#epic wet beasts

[muffingnf]

mr beast seriously needs to pay for his crimes the day of reckoning will soon be upon him.

[ralseinumberonebiggestsupporter]

take this shitpost (drawings by meeeee!!!!!!!!! :3)

[marinememes]

Today is Wet Beast Wednesday!

Today’s wet beast is: Needlefish

Olive’s wet beast fact: needlefish attacks are rare, but they have been known to impale humans after leaping out of the water. Three people are known to have died directly from the fish. Epic.

Stay tuned for more Wet Beast Wednesdays!

[mechanicalriddle]

one off av comm done for @selki got to draw a big ol wet eyed beast. sooo epic

[impala-dreamer]

Tourniquet - Chapter One

A Supernatural Dean x Reader Series Told Backwards

~Y/N has been by Dean’s side through his worst days, always there if he needs her, forever just a call away. Love is impossible to fight and more impossible to live with. Just a side character in his epic life, Y/N would give anything just to give Dean a moment’s peace.~

Please see MASTERLIST for full info/warnings/chapter links.

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

All The Damage That This Dark World Does

It had been raining on and off for days and the ground was little more than a muddy expanse that swallowed up the soles of their boots like quicksand. 

The forest was dark and the air rang loud with the requiem of nature. Birds sang low and sad; branches crackled underfoot. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled and the hunters froze. Each set of ears turned towards the sound and eyes darted about while tired minds calculated distances. 

Bobby’s gruff whisper broke through the rain’s symphony. “‘Bout a half a mile east.” 

Dean nodded and Y/N squared her shoulders. 

“And where’s the rest of them?” she asked, tone a little harsher than it needed to be as she glared at the old man. 

Dean shot her a look but she didn’t flinch. Mary shifted uncomfortably between them, not wanting to get involved. 

Bobby adjusted his cap and shrugged. “Gotta be close. They’re hunting us as sure as we’re hunting them.” 

She sighed. “So which way do we go? I’d rather not run right into the pack.” 

Dean cleared his throat and cocked a brow her way. She wasn’t going to let up and he knew it. 

“Why don’t we split up,” he suggested, looking at Bobby and his mother. “You guys go south, we’ll keep heading west.” 

Mary nodded. “OK. Just stay safe.” She smiled and Y/N half returned it. 

Bobby huffed. “You two be careful and holler if you get in trouble.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes and set off before Dean could spin around. 

“Why are you such a bitch to him?” he asked, easily catching up to her with his long stride. 

“You know why.” She swatted at a low hanging branch and groaned. “That’s not Bobby and it’s fucking creepy.” 

Dean laughed at her. “It is Bobby-” 

“Not my Bobby.” 

He sighed. “You get used to it.” 

“No thanks.” 

Another howl, this time closer and followed by another. 

Y/N stood still and tall, listening with her entire being. Dean came up behind her and she held a finger to her lips, ordering him to be silent. 

The earth was damp. The fallen autumn leaves were too wet to make a sound, but she heard the squelch of mud as a creature ran through it. The being gained speed, and the wind picked up, chilling their faces as sure as the adrenaline prickled their skin. 

She nodded towards his right and Dean raised his pistol, gripping it tight and following the line of sight into the dank woods. He squinted and a mess of black, matted fur moved behind the trees. 

“Shit.” 

Y/N flipped off the safety on her gun and steadied herself. She took a breath, gave him a wink and set off to the left. 

He knew her well enough to understand the plan without conversing, and Dean moved off to the right. They’d wrap around in a circle and meet behind the beast, hopefully catching it off guard and raining silver down upon it. 

It was a good plan. Solid. Proven. 

Y/N moved swiftly through the trees, careful to tread lightly through the muck and avoid the fallen soldiers of the wood. The rain picked up and with the distance now between them, she lost sight of Dean, but she wasn’t too worried. They were professionals, after all. 

Another few yards and the tree line gave way to a clearing. Y/N wondered for a moment if she’d gotten turned around in the forest, but her internal compass told her she was going the right way. 

A wolf’s cry made her sure.  

The grass was tall and free, untouched by blades or trampled by tires. She pushed through the weeds and a flash of memory struck her. 

The sweet smell of spring; the tickle of grass against her cheek. Rusted metal and chrome gleaming in the sun. The smell of burgers burning on charcoal. Perfect green eyes. 

Y/N shivered at the sensory overload and blinked into the clearing. She was taller than the grass now and so much older than her days in the junkyard.

She took a deep breath and heard her name. 

From across the field, Dean emerged from the trees and shouted her name. He spun his hand in the air and she cocked her head, staring at him, confused but smiling. He was just as beautiful as the first time she’d seen him, though a bit more broken down and tired. 

Again, he yelled for her, and the slow motion world around her cranked back up to full speed. 

“Y/N!” 

She heard it then- the horrid, hungry growl. She smelled the dirt, the wetness. Felt the fear as her body tensed. 

Y/N turned and the wolf attacked. She pulled the trigger but it only made the beast more aggressive. 

Powerful jaws clamped down on her defending arm; razor claws ripped through her flesh. The wet ground accepted her body as they fell, the mud curled up around her as the grass gave way. 

Two shots rang out and the wolf was hit. It reared back and leapt over her, gunning for Dean. 

Y/N flipped over in the mud and tried to get up to help him, but her arms gave out and she sank down, her face cradled by the soft grass. 

One more blast from the gun and she heard the monster fall. Boots splashed through the mud and she felt Dean’s warmth as he fell to his knees beside her. 

Big hands turned her carefully and Dean scanned her face. Her eyes were rolling, her lips curled into the sweetest smile. 

“No. No. No.” His bottom lip trembled as he peeled back her jacket and saw the damage. Her chest was torn, her stomach ripped open and gushing blood. He pressed his hand into her middle and she cried out. 

Pain spread through her at his touch and then subsided. 

She grabbed at his arm, wrapping her fingers around the canvas sleeve. 

“I… I’m sorry, Dean.” 

Her voice was quaking as badly as his hand and he closed his eyes, shook his head.  

“No.” 

She smiled, laughed a little. “Yeah.” 

Again, he shook his head, refusing to let her go. “No.” He sat up a bit, craned his neck over the tall grass. “Bobby! Somebody! Help!” 

Weakly, she lifted a hand to his face and guided his gaze back down to her. 

“Hey. It’s OK.” 

He raged inside. Grit his teeth. “It’s not OK!” 

Blood rushed beneath his hand like a dam had burst on a river. Her skin paled, her eyelids fluttered. 

His heart raced, breath quickened. “Please don’t. Don’t leave. Please.” 

Her shoulders twitched inward and the pain returned. She cringed but kept her smile, unwilling to go out like some terrified victim, some damsel in distress. 

“Dean…” She pet his cheek, wiped away a hot tear. 

“Please.” 

“Do you remember when we met?” 

He chewed his lip, closed his eyes, and took a breath. 

“Yeah, Y/N/N. Of course I do.” 

Her fingers tensed on his cheek. “You were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. You still are.” 

“Don’t say goodbye to me, Y/N/N. You can’t.” He turned his face and kissed her palm, grabbed her wrist with both bloody hands and kissed her fingertips, kissed her knuckles, kissed every inch. “You can’t leave me.” 

With her free hand, she tugged at the chain around her neck and pulled the necklace free. 

“Here. Take this back,” she whispered, hardly able to spare the breath to speak any longer. 

Dean gasped and dropped her hand, ran his fingertips over the old lug nut pendant. “You… you still have this? After all this time?” 

She laughed painfully. “Of course I do, you idiot. I never take it off.” 

He closed a fist around it and shut his eyes, trying to erase the tears and be strong for her. It was all ending and he knew it. She had just moments left and he couldn’t let her go without letting her know the truth. 

“It’s my good luck charm,” she said under a harsh breath. She coughed and the taste of iron flooded her mouth. She swallowed it down and held on. 

“Didn’t do you much good today.” 

She smiled and closed her hand around his. 

“I’ve always loved you, ya know. You… you were always it for me, Dean. Always. I’ve… I’ve loved you since that first day by the stream. I’ve never not loved you. I just need you to know that.” 

He shuddered, sucked in an uneasy breath. “I knew, Y/N/N,” he confessed. “I always knew. I… I love you, too. So fucking much.” 

Her eyes lit up for a second and she shook her head sadly. The tears broke free and refused to leave. 

“Then why? Why didn’t-” 

She couldn’t finish the words, but he understood. 

He pressed his hand lightly to her forehead and smiled. “Come on. I’ve told you a thousand times, Y/N/N. I don’t deserve someone like you.” 

He leaned down, held her cheek, kissed her forehead, her cheek, her lips. 

Y/N closed her eyes, safe in his arms, and felt the sweet pull of sleep yank at her limbs. 

“Shut up, Dean,” she whispered. 

He laughed gently. 

She smiled. 

He would be OK.

Dean stared into the fire, watching through bloodshot eyes as the flames licked at her silhouette. 

Her necklace gleamed in the pyre’s glow and he closed his fist around it, holding it tight. Despite the heat of the fire, the metal was cold against his palm. 

She was really gone. 

She’d been there almost his entire life, always at his side when he called, always there to stitch him back together. But now she was gone. 

He’d watched a hundred bodies burn over the years, said goodbye to every friend he’d ever had, but this was too much. There was a piece of him gone, a wound had been carved out of his chest that would never heal. 

So many things he should have told her, so many times he’d taken her for granted. Guilt pulled at him and grief chewed at his veins. So many years wasted. So many nights he could have been alone with her, happy and loved. 

The blaze burned hot, the wood crackled. 

Dean stared silently, drowning in his pain. Forever the man she loved. Still the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. 

The boy with the green eyes.  

Tourniquet Tags: @prettyinplaid94 @winharry @muhahaha303            

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!) @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @the-wounded-healer05  

[jaynovz]

Expanded Info for Black Sails Kink Meme 2024

Hi there!

Since there has been a sufficient amount of interest for this idea, let me explain a little further how I think this will work and general guidelines–

I’m encouraging as informal and low stress/pressure of an atmosphere as possible here. Back in The Day when LiveJournal Kink Memes were common, it was very typical to see a prompt put up and filled within an hour. It doesn’t have to be polished, it doesn’t have to make logistical sense, it just has to fill the prompt as best as you can, sexily! It’s supposed to be fun. A bunch of fun, raunchy kink and smut to roll around in as a fandom. 🥳 🥳

So yeah, first thing to expect, it’s basically ALL PWP (porn without plot). Not to say that someone can’t write a full plot epic if they like, do whatever you like, but in my experience, a 4am fugue state smut fill written in a sweaty haze is kind of, the spirit of the thing. We’re creating ficlets, snapshots, tasty treats of smut with as little pressure to make it in any way polished as possible. Please think of this as, hmmm, a little fun writing exercise you do before you go back to your Big Serious Work, if that helps. We are letting loose, we are having fun, we are being deliciously, joyously, unrepentantly filthy with it! The tagline for the event is: “Get High, Jerk Off Three Times, and Write Me a Warmup :DD”

A prompt might say, for example– “MaxAnne, s2, would love to see the girls get slippery wet with some period sex, bonus if one or both eats the other out while she’s menstruating.” 

Pretty standard stuff, nothing that off the wall from my perspective, however, some folks might feel shy about asking for it for whatever reasons and so the anonymous format frees ppl up to ask for anything from: “Midshipman James McGraw getting caned in pre-canon by his superiors” to, idk, “full tentacle-y type oviposition porn where someone is being forced to come over and over again while being implanted with eggs by some giant plant beast on Skeleton Island (probably Silver).”

Literally ask for whatever smut you want~~ This is your chance, toss it into the pot! It will be tagged accordingly when posted if it’s filled, so live your truth, chase your bliss, know no shame, no one can see you~~

It is helpful when submitting a prompt to give details that are important to you, and the prompt filler will do their best with it. <3 So, I suggest giving a ship specification up front, maybe a vague timeline (season 1, season 2, etc), and then the kinks you want to see with a short description. Sort of like the MaxAnne period sex I gave an example of above.

Logistics and Structure of Submissions–

I have created a sideblog called @blacksailskmeme through which, once submissions are live (it will be open to accept prompts hopefully in March 2024), you may submit ANON ASK PROMPTS. I will publish them with a number and a link to the collection. If you like one of the prompts, simply post it through the collection with its corresponding number and then that AO3 link to your fill will be reblogged underneath the original ask prompt.

Simple as that! 

Follow the Event Blog, or the tag #2024BSKMemeFills in order to keep tabs on when prompts are filled. 

This makes it very easy for me and yall both, as there is no claiming process to trouble ourselves with. As many fills as are written are allowed for each prompt, simply write whatever speaks to you and I’ll be able to track the fills by the notifs on the collection. :DD

As of now, I’m planning to open prompts in March 2024 and keep the collection and blog running for prompts and fills both up through the end of Summer 2024. To respect the spirit of the event, all fills and prompts MUST be anonymous. Edit for clarification: The entire collection is marked Anonymous, which means any work submitted to it will be posted Anon. There is no option you need to worry about checking to guarantee this. I apologize for the initial confusing language, I have been learning as I go.

It still stands that if, after the event is closed, you want to then de-anon your work, that is your prerogative. However, it will mean you must remove the work from the collection, as the collection itself will forever and always remain anonymous.

Rules–

–This is an 18 plus event, please, as all of the content will be Explicit. 

–It is also a Black Sails Only Event, please no crossover prompts or fills. However, AU of all types are encouraged with our favorite pirates.

–All ships, all kinks, are welcome for submission, and the fill will then be tagged appropriately. If you have any questions on how to tag something, or just want another pair of eyes to confirm, you can always DM me <3

–Fills must be 500 words minimum of fic. There is no maximum and the fill is allowed to be WIP if you intend to write more chapters later. I would encourage that the content of the prompt be IN the first chapter at least before submission to the collection.

–We’re Gonna Be Nice and Civil!! No ship bashing, no kink shaming, we’re all mature adults here. If you don’t like something, then don’t fill it, don’t reblog it, don’t read it, pretend you do not see it. If you don’t like it, it’s not for you! 

If I haven’t covered everything here, or if you’re unsure about something, feel free to reach out to me either through the event blog or through @jaynovz <3 Also, if you’d like to help me out with the event, hit me up as well.

Thank you!

[belle--ofthebrawl]

Belle i am thinking thots about minute man mountain getting switched on. Now that he is older, his refactory period is longer & so, if his partner is nowhere near done; despite their epic foreplay session (not that he would ever leave a partner hanging); they guess he will just have to bottom for them now instead.

Rumor has it, Rain does it all the time on purpose. Mountain hasn't caught on yet.

(No warnings but Rain is very lovingly mean.)

"Don't you dare," Rain hisses, digging his claws into Mountain's shoulders. Mountain makes a truly pathetic sound, gritting his teeth as his hips buck awkwardly. He's not even halfway inside yet and he's so close, the pain hardly registers. He thinks, desperately, if he draws back, gets his cock out of Rain's little hole, the reprieve will give him enough time to, to-

His balls ache even more as they draw up on the backstroke. Rain doesn't even look mad anymore when Mountain dares a glance at him. Just…exasperated. His claws unpick themselves from Mountain's skin, going to scratch at his scalp. He shivers at the feeling, cock bobbing under its own weight as it gives a kick.

"You can't help it, can you?" Rain murmurs, rubbing at the sensitive place where horn met skin. "My poor puppy. You just get so excited, huh?"

The word pulls a low groan out of him,  a noise only a beast would make and he ruts backs into Rain like one, so fast and firm that Rain's hands jump up to grab his horns as he's jolted across the bed. He slots his mouth across Rain's, tries to focus on the way he's moaning but everything's all too much, he's gonna, he's gotta-

He tries. Satan help him, he tries so hard to give Rain what he wants but it's too late. Been too late for a while. Mountain's whole body shakes when he tries to take himself out of that sweet warmth and when just the head remains in, Rain bears down on it and the feeling is so good he's cumming before he even realizes what's going on. He can't stop it.

"I'm, shit, Rain," he gasps, trying to slide in deeper so his cum will stay in Rain. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, you're so good, I-"

Rain cuts him off with a  kiss that punches him right in the gut, wrings a few more sprays out of him. He bucks a few more inches in, tries to aim for that spot Rain likes so much but it's too late. It's over.

Rain pets down his flank as Mountain recovers, looking extremely patient as Mountain collapses beside him. Puts a hand carefully over Mountain's soft, wet cock and pets that too. 

Mountain shivers.

He thinks Rain will speak. Scold him, tell him what to do to make it better. But he just stares at Mountain with his beautiful, unreadable eyes and rubs a finger over the tip of his sensitive cock. Mountain cusses, lets his head fall back but doesn't try to get away. He knows better than that.

Finally, after an eternity spent watching Mountain shudder, Rain speaks.

"Ride me." He says. And it doesn't matter that Mountain's body still aches, that his legs will tremble to hold him up. That Rain will no doubt dig his claws into Mountain's hips until he leaves bruises, that Rain will target his sweet spot to see if he can make Mountain cum without getting hard.  Mountain disappointed him. He's going to make things right.

Rain deserves it.

[askbloatedbellyblog]

Hii! I just saw your genshin tier list, I noticed that there is no fontaine characters, what do you think wriothesley’s tier would be?

You're right, it hasn't been updated since before Fontaine. I'll have to ruminate a bit more on where I'd put them officially but I think so far Lyney would be the only SS tier burper in Fontaine. Then probably Wriothesley and Freminet would be S. And Neuvillette would probably be A tier (entirely that high because of some pretty great art).

Granted this may change as I'm behind and haven't done his character quest yet but this is how I see it so far. I do think that Wriothesley is a big eater in general, though especially of anyone in the Fortress. I'm of two minds here, where he'd either try to have more manners as he's well regarded and slightly elevated in esteem in the prison, but I also can very easily see him wanting to be more on a regular occupants level and to be more approachable so he drops the facade when he wants to. I could see him burping when palling around with other prisoners when drinking alcohol or Fonta (since it literally does nothing but be carbonated and he has high opinions on what it should look and taste like) or he's having to chug water or special rehydrating Fonta during a break in the middle of a Pankration match. Just burp softly before he's going to fight again.

There is the interesting thought thanks to this fantastic comic. Sigewinne, like the other Melusine, doesn't quite understand humans or customs, nor their food. So it's very likely that she may view burps as a sign of satisfaction and health, though may even misunderstand their meaning from their types. It may have even cultivated a culture of burps being acceptable since she watches EVERYONE.

So burping is taken as a sign of good health and good food like it is in some cultures, so when people are well fed like Wriothesley, he'll let out large epic belches to show how stuffed he is. Now she might keep overfeeding him and he's having smaller burps during his meals because he's trying to force himself to eat more, but I could see him patting his bloated belly and letting out an epic belch to show it was a good meal.

The only issue is that Sigewinne may not understand different types of burps, just like she doesn't understand that some foods aren't good for humans. So when she makes others or Wriothesley eat food that disagrees with them, they have a bad stomach gurgle and let out a sickly wet belch as they try to keep down the Melusine food. Those days, Wrio is probably just spending all day burping, rubbing his bloated belly trying to get it to settle. He leans heavily on ginger and lemon tea to try to feel better.

EDIT: You know what, an addendum. I very much forgot about the Fonta Cup.

You can fill it up once you win it and it's very much hinted at that Wriothesley has won it before. He's definitely the type that would win that and have it filled and used as a cup for a while. Despite the disclaimer on it filled, I can very much see Wrio winning and in the moment, just absolutely chugging down the entire contents of the Fonta Cup, his abs swelling out as extra Fonta dribbles down his face and chest and then just letting an absolutely monster burp before cheering and raising it above his head to celebrate winning. He's one of the "few that could swallow the contents in a single swig" and just chug it down. But that gas definitely builds up and he fights it as the carbonation tickles his throat and nose until he finally releases it. Honestly I could see many others in the prison actually praising and cheering him on when he does too.

There is the thought along with that there there is A) Wriotheley has a reputation of being a beast of a burper or B) It's the cause of another mystery of Meropide where there loud noises or moans late at night that no one can explain but they find out the truth that it's actually Wrio burping loud and groaning from eating too much.

[downundergarfield]

Holy heck Garfield tf2 fan?!? I'll be the first request 😸 (or I'm probably not) but could I ask for uhhhh, some nsfw with fem/nb reader with Sniper? Where reader surprises that babygirl with some lingerie...

No worries, sweet anon, you was first!~

Here's your Bushman's milk, cuz you're epic

Sniper x Fem!reader who suprises him with lingerie

NSFW warning!

He was hovering over you, pressing you to the sheets. He was warm, even hot, you could have sworn that you felt like bacon in a frying pan. Sniper did not expect that this time you decided to please him with something exotic. Bushman admired your thirsty body in a big oversize T-shirt and pajama pants that fit you baggily.

"-'m gonna taste you like my prey.."

He growled, grabbing the edge of your T-shirt. You bit your lip in hungry anticipation.

You felt his strong hands lifting up your T-shirt, the cold air of the van drenching your body. There was a black lace bra under the baggy T-shirt. You feel him shudder.

"- Bloody gorgeous.."

Mandy almost whispers. He's looking for more. Mick puts warm calloused palms on your sides, gently descending his hands to the elastic band of your pajama pants. His grip burns and he is very excited, as if unpacking the most delicious treat. Actually, for him, you are.

He's pulling down your baggy bunny pajama pants. Under them were lace panties and stockings with straps. Stockings cut into your soft thighs a little, reminding you of something freshly baked and delicious. You feel how his grip grows savage with every dacimeter of your clothes taken off. He sighs excitedly

"my God, Sheila, you spoil me..."

Mick comes down to face you, kisses you on the forehead and cheeks

"- you know how to make yer man happy, don't ya?.."

Mick whispers to you hoarsely and hungry.

He goes down your body, leaving wet kisses that make your skin cold due to moisture. Bushman takes you by the hips, sharply pressing you against the tent in his boxers and you can feel him through all two layers of fabric. He finally pulls off his underwear, allowing a long, thin penis to pop out and crash into your aching pussy. You can feel his hot cock even through your panties and it's driving you crazy. He presses you and rubs himself, squeezing a pre-cum from his penis, which eventually begins to drip on your pubis and wets the lingerie fabric.

You can feel the back wall of his penis twisting your clit. You're languishing with desire, my God, Sniper, don't hesitate!

"- come on, enter me, Mundy~"

You speak lustfully, finally awakening the beast that hides in him. The last drops of his attempts to restrain himself dry up on your heated bed and Sniper abruptly, almost tearing the fabric, pushes your panties aside to enter. He enters sharply, but not painfully, entering your hungry flesh, and the deeper, the more his nails dig into your thighs. You can see his scarred chest moving more often. His breath caught in his throat. You literally felt each of his veins, how his foreskin bares the head and how his soft tip rests against your uterus.

'- god, you're so sexy, what are ya doing to me Y/N..."

Growling, he says, finally picking up the pace. You feel it drilling you over and over again, harassing every nerve inside you and going over and over the G-spot.

Hot moans and whimpers fill his van while he fucks you. You throw back your head in ecstasy, feeling how your beloved man enjoys you. Mick leans on you, resting on his elbows and almost pressing his forehead against you. You can feel his hot breath on your bare skin.

The crazy mix of his wild, animal

moans, hot breath and insane warmth with which the Australian cooks you, finally dissolve the lump in your tummy. You grab onto his sweaty back, trying not to slide off it, scratching with your nails, making the Sniper hiss from this slight pinching pain.

"- Mick I-I'm g-gonna-!"

You scream, feeling like your orgasm is about to overtake you

"S-same.."

He squeezes out, grabbing the straps on your stockings. Suddenly, the white-hot pleasure explodes with colors in your tummy and sparkles in your eyes when you cum hard right on his penis.

"- crikey, Y/N, im..aaAH!"

You squeeze his penis in your orgasm. Your narrowness, claws on the back and a revealing outfit are finally doing their job.

The Bushman pours right into you, filling you with his seed and hoarsely moaning your name.

After you finally catch your breath, Mick takes you in the world's strongest hug

"thank you, Sheila, that was sexy as hell."

[wackyrumble]

Charisma House v.s. Fusakin

Charisma House - Charisma House

Seven guys living together. Iori: makes people sign slave contracts to treat him like a dog, Terra: self obsessed, Rikai: drinks boiling water instead of alcohol, Saru: rebel who crashed a wedding with a metal pipe, Oshe: tried to kill himself because Rikai was nice to him, Amahiko: "world sexy ambassador, minister of sexy affairs" and gets seasonal dick pains, Fumiya: the normalest one. Read more about them below.

Fusakin - MARIKINonline4

Fusakin was once a balloon that fought with sharp weapons, despite the risks, and eventually gave himself a body through alchemy. Forbidden alchemy, which put him on house arrest. Through a series of events, he creates a beast which he attempts to destroy his soul in order to kill it but it kills him before he can. Read more about Fusakin below.

Full description of the Charisma House:

“apologies im submitting all of the characters from here. you can pick your favorite(s)/the weirdest. **my personal picks (they always get a “wtf”)

**IORI: (bottom right) so basically his entire thing is hes a slutty malewife and loves doing things for others.. but hes also a masochist (in denial). he makes people sign slave contracts with him and forces them to burden him with tasks. he calls himself a dog for the people… he barks… he wears a collar… yeah. also he was a jealous girlfriend (tm) in a valentines day track and shot (we dont actually see it) rikai for “sneaking in chocolate” (he didnt do it) because he wanted to be the only one to give chocolate.

TERRA: (blonde) he loves himself. he’s obsessed with himself. hes married to himself. hes also genderfluid in my heart just look at him. he has 41 mirrors in his room as well as a giant painting of himself.

RIKAI: (glasses) the second normalest out of all of them. hes obsessed with keeping order and is kind of strict but we love him. he doesnt drink alcohol, instead drinking boiling water. he also thinks holding hands before marriage is illegal.

SARU: (pink) his names kei but they call him saru. hes the exact opposite of rikai. he rebels against every little thing like its hardwired into his brain (terra uses this against him). he acts tough but hes scared of ghosts. he tried to crash someones wedding and bring a metal pipe. he also has a lone wolf motif. hes an orphan.

OHSE: (trashbag head) hes really sad and sopping wet and pathetic. every time he makes a mistake his first response is “im sorry ill go die.” he likes reptiles. he never wears shoes his toes are always out. he has ugly ass neon yellow pants. his wiki page has a cw for suicide on it. he jumped out the window to try and kill himself because rikai was nice to him (hes kind of gay for rikai tbh).

**AMAHIKO: (youll know by the desc) dear god. hes basically the ceo of sex. like. he says his occupation is “world sexy ambassador, minister of sexy affairs.” hes also 30 btw. he has NINETY NINE POLES. he calls everything sexy. i mean everything. also he gets seasonal dick pains. he flirts with basically everyone. he wanted to pole dance for the elderly at a grocery store as a greeting. HE STRIPPED HIMSELF NAKED as his christmas present. hes a very silly and whimsical man.

FUMIYA: (orange jacket) hes 19 years old but has probably committed crimes. he has a sweet tooth. his entire thing is hes morally grey so hes by default the normalest. he cant swim. hes the one who invited everyone to the house.. somehow. he breaks the fourth wall and asks the audience for money.”

Full description of Fusakin:

"there are multiple factors contributing to this guys general weirdness so i am going to go over all of them. 1. his character design: like come on just look at the guy. ·×· lookin ass. his design weirdness is further exacerbated by the fact that hes the only playable numa (species name) to wear a shirt (most of them are naked, one wears a rudimentary cloak) so he stands out on account of his epic fashion win. he is gods strongest white boy 2. his general personality: this guy puts stars at the ends of his sentences sometimes this guy uses tildes. he considers himself 'everyones idol' and he is pretty much the most flamboyant character in the entire game. he gets more voice lines than practically any other character he will literally not shut up. did i mention the bushido thing yet i dont think i mentioned the bushido thing he considers himself some sort of honourable samurai type guy. hes just kind of a lunatic though he introduces himself like this

3. and this one is important - the shit hes pulled: so okay this is gonna take a minute. this guy used to be a balloon, right? he used to be a literal balloon, his arms were balloon strings, he fought with a shitton of swords and knives anyway despite the risk, you get the idea. then he decided he wanted a normal body to be on par with his friends because his balloon body was too weak for his liking, so he did dark forbidden alchemy to get an actual body! ...which put him on magical house arrest due to the law of equivalent exchange, so he wasnt able to leave. no one except like two guys checked on him for years. when the party shows up he has them go on some fetch quests to get the ingredients to make a powerful magic pendant. one of the items he has them get is a limited-edition strawberry daifuku that isnt even necessary he just eats it. then he makes the pendant in the microwave. he gives it to the party without saying what it does other than to use it in their hour of need, they use it way way later in the story to fight a powerful enemy, a dude shows up in a giant red suit of armour to fight for them. ...then someone pulls his helmet off and its just fusakin in a suit of armour thats way too big for him because he made it without taking measurements, and it turns out all the pendant was ACTUALLY for was to break his house arrest curse so he could just kind of show up and be cool at a critical moment. oh yeah hes a blacksmith he made that suit of armour and giant sword himself, in his forge room that he hid in the yard of the house he lives in (which is some kind of weird temple) underneath a stone lamp or whatever and its always sweltering hot in there because he leaves the forge running at ALL TIMES so its always at "peak efficiency", also you have to have him use his forge to upgrade your weapons to the highest tier and he goes fucking apeshit with it and theres a bunch of cartoon sound effects as he works. anyway in postgame he shows up and joins your party and everythings going well until way later in when the main fucked up and evil guy pushes a button in his fucked up mecha that causes the maidonium (FUCKED UP IF TRUE MAGIC MATERIAL) in fusakins artificial body to resonate with the traumatized evil spirits being used to power the maidonium in the mecha or whatever im not really sure how that worked. but the important part is it causes a tiny fusakin beast to chestburst out of his back and turn into a fucked up monster creature that immediately steals his sword and starts Killeing People and then later fusakin shows BACK UP in balloon mode again and helps his homoerotic bestie fight off the beast (he has a homoerotic bestie. you fight them during the main story and they have COMBO ATTACKSlike come on. he has the other guys name saved in his phone as "chikorita") hes like "hey i knew this might happen. anyway i promised my master id cut my head off if anything like this happened" and he tries to kill himself by destroying his soul forever to obliterate the beast but then it just fucking kills him before he can do that and thats where things just leave off for him right now we dont know what happens next because the postgame isnt finished yet! if you think this description is long please imagine with me how difficult it is to explain the rest of the plot of the game because good fucking lord i have tried and its always an hourslong explanation Anyway i hope you can consider fusakin for the weird character bracket"

[dearbisexual]

i love leopard seals, what a sleek and epic wet beast of a predator

[littlemisspascal]

The After

Pairing: Ruescott Melshi x Female Reader

Word Count: 7k+

Summary: There is a story before, when, and after Keef Girgo enters your life. This is the After.

Rating: M (18+, minors please do not engage!)

Warnings: Prison/Narkina 5 storyline but an AU where woman inmates are assigned to each unit as ‘peacekeepers’, language, established relationship, references of dead bodies, violence + blood + injuries, talk of having children but no pregnancy, angst, near-death experiences

- Reader has no official name and no physical traits described in detail. However, she is implied to be shorter than Melshi.

Author Note: Thank you everybody for the kind support of this story from beginning to now! Unbelievable this is the end! What was supposed to be such a little thing has turned into this epic journey with characters I've come to love so much. Hope y'all enjoy 💜

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me 💜

Series Masterlist

You find yourself floating in a realm of total darkness. No colors, no sounds, no warmth. And it should scare you, being trapped here in this unnatural stillness, unable to move or scream, but numbness prevails over the alarm pinching faintly at your nerves. It swaddles your limp body, from your head to your toes, like you’re something fragile. Something in need of care.

You could get used to this. 

~~

A strike of pain hits the center of your chest, disturbing the numbness with the same force as an unexpected slap across the face. It startles you, whole body convulsing, and your lips part to release a wordless gasp but—

—you can’t—

There’s nothing in your lungs to exhale. 

Odd, considering you taste smoke on your tongue. Bitter. Ashy. Almost like…almost like you’re burning alive.

“Come on…”

Fire, hungry and vicious, laps at your tender insides like they’re made of paper. It bites most cruelly above your hip, almost feeling deliberate in nature. As if an invisible enemy is pressing a lit candle there against the flesh.

And yet all you can think about, the only thing rattling around inside your panic-stricken mind that you can focus on, is water. Gushing. Rippling. A beast gobbling up whatever it yanks beneath its surface.

“…breath, damn it…”

There’s a voice somewhere, far away yet impossibly close. They sound upset. Panting harshly like they can’t find their breath either. 

And beyond the voice, faintly roaring over the rush of blood in your ears, the sound of waves crashing upon a shore. 

Then another sharp pang connects with your chest, putting an abrupt end to your musings as your peaceful realm of darkness explodes into light and an abundance of colors.

Your vision swims, and there’s a split second of wild incomprehension, skin tingling and lungs full of flames, heart thumping hard in your chest. And then you feel it, something wet and salty rising in your esophagus. Up, up, up until there’s nowhere left to go but out.

There’s no strength left in your body, and yet the second your lips part you’re retching up a disgusting blend of saltwater and stomach acid onto the sandy floor. There’s a shout of your name from nearby, familiar in its cadence, but it’s impossible to focus when you’re choking on brine, every muscle constricting with agony.

“Thank the Maker,” the voice says next, a quiet heave of relief.

You manage a shuddering breath, tongue heavy in your mouth and the taste of salt and iron fighting for dominance. There’s still a fiery burn throbbing from your hip. The kind no amount of water will douse. Your head’s too heavy to look, eyes wanting nothing more than to roll back into darkness.

“No, no,” a hand pulls at your shoulder, rolling you over just enough for Jemboc’s face to slide into view. Water droplets slide down his skin, along the anxious lines marring his expression. “Now’s not the time for sleeping.”

A shiver wracks your frame. You’re soaked to the bone, clothes sticking uncomfortably, and slowly, oh so unbearably slowly the pieces start coming together. A timeline of memories settling into place. It’s hard to tell if the nausea cramping your stomach is from your harried prison escape or nearly drowning to death.

I was shot, you think to yourself. There’s a sharp twinge from your wound, as if it’s pleased to finally be remembered.

“What happened?” Your voice comes out barely louder than a weak hiss between clenched teeth, whole body strenuously protesting the effort. 

Jemboc’s grip on your shoulder tightens. The intensity of his stare drills into your bones, adding to the desperation thrumming beneath your skin. “Pure pandemonium once everyone hit the water. Felt like it was every man for himself; fighting the current, scrambling for land. But I saw you sinking and I-I didn’t think, just grabbed you and pulled you with me to shore.”

You blink at him for a long moment, fatigue pulling at your eyelids, then gingerly tilt your head to take in your surroundings for the first time. The sky’s a canvas of orange, purple, and dark blue overlapping one another, the last beams of sunlight fading fast. You’re on a beachy shore, sand so white it could pass for snow, dotted with sharp rocks and leafless trees. And it figures, of course it does, that the outside of the prison is as dreary and spiritless as the inside.

“Hey.” There’s a new softness to Jemboc’s voice, drawing your hazy attention back. His gaze isn’t on your face anymore, staring someplace lower on your body with grimly pursed lips. “Your wound…It’s–it’s not looking too good.”

Doesn’t feel too good either, is the automatic snappish retort that comes to mind first, but then the true meaning of his words sinks in like the jagged edges of a trap springing shut. 

You’re not making it off this beach. 

You can’t move, and even if Jemboc carried you along with him you can’t fight. Can’t help him find a way to get off this damn moon. All you’ll be is a useless burden weighing him down.

“Should’ve let me drown,” you rasp.

Jemboc bites harshly into his bottom lip instead of responding, hand still grasping your shoulder, as if letting go meant watching you dissolve into sea foam. 

You think you’d actually prefer that over the alternatives. If the dropping temperature doesn’t kill you first, you’re going to bleed out here, a stain of scarlet on the snow sand swept away by the midnight tide. You’d fought for a softer conclusion, asked the universe for a little more time, and this…this is what you received.

What a load of bantha shit, you think, snorting a quiet huff of air that has your sore lungs smarting. It isn’t funny, not even a little bit. It’s fucking tragic. But you bet Melshi would laugh too, that low, husky chuckle of his if he were here—

Your heart stops.

“I–where–” Panic wraps around your vocal chords like a noose, tightening by the second. Your fingers curl into loose fists at your sides, sand gathering beneath your nails. “Rue,” you spit out with strangled urgency. “Where’s Rue?”

You can remember your last moment with him so clearly up there on the landing bay. The feeling of his calloused hands on your face, holding you like his most precious treasure. How his brown eyes blazed with such fervent emotion, voice drowned out by the encompassing maelstrom. If those had been his last words—fuck. Fuck, don’t think like that. 

Jemboc won’t meet your gaze, glancing towards the waves. “I’m not sure.”

Something sharp punctures a hole behind your sternum.

No. That won’t do. That won’t do at all.

“Jemboc, what do you mean you’re not sure? Where the hell is he?”

“It means I don’t know,” he chokes. He gestures vaguely at the beach, the water, frowning deeply. “I told you: it was pandemonium. I just saw flashes of faces, there and gone. Running as fast as they could. Taga, Ham, Kino, Keef, Melshi—I lost sight of all of them. I…I don’t even know if they made the swim.”

You’d always known escaping prison would be hard. That there’d be losses. Sacrifices. But this—this specific kind of pain of unknowing is excruciating. Gaping black holes of uncertainty eating away at your hopes, leaving behind nothing but fear and increasingly catastrophic thoughts. You almost think it’d hurt less, being able to actually see the corpses of your tablemates right in front of you, lifeless and briny. At least then you’d know their fates, be able to firmly close their stories and make peace with their endings.

Jemboc rubs a hand over face, then sniffs quietly, and it only hits you then he’s probably feeling just as lost as you are. With no routine, no instructions to follow, the sudden abundance of options and lack of fellow support is overwhelming. Even worse, every second he spends at your side, his odds of successfully avoiding being caught again continue to dwindle. Like hell are the guards going to let everyone go without a single attempt of recapture.

Maker help any unfortunate souls they find. Those inmates will be dragged back kicking and screaming, if they’re even conscious after a severe beating with a zap rod.

“You’ve got to go,” you say, even though the thought of being totally alone makes you sick. But he deserves better, deserves to have made it further than this point. “You have to leave me behind.”

“I know,” Jemboc says. And it’s the closest to an apology that you’ll ever receive. 

Everything will be alright, Melshi had told you. A lie you’d asked for. A lie you’d swallowed as a future painkiller in case what you feared most came to pass. 

Melshi’s always been your safe haven. Your shield of protection. But he’s gone now. And it’s such a selfish desire—selfish and unfair and so damn greedy—to want him here. To hold your hand and hear his voice one last time before you fatally drift off into the unknown. 

Worse than that, deep down in a place of sharp teeth and possessiveness, half-feral from years spent trapped in a toxic cage, you want him to drift away with you. For your last breaths to be taken together…so in sync your dying souls leave the world behind as one, entangled force. Indivisible.

Jemboc murmurs a quiet goodbye, short and sweet, but you’re lost in your head, somewhere far, far away beyond the stinging pain. Even as your former tablemate leaves you, his figure growing smaller and smaller until there’s nothing left of him to see, you feel so distant from it all, watching from another place. Another realm. Familiar, yet different. More…permanent, somehow. A door which once shut can never be opened again.

Your body’s cold, no feeling in your legs. The hole in your side continues oozing, edges caked with sand, furiously irritated by the saltwater and trauma. It just—it seems so easy, reaching out your hands, to finally let it all go.

~~

And yet.

And yet…

Something—some nameless, shapeless thing—tells you to wait. 

So you do. Your only company a vicious hybrid of heartache and caustic pain who thrives on catching you off guard with its teeth and talons. It can’t be much fun, playing with somebody who’s barely breathing by the narrowest of margins, but that doesn’t seem to lessen the ferocity of its attacks. 

If time passes, you’re blind to it. There’s no change here. No growth. Just you and the monster in the shadows, waiting for you to give up.

But still you wait. For what? No clue. It must be important though, that much you know. That much you cling to. There’s a part of you, a tiny segment tucked away in the same chamber as your sluggishly beating heart, that even thinks the ache emanating from every piece of your body is good. Pain is proof of life. And living, staying alive…that’s good too, isn’t it?

Your answer comes in the most unexpected form.

“Mysie my. A prisoner escaper. Bleeding like a stuck pig, haye. Killing’s all they know, Freedi. Spoiling our water.”

An answering grunt.

A short pause. A decision reached.

“Naye this one. Naye today.”

~~

When your eyes next open, it’s a very slow process reconnecting with your senses. Brain function coming back online like a dusty old datapad finally recharging after years of neglect.

You’re in a ship cabin, that much is obvious from the metal ceiling and how the bunk you’re lying on has been built into the wall. You blink up at the orange bulb overhead for a moment, unable to summon any thread of familiarity.

Did the guards find you? Are you on your way back to your cell, or, worse, the box?

The flutter of fear in your stomach is doused as quickly as it arouses when you shift yourself upwards, noticing for the first time a red blanket with fraying edges covering your body. The prison guards wouldn’t be so kind, offering such a comforting item, you’re certain of that much. 

 So, if you’re not with them, then where…?

The cabin smells like the sea, salty and crisp, with a hint of distinctive fishiness making your nose scrunch up. There’s a line of cargo boxes pushed against the wall across from you. An opened one reveals a bundle of nets intertwined. Above it, small box-shaped wire traps hang from a shelf. Doesn’t take a genius to recognize the equipment of a fisherman.

It’s such a quaint space. So quiet. A complete contrast to the chatter and noises of prison and yet equally unnerving in its own eerie way.

You look down at your lower body still concealed and slowly peel away the blanket, taking in the dried blood stains on your scrubs with a grimace. Those won’t be easy to wash out–hell, you’d burn them in a millisecond if you had any extra clothes available. Lifting up the hem of your shirt, your eyes widen, taken aback by the sight of a large bacta patch neatly covering the blaster gash. Exactly what Melshi had said you needed…

The screeching of the rear hatch door opening startles you out of your musings, heart falling somewhere deep inside your stomach. You sit up straighter, acting on instinct, only for fatigue and soreness to cripple your movements, limbs feeling like they’re weighted down with sand.

It’s two aliens, hulking and dark-headed. One has a cybernetic eye peering straight into your soul, while the other’s even more menacing with an extendable blade serving as a replacement for his right hand. You stare at them, at a loss for words, and there’s a lengthy moment where the pair simply stare right back.

Who the hell are these guys?

“Awake finally, haye?” the one with the cybernetic eye finally says, bobbing his head as if he’s amused. His gray hat impressively remains fixed in place. “Ye be a lucky one. Lost half your blood ye did.”

“I, um. Thank you.” Your voice comes out sounding like you’ve swallowed rocks. Maybe you did, not like you can remember anything in-between Jemboc leaving you behind and waking up here. Hopefully you haven’t lost much time. “I-I don’t know how to repay you for the kindness.”

The other alien says something in another language, deep and throaty. Not a single word of it makes any sense to your ears, but it elicits a chuckle from Gray Hat that’s a little too mocking for your liking.

“What?” you ask, gaze flicking back and forth cautiously. “What did he say?”

Gray Hat takes a closer step, just a small one but in this little of a space he might as well be looming over you. “Freedi saying there be an offer on escapers. Alive or dead. A thousand credits each, haye.”

The response hits you like a physical blow, every piece of you that isn’t struck speechless is bristling with frantic alarm. Fuck. Fuck. You aren’t safe. You were never safe. What are you supposed to do? You can’t fight them, especially not the one wielding a knife. Maybe, and that’s a big fucking maybe, you could outrun them if you made it outside. Think. Use your damn brain and—

“No need to look worried. They not be getting ye.”

“Th-they’re not?” you stutter, panic still raging in your veins. It feels like a trick, a mean scheme to make you lower your guard, but the corner of Gray Hat’s mouth is curling up in what you think is a semblance of a smirk.

“Prison spoiled our water,” Grey Hat says emphatically. “Not much squiggly left. Not anymore. Care not a snod about who they kill. We say scob the Empire and scob their credits, haye, Freedi?”

Freedi agrees with a grunt.

Is this some kind of weird, convoluted hallucination? What are the chances, that of all the strangers in all the galaxy you just happened to be rescued by two who would reject a massive sum out of mutual hatred for the Empire? Infinitesimal, surely. And yet…

Seriously, who the hell are these guys? 

“Oh, yeah,” he continues, as if he’s heard your thoughts. “Dewi be my name. Dewi and Freedi.”

~~

Your new companions are fishermen, just like you’d assumed. Though with the worsening water conditions on account of the toxic waste produced by the prison, they’ll soon have to find new fishing grounds if they want to catch healthy squigglies. The way Dewi explains it, the moon was a beautiful place once upon a time. You believe him, despite the lack of evidence when you look out the ship’s window at the bleak landscape, because if anyone has the power to turn paradise into a nightmare it’s the Empire. 

Dewi’s the chattier of the pair, switching between Basic for you and Narkinian for Freedi. You learn it’s a language uniquely native to the moon, developed by the once-large fishing community of dozens of species, and you can’t help but compare it to the prison’s sign language. Makes you realize just how important communication is for survival.

They feed you—not a squiggly or anything else caught in their nets, but some pieces of meiloorun fruit cut into little cubes. The sharp burst of citrus on your tastebuds has your lips immediately puckering, hitting you like lightning. Maker, it’s good. Better than that, it’s real food. Real flavor. Real smell. No tubes in sight. 

Juice dribbles out the corners of your mouth, swiped away by your tongue, and you probably look a bit like a starved animal with how quickly you sink your teeth into another bite. But neither Dewi or Freedi so much as bat an eye.

Swallowing the last piece, there’s a moment you almost forget about the ache in your chest screaming for Melshi’s presence. 

Dewi told you you’re the only escaped prisoner they’ve seen so far. There haven’t been any reports over the coms from other fishermen saying they found anyone either. No news is good news, so the old saying goes, but in this particular case you think it might actually kill you to never see Melshi again. To never have the chance to tell him you love him one last time. To never know what he’d been trying to say right before the fall.

A bacta patch might be able to heal a blaster shot, but it can’t do anything to fix your suffering heart.

It only really occurs to you that you may have to leave Melshi behind, that you can’t stay here indefinitely, when Dewi asks, a curious lilt to his voice: “Where ye be looking to run now, eh?”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. What do you do, when the only person who you dreamed of a life together with is gone? Where do you go when nowhere will ever feel like home without them? 

“I don’t know,” you eventually say. “I didn’t plan this far.”

I didn’t plan to be alone.

Freedi mumbles something, low and surprisingly soft for such a large fellow, dark eyes sympathetic. You smile at him, a weak, trembly thing but a grin nevertheless. Turns out some things don’t need to be translated to be understood.

“One last squiggly pool there be to check tomorrow,” Dewi replies, cybernetic eye whirring quietly as he glances towards the sky outside. “Ye welcome to ride with us to Lothal, haye.”

You don’t know anything about Lothal. You don’t know what you’ll do for money, how you’ll create a new identity for yourself, not a single clue. You nod your head, accepting the offer anyway, even as your fragile heart collapses in on itself. 

~~

As morning transitions into afternoon, glimpses of a blue sky peek through the cloud layers, so pale it hurts to look at directly.

With squinted eyes, you turn your attention across the quarry where Dewi and Freedi are hauling their nets out of a polluted lake, water black and foul-smelling. You can’t see the contents from where you sit in the shade of the quadjumper, but judging from their grumblings it doesn’t sound like a big success. Something tugs sharply behind your ribs, knowing as soon as your companions have finished you’ll be leaving Narkina 5 behind and everything connected to it. Taking with you only your memories, some bloodstained scrubs and a new scar as mementos of your stay.

You know you’re luckier than most, know that there are inmates who bled to death in the prison halls and drowned in the sea and never tasted one breath of freedom, but the thing is—you had hope. More than that, you had dreams.

Maker, you had so many dreams.

Keef had once said escaping Narkina 5 was your and Melshi’s best chance at staying together. How strange it is, how funny, how tragic that escaping is exactly what split you apart. 

You look down at your hands, the water-worn pebbles smooth against your palms. You’re luckier than most, it’s true. But it’s also true you’ve lost far more than you’ve gained.

Exhaling through your nose, you lean back against the quadjumper, stones slipping free from your grasp as your eyes fall shut. You listen to the slicing of Freedi’s arm-blade cutting through rope, the wind stirring up the grit and sand, the beeping of your pulse.

Wait.

Beeping?

You turn your head just in time to see two figures knocked to the ground by the sheer force of a trap ensnaring them in thick, white netting. 

What the hell? 

Crouching behind the protection of the ship, you watch Freedi and Dewi approach the strangers flopping about, not unlike a couple of beached squigglies struggling to escape. Thoroughly wrapped in the sticky net though, it’s impossible to identify the intruders—if they’re friend or foe.

The unexpected surprise has blood whooshing in your eardrums, muffling Dewi’s voice as he ambles along, not in any hurry to let them loose. It reminds you of your own first encounter with him, initially believing him to be a threat before he dropped the facade and revealed his true character. The unknown figures can’t be too dangerous then, you reckon, for Dewi to be so calm. Still, your feet remain firmly planted, hesitant to expose yourself just yet.

A second wave of surprise catches you off guard though when Freedi abruptly presses a button on the sensor trap, reeling the netting back in as quickly as it was launched. You have to blink a few times to make sure you’re seeing things right because that’s Keef pushing himself up on his elbows. That’s Keef, right there, caked in dirt and grime and the slimy residual substance of the net. 

And next to Keef, there’s—

All air leaves your lungs at once in a gasp, or a sob maybe, you don’t know because it doesn’t fucking matter, you just move closer on instict. Melshi turns at once, registering your emergence into the light, and your eyes lock with his, brown and beautiful and so unbearably haunted. 

Melshi slowly shakes his head, the look on his face rapidly shifting from bewilderment to such blatant relief it nearly sends you to your knees, choking out a quiet, “Dream?”

The moment is frozen, disconnected from the flow of time, and then he’s moving, scrabbling onto his feet to reach you, but you’re faster. You collide with his chest, sending you both tumbling onto the ground, though you’re too consumed with reuniting your lips with his to feel the impact. 

It’s a desperate kiss, open-mouthed and hungry, with clashing teeth and panting breaths. And fuck, you can feel him, all of him—his chapped lips, his heaving chest, the frantic throbbing of his heartbeat matching yours—and still he isn’t close enough. You don’t think he’ll ever be close enough, not even if he crawled beneath your skin, nestled between the gaps in your ribs.  You’re terrified that he’ll vanish the moment you pull back, taking the heat buzzing in your veins with him, but your shaking hands can’t hold onto him tight enough. 

Can’t stop Melshi from physically forcing you away with hands on your shoulders, looking utterly wrecked with shiny eyes and spit-slick lips, words spilling out of his mouth so fast they bleed together, “Wait, wait, wait, lemme lookit you. Dream, lemme see.”

The sound of your nickname breaks something inside of you, and suddenly you’re crying, tears streaming down your cheeks, lungs shuddering with unrestrained sobs. “Rue.” It’s more of a whimper than name, scraping against your throat, pulled from the depths of your core.

“You’re alive,” he murmurs, a low rasp, his gaze flickering over every detail of your face. “When I saw you fall—fuck, dreamer, I’ve never been so scared. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, so fucking sorry—”

“No,” you gasp out, shaking your head madly because he needs to know, “not your fault.”

“Thought I lost you. That I’d never get to tell you—”

“Tell me what?” you ask hoarsely, gripping onto his wrist like a lifeline. 

Melshi’s thumb ghosts over your jaw, catching stray teardrops before they fall. “What I should’ve told you every day we were together,” he says, soft yet firm. He kisses you again, like he can’t help himself. A quick peck on the mouth, then another, then one more. And then—

“I love you.”

“Rue,” you whisper, eyes widening and heart fluttering like a damn butterfly. You shove your face into that warm, safe nook between his neck and collarbone, uncaring of the streak of slime smeared on his skin. “I love you too. Always, always, always.”

Your voice is muffled, thick with snot and tears and the wellspring of emotions overflowing inside of you. 

Melshi understands you all the same. He always has.

~~

Even within the safety of the quadjumper, you and Melshi refuse to separate from each other. Sitting on the bunk, you can imagine it must look a little funny how closely you’ve managed to intertwine your bodies in such a small space. Keef sits on a cargo box, carefully watching Dewi and Freedi up in the pilot seats. Despite the dark bruises of exhaustion beneath his eyes, his gaze is razor sharp, observing every movement for the slightest sign of deception.

Reminds you of the first day you met Keef, what feels like years ago but in reality is closer to a handful of weeks. Quiet and watchful. Mind like a sponge soaking up Table Five’s movements. 

You try not to think too hard about your missing tablemates or how much you wish they were here too. The universe's cruelest of lessons is that life isn’t fair. Not to anybody. But coming in second, so dangerously close the lines blur during moments of distress, is the self-awareness you can’t save everyone. 

You’ll never forget your boys. Ham, Taga, Jemboc, Ulaf and Xaul. You’ll never forget Kino either, alpha wolf of Unit Five-Two-D right up until the end of everything.

They’ll stay safe in your memories. The Empire can’t touch them there.

“What’s in Niamos?” you ask, causing Keef’s head to swivel your direction.

Unlike you who didn’t have any idea where to flee, Keef knew exactly where to go when asked. Dewi and Freedi had simply looked at each other, nodded in recognition, and agreed to make the flight without any fuss. 

“Palm trees and beautiful beaches,” Keef replies. “More importantly, it’s where I left my stuff before they arrested me.”

Your eyebrows lift, thinking it must be a helluva hiding place for him to believe his belongings are still there. “What kind of stuff?”

He looks towards the front again, but not before you catch a brief shadow of his crooked smile. “The kind of stuff that’ll get us anywhere we want.”

Us, he’d said. We. 

Not me. Not I.

Keef’s loyalty to both you and Melshi continues to surprise you, even though by now it shouldn’t. Not after all he’s done. He fulfilled his vow. He got as many people out of Narkina 5 as he could. He kept Melshi alive for you, dragging him away from the waves they’d been certain you drowned in.

Your heart has yet to stop fluttering helplessly whenever you look at Melshi—from love, from disbelief. He’s tired and bruised and emotionally strung out beyond his limit. But he’s also tangible and warm and here. 

You take one last glance out the window at the water covered moon, finding it amusing how Narkina 5, a place that had felt so huge and imposing while trapped inside, is such an imperceptible speck when viewed from amongst the stars. The Empire’s still an ever-present threat on the horizon, but you don’t feel their phantom strings anymore. 

No, you just feel Melshi’s fingers gently tracing the edges of the bacta patch beneath your shirt. It’s stopped bleeding. It’s stopped hurting too, just a little itchy as the bacta helps your body regrow the missing skin. And even if there was any pain, the heat radiating off Melshi is pleasantly soothing enough to forget about it. Like your own patch of sunlight, melting away the last lingering traces of soul-chilling loneliness.

For all your precious dreams of a life together outside Narkina 5, for all the years you’ve shared a bed—nothing can change the fact that real life is a whole other beast compared to prison. There will be new sides of Melshi you’ve never seen before, yet another alternate persona buried deep beneath the familiar layers. 

And maybe that would have worried you before—before you were shot, before you nearly bled out on the beach, before you faced the most terrifying form of reality where Melshi wasn’t by your side—but now? Now there’s just a sense of giddy anticipation. It means you can fall in love with him all over again. 

Again and again and again…

Outside, the stars stretch and morph as the ship enters hyperspace, silver streaks slicing through the heavy blackness.

Inside the ship though, Melshi’s arms are your safe haven, and his lips are whispering those three special words against the shell of your ear. 

…again and again and again…

~~

Niamos is exactly how Keef described it. Beautiful beaches and palm trees galore. As close to the definition of paradise as a place can be if one ignores the Empire’s occupation and their security droids.

Stepping off the quadjumper, a tropical breeze sweeps over you, lifting up your clothes to tickle at the skin beneath. It’s close to evening time, hardly a soul in sight along the walkways. Which is good, Keef says. Less witnesses means less trouble. 

While he heads off to recollect his things, you say your goodbyes to Dewi and Freedi. They’ve only been figures in your life for such a short fraction of time, yet their impact has been monumental. There aren’t enough words in the galaxy to thank them, nor enough credits to repay them.

“All we ask is a favor,” Dewi says, offering another one of his sly smirks.

You nod your head, eager to express your gratitude however you can. “Name it.”

“Ye were lucky once, don’t be testing it,” he tells you firmly. “Keep your blood in your body, haye.”

“If I have any say in the matter,” Melshi chimes in, squeezing your waist, “she’ll never lose another drop again. Not even over a damn papercut.”

You tuck the crown of your head beneath the underside of his jaw, hiding your smile.

~~

When Keef returns, he’s changed into a striped shirt and dark pants, a canvas bag hanging on his shoulder. He pulls out extra clothes, shoving them into your and Melshi’s arms with instructions to get dressed in the nearby public restroom. You don’t pause to ask him where they came from, if they’re stolen or not. Clean clothes are clean clothes, that’s all that matters.

Stripping out of your dirty, paper-thin scrubs feels good, but putting on something else besides orange and white is another heavenly pleasure entirely. Your new outfit’s a little big on your frame, a dark blue floral patterned shirt tucked into matching colored pants, but you’re too happy about the newness of it all to complain. It’s the slip-on shoes that are the hardest to adapt to, so used to being barefooted you feel like a toddler learning to walk again the way your toes are all scrunched together.

You wash your hands, indulging in the cool water running over your wrists, then wipe your face with a wet towel. Maker knows you’d trade one of your limbs for a hot bath to soak in, but Niamos is merely a stepping stone, not a place to settle down and produce roots. Maybe the next destination will be better, safer, wherever that happens to be.

Wadding up your scrubs into a ball, you toss them into the trash and leave the restroom to find Keef and Melshi. The fading sun rests on the horizon line, sky the color of honey, beautiful and sweet, bathing the world in golden light. Melshi, too, standing at the pier’s edge with his hands clasped behind his back, seems to glow against the backdrop of the ocean.

He turns as you go to him, brown eyes shining like solar flares and dark hair tousled by the wind. He’s the most beautiful thing in the galaxy you’ve ever seen. You’re so in love with him it’s—it’s exhilarating. An adrenaline rush. A force of nature, immense and infinite.

“All this space. Fresh air,” Melshi murmurs, looking out across the water. You press yourself against his side, arms crossed over your stomach. “Like a dream, right?”

“The best dream I’ve ever had.” You cast a glance at Melshi out of the corner of your eye, at the blue-and-gray pattern on his shirt. Circles connected by lines sprouting from their centers. There’s something about it oddly mesmerizing. Almost familiar somehow. “View’s gorgeous, too.”

The tips of his ears burn red once he realizes you’re not talking about the sunset. It’s so cute you think you might melt. There’s a bit of smugness, too, knowing you’re the only one who has that adorable effect on him. 

“Where’s Keef?” you ask, suddenly noticing the other man’s absence. 

“Over there on the transmitter.” Melshi nods to a structure behind you next to the restroom. “Said he had to make a call. Family, I think.”

Looking over your shoulder, you can see Keef, leaning in so the transmitter picks up his voice over the sounds of the splashing waves. I have someone waiting for me, you remember him confessing late one night in the sleep block. Remember him saying she’s the greatest.

“Do you have someone to call?” you ask, curiously blinking up at Melshi.

“No.” Melshi doesn’t sound upset by the fact. He flexes his hand, the scar there flashing gold this time instead of silver. “You’re everything I’ve got in this life, dreamer.”

“Yeah?” you breathe shakily, watching as he takes your hand in his with such delicate gentleness. The laser burn along your knuckles has long since healed, but that doesn’t stop Melshi from pressing his lips to the spot, as if he can still see the mark there. You wonder if it would turn golden in the fading light too.

You feel more than see the upward curl of his mouth. “Yeah.”

~~

Keef’s quiet as a mouse when he finally rejoins you. You don’t like it—how utterly blank his expression is, the way he tries to bury his shaking hands in his pockets, the emptiness in his eyes. You don’t like any of it.

And you’re not the only one who notices the shift in attitude. You can tell Melshi’s concerned as he licks his lips and tentatively breaks the silence, aware of the fragility of the moment. “You got through? It’s okay?”

Keef doesn’t look either of you in the eye when he nods, too jerky, too reflexive. “Yeah.” The next words are choked out, a hushed hitch to his breath. “Everything okay.”

Two things quickly become apparent to you. 

First: he’s lying. 

And second: you’re not looking at Keef Girgo anymore. You’re looking at the man beneath the illusion. He’s right there, the real him, within arm’s reach, and there’s so much you want to say to him but your mouth refuses to speak any of the words aloud.

“How many do you think made it?” Melshi asks, out of nowhere. There’s something sharp about the question. An undercurrent of desperation that unsettles you. “How many of us made it out alive?”

At that, Keef finally meets your gazes. There’s a distantness in his brown eyes, like his body’s here physically but his mind is miles and miles away. You want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Want to ask what’s wrong with him. But your hands stay at your sides and your voice stays mute.

After a long beat, Keef blinks and comes back to himself just enough to manage a limp shrug of his shoulders, faintly replying, “Not enough.”

“What if it’s just us?” Melshi presses, unsatisfied with the answer. “What if we’re the only ones?”

“Rue,” you say, faltering at the heaviness in his stare, weighing down on your lungs. You swallow, unable to understand why it’s there, what’s rattling around inside his head. “What are you saying?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, pursing his lips before his narrowed gaze shifts away, half of his face edged in dim shadow. You can sense he wants to tell you, he’s just debating whether he should. Meaning whatever it is, it’s something big. Something that will have consequences.

“Somebody’s got to tell people what’s happening back there,” Melshi says at last, but he isn’t looking at you anymore. He’s looking straight at Keef.

Glancing at the other man reveals he’s still quiet, withdrawn, but there’s wrinkles creasing his forehead that weren't there seconds ago. And the steady way he’s staring back at Melshi—it’s like he’s already started putting the puzzle pieces together and he’s waiting for Melshi to confirm it’s the right picture. 

“Guys,” you huff, fully aware there’s a silent conversation going on right in front of you and hating every second of it. “What’s going—”

“We need to split up,” Melshi interrupts, voice strained. “Increase our chances.”

“What? No.” You shake your head, mind whirling. The beginnings of dread start stirring at the bottom of your stomach. “No way. You-you don’t mean that.”

“One of us has to make it,” he continues, as if you hadn’t spoken at all, ignoring your subsequent tugging on his shirt. “People have to know what’s going on.” 

You keep shaking your head, unable to stop yourself, because it’s everything you don’t want to hear but at the same time, in the deepest part of yourself, you know he’s right. 

Staying silent about the horrors you witnessed means being complicit in the Empire’s crimes against the prisoners. Against Ulaf and Xaul, every lost soul and every one still locked away. You owe it to them to speak up and get the word out. To be brave when all you want to do is run to the farthest, most remote corner of the galaxy.

You owe it to them to try.

“I know,” Keef agrees. Another nod of his head, less jarring, more certain. “I hear you.”

On impulse you wrap your arms around Keef, pulling him in for a tight hug, hooking your chin over his shoulder. There’s a beat of hesitation, his arms awkwardly hovering in the air, and then he hugs you back.

“This isn’t a goodbye. It's a see you later,” you tell him, squeezing for emphasis. His chest rumbles with an inaudible laugh. “Repeat after me.” You look him square in the eye, leveling him with a challenging look. “Say it.”

“This isn’t a goodbye. It’s a see you later,” Keef echoes dutifully, but there’s warmth there that settles your rousing dread and replaces it with something softer. Something lighter.

Something a lot like hope.

“Here. Take this.” Keef digs around in his bag, retrieving a blaster that he gives to Melshi. Caught up in watching Melshi’s hand grip the weapon, secure and steady, no trace of nervousness as he tucks it behind his back, you miss noticing Keef’s second rummaging until he startles you with your name. “Take these too.”

He deposits a stack of credits into your hand. Surprised, you nearly spill them onto the ground, eyes widening as you take in the large amount. Understanding kicks in, that this must’ve been why he was so determined to come back here. This really is the kind of stuff that can get all three of you anywhere you want.

“Dank farrik,” you breathe. “Where the hell—actually, nope. You know what? I think I’m better off not knowing.”

“What dream means to say,” Melshi cuts in smoothly, shooting you a fond look as you stuff the credits into your trouser pockets before his expression changes into one of pure seriousness, “is thank you.”

The two men clasp hands amicably, leaning in closer to pat each other on the back. It’s a brief and wordless gesture, but the meaning’s still understood by both. Take care of yourself out there.

Melshi then inclines his head at you. “You ready, dream?”

You nod, giving him a small smile.

The pier is long, the path beyond even longer. But walking with Melshi, shoulder to shoulder, hands locked together, you find it easier to look forward to the future’s possibilities rather than fear its uncertainties. A future full of golden sunsets, fresh air smelling of fragrant blooms, an abundance of blankets on a plush bed, bites of meiloorun fruit exchanged between kisses, laughter, hot baths, even more kisses, perhaps a little dreamer or two to keep you and Melshi on your toes. 

It won’t be easy. It won’t be soon. But it’ll be a good one.

Because it will be yours and Melshi’s.

You stop walking, ignoring the concerned furrowing of Melshi’s brow as you abruptly spin around. Before taking another step into the unknown, there’s one final thing you’ve got to know for certain.

“Hey!” you call out, catching the attention of the man at the end of the pier. “What do we call you when later comes?”

A second of silence follows, your ears straining for his answer.

“Cassian.” The response is carried on the wind, a smile stretching across your face. And if you look hard enough, there in the last fading beams of sunlight, you swear he’s smiling, too. “My name is Cassian.”

[honeykngdom]

𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚢 | 𝚎.𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 | 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗

Pairing: Embry Call x Original Character Summary: Join Ainsley and Embry as they embark on a journey where they are forced to question everything they thought they knew, and embrace the pain that is inevitable to avoid in love. An imprint story. Self-discovery. Angst and romance. Word Count: 4.3k Warnings: Not much going on here; just cute lil heart to heart and some awkward family convos. prev. chapter | next chapter

𝙴𝙼𝙱𝚁𝚈 

Embry followed Sam back into the house with his hands shoved into the deep pockets of the shorts Sam had brought out to him. Embry hadn’t had an outburst like that in a really long time, and he was beside himself at his carelessness – what with the imprints in the room. 

Upon entering the home again, he looked over to where Emily sat at the table with a steaming mug between her hands. “I’m so sorry, Em –”

“Don’t you worry about it, I’m alright.” The woman smiled, moving to hug his large frame in her small arms when he bent down to her level.

Seth and Quil looked up from the table across from them. “Your girl's a mess, dude.” Quil whispered, looking towards the stairs. On cue, Embry could hear Ainsley empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet; he grimaced, looking down at the floor with shame. He definitely felt like the biggest piece of shit for multiple different reasons. This wasn’t how he had wanted to tell her, or how he wanted her to find out.

His intention had been to start with the stories, and talk about how the pack first started. How he had originally given it up to keep that part dormant for his own sake, and was willing to leave it behind for her. How he had only phased again because there were two rogue vampires in the Peninsula, frequently stopping by Forks to feast on the innocent and young, and he was helping his pack. He was doing his duty as a protector of the reservation. 

Instead, Ainsley had witnessed the wrong side of the beast. And according to the heaving that echoed upstairs, she was absolutely sickened by it. 

Embry took the stairs two at a time before stopping just outside the bathroom door. His fingers touched the knob gently, hesitant, before opening the door slowly. Ainsley was seated on the floor with her back pressed to the tub and her knees pulled to her chest. Her swollen eyes lazily drifted up to meet him, “Hi.” She croaked, doubling over in pain. 

“Honey,” his voice broke, and the shifter dropped to the floor in front of his imprint. “I’m sorry, I should’ve said something sooner.”

“What?” She cleared her throat. “About turning into a giant dog?” 

“Wolf,” he corrected, pulling the wet face cloth from her lap to dab her forehead gently, “but yes. It wasn’t right to keep that from you – Edward’s right, it’s safer if you know.” 

She sat in silence for a few moments, breathing deeply through her nose to try to calm her stomach. He wanted to pull her into his arms, he wanted to press kisses to her forehead and soothe her worries but he knew he couldn’t do anything until she said it was okay. Knowing he could lose his temper at any moment had her mortified, he was sure. 

“Ainsley .. the way I feel about you is crazy.”

“You got the crazy part right.” She spat, leaning her head away from the cloth to glare at him. 

“Just hear me out.”

“Embry –”

“You don’t understand,” he started, the words tumbling past his lips before he had the chance to even filter through his thoughts. “I have waited nine years for you. Specifically you – not just any connection, or any relationship. And nine years might not seem like a long time, but it is painfully long when you know that the possibility of that epic love exists. Having an imprint was all I have ever wanted, and everyone thinks I’m absolutely mad because of it but I don’t care what they think.”

Embry felt as though he were going to break. He was sure she could see the tears brimming in his eyes, and could hear the desperation in his voice. She couldn’t leave him, right? This is what they were for – he belonged to her. 

“Embry,” She started, closing her eyes tightly, “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this.”

“You are.” He promised, this time he moved quickly, pulling her into his lap and securing his arms around her. “I’m still me.” 

She shook her head vehemently. “That wasn’t you.” 

“I’ve been having a hard time,” he sighed, pressing his face into her neck, “keeping my anger in check since I started phasing again. It’s even more difficult now that I have more reason to give into my genetic instincts by having you in my life.” 

“But … why do it? Again?” She asked, her body rigid in his hands. 

“It’s part of my job. I made an oath to protect this tribe, but we haven’t had any real threats come through to our land in years. So, when one showed up I didn’t have a choice. I have an obligation.” 

“When were you going to tell me?” Ainsley demanded, pulling him back so she could watch his face. 

“Tonight. I told you earlier that if you had any questions, I would answer them. All of them. I was going to tell you everything.” 

Ainsley watched his face, checking for any sort of indication he was lying about that. “Tell me now.” 

Embry stopped for a moment, mouth ajar for a short two seconds before he nodded once curtly. “Not here. Not when they’re being nosey.” 

Ainsley looked over his shoulder to the open door, wondering just how much the others could hear. Embry watched her nod her head slightly in defeat. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

𝙰𝙸𝙽𝚂𝙻𝙴𝚈 

Once I was showered and wore a fresh change of clothing, I sat in the center of Embry’s bed with my feet tucked under my bottom while I waited for him to join me. Jacob agreed to go check in on Renesemee for the night, allotting the two of us some privacy to sort through what happened this evening. I already started thinking of a list of questions to ask Embry – many of them had to do with what exactly I was dealing with, others played into the more curious nature in me. 

Embry entered the dimly lit room with a towel wrapped around his waist. He wasted no time pulling a pair of boxers on when he saw me waiting patiently, and slipped under the covers beside my legs, propping his head up with the palm of his hand. 

“Go for it.” Embry said once was comfortable.

“Okay,” I moved a little so I was facing him more directly, “what are you?”

“Shapeshifter.” 

“Not a … werewolf?” God, it felt so insane to even say out loud in conversation.

Embry shrugged. “You could say that, but I’m still pretty convinced that’s not exactly what we are. But we have nothing that proves otherwise.”

I nodded. “And when did you … become this?”

“When I was fifteen.” I leaned back a bit, surprised by his answer. Fifteen was so young – I was worried about school dances and math homework, and he was morphing into a giant wolf and killing other mythical creatures. Speaking of –

“What dangers are you protecting the tribe from?”

Embry paused, falling onto his back to exhale a loud sigh. “Mostly vampires.” He said quietly, watching me for my reaction. “Cold ones, as we like to call them – or leeches. That one’s just Paul’s personal favourite.” 

“Vampire’s are real?”

He nodded once, resting a hand on his stomach. “Unfortunately. They’re the reason why we turn in the first place. The ‘magic’ in us awakens when they’re near and threatening our people – that’s why there’s so many of us now. The Cullen’s kind of brought out more of us by taking up permanent residency in Forks. We’re the largest pack the tribe has ever heard of.” 

“Cullen's? Like, Renesmee’s parents?”

Embry nodded again. “Bella was human when she met Edward. But she wanted to be just like him, and she wanted to be changed. Jacob all but had a fit over it, too. Tore the pack apart – literally, there were two packs for a while –”

“Two?” 

“Bella got pregnant during her honeymoon with Edward,” seeing my expression, Embry held a hand up, “please, don’t ask me how, I don’t even like thinking about it all too much. When she came back, Jacob lost his shit. We had never dealt with or heard of anything like that. The fetus wasn’t something we were comfortable with, and we didn’t know if it’d be like Edward, except worse. Unable to control its thirst.”

“Renesmee ...” I said quietly, looking at my hands. 

“We were going to kill her,” he stated simply, “while Bella was still pregnant. Jacob took a stand to Sam and broke ties – being the rightful alpha and all had its perks, I guess. 

Even after Jacob imprinted and everything had settled, the packs were never the same. After Sam and Emily got married, he wanted to step away from this life with Jacob stepping up to the alpha role. The pack gravitated towards him. Now he’s the alpha, but Sam still has the best strategies, so they work as a team.” 

“Sam calls the shots, Jacob just dishes them out?”

“Mhm. I ran patrols and stuck with them until I was twenty-two. I had decided that being like this was starting to get the best of me, and that it was easier to control my emotions and keep them under wraps if I didn’t give into the animal.” He turned his head to look at me. “We won’t age unless we stop. It takes a lot of self-restraint and discipline to walk away from something like this. Sam and I are the only two that had reason to do it. He wanted to grow old with Emily - and I just wanted to feel normal again.

I never wanted this. When I first turned, I remembered thinking it was the best thing that could’ve happened. Sure, I was isolated and alone and scared to shit, but being the wolf made me feel powerful and strong. Like I had finally found my purpose.” 

“So, what’s the issue?”

“It’s not the same,” he started, fingers reaching forward to run across my bare thigh. “I mean, I feel just as powerful as before. I’m just as strong, just as lethal and deadly and terrifying, but it’s not just me anymore. I used to think I found my calling in life, that I finally found my reason for being here. Until I saw you,” he sighed, letting his eyes close, “you’re so feisty and stubborn. The way you placed your hand on your hip, the way your hair fell out of place, the way your chest was flushed pink. That very moment when I first saw you, it cleared everything I thought I knew about myself out of my mind. I literally had no idea who I had become, but I knew it wasn’t a man you could love. And I wanted to be someone you could love.

Everything shifted into place. When it happened, I hadn’t even known exactly what it was until Jared and I spoke around the fire. The others absolutely hate the idea of it for the most part. Being out of your own body, losing who you are for someone that could still leave you seemed like another hopeless and empty promise. It’s a complete loss of autonomy – creating a bond with another person, having them be the center of the fucking universe seemed like such a disgusting notion, until it isn’t. Take Paul and Jacob, for example. I was so confident I would never be like the others, that nobody had been hand picked for me.”

I blinked. From the way he spoke, I could tell that Embry meant it when he said he had longed for this … imprint connection. But, from my slow understanding, this entire process seemed to strip them of their ability to choose. I swallowed thickly, “But?”

“Then I saw you. And I understood it – all of it. I felt the pull and switch in gravity, I felt the need and longing. I thought I was going insane for a while, thinking about where you were or what you were thinking. You looked so uncomfortable that night, watching everyone else get along, and I just wanted to know you. I wanted to be selfish and pull you away, I wanted to hear you talk all night. 

So, I pulled soccer together. I begged everyone to come, just to make it less awkward for you. The first time I knew I had imprinted on you was the first night when I held your hands in the Jeep. The second time was when I looked over and saw you curled up in my blanket on the beach, talking with Emily and Kim and Collin. By then, I was certain that if anyone could break me or ruin me, it would be you. It took seventy-two hours for the reality of the situation to sink in, and I haven’t looked back since.” 

“Embry,” I interrupted, shaking my head, “I … that’s a lot. I don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck with me because of some stupid bond.” That didn’t sound like love; that sounded like obligation. And a weird one, at that. 

Embry’s face hardened, “This isn’t some bond or fate telling me I’m stuck with one person for the rest of my life because my genetics say so. We could’ve been friends, and just friends. I was prepared to just be that. But the genuine feelings and attraction I have for you? They’re magnified by this bond. I remember Seth and Quil making comments about your eyes and lips, and wanting to strangle them both and hang them from their ankles.” 

“Emb,” I groaned, “those are your brothers.” 

“You’re the light of my life.” He said simply, “I need you and I want you. I have spent countless nights waiting for some sort of freedom from the darkness that binds me to this fucking curse we pretend is a gift, and you’re exactly what I’ve been waiting for. You were hand picked by destiny for me. And I’ll be damned if I let you slip right through my fingers.” 

I felt it was only appropriate that I entwined our fingers together, holding them high enough so we could both see. “I don’t think you should worry for now.” 

Embry seemed to consider this. “Really?” 

I nodded slowly: I was sure this was the right decision. He would never hurt me, or his brothers. He hadn’t lost his temper over Jacob – he had lost it over Edward. 

Edward. 

The vampire.

And Bella, who was also a vampire. 

And Renesmee – who was a half-vampire?

I needed to distract myself from the vampires and concepts of imprinting – just for a while. The longer I pondered too long on either subject, the more uneasy I felt. One part in fear, one part in insecurity. 

“Tell me more. What’s it like?”

“Being a wolf, or being me?”

I contemplated. “Both.”

“It’s like this, I just get a little extra benefit. Speed, better hearing, faster reflexes. As a wolf, we communicate through our thoughts, and it’s not really something that’s easily controlled. It’s a really vulnerable position to be in. Apart from that, our bodies kicked into overdrive when we changed. A fever set in that never quite went away, we grew several inches, all the muscle in our bodies hardened and became more permanent and solid.”

“Is that why you’re so warm? It’s a wolf thing?” 

“It’s also why I eat so much. I burn the calories off too quickly.” 

“And here I thought you were trying to fatten me up with all those carbs.” I teased, shimmying closer to his side. “So … you turn now. Which means what, exactly?”

“There’s another threat. Two new vampires. The Cullen’s have never seen them, and none of us recollect their faces.” Embry rolled onto his side, pulling me close. “That’s why I wanted to keep you out of all of this. To save you from worrying the way the other imprints do. The less you know, the less shitty I feel for lying about picking up double shifts –”

“Wait, wait, wait,” I held up a hand, pulling back to get a full look at his face, “you lied about work?” 

“Did you really think I was working fifteen-plus hours in a factory, Ains?” When I blinked blankly, he chuckled. “I was running patrol. The only reason I run mornings is because Jake knows I actually work overnight.”

“But you’re here when I get up?” I said, more to myself than to him. 

“I come home after work-work and sleep for like .. two hours and then I leave again. And I don’t work-work every night – the nights I have off, Jacob usually has me pull a double on this end of town. So, I slip out after you pass out and come home before you notice I left.” 

“You leave me?” 

Embry frowned. “I never want to. But it’s almost over. Soon you’ll have so much free time with me, you’ll get sick of me.” 

I chewed on my lip, contemplating his words. “Impossible.” 

Embry appraised me cautiously before he gently pressed his lips against mine, sealing my worries away. We remained like that, lips parting briefly so that tongues could collide, getting lost in the heat and fire that coursed through our veins. 

“So, you’re really okay with this?” He asked breathlessly when we parted for air, pressing his forehead to mine. 

“I will be.” I tried, caressing his cheek with my free hand. I hope so.

Embry let his eyes fall shut, a sort of relief washing over his strained face as he pressed his mouth to mine again, “Honey, I love you.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

My mind wandered aimlessly as I drove through the winding roads leading back to La Push. I had a job at a diner in Forks, and had finally compromised on sleeping at home every other week (Embry would sneak in for snuggles, not that Jennie ever knew). I made a point to talk to Trenton about Leah – he had started to fall into the same absent pattern I had: staying out late, sneaking out, not being home for long periods of time. 

Jennie had called a family meeting; despite her children being old enough to take care of themselves, she still felt the need to mother us as though we were five. Travis, being the middle and favoured child, sat in his place across from me with a smug smirk. For once the meeting wasn’t about him. 

It had started off with the usual: be home for a family dinner once a week, keep in touch, etcetera. By the end, Jennie was all but in tears, asking Trenton and I if we were doing drugs. Point blank, placed two small cylinders on the table and requested we provide urine samples. At first, I thought Jennie was joking. It wasn’t until she placed her hands on her hips that I understood the severity of the situation – my mother really thought I was chasing highs. 

“They’re not getting high,” Travis jumped in, “they’re getting laid. And I know he has condoms,” he pointed to Trenton, finger guns blazing. “But I have no idea if Embry wraps his di–”

“Alright,” I said loudly, hard eyes cutting through my brother's skull, “enough.” 

“What, you don’t think I can’t hear when he’s visiting?”

I recoiled in disgust, completely mortified as Trenton leaned forward, “Dude, you listen?” 

“She’s not exactly quiet –”

“Okay! Enough!” TJ clapped, pushing away from the table. “This was obviously a waste of time – Jennie, baby, they’re just being kids.” 

I felt the heat rising in my chest and neck, eyes pressed shut tightly as I tried to push the thoughts away – Travis sleeping on the opposite side of the wall, able to hear everything. Much to my dismay, my moans weren’t the worst thing he could possibly hear during the nights Embry came to visit. Too much private information we shared, many of them his secrets. 

I pushed my meal around that night, not having much of an appetite. I was sure my mother would have plenty more to say when the boys retreated to the basement – I purposely stuck around to help with the dishes in awkward silence. 

Just as I was about to give up and retire for the evening, knowing Embry was likely already half-naked and warming up my bed, my mother started the Keurig and turned to me expectantly. She did not look impressed. 

“Sex is really not the worst thing I could be doing.” I said finally, defeated and tired. I fell back into my chair at the dining table, watching Jennie with weary eyes as she took her seat across from me. 

It was silent for another two minutes - and I thought about trying to convince her I would do better, but decided against it. I would be twenty-one in the new year, and was fully capable of being involved in a sexually active relationship without Jennie – 

“Does he hit you?”

I reared my thoughts back to the present, snapping my eyes up off the tabletop to glance at my mother. I almost couldn’t think of anything to say, but was most definitely concerned about Embry and his inability to shut people out. God, I hoped he was now. 

“Ains, baby,” she whispered, leaning forward on the table, “you can tell me.” 

“What?” I shook my head, pulling my knees up to my chest. “No, Embry definitely doesn’t hit me, mom.” 

“Then what is it?” She asked, looking defeated. “I don’t get it. You’re never home, you never want to be home. You’re always with him, or them.” 

I failed to see the issue with any of this. “So, I made friends? What’s the big deal?”

“It’s just not you.” Jennie knew many things about me; I loved my education more than anything, I loved all animals and I certainly loved my alone time. 

“I don’t know,” I started, looking down at my hands. “I’m just comfortable with him. He doesn’t physically drain the energy out of me the way everyone else does – when I’m with him, it’s like I know what it’s like to be normal.”

“You are normal –”

“I’m not,” I laughed, shaking my head. “People suck the life right out of me, they leave me tired and frustrated and anxious. When he’s around, it all goes away. He’s my solitude.” 

“That’s not healthy. Codependency is an ugly thing.” 

“I’m not codependent, mom, I’m just ...” I sighed. I never liked saying the words out loud to anyone but him. I had never known this emotion before, never had the luxury of being with someone that tolerated me enough to let me really grasp onto the idea of how beautiful love could be. Saying it to other people made me feel naive, like I didn’t have the right to say it at all. 

“In love?”

I looked at Jennie. I wanted to nod, but I also felt as though my mother would smile in such a way that said, ‘Oh, honey, you don’t know what love truly is.’ That she would undermine what Embry had built in me, the confidence he gave me. I lifted my chin and shrugged, “I told you that you didn’t need to worry about me.” 

“You’re having unprotected sex.” She snapped, leaning forward on the table again. “You will not make me a grandmother before I’m forty-five. I expect that out of Travis, but not you.” 

“Mom –”

“I get it, Ains. You’re not my baby anymore, or at least you’re trying very hard not to be. I know you’re anxious and ready for the real world, living in your boyfriends house, zero responsibilities –”

“I do have a job now.” 

“- staying out all night and partying with his friends –”

“Jacob is part of ‘his friends.’”

“But I promise you, it gets old real quick.”

I dropped my hands onto the table, this time looking a little harder at my mother. “Why can’t you just support my relationship with him?”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t. Because if you did, this conversation wouldn’t have started with the assumption I’m being forced to stay in this relationship. You’re trying to convince me this isn’t what’s best for me, or what’s good for me. So, what is it? What’s so wrong with him?” 

Jennie sighed, looking at me with sad eyes, “Because when I look at him, I see your father.” 

I skewered my face, “Doug wasn’t an abusive piece of shit.” 

“No, Ainsley. He wasn’t.” She nodded in agreement, looking down at the table, her voice dropping barely above a whisper. “I look at you and Embry together and I think about what I had with him. The love I had for him. But when he left me, I thought I was going to die. I wanted to.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is that I don’t want you to get too attached to him. Just because he was the first to stay, doesn’t mean he’s the one.”  Fate would say otherwise, I wanted to say. My sex life was none of my mother’s concern. Embry was not going to leave me like my father had.

He loved me.

He belonged to me.

[sorcerersandskillusers]

Here's an extract of an old fic I wrote years ago, writing Dazai was and is one of the most fun/hard things to do ever

Context: Atsushi just found Dazai floating in the ocean with a crab in his mouth there are other people there, but they don't matter for this part “Damn it, he got away.” He muttered as he crawled around franticly searching for something, until he came face to face with Atsushi’s legs.

“Atsushi-kun, fancy seeing you here. This must be the third time we’ve met like this, remind me to have Kunikida get you an ice-cream as a prize” his tone was friendly and perfectly normal as if he hadn’t just nearly drowned but was instead meeting a friend in a café.

“Dazai-san… I thought you’d stopped doing suicide attempts by yourself?” Atsushi said with a mixture of disapproval and resigned sadness in his voice

“Ugh, Atsushi you think I would try to pass on from this world all alone? You doubt my honour as a suicidal maniac? It breaks my heart to hear my own college say something so cold.” Dazai replied in an overly dramatic tone, completely ignoring the sudden shift in atmosphere.

Looking unconvinced, Atsushi sighed and asked, “then what were you doing in the ocean? Were you just ‘having a relaxing float’ again?

His tone clearly indicated that this kind of thing was not new to him, and probably happened more often than any of the others could have imagined.

“Ah…” Dazai said, a smile slowly creeping its way onto his face, “so you want to hear about my grand hunting mission.”

“Grand hunting mission!?”

“I shall call it”

‘Dazai Osamu Adventures!: The Terror Beneath The Harbour’

He then posed dramatically, which might have looked impressive… if he wasn’t still soaking wet and covered in bits of seaweed.

It all started at the office, I was studiously working on some reports for the president after having wrapped up my 3rd case of the day-

Studiously working? I don’t think i've seen you actually finish a report since I joined the agency, you always just give them to me to do

Do you want to hear the story or not? As I was saying. I sat at my desk when I overheard Kenji say something very interesting.

“The best food is always the food you kill and cook yourself; I remember when I made my first beef bowl from the cow, we’d been rearing that year, it was like heaven in my mouth.”

I was inspired, I wanted to taste that heaven myself. So, I decided to hunt down my own meal and cook it for the agency. Of course, I chose to hunt the most delicious creature in the whole world the king crab, so long had I enjoyed the canned crab from the supermarket, now I would finally feel the thrill all great crab hunters must feel to give us such an amazing food.

I don’t think that’s a real job-

I immediately started researching and quickly found that there was a perfect crab hunting spot not too far from the city, and after collecting my supplies, I set out on my great hunt. I walked to this spot and dived straight into the ocean.

After searching the dark, cold waters for a while, I was beginning to give up hope, but then I spotted it. A horned shell as red as blood and two claws that could tear through a tank with ease, my quarry was here, and I was ready to fight. I pulled out my weapons, (a crab fork and a knife I stole from the kitchen). And dove towards the beast, we clashed in an epic battle, steel against shell, claws against bandages. But in the end, he managed to disarm me.

I knew I stood no chance against such a mighty foe without a weapon, it was hopeless, I would have to abandon my mission and run.

But then…

Dazai’s voice rose to be even more dramatic as he slowly raised his hand to his chest.

I remembered my colleagues, how much trust and faith they put in me as the most respected detective at the agency. How many trials they had overcome for my sake, and I knew that couldn’t fail here. I would have my home cooked crab even if it cost my life.

I grabbed the crab's claws with my own hands, there we wrestled back and forth, neither willing to give in, two warriors locked in mortal combat. then I thought of you, Atsushi-kun my loyal and faithful student and like you decided to solve my problems by biting them-

Hey that’s not-

-AND so with my prey defeated, I triumphantly celebrated, which was interrupted when I remembered I hadn't taken a breath for 15 minutes and promptly passed out.

"And that's when you found me," Dazai finished with a smile.

This was from a chapter draft for my very first fanfic, it's crazy how much has happened since then. Since ill probably never update that fic again, I figured I'd share this with you guys.

(side note; It's weird how much this feels like a bsd wan, considering I wrote this before I knew what bsd wan was)

[kedicatt-cotl]

Curious question, do you have a theory as to why Anura has living skeletons defending it?

Feels more or less something Nari would do.

... on top of that, Kallamars' ears creating skeleton allies to help in a fight is another thing I didn't expect.

Love the work, can't wait to see the Partners you pick for our favorite wet beast.

Oh, that really is a qurious question! I've played the game and never paid enough attention to that...

I honestly don't know what it means in the game and I don't think I can interpret it correctly, so I will just explain it in the lore of my AU instead.

===

Living skeletons are somewhat basic crown magic. You could say that it's pretty epic for “basic magic”, but considering everything else the Crowns are capable of, making a skeleton be alive is something any Crown bearer could do, with some experience.

The living skeletons can move, speak and fight, they don't need to eat or sleep, and it's harder to kill them because they can't bleed out. Perfect soldiers! They are pretty much being powered by the Crown magic alone. They have no brains, hence their personalities are basic and their memorizing skills are bad. If the Crown that is keeping them alive is left without a bearer, for example, in case of their death, those skeletons fall apart and stop existing (until - possibly - put together by another crown bearer).

For that reason, after the Bishops were killed, there were no skeleton followers left.

( The drawing features skeleton bluejay Fina, character idea by @allseeingcrow )

Narinder's specialty is a little different. He thought that just making skeletons wasn't a good enough solution, it didn't actually change death, because even though technicaly alive, every skeleton follower's life was split into “before death” and “after death”. Naringer's goal was to REALLY revive people, get them back undamaged and independent from the Red Crown as if they never died.

For that reason, he never practiced the use of skeletons.

Eventually, Narinder found a way to revive people. Sure, they get a little bit damaged in the process, but their bodies and minds remain almost intact, so that is a huge win!

[passionatepinkkittynew]

For Frockism Month 2023 by @erin-the-epic

The essence of art: of all Alan's friends, only one remained his friend.

I once had a little behind-the-scenes story in my head that continues Master Frown's flashback.

In it, the future lord runs away in disgrace away from the place of the holiday. Brock asked him not to leave, but in a fit of emotion, the boy slapped the small tombstone on his hand so that he would get behind him. Then a second squad of firefighters arrived behind them and they began to extinguish the fire. Alan was far away from this place by that time, he was crying, he did not understand why he, why the holiday dedicated to him, was ruined in the most terrible way. "It would be better if no one ever celebrated Birthdays at all!" – he thought, but his uncle the fireman came up to him and took him to the address the boy said in Frowntown. By that time, his mother and grandmother were not at home, but he could let himself cry even more into his pillow. So he fell asleep and was only woken up by his mother, who was scared when she saw her child with wet eyes. Alan lied that his friends had never been friends to him and they ruined his holiday, especially Brock, whose gift decided to break. The mother comforted her child and hugged him so that he would not cry and hate himself. "No one but you and Grandma will celebrate my birthday," he said, calming down and eating the cake. Unfortunately, he has grown out of the age when he can make any wish for a Birthday Candle.

Small Brock, fortunately, was able to save some things, including food, drinks, dad and a lollipop that crashed, however, he wanted to help Alan, but he yelled at him and ran away, which is why Brock realized and called Mama Brock to find out what to do, but the Ambulance arrived exactly like the second fire brigade outfit. Brock wanted to go to a friend, but he felt that he was very ill and he did not want to be approached until he calmed down, so he and his mother calmly waited at the door of the ward where his father was lying. When they were let in, Brock served the surviving food from the holiday and asked a lot about the leg. He was told that there was a high probability of becoming disabled, even despite his strong skin. Brock's mom also found out about Brock's problem and asked how to help him. She suggested to him that she should visit him, knock on the door and give him that gift again. Brock just remembered about the lollipop, parts of which he keeps in a bag, and he decided to "fix" it. Brock thought that he would eat him like this – with a plaster, superglue and decorated with a bow, but he would be glad to the depths of his soul.

Two or three days passed after the incident, the summer holidays continued, and Brock was thinking about what to do. He knocked all sorts of different things so that he would open the door for him. Alan was eating ice cream from a jar at that time and watching Beauty and the Beast (or some other cartoon, for example), but the knock on the door got him, so he went to the door and asked who was welcome. Brock happily replied, hiding behind his back a gift wrapped in gift paper again. Alan saw him, asked him with displeasure why he had come and why he had not done it before, to which Brock loudly explained that he had reasons for that, and did not want to interfere with throwing out emotions to another person. He said that his father could become disabled, he is now in the hospital of the Unikingdom, but Brock also said that he wanted to help him even earlier, but Alan refused him, so it happened, but Brock is not here empty-handed now. Alan was surprised that it was the SAME LOLLIPOP! True, not in the best condition, but it was the most sincere gift of all. Alan's tears of joy flowed, he hugged Brock and said, sobbing: "No one except mom, grandma and you will celebrate my Birthday." – to which Brock hugged him back and asked him not to cry. So the mood of both rose and they decided to do something. For example, to watch a cartoon. Frown decided to show Brock his favorite cartoon again, and later put the lollipop in the box he had drawn.