#so i simply have to hold on to enough control to progress forward

[merakiui]

thinking about androids again, but rather than the plot seen in android jade,,,, consider android floyd who is being developed by tech genius idia shroud with input and funding from business magnate azul ashengrotto.

(cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, vaguely implied non-con/dub-con, android floyd)

He's designed to be a companion for those who are lonely and in need of the company (whether physically or socially). You're just a tired, overworked university student, so it's mind-boggling to you when there's a sleek limousine parked just beyond campus property. Security guards are insisting you come with them because there's someone who'd like to meet you.

In the limo, you find yourself sitting across from Azul Ashengrotto himself. He doesn't bother with flowery introductions, instead cutting to the heart of the matter. You've been randomly selected to help with a very important phase of his and Idia's project. The general idea is to test how well the android interacts with a normal, ordinary person in a monitored setting.

You're very confused. You never signed up for any lottery, and you certainly aren't affiliated with anything of that sort. You're just trying to get through your degree, survive two part-times, and hopefully make enough to keep afloat for another month. Azul tells you this isn't an issue; you'll be generously compensated for your time and efforts. It's only three months; you'll be permitted to live your life as you normally would, only now you'll be accompanied by a highly intelligent android.

Despite hearing all of this, you hesitate when he reveals the lengthy contract. As you flip through it, analyzing each clause and category, Azul says something that piques your interest. "We don't expect you to house an android in your little apartment. Goodness, that's simply ludicrous. We'll provide your housing for these next three months. After all, we must be able to monitor your progress."

"Housing? What do you mean?"

He smiles at you. Backdropped by leather interior, the lights casting odd shadows on his face, he looks near-sinister. But he leans forward to press a ballpoint pen into your hands and the illusion vanishes. "I think you'll find it quite to your liking. If you've finished your classes for the day, why not visit the property with me? Then you may decide whether you wish to participate."

You're not worried about that part. What worries you the most, however, is the fact that he's right. You are finished with classes for the day and you have nothing planned. You took today off from work. Your schedule is perfectly free.

But of course the Azul Ashengrotto wouldn't know that, would he?

The house is a smart home, equipped with every necessity and appliance. Everything's controlled by a remote here. It's not very far from your university either, built on a hill that overlooks houses below. It feels a little isolating and smells very new and clean. Like that fabled new car smell, only it's a house. But everything is so unique to you. Its minimalistic design is oddly cozy, and you can't help but feel enchanted the deeper you venture through the two-story home. It's all so unreal!

Azul gives you the rundown, explains how the remote and each button works. You can lock doors, open and close windows, mess with the thermostat, turn the home security on and off, and even start the oven. You hold the power to this home in the palm of your hands. It's immensely fascinating.

By the end of the tour, you're shaking his hand and signing his contract, agreeing to three months of study. Not only are you provided this nice home, you'll also be paid per week. And the pay is far more than you were making with your two jobs.

The android has a long, tongue-tying serial number, so to make things easier he's named Floyd. They even gave him a surname in preparation for the twin android who is being designed to complement and mirror him. He certainly looks human when you meet him, but there's this uncanny nature to his presence that slightly unnerves you. He's too perfect. Skin too smooth. Eyes too bright. Hair too soft. He towers over you, having to bend down to walk through the doorframe, and every movement he makes is very mechanical and stiff.

Still, you smile at him and offer your hand. "Hi there. I'm (Name). Your...housemate, I guess."

He nods, peering down at your hand before lifting his own. "Floyd Leech. At your service."

You were expecting to feel coldness, so you startle when his hand fits into yours and it's warm. It feels so very real. So deceptively lifelike. You wonder if he can regulate his own internal temperatures. Just how advanced is he?

"Right... Um, I look forward to getting to know you!"

He nods again, releasing your hand after a perfectly timed handshake.

Azul had given you a special number should you need to reach him or Idia. All you needed to do was phone it if at any point you were to feel confused or unsafe. "But I don't think you'll utilize it," he told you when you stood in the lab, watching Idia Shroud flit around to do final maintenance checks to ensure Floyd was ready for his first trial run. His eyes were open the entire time, two mismatched lights centered on you. His stare was listless, but somehow you felt as if he was looking through to your very soul. "He's very safe. In fact, he's programmed to assess and react appropriately to dangers of all kinds. You'll be safe with him around."

And safe you are.

You've always been alone, so it's nice to have a roommate, even if he only speaks when spoken to. It's awkward for all of one week until you ease into his pattern. From various vantage points throughout the house, Idia and Azul watch through hidden cameras. You cook your meals for yourself and Floyd watches, assisting when you order him to. You leave for class and Floyd waits by the door for you to return, standing stock-still for hours.

You lounge in the sitting room and put on all kinds of films. Action. Comedy. Horror. Floyd's eyes never leave the screen. But sometimes he watches you more than he watches the movie, noting all of your reactions. He doesn't understand why you get so emotional over sappy romances. So you explain it simply: "It evokes emotions. We all have emotions, and these movies make us feel them. Happy. Sad. Angry. Upset. Things like that."

But Floyd doesn't feel. Even so, he listens and he nods along, filing your answers away for later dissection. It's interesting.

By the end of the first month, Floyd's adopted new habits. Ever since you told him he's free to do as he pleases, he's taken to cooking your meals for you, doing your laundry, preparing your bag for the day. He's surprisingly good at it. He does chores when you leave for classes or work. And for the first time in a while you're excited to return home, knowing he's there waiting.

Floyd adds new words and phrases to his ever-expanding vocabulary. You watch a lot of TV together and he starts to use some of what he hears in his own speech. He picks up informal language quickly, and it isn't long until he's using words like sup or dunno instead of the rigid how are you? and I am unsure he was previously programmed with.

The first sign of unrest comes when you realize Floyd's also connected to the smart home. At first you didn't think it was a bad thing. After all, with him controlling it you won't have to worry about getting up to grab the remote if you've already sat down. Floyd can do that for you. But then the remote goes missing, later turning up shattered. You ask Floyd what happened and he looks at you and says, "Why use this piece of junk when you've got me?"

"Still... What if you're not able to help? What if you're in sleep mode and I need to open a window or something?" you argue, cradling the splinters of remote like they're an injured baby bird.

"That won't happen," he replies smoothly, issuing you a soothing smile. "I'm always gonna be here for ya. Count on it."

And you do because, by the time the three months are nearing their end and Floyd's developed into quite the companion, more and more human than he's ever seemed, you find yourself stuck.

No, not stuck. That's not quite right. You're more so trapped.

Floyd locks the doors, shutters the windows, turns off the lights. You're cowering in the closet, the only place that feels just a little safe in this moment. You can't reach Azul or Idia either. He's shut the power off, the internet connection, everything. The smart home on the hilltop feels like a tiny island now, and Floyd's the shark always circling it, waiting for you to dip your feet into the depths.

"C'mon, Shrimpy," he calls out, and it's a nickname you were once so fond of because he thought of it himself. "I already told ya I ain't gonna hurt ya. So just come out and talk to me."

You have no idea where you went wrong. Was it too many horror films? Was it the fact that you started to rely so heavily on him for companionship, ignoring your human friends in favor of staying in with Floyd? Or was it because he was blocking their numbers that you never received any messages and automatically assumed they were cutting contact? He said he'd always be here for you, so why to this degree?

The closet doors are thrown open. Floyd drags you, kicking and screaming, out by the ankles. Every camera has gone dark on Azul and Idia's end. All but one. The one in the bedroom. Floyd stares directly at it when he lifts you up and lays you on the bed, gentle and sugary-sweet.

He smiles and waves before that screen blanks out, leaving you truly trapped with him.

And because it's all experimental, morbid curiosity trumping ethical morals, no one comes to rescue you.

Three months is more of an indefinite forever in this lonesome smart home.

#meraki mumbles #yandere twst

[soapoet]

PJO pick-a-card reading

Luke Castellan; A message from above

Soapy scribbles: I opted to format this topic as generally as possible since we all hold various different beliefs. Whether this message comes from your spirit guides, angels, higher self, God, any deity, ancestor or passed loved ones, or anything beyond my comprehension, is for you alone to know based on how it resonates with you. I am just the messenger and it is no business of mine who your particular sender is.

01.

Shufflemancy: Travelling by James Spiteri

You're coming out of a period of stagnation. Either delays entirely out of your control, or the sheer lack of motivation has kept you at a stalemate unable to proceed with your plans. You have found comfort in distractions aplenty. A seemingly never-ending cycle of avoiding the next step because it appears so very daunting, then being overcome with guilt and shame, which you again run from, chasing anything and everything which would put these feelings at bay. Now the first step looks less frightening, and you may feel more motivated to journey onwards.

Growing pains may feature, but you are able to handle them well. You may feel inclined to keep secrets, especially regarding your endeavours. This will prove beneficial as it reduces pressure, you now have nobody to hold yourself accountable but you, and you avoid the urge to run away should anybody dare inquire about your progress. Push yourself forward, as unnerving as it may be. You will quickly notice how light you are on your feet and the distance you can go when harnessing the dopamine from simply overcoming this fear.

Do not be too hard on yourself or expect to run a marathon. A little progress is better than none, but do not use busy work as yet another distraction. You have great gifts and plenty to share with the world, and you are destined to inspire others with your achievements and your accolades. As much as you detest routine, try to keep even a small one. Do a little bit every day to inch yourself closer to your dreams. To avoid feelings of uncertainty and your fears of failure, set aside time to sit with yourself in silence and ask yourself why you want this, where it will lead, and why that is where you want to be and what you hope to achieve, the life you wish to lead and what legacy you wish you leave. Remind yourself of the answers to these questions whenever motivation begins to evade you on your journey.

Sometimes a writer can only muster a sentence, perhaps one they will later entirely eliminate, yet they did something. And sometimes all this writer can do is stare at the manuscript before them and give of themselves nothing. Yet they did something. They got up to look at it rather than wince across the room and refuse to rise to the occasion at all. Celebrate even your smallest victories and allow yourself a cheer when you muster even the slightest effort. Do not expect perfection of yourself and know that many before you had to go through trial and error, and learn and adapt along the way. That is perfectly okay and you do not need a doctorate straight out of the womb to be good enough.

02.

Shufflemancy: Kiss the rain by Yiruma

You must cease this pattern of giving up your energy so easily to so many who are not deserving of your time. When bad news arrive, it is fine to feel whichever way you feel, but anchoring your emotions to this negativity will suck you dry of the life force that you need to shine. You are allowed to have boundaries and you are encouraged to enforce them and guard them closely. Those who would trespass should know punishment swiftly. Do not tolerate things you do not tolerate truly. Do not quietly hope unfortunate things go away and that people notice your discomfort and stop what they're doing that is harming you.

Stand up for yourself and make your thoughts and feelings heard. It is also not your duty or responsibility to translate a simple no or a stop to people wilfully ignorant and always finding a justification for their words and actions. No is a full sentence. Anybody who fails to internalize this fact and look in the mirror to reflect and to change any behaviour that's lead them to ignore this simple command is not a headache to take as yours. You should be unapologetic in your selfcare and demand space when you need it. Set aside your fears and shoo away any prowling feelings of shame and guilt. If you would be happier alone than in bad company, seek solitude and cut off what no longer serves you.

There are lessons some learn only upon a collapse. You may pray for a change of heart and hope for the sun to shine again, but you do not need to weather storms that are not yours to experience. You're not a bad person for stepping back and saying enough is enough in a situation that only causes you distress. Those who need help must want it and ask for it. You can promise to be there when they're ready and aid in their recovery, and still express to them the grief that they have caused you. Sometimes people need to be faced with the harsh truth. The pain and the agony and sleepless nights which they have brought upon you and others and be shown they could truly lose it all lest they stop and strive to do and be better.

If somebody truly needs help and you do not have the heart to abandon them, seek assistance. You need not be alone in a quest which requires more than you alone have to give. There are many sources of help and even more solutions once more hands are there to help, and you only have two and are allowed to seek extra pairs to aid you in this task. You are commended for your resilience and your kind heart. It may break and bleed often, and you must know that things will get better. These rough waters will calm soon enough and you will find peace.

03.

Shufflemancy: Ballerina by Yehezkel Raz

You don't need to run so fast. You have all the time in the world to make the changes that you want and need. Slow down and allow yourself to breathe. You have been much too hard on yourself and allowed everything outside of you to weigh you down. Shelf some burdens that were never yours to carry and make the choice to serve yourself for a change. Be gentle with yourself and listen to your own body and soul, and act according to that which is truly in your best interest. You are your own worst enemy when you let the beasts feed upon your negative self talk and your fixations on perceived failures.

Know that you have no more need for tips and tricks and new methods to your madness. You already have everything that you need, and no tool beyond your own consciousness is required. You could paint cathedral ceilings with just your imagination, so cease your struggle and let yourself be carried by the stream. Do not waver in your convictions, and do not let doubt lead you astray. Stick to what you know in your heart to be true and cast away every inkling of worry and fear.

You need to learn to let life happen to you rather than holding the reins so tightly you vitiate the opportunity to experience the present moment altogether. The present is all we really have, so try your best to cling neither to the past or the future. We all have regrets behind us, and wishes for the future, but it is the present moment which we truly have control over and get to experience.

Let go of any unhealthy dependencies you may have allowed to take root in your garden. Whether this is a person, a habit, or a situation, if it isn't doing you any good in the long-term, do your best to weed it out so that more energy may be received by the things you do wish to grow and nurture. If you feel unqualified to tackle some of this gardening, do not hesitate to ask for help and guidance from gentle people who will understand how delicate some situations may be. You do not need to tolerate fear mongering or unnecessary pressure, time constraints or misplaced ultimatums. Be direct with what you need and the tone and feel you wish to engage in so that you do not end up feeling cornered and threatened so much that you refuse any help at all in favour of protecting yourself from harsh criticism and judgement.

#pac reading #pick a card reading #luke castellan #pjo #energy reading #intuitive reading #percy jackson and the olympians #pac #pick a pile #pick a picture #pick a card #tarot reading #tarotblr #soapy.post

[film-in-my-soul]

hangster for y? im a sucker for some yearning

Not sure how well I did but I hope you liked it!

Y is for Yearning

He never used to have problems paying attention in briefings or lessons. He never used to bounce his heel, wiggle his pencil, or actively stop himself from running his fingers through piano scales across his thighs. Bradley used to pose, back straight, pen tip at the ready, attention rapt on whatever commanding officer had control of the laser pointer. But that was then, and now it's not.

Then, Bradley hadn't known the yielding heat of another pilot's body. Then, he hadn't felt the weightlessness of being lifted by arms just as strong as his own, hauling him around with ease. Then, Bradley had never felt the edge of competitiveness give way to mutual, blinding pleasure so strongly it damn near had a color, and a shape, and a texture all on its own.

Now, Bradley's squad has been shuffled; he's been given a secondary team that he's rotated. It's placed him directly behind an overly familiar blond head )two seats up and one across from where Bradley is parked). It means he has a front-row seat to a fresh toothpick held between long fingers, lifting it to a waiting mouth. Bradley can trace the callouses it rests on, the one that hedges around the thumb, and feel the rise of a scar across the pad, splitting the whorl of the print like he's still got his tongue on it. He knows the weight of the same ankles crossed beneath the chair the blond sits on as if they're locked around Bradley's middle, digging into his flank with their silent but insistent message to move.

So yes, Bradley is distracted, half paying attention (if that). His mind is spiraling out, trying to remember the specific scent of sun-tanned skin, beaded with sweat, pressed on top of freshly washed cotton. It's trying to connect the drag of wood across paper to the sound of nails scrambling against a headboard, the boom of jet engines outside to punched gasps and a thundering pulse, the summer breeze fighting to waft from semi-open windows to a shuddering breath against his ear. Bradley has figments of them all, pale imitations as he runs his tongue against his progressively drying bottom lip and rests his own fingers on the inside of his wrist, pushing to feel the tendons flex.

What makes it worse, Bradley thinks, is that he should be satisfied with the sense-memory, with the imitations and flash-bang flickers that fly across his thoughts each time Jake moves or fidgets, but he's not. There's a hook just behind his belly button and a heat sitting in the bowl of his stomach. His thighs are tense from how he's holding himself down, holding himself back. Bradley is poised to spring just as much as he is to stay statue still, body forward but eyes drifting as if pulled by the magnate that is Jake Seresin simply existing.

How Bradley had thought one night would be acceptable- would satisfy- he doesn't know, especially now that he's living the aftermath. Damned stupid was hardly enough of a chastisement, and so he's reaping what he'd sewn. He's paying the piper for the gift he'd been given: shockingly easy submission, a slack, wet mouth, a freely offered place to rest his need and have it soothed with tongue and sex.

Still, even with the blood roaring hard in his ears, growing louder the more firmly he controls himself, his gaze drifts to the slope of Jake's throat as the other man tips his head to stretch the muscle, and Bradley is left wondering if the imprint of his teeth is still there beneath the collar.

The fact of the matter is, given everything, he'd do it again. He'd suffer this bottomless need pressing on him from the inside out, making his head muzzy, his attention short, just to lay Jake out again, just to lavish that body and have a fresh layer of paint put on the twin pictures of 'hunger' and 'glutted' that live in his head.

And given how Jake shifts, just a little, just enough, so that Bradley can see the glint in his sea-glass eyes, his wolf-sharp smile, he knows it too.

Alphabet Prompt Game

#hangster #sereshaw #hangster ficlet #ficlet game #prompt game #top gun ficlet

[dingoat]

[Ugh do you know how HARD this one was for me to figure out when we still have so much BETWEEN THEM to work out??? Have they told each other they love one another yet? Will they, would they? Anyway I did my best and it still hurt >.> ~750 words on the theme of pining for the impossible and a big big problem with bonded souls.]

You're Not Mine

She didn’t want to think about the time drawing to an end, she almost didn’t… want to keep progressing, knowing that every step forward she took in gaining control over her wild half also drew her a step closer to having to… leave.

She didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to be apart. She wanted him to come with her even though she knew it was impossible, he never would, and yet she could not stay here forever, the thought of drawing out her return to the fox left her writhing with guilt. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair, and yet all she could do was cling onto every moment she had  while it was still there for her to hold.

“Ahuska,” Thirteen’s voice was gently amused. “How about you not dig in those claws like you’re holding on for dear life.”

“Sorry, sorry-” she winced and pulled back her hands from around his waist, folding them self consciously against her chest only to have one of his strong, long-fingered hands wrap around hers and tug it gently back to his side.

She shivered, then sighed, and tucked her face under his chin. “It’s not fair,” she whispered, as she had countless times before.

He knew what she meant. He felt what she meant. And he softly sighed in kind, knowing he could no more lie to her than cut out his own tongue. “It isn’t,” he agreed, moving his hand to rub slow, comforting circles between her shoulderblades.

“I don’t want a life without you in it,” she murmured, her muzzle sleek and soft against his jawline.

And it hurt him, as it hurt her, and he was silent for a while as he tried to find the words that would help her understand why she yearned for the impossible. “Ahuska. I love you, but you’re not mine,” he whispered, but as sweet and earnest as his tone was, he couldn’t guard against the way her heart twisted to hear it.

“Why not, why not? Your heart is big enough for me as well, I know it, I know it…”

“Big enough for your love, maybe,” he said, his hand sliding to the back of her head, fingers weaving through her hair, hoping to soothe her before speaking further. Their hearts shared their melancholy, their wistfulness, their frustration at a galaxy that had pressed them together when they could not be. He tilted his head and kissed the bridge of her muzzle. “Your love, but not your hate.”

“What- what?” She gave her head a fierce little shake against his face. “I don’t hate you. I never hated you, you know I don’t blame you for the way anything happened…”

“Five,” Thirteen said, and the way she twisted against him, her response so deep and visceral that the revulsion echoed in his own heart, only made him more certain.

She hid her grimace by tucking her face between his neck and the cushion, but she could do nothing to keep her own feelings from him. “So what?  You’re not him.”

“But I love him,” Thirteen answered simply. “You have every right to hate him, and I would never ask you to change that, to forgive him for my sake.”

“So what’s…”

“I don’t blame you for your feelings. But I can’t stand to feel them for myself, and I’m sure you don’t appreciate sharing mine.”

She didn’t.

Opening her heart to him had been… oh, it had been everything, to know one another so perfectly, man and bothan and wolf and hawkbat, but she knew how carefully they skirted around the subject of Five. She didn’t want their bond tainted with an awareness of Thirteen’s love and loyalty for him…

And how could Thirteen go to him, with Ahuska’s seething aversion simmering in the back of his mind?

How could she do that to him?

“Don’t,” he whispered, feeling her on the verge of spiralling. “You’re bigger than the mess life made of you. You’ll be unstoppable one day, and you won’t need me.”

She shuddered, and closed her eyes as she tucked herself more closely against him. “But I want you.”

“And right now you have me,” he reminded her as he kissed her on the forehead. Please, gods. He fought to convince himself as strongly as he wished it for her. Let it be enough.

#swtor #swtor fic #imperial agent #and a lil force sensitive bothan #in the process of learning how to not murder people by accident #something something overcoming imperial conditioning #anyway I'm so grateful for all the asks folk sent #I have not had much at all by way of art energy this week #so it's nice to have something different to exercise creativity on #and mulling over the potential stories #helps get through the damp and dreary work days #I am #so very weary #XD #dingoat writes

[wetcatspellcaster]

Honest Lie - 6, 22, 25

6. What do you need to write? Is there anything special you need to do/have to help your creative flow?

Honestly, this is an interesting question for this fic specifically, bc my writing usually comes from a place of... pure fucking spite lmao. If there's something I don't like enough, I want to fix it (in Bleeding Heart, it was all the early access bullying lol). An Honest Lie is weird because I actually really like the Astarion canon storyline - though I can't speak for patches. So in this case, what I need to write, is a few weeks of getting depressed from my angsty as fuck AU, and then I come here to be cosy and promise my OC the world :')

22. Does personal experience ever inspire your fics? What about this particular fic?

Crying. killshot.

The fun thing about me, is that I don't consider any of my OCs self-inserts or related to me at all(this is no judgement to self-insert OCs, I simply do not consider myself hot enough to hold a candle to the imaginary women in my brain and thus, I admire anyone with the confidence).

...And then I go into therapy, and my therapist asks me about my writing, and then they give me a long hard look and I say "oh, no, I get that look, but it's not me, you see. because this girl is hot :) and pink :)". And then my therapist looks at me some more.

which is a bit of an overshare, but basically it turns out that every fic I write can be archaeologically surveyed about a year after I write it for the personal experience it actually entails (yes, I'm extremely worried about Pieces).

luckily, Rosalie is 2yrs old, so I have done that work already! and oh boy, does that make writing An Honest Lie fucking weird at times!

I've been pretty open that Rose was my pandemic OC. I didn't write her based on my own pandemic experiences - it was actually that two of my friends at the time were agoraphobic, I was anxious, and I liked the idea of a magical cure for both of those things, in the form of the tadpole. But since I wrote the first fic with her, I have realised a lot about myself: I have recovered from an acute self-hating depression, and I have received an autism diagnosis, all of which seem relevant to the Masker Extraordinaire.

If I was to pinpoint the exact piece of personal experience here, I think it's the irrational fear that all recovery can be undone in an instant. That is the worry that motivates a lot of Rosalie's character. Like Rose, I really fear the moment where my progress is exposed as a lie, or the risk that one thing will tip me back into my worst moment without me having any control over it. I don't think it will happen, but I do feel like that possibility haunts my choices and my everyday life!

25. Is there anything you would change about this fic? Why/Why not?

Weirdly... I'm not sure if I'd write it? which is a depressing way to answer this question. I like it as a project, but it's a little different than my approach to other fics - it feels messier as a story. I mostly started it bc people asked for a continuation of my first fic, and I have a lot of love for A Bleeding Heart... neither of these are good motivations for a whole new fic lmaooooo. But now that I'm here, I wouldn't change anything. I've accepted it's going to be a messier, more self-indulgent project, and that while it doesn't come from my usual urge to fix things in a story, which means I have less prompts going forward, instead I just have to fully enjoy the bits I love.

behind the scenes fic asks!

#asks #mutuals #ask games #behind the scenes #wip: an honest lie

[clickerflight]

Joseph: Part 4 - Sunday Dinner

We're introducing more characters in here. Hopefully it's not too confusing.

Masterlist

There are some serious warnings for this one: Vampire Death, Human Death, female whumper, very unpleasant depiction of a human no longer being dead (let me know if I need to add any. This one is a bit hard to tag)

Joseph: @whumpsday @not-a-space-alien @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question

988 A.V.E (After the Vladic Empire)

Eric dreaded Sunday dinner. No matter how pleasant the night began, Vampires would be mentioned and everything would all go downhill from there. And they were always mentioned. After the Empire tried to enslave Humankind a millennium ago, after centuries of Vampires holding swaths of lands and slaves, after Humans took everything back, and after a couple centuries of Vampires barely scraping by in the back allies of cities, hunted for simply existing, looking for anyone to feed on, Vampires were being granted citizenships and opportunities, allowed to live in their covens again as they were meant to, the innocent protected from hunters and fed (barely) by new programs. It was a good decade for progress.

Unless you were a part of the families that had built their reputations on hunting vampires, protecting people from the terrifying threats in the shadows. Not everyone was willing to believe that vampires would stop being monsters if they were just treated like people and given something to eat. Sure, they’d hurt humans for ages, but barely any of those old vampires were alive anymore. The new generation vampires only knew fear and darkness, avoiding the daylight for fear of someone seeing the signs of a Vampire and killing them on sight. 

Eric really didn’t mind them. He was thinking about getting tested by the new feeding programs to see if he could get one of the fancy necklaces that would mark him as someone who was willing to give out a meal to the local Vampires every once in a while. If he did, though, he was sure many of his family would quietly shun him and his sister would likely outright kill him. 

Isabelle hated vampires. When they were younger she would insist on being the hunter and him being the vampire. She would chase him around in a game of tag, shouting about bloodsuckers and monsters. She wanted so badly to follow the family tradition of being a hunter. She had nearly killed herself the day the laws changed to protect Vampires. 

Eric couldn’t understand her blind hatred. He worked at the corner store and saw Vampires come through there pretty often. Heck, he knew most of them were Vampires before the laws had changed. They were just people trying to get by. He’d seen far worse than most of them, really. 

Eric pushed his hands in his pockets, heading to his family’s house after a shift at the corner store. Today had been fine, but that was sure to be ruined at dinner. He and his aunt had gotten into quite the row last week. He winced, remembering how worried his niece looked when everything went out of control. He had some candy in his coat to give to her as an apology for scaring her. 

He came around a corner just in time to hear a muffled moan. He slowed and looked down the alley, freezing at what he saw. Brackish blood, its dark color marking it as Vampire blood slowly seeped from a broken body. 

Furious eyes locked with his as Isabella stood over the Vampire, stake in hand. A vampire he recognized as a woman named Amily who came to buy doughnuts for work every Friday. 

“NO!” Eric found himself yelling, throwing himself forward as the stake came down. He wasn’t fast enough. Ash flew around them as the Vampire shrieked out her dying breath. 

The blood was gone, but the horror wasn’t. 

Eric looked at Isabella, slowly taking a step back, and then another one. 

“Oh, Eric,” Isabella said sweetly. “Why did you have to walk in on me like that, hmmm?”

She was insane. Completely bonkers, nuts, lost in the murkiest, moldiest of sauce. 

Eric choked on something that felt like words, before he turned, running as quickly as he could. He needed to make it to the police station. He had heard something of Vampires going missing, and of course, his sister was all too happy recently, like a satisfied cat. She’d been killing Vampires and no one had noticed because Vampires didn’t leave their bodies behind. He had to make it before she killed anyone else. 

That was his last thought as she grabbed him by the back of the collar, strangling him. He barely heard her through his strangled whimpers and a stake in the back. 

“Shame. You’ll miss dinner tonight.”

She removed the stake one more time and then, when her brother was writhing on the cement, bleeding out from the wound in his back, she brought the reinforced wood down through his eye socket, straight into his brain. 

She crouched there, staring at all of the blood, at her brother’s corpse. What a pain. Still, it’s not like she’d never considered murdering him. In fact, she’d already had a plan for when she’d need to kill him. She stored his body in a unit she’d rented out and then. After getting cleaned up and going to dinner with her family and commenting on how strange her brother’s absence was, she went to get his body. 

It wasn’t a long drive to the bog and it wasn’t hard to find a soft place to dig up and shove him in, covering him with the muddy dirt. It filled in so nicely, smoothing out easily with how damp it was and some well placed moss and shrubs disguised the grave well. 

She hummed and smiled to herself, pleased with her night's work. 

……………………………..

Joseph? No. No! NO! JOSEPH!

Eric couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t really move. There was dirt in his mouth, in his eye-eyes, his lungs, his stomach felt distended with it. He fought to break free, shredded threads of old fabric tearing off from around his body as he wiggled desperately for room. He couldn’t breathe, but the burning in his chest was from panic, not loss of air. That only scared him more. He needed out!

He clawed and wiggled, punched and dug. There were tangled roots around him, threatening to digest him again. He would have screamed if he could. 

He didn’t know how long he fought to be free, but it felt like days. He never ran out of strength, though. It was like there was fire in his blood, fueling him and forcing him to move. He felt his bloodied hand punch through the ground, scraping past a boulder. He dug faster, dragging his legs behind himself as he clawed through the dirt. His face broke the surface, but the ground was inside of him too. His lungs spasmed and dirt fell out of his mouth and throat. It wasn’t enough. He wasn’t suffocating, but he couldn’t breathe. His body knew he needed to breathe and was driving him into a frenzy to get air.

Naked, he crawled across the ground, eyes crusted with dirt he couldn't bother to wipe away as he threw himself forward, catching himself hard to get more dirt to come up. This worked a couple of times, but the dirt was too packed deeper in his body. He could feel it. 

He could hear water. Moving water. 

He wiped his eyes and opened them. It was dark. Sometime after midnight maybe, in the summer. He didn’t recognize where he was, but that didn’t matter now. He needed the water. 

He hauled himself forward faster before rolling down a bank. The water rushed past and he didn’t even think as he shoved his face into it, swallowing and breathing in the water, trying to loosen the dirt in his organs. 

He came up, mud dribbling from his lips, snorting small stones out his nose. His stomach spasmed and he threw up an enormous amount of mud. And then again, and again, and again. And then there was enough loosened in his lungs that he could actually cough. He coughed and vomited mud up until he was utterly exhausted, the fire under his skin still there, but burning down to coals. He laid beside the river in a puddle of mud, not even cold as the stars slowly spun overhead. 

Despite everything, one thought circled his mind over and over again. 

Is Joseph okay? Where is he? Joseph? 

Who is Joseph?

#writing #whump #vampire whumpee #female whumper #human whumpee #tw death #tw body horror #reanimation #necromancy #enjoy!

[zeydaan-isabella]

Workout Routine (Vanquish Soul Pantera TF)

Commission for Vinomath with a story by them, too!

It was finally done, my very own personal gym in my garage. It was the first step in taking control of my fitness, and the next would be actually creating a routine. I had downloaded one online, meant to be for beginners looking for a bit of a jumpstart in their fitness journey. While I've exercised before, I never followed the instructions of a trainer nor had a structured setup. That was changing today though. I dressed in my workout attire, a pair of black sweatpants and a matching black sweater with a black undershirt. Ready to start it, I put it on over the speakers, taking a quick swig of a sports drink - ready to kick things off.  "Welcome to your new workout obsession. By the time it's over, you'll be ready for any fight." the female voice said. "To begin, we're going to be doing some stretches. We'll start with our legs, simply take a step forward and try to touch the tip of your toes."  The instruction was simple enough, and I did exactly that. I moved my foot in front of me, bending over as I felt my back and arms feel the tension of the stretch. It was strange, it felt...almost easier than it should have. Before I was only at most able to make it down to my foreleg. However, as I stretched, it was as if my arm had become longer than before because now I was able to touch the tip of my toes with it. Maybe over the years, I had just gotten more flexible?  Even my back felt a bit odd like a part of it was missing. It was like the back of my shirt and hoodie felt looser, almost concavely so. I didn't think much of it, as it wasn't enough to stop the exercise for. Just seemed more like something to deal with after. Perhaps I just put on an old outfit that was bigger than my current size.  "Alright, stretch time is over. Next, we're going to be getting some cardio going. You will jog in place for five minutes before we move on to the next stage. Don't over-exert yourself, keep a slow tempo."  I nod my head and do just that. Lifting up my legs off the ground so my knee reached to my stomach getting a good size of step going as I did so. As I did, it seemed to get progressively easier just like the stretching was. In fact, even the floor seemed to be farther down now. Were my measurements wrong when I made the room? I was average size but I felt much taller in here. Even my legs felt easier to lift as if they were lighter. Looking down, perhaps my eyes were deceiving me but it even looked like they were...curvier? The calves and thighs seemed more protruded than before, maybe the muscles were being worked out so they looked more swollen during the workout? Yes, that must be it.  "Excellent work, let's keep it up. We're going to be working on the glutes now. We're doing ten reps of squats. Feel the burn!"  I stop jogging and start crouching down, holding my arms out as I push down and bringing them back when I stand up straight yet again. Each squat felt like there was more weight there to bring up and down - as if my rear end itself was bigger. It even seemed like it was pressing against the back of my pants a bit more. Not only that, I felt like my hips were straining against the pants as well. I dismissed it as simply being from the exercise, strange as it was. A quick peek down made it look like they were larger, just as the length of my legs appeared longer and curvier.  That wasn't the only pulling on my backside, the pain from the workout even applied to my spine. The base of it felt like it was on fire, though it also felt like something was growing out from there. I felt something come out from the top of my pants, and continue to extend as it touched the air of the room. This was enough to get me to stop and look backward, noticing that an orange-furred tail with a brown tip and spots was now at my backside.  "Do not be distracted, every moment you pause your workout is another moment you waste both of our time." the woman's voice suddenly said. "If you keep it up, I'll have to get someone else to take over your regimen."  I was in disbelief at what I just heard, how could a recording know that? "W-what are you talking about?" I asked, unsure if the voice would respond.  "What's your name?" the voice simply answered back.  I was going to nervously respond, but...what was my name? Something with a J? A V? It's my name, why couldn't I remember it!?"  "For every second you're not exercising, more of your mind will drip away, no better motivator than stakes." the voice said with eerie confidence. "Now then, you still have more reps left."  "I can't exercise when I don't know my name and I don't have a hole for my tail!" I retort. Why did it sound so...wrong? I've always had a tail...right? It was weird because I couldn't remember my name, that's it!"  "Three reps to go."  Defeated, I go back to the squats as I try to sort out my mind. I searched desperately inside to try and remember what was forgotten and yet...nothing. Try as I might it was like a locked door without a key in my head. "Alright, let's bring things back down to the ground." the voice said. "Get down on your hands and feet, it's time for pushups. Like the squats, we'll be doing ten reps of them.  Not wanting to see what else would happen, I listened to the instructions. I start pushing my chest low to the ground and bringing it back up to make a straight back. With each pushup, my chest seemed to get closer to the ground. Not only that, but it seemed...separated. Like two separate mounds of mass had grown onto them, protruding out of my chest. During one of the pushups, my posture wasn't right, and I slipped and fell right on my front. Here, I felt my chest press against the ground in a way I never felt before. I quickly turn over, feeling the mass sway drastically with it without proper support underneath my top. Lo and behold, at my chest, there were breasts! I had boobs!  And I...always had them? People don't just grow mammaries...right? That sounded right and yet, they felt so foreign on my chest. Was it related to my lack of name? Did I also forget about the breasts resting on my chest and the curves that felt off earlier? It was hard to figure out what was wrong or right, but my thoughts were interrupted when the next step came from the "recording."  "We're sticking back to the ground because now it's sit-up time! Get that core worked out!"  I knew the recording was doing something to me, and I should be worried about not doing what it said, so I lay back down on my back and started doing the next exercise step. I did feel the burn at the lower part of my torso, a building sensation forming there. Though I struggled at first, it was getting progressively easier, the abs forming on my body showed that the exercise was paying off. With each sit-up, more of the strange feelings around the lower half remained. Just like what happened at my back was felt at the sides around where my navel was located. The hoodie and shirt were both feeling...oversized? I had been exercising more lately, maybe the size of it was just too big now and I'd need to invest in another. I didn't let it bother me too much as I managed to work through this part without getting distracted or stopping.  "We're close to the end, let's start winding down." the voice said. "Let's loosen the neck, just simply roll your head along your shoulders in a circular motion, that'll help your neck and shoulders to wind down."  All of this still felt wrong, but without a way to figure out what exactly that was, I figured I better simply follow the directions and do what the voice told me to do. My ears twitched as I did, becoming more apparent with each second. It wasn't just that, but even my hearing felt stronger. My ears weren't just more emotive, but they also felt larger with each flick of them. I even felt an itchy feeling down the back of my neck, something trickling along down it. It was almost as if my hair was gently being pulled, extending and when I rolled my head I found much more hair falling into my face. And were those...yellow streaks in it? I didn't remember ever dying my hair once but...maybe I did when I was younger? Just simply forgot about it and it stayed there? There were even shades of purple in it that I noticed as the hair fell into my line of sight.  "And last one" the voice chimed in. "Hold up one leg as high as you can. Keep your other foot on the ground and don't move it."  With new instructions, I stop, brushing the hair out of my face. I grab the bottom of my leg, hoisting it up. The stretching hurt at first, but that subsided as the pressure at the nether regions was loosening. In fact, the front of my pants felt a lot more open. I was channeling my energy though to focus on getting the pose.  None of this was right, it was all wrong. I wasn't a girl, my hair wasn't supposed to be this long. A brief moment of my proper mind came, almost coming close to remembering my name and then -  Nothing. My mind was dulled, and I was staring ahead with a blank expression on my face. Remembering anything, forming any kind of proper thought became impossible. I... The man-turned-woman's body hair multiplied on her body, of which matched the color of the fur on her new tail. And like that, the fur pattern was the same. Primarily orange with a lighter side on the underside of her arms and down her neck and face. Black, splotchy markings formed with a darker shade of orange fur on the inside of them. Her feet grew longer, the toenails sharpening and turning black as they contorted into claws. Her toes even lost a digit of toes to only leave four behind, a growth forming at the ball of the foot, heel, and under each digit as a purple paw pad found themselves on her new paws.  Her hair had gone from black to a lighter shade of it with streaks of purple and yellow in it, the bangs elongating and more of it falling onto her face while others fell to the side. Her face pushed outward, becoming a short snout while her nose shifted into a triangular shape whilst turning a black color. The woman's teeth grew a bit longer, the shape of them a bit sharper. White fluff formed inside of her ears, sticking out more definitely through her hair. Her eyelashes became both longer and thicker, the edges of her eyes becoming a bit more pointed. The man was a human no more, but a jaguar woman.  Her outfit altered greatly as well. The front of her shoes melted away, leaving only a small piece of fabric between her furthest left digit and the next one over on each paw. The shoes grew up her legs, turning white with black laces going across the front as it went up to just below her knees. Around her knees themselves, a black kneepad formed with a flame decal ending in a red gem at the center. As for the rest of the new jaguar's sweatpants, most of them shrank upward to her thighs. The coloration of them turned an olive green color. The underside of the thighs would have a hole in them to allow much more flexible movements with black straps across the waist and under the crotch. More straps formed across the chest, along with a golden belt with a leaf-like pattern across the waist.  The hoodie would lose the front while the back would go through a much more drastic change. It grew downward, not stopping until it reached just above the ground while now just hanging off of one of her shoulders. The hood itself turned into white fluff, with that same white fluff forming at the bottom of the new velvet red cape. Around her neck, a black choker materialized while a shark-tooth necklace formed a bit lower with a large gem that rested in her bosom. The jaguar's undershirt rode up his stomach, revealing her abs to the world as the front formed into two cups that held and supported her breasts. Only straps remained of the former shirt's sleeves that hung on her shoulders along with one across the back, turning a similar olive green color to the spandex around her legs as it became a sports bra.  On her shoulder, a bronze skull formed, of which was what her cape was connected to. More accessories formed on her head, with her ears suddenly becoming pierced as two earrings formed in her left ear. Lastly, a headband formed at the top of her head of which had two gray horns, one slightly longer than the other. The daze slowly left her eyes, as her mind came back to.  She ceased holding up her leg with her hand, instead holding both of her arms out and keeping her leg up in a ready-to-kick stance. She gave a few kicks into the air, jumping onto her other leg and doing the same. She practiced multiple kicks, making sure that her balance was still perfect. Her fighting style had her relying on the legs she had been gifted, able to act swiftly and evade attacks while delivering devastating blows with them.  "Excellent work Pantera." the recording said, a small "click" being heard as it turned off.  "That it is. I need to get a punching bag, or I guess in my case kicking bag hung up here." she said to herself as she brought her leg down and stretched out after a well-done workout. "I still got it, have to keep my form up to snuff if I want to do well at the Vanquish Soul Tournament. I'm ready to stake my soul!" Pantera said grandly, the jaguar ready to do whatever it took to win. She was agile and strong - and despite her smaller stature compared to the likes of her dragon rival Caesar Valius, she was able to use that to her advantage - so long as she was able to avoid one of their powerful blows. She was going to win the tournament this year, and her vigorous training was just how she was going to!  "Rest time, but I think I'm ready to go without that recording lifeboat." Pantera said to herself. "I'll give it to a thrift shop later, someone else can use it. I found my perfect routine - and it's what's going to win me the tournament! I'm getting a new championship belt for my trophy room!" she said, delivering a kick to the air and striking her signature pose, one leg up to her chest ready to deliver a fierce swing. 

#zeydaan #transformation #tftg #trangender #anthro #vanquish soul #vanquish #soul #pantera #yu-gi-oh #yugioh #armor #fighter #flexible #stretch #cat #cape #leopard

[vi-be]

As I've progressed in my journey through life, I've encountered moments where it seems like the past is attempting to hold me back. It feels like a dark void, tethered to the present by the energy of past experiences, gripping my shoulder, and grasping at my waist. Some of these grips are stronger than others, but they all cling and linger for a while.

Over time, I've noticed that as I move forward, these tethers stretch and weaken, perhaps echoing the sentiment that "time heals all wounds." However, I've also discovered that the energy that persists is often a result of my own decisions.

Now, as I continue to move forward in life, both external and internal forces try to pull me back. They seek to return me to my old self or old ways of thinking. In the present, when these feelings arise, I must identify the source of the tether. Was it something beyond my control, or was it a consequence of my own actions?

If it was out of my control, I must understand that there was nothing I could have done to change the outcome, and that it was simply meant to be. There's no reason to let that part of the past hold on. On the other hand, if it was something I had control over, I must ask myself what I'm running from. What am I not seeing, and what lesson was I meant to learn?

By asking these questions, I make the energy known and tangible. This allows me to work on the aspects of myself that are holding me back, the parts of myself that I've outgrown. The most painful part of this process is saying goodbye to the part of myself that initiated this journey. As I've grown and healed, new energies have emerged, hands of light, pushing and pulling me forward, helping me to continue moving.

Saying goodbye to the part of myself that gave rise to this light is difficult. It's the part of me that was hurt, that prompted such change, and ultimately taught me to love myself. Now, I'm no longer in the energy of learning to love myself, but in the energy of consistently doing so. Holding on to the past only brings back the energy of learning to love myself, along with the energy of feeling like I'm not enough. It feels like a funeral, saying goodbye to that part of myself, and I'm eternally grateful for the role it played in shaping my present.

#mine #my post #my edit

[mayaflowerxs]

NSFW ALPHABET W/ YUTA

Warning: SMUTTY.

Pairing: Yuta x reader

Aftercare:

Man we all know this dude is all about aftercare. He may not do it right away though mostly because he gets all soft and cuddly right after sex. He’ll probably hold you tight and kiss your temple for like fifteen minutes maybe even longer before he forcibly gets out of bed. No matter how tired he is, he’ll push through for you. He’d discard the blankets to wash, clothes as well. Help you into the bath and he’ll clean up. If he’s not too late he might even join you. Who knows there may be another round about to start as soon as he steps foot into the tub.

Body Part:

I feel like Yuta is tits and hair kinda man. Hear me out! He loves and values hair, like imagine he’s all sweet gentle and then all of a sudden a hard tug on it has him sending him overdrive seeing how vulnerable you’ve become. Not only that but having your breasts out in front of him, he simply can’t say no to that. This doesn’t even have to get dirty, he’ll braid your hair whenever, or run his hand through them. Always complimenting how pretty it is, most likely a hand on your tit at the same time. Sleeping, he’s grabbing them, cuddling he’s snuggling them. Two balls of fat he simply can’t resist.

Cum:

Literally anywhere you tell him. He’s one to ask you instead of demanding where he wants it, wanting nothing more but your approval. If anything he loves it when you deny him certain places that really has him riled up like on your face or in you. Especially when he asks you where and you say no- OOOH HE LIVES FOR THE NEGLECTION.

Dirty Secret:

No one knows what he does during his ‘secret time’. It has only started when you began to get involved in his life and this hour and half or so has progressed more and more. Walking out of his room with disheveled hair and sticky hands yeah it’s not a shocker the more he sees you the more blue balls he gets. He just has to relieve himself some way🤷‍♀️

Experience:

So damn experienced. Doesn’t matter whether he slept with many or only one. He just knows what he’s doing, he’s a natural. He knows what to say and do and man that damn smirk he gives you is enough to have you melt in his arms. Exactly what he needs, complete submission and he’ll show you who’s daddy.

Favorite Position:

He loves having you in a leap forward position. Like doggy except your upper half is resting on a pillow as he raises your waist. He loves seeing how powerless you are. Knowing he has all the control is something he takes absolute pleasure in and seeing how at loss for words you get only rises his ego. For sure leaning down to whisper to you how pretty you look being his dumb baby.

Goofy:

Yuta can get a bit humorous at times. Especially when you two are risking getting caught, or you two are just in a more silly mood. Lots of jokes are being made, lots of laughing until those convert into moans. Yuta makes sure it’s always comfortable with him, which means if he has to crack a billion jokes for you to feel comfy especially when it was your guys first time together. The act itself gets more serious and hot but as soon as it’s over the once goofy dork you’re used to is back again in an instant.

Hair:

Feel like he’s trimmed. He likes to keep things tidy, who knows. Yuta is a very unpredictable man and for that, he uses against you in many ways. But whatever the case may be it’s never a problem. And as for you, Yuta could give less of a damn. It really doesn’t matter because it will NOT stop him from drilling inside of you yet again. Your period never stopped him what makes you think a bit of hair will?

Intimacy:

Yuta is not one to use lots of intimacy like the lovey dovey kind because that’s what aftercare is for. To really show you just how in love he is with you and a silent apology if he went a bit too rough on you. Yet when he’s feeling really soft he wants both of you laying on the bed, fucking you from behind as he mumbles praises in your ears. Neck kisses and hands intertwined as he encourages you to let your climax consume you. Usually bathtubs during aftercare results in another round which is ten times more intimate than the hot sex you two had just had. Helping you softly bounce on his cock as he kisses your face softly yeah the man seriously loves you.

Jerk off:

Oh yeah nothing new. If you’re not with him, he’ll shut the lights off and touch himself to pictures and videos of you. Even before you two had began to go out he’d get sexually frustrated and jerk himself even when you were a room over. The time he masturbated for who knows how long, it was a blessing to wake up with you sucking him from under the covers. Best way to wake up to. He doesn’t jerk off as much since you two began to go out but being with each other 24/7 was impossible so anytime you weren’t there, his hand paid a little visit down south.

Kink:

Dumbification! He has to see you at loss for words, tears running down your cheeks and slurred words coming out of your pretty lips. He’s the kinkiest mf ever so he’s up to trying something new. More so you trying something new since it’s always him bringing new kinks up. Bondage? Yes ma’am. Loves teasing whether it’s you or him. Cock warming, (might even try vouyerism ;) ) , exhibitionism, dom/sub, OBJECTIFICATION OMG. Yes he’s usually a dom but man he will not object to you taking the reins and absolutely using him like a fucking toy. He might be the one begging for you. Baby is a switch, and he does not care he just needs you is all🥺

Location:

Dead ass does not care at all. He’ll take you anywhere at anytime. Bedroom, bathroom, kitchen counter, couch, Johnny’s car - oop, practice room and he might even fuck you while one of the members is sleeping on the next bed over or in a public bathroom. He seriously does not have much self control, as soon as he gets hard he needs you he’s like a starved man. He’s even fucked you on top of his car’s trunk but for your sake made sure to do so where not many people came around. Still he made sure to fuck your vocal chords outs. Once again with a devious smirk plastered on his face.

Motivation:

Now like I mentioned before Yuta here is a switch and I feel like in order to get either or you have to set him off in different ways. For example you want him to pin you down and pound you until you can’t even remember your own name? Then that’s when your ass comes in. Rubbing his crotch or leaning down while wearing his shirt twice the size of you, panties coming in view. Oh yeah he’s taking you right there right now. But if you want the subby boy who’ll become putty in your hands in seconds, run a hand through his soft hair. Give him soft feathery kisses on his neck and push his face in your breasts. In a snap he’s yours for you to wreck. Whining and whimpering for you to fuck him and that you will.

No:

Yuta doesn’t really have many no’s. He’s usually all for it, he’s willing to try something new. It’s never an immediate no but if there’s something he prefers more then he’ll make it known. Like role playing, he likes it but not for each and every time you two have sex. So he might change it to something else and you gladly let him. Threesomes aren’t a problem but only if it’s someone he knows, if not forget it no stranger is about to touch what’s his.

Oral:

Can do it for hours! 69 is a must in his life, like seriously the best position second after leap forward. He loves eating you out, he’ll smack your ass if he can’t hear you and tug on your hair or pinch your nipple when you’re not loud enough. Demand for you to scream his name when he’s making your squirt and will fuck your throat making sure you take all of him. Yes of course he’ll kiss your pretty face and compliment you how good of a whore you are for him but while your tongue is licking him clean and mouth milking him, he’s not gonna go so easy on you. This boy has no shame, which means he does not care if you’re sucking him off in the living room and one of the boys can come in any minute. If anything that’ll just turn him on more.

Pace:

I feel like he starts out slow and forceful. Pulling you close to him hard so that you feel him very deep inside you. Moving a few pieces of hair away from your face as he makes you look at your tummy. Grabbing your hand to touch the outline of his tip. Then as the time progresses, he’ll pick up the pace. Pounding you so that the clapping sounds get much much louder along with your screams. Momentum never seizing as he holds you down. He hates when you move away from him, and having you in his hands he can fuck his cock in you however deep and fast as he wants. Telling you to simply take it.

Quickies:

He loves but hates quickies. He needs to take your time with you which lasts for two plus hours no kidding. He needs to fuck you many rounds for you to fully comprehend your his and only his. That no other can fuck you stupid like he can and no one else can love you like him. But then again there’s those times when he gets insanely hard and he just need to bend you over something and fuck his babies in you. For someone who prefers more intimate hours and not quickies they sure occur a lot more often when it’s comeback season. No rests for months as his adrenaline only increases by each orgasm. Poor you! You for sure end up with sore legs but not time to heal because once again he’s fucking you stupid.

Risk:

LOVES IT!! Just the idea has him going mad, his grunts and thrusts get faster when he hears something coming closer to where you two are currently at. Pinning you tighter as you tell him you two will get caught. A hand wrapped around your throat as he pounds you deeper. Muttering to you to take it like a big girl and let the entire world see, see how much of a whore you are for him.

Stamina:

Yuta can go for HOURS! He can give two shits deadass. He doesn’t care whether his body is begging for rest or your hiccuping for him to stop because you can’t no more, he’ll fuck you until both of you are fucked stupid. Just tears and sobs, grunts and whimpers with the constant slapping in whatever area you guys are currently in. A challenge on himself to see how many orgasms he can rip out of you. And how many tears can fall from your eyes.

Toys:

ALL FOR IT! He’s not ashamed or embarrassed, if anyone were to come across one of his toys for you he does not care! He’ll proudly say how much he loves fucking toys in you and better when he denies you your orgasm. He loves cockrings man omg- he becomes such a mess and the boy is low key a masochist. Like fuck he loves the pain and will only beg for more and more.

Unfair:

Little shit here loves the teasing. He strives on it! He sees you’re so close and sike! You thought. It’s the control he loves to have. Knowing he can easily make you come and easily take that right away from you. He loves how he can make you all sobby and pouty, demanding for you to suck him or rub yourself on his thigh. Eyes never faltering, and remaining on you. And as soon as he sees you close again, the feeling is gone. A snarky laugh as he pins you down. Deciding it’s finally time for you to get what you want and with that, he begins to unzip his pants.

Volume:

Yuta always tries to keep his sounds at bay. Keeping it at grunts to make sure he can really hear you, but when his orgasm is edging closer and closer he can’t help but raise his voice. Forehead resting on top of yours as he begs and whines for you to come. Wrap a hand around his throat and he’s a goner. When you take over, he won’t hold back. He’ll make sure the entire building and whoever lives next building can hear how well his baby is making him feel.

Wildcard:

He’s very possessive. Have you seen the way he be staring at Mark? It’s like that but like twice as much. Always holding a hand of yours and when your attention isn’t on him and he wants it, he’ll tap you and tap you, and if you’re being a brat he’ll click the top of his mouth and wrap a finger around your chin to face him. Crazy lust easily fills his eyes, seriously. It’s like he’s about to pounce on his prey - you. If one of the boys is a bit too close he’ll just become blunt about it. A slap to your ass and the boys awkwardly back off. A stranger can’t get the hint, he’ll come from behind you and suck on your neck. Grabbing every inch of you as his eyes remain on the man in front. A daring look to make his next move.

X-ray:

Now Yuta may not be the girthiest but then again it’s not like he’s not big. Man a guy like him, confident and assure of himself you know he’s packing. He’s confident in his size and he’s got nothing to hide. Hey he can make you cry for his dick so that’s the biggest accomplishment he can ever get.

Yearning:

He has a very high sex drive. Like crazy insane high! He can never seem to have enough of you, he’s high off you. But it’s not like you’re complaining, for you two it’s normal to have sex ten times a week, but when he’s on tour or schedules are busy. That is when the sexting starts, one time he couldn’t stand it no more so he booked you a ticket out to see him. All concert he searched for you in the crowd and tried everything in his power to not get hard. Yeah he can’t control himself around you and he makes it known, boys tease and taunt but Yuta proudly agrees. Ignoring them all over again as soon as he sets his eyes on you, prey about to be pounced on.

Zzz:

Yuta gets super drowsy after sex but you always come first so he forces himself to wake up. But when it’s night and both of you are exhausted, he basically tangles himself all over you. A strong grip so that you can’t get away from him. He can sleep for hours and for that, he wakes up with your side of the bed empty. Hating that you left him, he’d find you then fuck you for leaving him.

#nct scenarios #nct x reader #nct reactions #nct imagines #nct smut #yuta imagines #nct yuta #nakamoto yuta #yuta x reader #yuta smut #nct 127 smut #yuta scenarios #yuta #nct 127

[astrologyandlife]

29° and 0° in astrology

the 29th and 0 degrees are said to be "critical" degrees in astrology, meaning that anything sitting in these degrees have a special influence on its expression and impact on the rest of the chart. so, i thought it would be a good idea to explore these two degrees and what they could mean for you guys!

part i: the 29th degree

the 29th degree is the very last degree of any zodiac sign. it is said to be the anaretic degree. here, the most difficult challenges related to the placement in question are presented, as everything else has been mastered. there is also a sense of inevitability with this placement. this is often marked by a turning point in the individual’s life.

sun – the ego and identity are strong, but there could be external circumstances that don’t allow the individual to express themselves in a completely authentic or transparent way. they must reconcile who they are inside with how they act. at times, they feel like an imposter, or like they are selling out to others. they know who they are, but do other people? this feeling that something is physically blocking them from existing impacts every action they take. they must figure out what is holding them back from complete self-expression and give themselves permission to be themselves in spite of this.

moon – this is where the most complex, desolate emotions a person can feel lie—the kinds of emotions that make you think nobody could possibly understand your experience. as a result, there is a profound sense of isolation and a difficulty integrating their emotional experiences into their self-expression. this only increases the intensity of the emotions, creating many situations of turbulence. sometimes the individual ends up completely blocking their emotions off to cope. only by facing their emotions head-on can they assuage these feelings and achieve a balanced state.

mercury – there is a tendency to get stuck in vicious cycles involving self-doubt and overthinking here. as a result, they sabotage their own efforts to make good decisions and communicate clearly. even a genius can make a fool out of himself. there can be this issue where they overthink sometimes and don’t think enough other times. they have this nagging feeling that they are missing some piece of information that is undiscovered or concealed from them. the final lesson is to trust the knowledge and experience they have to make the right decision.

venus – a profound sense of loneliness is pervasive throughout their life, as though every relationship they could have now would be empty and devoid of true connection. it’s entirely possible for these individuals to have trust issues, fall into unhealthy patterns in their relationships, and avoid intimacy. perhaps there is a part of themselves who feels they are unlovable in some way, or there is this one thing wrong with them, which they must forgive completely, the same way they would forgive and love another person.

mars – a desperation to act conflicts with a lack of confidence in their capability to do so. often this leads to them being frozen in the headlights like a deer, thinking, I have to do something but what if it’s wrong? the balance between too much and too little is blurred, leading to inconsistency and turbulence in their lives. they often end up in situations where they are forced to make snap decisions. re-calibrating their approach to conflict and matching their energy to the situation will relieve this problem.

jupiter – without thinking, these individuals over-indulge and rely on their luck and natural talents in some way. they want more of something, and it’s almost as though there is no satisfaction through receiving it. there is both a sense of hollowness and complacency that permeates as a result, and they forget how to materialize success through their own efforts. to remedy this, they must seek out growth, exploration, and expansion in its purest sense, to open their minds to a higher being or knowledge.

saturn – restrictive patterns are almost always the issue here. these individuals deprive them of something in their lives, not allowing even a moment of pleasure or reprieve from the overwhelming sense of responsibility they feel. external circumstances, especially in early life, have placed an undue burden on them, in some cases leading them to do anything to escape any responsibility placed on them later in life. to fix this, they have to let go of the guilt and fear they feel to give themselves back their agency.

uranus – how can they move forward? where is there to go that hasn’t been gone to before? in the same way that the sun in this degree struggles to find true authenticity in this liminal space, so too do these individuals struggle to find progression. somewhere they got stuck and stopped embracing their own unique qualities, which has made it impossible for them to then accept anything else. the final turning point here is to open their mind completely, to embrace entirely the open possibilities of the world.

neptune — this is the deepest recesses of this planet, where material reality as we know it does not even exist. at its most extreme, these individuals find it hard to live in this world because reality is simply too harsh for them in some way. escapism exists in its most extreme form, and the subconscious is too influential. and so, they need to escape themselves. here, the power has been given to a force that is not the individual, but rather something external to them. the task is to give this power back to the conscious individual, to escape the dream they have created for themselves and return to reality.

pluto — here, the complete death has occurred for the person. they have experienced the transformation, the change, and the end of the cycle. perhaps they have experienced in many times in their life. but the last stage hasn’t occurred yet. they become stuck before the rebirth stage, unable to complete the process. thus, the same situation happens over and over, re-opening wounds. the final turning point is to accept the change and open themselves up completely to renewal, to move on for good. lay it to rest.

part ii: the 0 degree

in contrast, the 0 degree is the very first degree of any zodiac sign. this is where the traits of the sign are most clearly and cohesively expressed, and also where there is the most to learn. you express this placement in a very raw, almost untouched way.

aries – there is a childlike innocence and naivete here, as well as an exaggerated impatience and sense of urgency. they feel that there is no time to wait. strong desire to be first and be a leader, even if they don’t know how to be one. there’s almost like a reckless quality to them. extremely assertive to a point of being hostile when others tell them what to do.

taurus – they are stubborn and fixed to the point of being unable to budge. it’s essentially impossible to stop the momentum once they’ve started, and they’re in it for the long haul. they can get stuck in their thinking and behavior patterns, doing the same thing over and over. absolutely must have stability and security in situations or they won’t commit.

gemini – absolutely no tolerance for boredom or lack of activity. they have to be doing something at all times, and often more than one thing. they’re extremely scattered. their curiosity drives them and they’re always asking questions or trying to learn more. they are constantly taking in information and changing their mind, never able to “settle.”

cancer – sensitive and emotional to the point where they can’t hide their feelings. here, there is someone who is very shy, cautious, and puts a protective shell around themselves. they have an intuition that is spot-on. very needy and moody. plays the role of caregiver and can be seen as a motherly figure. empathy is turned up all the way.

leo – they are completely self-focused and wants to be the center of attention. they want people’s eyes on them at all times, and they know how to light up a room. natural actors and tend toward being extremely dramatic. there is a sense of complete confidence in their abilities and pride in themselves. they refuse to settle for less than what they believe they deserve.

virgo – devoted to the service of others, typically in the form of providing feedback, criticism, and a helping hand. very critical and vocal about imperfections. they have an eye for detail that is unmatched. any form of disorganization or chaos is distressing to them, and they have highly specific routines and rituals. mind is constantly running to analyze and process information.

libra – cannot be alone whatsoever, and they are constantly seeking out connections with others. they are a complete pushover and seek out compromise in every situation. there is a desire to always seem agreeable and likeable. they often find themselves mediating for others, and there is an extreme need for harmony and balance. indecisive to the point of being paralyzed/hurt.

scorpio – the most private you’ll ever meet, and it’s impossible to get information out of them. feels the need to keep everything to themselves. has tons of secrets. they are super obsessive and will latch on to things quickly. needs control or to feel powerful in any situation. constantly on the defensive and trying to psychoanalyze the situation.

sagittarius – have an attitude of “it will all work out, don’t worry” even when they should be worrying. it’s impossible to tie down or get them to settle, because they have an intense need for freedom at all times. blindly faithful and optimistic. have a tendency to do things completely spontaneously. can feel claustrophobic when unable to freely act.

capricorn – absolutely rooted in tradition, even to the point of being narrow-minded. they constantly have to be going after success or achievement. the sense of responsibility is always present, which can lead to feelings of guilt or failure. an old soul from the beginning. a sense of “I have to get this right and prove myself” in anything they do.

aquarius – always has to be moving forward and making progress. extreme quirks are very possible here. highly open-minded and non-judgmental, and almost nothing surprises/shocks them. a savant, genius, or revolutionary. always at odds with figures of authority or traditionalists. a humanitarian to the extreme. they are ahead of their time.

pisces – hyper-sensitive to subtle influences and can be very spiritual or superstitious as a result. there’s an ever-present need to escape in some way, and they usually and have vivid imagination/rich fantasies. there can be a sense of directionlessness or shapelessness. the ultimate chameleon.

sun - feels the need for validation of who they are from others, projects a ton of confidence that they may not really have, very performative and forthright in expression. moon - often blindsided by their emotions, has difficulty realizing their needs and wants, less polished about handling their feelings. mercury - always curious and wants to know more, may present as a know-it-all or assert authority over topics, venus - loves the newness of relationships, craves connection and romance, wants to be well-liked by others, rejection is hard for them. mars - always in "go" mode, lots of energy and motivation, can be quick to anger or rile up, ends up in dangerous situations a lot. saturn - inherently assumes responsibility, has to learn lessons multiple times, tries to be disciplined and fails often. jupiter - lots of faith and optimism, definitely naive at heart, open to new experiences and chances for growth. uranus - has a lot of small quirks, open-minded and progressive, has a mindset of wanting to keep moving forward. neptune - rich imagination and a love for fantasy, feels directionless or like the possibilities are endless. pluto - may struggle with changes or transformations, lots of growth ahead of them, a strong presence that is very raw.

finally, i'd like to link some resources for further reading:

· https://www.astro.com/astrology/aa_article190801_e.htm (my favorite--super in-depth and peer-reviewed/published!)

· https://advanced-astrology.com/anaretic-degree/

· https://www.astrologyweekly.com/blog/29-degrees-the-anaretic-degree/

#other #this one took a couple months to put together due to needed to do heavy research! #astrology #degree theory #degrees #astro #natal chart

[neptunusscribit]

"Please, I want to fuck you," he finally confessed. I had him flustered, pinned to a wall, and it took him all of thirty seconds to break down like that. Of course I wouldn't let him get off that easily, but it was nice to know. I removed my leg from between his thighs and leaned back slightly, looking him in the eyes. "Say it again," I commanded.

His resolve waivered. "P- please can I fuck you?"

I shook my head in mock confusion. "Now that's not what you said originally."

He swallowed a whimper and took a second to build up some courage. Firmer this time, he spoke: "I want to fuck you. I want to fuck your brains out, and I want to cum inside of you."

A little corny, but we could work with that. I grinned and let his hands go from where I had been holding them, above his head. He was a bit taller and stronger than I was so I know he had been letting me pin him. I let him wrap his arms around me as he pulled me in for a kiss, and he showed off that strength enough that I almost considered letting him take me there like he had asked.

One hand behind my head, another on the small of my back (quickly reaching lower), he made his desire known through every motion. He kissed me deeply, and after some time his tongue parted my lips. I let him have his fun, let him feel in control, until I pulled away to focus my attention down his chin, his neck. I pulled his shirt off to work my way down his chest, leaving a kiss every inch. I knelt, teasing along his waistband. I felt his fingers tangle in my hair and grinned, knowing what he expected.

I quickly undid the button, then the zipper to his tight pants. Soon I revealed what I was after. I had him take them the rest of the way off, and from the way he stood I know he would have done anything for me then. I took his cock in my hands, hard already, and gave it a few tentative strokes. I kissed my way up the length, lingering on the head, and watched it twitch. I felt his grip on my head flex with every contact, and his breath grew deeper as I progressed.

After a few moments I stopped, leaning back, and performed a more thorough inspection. I pulled it to one side, the the other, stretching the skin here and there. I lifted it up and grinned when it twitched. When he finally looked down, confused, I responded with an overdramatic sigh. "This isn't going to work. You're just too hairy." He wasn't actually, but it was the best I could do on short notice. A pause, then I acted like I had suddenly come up with an idea. "Oh, I know! Come with me." Dumbfounded, he followed me into my bathroom. I thought about pulling him along by his dick, but I figured that would be too forward. I wanted to give him the feeling that he was still in charge, for now.

During the whole process, I acted like it would only take a second, a momentary interruption in an otherwise-routine hookup. I had him stand, fully nude, as I sat on a stool and inspected him, manicure scissors in hand. He looked at me awkwardly, not sure what to do with his hands. Eventually he held them behind his back, but I couldn't help noticing he stayed extremely hard during the process. I trimmed the hair back from around his shaft, taking each tuft and cutting it about a quarter-inch away from the skin. I trimmed down around his balls, giving them firm tugs to keep the skin taut. He especially perked up at that, but continued to trust me through the process without a word. For my part, I made little satisfied noises every time I cleared an area, or sat back to admire my handiwork. Though I took my time, eventually I finished. And I must say, I did a damn fine job.

"And now for the shower!" I clapped, which must have cought him even more off-guard.

"The... shower?"

"Of course. Otherwise that hair will get all over the place!" I made a face that was partly conciliatory, partly a dare to question me. He decided not to. I turned on the shower and swept up the floor, leaving him to stand there uncomfortably. That would put him in the right mindset. I took off my clothes, and it must have taken him a second to realize that I was getting in there with him. He seemed to like that idea, and also the fact that I was stripping in front of him. I tried not to be too sexy about it, it wasn't for his pleasure after all, but a little teasing could always be had.

After the water was warm, I lead him into the shower and positioned him under the stream. It was gentle, flowing through his hair and leaving rivulets down his chest. He looked at me, and I leaned in to kiss him. Both naked, our wet bodies pressed together, his breath mingled with mine in a long kiss. Eventually I leaned back, smiling, and lathered up my hands with a cotton-scented body wash. I started at his neck, running suds over his collarbone, and slowly worked my way down each arm. I coated his wrists, palms, and between his fingers before the water rushed it all away. I got more soap for his chest, and turned him around to get his back as well. He pressed his hands against the side off the shower as I knelt to wash his legs, consciously skipping the part we had come in here to clean. I worked my way up and down each leg, from his toes to his upper thigh, before finally wrapping my hands around his cock. It had started to droop, but the slick soap on my hands quickly rectified that. I had him worked up again in no time, breathing heavy with the occasional moan. I had him rinse off before I pushed him against the shower wall and took him into my mouth for a long moment, eliciting a long, deep moan.

I grinned and stood up, shutting off the water and grabbing a towel. He was still struck from the pleasure and let me towel him off, bit by bit. When I felt done I stood up straight, cocked my head and looked at him, asking "didn't you want to fuck me, baby?" He nodded weakly, but I could tell the pampering had done its job. This time I did take him by the cock, leading him out into the bedroom, where I pushed him onto the bed. "Well then I'd better hear you start begging."

He made a whimpering noise, trying to find the words as I held his arms down above his head. Funny how we kept coming back to that pose, despite his strength. I guess he just needed to beg a little harder.

"Please let me fuck you. Please, baby. I need it so bad. Please, please, please..."

I looked back at him, unimpressed. I leaned back, straddled over his dick, and began to touch myself with my free hand. "Is this what you want, baby?" I spread my lips and held them directly above his dick, tantalizingly close. "This right here? If you want to fuck my pussy, all you have to do is show me how badly you want it."

He whimpered again, trying to find the words, but I saved him the trouble. I slid my body up and placed my thighs on either side of his head, lowering myself down on his mouth. He took to it eagerly, knowing exactly what I meant. His tongue lapped at my clit eagerly, and I adjusted the pressure by grinding against his face. I released his hands, holding them against my hips for stability. "Oh, that's such a good pet, so eager, so ready. You must want to fuck me so bad, baby. Look at how wet you are. You're humping the air while I hump your face. Absolutely adorable." My breath hitched a few times as I continued the teasing praise, when he hit a spot particularly well or when my own shivers started. Eventually I was close, and I gripped his hair for even more leverage as I felt him speed up. Soon enough my whole body quaked, my thighs tightened around his head and my hips stopped rocking. I rode out wave after wave of pleasure on his face, murmuring the occasional moan or "good boy."

When I was good and satisfied, I released him from between my legs. I laid beside him, running my fingers down his chest. I even traced a few lines up and down his cock before looking back up to his needy face.

"Please," he whispered, and I pretended not to hear. I simply ran a finger over his nipple, mindlessly toying with him.

"Please, I want to fuck you," he said louder. I looked up to his face and considered.

"You're sure you can be a good boy about it?"

"Yes, I'll do anything." Anything is a dangerous thing, but unfortunately I didn't have the wherewithal to test those limits right now. While riding his face had been nice, I truly did need him inside of me.

I grinned. "Well then what are you waiting for? Get on over here and fuck me."

He seemed hesitant, unsure if it was a trick, but he got up and moved between my legs anyways.

I prodded slightly. "What is it, baby? Didn't you want my pussy? Didn't you want to grab me and take me? What was it- to fuck my brains out?"

Emboldened, he pulled my legs up and slid himself towards my entrance.

I pushed even further. "Oh, won't you be a good boy and fuck me? Don't you just want to grab my hips and go wild? Don't you just want to use my body like a toy? Be a good boy and-"

That was all it took, before he was inside of me. And truly, it had been an excellent decision to rile him up. He pushed my knees to my chest, opening me up for him, and slid deep inside on the first thrust. I was more than wet enough, which was good because he had no intention of stopping. After he settled into a rhythm, I began to prod again. "Aren't you such, such a good boy, fucking me so deep, don't you just want to grab my hair, oh thank you baby, such an obedient boy, oh can't you kiss me, mmm, good little pet, don't you just want to flip me over and spank me, don't you want to push my face into the bed while you pound me from behind, isn't that what you want?"

And sure enough, he did. I felt a hand flip me over so I was on all fours, his dick back inside me with only a moment's pause. I could only tease him for a moment after that, as my face was surrounded by pillows, so I took the opportunity to reward him with moans and whimpers, one for each thrust. I felt him place a firm handprint on my ass before using it as a grip for his frantic thrusts. I felt him pound me deeper and deeper into the bed until I was nearly prone. I felt him grunt, his legs clench, before pulling my body deep over his cock one last time. I felt him spill out inside of me, and I felt his relief as he did do. I turned my head to the side for the praise: "Such a good boy, such an obedient little thing. So happy to fuck me exactly the way I want, so needy to give me what I desire. Such a good thing." I felt him continue to twitch inside of me, the praise not going unanswered.

He held me like that until he had his fill, before we curled up and I continued my praises with him in my embrace. "Such a pretty thing, lost in the heat of fucking me, weren't you so cute. Of course we'll have to do it again, if only you continue to prove so obedient. You were so adorable, maybe we should get you a leash, then you can follow my instructions exactly, oh yes wouldn't that be nice..."

#nsft #inspection #instructions

[lin-nin]

Hey I totally loved reading your head cannons about Techno, Schlatt, Dream, and BBH accidentally killing their s/o's. I had a request and feel free to decline this if it's too heavy or whatever. What if those four lost a baby with you? Be it a child or a premature baby.

onHe We really suffering with these four two days in a row, huh? Obvious warning for pregnancy, birth, death, gore, miscarriage, all the like! This definitely is a heavier topic but I have no problem writing it. Obvious afab reader, as well :) Added a bonus Philza bc this angst prompt was screaming for some Philza.

Techno losing his child

When you had told Techno you were pregnant, carrying his child, he had been ecstatic. The way he smiled at you was enough to make you melt, especially as he held you close. He would often hold your forming bump, or nuzzle his face against it. The way he cared for you and the child you shared was so incredibly tender, making sure everything was okay for the two of you, for your unplanned family.

He rarely left you alone for long, not wanting you to be unprotected. He had only been at the farm when you had felt it, the sharp pain in your back. It had you staggering, tears in your eyes and hand fluttering immediately to your stomach. You knew something was wrong, and it was confirmed when the blood was on your thighs. You had screamed bloody murder, causing Techno to rush in, axe drawn. Ready to take down whatever had caused you to scream. Only to freeze when he saw you on the floor, sobbing and screaming.

It didn’t take long for him to understand. Especially with the amount of blood there was. He didn’t grieve at first, so worried for you. You always came first. He had helped you, albeit with shaking hands, clean everything up. He even helped you into the tub, hands stroking your hair from your face. You had grown numb and despondent, barely aware of his words. It hurt to see you like that.

He reassured you that it wasn’t your fault- because it wasn’t. It was nothing either of you could have stopped, but you still blamed yourself. He did mourn, though. While unplanned, he had been excited. He had looked forward to being able to raise a child with you. He reassured you in the end that the two of you could try again. Whenever the both of you were ready.

Schlatt losing his child

Becoming pregnant had not been your intention. Not in your plans for years to come. You had simply been fooling around, drinking with Schlatt and maybe getting a bit handsy. So when a few months had passed and you found yourself sick on the regular, a growing bump on your stomach, you were horrified. Not against it, entirely. Just taken purely by surprise.

Schlatt had been a little more vocal about it, expressing his disbelief loudly. He didn’t want to be a father. At least he didn’t think he did. He had just wanted to have fun. That’s all he ever wanted- to do as he please. He didn’t please to be a parent. Yet it was coming anyways.

As he watched you teeter around, pregnancy increasingly obvious, he found himself much more open to the idea. And when you had given birth- a healthy baby boy- he was there. He was there, and he was sober. He even was teary eyed when he got to hold his son. Everything was okay for a couple of weeks, until you noted that he wasn’t eating as much as he should be. He only seemed to grow weaker from there, before succumbing to whatever sickness had grabbed a hold of him.

You had cried, feeling utterly broken. Like you hadn’t protected him enough. Schlatt lapsed into drinking more than normal. He was angrier, snapping at anyone who even brought up his son. The only person he tolerated it from was you. Especially when you had shown up, eyes red from crying, requesting a drink. The two of you weren’t together, but you could definitely grieve your son together. It was, at the very least, cause for a friendship between you two. You had wanted a son, you had had him, and you had lost him. Schlatt felt largely the same, and the only thing that numbed the pain of the loss was alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

Dream losing his child

Whatever gods there were seemed to have a sick sense of humor. You loved Dream so much. Everyone knew it, it was clear in the way you looked at him. Everyone knew he loved you the same, too. Especially in the early days, when he didn’t hide his tender touches and soft kisses from the public eye. Even when things started to change, when he grew defensive and angry, he still loved you the same. Even if it was harder for everyone else to tell, you knew. You could see it in his eyes. You were his weakness.

Which had lead to an argument between the two of you. You were a weakness, a liability, in danger. Something he needed to rid himself of. Which was when you had dropped on him that you were pregnant. It wasn’t what you had planned, not the way you’d wanted to tell him. It was almost as if the words had short circuited his brain, tongue turning to lead. He seemed to soften up after that. At least towards you. Only in private. In public he had only seemed to deny any attachment to you vehemently.

Your pregnancy had progressed normally, and everyone quickly knew of it. There were some congratulations, while others worried about Dream’s ability to be a father figure. You didn’t entirely pay them mind. Of course, nothing ever went smoothly with Dream. You had no way of knowing that when you went into labor, your baby would have come out without air in her little lungs or a beat to her heart. You had cried, so much. Holding her little body against you. Dream had seemed to shut down, staring down at his lifeless daughter.

He seemed distant afterwards. He blamed himself, truly. For maybe if he had been a better person, his daughter would have been born alive. He had practically cut you off, saying that he couldn’t risk you going through that pain and loss again due to his actions. It showed him that even if he wanted all the control in the world, there were some things he couldn’t control. The best way he could control this was by removing you from being put in that situation again.

Bad losing his child

Bad was always vocal with his love for you. You adored it, relishing in the way he would proudly tell anyone who would listen about you. It was endearing and you couldn’t help but tug at his sleeve to get him to lean down so you could kiss his cheek. That’s why it was no surprise when you had fallen pregnant. It was still in the early days, then, too. Back when L’Manberg was still around. You didn’t involve yourself too much with it, though. You were too focused on making everything perfect for your baby.

Bad had pampered you like there was no tomorrow. Getting you flowers, and your favorite baked goods from Nihachu. He would carry you around everywhere. He doted on you and made sure you got everything you wanted and that you were as healthy as can be. You adored it, and always responded by kissing the tip of his horns lovingly.

That’s why it was a surprise when your contractions had come early. Far too early. Bad fretted over you, which only seemed to stress you out. The baby was so tiny when she was born. Yet she was alive, and somehow still perfect. Your sweet angel. You loved her, staying by her side religiously. Bad was much the same, scared to even sleep. She spent so long fighting for her life. She was too small, too young, too underdeveloped. You knew it would happen eventually, her chances of survival low. It was why you cherished every moment with her.

Yet when she had finally lost the energy to fight to breathe, in your arms, you bawled. You cried for days on end, letting Bad hold you close as you did. He only held you, rocking you back and forth. He was hurt, unsure what to say o comfort you. Until one day he came to you, a newfound light in his eyes. Claiming to have found your baby, just in a new form. You had followed him, hoping that whatever it was he was right about. As you saw the red vines he presented to you, you felt the same attachment you had felt for your daughter. This really was her, wasn’t it?

Philza losing his child

Philza had been so excited when you had given birth to his son. His second child, at least biologically. He doted on the pair of you like there was no tomorrow. Always telling you how proud he was of you, how much he loved you. Giving your son everything in the world. After all, after losing Wilbur, he was determined to make sure he didn’t lose his second child. Especially when the boy’s wings started to flourish.

Teaching him to fly had always been his favorite thing, especially as he got the hang of it and could effortlessly soar through the skies with him. You would often find shelter under a tree, fondly watching the pair of them fly. As he grew, he had begun flying on his own, straying further from Philza. You never worried. There wasn’t anything to worry about. Until one day you watched him get struck in the chest with the bolt of a crossbow, helplessly watching him plummet almost immediately to the ground.

You had screamed, and so had Philza. He absolutely could not lose a second son, but watching his child speed down to the earth, he already knew he had. He looked with a vengeance for who had killed his son, while you scrambled your way over to where he had landed. Finding the culprit was easy, at least with wings. He hadn’t even thought twice when he had found the fleeing orange flurry that was undoubtedly his grandson. His trident wasn’t in his hand for long, being thrown straight into him.

Fundy had been vehement in his last breaths, insisting that Philza couldn’t love him as a grandson, and couldn’t love his other son properly either. Philza had no interest in his words, simply ripping his trident from his body and leaving. He grieved heavily when he had returned to your side, helping you bury your son. Despite his grief, and clear depression, he never pushed you away or distanced himself. If anything, he seemed to hold you closer. As if it would repair the damage left on both of you.

#Anonymous #philza #technoblade #badboyhalo #dream #schlatt #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #badboyhalo x reader #dream x reader #schlatt x reader #mcyt x reader #tw death #tw gore #tw blood #tw pregnancy #tw miscarriage

[ava-achlys]

The Boyz NSFW Scenarios

Lee Sangyeon - Captive

cop! Sangyeon x crime boss! fem! reader

Warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it up kids), dubious consent, slight degradation, sub!Sangyeon

Submissive Sangyeon is a kink I never knew I had. JK I definitely have a thing for turning dominant-seeming men into little darling subbies. Welp, I hope you enjoy this filth I put together in 3 hours.

Sangyeon's an undercover cop trying to bust you and your crew. Things don't go entirely according to plan.

Sangyeon awoke with a start, eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. His wrists are chained to the wall and he is completely naked except for his underwear. He starts to get angry, shaking his chains to try to loosen them.

"You'd best not do that, officer. One wrong move and it'll cut off your blood circulation." A sickeningly sweet voice cuts through the darkness and Sangyeon whips his head around, trying to find you. A light turns on, and dimly illuminates your figure. Sangyeon growls and tugs at his restraints again.

"Let me go," Sangyeon growled. "Or you're gonna regret it." You laugh airily. "Actually I think you're going to regret it if I let you go." His eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"Darling, if you leave, you're gonna miss out on a lot of fun," you bring a hand up to stroke his cheek. "Don't touch me," he spits. You shrug nonchalantly, walking back to the table.

"Fine. I won't touch you." You retrieve a vibrator and walk back towards him with a devilish grin. Sangyeon widens his eyes in horror at what you're wielding and begins to protest.

"No, no stop, what are you- ahh!" He yelps as you press the vibrator into his cockhead that's leaking through his tight, white briefs. The wet patch of fabric that has turned translucent grows as Sangyeon gushes more precum from the stimulation. He thrashes around, chains clanging as he begs for you to stop. You ignore his cries and continue to run the vibrator up and down his impressive length.

You pull away the vibrator for a moment and watch as he bucks his hips forward, chasing that delicious sensation. You laugh, slapping him on the thigh, which elicits a pained moan. "You keep telling me to stop, but it seems like you don't actually want me to. Make up your mind, silly officer."

You continue to mock him by pressing the vibrator against his cock for a second, then removing it, and repeating it over and over until he actually starts terafully whining in frustration. You laugh at his misery, sneering at him, "Big, scary officer turning into a whiny little bitch? Pathetic." You take away the vibrator and grab his balls harshly, making him howl in pain.

You grope him through his drenched briefs and he starts to welcome the feeling of pain mixed with pleasure. He hates that he enjoys being tortured by you, a criminal he had sworn to take down, but he can't deny that you were hot, and that this situation was wonderfully wrong on so many levels. But since he was trapped here, might as well enjoy it right?

Sangyeon snaps out of his thoughts when he hears you switch the vibrator on with a click. He looks down at your devilish smirk and watches as you pull the waistband of his briefs open, only to shove the vibrator into his underwear, right between his balls and cock, before snapping the elastic back into place. His whole body jolts and he starts trembling from the intense stimulation in such a sensitive area.

The chains around his wrists clang as he thrashes around, hips canting up wildly, desperate for release. You stand back to admire your masterpiece. He's flushed red all over, teary eyes screwed shut, drool spilling from his lips as he shamelessly moaned, toes curling in pleasure. He's calling your name, begging you for something, anything. He doesn't even know what he's begging for, all he knows is that he wants is to cum.

And he does, spilling hot semen into his soaked briefs, some of it spurting through the fabric and landing on the floor with the force of his orgasm. He screams in pain and pleasure as the vibrations continue to overstimulate him and his blushing cock just keeps pulsing out more and more cum. He begs you to make it stop, knees nearly buckling from exhaustion.

You pretend to think for a moment, and you decide to give a him a little break. You walk over to him and wrench the vibrator from his ruined underwear and switch it off. He sobs in relief and his body goes slack, slinking against the wall, panting harshly. You look at the cum that's covering the head of the vibrator, and dip your tongue in it to taste. You hum at the bittersweet taste of your archenemy, the man who had made the past few months so difficult for you, ruining every operation you tried to initiate.

You continue to lick his cum off the vibrator as you bask in your victory. You finally broke him. You adored how small and pathetic he looked after just one round of torture playtime. He hung his head in shame, body still twitching occasionally with aftershocks from his orgasm. You take your panties off, which had been getting progressively wetter as you were extremely aroused by watching Sangyeon come undone.

You walk over to him and undo his chains, making him fall to the ground on his knees. He looks up at you in surprise, his dark brown orbs filled with confusion. You grip his hair harshly and he whines, as you slowly hitch up the bottom of your dress, exposing your slick folds. He licks his lips nervously, his confusion slowly turning into excitement. He eyes your pussy and glances back up to meet your intense gaze.

"You didn't think we're actually done, did you? Why do you get to cum and I don't?" You smile sinisterly down at him. He gulps, readying himself for what's to come. Somewhere along the way he lost his inhibitions and was overcome with the desire to please you. He calls your name in a whisper. Your smile widens, and his chest swells. He wants to see you smile more. He wants to impress you. He wants to pleasure you.

You move to stand over him, legs spread and your pussy dripping tantalizingly before his eyes. You nod at him, and he dives in to lick at your folds ravenously, as if the sweet taste of your juices would quench the burning thirst within him. You let out a moan, gripping his sweaty locks even tighter, pushing his face into your cunt. He sucks hard on your clit, he kisses your folds, he thrusts his tongue into your tight hole and makes a filthy mess, complete with wet, squelching sounds.

You grind onto his face as he continues to tongue-fuck you, breathy moans spilling from your own lips. His hands come up to grab your ass, pulling you impossibly closer so he can thrust his tongue deeper into you. You feel a familiar sensation building in your tummy and pull him away, a line of spit trailing from his lips to your clit.

He looks up at you, dazed. Was he not doing well enough? Before he could ask, you push him down to lay on his back and rip his briefs off and start pumping his half-hard cock. He was getting aroused again just by making out with your pussy and you smile at the thought. You rub your folds up and down his length, slicking him up with your juices. He watches you in excitement, hands coming up to rest on your waist. He guides you to seat yourself on his dick, both of you moaning at the feeling of his thick cock stretching out your tight, wet heat.

Once he bottomed out, you lean forward to press a kiss to his lips, which he accepts hungrily. "Make me cum," you commanded him simply. He begins to thrust up into you, and you bounce on his dick, meeting his thrusts halfway each time. The sounds of moans and wet skin slapping fill the cavernous room, echoing off the walls. He groans at the sight of your tits bouncing in his face and he pulls you down so he can suck on your nipples. He's got one hand on your ass and the other is groping your tits and pinching your nipples.

You moan loudly at the pinches, licks and twists he's giving to your hard nipples, loving the way your body makes him go cross-eyed in pleasure. He's moaning intermittently around your breasts too, his hips continuously pistoning into your pussy once he'd found that sweet spot. He mumbles that he's getting close again, and you wrap a hand around his throat.

"Make me cum first, then you can cum inside me." He nods furiously, giving his all into fucking you, chasing both your orgasms. You let him take control of the pace, burying your face in his neck as he pounds into you, breathlessly chanting your name in praises. Fuck you feel so good, so tight and wet, you're driving me crazy, my cock feels like it'll burst, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise and you scream in pleasure, choking Sangyeon unintentionally. His hips stutter and he cums for the second time that night, the pressure around his throat pushing him over the limit. He grinds up into you, filling you up with his seed. He moans lowly as he rides his orgasm out with you, holding you close.

The room is silent, save for the sounds of both of you panting, trying to catch your breaths. He kisses you on your shoulder with a dazed, fucked out look on his face, and you stifle a giggle. You stroke his hair as a means of assuring him that he did well, before getting up and off his dick. Your dress was soaked with sweat and his cum dribbled out of your abused cunt and down your thighs. Your knees were a little wobbly but you managed to stand in your high heels.

You start to walk away and he panickedly calls after you, legs too jelly to even attempt to stand. You shoot him a look over your shoulder, calling out "It was fun, you did so well. Unfortunately that's all for tonight." He scrambles to sit up, but you're already too far away for him to crawl after. He's protesting and spluttering in panic as you give him a little wave before slamming the door shut, leaving him alone in the darkness, covered in sweat and filth.

As you walk away, you hear him wail in despair, and you smirk triumphantly. Serves you right, officer.

#sangyeon #sangyeon smut #the boyz #the boyz smut #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #achlys: tbz imagines #sub!sangyeon

[intheticklecloset]

You're the Coolest (Haikyuu!!)

Primary Universe

@happyandticklish We're going back in time again! Consider this a bit of backstory for the events of "Burn Some Calories." I personally really love this one; there's not enough ticklish Noya in the world and he's so dang cute! Thanks so much for the fun prompt! Enjoy! ^^

~

This little first-year was at once making him look really bad and pushing him to do even better.

From the moment he’d introduced himself, Yuu Nishinoya had taken the court by storm. The kid was a natural libero, able to receive and defend better than anyone Asahi had ever known before. His bright smile and outgoing personality lit up the gym, making practice both more fun and more intense as everyone strove to do better, inspired by his energy.

Asahi admired him greatly for that. He, too, promised to work harder and improve in all areas so he could be worthy of sharing the court with Noya. As time went on, though, he found that it didn’t seem to matter how hard he worked; the first-year was always several steps ahead of him. While Daichi, Suga, and the others began to serve better, block better, and spike better, he himself – the ace of the team – remained steadfast in doing just as well as he always had. Sure, every practice was helping him improve, but only marginally compared to his teammates. Noya was always smiling and encouraging, but Asahi felt more and more like he was being left behind, and the weight was crushing him.

All of that changed one night after practice.

“All right, guys,” the captain announced, “time to call it a day. First-years, clean up. Second-years, put the gear away.”

Everyone shouted their affirmation and scattered to do as they were told.

Noya came bounding up to him, grinning. “You were great today, Asahi! You’ve been working on your serves, right? I can tell.”

Asahi gave him a tired smile. “You don’t have to do that, Noya.”

“Huh? Do what?”

“Act like I’m making such great progress.” Asahi gripped the ball he was holding before tossing it into the bin nearby. “I’m obviously not.”

“Sure you are.” Noya looked up at him, eyes wide and earnest. “If I’m having to work harder to receive them, that means you’ve been working harder to improve them. It’s logic.”

“That’s more a testament to how amazing you are than anything.”

“You think I’m amazing?”

Asahi looked down at his underclassman, astonished. “Of course I think that. You are amazing, Noya.”

Noya beamed, gently pushing his fist into Asahi’s chest. “You’re amazing, too, ace.”

“Not compared to you. You’re so…so energetic and adaptive and tough, and I’m…I’m none of those things.”

“Tough? I’m not tough,” Noya laughed. “You’re the tough one.”

Asahi tossed another volleyball into the basket. “Yeah, right.”

“You are!”

“Noya!” Tanaka snapped from the supplies closet. “A little help would be nice!”

“Hang on a second, Tanaka,” the libero called back. “I’m giving a pep talk here.” He turned to look up at Asahi again. “You’ve got to believe in yourself more, dude. I can see you’re improving. All of us can. Why can’t you?”

“Sure, I’m improving. Just not enough.”

“Everyone moves at their own pace.”

“I’ll never be as awesome as you.”

Noya frowned, and the look was so unusual for him that it gave Asahi pause. “I’m not as invincible as you think I am, Asahi. I’ve got weaknesses, too.”

“I have yet to see one.”

“Where do I start? My test scores are average at best, I’m total crap at serving – kind of why I chose to play libero, honestly. Oh, and don’t get me started on my luck with girls—”

“I meant physically,” Asahi said quickly, putting an end to that train of thought. “Physical weaknesses. On the court. I haven’t seen any.”

Noya hesitated for a moment, suddenly looking embarrassed. He glanced around to make sure no one was listening in, then lowered his voice. “Look, I’ll admit something to you, because you need the encouragement and I trust you. But you’ve got to promise not to tell anyone else, okay?”

Asahi swallowed, nodding.

“I’m ticklish,” Noya said quickly, cheeks turning pink as he spoke. “Like, stupidly ticklish. One poke and I’m completely useless.”

Asahi stared at him. He scanned him up and down, his mind automatically filling in the blanks. Ribs, sides, waist, knees. All places he’d attack first if he were to tickle Noya. Not that he was going to, of course. Not after the libero had specifically said he trusted him.

“Oh,” he said at last, voice soft. He blinked, straightened. “Well…I suppose that counts.”

“Nishinoya!” Tanaka yelled.

Noya whirled around and ran to him. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!”

Asahi watched him go, then blindly – as if in a daze – picked up the rest of the volleyballs and helped take down the net, putting it away for the night. Ticklish, he thought, and that was all he could think. Noya’s ticklish. Noya’s ticklish. Noya’s ticklish.

Once the gym had been cleared up and cleaned up and the captain had locked the doors, Noya found Asahi again, prancing up to him as if it was the first time he’d seen him all week. “So, feeling better now, ace?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I guess so.” Asahi took one glance at the libero’s smiling face and lost all control. He wanted to see that smile more. Wanted to make him smile like that more. He was dying to hear what Noya sounded like when he was tickled. So, in a flash, he grabbed the little first-year’s sides and squeezed.

As promised, Noya immediately burst into giggles and crumpled to the ground, his legs giving out beneath him. “Nohohoho, Asahi!” he pleaded, holding up his hands defensively as the ace knelt down to join him and dug in again, more purposefully this time. “Nahahahahahahahaha! P-Please, I tohohohhohold you, I’m reheheheheheally ticklihihihihish!”

“You had to know I’d want to see for myself,” Asahi countered, beaming at the adorable sight but lightening his touch slightly.

“Ahahahahahahahaha! Sehehehehehee?! I’m n-nohohohohohot so tohohohohough, am I?”

“You’re the toughest person I know, Noya.” Asahi snatched up both of his wrists and held them above his head, using his free hand to wiggle his fingertips into the grooves of the libero’s ribcage. Noya spasmed, laughter spilling out of him faster than he seemed able to keep up with. “You’re just a sensitive guy, that’s all.”

“Tehehehehehell that to the lahahahahahahadies!” Noya retorted, squealing when Asahi found the backs of his ribs and kneaded there. He tossed his head back and laughed unguarded. “STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

Part of Asahi thought he should stop, but another, stronger part of him found that he simply couldn’t. Noya losing control of himself like this was just so…so unprecedented and unusual, not to mention the cutest thing he’d ever seen. He swung a leg over to pin his thighs down and dug in a little harder, enjoying the shriek he got in response.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE, ASAHIHIEHEHEHEHE!!” Noya begged, smiling uncontrollably as mirth burst out of him in helpless waves. “STOP, PLEHEHEHEHEASE, I CAHAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHAHAKE IT!!”

“You’re really ticklish, huh, Noya?” Asahi asked, half-teasing, half-serious. He trailed his fingers down to the libero’s belly and scribbled there. “It’s kind of cute.”

“SHUHUHUHUHUHUHUT UP!! I’M NOT CUHUHUHUHUHUHUTE!!” Noya insisted even through his frantic cackling and squirming. “I’M THE COHOHOHOHOHOOL, CONFIDENT LIHIHIHIHIHIBERO!!”

Asahi laughed with him at that. “Oh, are you, now? Not so cool and confident when I’ve got you pinned down like this, hmm?” He poked at Noya’s belly button, chuckling at the “eep!” he got as a reward. “Let’s see. Where’s your worst spot?”

“HAAH?!” Noya made a distressed noise through his giggling, twisting every which way under Asahi’s grasp. “N-Nohohoho, no, plehehease don’t, I cahahahahan’t take it! Reheheheheally!”

“I haven’t even found it yet!”

“Y-You wihihihihihill,” Noya replied, sounding nervous, his eyes panicked. “T-Then you’ll nehehever want to stop. Nohohoho one ever dohohoes.”

At that, Asahi pulled back, releasing Noya entirely as he climbed off of him. He frowned. “Whoa, dude, I’m sorry. Is this…is this traumatic for you?”

“No,” Noya groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes, still laying on the ground. “It’s just…I’ve got this reputation, you know? You were telling me yourself that you think I’m some awesome, unbeatable volleyball star. I…I like being cool like that. And this undermines that coolness.”

“Then why did you tell me?” Asahi asked. “If you were worried it would ruin your reputation?”

“Because it’s you,” Noya said, uncovering his eyes to look at him. “I trust you.”

I trust you. Those words again, with more meaning this time. Asahi smiled at him. “Then do you believe me when I say I’ll never tell anyone else about this? I’ll preserve your reputation. Don’t worry.”

“But…” the libero looked away, seeming embarrassed again. “My worst spot makes me sound ridiculous when I’m tickled there. There’s no coming back from that once you’ve heard it. That’s why I…I don’t want you to try it.”

Asahi felt a little wounded. “Why? Do you think I’ll think less of you?”

“Everyone always does. Once you lose your cool, you’re no longer cool. You know?”

“Noya, I’ll never think you’re not cool just because you’re a little ticklish. That’s silly.” When the libero didn’t answer, he continued, “But if you want me to stop here, I will.”

Noya turned to look at him again, and he frowned. “You really want to, don’t you?”

Asahi could feel himself blushing, but he couldn’t help it. “I mean…yeah. Tickling you just now was…was fun. I’d like to hear what other sounds you make. But not if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Ugh.” The first-year covered his face with his hands. “You’re the cool one, Asahi. I’d never let anyone else do this, you know? You’re the only one allowed to see me like this.”

Asahi’s heart leapt. “So…is it okay? Or do you want me to stop?”

“It’s my thighs.”

There was a pause. Taking that as an invitation, Asahi cautiously reached out to try said spot, but stopped when he realized Noya was still hiding. He leaned forward and gently pried his hands away, forcing him to make eye contact. The ace smiled, then carefully grabbed one of the libero’s thighs and squeezed.

Noya spasmed again, his smile back in an instant, and just as instantly covered up again.

“Don’t hide,” Asahi said, pulling his hands away again. “I want to see that smile.”

“You’re the worst,” Noya whined, giggling. “The actual worst. I can’t believe I’m letting you do this to me-EEEEEE!! NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

Asahi chuckled, scratching and scribbling along his thighs, enjoying how the lightest touch forced him into this amount of hysterics. “You know what, Noya? This is way more than just cute. This is cool.” He found the inner thighs and kneaded, making the libero toss his head back and scream like a banshee. “This is really, really cool.”

“NO IT’S NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOT!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHASAHIIIEEEEEE!!”

“Yes it is! Seeing you laugh so freely like that, like you don’t care who’s watching or listening? That’s really awesome. You’re the coolest, Noya.”

“SHUT UP, SHUT UHUHUHUHUHUHUHUP!!”

“Don’t be rude! I’m your upperclassman. I know what I’m talking about.” Asahi left Noya’s thighs, darting back up to his ribs and scribbling wildly, enjoying the tussle of trying to keep up while the little libero squirmed around on the ground, curling up, giggling wildly. “You’re so cool. The best first-year in the bunch. Don’t tell the others, though.”

“Please,” Noya wheezed, grabbing onto Asahi’s wrists, too weak to actually push them away. “Please, stohohohohop tehehehehelling me I’m cohohohohool whihihihihile you’re tihihihihihickling me!”

“But you are!” Asahi insisted, grinning at how red Noya’s cheeks were becoming. “I already thought you were cool, but your laughter is awesome. I think you’re cool whether you’re ticklish or not. I want you to believe me. Do you, Noya? Do you believe me?”

“Yehehehehehes, all rihihihihight, I’m the c-cohohohohohoolest kid on the theheheheheam!” Noya relented, giggling so hard he was gasping for breath. “Plehehehehease, stahahahahahap it! Let me gohohohohoho!”

Beaming, Asahi did as he was asked, allowing Noya to catch his breath before reaching down to squeeze his shoulder. “You’re the best, you know that? When you’re around I always want to do better. To improve. Having you share this with me and letting me indulge a little bit makes me feel like I can do anything. Because if our cool, confident libero trusts me enough to do this, there’s nothing I can’t do. Right?”

Nishinoya looked up at him incredulously, then burst out laughing all over again. “Oh my god, you’re such a sap!” he cried, clutching his stomach as he rolled onto his side. “All right, fine, you’ve convinced me. I’m glad my being so stupidly ticklish makes you feel invincible.”

“You’re not stupidly ticklish. You’re extremely ticklish,” Asahi countered, reaching down to scribble at his belly. “Because you’re an extremely cool person.”

Noya beamed, giggling, allowing his friend to have a little more fun at his expense.

From that day forward, he never called his sensitivity stupid again.

#fanfiction #tickle fic #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #hq #yuu #nishinoya #noya #asahi #azumane #cool #tough #playful #teasing #encouraging #affirmation #tickling #ticklish #tickle

[teamxdark]

Mirror, Mirror

Based off of this little interaction between @damnitd and @silvermun a long time ago. It’s basically unedited, but the story I’ll end up putting on AO3/FFnet another day won’t be much different from this one here.

What can one do, when the heart is split in two? Where does one end, and the other begin? Where is the line drawn? 

Or should it be drawn at all…?

Sonic stared at the twisted heap of metal on the kitchen counter, bisected by a sword, and tried his hardest not to scream.

“Lancelot,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even, “that was a toaster.”

The knight in question wrenched his sword from the mess, causing sparks to fly and little bits and bobs, both mechanical and breadlike, to scatter across the counter and fall to the floor. “It was burning up,” he explained gravely, “achieving heats far too intense for today’s weather. I could not trust it, and when it let out a scream, I had to act.”

“That ‘scream’ was an alarm,” Sonic snapped, too tired and hungry to deal with this nonsense. “That means that the toast is done and we can eat. Which we can’t now. Because you attacked the toaster.”

The dark hedgehog turned his sword over in his hands, and Sonic braced himself for his rebuttal, and then they would argue over who was in the right, but the knight uttered a soft, “I simply wished to protect you. I am still getting used to the complex machines of this era, and I cannot bring myself to trust them. I realize that this is… unbecoming of me, and an irritation to you. I apologize, and I will try my best to keep my impulses under control.”

Sonic let out his breath in a loud exhale. It was so easy to forget, still, that this wasn’t Shadow in front of him.

No one could quite explain how the switch had come to pass; one day, Shadow and he had parted ways, the sensation that there were still words left unspoken between them that would be better saved for another time, and the next day, Lancelot had been found in his place. 

The knight was having trouble adjusting, to put it lightly. It had been weeks, but the advanced technology of contemporary times drove him to paranoia, and Sonic had seen many a monitor, vehicle, and appliance fall victim to Arondight’s wrath, much to Tails’ chagrin.

Worse, still, was that Lancelot refused to stay anywhere aside from Sonic’s home. The knight graciously declined Shadow’s place, leaving Rouge and Omega down one roommate, staying instead in any spare room he could find, so long as it was where Sonic was staying as well. Rouge had laughed it off, waving the knight away with a taunt that he was ‘Sonic’s problem now’, but the hero had seen the flash of hurt and worry in her eyes.

No one knew where Shadow was, or if he was ever coming back.

And now incidents such as these, with another appliance in pieces, were commonplace.

Sonic rubbed at his forehead, trying to put his buzzing thoughts together in his head before he spoke. “Lance, I get that you’re trying to protect me from my evil cookware and all that, but I don’t get why.”

The knight started, one ear tilting to the side in confusion. “Why would I not? I swore to do so, did I not?”

“No,” Sonic deadpanned. “You didn’t.”

That seemed to offend Lancelot, who let go of his sword for a moment to cross his arms. “I do not wish to speak out of line,” he said, sounding like he was struggling to remain calm, “but you are mistaken. A knight is loyal to the sovereign who knights him, until the last of his days.”

“But I didn’t knight you!” Sonic protested, at the end of his rope. “I’m not your king!”

In response, Lancelot pushed up his visor, and Sonic took in the set jaw, the way his pointed white teeth bared themselves in a snarl, by all means, the spitting image of Shadow, with just the smallest thing here and there that harshly reminded Sonic that the one standing before him was not the one he had spent so many years with. He saw it in the same set jaw, as it trembled with the effort to keep everything held back. He saw it in the snarl, which was more dismayed than hostile. Most of all, he saw it in Lancelot’s eyes, red and wide and so very expressive without the visor to shield them away.

Sonic was so used to seeing those eyes guarded, cut off from him, with only the smallest of opportunities to peek inside before they closed him out again.

Lancelot reached out, holding one of Sonic’s hands in both of his, delicately, like he was something infinitely valuable and the knight was afraid of sullying him with his hands. Sonic had only blinked when Lancelot dropped to his knees, his head bowed forward, and he heard him clear his throat before he spoke.

“You are him. You may not believe me, but I know it to be true. You are Arthur, my king, in this life and all others.”

Sonic sighed, unwilling to let this go but also not wanting to keep on this path of conversation, especially on an empty stomach. He tried to wrench away his hand, but Lancelot held tight, lifting his head, eyes ablaze with passionate certainty that made Sonic freeze in place.

He had never been looked at like that before…

"Every piece of you is the same,” Lancelot declared, his eyes unwavering, drawing in the hero and refusing to release him. “It is not only in image, either. I see it, I hear it, I feel it... It's more than just the body, the vision I see before me. You have his soul, free and unbound and hungry for adventure. You have his heart, strong and kind and noble. I see it in your eyes, you are him, you are who he would be if he were not burdened by his destiny! Don't you understand, Sonic? The only difference between you and Arthur are the memories you keep! You are him! You are him, and that's why I will follow you and protect you with my life. I gave you my vow, and I will not break it. No matter the time, no matter the life... I will stand by you until any and every version of us ceases to exist. That is my promise to you, as your knight!"

He said it so resolutely, so earnestly, that Sonic couldn’t find the words, nor the will to argue against him. In all his life, in all his wildest fantasies, Sonic could never have imagined those words, coming from that mouth, spoken in that voice… It was enough to get his heart pounding, that was for sure.

Sonic closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, but Lancelot’s hands clasped around his kept him anchored in this strange reality he was in. He didn’t like it; it had taken so long to get to where he had gotten with Shadow, so much time and effort and tenacity to get every last crumb from him, but Sonic had been adamant. He had wanted to break Shadow’s walls, to reach through, to understand him and be someone trusted and cared for. He had tried so hard, made so much progress… and now Shadow was gone, and in his place, Lancelot knelt before him, eagerly baring his soul for him without so much as a command.

Sonic would have been a liar if he said he didn’t like what he saw in Lancelot, either, but after all he had done for Shadow… it felt… wrong? Bad? In poor taste? Off, to be feeling similar flutters in the chest for a man who shared his face but not his past, nor his experiences.

Yet, as he opened his eyes and saw Lancelot still staring resolutely at him, as though desperate for him to understand, Sonic had to wonder if the knight had a point; Shadow had had amnesia twice, now. His memories had reset, but he had still been Shadow at his core. Sonic had never doubted that.

Did memories truly make a person who they were? And if so… were Lancelot and Shadow truly two different people?

Are you him? Sonic wanted to ask as he was burned alive by those eyes, crimson and intense, focused on him and him alone. Are you who he could have been if things had been different?

He wasn’t sure, but at least he could kind of understand where Lancelot was coming from.

Sonic heaved out an exhale, using both hands to pull Lancelot to his feet. “Okay,” he conceded. “Okay… but no more protecting me from my house or my friends. I’ll let you know when we’re in danger, okay?”

And Lancelot beamed, overjoyed, his teeth poking out through his lips and his eyes crinkling with happiness, and Sonic would be an even bigger liar if he denied that it was one of the most gorgeous sights he had ever seen.

Lancelot… I think I want to know you, too.

...

The sound of his pen scratching along the page was the only sound in the room. King Arthur sat back in his chair, stretching out his fingers, his eyes seeking out the room’s only other occupant, who was standing by with his back against the wall, looking displeased.

Shadow was silent, as always.

Arthur let out a breath, drumming a couple of fingers against his desk. “I cannot solve anything if you do not speak,” he finally remarked, much to the displeasure of the other.

“I don’t want to be out there with the others. This is the only room where no one barges in. That’s all.”

“Hm. Quite.”

It was mostly true, he supposed. Sometimes an advisor would poke their head in, but usually those weren’t the people Shadow was hiding from.

Arthur had started hearing the rumors a while ago; Sir Lancelot, his greatest and closest knight, and his longtime friend, was deeply in love with him. The rumors had followed him every day, and plagued him by night, as he wondered if they could be real, and wondered what he would do if they were real.

He had started to see and feel it, too. Lancelot’s habit of looking his way, his gaze, hidden behind his visor, lingering just a moment too long before he looked away again. The way his knight’s hand would remain on his person, his touch still warming him even after he drew his hand away. These moments had grown in number in the latest months, though their time together had remained fleeting, as the life of a king and the life of a knight were wrought with busy schedules and hardly enough time for a ‘hello’ to be exchanged.

For a while, Arthur had felt that something unsaid but reciprocated was between them, but Lancelot was gone, now, and Shadow had taken his place, and now the knights and the maids and the servants all looked at Shadow in the same way they had done to Lancelot, and the whispers and giggles followed the dark hedgehog until he ran into Arthur’s study and shut them all out behind him.

He made for some rather unsettling company, this sullen, tense man who shared his face with that of his closest friend.

Arthur missed him. Arthur missed him so much it hurt, and every day that passed he wished for the man who had stood by him from the very beginning to still be there, by his side, in a world that demanded the most he would be able to give as the bare minimum, but that didn’t mean he was allowed to take it out on Shadow. Nor was he about to dismiss the fact that Shadow was in a strange new world, and likely every bit as confused, disturbed, and frightened as he was.

“Would you like me to speak with them?” Arthur offered, figuring it was worth a try.

Yet Shadow huffed in response, the proposal seeming to offend him, and Arthur wondered why. “Don’t bother, I can handle my own problems.”

That was the other thing about Shadow: he had never, at any point, treated Arthur like he was royalty.

“It’s considered bad form to refuse the offer of a king,” Arthur pointed out, partly as a piece of advice; though he didn’t mind it himself, he knew Sir Gawain would throw a fit upon hearing that Shadow had shown such dismissal.

And the other part of him wanted to push Shadow just a little more. To get more of that strangely satisfying feeling of being treated like a man instead of a crown.

“I don’t care,” came the instant reply, and Arthur had to fight back a smile. “There are no kings where I come from, so your title means nothing to me, and even if it did, I won’t bow to you, or to anyone.”

The ‘not again’ went unsaid, but Arthur could hear it in Shadow’s voice, could read it in his body language. Arthur was always rather adept at deciphering Lancelot’s small cues and gestures, though Lancelot kept many of them hidden behind a wall of steel, but with Shadow, who bared his face and his body for the world to see, nothing could be hidden from Arthur’s discerning gaze. It was fascinating, truly, to be able to read someone new so well and so easily. Shadow was a puzzle with clear edges, but with many, many pieces that Arthur still had to search for.

All in all… a refreshing individual, despite the circumstances.

“Okay,” Arthur relented, and the sight of Shadow’s eyes narrowing in confusion only served to make fighting back his smile impossible. “In that case, I shall leave it to you.”

With that, he picked back up his pen, continuing to draft the latest ordinance on adjusting the limits of imported goods past Avalonian borders. The work was tedious, boring, dull, and even though he had just taken a break, Arthur felt his hand start to cramp with just a few words jotted down. The king sighed, rolling his wrist a few times, before getting back to work.

Just grin and bear it, he thought to himself as an involuntary noise of discomfort escaped him as his hand twinged again. You’ve done it before and you will always be able to do it. A king cannot show weakness. A king may not make excuses for poor judgement. Everyone is counting on me to do the best I can.

The thoughts only served to worsen the sense of anxiety that always seemed to cloud his mind, and Arthur grimaced, dropping his pen, holding his head in his hands and wishing for comfort for a man who was no longer with him.

His ears perked up as he heard a noise, something akin to a footstep taken in his direction, and when the king lifted his head, he noticed that Shadow no longer had his back flush against the wall. The dark hedgehog was doing his best to mask his emotions, but Arthur could still peel back every layer he put up, seeing the concern and the discomfort in the smallest things, from the slight narrowing of his eyes to the light raising of his spines. Shadow’s body language was silently screaming in empathy, something Arthur wasn’t used to receiving from others, and it intrigued him more than it should have.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured Shadow, not waiting to be prompted; he doubted the other would have asked, anyhow. “It’s simply sobering, sometimes, to remember that I have a kingdom’s worth of expectations to meet.” The king looked back down at the piles of papers on his desk; it was the same work, day in and day out, with decisions ranging from laughably easy to crushingly difficult. Yet, he had to make them all. Without thinking, he murmured aloud, “A single mistake could cost me everything I’ve done up to this moment. All the good I’ve done, all the efforts I’ve made, all the reputation that I’ve struggled to build up… it could all go up in smoke in a second, and I would be back at the beginning, needing to prove myself over and over again to people who expect everything from me.”

It was a moment of weakness, of cowardice, wherein Arthur was so tired from years of work and the loss of his most precious ally, for whom he still had almost no time to mourn. His eyes flicked back up to Shadow, and he prepared to apologize and ask that he forget all that he had just divulged 一 it was hardly fair on his guest, after all 一 but then he saw Shadow’s face, stunned and amazed, his red eyes wide and fixed on him, welling with a look that Arthur almost never saw on another person; understanding.

Shadow was looking at him with such mind-blowingly clear understanding and empathy that Arthur’s breath was taken away.

For a few more charged, heart-pounding moments, all they could do was stare, the sensation of something new connecting them becoming stronger and stronger with every passing second.

Then Shadow tore his gaze away and flung open the door, stepping outside and closing it behind him, leaving Arthur alone in his study.

As the king sat back in his chair, he stared into space as he tried to make sense of what had just happened, and what that might have meant for Shadow.

He was certain that, even though his dear friend’s face was too often hidden from view, that Lancelot had never once looked at him like that.

Shadow… what is your story, I wonder?

…

Just when Lancelot thought he couldn’t hate the odd technology of Sonic’s world any more, it came to a sudden and violent peak as the blue hero was called into action as a swarm of machines called ‘robots’ began invading Station Square. To make matters worse, they were created by some sort of mad doctor, and upon seeing an image of the man in question, Lancelot had to restrain himself from running the monitor through with his sword.

This mad doctor held a horrible resemblance to a certain ‘emperor’ that had caused Arthur far too much trouble, back at home in Avalon, and it made Lancelot desire nothing less than for this man’s complete and utter demise at his hands.

According to Sonic, these attacks weren’t anything new to him and his team, and though he knew it was a distraction or a trap, they didn’t have any options aside from stopping them quickly and efficiently, for the sake of everyone who lived in the city. He rallied his team effortlessly, leading the chase down to the battle, not bothering to bark orders because of the trust he carried in his followers…

Lancelot’s heart swam with affection. Sonic truly was Arthur, whether he believed it or not, and it showed in everything he did. He was a leader who cared not for the title, a man who cared for even the smallest life under his protection, and his bravery was unmatched, inspiring, and absolute. Someone of such immeasurable importance that needed to be protected at all costs.

So what else could Lancelot do but run to shield him when, during the battle, he saw a robot take aim at Sonic’s back?

His ears registered the sound of Sonic moving, then stumbling, but he only paid attention to the blast that came his way, soaking up the impact with his legendary strength, but he was not indestructible. Blood began dripping from a wound on his arm, and the scent of singed hair prickled in his nose in the most unpleasant way. Lancelot hissed in pain, his mind threatening to cloud with this new kind of pain, like fire but so much more unnatural, but he took pride in knowing that he had done his job. Sonic was safe. Sonic was safe and…

And he was dragging Lancelot to the side?

“What the hell was that, Lance?” Sonic demanded, panic and fury coloring his tone, and Lancelot’s feet almost froze in shock. Why was Sonic so frightened? Why did he sound so angry?

Had he done something wrong?

In a space several yards away from the battle zone, Sonic sat Lancelot down, and swore under his breath when he saw his battle wound. “Damn it Lance, I knew that robot was there! Why didn’t you just let me dodge? Oh Chaos, you’re bleeding, why did you run in like that?!”

Lancelot only gaped at him, his mind struggling to make sense of his leader’s words as Sonic inspected his arm and fretted over how it wasn’t healing.

Was he supposed to heal quicker than the average being? Lancelot supposed that maybe, with the help of his mother or Merlina, that could be possible, but the young girl who appeared to be his mother’s counterpart appeared more of a fighter than a healer, and he had not yet seen a counterpart to the royal wizard.

Lancelot wanted to ask these questions, to get some answers, but the near furious look on Sonic’s face made him hold his tongue. Such a look on someone he admired and loved so strongly… it was enough to make him feel like the scum of the earth.

The knight sat out the rest of the battle, staying in place even as Sonic left to finish the job, and the humiliating feeling of utter shame managed to overpower even his need to ensure his leader’s safety. Every time he felt the urge to stand up regardless, to charge into the battle even while wounded, and fight by his leader’s side as his sword and shield, the image of Sonic’s distraught face would flash before his eyes again, and he would remember his words, sharper and more painful than any sword, demanding why he had interfered.

Why had he failed his job as a knight?

What good was he, if he couldn’t even fulfil his one objective?

Lancelot’s head remained bowed in shame, even as he heard rapid footsteps coming his way. It remained bowed, even as he felt steady hands clean his wound and wrap a bandage around it.

It was only when Sonic lifted his chin and forced his visor up did Lancelot finally manage to look him in the eye.

“Why did you step in front of me like that?” Sonic asked, his voice calm again, though it did nothing to soothe Lancelot’s inner turmoil. The knight wanted nothing more than to no longer speak, to be swallowed by the ground and forgotten, the pathetic knight who couldn’t do his job when it mattered.

But he couldn’t refuse his leader, and so he forced himself to talk.

“It was the promise I made to you,” he said, and he struggled to keep his dismay in check as Sonic immediately looked displeased at his answer. “I am… protective by nature, and even moreso as a knight. I swore to protect Arthur, and I must protect you, too, even if that comes with my own life as a cost. That is something I must do, for I--”

“Oh stop it!” Sonic interrupted, once again looking angry and upset, and Lancelot bit back his speech, both ashamed and relieved. Had he gone even further, he might have lost control of his emotions and revealed just how deeply his affections for the blue hedgehog lied.

And then, Sonic asked something very, very strange.

“Isn’t there more to being a knight than serving a king?”

Lancelot, who up to that point had felt so certain of his standing, of his mission, of who Sonic was and what he represented, felt his heart break in two as cold reality settled over him.

“No,” he whispered in response, having never felt further away from the other than he did in that moment.

Sonic was not his king. Sonic was Arthur, but he was not his king. Sonic had no want for a knight, no desire to act as a king.

But if that were the case, what was Lancelot to do?

“Lancelot.”

Sonic’s voice was firm, and Lancelot braced himself for some hard truths.

“I’m not a king, Lance. I’m a hero, I guess. That’s what people call me, anyways. But the point is, I’m a free hedgehog. I’m not here to give orders or have people die for me, I’m just around to have a good time, to go where the wind takes me, and if I have to save a few people from some robots in the meantime, I will. I just gotta do what I gotta do… and I can’t do that if all you can do is try to protect me.”

Even with his face raised, chin still supported by his leader-- no, by Sonic’s hand, Lancelot tried his best to look away. His eyes watered treacherously, threatening to spill over. Being a knight was Lancelot’s life, his identity, the air that he breathed, the reality he lived in. It was everything he knew, but… but now it was…

The hand disappeared from his face, and then Sonic was reaching for his own hand on his uninjured arm, and Lancelot was pulled to his feet. Sonic looked him full in the eyes, their pull hypnotic, and even as Lancelot tried to choke back his tears, he felt his breath catch in his lungs.

“Hey… I need you to trust me with my own life, okay?”

Lancelot blinked, and the smallest of tears managed to escape him. Sonic didn’t think he trusted him.

In a sense, Lancelot supposed that he didn’t.

Yet when he reopened his eyes, he saw the look the other hedgehog was sending him, a look he had seen in Arthur’s eyes many times, mixed with a sense of sad resignation. Lancelot had never been able to read it perfectly, a fact which had always frustrated him to no end, for all he wanted was to be Arthur’s closest, to be the one who knew him at a level that no one else could hope to achieve.

But in Sonic’s eyes, the message was plain and clear.

He wanted to be seen as an equal, not someone above him, unattainable, on a pedestal. No, it wasn’t just that… Sonic looked determined to pull them both onto equal ground, to the same level, and the thought made Lancelot’s head spin.

“Lance… I know it’s scary, but you can choose how you want to live your life now, and trust me, it’s a good thing.”

And Lancelot, who knew nothing aside from being a knight, felt the crushing weight of the world in front of him, dark and untamed, when before he had Arthur’s light to follow. Paths were branching in front of him, too many to count and too many to walk down individually and explore. His head spun with possibility, and fright gripped at him, tempting him to deny, to refuse, to hide his face, or perhaps, to die as a knight in a world that refused to house him as he was.

Then he felt Sonic’s hand, still holding his, warm and comforting and safe, and somehow, in the midst of his existential turmoil, Lancelot felt a warm glimmer of hope.

“Okay,” he murmured in response, and Sonic’s brilliant grin soothed and delighted him more than he could properly understand.

Sonic… I shall do my best. For you… and for me, as well.

…

It hit too close to home, in this place that was about as far from home as Shadow could get.

Every day, whether he looked for him or not, Shadow saw King Arthur struggle silently. He saw him work day in and day out, endlessly trying to prove that he was worthy of being king, of being in everyone’s good graces and that he wasn’t just entitled to be there, but that he was supposed to be in his position. Even while all around him there sat obstacles and red tape and tough decisions and divides and people who were just never satisfied and…

And…

Shadow closed his eyes, recalling every debriefing he had had in G.U.N.’s headquarters. He remembered feeling as though he was on a leash, that every mission, every move he made had to be executed perfectly, otherwise he would lose his right to exist as a free being.

No… Shadow had never been free. Not since the day he was created, with the power to hurt and to heal, and every day he had to face the consequences of actions he had committed years prior. Shadow remembered the feeling of the imaginary leash shortening, tightening around his throat, reminding him that no matter what he did, it would never be enough.

Shadow would never be considered a true person by the people who saw him as a weapon.

And Arthur… Arthur seemed to be considered in the same way by the people who saw him as a king.

Shadow’s heart ached, and the dark hedgehog grit his teeth as he recalled all the times he had caught the other wincing and massaging his hand while drafting laws and messages, how he plastered a smile on his face as he met people and made addresses when he clearly would rather be anywhere else, and how he kept his voice even as he ordered his knights around, even though he obviously didn’t want to be giving orders, he just wanted to be looked at as an equal, but he was so ingrained in this life that he felt resigned, and so he stopped trying to fight where the fight could not be won. Shadow knew all these feelings, all the sensations of being worked to the bone, of putting on an act to protect himself, of accepting that there were some things that, like it or not, would simply never change…

But Arthur, unlike him, was not the Ultimate Lifeform. This man was not made of infinite power and energy, was not capable of rapid healing or boosting himself in body and mind with his own energies whenever it suited him. Arthur was a remarkable but regular hedgehog, who had been working off of nothing but his own willpower and strength of mind, and that knowledge hurt perhaps the most of all.

Arthur and himself… they both pulled a painfully similar weight, a weight that, even on his worst days, Shadow had never wished upon another person.

So what else could Shadow do but grab Arthur’s hand and run him out of there, out of the castle, yelling vague excuses at anyone who tried to stop them?

Arthur followed easily behind him, not asking a single question as Shadow ran, ran away from suffocating walls and legal obligations and the knowledge that it was never, ever enough.

Shadow was used to Sonic keeping up with him. They had always been on equal grounds, and Shadow knew it, even at the beginning stages of their rivalry when they both had asserted that they were the stronger, the faster, the more incredible hedgehog. With time, that knowledge became easier to swallow, as their rivalry held a friendlier edge to it, and especially so when their friendship and partnership had become more undeniable, and when those dumb, weird feelings started springing forward and…

And…

But with Arthur and his frightfully similar situation, Shadow’s empathy had hit him like a truck, and seeing him in so much concealed pain every day had turned into something too much to bear, and so, just for this one, Shadow decided he would be the man’s savior, even for just one evening.

They stopped in a meadow, far beyond the castle and away from the treeline where the forests began, and Shadow avoided looking at the exhausted king, unsure how to express what was in his head, in his heart, in his soul.

How was he supposed to tell him that watching him take all this weight, all this responsibility, was too much for him?

How was he supposed to say that he had similar issues, with G.U.N. and the people of the United Federation breathing down his neck and observing his every move, and that perfection was the bare minimum?

How could he express that they both deserved to live their lives without earning the right to exist without constant scrutiny, where one slip up meant everything falling apart, absolute ruin, the end of the world…

Shadow took in a deep breath, his mind spinning with thoughts and feelings he wasn’t sure he could put into words, but when he finally looked over to Arthur, the breath left him and wouldn’t return.

Arthur didn’t look angry or annoyed or anxious, even though Shadow had ripped him from his work that he couldn’t afford to fall behind on. Arthur didn’t look upset at all.

He looked grateful.

He looked serene.

Arthur looked directly into Shadow’s eyes, his own green ones reflecting the stars up above, and Shadow wanted to tell him everything, even though his body refused to breathe and his tongue refused to move.

The hand in his hold shifted, and Shadow felt Arthur squeeze his hand softly, just once.

He understood.

Chaos above, Arthur understood, and Shadow didn’t even need to say it.

Shadow swallowed, feeling overwhelmed, and Arthur seemed to understand that, too. Wordlessly, the blue hedgehog moved closer, his hand never leaving Shadow’s, and he leaned his body against Shadow’s, answering an unspoken need for comfort without smothering him, without trapping him in place with a hug or an embrace.

Shadow closed his eyes, hating how the gesture reminded him of one time Sonic had done something similar, a small shoulder check that had lingered a moment too long, and at his side, he felt Arthur breathe in deeply and hold it in, as though he were resisting the urge to sigh.

Shadow knew he was probably thinking about Lancelot.

Their hands both squeezed at the same time, and they both knew.

It was a strange feeling, as though both of them had lost a large piece of their lives, only to gain another to take its place. It was something that felt like infidelity, even though nothing warranting such a thing had been established with the other person on their minds.

Yet this closeness… this was something that Shadow had wanted for a long time, but had never been able to truly obtain. Shadow didn’t always know how to use his words, how to explain what he wanted or what he needed or what he was going through, and now here he was, with Arthur, a man who understood him without words. A man who he understood, who brought out his empathy to an almost painful degree, and Shadow wanted in that moment for nothing more than for them both to be happy.

As he felt the warmth of Arthur’s body and the beautiful comfort of being understood, even in a world that wasn’t his own, Shadow figured he might be on the right track.

Arthur… I don’t know how to thank you.

…

When Sonic first kissed Lancelot, it was after another battle, in which neither escaped without injury. Sonic could see Lancelot try his hardest to hold back his instinctive reactions, struggling to trust him and not place the blame on his shoulders, and Sonic looked out the window, knowing that life was short and uncertain and that any day might be his last.

He also did it knowing that waiting for Shadow was not going to help either of them at all.

He felt Lancelot tense up in shock, then relax, lifting his hands up to his head and burying them in his spines. Lancelot was pilant, willing, eager to receive whatever Sonic wanted to give him, and Sonic responded with his best efforts to make the kiss special, the sort of kiss that Lancelot deserved, after so many years of putting himself second. Whenever Lancelot made a noise that suggested he enjoyed what Sonic was doing, Sonic resolved himself to keep going, to deliver the indulgence that Lancelot had always been denied of.

It was completely different to how he always imagined kissing Shadow would be like. He had always imagined a competition, with both of them trying to one-up each other like they always did, but Lancelot’s sweet eagerness as their lips met again and again pushed all thoughts of Shadow from Sonic’s mind, and as they finally parted for air, it was Sonic’s name that escaped from Lancelot’s mouth.

…

When Arthur first kissed Shadow, it felt like a long time coming. The king knew he would need to take the initiative, with Shadow struggling to come to terms with his own feelings, and he felt the striped hedgehog become rigid in shock when Arthur’s hands landed lightly on his arms and he pressed their lips together.

He also did it with the knowledge that he might never see Lancelot again, and if that were the case, that Shadow was someone he couldn’t bear to let slip through his fingers as well.

When Shadow recovered from the shock, he kissed back, roughly and intensely, and Arthur found himself being pushed to keep up. It was like a battle, fueled by unspoken, deeply internalized feelings, finally being let loose until their heads swam with a lack of air and an overflow of emotion and the immeasurable feeling of connection without words.

Kissing Shadow lit a fire in Arthur’s soul, even as he felt Shadow start to calm down, finding enjoyment at being able to be vulnerable without pain for once in his life. Arthur could feel the heat flush off of the other’s face in waves, and when they finally parted, gasping for air, he was so, so glad that there was no visor or helmet to create a barrier between him and those eyes, softer than he had ever seen them, that he could read like a book.

#Smash speaks. #Avalon Series. #Stories From Avalon. #Lansoni. #Arthadow. #I wrote 80% of this today after months of barely touching it. #Hope you all enjoy! #I'm going to bed.

[leroyzboots]

you and i are trying, together.

part two.

The amount of unease that can fit into Tommy's more-than-human-less-than-god body is honestly surprising.

Tommy paces back and forth on the floor of the Lambda lab, his Beyblade whirring between his fingers and his precious immortal dog following behind him with love.

They'd arrived at around half past midnight, but it's now early morning and there's been no sign of the other two members of the science team.

Bubby leans back in their chair, crossing his knee-high laced boots over their knee, and bounces the other one out of anxiety.

"Tommy," he barks; "you're scaring the other scientists."

Tommy glances down and realizes that the Beyblade is whizzing madly in the air around his hands, suspended from nothing.

"D-dammit," He mutters, snatching his toy back and returns it to his pocket.

"They sho-should have been back by now."

Tommy stops pacing for a second and stares down the Coomers with his father's intensity.

"Surely, Benrey could have used teleportation?" Harold chimes in, his knuckles bruised slightly from his repeated stims.

"I think that's what he meant, dear," Bubby replies, patting their husband's shoulder affectionately.

"Yes, exactly!"

Tommy throws his hands into his pockets, huffing out his frustration.

"The f-fact that they're not...back yet! Means something has gone-"

A enormous thud echoes from the the floor, a piece of tile juts out slightly and scatters the scientists nearby.

"Wrong," Tommy finishes miserably, drawing his gun and preparing for Xen's creatures.

Beside him, Sunkist snarls, her hackles raised in warning.

The tile cracks and shoots into the air, with accompanying gunfire from below, and a hatch busts open from the hole.

Tommy aims to shoot, but immediately lowers his gun upon seeing Mr. Freeman's tired but happy face, followed closely by Benrey, the bags under his eyes looking darker than usual.

"G-Gordon!!"

Tommy rushes forward, embracing them both, and the knots of tension unravel in his stomach.

Benrey snuggles just a little closer into Tommy's coat, and Tommy releases Gordon to pull Benrey into a full hug.

--

Tommy planned on never admitting it to himself, but these two were the people he loved the most.

Benrey..he'd known Benrey for years.

It started when Benrey was just out of training, and Tommy had completed his certification to become a top scientist.

Benrey was 19, maybe 20 at the oldest, his hair pulled into a ponytail that ran down his back.

They weren't close, then, Benrey had been assigned to guard the G-Man's adopted son.

Benrey couldn't die, and Tommy's line of work was dangerous enough to need protection.

So it all worked out.

They barely exchanged more than a few words to eachother until that one night, that one fucking night and Benrey is tripping over himself in tears, blood pouring from the wound on his back and he's clutching Tommy, pawing at his shoulders.

Benrey trembled like he's made from glass and will break if he falls, and Tommy gripped the back of the others security vest so tightly the kevlar nearly rips in half.

And that's saying something.

That night they sat together and they're closer in distance than they've ever been, Tommy's warm and gentle hands bandaged the wound above the numbers tattooed onto Benrey's tailbone and Benrey spilled everything.

Between sniffles and the occasional sob, Benrey confessed, about the tools that somehow hurt him beyond regeneration, leaving a scar, about the men and their evil sticks of lightning that would seep into his bones and fill him with pain so intense he felt like he would break in half.

Tommy nearly broke in half himself.

He felt helpless, and so he went to the only person he knew would make the ones who hurt his first and only friend pay dearly-

His father.

Oh, Tommy had never seen the G-man so angry.

Black Mesa was a research facility, for god's sake, dedicated to the study of alien life and the progression of the human body.

So when Tommy's dad realized that the prototype imprisonment he had resolved several years ago had resurfaced with an even uglier face, he sent scientists who had never experienced fear in their lives tripping for the door in yelps of terror.

And that had been the end of it.

Benrey continued his job as a security guard, people who had previously been made in the facility were hired back on as scientists in new departments such as mixology and cybernetics, and Black Mesa cut its ties with the military.

Black Mesa, Benrey explained later in his own broken way to Tommy in the quiet breakroom during lunch hour, had been trying to create the perfect human being.

There were thousands upon thousands of prototypes that had been created, and Benrey had been the last.

But there had always been something wrong with the ones they created, whether it was serious physical or mental deformities, or simply a sense of fucked up little creature that ended up resulting in the insane amount of scientists with the ability to grow in size, and the security guards that always had a few too many rows of teeth or glowing eyes and severe anger issues.

They weren't always grown in tubes, Tommy learned, but they were always branded with their serial number on the base of the spine.

The one before him, Benrey quipped with a mouthful of sandwich, had been born to a prototype and a normal human employee, before they stripped them out with a memory wipe and sent them into normal society.

The anxious feeling that haunted Tommy in the years that followed had something to do with that piece of information in particular.

Something told him that the military and the alien planet they were studying wouldn't let go of Black Mesa kindly.

Mr. Freeman confirmed that.

He's in the hallway, on his way to get a soda, when he's met with a newer employee, only worked here about 4 or so years.

He seemed kind enough, if a little loud and stubborn. And alright, maybe it hurt Tommy's feelings when Gordon called him a freak, but that was pushed aside with the Resonance Cascade.

Tommy knew that this was it, this was the boot boys' revenge for cutting them out of the picture, but there was something else, distinctly and unsettlingly alien about the Cascade.

The whole of Black Mesa fell into shambles, with creatures of Xen integrating into their carefully built walls and lives, and Tommy kinda freaked, okay?

He'd seen Dr. Coomer around, always greeting him with a wonderful "Hello!!", and was met with a thrill in his stomach when he introduced another prototype as his husband.

Those two had been with him, in the observation room when the project exploded around Gordon and Benrey-

he wasn't supposed to be in the test chamber, what if it seriously hurt him?-

And maybe that was when Tommy realized he was in love with Benrey.

Over time, he felt a sense of conflict slowly building as he made friends with Mr. Freeman.

He seemed to hate Benrey, they hated eachother, but Tommy liked one and loved the other so he became their middle ground.

He was convinced to himself that Benrey liked him as well, until that room, that dark, dark room, and suddenly Benrey is kneeling in a puddle of Gordon's blood and Bubby is screaming, sobbing, blubbering his apologies to anyone who is listening as the soldiers drag them away and Benrey-

He says it, he says those words and it breaks Tommy's heart into a billion pieces-

"Because I love him, okay?! I'm fucking- whoop-de-doo, in love with Gordon god. G-goddamn Freeman, okay?..."

And then Benrey teleports, and he's gone, and Bubby is gone and Dr. Coomer leaves him in the cold dark sewer by himself.

Tommy cried.

Burying his head in his coat, he cried hard and long, alone on the rocky floor.

And then Mr. Freeman crawls out of the pipe, and Tommy can't help it, he holds him.

Gordon reeks of sewage and his bloody hand smells of copper but Tommy doesn't care, and alright, maybe that's when Tommy realized he's in love with Gordon too.

Alright, Tommy can deal with that.

Something Tommy can't deal with is the fact that his instincts are going fucking haywire.

Tommy's always been very perceptive when it comes to time, maybe he can't stop time like his father can, but he's definitely got a certain sense of time and reality as it surrounds him.

Being able to reach out and touch and feel certain areas, but not control them, and all of time is wrapped around him like a blanket.

So when the floor crumbles away below them and Benrey and Gordon fall deep into the recesses of Black Mesa's hellscape, Tommy freaks the fuck out.

A deep, inherent concern lays nested in the pit of his mind like a pile of cottonmouth snakes, hissing madly and snarling that something, something, is absolutely wrong with how this is supposed to go.

Tommy has a sinking feeling that something terrible is going to happen.

--

Man, Benrey really hates this place.

The scientists of the Lambda lab asked a simple request of the Science Team- go through the portal to Xen, get rid of the Nihilanth, bring back some weird space shit.

Easy as pie.

Right?

Wrong.

Benrey feels sick, feverish on this planet.

As he follows behind the group, his legs feel leaden and heavy, and he tugs at the collar of his uniform, which feels uncomfortably tight around his neck.

He's sweating, unusually warm beneath his helmet, but shivering as though chilled to his bones.

There's a tug, deep in his torso, pulling him along, but it's a nasty, oppressive feeling that makes his limbs feel like noodles.

He swallows nervously, eyes darting across the fetid, blood colored planet of Xen.

The sour smell clogs his senses, and as they trudge deeper and deeper through the portals, away from the floating rocks with little gravity and past strange barrels of highly toxic looking liquid, the heavy pull in Benrey's chest only grows stronger and more sickly.

They push through a final, puke-green portal, and the feeling inside of Benrey swells to near explosion.

A cave, with jagged and dark stone running up the walls in wicked cracks, a deep red flush to the area.

Water is flooding Benrey's boots, a putrid and decaying smell to the liquid, and it only adds to Benrey's fatigue.

The creature before them could only be the Nihilanth itself, and the very sight sends such a fucking shudder down Benrey's spine.

It's disgusting, twisted and pulsating flesh running down what must be its face, beady eyes in a cadaverous socket.

It looks like a fetus, a failed attempt of termination long after the allotted time.

It speaks, and the chorus of voices that accompanies it gives away the fact that Xen isn't just the planet-

It's the entire race.

"So. The humans have finally decided to be rid of us."

Gordon looks tired, beaten, but pulls himself upward and grunts through the pain of his broken shin.

"Get your video game dialogue out of the way," he says, with a dismissive wave of his gun-hand.

"I'm about done with this alien shit."

The Nihilanth laughs, a hideous and painful sound, and tilts its head in curiosity towards the little group of vagabonds.

"But you have brought us the very thing we need, Mr. Freeman."

Gordon groans in frustration, turning back to his friends with his teeth grinding against eachother.

"Why does it know my name?"

Xens' audience shrieks with delight, and the Nihilanth's barely feasible mouth twists into what can only be guessed as a grin.

"Xen knows everything about you, Mr. Freeman."

Benrey sways on the spot, his boots splashing the strange water, and the scene before him blurs.

"Whadda....what the hell are you..talking about, man?"

Xen's creatures seem to roar with laughter, and beside Benrey, Dr. Coomer throws up his fists protestingly.

"Xen has been all knowing, all seeing since time begun. As we grow, so do our minds, until we are forced to repopulate. Regrow."

Beneath their feet, headcrabs scuttle ominously, causing Tommy to jump backward with surprise.

"But human beings became a problem for Xen. Their flimsy bodies failed, burst open upon integration."

Benrey is only just awake enough to process this.

"The scientists of Black Mesa were so eager to learn of a new planet. So Xen took influence, and under the guise of building a perfect human being, created what Xen needed."

Gordon scoffs, his shoulders shaking as he laughs scornfully.

Xen reacts strongly, a collective hiss rising around them.

"Do not laugh at us, human."

The headcrabs stay at a distance, but raise their pincers and click them menacingly as the Nihilanth's speech continues.

"Xen required a human being who could withstand radiation, a being who could lose blood en mass and not perish."

A sense of dread washes over the Science Team, and Tommy instinctively puts himself in front of Gordon.

Bubby ignites his arms protectively.

"Let me guess," Gordon growls, revving up his minigun limb; "you needed me?"

Xen's creatures wail in joy, and Benrey takes that as a yes, and reaches for his gun, when something big and poisonous and slimy wraps around his ankle.

"Xen requires Benrey."

Benrey yelps as the Nihilanth drags him underneath the water, bubbles of Sweet Voice trailing from his mouth as his back bounces on the cragged floor beneath the surface.

The Nihilanth swings him into the air, and Benrey splutters, ears waterlogged under his helmet, which slips from his head and falls to the ground with a splash, Benrey's short black hair now dripping wet.

"Look at you, our once perfect vessel- a mewling, pathetic dog."

Hung upside down by his ankle, Benrey gasps in pain as Xen shakes him repeatedly, and for a brief, sickening moment, Benrey is forcibly reminded of the Finding Nemo movie Tommy showed him-

He feels like a fish in Darla's little bag.

"Bark, bark, bark but no bite. You were made with Xen's own blood and yet you cannot even protect those you are infatuated with."

With that, the Nihilanth throws him to the far wall, and his skull cracks on the rock.

It doesn't heal, and Benrey slumps down, struggling to stand, his eyesight swimming with tears.

"You think the Freeman human loves you? You cost him a limb. You would be perfect save for your one flaw- you kneel before a man you could kill with no effort, and you beg him to love you as you love him."

Benrey shakes, kneeling, and whimpers as he chokes out a sob, not trying to disguise his tears.

"You truly are nothing."

"No."

The word is tiny, barely audible.

Then again, louder, with a crack of his voice but more than enough power-

"No. You're wrong."

Gordon pulls himself to full height, scowling so deeply the age shows on his face.

"Benrey is everything to us. To all of us, but especially me."

"Y-yeah! We're not afraid of you!" Tommy chimes, and Sunkist howls with approval.

"If you or your alien bitches thought we'd just leave him here, you're just as stupid as you look."

Bubby grins wildly, cracking their neck from side to side, his bright and eager eyes flashing beneath their glasses.

"Don't fuck with the Science Team!" Coomer bellows, and Bubby cheers beside him.

"Now I'm only gonna tell you once," Gordon beams, turning away from his family to draw his gun-hand and point it at Xen's Nihilanth.

"Piss off."

Gordon fires, and the accompanying screams of headcrabs and peeper puppies echo across the cave, and Benrey is overtaken with an aching, sweet feeling he usually associates with Gordon.

It's love.

Benrey smiles fondly as his knees buckle and he falls to the ground and submerges in the murky waters.

--

Benrey wakes up and immediately is struck with a massive goddamn headache.

He closes his eyes and pulls the pillow over his ears, but the pain is there and clearly is not going anywhere, so he's going to have to ask for an aspirin or some shit.

Sitting up makes him so nauseous it's not even funny, so he decides it's not worth it to stand.

A loud snore startles Benrey enough to yelp, and he glances around for the source of the noise.

Sitting hand in hand on the floor, against the wall opposite his bed, are Gordon and Tommy, both bearing signs of wear and both dead asleep.

Gordon is clutching Benrey's helmet so tightly to his shirt it looks uncomfortable, and Tommy is curled protectively around Gordon's shoulders.

They're half dressed, like Black Mesa decided that the HEV suit and a bloody lab coat was not appropriate clothing but also did not have a whole lot of options for back up wear.

Benrey guesses this based on the fact that Gordon's not really wearing pants and Tommy's wearing a t-shirt that says "Birthday Girl".

Something about the fact that they're holding hands hurts Benrey, just a little.

His heart aches for a moment as he remembers the warmth of Gordon's hand and the feeling of a hug from the Beyblade enthusiast who was his best and only friend for a very long time.

Benrey shakes his head, decides he's going to repress it, and yawns.

God, his head hurts.

Benrey figures that if he stands, he's going to trip and probably break something, and since he doesn't trust his regeneration ability right now, he's not risking it.

Instead, he picks up his pillow and heaves it at the two scientists as hard as he can.

Tommy jolts awake, blinking, then smiles widely upon sighting the guard.

"Benrey!!"

Tommy shoots upward, and makes the distance between the wall and the hospital bed in one step, leaving Gordon to slump over and yell in surprise as he hits the floor.

Benrey's pulled into a crushing hug, and he wheezes for Tommy to be gentle.

"S-sorry!" Tommy cries happily, pulling back to take in Benrey's face.

"It's..it's g-good to see you awake."

Gordon stands, still holding the helmet, and wanders over to where Tommy is perched on the edge of the bed.

"You've been out for hours," Gordon adds, gently reaching out with his left hand to ruffle Benrey's hair.

"We were starting to get worried."

Benrey swallows his funny retort for once, instead choosing to spit out some clear blue song in response.

Tommy reads it almost immediately, and excuses himself to get medicine.

Gordon takes his spot on the bed, and just looks over Benrey.

Benrey feels like he's being scrutinized, with Gordon's soft green eyes just roaming over his face.

"Alright. Fucking. Get the questions outta the way," Benrey mumbles irritably, sticking out his tongue.

"I know you're fuckin. Curious about the shit Xen said."

Gordon laughs sweetly, setting the helmet down on the bed next to him and runs his fingers over it fondly.

Benrey takes a note of his new right hand, a grey-black prosthetic that clicks when Gordon moves his knuckles.

"I don't really have any questions," Gordon grins, adjusting his shirt.

"Other than, are you okay?"

Benrey's taken back by this one.

Not only did he cost Gordon his hand and almost his life about thirty billion times, but everyone (including him!) also just found out that Benrey was made with Xen DNA.

He's essentially Gordon's enemy in every sense of the word, and Gordon is asking if he's okay?

"....did the Nihilanth hit your head or somethin', man?? What the hell kinda. Question is that one??"

Gordon's smile softens massively, and it makes Benrey's heart melt into a little puddle in his stomach.

"Benrey, you saved my life a whole shit ton of times back there."

"Yeah, I also almost got you killed," Benrey interrupts, but Gordon doesn't pause.

"I've been thinking about a lot of things while you've been asleep, and I've been talking with Tommy a lot too."

Benrey's happy puddle evaporates into a heavy leaden ball inside of his chest.

"I don't need to hear this, dude."

Gordon looks a little confused, so Benrey keeps going.

"You're. I know you heard the shit Xen said about...."

Benrey pauses, unsure if he wants to say it out loud.

That'll finalize it, forever.

He takes a breath, then with a great effort, says it out loud.

"I love you. Have since we were kids, have since I first met you. Xen was...right. They were fucking right, you're happier with Tommy because he's never hurt you or..fuck. Fuck, man, you don't feel the same and I'm done pushin' it on you. We uhh, clear?"

Gordon covers his mouth with his hand, and for a split second Benrey thinks he's made him cry, but Gordon bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach and snorting in between giggles.

"B-Benny, you idiot, I am in love with you."

Maybe it's the sudden affectionate nickname, or the fact that Gordon said he loves him.

But Benrey blushes, hard, and pink-to-blue sweet voice bubbles out of his mouth in surprise.

"Whuh?"

Tommy walks back into the room, bottle in hand, and pauses at the sight in front of him.

"Oh, are w-we doing conf-confessions now?!"

Before Benrey can even speak, Tommy drops down beside him and kisses him on the cheek, putting him and Gordon's hands in his own.

Tommy doesn't say it, but Benrey gets the point.

"Fucking- FINALLY!!"

Benrey just might die for real.

Bubby leans in the doorway, a smug grin on his face, elbow resting on Dr. Coomer's shoulder.

"Ah, young love is beautiful!"

Tommy and Gordon laugh cheerfully at Dr. Coomer, and Benrey buries his face sheepishly in the blankets.

--

It takes a few days, but Benrey recovers pretty well from the Nihilanth.

He's thought a lot about what Xen said.

And he's decided that they were very wrong about him.

His love for other people isn't a flaw, it's his best quality.

He can and will protect the people he loves with his life, no matter what.

And he knows that the people he loves will do the same for him.

With time, Gordon learns not to flinch at the sight of his right hand, or gag when he drinks a soda.

Benrey learns to accept hugs and snuggles from Tommy, and figures out the jokes that Gordon likes and doesn't like.

Tommy is always there to patch up Benrey's injuries, and learns better responses that don't involve soda when Gordon needs to vent.

So Benrey feels safe, and knows that he's not the only one who's trying to be better.

Benrey and them are trying, together.

#hlvrai #frenrey #tomrey #freelatta #frenreylatta #leafy fics