#not going against the physics but just.... stretching them a little bit XD

[honestlyvan]

@bitegore asked: 15 and 17 for reconstruction/post-war Cybertron?

17. Day and night

Cybertronians don’t really have circadian rhythms the way we think about them -- their roomba hindbrains developed before Cybertron had settled into orbit around a star, and even then Cybertron’s rotational periods are not constant -- and traditionally more stuff got done during the dark period of the rotation becuse that is, just... more familiar to them developmentally. Fortunately, post-war so many Cybertronians were used to a yay-30 hour working cycle after being on the 24-hour Earth for so long that the yay-60 hour Cybertronian day cycle could easily be split into daylight and night time, and then have those two halves be basically an entire days worth of stuff and activity before resetting.

The funny thing is that it stuck well enough that the largely uneven rotational period of Cybertron eventually stabilised into actually being 70-and-change hours long. Before that, since mecha were active around the clock and work shifts mattered more than the length of the day, Cybertron’s rotational period would vary by about 10 hours every quarter of a year.

#Transformers Meta #Maccadam #I've been wanting to add a lot of wibbly-wobblyness to Cybertron's orbital mechanics to reflect the planet being #like #alive? #Like sometimes Primus will roll over slower to better bake its solar arrays in radiation to replenish on fuel #not going against the physics but just.... stretching them a little bit XD #he could go at a steady rate but doesn't think to until his adorable little macrofauna start liking it that way #A lot of Cybertronian astronomy is derived from basically no other celestial object behaving the way Cybertron does #incidentally -- roomba hindbrains are why Cybertronians think dark is good because it's dark underground where Primus is #and light is sinister because it comes from space and is probably sent by Unicron

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

This is a scrapped piece from a story I'm still trying to make work, which means the full context is a little lacking. That said, I liked it too much to ditch entirely, so onto the writing blog it goes. Again, there are placeholders all over-- even more than usual. Please don't go into this expecting anything polished. xD

---

“Hello, this is [name] calling on behalf of the Goldenrod City General Hospital.”

Immediate alarm bells, though Emmet couldn’t quite articulate why; trepidation blocked his throat, and he remained silent, letting [them] continue.

“I’ve been asked to act as a translator, as no one on staff is fully fluent in Unovan. You see, for the past four days, the facility has been attempting to identify a [John Doe], and we believe we’ve found a match with Mr. Ingo Bewaker, but due to… circumstances, have been unable to confirm. As his emergency contact, we were hoping you might be able to help us with visual confirmation.” […]

Mind going a mile a minute, it took a bit for Emmet to respond. His brother had no business being in Johto, but at this point, anything was possible. What truly disturbed him was the implication that the hospital had taken this long to find an [identity], meaning that… this person was unable to [identify] themselves.

It sounded like they wanted him to [identify] a body.

[he’d been fighting against that for some time/whatever else]

The last thing he wanted to do was agree, but how could he refuse? Either he could be sure that this was some other unfortunate individual, and that he shouldn’t give up yet, or he’d finally find an answer. He bit down on his tongue and forced himself to respond.

“Yes. Of course. Would email be preferable?” For a moment, it was just business-- the rote exchange of information-- but as the call seemed like it was winding down, he couldn’t help but ask, “...was it bad?”

Because, as much as he wanted to know what had happened, he wouldn’t be able to handle it if this was his twin and he’d died in pain. Knowing ahead of time would make it that much harder, but at least he would have something to prepare himself against. He would do it-- if it meant finally bringing his brother home, he would do it-- but [???].

[name] went on, oblivious to his internal conflict. “As I mentioned before, I’m only acting as a translator, and so I’m uninvolved in the patient’s care. From speaking to him, though, I think it’s fair to say the language barrier has been the biggest problem.”

The racing thoughts came to a screeching halt.

“You spoke to him?” He echoed [hoarsely]. Ironically, that in and of itself had an alternate translation: he’s alive?

“Yes, though I’m not sure how much got through. Between the medication and his limitations, he’s not the easiest to communicate with.” […]

That was… rude.

Even without having seen the physical proof, Emmet found himself inching closer to believing this might be it-- because of course someone would look at his brother’s face and call him hard to understand. If he was too out of it to respond coherently, that would even explain why they hadn’t been able to ask I-- this person directly, thus necessitating outside assistance.

The [deep] low suddenly swung upright, into a hopeful peak. It left Emmet a little dizzy.

“I see. Thank you for the clarification. I will refer to the email and respond as soon as possible.” He said, and the call ended shortly thereafter. Trying not to fidget, he waited for his Xtransceiver to ping, and struggled to keep his hand steady when the message came through. Hovering over the link to the attached photo, he took a deep breath and pressed down.

That was Ingo.

He had a splinted leg, there was a bandage stretching along one side of his face, and it kind of looked like he’d suffered his own personal Earthquake, but there was no doubt in Emmet’s mind. That was his brother, and while the photo could only capture so much, it was plain to see that he was alive, if not entirely well.

Using a nail to trace the edge of the facial cut, he let himself wonder how. There was nothing in the picture that suggested anything specific, or shed any more light on where he’d been all this time… beyond the Johto region, apparently…? No, that didn’t make sense. If he’d spent the past year in Johto, he would have picked something of the language up-- enough to make it by-- but he’d needed a Unovan translator.

...which was completely ignoring the question of why he wouldn’t just try to contact home, but it was obvious that Emmet was missing a great deal of context, so he would reserve judgment for the time being.

Lost in his reverie, he accidentally let the screen go dark, and then immediately tapped it to bring the picture back. He gave it another once-over before reluctantly closing it to formulate a reply-- that yes, that was his brother, and he would be departing for Goldenrod as soon as he was able.

#submas #ihaveatheoryonthat pkmn #writing scraps

[independentzaun]

The air smelled of river water, of smoke, billowing up the lungs, and of something akin to wolf and dog at the same time. Sharp teeth held onto Silco's neck as a heavy body kept him pinned. A fur-covered paw with black claws trailed across his side. The other paw, heavier and augmented with bronze claws, dug itself deep into the ground to ensure that neither of them would sleep.

Something large, heavy and pulsating was burrowing itself into Silco's anus. Sliding deeper and deeper, it would eventually come to rest against a muscular wall, deep inside the lithe man's body, bulging him out from the inside. Then under the shuffling of wolf paws, the large cock would pull itself back out again, inch by inch, burning Silco's anus from the inside, before it was almost out and start its journey all over again.

It was a slow and steady rhythm. In and out, in and out. However, eventually, it would become faster and faster. There were grunts near Silco's head, heavy pants and the wet moisture of drool as Warwick got increasingly excited while he had his way with him in this dream. Finally, those spine-tingling teeth relented in their hold upon him and were replaced by a large, flat, blood-red tongue, going across the left side of Silco's face as the wolf came so long and heavy, his cum dripped down between Silco's legs.

(Again, I know it is no longer Sinday, but I don't care. XD)

((Have some Silco x warwick smut! Content warnings uhhh... there's no blood or anything so I guess just, smut? Oh right. And Monster Fucking. Cut cause length. Also quick note I'm 110% fine getting smut/sexual/nsfw stuff at any time! Doesn't have to be Sunday.))

Sometimes dreams moved fast. Flickers of thoughts, and emotions, and images all rushing past each other until slamming together to form a precise scenario. For one reason or another Silco’s mind had been on Warwick, or Vander, or both and so this evening had lent itself to a rather particular dream. How exactly he’d gotten into the current situation was impossible to say. There was less a memory or a set of images, and more a feeling as though he and Warwick had met somewhere, and that they hadn’t so much argued as more teasingly taunted each other. That Silco had said one thing too much, and found his challenge taken up and his body slammed against a wall as the huge wolf man had ripped his clothes off and then tossed him onto the ground.

In dreams sizes, preparation, and pain didn’t really matter of course. Whatever was needed to make the moment at hand possible was glossed over, or faded away into quick flashes of a large tongue sliding into Silco’s rear and huge hands keeping him from moving. What mattered was in both the dream, and in the physical world Silco was rock hard. Those dangerous claws that had ended so many lives made him shiver as he growled out one word. “Warwick…” His hands pushing at the ground under him there was a weird kind of lust, and desire even as his head turned and Silco let out a little taunting Tt.

“You aren’t going to do it, hah. Big bad wolf, and here we all out here all alone and you stilllll….ahhh fuck.” He’d been a brat years ago with Vander, and deep down inside Silco was still a brat. His hips had been moving from side to side making it harder from Warwick, and his shoulders moving just enough to ensure the wolf had to actually keep that bite so he wouldn’t get away. All the same Silco didn’t say no, or try to fight, or run. He wanted it, and the moment that thick cock stretching him open sunk inside him his nails dug into the ground under him.

There was a moment in which Silco almost kept it up. Another softly groaned comment. “Is that...all you… fucking….” He wanted it though. Warwick wasn’t Vander, wasn’t his mate, but he was the next best thing. Huge paws held Silco down where once hands almost as large had done the same, and fangs bit where once lips had kissed while something about that slow steady rhythm opening him up until the one fucking him could speed up reminded him of how Vander had once made love to fucked him.

The bratty comments, and behavior slid away and lowering his head almost submissively letting Warwick get a better bite at his neck Silco groaned. “Don’t stop, don’t...fuck Warwick, you are so damn… fuck I’m full. Don’t fucking…” Feeling Warwick start to slow almost as though about to stop Silco growled. “Okay, okay, okay. Please, Warwick… I want you.” Voice dropping to a near whisper at the end Silco gasped as the wolfman moved faster. Quick eager thrusts, and fast movement giving both of them what they wanted as they both descended into grunts and moans and growls with Silco almost as animalistic as Warwick in his sounds. At the end Silco felt his own orgasm hit spilling his cum across the ground in front of him as that tongue slid along his face and he turned biting playfully at it before suckling at it as his much smaller tongue ran around the tip of it. He didn’t care what Warwick was in that moment. They were each others.

Darkness. His room in his house dark, and empty as his eyes flashed open while Silco took a long shuddering breath shaking with a groan that spoke of pure need and desire before a sigh came from him as his head hit his pillow. “Fuuuuuck me I haven’t had dreams like that for… Warwick, really? Fuck, what are you thinking Silco?… That’s going to get you killed.” Eyes half closing he tried going back to sleep, but a minute later shoved his blankets away and with the assumption he was alone reached down running a hand under his underwear to grab his still hard cock and started that age old motion with a little half whispered groan as he attended to his own needs.

He was going to need a cigarette before going back to sleep.

#silcoanswers #sexualmuses

[merakiui]

Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, and Childe Finding out That You’re Being Abused HCs

cw: mentions/descriptions of (physical and emotional) abuse, injuries, depressive mood/thoughts, implied violence **please proceed with caution and do not read if this is triggering! note - submissions are confusing for me, so I wrote it in this format. I hope that was okay! 

@tuestika said: Hi! Sorry that I send my request through submission, tumblr has sometimes eaten my asks either wholly or have omnomned whole ask xD Usually my requests sent through submissions arrive intact so…. I saw that you had done Scaramouche reacting finding out their s/o is being abused headcanons, may I request headcanons for Kaeya, Diluc, Xiao and Childe finding out their their s/o is being abused? Keep up good job! <3

🔥 Diluc 🔥

Diluc might not be the most vocal person in the world, but he’s definitely observant. He’s gotten rather skilled at picking apart your social cues because he’s spent a lot of time with you. 

So when you barge into his tavern one evening, looking absolutely disheveled and asking for one of the Knights, he’s feeling two emotions: confusion and irritation. 

For one, you shouldn’t even entrust your issue to those inadequate Knights. Nevertheless, you are his friend and he isn’t going to kick you out just because you mentioned them. 

He waves you over to the bar and is thoroughly shocked when you beg him to let you hide behind it. Then he notices your split lip and the fresh injuries on your face and forearms, and he wastes no time in getting to the point.

“Why were you out so late fighting hilichurls? I hope you haven’t led any here. We don’t need that sort of trouble right now.”

“Sorry. No, that’s not it. I just—you’re the only one...” You’re struggling to piece a coherent statement together, too busy looking over your shoulder to keep track of your thoughts. “I didn’t know where I could go. I mean, I thought of you and—“

“Please slow down. Start at the beginning.”

More concerned over your safety than professionalism, Diluc allows you to slip behind the bar counter, where you cower on the ground to avoid being seen. 

You gesture for him to come down to your height and he sighs, silently complying when he finds there aren’t any new customers to serve. Bending down to your level, he holds onto the countertop to keep his balance and then he locks eyes with you. 

“What exactly happened?”

You inhale a shuddering breath, wrapping your sore arms around yourself for comfort. Tears are gathering in your eyes as you recall the event. Your abuser had found you after you’d left to get some fresh air, they’d cornered you in a secluded alley, and—you can’t finish the rest of the story.

Diluc doesn’t expect you to continue. He nods as he lets the information sink in, already harboring a deep resentment for this despicable individual. 

“Wait here. I’ll close the tavern early. In the meantime, we should see to your injuries and then we’ll look for that person.”

“I really think we should tell the Knights...” you mumble, knowing he’ll disapprove. “They’re more suited to these types of cases.”

“The Knights are incompetent. The investigation will take days, if not weeks. What happens if your abuser knows they’ll be coming for them? They’ll try to escape and then there’ll be no telling where they’ve gone.”

“I know, but it wouldn’t hurt to—“

“I’ll take care of it.”

You try to object because it’s dangerous and you don’t want him to get injured on your behalf. But he’s insistent in his decision, claiming that if the Knights can’t help you no one can. And you really wouldn’t feel safe if your abuser was still roaming free, so you have no other choice but to allow him to carry out the investigation himself.

And Diluc can be quite clever at times. It won’t be hard to traverse the interior of Mondstadt at night, where his identity melts away into that of the sneaky Darknight Hero. 

He’s going to protect you no matter what. Your abuser won’t receive an ounce of sympathy from Diluc. All he feels is cold hatred when he catches them. Someone as precious as you does not deserve to be put through such torment, and he’ll see to it that your abuser pays a hefty price to make up for all of the damage they’ve caused.

🧊 Kaeya 🧊

Kaeya can’t understand why you’ve started isolating yourself from everyone. In the past, you were always such great friends with the Knights, always catching up to talk to one of them.

He’d spent a lot of time with you and has since gotten to know you through lighthearted conversations and gossip from the people of Mondstadt. 

For someone so appreciated and well-known, he can’t wrap his head around why you might want to suddenly disappear, hiding yourself away as if you didn’t exist. 

And then he happens to catch you in town one day while you’re out running some errands. It’s so like him to pop in with a few flirty lines, but the words stick in his throat when he notices the bandages stuck to your arms and legs. 

“That can’t be good,” he says as he approaches you, leaning ever so gracefully against a wooden support beam. “Why don’t we find Barbara? I’m sure she’ll have you patched up in no time, my dear friend.”

You don’t think you’re worth it so you shake your head, nervously hoping he’ll take the hint and go away. 

“I hope you’re not accepting those dangerous commissions again,” he adds, half teasing and half serious. You can’t tell whether he’s trying to sound chiding or not. 

“Please just...leave me be. I’m a little busy right now.” You try to leave the stall you’re at, walking stiffly to avoid limping in front of him. “I’m not feeling well, so if you’ll excuse me—“

Kaeya pushes off from the beam, standing in front of you with a posture that appears immovable. “By order of the Calvary Captain,” he’s saying, a playful glint in his eyes, “you aren’t allowed to move from that spot until you tell me what’s bothering you and why you’re covered head to toe in bandages.”

You can easily object to such an order, but you figure it’s better to answer instead of arguing over your physical condition. So you explain a modified version of the story, telling him that you simply got into a disagreement and it ended in bruises on both sides. 

Kaeya hears the tremble in your voice when you say it; you’re lying. His expression softens at once and he steps away, indicating that you’re free to leave. But you don’t; you’re looking at him with such a helpless, pleading look. It breaks his heart.

You break before him, lips quivering as you beg for his help. You’re so scared and alone, and you’re not sure how long you can suffer through this before it seriously hurts you. 

“This is the first time I’ve gotten out in weeks.” So that explains your sudden isolation. “Please... I don’t want to go back home anymore. I’ll do anything. Just don’t let them hurt me again.”

Kaeya’s absolutely stunned to hear the silent revelation in your words. You’re awkwardly reaching to undo one of the bandage wrappings to prove your point, but he stops you short. That’s all the proof he needs.

You’ll be brought back to the Knights of Favonius’ Headquarters to be tended to while he gathers a team to search for your abuser. Since you gave him a solid description, it shouldn’t be too hard to find them. 

And once they’re apprehended, Kaeya will subject them to a grueling interrogation. There will be no gentle punishment; it’s going to be as unforgiving as the abuse you had to suffer through. 

☁️ Xiao ☁️

You’ve never really been keen on physical touch and Xiao understands that completely. He usually avoids any sort of interaction to begin with, unless it’s absolutely necessary, so it’s not a surprise whenever you shy away from large crowds.

He has grown rather fond of you, which has lead to the two of you meeting at Wangshu Inn for some Almond Tofu and relaxed chit-chat.

During one of your many conversations, you bring up a few alarming statements. They’re just personal points you’d like to change, such as your weak fighting spirit or the way your joints brokenly click when you stretch. 

Xiao wonders why you’d want to change yourself. You’re not usually this doubtful of yourself. In the past, you would always play the role of his smiling friend, putting on a positive face even when he was in a disagreeable mood. 

Xiao is examining your movements as you awkwardly explain yourself and when your arms move he catches the sight of a rope burn etched into your wrist. 

“What happened?” He gestures to your sleeve, to which you react in a nervous manner, shyly pulling your sleeve down to hide it. Xiao frowns a bit. “Did you get into an accident?”

“No, of course not! I’m fine. It’s just a result of my clumsiness.”

It really doesn’t look like that to Xiao and when he truly looks at you again he finds that you appear abnormally tired and exhausted. He isn’t going to sugarcoat anything and he could be making a giant assumption, but he still asks.

“Is someone hurting you?”

Your eyes widen for a split second and Xiao catches that movement like a cat drawn to a laser pointer. He won’t force you to explain unless you feel comfortable doing so. The last thing he wants is upsetting you or pressuring you into something you don’t want to talk about.

Eventually, though, the story will come to light and he’ll hear all about the horrors you’ve gone through. That rope burn was just one of many punishments you’ve had to endure, and Xiao’s just about ready to snap. How dare someone lay their filthy hands upon you in such a violent way?

Xiao will calmly tell you to stay at Wangshu Inn or anywhere else in Liyue where you’ll be safe. He’ll watch over you while you take time to recuperate and heal. He’s going to make sure you’ll never have to go through something like that ever again.

Having Xiao by your side makes the healing process all the more comforting.

And when you fall asleep in a soft, warm bed, Xiao slips out into the night to search for your abuser. It won’t be a pretty sight once he gets his hands on the human trash who dared to hurt you.

💧 Childe 💧

He’s very perceptive when it comes to your health and overall well-being. After all, he’s got brothers and sisters to care for; perception is absolutely necessary in order to keep them happy and healthy.

So it doesn’t take long for him to realize your behavior is uncharacteristic. You’re jumpier than usual, always apologizing for the littlest of things, and you’ll look over your shoulder whenever you sense something.

It’s almost as if you expect someone to suddenly come at you, which isn’t all that odd. Childe has been known to keep you on your toes when he’s looking for a fight.

But on one particular day he manages to give you a spook when he comes up beside you, grinning and showing up in your peripheral so suddenly that it nearly gives you a heart attack. 

You’re so frightened as you back away, practically folding in on yourself in an effort to protect yourself from an imaginary blow. Childe pauses, that silly grin fading when he realizes you’re shaking.

“Hey, it wasn’t that scary. Come on, comrade!” He’s approaching you warily, not entirely sure why you’re acting the way you are. He’s always been spontaneous; you should be used to this by now.

But you refuse to let him come any closer, having to distance yourself so that you can ease your racing heart and hyperventilating lungs. Once you’ve calmed down, embarrassment floods through you at the fact that Childe just witnessed all of that. 

Childe will ask if you’re okay with him stepping closer and if you nod he’ll be on you like a hawk, pulling up your sleeves before you can stop him. 

For once, you catch an expression you normally don’t find on Childe: surprise. He’s genuinely shocked at what he sees: dark bruises and shallow lacerations from something sharp. 

Either you got these in your many sparring matches or there’s another factor at play here, and Childe is almost certain it’s the latter.  

His voice is gentle as he asks you to explain what’s going on and once you do he’s already set on finding the one who did this. He seems to forget all about his Fatui work, wanting to capture your abuser and give them a piece of his mind—and subject them to more than a few pieces of his strength, too. 

He’ll have you protected in no time, offering to take you to the best healer. You’ll be treated wonderfully and he’ll even lay off on your sparring matches for a while. 

In the meantime, once he gets his hands on your abuser, everything becomes fair game. After all, someone has to handle the brunt of his anger and pent-up bloodlust from the lack of a fight. And your abuser is the perfect match to pummel into the ground. Childe shows absolutely no mercy for them. 

#tw: abuse #tw: violence #tw: depressive thoughts #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact hcs #genshin impact diluc #genshin impact kaeya #genshin impact xiao #genshin impact childe #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #xiao x reader #childe x reader #diluc #kaeya #xiao #childe #kaeya headcanons #diluc headcanons #xiao headcanons #childe headcanons

[batwritings]

Okay hear me out, you are talking so someone and DreamXD gets all grumpy about it but you just tell him to relax. The reason he's with you is to learn how to blend in with other human, so he should be watching how you act. Well manz watches to closely and gets all bother. Later after you both go home or just somewhere else that's when he gets ya. He's all like “what?” as his whole goal is to get you all bothered, but he's kinda mean and he knows how much you love his voice so he uses it to his advantage.

I am so sorry I have personally put my own meaning on “fuck god”

 Friend? Never apologize for putting that spin on “fuck god”. :) Plus, you’re playing into the voice kink, how could I say no? Enjoy~!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DreamXD huffed as he followed behind you and he knew you heard it. “Are you gonna grump the whole time Mister?” you chuckled, turning your head slightly to smile at him. The god of the SMP had reached out to you some time ago for your help in blending in more with the humans he watched over. At the time, you had questioned why he wouldn’t ask someone closer to Dream himself, like George. While XD didn’t exactly explain, you let it slide, allowing him to shadow you in a sense.

“I just don’t get why we have to meet with this person in particular,” he grumbled, picking up his step to walk beside you. 

“Sapnap’s my friend too,” you responded. You often wondered if XD and Dream shared similar emotions towards people. While you were told that they didn’t, adamantly so by the being beside you, you still couldn’t help but wonder.

“And you’re sure this interaction will help me blend in better?” He hums quietly, contemplative.

“Positive!” you answer, voice chipper and now excited. You notice your friend and one of his fiance’s in the distance and wave to them. “That’s Sapnap’s fiance Karl! You know what that is right?” When you can practically feel the eye-roll from behind his mask, you nod and lead him to the clearing.

Your interaction wasn’t meant to be long, just catching up with the two and learning about Kinoko Kingdom. You introduce them to DreamXD and you notice Sapnap narrow his eyes a bit. You assure the fiery man that he has nothing to do with Dream, that you trust the god and that he is indeed safe. The ravenette seems skeptical but moves on in conversation.

The entire time, XD is watching you carefully. Bright neon green eyes watch your every movement, listens to every word and laugh and noise that falls from your lips. He can feel his body heating up under his cloak and that’s when he chooses to speak up.

“Darling,” he coos, voice distorted and echoing. Something shoots up your spine at that, something you hope your two friends don’t notice. “Think we can go home? There’s something I need to go over with you, remember?” He wasn’t entirely lying, but even he realized it was a pretty piss-poor excuse.

You smile up at him as if to say “really?” but nod approvingly. You bid your farewells to Sapnap who takes a little longer to hug you as he’s afraid to let you go. XD doesn’t let that go unnoticed, deciding to file it away for later questions.

Once home you sigh, setting down your bag and beginning to settle back in. “Pet,” you hear him say, still awkwardly standing in your doorway. Another shiver shoots up your spine at his tone.

“Y-yeah?” you respond, heading towards your bedroom upstairs. He follows you almost dutifully after hanging his cloak at the door.

“I think I’m starting to get a better understanding of humans,” he says, voice low and seductive as he starts down the hall ahead of you. “You use words and embraces to show your affection yes? To show you care?”

You watch him sit back on your bed, legs spread for you to sit between. You do so without hesitation, something you did quite frequently with him. “Mhmm,” you respond, leaning back against his chest. “What’s with the voice big guy?”

Pale, freckled arms reach around your tummy to hold you close. They’re freezing, but not uncomfortably so. “What do you mean darling?” He answers as he his thumbs draw gentle circles on your sides, making you squirm a little in your grasp. “Don’t you like my voice? Like it when I call you nice names?”

“I-I do! I really do!” you exclaim. You shift in your spot to straddle his hips and look at him properly. Your gentle hands move his mask to the side, something he would only ever allow you to do. You were so special to him. “It’s just...”

“What, pet?” DreamXD moves his hands to your hips, clawed hands gently ghosting over slightly exposed skin. “I think it’s only fair. You got me all bothered under my cloak back there. I get to rile you up a bit too, hmm?”

The echoes and distortions grow louder as they bounce off your humble home’s walls. Only stutters slip from your lips then, leaning up against him until your lips meet, soft and gentle. You used to hate how gentle XD was with you until you let him let go once and couldn’t get anything done for the rest of the week. You knew he could break you physically and mentally all with his words and it really did something for you.

You felt his member hard against your sex and it had you gasping. It was always a bit of a marvel at how big he was, sometimes forgetting that he was a god after all. He chuckles when you gasp into his mouth, lips moving as you scramble to catch up with what he’s saying.

“What an eager little thing,” he coos, his claws tugging at your pants. “And all from my voice. Guess I should let you take me out more often hmm? I’d love to see how desperate you would get in public.”

You keen at his words, shifting yourself until you can pull of your pants and underwear. You reach to the side into your bedside table, hand barely able to keep hold of the lube once you have it. You slick up your fingers and slide one in, your hole taking your digit easily.

“That’s my sweet little thing,” your hear XD chuckle. His slid his member out of his lovely robes and you’re almost a little intimidated. Gods he’s so big, but you know he’ll be patient with you as he always is. You’re his precious human after all. “Add another finger for me darling.”

You do as he asks, knowing you’ll be stretched out in no time. One thing DreamXD became ecstatically hooked on after discovering it through you was sex. You were rarely left unfilled, the god loving how you felt around him. It wasn’t long before you felt the need to add a third digit, eagerly pumping them in and out of your hole.

“You’ll feel so good around me dear,” he huffed, smiling at you with bright eyes and sharp teeth. “My precious Y/N.”

A low whine leaves you as you quickly sit back up, pressing the head of his cock to your entrance and beginning the slow slide of him into you. You both are groaning in unison, him from the feeling of you sliding down his member and you from the almost overwhelming sensation of being so full. You watch with rapt attention at the small bulge in your stomach.

“So full,” hums, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His arms encircle you again, liking the feeling of your body pressed close to him. You wrap your arms around his neck as you slowly lift yourself off his length before sliding back down. “Just as I knew you would be.”

You’re panting just from being full of your ethereal lover, his cock pressing against all of your sensitive nerves. You know you won’t last long, you never do. XD never seems to mind, but this time he seems determined. He wants to reach that high with you. You watch his every expression as you ride him, your hole fluttering with each sweet word that gets warped and growled.

You start to notice a pattern; every time you pull just to the head of his member and clench, his breath catches. Using this to your advantage, your pace picks up, being sure to keep focused on each step as you ride him. Little gasps start to leave his throat, his words starting to fail him and eyes glossing over.

“Cum with me XD,” you whine, teetering on the edge. “Feel the pleasure of being human.” Sharp teeth bite into your shoulder, pushing you into your climax with force. You can barely register yourself being filled until you start to come down from your peak, feeling the wetness drip down your thighs.

DreamXD let’s go of your shoulder, kissing and licking at the open wound. He presses a kiss just below your ear with panting breaths. “Thank you, Y/N,” he whispers lowly. “I’m learning so much from you.”

#bat writes #anon reqs #DreamXD #mcyt x reader #DreamXD smut #DreamXD x reader #mcyt smut

[party-gilmore]

...well, I managed to get to literally JUST BARELY before the actual smut starts, so please enjoy this unbetaed 2k word teaser prologue of "demi/grayace Parker doesn't feel like she's Enough for Eliot without Hardison around, so he sets the record straight."

Set during The Hurricane Job, because who gives a damn if the ep is even OUT yet, am i right? XD

“Room 236.”

“What was that?” Eliot hums. His voice is muffled beneath the heavy, sopping weight of his jacket as he tugs the damn thing over his head. His shirt peels off right along with it, so he just shucks the whole shebang in the generic direction of his luggage. He’ll have plenty of time to see to it properly tomorrow - the storm will have them trapped at least another day. With a groan, he stretches out his bad shoulder. It’s not quite dislocated again, but it’s not quite right either. Two nimble hands sneak up from behind and flit their way over the shoulder blade, one bracing against the wet neck of his white tank top while the other presses swift and hard on the joint - and ‘pop’ goes the weasel.

Eliot flashes Parker a pained but soft smile through the old dresser mirror, but it falters when he catches her eyes peeking over his shoulder. There’s a look in them he isn’t familiar with, but doesn’t think he likes.

“Park-” he starts to turn around, but she manhandles him back away from her and shoves her hand into the back pocket of his jeans. No small feat tonight, they way the rain has soaked and damn near suction cupped them to his ass. “H-hey, woah, alright there darlin’, slow it down a bit,’ he chuckles, reaching back to feel for her, but she’s already hopping back and flashing a small, colorful rectangle at him.

“Room 236,” she repeats, flipping it around her fingers like a coin. Eliot frowns. They’re in room 225, just down the hall. They’d found what the crooked cops were after with time to spare, so there was nowhere left to search. Why then, would he still have a room key for-

Oh. He reaches back and pats the offending rear pocket, flushing as he remembers Marshall Shipp’s parting flirtatious wink and accompanying gentle smack on the ass as they’d parted ways a half hour ago. He hasn’t exactly been… discouraging her interest. It's felt good that women are still interested in him even as he’s put a few more miles on, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the attention - especially from someone as 'his type' as Maria.

Well, what used to be his type, at least.

He shoots a sheepish, apologetic grin at Parker. Maria’s ‘interest’ was quickly becoming ‘intent,’ and now Eliot needed to find a way to nip that in the bud sooner rather than later.

“Damn, I should’ve noticed the reverse lift,” Eliot clears his throat, toying with the edge of the pocket absentmindedly. “She must’ve slipped it to me after we completed the radio broadcast. I was uh, distracted by our success I guess.”

“Bet that’s not all she’d like to slip you,” Parker’s voice takes on a bit more of a playful tone for a moment. Cheeky, teasing. It feels like solid ground.

“Hey now,” Eliot teases back, starting to undo his belt, slow and deliberate, as he begins toeing out of his boots. “I can’t help that I still ‘got it,’ darlin’. I can think of a couple folks I know offhand that might like to, uh… 'slip me a little something' right now, 'specially since I'm properly alone with one of 'em for the first time since-” The only problem is, he forgot how damn difficult these boots are to get off on a good day, let alone when soaked through with salt water. Swearing under his breath, he abandons his attempt at being suave to sit at the end of the bed and fumble with the ties. He should know better than try to look cool for either of his partners nowadays. It never works out quite right, and he’s starting to get to the age where he doesn’t even see the use of that kind of posturing anymore himself. They’ve seen him at his worst already - mentally, physically, emotionally - so what would be the point, really? On top of that, he may make a fuss about his ‘cool points’ in front of Breanna, but he knows Hardison’s sneaky ‘dorkification’ process he's been slowly contaminating Eliot with over the last decade is almost complete. He's still drawing the line at DnD, but he doubts that'll last much-

“...or, if you wanted, you could go let her slip it to you.”

Eliot is too caught up in his own head to really register the suggestion at first. He's busy ruminating on how differently his younger self would be handling this whole situation - all smooth moves and hot edges, shucking off clothing with a kind of casual grace.

‘Yeah, those days have long passed,’ he thinks, hunched over and fighting the waterlogged leather of his boots with fumbling, aching fingers. He gets the first one yanked off his foot less than gracefully, wincing at his ankle’s unsubtle protest, before what Parker said finally processes.

Slowly, he sets his singular boot the side and shifts enough to face her. Parker’s tone didn’t hold any bitterness or bite, just nervousness and a bit of resignation. She isn’t looking at him, but out the window, arms wrapped tight around her midsection in a way he hasn’t seen her do in a while. She bounces restlessly on her heels. There’s a clear energy inside her looking to get out. The thunder rumbles lowly through the suddenly silent room, murmuring a warning through the curling reverberation in Eliot’s gut.

He starts out gentle. Easy.

“...now why would I wanna go an’ do somethin’ like that?” Sometimes it’s easiest to bring things to Parker head on, and she’ll respond in her usual stark, frank manner. Just lay it all right out in the open to be picked apart. This isn’t one of those times. Eliot can read that much in every restless tap, every rapid twitch of her eyes to some place else in the room, any place that isn’t him.

“She’s your type, isn’t she?” Parker’s voice is a higher register than it should be, but not quite into her panicking zone yet. That’s a start. “She’s badass, sexy… passionate.”

Eliot notices her leaning heavy on that last word, and frowns.

“So are you, Parker.”

“Not in the same way!” She turns a bit, still looking outside, but her arms unwrap from herself to gesture between them. “Not the same way you and Hardison are!”

It’s quiet for another beat. The white noise of the hissing rain against the window settles into the room with a steady, thrumming tension. Eliot doesn’t jump to demanding clarification like he might’ve done a decade ago, doesn’t snap and tell her to stop beating around the bush. He’s learned that Parker tucks away all the information he needs to understand in every phrase, no matter how inane or incongruent it may seem. So Eliot holds his tongue and chews on the words for a while.

“Me and Hardison, huh?” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and rubs his jaw in a performance of pensiveness. The movement draws Parker's attention and she finally looks over to him, following the back and forth of his fingers. He presses on, carefully. “Thought we were talkin’ bout me and the marshall. What’s Alec got to do with this?”

“Because he isn’t here!” Parker breaks, not enough to falter or crumble but enough to say what's on her mind before she can overthink it. "He isn't here and it's different! I can feel it! I'm not-" she fumbles her words for a minute, just waving between them again. "-all passionate about the whole sex thing like he is!"

There's that word again. Eliot knows where to go from here, at least. It's all about that word. He stands up, albeit a little awkwardly with one foot still in an inch high boot.

"Sure it's fun and I like it sometimes, but not like you two do! Alec balanced me out, could give you what you needed! I'm not… by myself, I'm not enough for… for y-..." Parker cuts herself before she can grow any more manic, bunching her face up and looking away again like she does when trying to stave off any waterworks before they can start.

Eliot can see her closing up again as her words fail her, but that's alright. What needed to get out made it out. He can take it from here. He hobbles over in his awkward, single-socked gait until he's close enough to take her shoulders in hand, but he doesn't pull her in for the hug. Not yet.

"Now I want you to listen to me, and listen good." Eliot makes sure his tone is firm, but gentle. Parker responds the way he'd hoped - still not looking, tilting her head down, but leaning toward him. Into his space. Receptive, and ready to hear him. "Yeah, it feels different. That's cause you and me? Are different from me and Alec. We're always gonna be. 'That makes us, us,' remember? Just like that's different from you and Alec. It's all part of 'us,' yeah, but it's… we got our own thing, Parker. And sure, we might like it best when it's all three of us, just because we love him so, so much, yeah?"

He lifts one hand from her shoulder and tucks a bit of hair back behind her ear, giving her a chance to respond if she wants. Parker murmurs a quiet "yeah," and steps in a little closer. Eliot tugs her in the rest of the way now, assured that she's open to the touch. She pillows her chin on the shoulder she fixed, and Eliot lays a light kiss to the outside of her ear before continuing in a lower voice.

"So… we miss him, when he's not here, and we don't have the 'all three of us' thing right now. That doesn't make our thing, the you and me thing, any less good. It doesn't- Parker, you're so much more than just enough for me. You're who I need... especially when we don't have Hardison. Don't ever doubt that."

"I'll try," Parker turns her head and mutters it into the crook of Eliot's neck, and he loves her all the more for it. It's better than any empty promise of 'I won't,' because he knows the honesty of it. Knows it's not just an empty platitude of 'I'll do it,' but the vulnerable admission of 'I want to, but don't know if I can.'

"That's all I ask, darlin'."

Because it is. That's all Eliot ever asks of her. To try. Never demands that she change, never insists she should be thinking of herself differently or more kindly than she does. Just that she tries to.

"Now. About this whole 'passion' thing," Eliot sighs, pulling back so he can do that thing he does to Hardison that Parker loves to watch him squirm under, but likes it a lot less when it's turned on her. That thing where he ducks his neck and tilts his head and looks up at her through his hair with that serious, intimate look that makes her want to run because he for sure can see all of her secrets like this but also want to sink deep into that comforting gaze and never leave it. "I don't know where you got this idea that you're not passionate from, but-"

"Yeah, but it's not-!"

"The same?" Eliot cuts off her half-hearted attempt at argument. "Course it's not the 'same' as us, Parker! You aren't us. So, you… you don't lose yourself in it the same way me and Hardison do, okay? Him and me, how we get high off each other, the way we act... so you don't do that. That's fine! That’s only one type of passion, darlin'. You can't tell me,” he lets his hands skim down Parker’s arms until they meet her own palms. “That the way you focus so damn hard on taking us apart - taking me apart…”

Eliot brings Parker’s hands to his hips, and her fingers start to fidget with the hem of his shirt. Anchoring herself with the ribbed texture of the tank. Starting to explore up his stomach the way Eliot knows that Parker knows he likes. She’d ferreted that one out of him ages before they’d even thought up this whole ‘you and we makes three’ train. He lets his voice go a little breathy, a little raspy, makes sure she notices how she's affecting him. “-the way you always know exactly how to do it, piece by piece, single-mindedly pulling me apart like a damn puzzle, Park… you can’t tell me that ain’t some kind of passion.”

“Yeah, but that’s just the same way I steal stuff,” Parker giggles a little, the familiar flutter of Eliot’s sides under her deft fingers grounding her and soothing some of the unease. He’s right about this. How she knows what to do with him. How good she is at it. But that’s not anything special, it’s just-

“Exactly, Parker,” Eliot is trying to walk them back toward the bed, but it’s not really working out well. Between his having only the one boot on and Parker actively seeking out the ticklish bits of his belly that make his knees go all wobbly when she scrapes her nails down them, it’s comical enough to startle another giggle out of her. Or it’s a sob. Or it’s a hiccup. Or it’s some weird combination of all three, she isn’t really sure, but it doesn't seem to really matter either. The sound is whatever it was, just like she is whatever she is.

“It's just like that. Just like how you plan your next score. And that’s your Thing. Like me and food, Hardison and his nerdery... Do you realize how that makes me feel? Knowing you treat me like a heist? Like the thing that you let define you?”

“Yeah but that’s not a sex thing, it’s just a me thing.”

“It doesn’t matter that it’s not a sex thing, Parker, it’s your passion. Your Thing. Yours.” Eliot finally makes it back to the edge of the bed and drops, pulling Parker into his lap. He guides her wandering hands to his chest so she can feel the rumble in his voice as he growls.

“Darlin’, you treat me like damn masterpiece. Like I’m standing smack under a spotlight in the middle of the Louvre, and the only thing in the world that matters to you is how you’re gonna pick through my security piece by piece until all that’s left under your hands is a canvas stretched tight as it’ll go and a picture meant only for you and the people you choose to see it."

Parker’s nails scrape against the skin of Eliot’s collarbone as her fingers instinctively curl in, wanting to grip take steal hold climb, and he barely restrains himself from throwing his head back in a moan. He needs to make sure Parker’s in the right place first, before he gives himself over to his own wants.

“Wow,” she whispers, damn near reverent now as she looks down at him. There’s a dawning in her eyes that tells Eliot they’re alright. That they’re gonna be good. That it’s okay to pull her tighter and ask her to go ahead and steal him again tonight, since he knows her rigging is secure.

"I can't imagine anything more passionate than that."

“Uh-huh, ‘wow' is right,” he laughs breathlessly, and reaches up to take hold of her chin. It’s a light grip, barely any pressure where he between his thumb resting on the front and the rest of his fingers curling around under her jaw, but she lets Eliot guide her down until their lips touch. Not kissing, yet, just touching. His mouth moves against hers as he speaks, tongue briefly darting out to wet two pairs of parched lips. “-so tell me, why the fuck would I want to go to anyone else?”

“Maybe if you got some bad advice,” Parker murmurs, voice strong and confident again for the first time since they wrapped up the con. “From someone who didn’t realize she made you feel that way?”

“Hmmn, that could make sense,” Eliot hums back, resisting the urge to roll up against her in wet jeans that would only serve to chafe rather than provide any of the friction that having Parker in his lap always makes him crave. “If someone could help me get this damn boot off, maybe I could get to work making sure she’ll never forget it?”

#fic writers wait for no production team #leverage #leverage ot3 #eliot spencer #parker #eliot spencer x parker #OT3 established but background due to Redemption's whole plot and also the point being about how two of the 'cule function with one absent

[helpimhyperfixating]

What if all the stardust crusaders were also mermen?

This is my first time writing for the other Jojo’s, so I’m sorry if they’re ooc. I tried 🤷‍♀️

Didn’t know exactly what you wanted so I just did some random things XD (sorry for the weird formatting)

What if the Crusaders were also Mermen? Chaos, that’s what. Just imagine a journey across the seas just to beat up the sea snake that is Dio, but then think ten times harder. Going from the Pacific Ocean, to the Indian Ocean, into the Arabian Sea all just to get his ass.

Enemies are still sent by Dio, but now Dark Blue Moon is no longer special, kek. No but, while the enemies remain similar, Stands aren’t really a thing and therefore it becomes more a fight of physical strength. When Mer can come in all sorts of shapes, colours and sizes however, the battles always remain with an unsure outcome. Vanilla Ice the Giant Squid was a very close call.

The journey itself was tiresome, with them having to swim the entire way instead of being able to use transportation. Not to even mention other things. Every day is chaos - not even taking enemies into account - when travelling with the crusaders:

Polnareff won’t have to worry about clean toilets for once but still always seems to be complaining about something, Kakyoin and Jotaro are both still adolescents so they don’t quite have a grip on their instincts yet, more easily distracted by small things such as animals they don’t yet know or a shape quickly fluttering away in the current (must be chased and caught!!!), Joseph is basically an overgrown adolescent even if he is the patriarch of the pod so he usually shoots along with his grandson and friend. Iggy is there but then he isn’t??? And then he is again?? All in all, Avdol should get a medal, award, title, anything and everything really for his patience and ability to keep the others on track and keep them going.

Now, personality wise:

The Joestar pod is a big one. Family and friends coming together over time to form a larger and larger pod until it is eventually one of the largest out there. All kinds of Mer have come together to form this giant family unit and - apart from one defect (Dio) - it has stayed surprisingly tight knit.

Jonathan:

He is the pod patriarch, making the decisions together with Erina, who is the matriarch.

Super protective of the pod. Would shield the entire family with his body if he could. But since he can’t he’ll settle for just shielding all the pups, since the others can protect themselves. He is large enough to do so anyways.

Best play mate possible. All the pups love him.

I imagine he either has the body of a seal, or a blue whale. Very different yes, but he is just an excited ginormous puppy, hence the seal. But he is also a gentle giant, hence the blue whale. And also... other, more obvious reasons (*cough* he buff and giant *cough*).

Joseph:

In his younger years, he is the bane of existence of all the adults in the pod. In both his adolescent as well as young adult/adult stage, Joseph is a hyperactive troublemaker. More than once he has snuck out of pod territory, only to come fleeing back with an angry sea creature on his tail, needing resident buff protector Jonathan to step up and chase his attacker off.

In his older years, he has mellowed out a bit, needing to be since he inherited the position of pod patriarch from Jonathan. He is however, still a prankster and always will be. He will play a prank on the pups every so often where he pretends to have died in the night when they come get him for meal- or play time (He’s been scolded by Suzie Q for that after one of the pups burst out crying. He promised to never do it again, but he definitely will).

I imagine he has the lower body of a dolphin. Dolphins can be real assholes. But also very playful and agile, which Joseph stays, no matter his age. Either that, or a sawfish. Their faces look a little silly, but don’t bloody mess with them. They are fast as all hell and they can also get to be fujking big. About 7 meters (23 feet) on average to be exact. But then again, Joseph wouldn’t get the face so he has nothing to worry about.

Jotaro:

Oh, Jotaro. Our resident grumpy Mer. In a pod dynamic he usually has one of two moods. Tolerant, or, leave me the fuck alone. Usually it is the latter.

Surprisingly enough however, his personality seems to appeal to several of the pups. It’s about a 50/50 chance whether they’ll be scared of him, or think he is the coolest. Oftentimes a disgruntled Jotaro can be seen, followed by about two or three small Mer who are chatting his ears off or chewing on his side fins as they teeth.

Thanks to this, Jotaro is often the one who goes hunting. It finally gives him a bit of that peace and quiet he needs. Yare yare indeed.

I imagine Jotaro to have the body of a bull shark. Not the biggest or most aggressive shark out there, but part of the top 3 for sure. Also, Mer have the tendency to have their tails be bigger than their animal counterpart, such is definitely the case with Jotaro. Male bull sharks averaging in about 2 meters in length while just Jotaro’s tail is already almost double that.

Josuke:

Josuke has inherited some of his father’s hyperactivity unfortunately. The young Mer can often be heard from a mile away whenever he is hanging out with his friends.

Speaking of which, one day Josuke just turned up with several Mer in need of a home. Guess they’re part of the pod now!

Josuke is always quick to help anyone who needs it though. Need a hand? Josuke is there. Want someone to watch the pups? Might be a bit of a hazard, but Josuke will gladly do so. Need something that is very specific and probably quite a swim-distance away? Josuke is already on his way there.

He just wants to help and be useful, let him do stuff please 🥺

Still somehow has his hairdo, even underwater.

I drew Josuke as a Nurse shark a little while back, but for some reason I can also really see him being a sting ray?? I don’t know why, I think a sting ray fits him but that may be my bias towards stingrays.

But the lower half I can really see him having is that of a sailfish. (Have you seen the sails on those fish? They are just as impressive as Josuke’s hair. It’s a perfect match) they are fast as fuck boiiiiii, perfect for our lovable goof.

Either that or he is an otter cause they are bloody adorablez

Giorno:

Giorno wasn’t born as part of the Joestar pod unfortunately. Growing up, his father, Dio, had different goals and morals and broke away from the Joestar pod. Oftentimes Giorno heard him talk about the old pod he was once a part of, and how he vowed to wipe it from the sea.

This sparked a curiosity in the young Mer and when he was old enough, he decided to just up and leave the Brando pod. His initial goal was to find the Joestar pod he had heard so much about, but on his travels, he came across a different one. After spending some time with them, he decided to remain with Bucciarati and his pod of misfits.

All kinds of sea creatures flock to Giorno. For some reason, the calm and confident aura he gives off makes many animals feel safe and protected, hiding under or against his body if he is resting or sitting down on the ocean floor, or - if Giorno allows it - following him as he swims.

Giorno. Hmm, Giorno. I think he might have the lower body of a barracuda or a lion fish. Sleek, streamlined, dangerous. Or, pretty, yet hard to approach with his poisonous spikes poised unless he trusts you and allows you near. His spikes will lie as flat down his body as he can get them to show this. Not many Mer have this honour.

(Or he is part of the requiem shark family, lols, sorry I had to)

Jolyne:

Jolyne can be energetic or standoffish, you can never really tell which of the two it will be. Her dynamic in the pod differs from day to day depending on her mood, but when it comes to it, there is nothing she won’t do for it.

Very playful and giddy. Loves to hang out with her best friends and is the unofficial appointed forager with how much stuff she brings back whenever she goes for a swim.

Jolyne’s lower half. Hum hmm. Her body either somewhat resembles a butterfly fish, only- updated to be more mermaid like by being more stretched out, her tail fin mainly resembling the fish while her tail is more classic. It’s very pretty though and she somehow has some octopus genes in her, making her able to change colours, which she absolutely loves to do, nearly coming in with a new colour every day (though she has a few favourites) Either that, or she resembles her dad a little more with the lower half of a spinner shark. She’s sleek and agile. A swift and dangerous predator you should not mess with. She might look harmless when she’s chatting with her friends, but when she is spinning at you with claws poised and no way to escape, you’d click a different tune.

Haven’t read part 7 or 8 yet, sorry :(

#jojos bizarre adventure #jjba #mermaid au #jonathan joestar #joseph joestar #jotaro kujo #josuke higashitaka #giorno giovanna #jolyne cujoh #mermen #mermaid #jjba sdc #blub

[slashingdisneypasta]

Jervis Tetch x Reader || Drabble

Plot: Jervis shaves. You're a fan. *Established relationship. I've been dying to write more Jervis and this is all I could think of that wasn't super draining and yandere-ish XD

Warnings: This is unreasonably fluffy, so I don't think so. Ha ha.

~~~

"Whaat?" You gasp, eyes on Jervis as soon as you catch sight of him coming out of the bathroom; A tiny grin growing on your lips. If you didn't know any better, you'd say that a stranger was standing awkwardly in the doorway to living room right now. "What'd you do??"

Of course you knew what he did - it was pretty clear after years of cementing his mad hatter look, with the sexy beard a constant part of it despite colour pallet's and hair styles an ever-converting Ferris wheel, - , but he's standing there, in one of his regular Willy Wonka-Mad Hatter-Wizard of Oz kind of suits but not his top hat, rigid and unsure like a child and he did something wrong. Or at least that he's unsure about. And you feel the need to lighten the mood.

He looks around the room, away from your gaze, and takes a breath. "I just felt like a change... This is much less itchy."

You bet. "Come over here! I wanna see better." Scooching to one side of the couch, you enthusiastically pat the empty cushion and wait excitedly for him to walk around and sit carefully down. You then pop up from the couch and stand in front of him, assessing his new clean-shaven look; Which he sits patiently and endures, chin tilted up slightly so that you can properly see his face.

"How does it look?"

The corners of your lips stretch wide, clicking a disappointed 'tut' sound off the roof of your mouth and playfully rolling your eyes as you straighten your back again and rest your hands on your hips. "Good, of course. Everything looks good on you."

Finally a reassured grin slips across his face, quickly turning into a mischievous smirk though as he turns his head to watch you sit down beside him with a huff- then turn to look at him again. So cute and young looking! You really cant get over it.

Ever since you've known him, Jervis has had a very distinguished look about him, kind of gentlemanly even in a black and white jumpsuit and paper mache hat. Its so weird. A good weird, though. It makes you want... uh, to... Well, you just want to... want to... touch... finally, you just sigh and give in to what you want and gesture with your hands and puppy dog look of your own for him to lean towards you. "Can I... um. C-can I... " You sigh again, cheeks pink, and tilt your head as he just sits there with that smirk and the evil twinkle in his eyes, knowing what you want but being a little shit and relenting. He knows what you mean! Of course he does. The mad bastard. You pout. "Jervis?" One of his eyebrows peaks. "Please?"

"What, my dear?"

You sigh in even deeper frustration, dropping your hands into your lap again and glaring at him- playing the embarrassed child yourself, this time. His grin only widens, like the Cheshire cat of course at your antics, having gotten the reaction he was digging for and being quite pleased with it. Then he takes a gentler approach, moving closer - your thighs touching, - , before ducking down a little bit and picking up your hands himself, placing them on his cheeks gently. "There you go, love."

A totally unreasonable, happy squealy sound erupts in your chest but you stay quiet, biting your bottom lip and smiling, before twisting to rest a knee on either side of Jervis thighs and siting down there, instead, his face in your hands- which he loves. He loves you to be there right in front of him, your weight a comforting reminder that you're real, you love him back, and you're there with him.

"Its so smooth!" You exclaim, giggling. Your thumbs trace up his cheek on one side, and across his chin with the other. His eyes hood slightly, relaxing into your touch like the touch starved tabby cat that he is and that only you're allowed to see. Sighing lightly, feeling butterflies in your stomach at his reaction to your touches - a reaction that has never really gone away, despite how much time you've spent with him now,- , you carefully press your forehead against his. You speak quietly, almost at a whisper. "It really does look good."

"Ahhh, I'm glad... " He leans back into the couch, relaxing, and closes his eyes as you move positions to hold his waist with one hand and trace along his top lip with two fingers on the other, fascinated by the new skin.

"Hm," You hum and smile softly, cupping his chin between your thumb and forefinger and lean down to press a soft kiss to the corner of Jervis' mouth, the skin there smooth and slightly foreign now.

No beard tickles or scratches! You could get get used to that.

As you're pulling back to get off of him, satisfied with your findings on his face, Jervis stirs and groans, catching you by the thighs. "No, no." He drags you back, further and more securely draped over his lap. He doesn't even open his eyes as he does this. "Its time for a nap... by the Red Queen's decree, my love."

You stretch your arms up, a yawn escaping you. He's right, it is nap time. Then you rest forward against him, arms tangled comfortably around his neck. "Well its best not to get on her bad side, huh?"

"Of course."

"Hmm," Humming again, you fit your face into the crook between Jervis' shoulder and his neck, closing your eyes and feeling his body physically relax even more under you- his world being enveloped in your smell... your wonderful weight becoming entirely his... Just as he likes it. "Night night, Mad Hatter."

Jervis' arm comes around you. Not quite as tightly as he used to hold you, like you'd run away as soon as he lost consciousness, but still warm. Still enough to remind you that he really wants you there. "Sweet dreams, Y/N."

#Jervis Tetch x Reader #The Mad Hatter x Reader #Mad Hatter #Jervis Tetch #mad hatter #Fox Gotham #fanfic #Jervis Tetch x Reader Drabble

[gallavictorious]

Could you share more thoughts about the intro and the possibility of aftercare?

Hello, nonnie! I like you! XD

Starting off with why this whole moment reeks of aftercare potential: consider the way that Ian's entire focus is on Mickey, watching him – watching over him – with that small, fond smile on his face, while Mickey is, unusually, not paying Ian any real attention, but is seemingly slightly lost in content (un)thought instead, like he's happy but maybe a little bit out of it? (Hello, subspace.) And then Ian's immediate and rather aggressive reaction when We, The Intruder appears; he gets up to physcially chase us out and close the door (protective much, dom top daddy?) while Mickey remains quiet on the bed, uncharacteristically passive. What other possibility is there but aftercare?

… yeah, okay, I'm sure there are ways to read this scene that does not involve Ian taking care of Mickey while Mickey's coming down from a scene, but I'm personally not really seeing it, you know? Terribly limited imagination, me. 😏

Anyway. While the canonicity of the intros is... well, isn't... I think there's quite a bit of potential in blithely ignoring that to instead try to determine exactly when this moment – that absolutely did happen! – takes place. Just makes for some interesting possbilities, you know?

See, we know that they're in their new place and that they haven't switched the air mattress for Ian's old one yet; that gives us only a very few nights to play with. (Bear with me, I'm halfway sure it's worth sorting this out.)

The morning of 11x11 has very strong first morning in a new flat vibes (with Ian wanting to check out the amenities and Mickey wanting to sort out the practical shit) and given Mickey's general unhappiness with moving, I just don't see them getting up to that sort of stuff on the eve they moved in. Then all of 11x11 takes place during one single day and the last we see of Ian and Mickey then is them getting handsy in their old room. Prior to 11x12 I rather thought they'd spend that night at the Gallagher house, but Mickey noting that they came there to get some of Ian's stuff when Ian has the gall to protest him stealing Debbie's potato masher in 11x12 suggests they arrived there in the morning for that express purpose and thus can be assumed to have spent the night (their second on the West Side) in their own apartment. Considering that they pick up Ian's old mattress and the intro happens with them on the air mattress, I'd argue that we can confidently place that sweet scene either on the night between 11x11 or, possibly, on the night after the anniversary party. (Because they'd want to install the proper mattress as quickly as possibly, sure, but if they don't go home between picking it up and the party I doubt they'll be in the right state to get it up and into their bedroom once they finally stagger home that night.)

Of these two options, I'm leaning towards the former, i.e. the night following them making up and agreeing to stay on the West Side. (After the party I see them being very eager and a bit drunk and not really interested in anything advanced – which would admittedly explain why they might, say, forget their keys in the lock and leave the door open, allowing a concerned neighbor to wander into their apartment. Anyway, I imagine a lot of highly enthusiastic but not necessarily very imaginative sex that night.)

And it's just rather easy to picture it right after 11x11, you know? They're in their old room, kissing and kissing; Mickey has shifted to straddle Ian's thighs. After a little while Ian pulls back, just a little.

”Wanna take this back to our place?” he says and Mickey might have asked if they have to do it right now when things were just about to get real interesting, but he sees the hopeful look on Ian's face so he just smiles: ”Sure.”

So they drive back – home – and maybe they don't say all that much to each other on the way? Things are not tense, not anymore, not at all, but there's something between then; something almost shy, maybe; expectant. As they park the car and move up the stairs Mickey can feel Ian sneaking glance after glance at him and the moment they're through the door, Ian grabs hold of his shoulder and pushes him against the wall, kissing him, kissing him, and pouring all of himself and all of his love for Mickey into that kiss.

Mickey smiles widely into it, the way he often does. He has his hands on Ian's arms and after a while he tries to push back, going for that old back and forth they so often engage in, but Ian doesn't budge at all. He holds Mickey in place, gaze steady and sure and intent as he pulls back just slightly to look at his husband.

Mickey raises one eyebrow, because, oh, okay, it's like that, huh? A particular and familiar shiver runs through his body, anticipation mingling with glee and raw desire. Bring it the fuck on.

Ian brings it the fuck on. Maybe there are restraints and long, slow, deliberate but very loving teasing. Maybe there's dirty words and commands and endearments murmured while pale fingers twists sharply in dark hair. Maybe they have fun playing barbarian and put upon husband putting him in his place. Either way, Ian's entire focus is on Mickey and all the things that make Mickey feel good. It's a very particular sort of makeup sex, perhaps, but that's what it is, really. Or... maybe it's less Ian trying to make amends and more him assuring Mickey, in the language they've both always understood perfectly, that Mickey is seen and known and loved for all that he is, and that he'll always be centre of Ian's world. No need to change; no need to hide.

Once they're (un)done, Ian helps Mickey to his feet. (I believe it's @whatwouldmickeydo who noted that they can't well get up to anything very energetic at all on that unreliable air mattress [and who also wrote a fic I think might interest you, nonnie!], so they've probably been getting busy elsewhere? In the kitchen maybe, where there are convenient counters. Not like they're unused to fucking in places other than the bedroom, so they make do.) Holds him steady against his chest with one arm while he pours him a glass of water with the other. Runs his hand down Mickey's naked back while he drinks.

”You good?” Ian asks once the glass is empty, but Mickey just grunts something intellligble and buries his face in Ian's shoulder. Not incapable of speech, you see; just utterly uninterested in it at the moment.

Ian smiles, privately, fondly, and presses a soft kiss to his husband's damp hair before helping him into their bedroom (after grabbing a convenient chocolate bar for when Mickey starts coming back to himself). Wipes them both down; brings out two pairs of clean boxers; guides Mickey down onto the mattress, never once breaking physical contact.

If there are marks that need seeing to, they are seen to. There are words of reassurance and praise and love. There are little pecks pressed to Mickey's swollen and slack lips, gentle fingers brushing over his face, a blanket pulled up to cover them both. Ian puts his arm across Mickey's chest in half an embrace and smiles as Mickey's hand shifts to rest on it. They lie there, Mickey still floating on feeling so very safe and sore and cherished, and Ian watching him like he's the only person that matters in the whole world; the only person that exists.

(At least until Mickey blinks a few times and stretches his neck from side to side, giving Ian a very much present look as he notes something along the lines of damn gallagher, couldn't you have pulled this shit last night, I'd've been out like a fucking candle and Ian snorts and retorts that he's not out like a fucking candle now so shut up and have some chocolate asshole ❤️)

Those are some of my thoughts, nonnie. Thank you for asking. <3

#the ways i love thinking about this... #11x11 #gallavich #meta ficlet #asks

[whumpmatsus]

tw // noises , loud noises : osomatsu afraid of an emergency alert system test

I went ahead and made it an actual emergency alert, because rainy days and Mondays and whatnot-

also it's worth noting I did look up Japan's emergency alert system, but I have no idea how J-Alert actually functions, I've just kind of assumed it's similar to the system that's in place where I live XD

Osomatsu, you've got some top-notch little brothers there!!

it's technically Allmatsu but like... big Sokudomatsu vibes tho :D

-

All things considered, a few days of bad weather keeping all the sextuplets cooped up in the house pretty much guarantees that they’re all going to be on edge.

They’re occasionally two seconds away from being at each other’s throats anyway, with all the challenges of being a big family in a small house. When the skies darken and open up with rain, though, it all becomes that much worse.

It means Ichimatsu can’t venture out to feed the stray cats, because being out in the cold rain for so long will probably lead to him getting sick. The comfort and stress relief that Karamatsu finds in playing guitar on the roof is vanished into thin air. Everyone has to keep Jyushimatsu from going outside since he’s half determined to play baseball even when it’s pouring. Choromatsu can’t hit the streets in search of a job or anything; too much chance of getting caught in a torrential downpour far from home. That’s also the reason Totty can’t make any plans with his friends, and counts his blessings that he doesn’t have any work shifts during these days.

All things being equal, Osomatsu is almost certainly the most laidback of their little group. Big brother tries his best to find solutions to keep all of them distracted, such as playing games or helping everyone settle on what TV show they should watch. Even though there are other places he’d rather be right now ― like the races or pachinko or maybe somewhere trying to pick up girls ― he can acknowledge that it’s kind of nice to spend time with his brothers when they can’t go outside.

The rain’s been coming down steadily today, a constant pattering that’s rhythmic and borderline soothing. It’s already put Ichimatsu and Totty to sleep, the two of them curled up under a blanket together. Before they fell asleep, Totty said something about the storm being “free ASMR”, whatever that means, and Ichimatsu mumbled an agreement as they cuddled in against each other.

To be completely honest, the energy in the house in general is pretty low. That might be best for a stormy day. Everyone can chill out and recharge their energy.

For the most part, Osomatsu is playing at being as responsible as he can handle today; gathering snacks, making tea, keeping kerosene in the heater so nobody gets too cold. Now that Totty and Ichimatsu are down for the count, everyone else is starting to get sleepy. Which, of course, means it’s time for a collective nap.

He takes a look around the room as he settles in on the couch himself. There’s Ichimatsu and Totty under their single blanket, seeming to be getting along just fine to share it. Choromatsu and Karamatsu are nuzzled against each other with their legs under the kotatsu, with Choromatsu’s head resting on Karamatsu’s shoulder and Karamatsu’s head resting on top of Choromatsu’s. And Jyushimatsu is… huddled up in a few blankets near the couch. For all intents and purposes, sleep has apparently claimed him, too.

Well, that’s good. Now that he’s made sure all his little brothers are comfortable, Osomatsu can doze off himself.

There’s a leftover blanket folded up at the end of the couch, so he pulls it up around himself and lies down with his head propped against one of the arms of the couch. He’d certainly like to be nestled up with one of the others, but he’s not gonna disturb them for that. They’re all in their own pairs, save for Jyushimatsu, and he’s not going to make the second youngest clamber up onto the couch just because Osomatsu wants some physical contact.

Besides, he can get that later if he wants. It’s going to be chilly and dreary all day, so more snuggles are inevitable. If he gets lucky, everyone will gravitate to one big cuddle puddle after dinner.

So he does his best to relax on the couch. He closes his eyes and tries to slow his breathing down a bit. The rain continues to pound in sheets against the window, and in heavy drops against the roof. There’s the soft rumbling of thunder that’s begun in the background, so low and powerful he can feel it. Somehow, it’s a comfort, something that whispers to him that he can go to sleep now.

Surrounded by his brothers and the lullaby of the storm outside, it’s easy to drift off.

Osomatsu is nearly sunk down into the beginnings of a deep sleep when suddenly, a blaring alarm goes off. And it’s not just one ― it sounds like several firing off in perfect, irritating harmony.

He can’t explain why he has the reaction he does. All he knows is that the abrupt, loud, obnoxious noise cuts through everything else and seems to hit the panic button in his head. A terrified yell rips itself from his throat, and he’s bolt upright. Then he’s on the floor, rolled onto Jyushimatsu and waking his younger brother up.

“HOLY MOLY!” And as soon as Jyushimatsu shouts, it’s enough to wake everyone else up. How anybody could sleep through that siren is beyond Osomatsu, though he’s pretty sure if anyone could, Jyushimatsu could. “Osomatsu-nii-san! You’re on top of me! What the heck is that?! Are we late for school???”

Totty groans as he’s woken up in the rudest way possible. “We’re too old for school, Jyushimatsu-nii-san. We’re adults.” He pulls his phone out, and his other hand reaches to pat Ichimatsu on the head. “Aaahnnmmm… it’s a weather alert.”

“Severe thunderstorm warning,” Choromatsu groans, having turned to glance at the TV. “Looks like it’s only gonna last till like 7 P.M., though.”

Karamatsu yawns and rubs at his eyes. “Should we get supplies together in case the power goes out?”

“The rest of you dumbasses can do that,” Ichimatsu huffs. “I’m not moving. As soon as the alerts stop making that shitty noise, I’m going back to sleep.”

“Well, I guess it falls to the three oldest, then.” Choromatsu stretches, giving a quiet, “Oof” when something in his back pops. “Osomatsu, do you wanna come help us… uh… Osomatsu?”

Strangely enough, the eldest brother is still incapacitated from the unexpected sounds, curled into a ball with his hands pressed over his ears. There might even be tears in his eyes, if one’s looking close enough.

Jyushimatsu runs a gentle hand, (or sleeve, as it were), over his big brother’s head, seeing as he’s the closest one. “I think something’s wrong with Osomatsu-nii-san. He’s all shivery and breathing funny.”

That’s really all it takes for Choromatsu to be over lightning-fast, knelt down next to the eldest. “Osomatsu? Osomatsu-nii-san, are you okay?” He frowns and tentatively tugs one of Osomatsu’s hands away from his ear. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“Th… the noise…” His hand is trembling in his younger brother’s grip, tears welling up in his eyes. It still feels like his heart is trying to hammer its way out of his chest completely. He can’t really get a good breath in.

Choromatsu’s brow furrows and he looks back toward the TV, which Karamatsu scrambles to turn off in case it’s the prolonged sound causing the problem. “Did you… ahah… it startled you, right? I think it startled all of us…”

Ichimatsu pushes himself up a bit so he can turn his attention to his older brothers. “Looks like it did more than startle him. He’s about to jump out of his skin.”

“Ah…” Choromatsu quickly gathers Osomatsu into his arms, and is surprised with the fervor with which the eldest clings to him. It reminds them both of… being kids. “H-hey, Osomatsu-nii-san… it’s okay, it’s okay. It’s over now. Can you, um, try to follow my pattern of breathing here? That might help you calm down.”

Osomatsu nods and does his best, mirroring the way Choromatsu inhales for four seconds, holds the breath for seven, and exhales for eight. It takes several cycles, a few minutes’ worth of this, before he can feel himself starting to be a little less shaky. His heart is still pounding, but not as fast as it was a moment ago.

Choromatsu holds him carefully, rubbing Osomatsu’s back, until he can feel the tension beginning to fade from his brother’s muscles. That was… weird. It’s not like Osomatsu to get so anxious, especially not to the point that he’s crying. “There… is it better now?”

“Y… yeah…” Osomatsu raises a hand in an attempt to scrub the tears away. Man… how embarrassing. He’s the oldest and he’s over here acting like a baby because of a stupid weather alert. “Sorry… I, uh, don’t know where that came from, haha.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Neither of them make any move to get out of the position for a minute, then Choromatsu gradually pulls away once he can’t hear his older brother’s heart beating like a gong. “You… good?”

“Yeah… yeah, I think so.”

Ichimatsu stretches his arms above his head. “Damn. I guess we’re all awake. I hate those alert things… remember that one night when we were kids, and it came on just as we were getting ready for bed?”

Totty laughs, rolling over and propping his face up against one arm. “Yeah, I remember Choromatsu told me they were warning us a big storm was gonna come and wash all the baby brothers out to sea.”

“A-ah…” Choromatsu’s face goes red in an instant. He was such a little bastard as a child. “I’m sorry about that, Totty!”

He waves a hand. “Nah, it’s okay! ‘Cause remember what we did next?”

“Ah… I remember!” Karamatsu grins. “We all said we wouldn’t let the storm get you, and we wrapped you up in blankets and stood guard the whole night.”

“Until we fell asleep,” Jyushimatsu giggles. “I remember panicking when we woke up, but then we all high-fived each other when we saw Totty was still there in the morning!”

“W-we could do that again,” Choromatsu suggests, stealing a peek at their eldest who still appears to be tired. “Except this time…”

Totty’s up in a second. “Ooh, yeah!! Let’s cocoon Osomatsu-nii-san so the big, bad weather alerts can’t hurt him!”

Osomatsu feels like he should be having the hairs on the back of his neck stand up right about now. Instead, he feels sort of warm in a good way when everyone starts to wrap blankets around him. “Geez… you guys don’t need to do all this shit…”

“Well, no, but it’ll be fun.” Choromatsu gives him a smile and nestles in against his older brother’s side. “I’ll take first watch.”

Osomatsu snorts, but lets his head fall on top of Choromatsu’s anyway.

“Man… you guys are lame.”

Thank God for that, though.

#loud noise tw #Osomatsu san #whump #Sokudomatsu #Allmatsu #Osomatsu #anxiety #hurt/comfort #LOOK AT THESE GOOD BOYS #TAKING CARE OF THEIR BIG DUMB LEADER #WARMS MY COCKLES LEMME TELL YA

[hello-nichya-here]

Zucest - Is It Really Flirting?

(Originally posted on AO3 as chapter 43 of Defending and Analysing Zucest)

@azdaema-does-art asked: So I think a big stumbling block for me with this ship is that I very much adhere to the reading of the show that holds:

Quasi-Seducer!Azula (as seen virtually anytime) and Quasi-Seducer!Zuko (as seen in "The Waterbending Scroll") are not actually expressions of desire from them. Rather, this is Zuko and Azula trying to be intimidating by modeling their behavior off their father (circling, personal-space-invading, low seductive tones, etc)

When actually trying to flirt neither Zuko nor Azula acts anything like that. When Zuko goes on that date with a girl in the Earth Kingdom, or Azula flirting with that guy on Ember Island, they're both awkward disasters.

I'd be curious to hear you address this. (Or point me to some awkward disaster!zucest fanfic.)

***

That is a really good point and I'm glad you brought it up. While I understand that reading of the show, I disagree with it slightly for a few reasons (beyond my own bias).

Need to be in control: No one can argue against the fact that neither Zuko nor Azula know how to have "normal", healthy relationships with others, mainly due to how unequal 99% of the relationships in the Fire Nation are since imposing your own will over someone else's has become part of their culture. Both Zuko and Azula accepted being treated like mere tools/punching bags by their father, Zuko was constantly insulting Iroh over the smallest things and Azula full on threatened Ty Lee's life to make her join her on her chase after her brother and the Avatar - both were scenarios where desire wasn't a factor at all (thought I know many fans that would like to think otherwise XD)

However, during The Beach, we saw how both of them try (and fail) to deal with romance. Zuko was extremelly paranoid that Mai was interested in another guy, for no real reason, and was constantly trying to intimidate her into either admiting to it or into saying she disliked the guy, even though she had clearly said she was completely indifferent to him. And Azula, after her kiss with Chan, decided, on her own and not giving a damn about his feelings on the matter, that not only would they be officially a couple, but that they'd dominate the earth together. Control is, more often than not, a major factor in all of their actions and relationships, so Azula wanting to intimidate Zuko in the bedroom scene (which she very much tried to do and succeeded at) doesn't automatically rule out the possibility of atraction.

Mixed feelings: While "I wanna fight/kill my sibling" is sort of these two default state, there are moments that show that they do have at least some positive feelings for each other. Zuko doesn't give a shit that Aang is going to kill Ozai, but seeing Azula falling "to her death" and then chained up and defeated after their Agni Kai quite clearly made him emotional, even if he tried to control himself. Azula's positive feelings for Zuko are so obvious I had to do an in length discussion of it in chapter 12 "Is Zucest just about sex?" Combine all of the conflicting emotions they have for each other with their need to control the other, and some scenes end up getting some connotations the writers weren't planning them to have... supposedly (I'll get into that in a bit)

Awareness and familiarity: Don't get me wrong, Zuko and Azula are two extremelly traumatized, socially awkward teenagers who have no idea how to flirt (or how to fit in with people their age) but we also need to take context into consideration, especiall when it comes to Zuko's date with Jin and Azula's interactions with Chan.

In Ba Sing Se, Zuko was outside of his comfort zone, away from home, in enemy territory, and so paranoid that he assumed Jin came into the tea shop so often because she knew they were Fire Nation, not because she had a crush on him or simply enjoyed their tea. And while he liked her and the date was nice, Zuko was very "stiff" and even looked a bit uncomfortable (not to say very uncomfortable) at some points - which is oddly simmilar to how he was acting during the bedroom scene (hell, Azula was quite clearly looking at him just like Jin did, as I pointed out in "The most important parallel in Avatar"). Finally, we cannot forget that, even though he was awkward as fuck during 90% of the night, Zuko did manage to do something kinda romantic by lighting up the place, meaning he isn't completely oblivious to the concept of flirting (which is proved by his relationship with Mai).

Now, when it comes to Azula, the poor girl has almost no idea how to flirt. Almost. Talking about Chan's sharp outfit shows she's got some of the basis down, like "say something nice" - the problem is that her concept of "nice" is very different than that of most people. She did sort of know what to do once Ty Lee gave her some tips... but she quickly reversed back to her regular ways - which once again shows that flirting/seduction has an element of control and intimidation for her. She probably doesn't always mean to act in ways that could be considered flirty, but that doesn't mean she is completely oblivious to the implications of, let's say, invading her brother's personal space and talking to him in a low tone while wearing nothing but a robe.

And since I mentioned Azula going back to what she knows, that leads us to another thing to take into account: the fact that Zuko and Azula quite literally knew each other their whole lives - meaning if they were to ever flirt with each other, it would probably look at least somewhat different than when they were out of their element. Azula was the one in control, so she was far more comfortable and confident than she had been with Chan, and Zuko was the one being intimidated, which explains why he kept his guard up. Once again, that "theory" is sort of confirmed if we compare how Zuko acted while flirting with Mai on The Headband versus how he tried to interact with her in The Beach - when he used a non-traditional, but very Mai-esque "You're so beautiful when you hate the world" he got her equivalent of an "I love you" when she told him she didn't hate him, but he tried to do more "normal" things like getting her a pretty shell it blew up on his face. He knows Mai since they were both kids, meaning he usually knows how to deal with her, just like Azula usually knows how to deal with him.  

Intensity: While a lot of Azula's behavior can be explained by her copying Ozai, we need to remember that there's only so much he could affect, especially since her way of "intimidating" Zuko was far more touchy and incestuous than his, and lasted a lot longer. Azula gets close to people when she's intimidating them (see how she toyed with Aang in The Drill), but not as close as she did with her brother. The sole exception to that being Sokka on The Day Of Black Sun - but that is on somewhat shaky ground despite the accidental sexual tension since the first time she got close to him she was being launched by the Dai Li and he just happened to be standing a little bellow the direction she was launched at, and the second time had him pinning her to the wall (which is in character since Sokka usually goes straight at his foes to intimidate them while fighting), and as soon as she had her firebending back she pushed him away. On top of that, she was trying to distract him, Aang and Toph, meaning he wasn't her focus at all, and she ignored him on all the other times their groups were facing each other.

With Zuko on the other hand, she was going full force, like I said on my analysis of the bedroom scene. She played coy, stared at him in a very intense, weird way, circled the pillar on her bed, stretched in front of him, got on his personal space touching his shoulder and chest, and bit her lip while talking basically purring her words. That is all a bit too much for me to believe it was just about intimidation. And the touching gets even more suspicious when you notice Azula does enjoy and is willing to give physical affection - she hugged both Mai and Ty Lee after seeing them again, pulled Ty Lee close while conforting her and apologizing for her harsh words at The Beach... and put her hand on Zuko's shoulder while saying he restored his own honor to reassure him after he was feeling bad for betraying his uncle.

Intention of the actors/writers/animators: Avatar is no stranger to parallels. It also isn't a stranger to adult themes/jokes, fanservice, and ship teasing. For instance, even thought they didn't end up together and were never canonically interested in each other, there was A LOT of hints/teases of Zutara - dude fucking took lightining to the heart for her.

Just like the writers and producers were aware of Zutara, Tokka and many, many other ships, they were also aware of Zucest and even jokingly shipped Azula and The Blue Spirit at a panel. The animators habit of sexualizing the characters speaks for itself, so I won't even go into that. Finally, Grey Delisle, Azula's voice actress is a Zucest shiper, has brought it up many times, asked people to send her fanart and fanfic of it, created the phrase "Zucest is best cest", and has full on said she voiced the scene as if Azula was trying to seduce Zuko,  - which regardless of whether or not the writers intended for the character to be doing, means that there is a very strong incest subtext to the scene and that, in a weird way, "Azula" herself confirmed her motives to act the way she did.

#zucest #azuko #shipcest #meta #azula #zuko #fire siblings #atla #avatar

[dex-xe]

I’ve made Spotify playlists inspired by each of the ghosts and I’ve made these little written pieces to talk about them. if you wanna read them, please go ahead - if not then enjoy the music!!

This is Humphrey’s playlist:

Body - Mother Mother

I wish I were sorry, but I’m honestly not. There’s no real consensus regarding what the song is actually about. I usually interpret it as being about body/gender dysphoria which isn’t really relevant here but I guess it links to the separation between body and soul and the idea that the body doesn’t define you which I think is quite relevant to Humphrey who relies on his soul for attention from others rather than his physical presence in a room.

Sign of the Times - Harry Styles

I feel like Humphrey probably has the most reasonable understanding of the passage of time of all the ghosts. He’s very down to earth compared to the rest of them. I know Robin has been there longer but I think he’s probably accepted the change of time without really considering it philosophically, whereas with Humphrey getting lost all the time he’s probably had more time to contemplate and I think he’d appreciate the song to listen to while he’s stuck various places. Also he’d like he piano, Humphrey’s a kinda piano man you can’t tell me otherwise (no Billy Joel fuck off).

Greensleeves - Ralph Vaughan Williams & Philharmonia Orchestra

This’ll come up a lot in various other ghosts’ playlists but I’ve tried to include some music from each of their time periods to try and capture what they would have heard so yeah, enjoy some Tudor music.

Tilted - Christine and the Queens

It’s been established that Humphrey’s wife was French so I felt the need to include at least a little bit of French which this song obviously captures. Also again it’s kinda the idea of not having total control over your body.

Abracadabra - Steve Miller Band

No idea why it’s just a Humphrey song I will take no criticism on this.

Don’t Look Back In Anger - Oasis

The scene with Fanny and Humphrey talking about their marriages is one of my favourite scenes and basically the whole “marriage went wrong but you can’t look back at it with contempt because it’s over now and time’s moved on” is what he was trying to say to Fanny and aid her recovery from her marriage trauma in the same way that Humphrey has healed from his.

High and Dry - Radiohead

I also see this song in reference to that scene with Fanny because it’s like no precise meaning to my knowledge but I interpret it as being about telling someone to let go of other people and what’s happening with them and focus on yourself and what you need.

My Iron Lung - Radiohead

Humphrey’s death is constrained by the decisions he made in life that brought about his death, which is kindaaaaa the meaning of the song like it’s a stretch. Like it’s actually about Radiohead being constrained by Creep as one of their most successful songs but like the idea of being stuck in a box and not being able to live freely. I really want to learn more about Humphrey’s life in the new series cause like, I want development to show how his beheading was brought about and what it’s like to live his… death completely restrained by his situation.

Body Terror Song - AJJ

“I’m so sorry that you have to have a body, one that will hurt you, and be the subject of so much of your fear, it will betray you, be used against you, then it'll fail on you my dear”. There we go!! Humphrey’s body wanders away - newsflash from me.

Eleanor Rigby - The Beatles

“A ballad for the lonely”, catch me crying over Humphrey as usual. But yeah obvious reason is cause Humphrey is often left alone and unable to interact with the others. The other thing I like to think when listening to this song is about the idea of lonely people noticing the little details no one else does, in the song it’s clearly the little details about the protagonists lives (Eleanor Rigby picking up tiny grains of rice with no one to help, and Father McKenzie writing sermons no one will hear) but Humphrey - like I think many lonely people — notices little things like Francis writing the letter to Thomas etc.

Where Is My Mind? - Pixies

Idk this song is just trippy. I remember reading ages ago that it was about scuba diving. But yeah, I primarily think it’s a Humphrey song because I just like the image of his body wandering aimlessly about the house with this song looking for his head XD

Waterloo Sunset - The Kinks

Again, I’ve said this a few times now but Humphrey being an observer of Button House and what takes place within it’s walls, just watching the others going about their days as he sits alone. I know the writer said he watched the world from the window of a hospital as a child and I think being able to watch over the city without being able to participate because of physical ailment is pretty telling.

O Lord, in Thy Wrath - Orlando Gibbons & Choir of Clare College, Cambridge

This is just a Tudor song. I grew up very very religious and, while I’m not sure I heard this exact song, I spent hours upon hours in church services every week with songs very similar to this and the music was the only thing I actually enjoyed about it. But yeah, I wanted to include at least a few religious songs in Humphrey’s because of my theory regarding his death which (given that we might find out about it in season 3 and I might be totally wrong) I’m gonna just briefly mention XD I basically think his death might’ve been religiously motivated because of the instability of state sanctioned religion in England at the time. Elizabeth I (monarch when Humphrey died) put 200 Catholics to death and given that Humphrey was married to a French woman and the French were under Catholic rule at the time it might not be too far outside the realm of possibility for Humphrey to have lost his head for being the ‘wrong’ denomination. Idk, probably miles off cause I’m really bad at theories but we’ll find out soon hopefully!!

Pantyhose and Roses - Echobelly

Just for the line “it could change but it never will”. Being a ghost must be such a difficult existence because there’s very little they can do to change what’s wrong because they obviously can’t leave where they die. But especially for Humphrey, nothing can change really for him because of his situation.

Waltz #2 (XO) - Elliott Smith

“I’m never gonna know you now, but I’m gonna love you anyhow”. As far as we know Humphrey’s relationship with his wife obviously wasn’t the best and it seems as if he possible barely knew her cause of the language barrier and the fact it was an arranged marriage.

After Hours - The Velvet Underground

This song has such a feeling of isolation like wishing that you could be a part of everyone’s fun but you’ve yet to find the person with whom you can experience that fun with.

Out of Time - Blur

I’ve said it before I’ll say it again but the idea of noticing the small things around you and focussing on the bigger picture of the world rather than hyper fixating on the intricacies of our own existence. Also, this is totally irrelevant but there’s an episode of Torchwood called ‘Out of Time’ in which three people from the 1950s suddenly rock up in 2000s Cardiff and the Torchwood 3 team have to take care of them and try to teach them about the modern world (it’s one of my favourite episodes, like it’s genuinely really good) and I think that’s really cool.

Blackstar - David Bowie

The song is just sad and I put it on any playlist of a sad character, no further explanation.

Why do I use my paper, ink and pen? - William Byrd, Stile Antico & Fretwork

More Tudor music, Tudor musiccccc.

25 Minutes to Go - Johnny Cash

Obvious but yeah there we go: just basically a man waiting and being led to his death which, if the assassination theory is to be believed (which we shall soon find out I guess) then the idea of Humphrey being led to his death is potentially gonna be a sorrowful story to hear about in the show??

#bbc ghosts humphrey #bbc ghosts

[justanotherghostwriter]

Hi friend 💛 for the fanfic questions: 6 and 15 :D :D :D

Hi! =D I'm so excited to be asked something from an ask meme for once! Thank you! <3

6. What’s the detail you wait on bated breath for readers to notice?

I guess it depends on the fic; some are more Big Reveal than others. One common theme, though, is that I keep thinking I'm able to write punchy one-liners. So I keep waiting for readers to get to that line/those lines, hoping that it will land the punch like it did in my mind. Sometimes it does! Other times it was better in my head than in reality. xD

15. Give us a snippet of something from your WiPs!

I'm not sure if this counts as a WiP, because I'm not sure if it's ever going to develop into anything. It was written as part of the very first planning stages of a fic that eventually turned into the ZK Modern AU of the other day (Ledges and Parachutes) but that didn't actually make that fic because I never got as far as the Gaang actually hanging out. So here you go: a snippet missing scene of your birthday fic. =D

Zuko put up a front that fooled exactly nobody; within ten minutes of them all arriving, Aang found an excuse to corner her in the kitchen. “Is Zuko okay?” he whispered, eyes wide and worried.

“He will be,” Katara reassured him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder.

Aang’s bottom lip stuck out a little as he looked back in the direction of the sitting room as though trying to catch sight of Zuko. “How bad…?”

“It’s going to be okay, Aang,” she said, because it wasn’t her place to share what Zuko wished to keep private about his own health unless he was being stupid about it. And he wasn’t; as much as he was pretending nothing was wrong, he was also not pushing himself beyond what he could cope with for the moment. He did know his limits. He just so regularly chose to ignore them that it seemed like he didn’t. Katara pulled Aang into a hug, and he tried to tuck himself against her despite now being taller than her. “We’ve got him.”

“Yeah.” Aang pulled back and gave her a sunny smile that was almost all the way genuine, and then helped her carry the snacks and drinks to the sitting room.

Toph had sat down on Zuko’s legs, sprawling so she covered as much surface area as possible. If asked, she’d claim it was her being obnoxious, but Katara knew it was to keep Zuko lying down on the sofa he had found himself on. And to get her fix of physical touch under her terms; but that was a secret Katara pretended she hadn’t figured out.

“What are we watching?” she said, brightly, as Sokka dug out some DVD boxes from his bag. He'd insisted they went old school instead of streaming to fit with the general theme of 'back to the past' they were going for.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Sokka said, grinning like a kid about to enter a candy store. “These are all so good. First up, for those who enjoy a little bit of class, we have Love Amongst the Dragons.” He brandished the DVD.

“Is that the original movie, the play recording or the recent remake?” Zuko asked, suspiciously

“The recent one. Directed by Pu-on Tim.”

“Let me see?”

Zuko stretched out his arm and Sokka handed over the DVD, opening his mouth to gush about the movie. Without even looking at the case, Zuko flung it toward the open balcony doors, sending the DVD soaring outside. Sokka squawked wordlessly and lurched to his feet, tripping uselessly after the DVD's wake.

“That shit,” Zuko said, very seriously, “does not come into my house.”

“I have to return that!” Sokka yowled from where he was hanging over the balcony railing, desperately searching for the DVD.

#askbox answers #writing life #ghostfic #sort of lmao #Zuko is a theatre purist and very dramatic and those are both just canon #I was going to make it directed by a certain real world director we're all salty at in the fandom #but I thought I'd take the moral high road and be nice to the poor man xD #about my writing #Ledges and Parachutes

[akaluan]

23 and 33, erich/kisuke, "Adam and Evil"? :D

(art by ser, as usual XD)

(23: One night stand turns serious, 33: Balcony Wooing scene Erich/Kisuke)

Kisuke eyes the slowly lightening sky, then glances over his shoulder at the bed where Erich is casually leaning back against the headboard, a book in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other.

“I thought you were going?” Erich asks as he glances up from his book, his gaze almost a physical sensation as he trailed it down Kisuke’s body. “You certainly got dressed quickly enough.”

“Maa… well…” Kisuke purses his lips and looks away, trying to focus on the town outside instead of on the awkward urge to simply turn back and crawl into bed with Erich once more. “I should… really head out,” he murmurs, trying to convince himself more than anything else; catching feelings certainly wasn’t in his plans when he fell into bed with Erich the night before, both of them jittery with the relief of surviving— of repelling— a full Otherworld Invasion practically on their own.

He’s proven his theory sound, proven that he can indeed predict the waves of monsters from beyond, and now… now he needs to move on. To the next town, the next critical point, the next lonely struggle.

(He has to do something to make up for all the mistakes he’s made in the past, and if this is all he can do, if running from town to town to fight the hoards until he dies is his penance, then he’ll do it.)

(There is no other option.)

Erich hums softly and turns the page in his book. “You don’t have to do everything alone, you know,” he says, voice deliberately casual.

Kisuke hastily bites back a snort at Erich’s words; no matter how willing the man was to both fight at his side and later fall into bed with him, he truly doubts the man means the implicit offer of his words. The Quincy are a bold people, unafraid of living in the wild-lands under constant threat of Otherworld Invasions, but they are also a prideful people, and the idea that a Quincy would permanently ally with a Shinigami is ludicrous.

(Shinigami are the ones who, long ago, drove the Quincy out of safety and into the wild-lands beyond.)

(Nearly every Quincy he’s come across in his travels holds that grudge near and dear to their heart.)

(That Erich hasn’t shot him in the back already is enough of a miracle.)

(He isn’t going to push his luck further.)

“If you think I’m unaware that you’re a Shinigami, then you need to seriously stop and rethink your approach,” Erich tells him with a touch of amusement. “The sword alone is pretty obvious.”

“Ex-Shinigami, thank you,” Kisuke replies, a bit more sharply than he intends, then grimaces at the way Erich’s expression shades towards thoughtful. “Never mind,” he mutters in an awkward attempt to brush it aside. “Stay on your toes. There will probably be another invasion here in a week and a half.”

“A week and a— hey! Kisuke! Get back here and explain!”

Kisuke flinches at the rising anger in Erich’s voice but doesn’t pause. He vaults over the little balcony’s railing and the minute his sandals hit the pavement below, he darts away in a burst of shunpo.

He has other towns to visit, other invasions to thwart.

He can’t let unexpected feelings get in his way.

(Never again.)

(Never.)

\\\

The next time they meet, Kisuke is exhausted and wounded and fighting for his life, and Erich is a deadly storm that sweeps in and shoves the rising tide of monsters back.

Erich is… Erich is beautiful, Kisuke acknowledges numbly; the man’s every move carries intent almost as powerful as the monsters’ own, and he drives them back with furious ease, leaving dead and dying monsters in his wake. Not one manages to slip past him, not towards Kisuke, not towards the town Kisuke was trying to defend, not even towards the plains beyond. The only way they can escape is back through the Otherworld Tear, and with every minute that passes more and more monsters decide to flee back to their own realm, until finally the Tear collapses and a watchful silence settles.

Kisuke swallows as Erich turns towards him, hand clenching tight around the Benihime’s hilt, but he can’t force himself to move. Can’t force himself to run the way he should.

(He’s weary-injured-exhausted and Erich is fresh-powerful-furious and they parted poorly and he— he can’t— Erich will—)

“You foolish man,” Erich says as he closes the distance between them, gaze sharp and hands warm-kind-soft as he begins to assess Kisuke’s wounds. “Sorry,” he murmurs in apology as his fingers catch on a bloodied scrap of fabric and Kisuke chokes back a pained noise. “Come on, let’s get you back to town so I can actually treat these.”

“N-no, it’s fine,” Kisuke forces out while trying to bat Erich’s hands away. “I can take care of it myself, and I have other places to be.” Which is a lie, or at least the part about needing to be elsewhere is; his calculations don’t indicate another Invasion for more than a week, which is fine. He’ll just… find a place to hole up for a while as he heals. Maybe find Tessai to help. He’ll be fine. He will.

Erich narrows his eyes and steps back, arms crossing over his chest, his voice sharp-defensive-wary as he says, “You have five minutes to get out of my sight, then. Otherwise, I’m bringing you back to town with me.”

The breath freezes in Kisuke’s throat as he stares blankly at Erich, uncertain how to take the man’s words. Last time, they’d fallen into bed simply because they’d fought side-by-side and survived, but this time—

This time, Erich had to come to his rescue. This time, Kisuke is at his mercy, has turned down the (maybe honest?) offer for help, and now Erich wants him gone, so he—

Flees.

\\\

Tessai heals him, because of course Tessai does, and then Kisuke immediately flees before he has to listen to any further comments about his (lack of) common sense; Tessai doesn’t know why Kisuke ran four towns over in the state he did, and Kisuke’s not about to tell him about Erich, so it does probably look like a worse decision than it was, but that’s fine.

Tessai’s had opinions about Kisuke’s common sense since they first met, and it hasn’t changed their friendship in the slightest.

Kisuke makes sure to keep an eye out from then on, senses stretched to the limit in order to catch the smallest trace of Erich’s presence, and does his best to stay on the move. He doesn’t know what a third meeting will entail, but he doesn’t want to risk it; with his luck, Erich will simply shoot him on sight without giving him a chance to escape.

Still, he can’t just stop. He’s the reason for the rising tide of invasions: it’s his research, his experiments, his knowledge that Aizen is using to influence the worlds.

And Kisuke just let him have it.

(He should have seen through the man’s tricks, should have been more cautious, more wary, more alert!)

(Instead, he fell right into Aizen’s trap, too blinded by his own hubris to see the jaws closing around him and now—)

(No.)

(He doesn’t have time to wallow.)

(He’ll fix this.)

(He will.)

(…he has to…)

#art by ser #replies #prompt fic #there are multiple other sections of this #they will be posted as the days continue #erich/kisuke #prompt fill

[first-and-last-neocount]

Whumptober Day 6

While still falling under the definition of whump, I intentionally aimed for something a little less soul-crushing this time, since I figured I would be evoking some Feels with that last one. XD 

This one isn’t directly tied to anything else, and it shouldn’t be so heart-wrenching; it’s just me projecting pandemic feels all over poor Damien, because I’m an introvert who isn’t physically affectionate with more than a handful of my closest friends anyway, but even I really felt it when we all had to go months on end without touching another human being. Not fun, dude. 

Day 6 - Theme Chosen: Touch starved

Theoretically, it should never have happened. With the way their journey had gone so far, when he thought about it, Damien was almost surprised it hadn't happened sooner.

Trapped aboard the God's Glory for months on end, isolated from the crew by their enduring wariness of the Hunter and his companions, unable to hasten their progress and weighed down by the growing fear of what would be waiting for them when they made landfall again, Damien was slowly driving himself insane. With every day that passed, the knot of frustration and dread pulled tighter in his gut. His temper shortened in response, and by now he had grown so tense and snappish that he couldn't even blame the crew's avoidance of him entirely on Tarrant; he knew he wasn't exactly great company anymore.

The death of the girl from the Eastern Continent had only worsened his already foul mood. The toxic mixture of guilt, resentment, and panic that had filled him upon realizing what her death meant – that he himself would have to go back to feeding his dark companion, at least until they made landfall in Faraday – still lingered, even though it had been two days since Sisa's suicide. He'd been given those two days as a grace period, time to mentally prepare himself as best he could, but the Hunter had given him clear warning; tonight, the nightmares would start again.

All of this meant that, when Damien laid down in his bunk that night, he was wound tighter than a springbolt at full draw. He had fully expected the turmoil in his mind to keep him up for hours, but with the forced inactivity of being at sea came a paradoxical lethargy, and he wasn't alone with his circling thoughts for more than an hour or so before he gradually sank into an uneasy slumber.

The dreams came almost at once.

Vivid as all the Hunter's carefully-woven nightmares were, Damien could feel the awful wrenching shudder that went through the ship as the hull ground onto the unforgiving rocks, hear the shattering of wood and the screech of metal as they collided with the outcropping of black stone that had been masked by the thick fog lying over the turbulent waves. Terror ran like acid through his veins as the deck tilted under his feet, the ship listing badly as water flooded through the gaping hole in the bow; he grasped the rail to keep himself upright, the screams of the crew ringing in his ears – but as he stared down into the churning black ocean, something sparked in the back of his mind.

The dark waves. Drowning. A girl.

Sisa.

His awareness that it was a dream blended with the hot spike of rage at the thought of another innocent life lost to the Hunter's insatiable hunger, and the scene around him shattered like glass. The deck was level again, the ocean calm; the stars glimmered down from a cloudless night sky, the ship deathly quiet and seemingly deserted around him.

You're resistant tonight.

The Hunter's voice slithered through his mind, soft and thoughtful, edged with hunger – and reality bent around him once more.

The village of the Terata. The hideous corruption that had lurked beneath its veneer of normalcy. The acid sting of desperation in the air as the villagers made their supplication to their sadistic god. The illusion of childhood's innocence, and the terrible reality that it hid -

But the sight of the children made Damien's thoughts turn to Jenseny, and the grief that rose up and choked him was so strong that it nearly brought him awake, a cry of pain catching in his throat as the image of the village dissolved around him. Tarrant's will wrapped around him and pulled him back under, an almost soothing tenor to the thread of fae that stroked his mind.

Too raw, still. Perhaps...

Another shift, then another. Scenes of terror from Damien's memories, or half-formed fears of the future, woven into shape by Tarrant's power. Every vista that presented itself, though, Damien fought against; though his awareness of what was happening was subsumed at the beginning of each dream, his mind rebelled continuously, breaking through to lucidity each time and shredding the delicate fabric of the nightmare in the process. As one dreamscape dissolved and reformed into another, there was a moment where Damien surfaced enough to actually feel a bit guilty; he'd agreed to this deal after all, once in the rakhlands and again after Sisa had killed herself, and he didn't even know why his mind refused to settle enough to be fully immersed in any of the scenarios Tarrant was weaving.

That moment stretched as he lingered in unformed darkness, as though the Hunter had hesitated. Finally, new scenery shimmered into being. Still caught in that state of half-awareness, Damien watched the dream come to life around him, willing himself to just let go and fall into it -

The chamber that formed around him was the throne room of the Undying Prince's citadel.

Nothing else had taken shape yet. There was no time for it. Before any figures could form, before a single sound had echoed through the room, Damien's mind spun out of control. The terror he'd felt, realizing that he was once again powerless before a mortal tyrant with the power of a sadistic demon backing them; the utter grief that had devastated him when he realized that Jenseny was gone; the gutting betrayal of believing that the Hunter had betrayed them; the sheer blinding fear, realizing that Tarrant had still been an ally after all, and that he might pay for that with his life before Damien could reach him -

Damien snapped awake violently, breathing so hard that his chest ached and the room spun violently around him, nausea thick in his throat and his skin drenched in ice-cold sweat. He sat bolt upright in his bunk, clenching fistfuls of his sheets with shaking hands as he stared blindly at the wall of his cabin, adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

Before he had even coaxed his breathing back to something resembling a normal rate, there was a firm but quiet knock at his door.

Damien let his head fall forward, biting out a soft curse under his breath. It didn't take much luck to guess who would be knocking at his door at this hour – he was fairly sure he hadn't actually cried out aloud when he'd catapulted himself back into wakefulness, which meant there was only one other person likely to even be awake right now.

“Come in,” he said hoarsely.

The door opened, then clicked shut again. Damien didn't look up, his gaze still fixed on the crumpled bedclothes he was gripping with white knuckles, but he didn't need to visually confirm the identity of his visitor; he could feel the shift in the air, that insidious chill that the Hunter wore like a shroud. Swallowing back the bile that still roiled in his throat, Damien beat back his pride enough to offer a quiet apology.

“Sorry. I didn't do that on purpose. I don't know why I couldn't just...”

“I could hazard a guess.”

Startled, Damien finally looked up. Tarrant had stopped only a couple feet away, and was leaning against the cabin wall with his arms folded across his chest, regarding Damien thoughtfully. Despite the lack of hostility, the Knight still shivered a little under the scrutiny of those cold silver eyes. Cocking an eyebrow questioningly, he stared back at the adept.

“Alright, then. Let's hear it.”

Of course, the Hunter couldn't simply state his theory. He studied Damien a moment longer, then murmured, “You haven't been sleeping well, have you? Even before tonight.”

Damien frowned at him. “Not particularly, no. Why?”

“You're unable to settle yourself. You've been sleeping poorly, your mind is in turmoil, and don't think I haven't noticed your shortness with the crew – or forgotten your outburst the other day.” Damien winced a little at the reminder of how he'd blown up at the Hunter immediately after Sisa's suicide, but there was no judgement in the adept's tone or expression, only contemplation. “You don't have any close connections to most of those aboard, and if you'll forgive me the observation, you don't have an... intimate companion, this time around.”

Damien was drawing a breath to snap at the Hunter that he didn't see how, exactly, his relationship with Raysa was any of the adept's damn business – when it abruptly clicked in his head, and he deflated, staring at the adept.

“You're blaming touch starvation.” The words came out flat, more statement than question but tinged with disbelief. When Tarrant inclined his head slightly, Damien huffed out a humourless chuckle. “You can't be serious.”

“Why not?” Tarrant asked coolly, his gaze still locked on Damien, piercing and assessing. “It's a scientifically documented phenomenon. We've been at sea for months, and I doubt you've had more contact than accidentally brushing arms with one of the crew since we set sail. The common symptoms are irritability, anxiety, and depression. It strikes me as an entirely likely explanation.”

“Fine, then what the hell do you suggest I do about it?” Damien snapped, hating himself as he did so, because his fuse had never been so short and by the look on Tarrant's face he knew it too. “In case you failed to notice or give a damn, Rasya's dead, and I don't exactly have a long lineup of friends at hand to hug it out with. I guess you're just going to have to work a bit harder for your dinner.”

Tarrant's face had gone utterly blank for a moment at the mention of Rasya's name, and for a split second Damien wondered almost hysterically if he actually had forgotten – but the horrified thought was cut off when the adept said, in a tone as bland as one might use to discuss the weather, “There's another option.”

Damien stared at him for a moment. Tarrant gazed back, unruffled. Finally, the Knight said slowly, “Now I know you're definitely just messing with my head. You're not suggesting what it sounds like you're suggesting.”

“No need to look quite so scandalized, Vryce, I'm hardly propositioning you,” Tarrant said dryly, his tone infuriatingly amused. “You're correct, however, that skin contact is the only cure and your options in that department are limited. If you'd like, I certainly could continue mentally assaulting you for sustenance – you were undeniably producing enough terror and distress earlier, though I suspect you'll find that sort of feeding even more exhausting that the usual method, and I'll have to draw from you more frequently to compensate for the additional effort I'm expending.” He watched Damien pale, then quirked one fair eyebrow up, mouth twisting into a rare, wry grin. “Or, you could budge over a few inches.”

Damien hesitated for a moment longer; then, he groaned and shuffled himself sideways, pressing closer to the wall and leaving the outer edge of the bunk free.

“I hate you,” he announced flatly, watching the adept prowl gracefully across the small cabin toward him.

“Your feelings have been noted, Reverend.” In a few smooth movements Tarrant had kicked off his boots, slid his long frame elegantly onto the bunk, and reached out; caught completely off guard by the manhandling, Damien let himself be tugged almost effortlessly down and arranged to the Hunter's liking. He found himself facing the wall, a lean form pressed close against his back and one of the adept's arms a cool weight draped across his side. “Now get some sleep.”

A thousand replies crowded to the front of Damien's mind, but sheer confusion stayed his tongue from a sharp retort. As the initial shock faded, he realized how incredibly comfortable he actually was. He had certainly missed the weight of another body in bed with him over the last months; he had rarely slept alone since reaching adulthood, since he had almost continuously been in a relationship of one degree of seriousness or another and had always been the type to stay the night. He usually slept by himself only when he was travelling, and that had never been for as long a stretch of time as this voyage. Finding himself as the proverbial little spoon was considerably more novel, Damien's senses jangling a bit at the strangeness of being the one held instead of the one holding another – but as his instincts accepted that he was not in fact in any danger and relaxed, he found himself almost unwilling comforted. He could feel the Hunter breathing steadily against his back, and the deceptively human sensation unwound tension in his shoulders that Damien hadn't even known he had been carrying. Even though the adept's body was considerably cooler than a mortal human's would have been, he was still there, and Damien could feel his own skin tingling with a kind of sensory euphoria everywhere that the Hunter's weight rested against him.

Maybe there was something to the touch starvation theory after all, as much as it pained him to admit it.

The window to reply to the Hunter's comment slipped away, and Damien said nothing, just shifted and settled his head a little more comfortably onto the pillow. Tarrant's arm tightened a bit further around his waist, an undeniably grounding pressure, and Damien sighed without meaning to as a tiny panicked voice that had been babbling in the back of his mind for weeks went abruptly, blissfully quiet. He was far from ready to say that this had been a good idea, but he supposed it wouldn't hurt to stay this way for a few minutes, let Tarrant think that he'd at least given it a fair shot before he kicked the adept the hell out of his bunk...

Between one breath and the next, Damien fell asleep.

#whumptober2021 #no.6 #Touch Starved #coldfire trilogy #fic #evil is what you make of it #gerald tarrant #damien vryce #the neocount writes

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Does Sebastian have any siblings?

oh nooooo I got even more into this than Claude’s family!!

now I need to draw Sebastian’s sibs too XD

SEBASTIAN

Sebastian is actually the only one of Melinda’s children, or was, which perhaps explains why she practically chokes him with her control. He was her first child, and always considered himself as an only child. Around the time she shows up again, when he’s involved in his contract with Ciel, she comes along with another demon who can’t be more than 500 or so years old — just barely an adult by demon standards, a young man contracted to one of Ciel’s business associates.

This demon goes by the name Ira Blackford while under contract (and would probably call himself Ira Michaelis outside of it), and he absolutely loathes Sebastian. Why, one might wonder? Ira believes he’s the golden son because that’s how Melinda treats him. Unlike Sebastian, Ira has absolutely no curiosity about humans aside from preying on them, and he obeys their mother’s words to the letter, without question, without defiance, like a perfect little prince. He’s livid and jealous that their mother is so interested in Sebastian despite the fact that he believes he’s superior to his older brother in every single way. Wherever he can, he attempts to ruin the daily goings-on of Sebastian’s life out of pure spite. It’s a wonder they haven’t come to blows yet… but that conflict is inevitable, just a matter of when.

The rest of Sebastian’s siblings are half-siblings who come from his father’s side. His father, while still a demon, is much kinder and gentler than Melinda while having strength enough that he can afford to be that way. Sebastian was this demon’s second child, and was driven away by Melinda before he even knew that she was pregnant. Over the years he’s had a few other children, enough that Sebastian has three half-sisters and a half-brother who would enjoy being part of his life. Because of the way their father raised them, they’re all unusually pleasant for demons.

His older sister is named Mellori, and she’s an incredibly quiet woman. She’s also very much a leader, consistently trying to keep order among any group she’s part of. The other siblings have a tendency to listen to her simply because she’s the eldest and the most like their father. Though she can be just as ferocious as any demon should the situation call for it, she’s taken after their father with a talk first, shoot later mentality. She truly does have her family’s best interests at heart, and has been contracted among the same family for several generations so as to earn her meals. It also seems that their father is where the curious-about-humans gene comes from, because Mellori has it too. In fact, she adores humans as much as any demon can. While they don’t see eye to eye on everything, Sebastian enjoys being around her, finding her a rather calming, wise presence.

The second oldest sister is a few hundred years younger than Sebastian, a bundle of energy named Picave. Her siblings have taken to calling her Pica, and sometimes Pica Pica. She’s wild, always involved in some outlandish scheme to get her meals without either contracts or hunting. Predictably she almost always fails poorly, but occasionally some of her siblings, Sebastian included, will throw her a bone and feed her without expecting anything but a small favor in return. She’s fascinated by humans despite having no real clue how to imitate or interact with them. She acts as Mellori’s enforcer at times, physically restraining her siblings if they try to go against the eldest’s word. She’s too much for Sebastian to be around for long stretches, although he does find her over-the-top vigor a bit refreshing for a demon.

The third oldest is Tristis, a demon who’s about 1000 or so years younger than Sebastian Even though he loves all his siblings, he seems to be consumed by a deep depression without any discernible cause. As if life itself is weighing him down, he spends his days listless at best and in agony at worst, often unaffected by his sisters’ attempts to make him feel better. He gets his meals by way of contracts with doctors at various hospitals, ones whose patients are either terminally ill or in such bad shape that they’ll likely be dead soon. He figures if they’re dying anyway, isn’t it the most humane way to get a soul? Of course, this means he’s a target for Reapers whose quota he’s eaten, but… pros and cons. His is a miserable existence as far as Sebastian is concerned, and yet… whenever Tristis is with Sebastian, the two of them seem oddly content with each other.

Sebastian’s youngest sibling is Ornata, a rebellious young woman who, despite her name suggesting otherwise, possesses a distinct lack of ladylike qualities. Much of her attitude comes from disdain at being treated as ‘the baby’, and it’s often her who Pica is holding back from doing something Mellori has told her not to. She’s desperate to prove herself as someone who’s capable and just as brutal as any other demon, willing to go to pretty much any lengths to avoid being considered adorable, frilly, or sweet. It tends to be her that fights off any Reapers who come after Tristis, much to his and Mellori’s dismay. She also despises Ira once she meets him, and point-blank asks Sebastian if he wants her to “carve out that bell-end’s tongue so you can serve it to your master for dinner.” Sure, he declines, but she can see that sparkle in her big brother’s eyes that makes it clear he was entertaining the idea. Sour disposition aside, it seems that more than anything, she and Sebastian kind of understand each other in a way.

#Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Sebastian #Sebastian Michaelis #OC #headcanons #familial #drama #fluff #there's a lil fluff there if you squint yeah?? #I HAD TOO MUCH FUN #queued