#if you get a small breed who treats everything like an enemy? just like before you're forcing a horribly isolated life on your puppy but -

[fabulouslygaybean]

okay apparently im not done ranting about quarantine puppies. for the love of god to NOT get a puppy if you won't bother with training and proper socialization. i don't care if you say it'll help your mental health, i don't care if you just reeeaaaally want one, i don't care if you're only gonna get a teeny tiny toy breed, do not get a damn puppy if you won't put in the necessary work for the sake of their own and other's safety

[softmafia]

Miss Jackson

Hisoka x Enemy Y/n

warnings: fem y/n, enemies with benefits, enemies to lovers(?), nsfw, possession, violence, phone-sex, breeding kink, anal

A/n: atp you all should just assume all of my nsfws are going to have some kind of breeding kink aspect.

Part two

Hisoka and Y/n have been sworn enemies ever since they met. They were both equally strong, they both fought for the thrill and excitement, they try to one up each other for the fun of it. Although Y/n isn’t somebody he’d call tolerable at first glance, she was fierce and a little bit crazy, she had a sharp tongue and fire in her eyes. And to him, sometimes she came off as a little bit arrogant, like the examiner he almost killed the first time he took the Hunter’s exam, only she had potential and so much strength, something that he found himself moaning her name out over into the cold night air. He was angry with himself for uttering such a pathetic name, but he always found himself drawn to her.

Y/n was fun and wild, and not at all reserved or quiet about her plans, traits that Hisoka would never find interest with in an opponent. She was upfront and treated everything as a joke, a game. Hisoka hypocritically thought of her motives as foolish, failing to realize he was only seeing his traits cranked up to 1000 and high on caffeine. She fought and killed for the fun of it, but she done things so quickly and never took the time to fully experience the heat of the battle. Y/n knew she was strong, she could take out opponents in two seconds while blindfolded. Arrogance and immaturity, Hisoka thought. And do not get him started on her party-animal friends, they were just as loud and annoying as she was, he hated all of them. Especially the one who would always make sexual, flirtatious remarks at her, he hated him the most and wanted to dig his nails into his throat. What he hated even more was whenever they would get excited, a loud, shrill chorus of “EEEEEEE” would make everybody’s ears bleed, and they got excited over everything. However, Hisoka had to give credit where it’s due, they were a powerful bunch, and her ability was powerful, how she used it was perfect. But she used it for all the wrong reasons.

Y/n had a powerful kick, she had amazingly strong, toned legs. That was one of her strengths and the center of her main ability, it reminded him of troupe member 11’s ability, but he need not think of the powers of the deceased. To summarize, she annoyed him, but he was oddly captivated. The way she used her curves and beauty to throw off or tease opponents, her evil malicious grin and her beady devilish eyes to go along with it.

Along with how Y/n would mock him whenever she rendered him hurt and vulnerable, kicking dust or dirt in his direction. Hisoka had never felt such fiery rage in his life, the first time she struck him down he remembered the irritation; her loud, shrill, taunting voice, his teeth barred and he grasped at the ground. They both returned venomous glances before going their separate ways. Hisoka remembered how angry he was, and shamefully aroused. Hisoka spent the next few lonely nights with Y/n on his mind, his thick cock in his grasp as he thought about simply ruining her, breaking her spirit and reducing her to a cum rag, his personal toy.

Currently, Hisoka was sitting by a window, looking down at the busy city that never seemed to sleep, no emotion lingered in his cold, golden eyes as he glared at the small civilians. Until his phone lit up, a text message from an unfamiliar number. Hisoka’s brows furrowed as he opened his phone, scrolling through the messages.

Unknown: hey sexy ;)

Hisoka: sorry. you have the wrong number.

Unknown: I don’t think I do, Hiso❤️

Hisoka first thought this was simply a case of a wrong number, or a butt-dial, but that nickname, one that he had grown to hate so much. This was none other than Y/n, how she had obtained his phone number was a mystery but he knew she had her ways, he growled.

Y/n: Don’t even try to block me, trolol, I have a bazillion other phones here.

Hisoka: I wasn’t planning to. What do you want this late at night?

Hatred burned in his soul, but he was intrigued, thinking his night was about to get interesting. And so it was. Y/n had sent him a scandalous picture, a low shot photo of her low-rise jeans hanging loosely off of her hips, jeans that always seemed like they were about to drop to her knees, Hisoka always hoped that would happen mid battle, her finger was stretching her g-string. The photo made his mouth water, his teeth grit inside of his mouth.

Hisoka: is this what you wanted me for?♥️

Y/n: uh duh lmao, send one🤰

The magician had never thought he would end up this way with the woman he hated to his core, but here he was. To be honest he wasn’t thinking when he decided to unzip his pants, his now hardened cock springing out of his briefs. He switched to the camera and took a quick picture, with help of the lighting from the city below, and the bright Heaven’s Arena room lights. Hisoka felt quite silly with his cock out on a balcony, but he had done much worse things before. Again, without thinking, he sent it.

Y/n: :o

Y/n: oh wow. You’re huge.

Hisoka: What were you expecting?

Y/n: 🦐

Hisoka: -_-

Y/n had sent another picture, her bare breasts with one of his cards she had stolen, sticking out of her cleavage. The joker card. He growled as he let arousal take over him. A cruel smirk crept upon his face.

Hisoka: is this what you really want~? Was annoyance your way of flirting with me~?

Though he doesn’t mind some romance in his life, considering he did find himself lonely at times, he would choose anybody over her, or so he thought.

Y/n: what lol, hell no. You’re weird af, I just want a little enemies with benefits y’know? Lets see what happens ;9

Hisoka’s heart dropped only slightly, but not enough for him to even notice, he scrolled up to her boob picture again, he rubbed his lips together and tightly grabbed his cock, pumping it as his eyes admired her bust, he exhaled crudely. Y/n sent another picture, catching his attention and eagerly making him wanting to see it. It wasn’t sexual, but it was a picture of a doorway, his doorway. Hisoka growled and turned his phone off, slamming it on the table beside him as he got up.

Y/n was now laying on his bed like some type of princess, as if she owned the place. “Wow. You know, I kind of thought you were trashy for staying in this place but I can see why you love living here!” She commented, taking in the sweet aroma of his blankets, “This place is like.. five stars!” Her basking was interrupted as Hisoka grabbed her by the back of her shirt, lifting her in the air like a small kitten. Their size difference was almost comical, making him smirk seeing her so vulnerable, reminding him of the many times he had won his scuffles with her. He then forced her to look up at him with his other hand, his eyes were cold and terrifying, “You don’t send me a picture of your breasts, and then just show up here~” he purred, like a predator just about to gobble his prey up whole. Y/n grinned at him with her evil, shark-like smile, making him hold back the urge to knock all of her teeth out, “Come on~ You liked it~” she wittily sneered, and after a long silence, she spoke again, “If you keep scowling like that you’re gonna age yourself 20 years.. but it looks like you already have.” She snorted.

Hisoka dropped her on the bed, her eyes quickly shifted to his crotch. She licked her lips which drove him even more mad than he already was, his heart pumped with perverted desire. “You still have this thing out?!” She giggled, getting on all fours and giving his tip a small lick all while looking up at him, she swayed her rear end from side to side teasingly, “Mm~ it’s even bigger in person!” She laughed, clearly biting off more than she could chew. Hisoka smiled at her, then grabbed the back of her hair, “Ah? You think so~? Why don’t you have a thorough inspection~” All Y/n could do was gasp when Hisoka suddenly crammed all of his length inside of her throat, enjoying how her muffled noises would send vibrations through his groin, her throat squeezed him perfectly. Y/n coughed and exhaled through her nose in a panicked state, amusing Hisoka even more, “Ah~ how delightful~” he looked down at her, the fury in her eyes read a look of “I’m about to fucking bite you”, he felt her teeth, which made him quickly draw her back. He still kept his creepy smile, watching as she gasped for air and coughed.

Y/n reached up and grabbed his wrist tightly, “I fucking hate you.” She snarled, to which he flipped her and pinned her to the bed, he leaned in close to her, pinning her body against the mattress. He towered over her and rendered her helpless, his breath was hot against the nape of her neck, the smell of blood and champagne almost made her cringe, “The feeling is mutual~ brat~” he muttered before easily pulling down her loose jeans, forcing her small g-string to the side. “It’s so pathetic how wet you are~” he hummed, the tip of his penis brushed against her clit, making her whimper and coat with more juices, “Hm~ what a dilemma~ you’re cunt is so.. tiny~ if I fuck you I might rip you to pieces~” his words made her gasp and tremble, she bit a mouthful of bedsheet to prepare for what was about to unfold. He pressed his body against her again, almost suffocating her, “Thankfully, my dear, I don’t give a fuck~” he growled at her, slamming his pelvis against her, and in one harsh thrust, he was inside. All of his length right down to the base, he was stretching her so much she was certain he had to be breaking something, she screamed with a mouth full of sheets, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Hisoka was surprised at how tight Y/n was, he held her shoulders in place as he rose over her, looking at just how much damage he was causing his little rival, he grinned and leaned back down to lap up her tears, “Yes~ Exactly where I’ve always wanted you~” his words and the power of his thrusts made her cum, hard, “Oh~! Did I pop your little cherry~?” He mocked her, laughing maniacally as he continued to assert his dominance over her, thrusting and exploring her body with his hands as she screamed and moaned, hugging the pillows and sheets tightly. “Your pussy really does feel good around me, nice and tight~” Hisoka licked his lips hungrily, grabbing her shoulders again tightly, holding her firmly against the mattress. Y/n spit out the wad of bedsheet that was in her mouth, “It’s too big~!!” She choked out, looking back to meet Hisoka’s primal gaze. He laughed and slapped her ass, making her jump, “You’ll learn to love it~” he cooed at her, “You wanted this after all right~? It’s why you came~”

As much as Y/n hated to admit it, she loved the man, but she also had burning hatred for him. She thought he was a creep, the amount of times she would catch him ogling her from the corner of her eye, along with some other woman with pink hair. That’s what angered her, Y/n thought of him as a player and a fuckboy. Everything about him was vexing to her, but the way he acted high and mighty towards “weak people” made her hate him the most, he rarely saw people for their personality, he never gives anybody a chance! He sees people as walking weapons, and she knew he saw her much perversion. But still, somehow she loved him, it was a hateful crush and a confusing one at that. The first time they fought, his hands touched her all over her body, it was rough and painful; she loved it. “Guh~ Ah~!!” Y/n started drooling, her entire body trembling with every hard, gut churning thrust Hisoka would do.

Hisoka was nearly close to his climax, as was she, both of their moans got increasingly louder and his hold on her got tighter. He turned her around, laying her on her back and lifted her small self-cut crop top over her breasts, a lustful, animalistic look in his eye as he watched them bounce with his insane thrusting, his hands held her by her waist firmly. Y/n never wore bras, something that disgusted Hisoka, but at the same time captivated him and aroused him, “Keep wearing your clothes like this~” he growled, “When I get you pregnant~” he heard her squeak and tremble under him, her walls squeezed tightly around him as his thrusts got even faster. He smiled and brought their lips together, he bit down on her bottom lip harshly to milk another shriek out of her, “I want everybody to know I fucked you~ Ooh imagine that, knocked up and heavy with the offspring of the man you swear you hate~” he groaned into her ear, “You call me a perverted creep, yet here you are~ Under me with open legs~” he laughed sadistically, taunting her. Y/n’s legs trembled as they wrapped around Hisoka’s waist, she panted loudly with his thrusts. “Fuck.~” she breathed out, “You’re fucking gross~” she moaned before cumming around him, gasping out for air as she felt him do the same, inside of her. Y/n spasmed for a moment, holding onto Hisoka tightly, they both growled into the hot air. She dug her nails into his back and left long scratch marks on his skin, which made him groan lowly.

Y/n was panting, and trembling, when Hisoka finally pulled his length out of her she felt as if her organs would start to spill out. “Oh god..” she groaned, her pussy was hurt and burning but for some reason it felt so good, making her tremble even more. “Stay here for the night~” Hisoka ordered, slapping one of Y/n’s tits just to watch it bounce again, she yelped and made him laugh, “You can wear one of my shirts~ I’ll be in the shower.” He left the bed after rubbing his hand through her midsection pervertedly. Y/n knew he would never act this kind without a twist, but she accepted it anyway. She sat at the edge of the bed, immediately getting dizzy upon sitting upright too quickly. She was sure she wasn’t going to be able to walk, the muscles in her legs cramped unbearably and her nether region still burned, she felt herself becoming aroused again at the shameful feeling but she ignored it. Y/n quickly regained some energy to quickly run to Hisoka’s closet, opening it and leaning against the wall for balance. She skimmed through the articles of clothes until she found something interesting, one of her old AC/DC shirts she thought she lost, hanging in the far back of his closet. Why does he have this?! There no way this fits on him!! Y/n grabbed her shirt, upset and confused.

Is this why he wanted me to look through his clothes? So he could just give me my shirt back without confrontation? Asshole. She grumbled as she slipped on the shirt, she quickly ran back to the bed, jumping and flopping down on the soft blankets, her legs finally getting some relief. After what seemed like forever, Hisoka came out of the shower, his towel was wrapped around his waist and water droplets dripped down his muscles, his faded pink hair draped over his eyes. He was mouthwatering but Y/n just ignored it the best she could, a bright hue decorated her cheeks, “Do you wanna tell me how my missing shirt got into your closet?” She spoke up, Hisoka shot her a wide-eyed glance, he looked surprised for a split second before he looked away.

She wasn’t supposed to see that, damn it. Hisoka cursed to himself, he walked to his dresser and pulled out a pair of boxers, dropping the loose towel and putting them on. “You’re not gonna answer?” Y/n crossed her arms. “You stole one of my cards, that makes us even.” Hisoka simply replied, walking to the bed again and laying down, face turned away from hers. “Uh, yeah. I lost this shirt months ago, I only stole your stupid card a few hours ago.” Stupid card. Her words brought a snarl to Hisoka’s face, he turned and looked at her, “What I steal is none of your business.” he turned away again.

“Uh? It is my business when it’s MY shirt!”

“Do you want me to break your jaw with my cock?”

Y/n growled and grabbed Hisoka’s hair, pulling on it roughly, “Tell my why you have my shirt!!” She yelled, Hisoka jerked and grabbed her wrist, squeezing it tightly until he felt her draw back. He sat up and glared at her menacingly, “I use it. As a pillowcase.” He finally admitted, his eyes looked tired, this was the first time she saw him up close without his face paint and makeup. Hisoka had prominent dark circles under his eyes, his skin was rough and he looked even more pale. Light, almost unnoticeable freckles painted the bridge of his nose and sides of his face. Y/n swallowed at nothing as she fully took in all of his handsome features, “A pillowcase..?” She chuckled a little bit, still in awe by how beautiful this man was. Hisoka looked away, then laid down again, “For when I have trouble sleeping.” He was mumbling.

Y/n tilted her head, then laid herself on Hisoka’s back, her hands tracing his jaw, “What did you say~?” She smiled. Hisoka furrowed his brows, “For when my other pillowcases are in the laundry.” He corrected himself, trying not to fluster, her weight on his back was starting to annoy him but he let her stay. “That’s not what you said!” Y/n laughed, sitting up and bouncing on his lower back. Which crossed the line and made Hisoka swat her away, “If you knew what I said why are you asking~?” He said tiredly. Y/n shrugged and rolled over, curling in on herself while hugging one of his pillows, “Goodnight, Hiso~”

The morning after, Y/n woke up tangled in Hisoka’s bedsheets, and he was nowhere to be seen. She sat up and stretched her arms, her body was aching even more, on the side table sat a plate of food, breakfast that Heaven’s Arena housekeeping would bring by for the residents. She pouted a little bit when she finally realized Hisoka wasn’t here, but she shrugged it off, only eating the strips of bacon and the toast before grabbing her discarded clothes off of the floor.

She slipped on her panties and jeans. She looked in the mirror at her shirt that hung loosely on her body, she thought about what Hisoka said last night. Y/n sighed and took off the shirt, tossing it on Hisoka’s bed and putting on her crop top, then left.

It only started as a guilty pleasure for Hisoka, he dressed his bare pillow with her shirt and pleasured himself to her scent. Although one night he accidentally fell asleep on it, and ever since he hasn’t been able to sleep well without her smell, if Y/n hadn’t shown up that night he would’ve just spent the rest of it sitting on the balcony and drinking champagne. Hisoka cursed for letting himself be swooned by somebody so, ignorant and pathetic. The nights where he would try to sleep without that shirt would only leave him frustrated and restless, either looking up at the ceiling with a distressed expression, or his elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

Later that night, Hisoka was sitting on his couch when two small hands reached from the closet behind him, moving themselves on his shoulders, neck, and face. The slapped and touched around his face for a moment before grabbing his shoulders, pulling him into the closet. It was Y/n, of course, she slung her arms around his shoulders and kissed his sloppily, to which he accepted as he groped her hips. She tugged on his hair tightly as he started to grind his body against hers, their tongues intertwined. Just when Hisoka thought he was about to get lucky, again, Y/n withdrew. Hisoka’s eyebrows raised as he watched her pry himself away from him, walking out of the closet after giving him a flirtatious, evil grin. Fire burned in his soul as his fists clenched, I thought I tamed you. He growled, bloodlust flooded his entire room, he was left alone in his closet, hunched over an angry as he still tasted Y/n in his mouth.

The next time Hisoka caught Y/n, was when she was alone in the woods, an abandoned, rundown, vacant campsite. She was laying down on one of the log-benches, throwing a baseball up into the air and catching it repeatedly. A wicked grin on his face, he had attached his bungee gum to her moments prior, waiting for the right moment to. Release. He sent her flying into the air, she screamed and tried to process what was happening, but instead her side got empaled with cards. Y/n gasped and Hisoka sprung up, taking her in a headlock before the both of them came tumbling to the ground. “Hisoka!”

“This is for leaving me high and dry~” Hisoka growled, pulling down her shorts and panties, two fingers inserting themselves into her pussy, spreading his fingers wide inside of her. Hisoka’s arm squeezed tighter around her neck as he fingered her roughly, he quickly unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out, her ass was soaked from her cum so he used that as lubrication, he wasted no time shoving his cock inside of her ass. Y/n gasped for air as her body clenched tightly around him, “Fuck~!!” She wailed, Hisoka dug his fingers back inside of her cunt and began to thrust. She struggled and kicked, nails digging into Hisoka’s arm, “Agh~!! Oh my god it feels so huge~!!” She whimpered and squeezed Hisoka’s arm. He bit down on her earlobe, “Never stray away from your alpha~” despite her situation, Y/n couldn’t help but scoff.

“I don’t believe in all of that, sigma male, alpha male shit.” She strained a laugh, causing Hisoka’s grip to tighten harder around her neck, making her speechless. His cock thrusted harder inside of her ass, he pinched and slapped her clit. Y/n tried to make noises, but all that came out were strangled broken breaths, which turned Hisoka on even more, “Do you feel it in your belly~?” He slid his cum soaked hand over her stomach, feeling the way his cock jabbed at her with each thrust, “It really makes you feel full doesn’t it~?” He bit her earlobe again.

He felt her going limp, which made him quickly remove his arm. She gasped for air, her breaths turning into screams of pain and pleasure, “You’re fucking.. destroying my ass~!” She cried, sending Hisoka over the edge and cumming deep into her. She felt relief when she came, but felt shame and embarrassment when she realized she just came from getting assfucked. Hisoka flipped her around, her face on the dirty ground and her ass up in the air, he spread her cheeks and watched as she squeezed out his seed, it dripped from her gaping hole down to the puffy lips of her pussy, Y/n groaned and whimpered, clawing at the ground in an embarrassed attempt to get away. Hisoka slapped her ass and laughed at her, thinking she was utterly pitiful, “Thats my disgusting, filthy little girl~!” He purred, then he dropped her on the ground. Hisoka eyed her panting, limp, sweaty body with hungry eyes and a malicious smile, he looked at her shorts and underwear, that were laying where he last threw them. Humming, Hisoka strolled over and plucked her panties from the ground, twirling them around in the air with his finger before putting them in his pocket, “I’ll take my reward~” he looked at Y/n again,

“Let this be a lesson, never disappoint your dominator~”

Hisoka’s back and arm still burnt from the scars Y/n had left on him, he licked his lips about the pain, he could still smell her on his skin, and taste her in his mouth which made him shudder in arousal. He was with the troupe, he really should be listening to whatever they had to say but it was just so boring, Chrollo wasn’t even there so Hisoka had absolutely nothing to keep him entertained. Other than the sight of Machi but even that got tiring after a while, she obviously showed no interest and would never return any of his advances, not even a spiteful glance. Hisoka sighed mentally, he knew Y/n would never give him cold shoulders, or make him bored or leave him without making him feel some type of emotion other than boredom. Y/n. Hisoka’s teeth ground against each other, he was thinking of her again, damn it, damn Y/n. There it is again! If he could groan in anguish, he would.

Mixed feelings of love, lust, hatred, and anger made him even more confused about himself, and his feelings. He thought she was a pretty face and a good fuck, but hated her attitude, but he also loved it. Hisoka was stressing himself out, desperately trying to think of something else but it all brought him back to Y/n. His eyes closed tightly, shuffling his cards calmly. Hisoka now only had 1 joker card, he used to have 2 but now it’s probably lodged in the braless bosom of that skater girl he fucked. He didn’t know if he shuddered in disgust or arousal. I have to get out of this atmosphere, this boredom is doing things to my head.. Hisoka sighed, standing and making some bullshit excuse to get the hell out of there. The fresh, polluted, York New air never felt so nice. Hisoka walked casually through the busy streets, people who knew of him kept their distance and tried their best not to make eye contact, other civilians simply thought he was odd and weird, either from his aura or just him. He passed by a flower shop, looking in through the window he saw a nice bouquet of black roses, something that suited Y/n so nicely. He imagined her with a skintight, elegant black gown, something realistically she would never allow herself to wear, he pressed his lips together and closed his eyes tightly to rid himself of that seductive image. Hisoka walked inside, grabbed the bouquet, and left without paying. The shopkeeper was too afraid to tell him off, so the man said nothing, his jaw wide and afraid as he watched Hisoka walk off, knowing his boss was going to hand him his ass later.

Y/n stayed at a condo, living lavish as she should, and was currently laying on her couch watching TV. She heard knocking on her door, making her groan and get up lazily, she was in her pajamas which was also a skintight crop top with baggy pants. She opened the door, surprised to see Hisoka standing there with flowers in his hand, he gave her a brief, coy smile. Y/n almost blushed, seeing the bouquet, “Oh, hey.” She said, returning the small smile. Hisoka held the flowers out in front of her, “I got these, and I wanted to give them to you~” Y/n’s eyes widened, they glimmered as she took the large bouquet in her hands, she felt as if she would cry. Usually Hisoka would only gift large bunches of flowers to Machi, as Y/n discovered from her stalking observing. And the girl would just throw them away! How ungrateful! The display left Y/n gritting her teeth angrily as she sat in a bush nearby. She always found herself growing angry whenever she would see him showing unrequited affection to her. It made Y/n almost go feral, multiple times, luckily her friends were holding her back. She told herself this was because she hated seeing Hisoka happy, that she didn’t want to see Hisoka succeed in the love life. But what normal rival would foam at the mouth of the sight of their worst enemy simply flirting with another person?

Y/n stammered, “I.. I don’t know what to say. These are really for me?” She weakly looked up at him, Hisoka stifled a laugh and nodded, coving the bottom half of his face with his hand to avoid her eyes catching his blush. “Do you like them?” He asked, no sign of emotion hinted in his voice but he seemed.. positive. Y/n nodded rapidly, a single tear slipping down her cheek, “Yeah! These are beautiful!”

Hisoka felt a flutter in his chest, something he only felt once or twice, but it was never as strong as this one was. He inhaled before speaking quickly, “I need to go now, I left a Troupe meeting for this.” He didn’t know what else to do, so he awkwardly reached his hand out and patted Y/n’s head, his hand dropped down and stroked her hair before he drew back and left. Y/n’s mouth hung open, and her face was red all over, “Um! Ok! Bye!” She almost voiced an “I love you” but she quickly contained herself, after she closed the door she leaned against it, then slid down. Y/n hugged the flowers against her then looked down at them. This guy I hate.. gave me flowers? And I accepted them?!

I gave the woman I hate flowers. And she accepted them?! Hisoka’s palms were sweaty as he walked, crunching leaves sounded as he crushed them with his heels. She seemed happy, she even cried, her face was red.. she looked so adorable. He knew this was a terrible idea, why did he do that? What was he thinking? Was he even thinking, he doesn’t remember. He sighed, standing atop of the ledge of a hill, the troupe was walking together, presumably talking about their mission, or target, or whatever was happening. Hisoka barely paid attention. He looked up to the sky, his eyes caught note of a long, skinny looking cloud. It resembled a baseball bat,

Y/n always loved baseball. He hissed, looking away from the sky, damn it.

[sanzoumon]

FREE RICKORTY+ PROMPTS!:

Seriously, if you wanna write any of these just go for it and then let me know. Spoilers for S5E10. Some are more gen but could also be shippy, smut encouraged but optional. All of these are definitely bottom!Morty btw. Others are straight up smut.

Non-rickorty prompts (really just Morty x Summer) are are the bottom.

PROMPTS:

Trapped on what remains of the Citadel, Rick confesses that he recently realized he’s in love with Morty and that he wants to be by Morty’s side forever - in whatever way Morty wants (as in be it romantic, familial, platonic, whatever, it’s Morty’s choice). How does Morty feel and what will he decide?

After the whole Planetina thing Morty gets much needed comfort from Beth. Tho he feels better after that, Morty feels the overwhelming need to be with Rick. As it happens, after that whole ordeal with Daphne, Rick feels an overwhelming need to be with Morty. Bedsharing and comfort ensue.

Morty notices that ever since the Citadel was destroyed, Rick’s been way more physically affectionate. Little touches, petting his hair, hugging, casually rubbing soothing circles on him when they relax, wanting to cuddle, affectionate kisses, handholding, even nuzzling him. Morty likes it. A LOT.

In a rare moment of relaxation, Rick and Morty snuggling up together, they share a kiss. Both are shocked but then immediately begin an intense make-out session.

Rick wants to make up for his prior mistreatment of Morty. Morty asks for something be never expected: A kiss. And Morty means a full on kiss - tongue included. Who is Rick to deny him?

Rick and Morty have a rather intense incest kink. Lots of dirty talk.

Morty finds out that Rick has feelings for him. Rick freaks out, feels like a piece of shit, and tries to run away. Morty stops him, clings to him, begs Rick to calm down and to not leave him. Rick is practically hysterical, Morty gets him to shut up and calm down the only way he can - a kiss.

Morty preys on Rick’s guilt for having mistreated Morty in the past by guilting him into having sex. Morty knows Rick doesn’t want it, but he’ll do anything Morty wants. Morty feels like shit doing this but he can’t get about of how good Rick feels inside him.

Morty royally screws up on an adventure, almost getting himself killed, and Rick opts for a good ol fashioned punishment - a bare bottom spanking. Aftercare happens because Rick was terrified for Morty and needs him to understand this is why he spanked him.

Rick suffers from Domdrop after a really emotionally intense session with Morty. Morty provides Rick with the aftercare he needs.

The family finds out about Rick and Morty’s relationship. Shocking everyone, it’s Beth who attacks Rick square in a blind rage. The whole time Morty is begging her to stop hurting Rick, who doesn’t even try to defend himself, and it’s Jerry and Summer who have to hold her back so she’ll actually listen to Morty.

Rick and Morty get married at the alien equivalent of Las Vegas. Summer was a witness and recorded the whole thing.

In another dimension it’s considered a rite of passage for a boy to have sex with the household patriarch when he turns 14. Morty never felt the need to do that but then Rick comes along and says that’s because Jerry wasn’t man enough to do it, so Rick takes it upon himself to do so.

Morty is attracted to Rick specifically because Rick is a dirty old man.

On the Citadel, some Morty’s are bred purely to be sex slaves for Rick’s. Bred to be more compliant, submissive, and who love Rick’s unconditionally no matter how badly they mistreat them.

Rick and Morty have an emotionally incestuous relationship. Basically: “when a parent or caregiver relies on a child for the support that an adult partner would usually provide. They may also treat the child like a romantic partner.”

Morty deliberately gets himself into trouble on adventures because Rick will, out of worry and adrenaline pumping through him, fuck Morty afterward like an animal. Like a twisted version of “glad to be alive sex”.

Rick and Morty have to hide in a tight fitting enclosed space while facing each other. Awkward boners and grinding / dry humping ensue.

Omegavese. Morty goes into heat and Rick knocks him up. It wouldn’t be so bad if Rick wasn’t seriously turned on by Morty being pregnant with his baby.

Omegaverse. Unclaimed Omega’s have it rough and are constant targets for harassment. One day Morty gets assaulted by some Alpha’s at school and before they’re able to violate and claim him, Rick shows up and makes them wish they were never born. Morty knew right then that Rick was his Alpha and begs for Rick to claim him.

Rookie Cop Rick x Cop Morty. Rick likes how chubby Morty is.

Toxic Rick x Toxic Morty. They’re both made up of the irrational attachments they have for each other. Without their healthier selves to reign them in they can’t keep their hands off each other. Basically, in between all the science, Toxic Rick fucks Toxic Morty and Toxic Morty can’t get enough of just how much Rick loves him.

Evil Rick x Evil Morty. Sometimes Morty lets Rick have control of himself again just so Rick will rape him like he used to before Morty took control.

Morty’s fantasy is for Rick to fuck him against his will while Morty cries and begs Rick to stop. Rick can’t deny Morty his perverted fantasy.

Rick goes on a rampage to save Morty and, by the time all is said and done, Rick is mildly wounded and is practically drenched in the blood of his enemy. And it’s the hottest thing Morty has ever seen in his life. Morty wants Rick to fuck him right then and there, raw and primal, using the blood as lube.

Morty’s just so small and cute. Rick loves it a little too much.

Rick loves to degrade and humiliate Morty in bed. Morty loves it too.

Breeding kink. They like to pretend Morty can actually get pregnant when they have sex.

OTHER:

Summer asks Rick to shrink her giant space incest baby down to normal baby size. Everyone tries to talk her out of it because she’s young and not ready to raise a baby, but she knows she can’t live without him and that she wants this.

Morty x Summer. It may have been under very weird circumstances but fact is they have a baby together. Summer says she doesn’t expect anything from Morty and is cool with it, but Morty wants to be involved. Raising a kid together can make you feel things you never expected to feel.

Morty x Summer. Morty liked attractive redheads and Summer is no exception.

Morty x Summer. After everything they’ve seen and done, sex with each other to relieve stress isn’t that noteworthy.

Morty x Summer. Summer is humiliated that she actually enjoys being fucked by her little brother. Worse yet, Morty knows it and taunts her with it while fucking her. Worst of all, him doing that makes it even better for her.

Morty x Summer. Set during the time Rick was in prison. They’re always fighting lately, sometimes to the point of physical aggression. One thing leads to another.

Morty & Summer. After the whole Morty Jr. thing, Morty isn’t sure he wants to be a dad again. But Summer is worn ragged with school, taking care of their recently-shrunk-to-normal-size space baby, and their family giving her crap for raising him instead of leaving him in space. And, well, he is responsible for the kid existing in the first place. Basically they raise their baby together.

Summer sees Morty getting picked on at school and she ends up beating up his bully half to death.

Morty x Summer. Something happens and they end up bound together face to face with Morty’s head buried in Summer’s boobs. They’re so big and soft that he gets aroused in spite of himself. Summer feels it, insults him like expected, but tells him just to hurry up and get rid of it by grinding against her thigh so they can start pretending this whole thing never happened sooner.

————

And that’s all I got for now, folks! I know it’s a long list and it’s all over the place but I have so many ideas in my head and the S5 finale just sent my imagination into overdrive.

So please, if you’re a writer, I hope these prompts inspire you. Let me know if you write anything, please!

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Prey for You | Part 6

Genre: Smut, angst.

Word Count: 5.6k

Summary: As Chan gets closer to his heat and you get closer to Felix, things are bound to come to a head.

Warnings: super unhealthy relationship, dom!chan, sub!reader, spanking, exhibitionism, breeding kink, violence, big dick chan, fingering, enemies to lovers, wolf!hybrid chan, fox!hybrid reader

(If you know the owner of this gif pls let me know so I can credit them)

You barely spend any time in the house anymore, only going back to sleep. Chan can’t seem to grasp the fact that it’s really over. He keeps trying to talk his way back into your life like last time, but you don’t give him the chance. You’re afraid if you listen to him, he’ll trick you again.

You end up spending more and more time with Felix, something that angers Chan greatly. He even tries to tell Felix to stay away from you, as the cat begrudgingly admitted to you one day, but he refused. And you’re ever so grateful for that. You don’t really have any friends and if you did, you’re such none of them could hold a candle to Felix.

He was such a sweetheart in a way that was almost too good to believe. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t been through the same sort of stuff you have, and cat hybrids in general are more favored and accepted than fox hybrids. Or maybe it’s because he found a group of friends that accepted him for who he was and never doubted him. But he seemed to have so much faith and trust in the world that you could never come close to. Still, just being in his positive presence rubbed off on you a little and gave you a smidge of happiness by proxy.

It was much needed, as the closer Chan got to his heat, the more explosive his temper became. Unfortunately for you, the mere fact that you were spending time with Felix fueled his anger, and he would fly into rage every time you’d come back home smelling like the cat. So any sense of cheerfulness you may have gotten from Felix was quickly smashed to the ground the moment you walked through the door.

It also wasn’t helping that he hasn’t hooked up with anyone ever since your last time together, and not satisfying what his body was literally demanding from him just made things ten times worse. But he persisted, trying till the end to convince you to spend his heat with him. You refused, of course.

Until finally, he informs you that you will have to leave the house for a few days as he will be bringing someone over to spend his heat with him. He wanted to rent a hotel room for you but you told him you already had a place to stay. He asks where you’ll stay, the grimace already on his face telling you that he knew the answer; you’ll be with Felix.

You pack your bag with the things you’ll be needing for the next few days under Chan’s watchful eyes. He stays silent until it’s time for you to leave. That’s when he takes your hand in his, proclaiming earnestly, “I really didn’t want to do this. I don’t want anyone else but you.”

“It doesn’t matter now.” You mumble, trying to move away but he grips your hand tighter, looking down at it intensely. "Please don't stay with Felix. I'll get you a five star hotel suite."

You wrench away from him. "Because I'll ruin him?"

"No." He shakes his head vehemently. "Just please. For me?"

You snort. "I don't owe you shit, Chan."

_______________________

You can barely sit still. Just knowing that Chan was with another woman right now made you sick to your stomach, and once again, you find your traitorous heart wishing you had given in to him. This just hurts too much. 

Felix is concerned about you, and he does all he can think of to take your mind off of it. He talks to you. He bakes you cookies. He cuddles with you. He tries to distract you in any way, but nothing works. 

Finally, he brings out the alcohol, knowing that that’s what helped you last time. You throw yourself into it, downing glass after glass to snuff out your jealousy and pain, but all that accomplishes is getting you more disinhibited and loud. 

“I can’t take it, Felix. He’s with another woman right now when he should be with me.”

“No. You deserve so much better.” Felix insists, trying to contain you in his embrace but you’re fidgeting too much. “Chan didn’t treat you right.”

“But he can, right? I mean he loves you so much. Maybe if we just try--” You maniacally explain but Felix’s angelic face twists into a scowl. “Do you even know the kind of stuff he used to say about you? That was the first time that I’ve ever looked down on him--when he was being so unfair to you.” 

You gulp, heart wrenching at the thought of the kind of things he must’ve said to his friends that would anger Felix so much. “But...what can I do, Lixie? It hurts so bad.”

Felix cups your face, so soft and delicate, looking into your eyes adoringly. “Let me take your mind off it.” He whispers. 

“What?” The word barely leaves your lips before his own lips are on you, kissing you tenderly. 

 You freeze in shock as Felix’s lips move over yours, trying to get you to reciprocate, but you pull away. "Kitty… don't."

He doesn’t let you go. “Stop thinking about him, please. Focus on me.” He coaxes, pressing his lips to yours in light pecks, his gaze pulling you in. 

You give into the soft feeling of his lips on yours. So far nothing has worked to ease your mind. Maybe this will. It feels nice kissing him, he’s soft and malleable, working with you according to what you want, letting you lead the kiss when you’re ready. 

You get closer to each other by the second, and when you pull him onto your lap, his crotch rubs against your thigh, and he moans out. 

“Are you hard already, kitty?” You tug on his hair, pulling his head away and restricting his answering nod.

You slide your hands down his body and pull his pants down over his dick, freeing it. “What a cute little dick, Lixie.” You coo, seeing his small member red and twitching against his abdomen. 

He blushes, burying his face in your neck and moaning out as you wrap your hand around his dick. “Fits just right in my hand.” You jerk him, the boy easily whining.

“Does it feel good, kitty?” 

“Y-yeah.” He kisses your neck wetly, trailing down towards your chest and mouthing at your breast through your top. “So good. Been wanting this for so long.” 

“You did? And here I thought you’re an innocent kitty.” 

“I am. I’m a good kitty.” He moans, trying to kiss you again but you keep his head away.

“Do good kitties lust after their friend’s girl?” 

His face morphs with annoyance, surprising you. “Shut up about him.” The way he spoke threw you off. It was unlike him and you were annoyed by the unexpected change. Narrowing your eyes at him, you hiss warningly, “Felix...” 

“Chan is literally balls deep in another girl right now. Fuck him.” He huffs insolently, his hands going up to grope your chest. 

You slap him, the wetness of his precum sticking to his cheek. “Shut up.”

“Why do you still care about him after all he's done to you?” He asks angrily. 

“Because I love him!” You find yourself answering easily. You do love him, despite everything he put you through. 

“He doesn’t deserve your love. He’s a fucking asshole.”

“He’s your best friend. He thinks of you like a brother!” You know you shouldn't defend him but you also know that Chan would be absolutely devastated if he found out that's what Felix thinks of him. It was never your intention to drive a wedge between them.

Felix scoffs, getting off you and adjusting his clothes irritably. “Yeah and I have to forever follow his every word or I’ll be an ungrateful bastard, right? I thought you out of everyone else would understand!”

“Understand what?” You exclaim. 

“When Chan took me under his wing,” Felix begins, voice gruff with a bitterness you’re all too familiar with. “I was so blown away by how nice that is, that I basically worshipped him. And he liked that about me. I know he loves me but a big part of that is because I contribute to making him feel better about himself. Chan is so fucking obsessed with having people like and respect him. That’s the entire reason he’s so ashamed of you, because you don’t fit his perfect image.”

His words lash at you. You already knew very well that’s how Chan thinks but to hear it said out loud to you by Felix just makes it hurt more.

“So when I came in, all puppy eyed and full of praise, he was ecstatic to have me around--his own personal cheerleader. And I was happy to give that to him. Hell, the guys saved my life, right? But now I can’t get out of that role. I can’t disobey anything he says or go against his word or he’d take it as a betrayal because Chan is always fucking right. Chan always knows best.”

"Felix don't be stupid. I’m sure if you just talked to him, he’d understand.”

“Yeah, like he understood you?” 

You reel back, stung, and you quietly say, “You’re different. He loves you so much, Felix. He almost ripped my head off when he found out I had hung out with you. He was so worried about you.”

Felix laughs at that. “You got it all wrong. He wasn’t worried about me. He was jealous and afraid I’ll steal you from him.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense.” You exclaim, the entire conversation thrusting your brain in a confused daze, but you quickly quiet down as you hear the sounds of keys. You look at Felix in alarm, silently asking who could it be, and from the way his face pales, you already know the answer.

Your heart drops in your stomach and your throat closes up as the door swings open to reveal a distressed Chan. He lets out a little sigh of relief when he sees you, and he starts making his way towards you. "Oh, baby. I couldn't do it. Please come home."

Suddenly, he stops dead in his tracks, face turning to stone and eyes deadly as he takes in the scent of your and Felix's arousal in the air. You see nothing but bloody murder in his eyes as they regard you, and you think he might actually kill you this time. After all, it’s the peak of his heat, he apparently hasn’t slept with the woman he was supposed to, and you had just messed around with his best friend. He must be angry, riled up, and frantic. He’s capable of doing anything.

But instead of attacking you, he pounds towards Felix, screaming at him, “You fucking bastard!” He swings at Felix, the force of his punch throwing the smaller boy to the ground. He doesn’t stop there though, aiming kicks at the crumpled form of the cat on the floor. 

“Chan, no!” You scream, rushing towards them but Chan yanks you away, gritting out, “Don’t touch him.” 

“Chan, please--” You beg, hoping to stop him from assaulting Felix again, but then the boy on the ground sits up, spitting the blood out of his mouth, and regarding Chan with a dark look you've never even thought the cute cat was capable of. “What is it, hyung? The bitch’s pussy wasn’t tight enough for you?” 

Chan throws you to the side and jumps on Felix again, pummeling his face with punches. The cat can barely do anything to protect himself, let alone retaliate--the power difference just too great between them. 

You rush towards them again, trying to stop the wolf’s attacks. “Stop it, Chan! You’re gonna kill him!” 

He stops, and Felix slumps on the ground, groaning and bloody. You try to get closer to check on him but Chan grabs you by the hair and pulls your face close to his. “Is this what you wanted, baby? Am I predator enough for you now?” 

“Puppy, please, don’t do this.” You beseech, pulling at his arm. “Let’s go home. Let me take care of you.” 

“You can take care of me here.” He replies coldly.

“W-what?” You yelp as he gets off Felix and pushes you over his body instead. “Since he decided to touch what wasn’t his, I’m gonna fuck you right in front of his eyes.”

You and Felix stare at each other in horror as Chan’s hands rip your pants off. You quickly notice the malice in his eyes, and you grab his arms, your hands clenching down on them with all your might and your eyes silently begging him to stay down. He’d have no chance against Chan if he tried, and you really don’t think he can take any more punches. 

“Please.” You mouth, hoping the concern in your eyes would get through to him. He grits his teeth but stays down, and you let out a small sigh of relief that turns into a shocked squeak as you feel Chan’s hand coming down on your ass. 

“I am the one in heat and I couldn’t bear to sleep with someone else. But you were just gonna fuck my best friend that easily?” He growls, giving your ass another smack that makes you jolt. He doesn’t hold back, his fingers spread wide to strike as much of your cheek as he can. 

“No!” You shake your head forcefully, making up for your uncertainty. The truth is you aren’t sure if you would’ve gone through with it or not, and that made you feel ashamed of yourself. Yes, Chan had hurt you but you wouldn’t have gone so low as to fuck the guy he thought of as his brother, right?  “I wasn’t.” 

"But you let him touch you." He snarls, giving you another hard slap before soothing the skin again. "Tell me, did you let him touch you here?" He pulls your panties to the side and rubs his fingers lightly over your pussy.

"No!" You shake your head, feeling the heat pooling in your stomach and you find yourself pushing your ass back into his fingers. But instead of touching you, he smacks your ass once more. 

Soothing his hand over the punished skin, he drawls, "It doesn’t matter. When I'm done with you, no one will have any doubt who you belong to." Then he spanks you again. And again. And again. 

You’re surprised by how you don’t have any desire to stop his actions. On the contrary, it felt good to finally be claimed by him. You longed for him to love you openly and willingly, and with the effect of the heat, that is exactly what he was doing. You could smell how aroused he is, and how much he wanted to fuck you. And you wanted him to. Messing around with Felix only made you crave Chan more, and like a horny bitch you couldn’t wait for him to give it to you, even in front of Felix--especially in front of Felix. You wanted to prove to him as much as to yourself that you could be Chan’s. 

“Is this what you wished to have, Lixie?" He asks the boy under you. "She has such a pretty pussy, doesn’t she? So tight…” He nudges a finger in, curling it. “But it's all mine." 

The boy under you glares up at him and you dig your fingers into his biceps, once again begging him not to fight back. 

"Puppy, please. Let’s just go home" You coax, trying to get the two boys away from each other.

“No. He’s gonna sit there and watch me breed your little pussy.” Chan says, pulling his finger out then pushing it in again, his other hand continuing to spank you. 

You think you hear a low growl coming from Felix but it’s hard concentrated over the squelching sounds of Chan’s fingers pumping in and out of your drenched pussy at a rapid pace. Delighting in the way you are rocking yourself against his hand and clenching around his finger, Chan praises you. “Good girl. You know who you belong to, don’t you?” 

“Chan--”

His finger curls inside of you and his hand falls on your ass harshly. “Don’t you, baby?” 

You know he’s not to be provoked right now. “Yes. I belong to you.” 

“That’s my good little fox.” He grunts, pushing another finger inside you. “Would he be able to make you lose it like this just from his fingers? Have you fucking back on his fingers like a bitch in heat?” 

“No, puppy. Only you can.”  You answer while looking Felix in the eye, and you’re turned on, you could feel your arousal leaking down your leg. 

“You like this, don’t you, little slut? Is this what you were waiting for?” 

“No… I-I” You stutter, feeling yourself getting close despite your denial. Chan can tell and he speeds up even more, causing the palm of the hand he is fingering you with to keep smacking against your pussy. As your walls start spasming around his fingers, he takes them out, leaving you clenching around nothing. But he doesn’t stop touching you, his fingers rubbing over your lips relentlessly, forcing you into a painful high and never letting you down. You shake in his grip, squealing and begging him to stop. “Chan---I can’t, please!”

You try to pull away but he snakes an arms around your waist and keeps your ass in the air, his fingers forcing you into another orgasm. Your hips jerk in his hold, trying to break away, and you beg. “It h-hurts, Chan...ahhhh---please, stop! Please!” 

Finally he stops, and your body goes limp, almost falling onto Felix if it weren’t from the arm Chan has around you. As you sit there, panting and held up by Chan, he brings his other hand to your face and pushes the fingers that were just inside you into your mouth. You can barely breathe around the intrusion, so short of breath already, but you do your best to suck on them like you know he wants. 

“Good girl.” He pushes your shirt over your breasts and palms one of them greedily.  "Want me to fuck your pussy, my pretty fox?" He purrs, pulling his fingers out of your mouth, and--wet with your saliva-- he rubs them over your other breast. Despite the agonizing orgams you just had, you find yourself arching into his touch and rubbing your thighs together.

“Yes, puppy. Need you to fuck me.” 

You let out a shaky breath as he pulls your panties to your knees. You hear the sound of pants unzipping before you feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance and slowly nudging in. You briefly wonder how you were ever able to take him. Sensing your worry, he pushes in more of his dick. “No, no backing down now. You’re going to be a good fox and take my cock, won’t you, baby?” 

“Yes, Channie.” You grit. It’s been so long since you’ve taken him, and you know this is gonna hurt despite how drenched you were. Still, you were excited, having learnt to appreciate the painful stretch now. Maybe he was right all along--he’d ruined you for all your pretty boys, trained you to crave his dick only.

He holds you still to prevent you from wiggling away as he continues to inch his dick inside you. “Take it. You wanted me to claim you and now you’re going to be good and take it.” He leans over and mouths at your neck. Instead of kisses, he nibs at your skin, the sharp pain of his canines plucking at the skin taking your attention away from the dull pain of his dick breaching your pussy. 

Once he’s all the way in, he laps his tongue at your neck soothingly. “There. Good girl.” 

You wince as he pulls his hips back slowly then thrusts back in all at once, a yelp coming out of you as his dick hits deep inside you. He chuckles, his hips picking up speed. “I have so much cum for you, you’ll be dripping my seed for days.” 

You can do nothing but whimper, holding tightly onto Felix as Chan’s hips slap against your ass and his dick pistons in and out of you. It feels like it’s the first time fucking him for how much your pussy suffers. But for as much pain it gives you, it also gives pleasure, and you feel euphoric. 

"I'll make sure no one touches you ever again. Gonna breed you everyday and make you walk around with my cum dripping from your pussy so everyone knows who you belong to." He growls, and you know he’s staring down at Felix from the way the other boy was glaring at him. “Do you want that, baby?” 

You open your mouth to reply but all that cums out is an incomprehensible garble so you give up, mouth left hanging open. 

"Look at that, Felix. I’ve fucked her dumb." He gloats, pushing your shirt up and fondling your tits. “And you thought your little dick could ever please her. She wouldn’t have even felt it after getting fucked open by me. Isn’t that right, baby girl?” 

Chan’s voice is gruff as his hips drive into you even harder, and you know he’s close. You nod, pleading. “Yes---p-please puppy---ahh cum.” 

“You want me to cum inside you? Want me to make you mine?” He growls in your ear, and you whimper, your legs buckling under you. He holds your hips up, his dick drilling into you. “Ok, baby girl. There you go. Take it all.” His dick spasms inside of you, his hot cum quickly filling up your tight pussy.

You feel so satisfied filled up like this. It feels right, and you wish you could stay in this moment forever--his arms wrapped securely around you and his face nuzzling softly into your neck as he whispers soft praises into your ear. 

But of course it can’t, especially not with the hostile cat lying under you. 

Chan is not done taunting Felix though. Pulling out of you, he inserts two fingers into your pussy and curls them as he pulls out, making the cum inside you gush out. Then he leans over you and brushes his cum stained fingers over Felix’s bloody cheek. The cat tenses up, hissing threateningly, but you quickly intervene, croaking out, “Channie…Please, let’s go.”

Chan huffs, pulling your panties back on and zipping up his own pants before he scoops you up in his arms. He sits you down on the couch and helps you put your pants back on. As he starts getting dressed too. Felix sits up, looking worse for wear but hopefully not seriously injured. You’re worried that Felix would be stupid enough to attack him but to your relief, he stays seated where he was, the both of them just glaring at each other. 

Before it can escalate beyond the dirty looks, you put a hand to Chan’s back, pulling his attention towards you. “I want to go now.” You coax, “Please.” 

Chan sighs and nods, carrying you in his arms and walking out of the apartment. 

__

When you get back to his house, Chan sets you down on your bed. 

Cupping your cheeks, he asks softly, “Do you want to take a shower?” 

You shake your head, too tired to even stand up at this point. Nodding, he pulls your soiled clothes off your body, doing his best to wipe you off before he grabs one of his hoodies and pulls it over your head. 

When he’s done, he just stands there awkwardly like he wants to say something but is unsure how to start. 

You sigh, defeated. “Just say what you want to say, Chan.”

His gaze is set on you, suddenly resolute, and he states firmly. "I want you to give me a chance." 

You scoff in disbelief. "I've given you plenty of chances."

"No.” He insists, jaw set and tone unrelenting. “You never really did. You always had your mind made up about me from the beginning. I want a real chance this time." 

“You think you deserve it after all you’ve done? You've never even apologized for any of the shit you put me through, Chan!"

“I’m sorry." He apologizes at once, with no hesitation, and you’re taken aback. “Why suddenly? Did I have to ask you for it?”

"No. I was being an idiot and a coward. I cared more about my reputation than I did about you and that was wrong.” His jaw clenches and he looks at you intensely. “But I wasn’t the only one at fault. You were no angel either.”

You open your mouth to protest but he stops you. “Just shut up and listen for once.” He shouts, frustrated, and begins pacing around the room, one hand messing up his hair while the other gestures wildly as he explains. 

“I was scared to tell people I was with you when I wasn’t even sure you were going to stay. Any time I tried to get close to you, you would always reject me. You made me feel so worthless and unwanted. You never thought of me as a real predator, and you made sure to throw that in my face every chance you got. Tell me how could I trust you when you looked at me like I didn’t even deserve to be a predator? That my mere existence was a shame? Have you ever apologized to me for that?” He challenges, stopping his pacing and waiting for your answer, but you couldn’t give him one. You just stare down at your hands to avoid his condemning gaze. No, you never apologized. 

“I didn’t think so.” He scoffs sourly,  “You know what the worst thing is? I believed you. I’ve always doubted myself and wondered if I’m weak and inept, wondered if I could ever be enough. And there you were, so contemptuously telling me that I am not."

"So it's my own fault you treated me like I was something to be ashamed of?" You ask incredulously. “That you didn’t even stand up for me in front of your friends?”

"No! I just want you to see it from my perspective for once." He yells, frustrated at how you seemed to twist his words. “That night at the studio, I thought we were getting somewhere. I thought that for the first time you were starting to trust me and respect me. That you could maybe see me as something more than the impotent predator you always thought I was. But as soon as I attempted to confess to you, you pulled back like I disgusted you. You undid everything I was trying to build with that one look.”

“So yeah, I was fucking bitter about it, and when my friends showed up and realized you were there, they fucking laid it on me, asking me what the fuck I was doing and reminding me how hard I had been on Jisung because of you before, and I just felt fucking stupid and humiliated by them--by you!”

“Still, I wanted to apologize after I’d calmed down but by then you wouldn’t even listen to me. You’re so fucking stubborn you know?” He smiles wetly. 

He waits for you to say something but you just remain frozen, trying to make sense of everything that he said. You had always viewed Chan as the dangerous party here, the one who was most capable of hurt, that you never stopped to ask if you were hurting him. You guess, deep down, you never really believed he cared for you and so you didn’t consider the idea that your rejection would affect him. 

Coming close again, he sits on the bed next to you and props your chin up to make you look at him. “But I never lied to you, my pretty fox. You are special to me and I love you.” You can see the sincerity in his eyes, but something still nags at you. 

“What about what you said to me about Felix? How you actually care about him?” You chew on your lip, worried about his answer. 

Letting you go, he rubs a hand over his face and lets out a tired laugh. “I was fucking jealous for god’s sake--something you would've been able to tell easily if you had paid any attention to how I was feeling.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling defensive. “But why would you assume I would go after Felix?” 

“Because you and him make way more sense than you and I. He’s much more your type than I ever was. He’s kind and compassionate and sweet. I was terrified that you’d fall right into his arms, and I’d never be able to compete. I would lose both my lover and my best friend.” 

“Okay.” You say slowly, trying to make sense of all this new information and relating them to your own emotions. “But all of that still doesn’t excuse the fact that you completely fucked with my already tennous sense of self worth, Chan. You made me feel that for once, someone might actually love me and want me despite what I am, only for you to then immediately pull the rug out from under my feet and try to distance yourself from me.” 

“I know, and I was wrong and I wish I could take it all back.” He laments sadly, “But I was hurt too. You never made it easy” 

“You’re right. I’m sorry too.” You finally apologize, and you mean it. You never even suspected the extent to which your actions and words have affected him. You thought you were the only one who truly cared and you did everything in your power to hide that from him so he wouldn’t hurt you with it. 

“But,” You take a deep breath, almost wishing you could stop here and just forgive him and take him back. But you know you can’t. You’d just come back here again. “I don’t if I can trust you.”

"Don't then.” He answers simply and you’re lost. “I'm not sure I trust you either.”

You frown, even more confused, and he continues. “Neither of us has really earned the other’s trust. But we can try." He pauses, brushing your hair out of your face and looking you deep in the eyes. "Do you love me still?"

"Yes." There is no use denying it, you do. 

"Then let's earn each other’s trust. I can't promise that I'll never hurt you again but I can promise that I'll do everything in my power not to. I'll never hide you again. I'll do all I can to fix the mistakes that I've made and try to be a boyfriend you'd be proud of. But I need your help. You need to try too."

"I'm scared." You say in a small voice, and he pulls you towards his body, resting his head against yours. "I am too. I'm fucking terrified. But I will never forgive myself if I don't give us another chance."

You take a long pause, the world seeming to hold its breath as you make up your mind. Chan certainly is. And just that, the fact that he looks to be hanging so much onto your decision as if his life depends on it, is what makes it easy for you to choose. He is giving you what you’ve been after all this time--he’s showing you that he wants you and that he cares. And that’s all you needed from him. 

“Okay. Let’s do it.” 

The smile that lights up his face is gorgeous, and you’re sorry to dim it before it has the chance to fully bloom. “But you have to promise me one thing first.” 

“Anything.” He answers confidently as if there wasn’t anything in the world he couldn’t do for you.

“You have to promise me that you’ll forgive Felix.” 

He clearly didn’t see that one coming from the way he pulls back and his smile disappears like it was never there. “I can’t do that. He's the only one I have told what you were to me. He’s the only one that knew. And he tried to take you away from me!” 

“He’s just misguided.” You try to explain. “He’s young and restless and he doesn’t know who he is because he was never allowed to explore himself or the world. You’ve always dictated to him what to do and how to feel.”

“So you’re on his side?” Chan asks incredulously, “He betrayed me!”

“I did too but you forgive me. He deserves forgiveness too. The only reason he got so upset about the way you were treating me is because he saw himself in me. He’s scared that you’d abandon him if he does anything you don’t approve of and so he freaked out and crossed the line.” 

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed and stand up, wobbling on your feet and Chan rushes to steady you. You take the chance to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close, whispering gently to him, “He just needs some space, that’s all. And trust. Show him that you have a little faith in him, and he’ll come around. I know he will.” 

You kiss the corner of Chan’s mouth and he turns his head slightly so he can kiss you fully. You kiss him back passionately, helping him stay grounded as he takes his time to come to a decision. 

Finally, he pulls away, eyes still closed. “Okay.”

You smile happily, eyes getting a little misty at the extent of emotions filling up your chest. And for the first time in a while, they’re mostly good. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.”

___________________________

A/N: I will literally die if you don’t tell me what you think of the ending

[fiore-rosewood9]

♫FrUk :D

Thank you for the ask, I will send a few songs that remind me of fruk, a whole playlist if you may, not only one song. I also touch a few of triggering topics as I explain the nations's personalities and relationships with one another so I apologize in advance if I upset/trigger someone and will put my trigger here - Warning - mentions of abuse, alcoholism, s*exual trauma. Under the explanation there is a playlist of songs that make me think of Ukfr/Fruk, so if anyone gets upset you can feel free to skip my general headcanons about fruk/ukfr relationship dynamics. There are too many songs that make me think of different characters or ships but I collected the ones that make me think the most of them.

I know the original song is by Lady gaga but this version is too sweet and cheesy for me so I chose the rock cover by the group Halestorm since I prefer it, it sounds more genuine and rough and kinda makes me think of the dynamic that ukfr/fruk has, that some people present is as just the enemies to lovers trope or them just fighting which is.....simply unhealthy????? Fruk is much more than that and I wish people would stop seeing it as a two dimensional thing, yeah they do argue on a lot of things and it is not the healthiest dynamic however it does work in my mind because they stick through thin and thick and that requires effort and true love since a lot of people nowdays do not take time to know the other person, they just jump into marriage and have a few divorces and just argue over everything and then separate, fruk is an off and on thing where they break and make. This kind of dedication is hard to find in today's couples. I know they're fictional characters and no one really cares but I practice my psychology skills and my knowledge of people around me, and I sometimes see people with similar or almost the same characters as fictional characters, they may not have all of their hobbies but they do act the same way. And certain pairs, no offence, just make me want to gag my self due to history with bad and toxic fans but if I look at it subjectivly and never encountered mean fans from a certain ship, I would say that they ship simply doesn't work. No ship bashing but as far as I know, people with this kind of personality from this ship that I dislike, and get upset when seeing fan art of, simply just do not get along and had a hard time divorcing, it is not only unhealthy and unbalanced, it is downright abusive because both partners seek control and to have the upper hand and this is not...what romance is about???? It is about two people taking care of each other, understanding personal space and boundaries, lifting each other up and yeah, they will argue a lot, sometimes for small things, sometimes for bigger things, but generally the point of romantic relationships is not someone using you, or abusing you financially and generally being better or bigger than you. This breeds insecurity and jealousy in the other partner and makes them feel inadequate. Usually such problems are not talked over and one of the partners acts passive agressive which is what ultimaltly leads to said divorce. So yeah, people can go away with their (BUT IT IS CUTE, IT IS SO FUCKING CUTE) pairing because real life pairings and how humans communicate and develop friendships and relationships isn't based on what your mind conciders and doesn't concider cute and there are lots of factors on whether relationship will ever happen like common interests, type personality, etc and just block me so I will never hear from them and their childish mindset ever again, which is why I blocked certain tumbrl fan art hetalia accounts who produce art of a pairing I (dislike) lowkey hate, for historical reasons, for manga reasons, for toxic fans who bullied me and made me go on 3 hiatuses reason and ultimatly in real life experience and psychology and how humans and the human mind works and what is healthy and unhealthy reason. Why should I support something where certain people have been hateful towards me and these same people that act like these characters and I know in my life are on bad terms in real life? Why shouldn't I just move on to something more realistic and more healthy, that I have seen that works with humans I know first hand? I am not a clinical psychologist and I have no power or saying in this but I had to write thesis and read books by psycholgists and analyze them in high school and my first year of Uni, in order to pass the year and I have also read reccomended books by a psychologist I went to because I wanted an advice on how to deal with my anxiety and talking to people, because my condition is extremely severe but I honestly feel stuck and try to improve but also feel confused, I sometimes feel like I am not doing enough to

self improve as a human. I sometimes come off as too cold or overly bitter and angry without intending to, and it sucks.

Francis is a really manipulative person and Matthew picked up that from him while part of Alfred's agression doesn't only come from confidence in his own abilities but the fact that England him self is an overly agressive person and is very dominant or at least used to be for a very long time, now he is more mild to keep his gentleman persona but he does suffer from severe anger issues which he hides while Alfred is prone to breaking things and screaming, Arthur is more prone to being rude, sarcastic and generally mean before he loses it. Matthew and Francis do not engage in fight if they can avoid it which is why sometimes people call them cowardly I think? And Matthew is a bit prone to being a codependent people pleaser as far as I see and he seems to have severe anxiety issues. Francis albeit charismatic and beautiful, is deep down in his core lonely.

I think that part of his pervertedness, shocking people with his s*xual humour and all of this sex obsession comes from trauma in his childhood and dressing like a girl. I wouldn't explain what the trauma in question was since it is not canon but I do headcanon that he had s*xual trauma and it is partly why Hungary dressed like a guy. I don't know if this is legit, it is bias from reading too much japanese fan comics relating to hetalia or just general history of humans and how they treated consent and what is moral today, wasn't amoral or against the law a few centuries ago, but I have seen artists touch on it. I think both Arthur and Francis suffer from neglect and they weren't particularly good fathers, in fact no country is, the whole FACE family is dysfunctional and while I love all of them, I kinda pity them. I think Rome was a bit discriminatory mostly towards France and never towards his other children while Arthur had to constantly prove him self and was bullied by his brothers. While other nations have suffered from trauma too (I headcanon that Prussia was burnt on stake and people threw rocks at him due to his albinism and being left handed) something similar happened to Arthur, who I headcanon that he was burnt for being a witch and Francis went a few times through the guillotine, or Arthur still having a bullet scar on his arm from the American revolution or Francis having nightmares from that day where Jeanne was burnt and waking up in his own sweat. Arthur also must suffer from workholism and alcoholism, judging by how much he works and goes to pubs to drink. Everyone chooses their own poison and how to cope with life and many use unhealthy coping mechanisms, hell, even I used unhealthy coping mechanisms a lot in the past and I am not proud of them, in fact, I try to improve.

I can talk about their history and how it relates to their mental health and what scars they have for hours but I would bore you. You came for a song and I am probably boring you so I apologize for writting a lot of words, in advance. I basically think that fruk/ukfr is the ultimate ship for many reasons because they click, I do ship spuk/engita/asakiku and many other things but fruk/ukfr is kinda like butter and bread, it is a great combination. I never said it is 100 percent healthy, however their relationship makes psychological sense and their personalities click. I know people like to present arthur as this dumb tsundere man that blushes and says baka, or he is this garbage rat dad that no one likes or francis is presented or at least used to be this perverted sex machine that touched other countries inappropriatly or at least the 2012-2015 fans saw him this way and while he still has the reputation of a pervert, what many young people in the fandom see as disgusting, I just see as an overly lonely man that just happens to have high libido and copes with it by having casual sex and just has a sex humour, the same way some people have fart jokes humour or darker, more cursed humour, I am really glad that fans mostly left off this whole - Francis is a r**ist and will grope you, in the past, because honestly r**e is not joke and as a character he clearly understands consent and boundaries and I don't think someone like him would do such a thing. Also Greece and Turkey have even higher libido than him and sleep around more, yet he is the ''pervert'', I don't get it??????????? but fruk is just so much more than opposites attract, they have a lot in common so I can't say they're full opposites, no one is truly. I have heard people ask why does anyone ship fruk when it is just opposites attract/enemies to lovers trope and I am honestly confused, because that is extremely rough generalization to say the least, it is like saying - All men/women are the same, it is simply wrong/uncorrect. I think they ''married'' five times - The Treaty of Paris (1657) formed an alliance against Spain. The Anglo-French Alliance (1716–31) formed another alliance against Spain. The Anglo-French blockade of the Río de la Plata (1845-1850). The Anglo-French joint invasion of Qing Dynasty (1856–1860). And the last one which is their official marriage The Entente Cordiale (1904) fought together in both World Wars. As far as I remember Francis tried to marry Arthur but he refused and why he refused is up for subjective opinion but I must write a whole thesis on why Fruk/ukfr works so well and people are not here for that, they're here for the music and I will provide. I also always saw Francis as the more gentle and more submissive partner, I just love to see him drawn in frilly beautiful dresses with bows and stuff and Arthur as the more dominant, I mean as a country he was a powerhouse during the 1600s-1800s and used to be a punkrocker, usually rockers are mentally tough and that man is extremely cunning and witty so...people drawing him as this useless baka uwu overly feminine anorexic boy that looks more like a tween rather than a 23 year old guy just assasinated his character in my opinion and it disturbs me but I am just some awkward human on the internet and no one values my opinion anyway because this is the internet and many people nowdays love to have hot takes and try to gain followers through clickbait stuff which sometimes goes out of control and everything just seems more fake and shallow to me, the more old I get.Okay that was my silly rant no one asked about but I feel really passionate about hetalia and Fruk/Ukfr. Anyway, I apologize again for my long rant and going all over the place, please enjoy this playlist

PLAYLIST WITH SONGS THAT REMIND ME OF FRUK/UKFR

1 - Halestorm - Bad romance - rock cover https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ll4NJs3NBIU

2 - Queen - Somebody to love - lyrics https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zj69iA_goIk

3 - ABBA - Voulez vous - (I know everyone chooses Waterloo and while waterloo is a fruk theme, I think Voulez vous works too) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fwcgMVXuBJc

4 - London beat - I've been thinking about you - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ixBryyQSrD8

5 - Santana - Smooth - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Whgn_iE5uc

6 - George Michael - Careless whisper - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=izGwDsrQ1eQ

7 - Robbie Williams - Feel - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iy4mXZN1Zzk

8 - Michael Buble - Feeling good - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Edwsf-8F3sI

9 - Edith Piaf - La vie en rose - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kFzViYkZAz4

10 - Chopin - Marriage d'amour (Spring waltz) - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EFJ7kDva7JE

11 - Vanessa Carlton - A thousand miles - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ERw2LuU6Jj8

[peachyteabuck]

a king is first a man [snippet]

summary: thor’s fighting a double-fronted war, desperately attempting to quell the flames of a revolution, and is grappling with his father’s long-since murder on the battlefield all those years ago. somehow, none of that compares to the trouble of his new queen. 

this is a commission for @empyreanwritings​ who commissioned a snippet from the full work.

pairing: thor odinson x reader

words: 2507

trigger warnings: medieval au i did very little research for, brat taming that includes spanking as a punishment, allusions to breeding kink, angst related to social position if you squint. 

notes: major credit to @spacelabrathor​ for allowing me to steal this concept and write a full fic for it. she’s legit the best and i can’t thank her enough for putting up with me - both in relation to this fic and the rest of our friendship. she’s legit THE shit and deserves everything. 

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

She walks with the grace one would expect of someone like her: educated, precise, bored. Her back is straight as an arrow, feet silent, smile barely touching her cheeks as she hangs her head in feigned sorrow. In the dim lighting of the “secret” (known only to the highest of servants, the king himself, and, apparently, her) hallway she looks kind, mournful. If Thor did not know better, he might have offered his regards, asked if there was anything he could do to bring one of those toothy grins back to her bright face.

Unfortunately, Thor does know better. He knows as much about her as he does his greatest enemy – what they teach all the generals to learn before undertaking something serious as war: motivations, desired outcome, what leverage she holds over the throne and anyone dumb enough to occupy it. He knows what she thinks, why she thinks it, what she thinks will happen.

Despite this plethora of knowledge and years of military training and etiquette classes and warning from those he trusts the most, Thor loses himself as he backs her into the wall, never touching her but commanding the space between them with precision – just as he yields a sword during battle.

That’s how his heart feels, too, pounding in his chest as if his ribs were the bars separating him from his captor. He can feel heat course through his body, his hands flexing as flint strikes steel in each of his veins. He wonders, for a brief moment, if he is dying – if she had poisoned him just to fall into the very seat she claimed she loathed. No – he quickly realizes. That would be too easy. If she were to kill him, were to stop his heart or slit his throat or plunge his father’s sword into his chest, then were would be no game for her to play; there would be no place for her lightning to strike whenever she wished. She – Gods forbid – would be saddled with responsibility, something her childish bones could not handle. Like a house with no foundation she’d crumble, curling in on herself as servants and soldiers and saddle hands all pried for her attention.

“What?” she questions, arms folded across her chest. Her brow is furrowed, jaw set as she breaks Thor’s thoughts and wretches him back to the moment – back to her. It’s always her, isn’t it? Always has to be her, ever since she arrived on that carriage and turned her nose up at him and refused to kiss the family ring.

“You know what,” he snarls back at her, teeth bared as he leans in close enough to smell whatever the chambermaids had placed in her morning bath. Yesterday it was lavender – light and airy as she explored the castle as if she was a ghost peering through a window. Today was something stronger, something that bites at Thor’s nostrils just as she bites at his patience. “You know you are not supposed to attend meetings of a royal nature unless specifically given permission.”

Thor watches her carefully, watches as she doesn’t even flinch as she lets out a small laugh, rolling her eyes before returning the king’s gaze. It’s odd to see someone like her – someone so young – look back at him with such fire, determination. It had taken him years to reach that level of confidence, to develop the will to stand up to someone as powerful as himself. He can’t tell if he’s furious or impressed or both. Either way, he refuses to let her get the best of him.

Thor grabs her by the back of her neck, quickly flipping her around so her cheek is pressed against the smooth, cold stone, her hands pressed against the wall near her sides.

“If you want to act like a child-“ Thor hisses as each hand pins one of her wrists. “I am going to treat you like one.

The second she’s picked up and tossed over his one of his broad shoulder, she does her best to contort an exit for herself, thrashing and kicking like a cat that had been plunged into a freezing river. Thor, though, maneuvers her as if she was some inert object he was placing on a newly dusted shelf, keeping her wrists pinned behind her back and avoiding the kick of her heel as he carries her into the large chambers they now – whether she liked it or not - share. When he steps through the threshold, he ignores her cries for a moment longer, taking in the scent of her that had filled the room as he notices mused linen bedsheets and pillows strewn across the room, despite knowing it had been made by ever-attending servants when she had gotten up from her midday nap.

Had she been touching herself before she interrupted Thor’s meeting with the council? Had she plunged three fingers into her dripping center, chasing the world’s sweetest pleasure? Had she thought of her husband while she gushed over her hand? Had she whispered his name so the servants would not hear her shameful lust, or had she screamed it – hoping one of them would call upon him to make her stop? Did she think that they thought he had that much power over her?

Thor shakes his head, returning to his original mission. The king smoothly navigates the large room while making sure his bride doesn’t knock anything over (she had ordered many a plate of treats while she was alone, barely picking at any of them, even as the carts the servants placed them on filled the room). Like the minotaur in the maze, he carries her with ease. In the back of her mind she can’t help but admire that – as if he can predict her every physical movement with precision, even before she knows exactly what her flailing limbs plan to do.  

Without warning, she’s dropped onto the center of the large bed. She sees her chance of escape, but her hope is quickly squashed when Thor grunts as he moves to pin her down, grabbing both of her wrists in one of his large, war-bitten hands. Something inside her can’t help but flutter as he manhandles her into the position Thor believes befits her behavior, one where he sits at the edge of the bed while her stomach is laid upon his muscular thighs. Her thin dress is torn without so much as a shrieking RRIIIIIPPP – as if even the fabric is surprised how efficiently it is ripped off the newly-appointed queen’s body. It sends a shiver down her spine, the knowledge of the king’s strength and size rusty in its age but easily shined with each exercise of Thor’s power.

“All you brats are the fucking same,” he growls through grit teeth as his large hands lay sharp slaps over her thin underclothes, preparing her for the punishment to come. “You push and you push and you get what’s coming for you and then you act as if you’re innocent.”

The queen gulps, still attempting to free her hands while her legs kick. Thor just laughs at her, pushing her wrists harder into the small of her back as he continues to smack her plump ass.

“Keep trying, my little morning dove,” the nickname given to her by the driver of the carriage she had road in on all those days before falls from his lips like blood after a swift kick to the face, pooling onto her back and in her center. “Eventually you’ll run out of fight and then this will go much easier.”

She huffs, dramatically yelling as the last of her fabric protection is stolen from her, exposing her to hot air in the room. “What on Earth are you talking about!? I didn’t do anything!”

Thor just snorts, leaving a few more smacks against her bare flesh. “This little innocent act you’ve been playing up all these years? It isn’t going to work on me.”

She scoffs, her next inhale sharp as his favorite battle sword with one final slap being laid against her. “I…I-“

The king just laughs deep in his chest, his hand moving from the round of her ass to between her now-trembling legs. Each ounce of golden defiance that once replaced the blood in her veins seemed to disperse as he touches her there, gathering the slick that dripped onto his pants. Suddenly, the clothing feels much tighter than before (though, whether it had occurred in that instant alone was unlikely) as he watched the pads of his wettened fingers reflect the torches along the wall. His face heats as the corners of his lips turn up into a smile – though he suspects the fires are not to blame.

“You took your retribution well,” he tells her, letting go of her now limp wrists to rub at the heated skin. She moans, pressing her face into the thickest gathering of blankets her limited movement grants her, last taste of insolence drying on her tongue. “I think I should show you what those who behave are rewarded with.”

She’s unable to process his words before she’s flipped again – Thor now on his feet while she remains on the bed, though now flat on her back. She’s completely bare but finds no shame in her exposure, watching her husband with fevered attention as he rips his shirt from his body.

Thor’s barely able to pull his linen pants under his ass before she’s begging for him, mumbling something that falls between a prayer and a spell to beckon the king closer to her – words low and desperate as they’re spoken into the heated air between them. He’s so hard it hurts, like his shoulder after he gets a newly weighted sword or his calves when he rides a new horse. It’s this simmering thing inside of him, water in a cauldron close to boiling but not quite there; his whole being existing on the precipice of something he can’t quite identify.

It’s not as if he has the time for introspection, though, because the second the air hits the skin of his hardened cock and she’s grabbing at him and pulling him to her, inside of her and for the first time since he was considered too young to be king his mind is-

Blank.

His mind is blank with a white-hot fire that blinds him as his guttural moans form a symphony with hers. Neither of them speak, neither of them can, brains preoccupied with their bodies and their bodies preoccupied with each other. It feels like battle almost, some carnal instinct commanding his every move while whatever consciousness keeps him tethered to the present surrenders itself to some orgiastic impulse. For the first time in a long time the monarch feels himself lose control as his hands roam her heated skin, as his war-torn palms feels the supple flesh of her chest and pinch at her pert nipples.

She inhales sharply at the small pinch of pain, the way she clenches around him encouraging him to continue.

“Oh!” she moans, loud and unabashed.

Thor had not taken a woman in a long while, too busy with his duties as king. He had moved bedrooms, in fact, since the last time he’d bed anyone, and had no idea whether the architecture granted him privacy from the staff. However, just as you practically waltzed into his highly contentious meeting, Thor allows himself to grunt and roar and curse without pity for the ears of those within the rest of the large castle.

One of his hands plants itself in the sheets, using it for balance as the other moves to rub at the most sensitive part of her. He revels in her screams of pleasure, in her pleas for him not to stop don’t stop don’t stop it’s yours take it please take it please!

A sense of pride swells in Thor’s chest, blossoming with the soil of watching her switch from rebellion to subservience with him having to do so little in such a short period of time.

Tightening in his abdomen distracts him from his preening, hips chasing the same peak she seems to be close to.

Thor tries to piece himself together enough to ask a question he wishes he didn’t have to. “Where do y-“

“Inside of me!” she immediately gasps, voice strained and desperate. “Please!”

Just as he wishes she would, he does exactly as he is told with nearly no hesitation – unloading inside of her just as she screams with her own release.

If the palace occupants could not hear them before, they surely heard the married couple then as they both shouted in vulgar unison. Deep and animalistic and wonderful, they both pant as they fall into a breathless kiss.

Her high recedes like the lake that runs through the kingdom at the beginning of dry season – slow and deliberate and leaving her with a dry mouth. She stares at the ceiling, noticing for the first time that a map of the kingdom has been painted there. It seems, just as she views the room, that she sees the rest of the world with a sharper eye; she wonders that if she were to be escorted outside by one of those ghastly ladies in waiting outside, she would see the night sky with more precision than ever before. If she could sift through the darkness, would she be able to draw the stars? If she were to look back down to Earth and attempt to traverse the forest, could she watch the fauna as they walked through the pitch black?        

“Drink this,” Thor’s gruff voice cuts through the thick fog in her brain, handing her one of those obnoxious chalices. The metal and jewels adorning it are cooled by the chilled water inside of it, and she wonders how it stayed so cold despite the heat in the room. “You need to keep a clear head.”

She gives a little snort as she gulps the water down, small droplets spilling from her lips and down between her breasts. It takes all of the king’s minute willpower not to drink that down, too. “Why would I need that?”

Thor…does not have an adequate answer to that, at least one he can articulate. There’s a sense of dread that settles into his gut, winds its way through his gut and makes him feel queasy. He wonders if she hates Asgard just as her mother presumably hates his new wife’s home kingdom, if Thor had done something so devastatingly wrong to this poor young woman and the both of them would have to live in the choice forever.

“You know, if you’re going to spiral each time I say something like that, I’m going to need to behead you,” she jokes as she places the chalice back in Thor’s hands. Her arms shake just a little as she does so.

It takes a long while for the man to respond.

[uwuowotf2waslife]

How would they react to their S/O either being pregnant or wants a child? (You can ignore this if you already answered it)

Im a sucker for parent mercs headcanons

tw: mentions of abortions, miscarriages and a very sad ending

Scout -will have an aneurism, but also will also hug you and spend a whole day just run around announcing to anyone he sees that hell become a dad -given the fact he never had a perminant paternal figure throughout his life, except his older brothers or his moms boyfriends from time to time, he will be at least insecure and nervous about the whole procedure. He has seen pregnant women yes, but he has never been the one who impregnated them. He loathes hell end up like his dad and become a deadbeat, but he also knows how much life sucks without a dad so he’ll man up and with some reasurrance from S/O he will become a much, much better than his.  Soldier -proudly announces to the whole base than a new recruit will be arriving in approximately 9 months and prepares accordingly. -he makes a crib with the help of Engie and makes blankets and clothes with the help of Heavy, even asks medic for advice on how to treat common baby sicknesses or just tips to how make their arrival/ first year on the world easier. Will help you around but will insist you take it easy. Will spend lazy nights or evenings talking to your belly, telling his adventures/ stories from the war or just american history ( his version tho).

Pyro

( idk how to write about them sorry chief)

Engie

-this texan will pick you up and pepper you in kisses, It isn’t a secret, his biggest dream since he was a young man was to become a father and now itll finnaly become a reality. Hell become emotional ngl, he will cry and just hold you as tight he can without hurting the baby.

-he will make from scratch everything youll ever use for the baby up to their college graduation( Engie why we need a crib with a mini-sentry?) and will baby proof the whole house/ base/ workshop. Lowkey will baby you during the pregnancy, especially the last months before the birth, he can’t believe his child will finnaly come in his life and he can’t stop spoiling you because he feels somewhat bad for the hardships of pregnancy ( morning sickness, back pain, the bby being a wannabe rodeo horse, the ussual)

Demo

-drinks a whole barrel of scrumpy after you announced that to him and passes out.

-wakes up and basically has both a panic attack and just so much joy, he has never felt that way in all of his life. Will try to stay as sober as he can druing the pregnancy, can’t have you laboring while he is vomiting like a cat in the hospitals bathroom. He can’t say he had a happy childhood neither that he was dying to become a dad, but he isn’t one to back down from the challenge. He is given the chance to make amends with his poor upbringing and ensure that the next generation of his bloodline won’t suffer like he did. Will buy lots of plushies and maybe ask advice from the people of the orphanage he was raised on how to raise a baby since his mother didnt raise him until he was a much older kid.

Heavy

-nearly dies on the spot. Family meant the world for him and now, he is finnaly able to start his own. For the first time in your relationship, he will openly cry in front of you and hold you while he is shaking with so many emotions

- phones his mother daily and basically creates a series of notepads filled with advice/old wives tales for caring for children. He already knows some basic stuff from raising his sisters but he wants to be 100% sure he will ace it. Having his father dying at a young age puted a lot of pressure in him to “grow” up and mature, so he makes his existances goal to make their childhood everything his wasnt. Que daily visits to the medic and being practically only allowed to breathe and eat, he really doesnt want anything to happen to you or your child, especially if you belong on the smaller/shorter type of people. He spends hours of his daily reading books in russian or talking to your belly and is ready to do everything to make your life easier, he will even knit baby clothes and cute blankets with small bears on them or small ines from poems on them, a bearskin baby blanket/coat is a must.

Medic

-he is no that happy tbh, he thinks hes far too old and his sperm isn’t as “strong” as itd be ifhe was younger, he has a nagging fear because of his age youll have a miscarriage or a difficult pregnancy.

-but once he saws the joy in your eyes and realise that hey, better late than never, he will try his best. He makes sure your pregnancy is smooth and does daily checkups on you and the baby, he is almost paranoid. You should help him relax or he will have a breakdown during the later months, because he is beyond terrified that somehow he will fuck up the birth and either permantly hurt you or the baby ( headcanon he will create twins, just imagine his silent mental freakout while he feels around and feels/hears two heartbeats). He needs comfort, but he will spend hours just talking to the baby about medical stuff or his experiences ( yes you will hear the skeleton story, multiple times). He isn’t a stable man, but he strives to make you and them happy so he is down to sacrifice everything he can.

Sniper

-faints when he hears the news, but scoops you up and spinns you around when hes over that initial shock.

-he is terrified and he is pretty open about it. He has barely enough social skills to speak with adults, he fears how useless hes around children.He needs constant reasurance or he will have the biggest mental breakdown he will ever have in his life. He can’t say he had shitty parents, but he also isnt a paternal man. He needs you to be the more hands on so he will feel comfortable with the idea. Engie and him will renovate the Van to have a built-in crib/bed and he will consult Medic for almos anything/ pick you up and run to medic if you feel the smallest hinge of pain. Once he feels the baby kicking or sees them on the machine ( idontrememberthenamesorry) he will cry and kiss your belly. He knows he wont be the best dad buthe will try his darnest to be the best dad he can be and provide all the love and the support for his child or children ( i lowkey see him as the type of guy who starts very insecure and then breed like a rabbit)

Spy

-oh mon fuck dieu, will faint and need medical assistance to wake up

-he thinks hes wayyy too old to have any more children, he believes ( a very common belief among the era/although somewhat debunked nowadays) that his sperm after so many decades its deffective and he doubts the pregnancy will even last that long to result to a child. But also he knows that he can’t leave another woman behind anymore, been there, done that, he’s a deadbeat many years now. He pays child support tho, but he knows all the money of the world can’t replace a father in a childs life. Furthermore his terrified of having a public family tree ( i think even if hes a fuckboy, he might was raised pretty hardcore catholic so in his head if you are to have his child and him being there for the both of you, it means he must also marry you). He has many enemies and he knows they are waiting for a chance to sink their teeth into someone that is dear to him. So he presents you a choice, either abort the baby and hell forget the whole situation happened and force medic and Engie either to create the most effective birth control, or to give him the most effective vasectomy there can be, or that you must understand he can’t stay because he doesnt want his enemies to hurt you and your child. He will come and go in your life , if you choose to keep them and send you a fat child support, but he can’t be seen with his child or have any legal documents with them. If you choose to abort, well better prepare to hold his hand while he gets his peepee pipe cut.

[qqueenofhades]

Could you expand a bit on the "death of expertise"? It's something I think about A LOT as an artist, because there are so many problems with people who think it isn't a real job, and the severe undercutting of prices that happens because people think hobbyists and professionals are the same. At the same time, I also really want people to feel free to be able to make art if they want, with no gatekeeping or elitism, and I usually spin myself in circles mentally thinking about it. So.

I have been secretly hoping someone would ask this question, nonny. Bless you. I have a lot (a LOT) of thoughts on this topic, which I will try to keep somewhat concise and presented in a semi-organized fashion, but yes.

I can mostly speak about this in regard to academia, especially the bad, bad, BAD takes in my field (history) that have dominated the news in recent weeks and which constitute most of the recent posts on my blog. (I know, I know, Old Man Yells At Cloud when attempting to educate the internet on actual history, but I gotta do SOMETHING.) But this isn’t a new phenemenon, and is linked to the avalanche of “fake news” that we’ve all heard about and experienced in the last few years, especially in the run-up and then after the election of You Know Who, who has made fake news his personal brand (if not in the way he thinks). It also has to do with the way Americans persistently misunderstand the concept of free speech as “I should be able to say whatever I want and nobody can correct or criticize me,” which ties into the poisonous extreme-libertarian ethos of “I can do what I want with no regard for others and nobody can correct me,” which has seeped its way into the American mainstream and is basically the center of the modern Republican party. (Basically: all for me, all the time, and caring about others is a weak liberal pussy thing to do.)

This, however, is not just an issue of partisan politics, because the left is just as guilty, even if its efforts take a different shape. One of the reason I got so utterly exasperated with strident online leftists, especially around primary season and the hardcore breed of Bernie Bros, is just that they don’t do anything except shout loud and incorrect information on the internet (and then transmogrify that into a twisted ideology of moral purity which makes a sin out of actually voting for a flawed candidate, even if the alternative is Donald Goddamn Trump). I can’t count how many people from both sides of the right/left divide get their political information from like-minded people on social media, and never bother to experience or verify or venture outside their comforting bubbles that will only provide them with “facts” that they already know. Social media has done a lot of good things, sure, but it’s also made it unprecedently easy to just say whatever insane bullshit you want, have it go viral, and then have you treated as an authority on the topic or someone whose voice “has to be included” out of some absurd principle of both-siderism. This is also a tenet of the mainstream corporate media: “both sides” have to be included, to create the illusion of “objectivity,” and to keep the largest number of paying subscribers happy. (Yes, of course this has deep, deep roots in the collapse of late-stage capitalism.) Even if one side is absolutely batshit crazy, the rules of this distorted social contract stipulate that their proposals and their flaws have to be treated as equal with the others, and if you point out that they are batshit crazy, you have to qualify with some criticism of the other side.

This is where you get white people posting “Neo-Nazis and Black Lives Matter are the same!!!1” on facebook. They are a) often racist, let’s be real, and b) have been force-fed a constant narrative where Both Sides Are Equally Bad. Even if one is a historical system of violent oppression that has made a good go at total racial and ethnic genocide and rests on hatred, and the other is the response to not just that but the centuries of systemic and small-scale racism that has been built up every day, the white people of the world insist on treating them as morally equivalent (related to a superior notion that Violence is Always Bad, which.... uh... have you even seen constant and overwhelming state-sponsored violence the West dishes out? But it’s only bad when the other side does it. Especially if those people can be at all labeled “fanatics.”)

I have complained many, many times, and will probably complain many times more, about how hard it is to deconstruct people’s absolutely ingrained ideas of history and the past. History is a very fragile thing; it’s really only equivalent to the length of a human lifespan, and sometimes not even that. It’s what people want to remember and what is convenient for them to remember, which is why we still have some living Holocaust survivors and yet a growing movement of Holocaust denial, among other extremist conspiracy theories (9/11, Sandy Hook, chemtrails, flat-earthing, etc etc). There is likewise no organized effort to teach honest history in Western public schools, not least since the West likes its self-appointed role as guardians of freedom and liberty and democracy in the world and doesn’t really want anyone digging into all that messy slavery and genocide and imperialism and colonialism business. As a result, you have deliberately under- or un-educated citizens, who have had a couple of courses on American/British/etc history in grade school focusing on the greatest-hit reel, and all from an overwhelmingly triumphalist white perspective. You have to like history, from what you get out of it in public school, to want to go on to study it as a career, while knowing that there are few jobs available, universities are cutting or shuttering humanities departments, and you’ll never make much money. There is... not a whole lot of outside incentive there.

I’ve written before about how the humanities are always the first targeted, and the first defunded, and the first to be labeled as “worthless degrees,” because a) they are less valuable to late-stage capitalism and its emphasis on Material Production, and b) they often focus on teaching students the critical thinking skills that critique and challenge that dominant system. There’s a reason that there is a stereotype of artists as social revolutionaries: they have often taken a look around, gone, “Hey, what the hell is this?” and tried to do something about it, because the creative and free-thinking impulse helps to cultivate the tools necessary to question what has become received and dominant wisdom. Of course, that can then be taken too far into the “I’ll create my own reality and reject absolutely everything that doesn’t fit that narrative,” and we end up at something like the current death of expertise.

This year is particularly fertile for these kinds of misinformation efforts: a plague without a vaccine or a known cure, an election year in a turbulently polarized country, race unrest in a deeply racist country spreading to other racist countries around the world and the challenging of a particularly important system (white supremacy), etc etc. People are scared and defensive and reactive, and in that case, they’re especially less motivated to challenge or want to encounter information that scares them. They need their pre-set beliefs to comfort them or provide steadiness in a rocky and uncertain world, and (thanks once again to social media) it’s easy to launch blistering ad hominem attacks on people who disagree with you, who are categorized as a faceless evil mass and who you will never have to meet or negotiate with in real life. This is the environment in which all the world’s distinguished scientists, who have spent decades studying infectious diseases, have to fight for airtime and authority (and often lose) over random conspiracy theorists who make a YouTube video. The public has been trained to see them as “both the same” and then accept which side they like the best, regardless of actual factual or real-world qualifications. They just assume the maniac on YouTube is just as trustworthy as the scientists with PhDs from real universities.

Obviously, academia is racist, elitist, classist, sexist, on and on. Most human institutions are. But training people to see all academics as the enemy is not the answer. You’ve seen the Online Left (tm) also do this constantly, where they attack “the establishment” for never talking about anything, or academics for supposedly erasing and covering up all of non-white history, while apparently never bothering to open a book or familiarize themselves with a single piece of research that actual historians are working on. You may have noticed that historians have been leading the charge against the “don’t erase history!!!1″ defenders of racist monuments, and explaining in stinging detail exactly why this is neither preserving history or being truthful about it. Tumblr likes to confuse the mechanism that has created the history and the people who are studying and analyzing that history, and lump them together as one mass of Evil And Lying To You. Academics are here because we want to critically examine the world and tell you things about it that our nonsense system has required years and years of effort, thousands of dollars in tuition, and other gatekeeping barriers to learn. You can just ask one of us. We’re here, we usually love to talk, and we’re a lot cheaper. I think that’s pretty cool.

As a historian, I have been trained in a certain skill set: finding, reading, analyzing, using, and criticizing primary sources, ditto for secondary sources, academic form and style, technical skills like languages, paleography, presentation, familiarity with the professional mechanisms for reviewing and sharing work (journals, conferences, peer review, etc), and how to assemble this all into an extended piece of work and to use it in conversation with other historians. That means my expertise in history outweighs some rando who rolls up with an unsourced or misleading Twitter thread. If a professor has been handed a carefully crafted essay and then a piece of paper scribbled with crayon, she is not obliged to treat them as essentially the same or having the same critical weight, even if the essay has flaws. One has made an effort to follow the rules of the game, and the other is... well, I did read a few like that when teaching undergraduates. They did not get the same grade.

This also means that my expertise is not universal. I might know something about adjacent subjects that I’ve also studied, like political science or English or whatever, but someone who is a career academic with a degree directly in that field will know more than me. I should listen to them, even if I should retain my independent ability and critical thinking skillset. And I definitely should not be listened to over people whose field of expertise is in a completely different realm. Take the recent rocket launch, for example. I’m guessing that nobody thought some bum who walked in off the street to Kennedy Space Center should be listened to in preference of the actual scientists with degrees and experience at NASA and knowledge of math and orbital mechanics and whatever else you need to get a rocket into orbit. I definitely can’t speak on that and I wouldn’t do it anyway, so it’s frustrating to see it happen with history. Everybody “knows” things about history that inevitably turn out to be wildly wrong, and seem to assume that they can do the same kind of job or state their conclusions with just as much authority. (Nobody seems to listen to the scientists on global warming or coronavirus either, because their information is actively inconvenient for our entrenched way of life and people don’t want to change.) Once again, my point here is not to be a snobbish elitist looking down at The Little People, but to remark that if there’s someone in a field who has, you know, actually studied that subject and is speaking from that place of authority, maybe we can do better than “well, I saw a YouTube video and liked it better, so there.” (Americans hate authority and don’t trust smart people, which  is a related problem and goes back far beyond Trump, but there you are.)

As for art: it’s funny how people devalue it constantly until they need it to survive. Ask anyone how they spent their time in lockdown. Did they listen to music? Did they watch movies or TV? Did they read a book? Did they look at photography or pictures? Did they try to learn a skill, like drawing or writing or painting, and realize it was hard? Did they have a preference for the art that was better, more professionally produced, had more awareness of the rules of its craft, and therefore was more enjoyable to consume? If anyone wants to tell anyone that art is worthless, I invite you to challenge them on the spot to go without all of the above items during the (inevitable, at this rate) second coronavirus lockdown. No music. No films. No books. Not even a video or a meme or anything else that has been made for fun, for creativity, or anything outside the basic demands of Compensated Economic Production. It’s then that you’ll discover that, just as with the underpaid essential workers who suffered the most, we know these jobs need to get done. We just still don’t want to pay anyone fairly for doing them, due to our twisted late-capitalist idea of “value.”

Anyway, since this has gotten long enough and I should probably wrap up: as you say, the difference between “professional” and “hobbyist” has been almost completely erased, so that people think the opinion of one is as good as the other, or in your case, that the hobbyist should present their work for free or refuse to be seen as a professional entitled to fair compensation for their skill. That has larger and more insidious effects in a global marketplace of ideas that has been almost entirely reduced to who can say their opinion the loudest to the largest group of people. I don’t know how to solve this problem, but at least I can try to point it out and to avoid being part of it, and to recognize where I need to speak and where I need to shut up. My job, and that of every single white person in America right now, is to shut up and let black people (and Native people, and Latinx people, and Muslim people, and etc...) tell me what it’s really like to live here with that identity. I have obviously done a ton of research on the subject and consider myself reasonably educated, but here’s the thing: my expertise still doesn’t outweigh theirs, no matter what degrees they have or don’t have. I then am required to boost their ideas, views, experiences, and needs, rather than writing them over or erasing them, and to try to explain to people how the roots of these ideas interlock and interact where I can. That is -- hopefully -- putting my history expertise to use in a good way to support what they’re saying, rather than silence it. I try, at any rate, and I am constantly conscious of learning to do better.

I hope that was helpful for you. Thanks for letting me talk about it.

[grizzlie70]

Isaac vs the Master SOW

we are still way behind! but we will catch up! XD @summer-of-whump and this is a collab with @sapphirechao

This takes place before day 2

day 6-buried/labor

tw: escape, buried, cave collapse, dessert, mention past containment, implied human trafficking, implied death, buried alive

The moon hung high over the clear night sky. Isaac had been walking for hours looking for the next safe place to make camp and rest once morning came. He knew there was no escaping the desert heat, the past experience haunting the back of his mind and lingering like a waking nightmare. How many times was he going to suffer through a wasteland of sun, sand, and death? Chased by a maniac who found a sick enjoyment in his agony, taking away what little freedoms he had and treating him as less than human. It was chilling how similar the Master was to his past enemies. How similar he was to Her. 

Isaac shook away the grim thoughts. Fear clouded his mind, made his hands feel heavy and slow. Fear led to despair, and when he spiraled into that pit it was... a fight to claw his way back out.

Isaac's thoughts were interrupted when he saw smoke coming from a distance. A few miles away, maybe another hour’s worth of walking. He stopped, debating on the possibility of there being others like him. On the run, hiding in this wretched desert… but what if they were like the bastards who imprisoned him? It was too risky. Dread seeped into his chest, squeezing the air from his lung. That dread quickly turned into panic when he could finally make out the source of the smoke. A raging bonfire just over the horizon, with silhouettes of four, no, five people dancing around it. He could hear whooping cheers and singing in the distance, which should have put him more at ease… had he not also seen the shadows of tall empty cages sitting beside the fire as well.

The man kept his head down and quickened his pace, maybe if he was quick they wouldn’t see him from this distance. His eyes drop to the ground, watching the sand sway and shift underneath his feet. When he looks back up at the campfire, he notices that the figures have stopped dancing. Were there suddenly more of them now? His eyes darted across the horizon, making a head count.

Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Where were they all coming from!?

He felt frozen, watching the crowd gather in the distance. More and more shadowy people were crawling into view like black serpents slithering across the sands. Then, they suddenly started running… towards HIM!

Isaac gasped sharply and quickly started running in the opposite direction. Panic flooding his mind and adrenaline pumping through his veins. His feet practically sank into the sand with each step, until his entire leg was suddenly engulfed and he stumbled forward. Isaac fell head first off the dune, tumbling and falling before crashing to the bottom. He spat out mouthfuls of sand, shaking the excess from his hair and clothes as he frantically kept running and praying to find a safe shelter to hide in. 

The figures were all yelling, no cheering as they ran towards Isaac. "First one to nab them gets bragging rights. "One said. The others cheered. "Oh no! I wanna get first picking with the breeding subjects!" Some of them argued as they chased after Isaac, who is fractionally trying to keep his distance. He prayed and prayed, hoping there could be a place for him to hide. Anything. 

As if his Lord heard him, a cave could be seen in the distance, a place to hide or lose them, and without a second thought he dashed forward towards the cave. The sounds of their cheering got closer, and Isaac can feel his tears running down his face- he can't get caught, not when he feels so close. He promised them he'd get help, that they'll be free once he made it to Goodlands, he just has to make it to the cave.

“Hey if you give up now, we’ll go easy on you!” One of them, a deeper voiced man, yelled at Isaac.

Another one laughed. “Yeah! Come on, we don’t bite”, he added. The hunters all began mocking and laughing at Isaac, who felt fear creep into his stomach but kept going, the cave getting closer and closer till he finally made it inside, looking for somewhere to hide, a rock or maybe a ditch. The cave was dark and very dangerous, like it could collapse at any moment. He frantically surveys the area and finds a crack in the cave wall he can squeeze inside. The crack is wedged between is too small for someone healthy to fit into, Isaac tries to hold back a groan. If those bastards hadn't starved me, I probably wouldn't fit inside. He hears their footsteps. "Aww, look he trapped himself for us." The deeper voice spoke, one of the hunters pointed out the ceiling that looked ready to cave in. "Shit, better find them soon." He whispers, the group slowly enter the cavern looking for Isaac, who was hidden inside the crack, he squeezes himself more in the back as they walk right by him. 

Isaac wanted to breathe a sigh of relief but he should wait till he's out of here but a thought came to him as he crawled out of the crack. These people are not only after him but others too. Others who probably have lives, a family, people who are free and unaware of the horrors this desert holds and they'll take them, take them to a life that will strip them of everything they know and love. I can't let that happen. If I leave then they'll just go after another innocent life and another and even more. He looks back into the cave. How? What can I do?! There's eight of them and one of me and I barely have enough energy to fight them all by myself. Isaac lets out a slow, shaky breath before an idea pops in as he looks up at the cave’s roof. Isaac has been sparing energy, if he can just charge his powers, he can make the cave collapse on them. Isaac walks out the cave taking a deep breath, his hands slowly emit electricity. I won’t let them down, I won’t let people suffer a fate like this. Isaac shoots at the cave, lightning strikes the rocks as the cave slowly crumples, rocks fall down and the sounds of yelling can be heard inside until the the entrance was fully cover with rocks and there was silence.

Isaac, breathing heavily, walks away feeling victorious. Hopefully, they didn’t take any lives.  

[moe-lazyeye]

I know what you did, because I’m smart (botgd 2 oneshot)

Dixie glanced around the safe house as Blunt stood across from him with folded arms. “How very...like Scruffy to have a place such as this. It’ll make an excellent place to hide and house half breed refugees. Protective and camouflage wards by the Weaver himself...Your man is such a dear.”

Blunt didn’t say a word, and just starred his cousin down.

Dixie squinted a little, and then tsked once. “A horrible turn of events. But I have relief supplies heading to the rebellion in troves. As much as I can afford for free, and a discount for the rest. I intend to only make enough of a profit to replenish the depleted charity stock, and pay for my...task forces. Anyone they catch complying with that ridiculous ‘kill on sight’ order will have their head’s pasted and remains sent home in a box before they have time to reconsider the error of their ways...” He paused as the uncomfortable silence returned. “Oh good heavens Blunt what is it? Why are we here?” 

“So you can talk freely.” Blunt told him, and motioned at the walls. “This place is nearly invisible, impervious to sounds escaping to the outside...I want you to, at least once, admit what you did...” 

Dixie lowered his casually raised hand. “Oh? A confession? Pray tell cousin, what on earth do you mean?” 

“You know what Dixie, others treating me as a fool is fine, that’s what I present, and that’s what I like. But you’re different. You call me an oaf and dimwitted, but I’m as smart  as you are and you know it.” 

Dixie barked a laugh. “Oh my, this is rich. What a claim. And what makes you think that?”

Blunt’s fingers tightened on his arms. “Because I’ve been thinking about Opie’s arrest...and something else that Sweetbutt had talked to me about a while ago that I didn’t consider connected to anything...until now.” He began to pace a bit. “I kept asking myself, what would I do, if I were you...”

“If you were me doing what?” Dixie asked in a brazen challenge, only there was a small element of vulnerability behind the words. 

“Taking revenge against Darien.” Blunt answered, and Dixie’s expression soured. The larger man held up a finger. “Sweetbutt, Akkey, and I...we all changed a lot. We all went from bad people, to better people. Seeing Darien do the same made us see him differently than how you see him. It’s no mystery you wanted retribution for the genocide he caused. You don’t relate-”

“Yes, pardon me for not relating to the likes of Darien.” Dixie interrupted. “By the way, lovely perpetuated mess that we’re dealing with to this day on account of him.”

“You exploited Opie.” Blunt accused flatly, and didn’t let his cousin’s interruption take him off track. “You left your gun, and he stole it, just as you instructed him. He used it to attack Darien, and went on the run to maintain the element that this all wasn’t just a set up. You ‘discovered your weapon missing’ at a moment where you could have been killed by not having it, and reported it missing immediately, to deliberately link yourself to the crime. You’d be confronted, but there wouldn’t be enough evidence to convict, and in a twisted way, you’d seem more innocent by appearing as the initial suspect, only to be dismissed later...you used the rebellion’s mercy against them. There’s no way they will, or even could, give Opie a punishment even close to the severity Darien, or Indigo got. Especially since no one died.” He gave him a s tern look. “Am I wrong?”

Dixie leaned forward menacingly. “Why would Opie agree to something insane like that? I took exception of his and his father’s situation sure, but it wasn’t personal. So why would I even seek him out?”

“Because you had the one thing he wanted. A chance for revenge. You found Rhenco...his tormentor, and traded his location to Opie in exchange for the job. Opie is smart too, he knew he’d get away with it. What makes it worse in some ways, is that because of your, often valid I’ll admit, criticisms, you and Grey managed to create something that fully utilized the rebellions lenient approach to matters, while still ensuring victim safety and justice. You literally exploited the last loophole before it was permanently patched up...You deny it?”

Dixie didn’t say anything.

Blunt gave an annoyed hiss. “Come on Dixie. The Brotherhood can’t hear you in here. Yeah, I know about them, Stonegit told me, and I’m figuring they threw a wrench in your gears in a way that forced you to take this convoluted approach.” His shoulders lessoned their tension a bit. “There’s only one reason you’d be willing to be so quiet over something, even if you erased all the evidence...and that’s if you were hurting...”

Dixie strode forward with a flare in his eyes. “Hurting? Try practicality. Let me tell you a little something about whether or not something is worth confessing to Blunt Elmiss.” He pushed a finger into his chest as he tilted his chin up at him. “You think I’d risk admitting to this insane conspiracy theory of yours for even a second? Based on everything I’ve seen? I make a bounty against a man who murdered hundreds of thousands, and the next day an innocent secretary almost gets his throat slit over people who ‘support the rebellion.’ I see the charred bodies of people, and children, I knew, people and children I was supposed to take care of. I spoke softly and I was scorned. I spoke louder and I was shut down. I became angry in my approach, and I was seen as a greater enemy than the man who killed all those people! Why?! I know why! Donz...Donz! Donz! DONZ! That name, thrown in my face time and time again, as if I were somehow Orskaf!”

He paced away as he threw his hands over his head. “Oh but then there was you. You, you perfect angel. You loveable trickster. You, who was, and is, and will always be just like me. But your cheery, stupid, wide eyed face has disassociated you with your grandfather long ago. And yet I, was linked to man who wasn’t even in my nuclear family! Yes! I’ll admit it Blunt, I was harsh, I was unkind in those very specific moments. But I was also silenced, in all but formality I was driven off the island, and the only thing I ever wanted to do for them was help. FUCK! I’m still helping them, and I always will! No matter how angry they made me, I saw the good past it, there was never any doubt...so why couldn’t the same be done for me!? You want me to confess? Well then first look me in the eye and tell me they’d accept me one day...”

Silence fell between them. Dixie blinked, and then slowly brought a hand up to grab at the front of his shirt. He seemed...shocked. Shocked at how much he had, and was, feeling in that moment. It was...hurt...just as Blunt had said. The man folded his arms and turned away. 

Blunt crossed his arms as well after a pause. “If I had known they were throwing your name back in your face...I’ve knocked their heads. I’m sorry...”

“Think nothing of it.” Dixie said in an attempted dismissal. “I understand, I act the part.”

“I might be mad at you for what I know you did...whether you’ll ever admit it or not...but in grand total...you haven’t done anything worse than half the people on that island...You’re a hard pill to swallow, and I think I hate you most days. And I think this is a valuable lesson for you to learn, that good deeds, and being good at what you don’t, don’t mean a lot when you’re an asshole to people.”

Dixie sniffed once as if in mockery, but there was a bitter edge to it.

“But.” Blunt held up a hand, and sighed. “I think you also showed us where some weaknesses lie. And I’m not even talking about the criminal justice. The rebellion...it used to have a unity about it, even if someone was a total dick. Akkey and Tree, Grey and Seasick, Greg and Haddock, Stonegit and Skye...there were so many people that had huge blow outs, and moments where they couldn’t agree on anything. But we were all in the mess together, and we were intent on seeing it through...I think we lost some of that. Dixie...I wanted you off Haligan because I wanted you here, where you could have help, where you...”

Dixie glanced at him.

Blunt searched for the right word. “Well where you had people that really loved you.”

Dixie blinked, and then glanced around as if he hadn’t quite understood what he meant. 

“You were ostracized by the one group of people you actually wanted to be friends with. A lot of it was your fault, and lot of it was theirs. There’s no some in this one. Everyone fucked up. And it hurt you. Because you never meant for that to happen. Even when you tried to make it right, you probably never lost a certain tight feeling in your chest...you’re not alone. Stones in particular knows what that’s like...”

With his back still turned to him, Dixie swallowed thickly. “Please Blunt.” He droned. “Just because you always called me by my right name, said you liked my dress when we were kids in front of all your cool friends who had seen it fit to throw dirt at me, doesn’t mean any of this monologue means anything coming from you...”

Blunt shook his head a little. “Your walls don’t have to come down right away, or even all at once Dixie. But its high time you knew that I saw them just as clearly as you saw mine.” He dared to step a little closer to him. “You saved my relationship Dixie, with both Stones, and Akkey...I can’t even begin to think about how I could repay you for that alone. At the same time, you’re an angry, violent person who maims people who stole something as lifeless as money. You can’t be both of those things...eventually you’ll have to choose one...” 

“Not a fan of duplicity hm?” Dixie asked coyly, but there was still that strange, uncharacteristic strain in his voice.

Blunt held out a hand, and when his cousin glanced at him, he saw it in his eyes. It was the same look he saw in Stonegit’s eyes, Akkey’s eyes. The trauma, the hurt, the baseless compulsive reaction to hide it all and bear it alone. “Come home with me...stay in the loft for a while.” Blunt invited him. “With Stones working so much and Akkey back out in the field...I could use the company...and so could you...”

Dixie regarded him, and then took his hand in-between two fingers. “Well...very well I suppose...”

And so Blunt walked out from the safehouse with his cousin. It was not the first time in recent history, nor would it be the last, that he raked the coals over this man for his poor choices. But there was also a sudden resurgence of familial protectiveness he hadn’t felt in a very long time, and he knew he would have choice words with others as well, and maybe even a demon, which was certainty saying something.      

[naerryn]

Fragile Tension (Part One)

Part Two

“How many coffee is that now?”, my partner Lea asked bemused when she sat down at the edge of my office desk as she’s eyeing the steaming black coffee next to my laptop.

“Six? I am surprised you’re really drinking this dishwater.”, she asked in the blue, tugging some of hair messy curly hair behind her round ears and I noticed dark circles around her chocolate brown eyes, even through her almond brown skin tone concealed a lot of her tiredness.

“Better than nothing.”, I shrugged her comment off and added some milk and sugar into the porcelain mug. Nightshift at the Magic Task Force facility was always an unpleasant experience, to say the least. Either nothing was going on and you had to fight sleep for ten hours straight, or the crazy shit was blowing up right into our face. There was nothing in between.

At least, there weren’t many other agents in the building at this hour. Especially almost to no elves.

“Oh, guess what.”, Lea started talking again, obviously I was part of her plan to fight off her desire to sleep while I was stirring my coffee with a silver spoon. I hummed in respond, waiting for her to continue talking.

“I heard Agent Arlon bitching about the public speech your mother held in the elf district of Seattle today. Shame for all elves and the usual bullshit.”

“And here I thought you head something new.”, I replied with a dramatic roll of my eyes, taking a sip from my almost to sweet tasting coffee. It was an open secret that the bigger part of the elvish society considered my mother to be their personal Dark Lord. Or antichrist, how humans liked to say in such a matter.

She worked since decades for a real equality between all races, not just one that stood on paper. Growing up privileged, my mother sympathized at a very young age with creatures that weren’t lucky enough to live behind guarded walls and enjoy the best unaffordable education for over 60 % of the planet.

Her speeches back then were waved off as youthful flaws, but when she felt in love with a human and decided to give birth to the first halfbreed of the elvish kind, that crossed the line for most elves.

It was socially tolerated to have a secret affair with humans, but that’s were the comfort zone ended. Being in an official relationship would be a scandal to an alarming extent and the pressure to much to bear, but breeding with a different race, that was a social death sentence.

I lived my childhood in the elf district of New York City, moved with my parents to three more elvish districts around the country before we finally settled in Los Angeles. Still a lot of hate, but at least there was enough other gossip that we could live our lives in peace for most parts. There were only heydays of hatred whenever mother did one of her more passionate speeches about equality or wanted to enforce a new law that didn’t benefit the needs of the elves.

“One should think that they are more discrete with you being around.”, Lea said thoughtfully, taking one of the elder files that rested on my desk and flipped through the pages.

“Nah, they love it when I walk in to listen to their shit. Hoping I will cry my eyes out about it.”

Back when Lea and I got paired up roughly three years ago, she thought I am just one of those arrogant elves that fill the halls of the department, thinking that everyone should bow to them. But that impression dissolved into dust when she witnessed me getting bullied by elvish coworkers on a daily basis.

I may looked like them, minus the pointed teeth and the bright, light colored eyes, those were human, I got treated like an abomination since the day of my conception. Even by my elvish grandparents.

A loud ping echoed through the open space office and the door of the elevator opened with a swift motion, revealing the Agents Kandomere and Montehugh to be back from a field trip.

I growled at the sight of the buff elf, with his dyed blue hair slicked back nicely and his silver-blue eyes scanning the room as he entered the room with his partner.

“Behave.”, Lea hissed quietly, but we both knew that Kandomere heard every word we would exchange from now on, even if he would be five rooms apart from us.

He was the personification of my archenemy. The second I laid eyes on his silver gorget, etched with the sentence “Elves above all. Above all elves.” in Övüsi, the elvish language, I decided to hate him with a burning passion.

And after a heated debate in a team meeting around a year ago, where it wouldn’t have taken much for us to strangle one another to death, our human partners decided to keep us separated by all costs. And it worked until now.

I didn’t came around to notice how he clenched his strong jaw as his piercing eyes landed on me, heard his heartbeat quickening and he let out a deep breath.

“Can’t he breath even louder.”

“[Y/N]!”, my partner hissed again, this time a bit more aggressive, her eyes dancing between me and the two arrivals and I could swear I noticed a pleading look on Montehughs face directed at Lea.

“Why don’t we go to the archives? Decoding some ancient languages? What do you say, [Y/N]?”

“No.”

“Well, I could go for something small to eat, Kandomere.”, I heard Montehughs booming voice, looking around the room casually before glancing at his partner, who was striding through the room in my direction.

“Then go.”, he said callous, passing Lea and my desk with stone cold features before I could hear the chair of the desk right behind mine being pulled back. So that’s his first move, I thought to myself and decided to slurp on my coffee rather unladylike.

I felt his death glare literally on the back of my head, but at this very moment, I couldn’t care less. Instead, I had to hold back myself from laughing about Lea and Montehugh, who were unable to cope with their (half-) elvish partners.

Montehugh, who still stood close to the elevator, walked the invisible path Kandomere previously moved on, but he came to halt right next to Lea and myself.

“Long time no see... So, how is it going?”

“Well, it’s always the same, Ulysses.”

“Ulysses?”, I blurred out with a raised eyebrow, watching the two humans with an answer demanding look in the eyes and judging the of Kandomeres sharp breath we were sitting in the same boat.

“That’s his name.”

“I know, but since when are we addressing each other by first name?”

He’s with the enemy, I thought to myself, as I tried my best not to let that thought become visible on my facial features.

“I have friends beside you, [Y/N].”

“Friends?”, this time, it was Kandomeres sonorous voice filling the air as he rose his voice and I slid back while remaining on the chair to be able to look at him and the two human.

“Since we can’t bring the two of you to team meetings without starting the apocalypse, we started talking during the breaks and stuff.”, Montehugh said in defense, crossing his arms in front of his chest while Lea slipped down from the desk to stand next to him.

“Oh really?”, Kandomere and I said at the same time, quickly glancing at one another before turning our attention back to our partners.

"You both are behaving ridiculous. I mean, look at you.”

“She’s right. You know what, Lea and I are getting some supper and you guys can burn down this place if necessary, but don’t get us involved anymore.”, and with that being said, Montehugh and Lea turned their backs on us and headed straight for the elevator and just a blink of the eye later, they were gone behind metallic doors.

“That’s your fault.”, Kandomere said in a low growl, interlocking his hands in front of his face while staring at me with arched eyebrows.

“My fault?”, I asked him outraged, placing a hand on my chest as I swirled around to face him. He remained silently, his silver-blue eyes staring me down without blinking.

“This is hardly my fault. You”

“I have done nothing.”

“Of course. How could I forget that our godlike Kandomere isn’t able to do anything wrong. Elves above all. Above all elves. Right!”, I yelled at him and both of us rose to our feet, only a desk kept us apart from one another.

At first, there was pure rage shown on his face, but with every heavy breath that he exhaled, his strong features began to soften.

“So this what it was all about the entire time?”, Kandomere asked me calmly, tilting his head while he scanned my features for any sign if he found the final clue to solve a case that caused him a lot of headaches.

Unwittingly, I backed away a small step, meeting the desk I said behind for the last two hours with my backside while my full attention rested on the elf in front of me.

“What are you talking about?”, I muttered under my breath and felt awed by the sudden change of his demeanor as I watched Kandomere pointing at his silver gorget, his piercing light eyes locked with mine.

“You hate me because of a piece of jewelry?”

“I hate you for everything this piece of jewelry stands for.”, I told him honestly and I could tell by the look on his face what he was thinking at this very moment. That I was sounding just like my mother.

“I have nothing against other races.”

“But?”

“But I think most need supervision.”

“By elves?”, I wasn’t beating around the bush, but neither was Kandomere, and I crossed my arms in front of my chest while he walked around the desk, now standing an arm-length apart from me as he leaned against the desk.

“Yes.”

I snorted in respond, shaking my head in disbelief about his dusty, old fashioned views. Sadly, this view was shared by most of those elitist pure-blooded elves. An awkward silence took a firm grip of us, mentally going through the usual better and worse reasons to believe in each of our views.

Those debates were held millions of times, there was no good reason for the two of us to start it on our own. Nothing new would come out of it. Everything that someone could say on that topic was already said by older, more wiser elves then us.

“But that doesn’t mean that I hold any resentment towards you.”, Kandomere said after a long pause, slowly coming closer to me in small, graceful steps. I bit my lower lip, avoiding his gaze for a split second before looking back up to meet his eyes.

“I find it hard to belief.”

“Really?”

“Really.”, we exchanged our words quickly, and he came to stop right in front of me, the tip of his expensive designer shoes touching mine softly. He smelled like smoke of an open fire mixed with the scent of leather and roses. It left me wondering for a moment if there was someone waiting for him at home, but that thought left my racing mind as quickly as it entered.

“Then, would you allow me to prove you that my words are honest? All I want is a chance and time.”, he spoke calmly, looking down at me through half closed eyes.

“I have to think about it.”, I whispered, flinching away from him before I grabbed my jacket, which rested on the back of my chair before I stride towards the closed elevator.

I felt his eyes burning in the back of my head with every step I came closer to my escape, his smell still etched into my mind and the sonorous sound of his voice echoing in my head.

I needed a clear head, and here, with him, I wouldn’t be able to get what the back of my head demanded. That’s at least what I told myself as I waited for the elevator to show up, feeling like it’s taking longer then usual for it to show up on our floor.

With a loud ping, the door glided to one side and I quickly entered the small room to press the button for the ground floor. Turning around on the spot, my eyes landed on Kandomere one last time before the doors closed automatically.

The silver-blue orbs of his were pleading me to stay, to come back to him and sit down on the some chairs, talking about this and that and making first steps on getting to know one another. I lowered my head, avoiding his gaze as the door closed the engine of the elevator starting to lower the cabin to it’s destination.

(2184 Words)

[bluem0use]

It's about time I introduced you to the cast of The Crackin'-Up Studios. Don't worry. You'll be seeing them again, especially in the mini-comics!

**In order from top to bottom, left to right**

Billie Bob Willie-Nillie Black Sheep: The overall face of The Crackin'-Up Studios itself. She is the ring leader to the whole circus. The pilot to all the flight attendance. The manager to a corporate office. You get the whole idea. She's one poppin' fire-cracker (A.K.A. has a short temper) that's all for the business, but doesn't mind getting silly from time to time. On screen, she is the definition of unpredictable and crazy, fun and silly. She's a gun happy country gal that started off small and came out big with her talents for making people laugh. She worked hard to get her way to the top. And all of it has obviously paid off. If someone was to use words to describe her, it would be fun, loving, friendly, brave, courageous, generous, the list could go on and on. This gun-loving  little lady, no matter where she goes, always somehow seems to change people's lives. And for the better.

Poochie Pooh Poodle: Billie's partner-in-crime. Her bestest friend since her younger years. Her ride or die buddy. Poochie is the main co-star to the series, and a serious eye-candy to men. While Billie is featured as the funny, wacky, unpredictable, quirky character on-screen of the trio, Poochie is often featured as the sex-appeal. The sex symbol. The hot mama. She also models as a little side job whenever necessary. She's the sweetest sweetie-pie you will ever meet in your life. However, proceed with caution. When provoked, she's one sassy gal and won't hesitate to give you a mouthful (and probably a gun wound) if you mess with her, or her friends.

Wolfie Blackfang Wolf: What's the three musketeers without a male in the picture? Wolfie may not have known these two women as long as they've known each other, but their his closest family he's ever had since he left the orphanage. He is also the main co-star to the series, accompanied by being the musical genius of the three. Since a young boy, Wolfie has practiced music as not only his hobby, but his life. His alluring ability was able to trap the young black sheep and poodle in a trance on a fateful night in a club where he worked to try and make a living, thus landing him a job and a ticket to materialization through the ladies. From there, he has always acted as the stud of the three, protecting them whenever they needed an extra hand and also charming women with his attractive voice along the way.

Candy Bat: This "monster", this "usually nocturnal creature of the night", this "mysterious shadow" is nothing but a sweet treat in the eyes of many who travel far and wide to Nightwalk Bay to get a taste of his sweet treats at the local candy shop. At least, that's what Billie, Poochie, and Wolfie will tell ya. Famous for his line of business, Candy Bat is a harmless, humble candy man..err..bat that seeks nothing but to fill the mouths of the fortunate with a sweet after-taste. His delicious pastries, frozen desserts, and fizzy drinks aren't the only thing that appeals to the eyes of many. He's also a support character at The Crackin'-Up Studios during the day and a friendly (but hissy, due to his uncontrollable excited hisses whenever he meets someone new and/or is excited) candy shop-keeper at night.

Scratches: Whoa, watch out for that web! There's a BIG spider up there! And his name is none other than Scratches, yet another support cast character for The Crackin'-Up Studios. When in the presence of my six-armed friend, be cautious. Scratches loves the ladies and will go through extreme lengths to entangle you in his web, if he deems you a worthy enough mate. Don't worry fellas, he doesn't swing that way. Though..spider's gotta eat, right? What? Spiders only eat insects? Not this playful, flirtatious one. Note that this spider is dead, and has been ressurrected after a deal made by Ozzan (scroll down to reference Ozzan's bio). Therefore, Scratches likes human flesh too. Dont worry too much though. He's too busy chasing both Poochie and Billie around the studios, trying to declare his love for them. Though...something about a huge demon spider just..turns those two ladies off.

Honey Hyena: As the name implies, this hyena is sweet as honey! Raised on a bee farm, this little lady never expected to end up being a supporting cast character to The Crackin'-Up Studios. That was, until a little Black Sheep mozied on over and decided to offer her the position and the materialization process just like everyone else. She figured the nice lady would need the money boost besides "Milkin' bees all day long" - Billie. Honey loves bees. In fact, on her days off from woking at the studios, that's all she does! Is work, work, work at her long-descended family bee farm, making honey and selling it for some dough (money) as a side job. She is also the motherly figure to all the cartoon ladies on set and often tries to share her knowledge with them in hopes she can help guide them on the right path. I mean, not everyone is perfect, right?

Bon Isabell Bunny: Daughter of a long deceased magician (who was, ironically a white bunny), she has seeked to find more support by becoming a supporting cast character to the TV series. However, though, she wasn't looking to be a supporting character when offered the job by Billie Bob. Bon has a bit of a...strong hatred for Billie Bob. Bon saw how much love and respect the black sheep got, even from her "enemies". So, what does this tempered (its just as bad as Billie's, trust me), quick-to-anger, grumpy gal do? Well, it's like they say, "Kill the sheep, take her wool!". That is...if she could catch her first. Forever caught in this game of cat-and-mouse on screen and off screen, Bon decided to settle into this position for now. Hopefully one day, her magic tricks and traps can pay off and actually earn her a spot in the lead position.

Bon Iseah Bunny: Twin brother to the other Bon Bunny, this bunny seems the complete opposite of his sister. This magic bunny doesn't mind being a supporting cast character, and instead enjoys making others smile with her magic tricks and qurkiness. After all, its what his deceased magician father would have wanted. He admires Billie and everything that she does not only for everyone else, but herself. He just hopes with time, his sister can see that. For now, this calm bunny will just have to play as yin to his sister's yang (A.K.A., trying his best to calm her in her most stressed and ferocious moments).

Molly Cow: Before her rise to fame as another member of The Crackin'-Up Studios crew, Molly Cow, the half-pig half-cow offspring, could not keep a job to save her life! She was lazy, less focused, often slacking or ducking off, and/or giving up before she even set foot in the door! The funny thing is, she wouldn't care, and just go back to living with her parents. Seeing as though Molly's confident and care-free attitude was a necessity to bring on some laughs, all Billie had to do was offer a hand to the voluptuous, intriguing young woman and for some odd reason, this cartoon has managed to keep the job ever since. Side note, if you ask her what her "other" job would be whenever she brings it up, it would be shopping. She is ALL about the fashion!

Malachi (formerly known as "Michael Jamesking"): Yes, Malachi is actually an angel. AND, he is also a featuring asset to the team whenever needed. With the help of one of Veronica's potions (scroll down to reference Veronica's bio), he has the ability to shrink down to size on command. He also is a good line of defense if life-threatening danger ever be-falls the company, for even if he is a judgement angel, he is considered very powerful against a mortal (unless demon weapons are used against him). He is pure, friendly, and kind, however, you must not associate yourself with the presence of evil upon first meetings. He IS a jugement angel after all and will be quick to judge you and shame you for your choice of sin and avoid you like the plague while also be-littleing you. Ironically, the only exception to this treatment is Ozzan (his best friend in all universes) and Bendy (in the head-canon canon universe). Also note, Malachi was never always Malachi. Malachi was once Michael, a regular, normal, working business man who unfortunately got hit by a car on his morning rush to work.

Ozzan: Oh boy. This one's a bad one. If you thought Scratches (scroll up to reference Scratche's bio) was bad, wait until you get a load of this one! This foul-mouthed, ill-mannered, obnoxious, flirtatious pervert is somehow a necessity to The Crackin'-Up Studios. His crude sense of humor and anctics tend to get a good laugh out of adults more than oblivious children. He will flirt with anything, sleep with anything, hell even risk catching some sort of SEXUAL DISEASE for anything that has legs. This man lives, breathes, and embraces everything that is bad at every cost, every time. Its possibly why he was so close to Lucifer (the Devil) back when he was in Hell. Though, take caution. If you piss him off (which isn't really hard to do), he WILL tear you to bits and peices with his bare fists. Also, beware of tentacles and trendils ladies. He has them everywhere and can use them not only in battle, but also for...other things. So beware and..make sure your doors are locked.

Veronica Bat: Born "Daddy's Little Monster", Veronica is the daughter of Candy Bat and Valentine Naxxremis (formerly Bat)(She will be referenced in the next ref). For most of her life, she has lived with her mother and embraced her witch-hood, which usually ends up with the little gloom and doom bookworm getting bullied for being a "half-breed". However, her luck gets turned around when she meets Billie Bob (like a lot of these people's do) who helps instill in her to be happy to be herself and to screw what everyone else says..and to also get back at them at all costs. She looks up to Billie and Poochie as her "Aunties", though, has trouble getting along with her father. She was raised to believe she had left her and her mother and never really loved them. Which, is obviously not true, but, she has a hard time believing that. Once welcomed to the cast, Veronica is a huge hit with the goth little teen girls who aspire to be like her: beautiful and mysterious. Let's just hope she gets he powers under control first, for she struggles with that a great deal on screen for comical effect and off screen.

Patricia Greene Pig: (A/N: She probably has had the MOST change out of all of them, so beware) Patricia is Delloris's (scroll down for Delloris's bio) bestest friend since childhood. Snobby, rude, sassy, class. All of these combined makes her perfect for scenes where she's the girl that thinks she's too good for the male trying to win her heart. Likes are, their only trying to "woo" it for her money. Oh, did I mention she's very wealthy? Her and Delloris aren't friends for nothing. You have to have some sort of status when it comes to getting in goods with the mayor's one and only daughter. Also note that Patricia is an EXTREME germo-phobe and will pelt you down with germ-x if you've so much as TOUCHED an un-sanitized door knob.

Hank Kat: Hank Kat has been an aspired musician since he was a little boy. He has really known the struggles of what it's like to be broke from both of his poor parents. So, as a way to raise some money, he went out on the streets and played his father's old rusty trumphet for some pocket change. Crowds were so awed at his talent, before long, Hank was hitting the clubs to try and win over some cash to take care of his parents once he became of age. Similar to Wolfie, Poochie had just so happened to stumble upon him. Though they didn't exactly see eye-to-eye due to species war, they were able to put their differences aside the night they had spent together, dancing the night away. As they danced, Poochie would listen to this party-goer's story and become sympathetic for the poor fellow. Thus, she figured his wallet could be fed a little more and thus offered for him to be a support character on the team. With his toe-tappin', feed stompin', hand wavin; jams that he can play on trombone, trumphet, pretty much just about any instrument he could blow into, he would become not only a major asset to the supporting cast, but also the music, both at his day job at the studios and his night job in the clubs.

Puncho: This "unstoppable brick wall" can take a punch and also pack it. After all, they don't call him "Puncho" for nothing! Though he's not much of fan favorite unless it comes to his famous boxing episodes, Puncho is a well-served supporting cast in the crew. He's often seen alongside his partner, Scraps Skunk (scroll down for Scrap's bio), no matter what the situation. He has a temper just like Billie, girl Bon, and Ozzan, however, instead of unleashing it by yelling at coworkers and throwing large objects (Billie), chasing someone down the hall with a chainsaw (Girl Bon), or spewing a bunch of curse words that's enough to make a sailor blush (Ozzan), he lets out his steam in the ring. He is the undefeated champion (if you don't count his and Billie's first brawl in one of her posters) within the boxing ring and anyone who dare wants to challenge him in taking his belt, well. Better be prepared for the pain. Bring a lot of ice.

Scraps Skunk: A timid, shy soul who is pure and good at working the ring as a referee. He plays fair though, he always will support his bestest friend, Puncho no matter what. His often scared, frightened, shaky attitude is welcomed on screen whenever needed. He was often bullied through his childhood and unlike those who have toughed up from it, he only seemed to soften. Hell, even Billie has chewed him out for his overly push-over nature. Though, she gives up. For nothing can change this poor man's soft heart and kind ways.

Wallis Moose: What else to say about this guy besides him obviously being a horrible detective? After his first appearance as one in one of Billie's episodes, Wallis fell in love with the idea of being one and even off screen, tries to solve "mysteries" wherever he is needed. However, he always slips up short and makes himself to be a fool. How did he even earn a spot on the team? Well, to put it simple, Wallis is a stone cold, hard drunk. He drinks and drinks and drinks, and when he's hiccuping and stumbling all over the place, Billie couldn't help but find it amusing the first time they met. After all, the first night they met, they both danced drunkinly through the streets of Nightwalk Bay, where they somehow met. As kooky as it sounds, it actually happened. Believe me.

Chico Georgina Chick: This once poor broken flapper was able to leave her broken past of having to prostitute herself on the streets and go some nights starving behind. Coincidentally, Chico was given another opportunity at a better life by Hank Kat (scroll up for Hank's bio), who happened to run into her at one of the clubs and show her a much better life than what she was living by offering her a position at the studios and materialization through the machine. Now a re-born, classy lady, this former flapper...heh...well, let's be honest. Girl loves to party and dance like there's none tomorrow, is ready to bring all the club's joy and bump to the table on screen. Hank is often seen by her side, playing away on his trumphet while she dances on top of a table. Nothing too promiscuous or provocitive. Want to keep the adult's attention but not as much. She's known as the party girl out of the group and also knows a thing or two about fashion. Also, keep her as FAR away from Molly (scroll up for Molly's bio) as possible..they fight a lot.

Delloris Acorn: Delloris is the beloved daughter of the mayor of Toon City, within the alternate world where cartoons "live". Her mother died giving childbirth and though she never knew her mother. She was always expected to act lady-like and proper, is why she carries herself that way. Though, the day Billie met Delloris and her father and was allowed to spend the day with her, Billie turned her upside down and all around. To the point Delloris came home, dress cut into a tank-top, short short overalls, knee-high socks, messy hair, and busted shoes. Billie's excuse was they were pig wrestling (no pun intended Patricia). Her father was awfully upset and almost demanded Billie to be arrested, however, Billie's sly deal to offer Delloris a spot at the studios was the only thing that saved her from some jail time. Now, while away from her rich and perfect life as the mayor's "little princess", she's allowed to get down and dirty. Especially on screen where down and dirty are necessary for some laughs.

Mad Mouse (also known as "Maddison K Mouse"): Why is this mouse so quiet and mysterious? Why does he never speak or even take off his goggles? Wait, is this mouse even a "he" at all? Well, yes and no. To put a long story short, back in these days and times of the early 1900s, women weren't taken seriously. Even toon women. Born a genius, the only way to get people to notice her freakishly large brain talent is to disguise herself as a man and as to go as "Mad Mouse" instead of "Maddison Mouse". However, her little secret couldn't be kept that long, for an incident in her labs caused her to lose part of her disguise and have to come clean to Billie, Poochie, and Wolfie. It was through them who helped her realize that, no matter who you are, your voice deserved to be heard no matter what. From that point on, this support cast member decided to cease wearing the disguse and be her actual self. Though, I wouldn't mess with this quiet little genius. She's a little...mad (crazy), as the legends and cartoons portray her as.

[darrowsrising]

But don't you think that the obsidian would prove to be a very expansionist people ? that's why I found Virginia's plan to leave Cimmeria to the obsidian very naive. How long would it have taken them to claim all of Mars for themselves ? sadly, DA made it clear that the obsidians are still very barbaric. At the beginning of DA, Lysander noticed that the Republic would soon split up into small kingdoms. Unfortunately he seems to be right in this matter.

Ok, I don't mean to be rude, but...that isn't right, I mean, it's your opinion, but I cannot agree withbthat at all. Dark Age wasn't about how barbaric the Obsidians are, but how easy it is to manipulate the masses.

No offence, but no, the Obsidians aren't an expansionist people. They actually wanted Cimmeria not to conquer it and enslave people and force thembto obey their rules or whatever. They wanted it because they fought to liberate Mars and they ended up with its pieces. Olympia was their base, gifted to them. Sefi wanted to make the Volkland - a piece of land that was theirs, a home that wasn't cold and was habitable. Is that expansionist? No. They also worked well with the other Colors and they paid them generously. They only wanted Cimmeria and Sefi thought that Virginia wouldn't accept even that.

But she did, because Sefi proved herself as an ally and after all the Obsidians did for the Republic, they deserved a home if they wanted it. Also, if Virginia is naïve, so is Victra and Sevro for trying to deal with these 'barbarians'.

What Dark Age proved was that it the problems with the Colors run deeper than initially thought, fact that the enemy was well aware of and exploited. Sefi managed to rally the tribes, Bersekers have recovered and have been treated and reintroduced in society, her new ways were quite inovative - she herself learnt as much as she could and tried to inspire that in her people too.

So how are they barbarians? First of all, the Golds made them this way through violence and manipulation. They tried to move on from that, be better. And Atlas and his Zero Legion exploited that - they wanted to make the Obsidians be the scary invaders, the barbarians, but Ephraim intervened. So they did the next best thing, they used patriarchy to overthrow Sefi and her new ways. But only after making her trip over herself with court intrigue and plots that crushed her spirit and trust.

It's hard to move uphill when the enemy tries to make you lose your balance and get crushed by the weight you are carrying.

Yes, the Obsidians are crude and violent, but they are also friendly and clever. They are more than what the Golds enslaved them to be. And they want to be better, but like all people, Gold included, they listen to power. And Atlas and Volsung played that in their favour. They turned the Obsidians against their own queen and their own people that they swore to protect. I think that what they did is more barbaric than what the Obsidians as a people did...and they had Eaters.

The Obsidians helped liberate lots of planets and moons. They suffered the most losses, yet there are signs in shops that forbid them from entering. They are obviously not welcome, their sacrifices aren't noticed. So it is only natural that they wanted a place to call their own, one that didn't involve the harsh poles of Mars. What is wrong with that? Sure, I have a list of reasons why Sefi doing that at that certain time and using those methods was bad, but that is beside the point.

I know that the Obsidians have a nordic based culture and they had a mongolian based one before the Dark Revolt. But it truly sounds wrong to call them expansionist barbarians, when they aren't either.

'Barbarian' nowadays reffers to something cruel, violent, dumb and uncultured. It was used way back to describe people who weren't part of a great civilisation like Greek or Roman. I guess you can say that they have no advanced culture, no written philosophy, no advanced art and mostly no science and call them barbarians for that, but again, blame the Golds for that one - they breed them for war and survival only.

The Obsidians trying to get away from their past is a complex issue that Sefi tried to rush at the expense of her friends and allies and it cost her everything in the end.

Now, if anyone can make a display of power grand enough to overthrow Volsung, is Volga. And she has the temperament and guts to finish what Sefi started.

I mean,the Reds have always lived in fear in the mines and the Red Hand manipulated them too, using fear and violence. Unlike Lyria, who managed to rally the enemies of the Red Hand and see that her Color can fight and can work together, not against each other, Volga didn't have that necessary page time or time in general to show us how her people reallt are outside their past.

That being said, I cannot agree with your opinion and I don't care to change it, but...yeah, it's just not right for me.

Howl on!

[alternislatronemhq]

Congrats, RALUCA, you have been accepted to AL for the role of EMMA VANITY (FC: Lily James). Wow, your app was TRULY fantastic! I was hanging on to every word, loving each bit. You’ve flushed Emma out in such a beautiful way, and I for one cannot wait to see how she progresses in this plot! Really well done, I’m so excited you’re here! Please send in your blog (no sideblogs for first characters, please) in the next 24 hours and be sure to take a look at our new player checklist. Welcome home (once again), we’re so excited to have you join the family!

OOC

name — raluca age — 20, but i’m turning 21 on the 15th of july pronouns — she/her/hers timezone — gmt+2

IC Overview

name — Vanity, Emma faceclaim — Lily James  age — 25 gender — Cis-female. Women who would fan themselves endlessly while sipping her mother’s 5 o’clock tea would say female as if it were a barrier. They would point out that she was a lady, and that therefore, she should keep her back straightened, she should brush her hair, she should never say that word again out loud. Yet, her parents never asked Emma to put on a skirt because the Rowles are visiting. They never treated her like a little bird, like a future bride in training that they would marry off as soon as graduation. Her father had many faults, but never did he force Emma into the thin, cage-shaped stereotype that was female in their society. She was his heir. She learned to ride winged horses at ten years old. She was taken to saloons where men drank firewhiskey and talked business at fourteen. She wasn’t scolded after stealing her father’s cigars one summer at fifteen — she couldn’t escape getting enrolled among the Death Eaters as she turned seventeen. Therefore, Emma is a cis female, but the definition her parents taught her differs from the one used by her childhood friends.

sexuality — Pansexual. Her sexuality seeks personality more than anything else. She’s attracted to all those with a fire within, who inspire her to be worse, who make her laugh, who have something to say. Obsessive yet easy-going, she falls in love quickly and gives up hard. Whatever makes her heart beat change has claim over the said heart forever.

patronus — The memories she has lived are sprinkled with sheer happiness. Getting drunk and swimming in the Black Lake at midnight, winning the Inter-House Quidditch Cup while being Captain, getting a hundred galleons at the lottery all made her smile spread all the way to her ears, but nothing filled her whole heart with joy. She hasn’t even properly lived, in her opinion. Casting a patronus is a sensitive subject for a witch who always wanted to be first at everything, but finds it difficult to convert happiness into magic. However, if she were able to conjure a patronus, it would undoubtedly be a winged horse, namely an Abraxan Winged Horse. Abraxan Winged Horse - A breed of winged horse, gigantic in size and extremely powerful. They are selective eaters and usually require forceful handling. As a Patronus, they represent power, determination, and a free spirit.

boggart — This would be easier. In the past years, she ran on fear rather than happiness as fuel. These days, it would definitely be her father returned from Azkaban. She fears what life path he desires for her. She fears that disappointed look on his face when he notices her disgust for everything the war and the Dark Lord stand for. She fears the mental image of him destroyed by a soul-shattering prison, and, in few words, she fears him no matter if he dies in Azkaban, if he returns to make a Death Eater out of her again or if he returns to kill her for treason.

IC In Depth

personality traits —

(ambitious:) While other people have hobbies and interests, Emma’s only passion is overachieving. She became Quidditch team Captain seeking a title to differentiate herself from her mates. She learned to throw a Quaffle because someone implied she couldn’t, in the first place. Her collection of diplomas, piled up like fallen leaves in autumn, doesn’t matter for anything but her own ego, entirely fed by a lifetime of chasing after small prizes and insignificant victories. Nothing attracts her like winning, like coming on top, whether it’s about schoolwork, about silly bets or her own life choices. She has done questionable things to land on top before, only out of pride. Despite being passive in matters of blood purity and being too comfortable to actually want to fight a war (especially on the losing side), her ambition served as sole motivation to keep going, following her father’s wish to fight for the Dark Lord and make something out of a family name that hasn’t sat next to something worthy of pride in too long.

(fickle:) Easily convinced to doubt even the steps she takes on the ground, she questions everything, all the more herself, and is ready to turn on her heels and walk in the other direction at the first glare from someone else. Persuasion has her mind on strings, toying with it at free will, and Emma wouldn’t even notice, under the spell of every person who influences her in any way. Encouraged by peer pressure and naturally inclined to struggle until everyone liked her, she is often remembered by her worst, most impulsive decisions, executed because someone thought it would be funny. More importantly, her father’s aspirations for her left a permanent mark on her forearm, and she had no power fighting that decision.

(free-spirited:) While taking every piece of advice religiously, worrying that everyone’s mind but her own saw bigger truths that she was missing, she loves being in charge of her afternoons. She doesn’t want to be told what to do — not out loud and not consciously — because the peace and the quiet are her most comfortable state of being. She craves adventures and untied, tangled hair, spontaneous dips in stranger lakes and kisses from people she doesn’t know the name of. She despises cages and has a predisposition towards flying — be it on a broom or her favorite winged horse. Emma seldom knows what to do, what path to take and whether to trust her own mind or not — but she would rather cope with her uncertainties without having so many questions to answer and so many responsibilities no one ever wished for.

(chaotic:) An agitated daughter turned into a radioactive teenager turned into a messy young adult. Emma doesn’t know how to stand still, like she doesn’t know the first thing about order and stability. She learned how to run long before she could walk, and that shows in her behavior everyday. Wrong decisions made in the spur of the moment tie with some sort of natural, charming clumsiness — and these describe her to the last comma. She talks too much and most of her sentences don’t have an ending, because she never stops spinning infinitive ideas back and forth in her mind.

character biography —

Perhaps out of lack of blue blood in her veins, Emma never quite fit in according to the pureblooded standards. Her mother was thought to give birth to a boy up until the first time Emma opened her eyes for the first time towards the world. Due to health complications, it was said that she would never give birth again, let alone to a son.  It took his father a bit to adjust and accept the imminence of not having a heir to pass on quite everything to, but he never loved Emma any less. He couldn’t have his own blood even if it spat in his face — but Emma wouldn’t gamble on that. The toddler with curious eyes never cried a day, with a childhood surrounded by majestic winged horses and an aunt that sang in the Leaky Cauldron, surrounded by pinkness and a loving family that, despite being preoccupied by tradition, never resented Emma for simply being born.

And so the child who tripped in ballet classes and couldn’t remember the word for anything, having to ask her mother, grew taller and taller everyday, as if warmth alone lifted her up. Despite not being a skilled pianist or a talented dancer, she excelled in the third most pureblooded occupation there was. When on a horse, nothing stopped her. Emma would often be scolded by a worried mother or by a half-amused father for speed, but she agreed she’d never slow down. Every chance to hop on a winged horse and ride was a chance to exceed her last speed record, and so she became competitive — by being in constant competition with herself.

Terrified to go to Hogwarts, as she feared she has never slept before without her mother’s daily kiss on her forehead, she learned that she loves large amounts of company quite soon. She would talk and talk for hours if she had someone to talk to, and strangers were her favorite interlocutors. For that, she made both friends and enemies, those who liked her guts and humor not necessarily exceeding those who wouldn’t find anyone more annoying than Emma Vanity. Still, her priority has always been to have fun, and her friends were grateful to have around someone as lovely, gullible and foolish as her. Quidditch was her biggest achievement, despite being a sport she didn’t have a passion for particularly. It just mirrored horse-riding enough to make her not miss home so much, so often. And the fact that it implied the biggest competition Hogwarts had to offer interested her even more. She became a Captain in her third year and was known not for being the most talented player rather the one who would never give up.

When the child with curious eyes turned into the teenager with desperate eyes, it was as if nothing could stop her anymore. Driven by endless ambition and no drop of shame, she was the only girl in her year who treated boys she liked as if they were the girl. Norms have never applied to her and she decided it was best if the boys feared her instead of the other way around. Never did Emma hesitate before asking somebody out on a Hogsmeade trip, but, for that, she encountered with a fair amount of rejection. Emma was unlike the rest of the pureblooded girls  —  not delicate, not sheepish, not elegant, not mannered  — and she was unlike the other girls, but somewhere in the middle, she was sweet; like corn instead of candy. She didn’t fear labels from jealous wixen, she would argue with anyone spreading rumors… or even telling the truth about her, and conflict was never something she shuddered at the thought of. Until her father’s opinions concerning her became a problem.

Upon finishing school, she had no direction. Hogwarts, her friends, her team and even the dramas have been the entirety of her life for years, and now she didn’t want to become an adult. Yet, Mr. Vanity had big hopes regarding his daughter. As a supporter of Voldemort who didn’t stand out in any way: not being rich enough, not respected enough and certainly not having the strongest wand, he wanted to do anything to get in the Dark Lord’s good graces and it did flatter Emma that he immediately considered enrolling her. Except for the fact that Emma never wanted to fight to begin with. The cause itself preoccupied her less, even though something in her chest made her feel as if it wasn’t exactly right. Still, she complied with half a heart, only out of fear not to let down her father, who never wronged her in any way despite having many reasons to treat her as harshly as other fathers treated kids her age.

It was a relief when the Dark Lord vanished, and she was ready to take it without questioning whether it is a good or permanent thing. The only thing that mattered was that she was no longer a toy in somebody’s big hands and that the strings got cut off entirely. Her tattoo bothered her, but not enough to stop her from living a life filled with things that used to bring her joy before. It was going to take a while to rediscover them, but she was hopeful, for the first time. But that was before the aurors knocked on their door to arrest his father, letting her think she would be next. That didn’t happen, but the thought of her own father sitting blankly in an Azkaban cell made her skin itch and her head ache. She wanted him saved, but at the same time, she wanted her freedom too. Out of lack of skills regarding solving inner conflicts, she decided not to think much about that one. Still, even now that her wings are untied, she doesn’t know what to do with that freedom in the slightest.

plot ideas —

i. BLACKMAIL. People know of the mark underneath her robes. The long sleeves aren’t fooling anyone and the summertime catches her too distracted and entertained not to strip to skin with every occasion. Therefore, her prior alliance isn’t a whisper on a dark street, rather than the bitter truth she still didn’t gather up courage to swallow. The blackmail would have more to do with her official betrayal. Maybe she slipped in front of another Death Eater and confessed what is in her heart regarding the Dark Lord and her father’s say in her involvement, maybe someone observant enough read straight through her. What’s certain is that someone is using her weakness to threaten her into imminent death for her unofficial betrayal. Whether she knows this person’s identity or not, it’s open to interpretations.

ii. SPEAK NOW. It’s implied that Emma and Reginald, Mary’s husband, were romantically involved. Even if this were completely one-sided and if Emma was the only one to grow feelings for the other young man, it’s irrelevant in light of how she sees it. She sees it as a love story, beginning, middle and ending. No amount of cold water would help her wake up from the delusion that her friend — her good friend — led her on. The news about Reg’s marriage to Mary came in like a hurricane. Despite all that, it felt like a masterful idea at the time to interrupt their ceremony and voice her concern. She made a fool out of herself for this impulsive moment of unasked for truth. People still whisper about crazy Emma to this day and no hole is deep enough for her to hide whenever that particular memory resurfaces, but she’s learned to live with all of her collection of mistakes, no matter how sharp they still dig into their mind.

iii. PARTY GIRLS DON’T GET HURT. No one can brag about as many blunders as Emma, and her Hogwarts times are the golden ages of that. With a tendency to be the target of everyone’s laughter, it would only make sense that people in her generation wouldn’t think too highly of her, still remembering the girl who always tripped over her own feet after a couple of butterbeers. This plot bunny includes both people she used to be good friends with (but since adolescence is not a light summer’s breeze, they would have either fought passionately or fallen apart) and people who can’t help but scoff at the mention of her name. She wouldn’t necessarily be popular, but, as a dramatic and social person, it would only be natural that she made both pals and enemies at the age of sixteen.

iv. THE CLOAKED MEN. With a history of being on the wrong side of the previous war, aurors panic the hell out of Emma. She avoids them as if she has something to hide, but truth is, she just doesn’t want to end up where her father is. I would like a suspicious auror to seek her company purposefully and make her nervous in hopes of maybe learning something new about the Death Eaters. Getting under Emma Vanity’s skin is easier than ever when she is sweating and trying to nervously smile through that.

v. REDEMPTION. Maybe someone wants to fool Emma (see: possibly linked with the fourth plot bunny as well), maybe they want her to be well. What’s for sure is that someone is suddenly dragging her towards the light side — and she swings in between certainties without appearing to make up her mind any time soon. The promise of a clean future and better, less scary company is difficult to weigh in when, on the other side, her father’s disapproving eyes blink, in a frown, at her.

extra — I just feel like these grow from muse. I like doing edits (albeit not currently owning photoshop since I just bought a new laptop and don’t have anything on it), I think in songs and nothing’s as inspirational as a good quote, but forcing it would mean ruining it. But worry not, I will post, without spamming, plenty of those if I do get accepted.

[rancoeur-the-unfortunate]

Pills (Chapter 22)

(Fair warning this chapter is heavily based off the episode Hobo 13, so it might be best to watch that before reading this.)

Hobo 13 was a small baren planet designed to be used as training grounds for alien soldiers throughout the universe. A long time ago when Tallest Miyuki was in rule, she had found the planet and was originally going to destroy it. However, the residents of Hobo 13 managed to convince her that they could help her train her army if she spared their planet. So she called off the attack and watched from afar as the generals down below trained her men.

Even Miyuki had to admit the training was a little unorthodox but it worked. Her soldiers were faster, stronger, more preceptive, but most importantly they worked together.

The army was knocking down planets one by one, and with the ever-growing population of Irkens, there were plenty of soldiers to keep watch of said planets.

When Tallest Miyuki died and Tallest Spork took over, he was going to do the same thing. However, when Zim's blob attacked and Tallest Spork died. No one knew what to do. There weren't any Irkens tall enough yet; no one was superior enough to rule over the Irkens.

Years went by with no Tallest, and without a Tallest, there was no one left to control the Massive and that meant no concurring until someone reached the right height.

This didn't sit well with many Irkens and so the shorter, less superior ones did what thought to be impossible. Using the knowledge they gained from Hobo 13 they worked together. Planet after planet, the army was taking down faster than ever before.

Those short Irkens were an inspiration to short Irkens everywhere. They fought the taller Irkens declaring that they no longer wanted to slaves. They could be soldiers, they could be engineers, they could be doctors. Why the hell were they being treated like they were mindless drones? They were just as capable as any tall Irken. So they fought and rebelled, the short Irken populous now had a voice and it was screaming.

This was a problem for the Irken economic system, the taller Irkens were used to the short ones doing everything for them for little to no pay as well. But with this rebellion sprouting up like a weed, the stock market, as well as everyday life, was changing. Short Irkens were boycotting anything overpriced for them, quitting their jobs, even going as far as to claim that they were equal to the taller Irkens.

However, despite the rebellions large quantity of Irkens, it had no leader to guide them.

That was when a small but very loud Irken named Zim made himself known. Zim had been the smallest and shortest Irken of his generation heck maybe in all Irken history. He was alive during Miyuki's rule and had even personally served her before he was drafted to become an Invader where he met his Second in Command Skoodge.

At first, the rebellion was a little apprehensive about having Zim as their leader. But Zim had made it clear that he would lead them to victory.

'We may be the smallest but we are not incompetent! We are not lesser beings! We are not slaves! WE ARE IRKENS!' Zim screamed to the crowd. They cheered for him, they cheered for Skoodge, they cheered for small Irkens everywhere.

With this new advancement, flyers were put up.

'JOIN US OR FIGHT US!'

'THE BIGGER THEY ARE THE HARDER THEY FALL!'

'THE TALL CALL, THE SHORT RETORT!'

Thousands upon thousands more, not even the cleaning drones could clean them away fast enough.

More Irkens joined short, tall, skinny, stout. Until eventually 2/3 of the of Irken species were apart of the rebellion. Some fought for more than just equal rights, some fought for the right to choose their occupation, some fought for the right to breed, some even fought for free speech among all Irkens.

They shouted they screamed they marched. The Control Brains tried to detain them but there were just too many. Zim had trained them to be the best, no one could stop them.

Then another Irken made himself visible, known only as The Doctor.

He approached the Control brains with a plan. A plan that would get rid of all of their problems forever, or at least until they find a new Tallest. That was when he introduced the drugs.

After that everything went to hell. The rebellion, fearing for their lives took those damn pills. Zim and Skoodge tried to warn them. Tell them that they were fine and the drugs weren't what they seemed. Soon the rebellion's numbers dwindled.

'Life is perfect.'

'We have work to do.'

'Sorry for the fuss.'

Was written on the flyers.

Only half of the rebellion remained after that. They stopped getting recruits.

Hope was dying.

But Zim would not give up, not without trying. So he gathered what was left of the rebellion and told them to hide.

'Those slaves out there are not one of us anymore. We can't let them see us or else they'll force us to take their drugs.' He warned them.

'Hide from them, don't let yourself be seen. If you have to go out, pretend to be one of them. Don't make eye contact. Don't stay out for long.' Zim taught the rebellion with the help of Skoodge and began plotting their first attack.

This wasn't supposed to get violent, but it's too late for peaceful protests now. This was war.

The rebellion's attacks were well thought out and well-timed as well. Zim wouldn't let a single mistake slip by him. They gathered equipment from the Vort people who were happy to aid the war if it meant crossing their name off the concurring list. Quite a few other alien species were pretty quick to help with the promise of not being destroyed.

That didn't stop the rebellion's dwindling numbers, however. Either by death or capture, more and more rebellion troops were taken down. Even Zim had his doubts, but that was what he had Skoodge for.

The two were inseparable, they took care of each other and kept the other running. Even someone as confident as Zim needed a shoulder to lean on and Skoodge was happy to provide. He happy to provide many things for Zim and Zim was eternally grateful for him.

So after Zim disappeared, it was safe to say Skoodge's spirit shattered. He'd sit in his and Zim's room for hours just crying. It felt as though his world was ending and it was. The rebellion was now limited to only 10 Irkens including himself. They'd be found out soon and this whole fight would have been for nothing.

Bob, Lieutenant Commander tried his best to convince Skoodge that he had to pull himself together and that Commander Zim wouldn't have wanted him to give up. But that was all Skoodge could think about. Just give up and let go. He had already failed Zim, he should have been there to protect.

Bob stayed with him that night, letting Skoodge cry and cry until there were no tears left.

"If you're done crying, I think it's high time we get back to work," Bob said sternly.

"And how do we do that?" Skoodge nearly shouted.

"We do what Zim said and contact Lord Narr. He's been making a second resistance since day one remember. Then we call 777 and figure out a to get our commander back." Bob offered his hand to Skoodge.

"Come on sir, for Zim."

Skoodge smiled and took Bob's hand allowing the stumpier Irken to help him stand.

"For Zim."

Skoodge awoke with a start. He was a mess of sweat and tears.

He sighed and laid back down in his cot, he rubbed his arm over his forehead. Even after the withdrawal, those damn dreams won't leave him be. Skoodge took a moment to calm down before getting up to check on his progress to Hobo 13. He had a few hours until he'd enter the planet's atmosphere.

Skoodge was well aware of the fact that the Tallest were sending him to die and he was ok with that. He'd show those tall bastards who exactly they were dealing with.

When Skoodge had landed, he was greeted by the guards who, after a brief scan, identified who he was and put his pac in a sort of lock so he couldn't use his legs or other defenses. Afterward, they gave him his gear and he was led to a group of diverse looking aliens. No other Irkens, that's good.

That was until Skoodge heard the unmistakable screaming. There was only one being in the known universe that screamed like that.

Skoodge stepped out into the front of the crowd and there he was.

Commander Zim and he was screaming at the very big alien in front of him. Who Skoodge soon found out to be their trainer.

"-I AM THE TOOL OF DESTRUCTION, VEGENGENCE, AND FURY!!!" Zim screamed.

"I ONLY ASKED FOR YOUR NAME, NEXT!" The larger of the too glared down at Zim. It seemed like Zim must have been screaming for a while.

Skoodge could already tell this was going to be a long day. He could feel his spooch pull at the thought of what Zim had become.

"I AM THROBULATOR! I AM A CREATURE OF PURE HEADACHE! AARGH! MY HEAD!"

The trainer was only getting more annoyed it seemed.

"YOUR NAMES! THAT"S ALL I WANT! GAH!" Skoodge decided it would be best to do what the big man said.

"Invader Skoodge!"

The trainer turned to him. Skoodge raised his right hand in a solute.

"Sir!"

"Skoodge? I thought the Almighty Tallest killed you." Zim's voice was surprisingly calm at the rumor of Skoodge's untimely death. That hurt.

"Yeah, but I'm ok now." Skoodge tried to play it off. Zim wasn't on his side right now, the friend of my enemy is also my enemy.

Skoodge placed his hands on his very wide hips.

"They say they'll promote me if I pass the evaluation."

Zim just laughed at him.

"Ha! Foolish, gullible Skoodge."

Skoodge chose not to hear that.

'That's not your Zim, that's not your Zim.' He repeated in his head.

Their trainer hollered at them.

"Your first task, you scum-pudding skwagdoogies, is to choose a leader! Anyone who disobeys the leader will be eliminated!" He paused.

"Think carefully. This is the most important-"

He was cut off by Zim.

"I CHOOSE ME! ZIM SHALL LEAD!"

Zim pointed to the rest of the group.

"Object and taste my revolting vengeance of power!!!"

Skoodge wanted to object, Zim was in no shape to lead anybody. But it seemed like everyone else was completely fine with it. Pushovers it seemed. With any luck, they will survive long enough to know just what they did wrong and learn from their mistakes.

"Just remember, with leadership comes great responsibility! You take care of your team and you survive with honor!" Their trainer warned Zim.

Zim brushed him off though.

"Yes, yes, get on with it. My battle tanks await."

Battle tanks? Wasn't Zim set to be an Invader? What would he need battle tanks for?

After being promptly warned about the holding pen of pain. Which really didn't have to be they were set to move out. Their trials awaited them.

Their first assignment was to cross the molten pit of hideous screaming pain.

As soon as Zim opened his mouth all Skoodge wanted to do was cover his antennae and curl up in a corner.

'That is NOT your Zim!' He reminded himself.

"Child's play! We will stand on each other's shoulders and fall forward! Forming a bridge to safety!" Zim pointed to the other side.

Already Skoodge wanted to punch this imposter dressed in Zim's uniform. What the heck kind of stupid idea is that?!

When one of the other soldiers propose a much better and safer alternative, Zim was quick to glare and threaten the other. Drugged or not, Zim was dangerous. It was probably best to do what he says. Though Skoodge couldn't help but cringe. His Zim would always listen to his soldier's comments and suggestions.

'That isn't your Zim though.'

Maybe ten minutes later they had managed to form a tower-like form and were promptly pushed backward by Zim, forming that bridge he wanted. The bridge he walked over and then left them to gather themselves, losing three soldiers in the process.

"Victory!" Zim exclaimed.

It became apparent how much the team was starting to resent Zim. But they marched onward to the stinking canyon of the ferocious meat-thirsty Hogulus.

Their trainer threw a steak into the canyon and instructed.

"It's simple! Navigate from this end to the far end! Alive! Good luck." With that their trainer flew off with his jet boots, leaving the team to figure themselves out.

Of course, Zim was the first to talk.

"I have a plan! But I will need a volunteer to distract the hog-beast."

Skoodge already knew what Zim was going to do. He'd most likely leave the poor sob that spoke first to the mercy of that hog thing. It would probably be best if he did it considering he was more likely to survive out of the rest. He could take on this Hogulus, and afterward, when he beat the Tallest and got Zim off the drugs he would smack Zim upside the head for being so stupid.

"Yes, sir! I am your loyal-" Before he could even finish Zim kicked him down the trench.

Skoodge screamed as he fell and hit the side of the trench before having his body slam against the floor. He bounced once more before coming to a halt and he hit something round and rough, like a pillar. When looked up, he quickly realized his mistake, it wasn't a pillar, but in fact, was the hoof of the Hogulus.

A terrifying, huge beast with 6 eyes, horns and sharp, scary teeth.

Of course, his first thought was to run screaming, after all, Zim still thought he was on drugs. He couldn't look competent in front of him. So as soon as Zim turned around, Skoodge took more precise turns and twists to keep the creature away. But he continued to scream to keep up the appearance.

They were running for so long, and Skoodge was getting tired. But he knew Zim would leave him for dead if he didn't keep up.

'That is not your Zim.'

"Somebody help me please!" He screamed as he saw the end of the trench.

However, from his angle, they were already leaving him behind.

Skoodge never took himself as an over-emotional Irken but at that moment of abandonment, Skoodge felt like crying. He would have started crying too if it wasn't for the Hogulus getting ever so closer.

'Scratch what I say about hitting Zim, if I survive this I'll that bastard!'

He didn't mean it, but that was a nice thought.

'Just keep running Skoodge, just keep running.'

When he reached the end of the trench Skoodge immediately tried to climb out. But the walls were steep the creature didn't want to give up its next meal. So it rammed it's head into the wall, just below Skoodge, causing the poor Irken to fall. But before he could land in the creatures awaiting maw, he hit the Hogulus' teeth and leaped managing to land on the creature's back.

Instantly, Skoodge grabbed its neck and pulled up. The creature went into a frenzy and kicked and jumped. But Skoodge wouldn't let up. Clinging on for dear life. The creature jumped up once more and Skoodge climbed up the neck and jumped from his head and onto the edge of the cliff. The creature had barely missed a snap at his foot before he landed. Skoodge laid there for a bit, listening to the Hogulus' squeals and screams whilst catching his breath.

Slowly Skoodge got up and began jogging to catch up with his team.

Finally, he made it to the Fortress in pain just in time it seemed.

"Zim! I escaped from the canyon! I made it! I'm alive-oof!"

Just in time to see Zim hurl their leader at him and promptly crush him.

"Where am I?!" He called out.

"What am I seeing?"

However, the darkness that blanketed him was soon gone when the Leader was grabbed by the Hogulus.

How did it get out?

Must have followed me here.

The Hogulus then shook their leader around like a dog toy. Skoodge was going to back up when his arm was grabbed and he was smacked against the creature's head before they were dragged off.

Zim made no move to stop it of course.

'Not your Zim.'

Zim did nothing at all.

'Not your Zim.'

Zim was quite cruel to him.

"Not Zim.'

Skoodge wasn't proud of how he escaped when the creature returned to its home to eat its meal. Skoodge could feel his trainer's grip on his arm weakening. Skoodge guessed it was chewing him up on the inside. Skoodge managed to slip away as it tore his trainer apart.

Skoodge made it out, only because the creature wanted it's bigger meal first and Skoodge felt horrible. But it was already too late to do anything about it. He managed to get back to the entrance, he threw off his gear and went inside his ship. He set it to autopilot, he was getting on the Massive no matter what the Tallest said. He then crashed onto his bed and fell asleep.

When Skoodge opened his eyes he already knew where he was. It was one of the many hideaway planets the people of Murth had given them; another alien species who offered to help the rebellion for the promise of being spare the Irkens' might wrath. The Murthens were very seclusive and usually refused to talk with them, so they wouldn't be much help aside for providing hiding spots.

The planet they were currently hiding on was a dessert planet called Gitq.

Gitq was a pretty small planet, but it was far enough away from Irk to be the optimal hiding spot. The small group was camping out for the night Zim and Skoodge sharing a tent, happily chatting away.

The two were pretty close together, laying on their sides with their legs intertwined. Zim's antennae clicked together as he presses himself to Skoodge's chest.

"I'm so proud of you!" The smaller of the two chirped.

"Proud of me?" Skoodge cocked his head to the side.

"Yes! You did so well today. I want to reward you!" Zim moves himself to Skoodge's neck.

It was at this point Skoodge realized he was dreaming, and yet he didn't ever want to wake up. Zim was purring happily urging Skoodge to join in on his passion.

After a minute of Zim's whines and pleas, Skoodge finally gives in and gives in and gives Zim what he wants.

-For those of you who want to read this NSFW https://archiveofourown.org/works/21185144-

When Skoodge awoke he was in a cold sweat. Out of all the damned things to dream about, it had to be THAT. Skoodge covered his eyes and tried to pull himself together. He felt sick and dizzy, deciding now that it would probably be best not to stand up for a bit.

What was wrong with him?! Dreaming of his Commander like that! He felt disgraceful, what would Zim think?!

Skoodge paused.

What would Zim think? You haven't heard from the real him in so long. Was he gone for good or was there a way to bring him back.

Skoodge managed to come back, so surely the same could be said about Zim.

Skoodge whipped his forehead and sighed.

'I miss him.'

[deadendtracks]

more unorganized thoughts i want to get down before i forget them

sticking again with how things went in canon, i wonder how much of Grace’s reaction to what Tommy’s told her can also be traced to her background. She was from a family who was wealthy and loyal to the Crown and apparently her uncle had something to do with the War Office if Tommy’s deleted speech is anything to go by. She’d worked as a spy undercover for Churchill indirectly through Campbell. She’s part of the power apparatus.

Note she apparently had absolutely no problem with anything Campbell did in Belfast to the Catholic Irish (it’s also implied she may have played a role there as well, before coming to Small Heath), nor did she have any problem with anything Campbell did in Small Heath while investigating the missing guns, including beating up/torturing Arthur and terrorizing the neighborhood in general. She identifies with the Crown, totally. The only thing she ends up disliking about Campbell is his hitting on her and making assumptions about her ever being romantically interested in him, which was definitely weird and gross and unprofessional, and she wanted to be treated as a professional. He was a friend of her father’s, someone she’d looked up to, which means, again, she seems to have fully accepted every brutal thing he was doing in Ireland.

So, yeah. She killed a couple of IRA guys herself, she directly got Freddie Thorne (Communist; nothing to do with the guns as far as she knew, but Communists are the enemy of the Crown) arrested, most likely by tipping off Campbell where he’d be, given she was the only one who had that information. And this was after she’d at least casually befriended the very pregnant Ada who while Ada was worried about Tommy and Freddie killing each other. So she knew Ada, and knew what would happen when Freddie was arrested right after Ada gave birth. I mean, that’s a cold thing to do, it just is. She’s a true believer. She’s got a tentative sort of relationship going on with Tommy by that point even, and still gets his sister’s husband arrested, knowing he’ll probably hang.

She was also the only one who had the information about Tommy’s plans for Billy Kimber, as far as I can tell -- Campbell seems to have been a pretty shit investigator, unlike her, so she must have filled him in on a lot of what was happening for him to have known enough to do what he did at the end of the season. 

She’s in love with Tommy but she gives up the location of the guns to Campbell, and had to know that could get Tommy and half his family hung. So, uh. Yeah. She does it but asks Campbell to leave him a lone, which ... i guess you could call naive at best, or deeply in denial, or??? What did she think was going to happen?

Anyway what I’m trying to say is her being in love with Tommy does not appear to have changed her views of the people of Small Heath in any way. Instead she seems to see him as an exception. He’s special, he’s smart, he’s not like them, not a low person. Which probably was why she thought he’d just drop everything and leave with her at the end of the season. She doesn’t see him as one of them, but he is.

Tommy tells her about the Russian Business in s3, and again we don’t really know exactly what he told her or how he told her, it’s possible he deliberately made it just seem like a business proposition and never connected it back up with why he was scared out of his mind or told her of the threat to his family if he didn’t cooperate, or the mock execution that makes it clear the threat has teeth. But I’m not sure it matters to how she reacts, because given her station, how she grew up, her loyalties/affiliations before she married, etc, I wonder how much she really *gets* the threat.

It’s possible she saw it like this: they were wealthy, Tommy was an up and coming businessman, she’s a woman of breeding and experience, she’s one of them, them being the people in power. The forces that Campbell (and herself) unleashed on Belfast and Small Heath are forces that only wreck the lives of “those people” -- the underclass. 

Sure she married beneath her, to a man whose reputation is murky at best, but note -- her family did not know her first husband killed himself or presumably why, we’re not sure whether or not her family even know that Charlie is Tommy’s kid, and most importantly, they all show up at her wedding despite their distain. Which means she wasn’t disowned by her family and they accept the marriage. She could have been totally cut off, but she wasn’t. They might disapprove, but they gave the marriage their blessing, even if it was really passive aggressive re: the uniforms.

Anyway so I’m wondering if she really thinks Churchill will do anything to them, because they are not the type of people that the Crown crushes.

This doesn’t quite line up with the way she reacts to Tommy clearly having a panic attack in the nursery in the second episode, where she emphasizes that he promised (to keep them safe), which implies that she clearly saw there was some kind of threat? So yeah, I’m still working that out. If Tommy didn’t tell her that he got roped into the Russian Business under threat of hanging, she might think he got into it on his own devices for the money, and therefore see any fear he’s feeling as, well, the result of his own fucked up choices? Like, just get this business over with and stop getting involved in shit that can blow back on us and be a legit businessman? that might make the most sense to me.

It does line up with her throwing herself into charitable work and leaving the business to Tommy and not pressing him for more information. 

I do think that if there was a direct threat while she was present she’d absolutely be willing to use any means necessary to protect herself and Charlie; I’m thinking possibly she just saw everything as “out there” and a bit abstract and the kind of thing that didn’t touch people who live in nice country manors so it wasn’t quite real to her. 

The violence of the state was something that she and her class wield, not something wielded against her.

one of the things to remember is the Grace we saw in s1 was not the real Grace, you know? It was a cover persona. Not that I think she’s dramatically different from the woman we saw in s1, but she had a whole context that we didn’t see until s2/3, where she was a wealthy upper class woman, and that is just as real as the spy. When Tommy accused her of being a rich girl slumming it, he wasn’t... totally wrong, he just wasn’t totally right, either.

long story short I do agree with what @bakedapplesauce has said about the inconsistencies/jarringness of characterization between s1/s2/s3 and how Grace reacts to a threat to her and Charlie especially, I’m just enjoying trying to make sense of it.