but its Very Long and im struggling to answer all of it in a way that isnt fucking with my head and anxiety so im going to answer with only the character analysis stuff HERE on this post my apologies

for the record i dont even remotely know how to begin tagging this mess down here and i really think itd be better suited for my nsfw blog but yall aint asking about this on that blog which is fair take care of yourselves

JSYK it's stuff about brocal/intrusive thoughts about inc st and c s a SO kids please avert your eyes for my comfort thank YOU

i dont personally have ocd afaik but as someone who Has intrusive thoughts (actual horrifying ones that dirk, gabe and i have to beat back with a stick, not the ones kids think are intrusive thoughts today)

i definitely think that's how bro approaches raising dave; overcompensating for the accusations from his mind and cal[iborn] leading to total icing him out

okay same anon who was asking abt the “i was raising the knight of time” line. you saying “caliborn made [bro] believe that platonic affection is in fact not platonic at all and is instead sexual[the implications when bro is constantly carrying around cal with his arms around his neck btw. insane.]” is fascinating. is this based off the fact that caliborn thinks even hugging or a kiss on the cheek is “filthy?” it makes me think about ocd/bipolar disorder/misc mental illnesses and intrusive thoughts. i have bipolar and im a huge softie for kids but my intrusive thoughts sometimes try to convince me that my affection is somehow sinister.

YES very much

i need to describe to you my thoughts on brocal really quick bc i think that'll help put it in perspective and idk how else to talk about it;

heres the thing

cal is both bro's boyfriend and his fucking family okay

imagine you're a kid and you have this puppet friend that speaks to you using silly words and tells you that you should eat glass maybe :) or cut your fingers off or tear off your own head and hes the only thing thats taking care of you as a person even if hes mean

he tells you that people touching is inappropriate and vulgar and he cant believe theyre doing that in public (but its okay if we hug and cuddle you know?)

but also as you grow up this puppet starts calling you weird shit like stud or hunky or what the hell ever and maybe. youre going to kiss him

this puppet is the only thing you care about because hes the only thing that cares about you youve been with him for years and years and he talks to you and hes all that matters and now youre obsessed with him and you dont know when that happened but you have an obsessive personality anyway

youll do anything for him. (let me kill for you)

hes the only person you love because you dont love roxy this way (consuming, overwhelming, obligating to do what he wants, because he's all you have)

and well shit

if cals telling you that youre a freak for wanting to cuddle on the baby like you did that once (call it the knight it helps keep your distance) then i guess you're a fucking freak because its not even your right to treat it as family anyway; it's bigger than you. it's more than you will ever be and you need to make sure it doesn't fucking die and apparently that involves at least a little bit of affection cal please understand(what a disgusting species)

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Original Writing Project: 916

OKAY, now that I've edited the first few chapters enough, I think it's finally time to have its debut to you all!

This is an original sci-fi story completely written by me, with MAJOR influences from things like Gundam and whatnot.

I want to post it here to get your all's feedback and just to share some good ol' storytelling, so please let me know what you guys think of it, your feedback/comments is always read by me!

I expect to have the first few chapters out sometime during this week after your normal schedule of simping, but this post will just be covering what the main idea of the story is/what shows/games is influencing it.

Below the cut is the blurb, inspirations, main characters, and a story excerpt!

First of all, thank you so much for even pressing the keep reading tab/showing any remote interest. I understand this isn't really what you come to this blog for, so it means the world to me!

Anyways, first up is the story blurb:

===

Story Blurb:

The year is 1177. Thirty-four years have passed since the battlefield had been introduced to the bipedal warmachines known as Soldat D’acier. Though they only stand a few meters above tanks, they were able to reduce armored divisions to scrap metal, and fortresses once thought impenetrable transformed to piles of rubble.

The entire continent of Anis rushed their militaries into an arms race to have their own versions of these steel behemoths.

In the name of expansion and rightful conquest, the country of Florence had declared war on Cumbria in 1155. The invasion saw countless deployments of Soldats on both sides, and death quickly followed in their wake. The two nations signed a peace treaty to end hostilities after five long years, but their crimes wouldn't be so easily forgotten by the people, nor its creations.

Now, the man-made atrocities emerging from the "Enhanced Human Initiative" stoke the flames of war once more, forcing an uneasy alliance. And from the same crime that threatens them, comes their final hope: Enhanced Human 916.

===

Inspirations:

Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron Blooded Orphans, Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury Mobile Suit Gundam: Narrative Mobile Suit Gundam: Unicorn Mobile Suit Gundam: Zeta The Legend of Heroes: Trails of Cold Steel, Armored Core 6: Fires of Rubicon, Scarlet Nexus, Metal Gear Solid: Peace Walker, Girls' Frontline,

I was not joking when I said the major influences are from Gundam. At first I was worried about not being 100% original, but eh. Write what you love, right? Elements of the story, themes, suits, and a unholy amount more is snatched from all the Gundam shows listed above.

Armored Core 6 is what inspired the look of the "Soldats", and how combat flows in the story. The main lead, 916, is called numbers bc of the player character 621. (I also learned that the reasons I chose that number came from my subconscious, specifically Darling in the Franxx and that character, 196 aka Ikuno)

Scarlet Nexus inspired some of the tech things regarding the pilots being able to "read each other's minds" so to speak. Pretty much a less space-magic version of being a Newtype from Gundam, as well as other characters.

Trails of Cold Steel and Girls' Frontline inspired the other cast members, and speaking of which:

===

Main Cast:

Wolf Company

Enhanced Human 916, "Vi", Age: 21

A young man who escaped the "Enhanced Human Initiative." Due to augmentation and surgeries, he remains stoic and emotionless, but thanks to his adoptive family, has shown signs of opening up. Earned his nickname after his violet eyes.

He pilots the Soldat R1-N0, "Rhino", a bulky mech utilizing rush and ambush tactics, armed with a 60mm Autocannon and Heat Dagger.

A/N: Titular character, heavily inspired by Byleth (Fire Emblem Three Houses), and Mikazuki (Iron-Blooded Orphans). My second favorite character to write so far in the story, ironically.

David Collins, "Boss", Age: 53

Leader of a PMC called "Wolf Company". David took 916 in at a young age and raised him to be part of the "family". Loud and proud, he takes great pride in all serving underneath him, and has known to have a temper in anything regarding his age. Earned his nickname since calling him "Boss" was more comfortable for everyone.

He pilots the Soldat "Juggernaut', a machine with the legs of a tank, but upper half of a mech with arms. Armed with wrist-mounted machine guns and twin battle-cannons on top of its shoulders.

A/N: Inspired by Maine from Cyberpunk: Edgerunners. Don't look too much into that, don't worry. You can also tell from just his dialogue how much I like writing him too. He is my number 1 favorite to write.

Chloe, "Flare", Age: 35

Second in command of "Wolf Company. Chloe is extremely loud, complementing her foul-mouthed nature. Generally regarded as the "Big SIster" of the team. Earned her nickname from her extremely short temper.

She pilots the Soldat "Mantis", a lanky and smaller machine focusing on blitz tactics, able to leap surprisingly massive heights due to its inverted legs.

A/N: Inspired by Bianca (Gundam Thunderbolt), Sasha (Attack on Titan) and Miku (Darling in the Franxx). To everyone I have shown this story thus far, she has been the fan favorite, including her partner in crime:

Hayes, "Screw", Age: 32

The newest "rookie" of Wolf Company. Impulsive, a little too confident in himself but admittedly a talented sniper, Hayes is always eager to prove himself. Earned his nickname from either screwing himself over, or the enemy.

He pilots the Soldat "Phantom", a mech focusing on stealth and sniping, able to keep itself off enemy radar.

A/N: Inspired by Connie (Attack on Titan) and Zorome (Darling in the Franxx). Him and Chloe are a fun combo, as you will soon see.

There's eight more main characters, but I'll let you read their introduction yourself! 916 and Wolf Company will be the ones we'll be following the most throughout the story. Though this part of the cast was heavily inspired by Iron-Blooded Orphans. For those who watched the show, again, don't read too much into that.

===

The last thing I'll have for this post will be an excerpt from the prologue to get things started! Hopefully my slow ass will have the prologue out soon, so please look forward to it!

Without further ado-

===

Story Excerpt:

===

“Doctor Moreau, do you think we go to heaven?” asked the small girl.

Doctor Moreau stopped typing for a moment as her eyes glanced over the terminal, seeing the child laying on the operating table, standing out from the rest of the clean black walls and white tiles. The room was supported with soft lights illuminating the room, complemented by the blue screens and dizzying amount of automated surgical equipment quietly whirring into position.

Moreau pushed her aging white hair away from her eyes, looking at the child, subject designated 403. 403 was about seven, she barely stood up to Moreau’s stomach and had long black hair that stopped at her shoulders. The light blue gown was slightly too big for her, the sleeves extending over most of her hands and just revealing her fingers. Seeing her face again reminded Doctor Moreau of 403's rather inquisitive nature. 

“Why are you asking that, 403?” Moreau replied, her tone indifferent. Her fingers went back to typing as she sighed. “If you’re worried about the procedure, the chips are perfectly safe to implant. There has been no previous record of anyone dying from-”

“-But I’m going to die after.”

“...What?”

“After the chip goes into me. Will the others and I go to heaven?”

The question had caught the doctor completely off guard. Moreau had answered questions such as, “Will this hurt?”, or “Do I have to?”. This question was something she could not answer with her usual dismissive tone. She sat up straight in her seat now and turned to look at the child. 403's eyes were still fixated on the ceiling.

“Why are you so certain you’re going to die, 403?”

“That’s what my brother told me. When the chip goes into our brain, we’re sent off to die.”

The girl’s voice stated it as a matter of fact. There was no confusion in her tone of what was to become of her. Doctor Moreau had no response as she stared at 403 with her mouth slightly open. The child simply turned her head, facing her and expectantly waiting for an answer.

“... I certainly hope there’s a heaven, 403. I’m sure heaven will allow good kids like you and your brother.”

“What about my friends? Will they-”

“We’re about to begin the surgery. Please face up towards the light and close your eyes.” Moreau bluntly cut off the conversation.

403 pouted, but complied. It was clear that the answer did not satisfy her as much as she wanted it to. Doctor Moreau took a second to recover and focus back on the job at hand. Facing back towards the terminal, she began typing once more. With the input of several passwords and confirmations, the surgery to implant the combat data-chip into 403’s brain would commence. Afterwards, she would be sent to her brother’s unit, and be deployed to the battlefield.

Just like all the others.

This room had always been nothing out of the ordinary to Moreau. The same procedure had been repeated more times than she could count and yet why did this one make it so hard to breathe all of a sudden?

“Doctor Moreau?”

“Yes, 403?”

“Can I ask one more thing?”

“You may.”

“Can I listen to that song you always play? The one that goes ‘Lalalalala~’? I want to hear it one more time before I sleep. I really like it.”

Doctor Moreau’s lips suddenly dried up as she once again stopped typing. With a slightly trembling hand, she turned to the radio sitting on her desk and nodded.

“...Of course, 403. No more questions, please.” 

She could see the smile form on 403’s lips as the mask was gently put onto her face, the anesthesia slowly starting to pump into 403’s lungs.

“...Thank you.”

Doctor Moreau swallowed hard as her finger pressed the on switch of her old radio. Despite being in such a high tech surgical room, her radio was comically outdated. It was a small gray oval-like object that only had a speaker and a few buttons. To even put music in it, she had to insert a smaller rectangle that contained the songs in it via tape. It was a gift from her father when she was 403’s age, the thought of their roles being reversed not lost on the doctor.

‘Sing, sing a song Let the world sing along Sing of love there could be Sing for you and for me…~’

Doctor Moreau could hear 403 softly hum along to the song as her voice gradually became quieter, and eventually turning into soft breathing. The whirring of the surgical equipment and the radio being the only things in the room left making noise. The only remaining step was for Doctor Moreau to approve the procedure to implant the chip into 403’s brain.

“Is there heaven…” the doctor quietly repeated the question to herself, attempting to ignore 403’s startling self awareness of the situation.

"Authorization confirmed, Implant procedure beginning.” A deep robotic voice rang out across the room as the sound of a drill began drowning out the other equipment. Doctor Moreau sat on her chair as she closed her eyes, waiting for the procedure to be done and turning off the radio in the process.

 “For me, I don’t think so…Heaven was lost to me long ago.”

...

‘Sing, sing a song Make it simple to last Your whole life long~’

The Doctor was snapped out of her melancholy as the music continued playing. Sighing, she moved to turn it off for good.

“Piece of junk is starting to-” She stopped as her finger was about to hit the switch.

The radio was still off.

Listening closely again, Moreau realized the singing was coming outside of the door.

‘Don't worry that it's not Good enough for anyone Else to hear~’

Creeping towards the door, the doctor put her ears to it and heard what sounded like a chorus singing. The song wasn’t over the intercom, otherwise the voice would be far clearer.

Instead it sounded like- 

A sudden sense of dread hit the doctor as she swung the doors open and ran towards the hangar. Multiple guards and scientists were opening the doors along the long gray hallway, joining Moreau and investigating what the noise was. When they finally got to the railing after the doors slid open, none of them could speak. 

‘Just sing, sing a song (Just sing, sing a song) Just sing, sing a song~’

Inside the massive hangar stood rows of countless Soldats, giant bipedal machines that stood several meters tall, lined up next to each other as if they were statues. Their bulky legs stood firmly in place and the compact yet slender arms did not move an inch.

The only things moving were their horned box-like heads, slowly moving side to side in perfect sync. Each of the voices emerging from the Soldats were different but singing in perfect harmony.

Their normally offline and horizontal segregated visors were suddenly flickering to life with blue lights, illuminating the large dark room with bright blue rays.

‘La la la la la, la la la la La la la la la la laaaaa~’

Doctor Moreau could hear the voices of security guards rushing down the stairs to halt the singing, shouting orders at the others to back away.

However, the doctor could only hear their cheerful singing along with her breathing becoming noticeably shorter with each second, feeling her chest tighten.

Once again, the question 403 springed up to the forefront of her mind.

“Is there heaven?”

...

===

And that's the first part of the prologue done, hope to have this out soon, and again if you got this far, thanks for taking the time!

See ya soon, and back to the normal content for now!

[hoppipolla]

"Cha Yeo Woon's life and my lousy life can find happiness too."

I was wrong. Tae Myung Ha’s behaviour didn’t change after learning that him failing his mission, that him failing to make Cha Yeo Woon happy, would cost his life. What does it mean really? What does his mission truly entail? Making sure his presence brings Yeo Woon happiness? And what about when he’s no longer around? How will Yeo Woon feel? What happens to him when he’s no longer there? What does it mean to make Yeo Woon happy if his happiness is as ephemeral as his presence in the same world as him?

Myung Ha is aware that the clock is ticking. Not just because of the time reminder that unexpectedly appears in front of him, he knows he was given a mission in this game in which he knows the main character more than himself.

Although the lines are becoming blurry between the real and the virtual world (him wondering who that “senior” is in ep 4 when he rereads his notes in his notebook hints at this blur) he remains aware of the short time frame he has to make that happiness – that vague idea as his senior describes it – real for Yeo Woon. But you know what? It’s never been about Yeo Woon’s happiness. Not really. As early as episode 1, Myung Ha makes a parallel between his life and Yeo Woon’s, saying that people who have led miserable lives can become happy. Myung Ha refuses to be defined by the life he has led until now. It kills him to know that his senior thinks someone like Yeo Woon is doomed to live a miserable life. That’s why one of the first things he does when his world collides with his is to look for the boundaries Yeo Woo has(n’t?) defined for his happiness: when did he ever feel remotely happy (“Cha Yeo Woon, have you really never felt happy while you run? Never. Really? You can be… dumb sometimes.” (ep 2)), Does he want to eat an ice cream? Does he want new shoes? What are you looking for Cha Yeo Woon? What makes you get up in the morning when the sun rays gently hit your face? How long have you been this lonely? How cold do you feel inside? Why do you feel like you don’t deserve my kindness? Why does your voice break when you talk about yourself? Why do I feel like your eyes hide a pain whose depths I can’t fathom? Why do you hate yourself the most? Why does it bother you when I hang out with Sang Won? You said I didn’t know anything, then tell me, what am I missing?

If happiness was something Myung Ha could give to Yeo Woon, he would give it to him, in an instant. But happiness is not something you can give to someone. It’s something you invite in and let the other decide if he’s willing to let it come in. But how can Myung Ha teach Yeo Woon to welcome happiness when he has never been able to do so himself?

Tae Myung Ha is the kind of person who forgets himself when he cares for someone. Although he knows his penalty is death, although the debuffs affect him physically, he brushes it off easily. Because his senior has given him the power to make his favourite person happy. However, it scares him to have such a power because it means that, ultimately, Yeo Woon’s happiness will rely on his presence by his side. When Kyung Hoon mentions how they’ll be drinking together in their twenties, Myung Ha is startled: what do you mean I’ll be part of your future? I mean, can I? Will I? This realisation shocks him. What do you do when you’re supposed to be the key to a locked door only for the door to change lock as soon as you open it? What is he supposed to do? Isn’t it cruel? Make Yeo Woon happy only to leave him behind? This matter of time frame is exactly why he easily shakes off the idea of dating him in ep 1 because he is convinced he won’t have time for it to happen. A relationship builds itself with time and time is what he doesn’t have, not really anyway.

I like how time is depicted in this drama, how it perfectly encapsulates how incomprehensible its cogs work. Myung Ha has only been around for less than two weeks and yet he’s already had a huge impact on the people around him: he became Kyung Hoon’s friend, Sang Won’s new obsession, Si A’s helper/part-timer, and Yeo Woon’s light. Everything is happening so fast and yet it all makes sense. It doesn’t feel rushed at all because it’s Myung Ha. Because he’s the kind of person you grow attached to quickly. Because once he enters your life, he rents a piece of your heart for an indefinite amount of time. His presence feels warm and his warmth feels so normal that you let it sink in, thinking it’ll forever be there to melt your inner winters.

I can’t wait to see how Yeo Woon will return his warmth, how he’ll make Myung Ha happy without him realising. I know the heartbreak will come but for now, I’m expecting some more sunny spells.

[daisynik7]

Cut From the Same Cloth

Pairing: Mitsuya x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature

Word Count: ~3.6k

Summary: Takashi Mitsuya has always lived his life being true to himself. Despite being the proud Second Division Captain of the notorious Tokyo Manji Gang, he never hides the softer side of him: He cares deeply for his two younger sisters and enjoys spending his free time sewing. When a classmate, Hana Shimizu, approaches him, asking for lessons in sewing, he agrees, not seeing any downsides to having some company.

Author's Note: I hope you enjoy this first chapter! Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are always appreciated. Would love to hear what you think about this so far! You can also read this on my ao3.

Masterlist | Next Chapter

If one of us gets hurt, we'll protect them. A gang that's all for one, one for all.

Mitsuya chuckles to himself, glancing at the photo propped to his vanity mirror, reminiscing. He checks his reflection, noticing dark circles under his eyes and the rare grey hair he manages to spot in the field of silver-lilac. Not bothering to pluck it, his focus switches back to the picture, six familiar faces staring back him, including his own. It was taken five years ago, but he remembers it like yesterday; just a couple of hoodlum kids riding their bikes, swearing their loyalty to each other. Two years later, one gets arrested and sent to juvenile detention, another is dead, a third is the one who caused it. They were fifteen; too young to deal with the consequences of this lifestyle, but too old to blame it on “kids being kids.” All the fighting, the turmoil, the violence…he never liked it. Only use your strength to protect; that is his personal motto. But does it matter when he’s the only one who follows it?

He sighs, smile lessening as he grabs his backpack from the floor, heading out of his bedroom and into the kitchen. Luna and Mana are at the dining table, scarfing down a bowl of sugary cereal. His mom is on the couch, sleeping with the remote teetering in her hand, TV displaying the morning news on the lowest volume. He ruffles his sisters’ heads before grabbing an apple from the counter, rinsing it at the sink.

“See you two later, I’ll be home before dinner,” he muffles, chewing his bite of apple, walking towards the door to slip into his shoes. “Make sure you wake mom up so she can take you to school.” They wave happily at him, mouths too stuffed with mushy cornflakes to bid a proper goodbye.

Shibuya High School isn’t that far from their home; twenty minutes by walking, twenty-five by bus, because of all the stops. Regardless, Mitsuya rides his motorbike to school, not only because it’s the fastest mode of transportation, but also because it exerts his dominance as the highest-ranking member of Toman on-campus. Behind him is Peh-Yan, who followed him after middle school. Being the top delinquent gives him the power to do as he pleases without judgement or ridicule, which is why he’s often found after school, sewing in the home economics room, doing what he loves.

In middle school, he was president of the Sewing Club, where he was highly respected by its members, mostly girls. However, his high school doesn’t have one, and this hobby didn’t garner enough attention for him to start a club for it. So, for the past two and a half years, he sews in solitude, which he doesn’t mind. Sometimes, Peh-Yan joins him to read manga or a dirty magazine. Hakkai stops by when he’s not too busy doing tasks for Mikey or picking fights with opposing gangs. Occasionally, Takemichi and Hina would visit from their school to say hello. Other than that, Mitsuya is alone.

Until today.

~~~

You never thought in your entire eighteen years of living that you would intentionally approach a member of the Tokyo Manji Gang, of any gang for that matter. But here you are, sidling against the wall beside the door frame of the home economics room, gathering the courage to talk to Takashi Mitsuya.

He is well-known on campus, and not in the way you’d expect. Even though he is technically a delinquent, many of your peers like him. He often walks around with a lazy smile on his face, respecting others, keeping to himself for the most part. As a first-year, there was an incident where two upperclassmen were caught harassing a second-year for money. Sixteen-year-old Mitsuya, despite being shorter and younger, didn’t hesitate to fight them off. A year later, there was another instance, when some girls in your class were being creeped on by a new teacher. Again, Mitsuya did not falter, even when it was an authority figure. He gave that pervert a good beating, and with the many witnesses that came forward in his defense, he didn’t suffer any consequences to his school record. Many respected him for his personality, more feared him for his association with the most notorious biker gang in Tokyo. Nobody, however, actually knew him. Except for his few friends from the gang, the rest of your class only shared stories of what they’ve heard or seen him do in the past. Everybody outside of Toman only saw what was on the surface. In theory, you didn’t have a good reason to be fearful of him, considering you’ve barely interacted with him prior to this. Still, it’s the uncertainty of his character that makes you uneasy. That, and his undeniable “bad boy” charm.

Who are you kidding, though? He probably has no clue who you are. While you’re happy in your own skin, you’re not exactly a stunner compared to the other girls in your class. Your friends, Mei and Keiko, often shower you in compliments, though you’re certain it’s only because they love you, and those don’t count in the grand scheme of things. Truth be told, you’ve made peace knowing you’ll never be the object of one’s affection, at least, not in this high school. Maybe one day, in the far future, where men have developed from immature teens to immature adults. For now, you’re perfectly fine enjoying your last semester before college. Still, it doesn’t hurt to imagine strikingly handsome Takashi Mitsuya in your girlish fantasies, right?

You shake your head of any inappropriate thoughts, finally willing yourself to enter the room. His back is turned towards you, head bowed over the desk. The curtains are open wide, allowing bright streaks of sunlight to cover the room in a golden glow. You clear your throat to get his attention, and when it isn’t enough for him to react, you do it louder, announcing your presence. “Hello, Mitsuya.”

He straightens up, craning his neck to look at you, removing his left earbud. “Shimizu?”

You’re surprised he knows your name. You’ve been classmates since last semester, but you didn’t think he’d recognize you, nor remember your name. “Yes, hi. I want to ask you a favor if that’s alright.”

Popping the other earbud off, he smiles, swiveling his chair to face you directly. “Okay. Shoot.”

You cross your arms over your chest, swallowing hard. “Um, well, I was wondering if you could teach me how to sew.”

He raises a brow at you, curious. “Sew?”

You nod. “Yes. I want to learn before I go to college in the fall. My mom usually hems my pants and what not, but I want to learn for myself. She isn’t the best teacher, and I heard you were president of your middle school’s sewing club. So, I figured it’d be nice to learn. From you.”

He stares at you, contemplating. His gaze is intense, as if he’s inspecting you, processing the many different outcomes for how this scenario could play out. Before he responds, you add, “I can pay you. Or I can do your homework for you, although I’m not the smartest in the class…”

“Do you babysit?”

You blink at him, making sure you heard correctly. “Babysit?” You’re an only child, so you never needed to. The most experience you’ve had is spending time with younger cousins during house parties. How hard could it be? “I can babysit,” you reply, not too confidentially.

“Normally, I would help you out without expecting anything in return. But since you offered, I’d love it if you could babysit. Not every day, but maybe once a week. We can do our sewing lessons the same amount, so that it’s fair. What do you say?” He holds his hand out, wanting to shake on it to make it official. You wonder if this is how oaths are done in the Tokyo Manji Gang, which makes you giggle thinking you could ever be a part of an intense organization like that.

You shake on it, fingers squeezing around his in a firm grip. “Deal.”

He grins, releasing you. “Great. We can start this week if you’re up for it. How about Friday?”

“Sure. Do you want me to babysit that day, too?”

“Yes, unless you already have plans.”

You usually spend your Friday nights with your parents, watching a movie, or with friends, watching a movie. Either way, it’s not significant enough that you can’t sacrifice it for the next couple of weeks. “I’ll be free.”

“Great. We can go right after our lesson. I’ll introduce you to my sisters, Luna, and Mana. That’s who you’ll be babysitting.” He reaches into his pocket pulling his phone out, holding the screen towards you. The background is a picture of him with two young girls, making silly faces at the camera.

You smile. “Cute. I look forward to meeting them.”

“Cool. I’ll see you here Friday, then.”

“I’ll be here. Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

He nods, waving farewell as you step out of the room and down the hall. It’s a fair arrangement that should go smoothly. Sewing lessons in exchange for babysitting. What could possibly go wrong?

~~~

Friday afternoon, Mitsuya sets up shop as usual. It’s part of his weekly routine: After his last class of the day, if there aren’t any pressing manners concerning Toman, he strolls into the home economics room and heads immediately to the windows to open the curtains, basking in the sunlight. It’s the best type of lighting for when he’s sewing. It also gives him that natural boost of happiness, which is an added bonus.

Today, he’s working on Luna’s skirt, which tore while she was playing at school. It’s an easy fix, so he brought more clothing from home to mend. Later tonight, there’s a big meeting at Musashi Shrine to discuss the gang’s current state of affairs. Recently, there’s been talks of absorbing the Leviathans, a new gang that has emerged from Shinjuku. Not much is known about them, and with Mitsuya being preoccupied with school and taking care of his sisters, he hasn’t been too involved in any direct action. He plans to meet with Draken for dinner prior to the meeting to get caught up with any important matters.

He pushes his earbuds in, ready to listen to his favorite playlist, when he someone clear their throat behind him. He turns to see his classmate, Shimizu, waving politely at him. “Hello.”

“Oh, shit,” he swears out loud, scratching his nape, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I totally forgot about today.”

She sets her backpack on one of the nearby desks, pulling a chair next to him. “That’s okay. I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“Nah, not at all. I’m so used to being alone in here, it’ll be nice to have some company.” He points to his sister’s skirt. “I’m fixing this if you want to watch. This one is pretty simple.”

He explains the process thoroughly, turning it inside out, poking a pin through the edges to hold together. She watches as he describes what a backstitch is, pointing at the different spots for the needle to enter and exit. He does it slowly, repeating it several times until it’s engrained in her mind. When he’s done, he loops the thread, knotting it to finish. She blinks several times, as if she missed something. He laughs softly, amused by her reaction. “That I can’t really repeat, so you’ll just have to practice.”

Her face relaxes into a smile. “It’s like magic.”

He trims the excess threading, inspects his work once more, then flips the skirt, tugging where the tear used to be. “I guess I’m sort of a wizard then,” he teases, winking at her.

For the next hour, Mitsuya demonstrates other simple tasks: hemming his mom’s pants, fixing buttons on one of his cardigans, mending a tear in Hakkai’s jacket. She observes intently, listening to his every word, repeating it aloud to better memorize. When he’s not teaching her the basics of sewing, he’s making small talk, learning that they have more in common than he originally expected. They both dislike math, enjoy cooking, indulge in similar types of food, even listen to some of the same bands and artists. He doesn’t remember ever conversing with Shimizu before this, not to this extent at least. He’s always been aware of her since they’re in the same class, but he never gave her much thought. Then again, Mitsuya never really gives any of the girls in school much thought, too focused on his own hobbies and extracurriculars. It also seems like the girls in his class generally avoid him, probably due to his affiliation to Toman. It isn’t that he’s not attracted to anyone; sure, he indulges in the occasion second glance at a pretty face passing by. He’s just too busy with other things to pay attention.

That being said, he gives credit to Shimizu for actually having the guts to approach him first. It seems that she’s prepared to go beyond her comfort level to get what she wants, and that’s something he can respect whole heartedly. She must be really determined to learn how to sew if she’s willing to ask a delinquent for help.

Before he knows it, it’s already five o’clock. His phone vibrates, his mom’s contact flashing on the screen. He checks it while Shimizu studies the stitch on Hakkai’s jacket, running her fingers along where the rip used to be, amazed. His mom informs him that she’s leaving for work now, indicating that he should head home as soon as possible to watch his siblings. Almost forgetting their deal, he looks up from his phone to ask, “Are you still good with watching my sisters tonight?”

She nods to confirm, setting the clothing back on the table. Mitsuya gathers his belongings, stuffing the repaired clothes into his backpack. “Alright, want to head out now?”

“Sure.” She swings her backpack over her shoulders, holding her own phone in her hands. “Are we taking the bus or walking?”

He steps to one of the cupboards, retrieving two helmets. “Neither. Have you ever ridden on a motorbike before?”

~~~

This is definitely not what you had in mind. You never expected to ride on the back of a motorbike, firmly gripping the waist of Tokyo Manji Gang’s Second Division captain. Yet, here you are, skull heavy from the sturdy helmet Mitsuya plopped on your head, clothes flailing in the wind behind you, terrified and exhilarated all at once.

“You okay?” he yells out, barely audible. The cross earring on his left ear glimmers in the sunshine, a small grin on his face, glancing at you through his shades.

You’re hesitant to answer, too afraid to open your mouth in case the rest of the breath remaining in your body escapes. So, you simply huddle closer to him, nodding into his back, blinking your eyes rapidly to lubricate the contacts that are currently drying against your corneas. Next time, you’re definitely bringing sunglasses.

Thankfully, the trip lasts only ten minutes. Still, it’s enough to have your heart racing with adrenaline, even though you weren’t the one driving. He pulls up to the front of a quaint home, slowing to a stop at the garage door. “We can get off now.”

You carefully dismount, legs wobbly and balance slightly off, but in one piece. He follows, tapping the kickstand to prop the bike upright, stepping towards a small panel to punch in a code, activating the garage door. You notice it’s generally clean, except for the standard clutter organized on the side shelves.  He moves it inside, hanging his helmet on one of the handles. He faces you, beckoning you to pass him the other still tied to your head.

“Oh, right,” you say, unbuckling it. It’s only now that you realize sweat is trickling down your forehead, matting your already matted hair to your scalp. Without seeing a reflection, you know you look ridiculous, and suddenly, you’re self-conscious. You hand it to him sheepishly, attempting to fix your hair by running your fingers through it. He doesn’t seem to notice as he places the helmet on the other side. “How’d you like your first ride?”

Collecting yourself, you respond, “Fun, but definitely a little scary. Somehow I managed to stay alive.”

He laughs softly, stepping out and pushing a button on the panel to close the garage door. “You’ll get used to it. Maybe you’ll want to learn to drive it after you master sewing.”

“That’s a pretty big jump. Maybe let’s try something a little less life-threatening before that?”

He chuckles louder. “Not used to living on the edge, huh?”

“Not really. But I’m willing to give anything a try at least once.”

“That’s the spirit.”

He unlocks the front door, motioning for you to go in first. You remove your shoes, setting them to the side. It seems empty at first, until two young girls sprint from the hallway, peering up at you curiously.

“Luna, Mana. This is Hana Shimizu, my classmate. These are my sisters. Luna,” he points to the taller one, “and Mana,” then at the shorter one.

You kneel down to meet Luna eye-to-eye, smiling. “Hello Luna. Hello Mana. Nice to meet you.”

“Are you Taka’s girlfriend?” Mana blurts out.

You shake your head, laughing. “No, no, no. I’m his classmate.”

“Taka never brings girls over! Except that one time that we’re supposed to keep secret – ”

Mitsuya covers Luna’s mouth with his hand, chuckling nervously. “And that will remain a secret, right Loony? Right.” She muffles, wriggling from her brother’s grip. Eventually, he releases her after she’s drooled into his palm.

Mana tugs at your sleeve, eyes wide and bright with that classic childlike wonder. “How old are you?”

“Guess,” you tell her, resting your chin onto your knuckles.

“Fourteen?”

“I’m actually eighteen,” you answer.

Mana’s eyes open even wider. “You’re Taka’s age?”

“Yup.”

“Ohhhhh,” the two sisters harmonize, nodding simultaneously. They’re too adorable for their own good.

Luna grabs your other sleeve, pulling you towards the hallway. “Let’s go to our room now!”

Mitsuya interrupts, pulling his sisters off you. “Hey, you two monsters, I will give our guest the formal house tour. You two wash your hands before you keep touching her with your grubby little fingers.” They obey, fleeing into the kitchen, kicking a small step stool in front of the sink to stand on. He shakes his head, laughing. “Sorry. It’s been a while since they’ve seen a girl that isn’t my mom.”

You smirk. “Except for that one time, right?” Before he protests, you quickly add, “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

He chuckles, staring at his feet. “Thanks. I appreciate that. Anyways, they’re pretty stoked, so I hope you don’t mind the high energy.”

“Not at all. They’re really cute.”

Their home isn’t that large, but Mitsuya explains everything thoroughly. The master bedroom at the end of the hall is where his mom sleeps, so it’s completely off limits, of course. To the right is the girls’ room, which they share. To the left is his room, which he opens to give you a brief glimpse before closing it again. He doesn’t explicitly mention that it’s restricted, though you don’t find any reason why you would need to go in there in anyways, so you assume it is.

He shows you around the living room and kitchen, where most of the action will be happening tonight. There’s a box neatly tucked away next to the TV. Inside is a variety of activities, including toy cars, action figures, building blocks, two dolls, and a tea party set. You smile to yourself, seeing how most of it must be hand-me-downs from their big brother. In the kitchen, he points out the major appliances and where all the necessary accessories are located. Inside the pantry are snacks and instant ramen, which will be the girls’ dinner.

“Help yourself to whatever you can find,” he comments, closing the refrigerator after showing you its contents. “They’re not too picky, so the ramen should be enough for them.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, checking the time and his text messages. “Do you have any questions before I leave?”

You look around the room, racking your brain for anything you might be unsure of. “I think I’m okay.”

“Well, if something comes up, call me. What’s your number?”

You recite it to him, watching him tap it into his phone. A second later, your phone begins vibrating from your backpack. “That’s me,” he says, hanging up instantly. “Now you have mine in case you need it. I’m heading out now.” He faces his sisters, who are sitting on the couch, watching TV. “Luna, Mana. Behave, okay?”

“We will!” Mana replies.

“We always do!” Luna announces proudly.

He walks over to the closet near the front door, reaching for a jacket that you realize is the official Toman uniform, jet black with beautiful gold embroidery adorned on the back and sleeves. You wonder if Mitsuya is the one who designed it.

Grabbing your backpack from the floor near your shoes, you wave goodbye to him as he leaves. On the couch, you sit beside his sisters, retrieving your phone from your bag. You wait for the distinct rev of the engine and the loud pounding of the exhaust drifting away until it’s a low drone in the distance. Staring at the unfamiliar number displayed on your screen, you save it under his name with a small grin on your face.

[salute-desire]

Haiieee :3

Yea they all apply to me, explanations for my case below the cut if anyone somehow cares

So funny story. This Just recently happened. Xday (3 copies) -> Sugoroku (just Ibara, max copy) -> SS Fin on EN (Nagisa 3 copies) -> Absolute (in the process of max uncap, currently 3 copies). Am I still alive? Yeah. Am I miserable as fuck? Very.

Fragment without being obsessed over Bogie Time is like an angel without its wing. I was NOISY as fuck about Bogie Time for like 6 months until it drops on EN, I was fixating on optimising the grind for max uncap so much that I ended up in the top 20 by the end of it

If anyone dares to ask Fragment about anything related to gameplay, they will get a nearly incomprehensible essay on said specific topic. This has happened I-can't-count-with-my-fingers times

Big fan of Alkaloid but do I look like I will still be alive if I have to produce 14 characters. (Glances at Phantom Airship being the current EN event)

...Unfortunately I'm somewhat of an ENGstarrie (Tomatoes are thrown at me) I made my account during Bigbang and I somehow haven't missed a single event so... Yeha...

Remember point 3? Yeah those essays are made on the spot. I internalised them too hard.

...So I made a spreadsheet counting the total number of cards for each idol for personal use and currently planning to start a project by the end of this week to find out if live skills on DLFS are true RNG or if your performance during the prod. course determines the range of RNG. Yeah that sounds incomprehensible

DID YOU KNOW EVE FUCKING HATE ME? NOW YOU KNOW! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES I BEG THEM TO COME HOME AND YET THEY FUCKING DON'T. REMEMBER THE GUESSING GAME FOR 8TH ANNIV? YEAH THEY REFUSE TO LET ME GET ANY TITLE DURING THAT. ADAM WERE MUCH MORE TOLERABLE, GENEROUS EVEN (ignoring LNY Nagisa that dodged like 100 pulls.). DID YOU KNOW THAT OUT OF 4 SERVERS I'VE PLAYED, THEY'VE COME HOME THROUGH GACHA IN NONE. NOW YOU KNOW! NOW YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I HAVE TO FUCKING SUFFER IF I WANT EVERY SINGLE MEMBERS OF EDEN TO HAVE REMOTELY CLOSE NUMBER OF CARDS BECAUSE THE ONLY FUCKING WAY FOR ME TO GET THEIR CARDS IS THROUGH EVENTS. NOW YOU KNOW WHY SOMETIMES I JUST CALL MYSELF AN ADAMP BECAUSE EVE FUCKING HATE MY GUTS AND WANT ME DEAD

The only 3 other times I've seen someone else have the same hc as me are searching on Twitter dot com and the specific disorder tag on Tumblr. Good news is good to know there are people out there who agree on me about NPD Hiyori and Ibara. Bad news is that's it?

I have nothing to say other than I'm mentally ill and have dedicated too much time on this fuckass game.

[siphersaysstuff]

THE GHOST OF PICS: MECHS PAST

And with THAT tortured pun, December's Patreon-backed @tfwiki picture batch is all stuff we've kinda needed forever, all stuff from the prior century, and all stuff from outside the US market!

We start with Takara's original DEATHSAURUS, Decepticon leader in 1989's Victory, who just had his Legacy Haslab toy start showing up on doorsteps. And of course, new separate pics for his Breast Animal partners EAGLEBREAST and TIGERBREAST (yes, get them giggles out, go ahead).

Let's jump back a year to 1988's Super-God Masterforce, and the Godmaster RANGER. This mold is the only one of the three Powermaster Autobot cars to get recolored for its Takara release. Sadly, the MIB copy I bought back in 1996 was missing its gun, thus my general reluctance to add a pic to the wiki. But lord, that tiny, crunchy book scan we were using suuuucked. Made Ranger look white when he's a very light stony blue. Still using the scan though, just now in an inset panel to show off the gun I don't have.

And now we bounce ahead to 1990's Zone, and the Micro Transformer base SKY HYPER, piloted by Deadwheeler. I took these pics forever ago at some BotCon, and have long lost the notes as to who owned this piece a few hard drives back. This sample was also missing the three ramps, thus both the length of time it took for me to get comfy going ahead and adding these to the wiki, and the new book-scan inset to show the missing ramps.

Let's shift over to the European market, with 1992's THUNDER CLASH, the leader of the Autobot Turbmasters. His gravity-feed missile launcher was, like all the Turbomaster and Predator launchers, very much not US choke-gate compliant.

Fun fact: Thunder actually did get a Japanese release! He and Skyquake were straight imported to Japanese stores in Hasbro packaging, with just some necessary legal info changed to Japanese on the boxes. This was the Operation: Combination year, where Takara released the small Turbomasters and Predators in 2-packs.

And now we're going much further back, and much further south. No, that's not Brawn, that's OUTBACK, the 1987 Mexican version by IGA. Apparently, IGA was unwilling or unable to pay for the new '86 Mini Vehicle molds, thus they made their own versions by simply recoloring the '84 originals and slapping them on new cards for the '86 characters. Sometimes with alternate decos to boot!

Sadly, I don't own this toy, and like Sky Hyper, this was a BotCon pic taken with original owner info lost to time. (I always try and credit the toy owner when they let me take pics.)

Now here's the ones I'm super-happy about. These are two of the three Eletrix, ESPORTE and PORSCHE, exclusive to Estrela's 1985 Brazilian Transformers line! These toys transform and walk/roll forward via remote control, attached by a wire over 4 feet long. I'm keeping an eye out for the third one, Jipe.

None of the '85 Brazilian toys have any faction markings, but the Autobot-style packaging leads one to assume "all good guys". As do the bios of many of the toys in the line... but the Eletrix lack bios, sadly. Which is weird, as Estrela made up new bios for some toys in the line, and just straight-translated others from their Hasbro bios.

These molds were released in the US, but as the "Pow-R-Bots" in Village Toys' TF-wannabe line Convert-A-Bots. Like Estrela, Village licensed them from Japan's Yonezawa Toys, where they were the Remote Change Robo Series. All of these releases use the same plastic colors, but give them new stickers for branding and language.

I bought these two MISB (cellophane still there!) earlier this year, but was a little gunshy about opening them, worried the electronics might have somehow rotted. Schrodinger's Electronics. But no, since they didn't come with batteries, no corrosion, and they work as well as a 1984-mold cheap electric gear-powered toy can (that is to say, loudly).

And of course, since I got the boxes, I took the opportunity to take 600dpi scans of the box art unique to Estrela's packaging!

Man, I love going through these older, not-US corners of TFdom, and hope you learned something new about the vast TF universe. And if you'd like to help make that just a little bit easier and get more pics out a month, consider joining my Patreon! "gregstfwikipics" there, every little bit helps, plus at higher pledge levels you can pick a theme for the month!