#faceless voices - anonymous

[pet-sematary-su-au]

Navy

🐝  *  ―  𝑪𝑶𝑳𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑭𝑼𝑳 𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑾. ( send one or more of these to get to know the person behind the blog a little better. ) [ navy ]  what do your muse(s) mean to you?

( My muses mean very much to me. I love them so much, even if I am the driving force of why they got through so many life altering changes... but than again what do you expect when you have an alternate universe. )

( Thank you for the ask )

#but satisfaction brought it back ~ { answers } #out of the grave ~ { ooc } #the gem behind the blog ~ { mun } #faceless voices ~ { anonymous } #probably should have posted this on munday #but I wanted more interactions on this blog

[nobodylikety]

Pack by fate 🐾

I quite liked @dmndtears 's idea about what to write about for my Hybrid!New Jeans AU, so here's another fic (not so mini) ! I hope you like it <3

tags: Hybrid! New Jeans AU x Fem!Reader (you can see it in a romantic or platonic way), fluff.

featuring: Bear!Minji, Puppy!Danielle, Bunny!Hanni, Cat!Haerin, Fox!Hyein.

summary: The adoption day at the hybrid shelter is the best option to bring home a new friend. Or maybe five.

Bunny!Hanni 🐰

The hybrid shelter building is full of all kinds of noises, from barking and meowing to some roaring and growling. A much bigger bustle than usual, taking into account that it is the annual adoption day.

Some hybrids are outside playing and doing their own things, some playing in groups outside or perhaps enjoying their own company, as is the case with Hanni. With a shy personality, the hybrid bunny has poor social battery when it comes to large crowds, so at the first opportunity she chose to retreat to her room, take a break, and recharge her energy. She could then return to the crowd of future adopters.

So she is lying on her tummy, with the laptop resting on the bed, and her little floppy ears on either side of her head. Her cotton tail wags with excitement from time to time, in reaction to what she sees on her screen. Hanni loves movies, they are her favorite thing. And there's nothing that can make her take her attention away from her laptop screen.

Or maybe yes.

Her little nose catches a scent. One that smells good, that is sweet and inviting. How can something smell so good? what is it?

Hanni's floppy ears twitch. She takes the remote control and pauses the movie, heading to the door of her room. She pokes her head out slowly, to see what's going on and maybe, with a little luck, discover the source of that smell. In the hallway she sees the owner of the adoption center, chatting animatedly with someone whose face she cannot see. So for Hanni she is still a faceless adopter, an anonymous person, but her smell gives her away.

Hanni's nose twitches slightly, recognizing that that pleasant, sweet aroma is that person's. It's your smell. It's you.

Mate.

The words resonate in her head and make her body tense at the idea, the possibility of having you in her life. It may be so? That you are her mate? At that thought, Hanni's cheeks are beyond rosy. Oh my god, it's a full color blush. And it gets worse when you turn around, so that both you and the owner of the hybrid shelter are looking at her.

And Hanni can't think of anything better than to scream and sneak back into her room, because she's panicking, and her heart is racing, over the top. She can't believe you're real. But there you are. Which, in turn, raises more doubts in her racing, panicked brain: what if it's a dream, and she wakes up again without a mate? What if you don't want her as your mate anyway?

"Hanni," the sweet voice of Yunjin, the owner of the hybrid shelter, brings her out of her thoughts. With her hand she gestures for her to come closer and she does, although she trembles from head to toe. “We have a visitor, do you want to meet her?”

Hanni stands between you and Yunjin, not saying anything. She smiles shyly, and her cheeks are delicately colored a shade of pink.

"She's shy, but she's a good hybrid to have around." You nod, while smiling. Hanni's gaze only rests on you for a few seconds and she looks away, nervously. In an attempt to calm her down, you reach into your pocket. Without needing to see what it is, she knows it. She smells it. They are treats! Yummy.

“Hi, Hanni,” You greet, showing her the small brown heart-shaped treat. You throws it to her and clumsily—Hanni is not the best when it comes to physical activities—she catches it in the air.

Hanni looks so happy as she chews, her nose wrinkling cutely with each bite, and her happy feet tapping. You laugh when you see her, touched; those floppy ears and that cotton tail can easily become your favorites.

“I'll let you spend some time with her, she seems to like you,” Yunjin smiles. “I'll be away with the other hybrids, but call me if you need anything.”

Yunjin walks away, tapping her heels softly, until she disappears from your field of vision. Then you turn to see Hanni, who approaches timidly but cautiously. There is a glint of curiosity in her eyes. Her closeness is nice, but it still makes you crack a nervous smile, because this is new to you.

With a docile gesture she sniffs your hands and then moves up your wrists, following the trail of your scent with great concentration. She then gently rubs her face against your hands and wrists, as if nuzzling it. It's a sweet and adorable picture enough to make your heart burst.

“Mate,” she murmurs under her breath, but you manage to understand what she says. This is not a coincidence, or a listening error. She called you her mate. And it feels right, for some reason. Totally right.

You gently run your fingers behind her floppy ears, scratching her.

"Say, do you want me to take you home?" You ask, hesitantly. You're afraid she'll say no. But from the way she shyly presses herself against you, it's all yes.

Puppy!Danielle 🐶

Dani likes to be with other hybrids and people, a social butterfly if you will. She always has a smile on her face to cheer up and play with others; Even if she's not the oldest, the way she acts has the vibe of being the cheerful big sister of the shelter.

Her dream has always been to one day have a home with a family that loves her, but it has always been difficult due to her hyperactivity. That is why she always tells others that they will adopt them or encourages them, although she rarely thinks of such a fate for herself. She prefers to play and have fun, to avoid thinking that that opportunity may never come.

And oh boy, Danielle likes to play a lot! That's why they had to build a new playground just for her and hybrids like her, who are hyper but playful.

Today said play area is empty, leaving Danielle with no one to play with. The adoption journey is going very well, and many of her friends have already found good new homes. So in the absence of a playing partner, Danielle approaches the device that automatically threw the ball, which is almost as entertaining as having someone actually throwing the ball to her.

That's the dream! have someone to play catch with.

“Woof!” Danielle barks happily as the ball launches, running after it. In the middle of the race the ball hits the corner of one of the tables, which makes it change direction towards the door. And Danielle does the same.

As she approaches to the door, and to her surprise and joy, the door opens just as the ball lands in said area, rolling along the floor until it settles and stops between someone's legs.

Danielle runs to chase and catch the small tennis ball, only to be caught by a sweet, pleasant smell herself. Dani has never known the meaning of 'stay still', so her attempt to stop dead isn't very good, and she practically lands on her belly, sliding to the person's feet, where her ball is in the middle of them.

Her ears perk up, and her tail wags. That puppy tail wags like crazy, as she looks up and sees you. Dani smiles at you, a wide, goofy smile, as she bends down to pick up the ball.

The sweetened scent is yours, Dani manages to sniff it more clearly as she bends down. Will you have any treat somewhere? Will it be steak flavor? Oh, she hopes it's steak flavor. It's a heavenly smell, like it was made just for Danielle.

Mate.

Danielle is in game mode, looking with her big eyes and smiling her goofy smile at the ball. Her tail wags expectantly, as you look at her, smiling.

“Do you want me to throw it to you?” She asks, grabbing the ball and shaking it slightly.

Danielle's long tail slaps against the ground, panting. Thump thump. "Yeah! throw the ball, throw the ball!"

“Go catch it!” You throw the ball past her, hoping it doesn't collide or hit anything, as Danielle darts away like an arrow. Like a hyperactive and playful arrow.

Scurrying and jumping, Danielle catches the tennis ball between her teeth, biting and chewing it, turning to look at you. Her tail wags again. She then turns to you in time with her wagging tail, with an aura of pride as she puffs out her chest.

She drops the ball at your feet and sits on the floor, panting louder as she tries to catch her breath.

“What a good girl,” You praise her as you bend down, running your hands through her hair and her ears, rubbing them. You do it gently, giving her the option to move away from her if she wanted to.

But she doesn't turn away from you.

"Hey Hey hey! I’m Danielle!” Without warning she jumps up and knocks you down, circling around you with barks of joy. You smell too good! and you called her a good girl! you are the most perfectly perfect choice of mate for her!

The hybrid puppy you just met is way to different from the peaceful hybrid you already own, Hanni. You laugh, trying to stand up, following the wide circles Danielle makes as she runs around, you with your eyes. Her smile is so wide that you see her teeth perfectly white, and just a little bit sharp yet.

Brushing off some of the dust and dog hairs from the floor that sticks at your clothes, you finally stand up. Danielle is taller than you expected, considering that she is still young. She's nothing more than a huge puppy, and the thought makes you smile. Even blush a little.

"Are you here to adopt?" she asks, but now more cautiously. She stops and she lowers both her ears and her tail, less energetic. She looks sad, for some reason. You wonder why she is sad.

"Yeah, that's why I came," You see her looking at the ground, a sad smile spreading across her lips.

“Whoever you adopt will be very lucky, huh,” Danielle doesn't even mention herself among the possible hybrids to adopt. It's like she's ruling out that possibility. As if because of her hyper nature she was not worthy of adoption.

The heart in your chest breaks at her tone. You reach a hand towards her head, tentatively. "And would you be willing to be adopted? You're such a good and playful puppy, so cute..."

Those words light her spirits. The sparkle in her eyes reappears, as does her happiness.

Next thing you know, her arms are around you, pulling you close and licking your cheek with her tongue. You pat her head, “I’ll take that as a yes.” You thought you were only going to find the hybrid of your dreams once, with Hanni, but you realize it turns out to be two. Danielle is the hybrid of your dreams as much as Hanni.

"Mate! I’m going home with my mate!” Danielle barks, releasing you and spinning in circles. The carefree, yet loving way of saying it makes you tense up a little. Danielle also thinks you're her mate, like Hanni? and again, it doesn't sound bad. In fact, hearing it sounds good. Sounds perfect, fits.

"Okay, let's go so we can go to the office," After you saying it Dani protests in a whining tone, then hugging you tighter around the waist and pressing her face against your back, between your shoulder blades. You realize that she refuses to let you go, because it is the first time she has had a person. Someone who doesn't mind her dizzy, hyper nature.

She can't let you go like this.

You roll your eyes, laughing with a comical snort.

“Okay fineee, you can come with me, but I need to walk” Danielle's laughter vibrates against your back, huffing out the last note.

So your trip to the office to legalize this new adoption results in Danielle practically glued to you, her arms never letting go of your waist for the world.

In contrast to Hanni's gentle, quiet and shy nature, Danielle is clingy, protective and hyper. And yet, both are your home. There is no other puppy for you but Danielle.

Bear!Minji 🐻

Minji is a hybrid who likes to take naps, since her ursid nature is strong and therefore makes her prone to naps as a form of brief hibernation. In addition to that, sunlight can make her fall asleep anywhere, no matter the location.

Although of course, her favorite place to take a nap is to plop down on a person she likes, so from time to time she gets together with some hybrids, especially the cuddly and calm ones, so she can take a nap with them. Minji has a simple life: wake up, snuggle, eat, nap, snuggle, repeat.

Today Minji's favorite place is in front of the door that leads to the yard, so close that she could be hit if someone opened the door all the way. The bear hybrid didn't take that into consideration when she went to sleep, since if she had, she would have moved a little further away. Although she wanted to explore the place and decided on that place because the warm sun was filtering through a large window, so she decided to give it a try.

Minji is sloppily curled up, her teddy bear ears and tail twtiching subtly, just out of habit. Although when you open the door, you don't see the hybrid behind you, but rather a vaguely defined lump wearing a large hoodie, and from whose head pokes two fluffy brown ears. You stop, and without pushing the door further, you enter through the gap and stick your head out to see more clearly the bear hybrid lying there.

Her dark brown hair, which looks incredibly soft like a stuffed animal. Her tail is little like a cotton ball with brown fur. She is beautiful, a teddy bear come true. You smile and push to the back of the room and close the door as quietly as you can, trying not to startle her. You surround her body and kneel a few centimeters away from her, beginning to gently call her to come closer.

“Little bear, please wake up,” you click your tongue at her as you shake her shoulder a little, repeating that phrase over and over again. Minji only snores loudly in response, as would be expected from a huge bear hybrid like her.

But finally, and dazed by your shaking, Minji slowly opens her eyes with a yawn, confused at having no idea what's happening. She runs her hands through her messy hair, her eyes barely open to look at you. You laugh at her curious expression of 'I just woke up and I don't know who I am, where I am or what year it is.'

“I'm sorry, I didn't want you to get hurt. You were sleeping in front of the door,” you explain to the bear hybrid, gesturing towards the door to show her what you meant. She just looks at you with an unreadable expression, probably because she's still half asleep.

But in reality, Minji is freaking out inside. As a bear hybrid she is somewhat nearsighted, since she doesn't see as well, but her sense of smell is very good. And it is her sense of smell that picks up your scent. That smell of yours drives her crazy! She just wants to fall on top of you and snuggle in your scent. Those sleepy eyes of her can't stop staring at your pretty face.

What is this? Why does you smell so good and so sweet, like the honey she loves to eat? Do you have some kind of magic to cast a spell on her? Oh, you smell so sweet and so divine that her mouth is watering…

An echo resonates in her brain, with a sound like the snapping of fingers, realizing what you are to her.

Her mate.

The ways fate works are funny because it brought you two together, but you found her, and Minji didn't have to find you. What good luck to her!

“Hey, hi?” You wave your hand in front of her face, making her react. She blinks, and smiles. It's a goofy, sleepy smile. It's cute how she always looks like she's sleepy.

"Call me Minji," her voice is more of a hum, soft and slow. It's different from Hanni's way of speaking, soft but squeaky, and Danielle's, energetic and fast. In greeting you extend your hand, which she doesn't hesitate to pick it up and sniff it. She's a little rougher because she's big, but in no way violent or that could potentially hurt you. She's just a big, chubby teddy bear.

Your scent is very pleasant to smell, calming to the point of making her drowsy again. She presses her nose against your side, sniffing you. She inhales deeply, as if filling herself with your scent. And xhe growls, she growls like a bear cub when she finds the comfort of her mommy. It's unexpected how a bear as big as her is as gentle as a teddy bear. But it is like this.

“Adopt me,” Minji asks you, just like that. Her direct way of asking makes you choke on your saliva, before laughing.

"We just met, don't you want to meet me first?" You ask her coughing, half laughing and half choking. Most hybrids take at least a week before becoming comfortable with an owner, or at least a full day.

"I know everything I need, duh. You're my mate, of course!" Minji pushes your hand with her nose, her cottontail waving to a lively rhythm.

That word again.

Mate.

How many mates can a person have? can you have three? Hanni, Danielle and…Minji?

"Mate?" You ask, smiling a little.

"Uh-huh, I smell you. We hybrids have mates…, or some do, and mine is you," she smiles while she shrugs, as if it wasn't a big deal. Then she yawns loudly, rubbing her face with her hands. “Now, I'm tired. Could you go do the paperwork so I can go back to my nap?”

Minji is the middle ground between the gentle Hanni and the hyperactive Danielle. She just wants to take naps on you. How could you say no to such a giant teddy bear?

Cat!Haerin 🐈‍⬛

While you and your hybrids—Hanni, Danielle, and Minji—are having a sweet time in each other's company, there's a black cat hybrid named Haerin who's fuming. Her twitching ears, bristly tail and slightly arched body, along with a clenched jaw in a sign of indignation, is enough evidence.

She doesn't seem interested in being at the hybrid shelter's adoption day, and she looks down with disdain at the rest of her fellow hybrids and the potential adopters, occasionally hissing under her breath. She flatly refuses the idea of being adopted, since until now, all the potential owners she has seen speak to her in baby-like tones and seem like idiots, and that does not appeal to her. She doesn't want anything to do with any of those airheads. So Haerin takes refuge on top of the roof of the yard, which is made of old, hard reddish tiles, which warm in the sun and are very pleasant to lie on at that time of day.

Or at any time, especially when you want to avoid socializing. Just like Haerin, right now.

She simply lies on the half-warm tiles, watching the entire scene from above. From up there she doesn't have to deal with stupid babbling or hyper hybrids, like that stinky puppy Danielle, until she catches a scent. A scent so good, so appealing, a one that she likes so much (especially since Haerin never likes anything), that makes Haerin want to tear her nose off with her hands.

Because she knows what it is.

Oh god, how annoying, she curses with another hiss, now for the tenth time in just a quarter of an hour.

Haerin knows that that smell is that of her mate.

And she has never wanted a mate.

Quite the contrary, she has always wanted to enjoy her solitude. And you, even without knowing what you are to her, precisely, are ruining that plan. She wants to go scratch with you, like the good hybrid cat that she is. She has to solve this, because she can't have a mate!

So she decides to go down. With a jump, she gracefully lands in a quieter, less crowded area of the shelter courtyard, so she can walk over and begin to infiltrate the crowd and hunt you down. Not literally hunt you down though, just finding you and convincing you (or maybe convincing herself) that it is not necessary to be mates.

And she finds you.

You are simply relaxing in the shelter, watching your hybrids play, smile and laugh. They are getting along well with each other, learning to live together because that's how it will be when you take them home. They have to get used to each other, and they are doing it really well!

"Hi, what's up?" You ask, smiling softly at the hybrid that approaches you. She has black hair, and the fanciest ears you've ever seen.

"Listen. I smelled you and we are mates. But I don't need you. So go back the way you came and don't adopt me, thank you,” And just like that, after making such a statement, Haerin decides to leave. But you grab her by the wrist, stopping her from leaving.

“Why can’t I adopt you?” You ask while tilting your head, without understanding.

“Oh, believe me. You don’t want to adopt me.”

“But if we are mates, the logical thing would be for us to be together, right?”

“The logical thing is that you leave me alone, cheap human, before we scratch each other to death like a cockfight” Haerin has claws. You just noticed it. Glup.

“Hey! why are you so angry with me?” Trying to appeal to her heart, you pout. It's ridiculous how you're trying to get Haerin, who is also your mate, to not reject you.

But she's getting defensive.

“Why do I want a mate, anyway? Besides, you're pathetic. You look you're going to cry” It is easy to notice that Haerin has a sharp and snarky tongue. What is difficult is trying to see beyond that seemingly inaccessible attitude, which seems like a mask that masks what she truly feels.

"I'm not going to cry! I was just being nice," you point out in defense, letting go of her wrist. You wait for her to pull away, but she doesn't. Although she is as stiff as a branch, looking at you with some hostility, beyond the initial caution. "What's your name? If you're going to make fun of me, at least let me know who you are."

“My name is Haerin,” Haerin replies grumpily. It is evident that this hybrid is not very sociable, so to speak. And as you take a closer look at her sullen demeanor, you begin to understand Haerin; she has a big emotional shell over her, but maybe if you dig deep enough, and with effort, you could get to her heart.

But yeah..., she doesn't seem like the type of hybrid girl who just gives herself to someone. It's like she first puts you on a kind of trial period, allowing you to get to know a little more every day the fragments of the real Haerin, before giving herself completely to you. You think it won't be easy, but you still have nothing to lose if you try.

Haerin snorts, rolling her eyes. Her black furred ears twitch slightly.

“Listen. I know we're mates, but even if we are, don't expect anything from me because…” And before Haerin has time to react, Danielle suddenly hugs her while barking 'HI, NEW FRIEND!'. Her tail wags like crazy, barking with joy, to which Haerin hisses. In any case, the puppy does not accept the reference, so the hybrid cat has no choice but to uncomfortably return the hug.

You are now a few steps further back, with Hanni gently leaning on your shoulder with shy and calm expression, while Minji keeps yawning and half-flopping on your back, hugging you from behind.

Haerin decides to approach you to try to ask for help and get rid of Danielle. "HEY, YOU! GET HER OFF ME!"

But Hanni gets scared by her sudden scream and hides behind you, and Minji does react, but only to see Haerin slightly confused. Why does such a dwarf cat scream so loudly?

“Come on, Dani, let's leave Haerin alone. Be a good girl, mhm?” You tell her as you run your fingers behind her ears, scratching her gently. She whimpers with pleasure, backing away. She knows she has to control her hyperactivity, and what better incentive to calm down than for you to pet her?

"Control your snotty dog," Haerin hisses, her tail bristling. Then it swings behind her, in a defensive attitude. "And leave me alone"

"But owner!" Danielle whines, nudging you with the side of her head on the arm. "She's our mate! I smell it!"

Oh, great, the snotty dog knows it too, Haerin snorts.

"I'm not!"

“Then why does she want to adopt you?” Minji asks, in turn. She is the biggest, practically dwarfing the others.

“I mean, yes I am. But I don't need a mate."

"I think you're too stubborn to admit that you do need your mate," Hanni now comments, in a soft tone. She doesn't want to get into trouble, but she believes it is necessary to shed some light on the matter.

That under Haerin's cold 'I don't need a mate' mask, there is a cat hybrid who, although she wants to live with her destined mate, is afraid of being vulnerable.

"I'm not stubborn," Haerin clicks her tongue, her tail giving a sort of whiplash. She's grumpy, it's already clear. "So you can see, I'm going to show you..., HEY, TRASH HUMAN!"

What a cute pet name, 'trash human.' Yeah, totally loving.

"Yeah?" You ask softer, a smile barely hinted at. You don't want to exalt Haerin and have her jump on you with her claws.

“Listen, adopt me. But stop looking at me like that, you look like an idiot” Haerin blurts out without thinking, out of the desperation of the moment, hoping to silence Hanni and Minji about her not-being-stubborn-thing.

"Really?"

"Holy damn cat litter, are you deaf or something? I told you yes, adopt me" Patience isn't a virtue in Haerin either, but you appreciate the effort. Or the attempt that she is listening to you and responding to you, instead of scratching you.

"No, I'm sorry, I was just distracted," You shake your head slightly, before offering her a real, radiant smile. "But it makes me happy that you want to join. Seriously. So I'm going to get the adoption papers, and you stay here with the girls in the meantime"

It's too risky, but you reach out and scratch behind her ear. Although you almost assume she will say something, probably in a sarcastic tone, she just purrs. Like she enjoys your touch, only she won't admit it. But a gesture is worth a thousand words, and you simply know it.

"I'll be back"

While you go, for the fourth time to the hybrid shelter offices to make another adoption official, Haerin remains in the custody of Hanni, Danielle and Minji.

“I suppose that if she is going to adopt you now too, you have a c-c-commitment to us. I hope you know what that means, and maybe one day you will enjoy it and it will become something you like,” Hanni suggests, with an adorable half-stutter, moving her floppy ears to one side. She smiles shyly, as two rosettes form on her cheeks. "W-we already like you, so I think we'll be f-fine."

"And the most important thing, and perhaps the only thing you really need above any cat item, is love, Haerin. May you be part of us because we are a family now and we love each other, not because it is your obligation."

Danielle, as much of a goofy, giddy puppy as she is, is an occasional fountain of wisdom. And now she shares a little of her wisdom with Haerin, planting the seed of an idea that hopefully can germinate and grow. She had known Haerin since they were both baby hybrids in diapers, and she knew that life had hardened her heart to resist adversity and pain, and now she hopes that with you (and with them too) she can find a way to have a normal and, hopefully, happy life again.

“We'll see what happens,” Haerin murmurs, as she tentatively approaches you, once you get back from the shelter offices. You watch her body language, still tense and somewhat grouchy, but there's a glimpse in her eyes that she has softened.

Just a little.

But she's being soft.

An yeah, maybe Haerin doesn't get along at all with Danielle, Hanni and Minji yet, and she still has reservations about you despite the fact that you are certainly her mate, but she still allowed herself to be adopted. Why did the only girl whose heart is locked let you adopt her?

You don't know it yet, but maybe you are the key to that locked heart.

Fox!Hyein 🦊

Hyein has been watching. Her hybrid friends at the shelter, in one way or another, have met an owner who will take them home with them. All of them, except her, who was perhaps the one who wanted it the most.

She had approached some people, but they either rejected her or approached someone else, which only increased her discouragement. People tended to look for hybrids of domestic animals, like dogs and cats, at most a bunny, but a fox hybrid, like her? Too exotic for most people's tastes.

Hyein lets out a whine, her slightly fluffy tail curling up. It has no point, no one wants to adopt her. Is it time to give up and throw in the towel? But then Hyein lifts her head, sniffing. There are many different smells; she still can't be discouraged to think that no one will adopt her, if there are still so many people.

That makes her regain some of her courage.

She has a goal, and she is going to accomplish it. Even if it takes a little while, it's worth it.

So Hyein agilely climbs up some stands (Hyein has always liked toys that stimulate her agility, so she has no problem with this type of thing) located as a rest area, strategically positioning herself at the highest part, because from the height she has a better view of the site.

She observes carefully, easily distinguishing the hybrids from the humans, focusing on the individuals of the second group that are seen alone. There are a few. There are still possibilities.

She decisively stands up, although given the sudden change in pressure she has to stay still for a few seconds, before recomposing herself and starting to go down. As she descends, her mind works overtime in an attempt to make a plan on how to achieve the goal she has already set for herself. But how to act? what to say? She doesn't know that yet, but is in it. She just hopes she doesn't make a fool of herself.

And when her feet touch the ground she immediately sets off, walking through the crowd of people, with the idea of her “ideal owner” clearly outlined, which gains more and more strength.

“Excuse me, excuse me…” Hyein makes her way through the people, she alerts for any non-hybrid person who appears in her field of vision. In passing she spots Jake, one of the puppy hybrids jumping and playing around a young man, who looks at him as if he were the most beautiful and adorable thing in the world.

Hyein wants something like that, to be able to give all the love she has accumulated to someone special. But first, she had to find someone special and that's what she's in for.

Trying.

She still hasn't found a person who catches her attention to be her owner, but she sees Hanni, one of the hybrids she knows. They're not that close, but she likes her. And since she is older than her, maybe she can help.

And the best thing she can think of is to run in her direction.

“Hanni!” Hyein begins to shout her name, drawing the attention of the bunny hybrid, who turns to look at her with a surprised expression, as if she was not sure if Hyein was referring to her.

"Yeah?" she asks in a soft voice, in a very low and shy tone, as if she doesn't want to attract attention.

Hanni's little cotton tail wiggles restlessly, looking for you to come to her rescue.

“What's wrong, bun?” You arrive just in time! Hanni is nervous about Hyein's presence, not because she is a fox hybrid, a predator according to the food chain, but because she is taller and she was shouting her name.

And, Hanni gets nervous when people shout. Her floppy ears get all stiff, and she starts to get kind of fussy. And that means she will demand your attention for some good hugs.

"Who are you?" Hyein asks, tentatively sniffing around you. Oh, you smell good! What does it mean that you smell good?

Hanni knows why, as does Danielle, Minji and Haerin. But Hyein is still too young to know it, or understand it. Hyein is barely a fox cub, she still doesn't know anything about mates.

“I'm Hanni's owner,” You introduce yourself, holding out your hand so she can sniff you better. Hyein likes the way you smell! From her expression, it's like your smell is becoming familiar to her. Like something she knows, something she likes. Something that gives her a feeling of belonging.

“Hello,” She greets, her fox tail somewhat tense, due to her caution. A little shy, too, with a barely hinted smile.

You recognize those gestures of caution, of shyness, and how underneath it all, there are flashes of innocent hope. You saw it in Hanni, Haerin, and Hyein herself.

And that's because many of the shelter's hybrids share the same trauma: abuse and abandonment. Some came from the streets, others from abusive homes, a couple even came from circuses, where they were presented as freaks, and that not only had harmful consequences on a physical level, but also emotionally.

That is why many hybrids are scared, distrustful and even reserved, because they feared that they would be hurt again, so you understand that Hyein looks at you with some suspicion, distrusting your intentions, although there is also something in her gaze. That glimmer of hope, as if she expected something from you. For you to make a move.

You just don't know what kind of move.

"Hi, little one. What is your name…?" You ask with a smile, trying to be as welcoming as possible. You want her to trust you.

“Hyein”

“What a nice name, Hyein.”

...Okay, this small talk isn't working. Because Hyein's restless gaze continues to rest on you. Expecting.

And in a heartbeat...It just happens.

"I can go home with you?" She finally asks. Hyein likes you, even though she doesn't know you. Because she knows you scent. You're her mate, although she's too young to care about mates, and she doesn't understand that either.

But you are a protective figure, like an older sibling. Someone who will take care of her. A different type of mate. But just as important.

"You sure?" The awkward and indecisive smile on your lips gradually dissolves, giving way to a more radiant and broader one, reflecting how delighted you are to hear that.

Hyein nods. She smiles a little, and in an outburst both innocent and childish (she is one of the youngest hybrids, after all), she puts her arms around you and snuggles gently. It's funny to Hyein how holding you feels warm and nice, giving her a sense of security she's never experienced before.

“Hug...” Hyein whispers sweetly, clinging to you. "This is nice. Really"

“I can take you to meet your new friends, if you want” Hyein has already seen Hanni, but you want to introduce her to the rest of the hybrids who, to anyone's surprise, are your mates. Not just one, but all of them.

“Maybe they want to be my friends too, do you think that's the case?”

“I'm sure it will be, the girls are going to love you.”

You take Hyein's hand and guide her through the crowd, ready to take her to the rest of the group. For the first time, Hyein isn't walking these halls alone. And she never will be again.

Now you're here.

“I'm sure I'm going to love you very much,” Hyein says, subtly leaning against your side as she walks. Her ears brush against your arm, and you feel the urge to caress them gently.

Woah, they are soft, you think as you do it. They have a vague smell of dog shampoo, like Danielle also has. Surely dog hybrids and fox hybrids, since they are similar, have the same care and use the same personal hygiene products.

Hyein brings your hand to her lips, leaving a little kiss. You smile.

“Yeah, I also think we will love each other a lot. Like a pack, huh?”

Like a pack, yes.

Hanni. Danielle. Minji. Haerin. And little Hyein.

A pack by fate.

#hybrid!au #kpop hybrid au #new jeans x reader #new jeans imagines #danielle x reader #hyein x reader #haerin x reader #minji x reader #hanni x reader #hanni pham x reader

[muddyorbsblr]

the warmest bed i've ever known

'one look and they'll know' collection masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: dating era; a few days after 'when the feeling sinks in'

Summary: Tom has convinced you to go back to London with him for a few weeks, and a photo of you two out and about together has opinions firing left and right.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings (spoilers ahead): language; big hater behavior towards Reader; attempted breakup; angst; brief mentions of past bullying [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: Tomathy fully in his comforting precious bf era

Numb.

That was the only word that came to mind right now to describe what you felt, staring at your screen with all the hateful vile words that people who didn't even know you were flinging your way. And all because of the man you were dating. And how much you looked like a downgrade compared to his ex.

Then again it really shouldn't have surprised you, considering the turn your life had taken in the last few months. Hell, the last few days. There was really no other way for these nameless faceless spineless people to react when the man you'd started dating was none other than Tom Hiddleston.

And the figuratively ridiculously large shoes you had to fill considering the rising power of said ex…was Taylor Swift's.

You shouldn't have gone online. Checked Twitter. Checked anything, really. They rarely if ever had anything good to say, it was a special kind of stupid and naive for you to think that someway somehow you and your relationship were going to be the exception to the vitriolic rule.

Now here you were, screechy voices filling your mind, spitting out the words that your eyes scanned when you opened the cesspool of a sight.

Nothing special

Unremarkable

Fucking stab my eyes out with a rusty fork ugly

To be completely fair, you'd seen worse when you were still in school, every day inundated with the mocking words that sociopaths with hormones on overdrive wielded recklessly like a goddamn balisong without care that the person on the receiving end was actually a person. And if that was the shitshow you experienced from people brave enough to sign those sentiments with their name and say it to your face with chests fully puffed out, then the bravery of these people when they were all snuggled up under the protective cover of anonymity really shouldn't have shocked you.

Finding out who they were behind the screen and dealing out retribution on your own terms would have been a simple enough task. After all, you'd done it before, and even with the current advancements in technology and the tighter security protocols centered around protecting user data, you still managed to keep a few tricks in your bag that you could whip out if the need ever arose.

There was just one thing that stopped you from doing just that. A part of you agreed with the vicious comments. It was easy enough to ignore when people in school were just making hateful pages about how you sucked and how no one would ever genuinely like you. Or when they made pages pretending to be you so that they could dole out their paltry attempts at trying to ruin what little reputation you had at the time.

When you dealt with them on that comparatively smaller scale, it became easy to numb yourself to their words, drown them out until they were just white noise in the background, keeping you focused on the path you laid out for yourself rather than distracting you. It gave you a drive to work harder and better so that you could get as far away from them as possible.

On this scale, the background noise was so strong, so loud and overwhelming that every step you took to fight it seemed to take every ounce of your strength. It felt like there was no way out. You couldn't just hunker down and work hard so that you could get away from it all this time. And you couldn't exactly ignore them, either.

How could you? When they were voicing with pinpoint accuracy every insecurity that plagued you ever since you agreed to be his girlfriend a few days ago. Ever since your first night with him months ago.

So is this some sort of Make-A-Wish thing? That's it, right? She's on her last few months and she wanted to live them in delusion?

Fifty bucks says Tom's active on Raya right now. Quick someone send me an invite link I wanna shoot my shot. Tommy don't worry baby I'll save you from whatever the fuck mistake you got yourself into.

How the fuck do you go from Taylor Swift to that?

The most prevalent remarks in the last few hours had to do with a sighting of you sitting on a park bench, working on creating a wardrobe piece for an upcoming show that, if all went well, would start filming in a few years. The book author and the prospective showrunner got in contact with you after a glowing recommendation from Taika, and they talked about struggling to find the perfect scarf that would serve as one of the series' focal points.

After a few discussions and so many skeins of yarn that there was now an oversized tote bag in your hotel room overflowing with various shades of dark teal and peacock blue, you started crocheting a sample size of the pattern to show the author later on in the afternoon before you went to meet Tom for dinner. And that was how you were spotted this morning, sitting quietly on the bench, eyes on your project while your boyfriend was taking Bobby for a walk.

And for some reason the internet was up in arms over that,

Are you really fucking telling me this boring ass bitch that's giving old lady crocheting a goddamn scarf is fucking riding the God of Mischief every day? Nuh uh nope I don't believe that. Our Tommy deserves someone fun, and actually fucking pays attention to him and not a ball of yarn. Our baby deserves so much better than this.

You stared at the desk in front of you, your sample scarf to the left, and your laptop at the center, the screen now black from inactivity. You couldn't bother to move to check the time; your reminder would ring when your call would start. All you could bring yourself to do was remain exactly as you were, knees drawn to your chest with your arms around your legs, shaking and doing your damnedest not to break out into sobs over the knowledge of what you were about to do as soon as the door opened.

It was a good run, you told yourself. More than I deserved.

The sound of the front door opening jolted you back to reality, the voices finally dying down somewhat. Unfortunately, hearing Tom's voice started the voices right back up again.

"Y/N, darling, have you finished with your call? I was hoping we could go out tonight for dinner and--" His words stopped abruptly once he got to his study, seeing you in the position you'd been in for the last few hours, and immediately rushed to your side, crouching in front of you and taking your hands in his. "What's wrong, goddess?"

"I uhh…I have to go back to Los Angeles. I'm gonna see if I can make the next flight back." You didn't dare meet his eyes, still trying to hold back any tears.

He let out a breath, sounding almost relieved before he pressed a kiss to your hands. "That shouldn't be much of a problem, I can pack a bag and we can be on the next flight out--"

"No," you cut him off, wincing at your tone. "I'm going alone. There's no need for you to go with me, I'm sure you have some other things to do here. Better things."

There was a slight tremor in his hand as he cupped your face, gently turning your head to look at him. He took a shuddering breath seeing the tears swimming in your eyes. "What's happening right now, sweetheart? Please. I don't understand what could have brought this on, we had a lovely morning--"

"I thought I could do this," you choked out, finding it difficult to form coherent words without starting to blubber. "I thought I could drown the voices out, not let them get to me but…they're too loud. They're ruthless and vile and they have megaphones and they're right." You shook your head to turn away from him, burying your face between your knees, the all too familiar feeling of shame flooding your system, shrouding over you like an overly weighted blanket. "I'm not strong enough to do this with you. And you deserve someone better than me."

You took your laptop off of Standby, your screen illuminating and showing him the harsh words that had been haunting you since you stupidly decided to check the internet just minutes after he left the house. He began to visibly tense as his eyes scanned the pages seeing all the hateful things literal strangers had to say about your relationship.

"Look we gave it a shot," you tried to tell him, making a motion to get out of the chair which made him put his hands on the armrests, effectively keeping you in place. "But I think it's time to call it. I'm not good for you, and you deserve someone--"

"No." His tone was low and resolute, hands staying firmly on the chair, refusing to let you go anywhere. From a certain perspective, it was a smart enough move, considering that if he let you go right now, you'd probably sprint out the door in the name of doing what you thought would be best for him. Even if it meant ripping your own heart out in the process. "This can't be over already, we've only just begun. The time I've had with you has been extraordinary and I know that if we keep going, it'll get even better. You've made me so happy and--"

"You'll find someone that makes you happier," you dumbly shot back, the sentiment hitting you so hard that the tears finally began to fall. Even the thought of him potentially moving on so quickly after this already had you ready to sob. "Someone stronger. Someone that can handle all of this or hell someone they'll actually like--"

"Those people don't care for my happiness," he said in a rush, tears filling his eyes as well. "No matter what I do, there's always going to be someone hateful that has something to say, and they'll always think they're right. It's so clear that they don't give a damn about what actually makes me happy because if they did, they wouldn't be saying these disgusting lies about you, trying to get into your head."

There was a desperation in his tone that tore at your heart; no part of you wanted to do this. But seeing every single insecurity that you'd had ever since you said yes to being his girlfriend, yes to going to London with him for a few weeks, and generally just yes to spending the next few however months of your life with him, all laid out in print echoed by so many others? You knew he deserved better than this, better than someone that would ultimately have to be hidden away so that these people would stop coming for his throat for his 'poor choices'.

And when you knew that what would be best for the man you ached to give your heart to was to actually tuck your heart away and run, how selfish would it be for you to do the opposite?

The feel of his hands framing your face brought you back to your thoughts, the frantic pleading look on his face robbing you of your breath. "Do you want to leave, Y/N?" You wanted to scream No of course I don't, I want to stay with you. But you found yourself unable to form words. All you could do was shake your head as more tears fell from your eyes.

He pressed his lips to yours, pulling you into his arms the second you crossed your hands behind his neck and lifting you out of your seat. He didn't break the kiss until he'd carried you to his bedroom, setting you down on the edge of the bed. Then he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead before sinking to his knees in front of you, taking your hands in his.

"Then don't leave. Stay with me. We'll stay in and stay away from prying eyes so nobody gets to say anything about you, we'll--"

"You shouldn't have to make adjustments in your life for the sake of making me comfortable," you argued. "You should be with someone that can face all of this, not cower in a corner licking her wounds needing to be protected if she so much as gets seen stepping out of your house like some tiny helpless baby animal. You deserve to be with someone you can share everything with, without the worry of people shooting you down just because I'm not pretty enough or tall enough for them. You can have anything and everything you want with a snap of your fingers, I'm sure it won't be that hard to find someone that--"

Tom stopped you from letting out another word, holding you by the back of your  head and pulling you to him for a desperate kiss. "I don't want anyone else, I want you. I don't give a fuck what anyone else wants to think about how I choose to spend my life and who I choose to share it with, because I know better. You're enough, you're more than enough. And if a few precautions and adjustments have to be made to make sure they can't get to you, then I'm more than happy to do all that and more.

"Our first night together I told you I just want you. As you are. That I want to make you happy." He rose from his knees, pressing a kiss to your cheek and working his way to your ear. "That I want to satisfy you. Do you remember?" You could only nod, trying and failing not to melt against him as he kissed below your ear. "I'm going to add that list of wants now. I want to make sure you feel safe, with every means I have at my disposal."

He guided you down until your back was flat on the mattress, kissing down your neck as he did so, his lips trailing a path down to just over your heart. You found it near impossible to breathe, finding yourself overwhelmed with how gentle and tender he was handling you.

"I want to love you," he said, meeting your eyes with a look that you could only describe as surrender. "I know you're not ready to hear it yet, but this can't wait anymore. You need to hear it. You need to know that the only way for me to actually have everything that I want is if I get to share everything I have with you. I need you to know that your leaving would rip my heart out." He made his way back up, stopping when your faces were mere inches apart. "I need you to know who you'd be leaving." He brushed his lips across yours in a featherlight kiss. "You would be leaving a man so completely, so desperately in love with you."

You tried to speak, but all you could manage was inaudibly mouthing his name, the sentiment you tried to stomp down just a little over a week ago fighting its way back up to the surface. Practically shouting from the back of your throat.

"I love you," he breathed out. "Please, sweetheart. Don't do this. Don't leave. Whatever you want, whatever you need so that we can make this work, we'll find our way through this together just please…I'm begging you don't tell me that what you want is to rid yourself of me--"

"That's the last thing I want," you managed to choke out, your eyes stinging with even more tears. You swallowed the lump in your throat, mustering every ounce of strength you had left to finally say the sentiment you prematurely blurted out when he first popped up at your house. "I love you, too."

You woke up the next morning the same way you'd been ever since you and Tom first got together, his arm wrapped around you, the butterflies fluttering violently in your stomach from how he held your body against his without a stitch of clothing between you two, along with the tender kisses he peppered along your shoulder. It was a routine you'd not only found yourself getting comfortable with, but you were looking forward to it whenever you felt yourself rousing from sleep.

And that part scared the living daylights out of you.

Relationships? Routines? Your mind wandering to that place that you said you never dared think about in the context of being in any kind of relationship again, because the last time you did, the rug got pulled out from under you and threw your life and the future you envisioned into a blender?

You swore to yourself that day all those years ago that you were never going to let yourself get this comfortable. That you would always have your safety measures in place so that you never had to worry about having to scramble your way back up to your feet without any sense of direction.

And you did. You had your measures. You had your walls up. You put your heart under lock and key and said you'd never give it to someone again. Yet here you were, basically opening the chest and telling Tom that it was right there for the taking.

A chest you couldn't close again even if you tried. Even if you wanted to.

The feel of his lips pressing a kiss between your neck and shoulder had you letting out a tiny whimper, making him smile and hum against your skin. "Good morning, goddess."

You were growing concerningly comfortable with that, too.

He moved you until you were lying with your back flat on the mattress, brushing his nose across yours as he gave you a contented smile. "I love you."

You couldn't help the smile that stretched across your own face hearing the words. "Hmm…careful, you keep talking like that I might get used to it."

He laid his lips on yours, giving you a tender kiss as he gently ran his hand down the side of your body before stopping at your hip, his thumb stroking your skin. "I want you to get used to it, because I'll be saying it a lot from now on." His lips traced a line down to the base of your throat. "I love you," he murmured against your skin repeatedly as he kissed along your collarbone.

"I love you, too," you whimpered as he kissed his way down to your stomach, his shaky exhale warming your skin even more. You placed your hand on his shoulder, leading him to refocus his attention to kissing his way up your arm. "I really stepped on the ledge yesterday…" you trailed off, struggling to take a deep breath as you tried to find the words, ultimately settling on the simplest ones. You weren't likely to find better words anyways. "Thank you for talking me off of it."

He took his time kissing his way back up to your lips, never breaking eye contact. "Always, my love." The new endearment, paired with the way he tenderly kissed your lips, had your head spinning. "I'm going out to get us some breakfast. I'll be back in an hour. Go back to sleep, sweetheart."

Those words had you stirring, making a motion to sit up on the bed. "What? No, you don't need to do that, you'll get papped. Gimme a few minutes to get dressed, I'll do it."

"If you go out, they'll photograph you, too," he argued. "Pictures of us are still fresh on their minds, which means these vultures are still very much on the lookout for you out and about, waiting to take pictures in hopes of selling them to the sleaziest gossip sites. Give it a week, maybe two, and they'll refocus their attention on someone else. Them and the internet."

You slumped back into the bed with a soft thud, surrendering to the fact that unfortunately, the logic made sense. You needed a good few days to let your face and those photos fade into relative irrelevancy. "You probably need your team to spin some story on why we were seen together, too," you sighed, the discomfort of having to let the wheels turn in your head before you've even had a bite of food or a sip of coffee starting to make you skittish. "I mean, the saying goes that we can't put the genie back in the bottle, but what if it isn't fully out yet? We still have a chance to…I don't know, mitigate the situation?"

Tom rested his forehead against yours, letting out a deep sigh as he laid back down on the bed as well, pulling you into his arms so that your head rested on his chest. "One day it won't be this toxic."

His words had you giggling, looking up at him and pressing a kiss to his chin. "It's adorable that you think that, but no. But one day maybe the voices of those who would genuinely just be happy for you would be louder than these snakes in the pit with their megaphones. And maybe one day I'll be strong enough to not give a fuck about any of it."

He tightened his hold on you, arms snaking around your body in an embrace that had you falling even more into that dangerous place of way too damn comfortable. "Until then I'm going to do what I can to keep you safe. It'll only be a few weeks at most. Maybe less if we're lucky and someone causes a scandal." He pressed numerous soft kisses to the tip of your nose, breaking out into a smile when his attentions caused you to let out a soft giggle. "For now, I get to keep you in the house. All to myself." His smile turned into a mischievous grin as he rolled you on to your back, rasping the next words, "Like my own beautiful brilliant little captive."

"A very willing captive," you shot back, once again going breathless when he started kissing you all over your neck and chest. "Be careful out there? Don't let them get a reaction out of you, no matter what they ask. Or what they say about me."

"I will," he mumbled, humming against your skin as he placed open-mouthed kisses along the side of your body, nipping at your waist before pulling away. He made his way to his closet, shooting a playful knowing glance at you when he saw how you propped yourself up on your elbows to enjoy the view. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart," he chuckled, throwing on his usual running gear of a black t-shirt with the Legendary logo and black shorts that were definitely a size too small with how the garment hugged and accentuated his hips and upper thighs. Not to mention how those shorts made it all too obvious that your boyfriend happily and proudly chooses neither when it came to the age-old debate of boxers or briefs.

He walked back toward the bed, sitting on the edge and leaning over you to capture your lips in a heated kiss, as if it had been weeks since he'd done it last rather than mere minutes. His hand freely roamed your side, lightly grasping at your hips while he slowly laid you back down flat on the bed. Once he had, he broke the kiss to press his lips to the tip of your nose, then to your forehead.

"I'll wake you when I'm back home. Promise me you won't check on those pages again. None of them deserve our time, or our emotions. I love you, goddess."

"I promise. I love you, too."

A/N: Welcome to the second part of the 'said it first' arc! This would probably be the angstiest moment in their entire relationship and precious bf meow meow really answered her "I'm leaving" with "No ur not I love u 🥺" and we love him for it your honor

Three more parts to this arc and hopefully I can pull myself out of playing my lil games long enough to actually get to writing any of the pieces in my rotation 😅🫡

Here's a gif for everyone who reads 'til the end of the post…this be what the blorbos were like in that last scene:

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x female reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston imagine #muddyorbs writes

[xblackreader]

NSFW Sydcarmy AU - MDNI <3

Sydney and Carmen are neighbors, have been for the past five months.

And in those five months of him timing his leave so they can walk to the elevator, him sometimes picking up her mail so she can invite him in to try one of her pastries, or perhaps the times when he catches glimpses of her leaving early in the morning for an appointment with her hair stylist.

She’ll come back with silky straightened hair, long swaying braids or sometimes a slicked back ponytail that he didn’t even know was possible.

She had a bakery around four blocks from here and had invited him to come, he wanted to take her up on her offer, but never found the nerve. Afraid she had just been offering the building recluse out of kindness.

He finds his paintings start to develop brown red eyes and thick shapely thighs. The women in his pieces are no longer anonymous and the gallery who commissions him says these feel much more personal, the public is loving it so much he might get his own installation.

He never tells Sydney that she has become his muse.

His art becomes more raunchy, less conservative as time goes on. The woman with the glamorous Afro in his works always has a man at her feet, touching her skin and tasting her radiance.

The man is never him.

It’s one of the John’s she keeps. They started to come with her around two months ago, a different man almost every time. They stumbled up away from the elevator following her clicking heels like a lost puppy.

Carmy watched them through the crack in his door, their clumsy hands holding her hips and flirtatious giggles escaping her lips. Sydney would shush them with a finger and Carmy would burn with jealousy.

It felt like he was a dog having to watch everyone else get a treat he had been begging for.

The men would leave promptly, half dressed if she would throw them out and Carmy would feel triumphant. She never wanted them to stay, she probably never let them cuddle her or kiss her lips again once they had fulfilled their purpose.

He felt superior to them. They would never feel her love again.

But he might never feel it at all.

The thin walls uncovered their most vulnerable moments and Carmen heard it all, how their voices would tremble when she touched them on spots only she could find, how each of them climaxed. They’re groan out her name or some curse while she gasped out wantonly, the creaking of the bed on the other side staking his heart and twisting it deeper.

His turgid erection throbbing in his own hand while he listened to other men get her off every other night. He’d finish when she did, imagining the friction around his length was her silky entrance. Imagining it was him touching her willowy figure, removing her heels and kissing every inch of her endless legs.

Wishing he was one of her toys to pick up and throw away.

Sometimes he heard her kick them out prematurely, grunting that they had been unable to fulfill her needs before she slammed the door behind them. He faintly heard her open her bedside drawer and the light buzzing that followed always made him smile, stroking his cock at the sounds of the unadulterated pleasure she was bringing herself.

He imagined her laid out like a model, rose petals scattered around her figure while her face scrunched up in effortless ‘O’s with her fingers disappearing where her thighs met.

He’d lean into the wall separating them and trick himself into hearing his name form on her tongue.

Carmen will paint what he imagined. Her body stop the apex of a man groin, her pouty lips wrapped around faceless fingers, her back arched off the mattress as she surrenders to bliss.

Then he goes downstairs the next morning , picks up her mail and brings it to her. She’ll smile and invite him in to try a scone, a muffin or a new creation she’s already made.

He eats her food, scans her apartment for material to set the scene of his next fantasy and leaves with a thank you.

“Carmen.”

He stood just short of his door one morning, not expecting to see her in the hallway so early, “H- hello, hi… Yes, Sydney? Good morning.” He blathers, and she glows like a goddess.

“Y’know, I could pose for one, someday. If you like.”

<3

lol pathetic yearning cuck! carmy go brr

#carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #black women #x black reader #sydcarmy #sydney adamu #the bear #the bear tv #carmy x sydney #carmy the bear #syd x carmy #carmy x reader #carmy smut #carmy x fem!reader #jeremy allen white #ayo edebiri

[gabessquishytum]

Oh OG Warprize Hob Anon wherefore art thou..... I just thought it was time to show thanks and appreciation for one of the best AUs (imo) to come out of the Dreamling ship. Not a week goes by where I don't think about their writing, and spin headcanons and scenarios of my own in my head. One of the most underrated aspects of their writing I think is Dream's ruthlessness and cruelty in that AU, it's so rare to see Dream just be a toppy asshole all the way through, fellow fans seem to prefer to see him as an emotional bottom twink 😭. One of the rare AUs where Hob is allowed to be the sensitive wanton bottom all throughout 🤤🤤 Ohh OG Warprize Hob Anon, I miss your writing so much, I hope to see your writing grace this dashboard once more, especially with more dark Dream moments. For my fellow fans, I thought I'd do a small thing and compile all their asks here. I'm so sorry if this is sloppy, but I just copy-pasted these here.

Warprize Hob AU

Anonymous asked:

I don’t know where this came from?? Dubcon/noncon cw, or it’s kinky roleplay if you prefer that. But...

Hob fought bravely, a solider in the war of greater men. He even crossed blades with terror in all black, the Nightmare King himself once. They said it was better for a solider like him to die with honor than to be taken alive. But when the tide turned and Hob’s own sworn sovereign fell, all he wanted was to live. He laid down his blade, expecting to be taken into chains. But not chains like these.

He kneels, blindfolded, on the bed, naked other than pure gold bondage, thin chains that truss him everywhere. Gold binds his hands at his back. Gold cuffs secure his ankles, connected by a flimsy thread only put there so it could be snapped apart. Gold laces around his tits, catching in his chest hair. Gold threads between new ruby piercings in his nipples—still so sensitive that even the touch of silk sends bolts of pure heat through his body. Every time he twitches, he sees stars. Gold loops like garters around his thighs, connected to the glimmering chain around his hips. And gold ribbon cages his achingly hard cock and full balls.

Hob is so, so hard. He has been since they fed him sweet candied fruits laced with a magic that heated his blood until he was begging those faceless servants to please, please let him come. They didn’t. Instead, he was bathed and perfumed with jasmine oil brushed through his hair (everywhere). He was opened with gentle touches and generous oil, a marble plug nestled inside him, blessedly cool against his burning skin. He was left on the bed with a final chain connecting his collar to the bedframe.

His prick so hard in its confines, and the plug is not enough. He still feels terribly empty. Against his own will, he finds himself rocking back and forth, rubbing his thighs together, desperate for anything that might help him get pleasure where he needs it most.

Until with no warning, a hand touches his head. He stills. He thought he was alone. Strong, thin fingers brush down his face, linger on his lips. A gentle thumb pushes inside his mouth. Hob moans, body thrumming like a harp just to be touched so simply.

“Peace, my prize,” a deep voice, peaceful as slumber, murmurs. The blindfold is pulled down and Hob blinks blearily into the face of the Nightmare King himself. He smiles, confident and regal, and slim fingers caress his side, down to his ass, and push against the plug until it finally presses where Hob needs it. "I will give you what you crave.”

Gabe:

Mmmm yes!!!! I love this.

Hob as Dream’s chosen prize after his victory in battle? Oh yes, excellent. I particularly adore the idea of Hob being unknowingly fed some kind of aphrodisiac to make him needy - Dream wants him to be willing, so he will simply make sure that he has no choice but to be.

Also, the preparation... Hob would usually be utterly humiliated by such an act. It's so impersonal and degrading. But all he can think about is how much he wants to cum, so he spends the whole time whining and begging for more. By the time Dream gets to him, Hob is spreading his legs like a well trained whore who's never known anything different. He's nearly forgotten the battle and his instincts as a warrior, he just wants to be fucked. Anyone could come into the room and have him and Hob would just be grateful.

But he isn't for just anyone, oh no. He's the king’s prize, his spoils of war. He suckles desperately on Dream’s thumb, sticks his arse out temptingly and generally tries to make himself as tempting as possible. He aches, and his brain is fuzzy, the king is absolutely the most beautiful thing Hob has ever seen right now.

Not to mention his cock is perfect - the most perfect Hob has ever had inside him. It's as though his body has been molded perfectly for the king’s cock. He's not sure if he's ever cum so many times in his life.

When he comes back to himself several hours later, sweating and sticky and aching... he knows that he should be angry and hurt. He should get up from the beautiful bed and find some way to escape. But. He's tired, and hungry. The bed is comfortable, and the king is staring at him with sparkling black eyes.

He rolls over. Cum trickles gently down his thighs. The king holds out his hand, one of those candied fruits held between his long pale fingers.

Hob opens his mouth.

Anonymous asked:

Hiii I’m the originally war prize hob anon, lured back because I was blown away by how you and everyone else responded to the idea! Amazing work, go team.

Here’s more. (It’s so long. I’m sorry)

At first, Hob was confined to the bed chamber, a decoration, a pretty thing—and so rarely has Hob ever considered himself pretty. Pretty was for swallow-boned young men and women with smooth thighs. Pretty was not him, full bodied and furred. He has always pleased his lovers, they have found him handsome. But most have expected him to take charge and take care of them, not to—to—

Submit with spread legs and open mouth. To tempt. To eat sweet aphrodisiacs from those long, pale fingers until he’s begging to feel them for inside him. Sweet humiliation.

The king wants this. They pass long nights pounding Hob’s pride to shreds. He learns to beg under the king’s cock, his cruel mouth, and the touch of those inhuman eyes. Even sober, he only has to think of the king and his body floods with hot want. But still. Hob doesn’t understand.

“Why me?” He dared ask the first week, the king with a hand fisted in his hair, thrusting into him so deep and slow, Hob could feel it in his throat.

The king paused. A cool hand trailed down Hob’s back. Gathered the chains that pooled at his back, the ones he hadn’t yet snapped in his fervor. “I am interested.”

Hob meant to press him, even at the risk of his own peril, but the king slammed back into him and every thought vanished.

And then Hob is brought out of the bed and taken to kneel at the throne during the days too, chained to the king’s hand. At first, Hob assumes he is meant to be a symbol of the king’s power. Or a toy to warm the king’s cock when the duties of court grow dull. (Hob is both.)

But then comes a night when the king ponders battle plans for his next great war. And he turns to Hob.

“My general suggested we surge ahead and meet the enemy at their own gate. You rolled your eyes.” The king looks at Hob as if he is peeling the layers of muscle and bone away, finding the heart of him. And Hob realizes that all day, the king had noticed him listening. Not always—sometimes the king prefers to see him squirm, prefers to press the heavy gold plug into his hole and watch Hob strain for hours to keep it in, only to fail. During those hours, Hob had not heard a thing.

But when the king had allowed Hob to rest his head against his solid thigh, Hob had listened. And he had been seen doing it.

“Your enemy will expect a frontal attack. A show of strength. For you are a strong king. Respectfully, that’s a brave way to kill many of your own men.”

“Hmm.” The king says nothing else. He beckons until Hob kneels again at his side, the bowl of candied fruits, as always, sitting on the table. The king plucks one up and offers it to Hob.

“My lord,” Hob breathes. “Why do you care what I think?”

Hands brush through his hair. “Eat,” the king murmurs.

This king wants something. He waits for something. Hob cannot work out what. Yet.

He eats.

Gabe:

Assfggjkl og warprize anon!!!!!!

I am so taken with Hob’s thoughtfulness, his curiosity. His fearlessness. And I think that Dream is rapidly becoming besotted with these things too.

Hob isn't scared of him. No matter how ruthless and harsh he is, no matter which way Dream forces Hob to bend, he always springs back up with those curious eyes, wanting to know what's next. Dream suspects that he doesn't need the aphrodisiacs at all - that Hob would be willing to spread himself out in any arrangement of Dream’s choosing. But Dream is afraid of rejection, and Hob enjoys the lustful oblivion just a little bit too much to ask for a change.

Hob is clever and capable and good with his hands. When Dream comes to him wounded from some accident or skirmish, Hob knows exactly how to bind the flesh carefully but firmly. He rests his head in Dream’s lap after, like a beloved pet hound. His breathing is so soothing, Dream even manages to fall asleep. He wakes up and Hob is already between his legs, ready and waiting to be choked on the king’s cock as usual.

Dream fucks him instead, as ferocious as ever but this time with a purpose. Hob is his prize and the world ought to know about it. From now on, he'll have Hob smelling of his cum, always. He'll have him littered with bite marks and bruises. He'll keep Hob close, make sure the end of his gold leash is always within reach. He'll bring Hob to the battlefield, if he must.

A creature as magnificent as Hob must be treated as he deserves. And Dream alone can give him what he needs.

Anonymous asked:

War prize hob anon, here!!! I am loving the responses to this idea! So many amazing brilliant takes, love to see it.

The talk of whether Hob would escape or stay and be spoiled inspired me (glorious takes on both sides) so I drabbled on the subject…

It takes time. Trust. And a letter opener left unattended.

That night, Hob slides quietly as he can out of the silk sheets. He sits astride the sleeping king, his face turned toward the moon, his neck a deceptive swan’s curve. And Hob raises the blade to it.

One slice. And he is free.

It does not matter, he tells himself, that he has never been fucked so well. That the king is kind to him, relatively. He could take Hob with violence and pain or share him. Instead he feeds Hob fruits to heat his blood so that every time he plunders his body, with fingers, tongue and cock, Hob welcomes him.

Even the humiliations and hurts of his new service are given a sweet edge. The way he was spanked for misbehaving, hard and brutal, until his skin was red and tender. Followed by a hot tongue in his ass. The way he was made to kneel for hours and hold the king’s cock in his mouth. Followed by servants massaging the aches from his body and tending to his bad knee. (Yet another reason Hob is a poor choice for a prize.) In the king’s service, Hob might hurt. But he rewards him with such care…lavishes attention on him until Hob cannot come any more.

No. Hob has to do this. He must escape. He has his pride. This is just pleasure. Nothing more.

“Well?” The king’s voice interrupts his turmoil. Oh gods. He is awake. He surges up, knocking the blade from his grip. A hand clamps on his thigh, another on his wrist and he is rolled on his back, away from the blade. The chain between his wrists, once wide to allow him movement, slithers shorter until the cuffs kiss, and the collar tightens just enough to threaten his breathing. For all his battle prowess, struggling it gets him nowhere but squirming and pinned. The nightmare king settles over Hob like a dragon on top of its hoard. He stares unblinkingly down at him.

“You could not do it,” comes that deep whisper. Hob stills. “You are a well-trained solider yet for nearly five minutes you sat with a blade at my neck and did not make your move. Why?”

Hob swallows. A hot open mouthed kiss blooms just under his jaw, followed by the press of teeth. Even without the candied fruit his body sings for this man. What is happening to him?

“My pet. My prize. You must already face great consequences for this disobedience,” the king says. “I may not let you come for weeks. Answer me or it will be months.”

“I had to try. I had to—I don’t understand.” It isn’t the first time he has asked, pled, begged to know. “I’m at my wits end. Please. Why me?”

Fingers slip between them to tease at his hole and Hob resists the powerful, heady urge to submit and grind against him. For as long as he can before his resolve crumbles into lust. It will not be long. It never is.

The king gives the same maddening answer he always gives. The only one, whispered against his lips. “I am interested.”

Gabe:

Hnnnnng.

Og warprize hob anon…… i hope you know that you’ve created a beautiful monster and we’re all horny about it. i hope you also know that your words are beautiful and your prose is delightful. it’s a pleasure to read.

Oh but the turmoil Hob goes through. There’s nothing that the king can do to soothe the way his mind is twisting and turning, bouncing between loyalty to himself and some mad, misplaced loyalty to this nightmare of man. What does Hob owe Dream, really? His life? What kind of life is this?

He could set himself free. He thinks he’s almost worked it out. He could take away the one think the king seems to want. He could make himself… dull. Boring, predictable. Uninteresting.

But.

He thinks about long, thin fingers running down his spine and soothing the perpetual ache at the small of his back. Warm salve on his knee, applied at the king’s own orders. His body rigid and sweating in the night from some bad dream, suddenly embraced by cool arms. A kiss on his brow in the early morning. He’s been so greedy for those things, has coveted them and gloried in them. How can he live without them now?

Worse: what would the nightmare king do with a broken toy? Hob doesn’t want to find out.

He bounces in Dream’s lap with renewed fervor when he’s finally allowed the privilege of taking the king’s cock again. But there’s a heat behind his eyes, a kind of determination that he’d thought long dead and gone. He’ll find some way to win this game, this strange warped little battle. His own feelings be damned, Hob will not be broken. Even a king must have some chink in his armor, somewhere.

Dream raises a delicate eyebrow and almost, almost smiles. Pulls his prize closer by his golden leash.

“Interesting.”

Anonymous asked:

Hiiii warprize anon here! Glad to see people are still warprizing hob, I think it’s good for him. Truly, anons, you are doing glorious work with that AU.

I wanted to write dark obsessive dream next in all his dubcon glory next but no one cooperated? Have some less porny character introspection instead ig…

It’s amazing how little it takes for a grown man to become used to being a pet. As weeks stretch into months, Hob revels, just a little. In the lustful linger of eyes on his body. In the quirk of that cruel mouth when Hob pleases the king. The eager stirring of his cock even before he eats aphrodisiacs. Even his punishments—even the hot lash of the whip—begins to feel like sacrilegious worship. Gasping for breath, holding his thighs spread as the king buries himself in his body certainly is. In the blackest and most honest hours of the night, Hob knows the truth. He is starting to like it.

That’s the danger of the king’s service.

Hour by orgasmic hour, the king is twisting himself into Hob’s mind and body like a key carving out its own lock. He demands Hob’s submission, his pleasure and his desire for his own. But how many people had the king had in such a way? How many prizes have knelt, and learned to live at his pleasure? And where are they now? Abandoned surely, replaced. Hob is the chalice the king sips from now but he is one of dozens, maybe even hundreds. The king might have taken a prize from every battle won.

Hob is…not special.

He kneels on his cushion, waiting for the king who has stepped from the throne room, and reminds himself.

Footsteps approach and stop just behind him. Always, when the king is away, a guard is assigned to keep a close eye for Hob’s protection, though none are allowed to take his chains in their grip. Not unless Hob runs. Daring, the guard plucks at the chain between his nipples until it swings against Hob’s chest. He holds his breath.

“How’s it going?” A voice drawls. “Knees a little tired?”

Hob glances at the door for the absent king before raising his head. The guard above him smirks like he knows a joke and Hob is the punchline.

“Yes, rather,” Hob replies. “Even with the cushion.”

“His majesty seems to like that,” he muses.

Corinthian. That is his name. He’d heard the king give him orders with iron in his voice. The way one talked to a guard dog who wasn’t trusted. A creature who couldn’t be taught to fear the whip.

“You’d know better than me.” Hob meets his eye as best he can through the man’s dark glasses. He is very handsome, golden and strong. Perhaps this is the answer. Perhaps prizes who lose their luster are given other ways to serve.

Corinthian tilts his head. Hob feels his eyes trace down the marks the king left. Lurid love bites at his throat and faint fingertip bruises on his hips. “I really don’t. Suppose I’m not his type.”

“Surely you’ve seen the others then.” Hob replies. He keeps his hands folded where they’re bound at the small of his back.

“Other … prizes?” Corinthian’s grin only grows. “Sweetheart, no. You’re the first.”

Hon stares but senses no lie. “Can’t be.“

“Picking a prize always been his right but he’s never felt the need to use it until now. Until you.” The man leans closer, dangerously into his space. Hob feels him breathing, he’s so close. “I’ve heard the sounds he pulls from you at night. He must have years of pent up energy.”

Hob’s throat is dry. Something fragile, winged and stupid flutters in his chest. But before he has to think of a reply, Corinthian snaps back to a respectful distance an instant before the doors swing open, and the king sweeps in. He climbs the stairs, slinks back to claim his throne. Hob is still reeling when his cool hand finds his chin and tilts his head up.

“You did not move,” the king says. It is not a question but an expectation.

Hob shakes his head. For a long moment his eyes glitter down on him, simply watching. Then fingers card through his hair and he is guided to rest his head against his king’s knee.

Gabe:

Lying face down on the floor after reading this tbh. Like. What can I say? What can I add?

Knowing that he's the only one is a further kind of beautiful torture for Hob, because once again he's asking himself over and over again: why? Why him, above anyone else? There's a part of him in agony over his imprisonment, the curtailing of his freedoms, the fact that his mind and body are no longer his own. Then there's the part of him who wants to know why, so he can be good. He needs to know how he can keep the favour that he has miraculously obtained.

And Dream? He never gives answers. If Hob even dared to ask more than a small, sobbed "why me?" in the midst of some blissful torture, Dream wouldn't bother to answer. Hob thinks that the king likes him kept ignorant and confused. It's another way to keep him in line. He's always dancing on a knife's edge, wondering whether the king will eventually toss him aside - never knowing if he's truly safe.

So he'd better be as good as he can. Never give Dream a reason to throw him away. But he will slip up eventually - its only a matter of time...

Anonymous asked:

As requested, here’s some warprize!hob being punished by dark!dream for bad behavior. Also… thanks panickingstudent2’s last ask for some very specific inspo!

The king chains him up by his wrists. No gold cuffs with velvet interiors here. Not for this. This is punishment, work fit for dungeons, cold and deep as his king’s displeasure. Hob is already delirious from too much candied fruit. The cage has been cruelly clenched around his hot, aching cock for days now but he needs to be fucked, he needs it, he needs it.

“Mercy,” he begs but it won’t do him any good. He’s been begging for days, his cock and balls hot and aching.

Fury is divine on the nightmare king’s face. Other kings would simply kill him. Leave his body for the ravens. But Hob’s king will not let him go.

“I would have you obey me,” the king says. Fingers brush against his hole and don’t even push in where Hob yearns for them despite himself. He cants his hips back weakly, but the fingers go away. “But if I must bring you low again and again, I will. And I will enjoy it every time.”

He steps back. And the whip snaps through the air and white-hot fire flashes across Hob’s back.

Wet agony blooms across his shoulders and bloodred welts.

“You know why I must do this,” the king says. “You know why it is my pleasure to do this.”

The whip lashes again and again, fire licking across his skin. It doesn’t stop when Hob screams. Or when he sobs. When it’s done, his entire back glows like an ember. The king faces him, eyes black holes in his pale, sharp face. He places a cool hand on Hob’s back and he presses into the soothing touch, whining like a newborn babe.

“Please, I’m sorry, please, pleasepleaseplase,” he breathes. The king twists him around until the cuffs pull tight. He drags the plug from his hole, and finally buries himself to the hilt in his ass. Hob wails. Hands tangle in his chest hair and pull him flush against his king, as he plunges in and out at a ruinous pace. Being finally filled is sweeter relief than when the whip stopped.

“Say you are mine,” the king says. Once he was quiet, and constrained whenever he touched Hob and this is why—the need in his voice is barely bridled. Hob is not the only desperate one. “Say it.” The king bites, sudden and sharp at Hob’s earlobe.

“I’m yours—Morpheus!” His head snaps back as his body thunders through a cruel, dry orgasm. He doesn’t hear the king’s soft gasp against his ear, or register the name he’s cried. He’s in pain, from his cock to his shoulders—yet Hob floats. Perhaps he could fly.

Love, Warprize Anon

Gabe:

Hnnnggg. I am. Deeply obsessed with this. I love it when you drop these beautiful snippets for us!!! Hob calling the king by his name in the middle of a punishment/orgasm? Talk about a mind-fuck. Poor thing, he's truly terrified.

But it isn't just fear, is it? It would be so much simpler if he could say that he's scared and be done with it. So much easier to handle that emotion. What he feels is more that fear. He's grown attached to the king, longs for him when they're apart and fears him when they're together. When he tries to imagine a life away from his capture, he can't even manage it anymore. It's impossible to see beyond the king, who looms so large in Hob’s thoughts all the time. He's obsessed, addicted, terrified, longing to be taken and horrified by the idea all the same.

All he knows is that his king has power over him that he will probably never comprehend. Perhaps its time to surrender and acknowledge that he's lost. He no longer belongs to himself. He belongs to Morpheus.

-Love Yan Anon <3

Aww, hey Yan Anon!!! It's nice to hear from you. And thank you for highlighting OG Warprize Anon and their incredible work (you're a trooper for scrolling through and copy/pasting everything, seriously). Warprize au has definitely been a big hit, as it rightly should be, and it's great to look back on how it all started. Hopefully OG Warprize Anon is out there doing great and knowing that they inspired many, many people.

Hopefully we'll see more content for the Dark Dream enjoyers out there. I certainly lean towards a mean toppy Dream myself, although I'm not immune to Obliterating That Twink either. There's room for everyone in the fandom - and don't forget to leave comments for your favourite authors as Yan Anon has here. It's a great way to encourage your faves to write more of the stuff that you love!

#yan anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft #warprize hob #cw dubcon #cw drugging #cw intox #cw pain #cw physical abuse

[bugeater101]

Mask On

Synopsis: Chan in a mask. That's it.

Content: dom!Chan x fem!reader, mask kink, mentions of anonymous sex, spanking, daddy kink, unprotected sex (I STG WEAR CONDOMS), reverse cowgirl, pwp.

Word Count: 1.0 k

Author's Notes: Okay so I have a huge mask kink that I will never admit to (except rn Ig?) and SEEING CHAN IN A MASK IN THE TEASER 🗣🗣🗣 I finally got to write around to writing this short fic since I finished that Jeongin fics tee hee. also that angsty fic i'm writing is going to come out after i calm down from losing a lot of my work that i did on it 💀. enjoy !! <3

Taglist: @scribblemetae @mygsis, @9900z @taekbokki,@imtoooyoungforthisshit, @jihanlovic

Chris panted for breath beneath the black fabric. Condensation had built against his face and it had become a battle trying to gulp down air. The soaked cloth clung to his skin and, though he was otherwise completely naked, the mask made him feel like he was suffocating. Nevertheless, it remained on. He didn't dare take it off; not when he knew how it made you think, not when he knew how much you liked it.

"Fucking ride it, y/n," he groaned out in a low voice, holding your hips as he watched your ass bounce on his cock. "You t-take it so well, baby."

"Only for Daddy," you whimpered, "only take Daddy's cock like this." You were pained that you couldn't see his face right now with your back to him. However, even if you turned around, you knew that you couldn't see anything but his dark eyes as the rest was obstructed by his black mask. But that was what you wanted to see: the obstructed face of a masked man attached to the chiselled body of your boyfriend, slicked in sweat.

You didn't know exactly why you liked men in masks. Maybe all that shit on Tik Tok about fucking boys in Ghostface masks from Scream, Mandalorian helmets from Star Wars, or in the mask Ghost wire in COD had permeated your subconscious and brainwashed you. Maybe it was because masks gave Chan a sense of anonymity, like you were just fucking a stranger for fun who couldn't care less about you. Or, possibly, it created a separation in intimacy and granted Chris greater authority over you, like he was a faceless God who you could not read and, in turn, had no power over. Or, most likely, you just liked to fuck the faceless body of your boyfriend and use him as your own personal dildo. Either way, the mask always managed to change Chris just as much as it aroused you. It made him cool and collected and, consequently, made you seem even more desperate and needy.

There was just something about masks that did it for you and you couldn't ever figure it out. To be fair, you didn't really need to know why that mask made you want to be fucked until you passed out. You just know that you like Chris and that you like masks, so it didn't take a mathematician to figure out that you liked to fuck Chris in a mask. Plus, the situation became even more intoxicating when he let you call him Daddy when wearing a mask while he sinks his fat cock into you and makes you cum multiple times.

What could you say? You had the best boyfriend.

"Take Daddy's cock, baby," he whispered cooly, voice muffled from the moist material and heavy breathing. "Work for it. Make me cum into the perfect pussy of my pretty girl." His sweet words were quickly contrasted by a particularly harsh smack to your ass, leaving a red handprint on the squishy flesh. To please the man below you, you bounced harder on his length, your thighs burning from the act. Chan—even in this state of utter bliss and dominance—noticed and tightened his grip on your hips, guiding you up and down his heavy cock and forcing you to the hilt with every stroke.

"D-don't slow down," he growled, "Don't you dare fucking stop." His words made you whimper, dying to slow down despite the impertinent need to continue until you came at least thrice more and were filled with his cum.

"Chris, it's too much, I—fuck!"

Noticing your slowing pace, Chris began upwardly thrusting into you, fucking his cock up into your cunt and making you hum with each bounce. His hands dug into the flesh of your hips to ground himself, occasionally separating from you just so he could lay another slap on your ass before resuming his harsh hold on you with added gusto. With each thrust, he was practically lifting you up and pulling you down onto his cock, not daring to let up the pace. As his tip began to kiss your cervix and leak precum, you arched your back and fell forward, leveraging your hips to bounce eagerly and meet his thrusts halfway.

Despite your exhaustion, you dared not stop; you felt too good to allow your exertion to consume you. With your next orgasm fast approaching, your cunt tightened around Chan's cock and hugged it, urging him to finish inside and fill you up. Chris, however, gave no indication that he was approaching his climax. This is what the mask did to him: it stripped him of all weakness and made him edgier, with no mercy as his domineering side consumed him. He became a dom in a way you had never experienced when he was completely naked. It was as if the mask allowed him a separation from you, as if it made him more primal and allowed him to hide his (usually humiliating) level of neediness for you. While it allowed him to conceal his carnality, it only exacerbated your embarrassing desperation for him.

Since the mask was only for special occasions, you knew that you needed to get your fill of this Chan. You were determined to finish in this position just so you could turn around and continue face-to-face with him, allowing his cold gaze to lock eyes with you as you feebly rode his dick. Yet, while you would fall apart on him, Chris would just study you riding him, as if his eyes were saying all that needed to be told.

Maybe that was why you liked masks so much: just as much as the mask itself turned you on, what really made it complete was what it did to Chan.

"Ride it harder, y/n," he growled through the sweat and slobber-soaked fabric. "Maybe, if you fuck me right, I might just let you see my face when I fuck my cum into you when you're too exhausted to keep going."

#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #chan x reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n

[sanjoongie]

Morning Glory

🏖My submission for the Written in the Sand Event held by @cultofdionysusnet

🏖Pairing: Kang Yeosang x Reader (f) 🏖Genre/au/trope: Smut, vacation au, s2l/one night stand 🏖Word Count: 2,146 🏖Summary: you're bored to tears during a destination wedding so you download the glory hole app and see if you can't find a good time 🏖Rating: 18+ MDNI 🏖Warnings: glory hole, dirty talk, sex with a barrier, auralism, verbal instructions, oral (m), fingering (f) 🏖Dedication: @anyamaris you got caught in the crossfire that is my brain. Thank you for yeo’s username 🤣 @downtoamagicalland & @mejuii for beta reading like speed demons

You were b-o-r-e-d bored. This destination wedding was starting to become a drag. At first, you had been excited to hop on a plane and go somewhere hot with sand. And now, after several hours between lounging at the pool and reading, you had quickly become antsy with nothing to truly do a day before the wedding.

You texted a friend and they immediately replied with a solution: The Glory Hole app. You scoffed at the horrible name but it was quite literally that. You signed up with the username VxctionFxk and left it at that. You had to fill in some personal information, that would remain confidential but it worked like this: you would be matched with someone in your area, you would have twenty-four hours to "connect" aka flirt with your match, then you would arrive at the designated location for the "appointment" and then your messages, and ability to contact each other, were deleted.

You entered your height with a nose scrunch in distaste but realized they probably needed it to set up the glory hole. Once everything was complete, you matched almost immediately. Interesting, considering you were in a gated vacation spot but you didn't argue when you saw who you were matched with.

His profile picture, faceless as per the app rules, showed some very muscled arms. Did that mean he was a gym rat? You glanced at his username YourProteinShake and that confirmed that. You shook your head. That didn’t really matter considering the point of the app but it did make you wonder…did working out so much make veins in his dick more visible too? Perhaps you’d get unhinged enough to text him that.

YourProteinShake: hello ^^

Okay, he was already kinda cute, maybe this wouldn't be that bad after all.

You flirted, he flirted back. You sent suggestive photos, he sent you half his face. If anything, you were the pushy one. You wanted to know everything! Was he expecting pussy or mouth? Was he usually rough with his partners? What about pet names during sex? To his credit, Shake, as you started to fondly call him in your head, kept up with all your questions.

VxctionFxk: you're such a sweetheart, can I call you Honey? YourProteinShake: ^^ I'd love that VxctionFxk: I'm starting to regret this is anonymous YourProteinShake: why? ^^"" VxctionFxk: kinda wanna see your full face and feel your hands on my body YourProteinShake: these hands?

Honey sent you a photo of his hands and you groaned out loud, letting your phone fall to your chest. Suddenly this app was torture. You checked your phone and it was roughly an hour or two before your glory hole appointment.

You got a separate message from the app, informing you of the location of your appointment. The photo of a shower house where guests go to get the sea water and sand off of them was perfect. It was early morning, and most guests would still be sleeping off their alcohol induced sleep from the night before. It was perfect.

VxctionFxk: See you soon? YourProteinShake: don’t flake on me now ^^’’ VxctionFxk: Wouldn’t dream of it <3

You don’t bother to get dressed, you’re about to have sex with a stranger through an anonymous hole, why dress up? So you remained in your bathing suit and cover up. You paced once you were on your side of the wall, eyeing the hole. It seemed gratuitous. Did that speak about Honey’s size?

“Bee?” A deep, rich, LOVELY voice came from the other side of the wall. Was that your date?! His voice almost made your knees buckle. You should have requested for a voice note from him to prepare you for this. If that had been allowed, of course. The app was very anonymous.

“Hon?” You replied back tentatively.

In hindsight, the new nicknames were actually smart, because then you could be sure you were fucking the guy you had been talking to. “It’s me,” Honey replied back.

Goosebumps appeared all over your body and you rubbed your hands up and down your arms to calm yourself. You weren’t scared, you were getting turned on. Mental flashes of half of Honey’s face and his hands tightened your nipples. You wanted this so badly.

“I’m gonna… get ready, Honey,” You informed him, voice slightly higher because of the nerves.

“We… are you sure you wanna do this?” Honey replied, sounding unsure himself.

“Are you sure?” You shot back, worried he didn’t want this now either. “I said I wouldn’t dream of flaking on you. I’m firm.”

“I bet you are,” Honey replied off-handedly.

You bit down on your lip. “You saw my ass. Pretty firm, I’d say,” You giggled.

Honey moaned on the other side. “Don’t tease me.”

“I’m sorry you can’t touch it while we…” You paused, unsure of your next word, “...fuck?”

“Gonna fuck your hole so good, Bee,” Honey said without fail and it sent another wave of goosebumps over your skin.

It was the first time Honey had been truly vulgar and you loved it. The sound of his voice only enhanced it. You fumbled with your bottoms, moving them out of the way and you began to touch yourself. “Wish it was you playing with my clitty right now, Hon.”

“Wait, are you touching yourself?” Honey sounded strained, “Tell me.”

“I didn’t even need to suck on my fingers, I’m already wet,” You revealed, “The sound of your voice is driving me up this wall.”

“Yeah? Like the sound of my voice?” Honey purred.

“Are you touching yourself?” You wondered.

“Playing with my head through my shorts,” Honey admitted, “I’m wet too.”

“Fuck,” You groaned and pushed a finger in you. “You said I should scissor myself, right? Stretch myself out for you?”

“Can we…?” Honey paused to swallow, “Think you could suck on my dick while you fuck yourself with your fingers?”

“Sounds like my type of foreplay,” You flirted back.

You crouched in front of the glory hole and resisted the urge to peak. “I’m here, Hon.”

Before too long, Honey’s dick pushed through the hole and you gasped. “Too big?” Honey asked and you groaned in response. Confirmed: the veins in his dick stood out wonderfully.

“You’re so fucking thick, Honey, jesus, no wonder I gotta--” You moaned as you worked your fingers in and out of you, “Shit, two isn’t gonna do it, I’m gonna need-hnnnnnnn-three fingers.”

“Lick my tip,” Honey requested.

You began to kitten lick his slit while you were busy with scissoring yourself and preparing for a third finger. Honey cursed lightly under his breath and encouraged you to do exactly this. You wanted the both of you to enjoy this so when you took him finally in your mouth, you introduced your third finger. The both of you made noises of pleasure at the same time and it almost made you laugh.

After only a few minutes, with the lewd noises of you sucking off Honey and fingering yourself at the same time echoing in the shower house, Honey withdrew from the hole and you protested. “Wait--!”

Honey let out a shuddering gasp from his side of the wall. “No, I need to be inside of you, Bee. Please.”

Always so polite, your Honey was. Wait…your Honey? Claiming him already?

You stood up and bent over, genuinely surprised the hole was the perfect height for Honey to just… “Condom?” You wondered.

“Oh, yeah, shit.” Honey fumbled and then you heard the noise of a condom coming out from the package. “If we ever get matched again…”

You felt a little melancholy, actually. You had been so fucking bored during this trip but chatting with Honey had really perked you up. Not only was he not a dick but he was a gentleman but a dirty one at that! What were the chances…? You shook your head. You could not go down this route. This was a one time thing.

But you couldn't let Honey down right now. “If we ever get matched again, I’ll show you the neat trick where I put your condom on with my mouth only.”

It was silent for a moment, like Honey needed some time to absorb your words and then he said 'please' in a desperate tone.

Soon your gentleman, and fellow glory-holer, was pushing that thick dick inside of your waiting hole. Even with your three finger prep, it was still a stretch, but a pleasant one that had you wishing you had something to brace against. The best you could do was push back against the wall and hope Honey kept on pushing, despite your resistance.

“Shit, you’re so wet and soft. Bee!” Honey’s tone took on a whine. You were dying for his hands on you now. You could only imagine how tight his fingers would be on your hips.

“It’s all for you, Honey, all for you,” You said wistfully.

“This tiny, tight hole is all for me,” Honey repeated, “My sweet Bee.”

This fucker was about to romance you when this was all about strangers fucking without seeing each other. As it turned out, you two were definitely on the wrong app. “I’m ready, Hon, you can start fucking me.”

Honey began to move in and out of you and you groaned as his dick dragged against your walls. “Oh god, you’re clenching. Is it good, Bee? Is my dick good to you?”

“So good,” You gasped. “You’re so thick. I still can’t decide if you’re better in my pussy or my mouth, fucking hell, Honey.”

“Oh don’t even start with me,” Honey groaned. “I want everything and more now that I've gotten a taste of both. I wanna come all over your ass and tits. I wanna fuck all your holes and then some. Your cunt is--” Honey halted his words suddenly. Had his brain caught up to his dick now? “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t--”

You panted, Honey’s thrusts becoming shallow and less frequent, making you whine. “It’s okay, Hon. We knew what we were signing up for. Please, keep going.”

A knock on the other side made you think he either banged his head or his fist in frustration. “Maybe Woo was right, maybe I am too romantic for this.”

You swallowed some saliva yourself. That was a name that seemed familiar. Could Honey be a part of the groom’s party? Shit.

“Honey, sweetheart, come back to me?” You begged, “Let’s finish this, yeah? Don’t leave my pussy weeping like this.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” It sounded like Honey shook himself out of whatever thoughts he was having. “We’ll come together. At least we’ll have that.”

Honey’s thrusts became more sure and harder, making you cry out. “Fuck, yeah Honey, just like that, mmmm that’s hitting the spot baby, oh yeah, fuck me just like that!” Words were falling out of your mouth but you didn’t even know what you were saying right now, you were just chasing your high.

“Fuck, this cunt is everything, fuck you’re taking me so well, Bee. Wanna fuck this pussy all day and all night. And I’d still be coming back for more.” Seemed like Honey was babbling as well.

With both of you struck dumb by the good sex, you came and you came hard. Your hands were braced above your knees, nails digging half-moon marks into your palms. You were gasping in air as Honey let out a grunt and stilled inside of you. You could feel your creamy juices dripping down the back of your thighs and winced at how fucking wet this scenario had made you.

All you could hear was your pulse after your climax had hit. You pulled forward and Honey slipped out of you. If you had bothered to look back, you would have seen that he was still rock hard and had not cum. Honey quickly pulled out of the hole, wondering how he was going to be able to make it back to his room with a raging hard-on while tying off the condom.

Yeosang aka Honey, pressed his sweaty forehead to the makeshift wall. "Bee, do you think--?"

You cut him off with a laugh. "I have literally no thoughts, Honey, you were fucking amazing."

"But, I mean, we could--"

"I gotta meet some friends for brunch," You made up a lie on the spot. "I gotta shower first. Thank you for the mind blowing orgasm." And then you were gone with a fwap of your flip-flops.

Yeosang breathed in deeply and let out a sigh. This was what he signed up for. He felt stupid, falling for you, but he had. It WAS stupid, he barely knew you for twenty-four hours but you were something else. He didn't even care what you looked like, he just wanted you. And now he had just lost the chance to find you again.

#WrittenInThesSand23 #cultofdionysusnet #kvanity #kwritersworldnet #pirateeznet #ateez smut #kang yeosang smut #atz smut #yeosang smut #kang yeosang x reader #topaz's work #ღatz

[fionajames]

ethereal pt. I

A/N: Hey, guys! This is the 60 followers celebration!!! There will be more parts of this, don't worry. Please send some requests! i'm dying here. Enjoy!

(divider by @saradika-graphics)

Anakin had never really understood why he and his siblings seemed to always be on missions, but he enjoyed it nevertheless. With the continuous noise of the war, the quiet hum of the Temple was eerie and upsetting now. It unsettled him. Plus, he much rathered being with his troops - which was near impossible when off missions. 

Now he stood beside his sister as they exited hyperspace, on yet another mission. This time, it wasn’t a battle to fight. The Council wanted them to explore a strange planet, inquire if it had inhabitants and was a suitable place for a Republic base. Missions like these were usually pretty relaxed and easy-going.

The ship flew into the atmosphere of the planet, and Ahsoka gasped at the beauty of it’s terrain. Anakin stared in awe, and he heard Obi-Wan murmur a word of surprise. The planet had oceans of glimmering white and transparent water, the soft green of the forests meeting it with a delicate flow. 

As they flew closer, Anakin could see the reflection of their ship in the glimmering water, and heard Rex whisper, “Maker,” breathlessly. He couldn’t help but agree.

When the three Jedi, Clone Captain and Commander left the ship, they were met by the warm light offered by the sun, bathing them in a sense of deep peace. Ahsoka fell to her knees in the mosslike grace, her fingers running through the blades of it with content joy. “Oh, it’s beautiful,” the Togruta whispered, voicing their thoughts.

They set out into the forest, the song of the trees and birds floating in the air. Ahsoka had escaped into the canopy as she often did when they were in the woods. But, usually it was to hunt. Now, she didn’t dream of laying a finger on any of the planet’s fauna.

They continued on until Ahsoka’s voice called down to them. “I can see something up ahead,” she explained, leaping from one tree to another with wondrous ease. “It looks like a building.”

She was right, up ahead was a huge building - a castle of sorts.

It was tall and huge, a building of shimmering white limestone. It had pillars all around the front and sides that reached up to the second floor of the castle. It had steps leading up to a porch with huge white doors directly ahead. The building was huge, it looked like to be about an eighth of the size of the Jedi Temple, and it was far more ethereal.

Around the building, the forest ceased and melted into a huge garden, a pond on each side of the yard. The water was once again the whitish transparent colour of the seas. Flowers, trees and bushes decorated the garden.

The building was three stories tall, with strange etching into the walls. Between the first and second floor, the designs looked like ivy bound around tall, hooded and faceless beings. The creatures themselves weren’t faceless, but their faces and features could not be seen. They and their species remained anonymous. 

Above the first floor, the second floor had a large balcony, covering the area above the porch. The windows of the building were huge and of a darkish shade, as though tinted. The doors were also tall and huge, white paint covering them all - not even a scratch on any of them.

“Where are we?” Cody breathed out, reaching forward to rub a leaf between his thumb and index finger. Obi-Wan strolled forward, gazing around. The group trailed behind him as he moved to knock on the door of the building. No answer. Not even the sound of footsteps. He knocked again, then thrice, and nothing.

“Perhaps we should-” Rex began, but they all froze when the doorknob twisted in Obi-Wan’s grasp, and the door opened easily.

“Who would leave their door open?” Anakin wondered out loud as the ginger nodded, entering the house first. The interior of the house was no less beautiful and elegant than the outside, gold features as decor and chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The house was lit by candles everywhere, their wicks gleaming with the flames. Instead of eerie, it was comforting.

Ahsoka wandered forward, reaching out and lacing the Force around her fingers. The feeling of it provided her solace, as she found the house so oddly warm and welcoming it worried her. She was the first to notice the first sign of something wrong.

“The candles,” she breathed out, moving to a beautiful mahogany desk where a set of candles were placed. She ran a finger down the wax, shivering as she did. “They’re burning low. No one has been here for a while.”

The others murmured their agreement, Anakin’s brow furrowing as he strode forward to stand by her side. He ran a fingertip over the surface of the desk, bringing his finger up to examine it. “But no dust.”

“I see no reason as to why someone living here - cleaning their furniture and house - would not replace the candles,” Obi-Wan mused. “After all, this house shows us extreme wealth, surely they can afford candle replacements?”

“Or why not use the lights?” Cody pointed out, gesturing to the unlit chandelier hanging above them. “So many beautiful lights, and none of them on?”

Rex shuddered. “There is clearly something wrong here. What, I do not know, but there is something wrong.” Anakin nodded, pulling his sister closer to him. 

“I suggest we explore. Perhaps someone has fallen dreadfully ill or is in danger,” Obi-Wan reasoned and the others all nodded their agreement. Together, they set off into the mansion. They agreed not to venture anyway alone as they explored, finding room after room after room. They encountered many pieces of beautiful furniture and more than one piano, as well as empty rooms and bathrooms and everything else imaginable.

They went upstairs as well, finding more and more rooms with beautiful things, bedrooms joining the list of rooms. Once they’d explored the entire house and found no inhabitants, they trekked back downstairs and ventured out through the back doors.

The garden around the back was just as beautiful as the one out the front, hedges of green and ponds of clear. There were statues out here as well, ivy tangled around them in a beautiful contrast between the green and white.

As they moved around the corner Ahsoka gasped, and the others turned to her. “What is it?” Obi-Wan asked gently and she pointed to the statue in front of her. The statue looked identical to her - a Togruta with the very same markings as her. It looked to be wearing some sort of toga, the fabric wrapped around the Togrutan girl. She looked a year or two older than Ahsoka, the ivy wound around her torso and laying in the bridge between her montrals. 

“She looks exactly like me,” Ahsoka whispered, reaching her finger up to trace the marking on her cheek. “Only a little older and wearing… whatever that is.” 

“Must be a coincidence,” Rex spluttered, slightly disturbed at the idea of a statue of his sister in someone’s garden. “Perhaps your ancestor.”

“Perhaps,” she murmured, turning and shuffling behind her best friend. Rex hugged her quickly before they continued on. It only took them a minute for her to speak up again. “Look! That’s Skyguy!” 

The group turned to where Ahsoka was pointing and sure enough, another statue stood. This one was a human male, who looked exactly as Anakin did, only his hair slightly longer. He too was wearing clothing like a toga, and he even had the same scar. “That can’t be a coincidence,” Anakin muttered, pointing at the scar over his right eye. “That’s identical to mine.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Cody suggested hurriedly, shivering. 

But Obi-Wan stopped him.

“We should look at the other statues too, perhaps they might give us a hint as to what is going on,” he decided and the others reluctantly agreed. They quickly found another statue, this one of none other than Obi-Wan.

Only minutes later, they inspected the last two statues to find that they were Rex and Cody, also in togas - just like the rest of them. It was strange seeing them in clothing other than their armour, but their scars on their faces showed it was definitely them.

“Can we please go now?” Rex asked, itching to get out of the garden. He glanced back at the house, staring at the candle’s flickering in the windows. He was holding Ahsoka close to his chest, worry evident on his face as she nodded eagerly.

“I suppose we should,” Obi-Wan agreed, brow furrowed. “But I am confused. How and why are the statues of us in this garden?” They all murmured their agreement, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation, but to no avail.

“Because,” a gentle, silky voice called from behind them and the five turned to see a young woman - around Anakin’s age - with stormy grey eyes, long wavy golden hair and tan skin, dressed in a strange white toga. “We’ve been awaiting your arrival.”

A/N: Hope you enjoyed!!! Send requests please!!!

(taglist: @transmascanakin, @techs-goggles9902, @skellymom)

#the clone wars #tcw #501st legion #captain rex #clones #anakin skywalker #clone troopers #star wars #clone wars #ahsoka #sw #sw tcw #ahsoka tano #obi wan #obi wan kenobi #212th battalion #212th legion #commander cody #ka’ra writes ❤️

[minkshame]

hai! do you hc the eddworlds boys with any jobs?

suspicious ask... I'm working on something that mentions jobs rn...

Anyway kind of. I believe Edd is secretly wealthy from his lucrative YOUTUBER career. He has short cartoons that he makes and a dedicated fanbase. He's one of those faceless creators tho that stays decently anonymous, everyone just knows him as Edd and has heard his voice.

Tom strikes me as retail worker, I've imagined him in a grocery store or if we wanna be a lil nicer, a music shop (record store, itunes store, whatever).

Matt has that hairdresser swag. Maybe he's also a part time hand model with his beautiful fingers

Tord is obviously a mechanic or an arms manufacturer I've written him as this. If he isn't RUNNING the red army at some point he certainly works as a PART of the red army, helping them with their technology and keeping the mechanical parts running.

#askbox #someone in the server better not be BLABBING before i post ! #spare changes

[the-npd-culture-is]

Nice blog you got there cherri

ok so i have like fifteen other asks but i need to address this first because it's been an issue for nearly a month now and these anons tried to find my main and did what i think was an attempt at doxing me.

this is a post to spread awareness to my followers, despite the person concerned not being aware that i'm doing this at this moment (i will tag them and DM them about it soon). long post, but important.

i may reblog this with additional info in the future, so if you feel this gives limited information check the reblogs or comments.

these anons tried scarying me off of running my blog by constant harassment for days straight, which thankfully stopped as i ended up blocking them. as you can see they ended up bypassing my block or asked someone from another account to continue the harassment and attempts at inducing fear. frankly, what this is causing me is anger as im not the only one involved in this unfortunately.

one of the first hate anons on this blog was a spam of four or more anons asking me if i was the person the anon im replying to is mentioning here. i didn't think much of it as they came with another roughly dozen of hate anon spam which (surprise surprise/s) disappeared in its entirety once i blocked one of them. meaning a single person was harassing me.

i ended up contacting the person these anons were thinking i was, and decided to not reply to the first batch of hate, as first they had the url fully typed out in the ask and I didn't want to expose the person concerned, and second I didn't want to bother any of my followers with one salty hater. they were as weirded out as me that they got involved into this without any logical link between my main, their main, or this sideblog, asides from the fact that they were one of the handful of people that supported me early on and even accepted in dms to share my blog to a discord server (a small one, but they were excited about my blog and asked if i was ok with them sharing it and i said ok).

i had asked them to not make a callout post on their own blog about this nor to go and harass anyone. which they didn't. additionally, i sent them screenshots of the hate anons and explained to them that i didn't want to put their blog url publicly by answering the anon as I felt it was a safety issue. but they insisted that they didn't mind it and that if i changed my mind about the whole issue and decided to go public i would.

so here's their url -> @cherrifruiti (they're getting free promo lol, hopefully it balances out the harassment and targeting they went through. they're an artist and honestly good friend. we bonded more over this. go check them out)

the insistence of this anon on trying to find my main was confusing to me at first. i did not choose to remain anonymous on here for privacy reasons, hell, not even safety reasons. i deal with worse bullshit on main than here. i wanted this blog mainly to have an anonymous moderator as a way to leave space for the community voices. i felt like a faceless blog was a more welcoming environment than having the baggage of a whole person, moral alignments, blend into a space that's catered towards a specific goal and discussion. which to be fair was a huge hit for my ego. id love to share my full identity with y'all and have the accomplishments of this blog linked to me. but im stubborn and attached to my values.

to put it simply, i did not want to make the same mistake as the admin from @narcissisticpdcultureis did.

that being said, i did not lie on any of my values linked with my DNI. i wanted this blog to be accessible to cluster b personality disorder havers and the wider community regardless of their backgrounds, but with some limits for my own mental health and personal boundaries, that i tried keeping limited. notably regarding discourse. of any kind. and as another addition for resources in the npd and cluster b community. just as another community space, not a monopoly.

despite the amount of hate and adversity expressed from the admin of @narcissisticpdcultureis , i had not made this blog with adversity, harassment, anger, or "rebellion" in mind. unlike how the admin seemed to take my act of creating my own digital space and express emotional distain for my blog for the sake of existing. blaming me of doing so to put them in a bad light, while the only thing i did was point out information they already had made accessible to the public about themselves in their pinned post. which i didn't give a moral alignment to it, just stated that i was personally uncomfortable with it.

i am not condoning harassment, but I will not police your actions either. this individual(s) had put the url of my sideblog publicly in a rant of theirs aimed to put me and my work in a bad light without regards of my safety or mental health, and lead many, potentially themselves personally as well, to put me through constant anonymous harassment while i had expressed since the beginning i didn't want to be affiliated or interact with their blog, and never mentioned their url publicly up to now, to avoid the same scenario that just happened to me from their doing.

additionally, in their rant about my blog, they mentioned another npd culture that apparently was created adjacent to theirs, potentially for similar reasons as mine although this is unknown.

im gonna say one thing.

if anything, i like the attention. you decided that i, a small account, who didn't have the self estime to ever think would get traction, caused enough of a problem to make your, way more popular, blog feel threatened. i feel honored.

my only issue is that you failed to find my main blog, which frankly offended me. now my friend is the one getting all the spotlight instead of me </3

i did not judge you on morality when i decided to distance myself from your content due to your syscourse stance. but i am judging you now by your actions. i will be reporting you for harassment and encourage everyone in my social circles to do so as well.

i am not going anywhere.

#anon #mod talk #ask #asks

[sleepanonymous]

(Only after I transcribed the entire thing did I find an online source here 🤦‍♀️)

ALL GOOD IN THE HOOD…

Mysterious masked entity Sleep Token allow a peek into their dark world on debut album…

With the hidden identities behind bands like Poland’s Slavonic metallers Batushka and Sweden’s Ghost being unveiled to a curious public in recent times, it means that the similarly secretive Sleep Token might just be the most compelling group with their masks still in place. And, as they’ve already proven, the band are more than capable of playing up to this role of intrigue. When the anonymous collective emerged just over two years ago, dressed in Death eater-style robes and looking ready to sacrifice your pet goat, their leader, known only as Vessel, told of an age-old deity called ‘Sleep’— a name chosen as no proper translation exists in any modern tongue. They also came bearing allusions to ancient civilisations, with early songs named Calcutta, Nazareth, and Jericho.

This weaving of the occult into the band’s tapestry has grown smarter as they’ve journeyed towards this, their debut full-length. With the album named after the syndrome associated with dementia, where patients can become further confused and agitated as dusk sett;es in, its first single The Night Does Not Belong to God was unveiled upon summer solstice in June. Subsequent tracks have been ritualistically released every two weeks since, always at the time of sundown according to Greenwich Mean Time (perhaps a clue towards the group’s Earthly origins).

And yet for all this dark mystery and carefully constructed enigma, perhaps what surprises most about Sleep Token is the way they sound. Despite a supremely witchy aesthetic that hints at the gloomiest doom unearthed from some rotting catacomb, the main fabric of their debut is a mix of chilling electronics and otherworldly pop, with a sinister heaviness only intruding on the fringes. These are songs that share less with the metal of the similarly-robed Sunn O))), and more with, say, Deaf Havana’s slower, more pensive and thoughtful moments.

It begins with the aforementioned The Night Does Not Belong to God, a song that’s as strange and sparse as it is spellbinding. With little more than a ringing digital tone and a muscular, crooning voice, the band conjure a dense mood that hangs heavy with longing, before bantamweight drumming and Deftones-like guitars inject a jolt of power. The song’s lasting impression is one of immense feeling, and it’s this rich atmosphere that cloaks almost the entirety of Sundowning.

At times, it’s captivating. The Offering provides gasping melodrama, while Dark Signs projects EDM lightness onto evil chugs. The extremely minimal Drag Me Under, meanwhile, doesn’t even sound human. The band’s lyrics also go a long way in helping to construct this ethereal world, as they collide images of divinity with flashes of what seems to be their own lives. And while convention may have taught us that emotions mean more when pinned to a personality or some real-life flesh, the facelessness of these private sermons can make them feel shared and empathetic, or perhaps like being inside a confession booth.

Admittedly, save for Gods— the record’s only true out-and-out metalcore song— the continuous nature of this dark mood entwined with the group’s slow-burning, listless pace does begin to drag across Sundowner’s 50-minute runtime. But there are moments here to truly savour, and ideas and experiences that feel unique. The band have shown they can create vast episodes that exist primarily within their ancient universe, while also feeling very vulnerable and human at their core. That alone should be reason enough to hope that Sleep Token’s secretive allure stays intact for a long time to come. TOM SHEPHERD

Q&A: A SERVANT (MOUTHPIECE FOR THE VESSEL)

Sleep Token have become pretty big already, without any details of the members’ identities coming out. Why is there so much secrecy around the musicians in the band? “It matters not who they are. It matters not what they say.”

Where did the name Vessel for your singer come from? “ ‘Vessel’ is no name. It is merely a descriptive term, one that may indeed be applied to us all. He is no different in this regard.”

The album is very eclectic, drawing upon various different styles that are often not found in rock. Where do these influences come from? “Death. Power. Desire. Anguish.”

“OUR IDENTITY MATTERS NOT TO BELIEVERS…” A SERVANT

Are you pleased that nobody has figured out the identities of the people behind the music yet? “The entity is the music. There is nothing further to discover.”

Would you say that there’s an element of actual, occult magic to Sleep Token? Is that part of the reason why you’re so secretive, like Jimmy Page in the ‘70s? “Such boasts are not His to make. Should a wild animal be considered ‘secretive’ if it does not tell us its name?”

You’ve supported BABYMETAL at big shows, as well as your own headlining gigs, which have sold out almost immediately. Does appearing live in frog of people make it harder to stay anonymous? Or does it simply prove the strength of what you’re doing, in that the anonymity stands up to such things? “The gathering of Followers only further exemplifies the truth, that the identity of the creators matters not to those who believe.”

Is Sleep Token a band, or a larger entity, with no beginning or end? “Nothing lasts forever.”

Any final thoughts? “Worship.”

#sleep token #vessel sleep token #vessel #vessel interview #kerrang! magazine #since that new kerrang! article just came out #i figured we could throwback to the interview they did in 2019 for sudowning #the online source is missing the interview though #also for a minute i thought vessel was ragging on jimmy page #lmao but figured “his” should be capitalized #also the “death. power. desire. anguish.” quote is so edgelord /affectionate #i love vessel so much #as with the rest of the guys #forehead kisses and juice boxes for all of them

[jgballard2]

A modern spacious, high-ceilinged flat.

Two large video cameras on heavy tripods arranged around a double bed; they have thick, fat lenses pointed at a young woman lying face up. her knees are up and her legs relaxed and far apart.

Her expression is blank and uncomprehending but untroubled. She is naked apart from some plain white knickers, her large heavy breasts gently rise and fall with her slow breathing.

One camera focussed on her face, the other at her pussy, clearly visible through the thin white fabric of the knickers. The light is bright and harsh - several men are tending to the cameras and the large video recorders connected by thick cables to the cameras. Their faces are in darkness. Two large monitors show the feed from cameras.

A faceless man strokes the cheek of the woman, she closes her eyes and tilts towards him; his hand trails down to a the nipple of a heavy breast and gently teases it; it stiffens and the womans mouth opens to s soft 'O'. The hand moves to her face and his finger circles her wet lips, she sucks the finger automatically, eyes still closed.

Mumbled voices are heard, a zipper opens and the woman's head is roughly tilted to the side, a large thick cock is now visible to the camera but not yet to the woman. The hand guides her head to the swollen head and her mouth stretches to try and accommodate it. The free hand tweaks and tweezes her nipples till they stand throbbing and erect.

More muffled deep voices

The woman's right hand descends towards her pussy; she's gently rocking her hips, her fingers gently rub herself through the thin fabric; she emits faint incoherent moans and starts to pull back at the fabric but a strong hand grabs her wrist and holds it hard to the bed.

The second man's thick fingers rub her through the fabric; the camera is zoomed in to fill the frame. Her hips rock harder against him and the thin fabric is seen to get wet.

More noises off. The large monitors are wheeled over next the bed.

The camera pointing at her face is reframed, zoomed in to that her face, struggling to suck on the cock, fills the screen. A male hand comes into shot and pulls back her eyelids and roughly says - you need to look at yourself sweetheart - look at you taking that cock so nicely; her pupils dilate ..

The second huge monitor - shows a the closeup of her pussy grinding against the rough fingers. Those fingers pull the fabric aside and push one, two, three fingers into her sopping cunt.

The woman's blank face stares at the magnified view of her own face, her lips stretched wide around the anonymous cock, pushing in and out of her; the second monitor showing thick fingers violating her cunt and her body pushing back and responding involuntarily.

Her body seems to pursuing a path to orgasm, disconnected from her head. As she cums the cock in her mouth is hastily withdrawn and her numb face is covered in thick ropes of cum. There's a clunk from the heavy machines as the frames are frozen on both screens. The bright lights are switched off and she's left, glazed, staring at the noise-bar flickering images of her splattered face and slick wet cunt.

[catgirlshauna]

camgirl lottie jerking off her cock for you, her biggest tipper. she pulls you in for a private show, letting you instruct her on how to please herself 😋

she rarely notices the people who come into her chatrooms, only the people who tip the most, $100, $2,000, $10,000... but that $10k came only once, and it came from you.

lottie swore she only did it to pay for college, even though she was rich enough already. but you, her dorm neighbor, started noticing the black lace peeking out from the waistband of her shorts.

at first you only thought it was because she was proud of her body, that she was a woman empowered by slutty clothing. but then you started hearing... noises, coming from the dorm next to you. her dorm.

and thus began your search for lottie matthews on the infinite amount of porn sites that plagued the internet, and soon... you found her. or what you assumed was her. the account was faceless, but the body was almost a hundred percent match. and the tattoo, a symbol on her wrist... you saw it once before in english class, complimented her on it even.

you start watching her shows almost every week, and at first you were too nervous to tip. too nervous to watch the part where she begins to undress... until one night. you were so unbelievably pent up, having spent most of your time studying or taking tests that seem to have no end. so, what would any normal person do? watch their neighbor strip down to almost nothing and fuck themselves senseless.

you soon begin to realize why people have sex addictions... you started watching her streams every week, making time for her in ways you never thought you would. and with the addiction comes unnecessary spending, obviously. you decide you'll only give her enough for a coffee in the morning, $12 so she can get something good from the local café on campus.

it only gets worse from there. you start paying more and more each time, $20-$100 when you had more to give. one day, faded and reckless, you accidentally click an extra 0. $1,000 down the sexy drain. lottie notices it immediately, her smooth honeyed voice reading your anonymous made up name with a thank you and a tease of her cockhead. you feel something you've never felt before. it's the horniest you've ever been, and you didn't want it to stop.

you get a break in your job, which i forgot to make up, and save up a little. you're going to give her something she'd never forget.

"$10,000?!" lottie almost yells out, bringing her free hand to her mouth to make sure she doesn't reveal herself. to her audience, and to you next door. she writes something in the chat, pinning it all the top so you can see. "pm?"

you scream, half naked and now afraid (and embarrassed). lottie hears you from her room and jumps, which is followed by a deep moan, her hand jerking her cock a little too hard... you're still watching the stream, by the way, and hold in a giggle at the sight.

lottie decides to be proactive, though, certain that she'll find out whoever sent her that much money... so she can give them a kiss square on the mouth and the best fuck they've ever had.

y'all want a part 2 cause i can keep going 😁✌️

#yellowjackets #lottie matthews

[thedevilinmybrain]

H and L going clubbing (bonus for tank top L)

There is just something about it, being lost in the crowd, nameless, faceless. They're just another two bodies, swaying and moving towards the heavy bass. As anonymous as they can be now a days, away from the flashing lights of a camera and instead, deep into the underbelly of the night. Sweat is dripping along Harry's lower back, makes his chiffon shirt cling against his skin, tight and binding, held there with the secure arm tucked around his waist.

Louis is all over him, everywhere Harry moves he's being caressed, grabbed, held tighter, smothered in the best way. His breath in Harry's face - peppermint and vodka - the whites of his teeth flashing in the strobe lights as Louis grins at him - devilish and cocky. He knows people are looking at them, staring as Harry raises his arms above his head, leans in, lets Louis kiss his throat. But it's not the normal screaming, wailing, begging voice of fans - no. This is something else, more envy and green tinted.

"They want you." Louis murmurs, voice smoke rough and deeper in his chest, like he's pulling the tone from somewhere else, somewhere primal. It's that voice, the one that Louis uses when he pushes Harry down on a bed, strips him bare and spreads his legs.

"I want you." Harry's tongue slides along the sharp cut of Louis' jaw, over the stubble. It rasps against him and Harry's body trembles, wants more, wants everything now. His fingers scramble over Louis' back, onto his bare arms where his tank top cuts over his shoulder, along the stag tattoo.

"Yeah?" Louis asks, rolls his hips forward, pulls Harry into it, grinds his cock against Harry's hip. "Right now?"

"Yes." Harry nods, moans when Louis reaches for his chin, thumb pressed to Harry's bottom lip. "Please, Lou. I just-"

"Would you get on your knees for me? Right here?" Louis asks, his grip on Harry's chin sure, steady, commanding. "Show me how much you want it?"

"Yes." Harry doesn't even have to think, just nods his head. He knows he would. Would do anything Louis asked him when he looks at Harry like this, eyebrow raised, so fucking self assured.

"I bet you would." Louis agrees easily, a tinge of awe in his voice, impressed at Harry's easy submission. "I don't think they deserve the show though."

He motions to the few men around them, all shooting glances out the corner of the eye at them, curious spectators to what promises to be a great show. Louis isn't going to share his queen with them though, the lot too beneath them to have the privilege of seeing Harry and Louis like that.

"I am going to call the car around for you," Louis murmurs, leans in to kiss Harry's cheek, murmur the words into his ear. "And when I get in, I expect you to be ready for me, understood?"

"Yes." Harry nods, eager and warm, accepts the kiss to his lips as Louis reaches to tug out his phone.

#writing prompts

[antimony-medusa]

Fic Recs March '23

Some fic recs! Mostly going to be Dream SMP, but I wander outside the fandom ocassionally! If you ever want to see the longlist for this, you can keep an eye on my bookmarks on Ao3, but here's a short list of stuff that made me go Damn, that's just so fun/painful/good.

I'm gonna have to put this under a cut because dear god once you put all the tags in this is not that short of a short list.

The Fics

A Helping Hand by Because Plot Fandom: Dream SMP Rating: Teen Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: Philza & Philza's Chat Tags: Philza's Chat is Made of Crows, Action/Adventure, Exploration, Nature, Near-Death, LightHearted Length: 1/1 chapters, 9,630 words

A young Phil gets adopted by some crows! Crows are smart, right? These crows seem— really smart. And kinda unnatural. And there are so many of them? I'm sure it's fine.

the breezy feeling of the faceless crush, by Odaigahara Fandom: Dream SMP Rating: Teen Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Eret & Wilbur Soot Tags: AU - The Magnus Archives, Limbo, The Lonely, Beholding Avatar, Traitor Eret, Rescue Missions Length: 1/1 chapters, 3,862 words

Exceptional TMA fusion where Eret goes back for the man she betrayed. The creeping of all the avatars is so scary and the messy nuances of the wilbur & eret relationship and the weight of what eret has done is so well done.

best friends, by monsterloot Fandom: Dream SMP Rating: Teen Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tommyinnit & Tubbo Tags: Fluff, Humour, Not Really Character Death, Light Angst Length: 1/1 chapters, 1,667 words.

Tubbo is dying (he's not actually dying) and he summons Tommy to his bedside for a final request (he wants to troll him). Very fluffy and delightful, and great character voice.

The Last Takeout, by King_Dove Fandom: Dream SMP Rating: Teen Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Captain Puffy/Niki Nihachu Tags: Bittersweet Ending, Complicated Relationships, Food, Emotional Hurt/Comfort Length: 1/1 chapters, 2,707 words

Ooooo messy relationships. Puffy takes Niki out for takout. It goes— not as bad as it might be. These women have so much baggage— but this could be the beginning of their reconciliation! Maybe! If we're lucky! They're trying! They care and they hurt. :sob:

Ranboo's Terrible No-Good Very Bad Hostage Situation, by Aard_Rinn Fandom: Dream SMP Rating: General Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ranboo & Tubbo & Tommyinnit, Philza & Technoblade, Ranboo & Technoblade Tags: Misunderstandings, Hostage Situations, Fluff and Humour, Memory Loss, AU - Superheroes & Superpowers Length: Chapter 2 of 5, 5,371 words.

In a desperate attempt to negotiate with a supervillain (the crowfather) for the release of his friends, vigilante Ranboo decides to kidnap the blood god. It goes as well as you'd expect. This is just a really fun concept well pulled off, but I especially appreciate how benchtrio feels realistically young but not babied, and emduo is DANGEROUS. Love me a murderphil.

pick up your gun (put up those gloves), by Teahound Fandom: Hermitcraft SMP Rating: Gen Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Grian & GoodTimesWithScar Tags: AU - Superheroes & Supervillains, Vigilante GoodTimesWithScar, Hero Grian, Enemies to Friends Length: 1/?, 2,159 words.

Hero Grian finds an injured HawkEye and has to deal with the fact that he Should arrest him, but he's hurt, and maybe he's helping... Exceptional character voice.

AITA For Kidnapping A Sixteen Year Old?, by Anonymous Fandom: Dream SMP Rating: Teen Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Dream & Tommyinnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & Philza & Tommyinnit, Tubbo & Tommyinnit Tags: Kidnapping, Unreliable Narrator, Family Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, AU - Modern, Angst and Humour, Miscommunication, POV Multiple, Obsession Length: 22/60 chapters, 17,177 words

Written entirely as Reddit posts and comments. This one is just soooooo interesting as a form piece. It's not really crack treated seriously in anything but the form, cause once you're used to the form it's just an unsettling slow burn as you realize how unreliable your narrators might be and how people are missing information. I started it going "oh is this sympathetic [character]?" and then certain chapters hit and I went "oh noooooooooo" with eyes the size of saucers. Really interesting. Author has been going through it though.

Swan Song, by CodaAtTheEnd Fandom: Dream SMP Rating: Teen Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Technoblade & Philza Tags: AU - Witcher Fusion, Witch Curses, Witcher Technoblade, Cursed Philza, Angst, Wakes and Funerals Length: 1/1 chapters, 3,231 words.

*sounds of sobbing are hurt* It's a witcher AU and Phil is cursed and Technoblade tries to save him and nothing works and— *continued sobbing*

Blood End, by andthentherewere Fandom: Dream SMP Rating: Teen Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Tommyinnit & Philza & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Tommyinnit, Technoblade & Philza Tags: AU - Vampires, AU - Post-apocolyptic, Coming of Age, Relgion, Road Trips, Kidnapping, Angst Length: 4/24 Chapters, 14,982 words

Tommy wants to go on a road trip with vampires, but fates (and everyone in town and also technoblade who is a vampire) won't let him. It's post-apocolyptic AND it's vampires— there is so much worldbuilding sunk into this one. Religions! Cultures! The shadows of cultures past! I automatically trusted the vampires because they're emduo and I have emduo brain, but was I right to do that? Who KNOWS

pov: me when I fucking Get You, by doingthewritethings Fandom: Dream SMP Rating: Teen Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Quackity/Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Tommyinnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Quackity & Slimecicile Tags: Enemies to Lovers with a twist, Homoerotic rivalries, Student Government, I have read mangoball four times, Social Media, Chatfic, Asexual Wilbur Soot, Asexual Quackity, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Hijinks Shenanigans and all sorts of Tomfoolery Length: 1/1 chapters, 3,450 words.

This was the breakout fic of the 48 hour exchange because when I tell you this is hilarious, I am not joking. Oh my god. Quackity thinks he and Wil are enemies, Wil thinks he and Quackity are dating. They clash. It's a chat fic. It's a high school au. It's outstandingly funny.

Ghost Stories, by CodaAtTheEnd Fandom: Dream SMP Rating: Teen Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Quackity/Jschlatt Tags: POV second person, Character Study, Unhealthy Relationships, Cannibalism Length: 1/1 Chapters, 1,713 words

Didnd't realise until I typed this out that it was second person, it just hits like a freight train. INCREDIBLE schlackity character study. I think I get it now. Does exactly what it sets out to do, finishes it in under 2k words, goes home. Mic drop.

The Dollhouse, by MawoftheMagnetar Fandom: Dream SMP, Hermitcraft SMP Characters: TommyInnit, Keralis, Xisumavoid, Docm77, Grian Mumbo Jumbo, xBCrafted, Rendog Rating: Teen Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Tags: Atypical Hermit Tommy, Healing, Cosmic Horror, Body Horror, Tommyinnit is Fine, Eldritch Horror Keralis, DSMP is a TV Show Length: 10/20, 14,727 words

So this one is by MawoftheMagnetar so you KNOW Keralis is going to be there, but there's also a Tommy who's on the run from something (what's happening), mysterious monster hermits (what's happening), powerful and myserious forces that are controlling people (what is HAPPENING). It's super fun to see the monster designs for the hermits, Tommy was a star of his tv show but everyone was watching the show for side characters, I have no idea what's happening but I am SO here for the ride. Adderstones.

Ongoings that just completed

Sweeter Than Honey, by CleanLenins Fandom: Dream SMP Relationships: Technoblade & Philza, Skeppy & BadBoyHalo, Philza/MissTrixtin Rating: Teen Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Tags: Dark SBI, Kid Technoblade, AU - Fae, Child Neglect, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Mind Manipulation, AU - Royalty, OCs Length: 6/6, 68,376

Okay now that I put those tags out there it looks much darker than the experience of reading this is most of the time. For MOST of it it's just fun times as young prince Technoblade, who is the cutest, is gradually lured away by the fae. Hmm okay maybe that plot is also dark. But come on now, Fae au. Anyways very cute Techno who I love so much, Fae Phil who is just here to cause problems and steal children (which honestly is just gainfully enployed and respectable when you're fae), extremely hateable OC family for Techno who get what's coming to them, beautiful descriptions of magic.

brittle body, brittle blood, by chrysalizzm Fandom: Dream SMP Relationships: Purpled & Sapnap, Purpled & Dream & Sapnap & Punz, Purpled & Wallibear Rating: Teen Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, AU - Fantasy, War, Trauma, Religious Commentary, AU - Royalty, AU - Gods & Goddesses, PTSD, Angst with a Happy Ending, War, Grief/Mourning Length: 13/13 Chapters, 56,417 words

The fantastic Purpled revenge longfic with an entire invented religion and super-cool magic system. I can't overstate how cool the worldbuilding is. Purpled is a construct and a vigilante? Assassinations? I'm struggling not to spoil but mind control comes up at one point? Delightful exploration of revenge plots and recovery.

But you're not yourself (I know you better than you), by BecausePlot Fandom: Dream SMP Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Philza, Philza & Technoblade, Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & Philza Rating: Teen Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence Tags: Emotional Hurt Comfort, Fluff and Angst, AU - Canon Divergence, Pogtopia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Queerplatonic Relationships. Length: 11/11 chapters, 71,354 words.

A deep-dive into the Wilbur and Phil relationship as Wil grows up. As the author put it, this isn't Bad Dad Phil, but Phil is carrying his own trauma and Wil is a complex opinionated person and oof. Sometimes these things collide. It's the sort of messy exploration of that relationship that I have wanted for a long time, without villifying anyone involved. And thank goodness, a happy ending.

Non-Fic

Super Secret Important Meeting of Seriousness, by NegligentSum Fandom: Dream SMP Relationship: Niki & Ranboo & Philza & Technoblade Medium: Art Rating: No rating Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Just a wonderful syndicate tea part art drawn for the 48 hour exchange! This is uncoloured, but it's so full of detail, and I love all the guys so much. Everybody has unique teacups!

Start Again, by indulgentAnaesthetic Fandom: 3rd Life | Last Life Series Relationship: Bdubs/Ethoslab/ZombieCleo Medium: Animation Rating: Gen Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

An incredible ANIMATION also made during the 48 hour exchange about traffic series ties. It's absolutely beautiful. I honestly didn't realize until I was typing this out it was shippy, I just went ueueueueueue the loyalties, so you can read it through a non-ship lens, but also if you ARE into clethubs, it's there.

DSMP Comics Fandom: Dream SMP Relationships: Dream SMP Ensemble Medium: Zine Rating: Teen Warnings: It's not on the archive but I'm gonna say no archive warnings apply, maybe some comic violence.

I was part of this one, but so were about twenty other people, so I feel justified in linking this one. Incredible interlocking series of comics, stories and art, doing a single slice of life in a city when everyone's powers are swapped, and what happens to the city's superheros and villains when they try to recover and fix things. So many cool POVs and story arcs.

#fic recs #fic rec #mcyt #dsmp #Dream SMP

[strangestcase]

One thing that is easy to notice but also easy to overlook in Strange Case is how Hyde moves in this very nebulous space. Depending on what it is narratively needed of him, he can be a man, an inhuman monster (even an animal!), or a background force bringing disorder and horror wherever it goes.

Hyde doesn't "interact" with the reader firsthand until Utterson talks to him. Before that, he was a character in a flashback, an anonymous entity. Utterson envisions him as a faceless creature in his dreams, a liminal place where Hyde feels right at home. Even once the reader gets to see him "in person" through Utterson, he remains a mystery, and the lawyer himself says there's very little of human in him. The murder is also told as a flashback (a witness' narration, in fact), and that's where once again he's made to be this shadowy figure, a monster. After the murder, Hyde lingers and hovers over Jekyll like a phantom, then disappears, only to become physical once again right before he dies, almost before the eyes of the protagonist and thus the reader themselves. And in this physicality, Poole describes him as a "something", an "it", compares him to an animal, and can only think of him as that fiend that has killed and replaced his master, playing a quiet farce that neither party is brave enough to break.

In later chapters, as Hyde interacts with more characters and gets a narrative voice of his own, he is at the same time more physical and more conceptual. He gets to be a man, albeit a distorted one, under the watch of Lanyon. And when Jekyll reveals this Mr. Edward Hyde never really existed to begin with, he plunges again into the realm of the conceptual and intangible, walking the thin line between a flesh and bone human and a noxious influence. Inner demons aside, the true nature of Hyde is more akin to an addiction than anything else. Not a someone, but a thing, a phenomenon, that can destroy lives and breaks everything it touches.

But at the end of the day, Edward Hyde is a person.

You see, it's very, very easy to forget he is a person. Hyde as-is might be conceptual but he impacts the story through his personhood either way, because if Jekyll is a human being with flaws and emotions, Hyde also has to be one. The fact that Hyde isn't our definition of human, that he resembles us but isn't like us, that there's something to his monstrousness other than just typical human cruelty but a sort of more primal evil that can't be understood... hell, his very existence not as a run on the mill man but as a modified, twisted Jekyll still doesn't blot that humanity out. No matter how much he tries to remove himself from the equation or how much he is presented by original text and adaptation alike as a demonic entity, we are always hit in the face by the fact that the worst monsters are still human.

And isn't that the moral of the story? That evil isn't a stranger, that evil lurks inside all of us, and it's up to us to not let it destroy us? That anyone, ANYONE, could be Edward Hyde?

It doesn't matter what separates Hyde from us, because he's still part of us, and that's the whole point. He could have never existed as anything else but a living breathing person, because living breathing people have evil in them. And despite his nature, or maybe because of it, this monster, this force, is still a man. Edward Hyde has thoughts, opinions, dreams, emotions; he gets angry, he fears, he cries, he laughs, maybe he even repents or cares about those he's left behind (who knows? he's not telling us, either way), and he's completely ordinary beyond all the little things that remove him from a "normal" human being. It could not be any other way, because, no matter how much he wants to tear himself apart, he is Henry Jekyll, a fundamentally human, complex, flawed person, someone who is here, who is like us.

Maybe he alone in the ranks of humanity is pure evil, but he's in those ranks still. That's what makes him scary and at the same time somewhat tragic. You look at this demon, and your own eyes stare back.

#jekyll and hyde #the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde #dr jekyll and mr hyde #jh #jekyll and hyde weekly #jekyll and hyde spoilers #minor ones but uh #yeah