#feel free to take any of these ideas and run with them

[talenlee]

Game Pile: Kentucky Route 0, One of Three Games About America

Script and Thumbnail below the fold!

Kentucky Route Zero is a magical realist point and click game of what I’d normally call Narrative Adventure, which came to kickstarter in 2011, then came out in 2013, 2014, 2016, and 2020, because you can’t have nothing for free, even things you pay for. The game is a text-driven game without any of the trappings of your typical point-and-clicker where you jam a ladder in your pants and try to work out why you want to put green dye in the water fountain. Instead it follows the haunted mind of Conway, a trucky driver and his interactions with small handful of people on a part of the Kentucky Interstate, while he to find the place he needs to do his delivery, despite being utterly lost.

I enjoyed what of Kentucky Route Zero I played, but the thing that stands out to me in hindsight is its sound design. It’s a beautifully defined game, audio-wise, with all sorts of thoughtful foley for its environments, and the way that even the pieces of the interface that Conway interacts with have their own sort of specific authentic sounds, chonks and thunks and ch-zzzzses.

It’s also visually splendid, beautiful in what it tries to represent in the heightened reality of its setting but also the format of a videogame. These places look good from the angle that’s chosen, creating lines of artwork and bars of cages, depending on what you’re focusing on, and by being a fixed-camera story of its type, Kentucky Route Zero takes on traits of theatre, with blocking and careful positioning and timing all making up part of how the story unfolds.

A story I haven’t finished.

See, I don’t feel like playing Kentucky Route Zero Act V.

Sit down, traveller. Let me tell you a story.

There’s a chance you’ve heard this story before. I’ve anonymised it here, not because I think you shouldn’t be able to work out who it is, but because the idea of focusing on the who runs the risk of ignoring the what. Plus, I don’t want to direct anyone to a person who said something stupid and encourage fights. That’s not the important issue.

This is the story of when someone perfectly represented something, and probably never realised it.

You will sometimes hear me talk about the take that ‘there are three games about America,’ with a tone of utter revulsion and derision. This is from an incident back in 2020, when a game developer and advocate for inclusive games, had an opinion, on the internet. This advocate is well-established and has a big audience, but also, he’s crucially, not a white guy, not a Christian guy, and not an American guy. These are factors that play into what he said, which was, in summary, that while Kentucky Route 0 was no doubt phenomenal, he wasn’t interested in playing it right now.

To this, an actual adult responded with:

This is legitimately the worst take you’ve ever had. There are only about three games that are actually American, and this is one of them. Everything else is designed for export. Kr0 is a precious and valuable thing. It is of immense and intense personal importance.

Now, resisting the urge to argue with a tweet, which is just generally a bad practice that leads to doing things like wanting to be on twitter, and setting aside this tweet conflating ‘this is of personal importance to me’ and ‘this should be of importance to you,’ this position describes the idea that there are only three games that are ‘actually American.’

What does it mean to be ‘actually American?’

America is a pretty pervasive presence, if you’re not aware of it. Most people in the world have to know about what’s going on in America. We know about your Presidents and your Senators and your Constitution, to the point where people can be more aware of how your country’s laws work than their own country’s laws. I’ve often seen it held up as an example of how poorly educated people in say, Canada and Australia are that we believe we have, say, a ‘first amendment right,’ but the thing is you have to ask why there is that.

We watch so much American TV.

We listen to American music.

We try to make our news broadcasts look like yours, because that’s what real and legitimate news looks like. We try to retell your stories in our local languages because that’s what real media looks like. Our children sing songs in your accents because that’s the culture that a multi-trillion dollar economy has pumped into the whole world.

America demands we attend their wars and surrender our living to become their dead and when we are done America sells the survivors a cheeseburger.

This is not a remarkable or controversial statement. You must know, this is not even vaguely challenging to know about. Everywhere in the world is replicating parts of the American empire, because America exports and enforces the vision of the American empire. McDonalds may sell curry in India, but it’s very important that the curry being sold is McDonalds curry because that is how you know it’s an American style curry.

What this means is when someone tries to assert there are only really three games about America, that’s a kind of specialised brain rot that requires you to consider games that are very much about America as not being really about America. And thus we see the other thing about America, which is it’s not enough for America to be the most important place in the world that everyone else in the world needs to recognise, but also, most of America is inadequately America for this vision of America. You saw this in the wake of 9/11, and the election of Barack Obama: huge amounts of American media resurged in extolling the values of ‘real’ America, as opposed to the parts of America where the vast majority of Americans lived, which just so happened to paint a lot of marginalised people living in the cities as ‘fake Americans.’

I am not bringing you unique information. This is just obviously true things if you don’t live within the boundaries of an environment that flatters you as the most normal thing in the world. The vast majority of the world is not America. There are eight billion people in the world, more or less, meaning that America is about 4% of the world, and yet, it is catastrophically, overwhelmingly, deleritously the common touchstone for how things are ‘supposed’ to work. This is through media imperialism, which is mostly supported by American companies exporting all their media to foreign markets extremely cheaply.

‘about three games that are actually American.’

This fascinating piece of doofusry still, even now leaves me agog. ‘Actually American.’ Kentucky Route 0 is actually American, you see, as opposed to… what? Is America’s Army one of them? You know, the game financed by the American Army? What about Call of Duty, a franchise that is in part subsidised by American military complex manufacturers? What about Grand Theft Auto, a videogame that tells the rags-to-riches story of American excess in criminality, setting aside the way it’s made by a Scottish company. Actually American, because American doesn’t mean America, it means one tiny little pool of ‘America’ where the speaker can imagine there’s a realness and an authenticity to the America-ness that doesn’t involve all the messy realities of what it is to be America. It’s the towns of hard-working people, that suffer under your particular description of oppression, whether that’s cities full of nonwhite people or corporations bleeding the country dry, always eliding the social cruelties and terribleness of these places, as if giving people money stops them from being bigoted (for example).

This is then used to recruit these poor, superior Americans, the you know, America Americans, whose sufferings are noble and whose authenticity cannot be impeached and they are then used as a defense against criticism of, you know, America. It’s the same speech Charlie Daniels gave about how foreigners may think they could push around Barack Obama (a dude who bombed a lot of shepherds with the most elaborate and brutal military ordinance in the world) but they were going to have a harder time taking on Americans who wrestled alligators, who at this point have exactly zero recorded drone strike kills.

This is because America America isn’t real.

‘Real’ America is a nebulous nothing that you can project whatever you want onto, and which is also not responsible for anything terrible that America does. It’s not the American Empire, it’s not the exporter of culture, it’s somehow purer, better, a sort of individualised folk who are to be protected and extolled, shriven of all the things about America that make it anything but its perfect idealised form of America.

I could go on.

I really could.

This is something that defines the world I have to live in. I speak English. I’m white. I’m from a coloniser state. I should be able to integrate easily and smoothly into the white supremacist capitalist hierarchy of American culture, but we are told, that no, we are not acceptable. We are only valid as long as our differences are invisible. We, a real people, do not get to have opinions on America, because we do not know True America. When you spell colour wrong in a chat message, when your accent isn’t quite right, when you don’t know the difference between junior and sophomore year of high school, then you are shown, you are evinced, and you are made very aware that you are other, you are outside, you are wrong.

And really, there’s no good reason for it. We send our soldiers to America’s wars, we buy America’s submarines, and we sing your songs. Our currency mimics America’s, our culture permeats with America’s, we even have such a crushing inferiority complex about the empire that there’s an academic term for what we feel about our own media compared to the media of the truer, proper empire to which we are vassal.

The term is ‘cultural cringe,’ and it was coined by Henry Lawson, who you, odds on, have never heard of. In 1894, he wrote:

The Australian writer, until he gets a “London hearing,” is only accepted as an imitator of some recognized English or American author; and, as soon as he shows signs of coming to the front, he is labelled “The Australian Southey,” “The Australian Burns,” or “The Australian Bret Harte,” and lately, “The Australian Kipling.” Thus no matter how original he may be, he is branded, at the very start, as a plagiarist, and by his own country, which thinks, no doubt, that it is paying him a compliment and encouraging him, while it is really doing him a cruel and an almost irreparable injury. But mark! As soon as the Southern writer goes “home” and gets some recognition in England, he is “So-and-So, the well-known Australian author whose work has attracted so much attention in London lately”; and we first hear of him by cable, even though he might have been writing at his best for ten years in Australia.

This is imperialism. This is a way in which we have been induced and brought by the empires around us to accept their ways as correct, as the normal, as default. And that is the mindset you must have if you want to look at the breadth of videogames, with their American ideas like health insurance, readily available guns, the importance of freedom, the ubiquity of air travel, the branding and iconography of types of food and the sports metaphors and then say ‘yeah, this doesn’t have anything to do with America, not really.’

Anyway, this thread, this incident, was a big deal at the time, in that there were a lot of people from within the community of game developers and journalists who seemed very happy to line up and get mad at a brown foreigner for being inadequately enthusiastic about the possibility of playing a videogame. But don’t worry, after a day or two, an apology was forthcoming for all of this fracas, by which I mean, the original developer apologised for being so thoughtless as to, again, express honest lack of enthusiasm in a videogame.

For me, this was a kind of break point, where I started just blocking indie devs on sight. I don’t want to know what they’re involved in, I don’t want to promote their work, and I will hold tiny grudges against them that I do not seek to transfer or encourage in others. This was one silly incident in which a lot of people said something silly because they don’t know better, or they’re arseholes.

None of this is fair to Kentucky Route 0. It’s a game with its own intentions and its own perspective. It’s not trying to make this conversation happen. Kentucky Route 0 has been choked and gripped by this position around it, where to talk about an American game, someone put a cross on it that made it the avatar for All Things America. The wild thing to me is that I had, prior to this point, played two episodes of Kentucky Route 0. I thought it was pretty good, and I liked what it did with the negative space of dialogue options – when a character you’re controlling makes excuses, the excuses you choose show you other things you could be making excuses about that you, the player, didn’t know beforehand. That’s some good Narrative Storytelling Design, I like that a lot. But now I can’t really engage with Kentucky Route Zero because the main thing it makes me think about is how this final chapter, meant to round out the game’s story and present a conclusion and a point, became this flashpoint for a lot of people to be very casually racist.

Which kinda poisons the whole thing for me. It’s an authentic thing, I’m sure, it’s a thoughtful thing, too, but the people stepping up to say I should care about it did so in a way that made me hate them.

Any time you see me say ‘three games about America’ I’m talking about this, and the attitude of a particular kind of American that America is, as always, exceptional. It’s real easy to not realise when you’re just voicing your self-centeredness and how easy that is to ignore the opinions of people around you and what they’re saying. This is what I’m talking about when I mention ‘the three games about America.’

[fade for credit text]

By the way, the three games about America are Crash Bandicoot, Sam & Max Hit The Road, and Bust A Move.

[utilitycaster]

I'm curious about your judgement of the success of the various format experimentations in Campaign 3. If you feel like saying a bit more, I'd be interested to hear your thoughts on which are the most and least successful, and why.

Sure! So as I said earlier today, I think a big problem is that the format experimentation and the moon plot are directly at odds. Pulling off the moon plot, with all the NPCs from past campaigns and payoff of various canonical setups requires a pretty firm hand on what the current canon is, and also really did require a firmer hand in the character creation than there was. On the other hand, the point of experimentation is to let other people play in the space and introduce their ideas. This comes together in what I have referred to in the past as "Not Now." Like, the Crown Keepers showing up just as the party was grappling with FCG's death? Not bad as a concept, but Not Now. Abubakar playing Corellon? Incredible performance, but the fact that he was given free rein in a plot that's already shedding viewers left and right for its lack of direction? Not Now.

On an individual level:

I think EXU Prime either needed to be fully standalone, or Matt needed to provide a slightly more rigid direction to Aabria and therefore really couldn't play Dariax. If it's going to get woven into the main plot of Campaign 3 it needs to set that up (including giving Liam and Ashley a heads up beforehand). My personal vote would be for the former, to allow Aabria to tell her own story without it having to serve like 20 different functions, but what's done is done. If I recall, Liam and Ashley had the option to play different characters for Campaign 3 and I do wonder what would happen if they had decided differently, because you could still have Dorian pop up as a guest but I wonder if the Crown Keepers would have shown up in the same way.

Similarly, as stated, the general concept of the Crown Keepers interlude during the campaign as a means to bring in Dorian? I'm not opposed, though I think this is by far the hardest thing to coordinate generally and for a plot as demanding as Campaign 3 probably not a great idea. But it's hard to judge because the timing was truly the worst timing possible given the events of episode 91, and even delaying by like an episode or two would have at least solved that to the point that I don't understand why they didn't just...do that. (and, just to head off this particularly stupid argument at the pass, this would not have in any way affected Sam's ability to take time off for cancer treatment; it would have just shifted things around, and a lot of this experimentation was planned WELL in advance). [sidebar: I haven't listened to the WBN interlude yet but I do have thoughts because I think interludes from different GMs can be done, but the premise of Campaign 3 is particularly hostile towards them unless the main GM has a very heavy hand in their creation or unless they are light on things relevant to the core plot and mostly for the purpose of worldbuilding a la Song of the Lorelei.]

Solstice split was excellent and I think it's because it was not actually anything you wouldn't see in how people frequently play D&D at home. You have a few players who won't be available for a few sessions in a row? Great, find a reason to split the party, bring some other guest players in, and run some side quests!

Downfall was great because it was diagetic. It was a story within a story that Bells Hells was seeing and responding to, and because it took place so long ago with such specific characters, while it may bleed into how Laura, Taliesin, or Ashley feel in game (impossible to prevent, people bring their own feelings to the table), Matt still has room to decide how the Raven Queen, Wildmother, or Everlight feel a thousand years later. I also feel this had the most direction from Matt, which the other things really needed.

As said, bringing in Abubakar to DM as Corellon is something that again, this plot simply doesn't handle well. It makes for a fantastic scene, but within the 107-and-counting episodes of this story, giving the reins to someone else after you finally have a clear plan and letting them throw another curveball is a terrible idea narratively. I think this again would be fine in a story with a looser plot.

Echoes of the Solstice and presumably the upcoming Vox Machina Malleus Key/Mighty Nein Weave Mind concept is again pretty good. This also fits into things that D&D home games have been doing forever - run a one shot or mini campaign following different characters but DM-ed by the same person that have an impact on the current plot but aren't too closely interwoven. Basically this is like the solstice split in concept.

Essentially: I think playing around with the format within a campaign but having the same GM is pretty easy to do. Once you introduce other GMs acting within the world concurrently (rather than as a story with a foregone conclusion a la Downfall, or for that matter Calamity) you need to be extremely careful if you are trying to tell a specific story with a lot of moving parts, as Matt is with Campaign 3. It's one thing to improvise based on things your players do or say; it's another to do so based on improv by a major NPC or someone doing extensive worldbuilding mid-game that you now need to incorporate. This wouldn't be an issue in a more sandbox-style game; Campaign 2 might have been able to withstand it more gracefully, though I'm still not sure. But Campaign 3 was the wrong place to do it. Again, it's trying to converge in some places and diverge in the others and as a result it's just kind of flopping around in place.

[addledmongoose]

Good Omens Fanfic Friday (20 Sep 2024)

Because I finished my first draft of my latest (a Reverse Omens AU), and because two separate bangs are starting to come out this month, I have a really long list of (mostly short) stories to recommend this week. And if you like your GO fanfic smut-free, this is the list for you. Only one of these stories is rated E.

These first three aren't part of any bang.

Tadfield Zoo (40K; Rated E) by @groovynightstrawberry

Human AU. Crowley is the zoo's herpetologist. Aziraphale is the new vet. Crowley needs a plus one for his cousin's wedding, and Anathema has a great idea.

***

There’s no algorithm for the ineffable (12K; Rated T) by @thinkinginscripts

Human AU. A lovely, angst-free short with a lot of wonderful witty dialogue between the Ineffable Husbands.

Aziraphale Fell has been running Heavenly Matches, bespoke dating concierge for queer professionals looking for serious relationships, for over twenty years. His success rate is unsurpassed.

His new client, Mr Crowley, is just lovely - there are plenty of candidates interested in taking him to dinner. But after three dates with three perfect men, Crowley's not even sure what he wants anymore.

***

Flowers From Hell (42K; Rated T) by @entanglednow

I loved this story so much. Set post-notpocalypse, Aziraphale makes an effort to get more involved in Crowley's interests, especially his love of gardening. I don't want to spoil it, but I can say you will absolutely fall in love with Ivy.

***

These shorts are part of the GO Fairy Tale Minibang. There are a lot of stories in this collection, so be sure to check them out if you like fairy tales.

The Marriage of Robin Redbreast and the Wren (9K; Rated G) by @starryfull13

A Scottish tale about a wild red-breasted robin and a wren of the Royal court.

***

A Warrior in a Garden (9.8K; Rated T) by @snarky-synesthete

Set post-scene after Wessex, Aziraphale is a Knight of the Table Round when Crowley shows up to sow discord as Morgana la Fey. This story could have easily fit in the GO world like an extended Wessex minisode.

***

The True(ish) Tale of Hansel and Gretel (4K; Rated G)

Aziraphale arrives in a small town to find several of the village children missing and goes to find the witch responsible, only to stumble upon a lovely, ginger-haired demon he hasn't seen in a few years.

***

The Bounds of Gold (18K; Rated T) by @suavissimapenna

Human AU. Nice twist on the Rumplestilskin story.

All Aziraphale wants is to Illuminate a book commissioned by the royal family, but a gold shortage in the kingdom means he has to use a cursed spell book to spin straw into gold. All Crowley wants is to escape the curse that's bound him to the spell book for centuries. When the royal family finds out about Aziraphale’s new skill, things go to hell in a handbasket. A Rumplestilskin AU.

***

When The Lanterns Are Lit (5.7K; Rated G) by @the-ineffable-dance

Deep in The Wood, pixies Aziraphale and Crowley live a life of carefree delight. But when a doorway into Faerie appears, Aziraphale and Crowley have to work together to help two lost human boys admit the feelings they have for each other... and maybe recognize their own feelings along the way!

***

These stories are part of the Do It With Style Silver Screen bang. There are a lot more stories in the works, so be sure to check it out.

The Bookshop Around the Corner (18K; Rated G) by @luinlothana

It's You've Got Mail in the GO universe. This is NOT a human AU. It's the story of angel who doesn't want to sell books and a demon who is feeling a wee bit guilty about one of his plans coming to fruition.

***

The Crowley Family Values (11K; Rated T) by @ezomind-the-other-one

Human AU. As the name implies, this is a crossover fic with the Addams Family Values. If you don't know the other IP, you might struggle a bit simply because the dark humor can seem odd, but if you do know the Addams Family, you'll find the story fits perfectly with the style of humor.

[boneyardbob]

Whoops I said I’d post this like three days ago my bad. Head canons for the masks in Marble Hornets! I may post a bunch of shorter stuff that are general headcanons soon. Also if you want more details on this lmk I’d love to dive deeper @forgottenporkbun @monszsterz

Here's my headcanons for the masks. Honestly I could go on like a huge, rambling essay about why I think these things, my inspo for these ideas, down to the details of what they feel like and how they work but Imma try and keep this short. I plan to put all that other stuff in my fics anyway and if you're reading this you'll probably wanna read my MH fics so you'll figure it out eventually. The idea that Tim and Brian made their mask with stuff from Hobby Lobby is REALLY funny but I have to stick with the idea the masks are gifts from The Operator (TO). Tim got his in college because if he was given it at any point while in the hospital, it would probably be found and taken away. TO waited until Tim was free before gifting it. Its when their "relationship" begun. TO switched from this unfamiliar, constantly looming monster into this warped guardian angel. This is obviously very fleeting because by the time Jay runs into Tim in MH, he's forgotten this entirely, or repressed it, and is back to viewing TO how he did his entire childhood.

During the tail end of college, while filming Alex's project, is when this Masked Era began and it ended for an unknown reason a quarter of the way into MH. My timeline isn't great but roughly that's the situation we're talking about. This is when we get all those videos of Masky and Hoody stalking Jay and Alex. I don't think I could fully call Tim and TO's relationship that of worship but that's the closest I can get. Tim knew what he was dealing with was some kind of unimaginable creature, but it could feel human emotions FOR HIM. At least if he listened. If Tim did what TO wanted, then in return he got benefits. At some point he understood TO needed him-either to keep living or to stay grounded to earth, and things got a little extra toxic. I imagine its a LOT like the Fears and their respective Avatars in TMA. I use you to get food, I give you powers that make it easier for you to get food, win win.

These benefits were really only accessed when wearing his mask. The more he wore it and the more work he put in for TO, the better things got. At the very least it instantly cleared up his lungs so he could breathe easily, he no longer suffered from migraines, he didn't have any hallucinations that weren't purposeful messages from TO, and most debilitating affects from mental disorders were gone so he wouldn't feel depressed or anxious. Fuck if I had a magical mask that made me neurotypical and took away my chronic illness I'd kill people in the woods too/j. More benefits were added on with time like growing stronger, healing faster, its kinda giving the vampires from Twilight ngl. My RP partner and I make a LOT of Twilight vampire jokes about them. It also spiraled Tim into a euphoric mania, giving him the energy and desire to sprint around the woods all hours of the night. This was an addictive sensation that had him craving his mask. He had to share it with someone.

His closest (and really only) friend at the time was Brian so he opened up to him about it and eventually got him involved. Because of Tim's medication and natural resilience to TO he eventually got OUT of this cult-like situation but Brian couldn't. He got to the point he was constantly under that mask and if he took it off for long enough, he'd probably suffocate and die. This explains why he ends up homeless, constantly in his mask state, and seems to have uncanny abilities. He just disappears into thin air, he seems to be doing physically GREAT despite living on a mattress in the woods with no source of food or money, and we only ever hear him cough. That ties back into my idea their vocal cords melt due to the TO disease. He can take the mask off for short bits of time. Its not like an astronauts helmet, more so an oxygen tank while hiking a tall mountain.

[thefirstknife]

Speaking of weird things in the season already, I'm back with the obsession with names of things in the seasonal activity.

So in Riven's Lair, you get randomly assigned "missions" that change with each run. I believe there's five of them as I've played a lot of Riven's Lair so far and only got these five to rotate. Maybe there will be more in weeks to come!

Anyway, if you look in the top left corner when you start the activity, it will tell you the name of the mission you're on. The names that I've seen so far are:

Polysemy

Apophasis

Synchysis

Enthymeme

Tautology

Long post under:

These aren't random words! They're all related to language and rhetoric, which makes sense with the Ahamkara theme as Ahamkara are very dependent on the way language is used around them.

Polysemy is when words or symbols are capable of having multiple meanings. Apophasis is when you speak about something by denying it or mentioning it by saying it's not required to be mentioned (def check examples on wikipedia if this is confusing). Synchysis is also a way of speaking in a way that deliberately messes up the order of words to confuse or surprise the person you're speaking to. Enthymeme is a type of an argument where you construct a sentence which tells some sort of a fact by omitting the way you came to that conclusion because the fact should be obvious on its own (again, check wiki for examples, it will be easier to understand). And tautology has a meaning in both language and logic; in language, a tautology is a statement that repeats something, adding redundant information and in logic, a tautology is a logical formula in which a sentence is constructed in a way that every interpretation of the sentence is true.

I doubt these words were chosen randomly and there might be more or perhaps more will cycle in during weeks to come. But even with just this, there's a pattern. I'm not sure which meaning of tautology is being used here; possibly the language one because it fits the rest, but the logic interpretation could also be possible.

The first week's mission was also specifically Polysemy:

I assume next weeks we'll probably do other specific ones in some order, which would also mean there should be at least 2 more. I'm wondering if there's some sort of a reason why these specific words were chosen. Obviously they all relate to forms of speaking and language which is the primary way that Ahamkara use to affect reality; speaking in specific terminology and using particular phrases and language forms is important to them and when speaking to them.

But given the involvement of the Vex, it also reminded me of the lore book Aspect in which every chapter is named after grammatical, linguistic and logic terms. Aspect is also specifically related to the Black Garden and Sol Divisive. Not only that, but Aspect deals with, among other things, the fate of the Ishtar scientists and their copies in the Vex Network, and primarily uses Chioma as their main viewpoint, and the whole situation with Neomuna and Veil Logs has returned my interest in this lore book.

I feel like it isn't a coincidence that we've spent essentially the entire year reacquainting ourselves with Chioma and Maya and Ishtar as a whole only to bring back Sol Divisive and the Black Garden back in the final season in this way. As the Veil Logs told us, one of Maya's copies interfered with one of the logs, sending signals, and Chioma, at the end of her life, contacted the Vex presumably to be consumed by the network so she could possibly reunite with one of the copies of Maya in there.

This brought me also to the mysterious signal from Scatter Signal lore tab in which Osiris tracks down some sort of a signal that seems to be talking about the Vex, but spoken in a strange way. So I began thinking that this signal might be coming from Chioma, consumed by the Vex, from the Vex Network, reaching out to the man who's been studying her, living in Neomuna and researching the Veil for months. Specifically, the final Veil Log mentioned a few similar words and phrases being repeated. Specifically, when Osiris mentions that Chioma was researching "the entaglement of Light and Dark" and when Nimbus and Osiris discuss "parallel connections and parallel energy fields;" then in the Scatter Signal message there's mention of how, presumably, the Vex are trying to "move from parallel to entanglement." The Veil Log also talks about how the Witness can communicate through our Ghosts and how that connection might be going both ways; Scatter Signal also mentions "bridging communion with a Voice."

Copies of Chioma and the other scientists (with the help of Praedyth) once tried to use the Black Garden to send a message out of the Vex Network, detailed in Aspect. We don't know if they succeeded (at least in our current timeline). The Black Garden has been a big focus in Lightfall almost out of nowhere in such an immensely world-changing way (with the explanation of the Black Heart), and it will still be important this season with the exotic mission. It's a very pleasing loop of the story; everything started with the Black Garden in D1 and everything just before TFS might end with it. I'm also incredibly intrigued by the fact that the returning weapons from Undying (a season about the Sol Divisive and the Black Garden) have returned with a new perk called nano-munitions: very Neomuna-sounding name. Perhaps certain Ishtar scientists are influencing the Vex or extending a helping hand to us.

The questions that remain: how does this tie back to the Ahamkara? Why are the Vex interested in the Ahamkara? What do the Ahamkara have to do with the Black Garden? What's with all the strange language terminology that deals with double meanings and ways to confuse? Is it just regular Ahamkara shenanigans to trick us? To trick the Vex? Maybe both?

The point is, I don't think this is as simple as Riven just being sad that all the Ahamkara are dead and wanting to secure her clutch. Nothing is ever simple with the Ahamkara and nothing is ever simple with the Vex; and now we're dealing with both. And somewhere in all of this, there is also a concerning involvement of the Black Garden that connects to both of these elements. At the end of it all, there's us, who rely on this specific combination of elements to get through the portal, pursue the Witness and save the universe.

Spreading the brain worms to the rest of y'all to think about. If you spot any other mission names, feel free to share, though I think that if they happen, they might happen in the coming weeks. Also as I mentioned before, I know there's been leaks and lore tabs unlocking early on Ishtar: I've not seen any leaks or cutscenes and have not read any lore tabs that aren't explicitly visible in-game so if there's a really simple answer in that leaked material, I don't know about it and don't want to know about it so please don't spoil to me or to others!

[mtt-burger-emporium]

thinking about chara and the implications of the line "chara hated humanity. why, they never said..." like ok i KNOW something was happening at home. chara baby you didn't deserve that shit i'm so glad you fell down a thousand feet in a cave hole and right into the arms of people who would keep you fed roof over your head and would never raise their hand against you. "eradicate humanity" you're 10 years old how about eradicating your shitfucked surface fam by calling cps first

[evilmagician430]

garten of banban if it was warriorcats be like

GARTENCLAN

LEADER

pancreasstar - former kittypet; red ginger tom with striped ears

DEPUTY

toadstare - dark brown tom

MEDICINE CAT

the syringeon or whatever i havent played garten VI yet but i know he exists

WARRIORS

leena - former kittypet, short white furred she-cat with pink skin that shows through in places

bigjaw - large dark grey (because he cant be green) tom with large paws and skull and teeth

sourbird - light grey tom

slowsight - light ginger she-cat with short legs

woolyfang - grey tom

nettlepool - large ginger tom with a missing eye

spidertongue - dark grey tom

darkcrawl - black she-cat

QUEENS

tallbird - pink (bald) she-cat with grey patches of fur in some places

[fingertipsmp3]

Ughhhhhhh I hate writing and I hate not writing and I hate myself

[buildarocketboys]

Fake fic title: dark as a lake

Oooh....I think this would be a flashback-flashforward fic of Pete "platonically" hanging out with Patrick by the Lakes and remembering his dead boyfriend he used to hang out by the Lakes with...so sad. So angsty.

[medicinemane]

You know, capitalism is another one of those words that sadly is like problematic in that it's functionally useless because people just toss it out and then everyone gets so hung up debating the meaning of the word capitalism that the whole point is lost

That's why I don't ever really use it. It doesn't really matter if it's capitalism or if it's cronyism or... whatever, I think it's bad when companies make record profits while prices go up up up

I think there's probably an issue and it probably needs to be solved (and I'm afraid you can't convince me less regulation is a magic bullet)

I like currency and exchanging currency because it seems like a good way of moving goods and labor around, but I also strongly support welfare and think that any group of more than 50 people is probably starting to get corrupt

Don't trust the government, but sure as hell don't trust corps...

I don't know, my original point is that sadly capitalism gets tossed around too much to mean anything anymore... but I just see too many argumentative people online so I'm tossing out my stances to avoid getting side tracked debating what I mean

What I really really mean is just fucking say what you're saying and don't bother saying capitalism cause you'll just make people argue and miss your point

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

in the refrigerator light

summary: you are somehow unprepared to run into Logan while on the quest for a midnight snack... in the house you both live in. wc: 1.9 k a/n: to be fair I did warn you that this would happen. I have a few more ideas kicking around in my head, but feel free to send requests if you have any! this doesn't take place during any particular movie, fyi, but you and Logan are both teaching at the school warnings: fluffy fluff, mutant!reader, empathic powers!reader, soft!Logan

You should have been asleep. Even after choosing to stay on at the school past your education, you’d had a hard time shaking habits of the past. It still felt strange to walk freely into professor only areas, and you were always in bed by 11:00 pm every night. Sneaking down to the kitchen to steal one of the chocolate bars you knew Scott had stashed deep in the back of a cabinet felt wrong, but the siren song was too strong to resist. 

You’d been quiet, making sure to avoid the creaky stair (third from the bottom on the right) before shuffling into the kitchen. You rubbed at your eyes as you made your way to the proper cabinet. The only problem being that it was much higher up than you remember. It was times like these that made you wish for a more helpful mutation, like telekinesis or at least a few extra inches of height. You struggled for a few moments, on your tippy toes, stretching your arm as far as you could reach before you gave up. You sighed, raking your hands through your hair and making your peace with the fact that chocolate was not in your future tonight. 

“Scoot over, bub.” You jumped and let out a small shriek, before clasping a hand over your mouth. It was rare that anyone got the drop on you these days, your power more finely tuned and emotions tending to be strong around the manor, but your guard was decidedly down in the place you’d called home for so many years. But Logan was an exception to many rules. HIs hand gently gripped your wrist, pulling you against his chest for a brief moment before moving to stand in front of the cabinet. He reached up into the cabinet, the zip up hoodie he wore pulling up to expose a few inches of his stomach before pulling down a few bars of chocolate with ease. He smiled, the crinkles by his eyes more prominent in the low light of the kitchen. You did your best to appear like you hadn’t just been ogling him. 

“How did you know-”

“Scott’s shit at secrets.” He huffed, rolling his eyes. “You think he’d learn by now to not be such a loud mouth in a house full of people with enhanced hearing”. 

Your laugh was quiet, muffled by your hand in the interest of not waking the others. “Well, in that case, I hope one of those is for me.” 

Logan shrugged, eyes full of mirth. “What’ll you give me for it?” 

You blinked, unsure of yourself. You weren’t used to this Logan, yet. He was usually gruff and reserved, always reluctant to give into the kids in his history class that were trying to derail the lesson with a joke or two. He’d been playful a few times in your presence, and it almost always made you worried that the other shoe was about to drop. Seeing him in pajama pants and a soft grey sweatshirt only added to the strangeness situation. 

For the briefest moment, you considered using your powers. A single touch and you would know exactly how he was feeling. It was a blessing and a curse, to be able to be sure of how others were feeling with a single touch. A god-send on intel gathering or stealthy missions, a terrible temptation at midnight alone in the kitchen of the manor with the man you had harbored a crush on for as long as you’d known him. You make to grab one of the bars out of his hand, but he is too fast for you, quickly lifting them over his head. Your eyes narrowed. 

Fine, two can play at this game. You roll your shoulders back, drawing up your courage. “Depends what you want for it.” 

Logan grinned, dropping his arms and holding the bars behind his back. “Well, what I don’t want is to be an accomplice in your quest for cavities. Chuck’d have my head if he found out I had a part to play.”  

“I’m a big girl, Logan. I can take care of myself” You grab for the chocolate, but he’s too quick for you. For a brief moment, the two of you stare at each other, the moment charged. You lunged for the chocolate again, but Logan is already halfway across the kitchen, waving the chocolate around teasingly. 

“Logan, please” you laugh, following around the island. He cocked his head to the side, smirk playing at the corner of his lips. You were seconds away from stomping your foot and demanding he hand the chocolate over, when his smirk grew into a grin. 

“Alright bub,” he made his way around the island, depositing one of the chocolate bars in your hand. “You know I can’t say no to you.” 

You did your best to tamp down the butterflies that suddenly made a home in your stomach, but his smile was so gentle and he looked so soft, it was hard not to feel a little lovestruck. You snapped a piece of the bar off, and held it out to him. You dutifully busied yourself with breaking off a piece for yourself, ignoring the way that his affectionate gaze seemed to never leave you. 

“You’re not usually up this late,” he says, holding his hand out for another piece. You shrug, dropping another section into his hand. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” 

“Welcome to the club.” You knew that Logan had trouble sleeping, he was usually the first one hunched over a cup of coffee in the mornings, steadfastly ignoring inquiries into how he slept. 

“I, um” You hesitated. Usually offers of using your powers didn’t go well. You took a breath, steadying yourself. The worst he could say was no, right? “I could help with that, if you want.” 

Logan reached out, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You could tell your eyes were the size of saucers, but you couldn’t find words. After a few moments, Logan took a step back, shaking his head slightly. You blinked owlishly, taking a breath to steady yourself. 

“That’s sweet of you, bub. But I wouldn’t want to tucker you out.” It was no secret around the house that although you had a less physical mutation, it still took some of your energy. Sensing emotions was as natural as breathing, but influencing them was newer, and took much more focus. 

You pointedly glanced at the clock over the stove, noting that it was well past any reasonable bedtime, before facing Logan once more. “That actually sounds really nice.” He mumbled something about not wanting to take advantage of you, but the words died in his throat when your hand found his own. You looked up at him through your lashes, hoping that he would be able to see how earnest you were being. “I don’t want to force you, but I want to be asleep more than anything, and I can tell that you are too wound up about something to even begin to fall asleep.” 

His thumb stroked over the back of your hand a few times, before he stepped around you and led you out of the kitchen. You expected him to turn towards the living room, where you’d caught him ‘resting his eyes’ a few times in the middle of the day. Instead, he turned right making sure to skip the creaky stair (third from the bottom on the right) and right up to the door of your room. 

“A bit presumptuous, no?” You asked, before opening the door and walking through. 

Logan rolled his eyes, leaning against your doorframe. “I was there the first time you tried this. Figured it was best that no one has to pick you up off the floor.” 

You felt your face grow hot, remembering the unmitigated disaster that had occurred the first time Charles suggested that this application of your powers was a possibility. Your chin tilted up, doing your best to project confidence. “Well, it’s been a while since then, I’ve gotten better.” 

If the lighting had been better, you would have seen the faintest pink blush coloring his cheeks. “Rogue’s in my room.” You couldn’t help it, your eyebrows shot up near your hairline. “She and Bobby got into a fight, she wanted somewhere she would be left alone.” His hands were twisting in the pockets of his sweatshirt as he ducked his head down low. 

“Is that why you were prowling around the kitchen?” He rolled his eyes, but nodded all the same. “Well, do you wanna stay here tonight?” He looked like he was about to object, but you held your hand up, effectively silencing him. “You’re doing a favor for Rogue, let me do one for you.” 

“Thought you were already doin’ me a favor, sweetheart.” He protested, all while moving towards your bed. 

You perched on the edge of your bed, consciously doing your best to keep your heart rate in check. The students always joked that between Charles and Jean’s mind reading and Logan being able to hear cheaters hearts speeding up, it wasn’t even worth it to try and cheat in class. It hadn’t occurred to you that if he could hear your heart fluttering, he could definitely hear the measured deep breaths you were taking to mitigate the issue. 

You reached for his hand, and he accepted it readily. His palm was shockingly smooth under yours, it must be from his regenerative powers. Your thumb gently ran across his knuckles, still slightly red from the training session he’d had with some of the students earlier in the day. You tugged on his arm slightly, and he lowered himself down onto the bed beside you. “I thought that it’s important to work as a team, sometimes.” 

“You spyin’ on me, bub?” You sheepishly meet his eyes, but find nothing but tenderness waiting for you. “I’ll try to forgive you.” He drops a kiss on your knuckles, before motioning for you to lay down. “I’ll take the floor.” 

You tightened your grip on his hand. If he really wanted to, he could have broken away easily. Instead, he paused, eyebrows raised and waiting for an explanation. “Not much of a favor if your back hurts in the morning from sleeping on the floor” you shrugged. 

“Only if you’re sure-”

“Just get in the damn bed Logan.” He grinned, pulling back the covers and slipping into the bed. You followed shortly after, and slipped your hand back into his. The both of you laid in silence for a few moments, adjusting to your new arrangement. You were nice and toasty warm, able to feel the heat radiating off him under the covers. You were in the middle of working up the courage to actually use your powers, when soft snores began to emanate from the other side of the bed. You chanced a glance towards him only to find his lashes gently fanned out over his cheeks, and his chest rising and falling with his steady breathing. 

After a few moments, you followed him into dreamland. In the morning, you woke up with his arm firmly around your waist, feeling fully rested for one of the first times in your life. Again, you waited for the awkwardness to come, for your face to flush and your stammer to pick back up, but you were left waiting.

feedback is very much appreciated, as I’ve never written for Logan before! let me know what you think <3

next part

[sophiamcdougall]

I am never going to complain about Greek Duolingo again

I mean, I am. But still.

So, as some of you know, my family has been coming to this tiny Greek seaside village for several years. Just over a week ago I came out here with my mum, under the impression that early September, after the height of the summer heat, would be a good time to have a holiday. ANYWAY Storm Daniel had other ideas about that. Locally things are improving (I'm actually really pissed off about the disaster-porn tone of most English-language media coverage, but that's another post). The power is back on, there's running water most of the time, and though the latter is not drinkable, a truck from the government came and handled out free bottled water yesterday. But we are currently kind of stuck. Can't do tourist things. Can't go home. There aren't any local flights out until Saturday and the road to Thessaloniki is still closed.

So this evening, feeling kind of aimless and depressed, I go down to the nearest beach with a couple of binbags and start cleaning up in an effort to at least do something positive. I always try to do this at least once out here and obviously, after the storm, there's a lot more plastic and rubbish than usual.

At some point I find this large, round bit of metal - some kind of machinery part, I think -- that's too big for the bag, so I take it to the bins on its own, leaving the rubbish bag on the beach. And when I come back for it, something among the stones beside it moves.

Specifically, it pulls its head sharply inside its shell

So, meanwhile I've been trying to learn some Greek with the help of Duolingo.

I currently have a 33-day streak and... I have questions. Shouldn't I be able to use the past or future tenses by now? Shouldn't I be able to say "x is like y"? I can't do those things. But one thing I absolutely can say all day long is έχω μια χελώνα : I have a turtle.

This is far from the limit of Duolingo Greek's turtle-related content. "An obsession with turtles" is my mother's characterisation. I can inform you that the turtle is not a bird, and, improbably, that the turtle is drinking milk. I can introduce you to a turtle in company with a horse and an elephant. As far as Duolingo is concerned, it really is turtles all the way down.

Now this, you may be able to see, is not a turtle. It has claws rather than flippers. It is a tortoise. I know there are wild tortoises in Greece: my aunt once rescued a pair of them shagging in the middle of the road -- but that was up in the mountains. I've even seen one myself, but it was also on a road and very dead.

I am 95% certain they don't belong on beaches. There's nothing for it to eat, except, unfortunately, a lot of plastic. Even if it gets off the beach it will immediately find itself on a road where it could get hit by a car. I'm pretty sure it must have been washed down by the floodwater and has been just sitting there, dazed, ever since.

Now obviously the first thing I want to do on encountering this unusual animal is to go and tell my mummy, so I do. The tortoise immediately brightens her day. She agrees that the tortoise is not happy on the beach and needs to be taken somewhere safe. it gets surprisingly wriggly when picked up so we put it in a carrier bag with some grapes and cucumber and go looking for somewhere to rehome it.

We find a path leading up between the houses towards a likely-looking field, but before we get very far a dog in a yard goes berserk and a man's head pops over a fence and demands to know what we're doing. He does this in English, as evidently we're just that obviously tourists.

"I found a tortoise on the beach!" I explain. "We want to find somewhere to put it."

"A what," he asks.

"It's like a, you know," I begin and then to my astonishment I find myself saying... "μια χελώνα"

"Oh! A turtle!" he says.

"But from the land. δεν είναι χελώνα", [it is not a turtle,] I say, as I am worried he will tell me to put it back near the sea where I found it. As it turns out it actually IS a χελώνα, Greek does not distinguish between turtles and tortoises, but I don't know that; I can't even name the days of the week or identify any colours other than pink yet, give me a break.

The man's entire demeanour changes and thaws. He does not worry about my turtle-that-is-not-a-turtle conundrum. He knows where οι χελώνες come from and where η χελώνα μας belongs. He leads us through a gate into a courtyard area.

"[somethingsomething] μια χελώνα," he explains to the assembled onlookers, of whom there are, suddenly, a surprising number.

"ΜΙΑ ΧΕΛΩΝΑ!!!" crows the throng of delighted small children, who are, suddenly, everywhere.

"μια χελώνα!" I agree, accepting that at least for current purposes, that is what it is.

"Μπορούμε να δούμε τη χελώνα σας; [can we see your turtle?]" asks an adorable little girl, shyly, and I understand??

The children fucking love looking at the χελώνα and showing it to them is kind of magical?

I finally put the tortoise down on the grass of this wild area off to the side of the courtyard, and marvel aloud that it is weird that I barely know any Greek except how to say μια χελώνα.

"I think she will soon run off," a kind lady called Aspasia assures me, seeing I remain slightly anxious about its fate. "I don't know why I'm saying 'she'. I suppose because χελώνα is feminine in Greek."

"Yes! I know that!" I exclaim, thrilled.

"Well done!" she says. And also she asks if we are OK for drinking water after the storm and if we need any help with anything and is just generally incredibly lovely and now we know more of the neighbours!

So "μια χελώνα" has just become, by a long way, my most-used and most understood and all-around most conversationally successful phrase in Greek. So I guess I have to admit I was wrong to doubt Duolingo's wisdom: it is correct to be obsessed with turtles. And I concede that prior to learning how to count to ten or to distinguish right from left, the simple ability to yell the word TURTLE over and over again is, it turns out, a crucial element of the responsible traveller's social skills.

(I am pretty fluent in Italian and turtles haven't come up in conversation even once?)

[saetoru]

AGE IS NOTHING BUT A NUMBER — GETO SUGURU.

kinktober day two — overstimulation ; find masterlist here

synopsis. befriending nanako and mimiko has its perks—like fucking their father, for example. suguru might have aged over the years, but that doesn't mean he's lost his touch. don't believe him? that's okay—he can always just show you instead

length. 5.3k words (bro this fic was agonizing)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, dilf! suguru, college au (reader is a student), age gaps (20+ difference), jealous suguru, teasing, cunnilingus, fingering, edging, nipple play, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, angel)

notes. this took me so long bc i hate it so im posting it and running away to play genshin to slave away for primos

most people can tell their best friends everything. not you, though—you have a secret. a dirty, shameful, horrible little secret, in fact.

no one knows that every chance you get, every small little moment you can possibly squeeze in, you fuck your two best friends’ father—and it’s going to stay that way, unknown and forever hidden. suguru is young as far as parents go, just barely in his twenties when he’s found himself a single father of two, but that doesn’t mean he’s not too old for you. and it especially doesn’t mean that it’s not inappropriate to fuck the man that raised your two closest friends.

you meet nanako and mimiko during your freshman year of college—the rest is history. the first time you spend the night at their place, suguru (he insists you call him that on your first meeting) is overjoyed that his girls have someone as lovely as you.

who wouldn’t be? you’re smart, well-mannered, respectable, and incredibly studious. what a perfect role model for his girls—after all, every father’s worst nightmare is his sweet, precious daughters venturing off to the real world. men are dogs—suguru should know. they’re sleazy and prey on young women who are naive and unsuspecting, taking advantage of their hopefulness before completely destroying their innocence. suguru can’t bear the idea of his perfect little girls becoming victims of such sinister behavior—but that’s all quelled when he meets you.

but he never thought, not even for one second, that he’d become one of those men.

those older men who fuck girls half their age—the girls that are barely in their twenties and still don’t even really understand how taxes work. the girls that have just started to learn how to hold their alcohol and can only recently buy it legally. the girls who don’t realize how complicated adulthood can be, just barely spreading their wings and learning what it’s like to be free.

suguru has always found those men deplorable. they’re the awful, disgusting, untamed vermin of society—women must be protected from them at all costs.

but now? well….now he’s one of them—and he finds, even as disgusted with himself as he is from time to time, he has little regrets.

not when you’re sprawled under him, hands tracing over his bare chest, feeling the soft skin under your palms in wonder. suguru, though he’s not let himself go by any means, is past his prime—he still frequents the gym, and he has more time to go now that the girls are gone most of the day, but he’s not immune to the effects of aging.

his hair has more than a few strands of white sprinkled in now; nanako makes sure to remind him not to pull them out unless he wants more. he’s still managed to keep the abs he was once so proud of in his youth, but they’re still not as hard—layered over a slight belly that he can’t seem to get rid of no matter what he tries. his skin is a bit looser, and his eyes have slight wrinkles in the corners of them, but despite it all, suguru still looks as handsome as ever.

he’s aged well, still looks remarkably young for men his age, and still looks like that dashing young man he once was who stole hearts. in fact, he still hears about his looks, especially from nanako and mimiko’s friends—he’s always chuckled to himself and shook his head in amusement.

that’s your dad? god, he’s so hot.

what? he’s single? oh my gosh, do you need a mom?

i can’t believe he’s never been married—women in his generation don’t deserve him. i’ll take him off their hands.

wait, do you have pictures of him when he was younger?

oh my god, he’s so fine. are you sure he’s in his forties?

nanako and mimiko, bless their hearts, have always crinkled their noses at the…less than proper comments they’ve had to witness about their father. in fact, they’ve watched teachers practically throw themselves onto suguru at parent-teacher conferences. it’s bothersome—a little disturbing to hear their friends talk about all the things they’d let their dad, of all people, do to them.

but you? you don’t make unhinged comments. they appreciate that.

but if only they knew…

if only they knew that sometimes, like right now, when you’re spending the night, you don’t actually sleep—instead, you sneak off to their father’s room, lay on his mattress under his body, and feel his touch. you can feel him, hard and throbbing in his sweats as his clothed cock presses against your thigh—but he takes his time with you, and doesn’t do anything about the clear arousal pooling between your legs just yet. 

instead, he focuses on remembering your body—it’s been a while, after all. he hasn’t felt your hips, hasn’t tasted your skin, hasn’t heard your voice. 

“missed you,” suguru breathes, hovering over you as you hum, nipping at your skin as his nose brushes along your neck. your hand is playing with his hair, twisting long, black and white strands along your fingers. “haven’t seen you in a bit, angel.”

“i’ve had midterms,” you murmur.

suguru knows—nanako and mimiko have been studying for them themselves. he’s more than a little disappointed that you haven’t come over to study with them yet. but then, just the other night, mimiko mentions you’ve been spending your time with a boy at the library, sharing a table as you lean over his shoulder to look at his laptop. nanako giggles that you might have finally gotten yourself a boyfriend. mimiko hums and nods as she murmurs it’s about time.

suguru swallows down every bite of dinner with an aftertaste of bile that night.

a boy—a boy? you’ve been skipping coming over to study with the girls (and, by default, seeing him) just to study with some boy? what’s got your attention on the guy so badly? why would you break the routine you’ve had for the last few semesters for someone you just recently met? have you finally started to realize that this is a mistake? is suguru a mistake?

he thinks maybe not, now that you’re back in his bed—but he still has too many unanswered questions. 

“so i’ve heard,” he says lowly, “i’ve also heard there’s a certain boy on your radar.” he smiles bitterly, pulling away from your neck to stare at you with those dark, sharp eyes of his. “a much younger, and fitting match for you, i suppose.”

you roll your eyes, snorting.

“is that what nanako and mimiko have told you? honestly, those two,” you huff fondly, “i told them already. he’s just my partner for a presentation. we’re practicing.”

“oh?” suguru raises a brow—and then he shivers lightly when you lean up and kiss his jaw, eyes fluttering shut at your touch.

“yes,” you giggle, “no need to be jealous of someone half your age, you know.”

“that’s exactly why i’m jealous,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss you softly.

your lips taste like honey—probably sweeter, in fact. they drip with that decadent, saccharine taste of youth. he feels twenty again every time he kisses you, feels not a day older than his glory days.

“oh, you poor thing,” you grin, cupping his face as you scatter kisses along his cheeks and nose, thumb tracing the skin. fuck, is this what it feels like to be in love? it makes him feel so young, so free, and hopeful for the future. when was the last time he felt this way? “have you been losing sleep over my nonexistent college boyfriend?”

“well, kids your age fool around quite a bit,” he says in that father tone that he uses on nanako and mimiko, “what was i supposed to think?”

you’ve heard that tone so many times before; the one where he talks like he knows better, like he’s wiser, like he’s aware of something you’re not. 

girls, make sure you share your location with me—i need to find you in case anything happens. it’s for your own safety, end of discussion.

make sure you watch over your drinks, okay? men these days take every chance they get to spike them when you’re not looking. mimiko, i was your age once, too. i’ve seen this happen plenty.

don’t walk alone in the streets at night. call me. i’ll pick you up—no, nanako, it’s not lame. the streets are dangerous at night. there are creeps, you know.

don’t get into any boy’s cars, girls. you never know what’ll happen; one mistake is all it takes to ruin your life—hey, don’t roll your eyes at me. one day, you’ll understand i’m right.

“i’m not a kid,” you pout, and then, smugly this time, you wiggle your brows. “did’ya lose sleep over my imaginary boyfriend? you need plenty of sleep at your age, y’know.”

“no, you’re not a kid,” suguru agrees, “you’re a brat.” and then he’s back to pressing those hot, open-mouthed, hungry kisses along your jaw, humming in delight when you angle your head to give him better access. 

sometimes, it’s fun to get under suguru’s skin—it’s fun to break that carefully built, mature patience of his, pulling a twitch of his eye and a furrow of his brow from him. so, you grin widely as you murmur, “who knows? maybe he’d fuck better—more stamina, y’know?”

it’s supposed to just tease him, to make him glare at you unimpressed so you can giggle and kiss between his brows—but suguru stills at that, painfully stiff for a moment before he bites at your skin. hard. 

“oh yeah?” he hisses, his voice low and dangerous as he pulls away to glare down at you, “you think so? what, you think an old man like me can’t fuck you long enough?”

you don’t get a chance to reply—not before he pulls your pants down your waist to reveal your soaked panties, pulling a hum from him as he grins at the damp patch of fabric. his fingers circle over your clit for a moment, right over the cloth, making your breath hitch as you buck into his touch. 

“suguru—”

“look at that,” he chuckles, “wearing my favorite one, huh? can’t fuck you that bad if you try your best to impress me. isn’t that what you wanted? is that what you were thinking when you put these on before coming over? how precious,” he murmurs—he speaks so condescending, so knowingly, as if he’s read your mind just by looking at the red lace covering your dripping cunt. you cover your face in humiliation, but he grabs your wrists and pins them over your head, clicking his teeth in disapproval. 

part of you knows you should quit while you can—the other part? well…it wants to test the limits a bit longer. suguru has never been so easy to rile up, you want to indulge in it for just a bit longer if you can help it. 

“well,” you huff, “what’re you waiting for, then? don’t tell me the age has slowed you down—”

“you really don’t know when to quit, do you?” he says in a low snarl, “fine, you want me to hurry up? you got it, princess.”

it all happens before you can even register—one moment, you’re grinning at him with mischief in your eyes; the next second, he has you in nothing but your bra, bare in his bed as he pulls your legs apart and leans close to your pussy.

“you know the thing about guys your age,” he hums, toying with your clit lazily as you gasp with a twitch, “is that they really don’t know how to take care of anyone but themselves. guess they just don’t have enough experience to really figure it out.”

his lips latch onto your clit, sucking before he rolls his tongue over the sensitive bud as his fingers sink into your core, pushing past your folds and stretching you open. it’s slow—deliberately so, in fact. it makes your head spin, and your fingers curl into the bed sheets as you pant. 

“suguru, m-more—”

“don’t worry,” he coos, pulling away from you to grin up at your glossy eyes, “you’ll get plenty, baby. we’ll see if you’ve got the stamina. y’know, since you’re so young.”

his lips are back to wrap around your clit, fingers sinking and curling exactly where you’re most sensitive—suguru finds your sweet spots instantly the first time he has you sprawled under him. didn’t even take a moment of trial, just knew where to touch and kiss to have you unravel in his hold. that much still hasn’t changed—his fingertips press against the sensitive spot in the back of your walls, pulling pretty little whines from you as his tongue flicks over your clit. 

it’s always been a blessing that nanako and mimiko’s room is across the house—had they been closer, they might hear the mewl you let out as his fingers bully into you faster, unforgiving as they brush against your walls and build the ache up between your legs until it’s about to burst. 

“s-suguru, ‘m close, so, so close—”

“already?” he gasps, chuckling as he presses a kiss to your clit with a sly grin, “thought you had more in you than that, baby. so youthful—figured you’d last a bit longer.”

he’s mean about it—rubs it in your face some more that you’re so close so fast before he pulls his fingers away and doesn’t even give you the satisfaction of falling apart on his digits. it makes you sob, hips bucking up to chase the friction of his fingers, but he’s already gone, leaving your walls empty and fluttering around nothing.

“no,” your voice breaks, “n-no, so close, please. i want—”

“that’s what he would’ve done,” suguru hums, “pulled out before you even finished. that’s what guys your age always do—they don’t know how to make girls finish. you ever had that problem with me?”

“no,” you say quickly, shaking your head. you’re a pretty little thing, he thinks—pouty, wobbly lips and those glossy eyes as you sniffle. “no, you always make me cum—please, i wanna cum, sugu.”

“yeah?” he pouts with faux sympathy, “didn’t feel good, huh? feels better when i take care of you, doesn’t it?”

“uh huh,” you nod—you’re still panting through the aftershocks of having your orgasm ripped from you, chest rising and falling harsh enough that it fills him with pride he can pull such drastic reactions from you. no one knows your body like suguru—he’s too good at giving it what it wants for anyone else to compare. 

“think that boy—” he spits the last word like it’s poison on his tongue, “—can take care of you?”

“no,” you whimper, “no, he can’t. not like you, never like you.”

“that’s a good girl,” he nods approvingly, rubbing his slick-coated finger over your clit, toying with it teasingly as you writhe, whining for more. “you know something else about men your age? they don’t care to please a woman—don’t bother to appreciate them enough to make them feel good. you think that boy would be here—” he pauses to motion between your legs, where he’s currently situated, “—willingly? taste you willingly? let you cum on his tongue willingly?”

“i-i don’t…i never asked someone to—”

“did you ever ask me?” he interrupts, raising a brow at you, “you ever have to ask me? i just do it. wanna know why? because i know what i’m doing—know how to treat you right, how to give you what you need. isn’t that right?” 

“yes, yes—you always give me what i want—”

“what you need,” he corrects, “and you know what i think you need right now? this.”

his tongue licks a stripe along your entrances before you can say anything else, pulling a gasp out of you as your hands find his hair and tug—suguru groans at that, feels his pants get impossibly tighter as the aching erection he sports throbs between his legs at the way you pull at the strands so desperately, so needy. for him. only ever him. 

his tongue fucks into you, messy with the way he devours you, the slick arousal pooling from your cunt coating his lips, his cheeks, his chin. you moan—and really, it’s almost a squeal—when his fingers are sinking back into you, tongue flicking away at your clit mercilessly as he thrusts his digits in and out of your pussy. you’re close, painfully so, the pressure steadily building and building until you just can’t hold it back anymore. 

“sugu—’m c-cumming. god ‘s so good—feels good,” you babble, thighs closing around his head as his fingers curl into your sweet spot over and over again, not stopping for even a second as he helps you ride out your high. your walls spasm around his fingers, tight as they flutter around him and make him groan at the thought of being inside you. 

he watches, hungry and in awe, as your back arches off the mattress and your mouth parts, broken little wails of his name rolling off your tongue in a sweet melody. 

“i bet he’s never seen someone look like this,” suguru murmurs, watching the way the ecstasy takes over your features as your face falls slack from pleasure, “so pretty when falling apart. bet he’d never even get close to making you look so fucked from just his tongue.”

your orgasm ripples through you—it’s not new, the way he makes you feel so good, but it’s definitely nothing to get used to either. your body slumps back onto the mattress as you finish, panting harshly while he climbs up to hover over you once again. 

“that felt good?” he asks, nosing at your cheek as you nod breathlessly.

“yeah,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“hope you’re not tired out just yet,” he says smugly, eyeing the way sweat clings to your forehead and huffs of air exhale from your lungs with each labored breath, “because we’re nowhere near done, baby. not even close.”

just like that, your bra is unclasped and pulled off, freeing your tits for his mouth to latch onto a nipple, sucking and lightly grazing his teeth along the bud while his fingers tease at the other, pinching and rubbing over it with his thumb. you whine, eyes squeezing shut as your hand cups the back of his head and keeps him in place. 

“bet i could make you cum just from this,” he says with a laugh, “i don’t even need to fuck you.”

“please,” you dig your nails into his shoulder, moaning as he switches to wrap his lips around the other nipple, “please, sugu—n-need more.”

“be more specific,” he says lowly, looking up at you in amusement, “gonna need more than that, princess. you gotta help me out here—i’m afraid i don’t know what i’m doing.”

suguru is doing everything he can to drag this out—if you’d known one small comment would have him riled up like this…well, truthfully, you can’t say you wouldn’t have made it anyway. it’s exciting in its own right when he’s so determined to show you why you need him, why no one else but him is meant to see you like this, make you fall apart like this, have you sprawled under them like this. 

no one can know about you and suguru—not nanako and mimiko, not your other friends, not your family. you know what they’d say, how they’d feel. 

disgust—shame, even. he’s far too old for you, you know they’d say; he’s a red flag for getting with someone so young. no one can know that you come here, dead in the middle of the night when your friends are asleep, and fuck their father. not only that—lay with their father, talk about your hopes and dreams for the future with their father, giggle as you gossip with their father, fall in love with their father. 

something tells you the feeling is not unreciprocated—that suguru feels the same, that he loves holding you in his arms just as much as you love laying in them. maybe it wasn’t a joke, what you’d said. not to him, at least—maybe deep down, it stung; maybe he had something to prove. that boy might be closer to you in age, but he’ll never, ever treat you the way suguru does—no one will, for that matter. perhaps he has to show it so you really know. 

so you look him in the eye, pull him closer until his forehead is pressed against yours and you can press a delicate kiss to his lips before you murmur against them, “fuck me, suguru. please—need you.”

he groans at that, closes his eyes before his hips move to press the thick tip of his cock against your folds, dragging it along your entrance as he coats his head with your slick. it’s flushed a deep pink—it’s been neglected for so long that he shudders at the way it aches, at the way even the slightest friction along the sensitive tip pulls a soft gasp from him. 

for a moment, he wonders if he really will last long enough to fuck you properly—he might not, with the way your walls always squeeze around him, always have him ready to fuck his load into you just as soon as he’s inside you. the thought alone almost makes his cock twitch—but suguru is a man of patience, so he slowly pushes into you, inch by inch, looking down and watching as his girth disappears inside you. 

“look at that,” he coos, grinning wide as he looks back up at you, “took me so easily. ‘s cause when you do it right, it doesn’t take much, does it?”

“f-fuck—” your head presses back against the pillow, mouth hung open as you breathe heavily, trying to squirm and get even the slightest bit of friction from him as he stays painfully still. “move, suguru—please, c-can’t wait anymore. jus’ wanna feel you.”

“i know,” he chuckles, “patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”

despite it all, suguru is not feeling very patient anymore—it’s been long enough. his hips roll slowly at first, a shallow thrust of his hips that makes you both moan lowly before he all but pulls out and slams back in, hard. you can feel the burning stretch of his girth practically splitting you open, every thick vein dragging along your cunt and every brush of his tip against the back of your walls. it’s loud—the sound of skin slapping against skin, the sound of his deep groans and your breathless whines, the sound of the headboard hitting the wall as he fucks you into his mattress. 

“god—fuck, suguru—th-there,” you mewl as he slams into you right where you need him. 

you’ve lost count of how many times suguru has fucked you like you’re his. in his bed at night, in his shower in the mornings, on the couch when you drop by when the girls aren’t home, in his car that one time he drove you home when it rained, in your apartment that one time he dropped off your laptop because you forgot it. there’s one common denominator—the way he makes you feel, not just from the way his cock ruts into you, but from the way his fingers tangle with yours, from the way his mouth finds your jaw to kiss, from the way his forehead presses into your shoulder with warmth. 

it’s exciting, maybe. at first, it’s scandalous and a little thrilling in its own right. by now, it’s something much more than that—you don’t think anyone could make you feel the way he does, fuck you like he does, even if they tried. even if they knew where to touch and where to kiss. even if they knew what you liked and what you didn’t. 

they couldn’t be suguru—would never be suguru. 

“there, huh?” he pants, moaning softly as he feels your walls flutter around him tightly, “i know. i know how to fuck this pussy—my pussy. you think some boy you hardly know would know? think he’d care to learn? think he’d even try?”

“no,” you gasp, shaking your head as your hips buck up to meet his sharp thrusts, “no. no one would make me feel this good. make me feel so good, sugu.”

“ngh—sh-shit,” he hisses at your words, cock almost swelling harder at the way you praise him, at the way your words are almost slurred with no real thought behind him. it’s a little pride-inducing, the way you’re still able to sing his praises without having to really think about it first. he can hear it, the way you’re lost in the drag of his cock, drunk in the haze of pleasure, unfocused on everything else besides the way he bullies his thick girth into your abused cunt.

it’s a mess, it’s filthy the way there’s a mix of pre cum and your slick at the base of his cock, along your inner thighs, coating your skin as the squelching sound of him nudging past your folds fills the room.

it’s good, the way he makes you feel—he can hear it in your voice as you wail his name.

“s-suguru—oh.”

“what, you gettin’ all fucked out on me? ‘m not even close yet, princess,” he hums, leaning down to kiss your neck as he sucks softly into your sweet spot. you throw your head back, rasping out a cry of his name again as his balls slap against your ass with a harsh roll of his hips. 

and then his hand makes its way between your bodies, thumb attaching itself to your clit before rubbing punishing circles into the bundle of nerves—you sob at that, back arching up as your chest presses against his, nipples hard as they brush along his skin.

“s-sugu—close, ‘m gonna cum a-again—so close,” you pant brokenly, every sentence cut off with a sharp gasp as he thrusts into you. 

you’re close—you can’t fight back the way the coil in your belly snaps as he teases your clit. it’s still sensitive from the last orgasm, every nerve still burning up from before as he gives you more, gives you too much, almost. you cum harder this time—your second high creeping up on you when you least expect it. 

it makes your eyes roll back, makes your thighs quiver, and tears stream down your cheeks as you chant his name over and over. suguru, ‘s so good. suguru, ‘m cumming. suguru, ‘s all for you.

every sentence makes his cock drill into you faster, sloppier in rhythm, maybe, but faster. needier. bordering on desperate. 

“f-fuck, baby,” he grunts, “squeezin’ me so tight—such a tight fuckin’ cunt. you think just anyone deserves this? think you can just walk around and let anyone fuck this? ‘s bullshit—ngh.”

you don’t answer—can’t answer, in fact. it’s all teary eyes and soft sniffles as you mewl with every thrust, voice breaking between every pretty little sound you make. he’s still fucking into you, still dragging his cock against those sensitive walls, still bumping against your clit with his navel, still nudging against your sweet spot with his thick, swollen tip. it’s almost too much—it is too much, making you writhe under his body as you try to form the words. 

“‘s t-too much, sugu—c-can’t anymore,” you try, “can’t.”

“what?” he gasps, furrowing his brows in mock confusion, “you’re tappin’ out on me already? but ‘m not even done yet, sweetheart. haven’t even finished yet—don’t tell me you’re already spent. how will you keep up with your little boyfriend’s stamina if you can’t even take an old man like me?”

“c-can’t take anyone but you,” you sob, “jus’ you—only you. promise.”

“yeah? you swear?”

“uh huh. jus’ you, sugu—don’ want anyone else. won’t fuck me the same.”

“atta girl,” he coos, chuckling as he leans down to kiss your jaw, trailing soft pecks until he meets your lips, “that’s what i thought. make sure you don’t forget, okay?”

“fuck, suguru—’m…g-gonna…”

“gonna what? cum? you’re cumming again?” you nod at that—he grins wide, pride settling into the crinkles of his eyes before his thumb rubs harsh circles into your swollen clit once more. he looks pretty like that—hair framing his face, the mix of black and white strands sticking to the damp skin of his forehead. his skin is flushed, abs flexing as he pants over you. sometimes you feel guilty that half of why you come over to visit nanako and mimiko is to fuck suguru—the guilt is quickly extinguished when you see him like this, bottom lip caught between his teeth as his arms barely hold him over you, eyes shut tight as he groans. 

“i-i’m—fuck, fuck, fuck,” you can’t form sentences anymore as you cum—again. not that you really could before that, but now all you can offer is croaked half-syllables and shaky sobs. your walls squeeze around him, tight as they hug around his throbbing cock. 

it takes one, two, three more sloppy rolls of his hips before he lets out at a low, “baby, fuck—’m gonna fill you up. want that? want me to cum in you? make you mine? always been mine, haven’t you?”

“yes, yes—yours, sugu. yours, yours, yours,” you babble, words slurred between breathy moans and broken sobs. “wanna be yours.”

you can feel him—feel the way his cock twitches in you, the way he grinds into you to ride out his high, the way sticky, hot ropes of cum fill your walls, the way he fucks his load deeper into you with every sloppy thrust of his hips. his arms quiver as he holds himself over you—just barely, though. you can hear the way his voice cracks as he gasps your name over and over, as he mutters lowly about how you’re his, how you’ll always only be his. 

“mine,” he grits, “you’re fuckin’ mine—see how you’re suckin’ me in? see how i fit in this pussy like it was made for me? ‘s cause you’re mine.”

his body slumps onto yours as he finishes, head pressed into the crook of your neck as he kisses the skin while you both catch your breaths. you whimper, still sensitive, as he pulls out of you, a soft chuckle falling past his lips as he pulls his head up to look at you and press a kiss to your cheek. 

“so,” he starts, eyes laced with amusement as he takes in the fucked out look on your face, the tears still drying your cheeks, the swollen flush of your bottom lip, “still think you need someone with more stamina? someone who’ll fuck you better—”

“god,” you groan, slapping his shoulder, “will you drop it already? you got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“no,” he murmurs, pecking your lips, “still wanna hear it some more.”

“your ego needs a reality check,” you huff as you brush a strand of hair from his forehead, “think i’ve fed it plenty all night.”

“actually, i think you crushed it,” he pouts theatrically, “talking about some asshole who doesn’t care about you right in front of me. after i take such good care of you, too. the girls already think you should date him,” he adds the last part with a slightly bitter roll of his eyes, pulling a giggle out of you.

“they think i don’t know how to talk to men,” you snort, “imagine they knew i was talking to men old enough to be my father.”

“hey,” he clicks his teeth, falling onto the mattress beside you—he pulls you into his chest, letting your cheek rest on his bare skin. it’s so wrong—lying in bed with the father of your best friends. but somehow, suguru feels like the only thing you’ve ever done right. “age is nothing but a number, sweetheart.”

if i have to see the word cock one more time im going to eradicate all humans that have them

do not comment about a part 2 !!!!!!!!!!

[onskepa]

Hi how are you? If you want, could you tell us what your headcanons would be for what the Sully children's relationship would be like with a human/avatar mother who was mated with Jake and Neytiri? Thank you very much, have a great day!

I can see a lot of possible outcomes for this one! So here ya go! Enjoy!

P.S: Reader will not be given a name in this one, instead she will be called "small mama"

Pinnacle protection

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

Pinnacle motherhood

Right off the bat, the whole family loves their third mother, second mate. Jake sully couldn't ask for a better family, and better mates. Especially his little human mate. Neytiri will agree with him, while yes she has her children to hug, her little mate is just what she needs. Something small yet full of love just for her. 

Now like any trio, there is a balance between the parents. Jake is the head of the family, the brains with his clever ideas. Neytiri at times can be the brains but most muscle due to her skills in fighting and hunting. And their beloved human is the heart of the family. Keeping everyone together. 

And like any child, the sully kids will have favorites. And their favorite is their amazing human mother. She is the most fun, loving parent any child could ever ask for. Are they not getting their way with Jake or neytiri? To mama it is! And mama will always fold by the simple look of her kids. 

Another thing about their favorite mama, they all believe she has the power to read their minds. How else would it explain she knows their next move? 

Lo’ak and tuk can recall so many instances where they were barely forming an idea only for their mama to say “dont even think about it” or “it is not worth the trouble”. 

For neteyam, as he is the oldest he does try to be a good example for his mischievous siblings, along with holding so many responsibilities, but he can always count on his small mama for anything. Small mama consoles him, talking about anything neteyam has his mind about. 

Unlike Jake or neytiri who neteyam has to put up a strong warrior face, with a small mama he can revert back to being a baby with her. He feels safe and be a kid again with her. And small mama always called him her “little baby boy”. Neteyam won't admit it but he likes it when she calls him that. 

For kiri, she definitely adores her small mama. She is closer to her third parent than she is with neytiri. Not to be mean or anything. But with Jake, Kiri can talk about what odd things happen around her, ask her about her mother and stuff but with her small mama. Well, she can express far more with her, be free to say anything not be judged upon. Kiri can dare say small mama understands her more than anyone in the world.

With tuk, the baby of the family. Why, she loves to be the taller one, it makes her happy. Of course she would never tease her small mama that she is taller, but small mama would call her “tiny tuk”. A name tuk loves and will glady flex it for some reason. 

If tuk can't go somewhere with her older siblings, small mama would personally take her anywhere she wants to go. As long as it is safe. With small mama, everything is fun and never boring. Tuk loves the times where her hair is braided or she braids small mama’s hair. 

Now, if small mama would use her avatar, nothing much would change. Except that now the kids will demand piggy back rides. Tuk or lo’ak would be front of the line for that.  

Hunting would be easier and much more fun with jake and neytiri, running, riding their ikrans, less risk overall. 

Even with her avatar, she is still short compared to her two mates. She is smaller than Neytiri by 9 ½ inches. Not something she is super thrilled about. No matter what body, she is still small mama through and through. 

Small mama is forever grateful to live her best life with her family, loving them and saying her thanks to Eywa for blessing her to be the best of her two worlds. Through hardships, through trials, small mama has a mighty heart and a roar of an ikran. Yes sometimes she might be stressed or frustrated but life is not perfect. Small mama knows that all too well. But there is nothing better than what she has. 

[yanderenightmare]

TW: noncon, yandere, omegaverse, subjugation, some type of sexism, angsty, also a little fluffy?

fem reader

Discussions about superiority and inferiority between Alphas, Betas, and Omegas have become more popular lately. It’s always been many people’s opinion that the weak should cater to those stronger than them—but a debate with that as its topic is unsavory. Unfortunately, they’ve found new ways to phrase it. 

A resonating “Unmated Omegas are a danger to themselves!” garners much more sympathy…

And with the rise of people talking about it in the media, it was only natural to move the conversation into school as well.

You keep your head bowed in class as the chill runs down your spine. You feel the glare of thirty fellow students—the points of their teeth, too, and how they snicker under their breath. It’s always been rather scary being an omega, but you can’t say you’ve ever felt quite so alone.  

The teacher’s an alpha, so why should he care how what he says impacts you? He’s preaching to the choir, and you’ve never had the right to sing. The three other Omegas in your class have all chosen to stay home. They probably have the right idea—wait it out until it all blows over.

But you don’t know when that might be… You don’t know if that will be.

Society is on the precipice of critical change—new politics, new laws, new systems, new rights that separate you from them. You wallow in fear of the outcome, lying awake at night and scrolling through the news under the safety of your duvet. The statements seem endless. You wonder, why are all politicians Alphas?

You don’t want any of the things they’re suggesting—mating homes to help you find the perfect Alpha to bond with, systematic pairings done from birth, auctions. Is no one going to suggest they put shock collars on all Alphas and Betas to keep them in check? They’re the ones who need to—

“Your scent is distracting the whole class—don’t you feel ashamed?” 

It’s too easy for him to have you bent over the desk, your wrist on your back in his big fist as he wraps his tie around them. He and his goons stand around, all smiles—watching—enjoying it. It’s as if they’ve planned the whole thing, the way two of them peel away from the crowd to grab each their pick of your feet. Parting them, they use your own shoelaces to tie them to the desk legs.

The ringleader laughs. There’s an awful smell coming off him in waves—it makes you quiver. He flips your skirt up and whistles at the sight, showing everyone your ass and cotton undies. The bulge he presses against you is enough to make your tears spill despite how hard you’d fought to keep them at bay, knowing it only arouses them further.

“Aww, don’t cry, little bitch. You should be happy,” he coos, leaning over your trapped form to whisper right at your ear. “Don’t you know? You’ll never feel happier than you will bouncing on my big Alpha dick. It’s all your little Omega cunt dreams about, isn’t it?” He snickers, fiddling with his belt buckle—you flinch at every sharp clink as he jostles the metal. “Well, salvation is here—”

“Keep it to yourself.” Another voice breaks through the sounds of hollers and cheers.

Your eyes open to see him. You despise how your heart jumps in relief.

“Oi, you—” the guy at your back challenges, stepping away from you and toward the interruption.

“Yeah, me,” he states blankly, jaded. He eyes the rest of the guys with disinterest—five betas, zero threat—before telling them, “All of you. Scram.”

They all take a step to walk out as if his voice alone had compelled them, but then the previous guy interjects, making them stop in their tracks again. “Tch—you know what they’re saying. All unmated Omegas are free game, and I won this one. So back off.”

It was like watching a match of tug-of-war.

“Heh,” the intruder laughs. “That rule only counts for Alphas.”

You spot your aggressor's fists curl—there’s a growl rumbling in the back of his throat. “I am an Alpha, asshole.”

“Really?” he feigns, sizing him up with a cocky tilt of his head. “Couldn’t tell.” He doesn’t seem fazed in light of the aggression—actually, it seems to amuse him if anything. “To me, you smell no different from all these other Beta losers.” 

He takes a casual step forward, hands in his pockets and a smile on his face—baring canines with grace.

“But if you wanna prove it, I’m ready when you are.”

It’s quiet after the declaration. The betas are unsure who’s side to pick, none of them eager to get caught in the middle. It becomes a competition purely between the two Alphas.

Without backup, your aggressor backs down and leaves.

“Thought so,” your savior jeers, showing the crowd out, closing and locking the door behind them.

It’s quiet after they’ve left.

You hide your face. Listening to his footsteps approach—he sighs when taking the place of the former guy. He doesn’t touch you, though.

“Y’know…” he starts. “That guy might be trash, but he isn’t wrong…” He picks up your skirt and drapes it back in place. “None of this would ever happen if you weren’t unmated.”

You speak through grit teeth. “Untie me.”

He chuckles familiarly at that, clicking his tongue at you. “What? Aren’t you gonna say please?” But he does what you say anyway. Squatting down, he starts with your ankles.

The scent of your fear still lingers in the air despite your tough act. You’ve always been so steadfast, ever since you were kids, even when it does you no good. He frees your feet—one, then the other, slowly—he even reties your laces into pretty bows before he’s done. 

He remembers it being so obvious. The sun rose in the morning and the moon at night, and you were supposed to be an Alpha while he a Beta at best. You promised you’d be by his side to keep him safe forever, and he wanted nothing more.

But then puberty hit, and nothing was as you’d imagined.

He stands and unknots the tie keeping your wrists restrained.

You immediately push him off—already storming away.

“Do I get no thank you, no nothing? Always so stubborn—” He grabs your arm.

You spin around, an unnatural snarl on your face. “Let go!”

You’d have been a terrifying Alpha. But as fate has it, you’re not. And you shouldn’t act like it. It only lands you in trouble.

But he doesn’t say that. 

“You been watchin’ the news?” he says instead, ignoring your cry and keeping a firm grip on your arm. “Seems like auctions are winning the voters. You know what that means?”

He feels you flinch, followed by a quiver. He can tell. No matter how good you are at hiding it. He can see—the way you’re fraying at the edges, barely holding it together. Always acting so strong. He can’t tell whether you enjoy torturing yourself or if you’re just that good at convincing yourself you’re fine.

“Pretty soon, new authorities are gonna come storming in here, roundin’ up every sorry unmated Omega they find, and put ‘em all on a farm where pompous Alphas can have their pick of the litter.”

He can never tell what you’re thinking, but he knows he doesn’t need to tell you any of this. You’re not stupid, you never have been. He knows you already know. But…

“You should decide now while it’s still your choice.” 

You must be terrified. He understands. But truly… it’s obvious what you have to do, isn’t it?

“It’s not like you have many options.”

It’s obvious. It always has been.

You don’t meet his eyes. You haven’t for a long while. Actually, you haven't since both of you got your test results. He understands this wasn’t what you had in mind, but you can’t afford to mope about it forever—

“How am I supposed to choose any Alpha when you’re all such assholes…”

Your mutter stunts him. It wasn’t what he expected. Or, the words were more or less exactly something he’d expect from you, but that voice—quiet and soft, dangling on the brink of sweet. If you’d said anything else, he’d have taken it as a confession.

“Can't argue with that,” he ends up chuckling again.

You hate how easy this is for him. He would cry at every turn when you were kids. It’s unfair. 

“But you can’t keep doing this, either,” he states. His voice is soft, paired with that ugly authority they all have when talking to you—talking down to you. “Just look where it gets you—scared and exhausted because of it. At least have the brains to stay home.” He says it as if it’s a joke, but you both know it isn’t. His chuckles are light—far from fullhearted.

He bends down, trying to find your eyes. He still holds onto your arm, knowing you’d sooner stomp away than listen to him. His other hand brushes your cheek gently, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“You hear the call from the rafters—it’s not about what you want anymore. It’s about what you need.”

That’s what they say, isn’t it? What you need. You want to slap him. Scratch him with claws, bite his throat out—make him choke on his own words. Need? What you need is for them all to fuck off.

You mean to say it with the same sentiment, but something hard and rough in your throat makes all your words come out wobbly. “Mate an Alpha to stay safe from other Alphas. What a joke.”

You bow your head further. The tears return. They burn as they trail down the sore streaks from before.

He’s never seen you like this. He won’t lie, it makes his pants tight—feeling the urge to suck your cheeks, hold you close and comfort you. But knowing you right, you’d probably never let him. Your face would probably scrunch up in disgust, punch his gut, knee his groin, then turn on your heel and leave him on the floor wheezing.

You really would have made the most terrifying Alpha. 

“The world isn’t fair,” he agrees. “But you get nowhere cryin’ about it—do it my way, and you’ll never—”

“Have any freedom,” you cut him off with a sniffle. 

It’s about the most adorable thing he’s seen in his life.

He gets why you don’t like Alphas—they’re all gross. He makes himself sick sometimes. He can’t believe he’s getting off on watching you have a mental breakdown. There’s something seriously wrong with his side of the species. His throat’s tight, mouth watery with the urge to reap your vulnerability. 

Suppressing it only makes his inner beast furious. Some of that aggression comes out in his next words.

“I’m sorry, but the world doesn’t give a shit about your freedom.” 

The grip around your arm tightens, and you look up in shock—watching his narrowed eyes through your watery ones. 

“What you need is safety—now more than ever. Or do you like being preyed on by every Alpha around the corner?” 

Your bottom lip trembles at the reality of it—a little while ago, you were almost— 

“One of these days, I'm not gonna be here in time, and you’ll be a slave to some fucking—” 

He huffs and hangs his head. His hand loosens up—it trembles where he holds you in place.

“In all honesty, I think I’m more scared than you,” he whispers under his breath. “I think I might kill—”

He stops himself again. You don’t know if it’s in an effort not to frighten you or himself.

“Speak about needs…” he begins anew, now softer. “I need to know you’re safe. I need to—” He looks up. His eyes are back to being round. “I need you more than you need me, probably.”

There’s a desperation on his face. It almost looks like he’s on the verge of tears himself.

“So… please?” he begs. “Will you keep me safe like you promised and stay by my side?”

Your tears dry and prickle. Looking into his eyes now, you see the same boy you knew back in your childhood—that one who’d chase you all over even when you’d call him a sniveling crybaby. You realize, Alpha or not, he hadn’t changed all that much at all. 

“It’s not like you need my permission,” you end up saying.

You’ve always been so hard-headed. He has to smile. “No, but I want it.”

You nibble your lip. You can’t believe you’re at the mercy of this big dumb hunk of… you don’t have the words to describe him. He wasn’t exactly a crybaby anymore. 

“Okay. You win.” 

His eyes widen as you bear your neck with a stretch. Head high and shoulders slack. 

You swallow thickly. “Get it over with.”

He shudders at the sight. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but now it almost seemed too soon. 

“We should be supervised by a professional—you know how wrong things can go—”

“Hurry up before I change my mind.” Your eyes remain shut, and your lips pursed.

His tongue grows thick in his mouth at your bark. A sudden stroke of performance anxiety makes his palms sweaty, hands heavy and shaking. But then the sight of your soft neck has his mood shift, becoming drowsy.

He has no control over the growl that begins rumbling from his gut.

But he doesn’t apologize for it either.

He bends forward—breaths on your chest before he licks your throat. You can’t help but whimper at the warmth. He watches you through hooded eyes—your usually angry face is now all cute, riddled with anxiety you try hiding paired with the grim anticipation of pain.

“Shh,” he soothes, kissing the spot softly. He sways you against him, then lifts you up on the desk for you to sit. Grazing your neck with teeth when feeling your hands tangle two fistfuls of his shirt. He expects you to push him away, but you don’t—you tug him closer instead as if silently telling him to hurry up.

But he doesn’t want to rush, doesn’t want to lose himself—that’s how accidents happen. So he sticks to sucking gently, only tiny nibbles that leave your skin hot and lightly bruised in their wake.

You give a moan once he finds the spot, and he growls in restraint upon the pretty sound—feeling you relax despite being threatened with his teeth right at your artery. He almost humps your leg in return, feeling the boil of blood pump him hot and heavy in his pants—breaths turning equally hot and heavy, each one laced with rust.

Drool coated your neck in a cool sheen, soothing the marks made beneath it, while his lips and fangs aroused pleasure in the spot that now ached for the sting of his bite.

“Please,” slipped from your mouth while tugging him closer. 

His eyes, completely drunk on the pretty prayer, had only a slim rim of color left surrounding the hungering bottomless pits, blown full and black with opium.

No one could come and take you away from him now. Not with his print so pretty on your neck. You were his—just as you were always supposed to be.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Natsuo, Amajiki, Mirio ♡ JJK – Yuji, Yuuta ♡ HQ – Kuro, Miya twins ♡ DS – Tanjiro, Zenitsu

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[nanaslutt]

welcome to my 2nd smau mlist!! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

౨ৎ feel free to send an ask to my inbox if u have an idea for a smau (no suggestive prompts for under 18 characters) ౨ৎ

jjk smaus

✿ waiting outside the car for their boner to go down

✿ asking them if they can feel ur 😽 twitch when you sit on them

✿ gun to ur head me or —

✿ posting a thirst trap online that only they can see

✿ telling them you’re ready to try oral

✿ accidentally liking a photo of theirs

✿ telling them ur parents wanna meet them

✿ their reactions to you packing their lunch

✿ them being jealous over ur shitty boyfriend

✿ asking them to join you in the shower

✿ leaving them money after a 1 night stand

✿ calling them bro

✿ their reactions to your weird cravings

✿ sending them ur location bcs they’re taking too long to come over

✿ wearing their clothes

✿ asking to workout with them

✿ when you fall asleep in the middle of sex

✿ asking them to be rougher in bed

✿ recreating a sex scene from a book

✿ when you take a nap and they think you’re ignoring them

✿ asking them how often they jerk off

✿ flashing them and running away

✿ asking them to help you pick out an outfit but the last option is a nude

✿ asking to paint their nails

✿ asking if they’ve ever sent ur nudes to anyone

✿ “i need a hug”

✿ telling them “you have a pretty face, you should let me sit on it”

✿ telling them “you could’ve been nicer to me today”

✿ their reactions to ur teenager telling you to shut up

✿ “hey bitch what’s for dinner”

✿ having a wet dream about them

✿ their reaction to you leaving a toothbrush at their house

✿ when they’re sick and whiny

✿ asking them if they would cheat on you to save your life

✿ txting them “i expect my dinner to be ready be the time i get home

✿ slamming the door really hard prank

✿ telling them a guy friend is gonna fix ur pipes/car

✿ catching them fall on the ring camera

✿ telling them you got in a fight and need them to fight their boyfriend

✿ how they act when you’re sick

✿ them jealous over ur new pet

✿ asking them for help when ur tampon string breaks

✿ asking them what the weirdest thing they stuck their dick in is

✿ when you reject their cooking

✿ them obsessed with ur pet

✿ asking them if they’d help you hide a body

✿ going into labor while they’re at work

✿ asking them what size condoms to get

✿ them texting you after you die

✿ asking if they’d suck dick to save their life

✿ putting a dirty note in their lunch

✿ when they fall asleep right after sex

✿ telling them u wanna try deepthroating for the first time

✿ asking them to say ur name while they do pushups

✿ them asking “what did i do to deserve you?”

✿ asking what their rice purity score is

✿ sending them an ultrasound to tell them you’re pregnant

✿ asking them if you can take control in bed

✿ not saying i love you back prank

✿ asking what they want for your anniversary

✿ asking if they know where ur phone is when ur on it

✿ putting them on a sex ban

✿ telling them ur not wearing any panties in public

✿ showing off ur new nails by cupping ur tits

✿ doing their makeup while they sleep

✿ “hey handsome/beautiful, those tits sure look heavy…”

✿ jumping out of a car in the middle of an argument

✿ telling them you’re nervous for your first date

✿ wearing pheromone perfume around them

✿ them watching you though the house cameras

✿ telling them no to sex because you haven’t shaved

✿ “I wish you lasted half as long as it takes you to text me back”

✿ when you laugh too hard at someone else’s joke

✿ the jjk characters as ur sugar daddy/mommy

✿ period madness

✿ asking if they’ve tried their own cum

✿ when you’re their sugar mommy

✿ asking to tie a bow around their bicep

✿ when they check your location and see you’re in another country

✿ when you give a creep their number instead of yours

✿ telling them they have grey hairs

✿ asking them to chase you with a ghost face costume on

✿ asking them if you can take sex slow

✿ asking if they can put you as their emergency contact

✿ seeing them across the room with a hard-on

✿ asking how they feel about you starting an onlyfans

✿ watching you perform

✿ telling them you’re going to bed without panties