#feline-puppeteer

[egophiliac]

LET THE BOY HAVE AN EDUCATION

officially at the point where we're starting to see where it's all headed and I am just going NYEEHEEHEE in delight at it all. ahhh...next week can't come soon enough...

[dogandcatcomics]

#repost @judithhopepuppetmaker Judith Hope (United Kingdom). I am a fan of the animal representation in the creative world of this puppeteer.

[eroswmorals]

ok so i met a cat therian (i think) at this thing i went to

so like if you're a (maybe) cat therian and you were at this paperhand puppet making thing i saw you and said i liked your mask and tail and it was awkward and i'm sorry

just wanted to properly say you were cool so if you see this, i'm eros and i'm demonkin :)

[withmytailtotheworld]

man, sure gotta love that feeling whenever you get suddenly reminded of one of your old original characters again (although it’s been only a whole year since you first created them—)

and you sure gotta love that feeling where you HAVE to draw them again otherwise you’ll fail both yourself AND your oc.

anyways that’s what I just did!

Reintroducing Felina Feline! My Welcome Home OC that I love very dearly and who’ll always have a very close place in my heart for being one of the very first OCs I’m actually proud of creating!

I ALSO GAVE HER A WHOLE CLOSET FILLED WITH DIFFERENT OUTFITS FOR DIFFERENT OCCASIONS UNDER THE CUT!!!!! (+ if you’re having a hard time reading her bio it’s under the cut too!! :D)

here’s her bio for those who can’t really read it that well in the image:

“A friendly prankster whose only goals are to make her friends and neighbors smile and laugh. Felina Feline is the Welcome Home's kindhearted jester who aims to entertain everyone however she does get into quite a few trouble from time to time whether that may be; getting into garbage cans to find

"cool" thrown out "treasures", getting fussy over being hungry although Howdy would gladly make food for her off the bat, or accidentally putting hairballs in Wally's hair, Felina is always loved and cherished by the entire neighborhood for being herself? Her bestest buds are Howdy, Sally, and Barnaby!

She loves acting out and doing plays with Sally, helping out with sales in the bodega with Howdy, and making jokes with Barnaby.

She wouldn't trade her friends for anything else in the entire world.”

[onziware]

Why have a fursuit if you can have a puppet?

I don't know what kind of nose would fit my persona, so he just doesn't have it! LOL. I like this shirt so much that I'm wearing it right now. Also, today I'm turning 19. :)

[crispy-armpit]

✧ 𝖇𝖎𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖓 ✧

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʀᴏᴄᴋꜱᴛᴀʀ x ɪᴅᴏʟ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☆⋆｡🎧𖦹 °✩ 🎸⋆⸜♩ - PART 2

⭒ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘶𝘮𝘱 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘶𝘱-𝘢𝘯𝘥-𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳-𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘋𝘦𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘴. 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩; 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺.

⭒ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵: 𝘨𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, (𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘥)𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮/𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 (𝘯𝘰𝘵 on 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳), 𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴, 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘰𝘯𝘦-𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘺, 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘮 + 𝘴𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘮(?)

⭒ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1,420

⭒ a/n: my first story! hope this is satisfactory :) sorry if my writing is difficult to understand or cringy!!

will you venture down this path?

every few months your manager tells you to attend a celebrity fundraiser gala. 2 years ago you'd never know that these events were only breeding grounds for filthy scandals. now here you are, standing in the corners of a dark ballroom with stars dangling from the ceiling.

you are an idol, the embodiment of purity and song. another puppet forced to take on a false persona of endless joy, most would say. but you? you actually loved the spotlight. to you, that persona is your truth. you bathe in the attention and love of others, you live for it.

so why weren't you with the crowd? why not be in the centre of it all? it's because he was there. he was stealing the place you've shed blood, sweat, and tears for with such ease. effortlessly charming everyone even with that poker face. Deimos. a miracle rockstar who rose in fame shortly after your debut. instantly landing himself in the top #5 leaderboard after the release of his first album.

you were both from the same agency. you've seen him around the company building a couple of times, more frequently during your early pre-debut years. you'd pass brief glances at each other whenever you crossed paths in the hallways or practice rooms. you couldn't understand where your anger and envy emerged from despite never talking to him before.

maybe it was his obnoxious grin?

the fact he surpassed your fame within a shorter time?

his voice that hypnotises even you?

or the copious amount of money he sends during your ig live, begging you to notice the anonymous user?

he had shorter hair back then, dyed a different colour. now he has more accessories, a bigger build, longer hair, and dull eyes that only seemed to brighten whenever you catch him staring at you. you noticed he still stood at around 6'5 (195 cm), even taller with his black platform boots.

you'd try to send telepathic brain frequencies and (not so) intimidating glares at him, seeing if his blank face would falter (it didn't). instead, it made him glance in your direction. your frustration increases, and you blow a raspberry at him without thinking clearly... his reaction? an amused smirk.

instant embarrassment rises to your head. unable to handle the atmosphere inside the room, you immediately run out into the hallway. your brain begins to fuzz up, and you're not thinking clearly- you don't know if it's from the alcohol or the pure shame of blowing a raspberry at him. what are you? a preschooler?

blind to your surroundings, you don't notice the hulking figure walking towards you at full speed. calming yourself, you turn back to the ballroom to end the night. only to bump your face into a sturdy chest, that was not so covered by the tight, black button-up shirt of your rival (his nips were barely out).

you profusely apologise to the stranger until you look up to meet the heterochromatic eyes of Deimos. black and gold with slits, like a feline. and like a feline, his presence was threatening. this was the closest you've ever been to him and you can't help but think that people are blind. why do people crowd around him like he's an oasis? the way his eyes lit up a little too bright, and his face contorts into that of a devoted lover brought no comfort to you.

why does he look like that?

"y/n," he finally pants out, "y/n... you're looking at me."

what the fuck?

"i'm your biggest fan."

backing up uncomfortably, you slowly process his words before replying.

"...you are?"

if Deimos had a tail, it'd be wagging like crazy right now.

"yeah... i've been a fan since your performance at the spring festival. not sure if you remember but..." he trails off.

the spring festival? i don't remember going to any spri- holy shit.

3 years ago. you sang a duet at the town's spring festival with a friend, back then you weren't even a trainee yet. so how coincidental is it that the Deimos was watching you from somewhere in the crowd? that you both ended up in the same agency?

wait. does this mean.... Deimos adores me? as a fan? my fan?

this was too good to be true. your rival, the hottest star among stars, absolutely smitten by you? claiming to be your fan? your ego has never been higher. you decide to indulge him with a conversation.

surprisingly, the conversation was deeply meaningful. you found common interests with him- you shared favourite songs, media, and hobbies... "woman after my own heart," he snickers. soon, any past resentment towards him just.. washes away. gone, buried.

you naturally gravitate towards each other, like the earth and the apple from a tree, a pull. how long has it been since you've enjoyed talking to someone like this? has your bitter envy prevented you from forming a raw friendship with him all this time?

it feels surreal. he asks you for an autograph to commemorate the celebration of a blooming friendship and you agree, asking him if he had a pen and paper. he chuckles and says no, opting to whisk you away into an empty room. not creepy at all.

inside the room, he sits you down on the bed and searches his pockets for an object. you grow curious until he unsheathes out... a combat knife. shitshitshit- he's going to kill me! i knew this was suspicious-

he casually offers you the blade.

"use this." he says while untucking his shirt.

you stare at him as he had grown a second head, "...what?"

he nonchalantly replies while displaying his lower right abdomen, "to write? y'know, your autograph?"

it's official. you were absolutely fucking terrified of Deimos. he tells you to carve out your name on his body as if he was asking for a pack of ketchup at mcdonalds!! you were getting queasy, mind running though all the possible scenarios and options to get out of this.

"you not backing up now are you, songbird?"

his eyes bear holes into your body.

"c'mon, you can't leave me in the edge me like this... just...."

he gently grabs your wrist that held the knife, carefully guiding it to his abdomen. being touched so softly by his scarred, calloused hands made your breathing ragged. he lovingly rubs stars into your forearms as he lightly plunges the tip of the knife into his skin.

you could stab him. you could stab his knife deep into his chest and run away. but what would that mean for you in the future? if you got caught, your career would crumble, sentenced to jail, humiliated and resented by the public. and if you did get away with it, guilt would eat away at your blood-soaked hands forever.

Deimos notices your visible discomfort and tenderly caresses your hair down to your cheeks, wiping away tears you didn't know you had shed. "shh shh... i'm sorry, so so sorry, songbird. you're so kind for not wanting to hurt me... i'll never ask again after this, alright? claim me."

he was so charming. even in this situation.

he presses the knife further into his lower abdomen, drawing blood. you gasp, stuttering out your words "...just my initial, okay?" you look up, he seems disappointed but gives you a genuine smile and nods. you put more pressure onto the hilt of the knife this time, his skin bleeds, not enough to be fatal but enough to scar.

you place your other hand on his toned waist, and you can feel him shivering as the ends of his hair trickle the crown of your head. you finish carving out your initial, dropping the knife on the ground and backing up to look at your work.

it was messy, the blood dripped down to his pants and you swore you felt your heart get... t i n g l e s? he proudly admires your work, pulling down his shirt back in place, still untucked.

Deimos kneels down at the edge of the bed, taking your hands and cupping them on his cheeks. turning his head to tenderly kiss your palm and inhale in the scent.

he looks up at you adoringly with the widest smile on his face, "thank you, songbird. it's very pretty." pulling himself closer to your face, you exchange an unexpectedly passionate kiss, in which your reciprocate. hungry for any form of comfort.

rival-turned-biggest-fan, Deimos smirks into the kiss.

the gravitational pull.

[kitten4sannie]

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ

ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ/ᴏʀɢᴀꜱᴍ ᴅᴇɴɪᴀʟ ➠ ꜱᴇᴏɴɢʜᴡᴀ

pairing: vampire lord! seonghwa x human! reader (fem) feat. a two second cameo from vampire! san

genre: abo, kinda historical (think guilded era vibe but vampires and humans coexisting kinda), smut

summary: you decide to play with your master’s feelings during the annual masquerade ball held between vampires and occasionally their human counterparts.

w.c: 2.5k

warnings: alcohol usage, mentions of blood, general vampirism/hierarchies, dom! seonghwa, bratty! reader fucks around and finds out, dirty talk, ownership kink, exhibitionism/voyeurism, praise/degradation, possessiveness, pet names/name calling, manhandling, blood drinking, groping, rough blowjob, spit mentions, fingering, orgasm denial, facial, cum eating, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, l bombs

a/n: im obsessed with the idea of criminally insane cunty vampires so i sat hunched over like a damn shrimp and typed up a storm tyvm. also !!! this fic is dedicated to my dear friend orion @pluvialorion ilysmmmm ughh i hope you enjoy >< <33

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ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

“Those two are always up to something, I swear. It’s so  troublesome,” one old age vampire muttered, complaining about you and your vampire Master to the person standing besides her outside of the ballroom circle. She adjusted her masquerade mask, put off by the sight of you downing a glass full of expensive wine. “Why the council ever decided to allow humans to attend our annual blood balls is beyond me.” 

“They always cause a scene,” the other old age vampire agreed, turning his head to watch as you whimsically made your way across the dance floor in your heavy laced dress, taking the hand of any vampire that wanted to dance with you, while your Master watched from the side with growing annoyance. “It’s unsightly.” 

“Yes, it’s completely inappropriate, the way they act like they’re the main characters inside some overdone fictional novel,” she scoffed, the vampiress getting herself worked up over nothing, her fingers clenching around her own wine glass filled with a blood blend. 

“You hit the nail on the head, or should I say the stake,” the undead gentleman chuckled, one hand on his hip, the other tilting his wine glass back to drink down its bloody contents, watching you trade one dance partner for another, surprised that you were letting a new age vampire get so handsy with you. “Oh, here we go.” 

Seonghwa reached up to brush at his flowy raven hair in a frustrated manner, his furrowed brows and scrunched-up face not doing much to dispel your current goal in pissing off your Master in hopes that he would chase you across the castle grounds and fuck you into oblivion. “You’re asking for it, little lamb…” he mumbled to himself, the bright red hue in his eyes growing brighter by the second. 

“I didn’t realize you were interested in me, Miss Y/N. Care to forget about your sour, old age counterpart over there and spend the night with me?” the charming, feline-like vampire you were using whispered into your ear, holding your body impossibly close to his as you both slowly rotated together in timed circles according to the flow of the orchestra music that was playing throughout the large ballroom. 

“Oh, Mr. Choi, try not to puff out your chest just yet,” you murmured back with faux pity, clasping your fingers around his cheeks, feeling his fingers inch closer and closer to your ass, able to feel the fiery gaze of your lover from afar. “You’re simply a puppet for my amusement.”

The vampire scoffed, still finding it inside himself to twirl you around and bring you back into his arms, his fingers clasping around your waist a little tighter than before, clearly irritated. “That’s quite rude of you, human. You could’ve lied.” 

“Does it matter? I’m not trying to impress you,” you huffed, eyeing Seonghwa out of the corner of your vision, noticing the way he clutched the edge of the aged mahogany table being used to showcase various blood-filled desserts. Just as the vampire was about to speak up, you shook your head, silencing him. “Just hurry up and grab my ass, will you? And grab it hard. I want Seonghwa to–Oh!”

The peeved vampire did indeed get a handful, his fingers sinking deep into your squishy flesh through your dress, leaning over your shoulder to make eye contact with Seonghwa, who was fuming, still having the gall to stick his tongue out at him. 

An intoxicating mix of anger and arousal coursed through Seonghwa to the point that it all spilled out of him at once, resulting in a short, aggressive shout, the other patrons looking over their own shoulders to see what was going on. Sadly, they weren’t very surprised to watch him lift up the side of the heavy dessert table and toss it across the room with a frightening amount of ease, narrowly missing the heads of the orchestra members. 

You let go of San who quickly scampered away, not wanting to feel the vampire lord’s intense wrath. You, however, took pride in seeing the way your lover was seething, how he pierced you with his dark crimson eyes and delightfully suffocating pheromones alone, his white, elongated fangs already on display for you, knowing he wished he could just sink them directly into the most delicate parts of your body. 

“Why are you so angry, my love?” you called out to him with faux naivety, giving him a pout, motioning to the mess that had spilled onto the sheer marble floor. “You ruined all those lovely desserts.” 

“And almost took the head off of a violin player, but I digress,” the older vampire from before murmured to her friend, the both of them chortling softly to themselves. 

“Oh, you know what you’ve done, darling,” Seonghwa tsked from across the room, taking slow, deliberate steps in your direction, his high-heeled shoes clacking lightly against the pristine floor, most of the other patrons stepping out of his way. “I have a question for you. Do you know what happens to pretty things that disobey their Masters?” 

You brought your hand up to lift off your masquerade mask just in time for Seonghwa to stand directly in front of you, his lean, elegant frame towering over yours. “I’m unaware of the answer, dearest. Do pray tell.” Your face twisted into something that could only be described as smug. Seonghwa wanted to wipe that expression off your face and turn it into something more worthwhile — flushed, contorted with a lovely mix of pain and pleasure, and painted in his cum.

“They get punished, my sweet. So, I suggest you hike up that lovely dress I bought you and get to running.” 

࿏࿏࿏

There was something so exhilarating about having the love of your life chase after you, knocking over furniture and pushing other vampires out of the way just to get his hands on you. You would look back occasionally, catching glimpses of the hazy blood-lust in Seonghwa’s eyes, resulting in a fresh wave of slick between your thighs. 

Somewhere along the line, you had ended up in the castle garden, your bare feet hitting the soft grass, having lost your heels during your chaotic trek there. Panting softly, your breath hitting the cold night air, you realized you were surrounded by chipping marble statues of vampires of the past, a maze of blood-red roses covered in thorns surrounding a sleek stone gazebo, and thousands of constellations sitting in the dark sky above you. 

“Caught you, little lamb…” you heard in a deep, gravelly voice, shivers making their way up your spine. Seonghwa took slow steps near you, finding it amusing how you trapped yourself in a corner, his entire being pulsing with sexually-charged aggression. “But you wanted this, didn’t you? You want me to have my way with you, don’t you, sweetheart?”  

Rather than replying verbally, you simply held up the front of your dress, showing off your plump, slicked-up cunt for his viewing pleasure, your lips twisted up into a perverted smile, lust practically emanating from your form. “What do you think, my love? Does my wet cunt give you any hints?” 

Before you knew it, Seonghwa had you pinned to the side of the gazebo, one hand on your shoulder to keep you still with his immense strength and the other underneath your hiked-up skirt, fucking you deep with two agile fingers, not concerned with the occasional passerby, some of them slowing down to witness the titillating sight of a vampire lord punishing his human counterpart.

“I can feel you squeezing around my fingers, sweet. Is my poor little lamb already falling apart for me?” he asked with faux pity against your neck, sucking your soft flesh into his mouth to leave a mark, piercing them lightly with his fangs. “Is it because anyone can come by and see the way I have my hand up your skirt and hear the pretty little moans that you’re making for your darling?”

“N-ooo, it’s because it’s you, Seonghwa,” you sighed out softly, a familiar heaviness filling your core until your legs went wobbly, moaning from the feeling of Seonghwa gulping down just enough of your life source to make you pleasantly dizzy, his fingers still slipping in and out of your leaking cunt.

“Mm, it’s a pity though. I wish Mr. Choi knew just how quick I can make your pretty cunt leak all these juices onto me,” he purred against your soft skin, slurping your arousal from his fingers before cupping his palm onto your hot cunt, lightly moving it over your clit, knowing he was pleasuring you just enough to make you squirm, but aware that your much-needed orgasm had faded away due to his control.

He brought his still dripping fingers up to your mouth, pleased that you obediently sucked your own slick off of them, his gaze flitting between your lips and love-struck eyes. “He’ll never see you like this. See the way you need me in every possible way I can have you…”

“It’s only for you to see, my love,” you replied lovingly, pressing your lips onto his, drawing Seonghwa into you like a moth to a blazing flame.

You shared a series of frenzied, heated kisses that consisted too much of tongue, teeth, and fangs, your hand slipping into Seonghwa’s loosened satin trousers to swiftly jerk him off, his abundant pre-cum squishing in between your closed fingers, your quick, unrelenting grip causing him to wobble a bit, the thick edges of his heeled shoes sinking further into the grass below. “Feels so good, doesn’t it, Hwa? You’re so hard for me, throbbing, leaking so much…”

“Fuck–I need you, darling, need you bare for me, need your pretty mouth around my cock,”Seonghwa groaned out onto your lips, nipping at it enough to get a small taste of iron on his own crimson stained ones. Without a word, he tore your dress from your body, pearls falling from your broken necklace and landing around your feet. You gasped. He clasped his hands around your corseted waist, bringing his face near your neck, his lips just barely touching your skin. “On your knees, my love.” 

You melted to the floor, reaching up to hold onto his hips, watching his cock spring out once his pants lowered past his v-line, eventually holding it in front of your drooling mouth. You studied him, your eyes traveling up his shiny, curved length to his pronounced pink head, sticking your tongue out to catch a drop of his pre-cum on your tongue. “It’s so pretty, Hwa…”

“I know it is, sweetheart. Now, open up,” he exhaled softly, slipping his slender fingers into your soft hair to clutch the sides of your head, plugging your mouth up with his thick cock. 

Seonghwa fucked your face so quickly, so sloppily, so desperately, he reached his end in a matter of minutes, bringing you down onto his cock until your nose pressed into his pelvis, feeling your throat contracting around him. “Fuck, you drive me mad, darling…I’m already about to cum….”

It was when he was able to smell the endless slick that dripped out of your needy cunt, that Seonghwa pulled out, rubbing his cockhead across your lips and smearing his pre-cum across your face, ruining the perfect state of your makeup. “You look so pretty, my love, but I know how to make you look even more divine for me…”

“Enlighten me, my dear,” you sighed lovingly, licking the warm saltiness from your lips.

“Watch closely. This is all for you, darling…” Seonghwa gazed down at you with his crimson, hooded eyes, his chest rising and lowering with shallow breaths, using his closed hand to milk his flushed cock, seemingly endless splashes of cum landing onto your face. “Mm, what do you think Mr. Choi would think of you now, little lamb? Think of your lovely face painted with my cum?” 

“He’d think I was a mess,” you mused, licking the bitter milkiness from your swollen lips, opening your mouth to take one last spurt of cum onto your tongue when Seonghwa moaned wantonly, his fingers squeezing near the pinkish tip. “He’d know I’m yours.” 

“My mess, my beautiful darling. Of course he’d know you’re mine. All mine,” Seonghwa sighed dreamily, lowering himself to his knees to pull you in for a deep kiss, your tongues and lips meeting with fervent need. 

“You think he’d enjoy watching you fuck me into ecstasy?” you asked in between heavy breaths and kisses, hooking your thighs around his bare waist, slipping your hands onto the bare skin of his chest past his loose blouse, your fingers grazing his nipples. 

“I’d take off his head, before I’d let him watch the way your cunt stretches open for me,” Seonghwa groaned, groping down your body, rubbing two fingers against your slippery folds, his fangs returning to your neck, this time indulging his instincts and slipping inside you, resulting in soft throes of pleasure from the both of you. “Speaking of, your little cunt needs my cock, doesn’t it? Is that why you’re so wet?” 

“Yes, please, I can’t stand being empty any longer, my love,” you whined to him, your squelching cunt already beginning to clench around his thrusting fingers, wishing his cock was filling you up instead. 

“You won’t be able to cum with just my fingers, will you, darling? Because your lovely body is only accustomed to my cock, isn’t it? Made for it, hm?” Seonghwa continued to tease you with his words, curling his digits inside you, resulting in increasingly heavy moans from his one and only, encouraging him to fuck you faster with them. “Fuck, you’re clenching so hard around me, darling. You’re so good for me…”

“Oh–my god, so close…” 

“Yeah? You want to spill your cum all over me, Y/N? Make a mess of me?” Seonghwa encouraged breathily, his forehead pressed to yours, pressing his lips against yours in between moans. 

“Y–esss…” 

Just as you were about to cum, you were suddenly filled with a devastatingly empty feeling, realizing he had pulled his fingers out and brought them to his mouth, sucking your vast amounts of slick off of them. “N-no, please, Seonghwa, I want to cum…!”

“You’ll have to cum on my cock, sweetheart. Now, be good and take it,” he replied softly, his voice devoid of pity, the ridged edge of his cock hooking onto your clit and making you jolt, before he slipped inside you inch by inch, sending you back into a pleasurable fog. “I’ll breed you until you’re full for me.” 

“So full, I’m so full, darling.” You hooked your arms around his neck, holding him impossibly close, his lips already attached to your neck again, shuddering against him as he drank down your life-source, his cock offering your cunt a delicious stretch each time he pounded into you. “So good, Hwa, it feels so good…” 

“Because we were made for each other, my love, our souls always intertwined, forever, you’ll always be mine,” Seonghwa reminded you in between pants and soft moans, his raven hair already plastered to his forehead with sweat, love and admiration seeping its way through his lust-struck gaze, kneading his hands into your thighs, your warm, sopping-wet cunt enveloping his cock so tightly, he couldn’t keep himself from unloading wave after wave of his hot cum inside you, so deeply it reached your womb. “Fuck, you’re milking my cock, darling, just take it all, take it all for me…”

You couldn’t say anything, only letting out a near soundless whine, clutching the back of Seonghwa’s head, never breaking eye contact as you experienced what could only be described as pure bliss, your bodies and hearts melting together. “I love you, Seonghwa, so much,” you finally got out, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“I love you too, Y/N, more than you’ll ever know,” he replied just as softly, carefully cupping your heated face with his cold hands, like he was afraid you would shatter into a thousand pieces and fall away from his grasp. Seonghwa was completely flushed, his long raven hair now a mess, sticking to his sweaty face, his plush lips a deep red. “Now do you see what you do to me, darling?”

You nuzzled into him, your heart beating against his quiet one, the cool night breeze gracing your warm, joined skin, knowing you wouldn’t have it any other way. “I think I have an idea.”

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[harmonysanreads]

The sumeru love hexagon.... imagine that darling has their own cat that hates everyone except for darling and wanderer👀👀

I'm giggling just imagining the scenes 🤭

It's like Wanderer and your cat share this weird out-of-this-world connection, or at least, they both have a consensus that they cannot allow anyone to lay their dirty hands on their human. Whenever the puppet sees that someone has crossed boundaries (it's his own envy, mostly), all he needs to do is bring your cat to the person's face and his feline partner-in-crime tends to resolve the issue. It's efficient and has very little consequences ✨

Oh, if Kaveh wasn't miserable enough already. As someone who's fond of animals himself, he genuinely wants to befriend your pet. He also recognizes that doing so would make you two even closer, but how can he achieve that when the animal in question hisses if it even sees him in your vicinity? Spends way too much time trying to win over your cat and unintentionally creates the opportunity for others to win you instead.

It's Alhaitham who utilizes the chance. He's already dead last in realizing his affections and the fact that he needs to fight in order to earn yours. He isn't going to let go of any opening now, however miniscule it might be. As for his opinions on your cat and its passionate distaste for your suitors... well, in the end, it's still just an animal. He doesn't consider it his competition, neither something that he absolutely has to earn the approval of.

If stares could kill, both Cyno and your cat would be dead and one with the soil by now. Intense glaring competitions occur whenever they're in the same room, neither willing to back down. It's silly, maybe a little funny — who are you kidding, it's absolutely hilarious seeing the General Mahamatra at a serious stare down with a cat of all beings. Cyno would never raise a hand against it (because let's be honest, he could kill it without much effort) but your pet certainly has gotten handsy a few times. You always end up tending to the scratches anyway, so, who's winning now, huh?

Tighnari is a little irritated at first, but maintains distance from it for everyone's peace. He's most likely to tame your cat, given his expertise with these kinds of things. But hear out this little side tangent of mine : Reader who owns a pet bunny who hates Tighnari. It's angelic and sweet demeanor with others taking a drastic shift once it senses the presence of the fox. You know the drill, archaic nemeses.

[ au masterlist ]

[cursedcola]

Plot: Read to find out :) Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, Azul Ashengrotto, Kalim Al' Asim, Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, and Malleus Draconia + special platonic guest Warnings: Mentions of depressive themes and anxiety. Spoilers for TW main story. A/N: This is a doosy. I hope you like it. It might be one of my favorite works to date.

Difficult to notice, yet deadly if ignored. The smudge of black on Grim's magestone went unnoticed by many as the days at Night Raven College passed. Each as chaotic and entertaining to Grim as the last. Over time the spot grew. A dot turned into a speck, and the speck soon turned into a splotch. Which then became a streak, and finally a stain that screamed "Look at me! Notice Me! I am here!". It remained unseen, until an eerie sensation overtook our feline friend. One that sparked panic as his ability to cast magic dwindled - as if whatever was maintaining the stone was on the cusp of breaking.

By then it was too late.

Grim had no time to panic or think about what caused his magestone to sour. Neither did the Ramshackle prefect or any other student at Night Raven College.

Funny enough. The stress of yet another possible overblot occurring was enough for the last inch of purple to be overcome by darkness. Grim ran away from his friends in a panicked frenzy, afraid that they'll be hurt and scared for what pain he would feel. Arms yanked the school's magicless tactician out of harm's way - the prefect had solved many cases and would do so successfully again. They would save him.

Tension tight enough to suffocate hung in the air as students either prepared for battle or fled. All eyes watching Grim as he desperately tried to shake the blot out of his stone; yet, he never turned. No monster bleeding black ooze was in sight. Just a trembling cat.

Mass confusion overtook all as they looked between each other for answers.

"Looking for me?"

A monotone voice echoed from beyond the barricade of students. A voice many spoke to on a daily basis that normally sang with snarky quips and lovable anecdotes. Students barreled away from its direction as black ooze overtook the ground beneath them.

Screams fell to deaf ears as the the overblot manifestation crawled up their legs and encased those fleeing in a midnight chrysalis. Any who tried to fight received the same fate. It toyed with them mercilessly until they resigned themselves to their insignificance.

"Please stop running. It makes this much more difficult on me...but then again, when did that ever matter?"

Compared to other overblots, the prefect held no shadow. No presence. They stood idle - like a husk - as the blot wreaked havoc in their place. Lifeless eyes scoured a crowd of pleas and cries with no signs of feeling or mercy. Like they were a puppet.

Their eyes met his, and momentarily the darkness ceased its spread. As some students took the chance to run in the distance - they reach out a hand. His name stutters from their lips as a pitch-black tear fell to the floor.

"Riddle"

He gasps when you say his name. For a moment Riddle is caught off guard, and it's enough time for the ooze to begin crawling up his calf. His own magestone suffered greatly from trying to keep the dark magic at bay while aiding nearby students in their escape.

It's light flickers in his hand as he tries desperately to cast another warding spell. Alas, it was out of mana.

And Riddle is out of time.

He thought of his own overblot on occasion. Some parts were foggy, and others he could remember vividly enough to believe he was still there. Trapped in his own self-loathing. Scared. Angry. Vengeful.

Then there was you. Strong. Independent. Respected. You had merely been at his school for a few weeks and somehow managed to take charge of situations he could not begin to fathom. You saved him when he did not know he needed to be saved. Riddle envied it at the time. Wanted the ability to guide others and still be loved by them - like you.

At some point he no longer wanted to become you. He wanted to be with you. He was proud of your intelligence and always made sure you were aware that it was superior to many he knew.

He wonders what you are feeling. If you are aware like he was, or if you are in a slumber like the students you have captured. At least, he hopes that is what happened to them and you have not done any 'permanent' harm.

Riddle stops struggling when the ooze reaches his waist. He needs a new approach...your approach.

"MC...MC can you hear me?! You need to fight it! There is no logic in mass hysteria!," he screams above the chaos with clenched fists. Your eyes meet once again and Riddle sighs in relief. He may have a chance -

"I am not logical," you say calmly, and return to watching the chaos, "and I never want to be,"

The ooze stretches over his arms and in the distance he sees the remnants of his dorm succumb to the blot. His frustration overpowers his fleeting confusion at your words. Now red contrasts to black, as his face burns in anger.

"Clearly so! If you're going to behave so childishly!"

"Maybe. It will be over soon. Logic is unnecessary when there is nothing,"

"What's wrong with you?! Suddenly doing all this - what example are you setting for other students? You were a role-model to - "

"None. I was a role-model to none," the ooze halts abruptly at the top of Riddles neck and he strains his head away from it. You glare at him with clenched teeth, "I did not ask for their expectations. Since I cannot escape them or this place...I will be rid of them permanently,"

Your hands fly to fist at your head and your breaths become ragged. Riddle found the land mine he was looking for...and he greatly disliked the familiarity.

"Expectations are given to people worthy. You may not agree, but it is the truth. Every expectation you receive is determined by a bar that you have put into place. You are in control MC. You have always been in control," Riddle releases a breath as the ooze begins to recede to his shoulders.

You go quiet, and gaze down at the ink staining your hands in terror, "I failed everyone. I failed you," you cry, "I'm so so sorry,"

The ink recedes to Riddle's feet and he sprints to your side. He kneels and takes your hands in his. Around you, students escape as the blot begins to fade away.

"If anyone needs to apologize...it is I. Let it be known that I expect nothing of you other than your happiness. Even then, it is and always will be your choice..."

"Leona"

Leona tenses in place and his ears twitch. His guard is still on high alert, but his heart thrums in his chest at record breaking pace. For a brief moment, he heard your voice. Not the distorted mutilation coming from the blot...but your voice.

Weak. Fragile. Suffering.

His legs act alongside his head and Leona dodges the spike of ooze aimed for his wrist. His quick reflexes protect him from becoming trapped in whatever cocoon you were encasing other students in.

His first instinct is to use King's Roar...but doing so would hurt you in the process. There's no doubt in his mind that it's why you called for him. That...and one other reason. He knows you can handle it. You're strong. He's pointed out your admirable strength for a human on many occasions. From nearly fist-fighting a groom-seeking ghost, keeping up with his spell drive practices, lugging him across campus, to even outrunning the leech twins every other hour - your ability to take a hit was well known.

Even now. Leona did not predict that you could overblot, but your form does not surprise him in the slightest. If anyone was to reek with such raw power, it would be the one person on campus surviving through pure grit. Leona may have underestimated you in the beginning, but he knows better now.

"If you don't stop then I have no choice but to fight you! Is that what you want?! Because I don’t hold back. Not for you - not for anyone,” he threatens, yet it reaches no one. You don’t spare Leona a glace when he aims his wand at you, “Never thought you’d fall like this, prefect. Tsk. What a disappointment,”

Leona shoots a burst of magical energy your way, but it meets a wall of ooze. It molds around you in a protective barrier, blocking any attack and keeping others at a distance.

Brute force would not work. Yet it was all Leona could do in a situation with no tactical edge. No insult or snarky joke rewarded him with a response. You were merely toying with him - and it made him simmer in rage. As his mana quickly depletes, he begins to believe that ‘saving’ you is a lost cause.

“There was nowhere to ‘fall’ from. Gravity holds us in our place. You of all people should know this, Leona,” you lift an arm, and suddenly he’s pinned down and kneeling on the ground.

“The hell are you talking about?! You’ve gone insane - look at this place,”

“It’s not fun to live in denial Leona. Aren’t you tired of fighting a 'lost cause'? I know that I am…”

You approach and kneel down in front of him at eye level. A macabre underlaying in your movements as you sway in the sea of black - and it clicks.

Leona found his edge…and it burns. His stomach lurches knowing what he has to do. With all his strength he pulls his remaining mana to rip his arms from the ooze and grab your shoulders. Tightly. His claws dig into your skin and draw crimson.

“I will never give up,” he grits, “but I can reevaluate. I might not be first born but I’ll be damned if that stops me from getting what I want…and I was right to peg you an idiot if you're thinking otherwise,”

Your eyes narrow at his words, and suddenly every ounce of darkness in the area is pointed like sharp needles at Leona.

“Too bad you’ll die before-“

“Sure, like you have the gull to kill me? You haven’t given up either,” Leona speaks out confidently, “stronger than I am. You would never kill someone for personal gain…and you know it. Why else have you come this far, huh? To play mage? No, you’re doing it to live so quit throwing a fucking tantrum and grow up. Whatever it is that you want to do…,” he stands abruptly and you quickly pull the needles away - proving his point and he smirks.

“I’ll help you to do it, alright. So let everything go and only look my way,”

And you do. Leona catches you just as your consciousness gives out and all the miasma from the area slowly fades away. Not a scratch or sign of distress in sight….as if everything was a bad dream that NRC just awoke from. Leona picks you up and escapes the area quickly. Health now, theorizing after.

"Azul"

A shiver snakes down Azul's spine. Your voice hangs still in the air - clouding his mind and his eyes sting as he forgets to blink. He never pictured you begging. Not like the poor unfortunate souls he would ensnare with his contracts. Azul has heard you yell, he's seen you jump when startled and seen the color drain from your face when being scolded.

Yet, never desperate. Never terrified.

He doesn't know what to do. His magic is useless. Azul is useless...in the face of this. You.

Beautiful.

Even now. He finds you astonishing. The way you stand tall in a sea of black. He only sees you from behind yet even that feels like a forbidden pleasure. The miasma radiates from you like ocean waves on a calm evening. Your movements are fluid as you fall in sync with their flow and to Azul it's like you are dancing. Like an angelfish in the depths of the sea...you call to him.

Something cold and slimy wraps around his wrist in Azul's moment of weakness. It yanks him down and he's nearly dragged into a cocoon of black - almost. Luckily Professor Vargas is stronger. He grabs Azul by the shoulder and rips him out of the trap before demolishing it. Vargas' expression is steel as the blot retreats towards it's source...

You are reaching out in Azul's direction one moment, and in the next Vargas is standing protectively in front of him - blocking you from sight.

His professor yells, "Enough MC, fight me head on! I will protect these students with my-" and is blasted away before Azul can offer assistance. Just as he began to comprehend the situation...you overtook him once again.

A gust of air whips by and he squints. When his eyes open, you're a hairs length away from Azul's face - one move and your noses will touch.

Your hollow gaze bores into him, "Even in chaos, you won't look me in the eye. Your attention is always elsewhere," and his heart shudders.

He speaks without thinking, "My attention is never not on you," and he's completely forgotten about his likely injured teacher.

"Lies,"

"Truths," he breaths, "Even now. You are all I see," and he means it.

"You only look because I am now worthwhile," one of your hands slides up his shoulder and wraps around his bowtie, "I now have power to offer you. Would you like to make a contract?"

What was happening to him? Why...were the things he couldn't say days before slipping from his lips like butter.

His heart pounds at the offer. The power of an overblot at the reach of his fingertips...it's never been done before. If successful it would open doorways of new magical discoveries. Everyone would envy him-

and yet

'Azul,' your plea from earlier surfaces in his memory.

An offer has never disgusted him more. He cannot resist gagging at the thought..."Not on my life," he spits out in a haste.

You give no reaction to his distaste - or so he would think, if thick blot did not begin to curl between your bodies. Azul ignores the way it grips his clothes and steels himself.

"You do not need a contract to have me. You have always been - and will continue to be - my strength," he reaches to gently grab the hand around his neck, "this form is but a piece of you, yet I still cannot look away. You are everything,"

Insecurity. He doesn't know what could breed such a painful emotion in you - but from the way the world crumbles he must have assumed correctly.

You look away as the air begins to clear, and crystal tears prick the corners of your eyes.

Azul lifts his hands to your cheeks and brushes them away with his thumbs.

Beautiful.

"Kalim"

Quick on his feet, Kalim summons Oasis Maker to flush out some of the toxic mist spreading across the area. He falls into action like clockwork, guiding students out of the area and serving as a distraction until higher mages arrive. He is positive that the situation will be handled - except now you are not there to solve it.

Which isn't your fault. None of this is.

If anything, it's Kalim's fault. Which means he needs to work extra hard so that you don't blame yourself for anything. Which he knows you will do.

Because you're honest.

Which is something many people say about Kalim himself - they call it his fault. His 'defect'.

They're half-right. Kalim's honesty is not the same as yours. He chooses positivity and openness. You? It comes naturally. In ways that don't require a smile and energetic outlook on life. You are someone Kalim never has to second guess with - and that is a gift.

Your honesty is what Kalim loves the most about you. Your blunt nature and ability to stick with your gut. It is one of your biggest strengths...and he does not want you to lose it.

The way you called for him - knowing. You knew this overblot was coming yet said nothing. There was nothing that could have been done to stop it. Whatever you have buried beneath the surface - Kalim understands.

This image of you. This 'blemish'. It is your honesty. It’s your grimace every time someone comments on your “fortune” for getting free enrollment. It’s your relief when a harsh exam is over with, or when you lay in bed after a long day. Your excitement when Kalim takes you on a particularly adventurous ride on his flying carpet…your despair, when someone you care about is in trouble. It’s all of that wrapped in a bundle and put on display for everyone to see.

Kalim is scared. Not of you - but for you, because this emotionless monster wreaking havoc is what you perceive yourself as.

He feels guilty for not looking your way more than once. For leaving you to needlessly fight with the people you care about…but as the last student flees to safety he feels relief.

As he turns to face you with a grin - he feels happiness.

“Go on. Everyone’s gone now MC! Let it out!”

You turn away from fighting with your close friends. Ace and Deuce are weathered to dust and collapse on the floor. Rain still pours from Kalim’s signature spell and it mixes with the black miasma in puddles on the ground.

The two boys shout for Kalim to run - that you won’t see reason. He laughs and tells them not to worry before running towards you.

“Everyone’s safe now…you don’t have to worry anymore,” he says, and takes off his cardigan to lay over your shoulders. He adjusts it with a gentle smile and lifts his hand to wipe off a smear of ink from your cheek, “I hope you don’t catch a cold. I’ll take care of you, but I bet that wouldn’t be fun for you,”

“I was not worried,” you say, unblinking as he continues to fiddle with your garments, “the cold is irrelevant. As are you - flee you yellow pest,”

“Yes, you were,”

“No,”

“Yup!”

You slightly narrow your eyebrows at him, “and what makes you so certain?”

Your hand extends to the side at that moment, and ink lifts to encase the exhausted first years up to their necks, “would you like to join them?”

Kalim clutches the jacket tighter and ignores the panicked yapping of his friends.

“If that would make you happy, then sure! Take me! Just let them go…I don’t want you to be upset over this later,”

“And what makes you sure that there’s going to be a ‘later’?” You ask.

“Well…,” Kalim looks at his friends over your shoulder and then back to you, “because you know it too. Otherwise I’d be gone right now and so would everyone else. Deep down you’re getting ready to let go! And when you do we’ll all be ready to help you,”

Kalim pulls you into a tight hug. His arms wound over your shoulders and shield you from the rain above. A moment passes, and he feels your arms reach up around his back. Not once during the entire encounter did the ooze attack him. Even in a slumber of darkness you still held onto yourself. Just like Kalim knew you would.

“You really are a naïve idiot,” your voice - now full of sorrow - whispers in is ear, “I could have killed you,”

He hugs you tighter, “you could have, and I probably would have let you haha. Next time let’s talk - I’ll always be here for you,”

“I know. You always are,”

"Vil"

An explosion of grime blackens his uniform in a matter of seconds. It covers Vil from head to toe - soaking his hair, dampening his cape, and filling his boots. As students slip across the floor in an attempt to flee, Vil is halted in place by the sickening feeling of filth overtaking him.

Ever calm in the face of chaos, he pulls out a handkerchief to clean himself. The scene before him utterly dull and disinteresting.

"I expected more. Is this all that results from your spite?...honestly, prefect. At least put in some effort beyond this putrid slime,"

And he has you in his clutches. As he tosses the handkerchief over his shoulder, your head snaps robotically in his direction.

He eyes rake over you callously. Nit picking every little 'imperfection', from the bags underneath your eyes to the veins bulging out of your neck from strain. Vil's heels click against the ground as he approaches. Magic trickles from his fingertips and pushes away the barrier of blot that you've created. Effortlessly, he passes through it all.

At your feet kneels a new freshman from his dorm. A young man eyes him with a mix of fear and relief. Vil notes his shredded uniform and eyes bloodshot from crying - likely from begging for mercy.

He lifts his chin at the lad, "Run or fight. Pick now, Pomefiore students do not grovel," and the boy wastes no time escaping with a strained 'thank you'.

"He was not yours to free," your voice echoes. Airy and meaningless to Vil's ears and he watches as ooze captures the boy in a cocoon before he makes it ten paces away.

"It's hypocritical," Vil chuckles, "that you trap them like insects...or is it a metaphor? Do you feel caged, prefect?"

Vil raises a singular eyebrow, taunting you to respond. You do not, yet he expected such due to this 'artificial' state you've taken on.

"Of course you do. I certainly would...although I thought you more determined than resorting to an overblot's power to free yourself,"

Around Vil more people fall prey to your traps. Neither brute force or trickery allows them to leave the miasma's boarder, and he cannot help but feel a smidge of awe at the sight. To bottle the essence into a potion...it would be marvelous. The miracle of a magicless producing an overblot is astounding on it's own, yet the entire scenario is remarkable.

You are remarkable.

Arrows soar and he watches as Rook falls. The hunter turned prey - Rook becomes a bird locked away in a cage. Epel is not far behind him. A string of uncouth curses leaving the boy's lips when he looses his footing to the darkness.

Vil tuts, "If only I could make Epel submit so easily during mannerism lessons...perhaps I can learn from you yet MC,"

"Will you ever cease speaking?"

"First, rude," he sighs, "second, why not force me? People in an overblot state normally do not entertain chatter...what makes you special?"

You eye him, "I don't need to immobilize what's already broken," and he smirks. Of course you would say that of all things. Vil knows you better than you know yourself...he's observed up close and at a distance. Vil knows that you have doubts in him, in the school, in your friends, and in yourself the most.

but you cut no corners. Your dedication to being the 'perfect prefect' is something often admired...to where even your overblotted form is unconsciously maintaining it. Had you not kidnapped half the school in goo prison - none likely would notice an overblot walked the halls.

Until you spoke, at least. This gravelly undertone does not suit you...or does it?

"You may be correct," Vil raises a hand to his chin and pretends to think, "but you are not broken MC. Merely misguided. Your sheer determination has given you the strength to persevere, and I was convinced that it would be enough. I thought you and I to be similar,"

He reaches out and lays a steady hand on your shoulder. You look up at him through your eyelashes, and he takes it as a sign to reach down and hold your hand. His delicate fingers intertwine with yours.

"I was wrong. You are capable of more than brute force - so cage me. Otherwise you will have to hear my ramblings for all eternity. You won't, because you are more determined than I was to break through this spell...but go on and try. You have my cooperation,"

Your hand tightens around Vil's and for the first time since coming to your side - emotion is clear on your face.

Thick tears stream down your cheeks and Vil breaths out in relief.

"You're right...ugh, why are you always right ya pompous asshole," you say and bring his fingers to your forehead. A faint blush dusts Vil's cheeks and he smiles.

"I am the fairest, after all. My voice was bound to reach you eventually, my dear"

"Idia"

Oh no. Nononononon this can’t be happening. Not them. Anyone but them.

Great seven. He must have misheard amongst the screams or the reception in his dorm must have bugged out.

Whichever it is, Idia panics and yanks his earphones off of his head. Multiple monitors within his room show the catastrophe playing out from different angles. At the center is his main screen, which is black despite the video signal still being active. The moment his name left your lips a harpoon of blot shot at his tablet . Then there was nothing.

What the hell just happened? Idia thinks, a cold sweat dripping down his spine. His hair flares an anxious orange as he chews on his nails. The last thing he saw before dark was your face - void of expression yet morphed in pain. Then there was Ortho. His beloved little brother was trying to reach his tablet before everything snapped.

“Ah! What is this - the final boss?! Some kind of plot twist?! We think it’s all over just for a normie to blot? This is ridiculous-“

Despite the dark - Idia can hear. Muffled rustling echoes from the headset on the floor as he paces back and forth in his room. He knew there was a reason he felt so energized when you were around! Ortho said it was because he was …eugh…feeling things - but you were practically smothering him with your blot.

To energize Idia of all people…it must be strong. How the hell is he supposed to save you from that? No way!

"Big brother…please! We….need you!….MC….needs you!" Ortho's voice fades in and out but Idia can hear him clear enough. He halts in his tracks and clutches his head from stress. In one hand, he could stay in his room and let someone else handle you. In the other, he could leave the safety of his bedroom like an absolute idiot and try something. Anything - and pray it works.

He grabs a pillow and screams various curses into it. His hair flairs up into blood red from frustration and angry tears prick his eyes.

Curse him for being a total coward. Courage…bravery…they were your traits - not his. You stopped so many others and saved them - even him! A worthless wimp. You found a way and now he gets to live happily with his brother.

And despite it Idia can’t bring himself to return the favor. Who asked you to help him in the first place anyway!? Now he has a debt and … ugh, no. That’s not it. This isn’t about a debt and never was.

“Please! You’re the only one,” Ortho yells again and Idia can hear the sound of a battle. He looks at the security cameras to see blot covering the main building and slowly inching it’s way outwards. Not to long and it would reach him anyways…

He grabs his wand along with his uniform jacket, slips on his boots, and finds another one of his tablets. What’s he going to do? - Idia has a plan but it’s definitely something you’d take to a lvl 10 raid with friends and not a lvl 100 boss.

His heart pounds in his chest as he reaches the blot boarder. It flocks to him and he grimaces in disgust before barreling through - flickering through cctv feed on his tablet and making sure Ortho can stave you off until he arrives.

Ortho does, but the moment Idia enters the scene his brother falters. He’s swallowed up by blot right at the last second and Idia has no time to be frightened. The campus had become a sea of black cocoons by the time he arrived…and amidst them all you stood in silence. As if you were waiting for the chosen challenger…

“M-MC? What are y-you doing?! E-everyone’s d-d-dead?!”

“Not dead. Sleeping. Soon I will join them…as will you, Idia,” you say, and one of the cocoons opens to reveal his broken tablet. Idia’s hands shake when he realizes that there is no one else left.

It was up to him to save you. To save everyone and himself.

You begin to walk towards him and Idia takes steps back as you approach.

“Are you afraid of me, Idia? Oh - who am I kidding…you always have been. Worry not. There is nothing to be scared of here,”

The words you speak would normally comfort him - perhaps even leave Idia flustered and feeling protected.

But they’re cold. They might come from your lips but they lack meaning behind them and he can’t hear your voice. The way you say Idia’s name makes him shriek and hold his wand defensively.

He lets out a shaky breath, “I might be too dysfunctional for many things - but I’ve never been bested by a normie. Give back my brother!”

Idia quickly casts a spell -- and it hits! He fully expected you to dodge or for something to deflect it - but you’re struck in the chest. He jumps when you're sent flying backwards and into a wall. A sickening crunch accompanies the impact

He hurt you, and the realization costs him to shake harder. The thought of you resenting him for it makes bile rise to his throat -

"Shit- are you okay?? What kinda villain doesn't dodge an attack?" he yells but keeps his distance.

You pick yourself up effortlessly, and he's almost relieved - if not for the blood dripping from your forehead.

You lift two fingers to the cut, "That was an unexpected development," and bring them down to admire black ichor, "yet not unwelcome"

"Tell me, does it feel good? All this blot must be an endless source of mana...why not fight me? You know you want to,"

Idia always believed you were crazy, but this? What the hell were you feeling to become so creepy? He takes a step back and eyes you warily.

Idia grits his teeth, "The hell is wrong with you? I can't believe that I'm saying this but we're not in a game, idiot! I almost killed you!"

"Isn't it though?," you chuckle dryly, "it must be, considering how dangerous this world is. You agree, don't you? That hiding away is what's best when this," you gesture to yourself, "is what you find outside"

You've backed Idia into a corner with his own outlook on life as the ammo. He's lost for words. Unable to disagree since you are right - life outside is difficult.

"I-if I meant that then I wouldn't be here, now would I?" he smirks.

Yet you know better, "Truly? Then where were you before? I recall a young boy calling for his brother -for a 'savior' - long before you arrived"

You smile at the word 'savior,' yet it does not reach your eyes. In an instant you're in front of him, and Idia drop his wand in shock.

"Tell me - do you believe that you can 'save' me?," your lips point to frown, "do I even want to be saved?"

He goes quiet. That was definitely a villain monologue if he ever heard one...and if you currently weren't skirting death then he would cringe.

"Likely not," he whispers, "you have never needed to be saved. Out of everyone here MC, you are definitely the most meta character in this 'game,'"

You look down at him disinterested. Neither in his words or in how -for once- he is staving off your insults before they throw him into self-deprecation mode.

Idia gestures to the scene surrounding you, "I mean - just look at this! You've decimated half the school! I'd be crazy to think that sappy words and playing half-baked hero could stop this..." he places down the tablet in surrender and reaches out a shaking hand to grab your ankle. Blot curls from your body to his arm and he bites into his cheek to avoid shirking away, "...but I had to try. Normally when something bad happens - I wait for Ortho to step in. You too, you're so fearless that it's laughable,"

He glares up at you, his hair singing the floor surrounding him, "but this version of you took him away - and I know the real you is scared shitless. I may be spineless, but I'm not blind. You're freaking out more than I am at this mess, and I'm going to drag you back to fix it. I do not have the capacity to handle the social aftermath of being in the 'last survivor' trope, so let me save you, "

He pulls you down on top of him and secures his arms tightly around you. Idia doesn't let go through your squirming and the blot trying to worm it's way through his hold.

He can't save you alone, but he can make you save yourself. The crappy he speech was embarrassing enough so just give in already! Stop struggling and quit being so self-sacrificial. Be selfish for once and let him do something.

He longer he holds you, the less you struggle. The blot coating the area begins to clear as your body begins to tremble just as much as Idia's. Students begin to free themselves and he keeps you in a tight hold - for safe measure! Until someone comes to take you to the nurse! Definitely not because he can sense that you're crying, and is now conscious of the people staring at you both. He definitely is not trying to hide beneath you.

"Malleus"

All was silent. Malleus sat on the loveseat in his bedroom while reading a book to pass the time until nightfall. Then he would head over to Ramshackle dorm for his evening walk with his beloved. You would talk, and he would listen. The fireflies would light a path for you both to follow in the Forrest as he leads you by the hand. It is his favorite part of the day - these routine walks. Merely seeing your face brightens his mood, and having your attention solely on him is a kindness he does not deserve. He thanks whatever power that summoned you here every night before falling asleep.

The way you make idle chatter by asking about his day and take genuine interest in the mundane things he shares. Malleus' heart holds nothing but adoration for his caring sweetheart. He is attuned to every little movement, every mannerism and tick that sums you up.

Which is why his heart plummets and breath halts when your voice thrums in his ears. It was distant, but he would hear your call no matter how far.

What startles him most is the fear in your tone. You know well that he would allow no harm to befall you - ever. He has come to your aid countless times. During each you remain calm and ever the pacifist. Only asking him to support you in solving a problem.

This fear was new. He hadn't pondered it longer than a moment before Lilia burst into his bedroom.

"We have a problem. A big one," he says, with no trace of humor or playfulness in his voice.

Malleus all but throws the book at his bed and dashes out the door. With a poof, he vanishes.

Thunder and lightning echo across Night Raven College in his wake.

Malleus feels unsettled at the sight before him. He prepared for the worst - monsters, explosions, a psychopathic twink named after candy. He was ready to shield you from all evil and banish whatever made you to say his name in any tone other than bliss.

What was he to do, when faced with you? A corrupt, stomach-churning, inconceivably warped version of you...but still the person he cares for deeply? He cannot use force. That is for certain.

Then there is the matter of the students. In one corner a defenseless few cower together, as those braver stand guard to fight off figments of blot. He hears familiar voices in the distance - some cursing you and others pleading. They notice him and cry out in relief. That is a first - very few find his presence comforting.

"Malleus? How curious, that you'd join me before nightfall," you appear in front of him. Waves of miasma fly off you but it does not bother him in the slightest. As if he was infectious, the blot filters around him in waves to find its next victim.

His eyes visibly soften at what you've become, "MC...what should I do? How can I help you?"

"Help me? I am fine," you say, and he notes your dazed appearance. As if he was a figment of your imagination and you can see beyond him.

"No, you are not," he reaches out, "you are hurting. You would never dream of harming others. You are overcome by negative emotions,"

"I do not feel 'overcome' by anything. They are the ones who chose to run. I merely stopped them. If everyone would comply then I wouldn't have to hurt them," you slap his hand away and Malleus glowers, "they asked for this. You are as well, if you decide to oppose me,"

Retreating a few paces back, Malleus rethinks his approach. He cannot help you if you can't tell him what is wrong, but he cannot deduce what's wrong if you think he is 'opposing' you.

Malleus knows that he can end this with the snap of his fingers. It would save all of NRC's students, but in the process you could be hurt - and in his humble opinion, you have suffered enough. The mere memory of this incident will leave you in emotional pieces that he is more than willing to help collect. He cannot do the same for physical parts.

"I will not fight you," he says definitively, "but I will not leave you either. I promised to protect you and I do not go back on my word. Until the day you are willing to listen, I will wait for you,"

"and what if that day never comes to pass?"

"Then I will wait beyond forever. Until you give me a chance to repay the kindness you have shown me, and ensure nothing causes you pain ever again,"

Malleus is genuine despite the cries of his school mates and teachers. He has no doubts that you will see reason, be it within the next hour or in the next millennia. You will never be too far gone because he will be there to keep you within reach. He is willing to wait.

You clutch your hands at your sides, "Kindness? I have never been kind. Only desperate,"

Malleus steps forward and removes one of his gloves. He remains at a safe distance despite wanting to hold you in his arms. Instead, he repeats his earlier actions and holds out a hand.

"Desperation can take many forms. Anger, anxiety, impulsiveness, - but you have always acted in the interest of others. Even now, in this state, you believe your harmful actions are necessary to 'stop' people and admit not desiring to hurt them. You may not see it, but you are kind,"

You stare at his ungloved hand before laying your own on top of it. Normally your skin would be a welcome warmth against his reptilian temperature, but your touch is like ice. He lightly wraps his hand around yours, and steps forward to rest his chin on your head.

"I'm cruel,"

"No, you are caring,"

"I hate this place. I only help because I have to,"

"You dislike being trapped, yet cannot help but care for the people here,"

He lifts his hand behind your head, and pushes your face into the nape of his neck. The air begins to clear, and he smiles in relief.

"I might hurt you," you say softly, and clutch his sleeves.

"And I will forgive you,"

"Grim!"

In your last sane moments, you call for your friend. The little cat that's been by your side since the very beginning. He was scared to become a monster...but Grim knew deep down that you would save him. You're his best friend! You always bail him out of trouble.

So what should he do? Tell him MC...what can Grim do to help you?

He's scared. You both may make up a team, but he's always been the troublemaker while you are the intelligent one! He might brag about a test or two - but he can't make a plan! That's your job!

The floor shakes under his paws, and he loses his footing. The black magestone slips from his claws and is lost to the crowd. There is no strength in this little body. He normally runs into your arms when it's time to run.

Hands grab him by the scruff of his neck and Grim's hoisted in the air. He struggles against your grip, but is forced to look at your face.

Do you know how many suitors he has had to scare off because of that face? You're beautiful - which pisses Grim off because people keep trying to sway his henchman away from him.

Do you know how tiring that is? Protecting you from jerks and wannabe's. You don't have any family here to help. He owes them that much since you are HALF of the reason that Grim gets to be a student.

You've always been naïve when it came to other people...too honest. Which Grim took advantage of from time to time - but only he can do so! You are his meal ticket after all!

Your grip on his neck is tight enough to prevent him from escaping, but it doesn't hurt. As you look on at the people trying to fight - some to escape like wimps and others to 'save' you - Grim gives up. If you're determined to destroy the school...well, he can't stop you. No one can. You always find a way to make things work in your favor and Grim secretly thanked the Great Seven that you were not his enemy. Until now, that is. Now he's cursing them out heavily in his head.

The students fighting. Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, - anyone and everyone who's become your friend. Some yell for you to let Grim go and others focus on trying to make you see reason all together. They can't get close.

If you weren't 'busy,' Grim knows that you'd be there with them. Being bossy as hell and taking charge. He wishes that he had that courage.

You finally move when everyone has fallen. With Grim still in your grasp, you walk across the sea of blot to admire your work. It's then that a glimmer catches Grim's eye, and your foot kicks the dropped magestone from before.

You reach down to pick it up - cautiously.

"Is this yours?" you say, and hold it up to him. Grim's eyes widen and he quickly snatches it in his paws.

Upon close inspection, he sees that he was mistaken before. In the far corner a sliver of purple stands out against the black stone. You could be saved.

Grim could stop this.

So he does what he does best, and clings to your side. His claws dig in to your waist and no matter how hard you pull he does not let go.

"It's my fault you're like this, right? I annoy ya and demand things all the time. I'll stop getting ya into trouble - I promise! I won't mess with your lovelife or steal your snacks anymore. I'll start studying for tests and help clean around the house! I'll even quit stealing your phone! Please just give me my friend back - "

Somewhere amidst his garbled sniveling - you stop pulling at him and instead begin to stroke his fur. His last resort resonated with the ounce of kindness that still remained. As you held Grim safely in your arms, the world shifted back to normal.

[cherri-ying]

Sing for me, little Nightingale (Yan! Scaramouche x Reader)

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56024689

Felines are deserving of their accolades. Merit embodies their nimble spines and ductile limbs; bodies like pliable sand, threading their way through knots, twists, cavities and labyrinths. The prince of the hunt flexes and swipes his talons and his victims are swift to falter, their necks wringed and their spines contorted in ways that are unnatural to their physicality.

“I’ve got you now.”

At times, though, even a cat doesn't remain undefeated.

“How stupid are you to think that a cheap disguise would work against me?” He almost sounds amused, his words an arctic hiss against your ear. Reaching up, Scaramouche claws at the thick cloak that veils your face and tears it to your shoulders. Your hair is quick to mime the departed elements, hanging in disarray across your face. A mantilla of unkempt tresses, veiling whatever thoughts sketch your visage.

The Balladeer regards the sight of your person with a sort of contemptuous delight. Forcefully knelt at his feet with your wrists bound behind you and your head drooped in defeat—or in pensiveness. It's a shame Zapolyarny is so devoid of windows. What light finds it's way into these all-too familiar stone chambers is too sparse to see what expression you're making.

“Well? Say something. Or have I rendered you incapable of speech?”

Tentatively—begrudgingly—you tip your head back, back, back until your irises lock with the hypnotic indigo tinctures belonging to the puppet who leers dauntingly above you. Locks of such a hue that only you could wear part like the red sea, revealing a thin, perhaps solemn, ambiguous smile—the last expression the harbinger could anticipate. Or desire.

“Thwarted again, hm?” You chuckle and it sounds like frost, “and I even took extensive measures to conceal my tracks. No good?”

“Failures are bound to repeat themselves.” Scaramouche doesn't nuisance himself with that syrupy facade he wears to rope his targets right between his molars. Malice is a noisome stench in the air as he adds, “This is the seventh time I’ve had to retrieve you. I'd figure you’d have learned your lesson by now, but time after time you insist on making yourself a burden to fetch.”

“There's no harm in trying, is there?” You maintain that strange curve on your plush lips. It’s difficult to tell what you're thinking, or feeling.

“‘No harm’, yet you delude yourself into believing that a time would come when you could successfully evade me. I wonder how long it’ll take until those dreams of yours crumble and die.”

“You know, there’s a word for what you are,” you state after a thoughtful pause. “I think it’s called: overbearing.”

What a strange person, with a strange smile. Normally, Scaramouche would meet such defiance by smiting his poor victim to dust within the blink of an eye. In your displays of resolve, though, the invincible harbinger finds himself crouching to your level, trailing a slender hand against your windpipe. How easily he could squeeze the life from your throat until you begs for reprieve; choke you of your indignation. Instead, he allows it to linger there without purpose, applying no pressure, grasping nothing.

“And there’s a word for what you are.” He nearly whispers. Difficult. Stubborn. Irrevocably his. “Irrational, when I only want what’s best for you. And what’s best for you, is to offer me your complete submission.”

“Even though I’d sooner offer my life than yield to you?” A new tone makes itself heard in your cadence. Such words, such simple, few words, reveal what lingers beneath your otherwise indifferent facade.

Sagacious. Provocative. Challenging.

Of course, you're testing the boundaries of Scaramouche's resolve, as he does with yours. Suddenly, the atmosphere is taut and palpable with tension for what may become of the future.

Sly, sly little songbird.

Something most unanticipated happens, and you reveal your hands, which you freed from their binds. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise Scaramouche, what with your prowess in the art of escape, but regardless your smile stretches in the presence of the astonishment that lifts his eyebrows and makes his eyes flash white, if only briefly. You take your time observing such a paltry display of rare, raw, emotion, how it shapes the contours of his features at the command of your actions. And gently, you take his hand that graces your throat and tenderly place it on your cheek.

"Ah... You've always been this way, haven't you, Kunikuzushi? Since the very day fate first connected your eyes to mine? " You slant your head into his cold hand with all the fragility of a shedding lotus petal descending into a reservoir, resting your cheek against his cold, liquid touch. Although, the action is far from affectionate. Rather, it's reminiscent of a sort of obstinacy, wearing the facade of love.

"You pine for my heart like you're starved for my flesh.” You take his hand and pass it through your cloak, poising it on your chest, right above your pumping heart.

"But... Perhaps I have no heart to offer you. What then? What will you do when you realize, there is no flesh to pick from my bones? No heart beneath my ribs?"

Scaramouche trudges through your words, running them across his mind. No plausible answer makes itself seen. He relinquishes his hand from your chest.

A cat may not have wings, but it is unrelenting.

“If you have no heart…” He murmurs, before smiling a bitter smile, “Then I’ll make you learn how to love.” how to love him. “I’ll create a heart in the shape of my love, and then I’ll take it. By force if I must.”

"You're willing to create something, just to seize and destroy it..." His words taste like blood upon your tongue. Strange. Carrying pleasantry and uncanniness in a sordid congruence. your lips falter from their smile.

"What a rotten soul you have... When will you realize that your avarice will be your demise?"

A wry, perhaps relenting chuckle emerges from your throat. Then you sigh.

"Perhaps we were made for each other." “

Then why do you run from me? Why do you fight, when you’re meant to be mine?” He asks, vehement, pertinacious.

"But that is where you're mistaken, Scaramouche. You see—” You direct your pointer finger to his chest, resting it in the junction between his collarbones.

“—You're tenacious in pursuing me. But I'm," You points at herself, "Tenacious in avoiding you. We are made for each other like the same ends of two magnets. The same, yet destined to be apart."

There it is, another one of your challenging remarks. The chirping nightingale wriggles free and unfurls it's wings, just as the cat thinks the bird is trapped beneath its paws. And oh, how infuriating, how exhilarating you are. Hatred is a simmering tempest that ignites the harbinger's temper. He despises how affixed he is to you, to the thought of trapping you beneath his claws, only for you to fly free and rejoice your liberation in song. It's petty. It's pathetic. It's irresistible. The Balladeer scoffs.

“Is this all just a game of push and pull to you? Just how long are you willing to avoid me?”

 “How long are you willing to pursue me?”

“Until you submit to me.”

“Then, until you set me free.”

Scaramouche can only watch as you put on your hideous, inhuman, anomalistic smile. Fine, then. If nothing else, he’ll build you a gilded cage to lure you into a golden prison disguised as a paradise. He’ll rip your wings from your body, flesh and bone marrow hanging in loose tendrils, so to erase all notions of flying free from your unreadable mind that he tends to make his possession, until you’re bleeding so sweetly beneath his claws. His beautiful songbird, who sings in the shape of his love.

Because you were made for him. He, the heartless one, who wishes for a heart. For your heart, which you are't willing to offer. Which you wish you never had.

You’re the only one who believes he still has a soul; that he ever had one, rotten as it may be.

Scaramouche cannot let that go. Regardless of how many times you flee from his talons, he will find you and chase you to the very ends of this earth.

Fly away, little singing nightingale.

[sunnyaliceart]

Hiiiii please tell me Cat's lore I love them already

Hi! Hello! Thank you for your patience for this response. I'm very glad you're interested in the AU and that you wanna know more about Cat, so let's talk about the feline friend...

Under the read more is talk and sketches relating to my No Deal AU

Cat is the kitty Sissel in the No Deal AU. He has white fur and blue eyes. He was gifted a blue bandana instead of a red one to match the blue rose of No Deal which is how I'll refer to the Yomiel of this AU.

In fact, Cat is the inspiration for No Deal's look in this AU.

After No Deal got his body back after living in Cat's body, he saw himself in the mirror and decided his red suit didn't cut it anymore.

The white fur of the cat that homed him felt like a blank slate. No Deal saw beauty in that as he lost everything and was a forgotten soul, a ghost. Why shouldn't he look the part? He traded his red suit for a white one and as he passed by a flower stall, he saw a blue rose. Drawn to it, reminding him of his own beauty as an unattainable spirit, he took it and added it to his outfit.

The little white cat still followed him around despite the man never looking back for the cat after he got his body back. After a while, No Deal decided that having a feline companion that he could possess at will could be useful for his traversal in the world. No Deal gave him a blue bandana so he could always recognize him.

While never cruel to him, No Deal is much less attached to Cat as Yomiel is with Sissel. No Deal finds Cat to be a useful asset when infiltrating certain areas, messing with people, and his revenge plan. He only takes the bare minimum care of Cat and yaps to him a lot like the monologuing villain he is.

Given that Cat was an orphan kitten that was ignored or brushed away before he found No Deal, he has nothing to compare to of what an actual loving bond looks like and enjoys being with No Deal up until his end.

Yomiel held Sissel with love and respect, valuing his friendship with him. He wanted to leave the country with his cat friend while No Deal saw it unfortunate that Cat was a casualty in his plan to put Lynne in prison, but ultimately moved on fairly quickly. His revenge plan went wel, all things considered. After all, those he wanted dead were killed or thrown in jail and his power had grown considerably. The world was a stage and its people his puppets.

It was only after death did Cat realize how little No Deal thought of him. While thankful for having someone care for him for 10 years, he was enraged by the disrespect. He was never even given a proper name!

Names No Deal used to address Cat:

Cat

Puppet

My Puppet

Stray

Kitty

Snowy

Doll

Little Ghost

Furball

Fuzzy

Fuzzball

Hairball

Phantom

Feline

Etc...

While angered at being abandoned, he didn't understand the concept of revenge and just wanted to fade away in peace, so he stayed away from No Deal in the Ghost World. That's why in the scenario where Post-Game Yomiel meets Cat, he's furious at the sight of Yomiel because it seems now he wants to talk to Cat only for Yomiel to call him a name he doesn't recognize. He knew this was a Yomiel that had someone he cared about and it wasn't Cat.

Cat is a sad tragedy and I deeply apologize for that. Like I mentioned in previous posts, No Deal is an awful man and his humanity died along with him.

I do take solace that Cat was never abused in life and was happy. He eventually found peace in the after life and even formed a friendship with Sissel thanks to Ghost World hijinks.

Feline Friends Forever!

[citruslullabies]

Hi hi!!!

If it wouldn't be too much trouble, do you think it'd be alright if I could request a cartoon catnap x reader (platonic, please) where the reader is known to be a daydreamer?

Maybe something where they hang out together, catnaps head in the reader's lap as they gently pet him and recount a daydream they had earlier during the day to him, almost as if they were telling him a bedtime story to help him relax more?

Thank you so much if you do write it! <3

Of course darling!! Youre welcome<3

Trigger warnings: none

Romantic/platonic?: platonic

Requested by: anonymous

Category: fluff (with a little drip of angst)

Ship (romantic or platonic): cartoon!catnap x daydreamer!reader

Word count: 587

Sleep With Both Eyes Open

You had always been recognized and known for your daydreams, constantly seen drifting off into your own little world.

Your brain would constantly be buzzing with ideas and dreams that would bring you out of reality and suck you into your own little world. But you were so calm because of it and maybe that's why Catnap liked you so much, because you had dreams and yet were so simple about them. It was a windy summer day, just sitting out in the field with your feline friend pressed against you as he purred.

You gently scratched behind his twitchy ears as he shut his eyes, feeling perfectly safe with you. With a smile you gently moved him to where he was laying on your lap so he could be more comfortable. You sighed softly and massaged his fluffy cheek in your palm.

“Earlier I had another daydream.” You murmured softly, warning a loud purr in response as he opened one of his eyes to acknowledge you. You didn't look down at him, but instead looked forward as you recalled it. “It was… strange, to say the least. I dreamt that you were very large and boney, and I was still me. You looked so scary but you approached me. You… let me hold your head in my hands, and we got to step outside together.”

Catnap looked up at you with pure curiosity, wondering what that could mean. His tail thumped against the ground as he nuzzled his head against your stomach. “That's odd.” He purred while you nodded and a sigh escaped your lips. “I thought it was sweet.”

The cat started to relax against you and fall asleep, while all you could do was stare off into the distance and daydream again. Your eyes went blank as you very slowly cocked your head to the side as if using your shoulder as a pillow.

…

A large grotesque creature In front of you with his form too tight for his bones, and his eye sockets too large for its eyes. It resembled your best friend as if it was a skinwalker who couldn't get it quite right. You stumbled forward, wanting to run but something drew you closer to it. You couldn't even speak but you reached your hand out as if a curious child wanting to touch something they had never seen before.

It stared down at you, mouth wide and forced into a never ending smile. Its bones creaked with every step it took forward, kneeling over at being face to face with you as it pressed its forehead against your hand. Its fur felt sickening like nothing else you had ever touched before. It was silent, eerily silent as it just watched you as if waiting for you to breathe. But you couldn't get a single breath out.

“The prototype… will save us…” It finally spoke, boney paws scratching into the floor as you stared with wide eyes and the inability to speak. But you grew curious as to what this meant, who was the prototype? You fought against your throat to speak but nothing came out. Your hand fell back to your side as if you were a strung puppet being controlled, and you watched as the creature went back to full height. Before red gas filled the damp air and you suddenly jolted awake. Breathing heavily as you looked around the bright and joyous field, looking back down at your feline friend with wide eyes.

Who was the prototype?

Thanks for requesting!

[moistreicher]

Lies of P

Pinocchio own headcanons.

• I kind of imagine that P is a very curious puppet (like a player in game exploring) and he would always bring something back to the hotel Krat after mission and Gepetto would see his son piling up things on his table. A broken doll in a red dress. A small piece of screw that shines so brightly like it was newly made. A cowboy hat which Gepetto wonders where did he get it and small few jewels which resembles Gemini's color and his eyes. However, P has been collecting so many things and piling it up on Gepetto's table, forced the old man to get a chest for P to put his treasure (mostly junks) inside.

• P doesn't seem to talk in game but characters in game acts as if so I think, P doesn't usually talk. He only talks when spoken too like an actual puppet with corresponding lines but P can make his own replies and he chooses a word or sentence that would only be a brief response. Gemini once tried to make the boy talk more than he usually does by striking conversation and question but it seems like P got annoyed that he eventually ignored Gemini for the whole mission (still listening to Gemini at least)

• despite he had fought big monsters and big hostile machines, P is afraid of cats at first. When he was curious and tried to touch the feline, it launched its claws to his hand and hissed which caused him to startle. Confused and unable to comprehend what happened, it feared the small creature temporarily as Eugene showed him that cats aren't terrifying creature. Although sensitive, cats are surprisingly affectionate in their own way. But he wishes that the cats would at least trust him and let him touch their soft fur.

• P is fascinated by his own limbs. How it bends and straighten. How his arms are able to move in rotation motion and how his fingers folds in a curl. Gemini taught him how to make a heart but unable to understand as it is not the shape of a heart (he thought literal shape of a heart) and Gemini had to go through explaining him how it is a heart. Then Gepetto gave P a show where he'd use shadow of his hands to imitate the silhouettes of animals. P was amused.

• P purrs. Or so what it sounds like. His springs inside make a sound when he feels pleasant, comfortable at certain someone or simply enjoying the pat on the head from Gepetto. They thought that spring sound is only natural but they don't mostly hear it when P feels neutral till Sophia noticed how the springs started to shift inside him when Sophia and P sat down together to enjoy the rain at the garden.

"Oh my, you sound like you're purring, oh clever one" and then smiled. P doesn't know what it means but kept quiet as the spring sound continues. Sophia thinks that he must have gotten it from the cats as he observed them without touching.

As for P's situation, he does feel warm inside or what he would try to describe it as best as he can. He also feel a small vibration inside. Only vibration and nothing else that is worrying so he lets it without telling Gepetto or Eugene.

• Puppets don't need rest however, P started to like his leisure time. He have no mission? He would stay in Hotel Krat and sit down simply and enjoy the structure of the interior. He would explore the Hotel and look at the painting. Check some corridors he hadn't seen yet. He would also look at the cats. Sits in front of them and simply observe them with a small smile which Eugene found adorable feature from the puppet.

After a mission, he wouldn't go back to the Hotel Krat immediately. He will take his time to go back there. Walking in the alley, roadside, other paths and trying to picture the place before the puppet frenzy had happened. He would ask Gemini about the buildings and structures about what it used to be.

• Missions can get P really dirty. He don't sweat but the muds and dirty water can get to his boots, clothes and skin including his hair so whenever he gets back to the hotel Krat, he is adviced by Gemini to go straight to bath immediately.

P can also feel temperature and he likes the coldness of the clean water. He would always let the cold water run and get into the tub willingly. Gepetto had once reminded P not to use too cold water and don't stay too long there to protect his P-organs from freezing. But P can be act like a child still and insists on using even colder temperature to test how he can go on until it actually happens. Almost freezing his P-organs and thanks to Gemini to call out for Gepetto which saved P from freezing all over.

P got a lot of scolding from Gepetto and after that incident, Gepetto would check on him if his staying longer in bath and sometimes would come in and help P to wash his hair thoroughly from the dirt that is in blindspots.

[passion-roses]

Ride The Cyclone x FNAF AU

now, i've been very hyperfixated on fnaf ever since it came out (but let's be real, its probably a special interest at this point), and you know, when you get a new interest, you can't help but merge it to your other ones and make a crazy au, so i've been thinking about assigning each animatronic with a ride the cyclone character, just for fun, but then i got to really think about it.

we all know that in five nights at freddy's we have the five missing children, and these children get killed by william afton, stuffed into the animatronic suits, and then they come and haunt the pizzeria because they're restless souls.

in ride the cyclone, we have six teenagers who die a tragic death, probably restless as well, as it seems like they haven't gone to the afterlife yet, at least not properly, as they've been "robbed of their individuality from a mass tragedy" as stated by karnak.

SO

of course, me being a noel gruber fanatic, i thought of who he'd be first, and well i was thinking, there's two parallel theories in these two medias that i like very much.

the deaths of them.

specifically, two kids dying at the same time, or well, with each other.

in fnaf, there's a well known theory/famous headcanon that freddy/gabriel and bonnie/jeremy were killed at about the same time and place, hence why there's a lot of imagery and stuff of the two together.

now, who else do we know have a certain theory in rtc that eludes to them dying with each other?

to be honest i just think freddy as misha is kinda funny..

but anyways, so we have two, how about the other four?

foxy as ricky.

idk, i just think it's neat. foxes are felines in a way. also him being a pirate (as stated by moni when i ws cooking this up) fits as well.

i also made a connection of foxy (animatronic) being out of order all the time because he keeps having malfunctions. with ricky having a degenerative disease.. you get it.

up next is chica.

well, this one's pretty obvious to me, constance!

ite the cupcakes, i swear. but also, chica's image has always been the bubbly one, this being more shown in security breach. she just fits

now, you might be wondering.. what about ocean? what about jane/penny?

hear me out on this

this one is the one comparison i am MOST confident about.

cassidy as ocean.

a vengeful spirit, one that is most restless, most determined, most mad about the murders.

don't you think that'd be fitting for ocean?

she'd be ambitious, she wouldn't just let go of william just like that. she wants to bring him hell.

also, as stated by ocean herself:

idk, just funny.

now, for the last one, you might be thinking oh, jane/penny must be the puppet then, because we're talking about the murdered children.

now, hear me out on this

the crying child.

"whyy in hell would penny be the crying child nymbus?"

you might be wondering

and i have one answer, a very definitive answer.

a kid, losing his head, or, well, getting his frontal lobe bitten off, but let's not get into the specifics here.

it would make sense, it makes the MOST sense, as equal of a sense as ocean being cassidy. GOD it fits so well.

so, we have the six main children now:

freddy - misha

bonnie - noel

chica - constance

foxy - ricky

golden freddy - ocean & jane/penny

(i also have a note about ezra being michael, and him being a human puppet to ennard, but yk)

soo, what do you guys think? :)

[auduux]

COTL AU 2

More on the leshycat swap au!

Text under the cut.

Narinder The bishop of death, a cat himself. Once known by all cats as a "father," now a herald of death. He has two kits, Aym and Baal. Where they came from is unknown to most, however.

Kallamar A coward, a fool, and a tactician in his own right. Though he is cowardly, there is a thought to everything he does. His wit far surpasses any but his strength never was there.

Heket The only sister of the bishops. She of hunger, the famine. She has peculiar ways of keeping followers. She is the heaviest hitter among the bishops, opting to use brute strength rather then magic and weapons. She is not to be trifled with.

Shamura The eldest of the bishops and leader of the silk cradle. They are wise, more then Kallamar. His nature keeps him from using his natural ability to think of any sense. (< Referring to Kallamar) They are the hardest to fight simply because they have more training and wisdom then the others.

Voice Lines

Narinder "You...you are not supposed to be here." "You were the last...i've made a mistake." "Your grave will be here, vile cat. "You are a puppet of chaos, a toy, does that not bother you at all?!"

Kallamar "You...I know you. You were the last." "Narinder, that fool. He sent you to him! Right to him!" "I will not let you move any further, vile feline!"

Heket "I've heard of your deeds. Word travels fast among the bishops. You have banished my brothers to the realm of death." "You will die here, feline." "Do not deny destiny, puppet of chaos."

Shamura "You have made me the last of my siblings, puppet of chaos. I commend you for making it this far." "What happens here will happen, but do not think Leshy will be kinder to you." "The god of chaos is unpredictable, and so are you. You have gained his charm, and his curse."

[ichodai]

I'd like to talk a little bit about Quaritch....

(I apologize for the mistakes in the text, English is not my native language...🙏)

Most likely, many people had a strong dissonance about the fact that on the one hand he is a cruel jerk from the first film, on the other hand, the version of his avatar causes mixed feelings. Let's agree that he is attractive outwardly due to the charm of avatars in general (feline features, lack of pronounced wrinkles, expressive look, body structure, etc.), and even his character has undergone changes with the help of a Spider.

But the associations, the memories he left after the first film are painful. And yet Quaritch, who was shown to us in the second part, is just a copy. A puppet into which the personality, character and habits of the previous version were loaded, but by no means misdemeanors. All he does during the film is trying to digest the fact that the original Quaritch is dead, and he's just trying to be like him (habits, facial expressions, behavior) and confesses this to Spider himself, his son. Admits that he is not really his biological father.

This suggests that the avatar is a Quaritch and a person - different personalities, because the copy already acts completely differently: listens to his son, does not kill Na'vi, even steps over himself and tames his own banshee! The former Quaritch hardly even thought of such a thing, because in him there was only a thirst for slaughter and manic patriotism. He did not want to learn the language of the locals, did not listen to anyone, and in all respects resembled a brainwashed soldier. The current one does not have such a thing, and this gives him a chance not to make the mistakes of his original. A chance to be better before it's too late and his actions are pure.

(Literally saves the Spider from torture)

(And then says: "Here's a medal from your real father, I'm not Colonel Quaritch, I only have his memories. He was a shitty father, I know." AND REALLY TRIES TO BE AN UNDERSTANDING FATHER. DESPITE THE FACT THAT HE IS NOT OBLIGED TO DO ALL THIS CARE, BUT HE STILL WANTS TO, BECAUSE HE IS NOT ORIGINAL😩)

I perceive the Colonel's avatar as something else, a new personality with problems defining his Self, who has the right to decide who he really wants to be and what to desire. After all, at the moment he is driven only by someone else's thirst for revenge and anger that he was killed so simply by some alien, whom he equates to animals (phrasing from the character's point of view to show how arrogant he was about everything). In the film, in addition to the familiar stern expression on his face, we are also shown him puzzled and even scared. First after waking up, then when meeting his son, and later when he begins to feel something alien. This is not for nothing, because we are shown how vulnerable this copy is. In someone else's body and someone else's memories. It's scary, it's weird, and it's a good incentive for character growth. A chance to atone for the sins of the one whose past he carries inside himself.

I hope that in the next film we will be shown his further growth and becoming someone really different, separate from the personality loaded into him. He will understand that he is nothing more than a tool in the hands of the current colonialists and he has no future next to them... However, his only prospect is even after being forgiven by Jake himself - еxile (which would be right, because he's dangerous anyway. So far), and... everything in me empathizes.

I don't know what to feel