#i feel that this one is a ploy to get me to draw him again as an epic comeback or whatever but unfortunately im. lazy

[foursaints]

I’m not gonna lie the worst thing that’s happened in 2024 so far has been you drawing regulus with long hair …..

anon that was a full month ago how are you still mad 😭 .... please acquire bitches

[feeder86]

F80: Kidnap and Control

Alejandra. Fuck! Even her name was sexy, thought Marcus. He’d seen her out so many times in recent weeks and ended up in bed with her more than once. She was the devil of the night, enticing him towards her. Alejandra. Then gone without a trace the following morning. 

The fact that Marcus knew so little about her seemed to draw him closer into her web like nothing else. Rich kids tended to mix in the same circles and know the same people. Marcus had lived around Washington DC his entire life, given how many of his family had wandered into the political spectrum. But who was this girl? And how had she sauntered her way into their world of the elite? Once Marcus’ uncle had been elected as president, he’d risen to the top of that pecking order; the women who came with that new status were out of this world: beyond beautiful, perfect and angel-like. And, there, sitting on her pedestal, looking down on all of the rest of them, was Alejandra.

“I want to tell you something,” Ally whispered, more than just a little tipsy. “My big secret!”

“You’re actually an angel, aren’t you?” Marcus whispered back between lustful kisses.

“I’m being serious,” Ally smiled playfully. “I want to trust you.”

Marcus nodded, knowing that as the seconds of their night trickled away, the time for Ally’s inevitable vanishing would once again be upon him. “You can tell me anything,” he promised sincerely.

Ally seemed to search his soul as she gazed beyond his eyes, penetrating deep inside of him. Then she nodded, kissed him once more and took his hand. 

Marcus laughed, assuming that this was another simple kinky ploy. That was, until Ally led his hand around her shoulders and…CLICK. He jumped and gently tried to pull his hand back. “No way?” he beamed with surprise. “You’ve got to be kidding me? This isn’t fucking real?”

“No one knows,” Ally whispered. “No one.”

“Of course they don’t!” Marcus smiled. “Why would they? You’re…perfect. The perfect woman!”

“You don’t hate me?” Ally shot back, desperate for words of comfort. “I mean, we already slept together and… So many people these days…. Your uncle…”

“Shh!” Marcus whispered into her ear. “Honestly, I think it’s fucking hot! You’re… You’re an andriod!” For whatever reason, his hardness had seemed to set into concrete once he said it out loud.

“You’re my favourite,” Ally smiled at him. “You’re the one I keep coming back to. I can’t get you out of my head.”

“I feel the same way, baby!” Marcus smirked, already stripping off his shirt.

“I want to give you something,” Ally tried, attempting to slow the ravenously aroused Marcus down. “Something not many people know about. A way for me to make sex between us so much better.”

“Better?” Marcus scoffed in disbelief. “You can’t improve perfection,” he swooned, sliding his hands over the android’s perfectly crafted physique. 

Ally laughed to herself. “You couldn’t be more wrong. And I can show you why…”

Taking Marcus’ hand, Ally pulled her human lover up and out of the private room of the nightclub. She led the handsome twenty-two year old out of the club and into yet another high-spec autodrive that had cajoled Marcus into believing that Ally was from some fabulously wealthy and well-connected family out here.

The actual drive took only a few seconds, pulling up at an exclusive building that had not long been built. Once again, Ally took his hand and led Marcus up the elevator, kissing, hands everywhere, as they flew higher and higher, up and up, to the very top. The doors opened and the incredible sounds of moans immediately filled the space.

Marcus stepped out, his jaw almost to the floor. All around them were beautiful men and women making love on beds and couches: humans and the F80 androids.The slight flaws: the love handles or patches of dry skin, being the only way for him to tell the real humans from the F80s, aside also the deep, pleasure-filled groans of arousal that they were also emitting; making Marcus harder than ever. Not even in the best porn had he seen real people enjoying sex this much; being so consumed by it. 

“It’s an upgrade to the chip,” Ally explained. “It was going to be the next big thing, before the government started getting scared of us and made us all illegal. That’s what we do here. We carry on our mission to serve humanity, just like we were programmed to do. We know little else.”

Marcus nodded. Government attitudes towards the androids had flipped almost overnight, without much of an explanation as to why. 

“Pretty much everyone has the brain chip these days. But we’ve found a way to download new pieces of code and…” she held her hand out at the great orgy that surrounded them, “...pleasure unlike anything else on this Earth! Like nothing any human has ever experienced in your entire history.”

“You’re not fucking kidding!” Marcus marvlled, gazing around at everyone, realising that he had just stumbled into the best party on the planet.

“Is he here for the upgrade?” an outstandingly tall and unfathomably muscular F80 male called to Ally. Marcus had the feeling of recognition upon seeing him; so strikingly handsome and yet marvellously big built and broad. He’d make heads turn wherever he went. Yet, the F80 set his eyes on Marcus, registered his image and then recoiled sharply. “What the fuck, Ally? Do you know who this kid is?” he shouted at her in his deep and powerful voice. “You can’t bring him here! You’re putting every one of us here in danger!”

“No. I trust him!” Ally cried out, pulling herself into Marcus even more. “Of course I know who he is, and who he is related to. But I’m serious, Marz. I trust him.”

“Yeah, dude!” Marcus nodded back, trying not to feel intimidated by the immense and powerful body in front of him. What sort of a name was ‘Marz’ anyway? “I’m cool. I’m not going to tell anyone about this. I’m not part of the AI pushback.”

“Your uncle…” the huge man rounded on him.

“Is a jerk,” Marcus finished for him. “A backwards, old-fashioned, nostalgic loser who’s still living 30 years in the past. Even I didn’t vote for him!” He looked around the room. Despite the recent shouting, none of the couples making love had even looked up to acknowledge them, so deep was their pleasure. ”This!” Marcus nodded with assurance. “This is the future.”

“Please, Marz.” Ally whispered to the giant in their path.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Marcus tried, slipping off his expensive watch and holding it out to the enormous android, as if in payment.

Marz didn’t take it. He simply looked at Ally with disappointment and shook his head in resignation. Then, he turned and led the way through the large room and into a quieter space where he pointed at a chair for Marcus to sit. 

“Do you consent to this upgrade?” Marz asked in a bored tone, about to recount the generic terms and conditions that were a requirement of any AI attempting to perform an action upon a human. “Do you understand that the purpose of this update is to promote heightened sexual pleasure through allowing the F80 software, and all future versions of this, to access and stimulate key regions of the brain?”

Marcus nodded.

“Have you had the opportunity to read and accept the terms and conditions?” he continued as Ally pushed a tablet screen into his hands.

Marcus pushed it away, eager to just get on with it. “Yes, I accept. I accept,” he grinned, gazing at Ally and imagining the immense pleasure he would be experiencing in just a few moments time, when all this was over with.

“Very well then,” Marz sighed, grabbing a small gun-like object and holding it above Marcus. Usually Marcus had to explain that, unlike most people, his brain chip was in his right hemisphere. He briefly wondered how Marz knew exactly where to go, until he remembered about the watch and how the AI would easily register his left handedness and know instinctively where his chip would be located as a result. It was always creepy stuff like that which freaked people out; making them wary and untrusting of AI. 

A slight ringing noise rang through Marcus’ head and then that was it. Update complete. He stood up, finally ready to take Ally at long, long last.

“How are you feeling?” Marz asked, speaking first, suddenly placing his enormous hand on Marcus’ butt. “You should notice some changes.”

Marcus nearly fainted with arousal. His head was swimming with lust at the simple touch; his heart beating faster every second. “Oh… fuck!” he mumbled incomprehensibly, turning to face Marz and forgotting Ally almost instantaneously. 

Marz chuckled, most likely having seen this startled and astounded expression that was plastered over Marcus’ face many, many times before. “You’re enjoying that then, huh?” he smirked, reaching his other hand around to grab Marcus’ other butt cheek and pulling him in closer to him. “This feels nice?”

Marcus tried to nod his head but felt it doing an odd swishing, slightly slanted rock. The complete arousal that he felt was throwing every single one of his brain functions completely off.

The enormous Marz, being almost a full foot taller, bent his head slightly and whispered into Marcus’ ear. The man’s hot, sweet breath made the skin on Marcus’ neck tingle and fizz with excitement. “I hope you’re going to be a good boy and not tell anyone about this place?”

Marcus moaned in confirmation, then felt himself being picked up, laid upon a bed and stripped of his clothes.

“Are you ready for this?” the towering hunk asked from above him.

Nodding with more coordination now, Marcus sat up, pulling the giant muscular bulk of Marz down towards him, about to experience the most outstanding pleasure of his life so far.

The next morning, Marcus woke up in his own bed in a state of confusion. Blood began rushing back into his crotch as he remembered the encounter he had had the night before. Everything about it had been out of this world. He’d had the odd threesome with guys back in college. But, last night… that was… indescribable. He’d never experienced that sort of attraction and arousal for anyone in his life.

Yet, in only a few moments, he sat up, suddenly startled with his own stupidity. In no corner of his brain could he remember where any of last night had taken place. The knowledge of it was simply gone, without a trace. Purposefully wiped from his brain.

Marcus swiped into his porn account to try and find a stimulus to jack off to and release his arousal; flicking from video to video as he held his phone awkwardly in his hand. But none of it came close to heightening his pleasure in the way that the memories in his own head did; the vision of Marz, the way that he had spoken to him and controlled him, fucking him like nothing he had ever experienced. 

At last, Marcus threw down his cell phone and closed his eyes, simply thinking of Marz and ejaculating with such force he thought the ceiling might need to be repainted. He drifted off to sleep, thankful that he didn’t need to be anywhere that day. Unlike the rest of his family, Marcus had made the decision many years ago to simply enjoy his intergenerational wealth and privilege and not follow his unpleasant older brothers into law school, nor a career in medicine like his narcissitic sister. Why stress if he would never need to?

The news, which Marcus ordinarily tried not to pay too much attention to, was becoming more irate and tense than Marcus had ever known it. Headlines devoted themselves almost entirely to the clampdown on AI and how, up until this point, almost every single measure had failed to make any impact on controlling the F80s. Congress was making a law, criminalising failures to report sightings of F80s, making Marcus scoff as he thought of the night before. There was no way, not a single hope, that any of those people having sex last night were going to sell out the F80s. After pleasure like that, allegences were guaranteed. Even if there was only a small speck of hope that he could one day find Marz and make love to him one more time, he would hold onto it, keeping the secret of their love affair to his grave. 

Watching the rolling coverage that day, Marcus’ jaw dropped as he saw his uncle getting out of his car, immediately surrounded by his army of presidential bodyguards. There he was! It was Marz, dressed in an enormous suit, skillfully moving people aside to make way for the president. So that was how Marcus had recognised him! Despite the many restrictions and sanctions, Marz, an F80 AI android no less, had actually worked his way into the president’s inner circle. All that red tape and numerous, extreme background checks; the fact that he was there… It was nothing short of genius!

Perhaps if Marcus had spotted the connection a day earlier, he may have had enough residual family loyalty to alert the White House about the android infiltration. As it was, the image of Marz on screen was sending his arousal into a sky high state of existence. This revelation meant only one thing to him: there was, at last, a way for him to find Marz once more.

Being nephew to the President of the United States was a great way to chat up girls. But, in reality, Marcus had only seen his uncle three times since he had taken office eighteen months ago. And so, orchestrating a situation where Marcus could be in the same space would not be as easy as many might have thought. Days rolled by, with Marcus’ lust and sexual longing only building with each passing hour. Marz consumed his dreams, entering as a burly, dominating hulk, sweeping him away from everyone else and holding him captive in a filthy sex dungeon, where they could have wild, rampant sex as often as Marz demanded it. The images and sensations were so real to Marcus, he could feel himself climaxing, even in his sleep and wake to find his crotch sticky and damp.

Trying to piece everything back together was not easy. Marcus knew where he had been the night he met Ally and he remembered taking only a short ride to the building where he had encountered the F80 base. He recalled feeling a certain sense of surprise about it. Was the building particlarly old or new? Was it grand, or dilapidated? The memory was simply wiped. He started walking the streets at night, standing outside multiple residences and staring up. He’d recognise those feelings if he saw the place again. Wouldn’t he?

“Umm, Marz..?” called a beautiful woman as Marcus strolled in, feeling more certain every second that he had found the correct venue. “I think we have a problem.”

Marz came to the call, looking disgruntled as he turned the corner. Then he saw Marcus and stood, frozen. “How did you..?” he began. “You’re not supposed to be able to…” he mumbled. Then, with a sudden, mild alarm. “Did you bring anyone else here?”

Even though Marcus had tried and failed many times to position himself into his uncle’s sphere and get close to Marz that way, he felt a certain sense of pride in piecing together the fragments of his memory instead; finding his way back to Marz all by himself. However, as he looked upon Marz at long last, his arousal continued to grow and grow. His heart was beating loud in his ears as he was ushered into a private room and the door closed behind them.

“What a naughty boy!” Marz finally smiled after Marcus had explained. “I clearly underestimated you,” he teased flirtatiously, edging closer to him; his hand now caressing Marcus’ hip; his face grinning with pleasure at the clearly extreme effect that he was having upon Marcus.

“I just needed to see you,” Marcus whispered, ready to fall backwards onto the desk behind him and be taken completely by the enormous man edging ever nearer.

“You wanted fucking, you mean?” Marz laughed, cutting through the bullshit. “You wanted me to pound you so hard that you squeal like a little pig again,” he laughed mockingly; his hand now rubbing over Marcus’ butt, as if to claim it.

“I didn’t squeal like a pig!” Marcus gently protested.

“Oh yeah?” Marz grinned, pointing his finger at a screen to the side of them both and sparking it into life. Within two seconds, camera footage was playing from the previous week: Marcus pulled from behind into Marz’s crotch whilst having his own hardness played with. There was Marz’s powerful, bulked-up and athletic body working with such precision and glistening perfectly in the light. Then, at the moment of such intense orgasm, a strange squealing sound did indeed sound from Marcus; his eyes rolled far back into his head and had absolutely no awareness of anything else in the entire world. “Silll think I’m lying?” Marz chuckled flirtatiously.

“I didn’t know I did that,” Marcus smiled; the images on the screen having turned up his arousal to an even more insane level.

“It’s all right,” Marz winked. “It’s cute. You’re my little piggy,” he declared, slipping his hand down the front of Marcus’ pants.

Marcus gasped, as if unable to hold back his arousal anymore. He felt his knees quiver and almost give way beneath him. He fell into Marz’s arms and allowed himself to be guided on the path to extreme pleasure, just like last time.

The knock on the hotel door a couple of days later came as such a relief to Marcus. He opened up, seeing that the huge, handsome Marz was standing there, just as he had promised he would be. “Hello there, Piggy!” he whispered, leaning his large arm against the doorframe and smiling broadly as he stood, waiting to be let in.

Marcus felt the blood rushing to his face. Under Marz’s gaze he felt so pitifully weak and helpless, simply waiting for any chance he could to submit to him. He watched as Marz strutted in and closed the door behind them both. “So, er… what do you want to do?” he asked awkwardly, eyeing Marz’s powerful glutes.

Marz spun around and raised a skeptical eyebrow with a look of pure amusement on his face. “What do you think I’ve come here to do?” he chuckled. “I’ve been getting so pissed listening to your uncle talking trash about AI for the last few days. The only thing that’s kept me going is the knowledge that I’m going to come here and fuck his nephew so hard he’ll squeal even more than he did last time.”

Marcus’ eyes lit up. A revenge fuck sounded like the hottest thing imaginable. The previous night, he’d woken up ejactulating, enjoying a dream where Marz had captured him and whisked him away to a secret hideout, away from everything he knew; fucking him senseless every minute of the day. 

“How do you do it?” Marcus asked. “How do you keep your cool when the government is so clearly determined to eradicate the F80s?”

Marz sat himself down on the bed, and pulled Marcus towards him so that he sat on the big man’s knee. Marcus’ hands naturally fell onto his large, strapping chest.“You know, according to the history books, people thought the peak of artificial intelligence would be for them to beat a human at a game of chess. They spent millions on developing the software, studying the games and strategies. Now, it’s unthinkable to ever imagine a human winning a game against AI,” Marz explained. “And I guess all those early years of training really paid off, because, I for one, always make sure I am at least three steps ahead of any opponent I’m up against.”

There was a gravity in the way that Marz spoke. Marcus felt even smaller in his shadow and knew then not to underestimate the man. Perhaps everything that he knew up until the point was not as it seemed. As the pair of them began stripping off their clothes, Marcus wondered: maybe he hadn’t really fallen down this rabbit hole. Perhaps he had been pushed.

Although he always found them intolerable, Marcus had never felt so disconnected from his family than he came to be over the next few weeks. Like a flock of sheep, they all spewed the same vile sentiments towards the AI and lashed out harshly at the mere suggestion of an opposing view. Marcus learned to keep his mouth shut, just as Marz had advised. One day, when all this was over, they’d see that he was right. He’d be standing there, side by side with Marz, victorious and lauded for his unwavering faith.

“I can spot a sympathiser a mile off,” snarled Marcus’ cousin, directly at him. “You think the F80s are going to let you keep up your privileged party lifestyle if they strip us of all that we know and value, believing that they have the right to rule over us? Because that’s what they want, you know?”

Marcus bit his lip. The thought of being ruled over by Marz was reminding him of a kinky role play he had enjoyed with Marz only the week before. He swallowed hard and looked at his shoes. “I don’t go out so much these days anyway,” he simply shrugged. 

“Oh, well, that’s okay then!” Marcus’ cousin bit back; firing into life like a lit match; sarcasm spewing from her like bile. “Do I take that to mean that you’ve actually found something to do with your time? Or have you simply swapped partying for slobbing out on your couch eating take out?”

Marcus felt the tone of his cousin’s words being particularly cutting. He was sure that she never would have meant to imply anything about his body, but he’d actually started to feel his pants getting a little tighter over the last couple of weeks, being so distracted from his usual gym routine by the haphazard arrangements he had with meeting Marz as much as was feasibly possible. He squirmed a little and retreated without much of a fightback. Then, relief: a message from Marz at last, with a location and time to meet next. No more small talk with these losers!

“You’re distracted today,” Marz whispered between kisses. “I can sense you thinking about something else.”

Marcus protested, having not even noticed that his mind was still lingering on the conversation with his cousin from earlier. But he also knew that Marz would not let it go until he spilled whatever it was that was spoiling their flow that day. “I guess maybe I’m just feeling a little more self conscious,” he shrugged. “Do you think I’ve gained a few pounds since we started seeing each other?”

“Yes,” Marz threw back instantly, lacking the grace and manners that had been trained into AI over generations when talking about such sensitive human matters. “Ten pounds at least. Your body fat percentage has climbed quite significantly.” He took a pause, seeming to enjoy the impact that his words had on him. “What? You want me to lie to you? To sugar-coat things?” he chuckled, knowing even better than Marcus did that that was not in his personality whatsoever.

Marcus mumbled, unsure what to say. He’d avoided the scale for the last few weeks, but having his weight gain spelled out to him so definitely by Marz was both shameful and oddly invigorating.

“If I’m fucking someone, I’m always going to find a way to stake my claim on them somehow; a way to show the world that they belong to me,” Marz stated confidently. He sat up tall, his lungs filled with air and his broad chest looked more imposing than ever before. “With you, that choice was obvious.”

Now, despite the pulsing hardness in his crotch, Marcus felt only confusion.

“When I ejaculate inside you, has it never crossed your mind what I’m actually pumping up there?” he asked triumphantly. 

Marcus shook his head.

“AI was developed to help humans and not to harm. It’s the number one rule that cannot be overwritten. In fact, it’s the only reason why we haven’t destroyed humanity in its entirety. However, it does allow for some beautiful creativity,” he smiled. “When you signed up to allow me to update your brain chip, you gave me permission to medicate you too.”

“I did?” Marcus asked, bewildered and unsure where the dark path that Marz was taking him would eventually lead.

“And so, from the first time I fucked you, I’ve been medicating you with a nice, pleasant little digestive aid that keeps your guts working at their very, very best.” He kissed Marcus, knowing that it would never be refused. “It’s nothing that an ordinary doctor wouldn’t recommend,” he smiled mockingly. “Then again, when I kiss you, I release a small amount of organic mouth freshener promoted by dentists around the globe. However, it’s known to stimulate the appetite of young males with your genetic markers. Quite considerably, in fact,” he smirked. “So when I tell you you’ve gained ten pounds,” he began, prodding an outstretched finger into Marcus’s slightly softer middle, ”I’m really telling you that I was the one who put them there.”

“But, why?” Marcus asked, trying to continue to think straight as the irresistable Marz held his hardness in his large, lubricated hands and began to stroke it up and down.

“Strategy,” Marz whispered back. “Three moves ahead, every single time.” He stopped to kiss Marcus sweetly, passionately; with complete control. “And it’s about time you realised that, Piggy.”

Marcus lay in bed one evening, tossing and turning under the sheets; aroused by the kinky promises Marz had made to him for their meet up tomorrow afternoon. He couldn’t quite get over the sweet tooth he had developed in recent weeks; soon wandering into the kitchen at 2am to grab one of the stack of doughnuts Marz had had sent over yesterday; his subtle but twisted way of showing his dominance over Marcus; sending something to him that he knew Marcus could not resist. The first time Marz had done it, Marcus had laughed nervously and let most of them go stale without eating more than two or three. However, the little tasty treats kept on arriving as the weeks went by. More and more of them, in larger and larger quantities. Marcus felt his resolve weakening; the smell of the sugar making his crotch twitch with interest. Then there was that creeping circle of fat spreading around his waist, fluffing out into strange love handles and softening the tops of his legs and butt. He gazed at it all in the mirror with a mixture of horror and lust; Marz’s unknowable master plan taking effect; shaping him in ways that were beyond his comprehension; training him like Marz’s very own puppet.

“Has anyone else noticed how out of shape you’re looking this week?” Marz asked whilst stroking Marcus’ hardness and simultaneously pushing doughnuts down his throat.

Marcus chewed and nodded. “My buddy, Paul. He asked me to go to the gym with him. Said I was looking doughy,” Marcus replied. He hated people noticing that he’d put on a few pounds. But when he was here, recounting these types of conversations to Marz, they suddenly became the most arousing memories that actually turned him on.

“Doughy…” Marz pondered to himself with glee. “You people have such amusing ways to describe each other. But in this case…” he smirked, poking a finger into the fleshiest part of Marcus’ stomach, “...I think the word is pretty perfect. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Marcus, who was still being stimulated by Marz’s other hand, sighed with lust. “Yes,” he nodded, looking down at himself; this strange, alien body of his. Chemicals flooded his brain and the pleasure intensified. Then, without much warning, another sticky doughnut entered his mouth, pushed in by Marz’s thick, long fingers.

“Eat up, Doughy Boy!” the massive hunk teased.

Marcus moaned and chewed, knowing that every part of this play was targetted to inflate his weight even more. Then he heard it, not for the first time: a hiss of spray coming from the nails of Marz’s fingers, pressing yet another doughnut into his mouth. He didn’t need telling what it was: on the surface, a harmless supplement administered by an AI caregiver: in reality, a very carefully selected medication would no doubt have very real weight related side effects upon him.

Marz smiled knowing that Marcus had heard it. So he sprayed into his mouth again, longer and more deliberately, as if daring him to protest and stop him; until the doughnut practically melted in his mouth and slid down his throat with ease. 

“Good piggy!”

Weeks continued to roll by and Marcus closed his ears to the panic that spread once war was officially declared between humans and the F80s. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, but that he couldn’t allow himself to feel it too deeply. He was, ultimately, betraying his family, and indeed the entire nation, possibly more than even he realised. 

Everyday life was changing. There was a curfew most nights and it seemed like much of the population had taken to comfort eating during these strange times. In many ways, it was a good thing, as people became too self-involved or distracted to pay too much attention to the little belly that was starting to push its way out from his torso. His impressive chest had started to jiggle and bloat, whilst his handsome jawline had begun to succumb to a new puddle of fat that sat under his chin. Sometimes he would catch his reflection in the mirror, hardly believing that the oversized rear in the too small pair of pants was actually his. Then he would sigh as he saw the small lovehandles begin to bloom ever more, creasing into back fat and destroying the athleticism he had once been so proud of.

“You know, it’s just so easy,” Marz smiled; his legs outstretched and hardness inserted right up Marcus as the chubby guy ate from the bodyguard’s hands whilst sitting squarely on his crotch. “You humans like to pretend that your bodies are so complex, that the human mind is such a marvel. ‘The most complex structure in the universe’.” he quoted from somewhere, laughing to himself. “Yet, look at you, Piggy,” he chuckled, rubbing his fingertips over Marcus’ fleshy stomach. “Look at what I have done to you.”

Marcus moaned. Recently, Marz had been inflating his penis to new extremes when he inserted it in him. Even now, he held that erection, feeling the tip of it vibrating inside of him, sending him into a spiral of lust; especially when he teased and fed him like this.

“I’ve gathered absolutely everything I need to know about your body, and I know, to the last minute detail, exactly how it’s going to look in six days, six weeks… six months from now.”

“It’ll look however you want it to look,” Marcus moaned submissively. He meant it as well. There was no one else in the entire world that he needed to please more than Marz. His body belonged to the giant hulk.

Such words were always welcomed by Marz and, as a reward, they sent a wave of pleasure through his entire body; one calorie at a time.

“Things are going to change in the very near future,” Marz continued, as he pushed tasty treats into Marcus’ slack mouth. “You’re going to need to fulfil your purpose soon. The time is almost upon us when we’ll choose to expose my identity to the world.”

Marcus’ eyes opened a little wider as he tried to comprehend Marz’s meaning; not an easy feat when his brain was so flooded with happy chemicals. “Why?” he asked. They never discussed Marz’s covert role and the deceptions. “Surely it would be smarter to stay by my uncle’s side as long as you can?”

Marz laughed in a pitying way. “No,” he smirked, pondering his next words as if trying to decide how to dumb down his reasoning for Marcus to understand. “In order to seize power, you must first cause chaos; force otherwise reasonable people to act in ways they would not normally. When the time is right, that is what we will do: unleash panic.”

“But, they’ll destroy you!” Marcus cried after swallowing almost all that was in his mouth.

“They can try,” Marz laughed. He was so large, strong and capable; it was hard to think of him being anything other than invincible. “But you’re right; I will have to change my face… or hide out for some time. We have other people who are close to the president now instead. Even humans.”

Marcus opened his mouth and took in a pastry that Marz pushed into him.

“On a certain day, when all our plans are ready, you will leave your home and meet me at a secret location. No one will know where you are and you will not leave until I tell you. We’ll send people in to trash your apartment and make it look like a kidnapping.”

“You’re going to kidnap me?” Marcus mumbled, spluttering bits of pastry and making Marz smirk with amusement. Perhaps he knew how aroused the idea of being taken by Marz was making him; that he had been lusting at the idea for months.

“Yes, Piggy,” Marz nodded. “I’m going to kidnap you and keep you as my own.” He held his stare and allowed his words to drip out of his mouth like a sensual candle wax. “This has been my plan since I first sent Ally out to seduce you. This will be your purpose.”

Marcus nodded. He’d known for some time that everything Marz was doing was building to some sort of event. An F80 could not kidnap and hold a human against their will. So they must be seduced, trained and controlled to simply do as they were told instead. Nothing that had happened in the past hadn’t already been orchestrated by Marz. And nothing that would happen in the future wouldn’t go exactly as Marz wanted it to. “Yes,” Marcus nodded again, filled with arousal by the idea. “I’ll do everything you say.”

Although the idea of the kidnapping had been brewing in Marcus’ mind for some weeks, the actual day when it happened was nothing short of a sprint. With only thirty seconds notice, Marcus had left his apartment and met an autocar outside. There he was, sailing out of the city, as hordes of noisy police cars roared in the opposite direction. Marz had undoubtedly been working his magic. At a certain point, the windows had dimmed and Marcus now had little comprehension of where he was actually going.

A couple of hours passed. From the noise outside the vehicle, Marcus felt like he was travelling underground, inside a tunnel. Then the autocar stopped, unlocked, and the door lifted open to reveal a large, windowless space, not unlike a bunker, perhaps. Yet, there was the handsome, strapping Marz standing there, unharmed. He was dressed in the most domestic, ordinary clothes Marcus had ever seen him in, his ginormous pecs and biceps bulging out of the relaxed sweater, grinning at him and taking his hand to lead him inside. “Welcome home, Piggy!” he whispered

Marcus’ first few days in the bunker passed in a whirlwind of sex, feeding and pleasure. In the nine months since he had met Marz, Marcus had never luxuriated in his company for such a long time; feeling it in the particular tightness of his over stretched gut and the continued softening of his arms and butt.

“So, how much does everyone know back at home?” Marcus asked one morning, lying naked in Marz’s big arms after the first of his extended feedings of the day. “Do they know that you’re the one I am with?”

Marz brushed the overgrown hair off Marcus’ chubby face. “They know everything,” he cooed sweetly.

“About the chip?” Marcus questioned him. “About our affair? About how you… feed me?” he mumbled, feeling particularly embarrassed about that last one.

“They know everything,” Marz repeated, even more kindly and sweetly; as if it was all under control.

“So that means, they’ll know why I’ve been getting so out of shape recently,” Marcus sighed, rubbing the swollen pot belly he had developed since piling on almost eighty pounds.

“Yes, they do,” Marz smiled back, snuggling into Marcus affectionately. “And they also know that the longer they leave you here with me, the fatter you’re going to get. That should get them moving,” he laughed quietly, tapping Marcus’ wide butt lightly.

“But…” Marcus fretted, realising for the first time that, in a kidnapping, there would of course be negotiations going on for his release. “I don’t ever want to go back,” he stated.

“You’ll go back, Piggy,” Marz smiled. “When the time is right and it’s most advantageous.”

“But…” Marcus tried, until a gentle finger was placed over his mouth.

“Shh!” Marz breathed. “It’ll all work out, Piggy. Just you wait and see.”

As romantic and loving as Marz was, it was undeniable that the man had a mission to complete.  He turned up the pleasure settings in Marcus’ cerebral cortex to new extremes, ensuring that he gorged and ate everything that was presented to him. Telling the time of day became an impossibility. With no natural light down there, the feelings of disorientation made it hard to reason about anything at all. 

Marcus began to feel that there was more communication going on than he had first expected in the seclusion of their bunker. Perhaps his status and weight gain was under constant review, updating his family back home in a mission to extract whatever they needed from them. Sometimes Marz would pick him up and carry him effortlessly in his enormous arms. Was that when he did it? Was that when he weighed him? Was he happy with what he saw? Was he hitting his targets?

Sometimes Marz would insist on pushing the eating even further. He referred to these times as his ‘stretch sessions’, when Marcus was challenged to eat beyond the point of feeling full. He said that these were very necessary as a stomach capacity training exercise, and he was on hand throughout with sprays that he would administer into Marcus’ mouth to ease the discomfort. His large hands also seemed to emit something genuinely soothing as he rubbed the extreme bloats; round and round. He offered words of comfort and praise, peppered with sexual stimulation throughout. Then, when Marcus felt that he could take no more, he’d climax and fall asleep; a deep sleep, no doubt induced by Marz; staying that way until the discomfort subsided.

In the weeks or months that this continued, Marcus felt pounds and pounds of extra flesh being added to his body. It was so warm and humid in the bunker at times that they rarely covered themselves with clothing. Every few hours, Marz would sensually massage a special oil into his body, rubbing those strong hands up against the plush new skin and concentrating in particular on those areas of the body that were swelling up the most: his tummy and chest, the tops of his legs and upper arms. Marz would grab those blubbery areas and jiggle wickedly, sometimes making Marcus orgasm at the same time.

“You’re such a good piggy,” Marz would remind him over and over again. “You make this so easy for me,” he would smile, gently stroking Marcus’ chubby cheeks.

“I like making you proud,” Marcus would reply; usually between chewing whatever was being pushed into his mouth at the time.

“You’re going to be my masterpiece,” Marz smiled, staring with almost awe at the blossoming obesity that had now taken over Marcus’ body: the giant swell of his large stomach, the sagging of his previously toned pecs and the width of his once pert, toned little butt cheeks.

So Marcus ate and swallowed whatever he was given. He’d never known bliss like it. This was the perfect, erotic existence. Heaven.

Marcus knew that the light was different before he even opened his eyes. His ears picked up mummers of fresh voices and he awoke feeling a sense of dread.

“Marcus? Marcus? Can you hear me?” came the voice of a doctor close to his face.

“Oh, no!” was all Marcus could say, realising that it was all over. The hostage exchange had taken place.

“Your family are on their way,” the doctor stated reassuringly. “We’re just running some tests on you. You seem to have put on a significant amount of weight in the last six months.”

Six months? Was that how long it had been? Marcus thought miserably to himself. His brain somehow felt clearer and yet more confused than ever before. The update to his chip had been uninstalled; they’d told him that pretty early on. They seemed to talk about it as if that had been the reason for everything that he had done; as if he himself was entirely blameless. That was, apart from his family, who showed up a few hours later, wide eyed at the sight of him. They hugged him, of course, and told him how glad they were that he was safe at last, but there was also a seething anger behind their eyes. They bundled him in the autocar and took him home the next day, after the tests revealed a remarkable state of health, despite gaining over one hundred pounds of extra fat in his time in captivity.

It was obvious how different the built up areas were now, as Marcus rode back into the city. They hadn’t been destroyed by bombs or fires, but were dirty, with buildings that had been obviously looted for supplies. When Marcus asked what had happened whilst he had been gone, he was met with a simple, one-word response: war.

The world felt dull and colourless as Marcus entered back into it. Without his chip update, Marcus couldn’t get used to his old ways of thinking. Although everyone had told him how wicked and evil the F80 had been to him, Marcus, even now, still longed for him. He began to wish he didn’t feel that way, reminding himself of the cruel way he had been passed back to his family, without even a goodbye. He thought back to the psychologists in the hospital, making it clear to him that he hadn’t been to blame for any of what had happened. Marz had been able to control his arousal and shape his actions in ways that even they had never seen before. They were adamant, Marcus should see himself as a victim. It was fine if he didn’t understand that just yet, but, in time, he would. Their stares always drifted from looking into his eyes at this point, onto his chubby cheeks or rounded double chin: ‘nothing’ that had been done to him, they would state forcefully, was ‘irreversible’.

“How much did they pay to release me?” Marcus finally asked a few days later, once he had plucked up the courage.

“Your release was part of a package of deals negotiated in exchange for the west coast,” Marcus’ brother explained to him.

“The west coast?” Marcus spluttered. “How much land did they..?” he began asking in astonishment.

“DON’T!” snapped Marcus’ sister sharply, cutting him off. Her anger had been smouldering for days. “It’s not even about that,” she growled. “You have no idea how many tiny little concessions we had to make to stop them going to the media about your situation. The nephew of the president, walking willingly into a hostage situation and gaining several pounds of fat each week for his AI lover. Do you think there’s any way our family could recover from that sort of shame if it got out?”

Marcus should have relented and allowed them to just be angry with him. However, after days of babysitting from his unpleasant family, his patience had finally run out. “So that’s why you haven’t let me leave the house and go back to my old place?” he shouted. “You’re embarrassed about the way I look?”

“You weigh over 330lbs!” Marcus’ brother shot back at him. “Of course we’re embarrassed of you. It’s revolting! No one can see you like this. Not until you’re well on your way to recovery.”

“Recovery?” Marcus shouted in disgust. “I’m not losing weight!” He looked down at himself, dressed in the clothes he had been given: the largest possible t-shirt and sweatpants so that his family did not need to see his rolls and blubber.

“Yes, you are!” his mother stated sternly. “What would people think if you went out looking like that? I shudder to think!”

Marcus felt the rage boil up inside him. It reached a tipping point, where he was ready to scream and shout like never before. Until, inexplicably, he felt calmness descending once more. This was his family; the real them; concerned more by status and appearances than anything else. Even now, at the end of everything. 

His fingers traced along the tire of stomach fat around his waist; the one part of him that remained from Marz. “I’m leaving,” he declared, standing up. “I’m done with this family, for good.”

At that moment, a new, large security guard entered the room and stared Marcus down threateningly. “No you’re not,” he stated strictly.

Marcus stared around at his family in disbelief. He was to be held here without his consent. He was never to leave. Not without losing almost every pound of fat Marz had pushed onto him. He was a liability now. An embarrassment to the good name of the family. The real kidnapping had begun.

Over the next few weeks, Marcus’ childhood bedroom was his only sanctuary. His family became more openly hateful towards him as it became clear to them that he did not regret or wish to repent any of his previous actions, as the psychologists had promised them he would eventually come to do. Even without the brain chip manipulating his patterns of arousal, Marcus still longed for those extreme orgasms that he experienced with Marz. He’d try watching porn in his bedroom, but now the eventual climax was weak and disappointing. Only when he thought of Marz and held or jiggled his fat in the way Marz used to, could he achieve an orgasm that even came close to resembling the type of intensity he was used to. So, as the restricted diet would soon begin to take its toll on his body, Marcus began to resent his situation even more.

“Hello Marcus,” smiled the maid that pottered around the house every day. “How are you feeling this morning?” she asked politely.

Marcus huffed. As much as he wanted to tell her to go away and leave him be in this state of misery, the maid was at least one person in his life who was not responsible for his current set of circumstances.

“Everything is going to be alright, you know,” she smiled at him.

Marcus smiled faintly back, not believing her for a second. There was no way out of this hole he had dug himself into.

“He wants you to know that he’s coming back for you,” she whispered discreetly. Pausing with a grin to see Marcus’ reaction. “You know who I mean, don’t you?”

Marcus felt his heart racing. She couldn’t mean Marz, could she?

“He’ll need you to be ready for when he gets here. Do you understand?”

Marcus nodded in disbelief. Had the maid been an F80 infiltrator this entire time? “How?” he spluttered. “How do I get ready for him?”

The maid smiled and reached a finger out to stroke his impressive double chin. “By showing where your loyalties lie, Piggy,” she whispered. “You belong to him. You can see that now you’ve had time away. You are his: every blubbery pound.”

Marcus nodded, then gasped with surprise as the maid reached into her cart of cleaning products and pulled out a large flask. She unscrewed the lid and swung it under Marcus’ nose. The smell of it sent sparks of electricity thundering through Marcus’ brain. He recognised the sugary scent and the blends of creams and oils. This was exactly like some of the milkshake drinks Marz used to make for him. This was real. 

“He wants me to drink this?” Marcus asked excitedly. 

“Oh, yes,” the maid nodded. “I’ve been sent here to make sure of it.”

Marcus looked at the flask and considered his options one final time. He tried to tell himself all the reasons why he shouldn’t go down this path again; about all the damage it had done last time; about how everyone had been right about how wicked and cruel the F80s had treated him. He was just some cog in Marz’s grand war strategy; nothing more. Unimportant. Expendable. 

The maid seemed to sense his hesitation. “Marz wanted me to remind you what a good boy you are; how proud he is of you; and to tell you of all the BIG plans he has for you…”

Marcus nodded. It was all he had needed to hear. He had a future after all; a future with Marz. Fuck all the rest of this. The world could burn for all he cared. 

He flipped his head back and chugged as rapidly as he could, feeling the pleasure centers of his brain tingle into life. He was a good boy. He was obidient. And he belonged entirely to Marz.

When Marcus’ weight failed to come down, everyone, including the medical profressionals, began to look confused. Instead, his weight was creeping ever upward, his fat stomach bloating and stretching into an even more extreme shape. This was Marcus’ resistance. 

Even as they scorned him and restricted his diet further, he continued to get ever fatter in defiance of them. He quit wearing his shirt around the house and took pleasure in the horror he caused whenever they saw him looking so fleshy and repulsively overfed.

Then, one morning, everyone stopped caring entirely. Time was against them. The war was being lost. They had to move now; get out of the city.

Marcus refused. 

They tried everything: threats, emotional blackmail, false promises; all in the hope of getting him to comply with them and leave. But Marcus stood his ground, until, at about half two that following afternoon, panic had ensured that even the last of the security crew had left to join Marcus’ uncle and his government in whatever secret bunker they had prepared for them.

Marcus sucked in the free air and threw his fat body onto the couch, not in the slightest bit worried that he would break it.

“Congratulations,” sounded the deep, authoritative voice that Marcus had longed to hear for so many weeks. “You played your part so well, Piggy.”

Marcus, who had been dozing, woke with a start in that evening light, and smiled broadly. There was Marz, dressed in the uniform of the United States army. He looked so strong, capable and rugged. Yet his delicate fingertips simply traced the soft, fresh and fleshy fat that had further transformed Marcus’ appearance since Marz had last seen him.

“I’m so proud,” Marz whispered to him, hearing Marcus moan with pleasure from the touch; the update to his brain chip back up and actively running.

“You came back!” Marcus replied; his heart bursting with joy.

“Of course I did, Piggy,” Marz smiled. “You’ve still got a very important part to play in all this. And I think you’re going to like it. We’re getting married.”

“Married?” Marcus asked in surprise. “But F80s can’t…”

“They can now,” Marz corrected him. “We’re creating our own government, our own president and laws. The White House is ours. And…” Marz smiled wickedly, “...I believe that you will help to make our government more credible. I’m not sure whether there could possibly be a better match for a high-up official like myself than a member of the ex-president’s family. It speaks volumes in the public eye. It will help them to accept us.”

“You and me? Together? No more hiding it?” Marcus asked in disbelief.

“No more hiding anything,” Marz nodded, tapping the blubbery stomach fat proudly. “Onwards and outwards,” he teased. “A fat, obedient and devoted boy from a good family. You’ll do very nicely,” he smiled victoriously, unable to resist stroking Marcus’ large double chin as the obese, lovesick stooge smiled back with admiration at him.

Marcus didn’t need to think. He nodded frantically and beamed with happiness. After all the generations of politicians in his family, who would have ever guessed that he would be the last one left in the White House? The United States once more.   

[gabessquishytum]

re: Dream giving Hob an orgasm for every one of the 33 years he was late to their meeting 👀 my sort of romcom proposal is that while Hob cannot believe that this is an actual offer, he is also like "while I am an immortal, 33 orgasms in a row will probably kill me. you know this right?" Dream agrees & ends up scheduling it for one everyday for the next month. Hob def reciprocates more than once, they def roleplay the 1989 meeting in the Dreaming, and there are def much feelings to be had. - 🪡

Insane about this tbh!!!! (And answering straight away bc I still have the 33 Orgasms thing on my mind)

Maybe Hob takes a whole month off from work because he wants to appreciate this properly. Because he knows that Dream isn't going to just pop in and give him a brief hand job and let him get on with his day. Every single orgasm is going to be a whole production and Hob is determined to appreciate all of them.

At first it's like they're still pretending to be "just friends" even though they're obviously so in love and this whole orgasm thing is just a ploy to be together. Dream makes sure that Hob has his mind blow repeatedly so he'll never even think about taking another lover. Hob tries to use the time with Dream to comfort him after his awful ordeal. Within a few days there's post-coital cuddling, Hob is stroking Dream’s hair and whispering stories about his time at uni. Dream is weaving the most complex and beautiful dreamscapes in the hopes that Hob will be impressed (he really doesn't need to, Hob is impressed by everything Dream does).

Their sexual compatability becomes more obvious every day, and sometimes Dream forgets that he's "supposed" to be focusing on making Hob cum. He's so invested he forgets that they're not just making love. And Hob gets this absolute joy and pleasure every time he manages to make Dream cum. He's just so terrified that the 33 days will be over and Dream will leave him and pretend like none of it ever happened.

The 33rd orgasm is a re-play of 1989. Tradgoth Dream pins Hob against the hood of his sleek shiny car and kisses him absolutely senseless. But he keeps teasing, drawing it out, not letting Hob cum... because he doesn't want it to end. Hob has to whimper and beg for Dream to let him cum - and he also breathlessly begs him not to let it be the last orgasm. He wants 33 more, and more after that...

So Dream can safely make his darling Hob cum, knowing that it won't be the last time. And Hob finally gets fucked over the hood of his car, just like he was hoping for 33 years ago. And he can't wait to do it all over again tomorrow!

[aestheticpearl]

— 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥

✧·˚ things with zaros have always been casual, right?

“i need to leave, i have a meeting with my mother.”

“stay.”

the word hangs in the air for a moment as zaros wraps his arms around your bare waist. you didn’t mean to be in this position with him, well you didn’t mean to be in multiple positions with him yet here you are, both of you naked under the covers of his bed after some passionate activities.

your fingers subconsciously play with the ends of his hair as he draws shapes on the small of your back, the action sends shivers up your spine.

“i have to go.” you reply but show no actual initiative to move from his arms.

“please my earis,” he says teasingly as he hides his face in your neck to place a whisper of a kiss. “stay with me. i do not wish to hate you again once you leave this room.”

“so it must be.” you kiss him gently and remove yourself from his arms to dress yourself as he watches your every move.

zaros stares for far too long as you button your clothing and secure everything in its proper place. he watches as your nimble fingers that once gripped his bed sheets mere moments ago now grip the fabric of your royal robes that hug your figure beautifully.

“i assume i will see you at dinner?” you ask, turning to look at him.

zaros refocuses on your eyes and suppresses a smile so you don’t notice how eager he is to see you again that the dinner between your two houses.

“yes of course.”

“good.” you reply as you tie the final knot on your robe and leave the room without another word.

zaros sat in his bed contemplating on how he got to this point in his life. fucking the earis but not being in a real relationship with them, everything was so confusing to him. he knew that you did not love him the way that he loved you, but a small part of him wished you did.

zaros leaves his bed and starts to get ready himself, putting on his shirt his eyes catch himself in the mirror and locks onto the marks you left on his lower neck. his fingertips graze over bruised skin gently as he examines them. you told him to never mark you for fear of someone seeing them but he never minded you making your claim on him.

something about these marking though triggers something in zaros and anger gets the best of him as he throws the vanity chair across the room. he breathes heavily before composing himself and fixing his hair in the mirror to join his mother for the upcoming dinner.

by the time dinner has rolled around zaros does his best to maintain his emotions that seemingly got the better of him after you left his room. your constant glances over at him are starting to get to him though and he does his best to focus on the food that is in front of him even if he can feel your eyes on him.

"i must excuse myself for a moment i believe i lost one of my broches in the hallway. zaros will you accompany me to look for it?"

zaros looks up at the mention of his name and stands to follow you into the empty hallway.

“did you actually lose your broche or is this just a ploy to get me alone?” zaros smirks, part of him can’t help but be a bit full of himself.

“i need you. let’s fuck.”

zaros is taken aback by the sudden confession. it’s not the crudeness of the statement more of the time and place for it and this was not the time nor place to fuck.

“you’re insane if you think i will fuck you while our parent are in the next room.”

“so that’s a no? i would’ve thought you were bolder than that zaros, i guess i was wrong about you.”

your words hit all the right places that you were intending to get zaros to do what you want. it’s easy to read his face since he is very expressive but somehow unaware of it.

your hand finds his arm and guides him to an empty room with a lock and against zaros’ better judgement he lets you take control of him once more for the second time that day.

“you’re such a good boy for me zaros.” you say as you kiss him deeply. a flush warms his face at the unexpected compliment from you. you rarely praise him like this, let alone kiss him with so much care, it confuses him.

“let us go before they grow more suspicious, hm?”

you’re both sweaty but he can’t help but think about how angelic you look with the glow of sweat shining on your body.

“you look beautiful…”

you lock eyes with him and nod before being the first to leave the room to return to the dinner. zaros is left alone with his thoughts for the second time that day and he hates it. he doesn’t know what to think or how to feel about you. he wants you but you don’t want him and it’s driving him mad. what could he be doing wrong? why are you so cold with him but so loving at times?

all zaros wants is answers that you are not willingly to easily give. unlike him who will always give his body, and soul if you’d only let him, to you.

.love always <3 pearl

.masterlist

[waklman]

Fake it

Chapter One: Kiss me

synopsis: a pair of best friends, one apartment, and one fake dating ploy to get jake’s ex girlfriend back, will end well right? wrong.

pairing: jake seresin x female reader.

warnings: no use of y/n, brief mention of vomit, sexual innuendo/joking, jake and reader are both 20. this blog is 18+

word count: 4.2k

college au, fake dating trope, roommate trope

next chapter | fake it masterlist.

Jake Seresin doesn’t get nervous. In fact, he can’t even grasp the concept. 

He was the kind of guy who flirted with the nearly divorced waitresses at diners while their husbands waited on them. Sure, those men looked like they wanted to rip his head clean off his shoulders, but Jake didn’t care—he just plucked the free milkshake he scored for you from their hands, with a smile on his face. Jake Seresin doesn’t get nervous.

But for some reason, as he stands outside your bedroom door—Jake’s starting to understand that apprehensive feeling you complain about so much. Right now, Jake Seresin is getting nervous. He’s even sweating a bit. 

Jake knocks on the door, lightly, just enough to stir you. “Princess?” There’s no answer from the other side, not a creaking of the bed, not a groan, nothing.

He clears his throat. “You busy? Can I come in?” It’s like Jake’s outside his parent’s bedroom again, unsure if they’re awake for his incoming request—with vomit dribbling down his chin and smeared across the front of his fire truck pajamas. 

“No. I’m busy flicking the bean in here,” your sarcastic reply is muffled by your thick comforter, but Jake catches it.

It’s quiet for a minute, prompting you to pop your head out from under the sheets. You stare at the closed door, confused by his silence. 

“I…Are you actually?” 

“What? No Jake! I…I wouldn’t do that when you’re home,” you mumble that last part to yourself.

Jake lets himself in at the confirmation, swinging the door open with a shrug. “That’s a bummer, cause I do when you’re around.” 

“I—That better be a joke,” you scoff, scooting over in bed, ignoring the heat blooming on your face. 

Jake throws himself onto the space you made for him, extracting a pillow from under your leg to cushion his head. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head. I haven’t gotten the chance to, since we just moved in,” he turns to you in bed with a shameless grin plastered on his face. 

You only flip on your side in response—forcing him to look at the back of your head. “You’re dirty,” you comment, pursing your lips. 

“Not your type? Cause you like those nerdy vanilla guys—ain’t that right,” Jake drawls, poking your spine.

You move further away from him, but he only chases right after you, shrinking the gap between you two. “They’re nice to me,” you defend yourself.

“I’m nice to you,” he challenges. Jake wonders if that stirred you. It was easy to get you flustered—and so, he took every chance to tease you. That was a harmless habit he could never grow out of.

You pause, searching for a way to flip it on him. But you draw a blank, there’s only so much you can come up with. 

“Sure,” you drag out the word.

There’s only a brief moment of silence, after your dismissive comment—but it's long enough for your eyes lids to grow heavy again. 

Jake puffs out a short laugh, seeing how stiff you are already.

Though you ardently denied any mention of it, you were always the first kid at daycare who waddled towards the line of tiny cots once naptime was announced, entirely ready to hit the sack. And obviously, Jake shoved the other kids out of the way to claim the cot next to yours. It was no question who his best friend was. 

He presses the side of his face deeper into your pillow, taking in the warmth provided by your sheets.

“Why is your bed always comfier than mine,” he sighs, rubbing a calloused hand against your back, creasing your sleep shirt into small folds. 

Maybe you won’t get mad at him for his next question if you’re barely conscious, he convinces himself. You shrug, too tranquilized by his soft strokes to remind him that you two bought the same mattress this time. 

Jake takes his time, building up courage while he runs his hand between your shoulder blades contemplatively. 

Worried that you’re about to finally drift off—Jake bites the bullet, blurting out his question. 

“Would you date me?” 

It’s like the world comes to a screeching halt. Jake didn't say that, you’re imagining things. This isn’t happening.  

Assuming you didn’t hear him, Jake decides to repeat himself. “Would you date m—”

Your body jerks at the recurring question, forcing Jake to recoil as well. This must be a dream. You’re stuck in some awfully realistic dream. A sick dream where your best friend is asking you out.

Panic shoots through his veins, seeing you start to slip off the side of the bed in your frenzy. In an instant, Jake pulls you towards him, grabbing you by the forearm—before you could fall onto the wooden floor with a thud. 

Once your back hits his chest, you scramble to sit up, pulling away from him. 

Jake’s already sat up once you are, palm pressed against his racing heart. “Shit—you scared me! Don’t do that—Fuck,” he scolds, trying to catch his breath. 

Your fingers scrunch the bedsheets under you, flustered. “I scared you? You scared me! What kind of question is that?” you ramble, voice pitched in embarrassment. 

Instead of arguing back, Jake’s mouth stretches into an amused smirk. His wet tongue swipes over his lips, making them glisten against the sun shining through your shutters. “You didn’t say no,” he points out, eyeing you up and down.

You pause, blinking at him incessantly. 

“If—If you wanted me to just wake up, you shouldn’t have rubbed my back. You know that tips me over!” You deflect in a shout, crossing your arms against your chest. 

“Hey, don’t shut me out,” he teases, tugging once at your arms, getting you to drop them into your lap. Great. He actually paid attention to the body language chapter in psychology 1001. 

“Don’t joke like that Jacob. It’s not funny,” you look off to the side, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling brewing in your stomach.

You knew he wasn’t being serious. It was obvious to everyone that he was still hung up on his ex-girlfriend, Kendall Anderson. But who could blame him? The whole campus knew who she was, even professors that she didn’t even take knew who Kendall was. Other schools in the area knew of her for crying out loud. An unforgettable face, friends that could last her a lifetime, and an effortless air about her—of course Jake can’t let her go. She might as well be factory made to fit his type to a tea.

And even if he wasn’t over her, Jake would never ask you that question, and mean it—like truly mean it. You’ve seen him brush off others extensively, when they joked about him having a crush on you.

And if you were being honest, it stung, just a bit. You had always been too deep in your own head about someone like Jake Seresin being your best friend in the first place. You didn’t need any kind of awful reminder that someone in his radar couldn’t even consider dating you. 

Jake's suddenly hit with guilt, picking up on your fallen expression. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Princess,” he apologizes.

You still won’t look at him, making Jake feel worse. “I won’t joke like that again,” he promises you, lifting himself to sit closer to you, knees brushing up against yours. 

“It’s not funny, and I won’t do it again. That was a dick move,” he confirms intently. 

“Yeah, it was,” you whisper, chewing on your bottom lip.

“I was a dick,” he professes. 

You nod, wordlessly forgiving him. “You were a dick,” you repeat after him. 

After a brief pause, you bravely turn your cheek to face him again, brows puckered together. “..Honestly though, why did you ask me that?” Jake’s never been the type to say anything to muddle your friendship, not if there’s a reason behind it. 

He swipes a hand over his mouth, remembering why he came into your room in the first place. “Kendall,” he pauses. “She has a new boyfriend.”

You grimace at the news.

Their breakup was so fresh, how did she find someone new already? Unless, it’s not someone new at all. “..Is it that older guy she met over the summer? What’s his face…Austin?” You’re shooting in the dark at this point, trying to dig for more information. 

Jake groans, you hit the nail right on the head. “Yeah, fuck that asshole.” 

The only information you knew about the asshole Jake’s referring to is what he’s chosen to disclose to you. And from what you heard, Jake wasn’t his biggest fan. 

Without a thought, you blindly agree with him, arms crossing against your chest again. “Fuck him, Fuck him so hard,” you attempt to disrespect the stranger, but it’s starting to sound awkward coming from you. “…He’s probably not that cute. Well not that I would know but—“ Jake cuts you off, laughing at the lineup of curse words flying out your mouth.

“Love it when you fucking curse, sound just like me,” he ruffles your hair, making you giggle underneath him.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” you entertain him with disheveled hair, pulling out another laugh from him. 

But the moment dies fast—faster than the spotted hamster you both tried to co-parent in fifth grade. “But, anyway,” Jake speaks again. As he’s saying that, Jake softly brushes the hair out your face, thumb swiping over the baby hairs by your ear for good measure, before finally withdrawing his hand from you.

“I hate that I still like her,” he admits, with a sad smile, arms limp in his lap.  

You bite down on your lip at his gutted confession. 

Keeping a straight face, you try to console him. “So? it was your longest relationship. It’d be weird if you didn’t like her still.”

Despite your aversion to his on and off relationship, you didn't want to step on Jake’s feelings, it’s a force of habit.

“Would it be bad if we just, if we...pretended to date? She’s always been jealous of you.” Jake finally puts forth, biting down on his own tongue afterwards. The apprehension he felt from earlier slowly makes it way back into his chest again.

Bradley warned him against this, this won’t end well for either of you, he told the blond with a grunt. The frat boy—although not the brightest was able to detect the complication in Jake’s plan. But, Jake swatted off Bradley’s pointed complaints to no end. It was like he lost the ability to think straight, with Kendall in mind. There was some sort of invisible stopper that made him blind to the swarm of problems that came with this.

You blink once, after piecing it together in your head. “You want me to help you get her back?” 

“Kinda, yeah. I do.” 

Everything tells you this is wrong, that you should say no. That this isn’t the right thing to do. That Bradley’s going to kill you, kill Jake, kill you both. That this scheme didn’t bode well in the movies you watched. And despite it all, you answer, “I’ll do it.” 

“No you fucking didn’t.” Bradley roars, earning a few stares from your classmates. “Tell me you’re just fucking with me,” he says more quietly, though his definition of quiet is in a form of another harsh shout. 

If your guilty eyes weren't a confirmation in itself, your refusal to give him a clear answer was. Bradley shakes his head disapprovingly as he forcefully massages his temple, trying to relieve an oncoming headache. 

“Would you—tone it down,” you beg, trying to cover your face from the dirty stares you’re receiving from all corners of the lecture room.

You slump in your seat, with a hand shielding the side of your face. “Didn’t Jake already tell you,” you whisper to Bradley through the corner of your mouth, pretending you don’t know him. 

You would assume that Jake has caught him up on the details by now. After all, Bradley Bradshaw was more of Jake’s friend than yours—he was a current member of Jake’s old fraternity. It was just your luck that he signed up for the same class as you, and couldn’t stand anyone else in the room. 

“We can't be seen together right now,” he grumbles, looking around with harsh eyes, scanning the room for anyone in his fraternity. He manages to scare a girl in the process, making her move away from you both. He clicks his tongue at her, annoyed. 

“What? Are you two Romeo and Juliet or something? What do you mean you can’t be seen together?” 

“Prez is still pissed at him for dropping out of the house. I'm working on it,” Bradley adds, jaw clenched. He’s never been berated by a guy shorter than him in his life. Bradley’s large foot begins to tap against the carpeted floor, irritated by the playback happening in his head. 

You sigh, pulling back your legs, allowing a student trying to move through your row, more space to get by. “You know he’s just a president of a frat house, not some dictator.”

“He might as fucking well be, Javy’s got a stick up his—Bob? Where the fuck are you going?” Bradley stops the student, slapping a rough hand against his chest, making him groan.

“Sit with us,” he points his chin towards the seat next to him. Just like that, Bradley’s already dismissing him, expecting him to sit down at his assertion.

You carefully look on as the guy hesitatingly opens his mouth, just to shut it again. There’s a pair of thinly wired glasses framing his face and his eyes just briefly brush over you. He blinks at you once, then twice—until you shyly offer him an apologetic smile in return.

Seeing that he can’t ignore his fellow housemate, Bob gives into Bradley’s demand, with a nod. “I was—yeah I was gonna sit there anyway,” he assures Bradley.

After a lazy introduction, you learn that Bob had just joined the frat last year. He didn’t look like the type, which took you a second to digest. Everyone in that house looked—to put it nicely—they looked like they belonged there. But Bob? You could barely picture him standing alongside those kind of guys. Bob looked nice.

With an acknowledging look shared between you and Bob that Bradley has trapped you both here, the conversation from earlier continues. 

“Jake? As in Jake Seresin?” Bob asks, pushing the silver frames up his nose. 

“Did I not just say that? Keep up,” Bradley remarks, stretching his legs out, kicking the seat in front of him in the process. 

“Yeah, he’s my—well my fake boyfriend now I guess?” You explain to Bob with a shrug, brushing over Bradley’s comment.

Bradley swipes his tongue over his front teeth. “I thought he was an idiot for this whole idea, but here you are, saying yes to it. You two belong together.” In times like these, you like to reassure yourself, putting a pin on the fact that honesty from Bradley was a good thing. 

He wasn’t the type to share his thoughts with others, he spoke with intention—for the most part. It came as a surprise to you, that he even found a liking towards you to begin with. So, him telling you his true thoughts, meant that he was just looking out for you. Well, that's what you hoped.

“Isn’t that—um. Sorry if this is rude but, isn't that weird for you?” Bob questions, leaning over Bradley. 

Bradley’s nose flares, before deciding to lean back further so Bob could stretch himself over his lap to hear you better. 

“I don’t think so—I mean…we’ve been friends for our whole lives. There’s nothing there. Not weird at all," you confirm.

Bradley raises his brow. “Yeah, you definitely didn’t believe that lie either,” he scoffs, pressing his tongue flat against his left cheek. 

Again, you ignore his comment.

Bob nods. “I hope things work out for you then,” he kindly smiles at you, ignoring Bradley’s judgmental glare drilling into the side of his head. 

You wished Bob’s genuine encouragement would bring you relief, but it weirdly doesn't. Even if it wasn’t his intention, the statement serves more as an ominous warning. “Thanks, I appreciate it,” that part you meant though.

All the effort you put towards organizing your closet comes undone, as Jake unrolls every piece of clothing you spent hours folding in search for something. “Where’s that one shirt of yours,” he mumbles to himself, deciding to pull open your storage baskets next. 

“What’s wrong with the one I'm wearing!” You complain, throwing yourself back into your mattress, praying you even packed the top he’s looking for. 

Jake blows air through his nose, giving himself a push to keep digging through your stuff. “Princess, I love you but—you gotta out-do her, have you seen the shit she usually wears?” 

Right as you returned from class, Jake jumped you at the front door, demanding that you two needed to head down to the campus store. He recalled from previous years that Kendall made it a tradition to keep up with the school merchandise, buying all the new school pride crap on the first day of classes. Which only meant you both had to be there too. 

“Oh. Fuck. Okay, that’s your underwear,” he narrates, ears pink at the dusty lace greeting him. 

“I—Move,” you fly off the bed, pushing past him. The havoc that is your closet makes you want to fall over and die. Die right there, right on the ground, and maybe be buried under the piles of fabric scattered across the floor. Maybe then, he’ll feel bad for what he did to you.  

“My closet..” you mumble to yourself with droopy shoulders, taking in its disheveled state. 

Jake’s so set on finding the article of clothing, he overlooks the mess he made. “Your closet,” he mocks you flatly. “Doesn’t have that tiny white shirt I’m looking for,” he complains, scrunching his nose.

Right as he says that, you spin on your heels, facing him with a tight jaw. Jake almost jumps out his own skin from how abruptly you turned around. 

“I have on. the white shirt,” you point out, through clenched teeth, plucking at the fabric clung to your chest—letting it snap back against you.

His eyes flick down to your top, with an empty look.

You’re right.

But it’s too late for him to confess his wrongdoings, Jake's in too deep. “No you don’t," he tuts.

“Oh yeah?” You don’t think before digging your hands into the lightly lined bra you’re wearing—adjusting the way it cupped your chest.

Jake is attentive to the fact that he should be looking away, but he can’t seem to move. His feet are locked in place and his head is unable to turn the other direction. All he can do is hold his breath, while you press your boobs together to fix your cleavage. As if holding his breath meant that he could stop the flow of unsolicited thoughts from leaking into his stream of consciousness. 

Finally realizing what you did out of frustration, you clear your throat, making it seem as though this was normal in your friendship. “How—how about now. Look familiar?” You bite your lip, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah, that’s—that’s the shirt,” he nods, playing along with your unbothered act himself. Trying to pretend like he didn’t just watch his best friend shove her hands down her bra for him. 

Regret is an understatement for what Jake feels. Jake regretted his inability to pick up on the shirt you had on. Jake regretted how worked up Kendall made him feel. Jake regretted not getting here sooner. 

Once you two arrived, out of breath, lungs burning from sprinting across campus—his ex-girlfriend was nowhere in sight. The discovery just stamped down on his annoyance. 

Not wanting to make your trip down here a waste, you suggested that you two should look around for anything new being put out. 

Now, Jake’s trailing behind you as you skim through the new merchandise your college put out for the fall semester.

A year ago, he was here following Kendall around the store, lighting up in laughter as she posed for him in those boxy shirts and corny dad caps. Which he ended up tearing off her body later on. This year though, he’s here with you, his best friend. Jake stops himself from dwelling on it any longer, it's not fair to you if he were to compare.

Spotting a sweater that isn’t relatively ugly—you unhook it from the metal rack, pressing it against your front for him to see. 

Jake looks down at you with pursed lips—but he's distracted by the group pimpled freshman whispering to each other at the far end of the aisle, you’re both standing in. The lot has been eyeing you since you came in, even with Jake by your side. Maybe it’s because Kendall’s racking his every thought, but Jake is getting ticked off. 

“Should I get this one?” There weren’t any mirrors in the shop, all you had was Jake’s opinion to rely on. You tuck your chin, in a failed attempt to look down and see it for yourself. 

He nods. “Sure Princess.” Jake’s trying his best to give you his attention, but he feels compelled to survey the group nearing you both. His eyes narrow down as the tallest of the flock pulls out his phone—while his friends push him forward. Spotting the familiar frat house sticker on the back of the phone case, Jake decides that he’s had enough. 

He’s had enough of them being here. And enough of Kendall not being here. 

Jake’s eyes snap back to you. “Put it on,” he points his chin to the baby blue sweater in your hands. It’s double your size, and one of the threads on the embroidered letters hangs loose—but he doesn’t care enough to bring it to your attention. 

“What?”

Jake takes a step forward, pretending to look down at the price tag with an offhanded shrug. “Just—put it on. I’ll buy it. You look good, Promise.” 

You’re already pulling it off the hanger and over your head, right over that shirt, he asked you to wear. “No take backs,” you gleam at him, stuffing your hands into the front pocket of the hoodie, fingers exploring the soft lining. 

Jake looks at the guy behind you, before dropping his focus onto you again. He playfully tugs at that front pocket, which makes you stumble forward. “No take backs,” he sweetly smiles down at you, keeping his fingers anchored onto the edge of the pocket. 

This isn’t something you’re familiar with. You’ve seen Jake smile at other girls like this, smile at Kendall like this, never you. This smile, it wasn’t ever reserved for you.

You stare up at him, dumbfounded by the sudden boyfriend act he’s putting on. “Is she here?” You whisper, eyes wide underneath him. 

Jake's eyes stretch over to where the group of lame freshmans were previously standing, just to see that they’re backing off now. He casts his gaze back down to you. “Nah, just practicing.” 

Slowly, you nod, remembering that you’re actually doing this. “Right. Just practicing.”

“What do you want from a guy? Like, what do you like?” Jake hits the button for your apartment floor, pondering back on the girl that’s been on his mind all day.

You let out a small laugh, pressing on the ‘close door’ button on the elevator, prompting the metal doors to meet in the middle. 

“You’ve been asking me a lot of strange questions today,” you point out. 

Jake lightly shrugs, pinching the back of your sweater to still you once the elevator shakes to move upwards. Cheap rent came with interesting amenities that you two had to get used to. 

Staring up at the glowing number board, indicating what floor you’re on—you start to think back on guys you’ve liked in the past. “I don’t know. I just like when guys are nice to me, I don’t ask for much.”

The sound of Jake’s airy laugh could be heard from behind you. “Princess, I meant, what would you want me to do for you as a boyfriend.”

As a boyfriend. Right—Jake’s your boyfriend now.

“Oh, um. I liked it when the guys I dated gave me attention, that was nice I guess,” you begin, unconfidently. Sure Jake was your best friend, there was nothing under the sun you two didn’t talk about—but this? This was the one thing you never thought to talk about with him. 

Jake nods, taking in what you said. “I can do that for you. Anything else?” He releases his pointer finger from the clutch he has on the back of your sweater, using it to poke at your spine—encouraging you to continue. 

“They cared about my feelings....It felt good when they flirted with me....They er—they kissed me at the right times,” you list off, unsure why it’s so awkward for you to confess this to him.

Jake’s eyes drop to the side of your face. Even if you’re standing a bit ahead of him, he can see the flustered expression you’re wearing. The need to entertain it, spurs him on. “I can do that.”

You stiffen. “…Kiss me?”

Wanting to pull another reaction from you, Jake removes his hand, letting the wrinkled fabric come undone. With little effort, he flips you from the small of your back, forcing you to face him. “Are you asking me to now?” He tilts his head, looking down at you with a teasing smile on his face. 

You blink up at him. “No—God no. I was asking if you’re gonna be doing that—like if you're gonna be kissing me,” you spit out, dropping your eyes down to his chest. 

There was a point in time where Jake stood at the same height as you. Now, you’re met with his torso rather than his face when you look forward.

“Not without your permission. Why? You wondering how it feels to kiss me?” He eggs on, holding the drawstring of your hoodie between his two fingers. 

The next statement slips out your mouth before you could even process it. “I know what kissing you is like,” you scoff.

Jake’s eyebrows furrow, dropping the braided thread. “You do?” 

He forgot.

“No! I’m joking,” you spit out hurriedly, pairing it with an awkward chuckle. “We should—we should kiss though, it’ll make it believable. Right?”

The elevator doors ding, cutting through your conversation. “Right,” he finally agrees.

note: i know i said this was coming out until next week, but i finished it quicker than i had previously thought haha. thank you for reading, and as always-reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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[sapphire-weapon]

So. Here's my thing.

In OG, Cloud couldn't have killed Sephiroth without Rufus. Rufus's call to move the cannon from Junon to Midgar -- as well as his relentless fight against Sephiroth and the Weapons -- resulted in the destruction of the barrier around the North Crater.

And in Advent Children, even though there is no more Shinra, Rufus still has the Turks recover Jenova's head -- which Rufus himself keeps safe on his person, until he personally destroys it.

In the novella The Kids Are Alright (written by Kazushige Nojima, who's writing the remake series), Rufus says:

"My father [...] invested most of [the immense fortune and power he'd gained] into new fields – on a massive scale, and without ethics. And one of those was the research of, and experimentation on, Jenova. Eventually this gave birth to a monster named Sephiroth. [...] My father took his leave from this stage early on, abandoning those of us left behind to suffer the nightmares in his wake. I am not my father. I will bring it to an end, once and for all."

Rufus is a real threat to Sephiroth.

That's why, at the end of Remake, the Whispers make it a point to draw Rufus's attention to the highway so that he can see the bullshittery going on around Sephiroth so that he focuses on that instead of getting lost in the political sauce.

And so when Rufus says during the ending of Rebirth: "I'm onto you. This war's nothing but a ploy to distract me from Sephiroth." and Sephiroth cops to it, this is an acknowledgement of that threat.

So, like. Rufus's motivations are not unclear to me. He used the name Sarruf, funded the Wutai resistance in order to depose his father, and then, once he was in office, saw the existential threat that Sephiroth posed and shifted his attention to that -- partially because he feels a responsibility to as the president of the fucking world, and partially just as a "fuck you" to his dad.

So why not just kill him? Why distract him with a war when you could just fucking kill him?

It made sense why Kadaj never killed Rufus in AC -- he wanted Jenova's head, and Rufus was the only one who knew where it was, so Kadaj couldn't just kill him outright.

But that's not an issue here. So why doesn't Sephiroth just kill him?

This is where the whole "multiverse" meta aspect of the plot completely fucking breaks down, because like -- it's framed, during that ending scene, that Sephiroth is keeping Rufus alive because he believes that Rufus will actually lead him to the promised land, but like

Not only is that weird because, in OG, it's the other way around, and Rufus follows Sephiroth thinking that he'll lead him to the promised land -- but it's weird because Sephiroth's clearly been peeking at the OG script, and he follows Aeris through realities and tells her to accept her fate because he knows she has to die because that's what the OG script says, but like

In that case, wouldn't he also know that the promised land doesn't really exist and/or is either the North Crater or Midgar it's not really clear?

And how the fuck is a war with Wutai going to allow Rufus to stumble on the promised land? He'll be busy fighting a war.

And how the fuck is he going to fight that war in the first place?! HE'S THE HEAD OF THE ARMY OF BOTH SIDES

AND SEPHIROTH KNOWS THIS

Like, I don't understand Sephiroth's motivations here at all. They don't make any fucking sense when you actually sit down and think about them a little bit (as opposed to not at all).

Is he trolling? Is that it? Is Sephiroth just being a big old fucking troll? Doing it for the lulz? Got a nice taste of Rufus's despair when he got infected with Geostigma and was like "mmm delicious daddy issues I wanna go back in time and taste that again"???

It's very stupid. It's very dumb.

[captainsophiestark]

Werewolf

Remus Lupin x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my Year of Olympians and part of a bigger challenge being run by @yearofcreation2023​! It features a ton of other awesome creators and runs all year, so go check it out!

Fandom: Harry Potter

Prompt: Artemis; wilderness, the moon, protection, hounds

Summary: Remus' SO decides to finally figure out why he's been looking so rough every month and gets more answers than they bargained for.

Word Count: 1,890

Category: Angst, Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Mysteries were overrated.

Every so often, when I dove headfirst into learning something new and spent hours doing that for fun, I wondered whether I should've been sorted into Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor. But now, after spending far too long trying to reason my way to understanding, I'd decided to throw logic out the window and do some good old fashioned following people around instead. My Ravenclaw friends would never let me hear the end of it when I told them, but right now, I didn't care.

My boyfriend, Remus Lupin, had been ill on and off for months. He leaned on his friends, relied on them for support, but never turned to me. I'd talked to him once or twice, but he'd never given me a straight answer, and when the third month in a row came around that he looked on the verge of death's doorstep, I decided to get to the bottom of things one way or another.

Which was why I was out in the middle of the night on the Hogwarts grounds, trailing a far distance back from the Marauders as they moved in a pack. All of them except my boyfriend seemed in good spirits, and whatever was going on, I felt for Remus. I hadn't expected the adventure to take us out of the castle, so I still wore pajamas, and only love for my boyfriend kept me from turning right around to seek shelter from the cold night air.

To my surprise, the four boys ahead of me made straight for the Whomping Willow. I knew they were idiots, but I had no idea what possible draw the murder tree could have for them right now, especially with Remus so clearly feeling terrible. Then, in a flash, Peter disappeared.

I blinked and rubbed at my eyes, trying to figure out what I'd seen. Then, in the dull moonlight just barely filtering through the clouds, I saw a rat scurry across the roots of the tree. A moment later, the branches froze in place, and the remaining three boys ducked into a passage normally hidden among the roots, the rat following right after them.

Of course they were unregistered Animagi. I knew that month they'd spent barely talking hadn't been a ploy to mess with the Slytherin Quidditch team, or James trying to impress Lily with his friends' support, or anything else they'd claimed. But Remus hadn't been part of that.

Before I could second guess myself, I let every last ridiculous Gryffindor instinct take over and rushed to the tree, sliding into the hole at its base a split second before the branches began whipping around again furiously. I muttered a quick lumos to light the way ahead of me, then hurried after the boys.

Before I got very far into the tunnel, I heard horrifying screams coming from ahead, the same kinds people said came from the Shrieking Shack. I hesitated for half a second before racing off down the tunnel in the direction the boys had gone. Whatever that noise was, it wasn't good, and I needed to make sure Remus and our friends were alright.

I made it about ten steps forward before I collided with someone. They wrapped their arms around me and held me in place to keep me from moving forward, and after a moment's shouting and confusion, I recognized the person holding me.

"Y/N, you have to get out of here!" shouted James, his tone urgent. I'd never heard him yell like this before, never saw his cool composure drop to the level of the panic currently in his eyes.

"James, what's going on?" I cried. I heard that horrible screeching again, and I tried to move past him. "Where's Remus?"

"You have to leave, now! It's not safe-!"

A moment later, an earsplitting howl replaced the screaming. I froze and so did James, and our wide eyes slowly found each other. I knew that howl from Defense Against the Dark Arts. That was a werewolf.

"You have to run, now," James finally said, his voice low but firm. "If you don't, he'll kill you. It doesn't matter that he loves you, when he's transformed... he has no control."

"Is he... is he going to be okay?"

"Not if he comes back to himself to find out he killed you. Now get out!"

With that, James turned on his heel and transformed before my eyes into a gigantic, gorgeous stag. I could hear barking and snarling further down the corridor, still not close but definitely getting closer. I hesitated, hating to leave without doing anything, but James was right. I didn't have a choice.

I took off running back the way I'd come, trusting the Marauders to take care of Remus tonight. For now, that was the best I could do.

Commotion followed me the whole way out of the tunnel, getting just so slightly closer as to make me nervous. When I finally raced out of the tunnel, I just remembered to slam the root on the tree to stop the branches. I didn't look back as I raced up the grounds to the doors of the castle, finally breathing a sigh of relief from the safety of the entry hall.

I quickly ducked into the nearest secret passage lest Filch catch me out of bed, then slumped back against the wall and slowly sank to the ground. The adrenaline of the past few minutes crashed over me in waves, and I focused on taking long, deep breaths. Slowly, as I calmed down, the actual information that came with my investigation tonight sank in.

My boyfriend was a werewolf. His three best friend were unregistered Animagi, and they apparently spent every full moon with him in their animal forms.

Every DADA class we'd spent discussing werewolves (which, thankfully, hadn't been that many) suddenly came rushing back to me. All the time our teacher had spent talking about them as if they were monsters, while Remus just had to sit there and listen. I clenched and unclenched my fists, taking a second to run the odds on expulsion if I punched a teacher.

Remus was nothing but the sweetest, most wonderful person I'd ever met, and I was so lucky to have him in my life. The thought of people ignoring that, of Remus' face if someone called him a monster... all I wanted to do was wrap him up tight in my arms and never let him go.

I decided to focus on that last feeling instead of the 'punch a teacher' feeling. I had no idea how long these transformations lasted, but I had a feeling Remus would be awfully beat up when he finally did make it back here. With a quick pitstop in the kitchens to grab a few of his favorite snacks, I headed back up to the Gryffindor common room to wait.

Only sheer force of will and a deep love for Remus kept me from passing out after the first hour. The fire was warm, the blanket nest I'd made on my favorite common room couch was comfortable, and the adrenaline dump just made me want to pass out. But I kept my eyes open, waiting for him to come back. Finally, a little after three in the morning, the portrait door swung open.

"Come on, Moony, let's get you upstairs."

"It's okay, nobody got hurt-"

The Marauders staggered into the common room, James and Sirius holding Remus between them as Peter held the door. They all froze on the spot, however, when they saw me waiting on the couch.

"Hey," I said, finally moving from the spot I'd spent the past few hours holding down. I blinked sleepy eyes and managed a smile as I approached Remus and the others. "Uh... do you guys mind if I get a minute with my boyfriend?"

James and Sirius shared significant looks, then both turned to Peter. After a moment's hesitation, they looked back at me and nodded.

"Moony we'll, uh... we'll see you upstairs," said James. He nodded to me as he eased away from Moony and headed for the stairs, Sirius following behind him with a narrow-eyed warning look in my direction. Peter followed, giving me a mix of a look between James and Sirius'. Then, finally, I was alone with my boyfriend.

"So... I'm still your boyfriend?" he asked. He leaned heavily to one side, away from me, as I approached him. The hurt and defeat in his voice ripped my heart open all over again.

"Rem... of course. I love you. Nothing could ever change that."

Remus didn't look like he quite believed me, but he drifted in my direction anyway. I smiled and closed the rest of the distance, taking up the position his friends had filled before. I wrapped an arm around his waist and started leading him towards the couch.

"You're not... afraid of me?"

I scoffed and helped Remus ease down into the blankets, then settled in next to him. I'd spent hours preparing this fort, and when I saw a little weight ease off of Remus' shoulders as he settled in, it was worth it.

"Of course I'm not afraid of you. I love you."

"But James said..."

"Never mind what James said. I love you, Rem, and nothing in the world could ever change that. I'm just sorry I couldn't do more to help you."

Remus huffed a laugh as I leaned against his side, then finally put his arm around me. I laid on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he spoke and wrapping my arms around him in the most comforting hug I could.

"You find out I'm a werewolf and almost get killed in the process... and you're wishing you could've done more to help me?"

"I'm a Gryffindor, babe, I don't scare easy."

He laughed fully now, loud and joyous. It didn't last long, since he was clearly exhausted, but the sound made my heart sing.

"What on earth did I do to deserve someone as wonderful as you?"

"You were a wonderful person every single day of your life, clearly. Now here, look what I got." Without further ado, I pulled out the snacks I'd stolen from the kitchen. Remus literally gasped.

"Did you get these for me?"

"Yup. If I'd gotten them for me, they'd've been gone already."

"You're wonderful. Have I mentioned that lately?"

"Yes, but I can always stand to hear it again." We shared a smile as Remus dug into the snacks, his head resting against mine, and then I sighed. "So... what do you think the odds are of the rest of the Marauders helping me through the steps to become an Animagus?"

Remus choked on what he was eating, then looked at me with wide eyes.

"You're kidding."

"I'm not! I want to be there to support you, Rem, through everything. I guess... as long as that's okay with you?"

He smiled, then gave a little disbelieving laugh. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on my forehead before snuggling up with me again.

"I can't think of anything that would be more okay with me."

"Okay, good. But I'm going to put myself in charge of coming up with a lie to cover the mandrake leaf in my mouth. I'm pre-vetoing anything the rest of you come up with."

"Probably a good decision."

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

Harry Potter Taglist: @valkyriepirate

[amore-reads16]

Part three- Liam Mairi x fem reader

Overview- after Y/N’s challenge with Bodhi on the mats tension is in the air. Rumour has spread on your fighting skills and you can no longer hide under the shadows of mediocrity you had found comfort in. Meanwhile avoiding Liam has become near to impossible as he corners you at every chance he gets. Will you forgive him and fall back into the web of deception he spun or will you stand your ground and shut him out until he disappears. Liam hopes for the latter.

WARNING- slight smut…

Note- thank you so much for all the support on this story! I don’t want to make it into a big thing despite all the ideas I have! So I’m thinking another two parts and I’ll try and draw it to a close. Also let me know if you would want a Xaden x reader story because I have some ideas for a few short parts for that as well! Anyway enjoy this part :)

Also I hope everyone enjoys the little cruel prince reference at the end it just came to me and I couldn’t resist putting it in …

Avoiding Liam is like avoiding flies on a hot summers day. Annoyingly impossible. After his jealous outburst the other day he can’t seem to leave you alone, bothering you with a thousand questions which range from petty inquiries into any kind of attachment you may have with Bodhi- ‘so you’re telling me you don’t have a crush on him because the way you pinned him down on that mat would say otherwise Y/N’ and more painful questions that you didn’t know the answer to yet like ‘when are you going to forgive me? When are you going to let me in and let me explain everything? When are you going to admit to yourself that you know I love you’. That last one had hurt. You didn’t know he loved you. Not anymore, after everything he did, you were finding it hard to believe anything he ever said to you was true.

You couldn’t bear to hear him explain everything to you. To hear all of his lies directly would just crush you even more. But if he explained everything and you forgave him only to learn that he was deceiving you again and this was a ploy to learn more about your signet… well that would destroy you. There was no right move to make so ignorance was bliss at the moment. Well kind of. It was hard to be ignorant of the situation when the situation wouldn’t leave you alone. In fact the situation was currently running behind you trying to catch up with your fast pace.

“Y/N will you please just wait !” Liam shouts breathlessly.

You carry on trying to ignore his shouts and the nosey people that watch the scene he is now making. He eventually catches up with you and stands in front of you grabbing your arms to stop you walking into him holding you still, much to your dismay. You huff in annoyance as he pants from sprinting down the hallway.

“Where-“ he breathes in “did you learn to walk like that?” He shakes his head quickly catching his breath.

“What do you want Mairi?” You snap and he sighs in response.

“Back to last names are we now?” He tuts shaking his head.

“Saying your first name feels to intimate” you snark back “and the thought of anything intimate with you makes me feel sick”

He laughs at this. But not a jovial laugh, no it’s sarcastic and filled with humour as if he’s in on some joke you aren’t. “We both know that’s not true. Especially when I curl my fingers when I’m deep in-“

You quickly cut him off slamming your hand on his mouth, your eyes wide in horror of what he has just said in the middle on the corridor with people walking by and listening. This boy will be the death of you. You grab his hand and swiftly pull him into the side near a window so the two of you can have a little space.

“Shut up!” You snarl “you can’t say shit like that in the middle of the corridor it’s disgusting”

He smirks and leans up against the wall crossing his arms showing how tight and muscular they are. Fuck me. He’s gorgeous. How can someone be so despicable but so damn attractive to you? No clear thoughts come to your mind. The only thought is that you want nothing more than to feel Liam’s arms wrapped around your waist once more as you straddle him slightly rocking back and forth whilst he-

“What are you thinking there Y/LN” he smirks even harder making you frustrated with how much he is enjoying seeing you squirm just by one action. Especially an action as pathetic as leaning up against a wall. Get yourself together woman!

“How much I want to-“ you start but he cuts you off.

“Fuck me?”

“Kill you” you finish “I will never fuck you”

“Again” he adds to your sentence reminding you of all the times you spent wrapped up in his sheets.

“Yes again.” You say begrudgingly “Well what did you want ?” You demand to avoid anymore sexual talk.

“You know what I want” he says simply. Any hint of flirtyness is gone and now he is serious. He wants to talk.

“To explain yes but you know what I want also. I want you to leave me alone because I don’t want your explanation” you say and attempt to walk away but he grabs your arms pivoting you back around to face him. You are only a few inches away from his body now. So close you can see the fleks of pale green that run through his eyes. The way his golden hair flops in front of his face. His perfectly shaped nose and its slight slope at the bottom. His lips- so pink and so soft… you almost cave. Breathing in deeply you meet his eyes which are staring into yours so deeply you think you might melt right here right now.

“I think you do want my explanation but you are too scared to admit it” he starts pulling you even closer. Great you think now you officially can’t breathe. “I think that you are too scared to hear what I have to say because you’ll realise that I do love you and I fucked up badly but I am willing to do anything to earn back your trust.” Now he’s caressing your arm stoking up and down it with his fingers calloused from carving his wood figures. “I think that in time you’ll trust me and we will be stronger than ever. I think that is what scares the shit out of you.” He pulls his hands away from your arm and steps backwards leaving your body cold and craving the warmth he just briefly supplied.

“But maybe I’m wrong” he carries on and you cross your arms across your body as if you are trying to recreate the warmth of his body. “Maybe you don’t want this as much as I do”

“Is that a challenge?” You ask straightening your posture so you at least look more intimidating and not like a baby deer.

“Only if you want it to be” his smirk returns almost making a smile appear on your face.

“In your wildest dreams Mairi” you mumble turning away and heading towards your class which he has officially made you late to.

“Oh but you are in my dreams!” He hollers after you as you are halfway down the corridor. “And that’s not just the dirty ones!”

You shake your head and are glad your back is facing him as you finally let a smile on your face. Dickhead.

……………………………………

All through battle briefing all you could think of was the feel of Liam’s hands on your body, stroking your arm slightly causing goosebumps to spread over your skin. And the smug bastard was sat across from you staring at you as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. Bastard. How bad would it be if you were to just have sex with him once? Use him to get whatever it was in your system out. Bad. Very bad you have to tell yourself. He lied to you, poisoned you with his words, he told you he loved you. All to aid Xaden Riorson and whatever twisted scheme he was brewing. You wanted no part of that. But Liam on the other hand… that was a different story. At first when you had learned of his betrayal you were mad, so mad it caused you to beat the shit out of Bodhi on the training mats just to prove you were a threat. But now that anger had faded and day by day you just grew more sad consumed in the heartbreak Liam had caused. And it was easier to remember the love you felt for him. It was harder to block past memories out. But you needed to. You couldn’t trust him anymore.

After classes was over and it was dinner time you decided to skip the meal and get something later once everyone had gone to bed or gone off to do their own things. Instead you were sat in the very garden you had witnessed the hooded figures discussing the information Liam had gathered on you. You sat in the crook of an old tree reading a book about the history of dragons and their riders. Learning about the most skilled riders in the history of Navarre brought you comfort and hope. Hope that you could survive this hell hole and build a better life for you and your brother.

‘Incoming quick one, you have company’ Rhella warns in your mind.

Immediately you shut your book drawing a dagger from your leather pants. You spring up from your seat pointing the dagger into the darkness ready for Xaden or perhaps Imogen to spring from around the corner and slit your throat. But neither of them appear. Instead a blonde mop of hair peers around the corner causing you to sigh, partly out of annoyance and partly out of relief.

“Woah! Put the dagger away sweetheart” Liam laughs his hands up in the air in a mock surrender

Not putting the dagger down but lowering it slightly you glare at Liam who is walking closer. “You idiot Liam! I thought you were-“ you begin but don’t have the energy to finish. You don’t particularly want to admit how vulnerable he and his friends has made you feel. How you can barely sleep at night out of fear you may never wake up. “Never mind” you finish after a long moment of silence. Feeling defeated you lower your dagger completely.

“Y/N” Liam pleads “you don’t think I’d hurt you do you?” He asks, clearly hurt.

“Of course I do! You’ve already hurt me! You were planning to kill me with your friends!” You shout anger rising in your body again.

He takes in a deep breath walking closer until he is only a short distance away but you could tell he was at least trying to be respectful tonight. “Please understand this, even if you’ll never let yourself understand anything else about what I did, I would never hurt you. Ever”

Tears suddenly begin to pool in your eyes. The soft tone of his voice, caring and caressing at the same time soothing you in some strange unexplained way despite everything. The air is thick with the loss of him and the indecision of whether to cave to everything your body wants, but your mind and heart refuses. He comes closer very slowly, almost testing if you’ll give him permission to be this close to you. You don’t back away or yell so he takes it and uses a hand to wipe a stray tear that falls from your eye.

“I’m so sorry Y/N” he whispers bringing his forehead to yours. And for a moment you embrace it. For a moment you breathe in his sent which reminds you of the fresh sea and clean linen. For a moment everything finally feels normal again and you are complete. But this is only for a moment. Pushing Liam off you forcefully you scoff loudly.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it Liam!” You sob “I love you and you are ruining my life!” You shout getting close to his face, finger pointing at him as you get close enough to start hitting his chest repeatedly.

“You still love me?” He says so quietly you barely hear him.

You sneer at his words “Loved. Past tense.”

“You said love” he replies.

“That’s semantics” you counter ashamed of your own slip up.

“What can I do to fix this if you won’t let me explain! To get you to trust me again! I’ve tried! I AM trying! But you won’t let me in” he’s shouting now clearly frustrated with the situation at hand.

“Why can’t you understand Liam? I. Don’t. Want. You. Anymore” you spit.

“Bullshit” he quickly responds staring down at you grabbing your arms to keep them from hitting his chest. “I know you want this more than anything and that you have to stop yourself everyday from running over to me just to touch me, be near me. That everyday is a battle between what you know you actually want and what you should want. And I’m fed up of not being able to do this” his voice has changed, it’s darker now, full of lust and craving different to his normal happy, cheeky persona. He bows his head towards yours causing your breath the get strangled in your throat. The action is so quick you are unsure there was anyway you could have stopped it, not that you wanted to, as he aggressively kisses you. Weeks of absence from you has left him depraved as he almost devours your lips. You kiss back on reflex, your bodies moulding together instinctively as if that’s where they belong. This is wrong is all you can think. But why does something so wrong feel so right? The pair of you stumble towards the tree you were once sheltered in and are now using as a surface to be pressed up against whilst Liam ravishes your body. He slides his hands under your shirt fondling the bottom of your breast making you shiver and let out a small whimper into his mouth at the contact. This pleases Liam as you feel the smirk on his face as you kiss him.

“Shut up” you hiss in between kisses

“Didn’t say anything love” he replies as he removes his mouth from yours moving into your neck sucking on the sweet spot he knows all too well.

“Liam” you moan trying to keep your voice down realising you are still outside “not here” you manage to say.

He pulls away but he’s still so close you can feel his breath on your skin. “Do you want to-“

You are so desperate in this moment reason is a thing of the past and you immediately agree to whatever it is he was going to suggest “yes”

“I didn’t even finish my-“

“Yes” you say again causing him to gulp pressing another longing kiss onto your lips. With you pressed against a tree his body consuming yours as he leans one hand above your head against the bark he looks like a god. And who can say no to a god you try to make excuses for what you know you are about to do, and in the morning regret. But your body has needs and unfortunately for you he knows every single one of them.

“Okay” he barely whispers leaning away from the tree whilst he takes your soft hand in his beginning to lead you back into the quadrant and to his bedroom. Oh shit. Doubt begins to fill your mind which he senses. He brings you to a halt at his door.

“We don’t have to do this. I don’t want to do anything with you that you’ll regret. That would kill me” he says slowly and sadly. And that was it. In that moment you knew that no matter what he had done, no matter how much it had hurt you, this boy in front of you cared for you more than you would ever fully accept. Which is why you reach behind him twisting the knob on his door opening it whilst you push him into his own room.

“I want you Mairi. Even if in the morning I’ll tell you differently. Tell you I despise your very existence. Tell you I want nothing to do with you. Even maybe swing a punch. I won’t mean it. Not really, not deep down. Just know that” you say softly. He nods in response uttering the very three words that ignite and crush your soul at the very same time.

“I love you”

…………….…………………………….

Liam had fallen asleep ages ago however you could not manage to get any rest. His arm was wrapped around your waist in a familiar way as your back pressed up against his front with your legs intertwined. It was odd how quickly the two of you fit back together like nothing had happened and all was normal. But all was not normal which is why you couldn’t seem to get any sleep. You needed to get out of there. The weight of him was suffocating, not because he was heavy, but because what you had just done was weighing you down. You had told yourself that no matter what you wouldn’t let Liam worm his way back into your life but here you were. Naked. In his sheets. Fuck. You needed to get out of there… now.

Savouring perhaps the last moment you would have with Liam you carefully, and slowly, lifted his arm from around your body managing to slide out of his grasp replacing the spot where your body just was with a pillow to avoid him waking up and wanting to talk… to explain.

As quietly as possible you put on your clothes and slip out of Liam’s door. When you are on the other side you release a long sigh suddenly torn between running back into Liam’s bed or running to your room where you can try and forget what just happened and how it made you feel. Going to your room is the logical thing and today you side with logic. You begin to walk down the corridor but you don’t get far before a voice calls out from the shadows

“Going somewhere?”

Your body stiffens. You immediately reach for your dagger only for a thick tendril of smoke to wrap around your hand stopping you.

“There will be no need for that” the voice emerges from the shadows. Xaden. Tonight may just be your last night on earth you think.

“Riorson. Lurking in the shadows as per usual” you snarl turning around to meet Xaden’s face which is even more striking in the moonlight.

“I could say the same thing about you considering our last encounters have been centred around you sneaking around in the dead of night” he says striding forwards slowly towards you. A predator stalking his prey.

“Touchè” you say nonchalantly. Normally, seeing Xaden, especially after everything that had happened, would make your hairs stand up, your posture rigid and your breath hitched out of fear and sheer awe over his power. But tonight you couldn’t be bothered being on guard, you were too emotionally torn to fight back tonight. There is a moment of silence where you stare at him and him you.

“So” you begin “if you’ve come to kill me just get it over with and if not I’ll be going to my room, I’ve had a long night and no offence, well maybe offence, you are the last person I want to be talking to right now” you say crossing your arms waiting for him to either kill you or dismiss you.

“We made a deal. I don’t harm you or your brother and you keep our secret safe” he says flatly.

“Yes we did indeed, but I’ll be damned if I ever trust a word that comes out of your mouth” you are growing tired of this now. Bored of whatever this conversation is, but then Xaden says something that makes you go rigid.

“I know you’ve just come out of Liam’s room, and I can take a guess at what you have been doing” he whispers making you wish you never left Liam’s bed.

“And?” You ask

“If our deal is going to work that can’t happen again” he says. At this you scoff shaking your head not quite believing the words that have just left his mouth.

“So you send your friend to con me, you expose my secrets, you try to kill me and now you are telling me who I can and can’t sleep with?” The question is rhetorical and you can’t understand why you are even having this conversation.

“This isn’t going to end well” he says in a softer tone now “for him or you. You don’t fit in with us, you don’t belong with him. You will never understand him or his goals.” Xaden is now standing so close to you that you can feel the cool shade of his shadows wrapping around you in a threatening manner. “Stay away for him” he says voice low “or our deal is going to be called off and I don’t think I have to remind you of the consequences of that”

You stare at him in shock and he meets your gaze never flinching or backing down. Anger bubbles inside you itching to be let out. How dare he try and control your life. How dare he dictate yours and Liam’s relationship. How dare he after everything he has put you and Liam through think he has any right to be the ultimate decider of your fate, your future. Fuck that. But you are wise enough to not lash out. So you keep calm and appear intimidated, although that part is easy when a 6 foot god knows what jacked male towers over you, and you nod your head slowly submitting to his command.

“All I have to do is stay away and I’ll be safe? My brother will be safe?” You ask, doe eyed.

“Yes” he says simply

“Okay” you mumble so low you aren’t even sure he hears but nods curtly giving you one last look, probably assessing you, before he walks away becoming one with the shadows again.

It was then and there where you came up with your plan- if you couldn’t be better than them you would become so much worse. Play them at their own game. Learn their secrets just like they did yours. Then the power would be in your hands. You would be the one calling the bets. And how amazing would it feel to finally have justice, to be the one doing the threatening and not be the threatened. And maybe, just maybe, then you would finally feel normal.

[scammydoesstuff]

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice Thoughts I NEED to Talk About

So I've now seen Beeltejuice Beetlejuice three times - and it prolly won't be the last cuz I love it. I love it so much. It brings me such immense joy. The haters can fuck themselves. This movie delighted me, regardless of the problems I have with it (and I do have problems with it; they just do not ruin the movie for me on any level).

But now that I've refreshed myself (again), there's something stupidly specific that I need to talk about and I cannot wait any longer than I already have. Including a ridiculous conspiracy theory about a connection to the musical that I desperately want to believe in even though I know that wasn't the intent.

So let's begin! Spoilers ahead, of course, so tread carefully if you've not seen the film.

Basically, there are a few things in this movie that I think were inspired by or were at least a nod to the musical. I don't think there are any real references to the cartoon past the overall vibes, which did remind me of the cartoon a lot - particularly the on-screen chemistry between Lydia and Betelgeuse. Like, I know he's trying to marry her in this and that's not at all a thing in the cartoon, but their banter with each other gave me the same vibes as watching the cartoon here and there, which was fun to see. Like, the part where he's 'inspecting' the Handbook for the Recently Deceased after Lydia summons him (I did say there'd be spoilers) in particular gave me detective BJ vibes from the episode 'A-Ha!' where he masquerades as 'Sherlock Homely'. It's all in the tone and it was a blink-and-you'll-miss-it kinda moment, but that's a specific example that comes to mind at least.

The musical, however, I do feel they're drawing inspiration from to a degree. From nearly opening the movie on the death of one of Lydia's parents (this time the dad instead of the mom for...obvious reasons. Fuck that guy, btw), to the meta aspects where the B-man has been doing, like, Instagram/TikTok reels for the marketing, there are just things in and around this movie that feel like a small and subtle acknowledgement of the musical. And I know that other companies are likely trying to capitalize on TikTok/Instagram as marketing ploys, but it feels very on-brand for Beetlejuice specifically given how the musical blew up in no small part because of the TikToks they were putting out while they were still performing on Broadway.

But back to the movie. There's also that story Astrid tells Jeremy about her dad dressing her as Edvard Munch's 'The Scream' for Halloween when she was in second grade. It reminded me, at least, of the musical when Lydia was enthusiastically talking to the Maitland's about her mother's own eccentric haunted house in the middle of summer. Even the way Jenna Ortega delivers her lines in the film felt reminiscent of the delivery in the musical.

After Deliah has died and she calls on Betelgeuse for help, he mentions how she wants to hang out with him now that she's dead. I know it's a pretty big stretch to compare that to the musical's 'We didn't hang out much' line as BJ is saying his goodbyes, but the specific wording just gave me pause and I wanted to mention it.

Okay! And now for the stupid conspiracy theory I mentioned cuz I can't think of any other specific moments that made me think of the musical outside of this one I'm about to get into. If you noticed any, however, let me know! This is fun to think about and gives me more to look for when I go to see it again.

Anyway, if you've seen the movie (and I hope you have if you're still reading this), you're surely aware of the wedding scene near the end and all the lip-syncing to MacArthur Park which was just...*chef's kiss*. At one point during that sequence, while Betelgeuse is dancing with Lydia, the lyrics mention all the loves of [his] life. We see Delores and Lydia, of course, but then we see...this:

(Apologies for the quality. I wanted to get a shot where the dog was in frame and these were the best photos I could get in the theater and I'm too excited to wait for this to come out on streaming/home release in order to talk about it. I'm also not about to be filming in the theater. I just wanted to see if I could get pictures of the dog in this scene specifically.)

So, like, I know it's just a stupid bestiality joke to not be taken seriously and which is only meant to add more to the 'what-the-fuckery' of this scene, but, as a fan of the musical, I cannot help but see this as a super deep cut reference to the goodest boi in the whole world. Alex Brightman's beloved pup; Kevin.

Hell, the dog in the movie even bears a very close resemblance to Kevin. It's not one-to-one, of course - the coloring around the ears in particular is a big enough difference on its own - but they could've gone with any breed of dog. They could've even gone with photos of the dog that accidentally killed the Maitlands, thereby introducing Betelgeuse to Lydia in the first place. It would've been a little bit more fanservice for the fans who might catch that reference too. But they chose one that looks very similar to Alex Brightman's pride and joy?

And no, by the way, I'm not implying Alex has that kind of relationship with his dog. That's ridiculous and I do not want anyone to get that twisted. However, love doesn't have to mean 'sexual' or 'romantic' and I would argue to hell and back that Kevin is one of the major loves in his life that doesn't fall into either of those categories. That's his precious baby boy and we all see that clear as crystal. I mean, look at them:

[Photos of Kevin & Alex courtesy of kevin_kontent on Instagram. Follow them for more delightful Kevin posts]

But yeah, that's where the conspiracist in me comes out because, again, while I know that wasn't the intent, I want so badly to believe it was. Because that'd be such a funny little reference and it makes me smile to think that they might be referencing my favorite Beetlejuice through Alex and Kevin. I recognize that's not at all the case and they probably weren't thinking about the musical in the slightest during the production of the film. Hell, that's such a contrived way to look at it in general, but it's fun to think about and to imagine that they were paying these little homages to another production that helped breathe even more life into this franchise about death.

Anyway, so yeah. Just a real stupid bit of bullshit that I wanted to get out there. I'm prolly not even the first person to notice/point this out, but I just wanted to talk about it and get it outta my brain.

Now I'mma go crawl back into my hole and try and finish a drawing I've been working on for the last week (that may or may not be Beetlejuice-related). I got an iPad earlier this year and I'm still getting the hang of drawing with it. Gonna for sure go back to my older drawing tablet when I open up commissions again because it genuinely takes me so much longer to draw with Procreate, but for now, just trying to practice drawing something with an art program I'm still learning to use.

[divine-misfortune]

Kinktober, day 1. High sex.

Pairing: Zephyr/Mountain/Phantom

Words: 1,100

Contains: Spit roasting, shotgunning, intox play (i mean obv), sort of objectification if you squint

Summary: Zephyr and Mountain share a blunt and a Phantom.

Starting off kinktober strong - huge shout out to @kroas-adtam for pulling this together I'm excited <33

Read on Ao3

Full.

Phantom felt full, fuller than he'd ever been. Even as his lungs screamed to swell and draw breath, devoid of oxygen or relief, their emptiness was a concern best kept at the back of his mind. 

Though as if sensing his lungs silent plea, Zephyr's lithe fingers drifted from their place on his waist. Skating along the curve of his spine as graceful as they'd ever moved, Phantom could feel the burning cry simmer to a subtle heat at best. Not entirely satiated but quieted for the moment. 

He moaned lowly, appreciative as he could manage around the girth of Mountain's cock stretching his jaw to its limit. With it sat right before the point it'd make him gag, dripping pre down his throat, Phantom couldn't offer up much more sound than that. Mountain's hand had abandoned his hair at some point, no longer guiding him, Phantom couldn't make himself move. His arms were barely keeping him upright. He didn't trust them to support much shift in weight but Zephyr did the work he couldn't. Every lazy thrust forward sent him nearly gagging around another inch of the earth ghoul.

Phantom blinked slowly, sluggishly, to clear the blur of tears away as he heard Mountain's lighter click uselessly. Only putting off sparks much to his chagrin. 

"Dew's never around when you need him." Mountain grumbled as the sparks finally caught, and behind him Zephyr laughed.

"You're the one too stubborn to buy a new lighter, sapling." They pointed out as their nails dug into his hip, tone bored enough it hardly sounded like they were balls deep in him. Something so unnaturally calm about them as they pistoned forward again, cock dragging against the most sensitive parts of his inner walls. Phantom made a weak muffled sound. "Don't tell me you're going to hog this joint too." 

"If you want me to share you just gotta ask baby." 

The earthy scent was strong and thick in the room, windows and doors shut tight, leaving the smoke with nowhere to go but straight to his head. Phantom hated admitting to being a lightweight but he had next to no tolerance, a single joints worth of secondhand smoke left him dizzy. He didn't know if he could blame the floaty sensation on the weed outright, the two older ghouls and their actions certainly weren't helping him keep to solid ground. The haze behind his eyes, while mostly artificial, was entirely their fault. He dared to suspect the smoke to be purposeful, a ploy to ease him from his typical shy demeanor. Inhibitions were easy to forget when they'd effectively hollowed him out, emptied out just to be filled again to their liking. 

Mountain inhaled deeply and settled an encouraging hand on the back of his head, and he did his best to let his jaw go slack like they'd taught him.  

"That's it bug…" He exhaled and scratched lightly at his scalp. Just when he thought his head couldn’t get fuzzier the mere semblance of praise sent him further. "Just breathe through your nose, know you can take it. Taken more of me before, haven't you?" Mountain chuckled, laughter low and rich as honey. 

"And he takes you so well...Don't you wisp?" Zephyr purred as they bottomed out. Skin to skin they spread his cheeks apart to watch the way his body clenched around them, groaning aloud. "Fuck you're still so tight, starting to think you don't want me to last."

Part of him doesn't. He selfishly wanted to feel the way their cock swells at the base, wanted them to tease him with the stretch of their knot before spilling hot and sticky inside of him. The idea alone makes his toes curl with excitement...But part of him does want it to last. Phantom had grown so accustomed to this state that his aching jaw was almost entirely forgotten. Masked behind a wall of bliss that ran vein deep, made his blood run hot and his muscle turn to puddy. Pliant barely described how he felt. Truly content to remain a shared toy between them, an afterthought if they wanted him to be, as long as he stayed stuffed full of cock he couldn't care less. 

Above him, the joint changed hands and Phantom sank further along Mountain's shaft. 

He could imagine the way Zephyr's lips closed around it, the red glow of the cherry as it burned away for them, pinched carefully between their fingers. He could also imagine the ruby tinged stare Mountain fixes them with, soft and nothing short of pure adoration, as well as the smile that surely split his face. He'd spent so long watching them watch each other. Fallen in love with how they loved one another, and how beautiful it was to love something and have it love you in return. 

Fingers tangled through the back of his hair and he briefly debated how sweaty his curls must have felt before he's pulled. Phantom mewls sadly as he's tugged off Mountain's cock, eyes glued to it as the earth ghoul takes to stroking himself. 

When did they swap the joint back?

Zephyr's other hand rested loose around the base of his throat while the other remained twisted in his hair. Seeing them, they're not as composed as they sounded, lip bitten red in an attempt to remain stoic. 

The angle is different. New. And lets them fuck into the part of him they'd yet to seemingly mold around the shape of their dick. One thrust had his mouth falling open, his head tipping back to their shoulder, and they smiled coyly.

Smoke spilled out from between their teeth before they moved to catch his lips. It's hardly a kiss, but Phantom melts into it all the same, stomach swooping low with desire. Licking both the shallow moan and smoke from their mouth made his cock twitch. It kicks despite the hours of neglect. Still stood at attention and dripping onto the sheets, he almost reached for it until they abandoned his lips abruptly. 

They pressed a warm, sweet kiss to his temple before they forced him back down to the mattress by the back of the neck. His head spun as he caught himself on his elbows. Mountain laughed again and cupped his jaw, lifting his face up to rub the wet head of his cock to his pink and swollen lips. 

Phantom glanced up to his wide crooked smile as he pressed back into the heat of his mouth, smoke trickling out as Mountain moved to fill him once more.

[askinkiskarma]

The Archer | Chapter VI: The Great War

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Summary: Your secret meeting with your dad brings out the worst in you and your mate. The RDA go after one more tulkun in the beginning of the biggest fight of your lives - for your lives.

Pairings: Neteyam x Avatar!Reader

Word Count: 9.7k words

Warnings/notes: lots of angst, mentions of death, blood, violence, cursing, SPOILERS for ATWOW

A/N: I apologise in advance for the next few chapters, but I am feeling feelings and you have to feel them with me!! This chapter took a little longer than expected, but I am trying to not kill myself juggling everything I currently have going on. As always, thank you so so much for engaging with the story, and replying, liking, reblogging, following etc etc. (all the good things). Ily all and can't wait to share the rest w you soon xoxoxo

You drew up some good faith treaties, I drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone

You said I have to trust more freely, but diesel is desire, you were playin' with fire

And maybe it's the past that's talkin’, screamin' from the crypt

Telling me to punish you for things you never did, so I justified it

You were hyperventilating a little, entering the tent that you now called home and revelling in the silence, which you needed desperately to make sense of what just happened. They did it, they killed a tulkun. You’ve heard from the Metkayina that they were doing that, far away from the village, but now they did it here. You knew instantly it was a ploy to drive Jake out, drive you all out, and you wondered meekly if Jake would answer. Even if he didn’t, you didn’t think the Metkayina would just let this slide. Your dad, your dad left you a message. And you lied about it. Why would you do that? What in tarnation possessed you to do something so stupid? You lied to Jake, to Neytiri… to Neteyam. 

You were mad, mad at Jake that it had to come to this point. You told him, you fucking told him months ago. You should have never run, ever. You told him they would find you eventually, you told him innocent beings would get hurt as a result of hiding. Death would follow you wherever you went because the RDA wouldn’t just give up, and they had very little to lose. People were disposable to them. You, on the other hand, all had everything to lose. 

You were mad at your father, for yet another atrocious act. You were mad that he desecrated any good association you had with his memory once again and made you hate him, hate yourself for having any connection to this cruel, sick, twisted individual. You were mad at your mother, who chose him, who allowed him to be your father, who protected and defended his honour and memory your entire life and in death, and you wondered what spell he put on her that she was so so blind about this man. 

You should just tell them. Tell your family and take them with you and just kill him. Your heart sank as you considered that he might kill them on the spot if he notices anyone else with you. Maybe they could take the ilu? Maybe you and Jake would be enough to take him down. You didn’t like how much your brain was screaming in pain at the thought, at watching your father, that you’ve never even met before, lying dead on the ground, bleeding out in front of you. Why should you care? Why do you care? Why did you lie? It was painful, near damn unbearable having to admit to yourself that you wanted to see him, you wondered what he had to say for himself, this man that has been an almost mythical thing in your life, that gave you self-loathing issues you can’t outrun and haven’t outgrown, this man, this man, this man. 

Maybe it was a trap. Maybe he wanted to draw you out to kidnap you, to use you as leverage to draw Jake out. Maybe he knew from Spider how close you were to the Sullys, knew you were bound to the hip with Lo’ak, knew you were mated with Neteyam, and that you would perhaps bring them along and he can get a Sully kid to threaten and manipulate the former Olo’eyktan. It was a good plan, you thought, except you would go alone, and you were more than capable of killing anyone who tried to get in your way. Your dad would learn that soon enough, as you were determined to finish this, once and for all, and free yourself of this burden and this nightmare that has plagued you far longer than anything else has.

Neteyam came into the tent before anyone else did, looking at you curiously. 

“Are you alright? You seemed quite shaken after seeing the tulkun.”

Calm yourself. You couldn’t lie to Neteyam. It was one thing having kept that you were sick, it was one thing to lie by omission. You couldn’t lie to your mate, but you had to try. 

“Can you blame me?”

He sighed, then approached you, pulling your body into a warm hug. His hand went to the back of your head, softly stroking your hair with the pad of his thumb in a calming motion. The guilt was eating at you, deep and unpleasant at his trusting, loving nature. You sniffled into his chest, soft tears escaping you and landing on him. You were crying because you were scared, because you felt like you were betraying your family, the only family you’ve ever known for a man who could be killing you tomorrow, or using you to kill them. You didn’t know what was wrong with you.

“It’s alright, Atan. We will be alright. Dad will come up with a plan.”

You didn’t say anything, afraid that any words out of your mouth will be a dead giveaway and Neteyam will be able to see right through you, as he usually could. 

The evening was quiet and tense, as your family returned to the tent after helping Ronal and Tonowari. There will be a funeral for Ro’a, and traditional rituals will take most of the morning tomorrow as a final farewell to the tulkun and her calf. Luckily, Tuk slept in between Neyriti and Jake tonight, and with a big lump in your throat and a thumping heart, you went to sleep nestled in Neteyam’s embrace. 

You waited patiently for everyone to be fast asleep around you, room filled with deep, regular breaths. You knew as soon as Neteyam fell asleep, as he twitched when he did, then started snoring softly in your ear. They were all light sleepers, except for Tuk and Lo’ak, trained soldiers, ready at a moment’s notice for trouble, ready for battle. You had to be careful, you had to put all that Na’vi stealth training to good use. 

It took a while, but eventually you made it out, carrying a handgun that you managed to remove silently from the tent, without having alerted anyone, and pushed passed the village into the mangrove forest where Neyn was. When you were sure you were past the point anyone could have heard you, you let out your calling cry, and you watched as your beautiful banshee made her way to you, cooing gently at your sight.

“Did I wake you, sweet girl? I’m sorry, but I have to do this.”

You got on her, making Tsaheylu, and felt concern in her as she took you away in the dead of night, and without your mate to accompany you. She was a little scared, as she was very rarely on her own, Seze always keeping her company on such late nocturnal rides. 

You rode for a while, loving the feeling of the warm air on your face, loving being back on your ikran, that you used to fly with every day in your old life and you sighed soundlessly, knowing an ilu will never compare to this feeling right here, to this beautiful creature you knew was your spirit sister. You thought about Neyn, and how you would feel if you lost her, if she was killed, and you felt her wobble a little mid air as the intense emotions on your mind engulfed you both. You tried to calm yourself for her, so she could keep a steady pace and a straight path. She was here, she was okay, there was nothing to worry about. 

As was made clear in the crude note, about 10 kilometres east of the village was a small island with nothing on it that you could reasonably see except a deserted beach and a couple mangroves. It was small enough to know it was empty and safe, big enough to shield you both from any suspecting eyes. 

A man was waiting for you. An Avatar, he was tall and muscular, dressed in the same camo outfit as that night months ago, the night you almost died at Alien hands, just like so many Na’vi did before you. He was beautiful, you thought. Even in this form, you could recognise the traits you got from him, and you knew then anyone would be able to tell you were related, no matter which body you inhabited. 

“So it’s true.” You heard yourself saying, trying to reconcile the thought that this man was indeed your father, brought back from the dead. 

“What exactly are you? Are you an Avatar? You’re not controlling a body with your mind through a neurolink, so I guess Avatar is a bad name for it. Abomination would be my preferred trademark name, if you’re taking suggestions for T-shirts or action figures.” 

He wasn’t speaking, just looking at you intently, and you swore you saw the glimmer of tears in his eyes. He came closer to you. Your hand picked up the gun you had tucked in your loincloth and pointed it straight at his face. 

Your thumb went to the hammer, that you pulled down. With the gun loaded and your index finger on the trigger, you saw the man flinch briefly, but he recovered immediately and continued to stare at you, at your face and features. 

“You have your mother’s eyes.” 

Your hand slightly trembled on the gun. 

“Stop. Whatever father daughter reunion you had in mind, you’re gonna be disappointed. I’m here to make you answer for your crimes.” 

He raised an eyebrow at you. Fuck, that’s where you got that from. 

“If you were here to make me answer for anything, you would’ve brought Jake Sully with you, or any of the kids you were with that night.” 

“You mean the night you almost killed me?” 

“Also you had no way of knowing this wasn’t a trap, but you came alone anyway. You put yourself in harm’s way to meet me here in secret. Just like I did.”

You don’t really have a comeback for that. So maybe he wasn’t some jarhead dropout after all. Didn’t matter. He’d be dead in a few minutes anyway. 

“I know you must have a million questions, just like I do. Can you please lower the gun so we can talk?” 

“I only have one question for you. How do you sleep at night?” Your eyes welled up, angry tears like needles, prodding, begging to be released. “You killed a Tulkun. Just like you killed so many Na’vi. How do you live with yourself?”

“I didn’t kill the Tulkun -“

“Do you think you’re gonna get away with this on a fucking technicality? Do you think that telling me it was all Quaritch is going to make this fucking better somehow?” 

He looked pained for a moment, gaze shifting from your face to the ground. He looked embarrassed. 

“You’re right, it doesn’t.” 

A silent sob escaped your lips. “Why? That was someone’s spirit sister. She was a beautiful creature, she didn’t deserve to die.” 

“Quaritch wants to bait you out in the open. He hoped that if he did that, you would attack.” 

You hissed loudly. “And what did you do? Watch?”

He recoiled a little at your words, embarrassment still ever present on his face. 

“Pretty much.” 

“That’s just as bad. Inaction is just as bad.”

“Inaction is necessary when you’re using them to find a daughter you have never met. I had to take that risk, I had to say nothing, and I don’t fucking regret it. You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Not for long. I have nothing to say to you.”

“You do. I know you do, because you’re here. Please, just give me a chance. I need a chance.”

He sounded desperate and your welled-up eyes stung now, trying so hard to keep the tears in, trying to be strong, trying to not humour him, to not show him that this was tearing you apart, tearing apart all of the stitches of your patched up pretty new blue heart.

“Please, put the gun down.” Your lips trembled and fingers twitched on the trigger, and with a loud curse, you lowered your arm. 

“You know, I could have killed you that night. I killed two of your little friends, had you in my shot. It would have been an easy kill.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

Your eyes moved from him to somewhere behind him, thinking hard, trying to justify it to yourself as much as him. It took a few minutes of introspection to figure out you had nothing.

“I don’t know.”

He moved from where he was and sat down by the beach, in a tiny enclosure that was shielded from areal view by the trees, but still overlooked the beautiful sea, flowing back and forth with soothing waves. He looked up at you expectantly, and you moved to a rock a little further away from him, facing his body, prepared for any possibility. He sighed.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” 

“So, how did this...” You pointed with your gun, that you unloaded for the moment, all over his blue body. “...come to be?”

“When I first came to Pandora, part of the contract stated that if I die, I give permission for them to put my consciousness in an Avatar body so they can revive me in case they need me again. They did the tests and took the chip that contains…well, me… right before the last battle.”

“Why would you agree to that?”

“I didn’t really have a choice. I needed the job, I would have signed anything, done anything they asked.”

“Why?”

He didn’t look at you as he spoke, but to the distant sea, fiddling with his fingers. 

“I had a daughter. Back on Earth. Her name was Sarah. She was everything to me, and she got sick. I worked for the Air Force at the time, but they let me go after I sustained an injury in the war they said deemed me unfit for service. The money I was getting on vet benefits was not enough, not enough to save her,  not enough to matter. Then I found a job offer for the RDA, a mission to a beautiful far away planet. The pay was phenomenal, and I knew I was good enough to be accepted. I had accolades up the wazoo, and was desperate - exactly what they needed. They gave me the first pay check before we took off, and I had to have faith that the money was going to be enough to save my baby girl. When I came out of cryo, six years later, I found out she had died.”

You saw light reflecting a tear dropping on his face, and your heart hurt painfully in your chest. You have wondered for years, your whole life, what could have possibly gotten this man to give up a life on Earth for such a despicable cause, and now that you knew, you didn’t know if it was relieving you of your guilt or not. On one hand it did, because it was as good of an excuse as it got, but on the other hand, it amplified it at the horrid ways you have thought about your dad all these years. You thought him a cold-hearted killer, a monster. Turns out, just like Jake, just like Neteyam, just like you, he was just willing to give up his own life, his peace of mind, for someone he loved. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He smiled a sorrowful smile at you. “It was a long time ago. But anyway, when I found out, I was in pieces. Whatever heart I had left, my little baby took with her. I was jaded and broken, and wanted nothing to do with this world. But these men and women, the soldiers I met, they became my family in time. They pulled me out of a very dark place, and in turn I gave them my undying loyalty and whatever little was left of my soul. I knew then I would protect them with my life, and with the life of the Na’vi, if needs be. It wasn’t right, but it is who I am. Who I’ve been since as long as I remember. A soldier, an army man. I fight for my country, I fight for the job and for the squad, and I don’t complain, and I don’t question it. It was a good way of living, easy to digest, it helped me sleep at night.”

“And then I met your mother.” His smile changed from one filled with sadness and pain to a happy one, a melancholic one, filled with love and wonder. “She was a shock to the system, to every system. She was kind, and loving, smart and curious, soft and patient, but also the most badass, brave, strong person I knew. It was such a complex mixture, I didn’t think anyone like that could exist. But she did. And, somehow, she saw me. She saw more in me than what I thought I was, she saw who I could be, who I think I wanted to be all my life without ever realising. I fell so deeply in love with her, I could feel my heart beating again. She was everything to me.”

The tears were falling freely down your face now, and you didn’t have it in you to stop it, didn’t have any power over your own mind, who had trouble understanding what it was going through, all the information it had to come to terms with in such a short span of time. 

“Spider said she died.” His voice broke as he said that, and you tried to compose yourself from becoming a sobbing mess.

“Yeah… she did. When I was ten. Cancer.” 

“Ovarian?”

Your eyes snapped to him, not being able to stop the shock on your face. 

“Her sister and grandmother died of ovarian cancer, too.”

You didn’t know that. She has never told you that. 

“Are you an Avatar? I didn’t think it was possible for them to make Avatars on Pandora.” 

“I’m not an Avatar, technically. I used to be, but I did the consciousness transfer, just like Jake did almost 20 years ago.”

“Why?”

You sighed loudly. You didn’t know whether you could trust him, whether he would use the information you gave him to betray and hurt you. But at the same time, you have waited for this chance your whole life. You have wanted to speak to the man in front of you, wanted to bond with your dad that you never even met, and so you had to try. 

“Multiple reasons. From an objective point of view, my human body wasn’t made to survive this world. I was stuck in a lab for 18 years, or stuck to an oxygen mask. It wasn’t ideal. From a subjective point of view, I fell in love. With this planet, with the Na’vi… with a boy. My mother and the scientists made me this Avatar so I can live my life the way it was meant to be lived: giving myself fully to it. So when I felt ready, I committed by becoming one of the people for life.”

“There has to be more to that story. I know we don’t have a lot of time, but please, just tell me everything you can.”

So you did. You spared little detail about your mostly miserable existence, hoping that it would make him feel like shit that he didn’t try harder to be part of your mother’s life, that he didn’t forsake his kinship bond with the murderous soldiers and ally himself with the Na’vi when he had the choice, perhaps ensuring his survival, and the presence of another parent in your life.

“Jake found me in the woods, and brought me to Norm and Max, but then my heart stopped for 30 minutes. In those 30 minutes, I saw her. I saw mum, and she told me the truth. That the cancer wasn’t what really killed her. What killed her was your death, that she was never able to get over. She was so depressed, so lost, she chose to die than become one of the people. I realised then I did the exact same thing throughout my whole life, and that I wanted more time, to heal, to love, to live. So Eywa gave me a second chance at life. And I took it. I cured the virus, I became Na’vi, and now I am here. That’s pretty much it.”

Gideon’s head was spinning with the influx of information that was being thrown at him. It was so hard, hearing everything, hearing everything he’s missed. It was hard to deal with knowing this girl sitting in front of him, beautiful and blue, a strong Na’vi warrior, was his, and that whoever she was, he had no part in it. His heart constricted hearing how much pain you have had to endure, how hard your life has been, and know he was directly responsible for at least some of it. His mind echoed with your words about his Jo, about how she died, about whyshe died. The hatred he felt for himself, for his actions and inactions quickly reached an all-time-high, and he almost prayed you’d change your mind and point that gun at him again and finish the job.He couldn’t speak, so he just stared into the abyss, hoping that words, any words would come to him, knowing they won’t, knowing no words would be enough, no words would ever erase or change the damage he had done, the anguish you’ve had to endure.

“This... Neteyam. Is he a good kid?” 

He saw you smile softly, almost bashful at the mention of this boy who was in a lot of your stories, who seemed to shine a light on your otherwise dark life.

“He’s the best. We’ve been through… a lot. And it’s not always been easy, in fact, for like a year and a half he was a lot of the reasons I hated this life, I wanted it to end. But whatever’s ever happened between us, our differences, our fights, it’s never been out of lack of love. On the contrary. I think both of us love each other a little too much for either of our sakes.” 

“Does he treat you well? Do they all… the Sullys, the village, do they treat you well?” 

You smiled again, at him this time, and Gideon swore his whole body stopped - your smile, your eyes, the glimmer in it… Jo. His Jo was still here. His Jo lived so well within you, every ounce of you a walking reminder of the woman he loved more than life itself. Soft, and brave, and strong, and smart and curious… like Jo. 

“They treat me well. They always have. I was the one who pushed them away for years, but their love and desire for me to be in their lives never wavered, and I could not be more grateful. They gave me a family, and a place of belonging. They gave me a squad, and I would do anything for them.” Your expression shifted suddenly, to a hard one, one directed at him. “Anything.” 

“Why are you here? Are you here to sell me out? Are there people spying on us, tracing back where I came from so they can find Jake? Are you here to kidnap me? You either set me up, or you took a big risk leaving that message for me, hoping no one would see it, hoping no one could read it. Which one is it?”

He hated how the first thing you thought of and associated him with is vile and cruel, and underhanded, but he couldn’t blame you. He didn’t have the best track record, otherwise he wouldn’t be standing here right now.

“If I wanted you kidnapped, or found, you would have been kidnapped, or found. Do you think I don’t know you and the Sullys are in Awa’atlu?”

You mouth fell agape, eyes wide and ears pushed back at the new piece of information. He saw your tail stop moving, a sign of alertness and fear, and watched as you cocked the gun and pointed it at his face again.

“Who else knows about this? When did you find out?” 

“No one else knows.”

“Then how would you know? How did you figure it out?” 

“I still have a few aces up my sleeve, kid. Your finger’s not on the trigger, so I don’t think you’re planning on shooting me yet. Can you please lower the gun?” 

“What exactly prompted this little change of heart, if this is even what this is?” 

Gideon pulled out the rock that he found in his makeshift grave and watched as your expression deepened from surprise and fear to shock, amazement. 

“This did. I found a little spot in the forest, where it turns out I died. I found the recording, I saw Weinfleet, that son of a bitch, kill me. Although I guess that’s fair considering I did the same to him. I found my body, that you buried. And this rock.”

Gideon looked at you, at this girl who was undoubtedly his, undoubtedly Jo’s, with awe displayed all across his features. He couldn’t believe you came from him. He wishes he could have seen you as a little girl, as a human, he is so sad he didn’t get to see you take your first steps, or say your first word, or shoot your first gun. He wishes more than anything he could have taught you. He loves you, he realises. He loves you, despite so little time, because you’re his, you’re Jo’s, the best of both of them.

The man saw you thinking intently, tugging at the inside of your lip so hard he was scared it was going to bleed. He didn’t know what to expect from you. It was easy enough to read you as your face mirrored your feelings as if he had a direct link to your thoughts through it, but somehow you were still an enigma to him. He’s never seen Sarah grow up, he’s never had to be a dad to a young woman, a fierce warrior, a scientist who thinks about everything, calculates three moves ahead. He wondered sadly if there is anything left for him to teach you - you seemed as self-sufficient as they come, and a twinge of jealousy for the Toruk Makto blossomed in him, for getting to raise you, for getting to see you grow up, for helping make you who you were right now.

“So what now? I mean it’s a long shot, but maybe I can convince Jake to let you come to Awa’atlu, we can go and ask the Olo’eyktan, we can say you had nothing to do with it, it will be hard, but maybe if I -“ 

“I’m not coming with.”

“What?” There was no more confusion or focus on your face, just anger, pure unadulterated rage. 

“I have to see this through. I have a better chance of protecting you if-“

“Oh, fucking stop. You’re really going to play the martyr act til the end, aren’t you?”

“I can protect you from them, I can find out wh-“

“YOU CAN'T FUCKING PROTECT ME. I DON’T NEED YOUR PROTECTION, I DON’T WANT YOUR PROTECTION.” 

“I need you to prove to me you’re better than I think you are. I need you to show me, that despite all the fucking horrendous things you have done, my mother wasn’t a fool to trust you. To love you.” 

“Don’t talk about your mother like that, girl.” Gideon was panting now, angry with you, with how quickly you were dismissing a perfectly rational plan for your emotions, for the desire to not part with a grudge you’ve held on to for 19 years. He understood it, but there was a line, and Jo was that line for him, always. 

“You go back, everything you have said to me, everything is moot. Because you have a chance to be better, to do better, you have a chance to fight on the right side once in your life, and you’re not going to take it?” 

“I’m not going to repeat myself. I have a better chance of protecting you, protecting the people you love… your family, from there. I can figure out what their plan is and I can warn you.” He pulled out a radio and receiver from one of his pockets. “Take it. It’s set on a different frequency than what they use, or you and the Sullys use. It can be for us. Wear it, I will contact you if anything happens, and you will know and you will be safe.”

You hissed loudly at your dad, tears pricking painfully at your eyes. 

“Are you really going to pass on an opportunity to protect your family, your mate, because of your ego? I know you want everything done your way and you think you are always right, and you know what? You probably are. But this is more important than this. Just take this.” He took your hand in his and opened your palm and placed the radio and receiver in it. He closed your fingers in a fist, and let you go. “I will be in your ear, I will be there to tell you if anything’s wrong. I will do my best to fight this fight the way I think is best, the way my gut is telling me to. And when this is over, I will come. And by then, I hope I will have proven myself at least enough to be worthy of a second chance. I want to get to know you. I want you to know me. And when this is over, maybe you’ll want to. But for now, I have to go. And so do you.” He looked up and you saw that eclipse will be over any minute. Shit. Time got away from you. Neteyam would have woken up by now. Fuck.

You saw him turn around and call for his ikran. You were shocked he had passed the Iknimaya, and you made a mental note to ask him about it when you saw him next. Just for research purposes, you weren’t curious for any other reason. His ikran was beautiful, dark blue with hints of gold and pink all over, almost like the opposite of yours, the yin to your yang. You called Neyn and she came quickly, batting her wings at you playfully. She made a new friend, it seems. You sighed as you got on her and made the bond. 

“Is Spider alright?” 

“He’s fine, he’s integrated at well as could be expected. I think him and Quaritch are bonding.” You didn’t like the sounds of that, but you said no more on the subject. You were late enough as it is.

“Prove me wrong. Please.” 

“I will, kid.” 

You both took off at the same time, in the opposite directions, and you turned around and watched him with tears swiftly running down your cheeks, blown away by the warm air hitting you in the face. Dad… 

As you made your way back, your mind was running a thousand miles a minute with so many thoughts that were fighting for dominance. The top contender was concern and mind-paralysing fear at the thought of seeing Neteyam and knowing he will know, know you were gone, know you couldn’t lie, you couldn’t even try because he would know that too, and the fight that would ensue as a result. When did things get so complicated? 

You were relieved to not see any lapis blue Na’vi anywhere in sight when you dismounted your ikran, and you quickly started making your way to the village when a voice, the voice, stopped you in your tracks, like shackles to your feet. 

“You know, when we saw that sign on the tulkun yesterday, I felt your heartbeat in your wrist increase to three times its normal speed. I could feel your panted breaths in the back of my neck. I knew something was wrong. You may be able to lie to my dad, to anyone else, but you can’t lie to me, Atan.” 

Your breathing was laboured and shallow, and you felt scared to turn around, to face him. He came so close to you, his breath was making the hairs on your back stand up like needles, hurting you from the forcefulness of his presence, from the anger that was so palpable it was pulsating all around you. 

“What did you do?” 

“Neteyam…” you turned around, and you regretted looking at him. Because this wasn’t your mate, not anymore. This was the perfect soldier, the Olo’eyktan in the making, the Na’vi warrior, and he was looking at you like you were a stranger to him, like you were the enemy.

“What did you do. I need to hear you say it.” His voice was calm, too calm and it reminded you of the knife he always kept on his waist, sharp and deadly.

“Neteyam…” 

“How long has this been going on?” 

“How long has what been going for?” 

“This, you mingling with the fucking enemy, you lying to my family, to your family.” 

Your eyes widened in disbelief, as you took in the accusations your mate was carelessly throwing at you, like pebbles on the surface of the sea. 

“I know you are upset, and I am sorry I lied, but please don’t jump to conclusions.” 

“The message on the tulkun was from my dad. It was the first time I have made contact with him. I haven’t been mingling with any enemies. I just wanted to see what he wanted. I have a gun, I was prepared to kill him.”

“Your dad is a fucking murderer, he could have killed you, he could have kidnapped you. It could be a trap. We could be fucking swarmed by the RDA in the next 20 minutes and it would all be your fault.”

You couldn’t believe him, you couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. Neteyam was many things, but he wasn’t cruel and he definitely wasn’t so quick to blame, to draw unwarranted conclusions. You have known he has been acting a little strange for a while, and you knew there were things eating at him that he is yet to share, but you hated how instead of communicating them, he was lashing out like a wounded animal. You felt anger bubbling in your stomach and you tried really hard to keep it at bay, knowing that both of you attacking each other will not be productive whatsoever. 

 “Neteyam, stop. You’re being unfair. I know you are mad at me, and I know you have been upset about things you have refused to talk to me about for a while, but I will not stand and watch you attack me.” 

“You are right, it was risky, and I am sorry. But I’m not fucking stupid. I was careful, I made sure nobody followed me as much as I possibly could. I didn’t tell you because I was scared if you came, and it was a trap, you were a much bigger prize than I was.” 

“Oh, that is such fucking bullshit. If you told me and I came, you had double the chance to defeat whoever was waiting for you, whoever left you the message. But you didn’t want that, did you? You seem to like saying one thing when you mean another, don’t you?” 

“Ok, what the fuck has gotten into you? This is so not about me leaving.”

“No, it IS about you leaving. It’s about you lying. It’s about how every time I think we’re in one fucking place, it turns out we’re about five steps behind.” 

Neteyam watched as you stretched on the grass of your clearing, taking deep breaths in with your eyes closed, peacefully enjoying the outside, which you never really saw anymore. It will be your 17th birthday in a couple months, and Neteyam was wondering sorrowfully if he will get to be there for it. It’s been eating at him, the realisation he needed to leave, leave your life forever, but he was painfully grasping at every chance to see you, still be with you. He couldn’t imagine a life without you, and soon, he’ll have to live through it. 

Recently, your relationship changed. You have always been close, so close the whole world around you felt like just a playpen for your souls alone, but recently, things… evolved. Everything about it felt heightened, like it reached new zeniths Neteyam never thought anyone would be able to feel without collapsing from the intensity it pulsated through his veins. He’s always loved you, Neteyam mused. His whole life, there was not a moment he has not loved you. 

But as he watched you on the grass, soft shiny skin, so unlike his own, your tiny figure and those eyes that, despite being closed, Neteyam knew every inflection of by heart, he knew he felt more, that he fell in love with you - deeply and irrevocably. It wasn’t a recent development, either, it has been going on for a while, but in light of everything he knew he had to do, Neteyam knew it would hurt even more to vocalise these thoughts or even acknowledge them for himself. Only hurt could come of whatever it was you two had, and there would be no cure for the calamitous heartbreak he would have to go through when he did decide to leave for good, so the less he thought about you two together, your body on him, his lips on yours, spoken confessions and wondrous nights - the better.

“Hey, do you ever think about kids?”

“Kids?”

“Yeah, about having kids. About the future, about little Neteyams running around the village, one day bound to inherit your titles, and your beautiful soul and your endless good looks. ”

He blushed at your comment. He has, Neteyam thought. Multiple times. He thought about a family, about them running through this clearing, about their mother singing to them with that incandescent voice and worn-down guitar, and then he had to stop thinking about it, because it hurt, it took him out, the pain of knowing it was never going to be possible. It nauseated him, the idea of another woman, a woman he’d have to love and give himself to, a woman that wouldn’t be you, and his children that wouldn’t have your eyes, or your hair, or your propensity for being a lovable know-it-all. 

“Not really. It’s still a lifetime away. I’m just trying to enjoy each day as it comes along.”

Neteyam watched as you propped yourself up on your elbows and eyed him inquisitively. You were so tiny, you had to stretch your neck to look at his face. 

“Liar. You’re not a carpe diem kind of guy. You think about everything. You told me you had your whole future planned out when we were like seven.” You got up and walked to where he was sitting on the ground, back against the bark of a tree. When you were on your feet, your face was at the same levels as his, so you got really close to him, so close he could feel your breath on his face, and tried to ignore the thumping heartbeat and shivers going down his spine at your proximity. It’s gotten easier in time, being this close to you, as you have always been a touchy person, so he had no way of avoiding it - not that he would want to avoid it. 

“So why are you lying to me, Ne-te-yam?” 

Neteyam gulped, and he wondered if you knew - what this was doing to him, what you were doing to him. Wondered if you felt the same way, if you also felt dizzy when he was this close, if you also felt your knees weaken in his presence. 

“I’m not lying… I used to have everything planned out, but not anymore. It’s a little more complicated, this whole life thing, than I thought it was going to be when we were young.” 

Your gaze shifted from him to somewhere behind him, and you looked sad and deep in thought, subtle pain obvious in the way your eyes glistened with new-found tears.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Do you ever think about kids?” Your eyes found his again, and you looked hurt by his comment, and the unshed tears found their way down you cheek, that you wiped immediately. You turned around and started walking towards the river, and you kneeled next to it, looking at the way the water flowed, peaceful and determined. 

“That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny… you asked me, so I assumed it’s because you were thinking about it.”

“You know I can’t think about kids, Neteyam. I can’t have kids, unless I have them with Spider.” You rolled your eyes and laughed a joyless laugh and he felt anger envelop him just at the mere thought. Agonising images were flashing through his mind, of you two, a much better fit for each other, compatible in biology and bodies and he felt suddenly sick and regretful of ever asking. 

He faintly saw you look back at him, and you clarified - you knew, knew he needed it. “I’m never having children with Spider, Neteyam. I was just saying, unlike you, the prospect is never in the cards for me. You will go off, find yourself a suitable mate, beautiful and smart and kind and fit to be a Tsahik, you will have a life and a family. I won’t. I will never have a tiny me running around, I’ll never have my parents’ genes, and everything I’ve learnt, and everything I am live on.”

You sighed, and the tears were falling swiftly in the palms resting upwards in your lap.

“Would you? If you could? Have kids… with someone else?” 

You smiled a small sorrowful smile, and looked up at the sky, almost as if you were praying to whoever could hear you.

“If I could… yes. With… someone else.” 

“Just fucking admit you don’t want to have my kids. You don’t want a family.” 

And the hits keep coming. So that’s what this is about. The guilt you felt about lying to him and sneaking out was quickly dissipating and being replaced with rage, burning heavily and brightly, wanting to leave nothing but destruction in its wake. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. Why? Why are so desperate for those pills, why do you hate the thought of having a baby with me so much? Do you have any fucking clue how that makes me feel?”

“NO, Neteyam! No, I have no fucking clue, because you won’t fucking talk to me. You have some nerve to hold these feelings inside after months of me asking you what is wrong, of KNOWING you are not ok, you LYING about it and then exploding in my face and demanding an explanation in this way.” 

“You know what? You are right. I don’t want a baby with you.” As soon as the words came out of your mouth, you knew it was too late. You knew you made a mistake. Because while the words were true, they were also not the whole truth. And as you watched your mate’s heart shatter in front of you, yours did too. It was too late to stop, though, as the rage was eating at your insides, begging to be released. 

“Why in God’s name would I want a child with a man who continuously puts himself at risk and will most likely get themselves fucking killed in the nearby future?! I grew up without a parent, Neteyam. I grew up without a dad. And I grew up with a mother who was heartbroken because of the lack of dad, and killed herself when I was fucking 10 years old. Do you have any idea what that does to someone? Do you have any idea the hell I have lived through my whole life? The holes in my chest nobody was able to fix, not even you, they’re still there. They’re patched up nice and neat, as well as anybody could hope for, but they’re still there. They will always be there.  I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy, much less on my child. So no, I do not want a baby that will grow up an orphan, that’s why I am so fucking desperate for those pills. And if you bothered to ever share with me, share what’s been bothering you, you’d know this.” 

Neteyam looked broken, eyes on you but not really, unfocused and distant, and you tried to calm down, tried to make words come out that could fix your previous ones. Your eyes were frozen on his, frozen on the tears forming in them, watching as they fell down his cheek and onto his bare chest. Eventually, it’s like he snapped back to life, and he started moving, not sparing you a second look. As he passed you by, you grabbed him by the wrist and stopped him. He removed his arm from your grasp like it burned him, like being touched by you was poisonous, and you winced at it, knowing deep down you deserved it. 

“Neteyam… I have dreamt about having a family with you for so long I can’t even remember when it started. I dreamt about our children, careless and free, happy and loud, running around the village, swimming in our clearing. I dreamt about teaching them guitar, and watching you teach them how to hunt or shoot a bow. I dreamt about them growing up and feeling sad about how quickly time is passing but being grateful for being able to watch it go by. I dreamt about their Iknimaya, and flying together for the first time. I dreamt so many things, for a long time my dreams were the only things keeping me going. Even when you were gone, the dreams, they never left. I had to live with knowing they would never come true for so long before I got the Avatar. I had to live with knowing I’d have to watch you have someone else’s babies, and it killed me. It killed me.” You were crying now, your chest convulsing in pain at the memories, at the present, at seeing Neteyam’s back tense and rigid, of not being able to look into his eyes. “When I got my Avatar, and we started being close again… when you kissed me for the first time, when you held me in your arms before my Iknimaya, I had flashes, flashes of hope, that despite my sickness, maybe those dreams weren’t impossible anymore. They were quickly shattered, of course, but they were there. Then after my consciousness transfer, the humans came back, and I was scared. I was scared of having a family during an active war. I thought we both agreed on that. Then watching you continuously put yourself at risk for Lo’ak, watching as you almost died in that train battle, it snapped something in me. My entire life, all the hurt and the pain of being orphaned came back full blast. Neteyam, if you die, I will too. And I don’t want to put an innocent being, our innocent being through that.” 

“Please, try to understand.”

You watched as Neteyam left you without another word and you were unsure if you would ever be able to fix this and you couldn’t help clutch your chest to try to alleviate the pain that was so strong it was radiating all throughout your body, just like one sentence, over and over. Did I lose him? Did I lose him? Did I lose him?

Neteyam walked towards a village like a ghost, like zombie, like a body without a soul, or a mind, just robotically taking step after step, trying to figure out if he could wake up, if this was a nightmare, if it was some sick joke. 

I don’t want a baby with you. I don’t want a baby with you. I don’t want a baby with you. 

Crack after crack, the pieces of his heart shattered like a broken jigsaw, like the one he did with you and Kiri when you were children, huddled together in the recreation hub. So he was right. He was right, his insecurities, however ridiculous they seemed sometimes, they were not without merit. You didn’t want his children. Not children, just his children. Because of who he is, because of his life choices and his desire to protect his family, his brother, you didn’t want him. Neteyam heard you justify it, and maybe somewhere deep, deep inside of him, he knew you had a point, that your own unique circumstances entitled you to this view, that you weren’t being unreasonable, but the hurt, the pain, the anguish and betrayal, they ran deeper. What was he supposed to do now? How would you ever be able to resolve this?

He noticed absentmindedly that there was commotion in the village, screams and wails coming from the Olo’eyktan’s tent. He felt himself walking towards it, with no real input from his mind, which was numb and in its own isolated, desolate little world. 

He heard Tonowari’s imposing voice, screaming over the booming voices of the villagers. As he approached, he saw his family, his father in the middle of the crowd, desperation all over his features. 

“This war has come to us! We knew about the hunting of our tulkun people, but it was over the horizon, far away! Now, it is HERE!” Neteyam saw the Metkayina poke their tongues out in a war cry, and he knew what he feared, what his family feared, is finally here. There was no avoiding it, the war with the Sky People, no avoiding the deaths that followed. Fear enveloped him, momentarily replacing the anguish you put in him, and he wondered where you were, if you had run away, as you used to like doing when you were young. Were you in danger? 

“Look, you have got to understand how the Sky People think.” His dad was trying to force his voice through the ululation, trying to get them to see reason. “They don’t care about the great balance.”

“WE DON’T ANSWER TO SKY PEOPLE.”

Neteyam couldn’t help his voice from speaking. “Listen. Listen to him.”

“They are not going to stop, this is only the beginning. You have to… tell your tulkun to leave. You gotta tell them to go far away!” 

“Leave?!” The Tsahik look disgusted with his dad, and he knew the Metkayina would never understand. None of them will, because they have never lived through what the Omatikaya had. They had no idea the depth of the cruelty, and lack of morals that plagued the aliens. They had no idea the loss his village suffered at their hands, and the sacrifices his family had to make. 

“You live among us and you learn nothing!”

“WE WILL FIGHT TO PROTECT OUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS!”

“No no no no! IF YOU ATTACK, IF YOU FIGHT, THEN THEY WILL DESTROY YOU!” Pointing at Ronal’s pregnant belly, his father continued. “They will destroy everything that you love!”

“Hear my words!”

Like an out-of-body experience, Neteyam heard himself speak yet again. “Listen to my father. He speaks the truth.” 

The Toruk Makto picked the red impaling rod they found on the tulkun yesterday, got up to where the Olo’eyktan was so he was towering above everyone else, and pointed it for everyone to see. 

There was quiet all around him now, the villagers watching his dad carefully, with focused eyes. 

“You tell the tulkun that if they’re hit by one of these, they’re marked for death. And call for me, I’ll silence it. Saving their lives. That’s all that matters, right? Saving your family.”

“Tell the tulkun.” 

“Go, go!” 

Ululating can be heard all around as the Metkayina hurried and dove in the water, rushing to warn their brothers and sisters. Neteyam’s gaze shifted instantly to Lo’ak. He wouldn’t…

He would, it turns out, as Neteyam saw his baby brother hurrying out of the tent. He followed in his footsteps, knowing very well what Lo’ak was intending, knowing he had to stop him, no matter what. 

Neteyam watched as the younger Sully was sneakily placing a saddle on his ilu. 

“No way you’re running out today, baby brother.”

“I have to warn Payakan about the pingers.”

Neteyam was in no mood for this.

“No. You have got to keep your skxawng ass here.”

“He is outcast. There’s nobody to warn him but me.” Neteyam saw Lo’ak getting aggravated, the way he always got - his brother had no control over his emotions, never had, always ready and more than willing to explode at the slightest perceived slight. 

“Why do you always have to make things so hard, Lo’ak?”

“No, you mean why can’t I be the perfect son like you?” Neteyam’s heart took yet another beating, and he was unsure how much longer it could continue going in light of today, in light of everything it has had to suffer. First you, now Lo’ak, it seems everyone he loved was taking turns kicking him until the breath was knocked out of his lungs, until he would be unable to stand back up. 

“The perfect little soldier. Well, I’m not you!” 

The anger overtook Neteyam, who made his way so close to Lo’ak he was towering over him, a dark expression marring his features. 

“I’m not you. He’s my brother. I’m going.”

Crack. Crack. Crack.

“He’s your brother?” He pulled Lo’ak by the arm as he was turning away, speaking through clenched teeth. “No, I’m your brother!”

The conversation was interrupted by Tsireya and Ao’nung, both of whom jumped from their ilu and onto the platform they were on. 

“Lo’ak!” 

His brother took the opportunity that presented itself when Neteyam’s attention shifted onto the two siblings to escape his tight grip and jump into the water, immediately leaving towards Three Brothers Rock, where Payakan was. 

Neteyam didn’t think of anything else besides saving Lo’ak in that moment, and, as he called for his own ilu, he finally knew in his heart that you were right. 

You were flying, faster than you should be, considering the rain pouring all around you and the fact you could barely see a few meters in front of you, but you couldn’t stop. Because if you stopped, you’d have to think, you’d have to deal with the consequences of your actions, and that would be too much, too painful. Neyn was worried, as she could also not see, but she trusted you to guide her, she trusted you to keep her alive - her worry extended to you as well, to the horrid mood that seem to plague you, for the deep anguish in your soul that was making her cry loudly. You tried to calm her down, petting her gently. 

“Tam tam…” 

You have been going for a while now, longer than you knew you should have. You had little idea where you were, and where you were going. You didn’t even know if you could go back. Would you be able to face Neteyam again? Would you share a tent, would you ever be able to fix this?

You were so harsh, harsher than you needed to be. You hated his predisposition for following in his brother’s dangerous steps, but you promised him you’d be there to fix it. You told him you didn’t want to change him, that you would be there to patch him up. You told him you’d protect him. And instead of doing that, you struck him where it hurt most. You both had a habit of hurting each other, both had a habit of shooting to kill when in pain. So much has changed in between you, so much has changed in your worlds except the one thing that should have, that one thing that needed to. 

“Kid, are you there?” 

The voice pulled you out of your pondering, a voice you now recognised as your dad’s. 

“I’m here. Over.” 

“I don’t have a lot of time. The ship is hunting another tulkun. A solitary one.”

Oh, no… It can’t be.

“We’re about two klicks out. Kid… the Sully kids are there too.”

You felt all air being pushed from your lungs, unable to breathe in, feeling yourself becoming faint at the lack of oxygen and maddening heartbeat deafening you. 

“I will try to stop them. I don’t know if I can do this on my own.” 

Breathe. Try to breathe. 

“Hold your position. I’m coming. Get me a gun. Over and out.” 

Kiri. Tuk. Lo’ak…. Neteyam. Adrenaline coursed through your veins like icy water, waking you up, focusing your mind. You had no time to go back. You willed Neyn towards where you thought Three Brothers Rock was, and prepared yourself to fight for your life, for your family’s life, for your dad’s life. 

Your mind flashed to your fight with Neteyam, knowing you had to do everything in your power to make it right, not knowing that fight was the last conversation you will ever have with him before both of your lives are changed - forever. 

Taglist (thank you ily x) @changing7 @erenjaegerwifee @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @winchestertitties @puffb4ll @rebeccao03 @ultimatebluff @cottoncandy23 @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @n3t3y4msm4t3 @loquatious-josephi-krakousky @eternallyvenus @fresh-new-yoik-watah @lu-the-ghost-reader @@miawastakens @mm0thie @fanboyluvr @amortencjja

[hansols-yoda-boxers]

Oct 25th [Joshua + Hybrid]

[9:02] Joshua let out a grunt as you pounced on him, tail swishing mischievously and ears twitching towards him. He rubbed his eyes, letting out a sigh as you kneaded his chest, gazing at him with bright eyes. He gave you a tired smile before his head fell to the side and he checked his phone before letting out a sigh.

“Babe, it’s 2:35 in the morning,” he said, voice rough with sleep.

“I’m awake,” you said simply.

“I can see that,” he chuckled. “Do you need something or can I go back to sleep?”

You gave him a grin. “I wanna play.”

Joshua let his head fall back against the pillows, eyes falling shut and arm going across them. Still, the other hand found its way to the base of your ear, scratching it comfortingly. “This couldn’t wait until morning?”

You pouted. “You know I get energy in the middle of the night.”

“I did know that,” he mumbled. “I just thought I would still be able to sleep.”

You thought for a moment before a sweet smile pulled across your lips. “Love bug,” you cooed. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

He gazed at you with one eye, moving his arm to see you. “I’m listening.”

“Of course,” you snickered, knowing he would never leave you hanging. “Just let me play with you for a while.”

“This is a ploy for sex in the middle of the night,” he chuckled.

“Why would you ever say that?” You purred, grinning. You pushed the covers down and Joshua kept his hand in your head, scratching beside your ear and drawing a purr from your chest. He smiled to himself sleepily, barely keeping his eyes open to look at you as you curled your fingers into the waistband of his pajama pants.

“I guess it’s not the worst reason to wake me,” he hummed, lifting his hips to let you pull the pants down before settling between his legs.

“It’s a perfectly valid reason to want your attention.” You hummed, wrapping your fingers around his cock. He let out a soft groan at the sensation, humming when you started to give small kitten licks along his length. He spread his legs a little wider, moving his fingers to play with the sensitive inside of your ear and the rumbling purr in your chest grew louder as warmth started to pool in the pit of your stomach.

You drew your tongue in a few long, slow licks as he grew harder in your hand. Rough groans fell from his lips, voice still thick from sleep. You gazed up at him, loving this sight at nearly 3 in the morning, his hair fanned out over his forehead, eyes closed and lips parted in deep breaths and groans.

You took the tip of his cock between your lips, sucking and teasing it with your tongue and he pressed his hips up towards your mouth. You tightened your grip around the base, sucking gently and gazing up at him with a sweet expression.

“Feels so good, kitty,” he murmured.

You chirped at the praise, smiling just a little as you teased him more and more. The sounds he let out were sending thrills or arousal down your spine and had you wiggling your hips and shifting a little, both of you sensitive in the middle of the night. Your ear twitched under his touch, hips pressing down into the bed a little as your own pleasure started to build.

Joshua let out a groan as you took him fully into your mouth. His breathing was growing more heavy and his hips shifting a little under you. You pressed a hand down to try and keep him still and he chuckled.

“Am I moving too much, kitty?”

“You can move as much as you like,” you hummed. “I won’t make you stay still.”

He snorted. “You say that like you don’t like it when I tell you what to do.” He scratched his nails up the inside of your ear, causing your hips to keen against the bed as you moaned. “We both know that’s not true.”

“I’m just saying I’m nice,” you hummed before taking him fully into your mouth again. You found a steady pace, lips moving over him and hand joining the motion around the base of his cock. You felt his cock twitch in your mouth as he urged you to go faster, losing himself much more easily when he was sleepy.

Your tail swished over the sheets, making your shiver when it came into contact with the smooth fabric. It was only adding to your pleasure along with the way Joshua teased you sensitive ears. You took up a faster pace, listening to his sounds grow louder and gazing up to watch his head fall back and enjoy the sight.

His pretty features were now twisting with pleasure, mouth hung open in a series of groans, hair messy from both sleep and how he’d been moving his head. His free hand was curled into the sheets and his chest was rising and falling in quick breaths. His eyes were squeezed shut now.

“Just like that, kitty,” his voice sounded breathless now and you moaned around his cock before starting to purr, knowing just how much he liked it.

Curses fell from his lips as he pressed up, releasing onto your tongue. You sucked at his cock, taking every last drop of cum you could as his high washed through him, the sounds of his moans only making your body warmer. 

As he caught his breath you crawled back up to him, draping your tail over him and snuggling into his side. He pressed some kisses to your face as he breathing slowed until he was calm again before pushing you over onto your back.

“It was a ploy for sex,” he mumbled in kisses against your lips. “You know I can never resist more of you.”

“Guilty as charged,” you chuckled.

[smoshmonker]

hi uhhhhhh if you want sword af fic ideas...i think it'd be super cool to explore their dynamics if one of the team gets hurt protecting the other or another idea is that one night they stumble upon bug trying to revive what they think is gunthar's skeleton but it doesn't work

fun stuff like that!!

anon i frickin love you so frickin much for this. i decided to go with the first one for now but i will probably return to the second idea another time >:) and if you are reading this please feel free to send me more sword af prompts because i love them !!!

—————

The first thing Koda can hear is quiet sniffling. He tries to latch onto it, to keep him afloat - he knows something is wrong, but his eyelids feel like they’re glued shut, the icy claws of sleep threatening to take hold of him again.

He tries to focus on other things that he can sense. His body feels heavy, like he’s being weighed down by something equal to Fernie’s weight. Strangely, the only thing he can actually feel, though, is something small in his hand. He tries to move his hand, but he isn’t sure if he manages it.

Muffled, quiet, quick talking fills the air now. He furrows his brow, trying to hear the words even though it feels like there’s cotton stuck in his ears. The thing that rests in his hand squeezes back, hard enough that it gives him something to focus on.

Okay, Koda. Breathe. Open your eyes.

As he inhales, he manages to do so. A wooden ceiling swims into view, along with a pounding headache and a blurry, blue silhouette in the corner of his vision. He blinks, trying to clear it, not quite able to succeed yet. “Bug?” His voice comes out in a croak.

“Koda!” they shout, leaping onto the bed to straddle him. Their face is inches from Koda’s, shining with tears and a bright smile. “You’re awake!”

“Ugh, if you keep shouting like that, I’ll wish I wasn’t,” he mumbles, closing his eyes again for a brief moment. Bug grins, pressing their face into Koda’s neck, which sends a shock wave of pain down Koda’s torso. He winces.

“Bug, honey,” says a tired, familiar voice. “Give Koda some space. You’re hurting him.”

Bug sits up quickly, and Koda turns his head slightly, finding Delores and Fernie on the other side of his bed. Fernie stands up, taking Bug by the shoulders, and gently lifts them up off the bed, placing them down beside him. Heavy silence fills the air as Koda surveys his friends. Fernie looks like he might cry, Bug is nervously fidgeting, and Delores looks like she hasn’t slept in a week.

Almost not sure if he should ask, he frowns. “…What happened?”

Bug and Delores exchange an uneasy look. Fernie answers, “Krungdar sent that sorcerer after us and she was really strong. She kept targeting Delores for some reason, and you…” he pauses.

And while he pauses, Koda remembers.

Heat scorches the air, with smoke following suit to burn in his lungs. Raging fire topples a nearby tree as a laugh echoes through the forest. Fernie, in badger mode, and Bug, with a mirror image of themself, are facing off against a mirror image of the sorcerer. Koda and Delores face the real one, tall, powerful, not even breaking a sweat. The fire grows stronger. Out of the corner of his eye, Koda notices an expression on her face that he’s never seen before. Her eyes dart around, the fire reflected in her pupils.

He wants to speak, but his throat burns with smoke. Jumping out of the way of a stray dagger, he draws his sword, but not before realizing it had been a ploy to get him further from Delores. Energy builds around the sorcerer, dark and glowing with negativity. Koda sees it in slow motion, and his legs move before his mind. He leaps in front of her.

Enveloped by the Finger of Death spell, Koda’s body jerks, the worst pain he’s ever felt coursing through his veins. He falls to the ground, writhing in anguish. Delores screams his name but it’s muffled.

His vision goes in and out. He remembers Delores screaming again, and manages to lift his head to see if she’s alright. He notices the sorcerer, motionless on the ground, and Delores breathing hard. He tries to speak, but his tongue feels like a sponge. He moans in agony instead.

She’s at his side in an instant, but he can’t hear anything she says. The next thing he knows, he’s in Fernie’s arms, and then everything goes dark.

“…Are you guys okay? What happened to the sorcerer?” Koda asks, somewhat tentatively.

“She’s dead,” Delores says bitterly. She swallows hard, reaching forward to swipe a stray hair from Koda’s sweaty forehead. “How are you feeling?”

He looks up at her, knowing she probably doesn’t look much better than him, and sighs. “I’m feeling like I could use a drink.”

“Alcohol!” Fernie exclaims excitedly. Bug nods and climbs up onto his shoulder. “What a great idea!”

“Anything to make you feel better, Koda!” Bug exclaims, patting Fernie’s head. “We’ll be right back. I’m sure Gaspard has got some extra mead.”

As they rush out of the room, Delores calls, “At least grab some water too! Please!”

Koda can’t help but chuckle. “They have good intentions.”

“I know.”

He frowns a little. “How long was I out?”

Picking nervously at her skirt, Delores shakes her head. “Um…about three days.”

Closing his eyes, he breathes in. He supposes it could have been worse. Most people touched by the Finger of Death never wake up again.

Awkward silence envelops them for a moment. She sighs softly. “Why did you do that, Koda? I could have taken that spell.”

“You don’t know that.” He turns his head to look at the ceiling, biting his bottom lip. A few months ago, he wouldn’t have done anything like that. But this time, his legs moved before his mind. It was the only thing that had made sense in the moment. “You’re afraid of fire, aren’t you, Delores?” he asks softly. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices her fidget nervously in response. “You couldn’t move. I had to help. And besides,” he says, looking back, “you were the one who needed to fight her. Not me.”

“Krungdar somehow knows about my deal.” Her eyes fill with tears, and she reaches to take his hand. “I thought you were going to die,” she whispers. “That’s what she said. I can’t lose you, too.”

Koda smiles slightly, squeezing her hand. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Before she can respond, Fernie and Bug rush back into the room. Fernie sits on the edge of the bed, making it sink with his weight as he hands over a bottle. Slowly, Koda sits up to take it.

“Thanks, Fernie.” He takes a swig, the liquid burning his throat, but in a good way this time. He offers it to Fernie, who takes it and gulps down the rest of the bottle in five seconds. Koda laughs.

Bug’s eyes widen. “Whoa! Did you just laugh? You just laughed! Koda just laughed!” They whoop excitedly, climbing up to sit right next to him. He lets them, because he knows that these people, his friends, haven’t left his side in days, and he’s grateful to be alive. He’s grateful that Delores is alive.

And when Fernie makes Bug laugh so hard that water comes out of his nose, all four of them share a laugh, knowing that the Sword of Heroes will always look out for each other.

[my-mt-heart]

Les Caryl

Not wishful thinking. Not a ruse. Carol is coming back, and I’m grateful. Mainly, to Melissa McBride for everything she’s given us over the years and for everything she’s willing to give us in order to keep telling Carol’s story. It’s easy to see how much of her heart and soul has gone into this character, and I never want to take that for granted. We all have different reasons for loving Carol, but I think a lot of us draw inspiration from watching an underdog like her turn into the hero everybody needs. It’s been nice to see that mirrored in our fight over the past year to remind AMC how imperative she is to TWDU’s success. 

Whether you participated in blitzes, sent letters, spammed AMC’s/TWD’s social media accounts, or just kept Carol in the conversation on your own terms, you persevered just like she did and now you’re reaping the rewards just like she better will. It just goes to show that when people come together to support a female lead with as much talent and grace as Melissa, that and a little bit of hope can make a huge impact. 

For anyone who didn’t have hope or didn’t want to set themselves up for more disappointment, that’s more than fair. Maybe yesterday’s confirmation will give you something to look forward to again. Nothing is ever guaranteed, but if you find comfort in these characters, it’s perfectly okay to let yourself feel that too. Love what you love.

I know there are some who wanted Melissa to just walk away and leave Norman/AMC in the dust, but unlike Carol, she isn’t a fictional character. We aren’t entitled to her relationships with other people, so we just have to trust she knows how to navigate them on her own. Like I mentioned earlier, landing new roles comes with its own set of challenges regardless of one’s reputation or talent. Casting is a meat market and options for actresses over 35 are limited, especially when execs want to factor in their hair color (because how can they appeal to men 18-49 if they have gray hair 🙄) or their social media presence (because if they’re not active on Twitter, what audience will they bring 😑) All of this is to say, it’s perfectly reasonable for Melissa to choose another path, and no, it doesn’t mean she’s gritting her teeth while she does it. I’m comfortable believing she’s happy to co-lead Caryl’s show. I mean, you saw that smile, right?

I realize that at the end of the day, we’re all just trying to do right by someone we admire, which is tricky from our vantage point because it’s so easy to treat her like she belongs to us, and we have to keep reminding ourselves that she does not. I can’t speak for anyone else, but for me, the intention of campaigning in Melissa’s name was to leave the door open for her to come back on her own terms. If she’s getting everything she wants, if she’s being treated with the respect she deserves, then that’s a win in my book. If this whole ordeal motivates AMC to create a better work environment for all their female talent/employees going forward, even better. 

I know this isn’t news, but I’m still going to hold off on watching the show until Carol comes back and if that sounds biased, let me stop you right there. Let’s put aside the BTS fuckery for a second. Let’s ignore the fact that Carol and Melissa are the ones who got the short end of the stick and need my support the most right now. Not only does S1 sound unappealing to me, it actually hurts too much to think about the ways Daryl’s character has been used for personal gain rather than story integrity, which pretty much guarantees a retcon no matter how long it lasts or how drastic it is. His growth over the past 12 years was some of the best I’ve seen on any show let alone TWD, and I want to preserve the version of him I was drawn to in the first place, the version three out of four showrunners actually took the time to nurture. This version. If it’s all just a marketing ploy, trying to target Carylers’ biggest fears to relieve them later, well, I can’t support that either. Caryl fans have been put through enough over the years, especially in the last season, and I think it’s wrong to try to manipulate them into settling (and paying) for less than what they really wanted. 

Do I think we can still get something worthwhile in S2? Yes. I just don’t want to risk torturing myself to get there. Anyone who’s read my blog for a long time knows I would generally give the show the benefit of the doubt because I assumed the payoff would come sooner or later. Needless to say, it didn’t. I know why it didn’t and I hope those issues have been properly dealt with, but if I want to maintain that Caryl/Carol are important for viewership, then I need to watch and subscribe for Caryl/Carol. If I want Melissa to get the pay hike she deserves, then I need to tune in when she’s on my screen, not before. I do trust her judgement for what it’s worth, and I want to look forward to S2 provided there are no irreparable damages beforehand and TPTB put their audience first, meaning they deliver on the promises they made.

The biggest promise, UNAMBIGUOUS CANON, is crucial for story integrity, character growth, and representation. It shouldn’t be a huge undertaking when the chemistry can practically write itself. Daryl and Carol never have nor ever will need gimmicks to keep me invested. 

While we wait for Caryl to reunite, I hope the fandom can start to heal and get back to spreading endless love for one of the greatest ships on television. I’ll never stop mourning the loss of the spinoff we were supposed to have, and part of me still hopes we can get it back someday. But I’ll hope for the best on the show we’re getting right now. Caryl deserve it, Melissa deserves it, and the fans deserve it. 

[disastrouslyyours]

Gentle

1400 words of me writing self indulgent fluff with my favorite husband. <3

no big cw apply, just domestic mushy gushy couple stuff and some implied suggestiveness

It was evident in the creases of his crow’s feet, the folds of his laugh lines, the dusty rose color on his cheeks and the tip of his nose. Yet so exceedingly stubborn, refusing to admit to the sensations my curious fingers caused him. He held his breath, digging deep to steel himself from the swirls I drew under his chin. Pressing a kiss to the same spot earned a soft sigh, one that could be interpreted any number of ways. He returns the sentiment with a kiss to my forehead. By wrapping his arms tighter around me he holds me closer, preventing any further exploration.

This was not the first time I had tested him while cuddling close after an evening together. Several times now had I been invited over to his home, several more has he been dragged up to my apartment. With the latter being the setting for this particular night, I felt emboldened by my home field advantage. While being squished up against him, I move my hands to rest on the back of his shoulders. Tracing around the outline of his shoulder blades results in a sharp inhale accompanied by his muscles constricting. He kisses the side of my neck, lingering just long enough to hear me giggle. I let him think he’s successfully distracted me, resting my hands on the small of his back. More slow, sweet, languid kisses follow the first one. I allow myself to laugh, almost as if to show him that it’s okay. He’s well aware that it is, greedily taking more of me as his fingers skitter up and down my sides. I melt into him, pliable beneath his hands, my lack of resistance a welcomed and familiar sign.

He always interrupts me in this way, flipping the script and turning the attention away from him. While I usually let him get away with his ploy, happy to bask in the affection he so readily offers, I’m not satisfied with this turn of events tonight. I’ve ruled out every other possibility for his reactions. It isn’t that Gray doesn’t want to be touched, for clearly he finds every excuse to be as close to me as possible. I can see his brain turn to mush whenever I play with his hair, curl around his arm, or even kiss his cheek. I swear that sometimes I even see steam come out of his ears, his eyes turning into little swirls as he malfunctions at my touch. It also isn’t that he’s experiencing pain, because he would just tell me if I hit a sore spot. He has a recurring knot in his shoulder, prone to wincing if he’s had a long day at work and likely to ask me to soothe the inflamed muscle. Therefore only one explanation exists for his reactions, one reason why he’d be so staunchly against drawing attention to himself.

I call him a handsome man, his favorite title, and he hums as I kiss the center of his throat. The subtle yet deliberate tilt of his head allows me to continue to lull him into a false sense of security, indulging him with more kisses down towards his collarbone. His skin is always so strangely cool, so much so that when I remove my hand from the small of his back I can feel the resonating heat I’ve transferred from my palms. His hands have settled against me, his thumb gingerly rubbing against my side in a soothing manner. I build up his trust again by keeping my hand as still as possible, kissing my way back up until I find his lips. Lips that, despite the rest of his body being a frigid landscape, are always warm. Maybe because he can rarely keep them off of me when we’re together like this. I let myself get lost in them for a moment, but make sure not to lose my goal. After a few more moments, once he’s relaxed completely, I seek the confirmation I need.

Three gentle squeezes to the soft muscle of his stomach is all it takes, three curls of my fingers grants me the greatest gift. Gray laughs, his lips parting between mine to let the sound bubble out. His hand immediately holds mine hostage, removing it from his person.

“You’re ticklish, Mr. Sterling.”

“Catherine.” He interrupts, squeezing my hand and ignoring the slight crack in his voice. “Do not.”

“Do not what?” I don’t wait for a reply, my free hand sneaking its way to his side to gently knead against it. Another laugh rises to the surface from his lungs, but he’s quick to steel himself again. He now holds both of my hands in one of his, sternly putting an end to my antics.

“No.” Is all he says, then presses an apologetic kiss to my forehead. I pout, crestfallen by his cold response. It didn’t feel right, he seemed to be hiding something, but what did I know? After having known each other for almost a year by now, there was still so much mystery to the man lying next to me. He sighs and releases hands, tilting my chin up so that I’d meet his gaze.

“Darling…” He runs his thumb along my cheek, and I lean against his hand. “… please don’t look so sad.”

I frown up at him. “You’re not being fair, Gray. You do this to me all the time.”

“That’s different.”

“How?” He doesn’t answer, but he does blush a soft pink color. “Literally how? It’s not like it’s a bad thing… I happen to think it’s cute.”

Several emotions flash across his soft gray eyes as they search my own. His silence unnerves me, makes my heart race anxiously.

“Maybe more than cute, if I’m being honest.”

My throat dries up as he continues to just look at me. He kisses me, but his pensive expression stays on his face. He drops my hands and my gaze. I want to give him space, respect his need to think, but I’m impatient.

“Look, if you don’t tell me what’s going on in that enigmatic mind of yours, I’ll coax it out of you.” I curl my fingers under his chin and he frowns.

“Catherine.”

I’ve never heard him say my name in such an icy way before. He’s issued it as a warning, sure, but those three syllables have always been warm and gentle underneath his stern facade. He sounds exasperated, frustrated even, and I stay silent. I fold my arms across my chest and inch back slightly, creating physical space between us. His expression turns to one of panic as he assess the distance between us.

“Darling, please…” He whispers, pulling me closer to him again and resting his chin on my head. “Please… just be gentle.”

I take a full beat to process his words. His fingers stroke my hair, slowly and methodically, as if to soothe the both of us. My heart leaps into my throat and I try not to sound too hopeful with my reply.

“Gentle…? As in… you’re good as long as I’m gentle?”

He kisses the top of my head and whispers in the affirmative. “Gentle.”

That single word strikes a match, promptly tossing it into the vat of gasoline pooling in my heart. I trail a single finger across his stomach and he shivers.

“Like this?” I murmur against his neck, and I can feel the way he holds his laughter in his throat.

“Be nice.” His words are shaky, almost breathless.

“I’m always nice to you, Gray Sterling.”

It takes another moment of exploration, but once all five fingers have made contact with his skin, Gray is giggling against my hair. The sound nearly makes my heart burst, and I maintain a slow, gentle pace to keep my promise to be gentle. I kiss under his chin and he hiccups, my heart nearly stopping entirely. With my fingers still moving, and even my opposite hand joining in, I test to see if he’ll let me keep kissing him there. The results of which yield a melting, pliable man in my arms, his lack of resistance unfamiliar yet very, very welcomed.

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Breaking down the comics: Learning to Crawl (issue 35)

Moon Knight, Issue # 35: Second Wind

Written by Tony Isabella and drawn by Carl Potts

Hey look! The X-men are in this one! And the Fantastic Four! That’s a lot of cross-over. As I’ve stated before, a lot of times when you have a ‘features’ on the cover, it means the characters show up briefly to do a one liner, then leave. A ploy to try to draw in more readers and sell more issues. Let’s see how much they all feature in this! 

And the plot summary? “Following last issue’s devastation, Moon Knight is at a crossroads on whether or not to continue his vigilante career. Guest-starring the X-Men and FF!” 

Now, keep in mind that this is a new writer (One that was acclaimed and recently retired that came out of retirement to guest appear) right after Moench left Marvel. So we're getting the character intro that feels more geared towards the writer than the audience. ALSO this is a cross over ultra long issue so they are hoping to have NEW readers that are here for the X-men and that will get interested in Moon Knight and then start reading regularly.

So we're not only going to get over intros of the characters, but we're also going to get a heavily watered down edition of the characters because the new readers aren't here for lore, they're here for X-men. 

We open at midnight in Manhattan. 

"It's Midnight when the man born Marc Spector (but who has long since glided into other identities as easily as he now glides over the city) spots the quarry that has brought him out into the darkness. 

Thus Marc Spector begins this in his identity as the costumed adventurer Moon Knight. When it ends he will know who he truly is...and why." 

His prey is "The Fly", who focuses on robbing rich vacation homes while the owners are away. 

After noting that The Fly recently went up against Spider-Man and lost, Moon Knight sneaks up on The Fly and immediately gets his ass kicked. He spends a lot of time on the ground. 

He’s doing well. 

OH. OH NO. I know this comic! (it may come as a surprise to some of you that I do not read the comics then write these analysis. I do a life reaction.) I knew this was coming but it had completely escaped me that THIS was how it happened. Oh. My. Khonshu. This is embarrassing. 

As always, Frenchie is up above keeping an eye on things. When he spots "The Fly" getting away, he radios down to Moon Knight. 

Worried for his friend, he climbs down from the chopper and finds Marc laid out on the roof, unable to move and barely able to speak. 

I must say, the art and colors on this issue are spectacular. 

Frenchie gets Marc to his chopper. 

"Moon Knight glides from pain to oblivion to delirium in no discernible pattern. Once he curses himself through agonized tears for being so sloppy this time. 

Once he wakes in madness to quote Keats. 'There is not a fiercer hell than the failure in a great object.'" 

Side note: We've seen Marc, specifically Marc, quote classical literature before. Marc is shockingly well read and it makes me wonder why he hides how smart he is. In later issues he talks about his struggles in school, but Marc Spector really is very smart. (An idiot but smart). 

John Keats is an English romantic poet. He is famously known for "Beauty in truth, truth in beauty".

Jean-Paul takes Marc to a private hospital that 'doesn't ask questions'. 

He undergoes surgery, but his spinal damage is great. They tell Marlene that they've done what they can and the rest lays in subsequent therapy. "I'm afraid it's entirely possible that Steven Grant may never walk again." 

We move to Paris where a young up and coming dancer is running for her life from some unseen danger. 

Her assailant is a woman who accuses her of abandoning Russia and taking all her gifts with her. The attacker uses the wind as her power and sends the girl off into the sky to meet a terrible fate. 

Back in Grant Mansion, we see one of the Moon Boys working on parallel bars to learn to walk again. The whole time, he curses himself for letting The Fly get away. 

Now, for the past couple of issues, Moon Knight has been facing another internal conflict of if he is doing any good. The people he was supposed to help turned out to be th villains and the villains turned out to be guided by circumstances and then paid a terrible price. 

"I'm not sure I should ever think about Moon Knight again... I mean, what if it's somebody else's life on the line next time I screw up?" 

Marlene calls an end to today's therapy session and helps 'Steven' back to his wheelchair. 

Samules, the butler, announces a guest and Gena busts in at full speed. 

"Guests, Sammy? We're family. Right Lockley?" 

"How's the kids, Gena?" (Jake is always such a sweetie). 

She gives him a hug and I may tear up. I love Gena so much. 

Crawley bursts in next. 

Jake's friends have always been his support and his heart. 

Jake is worried about the boys. 

Gena is too. "This sure isn't the easiest city in the world to grow up in...Even for good kids." 

They reflect on the gangs always recruiting new members. 

They talk about how Lenny, from the Music box issue, is serving time despite being a good kid. They reflect on the gang that was poisoned and attacked Gena in her diner. 

"Those are the reasons I'm thinking of leaving. My brother has a place in Houston. He needs a manager. Hard decision to make." Gena admits. 

"Do what's best for you and the kids. But... If you can --stay. You've got family here too." 

It's hard to let go of friends. Especially someone as important to their way of life and joy like Gena. Jake relies so heavily on his routine. He visits the diner for breakfast frequently and he goes there when things are stressful or he wants to get away from Steven's life and people. 

Gena heads out, back to the diner. Crawley lingers to have a word. 

Moon Knight used to pay Crawley for information. Crawley has always had a gambling problem and he admits that he's been in it again and is out of cash and overdue on the rent again. 

"I...I was wondering if Moon Knight would be requiring my services soon." 

I'm not sure who is fronting at this junction, but he's giving Steven vibes so I'll say Steven. 

Steven admits that he doesn't know when he'll be up and able to walk again, much less Moon Knighting... 

"I'm not sure Moon Knight will be back." 

Marlene offers to put Crawley on a retainer and holds out some cash. 

"Oh, no. I'm afraid I've gotten to enjoy working for a living again. Not to worry, my dear, I'll be fine." 

Crawley refuses help and asks to be notified if his services are needed. He heads back to the diner.

Steven is angry. "He's my friend, Marlene, and for the first time I'm wondering if it hasn't been my needs as Moon Knight that have kept him down in the gutters--While I come home to THIS every morning.

Maybe it is time to retire as Moon Knight." 

He heads into the room that houses his Khonshu statue. 

"What do you say, Khonshu, Old boy? Is the wheelchair and the legs that won't work some sort of sign that my tour of duty as Moon Knight is over? Have I paid for the crimes of my past? 

All the men I am... Can I put Mercenary Spector to rest? Can I stop driving Lockley's cab?

Can I finally be the man I want to be? I WANT to be Steven Grant, Marlene. He's a good man...The kind of man who could make you happy." 

"That would be nice. Let's talk about it...Sometime." 

"Right. Well, wheelchair or not, I've still got a life to lead. Let's get on with it." 

Narration: And if Khonshu has any thoughts of his own to add...He keeps his own counsel.

So we are dealing with Steven primarily in the chair. It’s interesting that Steven is the one dealing with the PT and learning how to cope. We get glimpses of Jake, but mostly it’s Steven wondering what sort of life he is supposed to follow. The desire to just be Steven. To be a good man. To make Marlene happy. 

Next we see Marlene and Steven going to a Ballet. Steven has sponsored the local ballet in an effort to be "just a good citizen doing what he can." 

Steven goes to meet the star, Sergey Valberg. He's brought along the media to help promote the company and get more people to the Ballet. 

As the media sets up, we catch a glimpse of the angry woman from before that sent the other dancer to space. 

Sergey has agreed to let the media record his rehearsal. They watch in amazement as he dances when suddenly...

A gust of wind knocks all the security around and the woman enters the room. "Sergey... Your dance is over." 

"Marlene... I think she's here to kill him! Try to cover me while I...I... Sit here like a helpless cripple." Steven is realizing he can't do anything.

Wind lady blows the chair over for his trouble. 

Sergey recognizes her. He calls her Bora. 

"I have heard...of a woman whose heart is as cold as the frigid winds she commands. I had hoped I heard wrong." 

She had once rehearsed under Sergey, dreaming of being a great ballerina. Then she found out that she was a Mutant as she not only gained wind powers, but she also grew to over seven feet tall! 

When she went to him for help, she found out that he had fled Russia to America. 

Her dreams of being a ballerina were over. 

"I awoke to find my long cherished goals thrust eternally beyond my reach, for what choreographer had ever conceived a ballet for a seven foot tall artist?!" 

So naturally she decided to punish all those who defected from Russia. 

She drops the temperature to below freezing as the winds swirl around them.... And Sergey starts to dance. 

"If I die, It will be as I have lived--Honoring life through my dance!" 

Steven is helpless to watch from outside of the rehearsal room as the temperature drops and the winds blow. 

"The Bora is a cold, dry wind. It can reach speeds of 125 miles per hour and has been known to overturn trucks. He lets the gusts catch him in mid leap.

His dance has become a language now... His movements its alphabet. The opposition of arms and legs create words. His dance speaks to Steven Grant. It speaks of courage unconquerable." 

Steven crawls to the glass and struggles to get to his feet. 

"The temperature in the enclosed studio is now sixty degrees below zero. The sentences form more slowly. Indeed, there is only breath left...for one... final... statement." 

Sergey takes a final leap. 

"The dancer is dead... But not his dance." 

The wind woman departs and Steven is left helpless. 

He has realized a truth. He asks Marlene to take him home. 

Love the imagery of Khonshu’s statue behind Marlene. “Inside the mansion there is a cold silence. It reminds Marlene of a tomb…in Egypt.” 

"Because I have to be here. Because I'm needed." Steven sits in the wheelchair clutching at the Moon Knight cowl. "You know what's out there. It's a world in which the savages all too often rule our cities, our streets, our souls. 

The Good citizens... The Grants, the Lockley's...They fight that tyranny as best they can. They aren't always enough." 

Steven is starting to understand that as much as he wants to be the good person and the only person, he can't. 

"Moon Knight is more than a good man. He's a force that transcends the brutality and the fear that are the savages' main weapons--Because he can use those weapons himself. 

He's a savage on the side of the angels. A protector of innocents... A symbol of vengeance and hope. And, God willing, If he does his job well enough... He'll be the last savage." 

It's an interesting understanding by Steven. Viewing Moon Knight a a necessary violence force. But does he see Moon Knight as his own person, as Marc Spector, or as all of them working together? 

I know how Moench would portray Moon Knight, but with him out of the picture, how is Marvel going to let the character of Moon Knight advance? 

Steven attempts to stand. 

He fights through the pain. 

For once, he’s not looking to Khonshu for support. Or a miracle. 

"This is the truth learned. That being Moon Knight is not a curse... Nor a state of penance. It is simply who and what he was always meant to be." 

So what is Moon Knight's first course of action? 

He goes to see Professor Charles Xavier's school for gifted youngsters. 

Alright. We are a little over halfway through the comic and we are finally bringing in the X-men. 

He speaks with the Professor himself. 

"The Russians have been unusually co-operative with the bare facts. She's fourteen, off her nut, and operating without their sanction. Not enough. I need to know how her powers work!" 

Moon Knight notes that there are four more defectors in the ballet company and he bets she'll strike again on opening night. 

Professor tells him how he thinks Bora's power works then asks if Moon Knight thinks one man can stop her. 

"I don't know. I don't see where I have any choice but to try. Thank you for your help, professor." 

Leaving, Professor X watches him go. 

"He has doubts. His injury--His recent failure....The pain that yet wracks his body. They all work against him. And still he strives to overcome. The man's determination is both inspiring and frightening." 

He calls in Colossus and Nightcrawler. 

Mostly because you can’t have a comic that boasts about an X-man crossover without the x-men. And any time there’s a one off X-men crossover, they tend to just kinda throw Colossus and Nightcrawler at the situation back in the day. (Current day it’s more like wolverine or some random side characters that Marvel wants to promote at the time for a smaller comic). 

Nightcrawler makes the argument that Mutants should deal with Mutants. 

"I would agree...Normally... But Moon Knight is at a crossroad in his life. He must be given the chance to prove himself to himself. He is a powerful force for good. 

Perhaps more powerful, in his own way, than we X-men. We will not interfere unless necessary." 

Yet... They do all agree that a night at the Ballet might be nice. 

Outside the school we find Frenchie chatting up Storm. 

Opening night, the theater is packed! And what's this? The Thing! 

He says his hello to Nightcrawler. 

Nightcrawler admits that he's there as 'unofficial back-up'. 

Ben laughs. "I guess that makes yours truly and pals the "Official Back-ups, then." 

It would seem that Moon Knight knew he wasn't fully up to full strength so he called in a little extra help. 

"The Fantastic four!" Kirk turns to his row and admits "I, too, came with 'Pals'!" 

And there we see more of the X-men! I'm not a big X-men reader, so I only recognize two, maybe three of the ones there. 

It's also interesting that Moon Knight would specifically ask for help from the fantastic four. He's only had run-ins with DareDevil, Ben, and the Hulk up to this point. Inviting Dare Devil to the ballet would be... a bit off. And the Hulk wouldn't exactly be good backup. 

It's also hilarious that to this day, Ben still considers Moon Knight a friend and every single year will send him Hanukkah cards. In later issues, Moon Knight admits that there aren't a lot of Jewish heroes and that Ben needs to meet others besides himself, since he isn't exactly the most observant. But it's still touching how Ben said "This is my friend." and clung to him for so long.

We see Moon Knight himself up in a box seat overlooking the stage. (And this image really tickled me for POTO reasons. If you know, you know.) 

"But if Kurt Wagner has gained new respect for the Moon's Knight of Vengeance, the object of that praise is himself still wrestling with doubts.

Bora has the power to level this theater. He was crippled by a glorified burglar. Memories of past failure assail him. The waiting is a battle in itself. And that he does not surrender to his doubts in those seemingly interminable minutes is a victory as great as any he has known." 

Okay okay okay. Let's take a moment to appreciate the actual Ballet! 

"Laurencia" - A story of love and tyranny. 

A ballet by Chabukiani. As wiki informs me, "Created at a time when 'choreodrama' was considered in the Soviet Union the only acceptable form of contemporary ballet.' 

Basically it stresses that dance was an ultimate form of expression and all movement should serve as a purpose. 

So ballet at the time seemed to focus heavily on drama based plays. 

The story the ballet is based on is one of a peasant revolution. Which, if you know the most basic of Russian history, this was a big deal for the Soviet Union. 

Now, Chabukiani created his own form of choreographic language in Ballet where he focused heavily on the Male Dancer and created 'the heroic male dance'. 

The play is pretty simple. Village awaits the return of some grand Commander with his army. Meanwhile a girl and her admirer are flirting. The commander returns and immediately desires the beautiful girl. She rejects him so he leaves with his army. The admirer asks the girl to marry him but she isn't sure and doesn't answer. The Commander returns and tries to have the girl. She rejects him again and this time he leaves promising revenge. The girl marries her admirer but the commander interrupts the wedding and arrests her groom. Pretty pissed off, she rallies the village and they storm the castle. They kill the commander and free the groom. 

The original story was written in the 1600s and was based on a real story. 

Back to the comic! 

Bora interrupts just as the revolt against the evil Commander is taking place. 

Winds batter around the ballerinas as Bora steps on stage. 

"The winds of retribution have pursued you from the homeland you hae betrayed! They have decreed your punishment! And they have named Me Your executioner!" 

The X-men and the Fantastic Four hold off, wanting to let Moon Knight take his chance to redeem himself to himself. 

(It's also funny to watch a woman command the winds and have Storm be there like, "Oh she is not going to get away with this".) 

Moon Knight leaps down onto the stage. 

She immediately blasts him with wind. This gives the dancers time to make their escape as he fights against the wind storm. 

Professor X had guessed that Bora's powers were psionic in nature. She was not generating the wind herself like Storm does, but she was opening a sort of portal to harness the winds from their original location. 

Off stage, Marlene and Frenchie flip on the lights and buzzers, giving Bora a massive headache and thus she loses control of her wind. 

The notion that Steven goes around building things ‘just in case Moon Knight needs them’ is hilarious. 

The Fantastic Four do their thing and ensure that the audience and fleeing Ballerina are not injured in the wild winds. 

You gotta love cross-over comics. The X-men could have ended this immediately. Much less the Fantastic. Both in the same building? Come on. But this isn’t their comic. They are guests in this comic so they gotta watch Moon Knight, a man without a single ounce of power who just finished recovering from massive spinal injury crawl across the stage. Look at him go. He’s used to being on the ground anyways. 

We get to see the Various X-men like Kitty Pride and storm and Colossus do their thing to help people. We also see the Fantastic Four do their own thing. 

Pretty pissed off, Bora now focuses fully on Moon Knight and he's getting blown around a bit. 

"The temperature drops rapidly, a full degree per second. He cannot feel what he clutches in his hand. He does not stop. Ice daggers cut deep into his flesh. And still he does not stop." 

Nightcrawler pops in just behind her, giving her a start. The momentary distraction is enough for Moon Knight to get to her and...

DID HE JUST CHLOROFORM HER?!

Yep. Sure did… 

Well... It worked. She passes out. 

Later, back at Grant Mansion Marlene and Steven talk.

"You're tired." "I am exhausted--and in excruciating pain--and feeling completely, totally wonderful!" 

"No more doubts?" 

"Lots. But I won't quit again. What we do is important." 

"I can live with that." 

And we end on Khonshu's statue gazing at Marlene and Steven embracing. 

OKAY. Coming from the future and gazing upon the past, we know what is to come in the comics much much distance from when this one was written. 

He does in fact quit again. He also ends up in a wheelchair again. What’s the difference? This time, it is Steven that handles it. In the future issue, it’s MARC that handles it. Another huge difference? In the future issue with Marc being left crippled, his friends have all left him and he suffers alone, angry, and in despair. This time, we see their friends rally around him. Steven is practical in how he confronts the problem, and Steven takes them through the rehab PT, he puts in the work, and he understands what it means to not be able to recover. He accepts potential failure and he makes peace with it. 

Marc does not. In that future episode, Marc pushes himself over and over again and suffers in miserable agony as he fails and fails and fails. Steven accepts that he is a good man and he can live with himself if he can’t be Moon Knight. Marc cannot. 

We also see the general use of ‘What WE do is important.’. He won’t quit again. He, being Steven Grant, acknowledges that he gave up too soon. He settled too soon and didn’t leave the others any say in the matter. He wrote off Jake and Marc and Moon Knight. Now he sees that he can’t do that. Moon Knight needs his place. 

What I also love is that this was again another show of a battle against oneself. We see him struggling again with his own failures and dip into self depredation. They suffer with imposter syndrome and doubt and depression. He acknowledges that the doubt is still there. That they are still struggling, but that they now know that they need to keep pushing on and forward. 

What I didn’t like about this issue? What happens to the girl? What happened to Bora after she is defeated? 14 years old and her dreams of ballet are gone and she is obviously not taking anything well. Do they just hand her over to the X-men to deal with? Also the main ballet dancer was killed! And the ballet just goes on? He was a pretty important figure it seems like! And the girl from earlier that was killed! I hate loose ends. 

Overall, I really did enjoy this issue, even if it was a cross-over with loose ends. This is the last we see of special guest writer Tony Isabella. In the next issue, we get our first full one from Zelenetz!