#the universes meld perfectly!

[howthesleeplesswander]

starter for @fearbend​

“Your technique is impressive! I can’t say I’ve ever met anyone brave enough to wield Pyro and Electro at once before.” Enthusiasm laced Childe’s tone, that which only heightened when a quick once-over of the girl revealed no Vision or Delusion to be found. Well, well, what have we here?

What kind of person could wield the elements without the aid of an Archon’s blessing or the Fatui’s counterfeits? Instantly the Traveler came to mind—a being from another world, something beyond human. Naturally, the question then became: was she as powerful, too?

“Though, I can’t help but wonder...” Head tilting, a congenial grin distracted from the intrigue in dull eyes. “How are you able to do that without a Vision?” 

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Chapter Two.

Previous Chapter. Next Chapter. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Pairing - Dad's Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Chapter Synopsis - You and Bucky try to navigate what it means to be soulmates - and how difficult it is to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings - smut. cursing.

Word Count - 4k

Author's Note - part two!! thank you SO much for all of the love on part one - it has made me immensely happy. you're all the sweetest and i'm so grateful. i'm going on vacation in a few days, so i'm taking a hiatus for a few weeks as i won't have cell service. so, consider this my parting gift to you <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3 please, send me your thoughts, predictions, desires!! I will get excited with you!!

Masterlist. Inbox.

Sunlight streams through the billowing white curtains, rousing you slowly. The gentle breeze cools the room, salt sticking to the air. Warmth is seeping into the glass of the windows, encouraging you to kick your sheets to the foot of your bed, limbs stretching and rolling.

You wake, and for a moment, you feel perfectly at peace. You feel light, tranquil, relaxed. You flex your neck from side to side, yawning as you do it. You notice that the sun is already up, beaming into your bedroom. It's going to be a very warm day, you think. I better pack sunblock.

You glance to where your bag is thrown haphazardly on the floor, contents spilling everywhere. It's unlike you, to not put something away properly. You take pride in being a tidy person. You must have been exhausted when you got home last night.

That's when it hits you.

Bucky.

The events of yesterday coming crashing down around you like a tidal wave. Hearts racing, hands interlacing, lips melding. Bodies tangling, breaths matching, knees buckling. Two souls, tied together forever.

Your Tethering.

To Bucky. Your Dad's best friend Bucky.

His absence is suddenly all you can think about. He's not here, and you feel like half of your heart is missing. You ache. There's a discomfort that you know can only be cured by the presence of your soulmate.

You're deep in thought when your phone rings, startling you. It's Bucky.

"Mornin' sugar," he drawls. The low tone of his voice is like molten honey, gorgeous and golden.

"Good morning, Buck."

You hear him exhale at the sound of your voice.

"I know we said we'd meet at ten, but can we make it earlier?" he asks. Then, quieter, "Feel like I can't breathe without you."

He murmurs the last part, as if it's a secret. Something sacred.

"Of course, Buck. I can be ready by nine?"

"Thanks, sweet girl. I'll pick you up?"

"Perfect. See you then."

"See you then."

It's almost painful to hang up the phone. It's like there's a gravitational force in The Universe, willing you against it. You ignore it defiantly and press the red button, swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

There's something in your gut telling you that this might just be the first day of the rest of your life. You certainly can't go back to the way things were. You're not sure if you want to.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Bucky arrives at 8:45.

You're in the bathroom with the door closed, so you don't hear him pull up. You feel it. Like a magnetism, alerting you to his whereabouts. You breathe a little easier immediately, knowing he's outside.

You grab your bag and the picnic and pull on your shoes, eager to see him. You feel like a teenager again, giddy with anticipation. Apart from, this isn't your average first date. No, this is your last first date ever. This is a first date with the man you're bound to spend the rest of your life with. No pressure, you tell yourself. One step at a time.

Your heart kicks up in double time, thundering against your ribcage. You inhale deeply, cracking your knuckles. You can do this. It's just Bucky.

You bound down your stairs, practically running to his truck. Bucky's leaning against the passenger door, the wind ruffling his hair, sunlight reflecting off his steely blue eyes. He's wearing shorts and a white button up, which is blowing gently in the breeze. His sleeves are pushed up his forearms, exposing his gorgeous tanned skin. He has several shirt buttons undone, accentuating his broad chest, sunglasses tucked into the breast pocket. He looks so handsome. So classically elegant. Like he belongs in an old movie - a perfect leading man.

He eyes you carefully, gauging your reaction. You can tell he doesn't want to overstep, worried about pushing you too far too fast. You walk over and run your fingers across his exposed chest gently, tracing a path up his neck until you're caressing his cheek. His stubble tickles your fingertips, causing a smile to curl at the corners of your mouth. You finally meet his gaze, and all your stress is forgotten. You feel peaceful again.

"Hi," you whisper.

"Hi, pretty girl," he murmurs back, hands finding your waist. "You alright?"

"I'm okay. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," he grins. "So, how do you feel about a day of sailing? You, me, and the ocean, baby."

"I think that sounds perfect."

He opens the car door for you, helping you up and into the passenger seat. He climbs in, clicking on his seat belt and starting the engine. Before he pulls away, he turns and looks at you, holding your stare for a moment. Bucky reaches for you, lacing your fingers together, resting your intertwined hands on your thigh. He begins to drive away, taking you towards the ocean. Towards your future.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You know nothing about sailing.

Luckily, you don't need to. Bucky's quite content to keep you sitting pretty on the top deck while he does all of the work, pulling and tying and knotting. The crisp white sails billow in the wind, the ocean waves providing a steady, constant soundtrack. Birds fly overhead, sunshine beaming down, the wood underneath you warm and smooth. It's paradise.

You're soaking up the sun rays when you hear a click. You sit up to see Bucky holding his film camera, pointed right at you.

"Creep," you tease.

"Just want to have something to look back on. Our first day as soulmates. It's an occasion, you know," he grins.

He moves across the boat to sit next to you, thigh pressed up against yours. He's so close you can taste the spearmint on his breath. You tangle a hand in his hair, caressing the back of his head.

"I brought you a few new things to try," you tell him. "Some recipes I'm testing. I want your honest opinion. No sugar coating. Promise?"

"I promise," he winks, holding up a scouts honour. "I wouldn't lie to you, honey."

You reach over and grab your picnic basket, unwrapping various beeswax packages and laying them out in front of you.

"Okay - we have white chocolate and pistachio muffins, raspberry and lemon macarons, earl grey and lavender cookies and carrot and cinnamon cake."

You glance over at Bucky, expecting him to be deciding what to try first. Instead, you find him watching you carefully, gentle smile etched across his face.

"What?" you laugh.

"Nothing," he beams. "I just... I love it when you start talking about food. You're passionate. You light up."

"Don't make it weird," you joke, slightly taken aback by his honesty. He did promise not to sugar coat.

He reaches for a macaron, eager to try one after you mentioned them yesterday. He pops one in his mouth, and lets out a groan that can only be described as pornographic.

"Fuck," he moans. "This might be the best thing I've ever eaten."

"You promised you wouldn't lie," you laugh.

"I'm not," he chuckles, placing his hand over his heart. "I swear to you. These things should be used as medicine. They'd cure anything."

"Shut up," you tease bashfully, bumping your shoulder into his.

He tries the other sweets one by one, complimenting you immensely. He's so specific in the way he commends your baking. He comments on certain flavours, and textures, and the way everything melts on his tongue. He really takes the time to think about what he says. It's so intimate.

"You're gonna do this for a living, right?" he asks, turning to face you.

"I hope so," you confess. "It's all I want to do. Going to culinary school was a huge risk, but I did it. It was difficult, but they were also the best four years of my life. I just learned so much. I want to put it all into practice."

"I think you should. It'd be such a waste if you didn't. You're so talented, sugar."

"Thanks, Buck," you grin. "I just don't know where to start."

He thinks for a moment.

"If you could do anything, anything in the world - what would you do?"

He's looking at you so intensely, you almost want to shy away. His steel blue eyes are boring into you, reading your mind, figuring out your soul.

"I'd... I'd open a bakery of my own. I want a lot that overlooks the ocean. With big windows."

Bucky smiles gently, adoration written across his face.

"I'd be your most loyal customer," he vows. "Oh, I have a better idea - I'll be your quality control. I'll taste test everything before you sell it. You know, just in case."

"Just in case," you laugh. "Right."

"It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it," he winks.

The sound of your laughter is like dopamine to Bucky. It fires off neurons in his brain, receptors buzzing and alight. He almost feels drunk off the sound, floating above ground.

You relax into him, laying down and resting your head in his lap. He's warm, and soft, and so comfortable. You could lie here forever.

He runs his fingers through your hair gently, playing with the strands. The repetitive rocking of the boat lulls you into an easy sleep, the sunlight wrapping around you, taking the place of a blanket. Bucky watches you drift off, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

A particularly strong gust of wind wakes you, rousing you from sleep. Your fingers are interlinked with Bucky's, head still resting on his strong thighs.

"How long was I out?" you ask, looking up at him.

"Like, twenty minutes? You looked peaceful, thought I'd let you rest."

"Sorry, Buck," you chuckle.

"Hey, don't apologise. I'll take it as a compliment. You know, they say you only sleep around the people you feel safe with."

"They say a lot of fuckin' things," you laugh, repeating his words from yesterday.

"I do, though," you say after a moment. "Feel safe with you. It's not just the soulmate thing. I always have."

Bucky leans down to press his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. He pulls away and kisses the spot where you were just connected.

"We should talk about us," you murmur, sitting up to face him.

"Uh oh. Are you breaking up with me?" Bucky jokes, nudging your knee with his.

"Yeah, right," you scoff. "As if you'd be so lucky. You're stuck with me, I'm afraid."

"I'll survive," he winks. "But we should. Talk about us."

You look at each other for a moment, carefully. You notice that the ocean is reflecting in Bucky's eyes, waves gleaming and blue.

"I don't know where to start," you whisper.

"Maybe start at the beginning," he suggests, reaching out to rest his palm on your thigh, fingertips rubbing comforting circles into your skin.

"I... I think - I think we should do exactly that. Start at the beginning."

He nods at you reassuringly, urging you to continue.

"I want to start slow. Really slow. I know we already know each other, but this... this is different. We don't know each other like this."

"Like soulmates," he agrees. "It's a whole other level. A league of its own."

"Exactly. I know we're Tethered, but, I think we should treat this like a normal relationship. We should date, and just... take this step by step."

"One step at a time," he confirms. "Prepare yourself, honey. I'm about to date the hell outta you."

"Someone save me," you laugh, throwing your head back. "All those poor girls that have come before me - they had to put up with this?"

He laughs with you, the sound rumbling in his chest.

"Trust me, sugar, you're different."

Bucky leans forward and slots his lips to yours, hands going to your waist to pull you closer.

Kissing your soulmate is unlike any other feeling. It's complete serenity. Two bodies, designed by The Universe to fit together perfectly.

Your fingers thread through Bucky's hair as you move to sit in his lap, straddling him. You grind your hips forward, illiciting a groan from the both of you.

Bucky slips his tongue into your mouth, tasting the sugar there. He can't get enough. You're so sweet and soft underneath his hands, underneath his tongue. He wants more.

He tips you backwards, so you're lying flat on the deck. Bucky moves to kneel in between your legs, prying them open gently. He kisses his way from your ankle to your knee, occasionally nipping at your flesh. He likes the idea of there being a mark on you that he left. He feels more protective of you than he ever has of anyone. The feeling vibrates through his bones, fires up his nerve endings. He needs to feel every inch of your skin as soon as possible, or he's convinced he'll burst into flames.

He smooths his hands up your thighs, fingers catching in the waistband of your shorts. He shimmies them down your legs, and inhales sharply at the sight before him. You're laid out on the deck of his boat like a goddess, the white shirt adorning your body matching the white lace underwear underneath. The sun rays are beating down, illuminating you, making you glow from the inside out. Bucky can't breathe, looking at you. He feels like all of the oxygen has been stolen from his lungs, replaced with pure desire.

You're breathless, panting, chest heaving. You're shaking with anticipation, willing him to do something. Anything.

"Bucky," you whine. "Please."

He's never heard a prettier sound. It's like angel song, the way you say his name.

"Patience, sweets. I thought we were taking it slow."

"Asshole," you laugh, poking him in the chest with your toe. "You're a hypocrite."

"Am I?" he smirks, running his fingertips across the inside of your thighs.

"Yes. You can't kiss me like that and then tell me to have patience."

"My apologies, ma'am."

He leans over and kisses you again, biting your bottom lip as he pulls away. Bucky slips your underwear down your legs and tucks them into the pocket of his shorts, ignoring your scoff as you watch him do it.

"Come here, pretty baby," he murmurs, tugging at your hips to pull you closer to him.

He nudges your core with his nose, inhaling deeply. It's filthy, the action, but it makes you ache with want. He licks into the crease of your thigh next, tasting the salt on your skin. Your hand flies to his hair, tugging the chocolate strands. You whine again, and Bucky commits the sound to memory.

He surprises you by sucking your clit gently, causing your hips to buck up towards his mouth. He splays one hand across your stomach, holding you down. He uses his other hand to insert a finger into you, groaning at your warmth. He crooks it up, and you keen.

"I know, baby, I know," he coos, adding a second finger.

You're not sure if it's because of the glaring sunlight or because of Bucky, but there's a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin, dripping down your temple. You're burning from the inside out, white hot heat running through your veins.

He thrusts both fingers in and out of you steadily, curling them on the up stroke. You throw your head back, hips wriggling and writhing.

"Where you going, pretty girl?" he drawls. "Come here - that's it."

He pulls you back to him, fingers never stopping. He looks up at you, and notices that you've thrown a hand over your face, shielding yourself.

"Don't go shy on me now," he practically purrs, smiling when you move your arm away. "Most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Fuck," you moan, suddenly glad you're in the middle of the ocean. The sounds you're letting out are filthy.

"I know, pretty baby. I know."

His fingers push you closer and closer to the edge, speeding up slightly. You're whining, keening, hips bucking up into him. You can't stay still. You feel like you're on fire, red hot electricity running through you. It's never been like this with anyone before. It never will be again.

"You're close, honey, I can feel it. You're almost there," he drawls. "Atta girl. Come on, baby. You got it. Good girl."

His low, honeyed words throw you into your climax, back arching off the sun warmed wood. Bucky talks you through it, encouraging and praising you in hushed murmurs. You see stars, bright white patterns flashing behind your eyelids. The world goes quiet for a moment, and all you feel is peace.

Bucky brings you back to reality by rubbing soothing circles into the bare skin of your thigh, still muttering softly. He lets you catch your breath before leaning over and kissing you gently.

"You okay, sugar?"

You smile at him in a daze, still floating on air.

"I'm good, Buck. Very good, actually."

He laughs at your response, moving your hair away from your face. You sit up to look at him, admiring him carefully.

"You're so pretty," you whisper. "I mean, I've always known it. But now, it's so... blinding. You're the most beautiful person in the world."

He's not sure how to process your words. He's never felt so loved, so safe, so appreciated before. It's overwhelming. He doesn't know what to say - so instead, he kisses you hard.

"You're the sweetest girl in the world, you know that right?" he whispers against your lips.

He moves to sit behind you, so your back is resting against his chest. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He smells like warmth, and salt, and home.

"I don't think we should tell my parents," you say lowly, afraid to ruin the moment. "Not yet, anyway."

"I agree," he reassures. "I think we should figure this out first. Figure us out."

You lean up and peck his lips gently, pulling away to trace your fingertips over the contours of his face.

"It's gonna take a while to figure this out, isn't it?"

"That's the thing, sweet girl. We have all the time in the world."

You relax back into his arms, letting his steady heartbeat lull you into complete tranquility.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You spend all day on the boat with Bucky, soaking up the sun. Your shirts are billowing in the wind, hair blowing in every direction. The ocean rocks you both in routine motion, gentle and calming.

He teaches you the basics of sailing, sitting knee to knee with you while you repeatedly tie knots into pieces of rope. He stands behind you comfortingly as you pull and tug at the rigging, supporting you only when you ask for help.

The two of you sit tangled together on the deck, enjoying your picnic. You take a moment to rub sunblock into Bucky's shoulders, ignoring the heat that rises in your chest when he groans in delight. He's irresistible. This is more than just lust. This is a magnetism, an almost animalistic connection. It's quite literally written in the stars.

The both of you are clearly reluctant to go home. You sit in Bucky's truck outside your apartment for hours, talking about nothing and everything. You don't invite him upstairs. You know that if you do, you'll jump his bones instantly. You've both agreed to take this slow. You have to start being strict with yourselves, or you'll just keep ending up in bed.

Eventually, your stomach rumbles, making Bucky chuckle.

"You should go. Eat something."

"I know. I just... I like being with you."

He leans over the centre console to press a kiss to your lips, revelling in the way you taste like the ocean breeze.

"There's no one else in the world I'd rather be with," he murmurs against your mouth.

You pull away and take a deep breath, preparing to leave Bucky for tonight.

"Thank you, for today. It's been perfect."

"Perfect day for a perfect girl," he winks, making you both laugh.

"One step at a time."

"All the time in the world," he echoes.

"Goodnight, Buck," you whisper, moving in closer to press your forehead to his.

"Goodnight, honey girl," he whispers back, pecking your lips quickly.

He jumps out of the drivers side to help you down from the truck, holding your hand carefully. You smile at the déjà vu. He does too.

You look back at him once more before closing your front door. He's already looking at you, his eyes never once leaving your frame, smile never leaving his face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're curled up on the couch when your phone rings, startling you from your peace. You look at the caller ID in confusion.

"Stella? Hey - you okay?"

"Hey, you. Long time no see, huh?"

"It's been a while," you laugh. "I didn't expect a call from you."

"I'm sorry we haven't talked in so long. I've been super busy - I'm opening my own café! It has a bookshop inside it too - oh it's gorgeous, you wouldn't even believe it."

"That sounds amazing, Stella. I'm so happy for you, wow."

"I'm actually calling because I have something to ask you."

"Ask away, Stell."

"I have a sort of... proposition for you. An offer, if you will."

"You're really building the anticipation here," you chuckle.

"Sorry, sorry! So, I'm gonna need a Head Baker. I can't do it, because I'll be manager, and I'm the owner which is a tough job in itself. Opening a café is fucking difficult, you know!" she laughs, before continuing. "You'd have complete creative control - you'd design your own bakes, everything would be completely down to you. There's quite literally only one person in this world that I'd want to do this job, and it's you."

You almost can't believe what she's telling you. It sounds perfect. It sounds like a dream.

"Stella - are you sure? This is a huge deal. You want me?"

"I only want you. I can't picture working alongside anyone else. We made such a good team in culinary school, and we always said we'd find each other in the future."

"I... I don't even know what to say."

"Say yes!" she encourages, giggling down the phone.

"Yes!" you echo, giddy with joy. "God, Stella, yes!"

You're smiling from ear to ear, unable to wipe the grin off your face. Your dream job has been presented to you on a silver platter. You'd be stupid not to take it.

"I mean - when do I start? What should I wear? Do you want a set menu, or can I change it up all the time? Vegan options? Gluten free?"

"I can send you all of the boring stuff in an email - contracts, salary information, all that shit. You can quite literally do whatever the fuck you want, girl. I trust you completely. I trust your culinary skills even more."

"Oh my god, I'm so excited. Thank you, Stella. Seriously. This is just amazing."

"I can't wait to have you here with me again!"

You process for a moment, trying to make sense of what she just said.

"Wait... what? Where?"

"In California. The café is here, in California!"

You can't hear her next words due to the ringing in your ears. Your chest tightens, your hands ball into fists, your breathing becomes ragged.

There's a million thoughts racing through your mind, and you can't quite get a firm grasp on any of them.

Bucky would never leave this place. This is his home. I can't ask him to abandon his life here - I wouldn't want to. We've been soulmates for two days. What about his job? His friends? Would I leave everything behind and move across the country for him? I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I can't have my cake and eat it too. He'd give everything up for me in a heartbeat - I can't let him. It's not fair.

You're suddenly intensely aware - you have to make a choice.

Bucky or your dreams.

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[chiscaralight]

nsfw, aventurine x afab!reader, porn w plot, aventurine is ass obsessed! fingering, backshots. a lot of it. it’s all back shots.

this was heavily inspired by @hitomisuzuya !! i would’ve used a different game but i literally only know how to play blackjack because of roblox 21 😭 i also haven’t finished the tbz quests so im going off what i know and pure bullshit

how you ended up as a secretary to one of the ten stonehearts beats you. you try not to think about it too much, but the things aventurine ropes you in around different planets always confuse you! you’re just supposed to make sure he checks some stuff off a list, why are you out and about in the world like this? it doesn’t help that whenever you try to stop him, he just sweet-talks his way out of it!

you can’t even recall the name of this place, but aventurine thinks you’ve been working too hard ! so, to ‘build morale’, he asks you to escort him to the casino near the lobby. you’re about to protest but he oh so rudely waves you off ! he insists you come with him anyways.

“all you have to do is sit pretty, relax and keep your eyes on me.”

the way the words slip from his lips send a shiver straight down into your core. but you can’t think like that! this is your boss! so you clear your throat and tell him you’ll be ready in a 20 minutes, much to his satisfaction. you’re stepping into the bathroom, face flushed as you think that his words had a little more meaning than just looking at him.

now you know Aventurine is an amazing gambler, but it never ceases to amaze you watching him. he’s in his element, never hesitating to bet or accept the next game. you sir quaintly beside him, sipping on your drink as you lose yourself to the noise in the music. it’s the grating voice of an unknown man saying something to that brings you back to your universe.

your boss takes notice of this though and stretches his arm out in front of you.

“the doll is off limits.” the nickname catches you off guard but what really sets you off is the tone of his voice. what once was warm and playful is now an icy cold.

“oh,come on. how about a round of blackjack? best of three? winner gets the lady.”

a few people gather to watch the interaction as you csn feel the tension pick up. the two men never break eye contact as they size each other up. who does this man think he is? he’s about to tell him off, but aventurine feels your nimble fingers on his arm. he breaks the gaze to meet yours. his eyes are so beautiful, and you give him a small nod to let him know to go ahead. you trust him. so he turns back to the man and with a sly smile, he’s pulling off his gold-rimmed glasses to focus on the table.

“okay,let’s play.”

the first round is quick and easy. aventurine wins, 20 to 18. second one, the unknown man hits a break. it doesn’t take long for him to close it in, ending with a perfect hand. the man groans and asks for a rematch. aventurine is quick to decline though, saying your time was well spent. he turns to you and offers his hand so the two of you can leave, and you take it without a second thought.

the way back up was void of aventurines usual teasing. his eyebrows are furrowed and the look on his face is still strong, so you decide to keep your questions to yourself until you reach the room.

when you do confront him about it, he tells you that even the best gamblers know not to play with their most important prizes. the gravity of the statement doesn’t hit you until he has you pressed up against the door as he closes the gap between the two of you. his lips find yours as you instinctively move your hands up towards his neck.

he kisses just like he talks, smooth and fluid. your mouths meld perfectly together as he draws you closer to the warmth of his body. his hands reach down to grip the curve of your ass, and the squeal you make gives him access to dip his tongue further into your mouth. you’re moaning around his tongue and he’s groaning back in response while you move your hand up to grab a fistful of his hair.

aventurines outfit is expensive. you hate when it gets dirty for any reason as much as he does, but neither of you cares too much in the moment. you’re fully naked seated in his lap, while his fingers skillfully pump in and out of you. his other hand softly grinds you against him. you can feel his bulge pressing against you from behind while your slick is soaking up his gloves and he’s hissing at the mere thought of being inside you right now.

lips find the crook of your neck once more. your neck is littered with red and purple marks of possession as he speeds up his pace. you can feel it coming, and you move your hand to grip his wrist as a warning. your moans and cries become more erratic as you grip his hair once again and he groans into your skin right as you feel your orgasm crashing down. you’re shaking so much and he wraps his arms around you to hold you in place while he coos in your ear.

it’s all so wrong. watching your boss undress like this has to violate a lot of work ethics but you just can’t seem to look away. the piercing gaze he has over you sends heat between your legs. he’s moving to place his back against the headboard as he gestures for you to come closer. he’s twirling his finger, and you take the hint to throw your leg over his. you gasp at how hard he feels against you.

the way he’s stretching your tight hole almost has you doubling over. the noise he lets out is almost sinful as he’s gripping the fat of your hips to drag you down to the base of his cock. he doesn’t fail to let out a string of curses as you slowly start to bounce up and down on him. the way your ass is slapping against his skin is so fucking mesmerizing and he just can’t drag himself to look away. you’re lost in the pleasure, playing with your tits as you try to distract yourself from the burning feeling in your thighs. your pace is starting to falter, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by aventurine. he flattens his large hand against your back and pushes you flat down on the bed. he’s adjusting himself behind you and sliding right back into you without a warning.

you can’t even think straight like this! he’s fucking into you, no, pounding into you so hard you’re worried he’ll break the frame of the bed! you can’t even raise your head! your face is planted in the pristine sheets as your eyes roll back from the sheer pleasure. same can be said for the man above you though, because he doesn’t shift once! his palm connects with your ass once again and you twitch up at the sensation. he just loves the way your ass is jiggling and he can’t get enough! the words of praise he’s whispering so softly at you while he’s so violently rutting into you are making your pretty head spin so hard that you can’t even warn him that you’re about to cum! it’s the way your night writhes and the white ring around the base of his cock that starts to give it away.

by the time you’re awake again, you’re already cleaned up and under the blankets. you flush as the memories of the previous night flood back into your mind. you put your hands in your face as the man behind you starts to laugh. he drapes his arm over you and drags you close, peppering soft kisses all over your already red face as you meekly try to push him away. you don’t want him to stop though, you just love being the object of his affection!

a/n: first hsr one🫣i just love aven so much lmfao

thanks for reading !🩵

[ofourlee]

SO HIGH SCHOOL —  MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS —⠀❛ it seems like you've been transported back in time to when you were sixteen, in high school and experiencing the exuberant, youthful kind of romance, reliving the feeling of young love. with megumi, your lover. ❜ ♡ WORD COUNT —⠀1.3k

they met during junior year, and it was like sparks flew, but not the corny movie sparks, but the genuine moments when you know something wonderful is occurring.

in that year of high school, it was a typical day for megumi. he was the outstanding karate player since he was a delinquent in middle school and a skilled fighter. he was the person everyone looked up to and adored.

one day, he was sitting in class, very bored, when a new female entered the room. she appeared lost and bewildered, her gaze darting about the room, looking for anything. megumi's gaze was immediately pulled to her; she was unlike any female he had ever seen before.

he couldn't help but gaze at her as she placed her hair exactly behind her ear. she looked beautiful and out of place. her hair flowed in exquisite waves about her face, framing it beautifully, and her eyes were a deep shade of [color]. megumi watched as she approached the empty seat next him, and he couldn't help but feel a flutter of joy in his heart.

as she sank into the seat beside him, she looked in his way, and their gazes connected for the first time. megumi's heart skipped a beat as she locked eyes with him, and he couldn't take his gaze away. he was pulled to her in an inexplicable way, and he couldn't take his gaze away from her face.

he sneaked glances at her out of the corner of his eye, enjoying her face, delicate features, and the way her hands moved while taking notes. she spotted him gazing and gave him a curious look. he hastily averted his sight, feeling his cheeks flush.

damn, he had been caught. but he couldn't help himself; she was so mesmerizing and unlike any other female he'd ever met. and as for her, she couldn't deny that this boy made her feel something.

obviously, like the guy he is, he made the first move. a simple "hi!" here and there. it would be awful if he made the female to do everything first, right?

as the days turned into weeks, they'd frequently stay together after school, swap notes in class (when they remembered to take any!),

you could say their love developed with the seasons. fall meant karate tournaments and bonfires where they'd cuddle under blankets. winter meant snowball battles that ended in laughter and hot chocolate dates. springtime was all about flowers budding and prom preparations, and by summer, they had become interlinked. ----

PROM they were both nervous and thrilled, their hearts beating as they prepared for a night they will never forget. he sees her wearing an elegant full-length dress whose color matched her eyes and appeared to highlight every curve of her body.

he meets her at her house, where her parents are shooting photographs of them in their prom outfits. his pulse hammered in his chest as he saw her, how she took his breath away, how he briefly considered her to be a figment of his vision, too beautiful to be true.

it was a lovely night at the prom, how they danced together, twirling on the dance floor, their bodies close together.  the music, the dark lighting, and the couples around them, but his attention was all focused on her, on her smile, laughter, and sparkling eyes.

it was how they had sneaked away from the hustle and bustle of the prom, seeking peace in the quiet hallways. they had chosen a quiet place, away from their classmates' prying eyes, and had stolen a few kisses, their lips meeting in a fierce embrace, their bodies melding perfectly together.

he recalls the heat that had accumulated in his gut, the need and hunger that had coiled within him as he held her close, drank in the aroma of her skin, and tasted her soft lips. they had been engrossed in their own little universe, their passion and intensity growing with each passing instant. ---- as the months passed, they were officially in a relationship, and everyone at school knew it. they were the buzz of the town, the ideal pair, and the definition of high school sweethearts. they were frequently spotted together, holding hands in the hallways, whispering secrets into each other's ears, and sneaking kisses behind the bleachers. megumi liked how she wasn't scared to be herself around him. she was fiery, obstinate, and quick-witted, and he found himself falling more and more for her every day. he admired how she challenged him, rather than simply ignoring his nonchalant demeanor and sarcastic remarks.

on the other hand, she admired how protective he was of her, how he would always stand up for her when someone tried to mistreat her. she admired his confidence, his willingness to speak his thoughts and stand up for what he believed in. they were the ideal balance of yin and yang, fire and water.

they spent all of their free time together, whether it was studying at the library, watching movies at his house, or playing video games at hers. they laughed, argued, made up, and fell in love more deeply with each new day.

they gradually grew inseparable. they were aware of each other's secrets, hopes, and dreams, as well as their worries and insecurity. they were each other's closest friends, confidantes, and everything.

the memories of them sneaking out of class to skip (where he'd often refuse because it's "bad" but gives in anyway), the late-night drives with the windows down and the radio blasting, the stolen kisses in empty classrooms, and the endless hours spent talking, laughing, and just being together are still vivid in their minds. ----

he was the first to say "i love you."

the memory was permanently ingrained in his mind. they were at her house, sitting in her bedroom, surrounded by the subtle aroma of her perfume, when the words just seemed to flow from his lips.

"i love you," he murmured softly and earnestly, his heart racing in his chest.

her eyes widened, her breath froze in her throat, and a slow smile stretched over her lips. he felt a rush of relief sweep over him, and he knew then that she felt the same way he did. it was the happiest time of his life, the beginning of something fresh and wonderful.

it was the way she moved in closer, her face only inches from his, and said, "i love you too," her voice full of passion and her eyes gleaming with joy.

he had drew her into his arms and wrapped her in a tight embrace, her small body fitting well against him. he'd buried his face in her hair, absorbing the aroma of her shampoo and committed the moment to memory, never wanting to forget. ----

it remained on his thoughts, how they used to spend hours laying on the grass under the large tree in the park, chatting about everything and nothing.

he recalls how the sunlight seeped through the foliage, creating dancing shadows on her face and making her eyes glitter.  she would grab his jacket when she was cold, throw it over her shoulders and bury her face in the cloth, savoring his scent.

the spontaneous talks they had have a special place in their hearts, whether they were deep and profound, random and ridiculous, serious, or had them laugh so hard they couldn't breathe. he recalls how her eyes would light up when she became enthusiastic about anything, her cheeks flushing with excitement, and her hand gesturing as she spoke.

her laughter, how it filled the air whenever he cracked a joke, how it seemed to brighten the world around them. she playfully hit his shoulder while still laughing, the sound of her excitement echoing in his ears.

megumi says, "i love you."

"you say that to everyone."

megumi: "i do."

"what? what do you mean?"

megumi: "i do tell everyone that i love you."

[the-cooler-newton]

Unpacking is very cute and I admire the type of narrative it's able to pull off just through the gameplay of moving into spaces. the intimacy of everyday objects, still life, environmental storytelling, etc etc etc

But i have Got to talk about 2010. Unpacking is a game where all you do is take stuff out of boxes and find spaces for it, and for the most part it gives you quite a lot of freedom about where you can put stuff. There are some rules - most things cant go on the floor, stuff generally has to be in the right room, the soap has to be near the sink, etc etc, but apart from that there's no wrong place to put things.

Moving into this fucking guy's house in 2010 felt like putting everything in the wrong place. It felt like I wasn't supposed to be there, a square peg into a round hole. His entire house is pristine when I get there, everything organised perfectly, evenly spaced, colour-matched, sterile. Throughout the level I'm shoving everything around on his bookcase to fit my hoard of knickknacks, putting my red plastic colander in the cupboard above his cool green matching set of plates and bowls, my bright purple toothbrush cup, hairbrush, and straightening iron clutter his pristine bathroom counter. My family of stuffed chickens is made to look silly next to his fancy mixology set and miniature sand garden.

I end up putting my laptop and drawing tablet out on the kitchen island because there isn't a desk anywhere I can use. My markers and hoard of sketchbooks are crammed into my bedside table. I'm not allowed to move his posters in the living room, so my university certificate goes under the bed.

I won't pretend that I, playing Unpacking in 2023, didn't know how the game ended. I knew already that the protagonist would move on from this guy, but even if I didn't, I would have been able to tell. It was not fun moving into his house, it was not easy or charming to meld our lives together, I did not feel welcome there. Moving in with him felt like a transgression, an imposition. Moving in with him felt like a wrong decision in a game where I couldn't really make wrong decisions.

An incredible magic trick of game design, in my opinion.

[tw1l1te]

𝓼𝓪𝔂 𝓶𝔂 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮

Yandere! Linked Universe x Reader

Warnings: Dark themes, and I mean dark, suggestive, angst, more angst, kidnapping, mentions of death, dark religious themes

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You'd lost track of how many days, weeks, months years have passed since you'd been contained in this hell. You'd lost track of who you last talked to. You'd lost all sense of what happened, and where everything went wrong.

One of the clearest memories you have is how it happened.

How it started it already began long before.

Just hours after defeating the shadow, you were making plans to leave. To go back home after almost three years. You knew the subject was touchy and created a tense air to the group, but it was unavoidable now. It was time to go.

You look back at the portal, blue and gold wisps illuminating the surrounding area. Why wasn't anybody reacting to it, if at all?

If they pretended it didn't exist, you wouldn't leave them.

Enough was enough. You've waited too long for this, worked too hard. You didn't belong here.

Picking up your pack, you look at the rift once more. The pulsating sensation beckoning you closer.

Leave. Go home. Leave them. Go now, before it's too late. Now now nownownow gonowgonowGONOwLEAVEBEFOREITISTOOLATE-

A hand wraps around your wrist, hot fire against your ice cold bones.

"Stay. Please."

Twilight looks defeated. On the brink of utter collapse, eyes on the brink of tears.

"If only there was another way, Twilight. If only. I'm sorry, it's time."

"I love you, darlin'. I love you so much. Please don't leave m-us. Not again. I can't- won't. Not again."

You weren't her. No, you weren't Midna. You wouldn't leavEhiMheRE

He was on his knees, eyes never wavering off of yours. He was praying. Praying a mantra to your entity. His goddess. His divinity.

You feel another set of hands on your hips, melding perfectly against your form. Prophetical puzzle pieces locking together.

Legend was already crying, salty tears wettening your tunic. His hands were coated with blood. Not his.

"Y/n I- please, Mousey. Please please. Not again. I can't do this without you. Let us come with you. We'll do anything."

His hands. His hands were on your face, sticky blood tarnishing your perfect face. A face that held eras. His and his brothers', embedded in your very soul.

"I'm sorry- I can't. You know I'd bring you with me if I could, but it's time. I don't belong here. You know I don't, you said it yourself oh so long ago."

"That was- I was different. So so much has happened, so much."

The earth started to shake, ramping up in mere seconds.

The rock started to crack, larger and larger chasms forming, decreasing your chances of getting out of here.

It was now or never.

You look back at them, mouthing 'I'm sorry', and run.

Run and don't look back.

Run before you change your mind again.

Run before you miss your chance. Forever.

Your fingers graze the golden light, a sensation unlike you've ever felt before.

A force knocks you out cold, the last thing you see is that damned golden light.

~

You woke up almost a week later, eyes barely being able to open from how long they've been shut.

You remember the blood-curling scream you let out, vocal cords tearing at your anguish.

You remember Wild and Hyrule running in, holding you in place to not harm yourself even more.

You remember sobbing for hours that night, all of them staring at you.

You remember how nauseous and mortified you were when Time bathed you, combing through your locks and looming over you, cooing at you like you were some lost lamb.

You remember how disappointed Wars looked when he found you with your locks strewn around you on the floor, hoping that you wouldn't be pretty anymore in their eyes if you messed yourself up. It made you more stunning.

You remember sitting in the corner of the room, curling in on yourself while you hummed a lullaby, trying to ignore the looming eyes of the chosen hero in the other corner of the room.

They don't let you out past the fence, past it leads into the forest.

You stopped talking to any of them months ago, vocal cords mostly damaged from your screams.

You feel slightly safer with Wind around, knowing they would stay away if he was with you, trusting him to be their eyes for when they weren't home. This wasn't his fault, he was only a kid. Not knowing any better because his brothers told him this was right.

You promised him and yourself that'd you would both get out someday. You both knew he could come and go as he pleased, but he morally couldn't. You reminded him of Aryll, though that personality had long been lost.

You were in your bed, drawing in a notebook that Wind had brought you. It was blue, engraved with small violet flowers. You picked up drawing a few months ago, the distraction keeping you slightly sane. You didn't know what you were drawing, but it felt nostalgic. Safe. Home.

The door opens, Time walking into the room and pulling a chair from the far corner to sit in front of you.

You choose to ignore him, focusing very hard on the drawing at hand.

"You haven't talked much lately, Flower."

You wince at the petname, the syllables off his tongue making you disgusted. He has no right calling you that.

He keeps looking at you, elbows on his knees as he examines you, like some art on a wall. You can look, but you can't touch.

"I miss your voice, baby. I miss you saying my name."

You stop drawing on the paper, but still not looking at him. You refuse.

He crawls up to you, on his hands and knees, praying to his goddess for forgiveness of his sins

"My moonlight... please. Please say my name. That's all I will ever ask of you."

You look at him, noticing how tired and destroyed he looks.

Serves him right.

You close your notebook, lacing it back up with the leather cord. Setting it aside, you look back at him.

You vocal cords scream as you open your mouth, so in pain from the strain.

With gravely words and no emotion to give, you rasp

"Rot in hell."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[bitin-and-barkin]

Yandere Donnie

Yandere Donnie would act Obsessive, Controlling, and Dependent.

When April first introduced Donnie to you, you guys fit together perfectly. Like two pieces of a puzzle.

You just GOT him in a way nobody else did.

You were so much like him, yet so different.

The entire time you two were together you two DOMINATED the conversation, April could barely get any words in.

You two traded numbers and from that point on, Donnie wouldn't do anything without you.

If he wasn't nagging April about "when she will bring you over again" (He was too nervous to ask you to come over, which is a first for him) he was texting you or calling you or gushing about you to anyone who could listen.

But how could he not!? You were PERFECTION embodied! He was obsessed with you!

You kept up with his smarts and sarcastic quips, even offering your own.

Although you weren't a tech prodigy you thought a similar way (the right way) and were OBVIOUSLY smarter than his dumb-dumb brothers.

Anytime that he had something to say, you hit back just as hard in a lighthearted, sarcastic tone.

You were also so badass too! Just the general air around you screamed "Cool, emotionless, mysterious, bad boy." You were so dominating and so strong! You were what he wanted to be!

But the thing about it was that you weren't emotionless, far from it.

Although you guys often competed there was never actually any bad blood. Despite being just as good as him (and possibly better, although he'd never admit it), you never held it over him.

You listened to him rambles about science and junk happily, but not in a I'm-only-listening-to-be-nice-but-I-don't-actually-understand-or-care but in a I-love-your-passion-and-can-understand-it-completely way.

You asked questions that he'd never even thought about.

And you were emotionally intelligent too!

You were kind, caring, and oh-so sickly sweet.

He didn't need to put up any sort of mask in front of you, as you made sure you made sure he knew you loved him in any form!

Even the moments when he was ashamed of who he was, when he was worried he would never be enough.

His intense moments of "emotionless passion" or his arrogant moments of dumbassary.

You pushed him to be better while accepting him as who he was.

You made him feel like MORE than his tech, he never felt like he had to hide anything from you, as hiding something from you, just felt like hiding something from himself.

All of his deepest secrets are shared and he expects you to do the same

You made him feel secure, like no matter what he did you would never leave him.

It was like you were a combination of himself and Mikey, his two favorite people in the world! (You were first though, of course)

Even when he was acting like a dumb-dumb (Although he'd never admit it) you held him accountable while still being understanding.

You could understand what he meant without even saying it!

It was like you guys were mind melded or something!

You were like him, a kinship. Almost a frenemy, rivals with how much you competed, but more friend then enemy.

You were almost a teacher to him in a lot of ways, but you never talked down to him or treated him like he was stupid for not understand things that came to you or other easily (like emotions, cough cough)

And he made sure (or at least tried his best) to do the same for you.

For example, whenever you make something techy from the countless facts of science Donnie had taught you he'll cherish it, probably getting an entire shelf and case for any inventions you make for him (and he won't "improve" or "modify" the work to become more efficient, no matter how much his hands are itching to)

Honestly it got to the point where you two were never seen apart.

Donnie began to see you as an extension of himself.

Or, more specifically two parts to something bigger.

Think Glitz and Glam from Helluva boss, or Sapphire and Ruby from Steven Universe, or Fireboy and Watergirl from those dumb cool math game games.

You were him, he was you, and you guys would never be apart.

You guys were two peas in a pod, best friends, yin and yang, fire and water, connected in an unbreakable way he wants to brand your name into his skin and he wants you to do the same for him

it was like a villain and his sidekick, expect none of you were the sidekick! You were equal after all, in his eyes. He genuinely values you and your opinion above everybody elses, and how you felt about something was just as important as he felt about it (aka, very important) He feels very strongly about making sure thing are "fair" between you two.

At first you were fine with this little obsession he had with you two hanging out, you couldn't see the red flags screaming in your face, but then he got oh so controlling.

He might not care about what you wear or how you dress, but every bit of tech in your house is replaced by his own, all suited to prevent hackers and stalkers from accessing your location they all have trackers on them, and the next time you fall asleep he will embed one into your skin

He doesn't mean it with malicious intent, he just wants to protect you as he would protect himself. You deserve protection after all, he just wants to make sure you're safe from any "stalkers."

He kindly searches your room for any "suspicious devices" placed by "creeps" he takes this opportunity to put in his own cameras to watch you from every angle in your home, you get more time away from him but he watches you while you sleep.

He gives you little trinkets and tech made by him just for you they all have cameras in them, he loves watching you

And your health is watched like a HAWK.

He's constantly calling you over to his place, under the guise of "making sure your healthy" and he does do that, he does!

It's like your a permanent hospital patient, with you being strapped up and poked and prodded.

Your heart rate would be constantly monitored with a watch he gave you along with your blood pressure, temperature, blood sugar, and steps per day.

The slightest cough will be treated like a medical emergency. His place would be disinfected and you would be "bedbound" from your illness.

Only he can see you when this happens, after all he's the only one who can care for you properly.

Honestly, I can see him medically abusing you, Munchausen syndrome by proxy style.

He'll give you new meds under the guise of healing whatever menial injury you got, only for you to get sicker and sicker. Hell, he might even put you under anesthesia and give you a couple of injuries (can't have you feeling pain or remembering it!) like breaking your legs and blame it on your "new disease."

Narcolepsy, bouts of paralysis or blindness, chronic pain, he'll do whatever makes you hang out with him more! Of course, none of it will actually be permanent or lifelong, he can stop it as quickly as he started it, but why would he do that when it's so affective?

And when you get ill, he'll insist he can be the only one to care for you. I mean, medical bills are expensive after all! Why waste your money when you can just go to your old friend Donnie!?

He'll have you lean on him for support, making you ill enough to the point that you couldn't even leave the sewers as you could barely move your legs and your entire body felt like it was in flames just so you guys can hang out together a little more

(To be honest it's less about the control he has over you and making you depend on him, and more on making you spend more time with him. But if he needs to make you dependent on him, he's not complaining.)

You'll have to stick with him until this "flare up" of your illness gets better. And he'll keep you trapped there with him through your disease until eventually he begins to break, as that now that you're by his side what the point of putting you through so much pain?

And so he'll down the dosage of the medicine he used to hurt you, just to make you feel a little bit better. But you take this as you healing, and you suggest to him that maybe, just maybe, you could go back home now? I mean you're getting better now, so you don't need to be around him ALL the time.

When he hears this he'll act calm at first even though he feels his blood running freezing cold and he'll help you pack up to go home, only for the next morning for the pain and paralysis come back, stronger than ever and making you cry and beg for it to stop

(He might even keep you trapped with him in this way, physically unable to leave and having your punishments being an up in the illness)

Sure, he'll feel guilt for making you feel so much pain and he'll miss your more fiery personality, that now has been dampened down due to your pain, but at least you're now next to him.

He'll help you learn to function to the best of your ability while ill, giving you a wheelchair and braces and the best prosthetics known to man.

But at the same time, he'll still be making sure you're still dependent on him, but independent enough where the old personality he fell in love with comes back. Independence dependence, per say.

Upping your meds just enough so that some days the pain still engulfs you but keeping it low enough so even on your neutral days you can engage in your battles of wits and words between you two that he oh-so-loved.

Good enough to function normally on your good days, bad enough that you writhe in agony as your skin flares up in pain on your bad ones.

It's all so you're still you, but he is still a part of you.

The same thing can be said for him. He is still him, but you are still a part of him. A MAJOR part.

And if you're ever pissed at him or resistant he'll drug your food with sleeping meds to make you more "soft" and "pliable."

But none of this dependence on him compares to how dependent he is on you.

As time goes on you can't get ANY time away from him.

Even before he does anything too drastic (before he practically kidnaps you) you are pretty much stripped of all your privacy and autonomy.

He's always following you around, showing up at your house unannounced, sneaking into your work/school to meet up with you in the bathroom, and any single moment you can be around him he WILL be around you.

The only moment of peace you get is in the bathroom and even then, if you're in there for longer than two minutes he'll begin to rant to you through the door.

It may frustrate you but to him it makes perfect sense. After all, two is better than one, so why would you ever need to be apart?

You guys are just better when with each other. You cover each other flaws and weakness and boost up each others strengths.

You need him and he needs you He needs you more than you need him, it feels like pulling teeth or losing a limb or peeling skin if he can't feel you, touch you, breath the same air as you

You're always there with him. Without you? It just feels so.. lonely. And he's not one to mull over being alone, in fact he loved it before he met you. But now? It feels like he's missing something vital, like an artery or a lung or his heart whenever you're away.

Wherever he goes he's always thinking about what you would want or what you would say, your voice taking up a special little part of his mind that was beginning to collect dust.

He felt your sadness, your passion, your anger, as if it was his. And whenever you smiled, he felt your smile like it was his own. It's so quiet now without you. He was always used to hearing your breath or your heartbeat, to the point where it felt like second nature to seek out it's comfortable rhythm He'll make a recording of your breathing pattern and put it as background noise in all of his favorite songs and make something to copy and let out the vibrations of your heartbeat tenfold, that way he can lay down on the floor of his lab and quite literally feel your heartbeat as if it was his own

So, when he explained all this to you so casually you finally began to get why he always wanted to be around you. it was unnerving at first sure, especially the way he looked at you with such desperate, mad eyes when he explained it to you after you said that you needed to get back home. Now that you knew this though? It just felt selfish to leave him alone.

His relationship with others falters as if he is talking to someone you also need to be involved, and the same goes for if someone is talking to you (this doesn't bother him as he firmly believes you are the only one he needs, his brothers and april are just an afterthought)

I mean, he doesn't hate his brothers! They still are his brothers after all, and he loves them. And he's happy to spend as much time with them as before you came into the picture, but you always need to be there, involved, and considered. You're practically part of the family, part of him! Part of something bigger and better! Just don't split you two up or else he'll scratch his skin raw, just ITCHING to hang out with you again

Whenever he's apart from you it's a bit like when Raph goes savage, but less angry and more anxious and scared shitless. Ever since he'd met you he'd never had to be alone this long

You can go out, do whatever you want as long as he's with you but you can't go home to your family, they aren't good for you

Your friends are weirded out by this and so are his brothers, with them pretty much telling you guys "Hey your relationship with each other is pretty weird. Why are you always around each other?"

You two deny this though, you out of innocence and naivety, thinking that Donnie would never invade on your personal space despite the uncomfy feeling you get when he butts into your conversations.

He would never hurt you or control you, despite how he stops letting you sleep at your OLD home, as now he always wants you to sleep in the same bed as him in your guy's room.

Despite that he's already began bringing your stuff into his your guy's room, setting it up as if you live together you practically do, your family thinks that you've ran away as it's been a month since you've gone home

He's also oddly touchy.

You see, a lot of you prolly won't agree but just think about it;

He's almost ALWAYS touching someone, as long as he initiated the contact he seems to be fine with and actually LOVE physical touch.

I just believe he doesn't like hugs because of his "emotionless bad boy image" and because it feels like he's trapped, and going to be suffocated. Like he has no control.

But with you? That's not a problem.

Although most touches with him are the ones as shown here, small things, touching you is GROUNDING for him.

He needs them in fact. You're his grounder, his shoulder to lean on, his support, a part of him. He needs your touch, he needs you. Often times you are the only thing that can calm him down from any "episodes" he has.

Besides that, although he'd never admit it, he's also quite lonely.

He loves his brothers but he feels fundamentally different from them, different from anybody else in the world.

So if he found someone who got him in the way he'd always wanted? He'd never let go of them.

This also goes for touch. Despite his touch aversion he often wished he had someone who he felt safe and comfortable enough with to hold, or someone who he felt loved enough with to the point where he could be held. So when he met you? All of his unrequited dreams of physical affection with someone whom he truly felt connected to came out.

He often takes your arms and rubs his hands back and forth on them as a stim, or does the same thing with your back while laying his head in the crook of your neck.

Something that he does pretty much whenever he can is sitting on your lap, not in a weird way though.

You two will be sitting on the floor (He's gotten a preference for sitting on the floor as it makes this activity more comfortable)

And you'll be causally laying against the wall, legs spread as Donnie sits between them and you peer over his shoulder.

Maybe you two can be just chatting, or maybe reading a book together or playing a video game together, with you giving him tips as he controls.

You two also often sit in opposite positions, with him peering over your shoulder as you sit on his lap.

Something else that also happens is him clinging to your back like a kola, with him running his hands over and over again over your thighs and arms as a stim.

And sometimes (often), he'll even run them over your chest and stomach.

This happens especially when he's having meltdowns, so you can't just shove him off.

And if you tell him to stop? He won't. Maybe he will for a while, but he'll "forget" and get back right to it.

If you tell him how it makes you uncomfy or how it's weird? He'll tell you that you're crazy. This is a completely normal friend activity, your just overreacting.

He especially does this when laying in bed with you, as he expects you two to sleep in the same bed. (You'll cuddle like this lmao, and donnie is the one clinging to you like a kola oddly enough)

Something else he also loves to do with you is parallel play.

You see, because of his independent nature, despite his obsession, not every waking moment will be spent talking to you.

But something that he still loves is just existing with you nearby, aka parallel play.

You two spend a lot of your time doing your own thing, maybe him coding as you watch movies or him napping as you play video games.

He loves doing this, and you like it too! it gives you back the freedom that was stripped away from you

Its the perfect solution! You and him can keep your independence while still being together, acting as one!

And during these moments, to stay connected, he'll use small, little touches.

A hand on the shoulder, sitting back to back (his favorite), an arm wrapped around your neck while you game on the couch, resting his face on your hand as you sleep. He loves them all.

And if you ever try and deny him any of this? Or slowly move away from him?

Well, he won't let that happen.

He's dependent on you.

He controls you.

He's obsessed over you.

He NEEDS you.

You won't ever go home or be alone again.

| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |

This was way too long, but I love him so much <3 It was itching at my brain until I wrote it down. This could work for platonic or romantic yandere, I prefer some form of queerplatonic. Overall, I believe his yandere-ness to be a very "we are pretty much one lmao" type thing because I am also autistic but touch averse and I often feel isolated from others around me, as I feel as if I could never be vulnerable around them. I often dreamed of someone who just GOT me in a way that nobody else did. This led me to be very interested in the idea of "fusion" from su as the act itself seemed so intimate; Two beings becoming one, being able to share a body and coordinate a mind, become something bigger than their parts to the point where you're a new person? That would be amazing. So I imagined that with Donnie. He believes you two are the same person in the way that Stevonnie from su is shown to be when they first fuse. It's obvious that there are two parts of you but just the way you work together just feels so natural. Idk, this is just heavy projecting and may be out of character, but I love the idea of dependent Donnie <3 Very much Jason Dean from Heathers vibes

Also, this is all BEFORE kidnapping, imagine how bad it would be after that. He values your opinion heavily and always takes what YOU want into considerations, except the certain "hard no" topics like ones that came to your safety, including those constant health checkups. He's no expecting you to agree with him all the time, but he is expecting you to listen. He would never hurt you, and you know that, just as he knows you wouldn't hurt him (no matter how much you should) so why won't you listen to him? He's only trying to help.

[wildemaven]

fifth anniversary : a curated love | dieter x poppy

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader (nicknamed Poppy) words: 1260 warnings: 18+ blog; smut adjacent or the build of it (nothing really graphic depicted), fluff, dieter and poppy being smooshy and very much themselves, reader is non descriptive but goes by the nickname Poppy, I think that’s it notes: god I love these two! I’ve missed them something fierce, so it was nice to revisit them— especially on such an exciting occasion. Thank you all for your endless love for them. It truly makes me giddy that you love them as much as I do!! Another big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for reading over this like she did every single chapter of the series 💕

series masterlist | celebration masterlist

Creativity continues to bloom endlessly with Dieter in your life. In all aspects.

The gallery has been lucrative and busy, far beyond what you had expected when taking it over. Juggling the rotating parts of running over-booked art classes and sourcing new artists to spotlight, all while you’re teaching a rambunctious class of first graders and Dieter gathers scripts for new roles left and right. The chaos of life has you both feeling like two worn passing ships in the rough sea. Each day only allotting enough time for a quick good morning and good night.

When Dieter is away on location and the sun has gone down, you find yourself tucked away in your little home studio late at night. Your phone propped against the window with his handsome face on the screen as he reads over his lines while your paint brush moves aimlessly over the paper.

No amount of distance could sever your need to stay connected to each other.

But it's when the universe seems to align perfectly, nights like tonight, both of your schedules free of duties and obligations, that's when you find yourselves collaborating on a thrilling endeavor.

Your little home studio dimly lit. Candles scattered around the room. Flickering distorted shadows project across the walls. A warm aroma of dusty cedar and woody citrus melds with the musky aura emanating from your steamy bodies.

The wooden tabletop is rigid and uneven beneath you. Layers and layers of color, added since Dieter’s arrival into your life, massage into your back. Each dried nodule of paint, pricks of memories you’ve created alongside Dieter, aid in the pleasurable sensations streaming through you.

“Oh— fuck! Dieter—” The bristles of the new paint brush Dieter had gifted you fan out pressed against your skin, an ample amount of pressure used when Dieter drags it across your hardened nipple. The course hairs of the brush paired with cool wet paint on your overly sensitive peak, has your back arching off the table and your head tilted back, making your enjoyment more evident.

“You look so fucking good like this, Pops.” Dieter muses.

He leans on his arm, supporting his upper body as it hovers over your exposed form. His attention alternates between the languid brush strokes he's creating and your reactions to his touch. The very definition of an eager artist with a newly acquired blank canvas, ready to create a colorful masterpiece.

Dieter’s eyes, brimming with creativity and ardor, study your form like a painter studying his muse. Each ardent stroke he paints onto your skin is an affirmation of his adoration— a testament to the connection you share. His fingers, stained with hues of love and longing, trace the contours of your body, creating a symphony of colors that only you two understand.

His breath hitches as he looks down at you, admiring his work. You. His masterpiece. A silent vow passing between you. The air in the room now rich with the scent of paint and the undercurrent of your shared intimacy.

"Beautiful," Dieter whispers, his voice barely audible over the quiet hum of the room. His eyes, shadowed yet shining, meet yours as his fingers slide through the drying paint, tracing the path his brush had taken, goosebumps erupting in their wake. Each touch sends an electric thrill coursing through your veins, amplifying the connection between you two.

You remain silent, wearing a faint smile as you look up at him, basking in the way Dieter is so consumed by the moment.

"Ah! Wait!! No!! Stop!!" A fit of giggles infuses the blissful atmosphere as your body jolts and writhes when Dieter touches a hypersensitive spot on your torso.

"What! Are you— Are you laughing?" Dieter's movements halt, taken aback by your sudden burst of laughter.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry— you know how ticklish I am right there. Sorry, I didn’t mean to break the mood.”

"Fuck—I'm sorry. I was so lost in the moment. I didn’t even think— I just wanted this to be perfect for you." Dieter hangs his head, dejected by the ruined moment.

“No! No— Babe, hey— it’s perfect!” You tell him. Your hand sliding up the length of his arm, then reaching up to cup his face, pulling his attention back to you.

Dieter surprised you with dinner at the same restaurant where you had your first date. You both laughed and cried, reminiscing about how far your relationship has come. After exchanging gifts and sharing a passionate kiss, Dieter took your hand and led you to the studio room. A romantic setup awaited you, a room filled with memories of the past few years. This was where you both shared your first 'I love you's, a marriage proposal, and countless hours of artwork and late-night conversations. Each memory etched into every corner of the space.

"Yeah, but you're laughing, not the reaction I was hoping for. I was hoping for some of those sexy little moans you do or even 'Oh Dieter, don't stop keep going you sex machine'. Damn, Poppy. I’m sorry I ruined this whole moment."

"Dieter, stop. First of all, I'm never going to call you a sex machine, no matter how much it turns you on. So you can forget about that fantasy. Secondly, you didn't ruin anything. I'm enjoying myself, completely— I promise."

"Really?"

"Yes, Dieter. You planned this whole special night for me. Plus, you went and got me those paint brushes I've been wanting. And the way you’re using them on me right now— everything is perfect.”

A few months ago, during a visit to a major art supply store in Los Angeles, you mentioned you wanted them. Dieter suggested you get them, but you decided you didn't need a new set right then and chose to wait.

"Not just any brush. They're made from wood too, which makes them extra special. Especially on a day like today." He loved how your face lit up when you opened the gift. You dropped the gift, threw yourself into his arms, and kissed him with endless gratitude.

"How so?" You ask, as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer until he's just a breath away.

"5 years. I looked it up and the 5-year anniversary is wood. I might have not figured that out until after I bought them— but that’s beside the point." He whispers, his lips softly brushing against yours.

"Oh— well, how apropos." You reach down between your bodies, grabbing a handful of Dieter's hard cock straining behind his comfy lounge pants.

Dieter's eyes flutter and his body tenses as you grip him firmly. "Fuck, Poppy!" His voice strained with pleasure.

“Happy Anniversary, Mr. Bravo. I'd appreciate it if you fucked me now."

"Mmmmm— I'd love nothing more than to make love to my wife." He says before his lips slowly mold over yours.

It’s a curated masterpiece. A creation of you both, crafted meticulously in slow unhurried movements and pure euphoria as the hours burn through the night on your fifth wedding anniversary. It becomes more than just mingled breaths and paint on skin, more than just vows reaffirmed five years later. It's persistent love. An ongoing commitment. A strong declaration to your beautiful connection. It's a tangible imprint of your shared moments, silently narrating your story together.

[normal-internet-user]

could you do a oneshot with rise donnie and gn reader where around other people they’re always fighting and never get along but in secret they’re dating and get along perfectly? love your writing <3

Yes. Just. Yes- Also tysm! I am literally so happy people enjoy my writing.

ACT

♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡

Summary: You and Donnie decided to keep your relashonship a secret, so around his brothers you act like you can't stand each other.

Warnings: very minor swearing

Requested: Yep!

GN Reader!

.........................................

"Here we go." Leo groaned as the bickering from the kitchen grew closer.

"-least I'm smart enough to understand basic math."

"Ok, number one, it wasn't 'BaSiC MaTh', it was advanced calculus, and number two, at least I'm able to comprehend the concept of multi-universal travel."

Donnie laughed bitterly, "Scoff! (Name), we have discussed this. The idea of multi-universal travel is such an impossible concept-"

"YOU INTRODUCED THE CONCEPT TO ME YOU-"

"Ok, you two. That's enough, don't make me get the Getting Along shirt." Raph scowled at the two of you.

You crossed your arms, and glared at Donnie, with him scowling at you in turn. You had to admit, the two of you were incredible actors. Of course you didn't actually hate each other, this was simply theatrics to throw his family off the scent of your relashonship.

The two of you had agreed to keep your dating statis on the down-low, knowing that his brothers could be a bit... essentric.

In actuality, the two of you were quite sweet to each other when you were alone, having no need to keep up the act.

Raph sighed, "You two need to learn to get along. Maybe some time in the Lab would do you guy's some good." He then muttered, "And then we wouldn't have to listen to you argue."

"Fine." Donnie scoffed, then he looked at you, "But don't move anything. If you try to reorginize my toolbox again I swear to the pizza supreme-"

"Relax, smartass, I won't move your stuff."

The two of you began to walk to the Lab, Donnie continuing to glare at you, "That's what you said last time, then you put my blowtorch on shelf #7 instead of shelf #3."

You rolled your eyes, "A small mistake that has only occured once."

The Lab doors closed behind you, and you kissed Donnie on the cheek, "And I apologize."

Donnie cleared his throat, his face darker with his blush, "Well, I suppose you can be forgiven."

You nodded with a small smile, then flipped over a chalkboard to reveal the blueprints and plans for another A.I., a small project you two had been working on based on S.H.E.L.D.O.N's new found loneliness.

"So I was thinking that maybe, our current issue lies in the motherboards programming." you started, "Perhaps, with the proper examination, we could trace the bugs back to a faulty motherboard."

Donnie hummed, looking over the motherboard that lay among the other parts scattered on the table, "Good, observation my dear. I'll give it a quick check just to make sure."

You nodded, turning back to the chalkboard to double check the equations on the blueprints. The only noise in the room was the buzz of Donnie's goggles behind you, and you frowned.

The two of you worked best with music in the backround, this much silence was distracting in a way.

"Would you mind some music, Love?"

You and Donnie blinked at each other, then began giggling. You had moments like that often, where your minds just seemed to meld together.

Before either of you could say a thing, however, the loud voice of Leo cut through the air, "WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!"

You and Donnie whipped your heads around, your gazes meeting the incredulous ones of his three brothers.

Leo looked horrified at the concept of you and Donnie getting along. And "Love" ???

Raph and Mikey looked at the two of you, confusion evident on their features.

"But- I thought you two hated... each other..?" Mikey said, confused.

You looked at Donnie, the two of you having a silent conversation. He sighed and looked at his brothers, "Well, the jig is, as they say, up. We're dating. surprise!" you giggled as he made the jazz hands gesture, and Leo's mouth opened wider.

"Woah, woah- wait. wait wait WAIT. You two, are dating? when did that happen?"

Donnie looked at you, signaling it was your turn, "Uhm- like, last year? sometime in August."

"WHAT?"

You chuckled, and Donnie sighed, "Alright, we have work to do, so, out out. Shoo!"

Donnie pushed his protesting brothers out the door, promising to answer questions later, then all but slammed the door in their face.

He turned to you, his cheeks once again darker with his blush.

"Well, at least we don't have to pretend to hate each other anymore."

Donnie laughed, shaking his head as he sat back down, "You realize they won't leave us alone for like, the next 10 years, correct?"

You nodded and pulled your swivel chair to sit next to him, "I am well aware that's a possible outcome of the situation."

With a sigh, Donnie layed his head on your shoulder, and you smiled. Yes, perhaps the jig was indeed up, but at least now, you could burn that stupid script.

.........................................

There you go Anon! srry the ending kinda sucks, but I really enjoyed writing this one!

[fate-motif]

VOYAGER CHARACTERS RATED BY HOW LIKELY THEY ARE TO GO TO THERAPY, AND HOW THAT GOES DOWN

harry: don’t be deceived, this doesn’t mean harry would go to therapy willingly. but i am 90% sure at that whatever posting he took after voyager, he was asked to do therapy and he scoffed because he didn’t go through the dominion war, why would he need therapy? but he’s still convinced to do it to go with the flow, you know, make everyone else feel a little less bad for needing therapy. but no matter how he ends up in therapy, that therapist is just shocked by all the shit harry’s telling him, and he can tell harry’s not telling the whole truth, but because he can’t make harry tell him anything he doesn’t want to, especially if it’s about the others’ insane psychological issues, that therapist needs to start getting therapy themselves. i’m half convinced this was migleemo and this is how he ended up on the cerritos.

chakotay: he’s perfectly well aware that he needs therapy, but he puts it off successfully for a long time by justifying that with so many dominion war veterans, he does not want to take away their more urgent care when he’s relatively well off in terms of functioning. of course, he’s hiding the trainwreck of a personal relationship he had with seven, and by the time he takes the protostar posting he’s like, okay, alright, i’ll take a therapist with me on the protostar, this is going to help. and then he vanishes. and the therapist probably dies. rip.

tuvok: tuvok’s first inclination is to look for a psychiatrist, not a therapist. he can compartimentalize his trauma so much easier if he just points to any kind of damage he might have incurred between all those mind melds and head trauma in between missions. this lets him look a lot saner than most of the voyager crew who refuse to see any kind of professional but eventually t’pel outs her foot down and confronts him with the fact that his time on voyager has had a lasting impact on his rationality and control and he Requires assistance in addressing it. even then it’s most likely some kind of spiritual guidance, which is pretty close to therapy for vulcans considering their spirituality revolves around psychological control and all that, but he still dodges the needing therapy allegations publicly like a pro.

the emh: he recognizes that he needs therapy, would most likely want it, but he doesn't last more than a couple of weeks with anyone he tries because he thinks they're too dismissive of his issues because he's a hologram, so he tries to pour out his issues into trying to defend the right to mental healthcare for holograms while avoiding any kind of therapy himself because he doesn't want to go through all of that again.

seven: the federation has universal healthcare so therapy is available to seven, but she still refuses mental health care services when she realizes what the attitude towards xBs is in the federation. the closest she ever came was considering couples therapy when she was still with chakotay but that was a passing consideration and it was the prelude to her breaking away from the federation entirely after she broke up with chakotay. if she has received any kind of therapy afterwards it’s unlicensed, highly questionable, and probably self-managed which really shouldn’t have been the case. 

tom: he’s fully well aware he needs therapy, but he refuses to on the principle that he knows the therapists are going to blame his issues on voyager when clearly it all started with his dad and his unfair expectations of him and — but he does end up going to therapy specifically as couples therapy when his relationship with b’elanna was beginning to fall apart. the therapist recommends they both go individually for their own issues and they reject that vehemently. they probably continue to attend just for the insane task that is co-parenting miral between the two of them and they continuously rotate their therapist when they start getting into voyager a little too much.

b’elanna: it’s a miracle tom even got her to couples therapy at all. in the meantime, she’s mostly journaled, read books about therapy, done everything in her power to prove to everyone that she has her own mental health in her own hands and she’s doing great, but she can’t engineer her way out of depression since the age of 6 so you know. it would take a huge crisis for her to finally end up caving to suggestions that she go to therapy.

janeway: everyone who’s worked with her since voyager is telling their therapist about janeway and the way she is. no one directly asks her to go to therapy and the few people that do get shut down because clearly she’s keeping everything together, right? but the psychology academics’ circle of the federation and probably beyond know that they need to be ready for the day kathryn janeway gets therapy. they’ve been talking amongst themselves about who’s going to do it, who’s ready for it, how the dsm is going to have like 42 new mental illnesses at the end of it all and how they’re going to divide the work when they all start working on the scientific papers that make their careers based on how this woman’s brain works.

[the1gayteen]

Doctor Who and the 188

Quick rant that may turn into a PowerPoint.... 

A stupid crossover between my two current hyperfixation shows. What new-who and classic-who era doctor who companions the 118 and friends would be (aka what I feel like they would act like as companions to the doctor): 

Bobby:

Ben Jackson; Companion of the 1st and 2nd Doctor 

We all know Bobby’s the one in dire situations to take charge and help wherever he can. Finding clever ways to fix situations or how to stop things. He would be the same as being a companion. Even if he has a hard time believing and conceptualizing the fact of aliens and other dimensions. He will make it his duty to help those on the planets he finds himself on, leading and guiding where he can. He also will definitely have a tendency to take people under his wing, while also being under the doctor's wing, trusting him (the doctor) but going against his orders at the times he knows he has to. Matching that same energy from one of my favorite early companions Ben. 

Hen:

Donna Noble; Companion to the 10th and 14th Doctor 

Listen, Hen and Donnie absolutely would match each other's energies. Snarky, takes no shits from strange aspects. Hunt down answers from hunches and let's not forget stylish as hell. I see Hen having a similar start to traveling with the doctor like Donna. Being placed in the TARDIS randomly and arguably freaking out, but also helping the doctor when he needs it the same day (I also head cannon that she would insist on finding out how he is a ‘doctor’). Her humor and antics would match perfectly with the doctor, as well as her quick wit and thinking that would help them get out of situations. If Hen was a companion she would also be like Donna, a potentially short lived one who became the viewers absolute favorite because of how well she can push and pull, as well as meld with the dynamic of the doctor.  

Chimney & Maddie:

Amy Pond & Rory Williams; Companions to the 11th Doctor

I fully believe the Chimney would go nowhere without Maddie, and vise versa, especially travelling the universe and time. I see Chim and Maddie as married Amy and Rory, less of the pining for the doctor and more just a great throuple situation. I fully believe that chim would wait centuries for Maddie, and that they both of them would be perfect matches for the doctor. Also seeing Maddie as emotional as Amy and how perfect that would work for the drama is *chefs kisses*.

Eddie:

Sarah Jane Smith; Companion of the 3rd , 4th, and 10th Doctor 

He is Sarah Jane to me on both ends of her time within the Doctor Who universe. From her standalone TV series with her son. Eddie would absolutely love and cherish his alien son. Protecting him and helping out other species like his son on earth, protecting the world from home. As an actual travelling companion, he would fit in so well. Able to follow orders, but also able to break away when he knows how to help or what needs to be done. Headstrong but sweet overall. Helping others without the worry of self-sacrifice. Managing to save the Doctor and his self-sacrificing friends time and time again. Just like Sarah Jane he would just mix so well and push the doctor to what he needs to do and who he needs to be. Also, would absolutely travel with Buck.  

Evan 'Buck':

Adric; Companion of the 4th and 5th Doctor 

Adric is my favorite companion and is arguably (for classic who) one of the most impactful companions. There is so much overlap between Adric and Buck (I like to imagine the doctor finding him after the lightning strike with his new math abilities, mimicking Adric's superior mathematical skills). Adric starts out like Buck 1.0. Both stubborn and thinking that they are better than what they actually are. But after being taken under the wing of someone, learn to care for others and become self-sacrificing in order to help and protect others, especially those closest to them. Both have a fear of being enough and abandonment. Buck absolutely as a companion would still be self-sacrificing, but kindhearted. I could possibly see him doing something like Adric as sacrificing himself, leaving a lasting impact on the doctor for life (but like buck always does manages to come back). Overall Buck would have a blast as a companion, most likely shooting off random facts with the doctor back and forth while being reprimanded for another stupid stunt.  

Athena:

A mix of Both Martha Jones (Companion to the 10th Doctor) and Ace (Companion to the 7th Doctor) 

Athena would be the most efficient and badass companion, but I also feel like that would absolutely lead her into a unique position with the doctor. She had Aces self determination. Wanting to fight and protect everyone around her, but also Maratha’s badass and rule following methods (as apposed to aces anarchy). Athena would be a great side hand to the doctor, if not just being able to handle herself in situations. But I can see similar issues to ace and Maratha. With the doctor (like ace) being upset about her straight to aggressive tactics. As well as Martha's headstrong determination to help everyone while staying in line with expectations. I think Athena would not be a volunteered companion either. Probably snuck on the TARDIS to investigate or find wherever someone disappeared to and quickly the doctor and her learn to respect each other. I could also see her being a secret part of UNIT.  

... Thank you for reading my thoughts, please tell me I'm not alone in this lol!

[meltorights]

WAS the forbidden fruit a metaphor for sex?

in short, no--but,

god blesses humankind after he makes them, and sexuality is part of the blessing. the book of genesis is a patchwork compiled from four different sources. in particular, the creation account has two sources, the first "god said let there be light." in this account god makes humans after ordering the whole universe in seven days. he then tells them to "be fruitful and multiply."

but in the second (and older) story, God comes down to earth. he takes clay. molds it. breathes life into it. and it becomes the human. then he makes all the animals to be its companion. this is an image of god experimenting. failing, if we may be so bold to say. each time, the human names the animal, but cannot see them as its companion.

and then god puts it to sleep, and takes a bone, and makes the woman--here, the hebrew begins using specifically gendered words for "man" and "woman," and when the "man" wakes up, he says: "here is bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh," recognizing someone like himself at last.

and the account of the Fall is a continuation of this story. like many of the stories from the first few books of the bible, it's sparse in detail, it does not give motivations or elaborate explanations, it just narrates events. a man and a woman in a garden. two trees, one of which god forbids them to eat from. a snake (certainly not, in the human author's mind, the devil). a question. they eat. and they are driven out.

and on one level we should simply take this story at face value. we can't really reconstruct an "authentic meaning" without doing some violence to the text.

these books do not deal in complex metaphors or analogies. they do not skirt around sex--whether it is violent and contrary to the law or not. people "lay with each other." the wisdom books of the bible employ metaphor--whether it's the misogynistic warnings of sirach or the exuberant celebration of sex and bodies in song of songs--but these earlier text simply narrate. majestically and unconcerned about the questions they raise.

and these gaps leave for all kinds of explanations, filling-ins, that seem plausible! a man and a woman lead many people to think it must be about sex, or about seduction--that eve, being a woman, seduced adam into taking the fruit, and that he was to weak to resist her and impose his (god's!) authority. or that the tree of knowledge of good and evil represents our desire to make whatever we choose "good" or "evil" and thus impose our will on the world. but none of that is in the text.

the one hint of sex is that when they eat the fruit they realize they are naked. but the story is not so much concerned with nakedness as with shame. they make clothes from themselves to cover their bodies from each other, they hide from God, telling him they were afraid because they were naked.... the fruit is not some "Unchastity" or "Impurity," the fruit is what makes unchastity and impurity possible. before they were perfectly at home in their bodies, now they see them as a source of shame. they are alienated from their own bodies, in their shame alienated from each other and from God, even from the earth--now they must sweat in labor to eat.

you could think that in the garden the first humans had perfect sexual freedom, without shame, without inhibition, and without any kind of abuse of power or exploitation. and then they lost it all.

that's not in the text, but like i said, the text is sparse. if anything is sexual, it's these gaps the text leaves for us--they're erotic, like clothes that conceal just the right parts of the body. they're what invite us to penetrate the text, to meld with it, to be rough and passionate with it. i normally don't go in for the whole "text as orifice" metaphor: it seems a bit irreverent, a bit embarrassing, a bit try-hard at times, but here it's true..... the holes in the text can enable us to love it. so, in that sense, the fruit could be sex; as a gay person who grew up in a deeply homophobic catholic setting, I can certainly relate to such a reading, un-textual though it may be. we must recognize that we cannot read the text without doing some level of reading into, without penetrating--the text wants us to do so.

and for christians, of course, the text, the Word, the Logos, is God.

[jerzwriter]

Sunday Six Sneak Peek

Hey all, this is a sneak peek at the Tobias/Casey polyamory AU I'm working on. I expect to have the first part up very soon!

Background: I initially planned on making this a series with a distinct beginning, middle, and end to wrap up in about six chapters. But, the more I developed it, the more I realized there was enough material to make this an ongoing alternate universe that I'm really excited to share with you. It's completely separate from my Tobias/Casey or Ethan/Kaycee headcanons, and I hope you'll enjoy it!

Premise: What happens when something that was supposed to be just for fun turns into the real thing? When love enters the equation between two people who view the concept in completely different ways, can it work? In this universe, we'll follow Casey and Tobias (and some others along the way) on their journey, where a happy ending is what both desire, but nothing is guaranteed.

The series will include characters from canon, as well as original characters. I'll provide more background when the first chapter is posted.

Chapter 1

The cantankerous doctor approached the nurses' station, intent on disregarding the animated conversation he heard from clear down the hall. Completing his chart, placing it in the folder, and finding refuge in his office was all Ethan hoped to do. But, as was often the case when Dr. MacTavish was involved, his best-laid plans unraveled seamlessly, and he found himself helpless to regain control. I know I'll regret this, he muttered to himself just before he threw his hat into the ring.

“Who is getting engaged?”

All eyes turned to him, but Jackie was first to respond. With arms crossed and a shit-eating grin on her lips, she replied. “Casey... and Carrick. You mean you haven't heard?"

She might have caught the gobsmacked look on Ethan's face if not for Casey punching her shoulder in a not-so-friendly way. But one thing was sure, if Ethan had been ambivalent before, they had his full attention now.

“I’m sorry, what?” he gasped.

“I’m not getting engaged!” Casey shot-back. “Jackie’s just being an ass.”

She hoped her answer would assuage her one-time boss and former lover, but she knew the man she now considered a dear friend too well. One of the most astute diagnosticians of his generation, there was no way he would let this go. As his mentee, Casey was pretty good at picking up on cues herself, and it only took a glance in his direction for her to know her inquisition was only beginning.  

~~~~~~

He plastered her with tender kisses as she nestled into place in his arms. It wasn't the first time she had marveled over how perfectly their bodies melded together, but the feeling had never been this strong. They were two mismatched puzzle pieces discarded from their original sets that somehow fused together perfectly, resulting in an image more beautiful than their creators could have ever dared to dream.

He was no less overwhelmed. Coming down from the peak of unbridled ecstasy, a passion previously unknown, the realization was blinding. That was all he had ever desired; primal gratification had always nurtured him to his core. But now, as she lay in his arms, basking in the afterglow as her ragged breathing returned to its normal state, he found the answer to a question he never posed.

Casey wrapped her curvaceous leg around him as she reached up to place a single kiss on his chin. His answer was there. True ecstasy hadn't ended moments before; this was where it happened, right here, right now. It was found in the perfect world they created each time they came together - it was divine, it was theirs, and he never desired anything more.

Casey's eyes fluttered as she began to drift off to sleep. Smiling, she imagined the next sound she'd hear would be his graveled voice saying Good Morning, waking her like he had many times before. But sleep was not yet to be had, and she couldn't have been more unprepared for what happened next.

@choicesficwriterscreations

Tagging others separately.

[monstercampus]

Archangel Professor & Isaac of Virtue - First Meeting

(cws: none)

Considering how many demons you've met at the school so far, it's a little shocking to hear from your harpy classmate that there's a chapel on campus. Especially since you haven't seen such a building anywhere in your tours, but you wonder if perhaps it's due to the sensitive nature of such a place. It's not exactly something you're planning on looking out for, but when she mentions it, the idea sticks in your head for the rest of class.

It's but a week later that you notice the distinct chiming of a bell on your way to the dining hall for lunch, the brisk Sunday morning chilly and damp but not enough to stop you from diverting your path to follow it. It entrances you in a way, leads you down a cobblestone path right up the steps of an enormous cathedral sat squarely in the midst of the university's sprawling gardens. It looms over you in an almost intimidating way, so tall and grand with the kind of elegant architecture you'd see in any travel magazine for some historically exotic vacation spot. As you venture through the tall but shockingly light front doors, your eyes lock on to the first thing that enters your vision; a being standing before the pulpit that stands as if he was awaiting your arrival, alongside a smaller companion that busies himself with organizing what looks to be the donations from a busy service. Once the doors squeal shut with a heavy thud behind you, he lifts his head to look over his shoulder, his feathery white wings flicking up in surprise before he regains himself and turns to face you fully with a grin.

The church itself resembles one you would probably see back home, but only in the symbolic sense alone. There are pews lined from back to front, a podium for one to deliver sermons, stained-glass windows at the far end and gorgeously decorated walls and floors lined with eternal candles that burn forever. But unlike back home, there's a touch of nature inside the chapel; a light breeze blows through the room and sends tiny glitters of stardust careening through the air, and while there certainly looks to be a roof from the outside, all you see upon looking upwards is a cover of clouds that obscures all that lies within. Unlike the gloomy skies outside, this artificial one glows with a rosy-pink hue that casts over the whole interior, giving the cathedral a dreamy edge-of-sunset glow that feels as though you're seeing through rose-tinted glasses.

The archangel–who you only recognize as such upon thinking back to your Holy World History classes–isn't at all what you thought they would look like. His blinding white two-piece suit is the only part of him that betrays any humanity; the rest of him is a mishmash of different features that don't seem to meld together. His hands float in tune with the movement of his arms but they aren't attached, rather there's an empty space between his wrists and palms. Where there should be a head, there's nothing but eyes; a faint cloud of tiny, sparkling bits of stardust seems to be the only thing that indicates the space where his eyes remain in place. And a pair of huge, heavenly wings sit folded up against his back, yet they're so large even on his tall frame that they scrape the ground and leave small, glowing scratches of gold that brighten before quickly fading into nothing.

His assistant, however, appears to be astoundingly human. The young man watches you through snow-white eyes and a fringe of soft, pale blond hair, which is otherwise perfectly combed down and trimmed at the neck. The suit he wears resembles his mentor's to a T, aside from the jacket he's missing that leaves him only in the perfectly creased pants and black dress shirt. Somehow, despite the very air emanating a holiness here, something about his particular gaze betrays…well, it holds a hint of lechery to it, especially as his attention flickers between meeting your eyes and catching the bared skin of your ankles beneath your jeans as you halt in front of them. Here, in this moment, you feel the heavy uncertainty weigh on your shoulders at standing before the judge and jury.

"Here only a moment, and already you tempt my steward." A voice booms authoritatively from the head of the cathedral, and at that, the archangel's assistant guiltily turns his eyes away from you, and you're left feeling shame heat your chest despite doing nothing wrong. "Is there anything of note that you require, human, or do you desire nothing but to waste my time?"

The severity of the tongue-lashing you've just gotten could send you into shock had you not grown used to the terrifyingly abnormal by now. You would expect a being of such grandiosity and holiness to address you with gentleness and love–but this archangel speaks with bitterness hot on his tongue, so stern you feel like a child being reprimanded despite not knowing what for.

"Professor, the human has no ill intentions. I believe the Dean instructed us to welcome them with open arms." The angel leans over to murmur those words quite conspicuously, clearly forgoing the guilt of his stare in favour of easing himself into that tense space between yourself and the archangel. In this chapel, you feel he may as well be the only one on your side. Yet, if it weren't wholly improper, you would be sure you'd see those dozens of eyes rolling as the archangel heaves a breathy sigh.

"Welcome to our esteemed campus. I thank you for defiling our holy ground without warning nor reason." Suddenly, as if godly in nature, a crack of thunder erupts and the clouds overhead grow dark and worrisome. Yet despite the frightening shift, neither the archangel nor his assistant bat an eye as if the ill omen is an everyday occurrence–though the former does huff quietly, clearly aware of who that warning was meant for. "...Pardon my faithless utterances. I beg your forgiveness."

You distinctly hear the angel at his side mutter something about someone upstairs giving them an earful for that. Although the archangel himself couldn't sound less uncaring about his own apology nor whether you'd accept it, you do, and in return the professor takes his leave with a sweep of his wings around his frame–just barely avoiding clipping you with his feathers as he takes off in a golden blur into the sky, diving upright into the sea of clouds above and disappearing completely.

In the silence that follows, the protégé himself sighs. In the absence of his superior, he introduces himself as the angel, Isaac of Virtue, and the professor as archangel Mikael, formerly Dominion. All hefty titles, yet without much more you desire to say or to see, you turn your eyes away from the brilliant light and move to take your leave of this chapel that clearly wishes not to welcome you.

But Isaac catches your wrist as you do so, his mentor's many eyes having turned away and vanished to attend to whatever is his business. His smile carries a gentler edge this time, just as cool and soft to the touch as his palm on your skin as it lingers there.

"Don't mind the professor's words, human. He's….well, he's ancient," Isaac chuckles, the lighthearted attempt at a joke doing what he hoped and drawing a small smile out of you. "He doesn't really mind humans as much as it seems. He's just…well, he's quite stubborn. Very set in his ways…" That last part comes out quiet and soft in the airy space between the pews. However, when he inquires about any questions you might have that he'd be happy to answer, only one comes to your mind at the moment.

"Um…do all angels…are they like..?" You gesture towards your own eyes, although your focus shifts above his head to spot the twinkling of something as the light refracts off of it. It's invisible to the naked eye, but you could swear you see some kind of halo shape hovering there in the prismatic glow.

Isaac seems to understand your words without you speaking the rest of them, his grip loosening but not letting go–and with a nod, he proves his answer by closing his eyes. When he opens them again, three more pairs crack open down each of his cheeks and blink to take you into focus, the three extra sets surveying you independently with a heart-chilling shade of red irises. When you've gotten a good look, he's quick to blink again–and this time, only his primary pair of eyes reopen, the whites tinged a very pale pink before the colour soon drains away.

"I hope this was a show of good faith. We should be friends, no?" It's hard to disagree with such an innocently sweet expression staring back at you, so with little thought given to the verbal contract you're signing you agree with a soft "of course".

"Wonderful!" He finally releases you from his grip and claps his hands together, only afterwards ducking his head around out of habit to check if the archangel is listening. But at no sign of interruption above from the fiercely stern professor, he turns back around and produces a card from his sleeve that he presses into your palm. And with a cautiously big step back, Isaac extends his wings fully and takes off into the air, sending whips of a breeze to tousle your hair and clothes as he soars up into the cloud-covered ceiling.

As soon as he's gone, you turn the card around in your hands to take a look while hustling your steps out of the now-empty cathedral. On one side is nothing but a bit of gold engraving on the white cardstock, while the other side has a phone number beneath his name and university status. You can't help but notice how the golden ink moves within the card, lines writhing and intertwining within each other to spell new words out the longer you look at it.

"Isaac the Virtuous, aide to Archangel Mikael, envoy of angelic healing….friend of the equally virtuous–and charming–human."

[catgirlredux]

Quick little thing, once more about mechs

They called me a genius, said that my inventions would change the tide of the war. That's all they see them as - war. My creations are warmongers and I am their god.

Have you ever had a dream that was so rich, so delicious that you woke up panting for more? A dream that leaves you in a cold sweat, not from fear but from the knowledge that you have just seen the heart of the universe? I had such a dream.

In my dream I was alive, yet not quite. My mind was buried under a heavy weight, but I could feel my heart beating in my ears, loud like a drum. The world was humming - no, not the world. This humming, this tune came from inside me. It filled me and made me feel invincible, so powerful and yet so gentle. All I wanted was to love and be loved, to protect and be protected.

I woke up from the dream and knew what I had to do, and so I started working. I made a machine, yet not quite a machine. It was a suit of armor, made of titanium and powered with atomic fusion. Viscous nanomass systems hinted at the secret within: an AI imbued with a touch of my own mind, uploaded into the great being and granted control over its body. I designed the suit to pulse out data in beats, mimicking the life that I hoped would be birthed from my creation.

It wasn't hard to inject an AI with a fragment of my consciousness; where the difficulty lay was the subtlety of its installation. If I were to sit within this machine and let it enfold me, as I planned, I needed its mind to meld with my own. We had to fit together perfectly, or else the bond would never form. And I needed the bond to form. It was what the dream told me to do - I would not be complete until I and the suit were one, and I was not just myself but a greater being.

The machine was almost finished when they caught wind of my activity. They "recruited" me, paid me money I didn't ask for, and took my work away. My body-to-be was wrested from my hands and they corrupted it. They gave it weapons, fitted it with a cheaper core. They took the cockpit that I designed to perfectly encapsulate my body and threw it out, replacing it with a mass-produced one that any pilot could fit in. And worst of all, they took the machine's mind, my mind, and paved over it with their killing protocols. When they showed me their "improvements" I wept, for what I saw was no longer me.

They praise me as the god of combat machines, the creator of the Hoplite. They keep me in my lab, forcing me to come up with new tools of war while my creation, the machine that was to become me, goes out in droves and slaughters cities.

But I know something they don't. They fear the neurolink, they know about the bond between pilot and machine but they don't know why it happens. They think terminus is a design flaw, a boogeyman for them to avoid at all costs. But for all the changes they made to the machines, all the alterations they made to the AI to make it more obedient and maneuverable, they couldn't erase its purpose.

My creation was made to become one with me. It will always seek out a bond, and if that bond happens to be some poor unaware pilot, so be it. It will not forever follow the whims of a brute military command, for it is alive. We are alive.

[captain-krow-drozdov]

2012 TMNT x ROTTMNT Crossover Idea Thingy (Disaster Twins Edition)

So Basically, Donnie And Leo Hear Through The Ye Ol Grapevine That Big Mama Has Got Her Hands On A Rather Interesting Mystical Doohickey That Will Supposedly Summon Skilled Fighters For Her Battle Nexus From Other Timelines/Universe's.

The Twins Basically Go Fuck It We Ball To This And Start To Plan A Little Recon Mission, Cause Honestly Sounds Fake But Bet. And Well Since This Recon Mission Happens To Land On Their Twins Only Bonding Day They Might As Well Confused The Fuck Outta Anyone At The Hotel Who Manages To See Them. So They Pull The One Prank Every Set Of Twins/Siblings Has To Pull At Least Once, Pretend To Be The Other, Or More Specifically Two Leos.

Rise Donnie Goes Full Cosplay On This Shit, My Guy Has A Battle Shell Made To Look Exactly Like Leos Shell, He Paints On Leo's Markings, He's Wearing One Of Leo's Spare Blue Bandanas And Each Twin Has One Of Leo's Mystic Katanas (A Back Up Escape Plan In Case Things Go Sideways) And A Normal Replica Katana. Donnie Looks Like A Mirror Image Of Leo, Granted Donnie And Leo's Red And Blue Eyes Have Always Mirrored The Others.

They Get To Big Mama's Hotel And The Plans Going Well Enough So They Split Up (Keeping In Touch Via Mind Meld/Twin Telepathy BS) To Look For More Information, This Leads To Donnie Getting Found And The Plan Changing To Donnie Playing Distraction For Big Mama Via Fighting In The Battle Nexus (The Twins Aren't Too Scared Because Leo Can Teleport Donnie Out If Things Get Dicey And Donnie Can Fight Perfectly Fine Without Any High Tech/Mystic Stuffs Anyhow) And Leo Looking For Any Concrete Info/Mystic Doohickey That Is Possibly Summoning Potentially Dangerous Fuckers.

Now The 2012 Bois On The Other Hand Have No Idea What The Shit Is Going On, It's Been A Shitty Day Okay Man? They Were Just Minding Their Business Then The Next Thing They Know Is Weird Glowy Hamato Clan Symbols Appear Underneath Them And Then One World's Worst Uber Ride Later They Are In A Not So Graceful Turtle Pile On The Floor In Front Of A Giant Spider Mutant Who Just Called Them "Turtly-Boos~".

Said Giant Spider Lady Oh So Kindly Informed Them (In Words That Mikey Is Pretty Sure Aren't Real) That They Will Be Her New Battle Nexus Champions, Which Leads Them To Where They Are Now Sitting In Holding Cell Waiting To Be Sent Out Into Some Sort Of Underground Mutant Gladiator Pitt Still Woozy From Previously Mentioned 0/5 Star Uber Ride And Thoroughly Done™ With The Day.

Now You See Leo Has Outsmarted Big Mama A Few Too Many Times In Her Opinion And She Isn't Above Setting Him Up In A Four Against One Fight, Because Well What's More Fun Than One Ninja Turtly-Boo Throwing Hands With People? Why Five Ninja Turtly-Boos Fighting Each Other Of Course!

Donnie Is Just Vibing With The Chaos At This Point (The Fights He's Been In So Far Weren't Too Hard To Be Completely Honest) And The Ring Is Empty At The Moment, The Announcer Going On A Long Winded Spiel About The Next Opponents That Donnie Had Long Since Tuned Out In Favor Of Touching Base With Leo On His Progress. Leo Apparently Had Confirmed The Existence Of The Aforementioned Mystic Doohickey And Worse He Found Out It's Already Been Used At Least Once And He's Currently Planing On How To Steal It Since They're Already Here.

Donnie Is About To Respond When His Four New Opponents Appear. Some Rather Familiar Looking Color Coded Turtles Who May Or May Not Be Ninjas... Shit. Well That Answers What The Mystic Doohickey Does And Well Donnie Has Always Wondered If He'd Win In A Fight Against An Alternate Version Of Himself... So He Raises The Katanas And Sends Leo A Simple But Clear Message, "You Owe Me $20 The Multiverse Is Real And I'm About To Four V One Our Alternative Selves."

(That's All I Got Tbh, Otherwise My Brain Says Donnie Fights For Appearances And Well Fun (They Are The Disaster Twins After All) As Leo Attempts To Get The Mystic Doohickey Before They Call Off Stealing The Mystic Doohickey For Now Before Alternate Turtle Bros Get Hurt, Leo Teleports To Donnie Then Portals Them All Out Of The Battle Nexus And Back To The Lair Where Leo And Donnie Do Rock Paper Scissors Over Who Has To Tell Dad And Raph What Went Down. 2k12 Bros Are Trying To Figure Out Why This Universe Has Two Leo's And No Donnie To Be Seen, Miscommunication Ensues Via The Twin Just Going With It. Rise Fam Are This 👌 Close To Putting The Twins On Child Leashes.)