#its scratches my brain in the best possible way

[reegis]

shout out to Actaea and Lyssa for being the most literal TMA hunt-aligned song of All Time listening to it on repeat makes me want to run off and live in the woods & attack people from the treetops

[bimbo-baggins17]

His Confessional: Sam Monroe

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CW:18+ MDNI!, religious undertones, p in v, smut, dubcon, no use of protection, afab! language, use of pet names, smoking weed

A/N: This is my first time ever writing something with the intent on publishing it so please be kind but critiques and suggestions are appreciated! I apologize in advance if it sucks!

Word count: 3k (oops)

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Sam stands on his porch, leaning against the railing with a cigarette between his lips. A smirk makes its way onto his face as he sees a familiar figure walking on the sidewalk. He takes one last drag before flicking the butt out into the lawn. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he jogs down the steps, coming to a stop in front of you.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite neighbor.” He says looking down at you. Your groan of feigned annoyance doesn’t go unnoticed by him, making his smirk grow wider.

You lift your head up to look at him, eyebrows knitted together slightly, “Favorite? More like the only one who can stand you.”

He chuckles as you step past him, letting himself take in your figure from behind in that plaid skirt and stockings. He feels his pants start to tighten at the site. He clears his throat and catches up to you.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry? I thought we could chill and smoke some.” He shrugs his shoulders casually.

You continue to make your way back to your house that resides right next to his. “The offer is definitely tempting but I can’t, Sam, not tonight at least.”

He pouts at this and clasps his hands together in front of himself pleadingly, “Oh c’monnn,” He drags the last syllable out, “you can’t expect me to smoke all alone on a Friday night.”

You give him a smirk and a playfull roll of your eyes, “Oh but I can. Your right hand can keep you company.”

His cheeks turn a little pink and he looks away shaking his head, trying to play off your comment. If only you knew how often it did just that while he was thinking about you. Languid strokes of his length, bottom lip caught between his teeth, his eyes screwed shut as he pictures your body writhing and squirming underneath him.

Sam is pulled abruptly from his fantasy as you poke his side, “Are you good?”

He blinks at you for a moment as his brain struggles to catch up but quickly composes himself and nods. “Yeah I’m fine, I just realize that my best friend doesn’t actually like me is all.” He teases, sighing over dramatically.

You roll your eyes again at his antics and come to a stop, glancing at your driveway noting that your mom still isn’t home from work. “Alright fine. I guess I can hang out for a little bit.” You give into him.

He grins happily, getting his way. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

You shake your head with a laugh, “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s the promise of free weed I can’t resist.”

He chuckles. That’s something else that draws him to you. You might have your mom fooled with the “perfect Catholic school student” front you put up but you aren’t as stuck up as he expected. Oh but he knows you’re a virgin and that in itself is enticing. The plaid skirt and stockings are like the bow on a present.

He happily drags you across his front yard and up his porch steps, into his house. He makes a pit stop in the kitchen while you make your way up to his room like usual. Sam scours through the cabinets for the usual snacks to ease your munchies before meeting you upstairs, arms full of assorted snacks. One bag of chips is held just by its corner in his teeth. You laugh at the site.

He plops down unceremoniously beside you in the bed and you let out a yelp in surprise, earning a chuckle from him. A smile works its way onto your face seeing how many of your favorite snacks he brought up.

Sam glances down at the (possible) overkill. He reaches a hand around and scratches the back of his neck nervously, “I just wanted to make sure you had anything you could possibly crave. I know how bad your munchies get.”

You happily sit up on his bed, and he tries to ignore the way your skirt rides dangerously high and you are completely oblivious to it. He has to tear his gaze away or he’d do something about it right then. His self control was thinning.

He reaches into his bedside table drawer and rummages around for the tin he keeps his weed in. When he’s successful in his search he emits a soft ‘aha!’, pulling it out. Opening the tin, he plucks out a joint he had already rolled in the assumption you’d say yes like you always did. You watch as he places it between his pink and plump lips. You catch yourself wondering what they’d feel like on your’s. You hurriedly shake the thought from your head.

He sparks the joint and takes a long drag off of it, taking the chance to show off with a ‘ghost inhale’ which unknowingly to him is one of the hottest things you think he can do.

“Close your mouth Princess, you’ll catch flies.” Or his cock. He smirks at you as you snap out of whatever trance you were in this time. Sam passes the joint to you, pinched between two of his long fingers. A smile of approval works its way onto his lips as you accept and take a puff from it.

As you two smoke, his room becomes hazier and he finds it harder and harder to tear his gaze away from you. He watches your soft lips wrap around the tip of the joint and he can’t help but to imagine what they’d look like around his cock. The effects of the weed start to settle in, making both of your heads feel fuzzy. As you sit forward to flick the ash off the joint, the light catches the cross pendant you’re wearing. Something about that makes his want for you grow. So innocent. So pure. He could shape you into exactly what he wanted. An idea pops into his head.

With his pointer finger, he beckons you to come closer, “Wanna try something real quick.” He says, taking the joint back from you.

You nod and obediently shift closer to him. He smirks as he watches, the skirt edging up even further now. He takes a long drag, holding the smoke in, and with his free hand he grips your chin with his ringed fingers and draws you closer, pinching your cheeks so your mouth opens. He leans in the rest of the way and exhales the smoke into your mouth as you inhale it, shotgunning the hit. Sam’s heart feels like it’s about to explode out of his chest. It’s not a kiss but your lips are touching his and god, they feel as soft as he imagined. He feels himself hardening in his pants.

Sam sees the opportunity that’s so easily presented to him, practically on a silver platter. Maybe it’s wrong, maybe he’s taking advantage of you but right now he doesn’t care. He’s going to take what he wants. What he thinks is his. Once all the smoke is exhaled from his mouth and into your’s, he seals it with a sloppy kiss, the metal of his lip stud scraping against your lips.

When you both separate, he’s grinning devilishly. Your bloodshot eyes are wide in surprise. Sure you’ve fantasized about him but that was it. Purity was shoved down your throat for as long as you can remember that even a kiss was borderline taboo. You were able to rationalize smoking weed (it came from a plant, plants were nature, and nature was pure), but not physical intimacy in any capacity. But now as you sat there on his bed a new and undeniable ache was growing between your legs, absentmindedly rubbing your thighs together, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by Sam. He knows exactly what that means.

He shifts a little closer, like a lion closing in on its prey. “What’s wrong, princess?” He asked with feigned concern.

“I-…Sam…that…you know how I feel about that..” You instinctively reach up ands hold onto the crucifix pendant on the chain on your neck anxiously, “I’ll have to go to confession with this now.” Your nerves are starting to settle in.

Sam scoffs and rolls his eyes, “Oh please. There’s nothing wrong with a kiss. I can promise you that God doesn’t mind. Priests do way worse all the time anyways.” He says in a huff.

You shake your head vehemently, your worry growing but that ache still lingers, only increasing. “That’s not true, Sam.” A pout forms on your lips.

He shakes his head again, “No, it is true..but if you insist…why would another one hurt? If you’re already having to confess, why not make it more worth it? God wouldn’t like it if you wasted his time with something so small..” Maybe he should regret trying to manipulate you like this but his dick is driving his decisions right now, he’ll deal with the consequences later.

To you, he has a point. You wouldn’t want to take up God’s time with something so minuscule like that. You chew on your bottom lip in contemplation, it’s Sam. Your Sammy. He wouldn’t lie to you…right? He’s just looking out for you. Hesitantly, with a sigh you nod your head. He has to suppress a grin at your naïvety.

Scooting closer, he closes the rest of the distance between you two, one of his hands making it’s way to the back of your neck. His eyes flick down to your lips before he leans in, this time capturing your lips in a slow and tender kiss. It doesn’t stay that way for long before he’s shoving his tongue in your mouth. That growing ache for him was almost unbearable at this point.

His lips leave yours to trail wet kisses down your neck and across your throat, savoring every small gasp he pulled from you, and making a mental note of the places that you reacted most positively to. He wanted to go slower for your sake but his cock was becoming painfully hard. He’ll make it up to you later. Nimble fingers make their way to the buttons of your blouse, popping them open so quickly you’re surprised that none fell off. Your head is spinning and you feel all fuzzy as your best friend sees you like this.

Sam nudges you onto your back and your heart feels like it’s in your throat as you look up at him, his pupils blown with lust. He grins down at you while running his hands over the soft skin of your torso. Reaching behind you, he makes quick work of your bra, tossing it aside. He stares unashamedly at your bare breasts, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“God…so perfect..” He murmurs, kneading the soft flesh. He pinches your erect nipples between his thumbs and pointer fingers, grinning as you yelp. Leaning down, he takes each nipple into his mouth, one at a time, swirling his tongue around the hardened buds. He feels his cock twitch hearing your soft moan.

Once he’s satisfied, he sits up enough to slip his shirt off over his head, tossing it onto the floor somewhere in his room. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He confesses to you.

Your body is covered in goosebumps, your heart pounding in your chest. You feel your shame and guilt coming in waves. “I-…I don’t know about this Sam.” You whisper and touch your cross necklace absentmindedly.

Sam swats your hand away from it, “There’s no need to worry, sweetheart. Would I ever tell you to do something that was wrong?” He asks innocently. He knows what he’s doing is wrong but he’s already gotten you this far.

You shake your head and his smile returns, “Atta girl,” he reaches a hand up your skirt and teases the crotch of your panties, gasping as he feels the wet patch that’s formed, “Oh Jesus, princess…you can’t say you don’t want this now. You soaked through your panties.” He tuts.

Heat instantly rises to your face and you try to cover it with your hands but he blocks you before you can with a shake of his head. He slips your underwear off from under your skirt and drags a finger teasingly through your slick folds, grinning as you squirm. “Baby…” He murmurs at you. Experimentally he ghosts a finger over your clit, feeling his dick jump again at your soft whimper. He applies pressure to the sensitive bundle, moving his fingers in slow deliberate circles. The soft moans that fall from your lips are immediately committed to memory.

His touch on your body feels so sinful, you feel ashamed as you mewl in pleasure. Just as quick as he was to touch you, his hands are off of you. Your eyes snap open just in time to see him undoing his belt, shimmying his pants down and off. Your breathing quickens seeing the outline of his hardened length in his plaid boxers. He smirks at the expression on your face, letting it fuel his ego a little bit.

Keeping his eyes on you, he slowly eases his boxers down. His cock springs out, slapping below his bellybutton, the tip is an angry red and weepy. The look on your face is a mix of nerves and excitement. He pats your thigh, “Don’t worry princess, I’ll start slow.”

He gets closer, spreading your legs further apart. He grips his length and rubs his tip through your folds, pulling a new sound from you.

Slotting himself between your legs, he grabs them and hooks them around his waist. With a wicked grin he looks down at you. “You know what Samuel means, baby?” He asks, “It means ‘God heard’, but I can promise you, you won’t want God to hear this.” The words were blasphemous to your ears but it’s short lived as he pushes himself into your cunt, groaning as your velvety walls squeeze him deliciously. Your face contorts from the stinging as he keeps sinking all of himself into you.

He tries to give you a moment to adjust but he can’t hold back any longer when he’s finally got you right where he wants you. Sam stars to rock his hips back and forth, his eyebrows knitted together. It’s taking a lot of self control for him to not just cum already from how tight you are. “Fuck princess…been dreaming of this for so long…pussy’s taking me so well..” He grunts out, enjoying the site of you underneath him. The real thing is so much better than anything he ever imagined.

The words are so sinful, but they excite you. Could something that feels this good truly be a sin? The pleasure replaces the pain and your brain blurs the lines of your once cherished religion. In your eyes now, Sam is God.

Your moans fall more freely from your lips, and his thrusts increase. The lewd sounds of his balls slapping against your skin and the squelches reverberate off his bedroom walls. The site below him is enough to make him *almost* believe in God, you’re the closest thing to an angel he’s ever seen, your uniform skirt bunched up at your waist, the crucifix necklace bouncing along with your breasts with each thrust.

Every stroke of his dick in your plush walls drives you both closer and closer to the edge. “Feels-s…so g-good Sam..” You whimper as your nails claw at the flesh on his forearms. Hearing you admit that, he grins again.

“Oh I know it does baby..pussy’s squeezing me so tight..” Beads of sweat start to form along his forehead.

A new type of feeling is building up inside your tummy. “You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” Sam pants out, “Can feel you getting tighter.”

You nod your head rapidly back and forth, not being able to find your voice as he continues to plunge himself deep into you. The coil was wound impossibly tight, getting harder and harder to hold back.

“Cum for me baby…cum all over my cock.”

It’s like his words open the floodgates, sending your climax crashing into you. Your moans are loud as your walls clamp down tightly around him. After a couple more thrusts, you notice his movements get sloppier. That’s the only warning you get before he’s shooting his hot seed deep inside.

He keeps himself fully sheathed in you for a minute as he catches his breath. He releases the hold on your legs before he slips out, a mixture of both of your creamy fluids oozing out of you. He admires the pornographic site before leaving his room and coming back with a warm rag. He helps you to clean off, a tender gesture after how he’d been moments before.

Sam slips back into the bed, laying beside you and taking you into his arms. Gently he presses his lips to your forehead. “That was amazing sweetheart. You felt so perfect.” He murmurs contentedly against your skin. “Better than I could have ever imagined.”

You turn to look up at him, “You thought about this..with me..?” You ask seemingly shocked.

Sam can’t help but let out a laugh. He just took your virginity and you’re surprised to hear he thought of you in such a way? “Of course I did. Your comment earlier wasn’t too far off. Except it wasn’t just my hand keeping me company. It was the thought of what you looked like under that tiny little uniform. Anytime I saw you in it, I got so painfully hard. I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”

Your cheeks flare a deep pink and he chuckles again, pulling your face closer to press a couple chaste kisses to it.

“I hope you don’t think that this won’t happen again because now that I’ve gotten a taste, I’m gonna want even more from you.”

You want to say it won’t happen again but you know it’s a lie. You’ve felt heaven and you’ll be damned if you don’t get to again. In your eyes now, the only one you’d get on your knees for is Sam. He was the savior in your eyes, your god. Or perhaps he was the fork tongued serpent, tempting you to live deliciously. Either way, you’d submit yourself to him. Heaven or Hell. Righteous or Sinful. He succeeded in blurring those lines.

The words you speak are practically a vow, “You can have all of me.”

Oh he will.

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[wave2tyun]

make your heart stop | ☆

pairing: yeonjun x reader

genre: friends to lovers, fluff<3

prompts: - “are you jealous?”

- “you’re blushing”

- “stop looking at me like that”

warnings: mentions of alcohol

word count: 1.1k

a/n: comforting kitty anon THIS ONE actually goes out to you!!!!😼😼💖 i don't know if you had a chance to see my silly little mishap- i think my brain was just not working properly in the morning asbdhjab i was looking through my old docs trying to find something when the realisation hit and my face dropped.......😭😭

☆ = repost from my old blog!!

you don’t know how, or when, but late-night karaoke with the tubatu boys somehow became a regular friday thing. ordering unreasonably priced alcohol, sharing food, screaming your lungs out as you sang trot songs together- it was possibly the best activity to shake off all the stress accumulated throughout the week.

the owners already recognised you as regulars; every week, they would make sure to have at least one booth free for the six of you, catering to all your needs. it was heaven- and you could barely bring yourselves to leave.

this time though, you ended up parting ways quite early, the reason being beomgyu drinking one can of beer too much, falling down to his knees whenever he tried to take a step. he insisted on singing to you all one last song, despite stumbling over each and every word he said even in casual speech. soobin and taehyun were the ones to carry him out, shily apologising as they exited through the door. meanwhile, kai took videos of the drunken boy, the joy of teasing him in the morning already bubbling up in his chest. 

yeonjun, however, remained with you and walked you home. he ended up staying over at your place, as neither the singing nor the alcohol were enough to tire you out. turning on the tv, you decided to end the day by watching a movie together, hoping, that at some point, the two of you would doze off.

slumping onto the couch, you searched for the movie you agreed on as yeonjun took care of preparing the caramel popcorn. 

“taehyun killed it tonight” you exclaimed, eyes gleaming as you reminisced the earlier events “like seriously- his voice suits that song even better than the original singer. and that high note at the end? how are his vocal chords even able to do that?”

yeonjun stared at his reflection in the microwave, shifting his focus to the popping sound coming from it rather than your voice. he loved hearing you talk- but now? his left eye was twitching, and he didn’t get why.

a mixture of anger and something he couldn’t quite pinpoint was spreading throughout his chest, starting from the heart, then all the way down to his stomach, creating an almost nauseating feeling. was it jealousy? hm, no. he knew very well himself that his fellow members were great singers, their capabilities were definitely worth praising- he just wished that you’d have paid more attention to the way he, too, sang his heart out in that tiny karaoke room. okay- maybe yeonjun was, indeed, jealous. maybe, just slightly- actually more than slightly, he was quite very jealous. 

yeonjun seemed a bit out of it ever since he returned to the living room with the popcorn bowl, his lips were stuck in a pout even while talking or eating. at first, you didn’t give it much thought, assuming that the exhaustion was beginning to take its toll on him. 

15 minutes further into the movie, he still had that same absent-minded expression on his face, now combined with a frown. it was clear as day that his attention towards the plot had simply perished, eyes preferring to watch his own fingers fidget with the blanket on his lap. 

did you say something out of pocket? it was never your intention to make him feel bad in any way. you backtracked a little bit, thinking about your earlier conversation. you got to your apartment, picked a movie and snacks, then waited for the popcorn to be ready. did you talk about anything else during that time? hm- you scratched your head, trying to concentrate better. then, it was like a lightbulb had been turned on inside your head.

“are you jealous?” you said, almost shouting the question. (how discreet-) the realisation hit you like a truck, and you spoke without thinking. the chances of finding out the truth from him could be close to zero now.

“no” yeonjun was quick to give you the answer you expected. he jolted out of his seat, like a cat taken by surprise. for a second there, he actually wondered whether you were able to hear his thoughts, or whether he had been unknowingly speaking out loud this entire time. 

unconvinced, you continued to stare down at him. that ‘no’ was a pitch higher than his usual voice and it was only adding more to your suspicions “i’m not jealous-” he spoke again in that same tone “y/n, come on- stop looking at me like that” he whined, giving your shoulder a slight push as he sat back down on the couch.

“jun? you sure you’re not jealous?” you inched your face closer to his, yeonjun moving his head back at the same time. he was unaware of his surroundings, too focused on keeping some sort of distance. you cupped his cheeks to stop him from slipping away any further, afraid that, at some point, he would fall off the couch. his cheeks were squishy, and you pinched and stretched them like a kid playing with pizza dough. his constant yearning for your attention was becoming -somehow- fulfilled, and he didn't know how to handle it.

as his heart felt close to jumping out of his chest at any given moment, he placed his hands over yours, muttering a quiet “stop that” before breaking eye contact with you.

“you’re blushing” you chuckled, your fingertips brushed against his soft, reddened cheeks. yeonjun wasn’t one to easily get flustered. he wasn’t a great liar either- not in front of you, at least. 

“you were sitting too close to me- it was suffocating me” he attempted to defend himself.

“oh?” you tilted your head, as you reduced the gap between the two of you once again, a sly smile tugging at the corner of your lips “since when does me sitting close bother you?” his chest was beginning to raise up and down more rapidly underneath you. yeonjun gulped, the audible sound giving away his sheer nervousness. it didn’t bother him- he liked it. in fact, he was more bothered by the fact that he didn’t have the guts all night to just hold you in his arms.

your tongue darted out to wet your lips, taking away all of his focus. he couldn’t take it anymore- it was getting too much, too overwhelming: the scent of your perfume, the warm breath on his face, the rosy lips sitting just a few centimeters away from his. sighing, he gave in, his hand coming to the back of your neck as he closed the gap that kept on tormenting him. your eyelids fluttered shut, taking in the slow rhythm of his kiss, indulging in the way your lips felt against his.

and once he parted away, he admitted, completely out of breath: 

“okay. maybe i was a bit jealous”

taglist: @huekalover3000

[its-wabby-stuff]

So everyone’s been punching back for @somerandomdudelmao post. If you know, you know, and if you don’t where have you been? And I saw one of the reblog’s today of Casey and Donnie and it got the cogs in my brain running. So here is a potentially possible outcome for the future:

———————

Here’s the thing. Casey knew the fight was over. They had won and the Krang weren’t here anymore. Of course, the entire event hadn’t come without its own consequences. Most of downtown New York had been destroyed. People had been injured and people had died. The government had stepped in to take care of most of the tragedy. And the event itself made international news.

But Casey didn’t care about most of that. He wasn’t even sure what most of it meant, just the ramblings he heard from the family as they recovered. They hadn’t left the lair since that day. They couldn’t afford too. The city was in a state of panic, and all of them had sustained injuries, the worst of which being Leonardo.

He had been asleep for days. It was vital for recovery, Casey knew, but the whole thing made him incredibly nervous. Casey felt like a little kid again, sitting on a chair with his knees up to his chest, just watching him. Donatello rarely left Leo’s side either. His own injuries meant he needed attention, and with Leo out, he had the best medical expertise on the machines they’d hooked him up too. Casey often asked questions, which Donnie was eager to answer. That much was the same.

Casey had long since changed out of his resistance garb, being offered a variety of clothes from each of the boys. He never let go of his mask though. That was much too important to him. Gifts and reminders from all the people he loved most.

He was alone today. With Leo. Donatello had entrusted him with enough information for any sort of emergency. But it meant he was allowed to think. He fiddled with the mask in his hands, tracing the markings he had painted on and the scratches it had received out on the field. He let his legs fall into a cross-cross as he slipped the mask onto his face and turned it on. Uncle Tello had left many tidbits of information, recordings and plans for an eventual future where we had won. Not even in his wild imaginations could he have imagined that future in the past. And now there were a million things Casey wanted answered that weren’t saved on his Uncles little device. He had a favorite file, however. One he’d rewatched a million times before.

“Is it working?” He watched Uncle Tello tilt up the camera. Behind him were all the people he loved: Sensei Leonardo, Master Michelangelo, robotic Uncle Raph, Commander O’Niel, and himself.

“It may be older than us, but it still works,” Uncle Tello replied.

“The little red light is blinking right?” Master Michelangelo flew over, looking at the camera upside down with amazement. Uncle Tello pushed him outta the way.

“Despite its primitive nature, it seems to be completely intact. Nothing askew. It’s quite impressive. Great find, Casey Jones.”

Sensei scooped up the kid and ruffled his hair.

“There’s not much storage space left on the card, so we better make it short and sweet. How about a picture? For my archives.” Everybody gathered close together as the timer started counting down. “Everybody say: Genius Built Apparel rules!!”

The video stopped there. Paused on a picture of all of them together. Casey couldn’t help but let out a couple tears, hidden by the mask. It might have been the apocalypse, but it was familiar and comforting, and here, they had all been happy.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Unc- Donatello!” Casey looked over, his view still obstructed by the photo paused on his screen. “No, no everything is fine, I was just-“ he pulled his mask off and wiped away whatever remnants of tears he had before he looked up at the turtle who had just entered the room. He didn’t have any of his tech on, using his wooden Bo staff to assist his walking, and his bandages had been covered by the presence of an oversized purple hoodie. Casey stared at him, “reliving old memories. Un- Donnie, are you feeling alright?” Casey stood up, panic ever present on the boys face.

Donnie just gave a perplexing look in response. “Are you?”

“I-“ The Krang are gone, Casey. This isn’t like when Uncle Tello got sick. This isn’t the same. There’s no way the Krang would’ve- could’ve. They couldn’t have. How would they? Tears fell down Casey’s face as he sat back down.

Donnie regretted asking the second he had. He wasn’t any good with this sort of stuff and he had clearly been crying before and now he was crying again. There was something on his mind. “I’ll go get Mikey-“

Casey grabbed Donnie’s hand, and his immediate response was to pull away, but he suppressed the urge when he felt how clammy Casey’s hands were, and how they shook just a little. “Uncle Tello, you- you aren’t going to die, are you?”

Donnie had never heard Casey call him that before. And he said it softly, and nervously, not even looking him in the eyes.

“You think a quarrel with an alien species is enough to get rid of me?”

Casey didn’t say anything. In fact what Donnie said didn’t seem to help the situation any at all. And Donnie was starting to put all the little pieces together. Something had happened to him in the future. Something not good.

“Casey, did something happen to me in the future? Did-“ he wasn’t sure if he should ask it but his curiosity took ahold of him, “did I die?”

Casey lurched forward and wrapped his arms around Donnie. Which was a surprising response, but all he needed to know the answer was yes. Despite how quickly it had happened, Casey was incredibly gentle about it. His hands still shook a little as he rested his head into Donnie’s chest.

Honestly, Donnie was a little upset by all this new information. He hadn’t survived the apocalypse, and he had been close to Casey Jones, who had to witness his death. He couldn’t imagine how crazy this entire week had been for Casey. Donnie still wasn’t sure what exactly caused this reaction from him, but slowly, he leaned down, grabbing around Casey’s back and hugging tightly.

Casey let out a breath and hugged tighter, absolutely collapsing, shaking incredibly and crying into Donnie’s favorite purple hoodie. Keep it together, the hoodie can always be washed. For once, Donnie didn’t need to wonder what to do, because this felt like enough. And no words needed to be said.

Only in Casey’s wildest dreams was he able to hug Uncle Tello again. He knew Donnie was never a big fan of physical affection but he’d always seemed to make an exception for him. Old or young, and for a minute it didn’t matter that this wasn’t the Donnie he knew. It didn’t matter that they were now the same age, or that Casey was actually taller. Or how he could feel Donnie loosening and trying to end it. No matter how long this moment was, it would never be long enough.

———————

Ahahaha. I don’t even know. Thanks for reading. Likes and Reblogs appreciated!!

[codacheetah]

AGREE WITH YOUR PREVIOUS POST. I like mean Loop as a facade only, but we know they still care and love...

Now I have a question, what's your favorite Loop takes/headcanon

Oh my god I'm so sorry I took like two weeks to answer this one I prommy it's not bc I'm exclusively a hater or whatever. I just straight up forgot to answer Oopsie. I'm putting this under cut bc it got long enough that you all would shoot arrows at me for putting it on your dash

Anyways there's a lot of Loop Thangs I like frankly. A big one that I enjoy is when fic authors in postcanon make the transition of Loop into the party structure kind of rocky. Usually bc Loop's neuroses creating a level 12 psychic barrier between them and the party + the inherent awkwardness of meeting somebody who's apparently super close in a way (that you'll never fully understand) to one of your friends. Who let's be real I feel like half the party (coughIsabeauandMirabelle) would catch the aura of "oh they do not like us at all" from Loop. I want Loop to be happy and with their family but you just know this bitch is going to make it as difficult for themself on purpose. The Siffrin Special.

I also just generally like when they keep Loop as a star postcanon. I'm not at all a hater towards Human Loop (in fact I think it can be itself an interesting setup for a Loop fic) but I do like Loop as a star more thematically. Something about having to accept that things have changed and moving on from it regardless. Also bc Loop being dysphoric about their body scratches a very transgender projection itch in my brain Yessss little star you're stuck in a body that draws unwanted attention and which you have no control over how it looks and functions in a way that feels fundamentally wrong to you. (Pointing at canonically transgender character) Yooooo this guy is such a cool trans allegory omg

Hmm what else. This is more of a sloops thing but I always enjoy in fics when they lean into the fact it's selfcest frankly. I've become a selfcest enjoyer bc of this ship I'll never get over that act 5 dialogue abt the cautionary tale where Siffrin says he never understood the moral of the story bc the idea of having somebody just like him who understands him. Oh my gyoooooooooooooooood. I want them to melt into sludge I'm always thinking of that analogy from superflyghtheart on discord comparing Loop and Siffrin to endlings of an endangered species. 💥💥💥It's like. This is less sloopy now but I'm caught between the intersection in my head of "Loop would probably benefit from developing their own identity as a person separate from Siffrin bc they need Something they have control over" and "Loop is of the Siffrin Species and they are significantly too sentimental to let go of the shreds of what they used to have, especially after having lost all of it once already". Both of these things are yummy as fuck when ppl smarter than me explore them and they're kinda the main Story Paths for postcanon Loop anyways so I'm always winning. So like idk tldr I like it both when ppl have Loop diverge a lot as a person and when they have Loop try their best to stay as much of a Siffrin as possible!

I'm limiting myself to four paragraphs so you don't all want to hit me with hammers but I do have Loop Biology Headcanons. I've explained mythoughts on their guts before and don't feel like recounting them but whatever True #codacheetahwarriors remember my deranged rambling. ANYWAYS I kind of mentally run on the assumption of Loop's body as like. The Universe couldn't keep Loop in Siffrin's body, bc they needed Siffrin to be in it (and I guess a system situation introduces too many factors of its own? idk). The Universe operates with the goal of fulfilling wishes with the least intervention possible, so The Universe makes a body out of cheap inorganic material (star-scrap basically). Miniature star for a head fueling the body with Craft energy (I'm not going to get into my conspiracy that all Craft is the same here). Molds the star scrap into a vaguely Siffrin-shaped/sized vessel and plonks Loop's conscious into it and calls it a day. So Loop's body as a poor simulacrum of a human body is like. They're capable of breathing but they only really benefit from doing it on a psychological level. They can't eat or drink and don't have a mouth because it would require a significant level of added effort to make a digestive system, when they can just derive energy from their star. They don't have reproductive organs because they're not made from organic material anymore anyways. They don't need to sleep bc their body never gets tired but they still do it because it's not really a great idea to leave your brain on running for too long anyways.

I fucking lied I'm on paragraph five bc the block of text is annoying me. To continue that's all a preface to say I think it's super fun when Loop has body functions that are weird and unpredictable. Their little frizzles on their body are reactive to their emotions the same way their headstar is, and feel like static if you touch them. Their head has a vague boundary so their eyes have something to be rooted to but the function by which their optic nerves work is unclear to everybody including themself. They glow based on intensity of emotion and the temperature of their star changes via specific mood. Bc I think it would be fun if the battlefield in twohats when from ice cold to boiling hot frankly. Ok these are all just my headcanons (temperature one very loose though I'm not a hard subscriber to it) but they're not uniquely mine it's just examples of what I mean. One I don't have as a personal headcanon but I do enjoy is when Loop feels the same physical sensations as Siffrin bc it's funny and I like inflicting misery on the star.

I'm going to shut up now like actually . Loop for your troubles

[chaibewriting]

HANDS OFF! ft. street rat! shota aizawa (aladdin au) x feisty! noble! dom! fem! afab! reader

-> NOTES: street rat! shota aizawa pickpockets the wrong noblewoman and pays the price in more ways than one. i wrote this without much thought or brain meats so im sorry if its not my best work 🙇🏾

-> WARNINGS: hypnosis, dubcon, gagging, unprotected sex, virigin aizawa (bc i said so), dry humping, unedited and unbeta read cause i’m lazy

THE human body needed a few basic things in order to survive, even at the bare minimal, one of those necessities happened to be food. And unfortunately, mainly due to his lack of social ranking in the hierarchy, a young scoundrel by the name of Shota was forced to heavily rely on his abilities to get his next meal. And no, they’re not any kind of special ability— unless you consider pickpocketing and pawning to be something special, then fuck just call him Superman.

Interrupted from his thoughts, the shaggy dark-haired man pressed a hand onto his stomach, grunting at the rumble that was embarrassingly loud. A few passerbys in the streets had walked past him with rather weary looks, shuffling away from him while clinging onto their belongings. He barely spared them a glance, knowing that there was a much more interesting target just up ahead.

This woman was wearing something custom made, something he’d never seen before, which brought him to the justified assumption that she was rich. And if he played his cards correctly, he could swipe a couple things from her that he could pawn off and have enough to not only feed himself for the next couple of nights but also enough to buy some food for the stray cats he’s ‘adopted’ that he often finds lingering around in alleys. He had plenty of experience with pickpocketing, it didn’t matter who his target was he always landed his mark and got away without a scratch.

So… how exactly did he end up in this predicament?

That was his first mistake.

Shota had picked up the speed of his stride, soon closing in on you from behind without trying to look too suspicious, making it seem as if he was simply trying to pass you to get to his next destination as quickly as possible. It should have been easy. It was always easy for him, but you apparently decided to rip the rug from right under his feet, catching him redhanded when he attempted to dig his hand into your pocket after brushing past you. You grabbed onto his wrist and pulled it up towards the sky, eyeing your wallet that was encased between his fingers. The lazy street rat was stunned, staring at you in shock and a tad bit of fear of what was going to happen next. He had been doing quite a decent job at evading the authorities but if he were to be turned in right now they would no doubt execute him. He had to get away, but how were you so fucking strong?

“My, my, my… Who do we have here? I think I’ve seen you before… On the wanted posters in the little nooks and crannies I go to get my liquor.” You hummed, continuing to grasp his wrist without budging, even with him constantly trying to pry your hand away or jerk back. “Listen, lady, I’ll give you your damn wallet back, just let me go already.” Shota hissed, suddenly feeling you squeeze at his wrist while narrowing your eyes at him, causing him to unconsciously shudder under your harsh and calculated gaze. “I don’t think so. You caught me at the perfect time, i’ve been looking for a young little thing like you for me to release my frustration. Perhaps we should speak more privately, hm?” You offer, though you give no room for arguments or even agreement as you’re suddenly tugging him towards a nearby alley. The people on the street have taken notice of the two of you but shrugged it off, figuring that you were probably just going to teach the scoundrel a much needed lesson, which you technically were.

Shoving the youngster up against the wall after releasing his wrist, a hum came from your throat as you caged him in, leaving no room for him to slip away from you. He was forced to feel your body press up against his, causing his face to redden ever so slightly as he glanced at you, attempting to intimidate you even though he was the one being intimidated.

Leaning back slightly, you reached into one of your dress pockets and pulled out a solid gold pocket watch that was worth a pretty penny or two. Immediately, his eyes left from your face and went to the pocket watch that was enough to keep him fed for months on end, maybe even years.

That was his second mistake.

“Watch the watch, and repeat after me, darling.” You demanded, though your voice was laced in honey and danger, unfortunately for Shota he was unable to break his gaze from the swinging watch and slowly felt himself slipping into some kind of unconscious yet /conscious/ state, causing him to fully let down his guard as he listened to the words that came from your glossed lips.

“‘I am now Lady Y/N’s property. I give all my rights to her. I was made to please her and only her.”

His mouth moved without his permission as he parroted the words back to her, causing a triumphant grin to spread across her lips. “That’s enough. What’s your name, boy?”

“Aizawa Shota.”

…

After performing some basic-level hypnosis on the unsuspecting street rat, getting him back to your place was as easy as leading a dog on a leash. You never expected that it would be so easy to get him to follow after you, most would have put up more of a fight, but now he was just following you around like a lovesick puppy.

Once you’d entered your home, you instructed him to take off his shoes and leave them at the door, doing the same for yourself before venturing further into the house.

Afterwards, you promptly led him to your bedroom, beckoning him with a finger to continue following behind you, which he did. As soon as he entered the bedroom behind you, you pointed towards the luxurious-looking bed and spoke.

“Sit, and wait, Shota.”

He did just that, watching you with those same loveisck puppy eyes that followed after you every step of the way, waiting for your next command. Simultaneously, you shrugged off your coat and placed it onto a nearby table, humming a random tune you’d heard in a tavern some nights ago, thinking through what you wanted to do next. You were interested in trying out your usual approach, wondering how he’d look starfishing and gagged.

Slipping into your closet, you found the medium-sized chest that sat on the floor and pulled it out, opening it up to remove a few specially made silk wraps from inside of it. With your new findings, you turned towards the bed where Shota still sat, he was awake, but he held no hint of emotion in his face, still heavily under the influence of your hypnosis which seemed to please you quite a bit.

“Stand up and strip for me.”

With ease, the unfortunate prey you’d sunk your claws into stood onto his feet and began to remove his tattered clothing (you’d have to burn those later), your eager eyes taking note of every inch of his exposed body. Even though he looked a bit malnourished and lanky, no doubt from not eating an adequate amount of food each day, he didn’t exactly look fragile. So, that meant you wouldn’t have to worry about breaking him just yet. You eyed the excessive amount of body hair that he had spread all over his body, it wasn’t unwelcome of course, you did enjoy the look of a rugged man crumbling at your feet, after all.

Walking towards him, you placed hand onto his chest and pushed him back onto the bed, watching in interest as his flaccid cock slapped back against his stomach with the sudden movement. You were eager to toy with him and you couldn’t do that if he was still mindlessly under your control, however, you still had to remain in control of him. And you always had the perfect solution. Balling the silk wraps up until you got the perfect sphere of fabric, you instructed him to open his mouth, shoving the fabric into it as soon as his lips parted. You heard him instinctively gag around it and grinned afterwards. Now, here was where the real fun began. With a hum, you snapped you fingers and watched as the cloudy mist in his dark eyes began to clear up. He looked around in confusion for a moment before his gaze landed on you and where you stood, over him at the very edge of the bed. And then he spoke. Or tried to at least.

“Whah eer wuu zoo…” He tried, mumbling against the silk in his mouth, after hearing himself struggle to speak his brows furrowed and he began reaching to take the foreign fabric from his mouth. You stopped him, clicking your tongue in dissatisfaction. “Oh no no, Shota. Don’t you remember what we discussed in the alley? You’re my property now, and you can’t just go around making decisions on your own, darling. You’ll keep that in your mouth until I say so.”

You sighed afterwards and began to undo your blouse, already eyeing his body with glee and interest. “Now, if you’re good and help me release my stress from this week… maybe I’ll take the gag out. Think you can do that for me? Ah, actually, I know you can.” You purred, a small smile revealing itself on your face as you peeled off your blouse and slid your skirt off as well, stepping out of it so that you were left in only your undergarments.

With slightly desperate movements and the speed of a huntress in heat, you crawled on top of Shota, watching as his eyes widened in surprise and his face burned crimson. This caused a thought to come to mind as you planted yourself right on his cock, sandwiching it between your clothed cunt and his own hollowing belly.

“Oh dear… Are you a virgin, Shota?”

The blush on his face only increased tenfold at your question and he quickly shook his head, attempting to dissuade you from such a suggestion. It didn’t matter to you anyways, but it would have been all the more entertaining if he was.

…

Getting Shota hard was not a difficult feat, especially not with you constantly rutting against his cock at a steady pace, effectively making your own pool of arousal start to drench your panties, mingling with the beads of precum that dribbled from his tip and landed onto his stomach. The sounds of his sweet muffled moans had urged you to move faster and rougher with your movements, the friction on resulting in your own moans as well. After you’d done your job, you rolled off of him, making him whine in need for you as you laid onto your back and stretched out your limbs, laughing at him.

“Don’t get all pissy now, I’ve done my job so its only fair that you do yours now.” You mused, laying comfortably on your back while pushing your bra up over your breast, letting them fall free from the contraption. “C’mon and put it in, I know you’re a good boy, aren’t you? Show me how good you are.” You urged, shifting around a bit to slide your underwear down until they were tossed away, exposing your soaked core and throbbing notch of nerves.

Many things came into play, a mix of hormones and hypnosis caused the pick pocketer to quickly sit up, gag still in his mouth, and get between your legs, mot even trying to hide his eager as he stared at your inviting entrance, his angry tip getting even angrier. With interest and clear amusement, you watched him closely as he grabbed the base of his cock and began to line himself up with your entrance, prodding at your folds with the tip, almost as if he was uncertain about where he was supposed to put it. It was almost cute, but you were getting a tad bit impatient, hooking your legs around his hips to bring him forcibly towards you, making him sink into you with ease and with little to no resistance.

While your moans were a bit more restrained and shaky, his moans were still muffled but were exceptionally whinier. He had fallen forward but quickly caught himself before he could crash on top of you, holding himself up by pressing his hands in the bed on either sides of your body. You’d pulled him closer until he completely bottomed out, his balls flush against your ass as he was fully inside you, kissing your cervix with his bulbous tip. You could have sworn you felt him throbbing inside of you. You probably did.

Shota, on the other hand, was on the verge of trembling and crying from pleasure, the sudden warmth and wetness closing around him and effectively trapping him in place, his eyes closed as his face only doubled with heat. He was sure he was going to cum if he moved even an inch. This felt even better than fucking his fist. A man could become addicted to this.

Simultaneously, you enjoyed the feeling of fullness but were waiting for him to move, watching him intently. When he made no effort or showed no signs of movement, you huffed, unhooking your legs from his hips and grunting at him. “What are you waiting for? The sun to set? Hurry up and move already, I’m growing impa- oh!” You were cut off by the feeling of him pulling out and slamming back into you, which was soon followed by a series of amateur jabs at your womb, repeatedly filling you with his thick veiny cock over and over again, the bird’s nest of his pubes consistently brushing over your clit with him bottoming out each and every time.

Even if he was an amateur with his thrusts, his dick was big enough to hit some delicious spots inside of your gummy walls that made you a bit delirious. You weren’t the only one, however, with the way he was still groaning and muttering praises that made no sense thanks to the gag in his mouth. As he fucked into you like an obedient and needy whore, you rubbed at your clit in rough circular motions, a string of curses leaving your lips as you enjoyed every second of the snap of his needy hips.

“Veels zooo gooo…” He complimented, though you didn’t know what he was saying exactly as he continued his speedy pace, the bed singing and creaking from the intensity of his assault on your drooling pussy.

This continued for a tad bit longer, as long as he could manage at least, before he mewled aloud, leaning over to bury his face into the crook of your neck. “Mm hmm gmm…!” Suddenly, you felt heat shoot up into your awaiting walls that had been milking him since the moment you forced him to sink his cock in you, painting you sloppily with white. He’d slammed all the way into you to release his seed in you, not letting a drop escape as he laid out on top of you in exhaustion, forcing you to stop rubbing your clit.

You allowed him a second to collect himself, feeling the cold sweat on his body sink into yours as he remained laying on top of you, still buried inside of you. Lightly, you patted his back in an affectionate manner and spoke up. “We’re not done yet darling, I still haven’t cum yet.” That, made him stiffen up, and you almost felt his cock harden again inside of you like the command was enough to spur him on for another round.

“ineeding…. foooo… ooo.” Was the last thing he tiredly panted through the gag before he lifted his hips just a tad bit, burying his knees into the bed before he began lazily pounding into you yet again, the harsh slap of skin on skin being heard well into the night.

Well… he’d never be pickpocketing again, that’s for sure.

[hadesoftheladies]

if you're a radfem (or feminist in general) chances are you're dealing with these: repressed anger and the effects of gaslighting

if you're exhausted a lot (without strenuous physical activity and lack of sleep), find yourself having outbursts of strong emotion, feeling desperate for a form of escape, fantasizing about drastic measures, anxious and "forgetful" about memories you have, nervous about speaking about your experiences . . .

here's some tricks on how i've been coping:

-boundaries. if you can cut off people (irl or online) that cause you to spiral into hate, frustration, anger at their ignorance/malice, do it. even if it's a musician whose one song you like. or your brother or dad. limit time as much as possible with them. the less access they have, the less relevant they become, the more energy you conserve.

-do art! create something, it doesn't matter what it is. express those emotions! make sure you're doing it in a judgement-free zone. it's important you don't become a critic at this time. do messy, honest art (sometimes i write short scenes of gay/lesbian characters to cope with the homophobia in my life, and it makes me feel MUCH better and less cynical, sometimes you need to create beauty to remember it exists in the world)

-get out! get out into nature, if you can. if you can't immerse yourself in some form of it. try watching a potted plant for a while or watch insects. take interest in the mundane aspects of life. see that leaf curl? that ant? you're part of that. when you see the clouds, remember they are part of the cycle. the earth grows into its beauty as you do. the moon is the sky's cycle tracker. you belong to this world. you belong in it. this is your home. revel in it.

-if you can, and if you want to, hang out with animals. animals are great companions with none of the misogyny, internalized or otherwise! they don't mind if you cry, either. seriously, if you need non-draining, non-complicated companionship, animals are a good option. it's also good to remember you're a simple animal sometimes, with simple needs. sometimes all you need is a nice belly rub and a little treat.

-cultivate female friendships where it's safe to rant and also not all about ranting. your friendships should be a comfort, not a chore. you need irl community. if you can access it at this time, if you can find a way to cultivate it, please do. it may save you

-it is okay to enoy things despite the evil in the world. you don't have to be an activist 24/7. go watch your favorite movie. listen to your favorite comedian. and let down your guard while you're enjoying that little something. it's important you don't fall into analyzing things.

-for the gaslighting, start having conversations where you make it explicitly clear that you want the other party to ONLY listen. also, JOURNAL, even if it's just a paragraph or two sentences. write down the small important facts of your day. you'll either build a more reliable memory or come to see how reliable your memory is. just don't hang out with people that are constantly testing you. that is not an environment where you develop healthy trust in yourself.

-fight back! these are some ways to heal from the bruising of the world, but honestly? you need to acknowledge how RIGHT and GOOD your anger is. and one of the best ways to do that is to fight back! do something that addresses part of the injustice your heart is screaming about. it doesn't have to be big, it just needs to help someone and address the situation. address the alarms in your brain telling you something isn't right and you have to do something about it. scratch that itch! do that something. you will feel really good

please feel free to add any other tips you guys may have for cultivating joy, hope and energy, because we don't have to be miserable while/for doing the right thing

[whyareyouhere66]

Maybe some hurt/comfort platonic Professor Remus Lupin x gn student reader where reader also has lycanthropy (is a werewolf) but with anger issues. Remus can kind of guess, but after reader almost gets outed as a ‘monster’ Remus makes it his duty to teach reader how to control their anger. Father figure Remus 🫶 you can make it as angsty as you want <3

Here it is! This took way too long but it’s finished now, and I hope you like it! Thanks for requesting 🫶

!Father figure! Remus Lupin x GN !werewolf! Reader

CW: implied absence of father, accidental(kinda) self harm, slightly graphic descriptions, reader has anger issues, possible ooc Remus I’m not really sure

x

I should’ve stayed in.

I should’ve known better, really. But it seems I didn’t. 

Malfoy always has a way of getting under everyone’s skin- and it seems that the older he gets, the less afraid he is of doing so in front of teachers. You should’ve been more cautious getting into arguments with him in the middle of a class.

“Malfoy, L/n, you two separate yourselves right now.” Professor McGonagall scolds, glaring at where Malfoy stood in front of my seat. He had that same devilish grin on his face, even as I’m glaring up at him from my chair.

“Sit down, Malfoy.” I say flatly, but he doesn’t budge.

“And what are you gonna do, hm? I have no reason to be threatened by someone like,” he takes the time to look my up and down, not hiding the grimace to follow, “you.”

“Then why don’t you go sit down?,” I quip, “no one’s asking you to stay, the only reason I see is you’re enjoying it.” I see quickly how his grin drops, and he’s glaring right back at me now. 

“Is that your best comeback? As if I’d ever enjoy being near you,” he seethes, and I stand up with my hands running down my face. 

“You are so exhausting-“ I groan, only to feel a sudden shove against my shoulder. I snap my head towards him again. What is he trying to do?

“You filthy little-“

“Don’t touch me,”

“Draco! L/n! Back to your seats at once!” McGonagall shouts, the click of her boots taking a few quick steps closer before stopping. I don’t look at her, because Draco is already shoving me back again. His face is scrunched into a look of disgust, and anger, and I can only imagine mine looks somewhat similar.

I’m shoving him back before I can think, my mind ticking, yelling at me to not let him walk away proudly. 

Bursts of different voices, small gasps, are around me as Draco is lunging forward pathetically. His brain is racing the same way mine is- but i only get a second to try and block his hands before he’s backing me up towards the wall.

I grab his shoulders, trying to pry him off me, but my back collides with a shelf and my head gets thrown back against something, 

The pain sends a jolt through my body, something all too familiar, but it’s too late. 

My eyes surge, and I feel the bones in my shoulders cracking against each other while I fall. Draco is somewhere in front of me, stumbling to the ground, and Ms. McGonagall shouts again from across the room.

“Shit.”

My heart is pounding, my hands are sweaty, but all I can feel from my racing mind is anger.

Before he can come at me again, I stumble to my feet again and run out of the room as quickly as possible. Professor McGonagall yells at me, but I can’t hear her anymore. My ears throb as they grow, stretching and pointing at the ends. 

My back arches into its new form, hairs poking my skin as they grow rapidly. Bones give a sickening crack as they move inside of me, my legs unable to hold me up. And I can’t stop it- because my mind is hollering and it’s too late to pull myself back now.

A snarl echoes from the throat, fangs poking my gums. It hurts, it always does- but this time it got too close.

My classmates could’ve seen me- they nearly did. 

Long claws make an ugly noise as they scratch the floor beneath me, I probably look psychotic stumbling across the floor trying to regain control of myself again. 

I want to hit him- I want to keep that ugly smirk off his face. 

My hands curl into a fist, and I feel the stinging pain of claws scraping the palms of my hands. The painful red that follows feels warm on my skin, I keep my hand still until the pain begins to keep the rest of me still.

My hitched breathing is loud, but slowly I feel my nails dulling, pulling out of my skin. I let out a gasp, face beginning to shift back to its original shape. 

My jaw throbs, and my fingers become sore as I desperately try to pull my self back into place. Bones are snapping, returning to normal while I struggle to hold myself up any longer. 

Heavy breathes fall, but I barely recognize them. My ears dull until they’re no longer long and pointed, my eyes fade from the sharp yellow back to e/c. 

“No, no no no,” I plead. 

“….y/n?”

I snap my eyes up to the new voice, and freeze when I see Professor Lupin staring at me wide-eyed.

He analyzes my shaking figure, and he looks at me differently… almost understandingly. 

I scramble to my feet again, stumbling away from him. 

“Wait!” He calls out, but I sprint away before he can follow.

It’s all ruined.

***

The next day, I refuse to leave the dorms. 

I slept in my closet last night, too afraid that one of my dorm mates would walk in and look at me the same way everyone else did before. 

About halfway through the morning hour, there’s a tapping at my window- and I recognize F/n’s owl, Ares, staring at me through the glass. F/n sent a note. 

I don’t want to read it. But I do- all it asks is where I am. 

I slide down the wall slowly, letting the note fall to the floor beside me. I feel so tired. 

Gosh- I was doing such a good job before. Whenever my anger would get the best of me, I’d find solace in an old closet or something, curl my hand into a fist so tightly it would unravel with red staining the palm. It would keep me stable- I had it under control.

But now?

.

.

A knock sounds from the door.

I don’t want to answer it.

I stare at it for a while, maybe I should. Maybe it’s F/n.

Eventually, I do open it.

Standing on the other side, is Professor Lupin, and I immediately freeze. What is he doing here? 

The look he gave me yesterday flashes in my mind, the understanding, the empathy. He speaks before I do, much to my relief.

“May I come in?” He asks, and I hesitantly step to the side. He enters carefully, finding a spot towards the center of the room, and I sit down on the foot of my bed awkwardly. 

“Look, professor-“ I try, only to be interrupted.

“It’s ok, I know.”

“…what do you think you know..?”

He sighs, looking round the room, as if searching for the right words. I watch cautiously.

“…I was about 4 years old, when I was turned.” He says- my eyes widen. Turned? Does that mean-?

“What..?”

“Well, that’s what you are, right,” he looks at me pointedly, “a werewolf?”

My heart stops when he says the word. Werewolf. 

He knows- he not only knows, but he is one, and I almost can’t believe my ears.

“You’re…you’re one too?”

Lupin nods, doesn’t even hesitate. Another sigh, before he continues.

“When I was bit, it was in means of revenge. I was used to get back at my father, and it’s affected my life ever since.”

Lupin paces the room when he talks, taking slow steps across the carpet. I feel a bit bad, knowing the burden of this curse. Professor Lupin looks at me again.

“It took me years to learn how to control it-  and if you’ll let me,” I can tell where this is going, “I want to help you learn as well.”

I pause, trying to think. I can learn to control it, to live with it. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. 

“…you’ll help me?” I ask quietly, looking up at him. His face softens slightly, and he nods.

“Of course.”

I don’t know what to say. He asks how old I was when I got bit, I tell him. 8 years old, on a camping trip with my mother and step dad. My mom didn’t know what to do, my step dad (at the time) hadn’t even warmed up to me much yet. I was left to face it alone. 

Professor Lupin’s eyebrows furrow slightly, and he nods. 

“So you had no parents to help you?” He asks, and I nod shyly. I almost don’t want to look at him, avoiding his gaze head on.

“It was kind of hard to, uh, connect with my step dad after that…”

He nods in understanding. I look away. 

“Well, how about this,” he doesn’t step much closer to me, and I look at him curiously, “do you know what triggers it.”

I nod once more, bending my fingers around each other on my lap.

“Yeah, uh, my anger is…” I clear my throat, “yeah.”

“Great, then we’ll start there.” He says, as if it was an obvious fact. “Meet me after classes tomorrow, preferably by my classroom. That’s when we’ll start.” He begins to walk towards the door again, and I watch him. It’s so new, I’ve never even told people about such a burden before, yet here I am. Before he can leave, I stand up from my bed.

“Wait, professor.”

He turns to me curiously.

“…thank you.”

***

The first “lesson” was a bit of a messy one. 

He asks me how I currently handle my anger, and I hesitantly look at the scars littering my palm and the heel of my hand.

“Ah, I see…” he trails off. I nod.

“Yeah…”

By the second lesson, he’s telling me what happens in my brain when I’m angry- and how to keep calm.

“It’ll sound like a cliche, but controlling your breathing.”

“Definitely sounds like a cliche.”

“Yeah, well, it works, sit down”. 

By the 5th lesson I’m already sensing a difference in how I’m feeling- it’s like my body is more relaxed, my brain isn’t as high wired as it used to be.

But I’m weren’t sure- until I got tested.

It wasn’t Draco Malfoy this time, though they were close in obnoxiousness. A Ravenclaw, by the name of Riley, continuously pestering me after getting paired up for a project together. She followed me down the halls after class, ignoring all my attempts to brush her off.

Can’t she take a hint? 

I turn another corner down the corridor, and she tells me once again how lazy I am. I feel myself getting more frustrated, heart beating faster, and I stop walking in the middle of the hallway. When I turn ti look at her she has the face of someone who just got fired from work- and I want to tell her that no one riles her up as much as she does to herself. 

The first throb in my gums, I freeze, and turn away quickly. Her voice stops, thank god, and I feel her curious gaze burning holes into my back. 

“It doesn’t matter,” I tell myself, “it’s all cool.”

I close my eyes, blocking the memory of her voice, and let my breathing slow until it’s balanced enough for me to no longer feel the ache in my jaw. 

My eyes open again, I’m normal.

I’m normal- holy shit. A grin spreads across my face and I check my hands just in case- nothing. My body didn’t change at all. 

I whip around, not looking at Riley even as she throws another comment my way.

“Uh huh, yeah.” Is all i manage before I’m pushing past her and starting to jog down the hall.

“I did it,” I say to myself, “I did it!”

I’m basically running by the time I’ve made it to Professor Lupin’s classroom, knocking on the large wooden door a few times before he answers.

“Y/n?”

I grin at him. “I did it!” I exclaim, “I did it- I controlled it!”

His face begins to light up, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“What?” 

I step into his room, but still spin around to face him. My cheeks are beginning to hurt from my smile but I don’t falter.

“I controlled myself, Lupin, i didn’t even change at all!”

His smile grows and he looks at me. “That’s wonderful, I’m so-“

Before he finishes, I step forward and hug him.

I didn’t even expect to, I just feel myself wrapping my arms around his torso and grinning like a mad man against his coat. His arms lay against my back in return in a  fatherly embrace, so simple yet I could never miss it. 

“Thank you” I say, and he smiles above me.

“Of course, Y/n.”

[butmakeitgayblog]

How is my favorite ball of floof, Sal?

I was just writing him today while waiting in the doctor's office 👀 he's good, he's good. Living his best life. Meeting one of his soon to be bestest friends ever

//////////////

The door swung up open before she could even finish her third knock. 

Clarke felt all the air escape right out of her lungs.

Because framed in the picturesque doorway was - possibly, potentially, easily debatable once her brain would start working again - one of the most beautiful women Clarke had ever seen in her thirty nine years of life. 

Just… not the one she'd expected. 

“Can I help you?”

Clarke blinked back at the rounded, deep amber eyes that stared at her in gentle questioning. Blinked at the sight of a messy curled bob of black hair that fell carelessly across the elegant line of petite shoulders. Dark brown skin looked almost velvety in the shadowed threshold between inside and out, and Clarke physically swayed foward on her toes just to catch a stronger whiff of her floral perfume. 

Mentally rolling her tongue back up into her skull, Clarke recovered enough to lean a sharp hook at the waist toward the left, just far enough to take another glance at the house number tacked on the side. 

‘Hm… Yep, I can still read…’

“I uh...” Clarke managed to right herself and actually stammer out loud when whatever celestial being she was gawking at only continued to look at her with serene patience, “Does, uh… Does Lexa live here?”

“Yes?”

Clarke frowned when nothing else came. “O-kay… Is she… Is she here right now?”

“Well I certainly hope so. Otherwise I'm breaking and entering.” White teeth shined in a perfectly aligned row when this riddle-baring goddess's lips bent into a teasing smile. But rather than feeling like the punchline of some joke she was being left out of, the effect of this sweet angel faced woman's charm only made Clarke smile in return. 

Before she could reconfigure the slog of words bumping around in her brain, a clatter of lazy tip-tap tip-taps grew loud enough to jerk Clarke's attention toward a rather large and decidedly hairy nose wedging its way into the exchange. A nose became a muzzle, became a panting white, black, and brown face. One with droopy eyes and even droopier jowls that nudged the door-guardian out of its way.

“Dude, c'mon.” Those ridiculously white teeth flashed in another soul brightening smile as the woman pushed herself away from where she'd been hip-checked into the door, and gave the beast-sized brute of a Saint Bernard a few scratches on the head. “Manners, my guy. What would your mother say about this kind of violence?”

Doleful eyes slid shut in a look of ecstasy at the rake of fingernails through his coat of cowlick laden fur.

A distant echo of muddled footsteps had the beautiful stranger turning, craning around to look behind her into the shadows of the house, which seemed entirely like an open invitation for Clarke to lift up on her toes and chance a peek into the darkeness beyond as well. Nothing gave itself away even as the padding of steps drew closer. Clarke rocked back onto the flat of her feet just before the door widened enough for another face to fit into the bizarre tableau, though it was the one single face that helped Clarke stop feeling like she needed to have an evaluation done of her own sanity. 

“What is the hold up out here— Clarke,” Lexa breathed as a smile lit up her blessedly familiar face. Glasses propped on top of her head and normal school attire button down exchanged for a tight knit Henley, the sudden vision of this entirely different version of Lexa added itself to Clarke's mental catalog of the woman. Lexa slipped past the mountain of a dog, giving it an absent command of ‘Back it up, big man,’ along with a snap and a point at the floor beside her that seemed sufficient enough to have him reversing several feet out of her way. She elbowed past the woman in the doorway to beckon Clarke inward with a wave of her hand. “Sorry, I didn't know it was you. Come in. You're early.”

“Uh, yeah. I hope that's not a problem.” Clarke floundered as she stepped in at the urging, eyes darting between Lexa and the dog who'd sat itself in a flop of limbs at her side, and the stranger now silently watching it all. 

“Not even a little.” The easy cadence of Lexa's words only helped to ease a fraction of Clarke's nerves. “You just said you couldn't make it for another couple hours.” 

Clarke tugged upward at the collar of her sweater that suddenly felt a touch too revealing. “I dropped Madi off with her dad a little early. Much to her numerous complaints.”

The soft tilt of Lexa's lips dipped into a frown. “Everything okay?”

“Of course. Just, getting her to understand that I actually had plans was met with great disdain. It's a theme we've developed, she and I. Ever since she's gotten her license, she doesn't seem to understand the concept that my car is not somehow now her car.”

Lexa's face relaxed into a kind of relieved understanding. “Ah, I see. A driving teenager. I don't envy you.”

“We're braver than the marines,” Clarke said amidst a roll of her eyes. 

In the quiet and fondness of Lexa's smile, Clarke let herself uncoil another fraction of an inch. She returned the soft sweetness of that green-eyed gaze with a herculean effort to not be the first to reach out. She'd pictured this moment more than a few times on the drive over - a few hundred more the previous evening, if she were being honest - but where'd she'd fantasized about just grabbing the woman and kissing her very pretty face off, possibly backing her into a hazy and ill-defined wall to have her way with her the second she would walk in, Clarke found herself rather perplexingly stuck to the spot. Unmoving in the relief of being in Lexa's space again. Unrushed and content to keep sharing smiles like a couple of idiots.

It was only an inelegant ruffle of fur and flapping jowls that broke the moment, followed immediately by a rather wet sounding sneeze prompting Clarke to finally drag her gaze away.

“You have a dog.”

Lexa glanced down at the mountain of black and tan fur at her side and back up. “I told you that I have a dog.”

“Uh, no,” Clarke laughed at that wild understatement and gestured to the device in her hand as though proof enough. “You text me an hour ago, ‘You're not allergic to dogs, right?’ And when I said no, you marked it with a thumbs up.”

Lexa seemed to pause in thought as her teeth worried at the plumped corner of her bottom lip. “... I did do that.”

“You did.”

“Okay, I think I might see where the breakdown in communication happened.”

“Solid work, Professor,” said a voice that drifted from over Lexa's shoulder.

“Your input isn't appreciated,” Lexa said to the startlingly still present but unidentified goddess hovering near the door. Forcing down a rather painful looking swallow as she nudged the glasses more securely up the slope of her nose, Lexa buried the obvious lede in the room and instead gestured to the hulking pile of dog sitting patiently where Lexa had left him. “Right, so I suppose introductions are in order then. Sal. This is Clarke. Clarke, this is my dog Sal. Sal, say hello.”

As if on cue, a giant paw went up in a clumsy mimic of a wave.

Clarke let out a surprised chuckle at the display, waving back on instinct before realizing that she was, in fact, waving at a dog. She let her hand drop. Idiot. “Hey, Sal. He's a… big guy, huh?”

“I'm convinced he's part moose,” Lexa sighed with an affectionate ruffle of Sal's ear. “In my defense, he was not this imposing when I got him.”

////////////

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

One thing I don't understand is why they took time to build up Aemond in part 1, with its complexity and ambition. And then ss2 turned him into a villain so quickly? And why did they choose Aegon to be the one who suffered cruel treatment from family members to gain viewers' sympathy, while they turned him into a rapist in ss1? The sudden change in the approach of the two characters in ss2 left me scratching my head.

Good day/night!

IMO the reasons for it are the same ones I mentioned in this post (I hope you don't mind if I quote it, here and below):

"... IMO we need to take into account two things: 1) HotD writers apparently have received a commission to create a show with a clear as day feminist agenda to regain the audience's favor lost after Daenerys business in S8 of GoT; 2) the most important - they are fucking incompetent, and so they could ruin the characters they "love" just as effortlessly as they do with those they "hate" (sometimes they even fail with the latter - because they are kind of supposed to ruin them but, once again, are incompetent)".

On the one hand, the goal there was to make the show as popular and as appealing to the audience (including general audience, of course) as possible; on the other hand, it was supposed to be done in a certain way.

On no account was a TG character (i.e. the one from anti-feminist side), and a male one at that, supposed to become (or to end up, at least) as an absolute fan favourite. It is not a secret that after season 1 Aemond's popularity reached nearly cosmic levels (according to some surveys, he was the third among the best-liked characters, after Rhaenyra and Daemon - and not that far from them) after the little screen time he had. Imagine what could have been if Aemond got proper development and was presented as a complex, well written character with amount of screen time that he was due as one of the main characters of season 2. There would be a risk of him overshadowing Daemon or even the one true heroine - Rhaenyra. The HotD team couldn't have that - so they reduced Aemond's screen time to bare minimum. As for him becoming a villain, here I go back to the post mentioned above:

"... I really don't know whether Condal and the rest of HotD team are ruining Aemond on purpose - or are just trying to legit create a compelling arc for him by presenting him as a bullied kid with a fuckton of issues who one day just snapped and fully went into a psycho killer mode. Both options are possible - and actually both of them might be true because (and here goes yet another HotD problem) it really feels like the writers who work on the show have trouble communicating and coordinating their ideas. One pushes for one thing, another - for another, and as a result we have characters who act like they get a personality/brain transplant every episode (Daemon and Alicent in S1 are the prime examples of that)".

As for Aegon, the way writers go about his development is (or has turned out to be) quite messy as well. In season 1, he was made a canonical rapist (and the writers just had to know that such a character won't be received well by the audience) - yet Sara Hess tried to explain how it was because Aegon just never knew what consent was. In season 2 he is being presented as a dumb, reckless boy - but one deeply unhappy and in constant suffering. It's like the audience is supposed to roll their eyes at his poor decisions but also to pity him. And it seems to work exactly like that! Why did they do it? My guess is that HBO people want to improve their chances at the Emmys - and characters like Aegon are just the right material for it. Exploitation? Absolutely. But thanks to that, at least Tom was given a chance to actually demonstrate his talent. And at the same time, once again, a Green character can't be better that the Blacks in everything, right? So show!Aegon is being dumbed down and forced to make some questionable decisions (but still manages to have the most consistent character arc out of all the Greens - which says something about the writing level for this season).

P.S. A little off topic: the thing is that the sympathies towards Aegon from the audience might prove stronger than the writers predicted (actually, from what I've seen for the past week, the same goes for Aemond - he is not hated nearly as much as could have been expected, at least for now). And I think the actors are to thank for that: Tom has been absolutely smashing it this season (his Aegon really is a livewire) and Ewan manages to save every second of screen time he gets to remind the audience via his microexpressions and scene presence why so many people were enchanted by Aemond in the first place. Legends.

[eco-lite]

Miss @dianeduane did it again with Doctor’s Orders. Here are some choice sillies:

[Text ID: “Good morning,” Spock said. Kirk took a second to flash a grin at Bones; sometimes Spock’s formality could temp you to laugh. “Are you members of the species called the Ornae?” There was another tremor of movement through the layered circles of creatures, and then a sound: something scratchy, not quite the “insect: sound that Kirk had heard before. The Bridge’s Translator circuitry immediately cut in and rendered the sound as oddly high-pitches laughter. One of the creatures in the front circle shook itself all over and, still shaking, moved very, very slowly toward Spock. He didn’t move a muscle. The creature put out a long slender pseudopod, gleaming in the sunshine like suddenly blown glass, and poked Spock’s boot with it. Then it made the scratchy sound again, more laughter, and said a word: “Gotcha!” It jumped back to its place. All the other creatures began to echo the scratch-laughter. Spock looked around him with mild bemusement. “Captain,” he said, “I suspect we have found a kindergarten at recess, or something similar.” End ID]

Spock interacting with baby jello aliens. 🥹

[Text ID: When Spock arrived on the Bridge, McCoy was so utterly glad to see him that he was tempted to jump up and hug him. Instead, he just said, “Spock, your damn scanner’s gone on the fritz again.” Spock favored him with an expression that was skeptical at best. “Doctor,” he said very gently, as if to a brain-damage case, “that hardly seems likely. Nonetheless, I will run some checks.” End ID]

This was just cute. It takes a lot of emotional turmoil for Bones to want to hug Spock. And this was only the beginning lol.

[Text ID: “And by the way,” McCoy added, “can I at least have a restroom break?” Spock nodded. “Give the conn to Lieutenant DeLeon,” he said, “but don’t be away too long. Though,” he added, from just inside the turbolift, I believe the Captain would say, ‘You should have gone before we left.’” End ID]

Peak Spones dynamic.

[Text ID: “And see if you can get Uhura away from her business downstairs. I need some advise.” “Right, Doctor.” End ID]

It just made me really happy that the first person Bones wanted to strategize with and ask for advise was Uhura. She’s such an underrated and underutilized character, but she had a lot of great moments in this book.

[Text ID: “We’re going to have a department heads’ meeting in a while, I guess,” McCoy said to Spock, “and record it and send it along to Starfleet.” “I would not do that,” Spock said, sitting down at his station and dropping a couple of tricorder tapes into one of its reader ports. “Call the meeting, certainly. We must intensify our search for the Captain. But Starfleet does not require the details of our decision-making process. Also,” and there was a slight glint of humor in his eye as he glanced over his shoulder at McCoy, “there’s no point in giving the, ah, bureaucratic elements at Starfleet any more insight than necessary into how we arrive at our decisions.” “How I arrive at my command decisions, you mean,” McCoy said. Spock nodded. “The bureaucratic mind,” he said, “will find some way to meddle if at all possible. If faced with a decision-making process that they find too…original…” “Too intelligent, you mean. Or too consultative.” “Precisely. Under such circumstances, you could find yourself issued orders which you would be required to carry out, but which would be most…distasteful.” “You mean stupid.” “I believe I said that,” Spock said. “Though perhaps not in so many words.” End ID]

Bashing Starfleet party! 🥳

[Text ID: “We have no diplomatic recourses,” said Spock, “since as yet there is no diplomatic agreement. Starfleet will doubtless suggest some kind of display of force.” “They can just go to bed early on that one,” McCoy snapped. “These people barely understand the concept of death or injury, as far as I can figure out. I don’t want to be the one to teach them what it means.” End ID]

Bashing Starfleet pt. 2, plus I admire Bones’ compassion.

[Text ID: Spock’s expression was calm, but there was warning hidden in it. “If we are successful in finding the Captain,” he said, “Starfleet may well forgive you that…eventually. If not…your career in Starfleet may be short.” “That’s as may be,” McCoy said. “I have oaths to follow, the same as they do. The discipline of the service be damned.” He paused, and then said, “We have stopped recording this briefing, haven’t we?” “No one will hear,” Spock said, “what was certainly a casual remark made after the meeting proper.” He looked at Uhura. “Of course not,” she said to Spock. “I’ll just look around and see if I can’t find my sewing scissors.” End ID]

Cover up the evidence! I love them so much.

[Text ID: Two pages. The first page says: “—we thought we would stop and investigate.” Now, McCoy though, he waits to see if I tell him to get out of here. “Well, you’re more than welcome here, Commander,” he said. “Four planets, no waiting. Make yourself right at home.” Commander Kaiev actually blinked. McCoy had a hard time keeping his face straight, but managed it somehow. Now he lets us know that he would have anyway, he thought. “So we have done,” said Kaiev, with a sort of air of jovial threat that McCoy had to admire. “We shall send down landing parties to investigate the planet.” “Well, go ahead,” McCoy said. “But I should warn you, some things are pretty weird down there. We’ve lost some people in odd ways. Trees eating them, mostly.” The Bridge crew all looked at McCoy in fascination. He ignored them. “But don’t mind that,” McCoy said jovially. “You go ahead down there, have a good time. Our people will show you around, if you like.” An expression of suspicion did not so much creep across Kaiev’s face as run across it, shouting and waving placards saying I don’t believe you, you’re up to something! McCoy was delighted, and kept his own face straight. “No thank you, MahKhoi,” Kaiev said. “We will manage our own investigation of this planet. Shall we speak further on this?”Or in other words, ‘Wanna fight?’ “No, heavens, why should we?” McCoy said, waving a hand languidly. “You go right ahead. But listen,” he added, “you watch out for those trees, now. And the rocks.” He leaned forward a little as he said the word, and waggled his eyebrows at the Klingon. The second page says: “I must ask you. What has happened to Kirk?” McCoy paused for a moment, then sighed heavily and leaned back in the center seat again, looking down. “I killed him,” he said. “In a duel. Very sad.” And he looked up then, and gave Kaiev a long cool look from under his brows. “I do so hate killing my friends,” he said. Kaiev looked at him for a long moment. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, McCoy sighed again and said, quite cheerfully, “At any rate, Commander, if we can help you with any little thing, don’t hesitate to call. Enterprise out.” And he glanced over at Uhura, who killed the circuit. The screen went back to showing starfield again. There was a rather stunned silence on the Bridge. Then the laughter broke out. McCoy let it go on for a few moments, then said, “All right, everybody, hush up now!” They got quiet. “That should give us a few minutes to breathe,” he said, “since they’ll now think the Enterprise is being commanded by a raving loon. Perhaps even a homicidal raving loon, which would be even better.” “I think you are wise,” Spock said, “not to let them know that the Captain is missing. They would certainly perceive that as a weakness, perhaps a fatal one, on our part.” “Spock,” McCoy said, smiling a bit, “I may be just an old country doctor, but I know enough not to tell my patients that I don’t know how to cure them. Why, half of them cure themselves just because they think I’m doing it. Saves me no end of trouble, and it’s cheaper than placebos.” End ID]

Please witness the proper way to deal with Klingons. Every interaction between Bones and Kaiev is so funny.

[Text ID: “All right,” McCoy said. He sighed. “Ladies and gentlemen and others, I would prefer nothing untoward to happen in the next fifteen minutes. End ID]

And finally, I just really appreciate Bones being gender-inclusive.

Give this book a read, y’all!

[wowgodmusthateme]

Netayam x loner! Omatikaya reader

Reader is the daughter of a Na’vi women who’s mate was killed in the first movie by humans and because of this she left the clan and went far out into the forest where she knew her and her child would be safe.

TW! Aged up netayam just for plot (no NSFW)

Enjoy and my requests are open so feel free to ask my anything … one love🫶🏾

Oh who is she?

The sound of crying put me on edge. Who would be this far away from the village is the first thought that found its way into my brain, I let curiosity get the best of me. As I got closer I spotted a young girl pressed up against a tree, I got as close as possible without being spotted she seemed scared.

“Hey kid you ok?” My voice made her jump, she couldn’t be any older than eight “no I can’t find my way back to the village” she sobbed. I let out a sigh as I crouch down in front of her “what’s your name kid” she replied “tuk” through quite hiccups, “ ok tuk come on I’ll help you get back” she immediately jumped up and grabbed my wrist.

I took her to a stream about a mile away from the village “ok kid it’s a straight shot from her” I said while prying he hand from my wrist, a confused look found its way onto her face. She opened her mouth to ask me a question but before she could get it out someone yelled her name “Tuk there you are” as we looked up we saw a man with long braids, he was unlike any man I had ever seen, his eyes were staring into my soul “netayam” yelled the girl in excitement as she ran over and hugged his leg The impact of the hug made him look down, and when he looked back up, I was gone.

It had been a month since I helped the young girl and all I could think about was him, and he must’ve been thinking about me as well . For a month straight during eclipse he would walk around the forest like he was searching for something. The entire month I watched him from the trees, it made me uneasy that a Na’vi would come so far into the forest especially at this hour. Once again my curiosity got the best of me and I decided that I would confront him, but that was three days ago I just couldn’t seem to work up the courage, when he turned around to go back to the village his ears fell flat against his head he seemed discouraged, it’s now or never I whispered to myself.

I threw a pebble behind him to turn his attention away from me, it worked.The sound of it hitting the ground caught his attention, and he turned around, but he saw nothing I took this chance to get about an arms length in front of him, he jumped when he turned back around.

“Oh you scared me” he said through and awkward chuckle,I continued to stare at him. “Ive been looking for you I just wanted to say thank you for bringing my sister back” he said while scratching the back of his neck, “you’ve been walking around the forest for a month just to thank me?” I ask while tilting my head “you’ve been watching me?” He asked dumbfounded, all I could do was nod my head as a response. It fell silent again as we watched each other, I let out a sigh and began walking away “hey wait” he said reaching out to grab my wrist, that stopped me dead in my tracks no one other than my mother had ever touched me, i thought while moving my gaze from his hand on my wrist to his eyes. Beautiful, I thought “ will you meet me here tomorrow night?” Immediately I shook my head, he was stranger , a threat only eaway knows what he was planning “ please I just want to talk” my head was screaming no, this would go against everything I’ve ever known before I could even form my mouth to say no my soul took over “ only talk?” It came out as a whisper, softer than i would have liked “only talk” he said in a promising tone.

That had been 7 months ago, every night for 7 months we would meet and talk for hours, he told me everything and so did I. But recently something has changed instead of looking at me he would look anywhere else, his visit were shorter and so were his response’s.

“Are you mad at me?” This question seemed to shock him “what! No why would you think that?” He asked confused “well what has changed? What is wrong?” he let out a sigh and looked ahead at the small pool of water in front of us, it was a long while before he answered my question “it is time for me to find a mate” he whispered, I immediately felt sick to my stomach “oh, well I’m sure there’s plenty of fine women in the clan to choose from” I said trying my best to hide my sadness “I don’t want them” he stated matter of factly he turned to look at me and only then did I notice how close we were but I didn’t bother to move, I couldn’t “I’ve already chosen” he said while moving his hand to caress the side of my face “but this woman must also chose me” with a shaky voice I responded “ she already chose you a long time ago”

[syd-vixious]

you mentioned a while back making a yandere! atlas.. yes !!! i love the first 2 games so much and just watched a burial at sea atlas moments video.. hcs or oneshot, just any content with him would be so so cool! maybe the reader is similiar to jack's/elizabeth's position, someone hes supposed to guide but then gets a little too attached to

A/n: Hi anon! Thank you for the request and sorry it took so long! My life has been really hectic and all over the place recently. But I'll do my best to fulfill your request to the best of my ability! 🫡

P.S. I'm gonna try to make this as gender neutral as I can but it might lean more towards afab!reader due to some of the lines Atlas says to Elizabeth in the dlc. (It's been a minute so sorry if any of this feels rushed or incomplete)

Finders Keepers

You quickly entered the elevator, barely managing to escape the splicers and big daddies that seemed to be around every corner. Despite the predicament you were in, and how many wounds you didn't have enough medical supplies to patch up, you still made it to some kind of safety.

"I can't help Sally if I'm just like everyone else down here," you sighed, "I can't even get back to where I was.."

You leaned against the railing, exhausted to no end as you felt the elevator move to its destination. You groaned internally as you heard the crackle and scratch of the walkie on your hip awakening.

It was that bastard, Atlas.

"If you don't mind me askin', love: why you talkin' to nobody? If I had pegged you for a loon, I might've had second thoughts on our 'arrangement.'" He spoke with a tone that had you gritting your teeth.

You scoffed, "I'll hold up my end. But I better find the girl the way I left her."

"You're in no position to make demands. But I must confess, I do like a bit o' sass in a lass."

You rolled your eyes as you could hear the smirk on his face. Groaning in annoyance, you reloaded your revolver and crossbow. You have to be prepared for anything in this sick and twisted society.

You stepped out of the elevator, thinking you’d be prepared for anything until a pissed off Big Daddy came charging in your direction, not seeing much of a difference between you and some of the splicers that dwelled down here.

You began to run, trying to put as many obstacles between you and the giant creature as possible. You were successful for a while until you were trapped in an old bar, a couple buzzed up splicers clinging to the ceiling with their rusty hooks.

For a moment, you thought you might’ve lost the big guy, until a loud groan and a hard hit to the middle of your back sent you flying into the shelves of liquor. Glass shattered against your skin as they began to sink in and the world became darker around you…

*Time skip to two weeks later*

It felt like your head was buzzing. Your brain pounding in your skull as if it was being asked to be let out. Your body felt sore, the world around you slowly fading into existence as you slowly regained consciousness.

"Folks say it's only a matter of time until Atlas's entire mob comes out waving the white flag..." The announcer on the radio in front of you said before fading out into static.

You groaned from the sharp sound, brows pinching together from the pain in your head. You went to raise your hand to hold your head only to realise you were tied down on a chair.

Once your vision became clear, you could see the shadow of a man smoking a cigarette in front of you, a Rapture building crumbling to pieces just outside the window.

"Two weeks.." said the man.

"Huh.. w-what..?" You grunted.

"You've been down two weeks, love. Feckin' doctors, better off hiring monkeys if they're gonna harm what's mine in the same way." It took a moment before you realised Atlas stood in front of you.

You groaned, glaring at the back of the man's skull, "Our deal was to get you out of prison. What did you expect? To win your little civil war for you too?"

He chuckled, throwing his cigarette onto the ground, not needing to stomp on it due to the water leaking through the cracks in the ceiling.

"No, no, no," he turned around, slowly walking into the standing light that was shining in your face the whole time, "You see, that was the plan at first. To have you find my Ace in the Hole and bring Ryan down alongside the other pricks that dwell down here."

He slowly stalked towards you, resembling a hungry lion hunting its gazelle. "However, things change and unfortunately," he slammed his hands onto the arm rests your wrists were still tied to, causing you to jump in your seat, "you ain’t got a choice in the matter."

He stood up straight, circling you with a glint in his eye that you couldn't quite make out. "So now, lass, you belong to me."

You couldn't tell if the bumps on your skin were from the cold air or his words.

"Wait, what? The hell are you talking about? We had a fucking deal, Atlas!" You grunted, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

He placed one hand on your thigh the other on your chin, his cigarette and alcohol-laced breath fanning your face, "I need you to get something through your pretty skull of yours, love. You will listen to me, you only belong to me. And if you don’t follow those simple, little rules…”

He takes a step back, grabbing one of the lobotomy tools on the table, “…I’ll take matters into my own hands.”

[deathonthe]

ferrari parked outside | 1633

pairing: charles/max

rating: explicit

word count: ~5000

tags: established relationship, slightly non-linear narrative, under-negotiated kink, somnophilia, riding

summary:

Max is an embarrassing amount of gin and tonics into the night when Lando shouts very loudly into his ear. “Does Charles pay for everything for you?” “What?” Max shouts back. “I mean like– Seems like he’s always paying for you, mate,” Lando says. Holds both hands up in the air and dubiously glances to the side. “Not that I’m judging or anything.” “He doesn’t pay for everything,” Max lamely insists.

director's cut:

the following are my notes and thoughts during the writing of this fic. they should in no way influence the way you've interpreted it! but feel free to read it to gain some extra insight into my pea-sized brain

ok. one thing u should know about me is that i will constantly push the max verstappen babygirl agenda no matter what. sugar baby max is pretty adjacent to that

i spent an awful about of time deciding the opening scene, between first scene (B) and the following directly after (A), idk how many times i swapped the two. i was afraid if i started off with B, it would kinda give a tacky record scratch effect when u reach A. but starting with A made the progression into B seem unnatural and too abrupt so. in the end i went with B, then A because the fic gradually loses its seriousness and matches the kinda light humour it progresses into

the line "I want chocolates and those bread rolls they bake fresh." took me a god awful amount of time to write. at first i wanted max to specify a monte carlo cafe to make it seem more genuine but all the reviews for cafes in monaco were in french! which i suppose i should've expected. in the end i went with that even though i'm not completely happy with it

another thing u should know about it is that i care about character voice and characterisation above all else. i try my best to emulate how these people sound. i always sift through so much interview material while writing a fic to try and get the drivers' voice tones and linguistic quirks and body language as accurately and naturally as possible. and too be honest, i don't think i did that very well in this fic. i think i could have imitated it better

a little bit of french, of course. they live in monaco, charles speaks french. max doesn't speak enough, so not quite as much french as other fics (for example, for esteban and lance, i would generally write about half of their dialogue in french if they were only speaking to each other in a scene. it feels more authentic as esteban and lance communicate in french when they are talking to each other in real life)

i designated charles three terms of endearment: baby, cheri and mon cher

nothing made me happier than when it became canon that max calls charles 'charlie' in real life, because i was gonna scrap it from the fic because i thought it sounded ooc

to be clear, i never intended to give charles a daddy kink in this fic. you can assume he doesn't have one. neither does max

the running joke is that this is actually a proposal fic and not a sugar baby one

in the lando scene, when max cuts him off before he can finish his sentence, lando is about to say: "and charles also paid for martjin to dj at this red bull party for u." i wasn't sure if the implication was very strong, though

in actuality, max cuts off lando with a "fuck off" and lando says later "why the fuck would i be, charles isn't my fucking boyfriend" but i thought that was too many fucks and ended up taking all but one of them out

i know charles doesn't drive a red laferrari

the other running joke in this fic is obviously charles is not ever watching the whale documentary seriously. he was instead always thinking or focused on something else in his head

the ice cream scene came to me in a fever dream

charles can't actually procure the cheesecake factory, he's about $125 million in net worth. the cheesecake factory is over $1 billion

i am not a fan (i.e., i am actually just a hater) of when max is depicted like an aggressive, overly possessive, hyper-masculine suave, dom caricature from an e l james erotica novel and when charles is just delegated the softer, more feminine counterpart automatically. so. u see me subverting that expectation a lot

i had a lot of fun writing victoria's part where she cooks both charles and max within 100 words

did you know this fic is exactly 14 pages on google docs? i thought that was pretty cool

if i had to sum up this fic in three words: chekov's schrodinger's proposal

thanks for staying 'til the end!

[imsodishy]

(prev) Part 4 (next)

Billy doesn’t actually have anything to do. The party invites have shriveled up. Dates too, girls still eye him up in the halls, but none of them actually want to put up with his shit. So he’s back in the arcade parking lot before five thirty anyway, he can wait here just as easy as he could anywhere else in this town. At least there’s a streetlight here for him to read under as the sun sinks.

He's only been there about twenty minutes when Max explodes out of the arcade, door snapping against the limits of its arc.

Sinclair is hot on her heels, hands bouncing like he’s pleading. “I just don’t understand why you care,” Billy hears him say.

Max turns on him, shouts, “I don’t!” right in his face.

“Then so what? If he’s being –“ Sinclair freezes. He’s spotted the Camaro. He takes a step back.

Max spins again to follow his sight line, she spots him too, and her angry little face gets pinched. She storms away from Sinclair. Billy can see his mouth flapping, trying to come up with something to say to her, but he doesn’t manage it before Max has sealed herself into the car with Billy.

“Let’s go,” she says when Billy doesn’t immediately take off. Throws about three extra syllables in go.

Fine then, no skin off his nose. He tosses his paperback in the back and turns the engine on. Sinclair just stands there and watches as they peel out, Max keeps her face turned pointedly away from him. He doesn’t ask. No point.

She clearly dwells on whatever the issue is as they drive. The car silent except for Ratt on the stereo. She’s got her arms crossed, jaw working like she’s chewing leather. They’re only about five minutes from home where she finally spits it out. “Do you have brain damage?” she snaps at him, then folds impossibly tighter into her seat.

Okay. Not what he was expecting.

He turns the radio down, rolls his lips into his mouth. “What?”

She huff and starts flinging her hands around like she does when she’s worked up, “Well I don’t know! Did the – did the drugs mess you up?”

Ah. Perhaps he’s been being weirder at home than he realized. This can’t just be about the silent treatment. That’s weird, but it’s not possible brain damage weird.

“You didn’t break my brain, Maxine.”

“Well then what the hell is wrong with you?” she explodes.

He scratches his chin while he thinks it over. It’s a question he’s heard a lot, in a lot of different tones, but he’s never found a satisfactory answer. Never found a way to explain that, even on his best days, he feels like he’s speaking a foreign language. Let alone bad days, where it still feels like that, but now it’s a language he doesn’t know at all, and also maybe his tongue has been cut out of his mouth. How he’s swimming through cement while everyone else seems to be walking on water.

As he parks in front of the house on Cherry he thinks about trying to explain any of it and he gets hit with a wave of exhaustion. Max’s breath puffs little clouds as the heat flees the vehicle while she waits on him. The engine ticks down in the late November cold.

“Dunno.” he says eventually.

Max makes a shrill noise of frustration in her throat and stomps her way into the house.

They make curfew, for whatever that’s worth.

[the-wiggler]

I hope we kiss goodnight, it might just end my life

phyiscally cannot stop thinking about elliot and sunshine and im projecting bad in this fic but shhhh im allowed to.

sypnosis: sunshine cant sleep, except when elliot is around. [title is from Kiss Goodnight by IDKHOW]

word count: 1.1k

Their eyes slowly fluttered open, blue morning light washing over their room, tinting everything in the same hue. They were facing the ceiling now, their blanket tangled between their legs. 6 am. Their eyes fluttered shut, a weary sigh filling the empty room. That was what…2 hours of sleep? It’s better this way. Force themselves to sleep later, the self-induced insomnia meant that their brain prioritises deep sleep over REM, the dream-having sleep phase. That was what their therapist said anyway. Less sleep means less REM means less dreams means less nightmares.

Sure, it was an “unhealthy” coping mechanism, with its “averse” side effects, and a method their therapist “highly discouraged”. But if it meant fewer nightmares, Sunshine would brave the sluggishness, the irritation, the occasional nausea and the concerned looks from their friends.

Like now, as they sat on the worn, soft couch of Elliot’s apartment. Sinking into the worse-for-wear leather, scratched and faded in a way that perfectly matched Elliot’s second-hand-vintage-found-on-the-side-of-the-road-borderline-trash-esque design choices, they avoided the watchful gaze of their friend and hoped that their concealer had done a good enough job to cover their eyebags.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, because I think you look amazing as you are, Sunshine,” He chuckled, settling down next to them, “But, uh, you’re looking a little….worse for wear.”

Ok so maybe the concealer wasn’t doing the best job.

They waved their hand dismissively, making up some excuse about jobs, life, busy this, busy that, no time to rest. It came easily now. Lying, that is. And it wasn’t really a lie, they had filled and jam-packed their schedule full of random events to avoid a moment of rest, should they accidentally slip back into the ever-inviting embrace of sleep.

Not good enough for Elliot, though. As they watched his brow furrow in a way that made them want to instinctively smooth out, they racked their brain to reassure Elliot. There was, after all, no need to pile on more shit to Elliot’s plate.

“I’ve just been having trouble sleeping is all,” They reassured him quickly, “Nothing to worry about, I got some melatonin pills and it’s just taking some time to get used to.”

He conceded with one last concerned look, before turning his attention to the TV. “Alright, so, I was thinking for tonight, we could watch…The Tunnel? Or….Final Prayer?”

Now it was their turn to quirk an eyebrow. “You want to watch a horror movie? Mr. Never Watched FNAF, Mr. Scared of the Babadook, Mr-”

“Ok listen, I think we both know that the 4th FNAF game is genuinely horrifying. And, well, no, I’d much rather watch an actually feel-good movie. But if my bestest friend of all time has been raving about how wonderful this movie is, and has been feeling down, I will concede and watch whatever mind-fucky content you so eagerly consume as a coping mechanism. I’m simply fulfilling my best friend duties. No matter how messed up it is. And I will ignore how the fact that you watch horror movies as a coping mechanism is a major red flag and possibly a sign of a budding serial killer. Because I’m such a good friend. The best, even. ”

They scoff indignantly, “Ok, yeah I’m the serial killer. Says the one whose forever excuse is Sorry, was burying the bodies.”

It always starts like this. As Elliot loads up the movie, they make sure to maintain a completely platonic distance between them, two friends sitting on a couch, five feet apart because they are not pining for their ridiculously attractive, soft-hearted best friend. Elliot scoots closer, the leather dipping under his weight, forming a crater around them, cocooning them together, pushing Elliot closer to them. They feign annoyance as Elliot shoots a mischievous look at them. “Oh don’t think you’re getting away scot-free, Sunshine. I might be sacrificing several nights of sleep to cheer you up, but you’re going to be my human shield tonight. Trade-offs.”

Despite this, he wraps an arm around them, the dip of the couch pushing them snugly into his side. Who’s protecting who, Elliot? Regardless, they lean into his touch, his hand gently moving up and down their arm.

They blink.

The blanket around them definitely did not belong to them, but smelled familiarly comforting in a way that broke down all of Sunshine’s defences. Half asleep and not fully cognizant of their surroundings, they push themself deeper into the blanket burrow around them, instinctually chasing the fuzzy feeling of slowly waking up in the morning after a good, solid, rejuvenated night of sleep.

“Morning sleepyhead.” A familiarly husky voice; and the words don’t register, nothing but the groggy understanding that this voice emanated safety, understanding, and protection pulled Sunshine out of their dazed state. They push themselves up, rubbing their eyes to see Elliot standing there, morning hair unruly, beaming down at them. “You zonked out last night on my couch.”

Too groggy to come up with a retort, they lean into him as he sits next to them. He makes a noise of surprise, but otherwise lifts his arm to allow them to press into his side. “You’re oddly snuggly Sunshine,” He chuckles, pulling them closer, “And you fall asleep every time we hang out, am I that boring?” They half-heartedly slap his chest, feeling his chuckles reverberate through them. They sit there, in silence, simply enjoying the slow mornin in each others presence before Elliot clears his throat awkwardly.

“Anyways, uh, how was your sleep last night?”

“Good,” They mumble, “Slept well.” No nightmares, no dreams at all, actually rested. Better than they had all month

“That’s uh-that’s good.”

“Only ever sleep well when you’re around.” Still sleep-addled and fueled by the simple wants of the heart, they bring their arms to wrap around his torso, mumbling sleepily against his chest, “Maybe you’re magic.”

As they drift off back into a dreamless sleep, Elliot’s hands move to pull them in closer. Pressing a kiss to the crown of their head, he whispers, his voice impossibly soft, yearning dripping from his words, “Just for you, Sunshine.”