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idesofrevolution · 2 years

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Cultural Reappropriation

Looking to the corner of the gym, Nick stared with poignant malice at the hispanic twink. Taking selfies in the weight room mirrors was already a no-no at the Texan's "Manly" gym, but that thing was a bad hombre from cocaine-infested Mexico. The kid had only recently joined the gym, and from what the desk manager had spilled, he was "potentially" undocumented- which in Nick's mind meant: illegal. The kid was lean, tan, perhaps a bit scrawny. He walked in every evening at 8:30 wearing the stereotypical laborer uniform of a dirty, sweaty white tee shirt, heavy cargo pants, and beat up old work boots. For the red-blooded, all-white-meat American man, this kid needed to realize just where he was.

Nick continued his workout, lifting insane amounts of weight thanks to the copious amount of steroids in his system. As soon as the kid finished his final set at the abs machine, he took his water bottle and quietly walked into the locker room. This is exactly where Nick wanted him to be. He reracked his weights and booked it to the locker room. Locking the door, he began to prowl the rows of lockers, doing his best to locate the kid. Unfortunately, he found poor Tomas at the mirror of the handicap stall. Even more unfortunate for Tomas, he was mid-selfie. His modest endowment rounded out his underwear as he snapped the pic, sending it to his boyfriend Diego.

The entire incident lasted a mere 15 minutes. To anyone in the gym, nothing was wrong. Nick sauntered out of the locker room with bloodied knuckles, walked to his car, and drove away. It took the staff a full thirty minutes to figure out something was off, and that Tomas hadn't checked out. When the desk manager walked into the shower stall, he found Tomas lying motionless on the ground, swimming in a pool of his own blood. He had been severely jumped and beaten. By the time paramedics had arrived, Tomas was comatose.

Luckily, unlike Nick, the manager was not a piece of shit, toxic masculine, bigoted, evil racist. In fact, he was good friends with Tomas and his family. So when the boyfriend begged to see if there was anything of the video cameras, he was all too eager to pull them up and identify Nick as the perpetrator. Diego, in turn, called Dante. Thus, a plot was hatched to avenge their fallen martyr- one that would bring comfort to the family, and immense amount of retribution to Nick Smithson.

Nick awoke outdoors, midday, with a blinding headache. The night before was a blur at the Calico Club. All he remembered was a gorgeous woman with legs for days buying him shot after shot. Before he knew it he was passed out, only to be startled awake by the bucket of freezing cold water being thrown on him. He struggled to rise, realizing quickly he was restrained by several leather belts. Whats worse, he was stark naked.

"What the fuck is going on!" He cried out, quickly realizing the gravity of his situation. The door swung open behind his head, a snickering laugh echoing in his ears. Into view walked Diego, his mouth hidden behind a crisp bandana. He sat down onto the seat in front of him: saying nothing, but speaking volumes with his piercing scowl.

"No sabes quiénes somos. Pero sabemos lo que hiciste." Diego spoke with an unparalleled harshness, nearly spitting at his captive. Nick struggled against his restraints, hocking a wad of spit at Diego's feet. "Te arrepentirás de lo que le hiciste a Tomás. Pero arreglarás lo que has roto." Nick couldn't understand a word of the Spanish being howled at him, but he knew the tone and read the situation all too clearly. He was in trouble. Significant trouble.

From behind him, Dante gagged his mouth with a reeking pair of Diego's landscaping work socks. Tomas had a certain affinity for mansmell, as did Diego, and it played a major role in their relationship. Little did Nick know he'd be a party to this relationship; albeit a silent party. Gagging from the raunchy stink and grime of the fabric, tears rolled down Nick's eyes. The macho man was starting to crack under the pressure.

"Mientras disfrutas de mi apestoso almizcle, Dante comenzará la ceremonia. Tomas volverá con nosotros pronto." Before pulling the plug on the braindead body of Tomas, Dante had performed a ritual he'd done many times before in Ciudad Juarez. Placing Tomas' favourite cap onto his head, he had recited the incantation, pulling the very soul of his beloved cousin into it's confines. When he finished, Tomas' body was deceased. So as Dante revealed the very cap which housed Tomas, all participants waited with bated breath to see if it was all true.

He took the ratty old snapback and slammed it down onto Nick's significantly larger head. Within seconds, Nick was convulsing. His arms strained against the leather belts, veins popping from his well-built biceps. He shook violently, enough that the bindings around his wrists and ankles began to give way. His desperate screams of terror muffled by the dingy sock, Diego leaned forward with anticipation, eagerly awaiting his soulmate's return. As quickly as it had began, the spasms ceased; Nick lay there motionless. Silence fell on the patio, until an ever so hushed moan escaped the body's bound lips. It was no longer a moan of anguish, but rather of pleasure. Nick's eyes opened no longer blue, but instead a dark brown.

"My angel," smiled Diego "you're back." Tomas' vessel began lapping tirelessly at the rancid sock he'd missed so terribly, the pungent taste and wafting musk filling his senses once again. Diego rushed to his lover, ripping the restraints off, and pulling his saliva-dripping sock from the vessel's mouth to ravenously kiss his lover. The taste was different than he was used to. Hints of Nick's whiskey breath permeated the embrace, but that would soon change anyway. The vessel grabbed Diego by the waist, pulling his jean shorts and boxers down, and revealing his prized, uncut 10 incher. Tomas needed to be satiated, and Diego was all too keen to provide whilst humiliating Nick's pristine straight-boy body. In one movement, he thrust his cock into the vessel's mouth.

Knowing who'd be blowing him, he of course refrained from washing his groin; and Tomas was once again in his favourite place- nose deep in Diego's rank, pendulous balls and his cheesy cock deep in his throat. As Diego skull fucked his beloved, he was excited to proceed to the second stage of the ceremony. The vessel began to buckle and almost bubble beneath the pale porcelain skin. It began to gurgle and undulate whilst it rapidly shrunk. He furiously thrusted his cock into the vessel's mouth with a voracity he'd never experienced before. The body settled at about three quarters it's original size and weight, whilst maintaining the virile and built physique. Beginning from the tips of it's size 13 feet, waves of melanin washed upward towards it's skull, bathing it in a wash of sunkissed Hispanic tan.

The body was becoming the perfect mix of the two: Tomas with a pinch of Nick. The cock maintained it's hefty 10 inches, mirroring his man's mouthwatering member, whilst the skin retracted around the head with Tomas' characteristic ample foreskin. The body's agile, calloused hands grasped hold of it's improved cock, pumping it furiously. The former Nick's tattoos migrated south to his feet and groin, presenting "Coloque la boca aquí" above his growing pubes, and many traditional Hispanic motifs gracing the tops of his sweating feet.

As Diego continued to plunge his cock into his boyfriend's rapidly restructuring face, he began to sniff the air, getting a growing whiff of some incredible musk. This made him only more turned on, as he neared completion. With the final thrust coinciding with the now abundant foot funk, pit stink, and cocksmell; Diego shot rivers of cum down the vessel's throat. The face finished it's morph, and the soul of Tomas was finally fully integrated with his host. Pulling out, Diego enthusiastically looked down at the handsome face of his soulmate. So familiar, yet ever so slightly different. Maybe even improved upon. The excited vessel shot up to his feet, posing ever so cocky for his man.

"What is your name now, since you are only half Tomas?" Diego winked at his studly companion. The bold new man smiled a vainglorious grin, before his deliciously suave voice replied.

"Javier, mi amor. You like what you see?" Diego smiled fiercely, fully embracing the new Javier. Apparently Nick's cocky, proud, arrogant attitude had merged well with Tomas' compassionate, sweet, and loving demeanor. Diego was in love, his soul reunited with it's other half. Javier strode to Diego's side, lifted his well-muscled tanned arms, and pulled his boyfriend's face into the welcoming stink of his pits.

The two enjoyed eachother for the next few hours, before Dante announced they needed to head out to a construction site for some impromptu work. What a perfect opportunity to get worked up (and out) for round 2. However, not before Javier snapped a pic of his succulent body to post to his thirsty OnlyFans. A prelude to what Diego and he would show that night, and many times yet to come.

#male possession #male transformation #body transformation #jockification #twunk #racial transformation #transformation #musk #body possession #possession #musky #original #twink possession #muscle reduction

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potatoes-tomatoes · 2 years

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cringe ass older south park headcanons

top is what I personally envision for the boys, bottom is designed following canon designs and colors (down to hair, nose shapes, and types of clothes that appear on show):

Stan was easiest to design, I simply copy pasted Trey's 90s look and the type of casual sweaters he'd wear. If not that, then bomber jackets (bottom) his canon leg shape is weird, but meh, what can ya do. Kyle, I think would keep wearing an ushanka and wear the nicer clothes of the boys-- he'd still wear normal clothes like pants and a jacket, the thing is his jackets are from places like Nordstrom bc he's arguably the richest of the boys (I guess stan's a close second, maybe tie?). With his hat off, it's his crazy Matt 90s hair. I'm very fond of it. So fun to draw hgjfkd

Cartman likes to present himself nicely, but is paradoxically lazy. So he styles his hair neater than the other boys but wears a simple hoodie or jacket and onea those ugly calf-high cargo pants. Bottom design tho is his nicer clothes (also the one that has his full palate on display) Funny enough, he's the only one with a zit free face thanks to a rigorous skincare routine that would put Patrick Bateman to shame. I'd like him to keep those sharp, thin eyebrows his child design has as opposed to the canon designs which are fuller. He looks more evil and frees up space in his face

Kenny I had an absolute blast designing! I loved hawaiian shirt Kenny from PC, and wouldn't ya know it, there's a ton of hawaiian shirts out there adorned with promiscuous women and gore. Very south park. Very Kenny. though, that shirt cost a pretty penny so he'd most likely wear a cheap sweater and a puffer vest (the orange one is literally the cheapest thing you can buy on walmart hgjfkd). I wanted to spice up his pallet and gave him cool orange cargo pants!! No changes to his footwear. Literal genius move on the crew's end.

ummm yeah anyways yeah this was so funnn except for choosing cartman's nose shape bc fuck that. he's got like 3 canon noses to choose from and each nose gives him a new vibe wtf. I can't decide which to choose, I might make that it's own post. anwyays glasses cartman supremacy!!

#south park #cel speaks #eric cartman #stan marsh #kyle broflovski #kenny mccormick #character design #lmao lookit me taggin that as if i know what im doin #I feel it's a sin to not obscure kenny's face or at least his mouth but I couldn't figure anything out :(#I thought of him wearing a scarf but that along with his crazy hair disrupted his silhouette...#idk maybe a teen kenny is his Clarity Era hfgjks #i don't have to point it out but i will anywayyysss I kinndaa changed the boys' body shapes on the top iteration bc I have Thoughts #Stan seems like he has broad shoulders #Kyle's got a rectangular body with long proportions #Cartman's grown out of his hunch (i kinda dont like his canon hunch fhhj) and has a pear shape body #indeed there is truth in his childhood moniker #but the canon complient designs I kept that hunch dont worryyyy #Kenny's twiggy bc of his rancid diet (he gives most of his food to karen anyways)#cels doodles

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asylxmseekers · 8 months

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[ID: A series of drawings of my infamous OC Liz Douglas: first is of her, light brown skin, chin-length black hair with a couple of metallic silver streaks, brown eyes, with a denim jacket and black shirt, holding a blade between her fingers with an arrow pointing to it saying “average size” referring to the steel blades she can make. The second is a close up of her firing lots of these blades from her palm, titled “rapid fire,” and one long arrow she can make with her hands in a gun shape, titled “precision/long range.” The third is a close up of her fist with steel claws extending from the knuckles titled “melee claws,” with the following notes: “one of many melee weapon options she has, keeps a number of different common steel tools/objects in her pockets.” The fourth is a silhouette of her surrounded by steel shards forming wings, titled “Angel Caido,” with text underneath saying “steel comet drop.” The fifth is a full-body sketch of her with her jacket and shirt along with green cargo pants and brown combat boots, with steel beams floating around her, titled “flechette beams,” with the following notes: “can be used as a shield, can be directed at a target (or multiple).” The final drawings are close-ups of her arms with blades extended, showing differences in appearance between her “Good Karma” and “Evil Karma” routes. The notes on good karma read: less blades, clean edges, blades move through jacket, lighter colors,” and the notes on evil karma read: “more blades, jagged edges, “rusted look,” torn jacket, darker colors.”

/end ID]

Explanation under the cut

It’s been a while since I’ve done something with my girl, but at long last here’s a breakdown of Liz’s Steel abilities. I took inspiration from some of the Second Son concept art, along with my own ideas for how Liz, as someone who doesn’t like open combat and isn’t looking to take on the DUP single-handedly like Delsin, would mostly use them. She has no qualms about killing in cold blood and mainly looks out for herself first, so most of her abilities are focused around bladework with one ability being a shield. Her ultimate move would be more of a last ditch “I can’t win but you can die” move.

Good Karma!Liz would want to end fights as quickly as possible and minimize suspicion and bloodshed, while Evil Karma!Liz would throw caution to the wind and use her blades to draw the pain out for as long as possible. I’d imagine GK!Liz would stick with the claws for melee and target the neck or joints while EK!Liz would opt for a steel bat for the blunt force trauma.

(I also forgot/didn’t have room for it but her air boost ability is literally her gliding around with steel sheets between her arms and legs like a human kite)

#if you see any mistakes no you don't #seekers drawing #oc: liz douglas #infamous #infamous game #infamous second son #infamous oc #infamous second son oc

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jasontoddssuper · 1 year

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Descriptions of Summer's designs over the years and lore for them because i'm autistic:

10-early teens:Shoulder length hair that he starts off as relaxing because Mayerlin(his birth mom)thought his natural hair was ugly and an average frame for his age.Clark and Lois start helping him love his hair and so he starts wearing it in it's naturally thick and curly state.His sidekick name is 'Sparks' as a reference to his Kryptofang dna giving him pyrokinesis and his new family being sparks of hope in his life.His costume is a black t-shirt with a classic House of El symbol on the chest,a black jacket,black cargo pants,black and red doc martens and a black choker with a hot pink heart pendant.Jason cuts his hair for him and his naturally androgynous looks at these ages make his gender a mystery to the Metropolis media,which he greatly enjoys(even if his egg hadn't cracked yet).Starts growing out his hair after turning 14

15-late teens/early adult years:Thanks to his ressurection after his accidental murder at the hands of Mr Freeze awakening Fantasma,he grows light pink and yellow Kryptofang scales around his nose that look like freckles.Puts the Sparks mantle on hold while staying with Ma and Pa to help cope with Jason's death but goes back to it in the Reign of the Supermen arc and Kon,Cass and Stephanie help his egg crack shortly afterwards which leads to him embracing his full gender as a genderfluid and bigender transmasc.Because of this,he dyes his bangs light pink-his hair being waist length by now and Krytofang puberty has started to set in,making him buffer and taller than is average for a human his age-and makes himself a costume for his hero identity with Dick and Kory's help:A pink leotard with blue accents and a white House of El symbol on the chest,blue boots and white fingers gloves.His new identity is 'Ember',because he wanted a fire related name that was also femme

Early 20s:Jason influencing them like when they were sidekicks makes them be more brutal and sardonic as Ember and the Metropolis media frames Summer as 'evil all along' which hurts them so much combined with smear campaign Lex did against them as Sparks that they finally agree to join the Outlaws(Jason,Rose and Eddie at the time and a while after they become a member,Kyle and Artemis join the team too).They make their new costume themself,which is a black body suit with a heart shaped boob window,and it also has a white belt with a pink heart buckle,pink gloves and boots and as a final touch and gift from Jason,a black domino mask.Their Outlaw name is 'Ignite',keeping up with the fire theme but with a darker twist to reflect their new aligment

20s(post Outlaws):The Outlaws disband on close friend terms,Clark rescues Jon from Ultraman and ends up in a coma because of it so Summer becomes Superman in the meantime and mentors Damian's Teen Titans generation(Him,Jon,Maya,Suren,Kathy,Colin,Maps and Nell)with Jason,Stephanie and Duke.Their costume is made by them,Lois,their siblings and Kara as a bonding and comfort activity and it's a blue body suit that's the same shade as Clark's with a House of El symbol on the chest(the red being replaced with hot pink)and the sleeves being fingerless evening gloves style,a hot pink belt and matching boots.They also wear their hair in dreadlocks in this form to honor their Papí.A long time passes but he does wake up from his coma and Summer goes back to Ember,this time hailed as equal to Clark

#summer kent #dc #real self shipping hours #letters from summer

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averysexyleon · 11 months

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Forty Nine

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Sequel of Winters and the Beast, a Resident Evil: Village Story

Table Of Contents

This is the work of the Black God.

It is the work of a desperate man, nothing more. No gods required.

Nonetheless, his powers will have to be taken before he is imprisoned. With the aid of that entity there is no telling how easily he might escape.

We are in agreement. Bring forth the King.

—----

Ethan awoke with a start; his journal was in his hands; he’d fallen asleep on the parlor sofa. What were those voices? He realized they’d been speaking the medieval dialect of Romanian. Godric’s dialect. The blond sat up, rubbing his eyes, and was slightly startled as the front door opened. Karl entered, bringing in an armful of firewood, and crouched by the large, empty fireplace.

“What are you doing?”

“Just finished puttin’ everybody to bed,” the other said in an amused voice, “Figured if you’re gonna banish yourself out here, you might want a fire.”

Ethan sat up slowly, wondering what time it was. He’d come to the parlor after dinner; it had been early. He closed the journal and rubbed his eyes again. “Thanks.”

“You don’t have to hide away, I can take you,” Karl chided; he looked underdressed, wearing only cargo pants, his boots, and his long-sleeved shirt. Without his coat, hat and glasses, he looked so young and handsome. His thick frame was silhouetted against the created beginnings of a small fire, his masculine profile was full-lips, nose, brow. When he pivoted and smirked at Ethan, the blond blushed. He instantly wondered how to tell Karl to ditch wearing anything that hid his face and body, forever.

“Do you want to…stay in here for a while? I can get us drinks.”

“Sure, Buttercup.”

As the fire grew, Ethan returned to the parlor with one glass of wine, one whiskey. Karl was sitting on the sofa as he had the night that Ethan told him about Godric. He’d been in a similar cheeky mood then.

See anything you like, Buttercup?

Even further back, Ethan remembered sitting on the ottoman while Maricara inspected his face, his hand, musing about his existence.

Walking in the darkness, with no notion who he is! But how can it be healed?

His haltingly amiable words to Karl. What color were your eyes, before….?

Green.

Ethan sat next to the older man, not asking if he could cuddle; Heisenberg’s arm was already draped over an empty spot that seemed made for him. Yellow eyes lit up with a smirk at Ethan’s serious expression. The scowl brightened into a boyish smile when he met the other’s eyes. For a moment they looked at each other, neither speaking.

Ethan handed over the whiskey.

“I’m not the wife,” he began, and Karl chuckled almost too readily, as though he knew it would come up sooner or later. “You’re the wife.”

“No way.” Karl’s accent was never misplaced, somehow.

“I was meaning to tell you, Miranda was trying to get into my head,” Ethan was smiling behind the wine glass, “Looking for where Colm’s body is-I have no idea why-and I didn’t want her to know, so I started thinking about you. She got to see your ass.”

Heisenberg made an overwhelmingly disgusted face, while Ethan laughed. This caused Heisenberg to laugh, then drink deeply from the glass of whiskey, and he placed it on the table with a final cringe. “So she’s back to that shit…I knew it was gonna happen, she just needed time to get her power back, I guess.”

“Is that something she was able to do?”

Karl’s expression by firelight had never looked more serious, more hurt. “Not with any accuracy, with the people who got cadou. Which was lucky for me…but I still trained myself to think of anything but her while I was around her. Others, sometimes…. It was torture for ‘em. Put a few people out of misery after she got in their heads an’ they were punished for whatever it was she thought they knew…or believed. When Donna figured out how to use her…” he gestured, “Miranda had her start doin’ that dirty work. Messin’ with heads. Takin’ things out. Puttin’ things in that don’t go.” Karl’s eyebrows raised. “That’s…about when Donner’n’I stopped….when I-I…c-c…”

Even his voice was haunted. He bit his lip, willing his stutter to quiet, as Ethan stared into the fire alongside him. Karl sipped again, this time stroking his fingers along Ethan’s bicep. Ethan spoke, willing to give Heisenberg a break after that intense confession.

“I…I guess, read? Chris today, by accident. I don’t know how that’s possible, I thought it was only a thing that happened here, or with people who were infected.”

Karl’s expression moved to a sly one, and Ethan turned to him. “Did you know he…had feelings for me?”

“Ethan, I don’t know how a guy is a computer genius, a complete badass with a shotgun, and a total idiot all at the same time, but you are one of the most obtuse son-of-a-bitches I’ve ever met.” He laughed at the scowl now on Ethan’s face. “Of course I know. How did you NOT know?”

“Does it…bother you?” Ethan knew his own jealous streak had shown up several times, but he assumed Heisenberg’s hatred of Chris was over the factory incident, not his feelings toward Ethan. He’d never acted concerned about it.

“Nah. I agree with him, why would it bother me?” Heisenberg managed more whiskey. Ethan considered this, and finally smiled at what he realized must be a compliment.

After a comfortable pause, Heisenberg turned the empty glass in his hand, staring at the crystal patterns. “Do whatever you have to, to not let her see what she wants to see. I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about with the grave-don’t tell me, I don’t need to know-nothin’ good can come of her wanting information, and then gettin’ it.”

Ethan realized something in that moment, and he turned to Karl, wide-eyed. “Is that why you won’t talk about–!” The crystal fragment.

Karl’s expression told him he was correct. Ethan’s face fell. “Wait, was it…Miranda trying to get that information from you? Did she…possess me?”

Karl had apparently already considered this. He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think that was all you, wantin’ to know. An’ Ethan. I don’t want to talk about it because…”

They were about to delve into a new era of their relationship, a deeper layer, Ethan realized. Karl had been nothing but honest with him since he’d met him, but there was still this one wedge between them. The single thing he didn’t speak about, and Ethan was finally going to know why. It would mean many things, maybe, but it would bring them closer in a way that Heisenberg was afraid of. It was the final secret, wasn’t it?

He should have felt excited; he felt sick.

“Not only does talkin’ about it uh…invite those thoughts…because it does. But. Eva and I have known for years now that the thing has to be destroyed. This is somethin’ in the making for a long time.”

The Duke had said that, hadn’t he?

“Always thought I’d have to kill…them.” He was talking about his siblings. “They might still end up dead-None of us know the full extent of what the shit does. Miranda probably doesn’t even know, she just guesses. We don’t know if it’ll kill me. I planned for it just in case. Made peace with it.”

“But you still have your cadou–?”

“Right. That cadou was a lot stronger before. The crystal was like a built in turbocharger. I could do a lot more with it. With it not powerin’ the cadou,” Heisenberg chose his words carefully, “I don’t have the same power. I used it when you and I fought. I won’t do that again, I want the damn thing gone, I want her gone. I’m happy to fight her however I can, and probably will, til the end. But the crystal has to go before that, an’ when that happens, there’s a chance I might go with it.”

Ethan was silent. His blood felt like ice. His head felt full of cotton. He blinked at the fire. So this was the conversation. They’d gone from a tense dance of words around coffee in the dining room, to this.

This was what it was like to not be in denial. Neither he, nor the other person, was trying to change the conversation into something hopeful, or protect feelings. Nobody walked off in the middle of the discussion. There was a completed delivery of potentially devastating news, and a quiet acceptance.

A billion ‘what if’s and ‘but’s boiled beneath the surface. And yet Ethan knew that for as much as he knew about the mold, Heisenberg and Eva both had years, decades….in Eva’s case, a century, on his information. They had accepted it as a possibility. He now had to accept it as a possibility.

Was more black fluid coming from his eyes? The tunnel vision felt like it was coming back. He dragged his fingers across his face and looked; no, it was tears. He was hyperventilating. He laughed at his own stupidity and then drank more wine. Karl was looking at him, but he couldn’t look back.

“Talk to me, Ethan.”

The scowl was aimed at the fire. His voice sounded like a child’s.

“I don’t want you to die.”

“Maybe I won’t.”

“What’ll I do if you do?” He finally turned, really crying now, to see the still-contemplative look on the other’s face. He put a hand over his mouth to stop the stream of begging, pleading that threatened to come out. In a gesture of unusual tenderness, Karl threaded his hand through Ethan’s blond hair, almost petting him.

“It’ll be okay, Papa. Remember what I told you? We’re all just energy. I’ll always be around in some way.”

Ethan still had his hand over his mouth, and now he leaned down into Karl’s chest, thinking of many different things. His own father’s disappearance, Mia’s deaths, his deaths, Godric’s imprisonment, the crystallized man in the tomb. Alcina’s devastation over losing barely-human daughters. Eva’s great yearning to be human and how she seemed to spend every moment of her human life grateful for existence, drinking it like nectar.

Life seemed very fragile and unfair and he could only cry about it. Karl’s arm draped over him, pulling him in closer.

Maybe it would be okay, but maybe it wouldn’t.

For the second time that night, he didn’t remember falling asleep. Though Karl had no fear about a potentially dangerous Ethan, he respected the blond’s wishes to be alone, and after tucking him in, Karl left the room. Ethan slept by the light of the dying embers.

Neither Karl nor Ethan saw the shadow of Jochen, constantly beside him, never truly dead or alive. He sauntered out after his brother, eager to watch the other work.

—------------

Ethan fell in his dream, into a dark spot of a catalogued megamycete. He knew when he sat up that she would be there, looking at him with her pale eyes and confused expression.

“Miranda,” he sighed, closing his eyes. Not really Miranda. A fragment of Miranda. The only decent part she had left, apparently.

“You! I…forget who you are. You learned how to come at will?”

“No, I’m sleeping. Dreaming.”

“I must have been thinking of you.” She giggled; it sounded just like Eva.

Ethan rubbed his face tiredly. She continued, “Still, if you can come here in a dream that would mean, maybe your powers are growing?”

“You…the other you, said something today about almost being out of time,” he said. The train station. Maybe his desire to know had brought him here. “Out of time for what?”

She sat cross-legged. Ethan wondered why this couldn’t have been the Miranda that he encountered; she seemed so docile, charming. Even her thoughtful frown was nearly innocent. Couldn’t they just make a quick trade?

“I can only guess…But I can sense that the core of the Mold, the consciousness, will die soon. She cannot lead from there. The mold is a colony, yes? It must accept a queen. Without a queen, it will fall apart, just memories moving into the earth like raindrops. There has been so much energy used lately.”

Ethan thought of the dragon. Their re-creation of Eveline, who seemed to have far more power than everyone else. Eveline had, after all, created her own fungal root-in Dulvey.

He scratched his head. “Could you do that? Could you be the queen?”

She looked startled. “I…am a discarded piece. A reject. I cannot even remember who I am much anymore. We all go to the voices, and then nothingness, without a complete mind to lead.”

Ethan switched to rubbing his temple.

How could he tell Eva that this was her future? She’d done it, without knowing, for nearly a century anyway. With no guidance, while witnessing the terror her mother inflicted on an entire settlement for multiple generations. He’d just accepted the possibility of Heisenberg’s death earlier in the evening, and now he was going to have to accept that Eva might also have to leave him forever? And if she didn’t….

He was crying again. Miranda-fragment put her hand on his knee; she felt less than solid, like a soft breeze. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t know what to do,” he confessed, laughing while crying.

“The Black God has been calling you,” she said, looking at her own hand that had been on his knee, as though she only knew this information after touch. “Maybe it has something to say that will help?”

“What even is the Black God? I’ve heard that since I came here. Isn’t it just the Mold?”

“No,” she tapped a finger on her chin. She was stunning. He hated looking at her and seeing someone so beautiful. “It is….a consciousness that was created from mimicking humans, perhaps. The Mold rarely creates things on its own, it just copies memories. But this one was created long before us all, before this land was settled. It is a trickster. It has helped, but…” she tsked. “It is a fickle one.”

“Miranda embraced the Black God,” Ethan said in a monotone, dragging his hand down his face. “She accepted it, or whatever it was she wrote in her notes.”

“Yes, one like you, a traveler, can do that. It has been done. Our long-ago Kings were instructed to split its consciousness between all four of them. First to win our land. And then to rule it. But it was banished after it kept…well…eating outsiders. The Kings became cannibals when they embraced the Black God for too long. It is a powerful friend, but has no human mind.”

He remembered what Godric had said, about who the Black God was. We are.

He remembered Miranda eating the bloody heart as she sat on the rock island.

“Where….is it?”

Her expression of curiosity blossomed into one of awe. “You really….it’s…I…hm…don’t know. There’s so much I don’t know.”

“That makes two of us.”

Ethan closed his eyes again.

He sought the fireplace with the burning embers. The sofa. The two empty glasses that sat on the table. When he opened his eyes, he was sitting up on the couch. Karl’s fire crackled gently at him as if to tell him to go back to sleep. But, Ethan stared out the window. A restlessness overtook him. He recalled the storm Heisenberg had created to correct the hysteresis of the consciousness.

They had uncovered a small, glowing red bundle of neurons and other cells. It was under the surface, down the cliffside. The caverns hadn’t been made by rock, but by petrified mold. This whole area was ancient fossil, and the mold just kept growing in it year after year, making a cocoon bed out of its own fossils.

Ethan grabbed his phone and scrolled through it, looking for some sort of placation, some communication that would bring him peace, or allow him to ignore his restlessness. He found the opposite.

From Chris.

-Yeah, we all underestimated you. I’m not ashamed to say that, I’m relieved you’re as tough as you are.

-You have no idea how tough I have gotten. At this point I really should be studied.

-Don’t joke about stuff like that, Ethan…some people who get infected really are.

-I know. I just hope it’s enough to finally get rid of her.

-If anybody can do it, it’s you. You’re resilient as hell. And maybe as stubborn as she is.

-I’d say more stubborn, she just has time on me.

-Fair enough. Don’t go doing anything crazy just because I give you my full stamp of approval to be in charge, and told you that I believe in you. I try not to say shit like that even when it’s always been true.

-Since when have I ever been anything but cautious?

-Very funny.

-You should say more ‘shit’ that’s true. I like hearing the truth.

-Don’t push your luck.

Before he knew it, he was standing at the window, staring out across the moonlit field. Ethan’s gaze was on the part of the field he couldn’t see from here; the house was on a high hill. But he knew, remembered very well, where IT was. The fungal root had re-colonized far away from the ceremony site, and almost seemed to hug the caverns underneath the cliffs of this home, as if it were the only un-contaminated ground left. Shrinking away from the area of the blast radius.

Ethan didn’t even put on shoes; he was out the door in a moment, moving across the dark cliffside trail like a ghost. He followed the path of the funeral procession…it felt like so long ago. The path where Karl had ridden by him on the large black horse. Past the hill where Karl had pulled the mechanical heart out-the first time he’d ever seen the engineer shaken. Where he’d learned who Eva was, saw Eveline reappear in the ‘flesh’ for the first time.

Why are you helping me?

Because I hate Miranda.

The blond peered down the steep cliff sides, where before, Eva had appeared and reappeared, moving along the rocky cliffs when Ethan was Heisenberg’s anchor. Heisenberg had yelled at him, “Why can’t you do THAT?”

He turned behind him to look toward the house; moonlight illuminated the quiet, dark manor. The tall grass, now mostly dead, whispered around him. Like the castle and Donna’s home, the Heisenberg manor was positioned at the far reaches of this mountain valley, as if to pull away from the organism that resided under it. As if their ancestors had wanted to hide in the mountains, away from the center of the root.

His family slept there, and Ethan might have felt guilt over once again venturing off on his own, except that the desperation he felt was louder in his soul than the guilt.

He wasn’t accepting death as he was told to, was he?

Was he doing what Miranda did?

He was supposed to go back to bed, and hope that whatever had gotten into him since stepping into that pool didn’t take over. Hope that he didn’t try to wrestle information out of another member of his family. What if he went after one of the children next?

Being out here, learning what to do-however he was going to do that-was less frightening than going back to bed and pretending that they had time, that there wasn’t a need for him to step into whatever full power he had at arm’s reach. Or, maybe, he was delusional and it was all an excuse and the pool of death had ruined him completely. Ethan’s cheeks were streaked with dried tears.

He didn’t want Karl to die.

He didn’t want Eva to die, either.

He didn’t want to keep locking himself away.

In Chris’s notes he’d read about Miranda’s encounter with the Mold. She had wandered into a cave, touched the root. Her mind was flooded with information. It was a feeling more than a thought, but Ethan’s mind was made up.

As the tall man disappeared from the cliffside, now easily moving from precipice to precipice, jumping the way that Eva had jumped so long ago, those inside the manor began to stir and awaken. Most of the inhabitants didn’t know why, but were roused from their dreams. Some fell back asleep quickly. Others stayed awake, peering at the ceiling or wall, wondering what had awakened them.

Ethan could sense the energy from the fungal root as he moved closer to it. He was only several petrified-mold shelves away from the ground. Karl’s attempts at burning the top layer of mycelium worked well farther out, where the water helped him conduct electricity over wide swaths of land, but here the ground was insulated, protected. And the root’s energy was strong, he realized.

Miranda was close, he could sense her. Ethan moved once more, stepping from the sandy white shelves of petrified rock to the ground. His bare feet touched on dirt threaded with mycelium. It did feel electric; his hairs stood on end, he heard a buzzing in his ears. He stared at the ground, noting the silvery strands that pulsed as if reading him.

The one that healed us.

Whatever voice that was, referred to Karl’s tornado lifting debris and rot away from the core, allowing it to ‘breathe’...to survive.

That was technically Heisenberg, he answered in his mind. No longer had he communicated with the consciousness than she was there, standing ten feet away. His conversation had called her to him like a beacon. Though Miranda smiled-in her sinister way-at him, she looked perplexed, as if she were surprised to see him.

“You’ve made a grave error, doing all of this in an attempt to stop me. So much energy you’ve wasted. I cannot re-enter the Megamycete as its ruler. What will you do instead, who will you sacrifice?”

The taunt hurt, as it would be Eva who suffered. Miranda seemed to catch onto this emotion, and she tilted her head. “Eva..?”

“How can you just pull a crystal out of somebody without killing them?” He asked bluntly. Ethan didn’t want to argue, he just wanted information. If he had to touch the fungal root to get it, so be it. But maybe she was feeling as generous as her clueless, trapped remnant.

She chuckled, not even listening to his inner dialogue.

“Worried about dear Heisenberg, are we?”

His lips moved into a tight line. “Tell me.”

“You mean, like this?” Miranda pulled her golden-clawed fingers away from herself; in a shower of sparks, a glimmer moved into her hand. She held it aloft for a moment, turning it. “Alcina’s. There are many others, lost to time, but the ones I seek, we both know who has them.” She pushed the crystal back into her body, her eyes glowing white as it merged, skin turning white and threading with white veins.

He didn’t speak.

She crossed her arms, happy, it seemed, to know more than Ethan. “Do you remember when the Mold took you, at the ship? Eveline’s root was there. You were absorbed by that Megamycete, Ethan. At an earlier time, so was Mia. When it chose you, and pulled you in, you became something else entirely. Something so much more. So did Mia. Unfortunately, by the time she got to me, her mind was not intact.”

“Fuck you.”

“Is yours?” She grinned. “Do you understand?”

“What the hell does my past have to do with my question?”

She chuckled against a rumble of thunder. “You are more powerful than you know, Ethan. You were a human who became part of a core. The others are not. They never will be. They are simply this organism trying to create its copies, as it always has, its own ecosystem.”

“Who else has been absorbed by a…Megamycete?”

“I was,” she said proudly. “Rose was. As well as someone else you know, but not the ones you look to save.”

He threw his hands out. “I’m done with the fucking riddles. This isn’t a storybook.”

“You could send the Lords to me,” she said abruptly, and he tilted his head. So this was why she’d appeared to him. She had something to say, to bargain. He’d figured. She spoke again, realizing he was listening intently. “I can remove the pieces, and leave them intact.”

“And…if I did…Heisenberg?”

“I will exchange his crystal for the one you currently have. His brother is very useful to me. I have spent a lifetime curating his mind into the obedient son that his twin was not. He knows how to move through strata expertly. He is non-negotiable.”

“Molding his mind, huh. Is that why he got away from you? Why he’s still away from you?”

Her smile faltered, and he lowered his head. The wind was blowing now, icy on his neck. Ethan barely felt it. He had another question.

“You have Heisenberg’s?” That didn’t sound right.

“It is a one time offer, Ethan. I suggest you choose wisely.”

He couldn’t read her, the way she read him, he realized. Dammit. Was she bluffing? It didn’t matter. Ethan knew that if he made some kind of deal with the devil-to Heisenberg, the literal devil-and lost their one chance at getting his brother back, Karl would never forgive him. Besides, if she really did have the crystal, she would have to crush it to destroy whatever part of Karl was inside it, right? Heisenberg was still alive, so either the cadou could exist on its own, or she was lying. Right? Hopefully.

Ethan was desperate to find a loophole or a solution, but not this desperate.

“I always choose wisely,” he said curtly, and stepped closer to her. His intent wasn’t to interact with her, however, and the blond dissipated as his body morphed through the layers of mold, re-emerging moments later in the last place he’d seen the root. A cavern, where grey rock and walls of crystals surrounded the thick, black knot.

He knew, sensed, that she could not follow him here. Godric had put it best.

She is denied.

The Megamycete had changed.

The last time Ethan saw it, the strange growth was the size of a car, resembled a curled fetus, and something similar to a human heart. It had glowed red, brightly, angrily. And it had a heartbeat, a rapid one.

Now the root towered over his head, fifteen, twenty feet high? More importantly, it had changed shape. It no longer looked like a fetus at all. It looked like a human heart, complete with tendrils of mold suspending it in the air like blood vessels leading away from its center. It moved and pumped grotesquely and again Ethan wondered why he had to be made out of something so disgusting. He approached it, surveying further.

This change is your work, Ethan.

The same voice as earlier, the one that spoke about healing. He ignored it, to examine the health of the root.

Some of the walls of the ‘heart’ were graying, hardening. It was struggling, he realized. The center still glowed bright red, still seemed to have plenty of vigor within them, but he was reminded of Heisenberg when he saw the massive amount of energy, and the breaking, failing tendrils around it. He didn’t even need to ask what the problem was this time. The absence of the mother, the mind…the heart? Of the mold.

This is what Miranda had meant. They were running out of time to save the Megamycete. What would happen if they didn’t give it the component it apparently needed? Why couldn’t the damn thing just adapt?

Eveline’s Mold was destroyed, and her consciousness lived on. Lived on in Ethan, he realized abruptly. He carried all of them inside of his mind. Jack and Marguerite as well. The house. The Molded within it. He’d become a holder of a world, without even realizing it. That world was now connected to this one; he’d become a part of this one as well. So had Rosemary.

He would live if this mold died. Rose would live. But everyone else existed only through the conduit of this organism. He didn’t know what would happen. Ethan didn’t want to find out, he realized.

Careful now, he heard a voice mutter in a teasing, tantalizing voice as he approached. Don’t want to touch anything dangerous.

It almost sounded like Godric. This was different from the cacophony of voices indexed by the mold. Was this its creation? The Black God? He could sense a presence here, one that wasn’t invisible voices, or another person.

He spoke aloud. “If I…touch you. Am I going to lose my mind?”

“Human minds are so easy to lose. Like pocket change.”

“If I touch you, will it kill the root? Take more power?”

“Not so much more. I have been waiting for you. Saving energy. Sending you strength.”

He thought of moving the sarcophagus. Pinning Heisenberg.

“Why me?”

“So that we all may survive.”

He thought back to Miranda’s mind. A trickster. A ‘fickle one.’

Ethan’s heart beat so hard in his chest he thought it might burst.

“Shall we, Ethan Winters? Do you want my help?”

Alcina, he thought wildly, I need you here.

Was that even possible? His entire being, this entire chamber, coursed with energy. If it was possible, it would be here. The Black God chuckled, as if he didn’t mind entertaining.

Ethan turned, eyeing the cavern, which had no entrance or exit. The crystals glistened from the red light on the fungal root, and then, startlingly, Dimitrescu shimmered into view. She seemed translucent. She was traveling as he used to travel–in dreams, her physical body likely still sleeping. She wore a black silk nightgown.

“What is this? Am I dreaming?” Alcina hesitantly stepped toward Ethan, eyeing the Megamycete skeptically. “Is that…”

“I need your help,” he began anxiously. Her utterly bewildered look was almost humorous.

“Surely you are not going to touch that thing.”

“It’s…whatever’s inside…it’s offering to help us.”

“And you trust…THAT?”

“It won’t let Miranda anywhere near it,” he said quickly. “The whole reason it looks like that on the edges is because it…kicked Miranda out, I guess, after the ceremony with Rose. It also has…all the voices.”

She looked back at the root again with an expression of wonder, laced with her usual disgust. When she didn’t speak, he pressured her, “Weren’t you the one who said if I could fully transform, it could be used against Miranda?”

She arched a brow. “Well, yes, I suppose.”

“You were in control of yours. How did you do it? Please. If you think I can’t do this, be honest with me, I need it right now, I need somebody to tell me the truth. I trust you to do that.”

Alcina was completely taken aback at this, but recovered quickly. She blinked rapidly, and crossed her arms, pacing and staring at the crystals that surrounded her.,

“I…was not in control at first. I suppose I am very headstrong. I was not frightened, I was angry that my body had done something so unacceptable, without my permission. I thought of my daughters, in the end. Every time I transformed, they entered my mind, instead of fear. Had I not had this stubbornness, lack of fear- no doubt I would have been as Moreau. Emotions ruled him, and ruled what his body did. Miranda asked many questions of me after I showed her what I could do. All of her questions related to my emotions, my thoughts, state of mind. They seem paramount to a successful transformation. To keep control of yourself.”

Ethan followed her pacing, watching her phase in and out of view with each pulse of the ‘heart.’

“As to your second point…” she stopped, dropped her hands, and turned her head to meet his eyes. “You, Ethan….” Her smile was soft, barely perceptible. “You will be fine. You made your way into a lost place with no exit, and fought with every fiber of your being, well past barriers anyone else could have. I have no doubt that you can control whatever this thing will turn you into. However, what then?” She eyed the root with suspicion. “After Miranda is gone, will it quietly remove itself from you? Will you slowly go mad, as in the old stories? Look at…well.” She huffed, batting her eyelashes. “Look at what happened to her.”

“Yeah,” he countered. “I guess I figured I’d cross that bridge when I get to it.”

“Such a man,” she muttered, but didn’t move. Her eyes were on Ethan as he wiped his palms on his pants, and then stepped forward.

“I hope I won’t regret this,” he muttered, hearing the laugh from the entity he now knew was the Black God. As Ethan lifted his right hand, he hovered it for a moment. “Did you know Godric?”

“The warrior King, I so loved him. So many good battles together. Then one day….ritually ripped apart from each other. I would have broken him out of there, somehow…..and they knew it.”

This was enough to satisfy Ethan. If it was good enough for Godric, it was good enough for him. It was this, or go lay back down and try not to wake up black-eyed and insane, with no memory of it.

He touched one of the black spots on the bottom end of the ‘heart.’ Instantly, his vision went black. Alcina’s consciousness disappeared from the cavern, her worried look unseen by Ethan as he wrestled with the pain, unfamiliarity, of thousands of voices surging through his entire being, as if he were electrical conduit. One of the voices-presences-was louder, stronger, snaking its way deep into his chest.

When he burst upward through stone and dirt, it wasn’t like his previous travels. Turning into air, as Eva had once called it. Ethan quite violently erupted from the ground, the crystals and mycelium both bending out of his way when he moved, his force enough to burst through soil on its own. He struggled to stay conscious, shaking dirt from his hair-he felt suddenly exhausted, as if he should sleep, but he ground his teeth instead. Unsteadily he stumbled, and then fell onto one knee.

The blond watched his hands elongate as he held them up; his heart raced even more. His body felt warm, for the first time since he could remember. So warm he wanted to pull his skin off. He was burning alive. This was the metabolism of the mold, he knew. He didn��t know how he knew. Ethan held his head in his hands, grunting against a sudden crushing headache. He heard the voice inside.

Sleep. Rest.

I can do it.

“No,” he argued, feeling his very calcified-white skin growing strange, crystal patterns around his limbs. It needed more arms, more legs. Too small. Maybe more eyes? Ethan fought against this too. “NO, NONE OF THAT.”

He dragged what he could of his long, clawed hands across his face. Black fluid trickled out from his eyes, and his cheek felt like stone-cracked marble. Smooth, with deep fissures. Though he couldn’t see it, his skin had lost all color and now resembled something like the moonlight that streamed down over him. Shadow and blue-white light mixing as this…guest? Intruder?

Part of him

–NO.

Changed him.

It seemed the Black God conformed at least partly to its host; Ethan did not turn into an entirely new creature. His body grew in height, elongated, and he felt the burn on his back where his skin crackled–Tendrils? Fibers? ……Wings? In horror he realized that they could climb, bony structures that protruded from his back, holding wispy black tatters with hooked ends. They reminded him of Miranda’s mutated form’s wings-those had looked downy.

It wanted to get up, away.

NO.

Ethan dragged his hands-claws, blackened, with dripping ichor hitting the ground as it flowed from his fingertips-into the dirt, pressing his bare feet there too. He felt his toes flex, and realized they were long and clawlike as well. It was now a tug-of-war with his body, with him holding on, clenching teeth to the ground, and the thing inside him wrestling up, seeking the sky.

The same obsidian that moved down to cover Miranda’s eyes was creeping toward his own, but his stubbornness seemed to give it pause. The shining mycelium strands, black veins underneath, pooled across his forehead, under his chin, but his eyes remained uncovered. The blackened pools crystallized, blackened like a crown over his brow. They had relented; he could see.

His vision blurred, reddened. He recalled the crimson light from below, the energy of the Megamycete. Ethan’s sclerae became red, his pupils golden. Suddenly his teeth ached. His entire face ached. When he stretched his mouth in a strangled cry, he was forced to acknowledge that his entire jaw was larger, his mouth wider somehow. His tongue licked around a row of sharp, elongated teeth.

Teeth for tearing.

Ethan couldn’t argue with that one.

Up.

He didn’t want to go up. Well, he did, but not like this. Not right now. Not until he could get control of this thing.

And then what?

Well, he’d be in control, that’s what.

Was he talking to himself?

Ethan felt something pulling. Tearing. Himself. Oh, no you don’t, he thought wildly. But he watched the ground disappear from view, and then everything disappeared.

On the cliffside, out of his view, Eva, Alcina, Moreau, Donna, and Heisenberg were all running down the trail, approaching the end of the rocks where the bonfire had burned months ago. Karl was in front by a long shot. Behind him Eva yelped, “There!” as they all skidded close to the edge, peering down the long craggy ravine. Right as she pointed, the gaunt, long figure barely recognizable as Ethan exploded, bursting into-

“Kingfishers,” Karl marveled, his eyes luminescent as his head tilted up, following their flight pattern. There were hundreds of the small birds moving in tandem together. The former lords and their sibling watched in awe at the silhouettes against the moon. The brightly colored birds bobbed and weaved in a murmuration reminiscent of Miranda’s crows. The flock hugged the cliff wall, drifted up, trying to fly high, then lowered. The movements were fluid, but jerky, as if a tug-of-war were taking place.

“You can do it, Ethan,” Alcina muttered under her breath, eyes on the flock.

Donna turned to stare at her older sibling. “Do what?!”

The birds all collapsed into one dark cloud, that then morphed in a flurry of wings. When Ethan reappeared, it was on one of the ledges. He held his head in his hands and cursed, but the sound barely carried. It was a growl, inhuman, no vocal chords maneuvering any language.

His body was elongated, different. His forehead, arms, legs dripped with black. He was barely recognizable, but it was him, all right.

Karl didn’t have his hammer, but he raised a hand anyway, summoning any long-lost pieces of metal from the valley below. When Eva motioned to the others, Karl turned back to them. “No, stay here.”

After biting her lip, Eva nodded, and Alcina said haughtily, “You have two minutes.”

Heisenberg scoffed at this, but meandered down his awaiting steps quickly. As he descended, he finally chose to hop over to a higher ledge than Ethan. He stared over the white ‘rock’ at the creature that sat on all fours.

It was tall, lean, dark on the edges-hands, feet-with a pale torso and face. Not so different from Miranda’s transformation, it was a beautifully grotesque thing with long legs and longer arms. But this one looked suited to being on all fours, with its hunched posture and inverted hocks. Karl was reminded of deer legs, due to the thinness and shape.

It heaved, exhaling and sounding like a bull, complete with steam issuing from its nostrils. Karl wanted to cheer Ethan on, tell him not to fight it, give him some other sage wisdom-having transformed once himself as well, but he was rendered speechless, finally.

The thing that was Ethan was rising to stand now, almost fully upright, drawing itself up with closed eyes. It probably took all of Ethan’s concentration to maintain control of this form, and Karl stared, his own glowing eyes still wide. Was Ethan in control?

His clothing was in tatters, he had some kind of appendages protruding from his back. Claws dripped with inky black. When he lifted his head, Karl could see the familiar sight of blond hair. It stood out from the trails of black crystals that crusted around his forehead, leaking fluid under his eyes and down his throat. His mouth was entirely blackened, but they were Ethan’s lips after all. The thing-Ethan- grimaced-the teeth were not Ethan’s. They were fangs.

Karl was only on a shelf several feet higher than the ledge the blond had landed on. Ethan was close, but not within reaching distance. And now that he was pulled up to his full height, Ethan nearly towered over the engineer. He was easily seven feet tall, maybe eight. Heisenberg was still mesmerized into silence when it saw him.

Its eyes opened, and they were no longer blackened. They glowed red, with bright yellow irises. It stilled when it caught his gaze, and the grimace full of fangs fell. Ethan’s uncertain expression peered out past this creature’s.

Heisenberg actually beamed.

He’d know that upset gaze anywhere.

Ethan paused; seeing the other man had been his worst nightmare. He wanted to wrestle through this alone. This thing inside of him seemed to regard the other with nothing more than mere curiosity-do we need to kill? NO- but just as the shock spread across Ethan’s face he realized the nightmare of him becoming Molded had never been a nightmare to Karl.

Karl had, in fact, known what Ethan was made of all along.

It changed nothing for him.

This changed nothing. He’d never seen the engineer so fascinated.

Captivated.

Ethan thought Heisenberg would only be reminded of Miranda in this form, as Ethan was…it filled him with disgust. But as Heisenberg stood on the rock with an overwhelmingly enthralled expression, Ethan’s heart began to still.

Just then Karl whistled sharply, thumb and finger in his mouth. It caused Ethan to frown; his new face contorted in uncomfortable places; his brows drew over golden-red eyes, but the reason for the shrill ‘come here’ whistle became clear when a sleepy-but-excited Evie appeared on the rock next to Karl in her brand new pajamas.

She held a very awake, very squirmy toddler-Rosemary. Evie sat the girl on the rock beside Karl, who picked her up easily. Together the children each held out a hand to Ethan, as if they could pet him, touch him, or coax him to the rock. Heisenberg continued to beam, an awestruck look on his face, his own breath fogging around him in the cold night air.

Ethan dropped down instinctively to all fours, but was still within eye level of the group. Rosemary was babbling dada, apparently recognizing him when he could not even recognize himself. Evie looked impressed, something he never thought he’d see from her. Her smile was wide and genuine.

His eyes darted between them, back up to the engineer, back between them. Part of Ethan screamed in rage that Karl had brought his children down onto a cliffside to gawk at this animal.

But he could formulate thoughts even better with this added consciousness, that only saw things as they were. Had no fear.

They weren’t gawking. And they weren’t just his children, were they? This was what Alcina had spoken about. Family.

He pushed himself upright, standing only on his back legs, leaning his palms against the rock where the trio watched him. It felt less natural than being on all fours, but he was adamant to gain control.

Ethan’s eyes were still wild and reddened, but he dropped his head as if to show submission-in reality, he was exhausted, and didn’t want to fight any longer. He finally closed his eyes.

Don’t let me give up -

Rosemary’s hand on the back of his head burned to the touch, but there was also some sensation of…tearing. Letting go. Sleeping. It radiated from his neck and through his chest. And it wasn’t him.

When Ethan got the strength to climb onto the rock, his eyes flickered open enough to see that his hands were back to normal. His clothing was torn open where he’d transformed-he could finally, finally feel the chill of autumn air on his skin-and he was still barefoot. He rolled lazily onto his back as if the petrified mold were the most comfortable bed in the world.

His eyes were still closed. “I know, a cage,” he said to Heisenberg.

“Are you kiddin’ me? THAT was somethin’ Winters, that was, holy shit!…..”

“Dada-raaahhhrweerrr!” Rosemary approved.

The wind picked up, ruffling Ethan’s hair. He was ready, finally, to sleep.

#ethan winters #karl heisenberg #fic:the lightning that jumps between #fic: winters and the beast #donna beneviento #mother miranda #molded ethan winters #ethan winters deserved better lol #alcina dimitrescu #rosemary winters #molded ethan

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thelightningthatjumpsbetween · 11 months

Text

Forty Nine

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Sequel of Winters and the Beast, a Resident Evil: Village Story

Table Of Contents

This is the work of the Black God.

It is the work of a desperate man, nothing more. No gods required.

Nonetheless, his powers will have to be taken before he is imprisoned. With the aid of that entity there is no telling how easily he might escape.

We are in agreement. Bring forth the King.

—----

“What are you doing?”

“Just finished puttin’ everybody to bed,” the other said in an amused voice, “Figured if you’re gonna banish yourself out here, you might want a fire.”

Ethan sat up slowly, wondering what time it was. He’d come to the parlor after dinner; it had been early. He closed the journal and rubbed his eyes again. “Thanks.”

“Do you want to…stay in here for a while? I can get us drinks.”

“Sure, Buttercup.”

See anything you like, Buttercup?

Even further back, Ethan remembered sitting on the ottoman while Maricara inspected his face, his hand, musing about his existence.

Walking in the darkness, with no notion who he is! But how can it be healed?

His haltingly amiable words to Karl. What color were your eyes, before….?

Green.

Ethan handed over the whiskey.

“I’m not the wife,” he began, and Karl chuckled almost too readily, as though he knew it would come up sooner or later. “You’re the wife.”

“No way.” Karl’s accent was never misplaced, somehow.

“Is that something she was able to do?”

“I…I guess, read? Chris today, by accident. I don’t know how that’s possible, I thought it was only a thing that happened here, or with people who were infected.”

Karl’s expression moved to a sly one, and Ethan turned to him. “Did you know he…had feelings for me?”

“Nah. I agree with him, why would it bother me?” Heisenberg managed more whiskey. Ethan considered this, and finally smiled at what he realized must be a compliment.

Ethan realized something in that moment, and he turned to Karl, wide-eyed. “Is that why you won’t talk about–!” The crystal fragment.

Karl’s expression told him he was correct. Ethan’s face fell. “Wait, was it…Miranda trying to get that information from you? Did she…possess me?”

Karl had apparently already considered this. He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think that was all you, wantin’ to know. An’ Ethan. I don’t want to talk about it because…”

He should have felt excited; he felt sick.

The Duke had said that, hadn’t he?

“But you still have your cadou–?”

“Talk to me, Ethan.”

The scowl was aimed at the fire. His voice sounded like a child’s.

“I don’t want you to die.”

“Maybe I won’t.”

“It’ll be okay, Papa. Remember what I told you? We’re all just energy. I’ll always be around in some way.”

Life seemed very fragile and unfair and he could only cry about it. Karl’s arm draped over him, pulling him in closer.

Maybe it would be okay, but maybe it wouldn’t.

Neither Karl nor Ethan saw the shadow of Jochen, constantly beside him, never truly dead or alive. He sauntered out after his brother, eager to watch the other work.

—------------

Ethan fell in his dream, into a dark spot of a catalogued megamycete. He knew when he sat up that she would be there, looking at him with her pale eyes and confused expression.

“Miranda,” he sighed, closing his eyes. Not really Miranda. A fragment of Miranda. The only decent part she had left, apparently.

“You! I…forget who you are. You learned how to come at will?”

“No, I’m sleeping. Dreaming.”

“I must have been thinking of you.” She giggled; it sounded just like Eva.

Ethan rubbed his face tiredly. She continued, “Still, if you can come here in a dream that would mean, maybe your powers are growing?”

“You…the other you, said something today about almost being out of time,” he said. The train station. Maybe his desire to know had brought him here. “Out of time for what?”

Ethan thought of the dragon. Their re-creation of Eveline, who seemed to have far more power than everyone else. Eveline had, after all, created her own fungal root-in Dulvey.

He scratched his head. “Could you do that? Could you be the queen?”

She looked startled. “I…am a discarded piece. A reject. I cannot even remember who I am much anymore. We all go to the voices, and then nothingness, without a complete mind to lead.”

Ethan switched to rubbing his temple.

He was crying again. Miranda-fragment put her hand on his knee; she felt less than solid, like a soft breeze. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t know what to do,” he confessed, laughing while crying.

“What even is the Black God? I’ve heard that since I came here. Isn’t it just the Mold?”

“Miranda embraced the Black God,” Ethan said in a monotone, dragging his hand down his face. “She accepted it, or whatever it was she wrote in her notes.”

He remembered what Godric had said, about who the Black God was. We are.

He remembered Miranda eating the bloody heart as she sat on the rock island.

“Where….is it?”

Her expression of curiosity blossomed into one of awe. “You really….it’s…I…hm…don’t know. There’s so much I don’t know.”

“That makes two of us.”

Ethan closed his eyes again.

Ethan grabbed his phone and scrolled through it, looking for some sort of placation, some communication that would bring him peace, or allow him to ignore his restlessness. He found the opposite.

From Chris.

-Yeah, we all underestimated you. I’m not ashamed to say that, I’m relieved you’re as tough as you are.

-You have no idea how tough I have gotten. At this point I really should be studied.

-Don’t joke about stuff like that, Ethan…some people who get infected really are.

-I know. I just hope it’s enough to finally get rid of her.

-If anybody can do it, it’s you. You’re resilient as hell. And maybe as stubborn as she is.

-I’d say more stubborn, she just has time on me.

-Since when have I ever been anything but cautious?

-Very funny.

-You should say more ‘shit’ that’s true. I like hearing the truth.

-Don’t push your luck.

Why are you helping me?

Because I hate Miranda.

His family slept there, and Ethan might have felt guilt over once again venturing off on his own, except that the desperation he felt was louder in his soul than the guilt.

He wasn’t accepting death as he was told to, was he?

Was he doing what Miranda did?

He didn’t want Karl to die.

He didn’t want Eva to die, either.

He didn’t want to keep locking himself away.

The one that healed us.

Whatever voice that was, referred to Karl’s tornado lifting debris and rot away from the core, allowing it to ‘breathe’...to survive.

The taunt hurt, as it would be Eva who suffered. Miranda seemed to catch onto this emotion, and she tilted her head. “Eva..?”

She chuckled, not even listening to his inner dialogue.

“Worried about dear Heisenberg, are we?”

His lips moved into a tight line. “Tell me.”

He didn’t speak.

“Fuck you.”

“Is yours?” She grinned. “Do you understand?”

“What the hell does my past have to do with my question?”

“Who else has been absorbed by a…Megamycete?”

“I was,” she said proudly. “Rose was. As well as someone else you know, but not the ones you look to save.”

He threw his hands out. “I’m done with the fucking riddles. This isn’t a storybook.”

“And…if I did…Heisenberg?”

“Molding his mind, huh. Is that why he got away from you? Why he’s still away from you?”

Her smile faltered, and he lowered his head. The wind was blowing now, icy on his neck. Ethan barely felt it. He had another question.

“You have Heisenberg’s?” That didn’t sound right.

“It is a one time offer, Ethan. I suggest you choose wisely.”

Ethan was desperate to find a loophole or a solution, but not this desperate.

He knew, sensed, that she could not follow him here. Godric had put it best.

She is denied.

The Megamycete had changed.

This change is your work, Ethan.

The same voice as earlier, the one that spoke about healing. He ignored it, to examine the health of the root.

Careful now, he heard a voice mutter in a teasing, tantalizing voice as he approached. Don’t want to touch anything dangerous.

He spoke aloud. “If I…touch you. Am I going to lose my mind?”

“Human minds are so easy to lose. Like pocket change.”

“If I touch you, will it kill the root? Take more power?”

“Not so much more. I have been waiting for you. Saving energy. Sending you strength.”

He thought of moving the sarcophagus. Pinning Heisenberg.

“Why me?”

“So that we all may survive.”

He thought back to Miranda’s mind. ��A trickster. A ‘fickle one.’

Ethan’s heart beat so hard in his chest he thought it might burst.

“Shall we, Ethan Winters? Do you want my help?”

Alcina, he thought wildly, I need you here.

Was that even possible? His entire being, this entire chamber, coursed with energy. If it was possible, it would be here. The Black God chuckled, as if he didn’t mind entertaining.

“What is this? Am I dreaming?” Alcina hesitantly stepped toward Ethan, eyeing the Megamycete skeptically. “Is that…”

“I need your help,” he began anxiously. Her utterly bewildered look was almost humorous.

“Surely you are not going to touch that thing.”

“It’s…whatever’s inside…it’s offering to help us.”

“And you trust…THAT?”

She arched a brow. “Well, yes, I suppose.”

“You were in control of yours. How did you do it? Please. If you think I can’t do this, be honest with me, I need it right now, I need somebody to tell me the truth. I trust you to do that.”

Alcina was completely taken aback at this, but recovered quickly. She blinked rapidly, and crossed her arms, pacing and staring at the crystals that surrounded her.,

Ethan followed her pacing, watching her phase in and out of view with each pulse of the ‘heart.’

“Yeah,” he countered. “I guess I figured I’d cross that bridge when I get to it.”

“Such a man,” she muttered, but didn’t move. Her eyes were on Ethan as he wiped his palms on his pants, and then stepped forward.

“The warrior King, I so loved him. So many good battles together. Then one day….ritually ripped apart from each other. I would have broken him out of there, somehow…..and they knew it.”

This was enough to satisfy Ethan. If it was good enough for Godric, it was good enough for him. It was this, or go lay back down and try not to wake up black-eyed and insane, with no memory of it.

The blond watched his hands elongate as he held them up; his heart raced even more. His body felt warm, for the first time since he could remember. So warm he wanted to pull his skin off. He was burning alive. This was the metabolism of the mold, he knew. He didn’t know how he knew. Ethan held his head in his hands, grunting against a sudden crushing headache. He heard the voice inside.

Sleep. Rest.

I can do it.

Part of him

–NO.

Changed him.

It wanted to get up, away.

NO.

Teeth for tearing.

Ethan couldn’t argue with that one.

Up.

He didn’t want to go up. Well, he did, but not like this. Not right now. Not until he could get control of this thing.

And then what?

Well, he’d be in control, that’s what.

Was he talking to himself?

Ethan felt something pulling. Tearing. Himself. Oh, no you don’t, he thought wildly. But he watched the ground disappear from view, and then everything disappeared.

“You can do it, Ethan,” Alcina muttered under her breath, eyes on the flock.

Donna turned to stare at her older sibling. “Do what?!”

His body was elongated, different. His forehead, arms, legs dripped with black. He was barely recognizable, but it was him, all right.

After biting her lip, Eva nodded, and Alcina said haughtily, “You have two minutes.”

Heisenberg actually beamed.

He’d know that upset gaze anywhere.

Karl had, in fact, known what Ethan was made of all along.

It changed nothing for him.

This changed nothing. He’d never seen the engineer so fascinated.

Captivated.

His eyes darted between them, back up to the engineer, back between them. Part of Ethan screamed in rage that Karl had brought his children down onto a cliffside to gawk at this animal.

But he could formulate thoughts even better with this added consciousness, that only saw things as they were. Had no fear.

They weren’t gawking. And they weren’t just his children, were they? This was what Alcina had spoken about. Family.

Ethan’s eyes were still wild and reddened, but he dropped his head as if to show submission-in reality, he was exhausted, and didn’t want to fight any longer. He finally closed his eyes.

Don’t let me give up -

His eyes were still closed. “I know, a cage,” he said to Heisenberg.

“Are you kiddin’ me? THAT was somethin’ Winters, that was, holy shit!…..”

“Dada-raaahhhrweerrr!” Rosemary approved.

The wind picked up, ruffling Ethan’s hair. He was ready, finally, to sleep.

#ethan winters #karl heisenberg #wintersberg #molded ethan winters #heisenwinters #resident evil village #mother miranda #alcina dimitrescu

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fan-girlktries · 1 year

Text

“You’re One Of Them.”

“ No. Better. Derek Hale, better.”

Pt.1 (first fanfic)sorry

One mission: DON’T. FLIP. Which is Something quite hard to do when they bring your human sister in their supernatural problems, Scott and his pack each day test a nerve I didn't think possible. When I Inevitably turn into an evil spirit from hell they're going to ask “why?” my response “ Because you are making my life as difficult as supernaturally feasible.”

I guess I can't talk since she’s the one being drag I'm being held captive- literally pointed at gun point by a -kid name mat. That’s all I know, listen I had very little time doing my stalking and research. A little weak for a supernatural assassin .....a knight somewhat.

I lay paralyze beside Derek hale while my arm snakes around his neck losing my grip the antique black dagger with gold imprints in the white handle. My face is covered by a black mask and dirty grey hood attach to my crop top, elbow high black fingerless gloves, a black mini slit skirt and grey to black cargo pants.

“Who’s the new girl?” Mat questions. “We don’t know.” Scott answers, his eyebrows frowns at the same question. “ This is the one controlling him? This guy?” Derek’s tone stern and tired his face force to count the tiles on the celling. “Well Derek not everyone is lucky enough to be a big bad werewolf.” Maneuvering towards me,

he kneels down tilting his head, hovering over my back. Mat snatches off the hood leading to yanking a bed full of long twists in my hair with golden ring clips, my head bending back creating tight stinging tension in my neck. This time he slowly uncover my purple-bluish Rhine stones skull shaped mask which I need: when I talk my voice is

disoriented on purpose causing my voice to be deeper than it is. “Don’t touch me.” He carries it to his face gently,

squinting at the shinnying light that blinds him. “Are theses actual stones?” He swings his arm just to halt and softly place on the cushions of the chair. Stiles struggles despite Derek being In the way while Derek fails to look to the right of him, I lay my head to the right unable to get view of mat. “Well, look at that it’s one of the hunter’s daughter. Argents’ always sticking their noses in places they don’t belong in.” My eyes rolls to the point I’m feeling it strongly as it happens in annoyance.

“Give me back my mask. It’s priceless.” He retaliates releasing all his power into his left leg deeply knocking the wind out of my lungs. “AGHHHHGH!” A sound of graveling

rocks and tires meeting cement with each roll comes closer with a comforting cease. He leaves us to greet Scotts mom up front. “You never said you were a hunter?” His voice falters but not as if he’s going to cry, as if he’s accusing. I

sigh beginning to shift my head in his direction causing Derek to meet my brown filled eyes, his heart beat I hear speeds as what I'm guessing he’s taken back for a moment, I don’t know why? He couldn’t possibly know “me”.

“Focus on our situation stiles.” Derek slightly moves to my best friend, “Who’s she?” Irritation seeps through his voice. “Stiles please answer this question, are you hurt?” Silence fills the air beside hearing hesitation I'm out of patience and in need to hear stiles. “ I-.” “ STILES are you hurt?” I begin

raising my voice. “ NO-no, m- my throat stings a bit.” Rasps exposes the dry throat announcing the abuse is quite real as I feel a deadly sensation rising and burning in me, I close my eyes starting to hold my breath as dangerous as I can. I’m intentionally suffocating myself for this purpose.

I stare at my unconscious body then over at the wolf and my best friend. No heart beat or blood tracing in my veins, even sense of emotion. I still feel a heavy presence an ominous auto that darkens the scenery physically. as I can tell when the star bright lights flickers just when I passed

through to the other side. A shadow of darkness over came my unsettling appearance as I see in my reflection, I move my head back and forth before viewing my appearance again. I look back at my normal self. Nothing out of the

ordinary which is ....startling. Deafening shot rings out bringing me into my main priority in the first place. Hurriedly I scatter to the slick glossy floor flipping the dagger in my grasp, I Pierce through my shoulders watching as the red

metallic stench oozing from my wound. The strong prickling pain lets out a scream returning me to my conscious state. Derek eyes advance to the said

dagger causing him to flinch a bit. “ Hey, Hey. Ferris I heard a scream coming from your direction talk to me”. Stiles panics knowing that’s it’s useless to turn his

head. “I-It’s ok sti...- it’s- I'm j- just relieving the toxin from my blood.” Since my chest is tighten hours of laying on my stomach and with metal in my skin cause my voice to sound haggard and sore, “ I think Derek is doing the same also.” A couple of

minutes later I force my arms behind my shoulders quickly taking out the knife. I release a satisfying exhale of air. Lights now a void of darkness while glass shatters with the bullets putting holes in what’s ever in its path. “ Derek can you

you move?” Bouncing up on my feet shifting my weight to my right so McCall doesn't shove me while rushing to help his best friend. “ Scott, Go. Don’t let

stiles get shot.” He rolls his eyes as he goes to take cover with stiles. “ Those are hunters.” I spoke. “Really I'm sorry I couldn't hear over the gunshots firing at us... can you stop them? “ I’m adopted Hale, I don’t

tell them everything. Especially what I am. Who I am.” His eyes glow a hypnotizing red color wiping out his claws then bending over to grab my mask.

“ Ευχαριστώ.” Derek double takes with a frown. “What?” “I’m going to find the teen and then I'm going to show him around hell.” I pick up my dagger and

exchange it for my colt revolver No.3, in white. I pull up my hood dragging the mask on my face. Covering hale’s back,“Lis-” A fist speeds towards my face to

which I reacted fast enough to catch it not even a fraction of a second since I moved inches of Derek. I move the hand down a bit to see who thre- “Derek.” I scowl down on him menacingly into his soul, whereas my eyes from brown to whitish purple he’s feeling the smallest intimidation I hope he would.

He takes his hand back pushing past me, I ran to the back in search for my best friend, I loaded my gun steadily observing everyones moves before making my

own, I have to keep my pacing fast but calculated even now I'm dealing with a depressed teenager and a paralytic freak. I see Scott walking from what assume stiles safe place is. “ Where did you put him?” In a unpleasing tone. “ I

don’t even know you, I don’t even know how you know stiles or how you somehow end up being Allison's sister but I do know this. I don’t trust you... however .....I'm willing to work with you though.” I nod my head starting to run with him in haste. When we rounded the corner, “ Allison.” Seems to me hunters came to

play and his ex surprisingly showed up for the event. “Where’s Derek?” “What are you doing?” “ If you’re not going to tell me then get out of my way.” I want to say something but the second I add fuel to the very passionate flame she’s going to know too much, I'm not willing to make that an option.

She’s my teen younger sister, she’s angry, confuse, arrogant. She just lost her mother and she’s going to get someone killed better yet herself. I know what truly happened the second she wailed to me, confronted Derek hale.

He threatens me I threaten him. He slips cause of Scott interfering, but I'm not going to be the one to tell her, she’s going to be a knowledgeable hunter about it and seek the answers when she's ready.

I make a couple of steps before hand hidden in the back after Scott, I switch back to find Allison rolling my eyes in annoyance. I end up in the garage following her leisurely calm heartbeat, all beside that the atmosphere is freezing, nothing pining at the ear, the only faint sound is the control breathes I take and the monster that is hunting my sister.

#teen wolf ocs #Derek Hale x Oc reader poc #fanfic #enimes to lovers #unrequited #angst #fluff #lime

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androgymagnus · 2 years

Note

love it when you prev tag me <3 but also honest to god I want to see Stede Bonnet flip the script on Izzy. town crier in Nassau yelling some shit like “Izzy Hands is a dead fish in bed!” and said man, who has been psychically willing Ed to do Evil BDSM to him for the better part of a decade, now has to help the bitch who spread that rumour load up the Revenge with cargo. this is what sparks Izzy’s slut era. or he just cries a lot either is very possible but what matters is he is front page Hello Magazine for being a loser unable to keep a man

YOU'RE SO FUCKING CORRECT. izzy "nearly creamed his pants after being forced to eat his own toe" hands having to deal with everyone thinking he's like, boring and vanilla somehow is the funniest thing in the world, and then he has to just like. help out the guy who is responsible. but is it funnier if he goes full rock star I'm Going To Do Evil BDSM With Everyone In Sight mode or if he just like. goes into hibernation crying with ye olde ben and jerrys eyeliner running down face complaining to lucius in the walls about how his pussy is NOT icy it's RED HOT it's SEXY he's SO SEXY and he LOVES being kinky he's WAY KINKIER than stede motherfucking bonnet and lucius is just nodding and making agreeable noises while reading ye olde cosmo magazine's article about how much of a loser he is and highlighting his favorite passages

#does izzy think he's there or a rage-induced hallucination? no idea #askbox #laniidae-passerine #ofmd

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devilbrakers · 2 years

Text

was tagged by @jillvalcntines to fill this out for my ocs >:) thank you for tagging me !! nervous abt tagging ppl 2day so i you wanna do it feel free to say that i tagged you! was in a resident evil mood so i did tihtiyas and sorin for this one!

BODY

Long legs. Average legs. Short legs. Slender thighs. Thick thighs. Muscular thighs. Slender arms. Soft arms. Muscular arms. Lean arms. Toned stomach. Flat stomach. Ample stomach. Soft stomach. Six-pack. Beer belly. Lean frame. Muscular frame. Beefy frame. Curvy frame. Voluptuous frame. Petite frame. Lanky frame. Short nails. Long nails. Manicured nails. Acrylic nails. Dirty nails. Small breast. Average breast. Big breast. Flat ass. Toned ass. Bubble butt. Thick ass. Small waist. Straight waist. Thick waist. Narrow hips. Average hips. Wide hips. Big feet. Average feet. Small feet. Soft feet. Slender feet. Calloused hands. Soft hands. Big hands. Average hands. Small hands. Long fingers. Average fingers. Short fingers. Narrow shoulders. Average shoulders. Broad shoulders.

HEIGHT

Shorter than 140 cm. 140-150 cm. 151 cm to 160 cm. 161 cm to 170 cm. 171 cm to 180 cm. 181 cm to 190 cm. 191 cm to 2 m. Taller than 2 m.

SKIN

Light. Tanned. Brown. Dark. Rosy. Neutral. Olive. Golden. Pallid. Blotchy. Albinism. Vitiligo. Birthmarks. Freckles. Moles. Wrinkles. Stretch marks. Scars. Burns. Acne. Smooth. Dry. Oily. Combination.

EYES

Small. Large. Average. Dark brown. Light brown. Hazel. Green. Blue. Grey. Violet. Gold. Other (Red). Heterochromia. Doe-eyed. Close-set. Wide-set. Deep-set. Protruding. Narrow. Monolid. Almond. Round. Heavy eyelids. Upturned. Downturned.

HAIR

Thin. Thick. Fine. Average. Oily. Dry. Neutral. Soft. Shiny. Curly. Frizzy. Wild. Unruly. Smooth. Straight. Wavy. Cropped. Pixie-cut. Bob. Mullet. Mohawk. Half-shaved. Under cut. Buzz cut. Shaved. Bald. Hair extensions. Weave. Afro. Waves. Dreadlocks. Box braids. Braids. Twists. Faux locs. Jaw length. Shoulder length. Armpit length. Mid-back length. Waist length. Hip length. Past hip-length. Middle part. Side part. Blunt bangs. Curtain bangs. Wispy bangs. Short bangs. Side bangs. Dyed bangs. Ombre. Dyed. Grey. White. Platinum. Platinum blonde. Golden blonde. Dirty blonde. Blonde. Strawberry blonde. Ginger. Red. Auburn. Light brown. Mouse brown. Chestnut brown. Caramel brown. Chocolate brown. Dark brown. Black. Jet black. Clean shaven. Stubble. Sideburns. Moustache. Goatee. Beard. Thin eyebrows. Average eyebrows. Thick eyebrows. Plucked eyebrows.

TATTOOS/PIERCINGS

Full sleeve. Half sleeve. Forearm tattoo. Wrist tattoo. Hand tattoo(s). Ankle tattoo. Calf tattoo. Thigh tattoo. Hip tattoo. Neck tattoo. Chest tattoo. Rib tattoo(s). Back tattoo. Shoulder blade tattoo. Face tattoo(s). One tattoo. A few here and there. Multiple. No tattoos. Nose piercing. Septum. Nipple piercing(s). Genital piercing(s). Prince Albert piercing. Industrial piercing. Helix piercing. Tragus piercing. Conch piercing. Earlobe piercings. Stretched out ears. Eyebrow piercing(s). Bridge piercing. Tongue piercing(s). Monroe piercing. Angel bites. Snake bites. Labret. Navel piercing. Inverse navel piercing. Cheek piercing(s). Smiley. Nape piercing(s). No piercings.

COSMETICS

Eyeliner. Light eyeliner. Heavy eyeliner. Cat eyes. Mascara. Fake eyelashes. Light eyeshadow. Neutral eyeshadow. Smoky eyes. Colourful eyeshadow. Matte lipstick. Regular lipstick. Lipgloss. Lip liner. Lip balm. Red lips. Pink lips. Neutral lips. Dark lips. Colourful lips. Bronzer. Highlighter. Blush. Light contouring. Heavy contouring. Powder. Matte foundation. Dewy foundation. Concealer. BB cream/tinted moisturiser. Wears make-up regularly. Wears it from time to time. Rarely wears make-up.

SCENT

Floral. Herbal. Earthy. Fruity. Fresh. Perfumes. Aftershave. Cocoa. Moisturiser. Shampoo. Cigarettes. Leather. Sweat. Food. Incense. Marijuana. Cologne. Whiskey. Wine. Fried food. Blood. Fire. Metal. Rain.

CLOTHES

Jeans. Tight pants. Cigarette pants. Cargo pants. Khaki pants. Harem pants. Sweatpants. Yoga pants. Leggings. Tights. Stockings. Overknee socks. Pencil skirt. Tight skirt. Loose skirt. Ballerina skirt. Long skirt. Miniskirt. Maxidress. Sundress. T-shirt/Sweater dress. Tight/Form-fitting dress. High slit dress/skirt. Cocktail dress. Gowns. Tuxedo. Suit. Tie. Waistcoat. Sweater vest. Sweater. Hoodie. Leather jacket. Denim jacket. Bomber jacket. Parka. Peacoat. Trench coat. Cardigans. Tunic. Turtleneck. Blouse. Button up shirt. Cuban shirt. Flannel shirt. Polo shirt. Camisole. Bustier. Tube top. Crop top. Tank top. Muscle T-shirt. T-shirt. Band T-shirt. Sports T-shirt. Basketball shorts. Pleated shorts. Jean shorts. Hotpants. Bodysuit. Jumpsuit. Overalls. Corset. Nightgowns. Robes. Lingerie. Bra. Sports bra. G-string. Thong. Panties. Briefs. Boxer briefs. Boxers. Loose clothing. Tight clothing. Revealing clothing. Designer. High street. Thrift. Patterns. Florals. Polka dots. Stripes. Sequins. Cotton. Linen. Silk. Lace. Leather. Velvet. Fur/Faux fur. Light colours. Pastels. Neon colours. Bright colours. Dark colours. White. Black. Heavy armour. Medium armour. Light armour.

SHOES

Bare feet. Slippers. Sandals. Gladiator shoes. Flats. Slip-ons. Loafers. Oxfords. Sneakers. High tops. Ankle boots. Hiking boots. Combat boots. Cowboy boots. Knee-high. Platforms. Wedges. Stilettos. Chunky. Kitten heels. Slingbacks. Pumps. High Heels. Stripper heels.

BODY

HEIGHT

Shorter than 140 cm. 140-150 cm. 151 cm to 160 cm. 161 cm to 170 cm. 171 cm to 180 cm. 181 cm to 190 cm. 191 cm to 2 m. Taller than 2 m.

SKIN

EYES

HAIR

TATTOOS/PIERCINGS

COSMETICS

Eyeliner. Light eyeliner. Heavy eyeliner. Cat eyes. Mascara. Fake eyelashes. Light eyeshadow. Neutral eyeshadow. Smoky eyes. Colourful eyeshadow. Matte lipstick. Regular lipstick. Lipgloss. Lip liner. Lip balm. Red lips. Pink lips. Neutral lips. Dark lips. Colourful lips. Bronzer.Highlighter. Blush. Light contouring. Heavy contouring. Powder. Matte foundation. Dewy foundation. Concealer. BB cream/tinted moisturiser. Wears make-up regularly. Wears it from time to time. Rarely wears make-up.

SCENT

CLOTHES

Jeans. Tight pants. Cigarette pants. Cargo pants. Khaki pants. Harem pants. Sweatpants. Yoga pants. Leggings. Tights. Suspenders. Stockings. Overknee socks. Pencil skirt. Tight skirt. Loose skirt. Ballerina skirt. Long skirt. Miniskirt. Maxidress. Sundress. T-shirt/Sweater dress. Tight/Form-fitting dress. High slit dress/skirt. Cocktail dress. Gowns. Tuxedo. Suit. Tie. Waistcoat. Sweater vest. Sweater. Hoodie. Leather jacket. Denim jacket. Bomber jacket. Parka. Peacoat. Trench coat. Cardigans. Tunic. Turtleneck. Blouse. Button up shirt. Cuban shirt. Flannel shirt. Polo shirt. Camisole. Bustier. Tube top. Crop top. Tank top. Muscle T-shirt. T-shirt. Band T-shirt. Sports T-shirt. Basketball shorts. Pleated shorts. Jean shorts. Hotpants. Bodysuit. Jumpsuit. Overalls. Corset. Nightgowns. Robes. Lingerie. Bra. Sports bra. G-string. Thong. Panties. Briefs. Boxer briefs. Boxers. Loose clothing. Tight clothing. Revealing clothing. Designer. High street. Thrift. Patterns. Florals. Polka dots. Stripes. Sequins. Cotton. Linen. Silk. Lace. Leather. Velvet. Fur/Faux fur. Light colours. Pastels. Neon colours. Bright colours. Dark colours. White. Black. Heavy armour. Medium armour. Light armour.

SHOES

#thank u again. useful for sorin bc i still need to flesh him out more jfdklsf #resident evil #my ocs #sorin #tihtiyas #tag

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i4lixie · 2 years

Text

𓂃 slide

summary: so maybe you wore a slutty outfit to 3racha's concert in your city. you didn't expect it to get attention--especially any attention from him.

genre: smut lolol, han is a lil bit of a fckboy

pairing: han x fem!reader

xtra info: this is a 3racha!only au, skz don't exist here, 3racha aren't idols but a slightly well known rap group. this was also a request!

You were just like all your other friends who wanted to look as sexy as possible for this upcoming show. April 18th, 8:30 PM was the time that all the boys of 3RACHA would be making their way on stage.

To say you... whored yourself out, is an understatement.

You didn't care. The amusing lyrics of "WOW" blasted through your speaker as your friend helped you slip on your see-through fishnet shirt over your black bra with "3RA" written on one cup, "CHA" on the other. The black cargo pants slightly evened out how revealing the top half of you was-they were split in the middle right underneath your ass, and you were happy for that-you would surely overheat in that nightclub with everyone around you.

So maybe you were going a little overboard. You didn't care.

"I swear if Changbin is in those glasses... I'm gonna piss myself." Hyewon whispers out as she scrolls through 3RACHA's Twitter. As soon as you were at a red light, you turned to see the picture-it was one they posted just an hour ago that you didn't get to see because you were too busy making yourself look like a Goddess with the new makeup you'd bought.

Changbin sported some clear glasses with what seemed like a tight white shirt with leather pants and a leather shirt that was cut in random places, squeezing him and making his physique pop. Chan wore a black blazer and nothing underneath, the blazer being buttoned the first few buttons, but left open after, revealing his muscled tummy.

And Jisung, your favorite. You could've crashed your car at the sight of him.

He's evil. Evil, for wearing that crop top with the same leather cut out as Changbin and leather pants. If you weren't a fan, you almost would've thought they were idols about to perform on a music stage, but that could never be your boys. Their personalities were far from idol-ish.

And it didn't help that your friends, along with you, got tickets to be as close as possible. Right in the fucking front.

"They're gonna kill us," you whimpered, your heartbeat suddenly racing as you parked in front of the nightclub. You were a bit early, and so were other fans it seemed--some people waiting outside their cars with alcohol or cigarettes in between their fingers.

Getting out of your car, you were shocked to suddenly hear a bunch of shouting and cheering. Looking towards the direction of the sound, your eyes popped at the sight of 3RACHA climbing out a black van. They were a little far away, but close enough that you could stare at them and tell if they were staring back.

They were. They were.

"Dude, they undoubtedly saw your fucking bra." Chaeyoung giggled at you, reaching forward to squeeze your tits, and you grunted at her as you pushed your hands away. She was right though--you made the words as big as possible and wrote them in white so they would be clear to any human eye. "What if they invite you on stage?"

"Then everyone in that bitch is getting a free strip show," you stated bluntly, causing your friends around you to laugh, especially at the fact that you were dead serious. You wouldn't miss the chance to at a one in a lifetime experience.

Getting into the concert was easier and way more fun than expected. You got plenty of compliments on your outfit, even a "they're definitely taking you to the back for that," every once in a while from fellow fans. Soon enough you were at the front of the club with your other friends, a cup full of sprite in your hand. You didn't wanna get drunk-you wanted to remember every second of this.

After a couple of minutes of vibing with the crowd, the lights in the club dimmed and screams erupted. You were amongst them, especially as the boys came out one by one, with wide smiles on their faces. Jisung's smile was turning into a little smirk as the screams got louder and louder, and his smug attitude was already making you weak in the knees.

"What's up motherfuckers?!" Changbin yelled into his mic, causing the other two to laugh as they helped in hyping up the crowd. "We're so excited to see all of your faces!"

"All of you already know the tracklist right?" Chan asked, and you nodded while everyone in the club told him yes. "Good. Han might forget some of it."

"Fuck you!" Jisung shouted at the other, though the smug smile stayed on your face. You couldn't help but laugh, and heat spread through your face as his eyes met yours due to the sound. He smiled a little more at you.

"He noticessss youuuu..." Hyewon whispered to you, nudging your shoulder. You roll your eyes.

While they introduce themselves and go through the tracklist once more, Jisung keeps meeting your eyes. You can tell he's looking at your bra, and you embrace it.

As soon as they start performing, the vibes start changing. You lose yourself in their music like you do when you're dancing in your room to their voices. You rap along, along with your friends, taking sips of sprite and feeling some of the soda on your chest, your skin sticky underneath the bright lights of the stage.

It's the middle of the setlist when they pause, taking a break to say a few words. Chan's are full of emotion, thanking everyone for staying and supporting. Changbin's are more or less the same, with some jokes filling the stadium with laughter.

"All of you have got on some nice ass outfits too," Han starts, tongue coming out to swipe at his bottom lip as his eyes suddenly slide over to your figure. "Especially this cutie in the front row. You got our name on your tits? That's a first."

Instead of shying away from the attention, you embrace it. Once in a lifetime experience.

"Guess who's name I got on my ass?" You tell him back, grinning as the nightclub erupts in cheers at your snakiness. Jisung's mouth drops a little at your confidence, and he winks at you, a telling look in the way his eyelids lower.

The next two hours were the best you could ever hope for. They performed a new song featuring two smaller rapper friends of theirs, The Tortoise and The Hare, and the beat sounds unbelievably sexy on the speakers. Of course, you know every word, and you lean into Jisung as he comes closer to you with the mic, rapping right in your face. His energy is high and you match it just as well, maybe even hitting the lyrics more than he does.

At the end of the concert, you're busy taking pictures and sharing videos with other fans when someone in all black approaches you, towering over you with his height. Leaning down, he whispers into your ear.

"A request from J.ONE--meet him backstage as soon as you can. He'll be waiting."

The man leaves. You sneak a look at his face before he does and you're left breathless once you realize that it's 3RACHA's manager.

Chaeyoung appears next to you, seeming as shocked as you are. "Was that-?"

"Yep. It was."

"Well?! What are you still standing here for?! Go get some dick!"

You widen your eyes at her, mouth opening to speak, but she cuts you off. "Nope. Don't need to worry bout me and Hyewonnie, we're going to the afterparty down the street. Join us when you're ready... if you can walk, at least."

You pop her and she leaves with Hyewon, snickering.

Once you start weaving your way through the crowd and walk behind the manager, you start to actually get nervous for the first time tonight. If Jisung wanted to fuck you, suck you, lick you--hell, you'd let him do anything. Sex was never something you shied away from, especially not from drop-dead gorgeous men.

You're too deep in your thoughts to notice the manager stopping until you nearly fun into him. His head points towards a closed door with the name J.ONE written on a piece of paper stuck towards it.

"He's in there."

With a small breath, you wished yourself luck before opening the door.

Jisung is sitting on a couch, his forehead dripping in sweat. His hair is wet but still parted in the middle how you like, and once you're so close to him, you can see his eyes are decorated in red eyeshadow.

He grins. "Hey, cutie."

You raise an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Do you do this with all your fans?" you tease him, head tilting as you lean back against the door.

His grin widens. "Why? You jealous, baby?"

"Jealous?" you scoff. "Not at all. Just don't want you to think I'm a quick fuck cause I like your music. I'll delete it all reallll fast."

"Baby, baby, baby," he soothes, and your heart flutters. "It's not like that at all. I just wanna get to know you, I can't do that?"

You stare at him blankly. "Get to know me while I have your group's name across my boobs?"

He shrugs, but you can see the ghost of a smile on his lips. "You wore it, not me... you had me distracted all night."

"Did I?"

"You really did," he murmurs, suddenly standing, and his presence fills the room. His shirt rises and your eyes are quick to get any sneaks at his tummy that you can. He is dangerously attractive. "Couldn't stop imagining having that bra in my pocket after I-"

"After you what?" you egg him, stepping off the door this time and closer to him. He stares you down. "Go on. Say it, Hannie."

"After I make you cum, baby."

That was all you needed. You wanted this, and he wanted it too--neither of you was shying away from it.

It took about three seconds after you kissed him for him to slam your back against the door, bending down to reach your height. His hot hands slide your exposed, sweaty thighs, gripping at the flesh.

"I believe you told me you had someone else's name written on your ass," he whispered against your lips. When you opened your eyes, his were still closed, and your pussy thrummed at how into it he looked. Just like on stage. "That true, baby?"

"Maybe," you whispered back. "Wanna see?"

He wasted no time in spinning you around, his arms reaching around your waist to unbuckle your cargo pants. Yanking them down, he inhaled sharply at the sight of you clad in just a black thong, with "J.ONE'S" written on your right asscheek, signed with a heart next to it.

"Holy shit," he muttered breathlessly in your ear, kneading at your flesh, driving mewls from you as you bucked up against him. It felt way too good. "You were just planning on giving this pussy to me tonight, weren't you?"

You were on fire. Nothing could cool you down, as his words were only lighting you up further, making you unbelievably hot. "I was hoping I'd get lucky."

"I'm the lucky one," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. A cute moment in this bubble of sex around you two. "I bet you taste amazing, huh?"

Plucking your thong out the way, he ran one finger down your slit, from your clit to your hole which clenched around nothing. Pressing further against you, he slid in the long digit, immediately sliding it back out and messily fingerfucking you just to feel your writhe against his chest. Your pussy aches for more and he gives you just that; adding one more, two more fingers until he's stretching you out, feeling out a rhythm with his fingers. It's fast, so fast you can barely think straight, and once he swipes the pad of his thumb over your clit you're a goner, sucking in his fingers as you cum all over them.

It's quiet for a moment, other than the sound of you breathing heavily against the door. Then, the sound of Jisung licking his fingers invades the air.

"Just as sweet as you look," he chuckles, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. "Can I fuck you now, baby?

The fact that he's asking surely makes you drip. His fingers are steadily stroking your pussy, even sliding up to prod over your rim, your eyelids fluttering.

"Yes, please, Hannie," you permit him through shallow breaths. "Please fuck me."

He purposefully goes slow with tearing open the condom wrapper, and you can only imagine how sexy he looks sliding the rubber over his cock. You try to take a peak but he stops you, whispering "ah ah ah" as the hand finds the back of your head, making you face forward.

"I'll let you see the next time we meet up," he whispers, sliding his tip between your folds.

Next time. He wants to see you again.

He delves inside you, and all the tension from the concert snaps as soon as he's as deep as he can get. Pleasure soars through your body with every inch that slides up into your pussy. His hands are tight against your hips, and he can't help but roam his palms over your thighs, especially over his name-pulling out and snapping back into you.

He fucks what belongs to him. He doesn't want to go slow and neither do you, nails scratching against the door as he rams into you at a steady, almost melodic pace. He doesn't shy away from being quiet either, his voice making you clench even tighter. Is it possible that he sounds just as good moaning for you as he does rapping?

"Definitely gonna write about this pussy," he grunts in your ear, staying deep inside you and rolling his hips in little circles, which causes you to sigh wistfully. "Write about how it's already got me addicted."

His hand comes up to find your left breast as he starts fucking you again, squeezing at your already hard nipples. "This bra, too. I'm stealing it. Just so you know."

You're too lost to respond. You can almost feel yourself going dumb, not caring about anything around you or anyone that can hear as he moves. You can tell he's the same way--slapping your ass every other second, leaning forward to dig his teeth in your shoulder when you position your hips up on his cock.

"Baby.." he starts, his hands finding their way to your chest now, holding onto you like he's about to lose it. "Baby, I'm gonna nut."

"Me too, me too," you join him in chants, both of your voices high and needy. "Don't stop. Don't stop.."

He fucks into you harder, quicker, his grip tight on your body as he nears the edge. In just a few more quick thrusts you're cumming around him, head falling back once you feel his condom filling with thick warmth. You're shaking at this point, too weak to even stand—but he's got you, holding you up and somehow maneuvering the two of you to the small couch in the room.

Most people would think lying on a random rapper after sex, sticky and wet, is the grossest thing ever. But you think of it as the perfect end to your night.

"...Hey."

"Hm?" You look up at him.

"I really want that bra. Y'know, as like, a souvenir."

Yep, you think. Perfect ending.

#skz #stray kids #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz han #skz jisung #han jisung #jisung smut #jisung x reader #han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz fic #stray kids fic #stray kids oneshot #skz one shot

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littlemisspascal · 2 years

Text

Fast Cars and Lightning Bolts Part 3

Pairing: Din x Female Reader

Word Count: 1200

Rating: T

Summary: “So…” Din says finally, and his voice is a magnet drawing your gaze helplessly back to him. He makes himself comfortable in the red leather booth by throwing an arm across its back and resting the other on the tabletop next to his empty plate where just a few crumbs of his bantha burger linger as evidence there was ever any food on it at all. “You’re going to build a car to beat Moff Gideon?”

Warnings: Helmetless Din, dialogue heavy, racing au, heavily inspired by Ford v Ferrari, language, worldbuilding

Author Note: EDITED AS OF 7/12/22

PART 2 // PART 4

A little after nine o’clock, the diner’s almost empty except for a young couple sitting three booths away, sharing a chocolate milkshake. It’s one of those disgustingly sappy public displays of affection that makes you feel vaguely nauseous to witness, but it’s currently the lesser of two evils considering the alternative is meeting Din’s gaze full of silent judgment.

Not for the first time, you wonder if you’ve made a huge mistake meeting with him. It has been a long three months since your last encounter with him at Galma Raceway and while it hadn’t been particularly awkward per se, you wouldn’t describe it as pleasant either, so you weren’t sure what to expect from Din when he arrived. A part of you had wondered if he’d even show up.

But he kept his end of the deal, if only for the free meal out of the arrangement, and he’d listened to your proposal without interrupting, though the critical wrinkling of his forehead grew further pronounced with every word, and really, that’s a hell of a lot more reaction from him than you could have ever anticipated.

“So…” Din says finally, and his voice is a magnet drawing your gaze helplessly back to him. He makes himself comfortable in the red leather booth by throwing an arm across its back and resting the other on the tabletop next to his empty plate where just a few crumbs of his bantha burger linger as evidence there was ever any food on it at all. “You’re going to build a car to beat Moff Gideon?”

“Yeah,” you reply, popping a piece of meiloorun fruit into your mouth and praying he doesn’t catch the nervous trembling of your fingers.

But of course he does, because those sharp brown eyes miss nothing, glancing down at your hand before meeting your eyes again in the span of a heartbeat.

“Not just any car, but a Fett.” The scorn in his voice is so thick it presses down like a weight upon your shoulders and it takes all your self-confidence not to wince or duck your head.

“Yeah.”

“Because Boba Fett asked you to do so.”

You nod, swiping your tongue over your bottom lip and ignoring the bloom of warmth in your stomach when brown eyes track the movement.

Din’s quiet for a moment, running a hand through his dark curls. The background music playing through the diner’s jizz-box fills the void, but the low notes of the Barefoot Band do little to ease the tension digging into your chest and lower back.

This is the first time in five years it’s just been you and him alone together, and his presence still captivates your soul, no denying it. You observe him in the faint red glow of the nearby neon light announcing the diner’s open status and marvel at how little he’s changed. He still wears the same long sleeve black t-shirt with matching suspenders holding up his dark brown cargo pants, still wears the same mythosaur pendant around his neck. There are a few new lines around his eyes and along his brow, some gray hairs peeking out amidst the dark stubble of his jawline—but he’ll always be beautiful to you. No amount of time or aging could ever change that.

“And how long did you tell them it would take you?” Din asks once he’s collected his thoughts. “A couple centuries at least?”

You can’t stop the rueful smile tugging at your lips. “Three months.”

Din laughs at that, a genuine one bubbling up out of his throat, brown eyes shining prettier than all the stars in the night sky. And there’s that warm sensation again, threatening to melt you into a puddle of affection right there where you sit. Maker, the effect this man has on you is unbelievable.

“Alright, sweetheart, let’s just break this down for a moment.” Din sits up straighter, the term of endearment slipping off his tongue honey-sweet and you don’t have the strength or the will to correct him. “Let’s pretend you don’t have a time or credit limit. That they’re actually going to give you that blank check to do with as you please.”

“Sounds wonderful,” you grin, indulging in his session of make believe.

Except Din tilts his head, expression suddenly serious, catching you off guard. “Do you really think the Fett Motor Company will let you make the car you want the way you want it? You do know Boba’s the Daimyo of Mos Espa, right? A title he killed to achieve?”

You take a long sip of your drink in lieu of responding. Not that you really need to. Din knows you always do thorough research on your competition—whether they’re racers or they’re in the automobile industry—especially new ones emerging out of nowhere like Fett had done.

“Don’t let them fool you, cyar’ika,” Din continues, and you’d roll your eyes at his protective nature if you hadn’t missed it so much. “I’m sure they’ll seem nice and friendly when you visit them, probably will all form a line and ask for your autograph. Because you’re Lightning Bolt, the darling of the racing community.”

You snort a laugh, shaking your head at the stupid nickname forever bothering you like a fly wherever you go. And you know Din knows you hate it, catching a glimpse of his mischievous smirk before he carries on with his ranting.

“And all the while, hidden away in Fett’s palace, they’re coming up with a dozen ways to control you like a puppet. Because controlling people is their specialty. And because—I don’t know if you’ve ever been told this by anyone but—you’re a reckless idiot.”

“Hey!” you squawk indignantly.

He levels you with a flat look. “You set yourself on fire the night you won the BEC, sweetheart.”

Defensive anger fills your chest where affection used to be, but you keep it imprisoned there instead of setting it loose upon Din, not wanting to start an argument with him. “I acknowledge your concern,” you say slowly, gently. “But this is too big of an opportunity for me to turn down no matter how risky it is.”

Din sighs harshly through his nose, looking away out the window. Disapproval is practically radiating off of every muscle in his body, but he holds his tongue. And back when you were together, you remember loving that about him. How he’d never hold you back from accomplishing your goals even if he worried they’d kill you.

“This car could change the whole sport of racing forever.”

The noise he makes is half-scoff, half-hum of agreement. “If you’re the brains behind it, of course it will.” His eyes meet yours again, stealing the breath from your lungs with their heated intensity. “There isn’t anybody else in the galaxy with a creative mind like yours.”

You swallow against your suddenly dry mouth. “Din, I…”

“What is it, cyar’ika?”

I miss you.

I love you.

“I want you to drive it.”

#Din Djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #my fic #my writing #pedrostories

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thunderheadfred · 3 years

Text

🦅Hawks HC’s🦅

This is SO unnecessarily long. Some NSFW. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

General

Has zero social life or hobbies outside of work. He knows it’s unhealthy, but like, who has the time?? Oh? Lots of people do?? Haha what are healthy work/home boundaries? He desperately wants to retire and always talks about a world without heroes, but the truth is he would have no idea what to do with himself if he got his way. Take him to a park at midnight and watch him turn into a giant repressed child on a swing. He’ll do a standing-360 and it will be terrifying.

Listens to music way too loud in his headphones to drown out wind noise. Probably half deaf at this point. His musical taste is wild; listening history all over the fucking place. Algorithms have no idea what to do with him.

That visor? It’s prescription. Wow is he far-sighted. He wears glasses. He’s not blind without them (rather the opposite) but they help him see things directly in front of him without massive eye strain. Yeah, he looks really hot in glasses.

Prefers communicating via text. Sometimes it’s a lot of dumb memes, but mostly it’s sincere. He can say what he means when he doesn’t have to put on a public front.

Smokes like a chimney. Self medicates with stimulants. Coffee, tobacco, sugar. Fidgety, likes things in his mouth or hands. Gnashes on toothpicks and popsicle sticks. He really should go back to therapy, huh? His teeth are sparkling white for the cameras but his breath could use some work. Chews gum a lot to compensate, and always does it really loudly with a big shit-eating grin.

Impatient as fuuuuuck. Rude about it. If you take too long doing anything, you’re going to hear a foot tapping. He’ll smile and laugh it off, never ever directly criticize you about it. But lord, the dramatic sighs. He WILL nudge you out of the way and take over in order to finish a task faster, and it’s truly fucking annoying.

LOVES food. Has the metabolism of an actual bird. Will seize upon any excuse to eat. No need to be self-conscious about eating in front of him; he wants you to enjoy it. Steals bites from you and talks with his mouth full. Prefers street food and take-out, usually eats while walking or flying. Sit-down restaurants are an invitation for gawkers.

He’s one of those celebrities that looks way taller on TV. In real life, he’s small and compact. So you’re surprised the first time you see him in person. He has a big head. Literally.

If you’re taller or bigger than him, he does Not Care. He treats everyone like they’re four feet tall, even Endeavor. Everything you do is cute. If you’re actually short, he’s going to carry you around all the time, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Collects big chunky overpriced watches. All the better to tell you you’re late.

Half his clothes are brand fucking new. Sometimes he forgets to take off the tags. (Don’t look at the prices, do NOT) He never seems to wear the same thing twice. He also never seems to go shopping. Brands just give him stuff, and he shrugs and goes “yeah okay.”

The other half of his clothes are old, faded, and patched up. Every item he acquires for himself has deep sentimental value. If you tell him to throw away that nasty ten-year-old pair of frayed cargo pants, be prepared to find out how wrong and evil you are for even suggesting it.

He doesn’t snore; he coos. Loudly. Like a fucking pigeon trapped in a megaphone.

- - - - -

Dating

Gift-giving is his love language. Bringing your favorite snacks. Leaving novelty magnets on your fridge. He found a copy of that book/game/movie you mentioned like a month ago, don’t you remember? If he has to go out of town on a job, he’ll bring back the ugliest possible souvenir, just to annoy you.

He likes gifting jewelry especially. Covering you in shiny baubles, little golden things. Not expensive, but unusual. Antiques or handmade, even bizarre vending machine crap. Gets really handsy if you wear or show off his gifts.

Since you’re the first person who has given him The Feels, if you are resistant to his advances (like, say, because he’s way too famous and you’re terrified he’s gonna break your heart) he’s going to go fucking nuts trying to woo you. Doesn’t have a single patient bone in his body but will wait as long as it takes for you to come around. He’ll act like he’s cool with just being friends at first, just hanging out, haha. Oh you’re busy today? That’s cool. Inside he’s shrieking like a tea kettle. Go ahead, make him wait.

Don’t bother giving him a key to your place. He’s coming in through the bedroom window or patio door. Just put out a damn welcome mat on your balcony... or a bird feeder.

A bit of a voyeur. He likes to watch you do your normal routine without interruption. He can see from miles away so if you’ve got your lights on at night, he’ll creep for a while before he comes in. It comforts him immensely, seeing a little slice of the world that isn’t constantly in need of saving.

Is super talkative and funny but a terrible communicator. Makes more jokes the worse he feels. Will almost never tell you what he needs. Most of the time, he doesn’t even know. You will learn to read between the lines and gradually notice his tiny unconscious cries for help. Back rubs make him emotional.

He shows up at your place at the weirdest times. All hours. You’re never ready. At first it was infuriating, because you wanted to look your best and have time to prepare, but you figure out pretty quickly that seeing you in your natural state is his favorite thing. He never gets to be around normal people, doing normal things. A boring, lazy afternoon is his idea of paradise.

He’ll pick through your things and ask a world of invasive questions. A medicine cabinet raider. He wants to know every fucking tiny thing about you, live vicariously through you.

He actually lives in a top floor penthouse. Because I mean, where else? Never spends any time there; mostly he seems to roost on the balcony. He has used the front door maybe once. He much prefers your place, and will only take you back to his after months of dating. It’ll take like, an entire emergency. You’ll end up in his bed by mistake.

Because when you finally come over, he’s embarrassed. Its sparse. White. Things in boxes. A new furniture smell. Like he’s not done moving in, though he’s lived there for years. He wants you to move in So Bad but doesn’t want to be pushy. If you don’t start leaving your stuff there, he’ll steal things from your apartment. Where the hell is your favorite t-shirt? Or that pillowcase you like? Dammit Keigo.

He’s a decent cook, a habit he made himself pick up because he thought it might make him feel more normal. It... didn’t. He never actually cooks until you give him an excuse. He’ll bring you breakfast in bed and watch you eat every bite with big hungry eyes.

He’s got a separate wardrobe for his hero costume and all his feathers. Yeah. His feathers. Because he can detach and control his feathers at will, when he’s alone at home he kind of just... shucks off his wings. The first time you see him do it, your eyes fall out of your head. He walks around in a tee shirt and boxers with these ugly little stumps covered in brownish, blood-red down. It actually looks kind of gnarly, like he got mauled by a bear.

He’s never dated until you. No one has ever been in his apartment until you. No one has called him Keigo until you. He has some bigass intimacy issues. Because. Y’know. The trauma. But god, he wants you in his life so bad, even if he has no idea how to make time for your relationship.

He’ll want to keep you to himself for a while. Once you go public he’s going to have an arm around your shoulders at all times. Publicly Displays his Affection way more than is socially acceptable in Japan, and gives precisely -100,000 fucks.

His fans either love you or hate you. There is no in between. He will immediately take your phone and threaten to drop it from a great height if he catches you reading shitty gossip about the two of you. Does NOT care about his public image anymore, doesn’t want YOU to care about it either. He’s gonna retire soon anyway, remember? That’s a lie.

Being a charming motherfucker is the core of his public persona, so you will get jealous. A lot. He will flirt shamelessly without realizing it. He will get photographed in compromising positions with gorgeous people.

Once you accept that he’s basically an actor 80% of the time and that Hawks and Keigo are separate identities, you’ll both feel better. When he comes home (to YOU) and falls over exhausted and stops being Hawks(tm), when he scratches his ass or burps in front of you, when he yells to you from the bathroom, when he groans childishly about his shitty day while laying face-down in your lap, you’ll know you have nothing to worry about. Keigo is all yours.

Boundaries? Never heard of ‘em. He’s either a million lightyears away or he’s glued to your hip. The whiplash is astounding.

Absolutely says “I love you” wayyyyyy to soon. It thrills you but scares you off at the same time, because there’s no way Hawks - The Hawks - can actually mean it, right? (He does)

Rings? Nah. When things get serious, he will make a necklace out of a feather for you, and if you ever take it off, you better be asleep or in the shower. Even then you’re on thin fuckin ice. If you’re not wearing it he knows. He’s never mean about making you put it back on, it just makes him nervous if he can’t feel your heartbeat.

- - - - -

SPICY CHICKEN NUGGETS

High sex drive. Horny like 25/7. Probably a symptom of having way too much pent up stress.

Often takes care of it himself when he doesn’t have the emotional resources for anyone else, even his S.O. Figures you don’t want him coming on to you as often as he would like to, but he’s too stupid to talk to you about it first. Morning masturbator.

Yes he’s fucked around a lot but he’s not exactly a playboy either. People have always thrown themselves at him, and before he met you he let them do it. Especially when out of town and staying in a hotel. Whatever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, etc.

He’d never be unfaithful to you though; his loyalty and dedication are frankly a little unsettling. Sometimes you feel like the only thing in his life other than hero work. Teach this man to knit. Make him join a book club. Christ. Anything.

Does in fact have seasonal mating patterns and it’s super embarrassing.

An underwear-sniffing perv. He’ll definitely hump your pillow.

Gets a sick thrill out of breaking in and startling you. Coming up behind you in the dark, sneaking into your bed. It’s probably his worst habit, and even he hates that he does it. If you get better at detecting him he’ll be so proud. Land a slap on him and he’ll be a horny mess.

Dog-whistles at you. Often from rooftops, and you have no idea where he is but you know he’s leering.

He will call you a lot of really stupid pet names. He likes the way you blush when he finds a newer, stupider one. Calls you angel when he’s really far gone.

Likes to scratch you with his stubble until your skin turns raw and sensitive. If it annoys you or hurts a little? Even better. Making you squirm is his new favorite thing. Especially when going down on you. Your inner thighs are always exfoliated.

His cock is average in every respect. This is not a bad thing. He knows how to please you with every totally normal inch of that cock. He has some kind of homing beacon installed on your sensitive spots.

Goes absolutely insane for blowjobs. Any time, any place.

Likes to bend you around in all kinds of positions with an assist from his feathers to hold up an ankle here, an arm there. Get used to floating mid-coitus. It just seems to happen.

Spanky.

His number one priority is making you feel adored and at home in his bed. Ohhhhh he likes to make you smile. But if you encourage him to get pushy and dominant with you, you will have a good, good time.

He’s switchy, and will lose his shit if you initiate or take control. Again, he’s always horny for you, because he can finally let go. Breathe in his direction and he’s hard.

Doesn’t moan much, but Babe, he’s a dirty talker. He’s not smooth or deliberate about it, it’s more like he can’t fucking believe you let him do whatever he wants to you. You like that huh? Like he’s in stages of shock. He’s singing your praises to high Heaven and muttering oh shit oh shit oh shittttttt and laugh-crying as he cums. He never talks about his feelings; he fucks about them.

After. Care. King. He loves pampering and clucking over you anyway, this is simply another excuse to do it. He knows exactly how much water you drink in a day. Can’t take care of himself for shit, but you? You’ll never have a need he won’t try to fill. What’s all that hero work for if not this? Yeah, soak it up. You deserve it.

#hawks #takami keigo #hawks headcanons #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #hawks x you #gender neutral #smut #bnha #mha #mha headcanons #bnha headcanons #mha fanfiction #bnha x reader #mha x reader #fred writes #no idea why I’m writing these #guess I’m just in a Mood

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