#edge is a soft pointy boi

[24-2-25]

❝YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE!❞ ― sim jake

synopsis | you’re notorious for you’re bad luck in dodgeball. seems like the cute boy from your math class also has bad luck, considering he’s always there to keep you company on the ‘out’ wall.

wc | 1.1k

pairings | jake x fem!reader

genre | one shot, fluff

tw | dodgeball??

note | i wrote this in like 2022… it’s finally out 😼

you were notorious for your bad luck in the horrid hell game, also known as dodgeball.  Everyone in you class knew it, your sigh can be heard through crowd when the game is announced. 

As a person who isn’t a widely known dodgeball champ, you decide to a stick near the back where it seems the safest. 

wrong. 

lo and behold, as you stood near the back corner of the gym hiding from the treacherous foam balls, a purple ball comes flying and hits you hard on the shoulder. 

“ow fuck!” you hissed holding your shoulder. your classmate on the other side cheers and high fives one of his friends. 

ew teenage boys are all the same, prepubescent, smelly and far from mature. 

you sat on the edge of the wall where all of hit students stayed. 

you sat your back against the wall and as you got comfortable, a soft “hi” came from above you. 

“oh jake hey.” you respond, still holding your shoulder from the impact. 

“ah sorry about that! beomgyu gets a little competitive when it comes to pe class.” a sheepish smile appeared on his face as he apologized. 

“nah it’s all good, it’s not like this was the first time.” you laughed it off. 

his face brightened at your laugh, a pointy smile forming on his face. 

“yeah you always seem to be on this wall. it’s almost as if there’s a reserved spot for you!” his cute giggles fill your ears. 

okay you take it back, not all teenage boys were smelly and immature. especially not jake. he was the sweetest, kindest, most athletic and academic boy in your class. not to mention his insanely good looks and cute australian accent.

with that he was the most sought out boy of your grade, and you were glad that you could call him one of your friends. at least you hope he considered you a friend. after all he always talked and texted you. 

“i’m surprised you’re here. you’re like so athletic.” you smiled at him. 

“oh you know.. we all have our weaknesses.”

for example you, and he thinks that’s his biggest one. 

jake couldn’t remember when he started to like you. your magnetic and captivating personality seemed to catch his eye the first time he saw you interact with your friends. 

he couldn’t forget your pretty face and cute smile. and the sound of your laugh? best sound to ever bless his ears. 

maybe it was when you offered to show him around without being told to when he first moved from australia. maybe it was your alluring kindness and generosity. he couldn’t tell for sure, but he did know that he wanted to be yours.

“that’s funny, who knew the most athletic kid would be bad at dodge ball.” you stated and he laughed and shrugged.  

“you always seem to get hit around the same time as me though. it’s like fate.” you added, laughing. 

he flushes a bit and laughs. 

“i’d hope it is.” he whispers. 

your teacher announced a jail break and you sigh, getting up from the wall and walking towards the back of the gym. 

you had a good 5 minutes of peace before a dodge ball comes rushing and hit you square in the face.

“OW!” you screech. it was foam but damn the shit hurt. the person who threw that put his blood, sweat and tears in that. 

“SORRY!” a your friend jisung screamed and ran up to you. 

“han jisung you did not just hit me in the face.” you sighed annoyed holding your nose.

“my bad y/n. I’m sorry!” he tried comforting you. 

you let go of your nose, then a red streak of blood came rushing out of your nostril. 

“it’s fine-”

“shit y/n! your nose is bleeding!” he cut you off and screamed. 

you wiped your nose with you finger and saw blood, cursing under your breath. 

“i’ll help you and bring you to the offi-” he offered. 

“hey jisung i can take her i’m out anyways!”. jake came running toward you guys. you didn’t care who came with you, you just needed to get there. 

“okay thanks jake!” jisung smiled, getting back into the game. 

“let’s go quick y/n.” he ushered you out of the gym. by then, your nose was bleeding on to your sleeves. 

once you got into the office and sat with a tissue in your nose, you suddenly felt a rush of embarrassment. 

“oh god that was so embarrassing!” you cried. 

jake who was sitting next to you with a tissue box in hand giggled a bit. “no! it wasn’t.”

“you’re laughing!” you sighed, pouting at him. 

“thanks for taking me here by the way. if jisung came with me he’d probably cause chaos in here.” 

“nah it’s nothing.” he stated calmly, passing you another tissue. 

“no you really didn’t need to do that.” you smiled while taking the tissue and changing it out with you old one. 

“it’s funny that you got out at the same time though. again on accident i can’t believe it!” 

“yeah on accident.” he sounded guilty?

“wait you did it on purpose?” you rose a brow.

“uh…no.” 

“yes you did. why?” you questioned. 

“because i wanted to be close to you.” 

your mind was buzzing with questions and confusion. why would he want to be close to you? why would he lose on purpose? he loves sports. 

“you see, i’ve kinda liked you since last year and i never really get the time to see you unless it’s gym or math class.” he suddenly got shy and avoided you gaze. 

“huh? me? why?” you asked, confused. why would he like you? you didn’t consider yourself as pretty nor did he ever show interest in you before. where did this come from. 

“it’s okay if you don’t like me bac-”

“i like you too.” you blushed. 

“wait really?” his eyes widened. 

“why wouldn’t i? you so sweet and smart and like amazing. why do you like me?”

“your just-“ he sighs almost lovingly and you immediately knew. 

you laugh. “you’re silly! why would you lose purposely at a game to sit with me by the wall?”

“because i can’t talk to you otherwise, only on texts.”

“whatever goof, let’s go back to class.” you laughed again, getting up. 

“fine, but only if you agree to a date with me?” he asked, extending his hand. 

“sure, jake.” you smile, taking his hand and exiting the office. 

maybe your bad luck in dodgeball wasn’t so bad. 

© @24-2-25 est. 2024

[insanelyadd]

A Papyrus related question. Since you have your own versions of Fresh, Ink and Error!Papyruses... have you ever thought of Dreamtale!Papyrus? (Or two, if not to remove Dream or Nightmare?)

Just curious about that, given that there are versions of Dreamtale where one of them is replaced by Papyrus...

Yes I do actually, let me dig around in my files real quick.

Dream Papyrus would have a sunset color scheme (soft yellows peaches, pinks, and purples) and his cape is made of clouds. He can sit on his cloud cape and fly around with it and he can sometimes be seen taking naps on it. He can disguise himself as a cloud in the sky as well. Honestly think this design is still pretty great, I really like the cloud pauldrons. Maybe if I were to redo it I would change the soft scalloped edged of his boots and gloves to be pointy instead and make them look like the sun (and rays).

Nightmare Papyrus! His color scheme would be stereotypical night colors (silver, midnight blue, deep indigo, and various shades of cool purple and almost-purple blues) and while he looks sticky and slimy, he doesn't feel that way. The darkness on his body is actual darkness and shadows, a dark cloud that he can conjure to haunt your sleep. He can disappear into shadows and summon sleep paralysis demons to torment people. He doesn't usually do that though, because he's just tired himself. Unlike Dream Papyrus who can rest peacefully, he cannot sleep without sleep paralysis and night terrors. He can also completely remove the darkness clinging to him but that would involve using it on people.

Bonus info: They are BOTH modeled after classic Papyrus, Nightmare Papyrus DIDN'T just turn into a swap because he's "evil angry sad boy! >:((" he actually takes his responsibilities seriously and thinks critically about using them. Neither is evil and their backstory is totally different from the Sanses because they are simply the extradimensional manifestation of dreams and nightmares from one specific branch of the multiverse. Dream Pap is also a lot more serious than he looks, because he's not just the dreams you have when you sleep but dreams for your future, just like how Nightmare Papyrus isn't just the horrors you can experience from sleep but also your worries and anxiety for the future.

[hitlikehammers]

PART ONE: Fail-Pirate!Eddie/Castaway!Steve (Pirate AU)

🌊Under the Water (Our Hearts Will Dream Again)🌊

Chapter One: Man Overboard

You’ve gotta understand: the truth about Eddie?

He’s shit as a pirate. Like: an absolute disgrace. Of all the bad names associated with the trade, if trade is what it can be called?

He might just give it the worst.

So, y’know. That’s nice.

Like, he knows his knots, he is excellent with his hands thank you kindly, and he ties those motherfuckers like a pro, too! So what if he just sometimes confuses his hitch for his stopper, they’re both knots, they both do the job of knotting.

(Mostly. They only lost a boat the one time.)

(As in lost-lost, not the ones that were retrieved in time but landed Eddie on scut anyway.)

Which doesn’t touch on his absolutely abysmal record at the looting end of things. He doesn’t mind taking from the well-off, but he does mind adding it to the ship’s take every time they make land; he maybe lies about how bad he is at the stealing, the all-important plundering of the job, because he ends up finding the people outside the center of town at every port, the ones who line the edges and he drops what he takes with the ones who need it there, where they can’t escape on the water, can’t live in motion on the whims of the waves and find their needs in the flux of a life unanchored.

So he’s not the worst thief, for the right victim. But his spoils never make it back to the ship so: it probably makes him pretty shit at the job to hand, in the end, either way. Add a mark to the tally.

And then, gods: don’t get him started on the taking of…other things. Who aren’t things, they’re fucking people and they deserve respect not…what the other people sailing under his colors seem to believe them useful for instead.

Eddie’s been sick over the edge of the stern, hidden by shadow even if it’s unnecessary because fuck, the rest of the crew is full-occupied with their plundering, and that’s the reason he spews over in the sea, the waves always feeling a little extra angry for his pollution of their waters and that’s fitting. It’s fitting that he’s defiling something sacred with the weakness of his stomach—but not his soul, not his morals or his sense of humanity, fuck’s sake, so: at least there’s that.

He guesses.

Admittedly, though: Eddie doesn’t care so much that he’s a shitty fucking pirate. It’s not piracy that led him here, that charted this course for his life.

It’s the Ocean.

Which, sure, that may strike either cliche or obvious, too soft and poetic or else just downright pointless to underscore because he made a conscious choice to live at Sea, especially given the laundry list of reasons he’s absolutely abysmal at the life-on-the-water thing. But it is the truth. The best and biggest truth he’s ever known, rooted deep enough to fuel his steps and guide his path to here, right here, being exceptionally bad at luring fucking fish in a tiny little dinghy that the crew who hates him decided was perfectly fitting for the anticipated catch and okay, fine, if you were going to base expectations off of prior performance then maybe, and also, also maybe being here, ending up precisely right here—laughingstock of his profession, maligned by his crew, foisted upon barely-a-boat to catch barely-a-fish because y’know what, he’d have become a goddamn fisherman in the fucking first place if he was any good at that—but maybe right here, like this would look like failure to anyone else, to everyoneelse but, y’see—

Eddie Munson was a boy, once.

And he remembers, crystal clear, from the touch of his mother’s hand on his shoulder to the smooth slide of the menacing-but-magical looking shell, with its pointy end for tiny hands to grasp and hold to, and it’s big spiky cone of a head to hold to his own, up against his ear as his mother guided his elbow up and whispered just listen, you’ll hear the ocean tell you its secrets—and he loved the ocean, loved the feeling of the soft foam of the tide on the hidden sands far from the harbor, loved the little creatures that scuttled in and out of the water when the waves crept up, loved the hint of a big fin, maybe real or maybe just imagined something that big, that dangerous, that beautiful breaching the horizon: Eddie wanted to know all the ocean’s secrets.

And when he’d held the shell of his ear, he’d heard them: whispered close and roared fierce alike and he’d felt weightless, giddy; just just floating.

Magic, like the shell in his hands.

And it didn’t matter when his father found him years later, stumbling drunk from the tavern where he spent money they couldn’t afford, finding Eddie with the conch pressed tight to his ear, almost too small now as he’d grown but still desperate for the secrets, the sound of the waves that seemed to reach out and know when they needed to break louder, faster to drown our the shouting, to wash over the way his father had hauled him up and thrown the shell to break a window and sneered your idiot secrets, boy, there’s no ocean in that fucking shell, s’the echo of your own coward heart that you hide in, there, stupid fucking—

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter, not because Eddie got knocked to the floor much like his shell, after; not because it made a kind of sense, because if the secrets of the ocean were the mirror of his heartbeat then of course they were faster and louder when his father came home drunk, sometimes he chest got sore over how his heart raced on those nights; and not because when he finally gets his feet back under him, when his father’s wood-sawing snores signal the coast is clear and he can creep out and search in the dark for his shell and find it, cracked from the spin of the handle-like bit so he just has to cradle the wide bell careful in his palm and ignore the slice of the spires into his skin, ignore it for the sake of finding, finding—

The waves. The secrets. His own heartbeat like the thunder in a storm and it doesn’t matter because if that sound is his own heart, then, then it’s like the ocean’s secrets are in his own chest, a little.

Like if the ocean had a heartbeat, there’s something of it pressed inside his own.

And for all that his father tried to whip that wonder away from him, straight out of his hands? That reality is somehow more magical. And Eddie’s been drawn to the pulsebeat of the sea—devoted, even, almost like a lovesick longing—ever since, so.

Failing at pirating, including the fishing part? Isn’t a failure.

Because he’s on the Sea. And that’s all he’s ever really wanted.

It’d help his pride if he got like, one fucking fish, though. Even a tiny one. Though they’d probably mock him worse for a minnow than for nothing so: small mercies, maybe, that he’s pulling up untouched bait.

Still he sighs, and takes a moment, rakes his gaze over the setting sun on the water—they’re far enough out now that there’s no sight of land, just the ripples nearby that smooth into pure water stretching aft and aft further out and Eddie doesn’t have a shell but if he presses his hand to his chest and over his ear at once it’s almost, almost—

He both hears and feels his pulse jump, like the secret is a warning, and he believesthat’s it’s both because it’s the only explanation for the way he turns, at that precise moment that the water moves uncannily agitated, and lifts up something weighty, a heavy shadow, and—

“Man overboard!” Eddie’s voice cracks as his hands reach for the oars and he rows before he thinks because the Ocean told him to look—and maybe it’s childish, and foolhardy, and a silly winsome fantasy he should have left behind ashore long again but…

He can’t tell if the man—because it’s a man, indeed, he can tell now that the water has calmed, and how else to explain its sudden surge to command Eddie’s attention, to call him in close and then ease the way to the waterlogged body—but Eddie can’t tell if the body moves at all save at the water’s own whim, can’t see yet if the flesh is too pale or worse, too blue, and—

“Man overboard!” he cries out with feeling, now; he’s far from the ship but not so much that no one will hear screaming if not yet discern the words and he just needs them to know, needs them to be ready, especially if it’s somehow one of their own and he just repeats it, too of his lungs, shrieks it to the sky as he reaches the man’s form, facedown in the water, and that alone seizes in Eddie’s chest—why tell him a secret if it’s only a heartbreaking one, yet he cannot, will not be picky, he will never reject the confidences of the Ocean no matter how it chooses to disclose its mysteries, even its tragedies; he curses his crewmates for the pitiful size of his little vessel, a joke upon his lacking hauls but now he has need for size and sturdiness as he reaches for the body—broad and leant further mass by the water itself and far more precious than a hundred fish for feeding and for trading, this is a life and he strains to balance the boat and heave the man aboard so not to capsize them both and leave the circumstances worse for his help—

“Man,” he manages to screech before he tumbles back, but with the man in his arms to drag along into the dinghy and he knocks his own breath a little for the fall but the man’s here, and they’re upright, and Eddie scrambles on his knees toward his new charge and he—

Should not have wasted time trying to steady his lungs, really, because this man, on his boat, dragged from the waters, he, he is—

He’s absolutely breathtaking.

Eddie gapes at him, at the play of the sunset on his soaked hair, his skin—pale, but not blue, not dead yet—he is stunning even like this, what unimaginable beauty must be possess when he’s not—

Oh hells, yes, right; he—

Eddie probably needs to fucking check if the breathtaking man is breathing, before he contributes to losing something at sea far more precious than an improperly-knotted boat.

>>>CHAPTER TWO

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme

divider credits here & here & here

🌊ao3 link here

[quest-for-pluto]

Asterism

Human!Neteyam x Fem!Human!Original character.

Chapter Index Next →

Summary: He stared at his hands as they hovered in front of his face, tremors running up and down his fingers. His five fingers, not four. And deep, warm brown skin. Not blue.

When Neteyam dies, instead of ending up in Eywa’s promised paradise, he wakes up on an apocalyptic earth, with a strange human girl as his only hope for survival.

Chapter 1: Falling Into

Neteyam was going to die. He was sure of it.

"No, great mother, no!" His mother wailed above him. "Oh my son!"

The bullet had gone through the top of his spine, a vital point, judging by the devastated look his dad was trying to hide.

He felt the darkness start to close in on the edges of his vision, and warmth—the warmth of his mother's tears as they spilled on his bloody chest.

Neteyam shut his eyes, visualizing the beautiful and tall towering trees, the fresh lakes and the crisp mountain air of his home.

"Neteyam!"

I want to go home, he thought, before everything faded to nothing, only the lingering sounds of grief echoing in his head.

Neteyam, spoke a booming voice in his head. It was all at once soft and soothing and strong and mighty. Reverberating everywhere and whispered tenderly in his ear.

Warm, gentle hands embraced his cheeks, and he felt himself relax into the touch. He could not see who it was, but somehow he knew they were smiling at him.

My sweet boy, the voice spoke lovingly. A flame extinguished too early.

To his disappointment, the hands retreated from his face, leaving him feeling cold and empty.

May your second flame burn brighter, they whispered softly.

And then like a dream, they were gone.

•

He was lying on a rough, pointy surface. Something hard was digging into his shoulder blade.

Neteyam groaned, blearily opening his eyes to a red, gloomy sky. He frowned, sniffing the air for any scents of smoke, but the sheer thickness and pollution of it made him cough violently, rolling onto his side.

Something smooth and cold pressed firmly against the back of his head, a familiar click making his stomach plummet in dread.

"Don't move," a smooth voice instructed firmly.

Neteyam gritted his teeth in frustration, not daring to flinch as a hand patted him down, most likely checking for any weapons.

She wouldn't find anything, he'd lost his crossbow when—

"No, great mother, no!" Neytiri wailed above him. "Not my son!"

"Neteyam!"

Warmth. His blood and his mother's tears.

Neteyam gasped deeply, spasming as the memory came back to him.

The gun pressed more insistently into his skull. "I told you not to move," she growled.

"What...?" He rasped hysterically, breathing starting to near hyperventilation. "What is going on?"

She stayed silent behind him, unnerving him further as he tried to make sense of his death. It was too vivid to be a dream, too real.

Ignoring her threats, he reached up to pat frantically at his chest, dragging his fingers over the place where he remembered the bullet piercing. His breath hitched as the pads of his fingers rubbed against a raised scar.

Snap.

A blinding pain shot through his wrist. "Argh!" He screamed as she pushed a knee into the small of his back, twisting his arm behind him.

"Go on," she said calmly, dragging the butt of her gun down his neck. He shivered from the feeling of cold metal on his warm skin. "Test me again. See what happens."

Only the sounds of his heavy panting echoed in the desolate area as he struggled to tamper down his pain. Fuck, that hurt. She must have broken his wrist. When his breath finally evened out, he opened his eyes steadily.

"Fine," he snapped bitterly. "I won't move. Now let me go."

In one abrupt move, she kicked off of him, sending him face first into the hard rocks. He sputtered as the barrel came to rest at the back of his head again.

"What are you doing here?" She demanded, so close to his ear that he could feel her hot breath flutter against his skin.

"I don't know," he growled, forcing himself still even though he wished for nothing more than to feed her to his ikran. "I don't even know where I am or how I got here."

"Who are you?" She asked, not missing a beat.

His breath caught in his throat. If she found out he was Jake Sully's son, what would she do to him?

"Ra'nim," he ground out through clenched teeth.

To his horror, she cocked back her gun, firing a round not far from his head.

BANG.

"Don't lie to me," she said unflinchingly as he shook in place, ears ringing from the blast. "I can tell."

Damnit! He clenched his fists, trembling in fear and anger. "N-Neteyam," he muttered lowly.

"What do you last remember, Neteyam?" She pressed him.

"I..." he flinched. "Getting shot. And then, waking up here."

There was a terrifying moment of pause, before she smoothly stepped back, the metal barrel leaving his head. "Well, you're not lying," she remarked tersely.

Neteyam didn't respond or move, not daring to make the same mistake again.

She sighed, stepping forward and grabbing him under his arm pit. He flinched as she forcefully pulled him up, steadying him as he stumbled a bit.

"You probably got mugged or something," she said lowly. "Tough luck, but it happens a lot. Just be happy you're alive."

She stepped in front of him, and Neteyam nearly choked on his own spit.

"Use this to bind your wrist and any other injuries you've got," she shoved a roll of bandages to his chest that fell to the floor. She narrowed her eyes at him as he gaped at her. "You hit your head too hard or something?"

He blinked at her in disbelief. "You...you're almost my height."

"What?" She scowled at him. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You're human," he stressed, his panic levels starting to rise again because what the actual fuck was going on?

Now she was staring at him like he'd just lost his mind. Maybe he had.

"Look at me!" He gestured wildly at himself in desperation. "Can't you tell that I'm not—!"

He cut himself off, staring at his hands as they hovered in front of his face, tremors running up and down his fingers.

His five fingers, not four. And deep, warm brown skin. Not blue.

For a moment he just stared dumbly at them, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. "What...?" He managed to squeak out, slowly raising his eyes in horror to come face to face with a now empty space.

Sometime during his mini mental breakdown,  the girl had managed to slip away, and was now hiking a fair distance from him.

"Wait!" He called, jogging after her and trying not to stumble on his weak human legs. He didn't have his tail either, which had once helped him balance on the thinnest of tree branches. "Wait, please!"

She didn't stop until he was panting right behind her.

"Just...please tell me where I am," he glanced up pleadingly at her turned back. "I don't—I don't know what happened to me, and I don't know where to go, or where my family is. Please."

She dropped her forehead in her palm, sighing deeply. "You're in Carson, Nevada. Or at least what it used to be."

At his blank stare, she squinted at him over her shoulder. "Are you serious? Nevada? How do you not know this? It’s one of the fifty states."

He frowned in confusion, lines furrowing between his brows. He's heard that before. Where has he heard that before?

"Holy shit, you really don't know." She stared at him in shock. "North America? Planet Earth?"

Shit.

Neteyam froze. He remembered now. He knew where he'd heard that from.

"Dad, how come you can speak like the sky people?" Neteyam whispered, stumbling on short legs as he tried to climb up after his dad.

Jake looked down at him with a raised brow. "I'm not the only one who can speak English in the tribe, kiddo." His tail reached down and steadied his son on the branch he was wobbling on.

"Yeah," Neteyam huffed. "I know, but you speak different. Like, you sound more like the sky people than mom does."

Jake sighed, squatting down so that he was eye level with Neteyam. "Well, that’s because I was a sky person once too."

Neteyam gasped. "Really?" He whispered behind his raised palms.

"Yeah," Jake smiled. "I was born on Earth in a place called Detroit, Michigan."

"Was it as big as home?" Neteyam gaped with wide eyes.

"Well, not quite," Jake chuckled. "But you want to know something? The people living there were allied with forty-nine other tribes, all in one big group called the United States. And all of their land combined, was probably a hundred times the size of this forest."

"Woah!" Neteyam gasped. "That's so cool!"

"Careful," Jake scolded, grabbing his arm. "You almost fell off."

"Sorry dad," Neteyam giggled nervously.

Earth.

His head spun.

He was on Earth. Home to the species that had destroyed his home and (repeatedly) tried to kill him.

Neteyam's knees buckled and finally gave out.

*******

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[aelyosos]

some ocean/helena pwp i'm workin on 😳

pairing: ocean/helena verse: original (dnd + sunless sea) word count: 425 warnings: uhhh implied dildo use ??? bit spicy ig idk

---------

By the time Helena is done with her nightly bedtime routine, she discovers Ocean has long since passed out, sprawled almost halfway across her spot in the bed with one of her small fancy pillows tucked underneath an arm.

Helena huffs softly, shaking her head as she turns the light in the bathroom off. She comes further out into her bedroom, approaching the bedside and eyeing Ocean closer. He’d been so tired lately; this wouldn’t be the first time this week he’d fallen off to sleep without telling her goodnight… or having a little bit of fun before bed. He was a pain to pull from sleep sometimes, and she knew he’d likely been less than sober while awake. Pirates. She purses her lips and reaches down in order to smooth some stray hair from his face, and that’s when one of Ocean’s bright green eyes flick open and he stares at her. A sneaky smirk pulls at the corners of his lips, and she realizes he's always been awake.

“...Got ye, didn’t I?”

“Move over,” She gripes, stepping closer and placing one of her knees on the edge of the bed.

“r’ what, sweet’eart? Ye’ll jump me?” Ocean shifts just so, lifting his brows at her in challenge.

“That’s exactly what I’ll do!” Helena says, and pounces aggressively on top of him.

Ocean laughs, twisting just in time to catch her arms as she playfully shoves her hands at him. She pushes at his arms and shoulders, his chest – putting her weight into it as she tries to wrestle with him. Ocean snorts at her attempts before suddenly wrapping his legs around hers and locking her body against his.

“Ocean, don’t you dare!”

But Ocean does, and he swiftly maneuvers himself to easily roll on top of Helena, pinning her beneath him. He flashes her the white of his pointy teeth, pleased with himself and their predicament.

“Smile while you can, big boy. I have something that’ll wipe that smug look off your face, just you wait,” Helena breathes, staring up at him.

Ocean parts his lips, wetting them slightly with his tongue as he leans down closer towards her. “An’ what good’s that gonna do ye now, del*?”

Without warning, Helena suddenly leans up and kisses Ocean hard, pressing her soft pink lips against his. “As if I’m helpless without a toy,” She murmurs almost cryptically against him.

That gives Ocean pause, and this time it’s Helena’s turn to offer him a knowing smile. “I don’t need to fight you, Ocean. I know what you like."

---------

* del = pretty (welsh)

[fancyfade]

Could I get your thoughts on how the Teen Titans cartoons have influenced recent or fandom characterisations?

I'm not sure I'm the best person to answer this, because I haven't been keeping up on a lot of modern titans comics. I know that @ravensvirginity has read a lot of them.

In general what I do know:

Kory's solo title (starfire) was very toon-influenced. She felt like a completely different person, and they really played up the 'doesn't understand idioms' thing from the toon, even though that was never part of her initial characterization in the comics. And she had all her rough edges shaved off to make her boring. In general, if kory is portrayed as like... overly soft or kind of just would cry if someone said something mean to her, that's toon influenced (also like. I don't think she even does that in the toon, but people like flanderize an already OOC version of her). If she just wants you to hug and make friends -- same thing. Like Kory loves her friends and she is a very affectionate character. But she's also the Teen Titans Character Most OK with Murder ™. Her character has a fascinating dichotomy where she's merciless to her enemies and incredibly loving to her friends and that's not an inconsistency that's part of the point.

Raven is generally de-aged a lot more readily than Kory, probably because Kory is tied into being Dick's love interest so they can't de-age her, but the toon really made teen raven a thing for people and then in the comics in tt2003 they also brought her back as a teenager -- I don't know whether that was toon synergy or an independent decision, but the same comics did have a plotline that pretty much just existed to give beast boy pointy teeth and ears like in the toon, so I wouldn't be surprised.

In general, if Raven is not portrayed as struggling against her father's influence and fearing being like him, but rather just fearing that he'll hurt her (or any instance in which she is used as a portal), that's toon influenced. A key point in NTT's raven is that she fears becoming like her father.

Also Raven as like... more sarcastic and deadpan is generally a toon invention. Raven was emotionally reserved, but she's not really sarcastic. She's a very genuine character, emotionally, she just fears expressing it.

Fandom perception wise I'd say when she's portrayed as like edgy or OK with people getting hurt ( and it's not something that horrifies her and/or tied into Trigon's influence and a slow decline into becoming demon raven), that's ... OOC but I also don't think it's really toon influenced, since she wasn't OK with people getting hurt in the toon. But maybe people read her character wrong? She wears black (toonwise) and acts sarcastic so she must be morally ambiguous. Even tho even in the toon the whole point was she thought she was destined to destroy the world and spent her whole life trying to save as many people as she could before then.

Vic I know we have people who view him as like. joined to beast boy/gar is pretty toon-influenced. I mean, they were friends in the comic, but Vic had a lot of strong relationships with other titans. IT wasn't just a changeling (his NTT name) thing. And even in his own solo they addressed the 'booyah boy' thing which is like... I will not even lie I didn't even notice he said booyah a lot in the toon the first time I watched it I have no clue how that became part of his character's reputation.

Slade thinking Dick is super special is pretty toon influenced, as well as any apprentice-related arc. I think Slade as a nightwing villain NGL is toon-influenced. Like. In the comics we saw him fight Slade once after Joey's death. But earlier more tension was set up (and then regrettable friendship) between Gar and Slade and I Don't approve of the decision really because it was mostly the writers treating Gar as if he got more anger due to the fact that he had a crush on terra (They weren't even dating before her death), but... I also don't approve of the 'slade as nightwing villain' thing, especially any that act as if Dick is just somehow more talented or special than the other titans.

And I know that Titans Academy (and also Terror Titans for some reason, though he was just mentioned in Terror Titans) brought in Red X. If I recall correctly (I read the comic a long time ago) they made references that acted as if the Red X thing in the toon had actually happened in comics, which again, is stupid. Not necessarily the 'bringing in something from cartoons to comics' (I mean, I like Renee Montoya and she's a cartoon invention) but the way that comic is presented in the toon and the 'dick is the most special boy' plotline that goes with it.

Anyway I'm not sure I really got into depth here, b/c like I said I haven't read much recent Teen Titans stuff (I think that Titans Academy was actually the most recent, besides the Kory and Raven 1 shots when they did tales of the titans), and I don't browse fandom tags a ton. But hopefully other people can add if they want :P

[darknadaworld]

🎫 here's a gush pass ^^ feel free to gush about whichever f/o you want, however much you want, then send this ask to 3 other self shippers (optional) !

a- whole gush pass? all for little ol' me?????

*grabs papers*

ok soooooo a whole essay about NOS4a2 and why he matters to me sm as a f/o ever

k so, starting off.

what makes him special design wise?

first of all, his whole design is sharp and edgy(literally.lotta edges). each end is pointy and sharp . lotta triangles used in his design. but despite that there's something interesting about how he has a cape (something usually made out of soft fabrics) as a cover, but even so the sharpness REMAINS. something else is how he has like two different eyes, which one of them is a monocle which is slay idk lol. also something else is how he's not like- he doesnt look strong physically at first sight even tho he's trully capable of being so . also fangs; LITERAL energy vampire, it's so cool as a concept.

ok personality wise:

most of the times he's on scene, it's always this very classic "muahahaha evil" kinda deal, he's silly af. geniunely enjoying it . he keeps on making stupid unfunny jokes all the time and he laughs at his own stupid jokes lol. idk i think it's cute and sillly waaaaaaaaaaaaa

BUT! he's capabe of being TRULY TERRIFYING (like half the robotic gore in BLOSC is caused by him lol, also his plan in ROTM was dark af)

it's even more interesting cuz his motivations are simply, yes being in charge as a SECOND need. the FIRST need is mainly to feed on robots. SENTIENT ROBOTS. LIKE HE D O E S WANT TO FEEL THE THRILL OF THE KILL. HE COULD JUST DRAIN from lifeless machines, but he'd rather HUNT and play with his food, if you will.

it's just very interesting.

now, SPECIFICALLY WHY do I like Nos and why is he so important to me?

so in general i was/still am a villain apologist ok? i always loved villains, no matter how evil they were. it sortz felt really comforting. but something about Nos specifically felt very special . possibly the fact that the first episode i watched in general was Revenge of the monsters (aka the climax of his character in everyway) .so basically my first impression was based on seeing him in his best if u know what i mean . like if it was any other episode things would've gone differently but that's not the case as you see. like ROTM is like this whole bigger climax yk? say, if it was another episode there's a high chance zurg could've been my fav character but boy he literally ran like a coward in ROTM so i just didnt care much cuz he wasnt in the ep as much as NOS.

like yea in an alternate reality it could've been Zurg but NUH UH . Nos it is.

also the fact that ROTM is like, as i said, sorta sums up his whole character in a great way . so when I watch that episode i IMMEDIATLY got attached especially when my introduction to the series is this. both his ultimate downfall and like .. the top of his character arc . like, INSTANT attachement.

another thing to note is how like … the whole episodes sorta focused on his turning every Z to an N .

ok here i might start explaining things a bit too personally here but ok it's an essay . ok so the circumstances of me watching the show for the first time were…something.

see i didn't have much friends back then as a kid. even the ones i had were pretty much SO different and can't understand me cuz im that shy, weird kid who goes on info dumping about my interests it might get annoying. but nobody understood those interests except ONE friend. whom just left and idk where he is till now. another thing to add, being the weird kid sorta let people exclude me and/or bully me soooo yeah .

so my putting that into prespective with the whole Ns all over the place thing in that specific episode sort of.. made me relate ya know? feel like it's specifically an episode for me . there was something nice and comforting about it.

the fact that it's the first letter of my name (which at the time was a big deal cuz all my favs didnt specifically put that fact into like, part of the story like Nos if u get me.) like, something about a villain i KNOW has the first same letter in their name as me, being all goofy yet menacing, also a vampire of sort -i am obsessed since day one idk) just felt right.

last part of this might sound silly or stupid but like . another reason WHY i felt this connection to Nos specifically till now :

people i know irl did NOT know what blosc was.

even the few who knew, don't remember it or specifically know who Nos was when i asked them.

so it's like "damn. all this epic character being so obscure and unknown despite everything they did?…sounds like me "

so until i went online and find more blosc mutuals (and till i went to Uni where people know it somewhat and still take show suggestions seriously from me) it just felt like this one character was specificaly made for me . like, this one character nobody knows except me . cuz i'm just as unknown and as unnoticed irl .

conclusion:

and to this day that still stands . Nos is still one of the turning points in my life in general. be it in art , in social life , or in general anyways. still my favourite fictional character of all time . my Top 1 fav and my main comfort character along Antasma and Zira for similar reasons.

thank you for coming to my cringe talk btw and reading all this lol.

[eggcompany]

Will is such a good boy

Hannibal leaves Puppy!Will in Duncan's care for a whole week. Will does so well except for the last day. Sometimes a pup gets a bit horny. Thankfully Duncan is willing to help the pup.

“Hello.” Duncan said plainly as he welcomed Hannibal, who had several bags hanging from his arms, and a sleepy looking Will. Will was dressed in slip on soft shoes and green forest pattern pajamas and was holding a big snuggly looking blue bear stuffed animal. 

“Hi Will, that’s a cute bear.” Duncan said and ruffled Will’s hair as he passed. Gently  rubbing the bottoms of his flopped ears. 

Will walked right over and flopped down in Duncan’s chair and snuggled up all close with his bear. 

This wasn’t the first time Duncan had babysat the pup but this would be the longest time by far. Hannibal had asked him to baby sit for a whole week while Hannibal settled some business a few states away. Duncan obviously agreed since Will was just about the most exciting thing in his life now that he’s retired. 

Hannibal set down all the bags and turned to his friend. 

“This one is diapers and changing pads and powder and all that. This one is mostly food and formula and there’s a list of places he likes to eat from. This is clothes. This is toys. And this is Big stuff. You have all my numbers and where I’ll be and I am very late. Thank you Duncan. Bye bye puppy see you in a week. Be a good boy for Papa.” Hannibal kissed Will’s forehead and was out the door. They already had their big goodbyes at home. 

Duncan smiled and waved and said a small “safe travels”. 

It was still very early in the morning. The sun hadn’t reached over the horizon yet. 

Duncan walked back to the puppy who was already asleep. He slowly brought his hands behind Will’s back and under his thighs. Duncan easily carried the pup to his bed, slipped his shoes off, and tucked him in. 

Will would probably sleep until at least eight. Maybe nine. So Duncan took the calm time to unpack and look through everything Hannibal had packed. Diapers, pull ups, wipes, bottles, sippies, shorts, cozy sweaters, a few pajamas, plenty of panties, a couple brushes, and everything else a pup would need. 

Duncan took out one green bottle and a blue sippy cup with paw prints on it and put them on the kitchen counter. He got a box of milk flavoring mix and put those next to the cups. The man pulled together an outfit for when Will woke up. It consisted of a pull up (if needed), some plain green panties, a pair of loose black shorts that looked quite comfy, and a big fluffy yellow sweater. 

Duncan busied himself with cleaning up a bit more and placing some toys around and finding a good Disney movie to put on. 

Just as soon as Duncan sat down to rest a bit before the puppy woke up, he heard a small whimper. 

Duncan hurried to the bedroom and peaked in. Will was stretching his arms up and arching his back and had his legs all the way stretched out and his toes and tail strained too. Will yawned and blinked open his eyes and looked at Duncan. 

“Papa...” Will said and wagged a bit. He smiled a little bit. Duncan walked to the edge of the bed. 

“Hello detka, ready to wake up?” Duncan fluffed up Will’s hair and petted down his tail. Will’s huffed and wiggled. 

“Yes, Papa. ‘M hungry.” Will said and flashed his sharp pointy canines. Duncan thought it was so cute he booped his nose and said 

“Oh what scary teeth. So sharp.” 

Will giggled and made grabby hands at his papa. 

“Okay pup, bottle or sippy?” Duncan asked as he picked the other up onto his hip. 

“Sippy cup! Juice!” Will wrapped his arms around Duncan’s neck and stuck his face in the older man's neck, his ears tickling Duncan’s face. Duncan smiled as he carried the pup to the kitchen where his blue bear was waiting already. 

“Bear! Bear!” Will wiggled until he sat down with the toy in his arms. 

“Let’s get you dressed before you play with your cuddly. Put the bear down for a moment.” Will was happy to lift his arms up and let Duncan undress him. 

Soon enough Will was dressed in his day clothes. 

The day went smoothly. They ate, played inside for a while, went outside for a nice long walk, took a nap (Will took a nap in Papa's lap while Papa read a book), and had dinner. Nighttime came around and Duncan bathed (Will sat in the steamy air in his birthday suit) and then Will would get washed up and brushed. Will got wiggled into his pajamas. He would snuggle his blue bear while watching a cartoon on TV (because daddy didn’t need to know if he broke rules at Papa’s). 

Duncan was happy as can be watching the pup wag his tail sleepily and snuggle in his blue button up PJ shirt and matching underwear. He was almost asleep when he heard a small noise and opened his eyes back up. 

Will was looking at him expectantly. He wasn’t wagging anymore and he looked sleepy. 

“Time to go to bed?” Duncan asked and reached out to the pup who just looked at him and didn’t move. 

“Will? Something wrong detka?” Duncan dragged the limp babe up into his lap. 

“Hot. Scratchy. Wanna be not clothes please.” Will said in his usual patched up English. Duncan thing for a moment. ‘What does that mean?’ Oh yeah. Will. Odd Brained pup. 

“Okay Pretty. You can sleep in whatever you want.” 

From then on each night Will would strip down to his panties and ask for a “Papa Shirt” and go to bed in one of Duncan’s sweatshirts. 

Everything was fine. Everything was good. Duncan took Will out for walks and let him throw stones in the pond and let him roll around in the dirt and was fine with changing Will when he had an accident and started wearing his pull ups. Duncan was happy and Will was having a good time. He ate and giggled and played with his blocks and Bear. Will let his papa pet his thin little tummy and rub his back. 

That was until the sixth day. Will had stayed at Papas for five days before. But never six. 

Will was fine all morning. Fine at lunch. Happy going on his walk. But when dinner rolled around Will looked nervous. 

“Where Daddy? Car?” Will said as he looked out the window toward the road. Duncan was in the kitchen fixing him a plate of food and sighed. 

“Will, detka, puppy, daddy isn’t going to be back until Monday. Two more days but you get to stay here with me! I know you miss him but only a few more days.” Duncan explained in a gentle tone. He didn’t want to upset the pup. Will was always so tender hearted. Will looked back at him and his bottom lip trembled. 

Duncan quickly made his way over to the teary eyed puppy, abandoning the meal. 

“Oh baby, it’s okay. It’s okay. Daddy’s going to come back very soon. He didn’t leave you, he’s going to come back in a few more days. It’s alright.” Duncan said as he pulled Will into his arms. Will immediately started to cry and sob. He’d been left behind by people before, before Hannibal found him. 

“I wan daddy! He left me ‘hind! I don’t wan papa! No! No!” Will said and struggled in the older man's arms. Will scratched and pushed at Duncan until he let the pup go. Duncan had to jump and grab him though. Will tried to pull the front door open. 

“No, Will. You do not run away. Come here and calm down. Daddy did not leave you, he went on a trip. You need to just breathe. Here, poor baby. Always so emotional.” Duncan said as he pulled the struggling pup over to his chair and up into his lap. Will stopped struggling and sobbed and hid himself in his papa’s chest. 

Will eventually tired himself out and fell asleep. Duncan continued to hold him though. For almost an hour he just watched the puppy sleep. Duncan went and placed the pup in his bed and covered him up. He watched Will sleep for a while before slipping outside with his cellphone. 

“Duncan? What’s wrong?” Hannibal’s voice came through the phone's speaker. 

“Nothings wrong. Will just got very upset thinking you abandoned him. He cried himself out and is sleeping now. He attempted to run out the door. I’m unsure about what to do to help him.” Duncan explained and took a long breath of the cold night air. Hannibal sighed on the other end of the phone. 

“If he acts like that again tomorrow, call me. Has he been rubbing on things? He might be sexually frustrated.” Hannibal asked.

Duncan thought back to the last few days. One morning Will had woken up with wet underwear but Duncan had just cleaned him up thinking he had an accident. And then sometimes Will would rub his crotch up against his bear plush. Duncan never said anything though because he assumed it was normal for pups. 

“Some what. He hasn’t been humping chair legs or grinding on the bed or anything like that. He sometimes wakes up with wet panties or rubs himself in that blue bear kinda absentmindedly. He’s never acted like this any other time he’s stayed with me though.” Duncan explained. Hannibal hummed on the other side of the line. 

“Yes but he usually needs to get worked over every few days. He can usually hold off for about four or five days. Would you be comfortable... well getting him off, to say it crudely?” Hannibal asked. He really couldn’t make his way back to Duncan’s yet. Duncan thought for a moment. 

“Yes, I can do that. Just tell me how he likes it.” Duncan said and walked over to peep in his window. Will looked like he was still sleeping. 

Hannibal explained that usually just jerking the pup off would hold him off but since he hasn’t orgasmed in a while that there’s a small vibrator and a bottle of special slick in a bag in a side pocket of Will’s Big bag. Duncan agreed and went back into the house. 

Duncan walked over to the puppy who was sitting up in bed frowning. Duncan petted through his hair and rubbed at his ears. 

“Hey puppy... daddy called while you were sleeping. He said you might be frustrated.” Duncan said and sat down in the edge of the bed. He ran his hand down the back of Will’s neck and down to rest on Will’s bare thigh. 

“Fustrated?” Will said questioning. He tipped his head to the side and looked down where his papa’s big callused hand was laid against Will’s hairy thigh. 

“Sexually frustrated. Daddy says you might want me to help. Do you want papa to touch you Will? Make you feel good?” Duncan said and moved so he could rub deep circles in the tender fat on the inside of Will’s thigh. Will jumped and squeezed his legs together and his tails poked out straight behind him and his ears tensed. 

“Papa...” Will whined and leaned forward to push the top of his head against Duncan’s shoulder. Duncan cooed and pet his hair. 

“Aw poor baby. You really need it huh? Since you’re such a good perfect little pup you can have it however you want. Tell me what you want, Will.” Duncan said against Will’s fluffy hair between his ears. 

Will whined and moved to swing his leg over Duncan’s lap. Will kept his face nuzzled into Duncan’s neck, he sniffed and drowned himself in the strong smokey cigarette scent. 

Will panted lighted as Duncan ran his hand up the inside of Will’s shaking thigh while his other hand continued to pet and rub the pup’s head. 

“Papa~ hode on! Only- only daddy can- can touch my parts! He said so...” Will said after Duncan cupped the front of his cute yellow thong. The older man could feel the pup’s hardening cock. 

“Baby, you’re a good boy. Such a good boy. Let me take care if you. Listen to Papa, little one.” Duncan said lowly right into the fluff of Will’s trembling ear. Will was shaking as he held onto Duncan’s biceps. Will let out a shaky whine. 

“Papa... pease pease pease take care a me.” Will said and rubbed his hips back and forth against Duncan’s hand. 

Duncan smiled and fluffed Will’s hair before pulling away. Duncan ran both his hands up under Will’s shirt and pulled it up off him. The older man spent some time rubbing at Will’s nipples and petting down his chest. Will whined and ground his hips against nothing, his cockhead peaking out over the top of his panties. Will gasped and whined loudly when Duncan slid one hand to grab and rub Will’s ass and put his other hand down the front of Will’s panties. 

“So pretty. Such a pretty cock. Maybe if you cum you’ll feel better. Poor puppy.” Duncan whispered into Will’s ear before mouthing at it. Will cried out and thrusted feverishly against Duncan’s rough palm. Duncan wrapped his fist around Will’s little prick and moved his hand slow at first. He went slow until Will’s leaking precum made the slide easier. 

Will trembled and shook as he held onto Duncan’s shoulders. Will kept his eyes shut and his tail shook rapidly behind him. 

“Papa! PAPA!” Will called out and opened his eyes. 

He held onto Duncan’s eyes for a moment before he melted. He screamed out and then clunked against Duncan’s chest. Duncan used one hand to work him through his orgasm and his other hand rubbed Will’s back. 

Will calmed down after a few minutes. Duncan cleaned his hand and Will’s tummy and cock and kissed his head. 

“You did so well puppy. Such a good boy for me. I’m sure daddy’ll give you a treat.”

Hannibal did give him a treat when he arrived later that day. Many many many treats...

[sommerregenjuniluft]

regulus sucking bartys cock at knifepoint <3

yeeeeeeessssss NONNY

lol this took over me, it’s a whole oneshot i’m afraid NSFW knifeplay, blood, very rough oral (~1.5k words i’m guessing, didn’t check)

for this anon, knifeplay nonny and @foursaints <3

Barty takes the blade away with a hum, watching Regulus’ slick and blood run along the sharp edge and he holds it up to his face, ignoring the pitiful noises and his still twitching hips.

“Look, baby. See that?” Barty taunts, mouth uncovered where he’d rolled his face mask up, “How wet and desperate you are for me?”

Regulus whines, nodding. His legs are shaking, briefs and pyjama shorts hanging off one knee where he’s propped into the couch, breathing heavily. His cunt is puffy and glistening, pinkish where he’s rubbed some of the blood of his own cut and mixed it with his precum.

Barty gets off the coffe table and plops back down on the sofa with a content hum before he gestures at Regulus to get on the carpeted floor. “Kneel.”

The other boy does, knees wobbly and sinking to the floor, blinking up at Barty with tear tracks on his sweet face. Barty’s cock is hard and pressing insistently against the zipper of his black jeans.

Barty lets the knife twirl lazily between his fingers, eyeing Regulus for another moment before he leans forward and shows the flat blade to the boy.

“Open. Tongue out.”

With a shuddering breath Regulus obeys instantly, tongue lolling out and fingers digging into his fair thighs.

“Stay still,” Barty rumbles and then slides the knife across the pink, spongy muscle, letting the slick gather there.

He makes him leave it like that until he starts drooling, the pinkish mixture of Regulus’ slick, blood and saliva starting to droop and slide down to the tip, letting a fat dollop fall, trailing a thin line after it that connects to Regulus’ thigh then. Making him all the more messy, and only then allows him to swallow.

Barty had started cupping himself through the denim halfway through, hissing in pleasure as he’d fiddled with the knife absentmindedly.

He draws it along Regulus throat now where he’s swallowing, then up and along his jawbone, only just the pointy tip until it’s nestled snugly under Regulus’ chin. “Gonna use that pretty mouth of yours for what it’s good.”

Regulus nods, gasping when the knife pricks at the soft skin with the motion.

A feral grin splits Barty’s face when he watched a little dot of blood pool at the blade and he groans, giddy as he fumbles with his other hand to get himself out of his jeans.

He takes the knife away when he has Regulus shuffle closer. Watches closely as his pupils dilate and his lips parts eagerly, pink tongue swiping out to yet it.

Barty twirls the knife then, thumb on the end of the handle so that the point shows back at him and he can comfortably rest it against the side of Regulus’ neck, right over his throbbing aorta, as the other’s face dips lower.

“Don’t use your hands,” Barty orders, making glassy grey eyes snap up at him, eyelids fluttering. Then Regulus nods and leans in, maintaining the eye contact as he lets his tongue swipe over the slit of Barty’s cock, where pre cum is pooling heavily.

Barty’s mouth drops open when Regulus sucks the cockhead into his mouth, suckling, cheeks hallowing and then popping off with a slick noise, lips already swollen deliciously.

He sinks lower, nose upturned against Barty’s frenulum, letting the flat of his tongue drag up the length of him once, twice. On the third he meanders even further south, sucking one and then both of Barty’s balls into his mouth, tonguing weakly and Barty groans, his cock tingling with neglect.

“That’s enough,” he presses out and Regulus lets up immediately, blinking a little confused.

Eyes glassy and lips slick and already looking halfway to ruined. “Fuck,” Barty mutters and then grabs Regulus’ by the hair and pulls him roughly forward again.

Regulus gasps from the sting at his roots probably and Barty uses it to instantly plunge his cock in, shoving Regulus down to the hilt. He gags, eyebrows scrunching as his throat constricts and he coughs around Barty’s cock, body convulsing with it and straining to move up. All the while keeping his hands firmly off and away.

Barty’s cock kicks with it, challenging Regulus’ gag reflex even more and then he generously lets up. Regulus sputters, gasps for air between coughs but Barty doesn’t give him too much time before he’s missing the warm wet of his mouth and tugging him back down, fucking into him.

It’s slick squelching noises and tiny grunts and whimpers as Regulus tries to breathe through the constant restriction of his airways and it feels like heaven in hell as the vibrations seep into Barty’s rock hard erection as he’s eloped by mind-bendingly tight heat.

Regulus is salivating all over his cock, wet warm ambrosia and sucking around the length of him so well Barty is moaning continuously.

He throws his head back with a curse when Regulus gags again as Barty lets his hips snap up and the movement makes Regulus jostle in his seat, skin digging harder into the knife’s edge. When Barty pulls away he’s sees a thin, dotted line of red, beautifully straight and pearly round and it makes him break into a breathless smile, all teeth.

The other boy makes a soft hissing noise before he whines and he dutifully keeps sucking Barty off, tongue swirling around his leaking head. Barty trails the pointy tip over the shallow cut, smudging and collecting and digging deeper in search for more.

Regulus makes a vague scared noise, sucking him deeper and harder, more sloppy.

But Barty is uninterested in truce, in reparations and his grin strains his cheeks, teeth biting harshly into his lower lip where he keeps groaning and panting, as he trails the knife upward, pressing into the jut of his jawbone.

Regulus whimpers and Barty chuckles, high on everything about this and watching as Regulus continuous bobbing drives the skin deeper into the edge of the sharp blade, eliciting another little cut. Shorter but deeper and immediately seeping a drop of blood that runs down to collect with the excessive amount of spit and cum under Regulus’ chin.

Just when Barty thought it couldn’t get any better the first new tear gathers in the corner of Regulus’ eye, and Barty moans loudly. Watching with sick satisfaction as it rolls down the round of his cheekbone and into the fresh cut, salt in the wound.

It must sting and Regulus simply keeps whining and sobbing around where he’s still eagerly taking Barty down his throat and it pushes him just that much further to the edge so quickly. Breath coming in short pants, hips twitching up into his mouth and grip turning harsh in the other’s curls, white-knuckled around the knife’s handle.

“Oh, baby, so good for me,” Barty mumbles deliriously, “Perfect little cocksleeve.”

Regulus sniffles wetly, gagging and more squelching as his nose repeatedly bumps into Barty’s abdomen with the way he’s driving into his mouth with deep, shallow thrusts.

Barty isn’t really sure Regulus is still breathing but he doesn’t care much as he feels a tingle all the way down into his toes, his gut tightening distinctly and the knife looking so pretty where it’s gleaming silver against Regulus’ flushed pale complexion.

He hold he edge against Regulus’ cheekbone then, keeping his head suspended in one position with a tight grip on the roots of his hair and thrusts up into him with abandon, chasing the nudge that will push him over the edge.

Regulus’ nose is an aggressive pink at the tip, lashes clumped wetly and flush splotchy on his entire face. Ruined and museum worthy and Barty can’t help himself when those grey eyes helplessly flutter up at him again. He presses the edge of the knife closer, making Regulus cheek rub back and forth with the jerky motion of Barty’s thrusts.

The blood protrudes in an instant, slipping down the length of it and off the pointy tip, dripping right onto where Barty’s cock keeps disappearing between Regulus’ slick lips, the boy’s pitiful choking noises and helpless whimpers ringing in Barty’s ears, and then he’s coming.

Hips stuttering and giving a shout as he grinds into the back of Regulus throat, cock twitching and spurting his cum there. It keeps going and going, waves of pleasure, lapping and Barty, pulling him under and making him convulse with the ripples, erection kicking time and time again, milking himself with Regulus’ mouth until nothing comes out but a hot dribble, completely spent.

He slackens his grip, both on Regulus hair and the knife, the handle a comforting warm weight in his palm and he comes down, watching Regulus cough and suck in one ragged breath after the other, throwing repeated looks at Barty that are equal parts wary and hungry.

Barty chuckles, breathless, cocking his head and letting his eyes slide down to where Regulus’ lower half is squirming restlessly, the carpet sporting a wet patch and he lets out a dark laugh, eyes blitzing dangerously, “Still gagging for more, huh?”

[agentrouka-blog]

"First lesson," Jon said. "Stick them with the pointy end." Arya gave him a whap on the arm with the flat of her blade.'- Jon(AGOT II). "Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow."- Jon(ADWD XIII). Jon gave Arya this lesson in the beginning and she first hit him with sword. Only for him to remember the same lesson while being stabbed by his 'brothers'.

Let’s see if we can spot a touch of poetic justice in here, centered around the misguided move to hand a deadly weapon to a child who has had no training, but has poor impulse control and a violent streak when cornered. 

He meant well. He meant to give her something that the world would withhold from her. Something to make her feel strong and to pursue her own interests. But. It’s a deadly weapon. And she is a child, who has never been taught to approach the subject of combat with responsibility. 

The master-at-arms put a hand on Robb's shoulder to quiet him. "Live steel is too dangerous. I will permit you tourney swords, with blunted edges." (...)

"Are you training women here?" the burned man wanted to know. He was muscled like a bull.

"I am training knights," Ser Rodrik said pointedly. "They will have steel when they are ready. When they are of an age." (AGOT, Arya I)

Jon hands Arya live steel right away. It’s a gift and a curse. 

You'll be sewing all through winter. When the spring thaw comes, they will find your body with a needle still locked tight between your frozen fingers." (AGOT, Arya I)

Arya’s training with Syrio also involves only a wooden sword. It is heavy. It is meant to teach her the weight of fighting. 

"It's too heavy," Arya said."

It is heavy as it needs to be to make you strong, and for the balancing. A hollow inside is filled with lead, just so. One hand now is all that is needing." (AGOT, Arya II)

But all he teaches her is forgotten with live steel in her hand. And her first kill is a child like herself.

Everything Syrio Forel had ever taught her vanished in a heartbeat. In that instant of sudden terror, the only lesson Arya could remember was the one Jon Snow had given her, the very first.

She stuck him with the pointy end, driving the blade upward with a wild, hysterical strength.

Needle went through his leather jerkin and the white flesh of his belly and came out between his shoulder blades. The boy dropped the pitchfork and made a soft noise, something between a gasp and a sigh. His hands closed around the blade. "Oh, gods," he moaned, as his undertunic began to redden. "Take it out." 

When she took it out, he died.

The horses were screaming. Arya stood over the body, still and frightened in the face of death. Blood had gushed from the boy's mouth as he collapsed, and more was seeping from the slit in his belly, pooling beneath his body. His palms were cut where he'd grabbed at the blade. She backed away slowly, Needle red in her hand. She had to get away, someplace far from here, someplace safe away from the stableboy's accusing eyes. (AGOT, Arya IV)

His belly and his shoulder blades, is it?

This time she did not hesitate. "Dareon is dead. The black singer who was sleeping at the Happy Port. He was really a deserter from the Night's Watch. Someone slit his throat and pushed him into a canal, but they kept his boots."  (AFFC, Cat of the Canals)

His throat, is it?

… away, he meant to say. When Wick Whittlestick slashed at his throat, the word turned into a grunt. Jon twisted from the knife, just enough so it barely grazed his skin. He cut me. When he put his hand to the side of his neck, blood welled between his fingers. "Why?" 

"For the Watch." Wick slashed at him again. This time Jon caught his wrist and bent his arm back until he dropped the dagger. The gangling steward backed away, his hands upraised as if to say, Not me, it was not me. Men were screaming. Jon reached for Longclaw, but his fingers had grown stiff and clumsy. Somehow he could not seem to get the sword free of its scabbard.

Then Bowen Marsh stood there before him, tears running down his cheeks. "For the Watch." He punched Jon in the belly. When he pulled his hand away, the dagger stayed where he had buried it.

Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger's hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. "Ghost," he whispered. Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold … (ADWD, Jon XIII)

Needle is an incredibly important object to Arya, it represents home to her, and her own identity. 

But at the same time, it is central in moments of intense trauma and the end of her childhood and fuel for significant moral ambiguity. None of the kills she makes with Needle are “clean”. 

Jon handed her something she was not yet equipped to handle. The same way Bran has a power he is in no way equipped to handle. The same way Dany has a power she is not equipped to handle. There are degrees to this, of course, but in each of these cases, their source of comfort is also a source of moral degradation. 

This is probably not a popular take. But Arya got Needle too early, before she was ready to carry a blade, and it will be reflected in how her story with it will be resolved. It already is reflected in how her kills are mirrored in Jon’s own stabbing.

[shimmerbeasts]

RP: Not Every Animal Is A Friend

It was remarkable how similar continents could be, even if on the outside, they looked more different than anything. However as frigid and freezing as the Freljord could be, Ionia had its fair share of regions, which dropped below zero temperatures too. Given how Ahri had spent the majority of the life, she could remember in a forest, which clung to a mountain range, populated by a pack of ice foxes, she felt strangely equipped for the chilly temperatures of the Freljord.

A cold wind carried a trail of snowflakes with itself. Ahri stalked through the snow, paws sinking into the frosty white up to her ankles. Her ears were pressed tightly against her head and her amber eyes squinted. Thick white fur puffed up to keep pace with the chilly temperatures. As Ahri carefully ascended the mountain's ridge, claws holding onto any stone, she could find, she could not make out a sign of life far and wide.

All, that existed, was the wind, shaking the firs and making the thick snowflakes do summersaults in mid-air. The mountain to her left seemed to climb up into the skies, its tip vanishing among thin, mist-like clouds. The little sunlight, reaching Ahri, was paler than what she was used to from Ionia. The Vastaya had heard rumours of how the Freljord had a night, which could last for months on end and had a cold period so severe, it was one of the toughest times of the year.

Ahri wondered whether or not she had made a mistake venturing out now. Past experiences had taught her that she could go without feeding for an incredibly long amount of time, longer than even she had anticipated. However, at the end of the day, the resulting feeding method she chose to escape her starvation was less than pretty. Even so, the fox Vastaya had to remember why she had ventured into the Freljords to begin with.

She had very little memories of the time before she had lived with the ice foxes. However, now, things were beginning to return to her like in a haze. Among them had been a large, mammalian silhouette with horns, six arms and the hints of a huge mouth with sharp fangs. Something was familiar like Ahri oughta know them, but she couldn't tell why. Nevertheless armed with the small hints of her memories, Ahri had scoured the lands and eventually, her search had led her here to the Freljord. If she was not completely wrong, Ahri should find the creature from her memories here. She just had to track them down.

Sensing the temperatures dropping, Ahri realised she had to find shelter to rest soon. Even if she could just curl herself up somewhere and use her nine tails like a blanket, the Vastaya was in a foreign wilderness where spirits were as rampant as in her home back in Ionia. It would be unwise to rest somewhere too exposed.

The smoke and orange gleam of a nearby fire caught Ahri's attention. Hurrying across the snowy slope of the mountain, she came across a gorge, where someone had lit a small campfire. Peering down from her perch, Ahri could make out a truly bizarre sight. There, warming himself by the fire and eating some kind of backed cinnamon swirl, sat a little boy in a red woollen cloak with fur on its edges and a green, adorable hat, shaped like a small beast with pointy ears. The rest of his garb was held in earthy tones. The boy couldn't be much older than ten.

His sight made Ahri's mouth water. However, it was the companion of the boy, which surprised her in the most positive of ways. There sat the very beast from her memories. Now no longer a haze, Ahri could make out curvy, reindeer antlers, a silver blueish white pelt, perfectly adapted to living in the harsh climate, and that huge maw, adorned with sharp teeth, the creature mostly hid behind a cat-like snout. Its soft eyes rested on the boy with fondness.

At first, Ahri grew worried, suspecting that this spirit had already chosen the boy as his meal, however, as she kept watching, the more puzzled she grew. The monster was not eating the little boy. It didn't even make any motion of hostility or aggression. Instead, it laughed warmly and seemed to communicate with the little boy, who was grandly gesturing around, talking to the beast like to an old friend.

Ahri craned her head to one side, nine tails standing up behind the vixen as she contemplated on what best to do. She then wound the tails together to form a singular tail and began her descent into the gorge. Leaping from rock to rock, she finally landed in the snow several feet away from the fire. Shaking herself as if she was indeed freezing, Ahri gave a soft sneeze of discomfort. Only then did the vixen titter totter closer towards the warming fireplace, casting a weary glance at the boy and his monster, releasing the softest of whimpers while she made sure the boy could catch a glimpse of her flank, which seemed nothing but skin and bones.

Starter for @mythicspiration

[cowandcalf]

McDanno WIP

Still going strong and writing for my McDanno WIP ‘Be Your Very Best At The Darkest Time’ (Soul Swap AU). By the way, I changed my mind about parting the story. I’ll pack everything into one long, wonderful story. My amazing friend with whom I survived three NaNos already, still reads my daily part I’m writing, and she said, how would the story end if I wanted to get my story out for the boys and not what I think should happen because it’s more according what people read? I was so surprised by that question but it’s the best advice I could get.

And by the way, I love how the H50 fandom and the love for McDanno is reviving! So many new posts are floating around, so many new fans are head over heels in love with McDanno. This is so fantastic!

A snipet of my WIP:

"Jesus, Mary. You didn't do anything wrong." Steve chokes out in shock. He has reached his limits of holding it together. Danny can tell. He breaks silently in Mary's arms. His shoulder shook with the pain he tries to push down again. Steve fights to stay strong for Mary. "I'm so sorry, Mary. I never meant to hurt you." He is about to pull back. "Not this time, Punk, you don't pull away when it gets difficult. Cry with me." Mary moves closer to Steve, face buried in his shoulder. She doesn't let Steve pull away and Danny watches how Mary shuffles on her knees closer to Steve. She clambers awkwardly into her brother's lap without taking her arms off his neck. Steve holds her like an injured bird. "What are you doing?" He looks completely taken aback. His arms are full of a tired Mary and it looks like she wants to crawl inside him. She doesn't care if she knees him in the thigh. She shifts around on Steve's legs ignoring his silent 'oofs' and grunts when her pointy elbows poke him in the chest and her scrawny butt, parked now on Steve's sore muscles, makes him twitch. "You haven't – haven't done that since you were a little girl, not more than five years old. It's a little bit . . . you know, you're so much bigger now." "Just let me. I need this." Mary sighs exhaustedly but is also more at peace with the situation. "You have it. I'm here, Mare, okay? I mean it when I say it." Steve's eyes drift over to Danny and with a pleading look, he begs for advice. He looks like he has no clue how to feel about a grown Mary in his lap. Danny signs him to wrap his arms all around Mary and rock her gently. Steve talks with his eyebrows and signals Danny to step closer but he does as told and circles his arms around Mary's fragile body. Danny bites back the grin that threatens to bloom on his lips. Steve is not yet super comfortable with the closeness but Mary doesn't pay zero attention to his discomfort. She forces tenderness and physical contact on him, tearing through any defense technic her brother has developed over the years. For Danny, she means a little wonder how she doesn't fuss over Steve's strict policy to keep the game face on even when emotions threaten to bring him down. She's in need of the protection and power her older brother stands for. And she desperately needs tender human contact. Danny comes to sit on the edge of the mattress. "Mary, don't get spooked, I'm sitting right behind you, okay? It's me, Danny. Can you remember me?" He asks in a soft voice while his eyes are trained on Steve and mouths at him 'hug her – hold her'. He sees the tear tracks on Steve's face and as difficult as the background of this reunion is, Danny sees the love almost as a golden light blossoming between Mary and Steve. Something deep that has been stored away for far too long is unfolding.

Share your WIPs guys. I’d love to read some of your works in progress. If you like of course and feel free to skip it. McDanno is eternal.

@goneahead @stephmcx @mcdannoangelwolf @merlin-wolfgang-trades-hale @murphyhatesme @too-much-in-my-brain and for sure I forgot some of you guys, but feel free to share too!

[mlimby]

JJBA Character Model Studies/Analysis (only Part 5)

Hi, this post is just me praising the art direction in the “Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure” fighting games “Eyes of Heaven” and “All Star Battle”. Don’t know if this has been done before but I’ve been thinking about this so much.

     One thing I love about the character design in these games is that they avoid same-face-syndrome. Each character is given unique facial features AND retains their part’s art style “quirk”, I guess you could call it, that anime/manga sometimes struggles with (due to the nature of the genre.) This is the closest to canon appearance descriptors that we are going to get that are not the basic things like height, hair color, eye color, etc. I’m talking like face shapes and whatnot. 

     Since the Part 5 cast are my favorites, I’m going to be using them as my examples. Yes, I am starved of Part 5 content.

Each image I use is going to be from a GTA 3 mod page (which I will source at the end of this post cause don’t you want to play as them in GTA?) since it’s the clearest and most consistent set of close up images I could find lol. 

Giorno:

Round, hooded(?), soulful, watery, wet beast eyes (his iris and pupils take up most of the space in his eyes)

Winner of wettest most watery eyes on the team

Very angled, blocked in eyebrows

Heart shaped face (widest at the forehead with pointy chin) very much emphasized by his cornet hair

Square jaw

Big ole rounded ears that stick out (Second biggest ears on team)

Slightly wider nose relative to the width of his mouth but overall balanced facial features

The way his suit is modeled gives him kind of a blocky appearance and make his limbs look shorter

Short fingers

In all, they gave him a very rounded/blunt appearance

I don’t believe in kibbe typing but, Soft Natural

Bucciarati:

Horizontally long, almond shaped eyes with visible double eyelid (smaller iris and pupils leave most of the white showing)

Has the second driest eyes on the team (only behind Mista)

Super thin, straight eyebrows that are more filled in towards the front (probably drew them on)

Thinner, oval face shape I think (pulls off the blunt bangs and bob cut very well good for him!)

Has a wider mouth and super full lips

Thin and long nose (emphasizing longer mid face makes him look more mature)

He got small bones

Well tailored suit (compared to Giorno’s somewhat ill fitted modified school uniform)

Long, slender fingers

Sleek, modern, and sharp impression

Probably Dramatic Classic lol

Fugo

Round/almond shaped eyes with visible double eyelid (smaller iris and pupils with most of the white showing)

Very long, angled, eyebrows but not as fat as Giorno’s

I’d like to say he has an oblong face shape plus IMAX forehead (sorry)

More v shaped jaw most similar to Bucciarati

Similar facial feature placement to Bucciarati but has a slightly more rounded nose tip and a not as pinched nose bridge

Big ole hands and fingers

Lanky teenage boy archetype

Very rectangular but slightly more blunt than sharp

Flamboyant Natural or straight up Dramatic probably

Narancia

Big round eyes with visible double eye lid but his iris and pupil still leave a lot of white showing (biggest eyes on team)

Big ears like huge ears (biggest ears on team)

Really thick and noticeable bottom lashes

Second place for most watery eyes on the team (I’d describe them as more sparkly and alert than watery I suppose)

Thin but angled eyebrows

Oval face shape but no sharp or hard edges just round (retains the most facial baby fat)

V shaped/rounded jaw but not as defined

Lips similar in proportion to Giorno’s but with a more defined cupid’s bow

Shorter limbs

Smaller hands with smaller fingers

He’s not short! He’s compact!

He’s like a small rock to me just all muscle but thin

Like how monkeys have super compact muscles that make their limbs appear thin but they’re actually super strong and can do unspeakable damage

Flamboyant Gamine

I’ll add more of the team in a later reblog of this post or a separate one I don’t know.

Image Sources: (all by Alessandar212)

[lazyowl]

How would you describe my art style ?

Oh boy, am not good at describing things ummmmm

I would say round? Soft? I don’t think there are many pointy, sharp edges most of the time

Kinda cartoon-like? But still pretty detailed while remaining simple if that make sense?

I hope that’s what you’re looking for

[alindakb]

Soundless Love - Chapter 9.2

A tear slides over Harry’s cheek. He can see Neville in the corner of his eye. He hasn’t moved since Harry spotted him on the floor. Harry’s chest is heavy and he opens his mouth to breathe, only air doesn’t seem to make it to his lungs. Why did he run to the library? He should have got help. Draco wasn’t in danger until Harry showed up. Pettigrew would have left him alone. And then maybe, Neville would still be alive now. And Draco’s wand wouldn’t be pointed towards Harry.

Pettigrew laughs. “You’re as disgusting as Sirius and Lupin,” he says.

Harry swallows. He wants to close his eyes and forget this day ever happened. But he can’t look away from Draco. Draco’s neck is exposed, as Pettigrew still holds his head pulled back by his hair. His beautiful hair. Harry wishes he’d got the chance to feel it. He still wonders if it’s truly as soft as it looks. Not that Draco would ever let him. It’s clear how he feels about Harry and his sexuality. But that doesn’t change the fact that Harry still wants him. More than anything he’s ever wanted in this world.

“Sometimes I wonder,” Pettigrew continues. “If it was them that tipped me over the edge. They’re a disgrace to wizards.”

“You’re wrong,” Harry whispers. He can’t find his voice. James had warned them that Pettigrew was dangerous. But they didn’t listen. And now, Neville is gone. He would have moved by now if he wasn’t. And it won’t be long and then Harry and Draco will die too. It will all be over. Why did Harry break his promise? He should have listened to his dad. He should have kept them all safe.

“The Dark Lord will return,” Pettigrew says. “You will see how right the world will be when he does.” Pettigrew bends his head to the side. His front teeth stick out of his mouth. He’s got a pointy nose and small dark eyes. He’s not only a rat in name and actions. He’s also a rat in his looks. A disgusting rat.

Harry lifts his wand. He wants to hurt Pettigrew. Make him pay for all the pain he caused. By his betrayal. His sick idea of what the world should be like. And all because he couldn’t stand it that Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus are gay? Is that truly the reason why Pettigrew turned on his best friends and gave up the location of Neville’s parents to the Dark Lord? That just makes it worse. It makes it personal.

“What do you plan to do, boy?” Pettigrew asks. He turns his wand back to Draco’s throat. “You better drop that wand, or your little boyfriend dies.”

“Don’t,” Harry stammers. “He’s got nothing to do with this. He isn’t like me.”

“Then drop that wand,” Pettigrew says.

Harry lowers his arm and lets his wand slip out of his fingers. The wand falls on the floor and rolls towards Pettigrew and Draco. Harry swallows as Pettigrew points his wand towards Harry again. There is nothing left that Harry can do to save his own life. He’s defenceless and lost.

“You’re a fool,” Pettigrew says.

Harry closes his eyes and waits for the spell to hit. Only it doesn’t.

Pettigrew groans.

Harry’s eyes fly open. Pettigrew stands bend over. His wand free hand clutching his stomach. Draco rolls over the floor. His eyes search and then he reaches out for Harry’s wand. Pettigrew lifts his wand. A red light flashes from it. It goes straight for Harry. He should duck. Get out of the blast zone. Only Harry is frozen. He lifts his hands to stop the spell.

The red light slams into an invisible shield in front of Harry. Draco sits on the floor, Harry’s wand in his hand. He smiles at Harry and then he turns around. He faces Pettigrew. He’s going to stop him. Helpless Draco, the boy Harry thought he had to protect and save. He’s going to be the one that saves the day. The one that captures Pettigrew. It’s so unlikely, and so amazing at the same time. Harry wants to kiss him again. He knows he can’t. And he won’t. But he wants to, so badly.

“Too late,” Pettigrew says. He points Draco’s wand at his head and then starts to turn. He shrinks and Draco’s binding spell misses him. In seconds a small rat sits on the library floor. Harry lunges for the animal. But it’s small and fast. The rat runs away, out of sight.

“Fuck,” Harry says. He turns around and then spots Neville on the floor. The next fuck that comes out of Harry’s mouth is softer. Slowly he crawls towards Neville’s body. Please don’t be dead is all he can think. Mum and dad will kill me if you are. So please, don’t be dead.

With care, Harry turns Neville around. His eyes are closed and his face looks pale. Harry bends over his head and looks for any sign of life. A soft wind comes from Neville’s nose. He’s breathing. Harry drops his head on Neville’s chest for a second. “Thank Merlin,” he says. Neville is alive. Hurt and unconscious, but alive. James and Lily aren’t going to kill Harry. They’ll still be mad as hell when they hear what happened, but at least they won’t be able to blame Harry for losing Neville.

There are sounds in the distance. Harry sits up straight when he hears Remus shout his name.

“We’re here,” Harry shouts back. He turns and spots Draco on the floor. He still has Harry’s wand in his trembling hand. Tears stream down his face and his eyes are fixed on Neville.

“He’s alive,” Harry signs. Only Draco doesn’t seem to see it. Harry stands up and takes a step towards Draco. A hand grabs his arm and Harry is spun around. Remus is pale and his eyes are large when Harry looks at them.

“Is he still here?” Remus asks.

Harry shakes his head. “He got away,” he says.

Remus pulls Harry against his chest. His arms are firm around Harry and it feels good. But Harry needs to get to Draco. He needs to tell him that all is okay. And thank him. If it hadn’t been for Draco, Harry would be lying dead on the floor. Draco saved him. With magic. He performed some amazing spell work without uttering a word. So Harry pushes against Remus and tries to step out of the hold.

“We need to get Longbottom to the hospital wing,” Professor Snape says. Harry looks to the side and sees that Snape sits next to Neville. “It’s nothing serious, just a powerful Stunning Spell. He’ll have a nice headache for a couple of days.”

“You’re sure?” Remus asks. He still won’t let go of Harry. Maybe he’s afraid that if he lets go, that Harry will run off after Pettigrew.

“Yes, Lupin, I’m sure,” Snape snaps. He’s back on his feet and moves out of Harry’s view.

“Uncle Remus, I need to,” Harry starts. He tries to step back again, out of Remus’ hold.

“Just let me hold you for a little longer,” Remus says. “When Ron and Hermione told me what you were doing. I didn’t think I would find you here alive.”

“But Draco,” Harry protests.

Remus chuckles. “He’s okay. Professor Snape has him.”

Harry doesn’t think that Professor Snape will be able to calm anyone. But he gets that Uncle Remus needs to hold him for a little while longer, so he doesn’t fight against the hold anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says. He’s trembling on his feet. “I didn’t think.”

Remus pets Harry’s hair. “It’s okay,” he says. “You’re safe now. You’re all safe now.”

“But Pettigrew got away,” Harry says.

Remus places his hands on Harry’s shoulders and looks at his face. “You’re alive. That’s all that matters,” he says.

A tear escapes Harry’s eye. “He said he did what he did because of you and Uncle Sirius,” he stutters.

Within seconds, Harry is pulled back against Remus’ chest. “Don’t you listen to that man for one second,” Remus says. “He’s wrong. He was scared and a coward. He still is. He would have faced us by now if he wasn’t. He needs to tell himself something to make right what he did. But nothing he says will ever be true. He was our friend, and for years he didn’t mind that Sirius and I were together. It’s not our fault he fell for Voldemort’s lies. It’s nobody’s fault but his own.”

Harry clutches Remus his clothes in his hands. He doesn’t want Remus to let him go. He lets out an uncontrollable whimper and closes his eyes.

“Harry,” Remus says. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

“I thought,” Harry mutters. “I thought Neville was dead.”

Remus doesn’t let go of Harry. He holds him close. It’s the only reason why Harry stays upright. His legs are weak and Harry feels light-headed. There is movement around them. Professor McGonagall orders others around. Professor Snape escorts Draco out of the room and Madam Pomfrey takes care of Neville. And in the meantime, Harry just stands there, held by Remus. Until Remus asks him if he’s ready to go.

MASTERLIST

[1-800-roflmao]

Wash Day Delight Pt. 5

Rating:  General Audiences

WARNINGS:  None

Fandom:  Undertale (Video Game)

Relationships:  (Papyri Harem) Papyrus (Undertale)/Reader, Papyrus (Underfell)/Reader, Papyrus (Underswap)/Reader, Papyrus (Undertale) & Reader,  Papyrus (Underfell) & Reader

Characters:  Papyrus (Undertale), Reader, Edge (UF Pap), Blue (US Sans), Stretch (US Pap), Sans (Undertale), and Mentions of Other AU Skeletons

Add. Notes: Reader Is POC - mainly mixed/black coded with thick curly hair. I try to keep descriptions vague. Anyone is welcome to read.

*Papyrus has a moment to himself. Enter Sans, Blue, and Stretch. Edge proposes a toast.

**EDITED SINCE TUMBLR MIXED UP THE PARAGRAPHS

PREVIOUS || FIRST || NEXT

Papyrus was practically beaming at the opportunity he had caught by the horns that morning.  What a spectacular way to start his day!  He’d been only a little worried that she might shoot down his idea.  Okay, he had been very worried.  Especially considering she had explained she planned to do chores today as well.  Thank goodness, his brilliant mind was in tip top shape today!  And he didn’t have the little human here to fluster him.  It had also been lucky that Blue was there.  The excitable version of his brother had been quite eager to help him convince her to come over once he realized who he was texting and what was going on.

“REMIND HER HOW MUCH SHE LOVED OUR MASTER BATH!”  “SHE’S SUPPOSED TO BE PAMPERING HERSELF AND RESTING.  CHORES ARE NEITHER OF THOSE!”  “WE CAN ASSIST HER WITH THOSE CHORES IF THEY REALLY NEED TO BE DONE…”  “TELL HER I’LL GET MY BROTHER’S HOODIE FOR HER!”

That last suggestion he remembered had resulted in a long pause before Blue had laughed awkwardly under Papyrus’s questioning and only slightly judging gaze.  His judgemental gaze was soon pulled to his phone as she had replied with a wide-eyed emoji and then stars and then finally: 

Fluffy:  Promise?

He didn’t know whether to be impressed by Blue or disappointed in his friend that it had taken the simple promise of a hoodie to get her to agree so quickly.  Was it because it was Stretch’s specifically?  There was no way to tell since they had not offered anyone else’s clothing.  It stung for some reason.  Idly, he rubbed at his sternum to ease the odd pain away as he sent a reply back. 

CoolDude:  THE GREAT PAPYRUS! AND MALEFICENT BLUE! NEVER BREAK A PROMISE.

CoolDude:  WE’LL BE OVER IN JUST A FEW MINUTES TO PICK YOU UP

Fluffy:          Could you give me thirty?  

Fluffy:          I need to get dressed and pack a bag.

CoolDude:  OFCOURSE!  SEE YOU SOON!

Needless to say, it wasn’t long after the two had convinced her to come over that the whole household was made aware they would have a guest today in the family group chat.  Blue had run off to find his brother with a promise to come back in time to go.   Papyrus assumed he was going to try and convince his brother to give up his hoodie for the day.  They technically didn’t need it till later though.  Most likely she would be rushing off to the bathroom as soon as she stepped foot into their home.

Pocketing his phone, he settled into finishing the task Blue had been helping him with.  There were only a few more dishes left to clean from their late breakfast--brunch?  Was it still technically too early for brunch?  Shrugging, he lost himself in cleaning and tried not to watch the clock obsessively.  So hyper focused, he didn’t notice his brother shortcutting into the kitchen just beside him.

○●○●○●○●○

Sans just watched Papyrus currently wiping at the same spot on the counter for what seemed the umpteenth time.  “hey, bro, think you missed a spot,” he finally decided to make presence known.  He was rewarded with very on brand screech as his taller sibling nearly jumped through the ceiling in surprise.  Quite a feat considering they had purposely high ceilings.  

“SANS!!!”  Sans’ lazy perma smile just perked up as his brother stomped a foot and crossed his arms, sockets narrowing.   “WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT USING SHORTCUTS IN THE HOUSE?!”  Papyrus scolded, foot tapping away.  

“not to,” he answered without a care.  His tone said it all.   He’d do it again and again.  This was a war Papyrus would not win.  He bit back a laugh as his brother just sucked in a breath, palms pressed together in a praying motion in front of his teeth.  “aw, paps, come on, it’s not that bad,” he pleaded playfully.

“YOU ARE CORRECT,” Papyrus started and Sans arched a brow bone in mild surprise, “IT’S NOT THAT IT’S BAD.  IT IS SIMPLY FRUSTRATING THAT YOU HAVE TWO PERFECTLY FUNCTIONAL LEGS AND YET, YOU FIND EVERY OPPORTUNITY TO NOT USE THEM!” 

Sans just smiled in turn and that smile just stretched wider as he watched his brother literally flinch and glare even harder.  “NO.”  His sockets were practically curling with how big his smile was getting as Papyrus continued to command him to cease.  It was too late though.  It was already in motion.

“just trying to get a leg up on life, bro.”  It was like music to his nonexistent ears as Papyrus screeched that signature NYEH! of his.  He would have tossed a few more puns his brother’s way, but… “so, what has your spine in a twist?”  While he could guess what had his brother stressing--considering a certain human was visiting today--it did not hurt to ask.

His brother’s lazy pun had done its job to lighten his mood significantly.  He had expected more, but instead Sans had thrown a curveball.   The question was sobering.   He wasn’t stressed.  He wasn’t worried.  He wasn’t… right?   Picking up the rag he had used to clean the counters, he brought it to the sink and started ringing it out.  “MY SPINE IS PERFECTLY ALIGNED AS USUAL, SANS,” he replied, tossing the rag in to a small hamper just outside the connected laundry room.

Silence followed and he could feel his brother’s eyelights boring into his back.  “uh huh…” Yeah, that tone said he hadn’t believed a word of it.  Rather than pushing with words, his brother had settled for simply staring and tapping at the counter.  It was a battle of wills at this point.  

Just as the tapping of his brother’s phalanges against the countertop was starting to tick away his resolve, the tension was shattered as Blue reentered the kitchen with his own brother in tow.  Papyrus could hear the energetic version of  his brother nagging at his lazy self to wash his hoodie before lending it out.  Finally turning around, he aimed a bright smile at the swapped brothers; pointedly, he ignored his brother’s judging gaze.  “BLUE, I SEE YOU’VE SUCCEEDED IN CONVINCING YOUR BROTHER!” he declared, marching up to the two. 

A little amused huff escaped Blue, “DIDN’T TAKE MUCH CONVINCING HONESTLY,” he admitted.

“OH?” Papyrus looked to Stretch for elaboration and the other just gave an easy shrug.

“little miss has been eying my hoodie for a good bit,” he stated, an amused lilt to his voice, “was honestly surprised she never tried to sneak it or ask for it before now.”   

“SHE DIDN’T ASK FOR IT,” Papyrus found himself saying before he could think better of it.  It wasn’t a lie, but why did it feel like he said something mean.  That odd feeling was pressing at his sternum again.  

Stretch simply rolled the lollipop held in his jaws from one side to the other.  The hard candy clicking gently at the back of his teeth as he leveled a seemingly unbothered stare on his doppelganger, but Papyrus knew no matter how much the slouching brother seemed to act like his brother, he was still a Papyrus and Papyri were more observant than they often let on.  He knew those honey colored eye lights were searching for every little cue to put together the puzzle put before him.  

“THAT IS TRUE.  I DID OFFER IT,” Blue cut in, a shared moment of eye contact between the older brothers missed by the younger.  

 A little hum could be heard from Stretch as he straightened up with a roll of his shoulders in a mock stretch.  “hadn’t meant it to come off like that so let me reword,” he started with a short chuckle.  “she’d been wishing on all our sweaters and hoodies,” he amended, his lazy smile pulling up at the corners as he now had to look slightly down at his doppelganger without his usual slouch.

That ugly, heavy feeling wasn’t pressing as insistently after Stretch’s words.  “OH…” Papyrus hoped his voice came off as neutral.  Sadly, he could feel his magic betraying him as his cheekbones warmed.   

“you all can’t tell me you’ve never noticed,” he challenged the room, finally breaking his staredown with Papyrus as he looked to the other two occupants.

 Sans was the first to input his agreement with a shallow nod as he leaned on the counter.  “she tries to be subtle about it,” he remarked, an easy smile on his face as he rested his chin against his palm, “sneaking little glances here and there, dropping little hints…” His sockets closed with a happy curve as his deep laugh rumbled in his chest as he remembered the offhanded questions and shy beating around the bush their friend opted for instead of simply asking outright to borrow one of their jackets. 

Opening his sockets, he resumed watching his brother.  His light pink flush had dimmed and he had lifted a hand up to his mouth, digits curled as he seemed to be thinking.  He just smiled more as Papyrus seemed to be relaxing as he worked through his thoughts.  The more anecdotes they shared, the more his sockets seemed to widen with understanding.  

“LET’S NOT FORGET SHE HAD TRIED ACQUIRE YOUR SWEATER JUST LAST NIGHT, CREAMPUFF.”  Edge’s voice cut through the chatter.  They had all jumped and seemed to move as one to look at the sharp skeleton currently shutting the fridge door.  When had he come in?  Had they been so engrossed they had somehow missed him coming in?  Edge just smirked smugly at all of them as he carried the carafe of lemonade over to the island.

Sans just chuckled and turned his attention back to his brother.  His brow bones perking as he saw Papyrus’s smile wasn’t strained anymore and his tense posture had fled.  A glance to Blue and the other gave him the tiniest shrug before following it with a sneaky thumbs up.  Yeah, everything was good again.  Let’s not question it for now.  “hey, bro, don’t cha have a guest to pick up?” he commented.

The energetic duo both looked to the clock on the wall. A rather impressive synchronized gasp left the two. “NYEH!” “MWEH!” “WE’RE LATE!!”  The smaller skeleton just barely managed to catch the taller by the hand as he went to dash out the door.  “SORRY, PAPYRUS!  NO TIME FOR THAT!” Blue rushed out an apology before the smell of ozone filled the kitchen and barely a second later they were gone. 

○●○●○●○●○

“hey, Edge, mind pouring me a glass of that lemonade?” Stretch had settled at the island with a hopeful smile.  

   His request was met with a huff as Edge opened the cabinets above and retrieved a glass for himself, “POUR YOURSELF ONE, ASH TRAY.”  

The orange clad skeleton just hummed  around his lollipop before grabbing the sweet, honey flavored treat by it’s stick and removing it from his mouth.  “aww, why not?  you poured one for Sans there and he didn’t even ask,” he pouted playfully, gesturing to Sans who was nursing his glass of lemonade  just beside him. 

“don’t have to ask when you’re-” Both Papyri still in the room shot him a warning glare before he could even finish and he lifted his hands up in mock surrender.  “fine, fine , tough room,” he joked.  Edge just rolled his eyes, while Stretch let his glare linger a bit longer to make sure Sans didn’t try to sneak it in.

“I REFUSE TO WATCH YOU RUIN A PERFECTLY GOOD GLASS OF LEMONADE AGAIN,” the sharper skeleton stated as he poured his own glass and took a sip, sighing at the refreshing taste.  

Stretch feigned insult, “i’m not the only one who puts honey in their lemonade, edgelord.”

“NO, BUT I WOULDN’T SAY YOU ARE PUTTING HONEY IN LEMONADE WITH YOU,” Edge started, wrinkles forming on his nose ridge in disgust as he spoke, “NO, WITH YOU IT IS MORE ACCURATE TO SAY YOU PUT LEMONADE IN YOUR HONEY.”  He took a long sip like he could taste the sticky sweetness on his tongue and needed to wash it down.  

“you got me there,” Stretch popped his lollipop back in his mouth and settled in, laying against the counter with a resigned sigh.  He could hear Edge grumbling about how of course he was right.  Rolling his lollipop, he moved his attention back to Sans.  The prime doppelganger had simply been sitting quietly with an easy smile on his round skull.  As if sensing Stretch’s stare, his white eyelights locked with honey colored ones. 

“need something, pal?” The words held no threat or warning, just an invitation to ask away.

“what was up with your brother earlier?” Stretch already had a guess.  He just wanted confirmation at this point. The stout skeleton apparently had no plans to play along and just shrugged noncommittally.

“no clue what you’re talking about, Stretch,” Sans replied, finishing off his lemonade with a satisfied sigh, “thanks for the drink, Edge.”  He sent a genuinely thankful smile Edge’s way before the smell ozone once again filled the room and an empty glass was abandoned on the countertop before a now empty seat.

Edge fought down a smile that tugged at his teeth.  It wasn’t too hard with Stretch still in the room though.  Currently, the laidback skeleton was watching him with a curious look. “WHAT?” he snapped, scowling as a knowing grin was aimed at him.

“you’re in on it,” the other stated matter of factly.

“I AM IN ON NOTHING. AND QUIT THAT CLUELESS ACT,” Edge snipped, crossing his arms with a cocked hip, “I WAS THERE LONG ENOUGH TO SEE YOUR POSTURING EARLIER.”  It had been a surprise to see the usually passive skeleton standing to his full height and purposely towering over their prime version.  He cut off Stretch’s denial with a sharp growl, “I WON’T LISTEN TO BULLSHIT, STRETCH.”

Stretch just gave a defeated chuckle as he sat up in his seat.  “two for two today, Edge.  you’re on a roll,” he commended. 

Edge didn’t see nor hear any regret from his alternate.  The two simply took a moment to stare each other down.  A silent measuring up before the standing skeleton reached up into the cabinets and set down a new glass.  Curious honey eyelights watched as a lemonade was poured to only fill half the glass before it was slid over to him with a gentle push.  

 “what’s this?” Stretch questioned.  He leant forward in his seat and tilted his skull as he shifted his stare from the half full glass to Edge who was refilling his own.

“LEMONADE,” he answered smartly and Stretch didn’t bother restrain his rolling eyelights.

“i can see that.”

“THEN WHY ASK?” 

“you know that’s not wh-”

“JUST FILL IT WITH YOUR INFERNAL HONEY ALREADY,” Edge snapped, cutting Stretch off with an impatient scowl.  

Knowing he wouldn’t get anywhere with his darker counterpart, he fished in his pullover pocket and pulled out his signature bear shaped honey bottle.  Snapping the top, he upended the bottle over the glass and squeezed.  The viscous, thick amber liquid cut through the pale white lemonade and pooled at the bottom of the glass.  It took a minute to build the thick layer he wanted and once he was done, Edge handed him a spoon begrudgingly to stir his monstrosity.  Finished, he looked to Edge again questioningly only to see the other holding up his glass.  The sharp toothed skeleton had a cocky smirk on his skull, “IF YOU’RE SERIOUS ABOUT THAT CHALLENGE EARLIER, JUST KNOW YOU HAVE COMPETITION.”

Stretch was sure his jaw was on the floor as he realized what was going on.  He had known the tougher skeleton was soft on their human, but he hadn’t thought it went further than platonic interest.  That only left Willow and Mutt from the Papyri who seemed to show no romantic interest.  At least he hoped.  That may change considering today was the day for surprises.  Sucking in a breath, he sat up and raised up his own glass, tapping it against Edge’s with a less intense smirk of his own.  “noted,” he acknowledged, “but the true competitor is Creampuff, ya know.  you’ve seen those two together.”  

Edge nodded.  It was hard to miss the looks those two often sent to each other.  It could be absolutely suffocating at times to be in the same room as them when they start acting sweet and fluffy.  He took a moment before tapping his glass against Stretch’s for a second time, “A SECOND TOAST TO THE IDIOTS FINALLY WAKING UP,” before they each took a sip of their respective drinks.