#fuzzy logic controller

[cuntyji]

something something cat dad sukuna -> all crack, so much crack...f reader

it’s chaos. not the cute, manageable chaos of, say, a dinner burning slightly in the oven while your playlist hits the embarrassing part of the queue. no—this is unholy, full-throttle, furball-fueled pandemonium. 

your cat tulip’s kittens have officially declared war on domestic peace, and they’ve done it in the most dramatic way possible: by detonating out of their plush little nest like popcorn under pressure.

and of course, your boyfriend, your bold, beautiful, occasionally brainless sukuna, decides that now—now—is the time to show you his natural aptitude for animal care. 

how? not with logic, not with containment strategies, not with a single ounce of thought.

no. sukuna simply throws himself into the fray like a man possessed.

you walk into the room expecting a quiet moment of kitten-cuddling. maybe a photo-op. instead, what you get is this walking, talking jungle gym of regret. 

there’s one kitten nestled in the folds of his extremely impractical hair like it’s the damn lion king up there, tail flicking dangerously close to his eye.

another is chilling in the wide collar of his shirt like it owns him now. two are just hanging from his biceps, little claws dug in like they’re clinging to a rollercoaster.

his pockets are squirming. he’s got a wild-eyed look on his face like he’s solving quantum physics with tiny fuzzy variables.

“okay, okay, this is fine,” he mutters, crouching slightly and wobbling as a kitten starts scaling his back like everest. “they’re small. they don’t weigh much. i’m strong. i’ve got this.”

he does not got this.

you can see the exact moment one of the bicep-clingers decides that this is, in fact, a terrible place to be, and launches itself in the direction of the kitchen. sukuna flinches like he’s been stabbed. “brat, NO—okay. all right. okay, regroup. we’re regrouping.” he’s saying this as another kitten attempts to crawl into his shirt. not under, into. like it’s returning to the womb.

“they’re everywhere,” he whispers to himself, turning very, very slowly like he’s afraid of upsetting the delicate balance of kitten limbs currently latched to his person. “how do they multiply? do cats—do cats do mitosis?”

you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. you opt for filming it.

tulip is watching from her perch on the windowsill like she’s just enjoying the show. she yawns. yawns.

meanwhile, sukuna is trying to negotiate with the one on his head. “you wanna stay up there? that’s cool. you do you. king of the mountain. just, please, don’t pee. not again.”

there’s a long, horrible pause. 

sukuna’s face goes pale. “woman,” he says, dead serious. “i think it’s peeing.”

and honestly, this is your fault. because you left him alone with them for five minutes. five minutes! this is why you can’t have nice things. or, well—you can, but they end up living in your boyfriend’s hair like a sentient, meowing crown.

you do take a picture, though. because there is something transcendent about sukuna—beefy, mildly panicked, hair full of kittens—making eye contact with the camera and whispering, “this is fine. this is all under control,” while one of the biceps babies starts licking his ear like a popsicle.

you will never let him live this down. tulip will see to that personally.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

hi! do you have any favorites where stiles and derek switch bodies?

Yes! So many hijinx opportunities with this trope.

Not Exactly Comfortable by entanglednow

(1/1 I 1,227 I Teen I Sterek)

"Ok, so this could be worse." Which, on the whole, is probably not the most reassuring thing for Stiles to say right now.

i feel you in every heartbeat by warlock (sapphicblight)

(1/1 I 4,063 I Teen I Sterek)

Suddenly his entire body felt tingly and sensitive and he could swear gravity had failed on him just then; he couldn’t feel the chair he was sitting on, or where he’d planted his feet on the floor, or the clothes he was wearing, or the pen he was holding, and then his vision started blurring and morphing into a picture of some place that was not his classroom.

“Oh, shi—”

“—it,” he finished with a different voice.

Or, the AU in which, on their 22nd birthday, a person will switch bodies with their soulmate and is left to figure out whom they're temporarily inhabiting, and how to get back to each other. But because Stiles is Stiles, he forgets that it's his birthday, and the bodyswap takes him by surprise.

Fuzzy Logic by Sparseparsley

(1/1 I 6,506 I Explicit I Sterek)

Derek and Stiles switch bodies because of wizard reasons and Stiles just wants to know what that awesome scent is.

Where is My Mind by whiskey_in_tea

(1/1 I 6,585 I Mature I Sterek)

“Ground rules: no jerking off," Scott says. "No using my body to mack on my best friend, okay, that's fucking gross."

look at the wonderful mess we made by Squidbittles

(1/1 I 8,873 I Explicit I Sterek)

The pack scatters for college, and Derek and Stiles amiably break off their no-strings attached relationship. Stiles's Spark has other plans, however.

Home Is Where the Dubious Magic Is by alexenglish 

(1/1 I 8,998 I Explicit I Derek/Stiles/Scott)

Everything feels wrong.

He looks down and yeah, that’s not his body. The skin’s too pale, the legs too skinny. Those aren’t his hands, that’s not his stomach -- those definitely, definitely aren’t his Captain America briefs.

He doesn’t own Captain America briefs.

I'm Lost In You by matildajones

(3/3 I 13,453 I Teen I Sterek)

He knows he should move but a part of him still feels paralyzed. He has clear feelings of not being able to move his body, of not being able to even blink. 

“Oh my god,” Stiles says, and he clambers to his feet, feeling dizzy. He easily finds a mirror in the room and then the most gorgeous eyes stare back at him. They’re a sea-green instead of the normal brown that he’s used to.

He’s looking at his soulmate.

--

Stiles wakes up in his soulmate's body, on his twenty-second birthday, with blurry memories of the past year. Derek doesn't wake up at all.

Might Not Make It Back by GotTheSilver

(1/1 I 23,347 I Explicit I Sterek)

Bodyswap. Because of the fun.

Trust Fall by orphanaccount

(13/13 I 144,224 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles is fairly certain that a case could be made for every bad thing in his life coming back to Peter Hale. This time it's pissing off a powerful witch, who retaliated by swapping Stiles and Derek a la Freaky Friday, because sure. That makes sense. Um, there are GPAs on the line, not to mention the whole thing where his dad wants to shoot Derek on sight. Except who he sees as Derek is actually Stiles, and Stiles did not sign up for filicide.

Great. Wait...does this mean he's the Alpha until they figure this out? Holy. Shit. ****

Derek had stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a few minutes trying to control the panic as he saw himself as Stiles. As the loud mouthed human friend of the pack. He was going to kill Peter. He was going to kill the witch, then he was going to kill Peter. Maybe even resurrect him again just to kill him all over.

They were going to have to play this cool. They would have to stay calm and focused. Which is of course why the universe threw him into this situation with someone who physically couldn't be calm and focused.

Of course.

[chadobi]

I promise guys , I’ll get to your requests soon! But for now, I hope you’ll enjoy this one💜

“Under a Blanket of Code”

Bayverse!Donatello x Reader

The power had flickered out about an hour ago.

Mikey screamed something about the pizza oven dying and Raph immediately took it as a sign of the apocalypse. Leo was trying to organize a response plan, but Donnie had already disappeared into the darker parts of the lair—heading toward his lab like a man on a mission.

You didn’t even ask. You just followed him.

It was quiet in his workspace. He had a few emergency lights wired up, casting everything in deep purple and gold. Small LEDs blinked from different shelves, some flickering faintly like fireflies. In the middle of it all, Donnie was crouched beside a stack of servers, furiously typing on a portable rig.

You leaned in the doorway, watching him. He muttered something about “backup fuses” and “secondary distribution lines,” and then paused.

“I know you’re there,” he said without looking. “And I’m not mad. Just… mildly panicked.”

You smiled. “I brought tea.”

That made him glance up. His glasses caught a soft glint of blue from a nearby monitor, and he blinked, surprised. “Oh. Uh. Thank you.” He took the thermos from you awkwardly, hands still faintly buzzing with static.

“Want some company?” you asked gently. “I figured you might need backup.”

Donnie hesitated for a second too long. Then he nodded. “Actually… yeah. That would be nice.”

He gestured to a low platform on the floor surrounded by wires, toolboxes, and glowing screens. You kicked off your shoes and stepped carefully between cables. A fuzzy blanket was already half-draped over the space, clearly something Mikey had tossed aside days ago.

You plopped down, crossing your legs. “So what’s the damage?”

“Main power grid’s fried,” Donnie murmured, sitting beside you. “Generator’s holding up, but I’m going to need to do a manual reroute.” He adjusted his glasses with a tired sigh. “In the meantime, I figured… might as well make the place livable.”

He grabbed a small remote and tapped a button. A string of soft purple lights lit up overhead—cheap LED strips, flickering slightly, but warm in their own way.

“Donnie,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Did you build yourself a tech blanket fort?”

He looked flustered. “No. I mean—not intentionally. I was optimizing work conditions, and the blanket just… enhances acoustic absorption and comfort for long-term programming sessions.”

“So,” you grinned, “a blanket fort.”

He huffed. “Fine. Yes. A highly advanced blanket fort.”

You giggled and tucked the edge of the blanket around your shoulders. “I love it.”

He blinked. “You do?”

“Of course. It’s kind of perfect.” You leaned back slightly. “It’s warm, quiet, glowy… and it smells like solder and coffee. Very ‘you.’”

Donnie was silent for a beat. Then, he mumbled, “I wasn’t sure you’d like it down here.”

You turned to him. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He shifted awkwardly, fingers fidgeting with a loose wire. “Most people… wouldn’t exactly enjoy sitting in a dark lab full of failing circuits and overheating processors.”

“I’m not most people,” you said softly.

Donnie didn’t respond at first. He looked down at the blanket, at the way it pooled around the two of you, and then carefully set aside the laptop.

“You know,” he started, voice lower now, “sometimes I forget there’s a world outside this lab. Not in a dramatic way, just… I get stuck in my head. The math, the logic, the endless systems I can’t control—sometimes that’s all I focus on.”

You were quiet, letting him talk.

“And then you show up,” he continued. “With tea. And sarcasm. And blankets.” His gaze lifted to meet yours. “And suddenly the world feels… a little quieter. Like the code finally compiled.”

You smiled, heart thudding gently in your chest. “Is that your way of saying you like having me here?”

“Yes,” he said immediately. Then cleared his throat. “I mean—logically speaking, your presence has a statistically significant impact on my overall mood and cognitive focus.”

“Donnie,” you said, nudging his arm with your elbow, “just say you like me.”

He went red. Deep red. The color crept all the way to his bandana. “I—okay—fine. I like you. A lot.”

You laughed and leaned your head against his shoulder. He froze for a second, then slowly, slowly relaxed under the pressure.

“I like you too,” you whispered.

Donnie didn’t say anything, but you felt it—the soft exhale, the way his hand curled just slightly closer to yours under the blanket. He didn’t need grand declarations. Not tonight.

You sat together in the tech-fort, surrounded by quiet buzzes and blinking lights, with the world outside temporarily short-circuited.

And honestly?

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[hedwig221b]

stiles and derek body swap fics?

sure thing

Fuzzy Logic by Sparseparsley

Derek and Stiles switch bodies because of wizard reasons and Stiles just wants to know what that awesome scent is.

I'm Lost In You by matildajones

He knows he should move but a part of him still feels paralyzed. He has clear feelings of not being able to move his body, of not being able to even blink. “Oh my god,” Stiles says, and he clambers to his feet, feeling dizzy. He easily finds a mirror in the room and then the most gorgeous eyes stare back at him. They’re a sea-green instead of the normal brown that he’s used to. He’s looking at his soulmate. -- Stiles wakes up in his soulmate's body, on his twenty-second birthday, with blurry memories of the past year. Derek doesn't wake up at all.

Your Body's My Body by derekstilinski

Derek and Stiles get body swapped… Interesting things happen.

Under My Skin by Renmackree

In his defense, Stiles wasn't even trying to find his way into the supernatural tonight. He had gone to a normal party at Danny's after their summer Lacrosse practice , met a normal girl who seemed interested in him, left with her to go to her normal apartment in the hopes of having normal sex for the first time. But, then again, when has anything normal happened to Stiles Stilinski?

Might Not Make It Back by GotTheSilver

Bodyswap. Because of the fun.

Yours, Mine, Our Body by christinchen

Stiles wishes Derek could see things from his perspective. His magic decides to grant him that wish. Literally.

Trust Fall

Stiles is fairly certain that a case could be made for every bad thing in his life coming back to Peter Hale. This time it's pissing off a powerful witch, who retaliated by swapping Stiles and Derek a la Freaky Friday, because sure. That makes sense. Um, there are GPAs on the line, not to mention the whole thing where his dad wants to shoot Derek on sight. Except who he sees as Derek is actually Stiles, and Stiles did not sign up for filicide. Great. Wait…does this mean he's the Alpha until they figure this out? Holy. Shit. Derek had stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a few minutes trying to control the panic as he saw himself as Stiles. As the loud mouthed human friend of the pack. He was going to kill Peter. He was going to kill the witch, then he was going to kill Peter. Maybe even resurrect him again just to kill him all over. They were going to have to play this cool. They would have to stay calm and focused. Which is of course why the universe threw him into this situation with someone who physically couldn't be calm and focused. Of course.

it is so quite new a thing by sheafrotherdon

In the last, lazy moment before he opens his eyes, Derek realizes something is wrong.

i feel you in every heartbeat by warlock (sapphicblight)

Suddenly his entire body felt tingly and sensitive and he could swear gravity had failed on him just then; he couldn’t feel the chair he was sitting on, or where he’d planted his feet on the floor, or the clothes he was wearing, or the pen he was holding, and then his vision started blurring and morphing into a picture of some place that was not his classroom. “Oh, shi—” “—it,” he finished with a different voice. Or, the AU in which, on their 22nd birthday, a person will switch bodies with their soulmate and is left to figure out whom they're temporarily inhabiting, and how to get back to each other. But because Stiles is Stiles, he forgets that it's his birthday, and the bodyswap takes him by surprise.

if i was you and you were me, we'd still be us by thoughtsandthings

"Derek,” Stiles said slowly. “Why do you look like the evil twin version of me?” “Go look in the mirror.” - After swapping bodies, Stiles and Derek walk a mile in each other’s shoes and learn a lot about each other (and themselves) in the process.

[masterlist link]

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Study Buddy pt 2

Stepdad!Anakin Skywalker x femme reader

18+ MDNI

Warnings: heavy breeding kink, cheating, stepcest/inappropriate relationships, unprotected PiV, condescending/demeaning tone, manipulation, gaslighting, age-gap, medication/medication alterations, baby trapping, ddlg, innocence/purity kink, praise, reader is over 18

Info: reader acts more innocent/naive than they are, Anakin is just a little bit evil but in a kind of tee-hee he’s so cheeky way, trophy wife? yes please, princess treatment forever

🕊 dead dove do not eat 🕊

“What?” You asked with your head in a confused tilt.

A blank look glazed over your face as you tried to connect the scattered dots. The post-haze of your orgasm was making your brain fuzzy, Anakin’s cock still buried in your puffy pink pussy wasn’t helping keep your train of thought on its track either.

“Wait. No I’m on birth control.” You shook your head and laughed, he must’ve forgotten.

“Oh, silly girl.” He tsk’d, his hands gripping your thighs. With a low and rumbling chuckle he began tracing slow circles around your bellybutton before slipping between your legs, his thumb teasing your swollen clit.

"You're mine now, aren't you?” He asked sweetly, accompanied by a little kiss to your forehead that had your heart fluttering.

“Anything I want you’ll give me… won’t you?”

“Anything?” You parroted back at him, glancing down to his hand between your legs. “It’s only fair, you do get me anything I want.”

“That I do princess.” He grinned. “Anything for my girl.”

Anakin's eyes bore into yours, a heated gaze of possession. He leaned closer, his breath hot against your neck, his lips brushing against your earlobe.

“My princess gets everything she wants… so it’d only be right if you gave me this one thing wouldn’t it?” He asked, kissing the softness beneath your jaw.

You couldn’t argue with that logic. That was a solid deal. One little request of his compared to the lifetime of spoiling he’d given to you… that was a steal. Besides, you’d always wanted to be a mother, it might as well be now shouldn’t it? Anakin loved you, you loved Anakin, and your mom always said- wait.

“But what about-“ You started.

“Shh, no don’t worry about anything else okay?” He silenced you with a kiss.

“I’ll take care of everything. Just like I take care of you princess.”

His lips trailed down your neck, his strong hand massaging the squishy flesh of your waist and rocking you on his half-hard cock.

“You want to be with me don’t you babydoll?” He breathed out.

“Of course I do Ani.” You whispered, unable to think clearly, not that it would matter if you could.

“That's a good girl." He praised, sucking lightly before biting down ever so slightly, drawing out a moan from you. His hand moved lower, massaging and rubbing your ass cheek, squeezing and kneading gently.

“You trust me don’t you sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, starting to slide up and down his cock as it grew harder inside your cum-coated walls.

“And you know I only do things to make you happy, keep you safe… only ever things that are good for you right?” He asked while pinching and rolling your clit between his thumb and forefinger, the one little movement sending a *zap* straight to your brain.

“I know Ani.” You mumbled, leaning in to kiss him.

He chuckled, smoothing your hair from your pretty face, peppering your soft skin with sweet chaste kisses.

“N’ you trusted your daddy enough to help you with your medicine every night didn’t you?” He asked, slowly moving you both so that you laid flat on your back with your lower half held up by his muscled arms.

“Yeah I did- do I mean.” You nodded, eyes fluttering shut while your bottom lip was trapped between his teeth. The change of position was a heavenly new angle. His massive palms on each ass cheek, keeping your lower half suspended so he could kneel between your legs.

“Yeah you do don’t you pretty girl?" Anakin chuckled, his voice rich and deep.

“Cause you’re alittle forgetful right?” He teased, and you nodded with a giggle.

“So my girl didn’t even notice when I stopped giving her that little pill huh?” He cooed, not giving you time to think before sucking his thumb and covering it in spit to swipe over your hardened nipples.

“N-no I didn’t.” You gasped, eyes rolling back in your head at the dizzying stimulation.

“That’s right baby. Just another reason for you to let me take care of you right sweetheart?” He said, his voice honey smooth.

“Y-yeah Ani.” You nodded. He was right. You could hardly keep up with your own things, let alone remember to do something like taking your medicines. You couldn’t even do your homework by yourself, you needed him, he took care of you.

"That's a good girl." He praised, his hand moving back to support your weight as he began to thrust harder into you, his hips slapping against yours in a rhythmic beat.

"Open your eyes and look at me." His command broke through your haze of pleasure, and you did as he asked.

"Isn’t it nice? Knowing it’s all taken care of for you?" He asked, his breath coming out in short, ragged gasps.

You felt your stomach tighten up, your hands smacking the carpeted floor and searching for something to hold onto. “Y-yeah Ani… I- I think I’m gonna- oh gods.”

“I know baby, I know.” He said, low and soothing as he rocked into you.

“You need me to make you cum don’t you?” He smiled softly. “I will doll, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you in every way. Always.”

“Treat you just like the princess you are m’kay?” He moaned, his forehead resting on yours as you whined and wrapped your legs around his waist, crossing your ankles to rest just above his ass. “Gonna fuck you full alright baby?”

“Gods… please?” You whined, nodding your head. “I want you to… please I want your cum.”

“Damn right you do.” He groaned, a triumphant grin on his lips.

“Gonna make you the prettiest little mommy.” His hips stuttered, resuming his previous quick circling of your clit with his calloused thumb. “that’s it, come on sweetheart I feel it. I know you wanna cum don’t you?”

“Yes!” You cried out, back arching, legs shaking as you squeezed his cock, your pussy fluttering.

"That's it baby girl." Anakin growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he pounded into you harder, faster. "Cum for your daddy."

His cockhead slammed against your G-spot relentlessly, the thick tip brushing against every ridge along the way.

"You're so fucking tight, so goddamn tight." Anakin groaned, his eyes glazed over with lust as he neared his own climax. “Like I’m fuckin’ a vice when you squeeze me like that baby.”

“Fuck. God you’re so fuckin’-“ He cut himself off with a low groan, his hips flush to yours “take my cum baby, damnit”

You felt his cock twitch, leaking hot semen deep inside you, rope after rope painting your walls a creamy white.

Anakin’s breath was shaky as he rocked into you slowly, like he was trying his damndest to massage every bit of his essence into your used and abused cunt.

“You’re so pretty.” He breathed out, looking down at you with a crooked grin. “you know that? All red in the face, panting, cute little fucked out cunt…” He let out a chuckle.

“You feeling okay doll?” He asked, gently swiping some drool from the corner of your mouth with his thumb and bringing it to his mouth to lick off.

“M’ feeling perfect.” You sighed, too exhausted to move.

“Good.” He laughed. “I need you to stay right here okay? Don’t move.”

He slowly slid out, dripping cum and juices onto the floor beneath you. Taking great care in propping up your hips with a few pillows. He slipped his boxers back on and patted your tummy before walking to the kitchen.

“You gotta lay just like that for at least 30 minutes okay? Gotta make sure all that hard work sticks don’t we?” He teased.

You giggled, blissful and giddy in your after-orgasm glow. Anakin came back with a water for you, helping you prop yourself up on your elbow to take a sip.

“Here, you need one of these everyday now okay?” He showed you a large bottle of gummy vitamins. “You go ahead and take one now, I know you’re picky. So let’s see if you like these ones and if not I’ll get you some different ones.” He smiled, popping one of them into your mouth.

They were a bit tangy, but overall not terrible. You gave him a thumbs up and swallowed the rest of the vitamin before letting yourself collapse back onto the floor. Thankful that you were naked and equally thankful Anakin had the forethought to turn on the overhead fan when he’d gotten up.

“Do you need anything doll?” Anakin asked sitting down near your head and picking it up gently to rest on his thigh, carding his fingers through your hair.

“Mmm… no.” You sighed, leaning into his loving touch. One hand of yours reaching above and behind your head to run your fingers along his bicep.

“Alright sweet girl. You just relax okay?” He beamed down at you, pride etched in every line on his handsome face.

He flipped on the Tv, searching through the different channels until he settled in a shared favorite of yours. A true crime drama, The First 48.

“Oh hell yeah this one’s new.” He said setting the remote to the side.

‘Oh that’s nice.’ You thought as you turned your head to watch along with him. ‘They usually only show new episodes at 5:00… 5:00?’ Your eyes flew open.

“Wait…” You thought for a second, looking over at the clock. “Moms gonna be home in like 10 minutes Anakin!”

“Huh, would you look at that.” He said calmly, a tiny smirk curling his top lip as he heard a car door slam shut. “I think she’s home early.”

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate

@burnthecheshirewitch@cherrylooney@star611

@tahliac11 @exquisit3corpse @jeldog @arzua10

@bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay

@aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn

@illiethefairy @bunnylovesani @offthethir/wall

@slutforhayden @ausskywalker @angelsadmired

@slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie

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@bobtheturmpetman29 @mortalheartache

@fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot

@joshfutturmansrighthand @chaoticantihero

@vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee

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@angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled

@graveyard-stray

Let me know if you wanna be added/removed from the tag list

[demonbanger]

18+ | something more | big dick, secret freak friend! Choso x Reader (college age)

synopsis: somehow you and your quiet, observant friend end up fucking. you’ve both been cordial, and you convinced yourself you weren’t that into him because he didn’t seem into you…almost. there’s rumors along your friend group that he’s pretty…hung. looks like it’s time for you to find out, among other things about him. xx

kinks: overstim, spanking, choking, fingering, raw sex (be safe!!), cream pie, Choso is surprisingly dominant and experienced, pent up desire from two oblivious friends

_______________________________

“hic,” a small hiccup leaves soft rosy lips.

“hic-” followed by a little whimper.

a warm embrace surrounds you, but you can’t control the tears and the soft hiccups that come with and make your chest jump.

“hic—”

“shhh, just take it,” he lowly groans, baritone voice almost cracking in the middle of his own sentence. as if you can quiet down your involuntary hiccups. so unfair. but was it ever supposed to be fair?

you’re supported and uplifted by big, warm, hands at your sides,

then he slams you.

down.

squelch.

right.

on.

his.

big,

fat…

cock.

“mmf-oh god,, please!” you let out a high pitched whimper, as he lifts you back up, his thick mushroom tip caressing your velvety walls, nerve endings so riled up right now by any little teasing movement,

and he plops you back down, filling you and giving such a deep stretch your head feels warm and fuzzy. pussy so full, and a head so void.

your friend’s been fucking you for what’s felt like hours, and he’s selfishly pulled out a few orgasms from you for his own sick entertainment, wanting to see you squirm as he plays with your needy cunt. wanting to listen to and relish in all of your little noises.

noises he knows you’re making allll because of him. he’s just that good.

the cocky bastard knows that no one else can stretch you like this, none of your pathetic small boyfriends, or even that one really nice one night stand you were in a situationship with,, and you’re utterly at his mercy now as he pumps into you and stretches you so wide.

“please what?” he whispers, his hot breath on the shell of your ear making you shiver as you hiccup again.

a small smile stretches across his pretty lips. gosh he’s such a fucking tease.

you blink through tears and turn your head back to lock eyes with him, a small sob choking out from overstimulation.

he moves you with those hands of his to grind on top of him as he’s balls deep, and you mewl out a hushed little “oughhh fuuckkk me~” that he secretly loves, your sticky wetness coating both of you at your meeting place, slick drooling down his balls beneath you, even down to the sheets. thighs trembling. clit throbbing.

“hmmmmm?”

you don’t know how to talk logically right now!!! this is so not fair, for him to give you such a hard time. When he’s already giving your poor little weeping pussy such a hard time! why is he so so … mean?

you answer shakily, pouting a little bit. “please, ‘s too much, I’m so full.”

to that he lets out a little mean chuckle. “please do what?” he reiterates. you didn’t answer his question properly. all you said was please but please what? you usually know how to hold a conversation and answer all his questions in depth. why can’t you right now?

how weird.

wonder why…

At another roll of his hips because you’re taking too long to answer, you’re blubbering.

“please - ah - need to cum on your cock, please!! please—please?” you contradict yourself by pleading in wet desperation, melting as he pumps into you agonizingly slow and deep, his movements driving you to the point of going utterly berserk. you can’t help but struggle on top of him but also grinding down on his cock to meet his hips.

he shakes his head, chuckling. you’re such a silly girl! asking for more orgasms when you just said you’re having more than enough, when you’re so overstimulated.

just like how you squirmed away from his hands when his fat fingers pumped inside you earlier, yet you also sucked him in like you didn’t want him to go anywhere. which is it? do you even know what you want?

you tighten around his cock at how he says more with his stupid, fucking, annoying, seductive voice.

“selfish, selfish girl . I guess I can give you what you ask for.” And just like that, he’s fucking right back into you, slow and constant, holding you in place so you have nowhere to go, no matter how much you try to squirm. It’s pointless. Your pussy is getting used for his own pleasure, and of pleasure… he’s absolutely starved. plus, his appetite is voracious as it is so. lucky you, or unlucky.

your eyes close for a beat longer than a second,

but he notices. he notices everything. he just loves to pick on you.

“ah ah ah, you said you want to cum, right?”

you force your eyes open and look at him, biting your lip at how beautifully he drags against your walls.

“mmmhh— yes,,” your eyes roll back at a particularly harsh thrust. he could fucking break you with this thing.

“then look me in the eyes, or else I won’t allow you to cum. It’s bad manners not to look at me when I’m talking to you.”

you listen to him, trying so hard to be good, and turn your head at that uncomfortable angle to look at him, trying so so hard to keep holding eye contact, even though he’s thrusting his length into you so sensually you feel you might cry again. are you drooling too?

he’s hitting what feels like the end of your cavern, kissing your poor cervix, and you see stars each time that beautiful friction and his veins massage your insides.

“mmfuckkk I, I’m sor—ohhh fuck” you gasp when he pushes you forward to fall, and grips your hips so tightly they may bruise a little, then starts slamming sooo deep into you. impossibly deeper…

“aww, Y/N, you’re what now?” he teases, looking pleased you still tried to keep eye contact. The look in your eyes is just so intoxicating right now, you look so fucked out right now. He’s been wanting to see you like this…

You’re a bit shaky but you fight through it to whine out, “‘M sorry, didn’t mean to be rude,” your voice a bit bumpy as his rough fucking rocks you around a little.

“I’ll forgive it, since you’re so good at apologizing. I’m not worried. You’re just have to keep fucking taking it like a good girl does,” he chuckles, and your moaning gets louder as the pleasure is now hanging over your psyche like a cloud, and you’ve already started to rain.

He’s just battering into you, abusing your poor pussy, and now, one of his hands brushes over your clit. Your clit, that’s already gotten so much attention from the first couple of rounds. Oh. You’re so done for.

Your attention wanders because everything is such a blur…

SLAP!!

You let out a tiny yelp.

Your ass stings a little bit.

“Y/N…What did I fucking tell you?”

You’re so fucked out. This isn’t fair. He knows it. Just like how you’ve always been to eachother. Relentless bullying and double standards, except you don’t have it in you to say anything back for the first time ever.

You want to let him win, let him claim his prize.

Your eyes flit back over, so desperate, he can tell how hard you’re trying, and he makes it easier by pulling you up by the neck so your back is to his chest and he’s choking you, your head leaning back on his shoulders.

You grip the hand that chokes you, and he only tightens it. This feels so fucking good, especially because you’ve wanted this and denied yourself of this for who knows how long now.

if only you saw how hot you were in this state, just an absolute ruined mess, totally different from the girl who’s all dolled up at work, tries to be little miss perfect wherever she goes, the girl in the friend group who’s lighthearted enough.

now here you are, face flushed, gasping for air, getting fucked like a little slut, by a guy whose voice you tried so so hard since first knowing him to not find hot.

you denied yourself any thoughts that would creep up, especially when he’d remember something you said a while ago that you thought you mumbled off handedly, and he’d repeat it almost word for word in that stupid sultry voice.

you hateddd how you both hung out and you’d hear implications in the friend group how well-endowed he was. pretended so much to yourself that you weren’t a curious creature, and a little turned on hearing that.

well…curiosity killed that cat.

and he’s definitely killing yours right now with that discovery.

the lack of oxygen to your flustered brain is making you even wetter, and you start to go a little cross-eyed from near suffocation.

the guy friend you’ve had the hots for then starts to take more oxygen from you by kissing you.

it’s hungry. it’s desperate.

he breaks it to rasp, “keep your mouth open.”

since you obey, he spits in your mouth, lets go of you before you run out of air, and you swallow while taking a sharp inhale.

you stick your tongue out, to which he replies,

“good fucking girl, Y/N.”

you’re getting close. You’re getting so fucking close. And he can feel it as you try so hard to catch your breath, but are fluttering around him.

He rubs your clit just perfectly as you chant his name over and over, slaps and whines filling the room.

“Choso, please, need you, please cum inside,” you cry out, begging as you have been, throat raw from moaning so much. you just couldn’t help it….

his hips are beginning to stutter too…his endurance is so fucking good but the way you’re squeezing him; it’s really really hard for him to keep himself together now.

your eyes sparkle, all dumb with pleasure, just wanting his cum in your cunt, and you’re trembling and squirming as he plays your clit like an instrument, his low moans egging you on and only making you clench around him more.

then… it fucking hits you like a ton of bricks and you’re screaming yourself raw as you clamp down on him.

“Cho, oh fuck, ohfuckfuckffuuckfuckfuckfuck,” you slur out, vision turning cloudy.

then you become quiet.

just like that you feel some extra warmth inside you and know he just came inside you too, just like you wanted.

as your high wears down, you both pant. After some time he slips out of you, and you whine at the absence.

“so….uh….what will we tell them?”

__________

thank you for reading :3

honestly I didn’t do much physical description because I was thinking of someone else while writing this the whole time, forgive meh~<3

[chil-aglia]

FTNTH & WFI Crossover!

A Gruesome Disaster

Chapter 7

WFI Donnie belongs to @cimmerian1275 (who also beta read this and wrote some scenes)

We decided, hey, let’s make a crossover with our double mutated versions of Leo and Donnie, because we love some disaster twins' shenanigans!

We also decided to call them Sword and a Sparrow (SAAS)

Art in this is also made by @cimmerian1275

PLEASE LISTEN TO THIS SONG FOR A BETTER READING EXPERIENCE

Sadly, can’t tag it, won’t show up for some reason

It was cold, dark and despairingly claustrophobic when Leo began to stir awake. His body felt like it was hit by a cement truck, he felt heavy, numb but all at the same time he ached something fierce.

What had happened? His mind was fuzzy, and the last thing he recalled was seeing Donnie and Mikey approaching him in an alleyway. He remembered the overwhelming urge to attack. To hunt that yokai that threw the beer can at him.

Bits and pieces were slowly moving around inside his mind, but his head started pounding. Thankfully his vision, once a blur a moment ago, became clearer. He observed his surroundings, blinking owlishly at the strange sight of shadowy barred cages.

Was he… was he in a cell?!

Leo sat up, groaning and rolling his shoulders as they crack and pop, body and muscles stiff as a wooden board. His tail thumped against the floor, stretching out as he narrowed his eyes.

The surrounding area was dark, but Leo could still see. It was like he had built in thermal vision, allowing him to identify some body heat not far from him.

This figure across from him in a separate cage had a familiar silhouette. Smelt familiar.

“Donnie…?”

Upon hearing the name, Donnie who had been quietly sitting in the corner with his arms crossed and pouting, perked up. He immediately shuffled towards the bars, gripping the steel as he let out a relieved sigh.

“You're okay… thank goodness.”

“Donnie? What is this place? Where the hell are we?”

Donnie bit his lower lip in thought. He truthfully had no solid guess as to where he and his twin were located. Nothing seemed familiar given the surroundings, he’d never personally been in this dungeon before and wouldn't know who it belongs to. Donnie had night vision and that made it far easier to decipher what they were trapped in and make a logical assumption, but even he had his limits.

“I have… no idea. I was fighting Zarynthia when we got tranqed.”

Fighting…?

Leo blinked in confusion, placing a hand over his mouth in thought as he slowly began to piece together events, when Zarynthia controlled his body like a puppet.

Fuck… he hurt Donnie. He hurt Mikey—

“Mikey… where’s Mikey?!”

Donnie shot him an unamused frown when Leo rattled the bars at the recollection of his baby brother. “I haven’t seen him. I think it’s safe to assume that he wasn’t brought with us to… who knows where this is.” He replied, gesturing to the surrounding darkness and leaning on his shoulder against the bars of his own cage.

Leo relaxed a bit at Donnie’s assumption, sagging against the cold bars, his claws curling tightly around them as he exhaled shakily. The chill of the metal seeped into his green skin, grounding him, though his heart still thundered in his chest like a storm.

Donnie carefully watched him from afar, scanning over his brother's face in the gloom, his posture began trembling. Leo’s face looked like it was trying incredibly hard not to crumble in on itself, with the way he bit his lip and drew his brows together. His twin from another dimension seemed unaware that he could actually see him in these low light conditions, given how unusually open his expression looked.

“Leo… do you know what happened in that alleyway?”

Leo didn’t answer right away, his grip tightening. “Bits and pieces.” He muttered, “I remember… losing control. I wasn’t in control anymore. I wanted to stop, but I couldn’t. I knew what was happening and I couldn’t stop myself.” His voice cracked on the last part of his sentence. Shame thick in his throat.

Donnie narrowed his eyes at him, shaking his head. “Leo, that wasn’t you. It was Zarynthia. She got in your head—“

“But I still did it!” Leo exclaimed, pushing off the bars, standing up and pacing around in the cramped space like some caged animal. “I still felt it. The rage. The hunger. I almost—“ He pauses, running his hand down the back of his neck as he takes in another trembling breath.

“I injured you. And Mikey.”

Donnie remained silent, professing what he said next. “Yeah. You did. But I know it wasn’t your fault. And Mikey knows it too.” His voice was firm, Leo needed to hear it from a reliable outside source that his actions are not his fault when he's not even the one in control of his body.

Leo’s eyes flicked back to his other dimensional twin brother. Guilt still planted on his face.

Donnie tensed his jaw, uncomfortable with the rising emotions he felt bubbling up inside. Where was Doctor Feelings when you needed him? He was far better suited to handling this conversation. He hunched in on himself, tucking his wings in closer while he took a deep and steadying breath. Was he really going to have to be the one to say this?

“Look, you think I haven’t made mistakes either?” Donnie started, leaning closer to the edge of his cell, studying his claws in the darkness when he clenched and unclenched his fists. “We’re mutants, Leo. Twice over, we’re also dangerous. But we’re brothers, twins, and we have each other. To help remind us of who we are.”

Silence passed between them as Leo walked over to the wall, leaning against it with his shell. “I’m… scared.” He admitted, barely above a whisper. 

“…Likewise.” He breathed back, barely a whisper.

The two twins sat and stood in silence, the sound of dripping water echoing from the shadows filling the quietude.

Leo tilts his head back, staring in the direction of the ceiling. “We can’t stay here. We need to leave, and fast.”

Donnie hums in agreement, “I agree. However if you apparently haven’t noticed yet, they took everything of ours. My tech is gone, your swords, my bō. Everything.”

Leo’s tail flicked again, “Then we break out the old-fashioned way.” He smirks, hands on hips. Donnie raises a brow at him.

“Have you been watching Prison Break or something?” He deadpans.

Leo tensed and scoffed, “Shut up. It’s a good show.”

Then, from the gloom a familiar voice cut through to them. Amused and taunting.

“Oh, I wouldn’t recommend that turtley-boos.”

Both brothers froze, heads snapping towards the voice as the familiar figure of Big Mama in her human form slowly approached, her heels clicking against the ground.

“Now, who can tell me why Big Mama decided to bring you both here, hm?”

The spines on Leo’s shell had instinctively spiked up like a cat’s hair raising, his eyes narrowing to paper thin slits as he stared at her. He clicked his tongue dismissively before giving the yokai his usual charming smile.

“Because you love us, right?”

Big Mama hums, looking towards Leo as she steps closer for a better view of the slider. “You’ve changed, blue one, since we last met. Oh my, you seem to have gotten yourself into quite a pickle.” She smirks teasingly as Leo straightens himself up to appear more confident, like he hadn’t been on the brink of breaking down earlier.

“Oh, this? It’s nothing. Figured I would try something new with myself.”

Big Mama narrowed her eyes amusingly, tapping her finger against her cheek. “I heard rumours roaming about that there was a pair of curious yokai-looking creatures of… shall we say, mixed breed?”

She gestured to Leo’s tail, which had self consciously twitched under her scrutinizing stare. While Leo had hoped that Big Mama had a change of heart, considering how she provided some aid for him and his family against the Shredder, Leo wasn’t as entirely convinced or optimistic like Mikey would be.

Leo knew how Big Mama operated, he knew this because whether he wanted to admit it or not, they were scarily alike in some aspects. 

And he knew that she could not easily be trusted.

She owned a gladiator fighting arena after all. From his position, he didn't have any grounds to trust her.

Big Mama soon turned her attention over to Donnie, striding closer to his cell and nonchalantly eyeing his change of appearance.

“You look different too, smart one. And I’m not talking about the tail and wings…”

He straightened up, meeting her gaze with a flat expression and arms still crossed tightly over his plastron. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Big Mama blinked at him before letting out her usual airy chuckle, “Feisty are we? But I don’t think you have enough room to talk when you’re trapped in this fizzy-winkle.” She grins, reaching through the bars and tapping her nail against Donnie’s plastron before pulling away, hands on hips.

He stepped back at the contact, baring his teeth in a grimace before looking away. Judging by their current situation, he’s going to assume that Leo and his brothers are not on good terms with this other dimensional version of Big Mama. "Not enough room? Whose fault is that, don't have enough money for a better dungeon?"

Big Mama growls slightly at him in annoyance before looking away, pacing back and forth between the two cells.

“While yes, ever since Shadow Fiend left my arena, money has been a little… tight and a little bit of a tissle-tassle. My people need their excitement.” She paused and smirks sinisterly at the twin brothers.

“Which is where you two monstery little turtley-boos come in.”

She chuckled slightly, her presence radiating confidence. “From what I was told by my loyal bellhops, one of you has a goddess inhabiting their mind?” She spoke out amusingly, her eyes darting between Donnie and Leo curiously.

“I can use that for my Battle Nexus. So… who is the lucky one to take flight into a little thrashy-diddle?”

Leo stiffened at her words, eyes dilated defensively as Big Mama watched him. Donnie could tell that this version of Big Mama was suspecting his brother, so he did the only thing he could think of on the spot.

“Me. I have the goddess in me.”

Both Leo and Big Mama perked up, different reactions from the two, with Leo looking stunned and worried as Big Mama seemed amused and eager.

“You? Are you positively sure?”

She stood in front of his cell, peering closely at him.

Donnie gulped, he didn’t think this far ahead, letting his words fall from his mouth before he had a chance to even think. He side eyed Leo who stared between him and Big Mama, narrowing his eyes and clearing his throat.

“Oh, how adorable, my brother trying to protect me. Oho, it’s actually me, I have the goddess.”

He and Donnie shared a look, both of them furrowing their brows at one another as though they were having a silent argument with just their looks alone.

“Incorrect! Don’t take this the wrong way Nardo, but you’re way too dumb to even house a goddess inside that head of yours.”

He smirked, tilting his head to the side and placing a hand over his plastron. “Unlike me, who clearly has a superior intellect fit for one.” He proclaimed smugly, as Leo gaped at him in shock.

“First of all, rude. Second of all, you wouldn’t even be able to handle a goddess. You’d just complain all the time.”

“Not true!”

“It so is bro.”

The two picked up their bickering as Big Mama observed them, her eyes beginning to twitch at their lack of progress. She groans and claps her hands together loudly, the sound echoing off the walls as the twins pause and look at her with matching glares.

“Very well… if that’s how it’s going to be. Then I’ll go with plan B.”

Donnie and Leo cautiously share a puzzled look, Leo taking the initiative to ask. “And, what’s plan B exactly?” He questions the yokai who grins widely.

“Simple. You two will fight each other in the arena. Whoever wins stays with me. The loser… well, I’m sure I don’t need to explain.”

The brothers tense, with Donnie shaking his head. “You can’t make us fight! We have rights!” He rattled the bars as Leo bit the inside of his cheek, his foot tapping against the floor to let out his anxiousness.

“Oh, this will be a treat. Brother vs brother. Who will come out on top?” She laughs, walking towards the exit, “Someone will be by shortly to properly escort you to the battle nexus arena. Do put on a good show for Big Mama.”

She smiles fakely, the doors closing as the twins remain quiet, taking in what she said.

Donnie slumped back, his arms crossed. “Well. This sucks.”

Leo exhaled through his nose, steadying himself. “No matter what happens… we don’t actually fight each other.”

Donnie looked at him and nodded. “Right. We fake it. And we find a way out.”

They shared a look, silent but solid.

They’d faced worse.

Maybe.

-----

The two were forced out of their cells, feet and arms and tails chained as they shuffled behind the guards. A sudden shove from behind almost had Donnie stumbling over his own bound feet if he hadn't balanced himself in time.

They probably could have run free, broken the chains and fought together, but this was Big Mama. She could find them, hurt their friends and families, plus she seemed to know of Zarynthia, Leo’s cursor, in which Donnie didn’t want Leo to be a target for her.

And even if they did make a run for it, the corridor they were being ushered down was too narrow for Donnie to utilize his wings for an assured escape.

They had a plan though, fake their fight, to the point where Big Mama would have to let them go because they wouldn’t have brought enough entertainment to the crazed and battle-thirsty yokai who came for the action packed bloodshed between competitors.

They were given weapons, but not their own. Donnie with a metal bō staff and Leo with twin katanas. Neither of them mystic, which meant no portals to escape in. Despite all of his efforts Leo still couldn't replicate that trick he pulled off when he fought Shredder and channeled his ninpo to create portal swords.

Leo twirled the borrowed katanas once, testing their weight.

Donnie spun the bō staff, lips tight and eyes narrowed.

Their plan was simple: They put on a show. Trick Big Mama. Survive.

Leo glanced at Donnie.

“Ready?”

Donnie nodded.

“Let’s make it count.”

They both flinch, taken aback by the loudness of the crowd outside the gates that led to the arena. Donnie was shoved away from Leo, making both turtles hiss protectively.

“Hey! What are you doing with him?!” Leo growls, taking a step towards the bellhops, only to be blocked by the large owl yokai.

“Big Mama wants you two seperate for when you enter the ring.”

Leo glared daggers at the owl before looking over towards Donnie, whose wings were puffed up agitatedly before he sighs, “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you in there.” He assured with his best reassuring smile that he could muster. Leo didn’t return it, just looked more concerned as he got guided away towards the gate.

Taking a deep breath in to clear his mind, trying to not focus on the cheering of eager yokai who came for a bloodied battle.

As he moved closer, the arena’s walls vibrated with excitement. Chants and cheers in various yokai dialects overlapped each other in chaotic waves. The energy was electric, buzzing with bloodlust. Every step closer made Leo’s skin crawl.

You’ll be fine Leo… you're good at having the spotlight. Just fake it with Donnie and—

“Ladies and gentlemen! Prepare for a battle of a lifetime. Two brothers, mutants mixed with a thrilling combination of DNA, fight for their lives!”

The announcer’s voice booms to Leo’s ears, making him wince as he narrowed his eyes in annoyance.

“Who will come out on top? First, let’s introduce them!”

Leo stared through the gate, noticing on the other side of the ring that the gate over there opened up, and stepping out with a rigidly tense posture was Donnie.

The metal bō staff was gripped tightly in one hand, shackles discarded and his scorpionesque tail swinging free behind him. Wings partially flared like he was prepared to take flight. His expression was neutral, composed. But Leo could see the subtle tension in his shoulders and the stiffness in his eyebrows.

“In this corner we have the winged turtle wonder! Known for his brilliant mind! Will that scorpion tail of his be enough to paralyse his opponent and claim victory?”

Donnie didn’t look too happy about his introduction, scowling up at the large mystically projected TV screen that hung over the arena.

Donnie glanced at what it was projecting. His face was plastered across it in high definition, eyes currently shadowed by the tilt of his head.

His scowl deepened, chest rumbling with a soft growl.

Leo’s hands clenched tighter around the katana hilts. His pulse thudded in his ears.

He didn’t want this.

He hated this.

And he hadn’t even stepped into the ring yet.

The announcer wasn’t done.

“And now… his opponent! Ferocious! Feral! Monstrous! The feared Blue Blade!”

The word monstrous echoed in his head, Leo’s breathing hitched as he stared down at the floor with pupils slit out of fear.

Monster. 

He’s a monster. He looked like it, felt like it. He was going to hurt someone, has hurt someone. His own brother nonetheless. 

Get me out of here… I want out!

“You are a monster, little light.”

The voice wasn’t external but it wasn’t his either. It slithered through his mind like silk dipped in venom. Smooth. Familiar.

Zarynthia.

“No, no, shut up.” He hissed quietly, pressing a clawed hand to his temple.

But she was already there.

“I never left, Leonardo. I’ve just been waiting for a crack in the shell.” Her voice dripped with glee, rich and ancient, echoing with something else. “So easy to crawl back in when you’re already spiraling.”

He backed up a step, breath ragged. The air felt too thin. Too heavy. Too loud. Too bright.

Through the bars of the gate, he could just barely see Donnie standing in the arena, watching him.

Don’t look at me.

Don’t see me like this.

“You’ve tried so hard to control it… but deep down, you know what you are.” Zarynthia purred. “You felt it before. The hunger. The thrill. How your body sings when you let go.”

Leo’s muscles tensed, heart pounding against his ribs like a war drum.

“I said shut up!”

But the gate in front of him was already rising. The light of the arena poured over him like a spotlight on a sinner.

The crowd’s cheer spiked.

And inside him, something cracked.

His knees wobbled. His mind fractured.

“No, no, not here, not now—!”

“Let go.” Zarynthia whispered gently. “Let me help you. It’s easier that way.”

Suddenly his vision shifted, colors sharpened, heat signatures flared brighter, even the wingbeats of a fly across the arena flickered in his senses.

His fingers moved but not on his command.

His puppeteered body stepped forward.

Mechanical. Fluid. Predatory.

Across the arena, Donnie’s brows furrowed in alarm and his eyes widened as he spotted the change. Leo’s posture—stiff but loose. His head low and teeth bared. Katanas held differently from Leo’s signature flaunting style.

Donnie’s legs stiffened, his wings fluttering once uneasily.

“Leo?”

The word hit Leo’s ears, but he didn’t answer.

Zarynthia did.

The corners of Leo’s mouth curled up into a haunting smirk.

“Oh, this will be fun.”

Donnie took a slow step back.

“…No.”

Too late.

Leo’s body blurred forward in a sudden dash, dust from the clumped and bloodied arena floor exploding beneath his feet. His katanas slashed out, clean, precise, and too fast.

Donnie blocked the first strike but stumbled back from the force, eyes blown wide.

“Leo, it’s me! Snap out of it!”

The twin swords came again, almost too quickly to react. Donnie leapt into the air, wings frantically beating to dodge. Leo’s swords scraped sparks when they met the arena walls instead of flesh, leaving sharp grooves behind.

He wasn’t faking anymore.

This wasn’t the plan.

Leo’s voice growled out, twisted and distorted. “You should have run, genius.”

Donnie’s heart sank.

Leo was gone.

His blades screamed through the air, slicing down in an X-shape meant to split bone from shell. Donnie barely sprung back in time, the twin katanas carving deep gouges into the floor where he had just landed.

“Leo stop! I know you’re in there!” Donnie shouted, leaping back, his wings propelling him to temporary safety. He hovered mid-air and hurled his bō staff at him.

It struck Leo square in the chest, but he didn’t flinch.

Didn’t grunt. Didn’t do anything.

He smiled.

No… Zarynthia smiled.

“Oh, Donatello.” She purred from Leo’s mouth, voice like broken glass dipped in honey, “You should know by now, your brother is no longer home.”

Leo charged with unnatural speed, faster than any mutant had the right to be. The scorpion tail arcing from Donnie’s back lashed out, attempting to catch him mid-charge, but Leo twisted around it with a snarl, grabbing the tail mid-air and yanking Donnie down with it.

Donnie slammed shell first into the floor, hard enough to shock all the air right out of his lungs. A wheezy gasp of pain escaped his lips right before Leo pounced.

Steel flashed in his peripheral.

Donnie rolled.

Too slow.

The katana clipped his left shoulder, carving a shallow stinging wound. Blood spattered against the ground like red ink. His arm twitched and he hovered a hand over the injury, the wound too precise to be clumsy. If he was any slower, his arm would have been severed.

Zarynthia knew exactly where to hurt.

Donnie scrambled upright, his mind calculating at lightning speed, it was a shallow wound that his accelerated healing would surely mend in no time. Maybe he can exhaust Zarynthia’s control over Leo, if he can draw out the fight and outlast her? Leo might regain control then. But his heart was screaming something else.

That’s Leo. That’s still Leo. You can’t kill him.

He didn’t get the chance to think further. Leo was on him again, his split second of planning had cost him.

Pinning him down like easy prey as the soft shell grunts, using the bō that had landed within arms reach to block the incoming blades from Leo. “My combat is usually tech bō assisted!” He exclaimed in utter frustration at not being able to use any of his inventions right now. Ones that would have given him a much needed nonlethal upper hand.

“And to top it all off, I’m not getting any points for these hits!”

He splayed his wings out, closing his eyes and rapidly flapping them to pick up a large blinding dust cloud. With a sharp twist of his hips and a desperate kick, he managed to throw Leo off of him while he snarled and swiped at his own face. Donnie scrambled backwards, feet sliding through blood-slicked sand that made him gag, trying to regain distance, some space to think, space to breathe.

How could he incapacitate Leo without fatally wounding him? How much does he have to hold back?

As the dust across from him cleared, he could see Leo crouched low. His chest heaved, lips curled back in a feral growl. His tail cracked the air behind him like a whip, twitching with anticipation.

And then he lunged.

The first katana came down like a guillotine.

Donnie blocked it with the bō as more sparks exploded between them. 

But the second blade came in from the side, grazing across Donnie’s plastron, drawing another thin line that came frighteningly close. He roared and twisted away, swinging the bō horizontally with his whole body and all of his weight behind it.

CRACK!

It connected. Hard. With Leo’s jaw whose head snapped violently to the side, blood sprayed from his mouth, but he didn’t stagger.

He laughed.

Low. Wrong.

The crowds hollered for more.

“Getting desperate, aren’t we, brother?”

Donnie’s eyes burned. “I’m not your brother!”

He rolled his shoulders and winced, thin rivulets of blood coating his stinging left arm, the strong iron tang of it in the air was hard to ignore. He could feel stained and bloodied sand from previous arena fights caught between his feathers, coating his arms and legs and tail. He snapped his jaw shut and powered through the urge to gag again, resisting the bile that was attempting to rise up his throat.

He spun the bō, eyes narrowed and glaring dangerously at his puppet of a brother. The slider chuckled lowly in amusement, his spines bristled in anticipation.

Across from him, Leo crouched like a predator, feral and grinning.

“I thought this was supposed to be a fake fight.” Zarynthia teased, licking blood from Leo’s sharpened teeth. “A little show. A little fun. And yet, look at you, flailing around helplessly. So easy.”

Donnie steadied his grip. Zarynthia was tougher than she seemed, Leo was tougher than he thought. If she wants a fight, he can give her one.

“You think this is me giving up?” He growled. “You don’t know anything about us. About me.”

He surged forward, wings flaring, queasiness forgotten in the wave of adrenaline. The next blow was wild but fast, catching Leo off guard and knocking a katana from his hand. Donnie followed up with a precise jab to the throat, making Leo reel back, coughing and gasping.

For a second, just a second, Leo’s eyes flickered. That haunting glow dulled.

“…Donnie?”

Donnie froze.

Leo’s hand trembled. His shoulders dropped. His breathing turned shallow.

“I—I can’t stop it. She’s—she’s in my head—I can feel her—!”

He was panicking, breathing sharp as he groaned, gripping his head and throwing his body around like he was being pulled around like a ragdoll.

“It’s okay, Leo… don’t give up!” He begs, but whenever Leo tried to speak, he would only let out a roar of something possessed and unnatural. Zarynthia was fighting back for control of the body, and she was winning.

Leo had tears swelling his eyes as he gagged on the blood that was pooling up inside his mouth. Donnie watched, frozen like a statue and feeling helpless as he gripped the bō, eyebrows twisted in concern.

He knew Leo was only suffering by trying to fight back ownership for his body. And Donnie didn’t want that for him. 

“Stop…” Donnie whispered. “You’re hurting yourself. Please…”

But Zarynthia forced Leo forward again, his legs jerking in protest.

And Donnie made a choice.

He grit his teeth—and swung.

The bō cracked across Leo’s head.

The slider yelped in pain, stumbling backward, caught off guard.

Donnie didn’t stop.

He slammed the bō into Leo’s gut, then again across his shoulder. Every strike was agony, for both of them. Each hit split flesh and bruised bone, he could feel an echo of his brother's pain wherever he struck, twisting metaphorical daggers deeper.

But Zarynthia had to lose focus. Leo had to feel again.

“D-Don—!” Leo croaked, arm wavering as he reached out.

Donnie bellowed, flames flickering past his teeth as he stabbed his bō into the ground like a banner.

“Come on, Zarynthia! You want to fight?! I’m right here! Stop hiding behind him like a coward!”

Zarynthia snarled through Leo’s mouth.

Leo’s eyes widened, his body locking up and trembling when they met Donnies.

“S-stop—! You’ll only get hurt—“

“I CAN TAKE IT!”

Leo stumbled back at his exclamation before his pupils shifted, morphing into slits once more as Zarynthia took in a deep breath, twitching and slowly tilting Leo’s head up at Donnie as her target. Her only target.

“I’ll kill you…”

She seethed, tail snapping like a whip behind her before sprinting at him, picking up the discarded katana on the ground as she roared. She swung the blade at Donnie who lurched back, fearful, her slices were animalistic and full of rage. Blinded by it even.

Donnie swung the metal bō low, clipping one of Leo’s legs and causing him to buckle as they reeled. He spun the staff in front of him, kicking up more dust, when his gaze narrowed on the tips of his weapon. If it's pain that weakens Zarynthia enough for Leo to break through, then he’ll give her pain.

He squinted against the warm blaze, and breathed purple and amber flames across the ends of the steel bō staff as it spun. A molten golden hue glowing at both points, hissed through the air in a fiery circle.

He hurried backwards when Zarynthia swung a katana upwards, slashing through the edges of the flight feathers on his wing. The bō slammed down a moment later in retaliation, connecting sharply against one of Leo’s wrists. An inhuman shriek of pain yowled out, and the deafening cheers from the witnessing yokai audience made Donnie feel sick to his stomach with regret.

Leo’s face was twisted up in a sneer beyond recognition, it didn't even look like his brother, his twin anymore. He shoved the smell of burning scales and flesh to the back of his mind as he advanced, bō blazing and leaving a glowing trail behind as he parried and blocked the katanas.

It wasn't often Donnie let loose, allowed himself to test the limits of his newfound strength against a very real opponent. Despite the guilt coursing through his veins and weighing down his actions, a small part of him whispered gleefully at the lack of restraint. The chains holding the predator at bay had been slackened, and as he gave in more and more to his strength that small part of him enjoyed it.

He had to do this, for Leo, for their survival.

The red stripes blossoming on Leo were a sick mimicry of the red crescents on his face, but Donnie powered through the pain.

Green scales slowly began to resemble shades of brown as blood and sand flew.

Zarynthia shrieked with unrestrained fury, blades like a fierce tornado as she fought back and manipulated Leo’s body. Donnie growled as the ends of his feathers became chopped and shorter, pain lancing up his limbs as he gained more shallow cuts than he could count. His teeth snapped inches from Leo’s tail when it swung past his face, flames flickering from between his jaws when he snarled and goaded his opponent.

Leo spun, tail swiping through the sand as a wave of dust blew over him. Donnie wheezed, coughing from the assault to his lungs that he'd failed to close in time when he’d inhaled a mouthful. A green and silver blur streaked through the air towards him, and with his hands occupied trying to clear his airways as Donnie hit his plastron, he instinctively swung his tail out instead, catching the offending limb.

A vicious snap! reached his ears as he caught Leo’s wrist in a vice-like grip with his own tail, cracking and twisting it as he dragged him and Zarynthia closer by the arm. His bō flew through the air, the glowing crimson end stopping millimetres from making contact with Leo’s throat.

“Give him back.”

The katana she held in his trapped hand dropped into the blood-stained sand between them with a dull thunk. The crowd hollered in anticipation, going wild.

“Isn’t this a sight…” Zarynthia seethed, morphing Leo’s face into a sadistically painful grin as she studied the fractured arm Donnie had seized.

He bared his teeth in a silent snarl, chest heaving with loud gasping breaths as they rattled in his lungs, pupils slitted and eyes narrowed.

Leo’s eyes fluttered for a moment, something small and genuine and vulnerable peeking through. Anguish? Was it fear? His expression twitched, something ultimately only Leo shining through for just a second.

Donnie paused, eyes flicking to the arm his tail constricted around, he could feel the bones grinding beneath the grip, the way his own body trembled from the adrenaline high he was riding.

He did that, he hurt Leo. Is hurting Leo.

Zarynthia chuckled darkly, her warped voice invading his mind. “Look at what you’ve done.”

“No! You’re the one making him fight me, stop it!”

He did it for Leo, if he weakens Zarynthia enough…

His eyes roamed over Leo’s body, categorizing all of the wounds he’d inflicted. The burns lacerating his skin, the ugly darkened bruises forming across his face. Everywhere he looked, another wound he’d created. Despair slowly grew, a cold, horrifying trickle of fear and realisation began to sink in. Cutting deep like a blade.

Fighting her isn’t working.

Zarynthia stared for a second, observing Donnie before she devilishly grinned, spotting the perfect opportunity to strike. Donnie was distracted, and Zarynthia didn’t want to waste any time letting him get back into that raging state.

She twists Leo’s body, just enough so that the tail could flick Donnie back, which was a success when he yelped at the heavy hit, skidding to the floor with a groan.

He had let go of the bō he held, making him weaponless. She laughed in excitement, sprinting into action as she picked up the nearby katana, running to Donnie before slowing down just enough so she could pounce in the air, gravity pulling her back down and landing on Donnie’s plastron.

The soft shell wheezed, the oxygen briefly knocked out of him again. Leo’s figure stood tall, one foot stepping on Donnie’s plastron to keep him place as Zarynthia smiled sinisterly through the slider's mouth.

“I won’t fight you anymore, Leo!” He grunted, staring him dead in the eyes and letting his body fall limp.

With an amused chuckle, she steps off Donnie, deeming him no threat any longer as she reaches down, her free hand gripping around Donnie’s neck and lifting him up, choking him as the purple turtle gasps and claws at her arm.

“You should’ve run, little genius.” Zarynthia purred through Leo’s mouth.

Donnie’s vision blurred, blood rushing in his ears.

This was it.

But then Leo stopped.

His grip loosened.

His hands shook.

And through gritted teeth and gasping breaths, Leo growled—

“Don’t… touch… my brother…”

With an agonized scream, Leo turned the katana—on himself.

He stabbed it through his own shoulder.

Zarynthia screeched in disbelief as Leo fell backward, writhing, trying to cut her out, tear her from his flesh, his soul, his mind.

Donnie dropped to the ground in a heap, coughing violently, clutching his throat.

He eyed his brother who cried out in utter agony, using his free hand to hold the bloodied and open wound in his left shoulder as he turned on his side, curling up as he tried to not think about the pain too much.

Donnie stumbled towards him, panting as he reached Leo’s side. “Leo…? Hey, come on let me see—“ He gently placed a hand on him, but Leo shook his head.

“NO!”

His tail lashed out, pushing Donnie from him as he took in choking breaths to try and remain calm. “Don’t touch me…” He adds, his wavering plea barely above a whisper.

Donnie didn’t say anything, but he heard and listened, watching with worry before looking around the arena. The yokai were all murmuring to each other, some booed and some cheered from the spectacle. Albeit they were confused as to what exactly was going on.

Big Mama was there too in her viewing box. Tapping her nail against the couch she sat in while watching the brothers.

Her eyes glanced up at the TV screen. The fight had been broadcasting this entire time and if Big Mama knew anything about the Hamato’s, they were going to come barging in and causing more of a headache than she would like to have.

She gestured to the yokai announcer who sweated, “End the fight.” She ordered, watching the yokai nod and quickly running off to his stand.

Donnie didn’t like how vulnerable Leo looked in front of the crowd, so with a wince of pain and a mournful expression shot at his tattered and bloodied feathers, he stretched his wings out to block Leo from everyone's view.

“U-uh, ladies and gentlemen! Due to current circumstances, the fight is called off and today’s battle is over!”

Donnie didn’t listen, he just kept his eyes focused on his other dimensional twin who was trembling, twitching and wincing at each muscle that spasmed over him, clutching his left shoulder as blood soaked through his fingers.

His hands hovered uselessly over Leo, his earlier plea of ‘don’t touch me!’ ringing in his ears.

He needed medical attention but Donnie knew Leo was not going to let anyone near him, let alone treat the wound. Let alone him.

His chest heaved, eyes wide and unblinking.

“I’m a monster… I’m a monster…”

He repeated to himself like he was stating fact, and to him it is. Words he’s already told himself many times over, believing it. He fisted his hands, the sharply curved claws that he never asked for biting into his palms as they shook.

Donnie’s lip quivered, wanting to do something for Leo but he couldn’t. Leo didn’t want him touching, and he was far too scared to listen to reason.

“I’m sorry Leo… I’m sorry.” He mumbled under his breath, hiding his face into his hands, his legs moving up closer towards his chest as he crouched down.

The fight in the arena may be over…

But the fight for the twins was still going on.

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

WFI Masterpost

FTNTH Masterpost

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6/Part 7/Part 8 (coming soon)

You are free to make fan art of these two by the way! We accept all art of them!

[lagunaseca2013]

can’t sleep bc I’m stressed about going into the office tm and I’m deeply dreading it so instead I’ve been maladaptive daydreaming about my rosquez one-sided-bond horror-disguised-as-a/b/o universe where marc goes into heat the night of crazy murder race at the ranch and it triggers vale’s rut which leads to him losing control and biting marc but then not letting marc bite him back which leads to. obvious misery.

marc is like on cloud nine at first bc even tho they never discussed it he wanted it (was obvi begging for it the whole time even if he only vaguely remembers) and definitely thinks it’s like fate or whatever happy accident etc. there’s like hand wavey world building omegaverse lore/logic/whatever you wanna call it so you can only mate when ur in rut/heat and vale just had his rut and fully suppresses them during the season so they’ll have to wait a while to complete the bond anyway.

cue vale’s descent into madness. it’s definitely gradual at first bc they’re still fucking for A LOT of it (the sex is even crazier now bc marc can like feel him through the bond but it’s all very fuzzy bc it’s only half a bond so it’s more like….idk emotional impressions or whatever but it definitely makes sex way more intense on his end). this of course freaks vale the fuck out bc he doesn’t like that marc has access to him in a way that he doesn’t have access to marc (omegaverse is genuinely the most fun way to push all vale’s control freak buttons btw) which is like….okay man there’s an easy solution to that but whatever u say.

uccio is off uccioing and waving his idk ipad telemetry around and also feeding vale’s crazy delusions like convincing him that marc triggered the heat on purpose to seduce vale and make him lose control to……..get an emotional ?? advantage over him ?? but like….marc wasn’t the one who bit him……..so vale isn’t even affected by marc’s emotions………it’s exhausting. vale is looking for outs atp bc the mating stuff has 1) majorly triggered his crazy committmentphobia (huge thanks to stefania and graziano for never mating) and also 2) exacerbated the championship issues bc like vale voice I don’t think someone who claims to be my [omega] would race me like that blah blah blah

anyway vale sets omega rights back one hundred years etc w his presscon rantings. marc is like nauseous w bond rejection and also feeling vale’s hatred AND guilt, bc he can literally feel impressions of his emotions. also this whole time marc’s been walking around all season with the largest most visible and grotesque mating scar on his neck and coyly dodging questions about it and vale is obviously. mark free as the day he was born. so even tho they’ve been all over each other the last two years and also for parts of the season no one is really accusing them of being secretly one-sided-bonded, which is actually really frowned upon anyway in their society ESPECIALLY if the omega is the one bitten.

vale is really banking on 1) no one believing marc if he tried to out them, 2) marc not even considering it as an option. both are true, honestly, but marc is having the equivalent of getting served divorce papers on live tv and also going into bond rejection and ignoring it so he has a lot of other stuff on his plate.

and then his alpha knocks him off his bike and he goes into a stress heat (hand wavey omegaverse rules, it happens with bond rejection to entice the unmated one to get with the program). it’s horrific, of course, alex goes to vale’s motorhome in tears prepared to beg on his knees and uccio doesn’t even let him in. they have to take marc to the hospital bc his fever is so high he’s going to die and then he spends three miserable days crying out for vale. on the fourth day his doctors are like. he’s not getting any better in fact it might be getting worse is there really no way to get his alpha here? vale (or uccio, idk does it matter?) has blocked both of their numbers, alex has been texting franky but that connection is still nebulous at best at this point in time so his responses are sparse and extremely vague (vale is obviously going through a stress rut as well and it’s like all hands on deck rn bc he’s getting violent).

well anyway. they put marc in a medically induced coma to ride it out and he literally doesn’t wake up for like two weeks. (yay more medical trauma for the medical trauma guy yippee) (also idk if I could even fit this into the story bc I haven’t even gotten to the plot yet this is still the extended backstory context but I think after the whole ordeal he’s basically terrified of going into heat again and for several years lies to everyone that he spends them at one of those like omega care facilities where you pick an alpha that’s been vetted out and deal with it that way but he ACTUALLY goes to a hospital and gets put into a coma again to ride it out bc he genuinely can’t deal with how it feels to need vale when he can still deep down feel all of his alpha’s resentment)

I imagine eventually alex finds out (maybe during arm misery when marc is like between surgeries two and three and alex is like hey isn’t this messing with your cycle and marc, high on painkillers or just delirious w pain is like nah they can put me out whenever) and then they have a blowout fight about it and alex cries a lot and marc is also crying but he absolutely cannot ever feel that way again or he will off himself so then they compromise which means marc just never comes off his suppressants but does start seeing a therapist. (he hates her and she tries to make him go to like bereaved omega support groups which he doesn’t even pretend to consider)

um okay so we’re getting to the part where the story would actually be set which is marcnaia 2025 teammates lol. while marc has been experiencing the horrors vale has acquired an entire pack. okay yes the academy was loosely around for the events of 2015 but after vale has his insane response rut where it takes like basically all of them to make him calm the fuck down things are a little different. it was much more familial at the beginning bc most of them were unpresented so it was more of a like adopting pups crisis for vale. when they’re all older and presented and adults they make it official and he (checks notes) bites their wrist scent glands which is for like pack bonding. they spend heats and ruts together as a pack, not all of them all the time (and luca and marta are mated in this one, rip pecco, so it’s really just a family thing for him) but it’s nice. harmony. whatever. as is popular around these parts, I do think bez is the only omega in the pack. more on that later.

okay NOW we pick up the plot. vale is an idiot and also has been trying not to think about marc for the last nine years so he doesn’t know that marc can actually feel it every single time vale adds a new member to his pack. he still can’t feel everything you’d usually be able to feel with a mating bond bc it’s one sided, but adding pack members definitely leaves an impression. alex has to like train marc to stay away from academy members bc he has like pack omega urges to bond w them and be near them (this fic would have gratuitous touch starvation etc) and it’s painful to ignore his instincts

alex in this universe should be granted sainthood, seriously.

vale voice allora where were we. okay nothing good can come of marc and pecco sharing a garage right? if vale was serious about staying unmated and hating marc he would probably spend a lot less time lingering around the ducatis. gigi makes several biting jokes about how vale didn’t seem to like the team this much when he was driving for them! which. well, double edged sword to neg him about, no?

basically marc has felt less and less from vale over the years bc of distance and like sort of trying to get over it (thank you alex for psychologist ultimatum) but renewed proximity stirs everything back up and suddenly his suppressants are failing him and for the first time in like a decade people can like actually catch slight traces of his scent. marc, also a notorious control freak (made worse by everything that’s happened to him in this universe) is having a category eleven panic attack about it, like calls his favorite hospital and asks if they can put him in a coma again, etc.

vale meanwhile is like falling in love with marc again and hiding it badly. getting distracted during pack orgy bonding time bc he’s missing the insanity that he and marc used to get up to (which, if it happens during bez’s heat, sets him up for a nightmare scenario of omega infighting……..you know….if he was considering trying again w marc. but he’s not. so)

ummmm wow okay this got extremely out of hand. idk where any of that came from. I only vaguely know how it ends so if you have any thoughts about that lmk lol. I have to get up for work in four and half hours so I’m gonna send this into the void and probably delete it in the morning lol.

[kikyoupdates]

Bloodthirst ⭑˚💋⭑ 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒: 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡

bnha x vampire!reader

reverse harem, my hero academia x fem!reader, my vampire!reader, slowburn

As punishment for your sins, you, a young vampire, are banished — not just from your home, but to a different world entirely. Now, you find yourself in a foreign place where Quirks and heroes are the norm. In addition to coming to terms with your new life, you must also face your greatest challenge: controlling your massive thirst for blood.

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The intoxicating scent of blood. The feel of it being smeared across your cheeks, some of it even dripping down your chin. And best of all... the taste. On the night you nearly killed someone, that was all you could focus on.

“...[Name], please...”

In the darkness, a voice quietly choked out those words. It was a desperate cry, weak and hoarse. They’d been calling out to you like this for several minutes on end, but you were too entranced to take note of it. You just kept on drinking from their neck, relishing in the sweet flavor that enveloped your throat and tongue.

If your parents hadn’t intervened when they had, you would have become a murderer.

“What in the world are you doing?! Stop it right now!”

Before you could make sense of what was happening, you were being pulled away from your prey. All you could do was thrash about furiously. In your present state, you were no better than a feral animal. All logic and reason had left your mind a long time ago. What remained was nothing but hunger and selfish desire.

It wasn’t until someone slapped you across the face, hard, that you finally came back to your senses. At first, everything was fuzzy, but eventually, the images stopped dancing in front of your eyes, and you were able to take in the scene.

A friend of yours, a rather close friend, as a matter of fact, was laying helplessly on the ground, blood staining the length of their neck. A good deal of it had even soaked into the front of their shirt. They weren’t moving either. You could barely even tell that they were breathing, what with how subtly their chest was moving up and down.

Eyes wide, you slowly patted the sides of your face, fingers coming back coated in crimson. Their blood, and it was all over you. So much blood... it was too much. You did this? You took this much blood from them?

“Wait,” you started, but it was too late to bother making excuses for what you’d done. Your friend was lifted up by someone and taken out of the room in a hurry, no doubt to receive immediate treatment. Their body looked limp in the arms of the person carrying them. If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve thought they were already a corpse.

And you had no one but yourself to blame for it.

“You foolish girl!” It was your mother, the same person who’d slapped you in order to bring you back to reality. She grabbed hold of your shoulders, teeth viciously grit from anger. “Do you have any idea what you've done? How could you possibly lose control and do that to your own friend? You nearly killed them! They might die because of you!”

You blinked, tears slowly slipping down your cheeks. “I... I didn’t mean to—”

“No! There’s no excuse! I’ve told you time and time again not to get carried away. Not to let your thirst for blood cloud your reason. What am I meant to say to that child’s family? They’ve been devoted retainers of ours for countless generations. You’ve single-handedly destroyed the trust we worked so hard to build up!”

She clenched her fist, looking as though she wanted to hit you again, but unlike you, she was able to control herself. Then, she stood up, expression devoid of any emotion.

“This was the last straw,” she said coldly. “You never learn, [Name]. Us vampires are more powerful than we even realize. You cannot simply take what you want, whenever you want it. There are limits to your greed and gluttony. As your mother, I cannot continue to excuse such irresponsible behavior.”

“So... what are you trying to say?” you gaped. It was all too much to process at once. It hadn’t even really sunk in that you’d nearly killed your friend. You still couldn’t believe that you were capable of such a thing.

Your mother turned away from you. “Enough is enough. You haven’t corrected your mistakes after all this time. I’ve given up on trying to get through to you. As for the severity of your crimes... you will be punished accordingly.”

She left without explaining any further. Still shocked beyond belief, your entire body sagged. Once again, you touched the sides of your face, marveling at how much blood was staining your skin. It wasn’t normal for a human to lose this much blood. It wasn’t normal for anyone to lose this much blood.

Your mother was right. What you’d done was disgusting and inexcusable. Whatever the punishment was, you wholly deserved it, and you would accept it without protest.

At least, that was what you’d thought.

“Banishment?!” you cried out, panicked. “I understand I committed a grave mistake, but surely that’s taking it too far!”

You stood in front of your entire family. The king and queen, your mother and father, were seated at the forefront, staring down at you with remorseless eyes. Everyone else had gathered too—your many siblings, your uncles and aunts, your cousins. Even your grandparents, who were normally nowhere to be found, had made an appearance for your judgment day.

“It has already been decided,” you father glowered. “No one else in this family loses control of themselves the way you do. Time and time again, you allow your craving for blood to render you blind to the suffering of others. As the rulers of this kingdom, we cannot allow such conduct to go unchecked, even if you are our own kin.”

You could feel your entire body shaking. “But banishment... just what am I supposed to do? Where am I supposed to even go? I’ll take any other punishment! Just not this! I’m afraid. Please... mother, father, everyone... don’t get rid of me. Don’t make me be on my own.”

“It isn’t a permanent solution,” your mother sighed. “But for a while, this much is necessary. We cannot continue to be soft with you. You’ll learn the consequences for your actions the hard way. Once you’ve matured and learned to act in a manner befitting your position, you may return.”

“But I—”

“There is no room for arguing. We’ve already made up our minds.”

Tears continued to well up in your eyes. Of course. You understood the weight of a life, and how close you’d come to nearly extinguishing it. But you still couldn’t help but be afraid. You were only fourteen years old. To be cast away like this, left to fend all for yourself... it wasn’t such an easy thing to stomach.

So, this was it, then. This was the last time you’d see your family, for god-knows how long. Until they somehow decided you were worthy of returning home.

While you wiped at your eyes and kept from sobbing outright, a few cloaked figures stepped forward. You didn’t recognize any of them. These people weren’t from your family. In that case... who were they?

“Mages,” your mother answered calmly, having all but read your mind. “We brought them here in order to carry out your banishment.”

“Why would you need mages to do something like that?”

No sooner had you asked the question, you felt a horrible sense of dread, even worse than what you’d experienced thus far. The mages made a circle around you and ignored your pleading expression, opting instead to pull out some crystals from their cloaks and extend them towards you.

“Mother, father,” you trembled. “What... what’s happening?”

Not just your parents, but all of your family members looked solemn. They clearly knew what was about to come next.

“It is a fairly complicated spell,” your mother eventually said. “A large amount of magic is needed to transport someone to a different world.”

Wait, what? A different world?

You understood now what that horrible sense of dread was. You weren’t just being banished from your home. You were being banished from the only world you’d ever known.

“Please!” you cried out, trying to rush forward as a last-ditch effort. It didn’t work, though. The magic tethered you in place, making your entire body feel as though it had turned to lead. You couldn’t move. You could only squeeze your head as the gravity above you more than doubled, forcing you flat to the ground.

The last thing you saw was the grave look your parents gave you.

“Remember, [Name]. Remember this feeling, and never take a life for granted ever again.”

Light surged before your eyes. It was a foreign, disorienting feeling, and the scream you let out died in the back of your throat. It felt like everything was happening in the span of an inhale, but somehow painfully slowly as well. Whatever the case, you were helpless to do a damn thing about it.

After what was either a second or a whole eternity, you finally came to.

“Miss! Hey, miss! What’s the matter with you?!”

You peeled your eyes open, letting out a soft groan. Some middle-aged man was hovering over your fallen frame, lightly poking you on the shoulder every few seconds. Based on his expression, he was concerned, bewildered, or some combination of the two.

And he wasn’t the only one.

You quickly realized you were surrounded by a group of people, all of whom were staring down at you in visible confusion. Apparently, you were still lying flat on the ground, but in the middle of what looked to be some sort of road. Not only that, but there were strange contraptions all around you. Machines with four wheels that were travelling along the road, although most of them had stopped because you were dead in the middle of it.

Wearily, you pulled yourself to your feet. The group of people kept on pestering you and asking if you were alright, but you ignored them and breezed past. You needed to get your head on straight, but a quick look at your surroundings was really all you needed to confirm your worst fears.

This definitely wasn’t the world you were used to. Your own family had just kicked you out with no regard for your wellbeing, although you supposed that was the price to pay for the sins you’d committed. Crying about it more wouldn’t accomplish anything. You had no time to wallow in self-pity either.

Now, then. What the fuck were you supposed to do next?

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[thepowercut]

Etienne Lux: Heart of Glass

By Tamsyn Elle ( @meserach ), with illustrations by Blastweave ( @artbyblastweave ), Jason K Jones ( @jkjones21 ) and @idonttakethislightly , plus excerpted panels with art from the comic itself (art there by Caspar Wijngaard) This essay was originally published on February 14th 2025, in issue #1 of THE POWER CUT, a fanzine about The Power Fantasy, the Image Comics book by Kieron Gillen and Caspar Wijngaard. You can find that zine free to download right here.

This first arc of The Power Fantasy touches on all of the main cast, but the spine of it belongs to Etienne Lux: telepathic omnipath, problem-solver, negotiator, peacemaker, mass-murderer. We travel with him as he juggles and keeps the balance between the more disruptive forces of the rest of the cast: the threat of Masumi’s monster, Heavy’s reckless temper, and Jacky’s active attempts to capture him. In the plot so far he's the restoring force, keeping the very balance Magus is so worried about: counselling cooler heads, de-escalating, trying to think logically and dispassionately.

This is a role he's crafted for himself; in that conversation in ‘66 with Valentina, he talks about being the public face, the theorist, “someone to contextualise the horrors… but mostly someone that governments can work with”. Even his ostensible surname reflects that role: Etienne is Lux, light, providing information and clarity in a world that's become markedly more fuzzy and magical; but his actions and processes also have a laser-like quality; clean edges, surgical, precise. (Also he's French, and Paris is the City of Light. Well… it was.) A mind like a crystal, refracting light through facets, brilliant in every sense.

Consider, though, what else we know. On a day in 1953 a boy, aged almost certainly no older than five, woke up in a hospital bed and learned two things: one, his parents were dead; two, he was possessed of immense and perfect control of the mind of anyone he chooses to.

This, at least, is the story as we understand it so far. Picture Etienne Lux — if that was his name then — having gone through violent tragedy, dealing with the immense grief of being suddenly orphaned, waking up, bruised, confused and traumatised, and discovering… well, what, exactly?

The exact reach, flexibility and limits of Etienne’s powers as an “telepathic omnipath” remain a mystery, albeit a continually prodded one. Magus tells us he's getting stronger. Valentina insists Etienne could never control her, Magus isn't convinced; presumably, a malefic version of the divine imprimatur that shields Valentina also protects Eliza. Seemingly, he can't control Magus (because of the mask, he implies), but he evidently doesn't control Heavy directly either, even when it would seem to be to his advantage. (What protects Heavy? Just being near his singularity in Haven? We don't know.) And he's unable to penetrate the void of Masumi's mind specifically as a manifestation of her own powers: compared to Lux's light, Masumi's mind is darkness where no light can penetrate.

But the one superpower who's mind he can control is his own, and he suggests (in the conversation with Masumi in issue #2) that he can do so much more perfectly and directly than most humans, as part and parcel of being a telepath; he “keeps himself balanced”.

What could that possibly mean? Anyone who's ever struggled with their mental health, like Masumi, has probably spent at least a little time wishing they could directly take the bad thoughts out of their brain. But Etienne might be able to do just that. He is claiming the ability here to be his own architect; to design his personality from the ground up, to be the person he thinks he needs to be.

Through the comic so far we have watched Etienne be in essentially permanent crisis management mode. The closest thing to genuine rest he gets is sitting for coffee with Tonya, and even then, he was only in the area to tackle Heavy bringing Haven over Manhattan, and he was using the interview as a PR management opportunity. The rest of the time, over the span of maybe a few days at the most, he's entirely putting out fires or saving his own life: negotiating, manipulating, and just plain psychically-adjusting whoever is needed to keep the world turning for one more hour. 

Possibly he does outside of this have a recreational life, and time to rest. It makes sense the comic would only show us the more exciting parts of his life, after all. But can he afford to? We've also repeatedly seen Etienne's physical vulnerability stressed, with the attempt to apprehend him at the airport, with his need to call in favour from Valentina to prevent anyone taking down the plane, with Valentina’s moment of nearly killing him in 1966. That interaction told us he claims safeguards, of a mutually assured destruction variety — releasing a psychic contagion if he's killed — but unlike Masumi's more visible dead-man’s-switch monster, this exists in the realm of the theoretical. It’s based on a judgement about what Etienne would actually have done as a moral actor, as opposed to the seemingly entirely inadvertent destruction that would be wrought by killing Masumi, and that’s a fundamentally more nebulous kind of threat. For all his power, amongst the superpowers Etienne is the glass cannon: deadly, but vulnerable, even fragile.

As such, can Etienne allow himself any moments of imperfect vigilance, of weakness? What about personal relationships, love? Any attachments would be a vector to get at him, and he can’t be everywhere. Etienne makes a remark about Masumi bouncing off Buddhism, and he sounds almost scornful of her need for attachment. Has he removed that need from himself?

Does he even sleep?

It's clear one major inspiration for Etienne is Kieron Gillen's time writing Professor X in various Marvel X-Men books, but elsewhere in Kieron Gillen's creator-owned comics oeuvre, I am put in mind of two characters. One is Dionysus from The Wicked and the Divine, a kind of selfless hedonist, a deeply moral individual )in a more instinctive way than Etienne), who also had a kind of psychic power to bring people together, who gave too much of himself to keep that going at any cost, and who didn't — couldn't? — sleep. But the other is Emily Aster from Phonogram (particularly the third and final series The Immaterial Girl), a kind of selfish hedonist, a deeply immoral individual who used magical power to discard an entire half of her personality that was weighing her down.

Spoilers, but it doesn't go great for either individual. If nothing else, Emily Aster had to worry about where the other half of her personality went. Might Etienne have a similar problem? Where do the bad thoughts go? (What is the Signal really, anyway?)

Pull back to that young child, barely in school, who is discovering his power and his loss. What aspects of his own mind might he have decided were dead weight that needed to be discarded, just to survive the trauma of that moment? And then later, having rid himself of pain and coming into his power fully, and realising what it meant, what might he have decided about the person he needed to be?

Later still, in 1966, in issue #1, we see Etienne and Valentina on that street corner. Valentina has not been persuaded of Etienne's benevolent god-queen pitch, and has decided Lux needs to die. But he stops her, with some psychic message we don't see: “Here is who I am.” And a tear, a big deal from someone as mostly emotionally still as Etienne.

Whatever it is, it flips Valentina from avenging to nurturing angel. Immediately she's struck by sympathy for him, with a little horror: “terrible. I mean, difficult.” She addresses him in infantile terms, suddenly — “you poor thing” — as he confesses to some sort of lapse: “I tried to be ethical, as far as I could, but—”. 

Doubtless this moment will be revisited, but whatever was imparted here has significant emotional and narrative heft. It can't solely be that he's communicated his ‘safeguards’, given both the break in Etienne's still pool and Valentina's sudden swap from death to hugs. So what could this momentous disclosure have been?

Without doubting the genuine emotion behind it, was this also a formative experience for Etienne in terms of learning how to manage people? He saves his own life with what is, ultimately, an emotional manipulation, finding a means to trigger behaviour in someone he can't control more directly. And we see him later demonstrate the same trick, most obviously with the soldier in the mech suit at the airport, but also in how he sets up a precisely calibrated amount of validation for Masumi's artistic ambitions.

Maybe it started even earlier, though. Issue #3, 1957, Valentina goes to meet Etienne after she's had to reveal herself. Note, though, how carefully he words the observation: “if I'd done it sooner, you wouldn't have had to reveal yourself.” Not ‘I wish I'd done it sooner’, not an expression of regret, merely an observation about conditional statements. Another way to phrase it: if he hadn't done it when he did, she could have remained secret. Instead, Etienne by delaying a little, forced her out into the open. Thus forcing the meeting he thought was necessary so they could become friends, which he also thought was necessary. Not that he admits to any of this, but he doesn't deny it either. But then, lying unnecessarily is unethical…

By the time we catch up with him in the present of 1999, Etienne is, well, the scariest motherfucker alive. Heavy claims that when he kills he’s with them, and the level of detail he has about seemingly anyone he chooses to investigate, kept inside an eidetic memory, suggest that on a level of perception at least this is true. See him describe in detail the soldier’s children, and then threaten that they’d open their wrists with their teeth; see him kill a mother with her family at breakfast. Masumi’s question still has force: how can he do what he does? How does he live with it?

He does describe himself as a man with regrets, back in the interview with Tonya. He even calls the regrets personal, yet even there, it’s in terms of evaluation. He could have done it better. It was a failure. All deaths were regrettable. He wants to avoid future mistakes. He’s practically laying out his own improvement plan at an annual job review. It’s a hell of a way to talk about mass psychic murder primarily in terms of how you wish you were better at it. Yet, he seems sincere about wanting to improve. Heavy thinks he’s getting less human, but I think Eitenne sees it as refining himself, and with his power there’s really no limit to where refinement might take him. Self-help doesn’t usually involve being able to rewire the neurons and flush chemicals through the synapses directly, but for Etienne it does. A mind of glass, again: everything transparent and free for vision, weighing, analysis, and he’s so sharp he can cut himself, cut himself right open and carve away what doesn’t serve.

This, then, is the picture of Etienne Lux I see: a person with huge traumas and incredible ongoing stressors, who ordinarily would be a good candidate for some serious therapy, is instead possessed of the ability to shape his own mind however he wants… but that means his own desires are also themselves subject to his will. The snake eats the tail, and Etienne's early decisions about who he wanted to become may end up determining how he acts now. If Etienne concluded that his sense of empathy was an impediment to making a good ethical decision, he could choose to discard it. But having done so, would he ever make the decision to put it back? And if not, what kind of person does that make him now, while he weighs these ethical judgements?

Let's pull back to that child one last time, but back a little further. Why was he in that coma in the first place? The timeline in issue #3 merely says “his parents dead in a crash”, a notably passive phrasing that even omits any sense of what the crash was… or what caused it. 

Is it possible Etienne, even at four years old, decided that his own parents needed to die? And if so, what could possibly lead a four year old to that decision?

Regardless of his culpability, though, this moment of the crash must figure heavily in Etienne's psychology. It could well be literally his earliest memory. That sort of thing leaves marks on a person, indelible images of the moments of collision.

Impact. A window breaks. Shards of glass, hanging in the air. Sharp edges and light, the kind that both sees and sears. Shards: beautiful, but broken.

The mind of Etienne Lux.

[cyberapid]

Loved your view on Carrier instincts from Ratchet's point of view. I would love to see a part 2, Sire instincts from Optimus' point of view if possible.

Thank you so much!! I hope this is ok! I love the idea and had like three different drafts before I settled with this lmao.

Wasn’t sure how I wanted to handle sire protocol but I’m kinda satisfied? I thought like overprotective and kinda clingy would be interesting.

Little hurt/comfort and a lot longer

Pt.1 Pt.2

•-•-•

This was a simple retrieval that really only required two bots if all went well, get past the miners undetected, retrieve as much energon as possible, sabotage what you can, and get out. Ratchet had emphasised, excessively, the undetected part much to the annoyance of the small bots given the task.

Once the two were gone Optimus had occupied himself in Ratchet's makeshift med bay, much to the older bots annoyance, by picking up some of the broken equipment littered about but a black servo had smacked his own away. Looking down he’d met Ratchet's fierce glare, “Optimus I can barely think with your racket. Also, stop touching my things. I may need them,” he abruptly turns with a dramatic vent, continuing to track the signal of the two bots within the mines; Audials alert in case a quick exit is necessary.

The prime settled to instead linger behind his bonded, arms wrapped around his middle and servos held firm on cold metal. They watched the monitor as the two blinking bots made their way slowly through twisted corridors, avoiding working Decipticons. There was no real need to continually watch with Ratchet, their very capable Medic, on the job but something within Optimus’ processor made even entertaining the idea painful so he settled with being Ratchet’s secondary optics.

“Are you ill? I swear you’ve been clingier than normal,” Ratchet’s tone is twisted with frustration as he attempts to escape the others grip and get a better look up at him but firm, larger servos keep him in place while attempting to stay focused despite the movement, “are your brain circuits. fried, Optimus? Let me go!” Annoyance bursts through their shared bond as the medic attempts to free himself, uselessly.

The bickering pulls all attention away from the computer as the bonded pair complain and soothe respectively, missing the sudden company that surrounded the two spies. They miss the visual but Acree’s voice pulls them away from each other and back towards the monitor. “We’ve been spotted. Bee’s on the sabotage part already so just keep the bridge ready,”

Ratchet is quickly turned back to his monitor answering the femme, “Groundbridge is locked onto your coordinates and ready when you are,” anxiety fills the shared bond from his mates side and parts of this leak into the connection with their youngling, disrupting the usual contentment that flows through. Optimus feels his spark twist and anger flow through his processor, he attempts to cut the feeling off before it reaches his connection to his family but the sudden stiffness under his servos tells him he didn’t block the connection quick enough

“Open the Bridge, I’ll assist.” His request is met with a fuzzy scoff as his mate turns to him,

“Absolutely not. They’ve almost completed the mission and your being there will only make it worse,” anger flares further and he feels the involuntary twitch of his digit; deep in the logical side of his processor he knows his dear friend is correct but any logic he might of had is squashed by the fear that overwhelms him, consumes him. Something will happen to his creation and he stood by doing nothing.

The sudden anguish that fills their bond with the young boy startles them both from the intense stare off they’d engaged in, “scrap, Bee got hit! Open the bridge now I’m grabbing him. Bee put th-“ her comm is cut short but the two bots are quick to jump to action, a silent understanding as ratchet pulls himself away from groundbridge controls and off to prep med bay while Optimus takes over and activates the bridge.

The familiar whirl of the groundbridge echoes through the base along with the clanging from the medbay, Bulkhead's heavy steps alert the Prime to his entrance.

The Wrecker stands at the edge of the groundbridge's opening, in a tense observation, “should I head in and help em?” Anything their leader had to say is interrupted by Ratchet loudly exclaiming,

“Primus, no! I’ve said this twice now, you two will only jeopardize their exit. We don’t know how close they are or if the mines are large enough to house either of you,” he continues to chastise Bulkhead as Optimus turns his attention back to the portal, awaiting the sound of fleeing pedes. It takes far too long and his plating crawls at the sound of scraping metal that comes from the bridge.

The pain is searing to have to stand and make sure they clear the bridge before powering down the machine, he fights every instinct telling himself to forget the bridge and rush to his injured creation; to sooth his fears. He’d failed, again to protect what is his, what relies on him.

Then he failed to be the first to offer comfort as the white and orange mech rushes towards Acree who’s struggling to hold Bee up, who’s unable to walk with one pede as the other is non operational, spilling far too much energon from busted cabling.

He relieves the smaller scout of his creations form and transfers him onto the awaiting medical berth with care not to irritate any wounds further. Optimus is quick to trail behind him once the bridge is secured, narrowly avoiding stepping Raf thanks to Bulkhead who, as gently as possible, grabs the boy out of the way.

A quiet buzz sounds from Bumblebees intake at the sight of his creators and he sends pulses of joy through their bond which Optimus returns in large quantities to make up for his bondeds neglect of it, who instead focuses on the care of the scouts leg. A sudden shrill sound pulls him from flooding the bond with comfort, “Ratchet! Careful!”

The offended mech looks up from his work and lets out a distorted guffaw, “excuse me? You really have shorted your circuits!” Anger explodes from both sides of their shared bond.

A sudden squeeze of his servo kills any further complaints he has, instead he looks down at his creation who whirls sadly. A steady rumble leaves his intake in an attempt to sooth him and it appears to work as his optics dim, a sated calm pulses through the three way bond, and his engine lulls to a calm rumble. The calm allows Ratchet to work quickly and without interruption.

Silence settles into the silo and Optimus finds himself sparing a glance at his bonded who’s taken to working silently; A sturdy wall between their connection, “Ratchet-“

“Not now” his answer is short and his helm doesn’t raise from the damaged leg of their sparkling, experienced hands working for an amount of time Prime isn’t sure of but he knows it drags on far too long— leaving him with stirring remorseful thoughts.

•-•

Every person or bot has retired for the night or left the silo leaving the bonded pair and an unconscious, but stable, Bee. They haven’t spoken since the short outburst between them with Ratchet busying himself cleaning the mess left in medbay and Optimus watching over the resting bot.

He’d had time to mull over his actions leaving a nasty churn in his tanks, “my dear friend?” Ratchets shoulders tense up and his vents stall out as the equipment he’d been gently pushing into size order clatter to the ground,

“What,”

“I owe you an apology,” he reaches his free servo out to the other mech, expectantly, “please.” There’s a loud sigh as Ratchet accepts his hand and walks closer, settling himself in front of Optimus and beside the Berth for just a moment before an clattering sounds throughout the silo and the medic finds himself uncomfortably sat on the primes lap,

“What was that!” His servo collided with the side of Optimus’ helm reflexively before panicking and checking the slight dent as the other laughs. “Why would you do that! It’s hardly an apology,”

“Yes, you’re correct. I do apologize though, I was out of line for reprimanding you. Especially when you are far more experienced than I am in that field,” there’s a faint hum that leads into a purr from the mech above him— the walls that had been built up come down and contentment eases through their bond. The medic turns to look at their creation, free servo running over scraped yellow plating,

“I need to run diagnostics on you, your demeanour change is strange,”

[noise-vs-signal]

The Hemispheres

"The left hemisphere of the brain is said to deal with language, logic, and sequential thought and has an acute sense of time, while the right is attuned to patterns, intuition, sees wholes simultaneously, and seems to reside in a kind of eternal present.

The left hemisphere is the home of our ego, the verbal “I” with which we identify. The right hemisphere communicates in symbols, images, intuitions, hunches and physical sensations.

In “The Master and His Emissary” by Iain McGilchrist (2009) these two parts of the brain are discussed.

The right brain, which, McGilchrist tells us, is older and more fundamental—it is the “master” of his title—presents reality as a unified whole. It provides the “big picture” of a living, breathing Other, that strange, ambiguous world that exists outside our minds.

It is geared toward the new, the unfamiliar, and with what we can call the immediate “is-ness” of things, the Istigkeit of the medieval Rhineland mystic Meister Eckhart. It is concerned with implicit meanings that can be felt but not pinned down exactly; it is partial to what the philosopher Michael Polanyi called “the tacit dimension,” the implied, intuited meanings of which, as Polanyi says, “we can know more than we can tell.”

Poetry, metaphor, images, and symbols are some ways in which we try to communicate what the right brain shows us, and the meanings these forms of expression convey share in this implicitness. Good poetry has an aura of suggestiveness around it, a sense that it reaches out beyond the dictionary meanings of the words it uses; it alludes to a significance that we cannot express specifically, but which nonetheless touches us.

The right brain is geared toward engaging with living things, McGilchrist says, and with recognizing overall patterns, meanings, and relations. It is attuned to the network of connections that links everything with everything else. Its fundamental attention is to the “whole,” which it takes in simultaneously. It is more geared to perceiving the forest, we might say, and not the individual trees.

The left brain, on the other hand—literally—is geared, McGilchrist argues, toward breaking up the whole that the right presents. It turns the right brain’s unity into bits and pieces, which it can then manipulate. Its job is to analyze the big picture presented by the right and reduce it to easily manageable parts, which it can control and arrange to suit its purposes. These are generally geared toward survival.

Where the right is open to “newness” and appreciates the “being” of things-in-themselves, the left is geared to representing reality as something familiar and sees things in terms of their use. The left brain has a utilitarian approach to reality, whereas the right just accepts things as they are. The left brain “stands apart” from experience, it distances itself from it in order to master it, while the right brain is in it.

We use the left brain to “cope” with the world, as it were, while it is through the right that we appreciate it. McGilchrist explains that the right brain needs the left because its picture, while of the whole, is fuzzy and imprecise. The left brain “unpacks” the whole that the right brain presents, and brings its details into sharper focus. The left, on the other hand, needs the right because while it can focus with dazzling clarity on discreet bits, it loses the connections between things and can find itself stranded in a fragmented world.

One brain can lose itself in a vague, hazy perception of the whole; the Other, in a narrow obsession with the part. One brain gives us context, the other detail. One looks at a panorama, the other through a microscope. One brain presents everything “allatonce”; the other in bits and pieces “one-at-a-time.” If we think of a camera and how its lens can be focused on either the background or the foreground, we can see how these two opposing perceptions of things complement each other.

One of the central themes informing the western esoteric tradition, as well as that of the eastern, is the union of opposites. We see this in the ancient Chinese yin-yang symbol, in the mysterium coniunctionis or coincidentia oppositorum of alchemy, in the pillars of Mercy and Severity that border the Middle Pillar of Harmony in Kabbalah, in the union of microcosm (man) and macrocosm (universe) in Hermeticism and in its central dictum “as above, so below.”

From “The Secret Teachers of the Western World” by Gary Lachman (2015).

[tarithenurse]

Inhuman

Fandom: MCU.

Pairing/starring: Fem!Reader, Daisy Johnson. Eventually pairings (some canon, some not).

Word count: 1069.

Contents: Mild angst, lots of confusion.

A/N: This was my first ever fanfic - it looked different in its original version but I'm editing heavily. It will be starring pretty much ALL of the MCU characters (Avengers, X-Men, Agent of SHIELD, etc), and will bee tackling everything from "Civil War" and on differently than canon.

Any questions are welcome. Please comment and like and reblog. Let me know if you want a tag.

Prologue

It’s dark when you wake up, but you recognize the smell of hand sanitizer, sharp in the nostrils. You should. You’ve been working at a hospital as a nurse for three years already. You can hear the faint beeping from a heart monitor and the distant voices…but you can’t see. Why can’t I see? You try to move the hands to the face, but they won’t move either. Guess I’m sedated? Somehow you’re way too logical and calm but you feel fuzzy too as if you aren’t quite awake.

You try again.

“Just take it easy, [Y/N], it’ll be okay” The voice comes from the right side of the bed. It’s like a bunch of tiny grey glitters forming the shape of a woman in the darkness. She’s alone here with you. “Do you need something to drink?”

You manage to nod and the woman holds something unseen out towards you...then the straw touches your lips and you get to drink. The mouth and throat always gets dry with patients that have drips and judging by a weird sensation in your left hand, that’s just what you have.

“Do you know why you are here?”

You try to think back. You remember being…in a car? It’s still fuzzy.

“You were in a car crash.” The other woman says, smiling apologetically as if it’s her fault. I hope for her that it’s not…how can I even see, that she is smiling? “It was pretty bad…we didn’t think you’d make it”.

“You’re a nurse or a doctor?” The back of the throat is scratching annoyingly, reducing your own voice to nothing more than a croak.

“Neither, but we specialize in this type of cases.”

“We? Why?”

“You’re special. But I see the nurse coming, better let him do his thing.”

The stranger leaves just as a tall gangly nurse enters the room. Again the glittery particles tell you where the person is even though this time a mix of gold and silver coming together in the shape of a man. You don’t even have to face towards where they are to know they are there.

This is seriously funky. I didn’t know morphine could do this.

It’s not just something you see...it’s mainly a sensation, almost a magnetic feeling where the presence of a person sort of resonates physically within you. And then some, because focusing on the person makes all of the body show, skin, bones, muscles and organs. All of it. Like the pictures that have a hidden images that only can be seen when looking at it in just the right way.

A warm voice distracts you from the thoughts. “Hey there, lucky girl. Good to see you are awake, finally. I’m Keith and I’ll help take care of you today. Are you hurting anywhere?”

You hadn’t really thought about that until now. “No, but I can’t move…is that because of the sedation?” Please let it be that!

“Yes, your body has responded a bit…differently…to the treatments. So we thought it would be better to keep things at a slow and controlled pace, but don’t worry: you are healing well.”

“Differently? What has been happening?” The faint beeping mimicking your heart rhythm quickens its pace ever so discreetly.

Keith frowns at you, then glances in the direction the stranger had gone. “Oh, she didn’t explain?”

“She didn’t even say who she was...” …but she is standing right outside the door...

“Well I’m sure she will be back and answer all your questions soon!” Says Keith confidently. He is frowning though. “Let me just start with freeing you of the bandage on your head.”

He reaches carefully behind your head and starts unwinding gauze. You can feel his breath on the cheeks accompanied by a hint of oranges.

“Watch your eyes, here comes the light!”

And it does. As you get accustomed to the brightness, you squint around the white room. It’s definitely more high-tech than where you work. Here the monitors are hanging neatly on a panel on the wall rather than being a big thing that has to be wheeled in when it’s needed, and the bed is definitely the newest model too. The only window faces out into another room...guess it wouldn’t have mattered with a view to the outdoors with my eyes covered though.

Looking at the nurse, you take in the shock of brown hair that he has tried to control with a bit too much gel. The glittering particles that you could see before have melted into the actual person. They are still there as a part of him, just not as prominent.

Keith is squinting at you with green eyes from behind a thick set of glasses, and then he gets out the med pen light and shines it in your eyes. He seems worried, but you feel fine: no fuzziness or pain, everything is nice and sharp in view…apart from the fact that he is blinding you with the light of course. The main purpose of the test is probably to assess any potential neurological damage, though.

“Well good to see they are working!” He concludes and then he leaves the room and takes the woman with him 30-ish meters away from the room.

You can barely hear their voices but it’s enough to pick out a few words: reaction, blue, orange, changing, director.

Why are we speaking English? Am I not home anymore??

Then Keith leaves and the woman comes back. You hadn’t realized until now but the stranger, the woman, is rather young, maybe a bit younger than herself, definitely well trained…and humming, like the feel from a load of small vibrations and it’s even visible in the particles. Traffic from a nearby road that you can feel through the soles of your feet.

“So, Miss Mystery, that bad, eh?”

“Call me Daisy. And no, just…different.” She is smiling genuinely, which makes her eyes glint under the thick, black bangs that cover her forehead. “We haven’t seen many like you. Could you do me a favour?”

“If you do me one.”

“Alright, but answer me this first: what colour are your eyes?”

That question seems silly enough for you to shut up for a moment, but then you recall the words you just overheard. “[Y/E/C], not orange.”

“Ah, so you heard that. And thanks, your turn,” she laughs.

“What colour are my eyes? And where the hell am I??”

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

He starts by saying that Israel has "occupied" Palestine since 1948 (and Zionism only started a brief time before that.)  So much for the "territories." Those are history nowadays - Israel haters now openly call for the destruction of the entire state.

Then he talks about Judaism. He seems to be saying that since Jews don't believe the messiah has come, then they are hypocrites for not stopping the war in Gaza. Again, the logic isn't just fuzzy - it is the ravings of a nutcase. But tying a "genocide" to Judaism itself shows how bigoted and antisemitic he is.

Then comes the conspiracy theory. 

There is a small element of individuals who have a lot of control over our music, over our food, over media, over a hole lot of things..."We [turn] a blind eye to it, and I'm sorry, but it's the truth, and we don't know it. I just found out...I love Pringles. They're kosher. I just found that out. I stopped eating them.

His nonsense meanders in other directions, too. For example, says that a lot of Black people are not really African Americans but really Native Americans, and this history has been hushed up.

The guy is a lunatic. And he is an antisemite. Yet somehow he got  himself elected to the city council - and no one said a word in response to his crazed monologue. A smattering of people even applauded at the end.

[alexihollis]

That Would Be Enough (Ajax's POV)

Link to Swan's POV

There had been many times where Ajax was worried that her girlfriend's thoughts were veering closer to the "murder my girlfriend in her sleep" territory than "I love her even when she annoys the crap out of me." Most of those times involved Ajax either picking a stupid fight, going against orders from Cleon, or risking getting sent to jail.

Considering that Ajax just chose option D: all of the above, yes, Ajax was very concerned about the objectively terrifying look on Rembrandt's face right now. And that was only with one eye available, the other being hidden behind a bag of frozen peas. Which was the only first aid Cleon offered while Swan got the whole damn aid kit and Mercy fussing over her in the damn bathroom! All Ajax got was the wobbly kitchen table chair.

While Rembrandt stood menacingly a little ways off, Cleon took a seat at the table, arm propped up and rubbing at her face. "Ajax. What the fuck just happened."

"A fight." Because Ajax was nothing if not stubborn.

"No, it fucking wasn't!" Ajax absolutely did not jump when Cleon slammed her hand on the table, turning a fierce, furious glare on her. "Whatever happened down there? That was not a fight!"

"Then what would you call it?" Ajax snarked.

Cleon's glare somehow sharpened. "I'd call that you deciding to beat up on my number two. And I don't take very kindly to people beating up on mine."

Ajax's stomach sank. That sounded...that sounded not good.

That sounded like being jumped out.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Cleon-" Rembrandt's voice was shaky, but she cut herself off when Cleon raised her hand.

"What. Happened?" Cleon repeated herself.

Ajax ground her teeth.

"Now."

"Swan promised she'd get us home alive," Ajax finally bit out. Cleon's brow furrowed, confused. "She didn't."

"What do you-?" Cleon stopped as realization dawned. Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath, "Fox."

Ajax didn't say anything.

Cleon's eyes opened again, clearer now. "So. What is this exactly? Some sort of vengeance? Punish Swan because the cops killed Fox?"

Well.

When she put it that way...

"You gonna turn on me next?" Cleon continued. "I made us go uptown with no weapons, knowing the other gangs didn't give one lick about us."

"You didn't-"

"Hell, if we're really trying to determine who has the most blame, what about you?" Cleon asked.

"Stop."

"I mean, if you hadn't picked that fight in the park, you would have easily beat the cops to Union Square, right?" Cleon asked. "And, if you didn't, who honestly would have stayed behind to fight?"

"Cleon," Rembrandt sounded queasy.

"So, if we're going by your logic, aren't you the one to blame for Fox dying?"

Hot tears were rolling down Ajax's face, the fucking traitors. The faster she wiped them away, though, the faster they came, in higher quantities, until she could barely make out Cleon sitting in front of her. The older woman sighed and Ajax heard the scrape of metal on linoleum as she scooted her chair closer, before pulling Ajax in for a hug. Ajax buried her face in Cleon's shoulder, feeling the rough leather and patches of her vest.

"Fox's death isn't your fault," Cleon said, her voice steady and calming. "She wanted to protect the others and that cop- It happens. It fucking sucks, but you went through something very similar that night and I am so, so grateful that cop didn't take you away from us, too."

After a few minutes, when Ajax's breathing calmed and her brain felt less fuzzy, Cleon pulled away slightly, holding Ajax's shoulders tight. Her eyes were watery.

"I know how you feel," Cleon said. "It kills me that Fox died and there is a part of me that will always know it is because I made the choice to go uptown that night. And I hate that while I was protected with Masai, you all were fighting for your damn lives. But so much of that was out of my control and yours. None of that was your fault." Cleon took a deep breath, "It also wasn't Swan's."

Aw, fuck.

"She already feels like shit about it," Cleon continued. "Did she even fight back?"

"I don't know," Ajax answered as honest as she could. The fight- whatever it was...it was a blur.

"Motherfucker," Cleon muttered, looking to the ceiling as her arms dropped. "I knew she wasn't- Goddamnit." Cleon shook her head, looking back at Ajax. "You are doing her jobs for a month and I don't want to hear a single complaint out of you."

"So you aren't gonna...jump me out?" Ajax asked.

"Oh, for fuck's- No!" Cleon exclaimed, looking back at Rembrandt who looked nearly boneless with relief. "Rem- No! No, I was not going to- Okay. I'm starting to feel like the bad guy, but it is reasonable for me to be angry when members of my gang randomly start beating each other."

"It wasn't random-"

"Ajax!" Rembrandt exclaimed.

Ajax shut up.

"Swan's jobs for a month," Cleon repeated. "You two are gonna avoid each other for a bit, a bit of space should help. And maybe don't got to Jenkins for like...a month."

Ajax blinked. "What, I'm not allowed to drink now?"

"No. Mercy works there now. I would also advise you avoid her," Cleon said. "She hasn't had enough exposure to you to get attached. We might actually find you in the ocean if you don't."

"I could take her." Because Ajax would always be Ajax.

"Yeah, uh, sure. Let's just say I have no clue how she earned her name," Cleon said.

With that, Cleon sent her and Rembrandt on their way back to the apartment they shared with Cochise and Cowgirl. It was a tense walk, Rembrandt saying nothing until they closed their apartment door behind them, Cochise and Cowgirl off on some errand or another.

"Rem-"

"Cleon would have been well within her rights to jump you out, you realize that, right?" Rembrandt wasn't looking at Ajax, her voice hollow as she stared off into the apartment, leaning against their door.

Ajax swallowed before nodding, shoving her hands into her pockets. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"What would we have done, then?" Rembrandt asked, now looking at her with wide, hopeless eyes. "What would we do without the Warriors? We can't afford rent, we have no family, we have nothing without them, we almost died without them."

Ajax preferred to not remember their pre-Warrior days.

"You keep telling me things are gonna be different," Rembrandt continued. "But every time something happens, every time you feel something you don't want to feel, you start another fight. Now, it's landed you in jail, threatened your position in the gang- Ajax, I will follow you to the edge of the fucking Earth, you know that, but don't make me if we don't have to."

Fuck.

"I'm sorry," Ajax's voice was rough, hoarse. She held her hand out to Rembrandt, who took it, and pulled her in tight, burying her face in Rembrandt's curls. "I'm sorry. I won't. I promise. I won't do that to you."

And maybe Rembrandt didn't believe her in that moment, but Ajax would show her. Maybe Rembrandt couldn't believe another promise to her, but Ajax would make a promise to herself to stop scaring her girlfriend and that would have to be enough.

It would be enough.