#n i know its related to that but i try n convince myself its a coincidence that things are so hard lately but like lmao cmonnn

[asterythm]

on the ending of in stars and time:

an essay from someone who couldn’t sit with it at first, & a love letter to the fic that brought me here anyway. (…spoiler warning for in stars and time, naturally, but you knew that!)

if siffrin isat has taught me one thing it's that vulnerability is cool, actually, and being forthcoming and generous with love when there is love to be shared is how the coolest kids do it.

so. hello isat nation of tumblr dot com. i'm here because even after cutting out several chunks to shorten this significantly, i busted through the ao3 comment section character limit and still had more to say, so i needed somewhere to put it all that would let me go longer.

i’m pretty sure this post is for, like, three people, one of whom is me. but look, it’s been moved here to the webbed site so if you wanna read it anyway i won’t stop you!

=====

i think what it is, ultimately, is this: the ISAT canon ending was beautiful. it was an objectively well-written ending with so much love and hope and thematic satisfaction.

it also left me, for a period, with a deep and unshakeable sense of dread.

:)!!!!

now enter @faedemon's "None Forward & Two, Two, Two Steps Back" (hiya, fancy seeing you here), a two-chapter alt act 5 in which siffrin finds a New, Worse way to break the loops.

despite being, as mentioned, a notably worse outcome for everyone involved, this alt end managed to cut straight to the heart of that dread and settle it — and not in the sense of "oh, i like this alt ending better", or “oh, the canon ending looks better in comparison against this worse alt ending”, so much as "oh, thanks to this alt ending i am finally able to sit in a place where it no longer feels like the canon ending, as a beautiful outcome which felt impossibly lucky to get, is the only outcome in which life can go on — and my ability to accept it, and the game as a whole, is elevated for it."

which!! i mean!! i don’t know that that’s exactly what you set out to do; None Forward is explicitly a tragedy!! and one, as your tags say, written because the canon ending didn't ring true for you.

but I realized that the thing that was stopping me from enjoying ISAT’s canon ending was that ugly hard core that was still so, so scared after the canon ending of every way we (that is, siffrin + i as the player moving in that incredible ludonarrative lockstep with him, holy moly the harmony in this game) had not yet grown to earn it. 

=====

(I’ll take a sec here under the cut to say that when I played ISAT, and then for much of the month that followed, my main reason for engaging with it and its related content at all was that it was a piece of media that came fervently recommended by my incredibly dear friend @iconocat , who it had massively, violently impacted and whose media recommendations in general I trust more than anything.

so i played ISAT, and it was incredible. but even though it's a piece of media that just about hit on every point on my list of Things That Set My Brain On Fire, it failed somehow to. well. set me on fire — at least to the extent I was expecting it to. I still enjoyed myself in the few weeks afterwards of running through fan content and intentionally plunging myself into media analysis, but I was never convinced that I would be engaging with ISAT to the extent I was if it wasn't for the sake of trying to intentionally hack my brain to the point where I could share with my friend something so important to her at the same level of genuine investment. 

I’m telling you all this because, legitimately the same night I posted “nothing but a dull ache” (ie, if you're not charlie faedemon and are somehow caring to read this anyway, the epilogue oneshot I started feverishly writing the morning after reading None Forward), I realized through my rambling in my friend’s discord dms that reading None Forward was the moment the fire finally caught. I spent a month burying myself in ISAT content and asking myself “Is this natural yet?”. after None Forward, the answer to that question finally became a sure, wholehearted yes.)

=====

so anyway, back to the essay.

don't get me wrong. it's really, really nice, to read a story where the moral is less “you should have asked for help", and more “there are people who will unselfishly give the gift of a love that saves even when you cannot save yourself".

but that whole ending also was only able to happen because 1. they broke in a way no one should ever have to break, and 2. everyone involved got lucky.

which, in media, happens all the time!! it is not inherently dissatisfying for a narrative to wrap by saving you with luck and love in the nick of time!! in fact it should be incredibly satisfying, after the unambiguously-negative downward spiral into Director Siffrin who had begun to learn what to say and do to make his family behave exactly the way he needs them to, for a stroke of unpredictable luck brought about by factors entirely out of his control to finally be what sets him free.

but like... I think it's because the story is set in a situation where it's no longer true that luck and randomness is a factor by which anything significant can change.

we're hammered over the head with it: until and unless you do something to alter the course of events, they will not be altered. when you are the only dynamic element the world is reacting to in an otherwise looping course of events, you don't get to rely, anymore, on the idea that at any moment something could happen to save you. you have to assume that nothing will happen unless you make it.

and siffrin?? siffrin's literal motto was "stick to the script"!! they spend the loops with a mouth that kept closing tighter and tighter and tighter until i got to act 5 and watched them implode. and then I’m saved, and I know I haven't earned this. I get to the end and I'm still not telling them anything!! I wasn't supposed to get the good ending!! but I get away with it anyway with open arms and acceptance and unconditional love, and it's. kind of nauseating?

how am I ever supposed to learn and grow, if I didn't manage to change my behaviour even then under the threat of Eternal Looping Torment, and still got the good ending anyway? how can I prove there was an alternative way I could have broken free if things hadn't turned out so lucky in that one terrible act 5 loop?

I can't. and that's terrifying.

(aside: I’m speaking in the first person here to emphasize that the thing that got in my way is not because I don't believe siffrin is deserving of this love — quite the opposite, I think the driving force behind the good ending is that siffrin went scorched earth and saw he was loved anyway — but because this is a game designed to frequently encourage the player to deeply feel what siffrin is feeling throughout its course and. well. as a thing to happen to a fictional character it's beautiful. as a takeaway for the player, it's... harder.)

and that's where None Forward comes in. (i’ve already written thousands of words in comments and epilogue fic declaring my love by now, but i mean. im hoping you won’t mind just a liiiittle more.)

None Forward shows a devastatingly written, all-too-believable version of what might have happened if siffrin didn't get lucky, and the loops continued, and they kept clinging to the script and refusing to Look At It and successfully stagnating and stagnating and stagnating as they were so determined to do. and it's bad, it's worse, it's way way worse — but there's no reliance on outside factors. it comes completely from within siffrin and loop, the only dynamic pieces in the world, finally breaking out.

it was the terrible, nightmarish unfairness of the loops brought to their natural, just-south-of-inevitable conclusion.

and yes, it's a terrible, unfair conclusion, but the loop still breaks.

in a roundabout way, it... gives me so much hope. if the outside factors were different, if the stars did not align just right to allow siffrin's family to get there on time to save them, if siffrin never learned to open their mouth, which by all means seems like the likeliest course of events... they'd still get out. worse for wear, and separated by a gap unbridgeable, but out.

there is a future. there is freedom.

=====

to speak more specifically on dull ache, if you'll forgive the indulgence, just since this was originally meant to be in a reply to the author in my own comments section:

I think I so desperately needed to write it with a focus on the family siffrin left behind because I wanted to prove, if just for myself, that in that barely-dodged alternative there still could be a future for everyone. (isabeau's just happened to be the voice in which dull ache came to me, but the point was to create an epilogue for all four.)

for the rest of the family, who was not quite so deeply ravaged but was still left in a bad way at the end of None Forward, and for whom randomness is not pretty much unequivocally good just by virtue of being better than the alternative like it is for siffrin and loop (more on that in a sec), I could see it mattering more to set specific pieces up precisely, and I could actually imagine the pieces I could set up that could have a meaningful impact in the immediate future.

so. y’know. I set them, in the way I happened to want to. granted, with some extra... divine indulgence, but siffrin's departure from their family's perspective at the end of None Forward was definitely Wrong but not so obviously wrong that I could believe that without it they wouldn't otherwise either (a) go hunting him down to force out the truth, which felt Worse, or (b) just "accept" that it was as simple as Siffrin not actually caring about them/brushing them off and thus intentionally fade him into the distance in their minds to deal with it. which felt like the WORST POSSIBLE THING.

you'd think it might make more sense to have done this for siffrin and loop, instead. they're arguably the ones who need it most, after all, so why not build them up from rock bottom as a sweeping show of "things get better"?

but... i think it doesn't need to be written to have faith that it will happen: the very fact that Siffrin is about to set out on a new journey in a reality where everything is a dynamic player just. immediately gives me hope all by itself. random lucky things that save you are so much more believable and wonderful when random lucky things in general are happening all the time, and you have all the time in the world for them to happen.

and anyway, I don't think this is the kind of future you’d write satisfyingly as a sequence of events at all. to heal from this is something that will take an incredible amount of time and nonlinear progress. 

until one day, through a series of disconnected small quiet gloriously-random lived experiences, without knowing when it happened or being able to trace it back, you realize, oh —

somewhere along the way, you came to know how to live again.

[obey-me-disaster]

Could you maybe write some headcanons for how the demon brothers would feel about an MC who has a service dog for anxiety?

If you don't feel like writing it or it's too difficult that's completely okay too don't worry.

(I'm a service dog user myself so I just thought it would be nice.)

I hope you'll like these headcanons and that I got everything right! If there is anything I need to correct let me know.

Also sorry for taking so long, I needed to be finished with a fic for a collab first!

Demon brothers x gn!MC

Warning: Belphegor's part has spoilers for lesson 16!

MC with a service dog for anxiety

Lucifer

Since he is one of the people in charge of the exchange program he made sure to also prepare everything for your dog. Anything from food to all the way to paperwork so you two can go anywhere without being disturbed.

He is a dog person so he got a soft spot for your emotional support dog. The dog is probably more spoiled than you, at least until he starts to actually like you.

Since you are in need of your dog he won't bother it. He knows the dog has its job to do.

Is honestly relieved that you got someone other than his brothers to rely on, especially that being dragged to a different dimeons is not good for your mental health.

Mammon

So not only does he need to take care of a human, but he needs to take care of their dog too now??

Before actually realizing that your dog is more than a simple pet he wanted to include it in one of his money making schemes. After you and Lucifer tell him off he actually gets it and backs off

He does a 180° with his attitude and is really glad that there is someone to be near you when he can't be there to protect you. Lowkey he and the dog have some kind of nonverbal agreement on how to help you with your anxiety.

Tries to spoil the dog and buy luxury items for it. You'll have to let him know what could distract your service dog or not. He honestly gets everything really fast.

Leviathan

Jealous that he can't take Henry with him the way you can do with your service dog...and looking at him he might need some service/therapy/emotional support animal outside of his fish.

He knows how bad anxiety can be, so he is both greatfull that you got some support and a bit jealous because of it too.

He is really chill with the dog, he even made a small spot where it can relax when you stay in his room.

He once saw Henry trying to get your service dog's attention and took it as a sign that both of your guy's friendship/relationship is made to last for a long time.

Tries to find animes where the protagonist has a service dog for anxiety so you could relate to more chatacters

Satan

He has only read about service/therapy/emotional supports animals so he was really curious of seeing one in real life.

Be prepared to be asked a ton of questions about your dog's training, routine, how it helps you manage your anxiety. He sees it as a way to both get to know you better and to learn something new.

Might use the way your service dog helps to convince Lucifer to let him get an emotional support cat for his anger. Lucifer, of course, denies his request.

Just because he is a cat person it doesn't mean he doesn't love other animals as well. He knew that service dogs go through some training to be able to adapt to different situation, but being dragged to hell might go out of what any service animal is prepared for. He will go out of his way to give him a bit of training and some protection spells.

Asmodeus

He adores dogs. He had to be told that service animals are not the same thing as pets, so he can't go around playing and dressing up the poor dog.

He will pout about it for a bit before getting over it but that just means he can focus in spoiling you even more.

Lowkey educates the Devildom by accident about service animals due to how many Devilgram posts he makes about you and your dog.

A/N: ok but there is one event where Solomon talked with a fish and apparently the god damn fish had better working conditions than humans...so yeah, I guess animals are really treated with respect down there.

He will make sure that your service dog always look at its best. His resoning? Seeing him be so cute and soft will help you with your anxiety. He does make sure to not really separate it from you.

Beelzebub

He was watched very closely at the begging by his brothers, so he wouldn't try to eat you or your dog. It didn't take long for things to settle and for him to start liking your service dog. Especially that he likes dogs.

He might or might not have tried some of your service dog's food...he felt really sorry and went to buy any and all snacks he could find. MC would probably have to remind him what their dog can and can't eat.

He sees the dog as part of the family and takes it upon himself to make sure that both you and your service dog are safe and sound.

If, by some chance, you have to be away from their service dog Beel will be the first one to volunteer to take care of him.

Belphegor

How the fuck did both you and your service dog sneak into the attic, more times than once?? The poor animal is acting uneasy the first time it sees Belphie.

Imagine if you decide to sneak into the attic alone for your visits and leave your service dog behind. Those would be the times when the dog is on high alert.

OK BUT imagine lesson 16. One moment the dog is with you and the other the dog is trying to understand how you suddenly got hurt and die...

If after the incident your anxiety gets worse, your service dog would put himself between you and Belphegor to try and distract you/put you at ease.

Outside of all the angst, Belphie is pretty chill with the dog. If he wants to cuddle with you he will even welcome your service dog in the cuddle pile. He is honestly relieved that you got some support system, especially after the whole lesson 16 affair..

Also a dog person, so he will be very fond of your service dog.

[ryuukeymir]

Help why am I getting social anxiety online?

Anyways I would like to request a poly relationship with a sleep deprived male reader x Atsushi Nakajima x Akutagawa headcanons

(idk if I did that right, apologies if I did not)

Posted on September 6, 2024

` Time For a Nap `

— m!reader

— Pairing: Reader x Atsushi x Akutagawa

— Info: Fluff

— A/N: Don't worry, I get the same way sometimes (and your request was perfectly fine). I hope I did this request justice.

— CW: None

— Atsushi is definitely a snuggler.

— If he sees you laying down, he'll ask if you want to cuddle. He'd be awkward at first since he's probably never cuddled with anyone (he literally sleeps in a closet to give Kyouka her own space and privacy).

— If you're not a snuggler, he'll just sit beside you and watch over you (while also hoping that you actually sleep).

— Akutagawa, on the other hand, would likely elect to stand nearby since he isn't one for physical affection, mostly because it's foreign to him.

— If you want to cuddle with him, he'll be very reluctant (but because it's you asking, he'll usually give in).

— Dating both of them is never boring. For one, they bicker constantly. You had to make them promise not to fight each other unless it was work-related, since them fighting was bound to happen.

— The Agency was definitely more surprised that Atsushi was technically in a relationship with Akutagawa than you (given their history).

— Dazai was the first to welcome you, and thought the whole thing was pretty funny.

— You spend a decent amount of time at the Agency, usually visiting while Atsushi is working. No one really bats an eye at your presence, and you've become aquainted with some of its member (if you weren't acquainted already).

— There was definitely a bigger reaction when Akutagawa dropped by, knowing you both would be there.

— Atsushi had to do some heavy convincing so that Kyouka didn't have Demon Snow start an all-out fight in the office building.

— On the rare occasions where neither of the two are busy, you go on dates. Sometimes you choose while other times one of them chooses, which can occasionally lead to small-scale arguments because of... differing opinions between the two.

— When Atsushi noticed how tired you are, he'll ask if you want to snuggle on the futon or couch.

— He doesn't want to make you uncomfortable by pointing it out if it's something you're sensitive about, so he'll indirectly find ways to try to get you to sleep instead.

— Akutagawa would be more straightforward, and it would be more like an order than a suggestion.

— He'd probably say something to the effect of, "Go take a nap or I'll knock you out myself."

— He may act a bit rude about it, but it's coming from a place of care. He's not used to recieving or giving affection to people, but he's got the right intentions.

Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my works.

[toxooz]

is Ollie the type to get jealous? like Kari is so fucking cute and friendly and sweet I find it hard to believe at least one person hasn't approached her in a flirty way not knowing about the giant demon orc toes they'd be stepping on 😭

I TINK I ANSWERED THIS B4 i quote:

"naah i dont think so he's mega chill when it comes to jealousy mainly bc he knows Kari is just hyper friendly to everyone that's just how she is but also i think she made it pretty clear to him that he has Literally no competition at all lmfaooo😭 so she'll be nice as hell to other dudes but if she realizes there's Intentions behind their friendlyness then she'll kinda try to distance herself from them or she'll have to flat out tell them bc she tends to hope that 'maybe if i distance myself they'll stop :''''3c' bUT if they're just fukkin creeps that think 'no' means 'convince me' then she'll 100% bring it up to Ollie or he'll just notice her body language and Give Them A Clear Ass Clue that gets their tail between their legs real damn quick lmfao im sure they have lil subtle communication signs they give each other from across the skatepark that mean ''this friend!! :3'' or ''this guy is making me feel gross pls intervene'' so yeah otherwise Ollie couldn't care less abt wHOS thAT gUY >:(((( he trusts her and she's still getting Ponti lessons about necessary aggressiveness and 'its ok if somebody hates you fuck them!!!!be mean as hell!!!! bite their head off!!!'😭"

so basically he gives her room to be nice but he Handles just straight up freaks and degenerates accordingly, but typically once anyone With Intentions finds out Kari's relation to Ollie they get super awkward n respectful so his ass gotta be out here lookin like ryuk sometimes pffft

[imdoingsortagay]

Ooooo a valentine's day celebration? Would you be willing to write reader x Claire where Claire can't miss work so reader offers to join her for the day and Claire doesn't realize it's for the sole purpose of being a terrible tease? And maybe have it end in smut? (Preferably at the office because getting Claire into a headspace where she stops worrying about getting caught would be SUPER rewarding all on its own.)

Adventures at the campaign office

a/n: claire brain rot for the mf win

warnings: Smut

word count: 3.1 k words

This was the second Valentine's day when you and Claire were going to spend it together watching movies, baking some of her favorite red velvet cookies, and having the best sex on earth. You were not surprised and a bit disappointed when she told you that she couldn’t take the day off to spend it with you because she had to work on some essential office matters related to her senate campaign.

“ Can’t you just have Barkley deal with it Babe? I don’t think she’ll mind you taking the day off to get - 

“ I love you y/n but that woman knows way too much about our sex life at this point,” Claire groans as she gets herself another cup of coffee. She had tried hard to convince her campaign manager to give her the day off. Still, even after the shouting between the two of them and a PowerPoint presentation, there was no use in trying to get out of this when the race was starting to get closer to the opponent.

“ Says the one who can’t drink too much or else you get super drunk and ramble to her about how you like when i-” 

“ Okay okay I fucking get it you tease,” she pauses while you smile at her defeat,” What are you gonna do at home while I go to work, honey? “ 

“ I do not know Claire bear, might go by Peg's apartment and pick up some of the new toys she got us, thank her with cookies along with her favorite, stop by your office to get you lunch from that new brunch place, the day is still very young I guess”. 

“ What time did you want to come to the office? I have one meeting today and the rest of it is just paperwork,” Claire says casually while her mind says differently. While having you at the office brought the older woman happiness, she know that you had a habit of teasing her when you got way too bored just watching her and she needed to finish getting a couple of papers to one of the staffers before they took the week off. 

“ Probably around 11 am but i can come later once your meeting finishes honey, wouldn’t want to make you nervous leaving me all by myself in your office,” you giggle, thinking about teasing her at the office. Might as well make the most of the visit later while she works. 

“ y/n baby,” Claire starts,” I’ll text you when you can come to the office but think of doing anything that might get in trouble today, Barkley is already stressed out about a whole new group of interns so having you be a little tease wouldn’t be good energy to bring in. 

‘ Claire bear, i promise not to tease you if you're busy in the office” you cross your heart in front of her and she rolls her eyes at your dorkiness,” but please bring snacks to eat today, and don’t worry your pretty little head about lunch so I’ll get you some. You smile the moment you compliment Claire, never failing to blush when you praise/ compliment her about literally anything at all. 

Claire collects all of her belongings in her tote bag, gets her cup of coffee, and before she makes her way out of the house, kisses you on the cheek before you are left alone in the house. While you start with cleaning the house before even starting to bake, Claire tries not to stress out about having you in the office. Having you visit her at her job was a common thing before you both dated but the thought of Barkley telling you anything about being there. 

Baby<3: Have a good day at work my Claire Bear 

*hours later*

After running around doing some errands, picking up some stuff, and getting something to eat for your girlfriend, you park at the office. Feeling a bit nervous as Claire is a big fan of privacy and the thought of being caught having sex scares the fuck out of her so you had to think closely about teasing her. What you wore was pretty simple, just one of her favorite sweaters, jeans that show off your legs perfectly also giving your butt a bit of a lift, and a simple pair of shoes compared to everyone else in the office. 

“ Wasn’t expecting to see you here y/l/n? Are you here to come to distract Debella or make sure she focuses on what I asked her to do?” Jen asks you with a cup of coffee in her hand and always putting on her best “badass “ face per usual.

“ Promise to make her do her work Barkley but I’m just here to make sure she feeds herself and does not overwork herself like some people I know,” you respond before walking to Claire’s office. If there was one thing that Barkley appreciated about you is being able to joke around with her, especially being able to come up with witty remarks. 

Claire was just about done writing all of these candidate questions when she hears her office door open up to see you walk in, looking stunning as always and with a bag of food in your hand. 

“ Want me to lock the door baby?” You ask casually to her which makes her give you a look but you put up the innocent front instead. Better to have her calm and cool than all suspicious of what you might be planning today while here at the office with her. 

“ And the reason would be?” she asks while waving her hand around

“ So we could eat lunch together in peace without any of your staff, interns, or Jen trying to come in and stress you out my love,” you kindly explain to her, your girlfriend giving you a quick thumbs up to lock the door and you close the blinds as well to ensure nobody can see what’s going on. Claire doesn’t notice the second part as she had gotten her hands on the sandwich that you bought her. 

“ How many times do I always tell you to eat more stuff at breakfast besides coffee and a muffin Claire?” you chuckle as she eats the lunch quickly and for the next hour, Claire is getting most of what she was tasked to do done. Being told to focus by you when her mind dozes off to think about something related to her life, seeing you lay down on the couch or needing more decorations in the office. 

As you lay down on the couch reading a book, your phone rings to a message from Barkley and what’s surprising is that it’s a positive one from her. 

Jenny Poo: Maybe we should have you be at the office if she finishes her work at this rate

y/n: Welcome Barkley <3

“ Claire bear?” Do you ask? 

“ Yes honey?” she responds, writing the last question to the candidate form she was doing for one new station to use for an article. 

“ Do you mind if I take off my sweater? This office is just way too hot to be in it,” you say casually. 

“ sure thing honey,” she says to you and you get up from the couch to take off your sweater Claire chooses the right time to look up from her laptop and she tries her best not to drool at the sight of your arms. Always being proud of keeping your upper body in tip-top shape and overall being a tease to your girlfriend with it. Claire starts to feel her mind drift to other places at the thought of you doing things to her, in this office especially. 

“ Claire you doing okay? maybe you should take a break with me on the couch from working so hard on the campaign sweet one,” you say to her but she just looks at you with big eyes, unsure as to what to do. 

“ Sure uh year, a break could do me good,” she says for you to hear and she gets up from her chair to come and lay down with you. Nothing is going to happen between the two of you in this office today, she repeats in her mind.

“ My baby deserves to take a nap after working so hard to be elected, once this is over i just know you’ll beat the other man without a fight” you praise her while she lays on top of you. Claire tries her very best not to drift into sleep, reminding herself that naps are not allowed and that if she wanted to sleep she could at least wait until she got to her place to do so. Though that’s proving hard to do with the way you're gently petting her hair with one hand and rubbing circles on her back with the other one. 

“ Don’t want to nap baby, please,” She quietly pleads.

“ Be a good girl for me dove and nap, I know that you need at least a powernap to go through the other half of the day my sweet dove,” you plead, and a couple of minutes later, Claire is fast asleep on your lap, looking as pretty as always in slumber while you try to come up with a further plan as to tease her. 

Claire wakes up 30 minutes later, feeling good before slowly making her way off your body, leaving you to continue napping on the couch. She makes her way to her desk to answer some emails, and check out some designs for her mailers being used soon while she peeks at your sleeping body every once in a while and smiles at the fact that you didn’t succeed 

She smiles proudly at herself for not falling for your tricks when she hears you mumbling, right when she was about to win at this teasing game too. 

“ mmmmmmmm pretty claire bear,” you say to yourself in your sleep and she tries not to imagine what horny dream is going on in your mind. 

She had known from the start of your relationship about your sleep talking, assuring you that you had nothing to be embarrassed about but from time to time she’s had to deal with your wet dreams, and most of the time they were about herself in rather sticky situations. One that you told her was about Claire riding your strap, eating her out in the office, threeway with her and some famous actress that Claire was a huge fan of and the list can go on. Now all she hoped was that it was just a cute dream and not a horny one.

“ boobs look, nice baby,” you say and she feels herself getting soaked, hoping that she doesn’t have to change her underwear by the end of the day. For the next 20 minutes, Claire is in hell as you continue to mumble some very dirty things that make her blush but she’s saved by the universe when your alarm goes off on your phone, probably being the nap one you set up. 

“ Oh,’ you say,” How long was i asleep for baby?” 

Claire continues to write like she isn’t soaking wet right now, trying to pull off a brave face while you wonder what happened during the time you napped. 

“ Claire bear,” you say as you make your way to her,” If I ask you a question, i know that my sweet dove knows than to ignore what her daddy asks her”.She continues to ignore you, acting like you’re not in the office but once she feels you move her chair a bit to sit on her lap, is when she knows that it’s not going to go well for her. 

“ Princess,” you say as you hold her chin up so she has to make eye contact with you,” Stop acting dumb and use that pretty brain of yours to answer daddy’s question: How long was i asleep for?”. 

“ About 50 minutes or so,” she mumbles,” i had a 30-minute nap through daddy like you wanted me to”. At that moment, Claire hopes that just that will get her off her case and she can go back to work. 

“ Why are you so flustered princess? Something must have happened to make you act out for daddy and you know how much i hate having to punish you? Remember to be honest”.

“ You were mumbling some stuff in your sleep that made me all wet and I was trying to act like it didn’t affect me at the moment, daddy,” she says to you and at that moment you smile at your baby for being honest. It would have been fun to punish her in the office, Claire would have had such a hard time trying to be quiet and Jen didn’t mention these walls being soundproof in any way. 

“ Should daddy help her baby out a bit? For being such a good girl?” Claire nods. 

“ Please daddy!!! I’ve been your good girl”.

“ Since you asked so nicely-” and you were cut off by Claire kissing you, her lips always being so soft on yours. At that moment she doesn’t care that anyone in the office can hear her going on with her, the only priority at the moment is to feel your mouth on her wet cunt. 

“ Someone is wet,” you comment as you move away from her lips and start to go lower down her body, remembering to gently remove her shirt before being greeted by Claire wearing one of her pretty bras for work. She doesn’t say anything at all when you push the cups down to expose her tits, nipples hardening right away to the cold air in the office but you start to suck on her right nipple, giving her other nipple attention too. Enjoying all the little whines and moans that are coming out of the older woman’s mouth as she holds off from enjoying this being that she’s about to be fucked in her office. 

“ Should I go lower Princess? Or should Daddy wait til we get home so you can scream all you want ?” you ask your girlfriend nicely as you position herself between her legs. At that moment, Claire loses any sort of thought when she sees her between her legs, mind going crazy at the thought of you eating her out in such a professional place but she doesn’t think that she can wait about 2 more hours to get fucked by you. 

“C'mon princess,” you taunt,” Just answer daddy’s simple question and i can make you feel good now or you can wait like a good princess.” 

Claire quickly lifts herself from the chair so you can take off her pants and panties, swiftly taking them off of her and placing them to the side of her. Before your girlfriend even tries to beg, you immediately l start to lick at her wet cunt, moaning in delight at the taste of her every time that you can.

“ Fuck I love your mouth Daddy,” Claire moans out before covering her mouth, shoving her fingers in her mouth to somewhat try to muffle out any sounds threatening to come out of her. She was always a loud person during sex and you never shy  away from telling her how fucking hot she sounds moaning and whining, boosting her confidence so much. 

“ My Slutty little princess,” You moan as your mouth leaves her wet cunt, “ gonna get you ready with my fingers sweet dove, you deserve to be fucked til you can only think about my cock”. Claire shudders as she feels two fingers slowly go into her cunt, thankful for her wetness, waiting for her to be comfortable before moving her fingers in and out of her pussy. Observing how hot Claire looks gripping her chair. 

“ Can we move to the couch please?” Claire pleads,” Want you on top”. 

Never the one to deny your sweet dove, you take your fingers out of her cunt, helping claire get off the chair before guiding her to the couch and placing her in your lap before continuing to finger her cunt. 

While both of you are going at it, Jen Barkley is in her office trying her very best to wait for the email with the second set of candidate questions that she needed Debella to do before the end of the day. Jen does try her best to respect Claire but she was worried about having you in the office in fear of distracting her from her work, having learned from past experience with Knope and Wyatt, who never seemed to think when they fuck in the office and having to drink heavily a couple of nights to forget the sight of it.

“ Guess i gotta check up on her,” she mumbles to herself, getting the spare key to the office in case she can’t get in because it's good to be prepared. Of course, when the woman gets to the door, it’s locked and the blinds are closed so she can’t see what’s going on but she can hear noises of some sort. Being an impatient person, Jen unlocks the door and then proceeds to come in the office and it is greeted by the both of you going at it, Claire on top of you completely nude on the couch while she’s getting fingered by you.

“ What the fuck do you want now Barkley? Can’t you see me and my Claire bear are busy?” you say, picking up the pace as you finger your girlfriend while her muffled moans get louder. In a rare moment, you try to hold in your laughter as the tough strong woman that Jen is, has no witty comeback or snarky remark to say, only focusing on the way your fingers look amazing in Claire's cunt, wishing she can feel the same way ( mostly from the lack of sex she’s gotten). 

“Uhm,” she stutters” the email thing, claire needs to send it before-” 

“ She’s got it done honey i’ll send it after we’re done,” you say,” Now can you leave the office, Barkley, i wanna fuck my pretty girlfriend”. Jen says nothing else before quickly walking out of the office, locking it beforehand then making her way back to her office and calling one of her situationships to set something up. 

“ Ready for my cock sweet princess?” you ask, Claire, nodding and getting into position as you put on the harness and strap on before fucking her in the office, happy to have decided to visit her at the office today.

[cosmik-homo]

hi!! what are protocal droids? 👀 (are they star wars? theres the little guys arent there. the gold one<3 and the one that makes noises?) (<- woefull lack of knowledge about star wars lol)

YES protocol droids are from star wars! that is in fact what the gold guy (c-3po. my babygirl) is.

So in star wars sapient robots are called Droids, and the different types are often referred to by their jobs; Battle droids are the silly canon fodder who say roger roger, and Artoo (R2-D2, lil blue guy in the picutre, and YES <3 he does make noises good job <3) is an Astromech droid, meaning, well, he does mechanical jobs in space. he fixes spacecrafts, sometimes from the outside while they fly, and has various gadgets and technological skills.

The yellow one, C-3PO, or threepio for friends, is the main protocol droid we see in the series, though not the only one. Luckily, he is exactly the type of mess of a person that his resume is his catchphrase: "C-3PO, human-cyborg relations. programmed in over six million forms of communication". He also described himself, in the first movie, as "[...] not much more than an interpreter, and not very good at telling stories."

So theyre linguistic AI. Machine translators in a friendly humanoid box. Threepio also sometimes interperts Artoo's mechanical beeping speech for the other characters, so we have to assume that's what Human-cyborg relations is about, even though cyborgs and droids are not the same as all- early installment weirdness is the best assumption because. the "human cyborg relations" phrase or concept has never been menaingfully brought up in star wars for my knowledge. searching it on wookiepedia mostly leads to info about a few protocol droid models and the many times threepio has said it.

But so often in the throes of hyperfixation have i found myself looking at the ceiling going ok i mean i understand but. what IS a protocol droid truly, when u look at it?

wookiepedia expands barely:

A protocol droid was a droid whose job was to aid sentients with their etiquette and relations with each other in the galaxy. They often dealt with event planning, etiquette, translation, and problem solving.

Often threepio is written as more of a butler than anything to do with linguistics. (half the time its not even proper butlering its just written as a servant by a writer who thinks they know what being a butler means but- i digress). He himself is quick to offer himself into those jobs, as well as more mechanical labour-

but then again he also becomes a spymaster at some point (my so beloved poe dameron comics. great comics and great space for droid rights introspection in the new star wars era).

So they're not just translators and interpeters, not just containers of cultural and ritualistic etiquette knowledge, they're, secretary machines. they're robots designed to help humans by doing the most tedious parts of thinking-and-learning for people- being nervous about perfect manners 200% of the time to prevent and prepare u for youur faux-pas, and working out the little details and paperwork and errandrunnig so you can get your thing going.

They're tools designed to let you say what you need without hassle, which is what makes the fact that in a way, Threepio is the narrator of star wars, so fucking awesome and ogod and interesting. they shouldnt have their own thing to say, but look at him go. he'll try to convince you he doesn't but thats precisely why you need to look at him go.

No wonder he is practically the main chrarter of the first 25 minutes of the first movie- not only being a lowly robot secretary make him a good everyman, this is a machine designed to kind of get across where you are and what's happening, lol.

Just. When I started being insane tm about this language generating software ("AI", salami, whatever u wanna call a neural network doing that stuff) was not even close to as big a thing as it is today. so that has definitely changed some stuff. but thats the thing- threepio is not using likelihood based processing he is An Actual Knowledge man. he loves boring u with facts. So he actually knows things, and- he's such an old machine. Anakin built him as a child, that was from old parts. yet he keeps kind of, growing as a character with his own personality (droidds developing unique thoughts and personalities by gaining experience is called Metaprogramming in star wars fiction), he also adapts to culture. he's always a wimp but hes much more subserviant when owned by fasicist imperials than he was when working with his good friend and master's secret wife padme, and he's a bit more confident in the sequels, in his own pathetic way.

So he reflects culture. he participates in society despite being designed to be a passive tool of it, and despite standing on the outsides of it due to. being treated as such, as A Droid, A Thing, or at best, even amongst friends, an annyoing old queen.

I simply think if the writers of star wars were as fascinated as I am by the technological implications of naming robot diplomats after the real life technological concept of protocols and exploring what does it mean to do thoughts and works and what is The Grave Omportance And Role Paper Work Can Play In This Space Opera Adventure, things would be great. because i love space bearucracy forever and the robots that do it re cool especially the homosexual mentally ill ones

[shonenkun309]

A/N : HALT!! When was the last time I updated a chapter?! *ᵃᵖʳⁱˡ ²²* Yikes...two months...Damn Character.Ai it's all your fault- Ahem ahem!! Hello my sweet sweet sweet sweet potatoes, Who missed this incomprehensible and vague series, the very series that who knows when it's gonna finish? Anyhow!! After simping over Koga as I usually do, I was also busy with real life related things *ᵐᵒˢᵗˡʸ ᶜʰᵃʳᵃᶜᵗᵉʳ'ᵃⁱ ⁱˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇˡᵃᵐᵉ* but here I am and I'm back and promise you...two months of absence will never happen again...😚🌹

𝑯𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝑭𝒖𝒏 ~𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒏~ words : 2595

Chapters : 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 , 9 , 10 , 11 , 12 , 13 , 14, 15, 16

Tags : @just-somehuman @the-bird-and-the-flute @kogasimp1 @callmeklair @colourless-hydrangeas @randomf2p @blackmond11

ᑕᕼᗩᑭTᗴᖇ 17

Aoi leaned closer, his brow knitted with concern. "You sure about this?"

Futaba nodded, her voice heavy with uncertainty. "Like I said, I was chasing someone in my dream, then suddenly I was just... there, in front of my house. It was like my mind was screaming to stay awake, but my body? It had other plans. I couldn’t stop myself from sleepwalking."

Aoi absorbed her words, piecing together the bizarre puzzle. "So let me get this straight: you were being pulled into a dream where you ran after this mysterious figure, but your feet had a mind of their own, leading you right to you door house?"

Silence stretched between them, thick and palpable, as both comrades processed the strange experience. Futaba's voice broke through the quiet, an edge of anxiety lacing her tone. "I’ve never sleepwalked before. This was a first for me."

Aoi tilted his head, his expression shifting. "Does your dad know about this?"

Futaba sighed deeply. "I can't tell him. I don't want to worry him, especially not after our talk yesterday. I want to figure this out on my own."

Just then, the shop bell jingled, breaking the tension. Oji came through, arms full of groceries.

"Oh, look who's here! How’s it going, bright eyes?" he greeted with a warm smile.

"Hello, Oji," Futaba replied, forcing a smile.

"Still feeling down?" Oji asked, noticing her fatigue.

"Actually…" Futaba decided it was time to spill the beans. She recounted her strange dream, watching Oji's expression shift from casual interest to something serious.

"So, are you saying this is all because you wanted to chase after that entity?" he pondered, concern creeping into his voice.

Futaba bit her lip. "To be honest, I was curious. But it felt more like I was being dragged along rather than making a choice."

A heavy silence settled around them once more, pierced suddenly by a flicker of insight from Futaba. "Could it be…"

"That Tsuchi is behind all this?" Aoi interjected, his eyes widening.

"But can Tsuchi really mess with dreams? That sounds... crazy!" Futaba exclaimed.

Oji frowned, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "I’m not convinced this isn’t connected to what happened on that night. After hearing Yura's story, I couldn't help but wonder..."

As the memory flooded back, Futaba recalled how they had dealt with those horrifying sand men, one of them trying to snatch her away. "But Kuya took it down right there! You’re not suggesting it continued chasing me in my dreams, are you?"

"We can't rule it out," Oji said gravely.

The seriousness of his tone sent a shiver down Futaba's spine. "We really don’t know much about that ayakashi. Its powers could be beyond what we can even imagine," he continued, a hint of unease flickering in his eyes.

Just then, the soft jingle of bells interrupted them again, and all three turned towards the door.

"Kuya?" Futaba called, spotting him as he sauntered in, exuding his usual lazy energy.

"Old man, I'm starving." he blurted without a second glance.

Oji chuckled. "Long time no see, Kuya."

Aoi jumped in. "Any updates on the situation?"

Kuya shrugged, his expression nonchalant. "Nope, nothing yet."

Futaba's heart sank a little at the response, her hand cradling her cheek as thoughts spiraled.

"Hey, where's that little girl, Fukajiro?" Kuya asked, looking around.

Futaba hesitated. "I... didn’t see her on my way here. Why?"

A strange stillness enveloped them as Kuya suddenly locked eyes with her, an unspoken message hanging in the air. Futaba felt a chill run down her spine; it was as if he was trying to communicate something urgent and necessary, but the meaning eluded her.

"Is that so?" Kuya finally said, breaking eye contact.

Futaba felt a wave of confusion wash over her. What was Kuya trying to say? Even as he settled into his usual spot and dove headfirst into his rice omelette, her mind raced with questions—an uneasy mixture of curiosity and dread tugging at her thoughts. She couldn't shake the feeling that something significant waited just beneath the surface, urging her to uncover the truth.

°•°•°

Later, as Futaba prepared to leave Racord alongside Aoi, she turned to him with genuine gratitude. “Thanks for tagging along, Aoi.”

He shrugged, making it all seem too casual. “No biggie. I was planning to check up on Koga after everything that went down.”

The mention of Koga’s name drew a sigh from Futaba, an audible signal of how heavy it weighed on her heart.

“Hey, listen…” Aoi said, his tone turning serious. “Don’t let it get to you. We promised Koga we’d look out for you if anything went sideways. We’re in this together. You know that, right?”

Futaba felt a rush of warmth wash over her, the connection between them solidifying in that moment. She smiled, grateful. “Thank you, Aoi. It really means a lot that you're still here through all this chaos. Sometimes I think my problems are just dragging you down.”

“Stop it,” he replied firmly. “We’ve got each other’s backs. Just like Ginnojo always says, our goals are aligned. But, hey, promise me something—if you’re ever in trouble, you’ll come to me first. Not that I’m saying you shouldn’t lean on others. It’s just—”

“Haha, I get it, Aoi,” Futaba cut in gently. “I’m counting on you and the rest of the crew. Thanks again for everything.”

Aoi felt his face heat up, a blush creeping in as they shared an awkward moment. Trying to shift gears, their eye caught something in the distance. A group of kids was playing nearby, laughter dancing through the air. Among them was Masanobu, lost in pure joy. Futaba was used to these scenes, but Aoi nudged her to take a closer look, and she gasped when she noticed Fukajiro standing apart from the children, her emerald eyes trained on the carefree laughter, an expression of either sorrow or icy detachment written across her face. She was hiding behind a pillar, a spectator to the happiness just out of reach.

Suddenly, the familiar sound of a deep, commanding voice called out. “Saotome.”

Futaba recognized it immediately. “Major Aizen?”

Approaching them in casual attire, Aizen looked like a man shedding the weight of his rank for a moment.

“You seem to be in top form today, Saotome,” he commented, eyeing her with a mix of appreciation and concern.

“Looks like you’re on a break, Major?” Futaba replied, keen to ease the gravity of the moment.

“Indeed,” Aizen confirmed. “I had intended to take the day off, but I just got word I need to return to HQ for something urgent.”

Aoi’s brows knitted in concern. “Did something happen?”

“I don’t have all the details yet, but if I learn anything important, you will be the first to know,” Aizen answered, his tone unwavering.

Futaba and Aoi exchanged worried glances, the calm atmosphere feeling thick with unspoken tension.

“So, how’s Kitamikado holding up?” Aizen shifted the topic, his focus on Futaba, who seemed taken aback by the sudden inquiry.

“I can’t say for certain…” Futaba hesitated, searching for the right words. “He’s the same… like a lifeless body.”

The weight of that truth sunk in deeply, leaving her feeling utterly powerless as she thought about Koga.

Aizen pondered, his expression growing serious. “If that’s the case, it’s akin to what those afflicted by the phenomenon are experiencing. Their conditions resemble something closer to a coma—or worse.”

Futaba felt a chill strike her, anxiety creeping in about Koga's fate and what the future held if the situation continued to deteriorate.

Aizen turned his gaze to Aoi. “I’ve always been curious, Satori. How did you know Kitamikado was still alive? Did your powers allow you to peek into his heart?”

“I did,” Aoi replied, his voice steady but laced with uncertainty. “But when I tried to delve deeper, I sensed another presence inside him, blocking my way. Something feels really off about it all…”

Silence enveloped them, the implications of the situation hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

“There’s a lot we need to discuss, Major Aizen,” Futaba finally spoke, her voice steady amidst the turmoil.

Aizen nodded, his seriousness unwavering. “When the time is right, I’ll summon you, Saotome. I just hope things don’t spiral further out of control. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must take my leave. I’ll see you again soon.”

As Aizen walked away, the uncertainty of the present loomed heavy over Futaba and Aoi, leaving them in a haze of worry about the days to come.

The tranquility of the moment shattered as an exuberant "Tadaa!!" erupted into the air. Startled, the duo leaped into action, their eyes widening in surprise as Fukajiro appeared before them, laughter bubbling from her lips.

"You've certainly adopted a new style of greeting," Futaba quipped, her sarcasm laced with a playful amusement as a smile crept onto her face. Fukajiro, quick to catch the glimmer of humor in her expression, grinned wider.

"I had to change things up a bit to unearth a new side of you, Futaba. And Aoi! It feels like ages since we last crossed paths," Fukajiro continued, her voice bright and inviting.

Aoi’s demeanor remained stoic, yet the flicker in his green eyes revealed unspoken affection for this little girl. "Don’t startle us like that again," he replied, his tone tinged with exasperation but softened by a hint of warmth.

"Hehe, I’ll do my best, but I can't make any promises," Fukajiro shot back, her enthusiasm infectious. As they conversed, the earlier tension gradually dissolved, enveloping them in a comfortable familiarity akin to that of old friends.

“How long have you been standing there, Fukajiro?” Futaba probed, her curiosity piqued.

“Oh, I caught a glimpse of the two of you with someone else and thought I’d wait to say hello until he left. Who was he, anyway?” Fukajiro inquired, her brow furrowing slightly.

“He’s just an acquaintance. Don’t worry about it,” Futaba replied dismissively. However, just as Fukajiro prepared to continue the conversation, her gaze fell upon something—or rather, someone—in the distance.

Aoi and Futaba exchanged glances and turned their attention to where Fukajiro was staring. There stood Kuya, his cold golden eyes fixed unwaveringly on the little girl, his frigid demeanor contrasting sharply against her innocent emerald gaze. The air thickened with an unspoken tension as the two locked eyes, sparking a mix of apprehension and intrigue within Aoi and Futaba, who recalled Kuya’s previous inquiries about Fukajiro.

As she looked into Kuya's eyes, a small yet curious smile spread across Fukajiro's face, unaware of the storm brewing beneath the surface. "You… where have you been?" Kuya's voice cut through the charged atmosphere, cold and accusatory.

Fukajiro tilted her head in confusion, the innocence of her expression clear. “Um… me? I’m here…” she replied, a hint of perplexity crossing her features.

“I don’t mean that," Kuya pressed, his gaze unyielding. "I mean that night. Where did you disappear to?”

Futaba's heart raced as she darted her gaze between the two, sensing the growing anxiety in the air. Just then, the shopkeeper’s voice rang out, calling Fukajiro back to the world of work.

“Fukajiro, sweetie, would you help me here?” The interruption broke the tension like a fragile thread, and it was as if a spell had been lifted.

“I’m on my way!” Fukajiro called back, but before she dashed off, she shot one last probing glance at Kuya, her eyes lingering on him as if to silently ask: What just happened?

Without waiting for an answer, she turned away, leaving Aoi and Futaba bathed in a shared perplexity as they turned to Kuya, who appeared unperturbed.

“Kuya, why did you ask Fukajiro that question? It caught her off guard,” Futaba asked, her voice laced with confusion.

“What are you talking about? She vanished that night—why wouldn’t I ask her?” Kuya shot back, the cold edge to his words leaving Aoi incredulous.

“Sure, but…” Futaba hesitated, unsure how to express her concern.

“Why did you have to phrase it like that?” Aoi interjected, prompting an uncomfortable silence from Kuya, who seemed caught in the web of his own turmoil.

“Look, I know you’re upset about Koga’s situation, but you can’t fault a little girl for it,” Aoi continued, trying to reason with his friend.

“That’s what you think…” Kuya replied, his voice trailing, revealing the weight of unacknowledged emotions.

Astounded by his response, Aoi and Futaba exchanged glances of disbelief. Kuya’s expression hardened as he declared, “I’m done talking here. I’m going home.” With that, he stalked away but paused briefly to glance back at Aoi and Futaba, silently urging them to grasp the gravity of his departure.

°•°•°

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the town, Futaba returned home from another visit with Koga. She recounted her haunting dream to Nachi and the twins, seeking solace or insight into its cryptic meaning. But to her dismay, nothing had changed; the situation remained as opaque and unsettling as the twilight sky, leaving her to ponder the threads of fate that had woven them all together in this moment of uncertainty

**Flashback**

Yura gazed intently into the depths of his thoughts. "Prithee, I doth behold. It seems to be a form of dream manipulation." The words lingered in the air, heavy with portent.

Gaku, furrowing his brow, chimed in, "Doesn’t this resemble the work of the ‘Yume no seirei’? That spirit of dreams?"

Yura shook her head, her expression grave. "Methinks not, for this type of ayakashi doth bring nightmares."

"But what I experienced wasn't a nightmare..." Futaba interjected, her voice rising in disbelief. "There was nothing frightening about it. I simply found myself in pursuit of an elusive entity."

Kuya, ever the pragmatist, crossed his arms. "That still doesn’t explain your appearance outside the house when you fell asleep in your own room... It doesn’t add up."

Aoi sighed, confusion etched across her features. "This just grows increasingly bewildering with every word we exchange."

Nachi turned to the group, eyes narrowed with suspicion. "But can we truly connect the Tsuchi to whatever it was you encountered in your sleep?"

Futaba shook her head slowly, a cloud of worry eclipsing her face. "I’m utterly lost now. People think the ordeal is over, yet I can’t shake this foreboding feeling. Something lingers, and I fear it won't conclude well for any of us."

**Flashback Ends**

Futaba let out a weary sigh as she stepped inside, the weight of today’s discussions pressing heavily on her shoulders. Yet, her fatigue was abruptly interrupted by an unusual sight by the veranda, near the flower garden. As she drew closer, her gaze fell upon the vibrant yellow rose standing resilient, untouched by the passage of time. In stark contrast, the camellia lay in ruins—its petals scattered like fleeting memories. Intrigued, Futaba bent down and picked up one of the fallen petals.

“Strange...” she murmured, her brow furrowed in thought. “Instead of merely wilting, its petals have simply given way... But how is it possible? I received this flower just yesterday, how can something so beautiful fade so quickly?”

Before she could delve deeper into the enigma, a sudden shift in the air caught her attention. A dove flitted toward her. Its arrival was a harbinger of urgency—there was a development in the phenomenon, and Futaba was needed at headquarters immediately. Realization struck her like lightning; there was no time to lose. She had to leave at once, the weight of responsibility igniting a new fervor within her.

𝑻𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒆𝒅 →→→→→→→→

[thedndgoblinwholivesinyourwalls]

Me explaining why all the songs on my oc playlist are there- Very Long Post apologies!!

Tagging @locke-n-k3y since they were interested :] I also repeat myself a lot here and if you have any questions pls send them my way!! This is a very mixed explanation of my story in no timeline order so understandable if you have questions!

Also now tagging @guess-how-i-stole-this-body since i think this is the one you meant? sorry if it isn’t!

The playlist in question:

Kiss Me, Son Of God by They Might Be Giants: Janette and her relationship with her cult status (She’s the leader) and her journey to get there

Gnaw by Alex G: The first half is about Adele and Josh in highschool AKA when they met and the second is Josh talking to his son Ryan

Sarah by Alex G: About Claire, Ryan’s older sister who dies later in the storyLike Real People Do by Hozier: All the romantic relationships in the story basically but mainly Karma (Ryan and Carmela)

Twin Size Mattress by The Front Bottoms: Josh and Adele’s relationship in a way

Motion Sickness by Phoebe Bridgers: Dana talking about her ex

Feel Good Inc. by Gorillaz: The cryptid trio!! (Dana, Carmela and Ryan the main three) mainly just a song they’d sing too

Funkytown by Lipps Inc.: I imagine the cryptid trio dancing to this hehe :]]

Lone Star by The Front Bottoms: Maria and Daniel (Carmela’s parents)

Beachboy by McCafferty: RYAN!! I don’t know how to explain it tbh but yeah

I Hate My Mom by GRLwood: Claire and Adele’s (her mum) relationship

Freaks by Surf Cruse: The cryptid trio in the middle of the story

Shut Me Up by Mindless Self Indulgence: Again a song mainly just vibes but its also Jadele (Janette and Adele)

Numbers by TEMPOREX: Another ryan song!! Again idk how to explain it

The Villain I Appear To Be by Connor Spiotto and Molly Pease: Janette!! And her trying to convince herself that she isn’t a bad person

Tears Over Beers by Modern Baseball: Josh talking about Adele 

bad idea right? by Olivia rodrigo: So this is a bit of an inside joke with me and my friend but its basically the song that’d play for one of the scenes with Carmela and Ryan (but downplayed to just kissing lmao) 

bad idea! by girl in red: JADELE!! Janette and Adele. If you listen to the song its kind of self explanatory?

Why Am I Like This? by Orla Gartland: Dana! A dana song for the ages. She is not doing welll

This Is Love by Air Traffic Controller: Janette and Adele in the midway point of their relation/situationship

Gilded Lily by Cults: Janette and the cult she runs thanks to her mum

First Love/Late Spring: Claire. also one of dana’s dads, Noah

Me and My Husband by Mitski: Maria and Daniel’s relationship

Nobody by Mitski: Carmela!! Also if adele threw a pity party she doesn’t deserve :D

Be Gay, Do Drugs, Hail Satan by Super Cassette: Adele and Josh when they were younger in the 90’s

Dead Girls by Penelope Scott: Claire again!! This explains her death D:

I Bet On Losing Dogs by Mitski: Janette and her son/nephew Oliver (she adopted her nephew after her sister died)

Brutus by The Buttress: Janette and her time in the cult and the way she killed her friend Huan Lin when she was younger

Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus: Josh talking about Adele in the 90’s/early early 200’s 

Ma Belle Evangeline from Princess And The Frog: Noah talking about his late wife Laura

Dream Sweet In Sea Major by Miracle Musical: Claire except she didn’t die at sea

Don’t Try Suicide by Queen: Claire’s death. but in a goofy sense :]]

Thermodynamic Lawyer Esq, G.F.D by Will Wood and The Tapeworms: Janette again!! Basically her feeling sillyyy/hj

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road by Elton John: Ryan :[

Need 2 by Pinegrove: What I imagine plays when the cult building burns down (also this scene is where Janette dies for the first time in the story) 

Buddy Holly by Weezer: Josh- he is a big fan of Weezer

Trees by McCafferty: Josh talking about his childhood

She Wolf by Shakira: The cryptid trio would sing this :D

The Moon Will Sing by The Crane Wives: Mainly just vibes I think it suits the story

Murders by Miracle Musical: Again just vibes but it could also be when Janette killed Huan

Ring Of Fire by Johnny Cash: What would play while the cult building is burning down if this was a show

DO YOU REMEMBER ME??? by emily jeffri: Janette talking to Adele when she comes back to life

The Bug Collector by Haley Heynderickx: Maria when she left for another city and her grief and regret about leaving Carmela behind

Tongues and Teeth by The Crane Wives: Janette talking about her and Adele’s relationship (In a way since Janette is aro and its also her trying to come up with ways to convince Adele to not date her since Adele does not take no for an answer akdhdkhdj)

Everybody Loves Somebody by Dean Martin: Noah and his husband Jose

Nice 2 Know Ya- Instrumental by Sylendanna: Again just the cryptid trio vibing 

Bleed Magic by I DON’T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME: Adele talking about her and janette’s relationship

Bicycle Race by Queen: Just vibes :]]

Chinatown by Shakey Graves: Josh talking about Adele while she’s cheating on him

Two Birds by Regina Spektor: Claire and Ryan (the siblings ever augh)

I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE by Måneskin: Jadele (janette and adele)

Closer by Nine Inch Nails: Also Jadele do not question meeee/lh

Wet by Dazey and the Scouts: Maria and her feelings about being in a relationship

SOLUS by emily jeffri: V I B E S

Washing Machine Heart by Mitski: Maria again :[[

Murder Song (5,4,3,2,1) by Aurora: Adele and Josh

Fell In Love With A Girl by The White Stripes: Adele and Josh in primary school

The King by Sarah Kinsley: I think this would play over Ryan and Carmela’s kiss if this was a showwww

Memento Momori: the most important thing in the world by Will Wood and The Tapeworms: Janette talking to Carmela

Night Shift by Lucy Dacus: JANETTE AND HER MANY COMPLEX FEELINGS ABOUT ADELE it’s such a janette song guyssss

Sober To Death by Car Seat Headrest: Josh talking about Adele

Babooshka by Kate Bush: VIBES AGAIN

Uptown Girl by Billy Joel: Noah talking about Jose just swap girl to guy

Digital Silence by Peter McPoland: The story as a whole

Time/Space by Alex G: Oliver, Janette’s son/nephew

Non, je ne regrette rien by Èdith Piaf: A song that’d be playing while Ryan’s arm gets chopped off by Carmela

Barracuda by Heart: This just gives off Carmela vibes to me

Highway to Hell by AC/DC: Janette when she dies the first time/hj

(Don’t Fear) The Reaper by Blue Öyster Cult: I think it also fits the story as a whole

We Didn’t Start The Fire by Billy Joel: The cryptid trio

So You Wanna Marry Daisy by Spence Hood: Adele. nothing else lmao

Duvet by bôa: Maria again!!

Be Nice To Me by The Front Bottoms: Ryan talking to Carmela after she cut off his arm

You’re Not Special Babe by Orla Gartland: Josh talking to Adele

The Chicken by Bo Burnham: Literally this song explains Maria and Daniel and a bit of Carmela’s story as well

Habits by Genevieve Stokes: Dana song :]]

Where The Streets Have No Name by U2: What I imagine plays on the last epsiode as the end credits

It’s Been So Long by The Living Tombstone: Janette talking about Oliver (FNAF SONG LETS GOOO) 

Never Been Better by half•alive and Orla Gartland: Basically just Noah and Maria (they are best friends!!) 

Poison Oak by Bright Eyes: Josh :] love him sooo much

Dullahan by Worthikids: Dana song again!! She also listens to music like this

West Coast by FIDLAR: The cryptid trio

Goodbye, My Danish Sweetheart by Mitski: Maria since she is one of my saddest characters D:

Mad IQ’s by I DON’T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME: JADELE BELOVEDS TOXIC YURIIII!! 

Runs in the Family by Amanda Palmer: Janette and her family- also Maria

Kiss Ur Face Forever by Orla Gartland: Karma! (Carmela and Ryan)

Missus Piano by Rio Romeo: Adele talking to Janette

Slipping Through My Fingers by ABBA: Ryan at Claire’s death scene and Oliver at Janette’s death

Hermit The Frog by MARINA: Janette in highschool

Step On Me by The Cardigans: Janette talking to Adele

This Hurts by Mindless Self Indulgence: Janette, Adele and Josh (they’d make the best polycule if they were all good people and nothing bad happened akdhkdhd)

Molly by Mindless Self Indulgence: Janette in highschool againnnn

Witness by Mindless Self Indulgence: V I B E S 

Lights Out by Mindless Self Indulgence: Dana’s taste in music

Personal Jesus by Mindless Self Indulgence: Some aspects of Janette and Adele’s relationship

Join Us (And Die) from TGWDLM: Janette when she comes back from the dead

Inevitable from TGWDLM: Adele if she was in TGWDLM

Lifeboat from Heathers: Claire if she had a musical song

Bed of Roses by Mindless Self Indulgence: Basically janette’s final death since she also does in a bed of roses in a sense!!

Baby Hotline by Jack Stauber’s Micropop: Josh and Adele (if Josh hadn’t transitioned)

Agape by Nicholas Britell: What would play in one of the episodes :DD

Kilby Girl by The Backseat Lovers: Karma!! Ryan and carmela beloveds <33

suffering by Amélie Farren: Carmela <333

Black Friday from Black Friday: Vibess also carmela talking to Janette

Ghost of Chicago by Noah Floersch: Ryan talking about Carmela i love them so much guys kshdjdhd

Hello My Old Heart by The Oh Hellos: Janette when she’s dying (for the last time in the story so for context she dies twice) 

If you read this far I am giving you a hug, a high five for finger guns!!! Thank you for reading my oc rambles

[cthulhubert]

I uh. It's December. You may or may not have noticed.

I did Nanowrimo, spent my "creative projects half hour" slot on that, and completely forgot about posting my fourth year of daily drawings for October. Nevertheless, into my my art tag it goes.

In a fit of petty first world anarchism, I did Inktober's prompts, but digitally.

This year's been busy, so I tried to stick to my half an hour per day drawing time slot. (I say, gritting my teeth, forehead vein bulging as I look at the parts I don't like.)

I am forcing myself to acknowledge that the past year—with its approximately 130 hours of drawing practice—has resulted in some improvements to line control, anatomy, and perspective, but I'm definitely also reaching the point where several of these feel too embarrassing to post.

In fact I only picked nine, instead of the ten I did the last few years.

Please read some of the captions because at least I do think I'm funny.

Dreams was an auspicious start. I like this Bakugirl.

Fortune... exists. I should've been a little bolder with the fairy actually like, interacting with the dragon woman's palm, really being present there, instead of just sort of posed on top. I also should've made the table smaller, dragoness is supposed to be huge.

I immediately decided I was doing some kind of pair for Angel and Demon. Please ignore that the actual prompt was not Devil. It's close enough right? If I had more time and ambition the devil girl's net was going to be made of serpents. I did not really capture her "shouting" expression the way I wanted, but now that I'm looking it's not execrable. Angel's dreads are definitely more half hearted than I wanted. This one did at least convince me that my next batches of studies need to be of clothed figures.

Rise got my favorite concept for the whole month. Cause it's bread. Get it? eh? Please enjoy our little alchemist workshopping her lines for introducing her magnum opus. Tried to lean into cartoonish with her face.

I spent a solid 10 minutes trying to decide what to do for Dagger, and then all of a sudden it was like a voice spoke to me: "Do fan art of one of your favorite games of all time." I wish the Final Fantasy series hadn't abandoned that more stylized, cartoonish vibe. You know, one of the most interesting things about drawing is realizing that I am 100% looking at things that I have previously—apparently!—only kind of glanced at. Like I would not, before drawing this, have described Garnet as having, to be frank, a prodigious bosom, significant badonkerage, or ginormous dobonhonkeros. To be frank. And a really low cut top to boot. But here we are. I like this face. Wish I'd chosen a more dynamic pose.

For Shallow I decided to do a little snippet of something from one of my stories (coincidentally one related to what I was working on in November). The anatomy is a bit iffy. And even though she's literally supposed to have been buried in a shallow hole in the woods, I had to add a gravestone because I wasn't confident how well that showed.

Rush is another one where I was not at all sure what I was going to do until the brain noise intruded, "Firetrucks are red because red's the color of communism and they're always Russian[Rushin'] around." What was I thinking with that background?

Hilariously, I didn't notice the final prompt of Inktober and how well Fire went with my spontaneous choice for the previous day. It's only now that I'm posting that I realized during export I must have turned off the "background" layer that shows a(n attempt at a) continuation of the previous background. I recall being really frustrated trying to get the foreshortening right on this mischievous fire-ninja jill-o-lantern's arms, but it doesn't look so awful now.

It's fascinating feeling myself more fully move into the phase of learning where I can tell that I'm on the cusp of drawing this or that noticeably better, I just have to push, put a bit more time into individual pieces. And of course, practice.

Next I think I'll aim for at least four and up to twelve studies of clothed figures. Might stop to try and find some good hints on drawing a good fire, or something that suggests dirt.

But I also have some writing to do. I got engaged in my Nanowrimo project. I'm finishing something else up that a friend and I have worked on in bits for years. Of course, what I'd really like is to do some writing and drawing practice every day. It hasn't happened yet, but then again, between picking up drawing supplies and actually starting to practice daily, "It hasn't happened yet" was the case for years.

Until it wasn't.

[janaawrites2024]

Week 1 Writeup #1: Social Media

"What Should Be The Most Viewed YouTube Video?"

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡✮ Written by: Nike

Day by day, thousands of videos are uploaded into the video platform known as YouTube. The contents of these videos vary due to the passing whims of the creators, with some being hilarious, some informational, and some offensive. And then there are those gems that you happen to stumble by on your 5th hour of doom scrolling that can just shift your perspective in less than 6 minutes. On November 10, year 2021, a youtuber named Sisyphus posted a video essay titled, "the desire to simply not exist."

Hi I'm Nike, I'm the "N" in Janaa, and here is why I think this should be the most viewed YouTube video.

Trigger Warning: Mild allusions to depression. Read at your own discretion.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡✮ "I think that a rarely discussed but commonly felt desire is to simply not exist," Sisyphus begins. It was 2 am at too-early-to-be-awake-in-the-morning of 2021 when that snippet punched me in the gut. Sisyphus had that kind of effect, I would later learn. In that moment, a morbid sense of curiosity overtook me. Indeed, this sort of thought was very rarely ever voiced and it was quickly hushed, if ever. But commonly felt? Now that was new. It couldn't possibly.

Could it?

As someone who has pondered and somewhat fetishized non-existence since at a fairly early age myself, I feel this video has helped shape my perception of life in a way that a random stranger saying "Don't be depressed! There's so much to be happy about!" has never been able to. He describes his plight in simple but compelling words: "Within me emerges a deep longing to not be here and, sometimes, to not be anywhere. In these moments the hypothetical comfort of losing all awareness and sensation can be a little too inviting."

Millions of people, whether my age or not often would often prefer the kind of thing that Sisyphus describes here. The comfort of non-existence, to put it simply. Engaging a topic as sensitive as this one is often controversial and upsetting for many. For those unfamiliar with the feeling, it is taboo. But this video does not treat it like so. Its narration genuine in its articulation and because of that, it comforts the listener. It doesn't come off as condescending because it simply describes the reality of feeling it. Of living with it. It is a way more effective way to convince someone their existence matters, in my opinion. It is often tiring to try and discuss matters such as this when you always see the same patronizing attitudes towards those who can't embrace and endure life as it is. Hence averting the notion of even considering any point or argument placed in the conversation, as they realize that the ones they feel safe enough to confess to will often refuse to see see eye to eye with them and instead offer cheap platitudes in a bid to relate. As a result there's simply no mutual understanding and you come away more lost than ever.

It's much more reassuring, heartwarming even, to hear someone who can relate to you, who is aware of the thoughts you had, and instead of outright rejecting them and deeming them wrong, uses them to argue in favor of existence.

Sisyphus did that, in five minutes and six seconds.

"Non-existence will come soon enough, so why not stick it out a little bit longer?" He ends. It is quite ironic that the video about the desire to feel nothingness made me feel curious, for once, at what life could offer. Because of this, I've found that it is curiosity that sparks the light of hope.

Hence why I am insistent that this should be seen by more people. I don’t feel that this is only for those that are depressed or suicidal, if anything I feel like it’s something for those that lack a sense of purpose or self worth.

'If you don't know what your lot in this world is, well, you'll never get to find out if you give up so early on.' That's essentially what it's saying. I don’t necessarily share these feelings of non-existence as strongly as I did when I first saw the video anymore but hopefully someone out there can connect with these words and are able to reshape their perspective of their existence in a much healthier way. To anyone who is reading this, I want to wish you good luck in finding your purpose while existing in this world. There is so much of it to see and love, I promise.

Image from: Sisyphus 55's video, the desire to simply not exist on YT.

[boop-beep-boop]

okayyyyyy so i swore to never touch shl modern AUs because it just isnt what i like but I GAVE UP BECAUSE I RAN OUT OF CONTENT OKAY??

AND. THEY. HAVE. MADE ME REALIZE. WHY WKX IS LITERALLY MY NO. 1 FAVOURITE FICTIONAL CHARACTER OF ALL TIME. like. genuinely. i have never had such an attachment to a fictional character. i know he's a fan favourite, esp among the chi fandom, but like. i am. obsessed. with him. (maybe i should start looking into chars i like who ARENT fan favourites. cough cough revali botw)

BASICALLY

every single au where he's in school, he's either a lit/theatre kid or a bio kid.

*handwaves at self vaguely* UHM????

also i could not imagine him being into any other subjects (other than chem cuz its linked to bio n medicine)

2. so. i knew his personality was pretty similar to mine already. but. ONLY WHEN I HEAR HIM DESCRIBED BY OTHERS IN A MODERN SETTING DO I FUCKING GET IT.

"he's too loud" "he doesnt know how to blend in" "childish" "chaotic" "flippant" "clingy" "annoying"

ARE THESE MY FREAKING SCHOOLTEACHERS OR WHAT

NOT JUST TEACHERS?? EVERYONE AROUND ME?????

LIKE. WHAT THE FUCK.

also i relate to his deeper emotions on a personal level but this is a tumblr post not a therapy session uwu

(typical of me to find a character whose personality is identical to mine and turns out to be the most insecure and traumatised bby to ever exist)

(like genuinely i fucking dare you to find someone who not only went through as much as him, AND came out of it as a FUNCTIONAL AND GOOD HUMAN BEING)

(this is becoming a wkx appreciation post.

which is something i was gonna post sooner or later so...)

(also im only just realising it's kinda narcissist of me to be this attached to a character with my identical personality...)

maybe this is just a lot of words of me trying to convince myself i dont just like him for being a cute twink-

[asfdhgsdkjhgb]

so how we feeling today gamers

[monsterbisexual]

more n more often lately i just have the thought of like if i could just have a big dramatic freakout where i didnt worry abt it inconveniencing anybody making em feel uncomfortable/upset etc etc cuz i dont think ive ever actually done that unless i was a v tiny little kid cuz as long as i can remember ive worried abt that stuff more than i worried abt how i was feelin n how maybe if i just let myself scream a lil (not at someone. dont wanna hurt ppl ever ever or be mean) or idk. fuckin..thrashed around like a freak or smth maybe id end up feelin a lil better after

[beskarberry]

Kudzu

Corrupted!Ezra x f!reader

The pistol was on the far side of the room, but you knew it had at least one charge in it. One good shot. You didn’t want to hurt Ezra, but the monster on the other side of the door, pushing on it so hard it slammed against the doorframe with each attack, wasn’t giving you any other options.

You were going to have to kill him.

Summary: a familiar stranger shows up at the doorstep of your infirmary with unfamiliar wounds. You're no doctor, but masquerading as one makes you the only one in the position to save his life. Can you win out against his extraterrestrial illness, or will his new abilities stake a claim in you as well?

Rating: MAXIMUM EXPLICIT HOLY FUCK

Word count: 11.4k

Content warnings: NON-CON/DUB-CON, human/alien hybridization, forced breeding/impregnation/birth, rough/feral sex, sex pollen, body worship, cervix penetration, cum inflation, knotting, a wisp of a/b/o. Nonsexual: wound care and dressing, hurt/comfort, a little whumpish, shootouts, blood, dumb jokes, cheesy ending

A/N: Did you read those content warnings? Good, now read them again. If you enjoyed Garden of Ishtar and Blue Orchid, you'll be excited to know I've outdone myself once again! If those made you even the slightest bit uncomfy then turn away now, this is not for you! I bring you this in time for kinktober, but the only list I'm following is my own personal list of kinkiness, and have dumped some of my personal faves into this fic. It's DARK, its SCARY, it's a little stupid at points, I'm not a complete monster, there's comedic relief abound, but this is raw, unfettered filth, and if you read all those tags and still get mad about this fic, don't come crying to me.

DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT.

Your day had started off so… normal.

It was a lovely morning on the Green, dappled sunlight filtered through the thick jungle foliage and cast illusive gold coins over the canvas of your tent, softly illuminating the cramped little quarters you’d called home for the last eight months. Even the pollen seemed thinner than usual according to your slap-and-patched meteorological equipment, the clunky machine ticking happily away in the corner; and as you sipped at your watery tin of artificial instant espresso, you thought today might not be so bad.

After a hearty breakfast of liquid caffeine and a bar of fruit jerky, you went through your usual routine of checking over your supplies. Well, not your supplies truth be told. Almost everything in your ramshackle clinic belonged to the honest-to-Kevva doctor who had once called it home, but after what looked like a failed experiment with aurelac harvesting… well, somebody had to fill his shoes after the good doctor bit the literal dust.

And that somebody was you.

You, however, were not a doctor, or a nurse, or anything else that could be quantified as a medical professional, but you’d just happened to be in the right place at the right time, or wrong place depending on who you asked, and you took up the mantle quite nicely. It was curiosity more than anything that made you brave enough to rifle through the doctor’s notes and journals pertaining to human anatomy and their relation to aurelac reproduction theories, but you’d only made it through the more familiar anthropological textbooks when you received your first patient.

Another prospector had come to your tent seeking out the field medic that was listed on the maps, bleeding profusely after nearly slicing their finger off extracting the prized gem of solidified goop. There was too much blood being wasted for you to try convincing them that you weren’t who they were looking for, but after a surprisingly well-placed handful of stitches and neatly wrapped bandages, you were doubting your inabilities as well. Happy with their digit returned to almost full functionality, they’d offered you some dehydrated protein paste and an old filter hookup as trade, and thus your new life as field medic had begun.

Part clinic, part outpost, your little neck of the jungle grew slowly over time. One tent became two, then three, then some scrap metal was converted into an infirmary of sorts complete with a pair of rusty, threadbare cots and a pump-action shower. You ‘treated’ all kinds of ailments using the late doctor’s leftover annotations, from dust lung to acid burns, and on more than one occasion had to bust out the surgifoam wound filler to staunch the bleeding from thrower holes. Though you weren’t qualified by any means, your patients tended not to ask too many questions when you were the only thing standing between them and Kevva's merciful embrace.

You’d watched the morning sun climb into the sky through the flimsy clear plastic ‘window’ taped into the side of the tent and wondered what the spacefarer’s deity would lead into your arms today, only to have your question answered all too quickly. Squinting through the warped plastic you caught the slight reflective shimmer of sunlight sliding over the rounded bubble of a prospector’s helmet. Their drab green flight suit had them almost blending into the surrounding foliage, only their shambling gait giving away that they weren’t growing up from the ground themselves.

Trust was something that had to be earned at your place of business, and even a weak-looking stranger was no exception to the rule. You grabbed your thrower pistol and cranked the battery frantically, getting just enough of a charge for a single shot before dashing to the radio. With your eyes locked on the nearing stranger you flipped rapidly through the stations until the haunting static crackled to life with the sound of someone singing.

“Dream, s-sailing among the stars. Dream, put into port at Mars. Reddened… -huff- world in a darkened sky. Load supplies and away you fly, Phobos… -phew… passing by, You can… can touch it if you want t-to try. On this day... S-Sail… sail away.”

...Ezra?

It had to be, nobody on the Pug or the Green or even the fucking Fringe sang songs like that anymore, the soliloquies of forgotten Earth poets long deceased brought back from the grave by an avid bookworm.

You remembered Ezra, the ‘bonafide’ prospector, as he called himself, had wandered into your healing arms more than once, bringing with him a handful of minor cuts or burns and a delightfully insightful conversation. Polite and well-educated, he’d been thoroughly interested in your research findings and what books you had read lately, and wasn’t the least bit dissuaded in your abilities even after he’d correctly deduced that you weren’t the medical professional listed on the maps.

The confession seemed to make him even more open to conversation, which with a chatterbox like Ezra that almost came as a shock, but you couldn’t help enjoying his company while you patched him up. More southern than pecan pie and just as sweet, Ez would recount marvelous tales of his adventures on the Green, sometimes enunciating so wildly with his calloused hands that you had to restrain him to keep him from pulling his stitches, and more than once you suspected that he liked it when you did. The prospector was leagues more pleasant than most of the rough diggers and brainless Saters that you dealt with, even if his tall tales were clearly exaggerated, and the way his big brown eyes glittered under the rakish little patch of blond hair sticking out from his temple made you suspicious that fabricating stories solely for your amusement was his method of flirting with you.

And if he was, you wouldn’t have been entirely against it.

There was always one story he circled back to, something about an aurelac queen lost somewhere out in the wilds. It was a fable you’d heard while you were still on the Pug back before your ship went tits up. The whispered legends the other prospectors told in the station’s cafeteria still haunted your ears, seedy tales of a sprawling matriarch that oozed with literal rivers of gold hiding somewhere under the loamy soil of the forlorn little moon. Ezra had been hunting it for months - he’d told you while you were busy sewing a hole in his shoulder closed - undeterred by the words of warning passed over insta-meals about the dangerous treasure hunt. He was determined, you’d give him that, or maybe he was just so charming and headstrong that you couldn’t imagine anything stopping him from succeeding in his quest.

But maybe only having one arm would slow him down.

“Ezra? What fucking happened to you?” You asked hurriedly as you ushered him in through the tent’s zipper, sealing it back up quickly after he’d stumbled through the entryway, dropping your thrower in the process. Even through his thick plasticast helmet you could hear his ragged, muffled breathing as it fogged up the transparent dome, a clear sign of a clogged filter made more evident by the bright red warning light searing up the filter’s side.

The prospector nearly fell trying to sit down on the floor, the grimace on his clammy, pale face replaced with a pained smile when he saw you. “H-hello, turtledove.” he rasped as he clawed at the locks of his helmet. You stepped in to help him pull the grimey, olive drab head cover off and tossed it aside, trying not to crinkle your nose at the stench of him. His sparkling amber eyes glittered from under sweaty brows at you once the bubble had been pulled clear, dulled slightly by the pain he seemed to be suffering. “I seem to have f-found myself in a m-mess'a hot water.”

“I’ll say, the last time I saw you in here you were symmetrical.” You hissed, glaring at the pinned sleeve of his flight suit where his right arm had been.

He followed your gaze with a broken laugh, “Surprisingly, that would appear to be the least of my troubles.” A coughing fit tore at his ribs, the grittiness of it hinting at a lungful of pollen. You grabbed the nearest inhalant canister and knelt up against him, holding the breathing cup to his face. He groped at your hand with his one good one, sucking down the moist antihistamine with each ragged breath. “Much obliged, but the black that’s tryin’ to suffocate me is no matter in comparison to the laceration I have sustained to the sunny-side of-”

“Oh my fucking GOD Ez just shut up and show me where!”

He groaned, agitated but submissive and much in need of your services. “Y’see that’s what I was tryn’a tell you, turtledove, if you’d just let me finish-”

You did not let him finish. Furious, you started pawing at his flight suit, aggressively manhandling him to find where he must be bleeding out from. Ezra protested candidly, especially when you found the bloodstained hole in his canvas right above the junction of his leg and groin, dangerously close to his femoral artery. You dug your fingers in and ripped the tattered canvas and the soft cotton of his boxers appart, doing your damndest to ignore Ezra’s wails of embarrassment.

More of a stab wound than a laceration, the bloody hole oozed hotly with crimson mixed with the most sickening shade of green. Poison. “How did this happen?” You asked harshly, grabbing for your medkit and already pouring antiseptic on the wound before Ezra could launch into a thousand-year yarn.

He hissed at the pain, “Kevva, girl!! Give a man a warning before you start assaultin’ him so close to his family heirlooms!” Ezra’s hand dug viciously into your shoulder, trying to ground himself while you tortured him to good health. “I found the queen, birdie, she’s real, and she is treacherous.” His gasps turned to rhythmic hyperventilation when you stabbed him with an antivenom agent, teeth bared in a grimace, thumb trying to break your clavicle.

“Keep talking, Ez.” It was surprising that you even had to make that demand of such a chatterbox, but you had to keep him distracted while you pumped the wound full of poly-mag spray foam to suck up the leaking venom.

“Yes, doctor.” He mused sarcastically over the foam spray’s whooshing. “That mistress isn’t like the smaller growths, oh no, she’s got a mighty armory at her disposal. All spikes and stingers and what have you, never seen anything like ‘er in all my days. One of ‘em got me, as you can clearly see, and I am fortunate that your fine establishment was so proximal to the scene of my near-castration.”

“Me too.” You rambled, though you weren’t entirely listening. Swabbing at the bloodstained skin to clean it, you watched the spongy material turn from creamy white to fungal green, then nearly to black as it soaked up the residual toxins. You’d seen some wild shit out on the Green, but nothing quite like this. Once Ezra was in better condition you might be able to find something in the doctor’s ledgers about it, but getting the weary prospector back from the brink of death was the more pressing matter. “Here, take these.” You demanded, thrusting a plastic amber vial of pills into his hand.

His throaty laugh scraped over his lips like sandpaper. “If it would not be too much of an inconvenience I must humbly request that you remove the lid for me if I am to-”

You snatched the bottle back with an apology, forgetting that he couldn’t get the child-proof lock undone on his own. Ezra tossed the pills back the instant you gave the vial back to him sans cap, ignoring the ‘do not chew’ warning on the bottle and crunching right through the tablets. His head hit the wall with a groan from the burning suddenly in his throat, but he soldiered through it and swallowed grossly. Disgusted but distracted by your work, you used a pair of tongs to pry the soaked sponge out of the wound. It stuck sickeningly to the flesh, leaving a spiderweb trail of filaments that you had to clean up before dosing him with another round.

“Am I gonna live, doc?” He hummed, his tongue caught back behind his teeth where he was trying to pick a chunk of painkillers free. You shrugged and nodded while you watched the second dollop of marshmallow goop expand and harden without changing color. Ezra sighed, “At least if I shed this mortal coil, the last wonder to grace my sight shall be your exquisite visage.”

He would choose to flirt now, of all times. “You’re not gonna die, Ez, not if I have anything to say about it.” The surgifoam looked stable and clean, so you pulled a gauze pad and a set of waterproof bandages out and began dressing the wound for healing, but you were startled by a heavily gloved hand landing on your forearm.

A lopsided smile wormed its way over his features, making his dark eyes sparkle up at you. “Sweet, benevolent angel of the Emerald expanse, I do declare you are the finest creature these weary eyes of mine have lain upon in a coons age.” The oaken tones of his voice dropped lower, the pad of his thumb dragging slowly across your arm. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate…”

You looked at him, then glanced briefly at yourself. Still in your dumpy sweats and fruit-of-the-loom tank top, you couldn't be compared to any sort of day except for maybe ones involving tornadoes. Your mouth still tasted like bean water since you hadn’t gotten around to brushing your teeth, and the horrific realization dawned on you. Fever. The sweat of Ezra’s brow nearly scalded your palm when you slapped it against his forehead. “Shitballs, Ez you’re burning up. Suit’s gotta come off, bud, gotta get you cooled down.”

His boyish grin spread across his face from ear to ear, flashing you with his pearly white teeth. “Undressing me already, darling? Shouldn’t I at least treat you to a night of exquisite romances? Let us free ourselves of these oppressive flight suits and get dressed to the nines!” He conducted an imaginary orchestra with his solitary hand, tapping his foot to a beat only he could hear. “I want to take you dancing, turtledove, would you grant me the pleasure, nay, the honor of letting me sweep you off your feet?”

“Sure Ez, that sounds grand.” Worry cut through your voice like a knife, he was rapidly getting delirious and if you didn’t cool him down soon his brain would melt right out his ears. “We’re, uh, gonna be late for the ball, come on, on your feet, darling.” He nearly purred at you while you undid the clasps of his outerwear and tore the zipper down, peeling him open like the world’s most disgusting banana.

He fucking reeked, and it took every ounce of gumpsha you had to keep from retching at the smell. Under the heavy canvas his threadbare t-shirt and ratty boxers were soaking wet with sweat and blood, making him sticky to the touch. You worked the sole sleeve off his good arm, revealing a poorly-placed wrapping on his stump that he’d obviously done himself, the dirty bandage in dire need of replacement. Planting your feet, you bolstered yourself up under his good arm and hauled him off the floor, but lifting the lean-muscled digger was less of a challenge than it was to keep your breakfast down. STinKy!

Ezra fell haphazardly against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck while he worked to pull his legs free of the coveralls. You tried to ignore the soft, sloppy kisses he was pressing to your skin while you walked him back towards the shower, but the goosebumps firing over every inch of your flesh gave you right away. “Divinity pales in comparison to the softness of your skin, my turtledove.” He mused, dragging the bristles of his facial hair along the column of your throat. “Does Kevva know you walk the mortal planes, my celestial songbird, or did she send you to me herself?”

He was nipping at your earlobe by the time you got him to the tub, and you couldn’t toss him in nearly fast enough. He flopped unceremoniously into the large plastic wash basin, slipping around like butter in a hot pan when you turned on the water. The sound he made when the cold shower blasted him made your blood curdle, torn somewhere between a scream and a whine that was made a thousand times worse by his panicked, one-armed flailing.

“Hold still, fucker!” You bellowed, jumping in the tub and nearly tackling him to keep him in the water and getting yourself soaked as well. Honestly he had every right to flail, the water was nearly frozen it was so fucking cold, but it was a necessary evil if you were to save his life.

Ezra hissed and cursed and spat like an unfixed tomcat until the punishing temperature of the shower seeped into him and brought his fever down to a more reasonable level. His eyes softened slightly as he came back to himself. “I.. what… where?? T-this isn’t the ballroom, this is a bathtub!” He searched the infirmary for the expansive dancefloor that he had been imagining, only to find that the only other dancer in the room was you.

You, however, were just as soaked and disheveled as he was, taking the brunt of the shower blast against your spine. “Excellent deduction, Sherlock. This is indeed a bathtub. Feeling any better?” You asked, patting him on the cheek in such a way that he jumped from your touch.

He reached up to press your hand into his face, scratching your palm with his scraggly beard. “In your stupendous care I know I will want for naught, but to behold your lovely features with thine own eyes is a cure for more than the physical afflictions I have suffered.” He turned and kissed at your palm before you pulled it away, making him whine from the loss. “Please, my starlight, let me kiss you...” He made little kissy faces at you, his eyes closed while he pictured the softness of your lips against his own.

Ok, so his brain is still a little fried. “Ezra…” you scolded, trying to formulate a plan while he smooched the air. “You… you need to get cleaned up so you can take me to the ball, can you do that for me?” That seemed to get his attention, even if his focus was fleeting. “I’ll help you, but you gotta get washed up first, ok? Arm up.” Ezra did as he was told, letting you peel the soaking wet undershirt off of him, careful not to catch on his stump cover in the process.

Cold water ran like a river down the expanse of his bare chest, causing the thin trail of dark brown hair that dusted down the front of him to waver in the flow. His bare flesh was riddled with scars, some long and jagged, some round and smooth where he’d apparently been shot numerous times. One or two of them you recognized from having patched up yourself. If you both weren’t in such a sad state at the moment you might have let yourself indulge in the sight of him a little longer, but alas, duty calls.

Carefully, you stepped out of the way of the water, letting it hit him fully while you hunted for something to wash him with. Your own loofah would have to do, and though he was still protesting the icy torment you had subjected him to, he melted quickly when you dragged the sudsy sponge over his skin. “Oh… oh turtledove, you slay me with your affections. You must allow me to return the favor…” He started trying to lift his arm, but the painkillers and exhaustion were taking their toll, and instead only managed to get his hand as far as the edge of the tub. His thumb dragged little circles over the plastic while he waxed poetic at the feel of you scrubbing him down until his musings turned to mumbles right before he passed out cold.

Jabbing your fingers up under his jaw, you hunted for a pulse, letting out a relieved sigh at the feel of his heart beating steadily away. With him finally still, you gave him what must have been the first real shower he’d had in months, and you were almost sad that he couldn’t enjoy it fully. The wretched stink of him washed away with the dirt and grime that spiraled down the drain, and you felt the first pangs of a headache flickering behind your eyes from having your sinuses abused for so long.

Cleaned to your liking, you shut the water off and stood, groaning at the kink in your back that would only worsen when you dragged Ezra’s motionless body out of the tub. You dried him off as best you could before hauling him out of the oversized plastic bucket and onto one of the rickety metal cots nearby. Try as you might to towel him off, water poured from your own soaked clothes, making him that much more wet. Deciding that he wasn’t going to wake up any time soon, you peeled off the nearly see-thru tank top that had probably been showing off your nipples to him the entire time you had him in the tub. No wonder he was flirting so much.

Ezra mumbled in his sleep a bit while you dried him fully, but you quickly encountered the same wet clothing problem with his boxers. You had to get them off, you reasoned to yourself, they’re wet and they’re obstructing your ability to see the dressing you had placed, even if there was still a sizable hole in the leg. Taking a big-girl breath, you reached for the waistband of his shorts, but the idea of modesty was not why you hesitated there.

Peeking out from the worn cotton edge was something dark, and not dark like the hair that was growing along his happy trail. It was under his skin, a greenish tint that spiderwebbed up his belly, and you felt your own guts churning at the sight.

What the fuck is that.

You had to be brave. Digging your fingers into the elastic band you pulled the soaking wet cotton all the way down, exposing more of Ezra than you had ever thought you would see. The freezing cold water didn’t leave you with much to look at, but you still felt heat splash across your face at getting to see him so naked for the first time. Your devious embarrassment turned to gut wrenching fear though when you tore your eyes away from his chilled cock towards the ugly, infectious-looking veins sprawling outwards from the wound you had dressed.

Son of a bitch.

The wound cover was waterproof, but it was already demanding to be changed, the queen’s venom soaking through the surgifoam once again. You replaced the dressing quickly, the cold sweat of relief breaking out over your skin when the dark lines started to recede and fade. Ezra fidgeted in his sleep, his brows creasing while he mumbled something regarding a serenade. Gently you brushed your fingers over his forehead to check his temperature and soothe his fretting, watching how his brows relaxed from your touch and a weak smile graced his damp face.

Sitting on the edge of the cot, you smiled sweetly back at him even though he couldn’t see you, drawing slow patterns over his face that made him hum. You wandered over the curve of his brow and the swells of his cheeks, then past the edge of his jaw to the long column of his neck. That led you to his clavicle, and that led you to his missing right arm.

What had happened, you wondered, concern written clearly in your eyes for no one to see. What would have been detrimental enough that he would have lost it? The edges of the wrapping were wet and stained and obviously in need of replacement. Ezra groaned in protest when you started peeling them away, the soaked gauze smelling just as bad as he did before you’d gotten him washed up. Gross.

You’d unwrapped the bandage almost all the way to the remains of his bicep when the sudden, familiarly darkened lines began to show again. Frantically now, you almost ripped the wrapping off, unspooling it quickly and revealing more and more of the shadowy streaks. Black threads gave way to a toxic dark green color the closer you got to the site of the amputation, the flesh becoming hard and chitinous to the touch like that of an insect.

The final bandage fell away, and you nearly screamed.

“Ezra, what the fuck!?”

Your distressed whisper fell on deaf ears. Where you were expecting a closed scar, or even an open and infected wound, something inhuman was growing. A tiny protuberance jutted out of the middle of the stump, the same dark green color as the surrounding skin, but the end of it bore a trio of little spikes. When it didn’t explode or rot off immediately, you leaned in to try to get a better look at it, but your sudden closeness made the alien appendage twitch, and with a sickening drop in your belly you realized what you were looking at was a hand.

Barely a few inches long, the little limb flexed and grasped at nothing, making the veins stretching over Ezra’s shoulder pulsate disgustingly. Covering your mouth you stumbled backwards and away from the unknown entity, nearly tripping over the wet clothing on the floor. It didn’t make any move towards you, but you couldn’t be in the same room with it any longer, deciding that somewhere in the doctor’s research there must be something that could help you.

Panic-stricken, you told the sleeping prospector not to go anywhere before dashing from the room to where you kept the handwritten journals of a dead man. There was so much information that you'd had to sift through while learning the cliff notes of healing that you'd never actually taken the time to explore the doctor's other interests.

Aurelac.

The doctor had left this part of the compound in a hurry, notes had been thrown around in a disorganized flurry when you’d discovered it, and none of them had probably made it even close to the correct order when you tried to file them back away. Once or twice, when the cool nights had you shivering, you’d debated burning the nonsense notations for warmth, but bookburning wasn’t in your blood.

Most of them had been written in a scrawling hand, the penmanship deteriorating with each page you dug up. It was almost all illegible nonsense, nothing like the anatomical references you had studied, the sentences strung together in the words of a madman.

‘Aurelac gestation…queen’s venom... similar chromosomes. Under spe-ific conditions… formation of… amniotic sack… re-ductive org-... ov-lation…”

You pieced together what you could, stitching a quiltwork of information together in the hopes that you could uncover some way to save Ezra, but nothing seemed to make any sense, and what you could even read became less and less helpful as the hours dragged on.

Night fell without your notice, the sun slipping behind the thick vegetation, stealing away the soft ambient light filtering through the tent canvas until you were straining your eyes in the halo of light from your little desk lamp. Words like corruption and transformation swam before your tired eyes, as meaningless as they had been from the moment you sat down.

-Squeak... squeak... squeak... squeak...-

The rhythmic metallic noise startled you from your research, the high pitched grate of it making your teeth itch, but even in your exhausted state you could tell it was coming from the infirmary.

-Squeak... squeak... squeak... squeak...-

Against the ice freezing in your veins you rose, the glacial burn of adrenaline begging you to run the other way, but that was your patient in there, probably suffering a seizure or thrashing in his sleep, and yet the way your hackles rose along the back of your neck told you something much worse was lurking in the dark. When you reached the scrap metal doorframe of the infirmary something else caught your attention, a smell that you didn’t recognize though it was much more pleasant than dirty prospector or the caustic rot of infection.

It smelled like blueberries.

"Ez? Y'ok?" You called, taking a handful of confused, cautious sniffs. It didn’t smell like the artificially flavored jerky you were accustomed to, it was organic, the richness of it hitting you in the face like you’d just walked into a farmers market and making your mouth water. Licking your lips to keep your spit back, you hunted for one of the kerosene lamps that should be somewhere on the wall, but a pained groan froze you in place.

"Turtledove~"

Half rasped, half moaned, Ezra called to you over the incessant squeaking that was coming from his bunk, and that paired with the panting you could hear sent a sickening heat to pool unbidden in your guts. You found the lamp finally, your fingers shaking as you turned the knob and cast the room into a warm yellow light that barely reached the farthest corners, but it was enough to reveal the source of all your mysteries.

Ezra had managed to roll over onto his left side, curled up in a little ball, his right arm fisted in the sheet- his right arm? Ezra didn’t have a right arm.

And yet now he did, but it wasn’t the one he had been born with.

Where the protuberance had been just hours ago, a long, well-muscled limb had grown and taken root, the three little spikes now full length fingers tearing holes in the flimsy cotton up near his face. It had an elbow, a wrist, and fingers, but that’s where the humanity of it ended. His skin - if you could call it that - shimmered the dark green color of algae growing around the lip of a sewer drain in plates of exoskeletal segments, catching the light of the kerosene lamp as June beetles do when the sun hits them just right.

Yet somehow that wasn’t the worst of it.

His left hand, trapped under his body, burrowed calloused fingers underneath the sheet covering his groin, trying desperately to relieve himself of the achy swelling tenting his blanket. With each rock of his hips against his still-human palm, the old rusty bedframe under him squeaked and squealed enough to make your teeth rattle in their sockets, but the needling in your jaw wasn’t strong enough to distract you from the night time activities of your patient.

Ezra the lobster boy was jerkin’ it.

“Please, turtledove, I-I need… I need your help…” he drawled, his fingers twisting around himself under the straining fabric. “H-hurts…”

His cry of help startled you from where you had been slack-jaw gawking at his insectoid appendage, but your feet would not obey your healer heart to move. “Ez…” you soothed, putting your hands up in a sign of peace. “Where does it hurt?”

The prospector groaned, convulsing in on himself, his new claws puncturing the threadbare mattress under him, catching on the springs. “E-e-every… everywhere! Please, make it stop!”

The words that next left your mouth competed with the temperature of your cheeks, your face unsure if it should be icy with fear or flush with embarrassment. “Can you… can you please take… for fucks sake, can you take your hand off your dick?!”

“HURTS!” Ezra nearly screamed, his face contorting in pain, drowning out all his pleasure. “C-can’t… can’t stop, hurts!”

His short, clipped sentences were so out of character for him, and maybe that was the final straw that got your ass in gear towards him, towards your patient. Hanging the lantern up made Ezra even more shiny and glistening, his body coated in sweat, his lips wet with spit, or maybe tears. That big, bug-like claw looked even more intimidating up close, his muscles flexing under softer chitin segments, its three dagger-like fingers safely embedded in your mattress.

Your heart thundered in your chest, matching the beat of the drum between your legs. You couldn’t help it. Here was this gorgeous yet extremely unsettling man fisting his cock on your bed; and you were inches away from getting to see it in all its glory. “Ez, is this where it hurts the most?” you asked, pointing to the pumping of his fist. He gave a strangled ‘uh-huh’, his eyes flicking open just long enough to see you pointing before squeezing shut again - a flash of night-dark amber. “I’m gonna have to take a look, take your hand away, please?”

There was a stillness in the air for a moment when he sucked in his breath, stealing all the oxygen from the room at what you were asking. He almost couldn’t let himself go, but when he finally did, and his human hand dragged out from under the sheet, up the soft plush of his abdomen and into the light of the lantern, something else dragged with it.

Something very… wet.

Ezra’s fingers, and now his belly, shimmered with an inhuman amount of precum, the sudden appearance of it flooding the room with even more of that blueberry aroma. He left a snail-trail up his abdomen as he took his hand away, the thick, viscous fluid soaking into the hair on his belly. “Hurry…” he moaned, his face contorted with pain, the tip of his cock pushing desperately against the sheet, soaking right through it with the same ambrosial liquid and leaving a sizable stain.

Hurry.

You reached for the sheets’ edge, flinching when the buck of his hips made the bulge of his cock arc towards you. You took three big breaths, and yanked the sheet back, throwing it over Ezra’s naked butt and revealing every inch of him to the world.

And oh, how many inches is that?

Your brain made windows’ shutdown noises at the new spectacle before you. The soft, chilly dick of the man you had tossed in your bed was no more, and in its place a long, almost fluorescent green spire grew. It curved in an undulating wave of emerald flesh, pulsating with veins clearly visible under the translucent skin. Every inch of it shimmered with wet, from the girthy, hair-nested base of his balls to the now-pointed, elongated tip. His new cock throbbed under your observation, dragging his hips forwards, begging to be touched.

“Look how it aches for you, turtledove…” Ezra purred from under the fortress of his chitinous arm, the sound of a feral grin haloing his words. “How badly it needs you, wants you… How badly… I… want you…”

Between the filth of his words, the sight of his otherworldly nudity, and the now sickeningly-sweet scent of honeyed fruit cloying the air so thickly you could taste it, you were tempted to take him up on that offer. “Thought you said it hurt, Ez?”

“So much! Can’t…” his left arm flailed a bit from where it was trapped under his body, the muscles in his right claw straining to free it from the mattress. “Can’t get any… any release… Please?”

“I’m not gonna jerk you-” you started to say, glaring at him from under your brow, but when something squelched between your fingers you gasped with surprise, finding that your hand had disobeyed you and wrapped around him of its own bidding. “-ok, I guess I am.”

Ezra’s moan was so strong it could have brought the tent down if it was any louder, his needy cries of pleasure fueling the fire growing in the pit of your stomach. He rocked his cock into your hand, the slimy thing slipping over your palm with ease. It was big, bigger than anything you’d ever seen on a man, maybe even bigger than you’d seen on some animals. Your fingers didn’t even curl all the way around at his base, but twisted easily around his weeping tip. Your hand was quickly as covered in warm precum as his had been, an unnatural amount that dribbled down your wrist and pooled on the bed.

You had to resist the urge to lick yourself clean.

“S-so good, so soft…” he groaned, rolling his hips in time with your strokes. “A-are you… this soft… all over?” His left hand squirmed out from under his body until his human fingers reached you, gliding gently over your bare breasts. The sensation startled you, forgetting that you were topless, but hey it’s your fuckin house. His long arm followed you back, groping now, squeezing the pillowly flesh of your chest so it spilled between his fingers. Some phantom voice in the back of your mind told you he probably should get a smack for that, but having a strong man’s hands lovingly caressing your breast made you shiver in delight, and so you let him continue to stroke you while you stroked him.

“Is the pain f-fading, Ez?” you asked, your voice more of a hoarse whisper than you intended.

“Yeah, yeah turtle d-dove, but… would feel better… inside...?”

Some semblance of common sense slapped your frontal lobe. “No, Ez, I’m not putting that in anything. You’re just gonna have to-”

“Need… need to…” Ezra rasped, the muscles in his alien shoulder flexing and straining. “N… need! NEED!”

-rrRRIIPP!-

The freshly-molted claws tore through the bedding, making it rain bits of cotton and fabric, turning the little infirmary into your own personal snow globe. Viciously-sharp talons shoved against your sternum, launching you back onto your ass and almost knocking your skull against the other cot. Scrambling for purchase, you scuttled away from where Ezra was pulling himself upright, his eyes locked to you with deadly focus, his face twisted into a snarl. You lept to your feet before he could clamber off the bed, practically on all fours as you flew through the scrap metal door, slamming it behind you.

Within seconds Ezra was thundering against it, pounding his fists and raging on the other side of the variegated metal. “Come back, turtledove! I need you! WE NEED YOU!!” He clawed at the door, the rusty iron screeching under his new claws and vibrating up where your spine was pressed against the door.

Your heart like a rabbit in your chest, you frantically looked around the tiny space for something, anything, that would help. Somewhere there should be tranquilizers, right? Fuck, those are back in the infirmary. Maybe something to smack him over the head with? You glanced around for a blunt weapon when your eyes fell on a different type of defense: the thrower pistol.

It was on the far side of the room, but you knew it had at least one charge in it. One good shot. You didn’t want to hurt Ezra, but the monster on the other side of the door, pushing on it so hard it slammed against the doorframe with each attack, wasn’t giving you any other options.

You were going to have to kill him.

You braced your stance, waiting for him to hit the door one more time before launching yourself across the room, ducking to grab the pistol right as the door was thrown open so hard it broke off its ramshackle hinges. You flipped around, aimed the gun, and fired.

-*BANG!*-

Ezra howled in pain, clutching the new hole in his right shoulder with his still-human hand, his canines flashing in rage. Instead of blood, some kind of thick, black ichor dribbled from the wound and down his exoskeleton arm, running in riverettes off his clawed fingers. Undeterred, he lurched towards you, your brain kicking into overdrive to escape. You dodged the naked man’s grasp, instinct telling you to run outside, but the Green’s unforgiving pollen would kill you slowly, at least with Ezra you had a fighting chance.

So that’s what you did, you fought.

You swung a punch at him as he fumbled for you, catching him deftly in the side of his skull, but just like with the bullet hole he seemed unphased in his new anatomy. You swung again, and this time he caught you, his long, segmented fingers digging harshly into your wrist. You struck out with your other arm, only to meet the same fate, and when you resorted to kicking, he kicked back, taking your feet out from under you and putting you on your back.

“That wasn’t very nice of you, turtledove,” he snarled, straddling you under him while keeping your arms captive, his neon green dick oozing onto your bare belly. The precum was warmer now, hot almost, so close to your own sex. He smiled venomously down at you, the deep brown of his irises ringed with a threatening shade of gold. “It’s ok though, a little boo-boo ain’t gonna make me like you any less. I must express to you my desires, beautiful.” He said with a grind of his hips, his upper body leaning over yours, pinning you to the ground like an insect in a display case. “You have vexed and haunted my fantasies since the day I laid eyes on you, and now, to have you for myself… Well, maybe not just for me. For… us.”

“Get off me! Ezra, this isn’t you! Let me go! Let me help you!” You squirmed in his iron grip, trying to get a knee up into his back. He hooked his legs over yours, completely disabling you.

“‘Fraid I can’t do that, birdie. I have my orders.” He sighed at your furrowed brow. “You can’t hear her? She sent me to you. She chose you.”

You made a mental note to add auditory hallucinations to his chart. “Fuck are you talking about? Who? Who do you hear, Ez? Who is telling you to do this?!” you were pleading now, hoping buying into his charade would earn you your freedom, but he only tightened his grip, grinding his hips down onto yours.

“The Queen.”

Ezra surged forward, dropping his mouth to yours in a bruising kiss, taking you completely off guard. His tongue took advantage of the surprise, probing deeply into your mouth, hunting for your own to tangle with. The taste of summer fruit flooded your mouth with his tongue, so strong you thought it might choke you until it actually did. His drool was as thick and viscous as the stuff dribbling from his cock, sloughing from his mouth into yours until you were forced to drink it down.

It warmed your mouth, your tongue, your cheeks, and the back of your throat, oozing down your gullet in a wave of hot pleasure that made your eyes roll back. Ezra’s teeth nipped at your lower lip, licking deeply with every chaste kiss until you were kissing him back. Whatever toxin was in his saliva was quickly having an effect, leaving you lust-drunk on his kisses alone. He ground his hips down on you, dragging his extraterrestrial appendage over the skin of your tummy, and you raised your own hips up to meet him.

He hummed delightedly into the cavern of your mouth, lapping and laving his way around like a giddy teenager’s first kiss, pulling away with an obscene smack of his lips. Spit-glistened and swollen, his own mouth was turned upwards in a boyish grin. “We knew you were perfect, sweet songbird, we knew this was where we were meant to come. We knew you would be the one.”

Haze filtered in around your sight, making everything in the room fuzzy in a way that it almost didn’t want to be seen; everything but the man poised above you. Ezra almost seemed to be glowing, drawing your gaze to him and him alone. As his hips gyrated on the wrong side of yours, the heat in your gut surged down to your groin, making your cunt throb with need and turning your panties sticky with wet.

“What.. what’ve you done… done t’me?”

“Why, we’re just gettin’ the festivities around for your coronation, darlin’,” Ezra purred, a string of words that didn’t make a lick of sense, the most glaring of all was his constant use of we. You felt his hands unspool from your wrists finally, but your arms would not obey you and laid limply on the floor, drunk on whatever Ezra had poured into you. He sat up fully and dismounted you, dragging his mismatched hands over your heated skin. “So beautiful, wanna touch all of you, don’t be shy now.”

He paused at your breasts, your nipples pebbled almost painfully hard, so sensitive that when he wrapped his strange fingers around them you cried out and arched your back, pressing your tits into his warm hands. The drawl of his praises made your skin prickle, soft good girls and oh, aren’t you gorgeous prayed to the altar of your body. He bent to kiss your soft skin, the bristles of his upper lip dragging euphorically across your flesh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

He kissed all the way down your torso to the ratty waistband of your sweatpants, leaving a halo of gentle, benign kisses around your belly button. His caring caresses belied his alien arm and drooling appendage, making him, for a moment, nothing more than a man.

Ezra hooked his eight fingers in the waistband and pulled, tugging your sweats and panties off in one go, tossing them somewhere unknown. You should be angry, embarrassed, furious even with him undressing you against your will, but your blood pounded like a volcano in your ears, threatening to pyroclast right out your cunt if your burning need wasn’t addressed. Ezra sat back on his haunches and whistled, scrubbing his chin with his three-clawed hand. “Ain’t you a pretty sight, all slick and wet, that just for us?” He purred, sliding his fleshier finger through the slick coating your thighs and bringing it up to his lips to taste. “Mmmph, perfect. Could smell you for miles, birdie, but to taste you, now that is truly divine.”

Warm hands pushed your knees apart, revealing your cunt to him fully. The slap of cold air on your sensitive nethers pulsed in your brain like you’d been doused in cold water, and suddenly the moment became all too real.

He was going to fuck you.

Some semblance of control spurred your legs and limbs, and you flailed, flipping onto your hands and knees to try and flee. You screamed when Ezra dug into your hips, dragging you back towards him. His claws scrambled up the right side of your body until he had your neck in his long fingers, the razor sharp tips pressing threateningly into your jugular and forcing your head back. “Now now,” he seethed in your ear, nipping and licking at the side of your face. “Don’t go makin’ this any harder than it has to be, birdie. We’re gonna make you feel good, don’t you worry now.” He bit you, sinking his teeth so hard into your neck you knew he broke the skin, warm blood and venomous spit trickling down over his nightmare-green fingers.

The familiar heat spiked into your bloodstream again, and you were quickly pliant in his grip. “There, isn’t that better? You’re strong, ain’tcha? Knew you would be. Knew it had to be you.” Behind you, Ezra kicked your legs further apart with his knees, lining his dripping cock up with your slick heat and plunging forward, bottoming right out and making you instantly see stars. “FuuuUUCK! What a tight little cunt! So.. fucking... tight… and… wet!”

He punctuated each word with an experimental thrust, forcing you to open up more around him without giving you a chance to let your body accommodate, but your insides were soon slick with his precum and yours, letting him glide in almost effortlessly save for the inhuman size. The claws around your throat tightened slightly, rooting you in place while Ezra fucked you to his liking. The tip of him pushed and pulsed aggressively against your cervix, trying to rearrange your guts with each stroke.

“That feel good, songbird?” he mused in your ear, biting the lobe. Your mind said no but your body screamed yes, moaning and clenching around him, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “Bet it does. Gonna feel even better when I pump ya full. Make ya mine allll MINE!”

He left one more feral bite on your shoulder and pulled himself back, pushing a palm between your shoulder blades and forcing you down from your elbows onto your face, ass high in the air just for him. He readjusted his knees, his grabby fingers taking generous fistfuls of your ass, and slammed himself home.

The wet slap of skin on inhuman skin echoed faintly in the little ramshackle tent, mixing with his growls and your whines, the wet drip of juices pouring out of your cunt splattering on the bare floor and leaving a slippery mess between your legs. Ezra was an animal behind you, fucking you like it was his last day alive, sweat tracking down his face and chest, sticking to your ass and thighs with every brain-melting thrust. A five-fingered hand slipped down your hip towards your mound, fishing sloppily for your clit to rub vicious little circles against. You keened in pain and pleasure, bearing you walls down around his length, making it squelch obscenely.

“That’s it… thaaaat’s it, little bird, come for us. Be a good girl and come so we can fill that belly proper.” That velvet baritone slipped like sin up your spine, curling in your veins until it snapped, making you gush around him. He groaned and picked up the pace, fucking you like a man possessed, as if his only reason for living was to pound your pussy into oblivion. “Yes… YES! Gonna… gonna.. f-fuuUUUCK!”

Ezra plowed forward, making room for himself in your already-too-full cunt by breaking through the gates of your womb, the pointy tip of him slipping past your cervix and pouring his cum into you. Your body seized up under the foreign intrusion, cold sweat breaking on your brow, a scream dying in your throat while you scrambled for purchase on the hard, barren floor.

It was like gallons of molten syrup were being spilled into you, hot and slick and unbelievably filling. Each little desperate rock of Ezra’s hips against your ass made more and more of him fill into you, and it didn’t stop. He was growling, snarling, feral with each pump, the base of his cock swelling wide inside of you into a sort of knot, giving nowhere for his cum to go but in.

And in… and in… and in it went.

You felt the weight of him growing inside you, pushing against your abdominal wall until your skin tingled from the inside. More and more of his juices flooded your womb, distending it, filling it, stretching it until you could feel it hanging heavily underneath you. The feeling of fullness was like nothing you’d ever experienced, swaying gently from your belly with each of Ezra’s last thrusts.

When he finally stilled, he was heaving breathlessly, his chest almost spasming with his burning lungs. He threw his head back and gasped for air, letting his synapses swim in the serotonin he had so valiantly earned. Those dangerous hands of his crept gently to your hips, drawing tender, loving circles around your bruised hipbones and red asscheeks, marked with his passing conquest. From there, he let himself wander down your sides to your tummy, cupping the new roundess with almost fatherly devotion.

“So good to us…” he whispered with a slide of his palms, splaying his fingers wide over your taut skin. “She will live on now, after she dies. Through you, little bird. You should be so proud.”

You couldn’t make sense of his words, you couldn’t make sense of anything really, your mind becoming cloudy with exhaustion; probably a side effect of the venom. Your own ragged breath fogged up the floorboards, leaving a steaming ghost of moisture on each pant. Before you succumbed entirely to the darkness growing behind your eyes, you felt Ezra lean forward, trailing kisses of admiration up your spine, your shoulders, your neck, your throat, brushing his scratchy lips against your ears, the crack of his mouth splitting into a grin to whisper,

“All hail the Queen.”

You woke up bleary eyed and naked on the floor of your shack, the soft light of the nearby orange planet warming the golden tones of the sunlight streaming in through the little plastic window. Your head hurt, a migraine threatening to break between your ears, trying to convince you to go back to sleep. Rubbing at your eyes, you tried to remember why you were on the floor. Strange visions danced in your mind, of strangers from the stars and space aliens with insect arms, paired with thoughts of dangerous men and being ravaged on the floor of your own home.

Had… had that all been a dream?

Perhaps staying on the Green so long wasn’t as good of an idea as you’d thought if living on fruit jerky and instant espresso was going to make you go crazy. You began to sit up, desperate for a shirt and a cup of coffee, when the arm flung over your waist coiled tighter.

You didn’t need coffee anymore.

Adrenaline seared through your veins when you looked at the arm keeping you hostage. Dark emerald green, covered in chitinous plates and ending in wicked sharp claws; the alien of your nightmare alive and well, and apparently spooning you. Ezra’s inhuman palm flattened and dragged lovingly over the next of your waking nightmares: your sudden pregnancy.

Fuck you were big, swollen and full, of what you didn’t know. Couldn’t be a human baby… that should have taken months, not hours. And yet you looked all the world like a mother to be, with your baby daddy coiled around your backside.

Ezra shifted when your breaths quickened, adding another fun fact to your growing list. His cock, still hard and inflated at the base, was still lodged in your cunt, keeping any of his cum from leaking; though your legs and thighs, as well as the ground under you was soaked through.

“Ez… Ez wake up. Ez wake up right now.” you demanded, trying to shuffle your hips to dislodge him, but that knot was firmly wedged inside you.

His arm tightened, and he nuzzled the back of your head with sleepy kisses. “Mmm.. don’ wanna… sleepy.”

“EZRA!” You were done being nice, shouting the prospector awake with a frightening start. “Get your fucking dick out of me right now or I’m gonna cut it off!”

“Do what, huh?! HUH?!” Ezra’s deep southern voice climbed more octaves than you thought capable, keening with surprise. “The hell you mean, OH! Shit fucking hell!?” Words escaped him while he tried to escape you, struggling to pull his cock free against the knot. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry! How!? How did?!” He was almost screaming, his terror sticking in his throat in sudden silence when the knot finally slipped free, a salacious pop preluding the gush of juices that poured out of you with his release.

The loss of him made you whine and ache, suddenly empty but still furious. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember, bug boy! You fucked me! And apparently knocked me up while you were at it!”

Ezra put distance between you, his claws tacka-tackaing on the floor finally drawing his attention to his new arm. He screamed and flailed, trying to shake it off, then trying to rip it off, but it was as well attached as the arm that had once been there; the one made of meat and bone instead of plates of chitin. “WHAT IN KEVVA’S CHAOS IS THAT!?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.” you rolled up onto your butt, your heavy womb sitting in the bowl of your crossed legs. “You came here after a run-in with the ‘aurelac queen’, and now you’re a lobster and I’m preggers. Explain yourself, fuckwit!”

“I-I-I….” he stammered, looking between you and his claw, paleing even further at his softening cock, the brilliant green of it darkening as it finally came to rest. “I… I don’t… I don’t know.”

“THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T- oh. Oh no…” your verbal punishment was cut short by a sudden gurgling in your guts, your full womb twitching with an incoming cramp storm. All the blood drained from your face, a cold sweat breaking out over every inch of your body when your maternal instinct warned you that it was time. “Ezra… whatever it is… it’s coming.”

He looked at you, frozen, confused and scared, and for a moment the half man, half… whatever the fuck that was, seemed to be carved out of marble instead of flesh. Then he was all motion, hurrying to you, hands moving you gently, asking you in a frightened whisper what you needed him to do, as if you fucking knew.

All you knew now was fear, and suddenly pain as the contractions started, tearing a wailing cry from your throat. Ezra eased you onto your back, pushing something soft under your head as a pillow. “Is there something I can give you? Medicine? Something to make it easier? Oh turtledove I’m so sorr-”

“Shut up Ezra! This is YOUR FAULT!” you barked with rage, words like daggers. Ez swallowed dryly at the verbal assault, but he wasn’t leaving your side, no matter how mad at him you were. There might have been something in your med kit to ease the pain, but the contractions were coming too fast, and all you could do was squeeze his hand so hard you almost broke it.

“That’s it, that’s it darlin’, push, I-I see somethin…” Ezra cried from between your legs, ready to catch whatever was coming out. “You got it, you’re doin’ it! I see… what… what is that!?”

You couldn’t hear his fresh terror over your screams and the blood pounding in your ears as whatever was inside you squeezed out your channel and into Ezra’s clawed palm. Head back, vision obscured by your own swollen middle, you couldn’t see what you had just birthed, all you could see was Ezra’s horrified face. There was no crying, no newborn squall, and between the silence and the staring you felt your heart break. “Ez.. Ez please, I need to see… is it a boy or a girl?”

He shook his head, sucking his lips between his teeth. “Um... it’s neither.” He sat back on his haunches and lifted your creation up with shaky hands. Instead of anything resembling a human, what he held was a whitish, pearlescent sac, trailing an umbilical down to your cunt. It was something you were undoubtedly familiar with, but had no business coming out of your snatch. “It’s-”

“Aurelac?”

“That’s… what it looks like. I’ve been prospecting for years an’ I’ve never seen anything like this.” Ezra nearly whispered, turning the gemsack around in his hands, testing the weight of it. “Feels like a big one, too. I can start cut-” You cut him off with another cry of pain, convulsing in on yourself with fresh contractions. “Shit, you got more in there?!” he balked when you nodded, moving the first aurelac out of the way and readying himself for the second. “I’ll do anything ya need me to do, just tell me!”

“Touch… touch…” you babbled, tears streaming down your face. “Need, need -ah!!- need your hands! Help, please!” You arched your back, fighting the contractions to make demands of Ezra with your body.

He was on you in a flash, rubbing gentle circles around your clit with his left hand, exchanging pain for pleasure with each careful dip into your stretched cunt. “There ya go, that’s a good girl, make you come those out, huh?” He laughed nervously, about as confused as you were but happy to be of service. Dark green fingers trailed carefully over the taut skin of your middle, feeling for the next push. “Sorry I’m not usin’ my primary weapon, but that, uh, new fangled hardware looks a tad sharp.”

You were dazed, dull to his words as the fire built inside you until it burst, squeezing another aurelac bag from your belly. Ez moved it next to the other one and continued, picking up the pace but growing sloppy using the wrong hand. “Ez…” you begged in a sweat-soaked haze, “Mouth?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Ezra scootched back a bit and dove for your cunt, wrapping his hungry lips around the engorged bud of your sex, sucking a cry of pleasure from you. He laved his tongue over you, sucking up your juices like a man starved, earning a priceless gem for every orgasm he drew from you. The wet of his mouth would have been disgusting on a better day, smacking and sucking between hums of approval and joy, burying his face in your cunt like he was planning on being buried there himself.

Cum flooded out of you, gushing over his face every time you came and dropping a fresh new aurelac sack every time. The pile grew and grew, your tummy flattening to its original size and slowly revealing the top of Ezra’s head, then his brow, and finally his eyes - closed in pleasure.

You’d never seen a more enraptured face.

When the last of your clutch was birthed, and the placenta slithered out with it, you passed out from the exhaustion of labor, deaf to Ezra’s desperate cries, begging you to stay awake as you slipped into darkness.

It was around mid-afternoon when you came to, your hungry guts waking you from your peaceful nappy. You rose and stretched, scratching yourself through the clean shirt you were wearing like a bear waking up from hibernation. You stretched your clean legs and took a deep breath, the smell of quote-unquote ‘coffee’ lighting up in your brain excitedly.

“Hey, you’re awake! How are you feeling?” The soft southern drawl of your now-familiar prospector didn’t startle you like it should, instead it curled warmth and soothing desire through your heart. Ezra approached cautiously, a mug of bean water in hand. “I made you some coffee, if that’s alright.”

The memory of your strange dreams sat on the tip of your tongue, ready to exchange a story for the cup of coffee, but when you saw his hand you knew they had been real.

All of it had been real.

Ezra saw you look at his hand and began to withdraw it in shame, only for you to catch it first. He didn’t resist as you turned it over, examining the exoskeletal joints and the softer spaces between the bone-hard plates. His palm was soft for the most part, and warm, so you placed your face in it, holding him to you. He stiffened with a conflicted breath, then slowly drew the jagged thumb across your cheek.

There was some kind of connection now between you, something that shouldn’t have been but was. A link that could never be broken, a song serenading your heart with a word usually attributed to animals, not men.

Mate.

“Where’s the aurelac?” you asked softly, remembering what mating with Ezra now entailed. He cupped your face in a tiny hug and retreated to find your clutch.

“You got eight of them in total! I went ahead and cleaned them up, got ‘em harvested.” He beamed like a proud parent, presenting the bowl full of glittering gemstones. They were bigger than any you’d ever seen, the size of Ezra’s balled fist each. “I don’t understand it a lick, but uh, I think whatever’s happened to us has made us the richest pair of miscreants on this entire moon.” His smile faded when you fixed him a glare at the word ‘us’, swallowing dryly. “You, my apologies, turtle dove, these are yours. The hand I played in their creation was downright deplorable. You should’a put a bullet in my skull the moment you saw me amblin’ through the woods. I didn’t come here on my own thoughts, somethin’ else was driving me.” He gestured to the wound on his thigh, now covered by a stolen pair of your sweats. “It was the queen, her stinger- it put somethin’ in my head. I could hear ‘er dyin’, tellin’ me to-”

“Shh, Ez, it’s alright. It’s not your fault. You weren’t in control.” You reached up to caress his face, but he caught you and shook his head.

“Do not forgive my actions, little bird. I should be strung up for what I did to you. Please, take that aurelac and buy yourself passage off this miserable moon, get as far away from me as you can! Because this,” he held up his claw, turning the shiny carapace over in the light. “Ain’t comin’ off, and I don’t know if the… urge… will come over me again! You don’t deserve to be violated in such a way.”

He wasn’t wrong, you didn’t deserve any of that. You sighed real big, glancing between the heaping bowl of gold and the rugged, handsome face of the man who had accidentally gifted it to you. He was - when he wasn’t under the control of an alien - a sweet and caring man. Hardworking and strong, and by the look of shame in his eyes, loyal to the end.

You grazed your fingertips over the gemstones, feeling their smooth surfaces, watching the way the dappled sunlight sparkled in the drops of solid gold at their centers. They were perfect in every way, and would fetch enough points to buy anything your heart desired. Ezra probably knew this, but a flicker of deviousness drew you to say “I don’t think this is going to be enough to buy any sort of passage off the Green, might need a couple more…”

He nodded, “I-I can go prospecting, let me get my suit back on, I’ll dig up as many as-”

You caught him before he could get too far. “That’s… not what I meant.”

He stilled in your grip, brow furrowed, plush lips parted with confusion before he figured it out. He was ready to get as far away from you as you wanted him to be, to accept any punishment you saw fit. He wasn’t expecting to be invited back into your arms.

Slowly, he leaned forward, dipping his face cautiously towards you as if you would bite it off, but was instead rewarded with the slight upward tilt of your lips, and the flick of your gaze roving over his own. Your lips met softly, gently, almost a whisper of a kiss before each of you pushed closer. This was not the violent, bruising kiss he had first given you, this was one of unplanned devotion. It was like Kevva xerself had blessed this strange union, drawing you together for reasons only the divine could interpret.

Ezra smelled nice up close, the horrible prospector stink long gone, and only the faintest blueberry strudel remnants clung to the earthy scent of his body. He was warm and soft in the places you needed him to be, even his horror-hand seemed delicate with you. You could get used to it.

You both pulled away for air, stealing each other's breath away in the space between you. “So, what’d’ya say, Ez? You wanna treat me to that dance you were so adamant about? See where that takes us?"

He laughed softly, those honeywell eyes of his sparkling with giddy excitement, only the slightest twinge of unsuredness around their golden edges. “For you, my queen? Anything.”

TAGLIST

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[absolutelyfizzing]

unwanted feelings

james potter x reader

description - You'd had a crush on James Potter for years and when he kisses Lily Evans in front of you, you are heart broken. Later you find that he didn't actually feel as you expected and he explains himself.

warnings - some angst, unsure reader, fem pronouns, self doubt, negative self talk, not eating for a day cause reader is avoiding someone

word count - 2800

A/N - so this one isn't my best work by far but i wrote it so looks like its getting posted. i don't know why all of my reader inserts lately are so fem and sort of bubbly, i guess it's sort of what i'm aiming for for myself right now but i'm sorry if it maybe isn't coming off as relatable.

MASTERLIST

Your throat tightened in anxiety as you watched James zoom around the pitch. He was reckless when he was playing quidditch and it was one of the things that made him great at the game and an excellent captain. It was also the thing that nearly gave you a heart attack every time you watched him play. You went to every one of his games and you always wore something of his with his colors when you were in the stands. You were stood up on your seat and a slightly bored looking Remus sat to your right, reading from a book you didn't recognize. You'd thought that Sirius playing would be enough to keep him interested but sports was just not something he enjoyed watching. You were usually that way as well but whenever James was playing, suddenly you were the most intent spectator in the stands.

You were more worried than you should have been. More worried than what was appropriate for a friend to be. That's what you were, friends. That had been reinforced many times by the shaggy haired boy and you tried desperately to get it through your head before you embarrassed yourself one of these days. Sometimes though, you just couldn't help it.

Really you might have thought he reciprocated if you didn't know any better. You often got comments on what an attractive couple you guys were but each time it was quickly corrected by James. Normally along the lines of 'Oh god no, we are just friends. Purely platonic' , sometimes followed by a shudder or a gag even. It upset you every time to no end but you played along. You rarely, if ever, contributed to the shooting down of any feelings but that was never noticed by the man you had feelings for.

You'd had a crush on him since you were probably in your second year and now you were coming to the middle of your seventh. There were a million times that you almost said something but every time there was a reminder that you were not the one he had eyes for. It usually took the shape of disgust at the thought of dating you or commentary as he pined over the Evans girl who you felt you could never compete with. How could you when she was just perfect. You saw her to the left of you as she stood in the stands as well and your hands shook with insecurity before looking back toward the game. Your heart raced nearly as quickly as James did around the pitch and you prayed that the snitch would be caught soon so that you could get rid of the stress surrounding you. You felt a hand on your right shoulder and you looked over to find Remus had stood and was looking at you caringly.

"Are you alright, Y/N?" He asked softly and you tried your very best to soften your gaze and calm your stance so you appeared less concerned with someone that you shouldn't have that much interest in in the first place.

"Of course I am. When am I not?" You smiled before looking out at the pitch.

"When youre watching the guy you're in love with play a dangerous game that you don't like." He stated simply in response to the question you meant to be rhetorical and your eyes widened.

"I don't know what youre talking about." You nearly whispered and Remus smiled.

"I'm not gonna tell anyone Y/N but its not exactly subtle. It probably doesn't help that I know the look on your face because it's how I feel too watching Sirius play." He was still smirking but your anxiety was far from eased.

"Oh god, does he know?" You asked scaredly, terrified that the answer would be yes and you would have to stop spending time with him.

"Shockingly, no." You sighed out in relief but Remus continued. "You should tell him though or else he might end up moving on."

"What do you mean? There's nothing for him to move on from. Everyone knows he's in love with Evans and he has made it pretty clear that he is opposed to being anything more than a friendly relationship with me." You choked out, struggling with the words leaving your lips but knowing them to be true.

"I mean he has a minor crush on Evans but it's nothing compared to the annoyingly huge crush he has on you. He's probably just overcompensating for the fact that he's insecure and doesn't want you to reject him."

"Why are you telling me this?" You asked sincerely. You were friends with Remus as you were with the rest of the marauders but it was nothing compared to the friendship they held within their group. You knew Remus was more loyal to James than to you so you couldn't understand why, if it was true, Remus would be telling you at all.

"Because he is trying desperately to move on seeing as he is under the impression that you aren't into him and I'd hate to see him throw something away that could be really good for him." Remus smiled gently and you looked at him gratefully.

"I really appreciate you telling me and all but I just don't think I can believe you. I can't even count how many times he has made a big show of not liking me. I love him too much to ruin what we have and I know that if I confessed and it went bad that I would lose him all together. I would rather have him in my life in a way that hurts than not have him in it at all." You stated sadly and Remus sighed but nodded in understanding.

"I get it but just know that I'm being honest and pretty soon he is going to give up on it. I just want to see you both happy but if its too big of a leap, I understand. That's exactly the excuse he tells the rest of us too."

Suddenly cheers erupted from the stands, cutting your conversation with Remus off as everyone ran to rush the pitch. The snitch had been caught and gryffindor won. You were excited for James but you were also a little terrified to walk onto the pitch to see him with the now conflicted thoughts running through your head. Your thoughts were stopped by the image in front of you which was causing the whole crowd to cheer. James had pulled Lily Evans into a kiss in his excitement and your heart stopped. You felt nausea rise in your throat and Remus caught your eye with a sympathetic look. You didn't look at him for longer than a second and you ran off the pitch with tears streaming down your face. You found your way up to your dorm, pushing yourself to get there quickly before the common room filled with students celebrating their victory. James was always one to love attention so he would be getting crazy after the game which he did just about every time they won.

When you made it to your bed, you hurried under the covers, throwing the shirt you were wearing which belonged to James onto the floor. You felt your heart clench at the despair you felt. You wanted to be upset at Remus for getting your hopes up but you knew he was sincere in his want to help. Still you felt that you would probably not be able to face James in the weeks to come. Maybe, given a little time, you could be around him and not be upset at the world for taking away your chance with him. As you laid in your bed, you stared at the ceiling. You felt tears streaming down your face and you grew angry at yourself. He didn't owe you anything, he wasn't into you. That wasn't his fault and it was so unfair of you to expect anything more from him when your feelings were not his responsibility.

You weren't sure how long you laid there but you could hear the party start and end in the common room. It must have been late. Sleep wouldnt come though, you could just feel your heart continue to break and you were stuck in a loop of self pity. You made the decision that the following days would be spent away from James if you could at all help it. That was probably what he wanted anyway and it was the only way that you would get over the pain you were feeling. At some point your roomates entered your dorm and sleep overtook you for a few restless hours.

When you woke up, the sun was barely on the rise. You hurried up and got dressed and ready. You were planning on getting to breakfast early to avoid running into any of the marauders. You found your plans were not going how you wanted when you entered the great hall to find a head of red hair next to a mop of black. Your throat tightened and you quickly moved to turn and head out of the great hall. You heard a familiar voice call your name but you rushed out before you could give it too much thought. You knew that if you let him try to convince you, you would end up having a very upsetting breakfast with your best friend and his new lover. You would rather avoid breakfast.

Throughout the day, avoiding James was proving to be harder than you had thought it would be. You had many of your classes with him and you even sat next to him in a few. He was insistently trying to get you to open up about why you were suddenly so closed off to him but you remained shut off, reassuring him that nothing was wrong and you were just a little tired from the game the day before. You avoided lunch for the same reason as you had avoided breakfast and you felt yourself starting to get a bit lightheaded. Your afternoon was spent avoiding James but soon he was preoccupied with Lily anyway.

You were hid in a corner of the library when a cough alerted you of someone's presence. You looked up to find the very eyes you hadn't wanted to see.

You pushed it down with a gulp and smiled a bit at him, trying desperately to keep the tears at bay but they were growing harder to hold back after keeping everything pent up all day. It probably didn't help that you were hungry and therefor a bit more emotional. You could feel the tears sitting in your eyes, waiting for something to go wrong so they had an excuse to escape you.

"I don't know what I did wrong." He mumbled while looking at the floor in front of you and you took a deep breath.

"There's nothing wrong James, I promise. It's just been a long day." You smiled and your heart picked up speed.

"Since when did we lie to each other?" He questioned and your heart stopped. You were left unsure how to respond.

"Since the truth would cause more damage than good." You spoke honestly. At this he looked up at you and your eyes met. A tear left you and James immediately moved to comfort you but you tried to move away, standing quickly to evade him. You regretted it as spots filled your vision, the lack of food catching up to you. You know that you turned a bit green for a moment because James looked slightly scared.

"Y/N I dont know whats wrong but you look like you should be getting to the hospital wing. You don't look well."

Before you could answer you felt your vision blacken and your legs give out before your consciousness left you completely.

When you woke up, you knew you were in the hospital wing. It smelled sterile and the bed was stiff underneath you. When you started to wake madam pomfrey came to check on you.

"You can't go around with an empty stomach like that again, do you hear me?" She scolded, though her eyes were soft. You nodded solemnly. "I was alerted that you hadn't been to the great hall to eat all day, you have to know that isn't good for you. I'm gonna have a prefect watch out for you the next couple days to make sure you're eating at meal times. Understood?" She asked again and once more you nodded before leaning back and sighing. You looked at your surroundings and were surprised to see the black haired boy next to your bed fast asleep. Your heart took off again and you felt trapped by your environment. As anxiety swirled around in your chest, James had woken up a bit.

"You're awake." James sighed, laced with relief. You still wouldn't make eye contact with him.  You felt the bed dip as he sat on it and you looked up to watch him put his head in his hands as he leaned over. You felt guilt fill your chest more than it already had from hating that you felt any claim over the man in front of you. You knew you were in the wrong and the last thing you wanted was to cause him any pain. "Remus talked to me." He almost whispered.

At that moment, you wished you could have apparated to anywhere else in the world. You looked back down at your lap and tears were once again brought to your eyes. You felt betrayal that Remus would reveal your feelings to James.

"I'm sorry." You apologized and you fiddled with your fingers.

"Why are you the one apologizing, I'm the one whos behaved poorly." He assures and you shake your head.

"That's not fair to yourself. You're allowed to want to be with whomever you want and my feelings should have no effect on that. You've made it clear for years that you weren't interested in me and it is my fault that I couldn't take a hint. I'm so sorry." You gushed out and tears started to fall from your eyes. You felt James get up from your bed and you prepared him to leave but instead you felt arms wrap around you and a kiss came to your head.

"Y/N I have had feelings for you for years. I was just always too scared for myself to even consider that you might feel the same." He whispered out but you felt only a different kind of pain. Even though he had now admitted his feelings, he was still dating Lily. Not you. Almost as if he could hear your thoughts he spoke quietly. "I broke it off with Evans." You pulled away immediately.

"What? Why would you do that?" You asked quickly and before he had a chance to answer you feared the worst. "Oh god is it because of me? James please dont let my feelings have any bearing on who you want to date, I can't stand the thought of being the reason you broke up. Even if we do have feelings for each other, you deserve a chance with Lily if that's what you want."

"It was mutual, actually. She understood that I had feelings for you and she said she had a crush on someone else. It just seemed like I had kissed her a bit rashly on the quidditch pitch and we agreed that we shouldn't have gotten together in the first place. It was only a day anyway." He reassured as he explained himself and you calmed a bit.

"So what does this mean." You got out, almost inaudibly.

"It means that, if you'll have me, I'd like to take you out on a date." He stated as if it were the simplest thing in the world and you almost couldn't believe your ears. Before you were even thinking you were nodding quickly, causing spots to once again fill your vision and James grabbed your shoulders to stabilize you before you both laughed. He pulled you by your shoulders toward him and he caught your lips in a kiss that somehow expressed all of the years of repressed feelings. When he pulled away he smiled at you and sat back on your bed. He spent the rest of the day with you in the hospital wing talking about all of the places he was going to take you in the coming weeks.

[dabs-into-oblivion]

Fenris sits in the Hanged Man, nursing a drink, staring blankly at the spot where Danarius' body lay. All that pain, all that magic, and still he was only a man. Fenris thinks of Hawke, out there in the city somewhere fixing someone else's problems, and his mouth twists. For a moment, in his memory, Hawke lies dead before the Arishok.

The vision passes. Fenris takes a mouthful of ale, letting it sit in his mouth long enough to lose its acidity before swallowing. It still burns his throat. He knows because the burn is different to the constant burn of his lyrium markings. Sometimes he thinks the markings are trying to talk to him. He has no interest in what they might say.

A shadow crosses his vision. He looks up to see someone has taken the seat across from him. An elf, tanned and blond, with tattooed lines down the left side of his face and well-made leather armour that has seen better days. Fenris remembers this elf. The former Crow, Arainai. He had thought the man would leave Kirkwall after Hawke concluded that business.

Arainai sets his own drink on the table. "You look lonely." A simple statement; but Fenris knows enough to know the meaning is anything but simple. He thinks again of Hawke, who had told him that morning, "I have to stop taking you with me on these jobs... I can't lose you. I can't watch you die."

Fenris had known better than to say he would not die. He thinks, now, of Hawke's body, vibrant, flushed with the exertion of combat, and he thinks of how little an effort would be required to subdue that vibrancy forever.

He looks into Arainai's eyes as he replies, "Perhaps." He takes a swallow of ale without breaking eye contact. He can play this game. He can win this game.

Arainai leans back. "You were jealous when I offered myself to your Hawke. Why?"

Fenris' hand tightens on his mug. He can feel the lyrium pulsing, waiting to be released. It is with massive effort that he convinces it to lie still. He downs the rest of his drink in one long pull. The clang of the mug on the table steadies him. He keeps his voice monotone as he says, "No one has ever chosen me above anyone else. I was afraid he would leave me permanently."

Arainai's eyes widen, but Fenris is not finished. "I don't know your Crows. I don't know your life. All I remember is slavery. All I know is being someone's trophy that they send away when they tire of it. I am afraid." He shrugs. "I do not deal with this fear well."

The other man is silent, running his fingers over the rim of his mug. Fenris orders another drink.

It is a while before Arainai speaks. "My life was not my own until very recently. The Crows control who you are, where you go, even who you love. I took a job because I needed to leave Antiva, and I failed to kill my mark, and it was the best thing that ever happened to me.

"You have heard of the Hero of Ferelden?" Fenris nods. The man who ended the Blight. Fenris knows little except that the man is human and a mage and, from what he can tell, related to Hawke's mother.

Arainai is smiling wistfully. "I was tasked with killing him. Imagine! There I was, lying in the middle of a road with my life spilling out of me, and he stopped his hand and spared my life. And then he allowed me to join him." Fenris pictures the scene. The Hero, taller, standing over Arainai, kneeling and offering a hand to help the other to his feet. "And he was handsome, of course. Such a pretty face. But more than that, he was good. He did not allow his strength and increasing power to corrupt his ideals."

Fenris grits his teeth against the vision of Hawke, standing over him, kneeling and offering a hand to help him to his feet.

"I flirted with him. Well, you know, I flirt with everyone, and he in particular was irresistible. He was very sheltered, growing up in that tower -- I went there with him. It hurt him in ways I will never know. Anyway, and he flirted with me, clumsily at first, but he improved with practice.

"One of the things he said to me, our first night together, was this: 'I don't want you to change yourself because you think you're being loyal to me. I don't care who you love as long as you still love me.'"

Arainai pauses, looking at Fenris' face. Fenris is perfectly still. His breathing has shallowed. His mind --

"How do you love more than one person?" Fenris asks abruptly.

Arainai takes in a breath, then releases it slowly. "Everyone does it differently. But the first step, the most important one, is trust."

Fenris' hands shake slightly on his cup. He lets them. "And you trust Hawke?"

Arainai shrugs. "He spared my life, did he not? He is so like my Vernon... and yet they are so unlike each other."

"Mmh." Fenris wonders what it feels like to trust someone. This freedom business is far more difficult than anyone ever told him. He hesitates, then, "Arainai?"

The man's eyebrows rise. "Please, call me Zevran. Or Zev. It's what my friends call me."

Zev. Fenris is frightened of the intimacy of calling someone by their first name in public. He has never done this with Hawke. No one ever does this with Hawke. He clears his throat, self-conscious. "Z-Zev?"

Zev chuckles. "I like the way you say my name." His voice is warm. Fenris is tingling. He feels like he's feeling around in the dark with his bare feet. Zev leans forward, across the table, breaching the boundary of Fenris' space, their hands barely a nudge apart. "You called?"

Fenris swallows. He has seen Hawke flirt with other people. He knows it's okay. He knows he isn't unfaithful. He glances down at Zev's hand, then back up as he asks, "Do you trust me?"

Zev slides his hand over Fenris', then. "I think the question is, do you trust me?" He lifts Fenris' hand, gently, leaving space for the other to pull away, even as he brings it to his lips. When he kisses one of the lyrium markings, Fenris feels -- he has no words. He sets his drink to the side and stands, moving around the table, catching Zev's face in his hands and finding his mouth.

The kiss is gentle, unhurried. Fenris is just a little taller than Zev and he likes it. When they break for air, he rests his forehead against Zev's and murmurs, "Did that answer your question?"

Zev grins. "Could you repeat the answer? I don't think I quite caught it."