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mono-moonchilds · 9 months

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What if hobi was your professor who wants to sleep with ya?

⤑ series: what if...??

⤑ pairing: professor!hoseok x fem!reader

⤑ genre: smut!!

⤑ rating: explicit (18+)

⤑ word count: 1.9k i got carried away

⤑ warnings: oral sex fem receiving, dry humping, touching, he keeps touching her thigh, idk how to word it but he's in a position of power, big!dick hoseok of course, facial, cum eating, a lil overstimulation, he calls her slut like once, I'm not sure whether or not to tag this dub!con, he is her professor / in a position of power so it blurs the lines but also they are both attracted to one another, in the spirit of not potentially leaving out a tag that could be relevant ill also just tag it dubcon

⤑ A/N: my first request in a long time 😅 I hope you like it. this has not been proof read fr. excuse any mistakes

⤑ summary: what if... your professor wanted to sleep with you

a soft sigh fell from your lips as professor jung slid the paper over to you. “still not getting it, huh?” he questioned. shaking your head, you grabbed the sheet stuffing it back into your binder. it was 4:15 and you’d already wasted so much of his time.

“no, but I’ll just work on it some more once I get back to my dorm.” you said pushing on a smile. “thank you so much for your time, professor jung.”

“y/n,” he reached out stopping you in your tracks. “how are you gonna work on something you don't even understand yet?” your eyes fell back onto the glossy wooden desk as you shrugged. “exactly. so what’s the rush?”

you attempted to shrug again but professor jung stopped you with a low tsk. “words. use your words.” the older man softly demanded.

“I don’t wanna waste your time. It’s already been an hour. I’d hate to take up more.”

“you're such a sweet girl,” professor jung cooed a pretty smile filling his face as he looked at you. “you could never waste my time. you’re one of my favorite students.”

“oh..uhm,” proper words eluded you. your face feeling hot as you took in both of the sudden compliments. you were one of his favorites? until today you had never even said two words except for the occasional good afternoon when you got to class. “really? didn’t think you ever noticed me. I hardly ever talk.”

“you don’t need words to stand out. trust me.”

it was embarrassing how big the smile was that’d formed on your face. letting out a low chuckle, professor jung motioned you over. “come over to the whiteboard with me.” getting up from your seat you followed him. as he reached over handing you a marker you got another waft of his signature cologne. the girls always talked about it. how good he smelled. how well he dressed. They were right. Of course, you’d noticed before but right now you couldn’t help but really notice.

“y/n,”

“huh?” Your eyes quickly flickered back up.

a hint of a smirk covered his face. “I said write the equation out for me.”

“of course, sir. I’m sorry.”

“such a polite girl too. It’s almost like your perfect.” laughing at your obviously flustered face, professor jung easily moved on and began to read the problem out for you. “so what’s the first step?” he asked once you were finished.

you stared at the board in complete silence. it was just one problem, a problem he’d worked out three different times since you came to his office but you were still so lost. “you’re problem is you thinking too hard about it.” walking up behind you professor jung walked up behind you guiding your hand to the board. his body so close you barely wanted to breathe. “It’s simple,” his warm breath fanned across your neck. “tell me what you instinctively think to do when you first see this.”

“bring this down,” you pointed with your other hand.

“exactly. now what?”

pulling your bottom lip between your teeth you thought long and hard. hesitantly you pointed to the middle of the equation. “I think we can start solving for this.” much to your surprise professor jung hummed in agreement.

“I told you it was simple. you just gotta take these things slowly.” Much to your dismay professor jung stepped back taking the warmth of his body with him. you wanted to whine but of course, you didn’t. “now finish the rest of it for me.”

it took you far more time than it’d taken him. when you looked back at the clock thirty minutes had passed. “I’m done,” You squeaked nervously.

professor jung was quiet at first. his hawk-like eyes studying the board carefully as he went back through each in every step in his head. when he finally looked back over to you his face was blank at first. with a huff, your shoulders fell in disappointment.

“good job.”

what?

“I got it right?” your head popped up in surprise.

he nodded. “like I told you. you just gotta take your time. It may seem intimidating but you gotta go slow.” lifting his hand professor jung gave you a high five. “I think you're going to ace this next test y/n.”

you shook your head with a laugh. “it was only one question.”

“one question that somebody else is still probably struggling with. be proud of yourself.”

you were. honestly. professor jung was right even though it was only one problem it was still something.

“do you want to continue working on the rest of them?”

“oh—no. you don’t have to. if I get stuck I’ll just rewatch the lecture videos. I would hate to take up more of your time.”

“y/n,” professor jung stopped you once again, his fingers lingering on your skin. “I already told you it’s no bother. I want you to do well.”

his voice was like a trap immediately drawing you in so within seconds you were nodding. “words.” He reminded.

“okay—I mean yes. thank you so much, professor jung.”

“hoseok,”

“what?”

“my name. my name is hoseok.”

hoseok. you liked it. It was pretty just like him.

“move your seat over here.” professor jung, no—hoseok directed. “so it’s easier for me to help you.”

you didn’t need to be told twice.

grabbing your chair you pulled it over to hoseok’s desk before settling back down carefully into the seat making sure your skirt was still neat. “so do you know where you want to start? what problems do you find the most trouble with?”

looking at the paper the answer was easy. all of them. ever since the class had moved on to this unit you’d been lost.

“uhh–” You stalled making hoseok raise his eyebrow in anticipation. it was embarrassing to say out loud. math had never been your strong suit in general and now statistics was slowly but surely whooping your ass. the only reason you’d been able to keep the high C you had currently was because of all of the extra credit opportunities he constantly gave out.

“there's no shame in not understanding something,”

“all of it. I’ve kind of been struggling since we moved onto this unit.”

lifitng your chin up hoseok gave you a comforting smile. “and that's completely okay.” your heart fluttered. letting his hand fall down to your leg, hoseok gave your bare thigh a gentle squeeze. “lets get started, okay?”

even though you nodded you were far from paying attention. you couldn’t. not with how close hoseok was and how when he talked his fingers softly caressed your skin. he made your head spin. in a good way, in a perfect way. you never wanted today to end.

“how about you try this one y/n?”

fuck.

“were you paying attention?”

“I’m sorry.” you quickly apologized.

“what's got you so distracted?” instead of saying anything you just looked down. preparing to move his hand Hoseok apologized but you stopped him keeping it right there.

“It’s okay. I–I liked it.”

“really ?” hoseok lifted a brow.

you began to nod but quickly corrected yourself. “yes.” You vocalized.

a pleased grin filled Hoseok’s face. “how about we try something different, hmm?”

“okay.”

interlocking your fingers hoseok got up guiding you over to the couch that was pushed against a near wall. siting down on the leather he pulled you onto his lap, spreading both of your thighs on each side of his body. “you still okay?”

“yes,” You were more than okay.

running his hands up your thighs all the way up to your ass, hoseok squeezed pulling you down deeper into him. “shit–” he groaned. “you're so fucking wet. I can feel you leaking through my pants. why didn’t you say something baby?”

“I’m sorry, Sir.” you moaned out. his hard-on was pressing right into your clit. hoseok was huge. you didn’t even have to see it to know.

reaching down hoseok pushed your panties to the side so that now your clit was in bare contact with the roughness of his slacks. It felt so good. new sensations rushing your body as you swiveled your hips back and forth.

lifitng your sweater and bra up hoseok let your breasts fall free. wasting no time he leaned forward latching onto the hardening pebble. alternating between licking and suckling on one breast hoseok twisted and pulled at the other one.

“oh–oh my..” a whine escaped you as your head lulled to the side. you wanted more–needed more. “muh-more..” you breathed out.

letting go of your nipple with a low pop hoseok stared up at you. “you ever had sex before?”

you nodded. something of a disappointed look flashed across his face. “on–only once though.” you quickly added.

settling you on the cushion next to him, hoseok slid to his knees spreading your thighs back open. you were so exposed, the cool air of the room hitting your cunt as he stared looking as if he’d just won a million-dollar prize. as if it was even possible your face felt hotter.

“don't be embarrassed,” hoseok tsked. “you have such a pretty pussy.”

gripping the globes of your ass hoseok pulled you closer to the edge of the couch. swiping his tongue across your clit, a deep chuckle left his mouth as he pulled away. “so fucking reactive,” he whispered.

leaning back forward he latched himself to your sensitive button. flicking his tongue back and forth, hoseok toys with it pulling low moans from you. you’d never had anyone do this before. “feels so guh-good, professor jung.”

gripping his hair you pulled him closer. his eyes fluttering closed as his tongue dipped into your whole fucking it in and out. sliding one hand up hoseok's fingers found its way back to your nipple. his eyes were closed–his eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration as deep groans escaped as if he was being pleasured himself.

pulling his hair tighter your back arches in pleasure. “professor—hoseok!” you cry out squeezing your eyes shut. “oh..oh,” you gasp, feeling the pressure rising in your stomach.

as your mouth falls open you pray everyone else that worked in the hall was gone. loud moans fill the room as you cum hard on his tongue. hosoek doesn’t stop. his tongue flicked faster as he suckles harder on your clit, milking you for all you had.

“professor jung,” you mewl begging for him to give you a minute. of course, he doesn't though. hejust continues greedily suckling making your eyes roll back. when he finally does pull away you let out a moan of relief, your body beginning to fall to the side before hoseok stops you with a firm grip on your hair.

unbuttoning his slacks, hoseok shoves down his pants letting his cock spring free. just like you’d thought it was huge. at least seven inches with a pretty brown tip. telling you to hold out your tongue Hoseok tapped his head on it. his hand massaged the rest of the length as he swiped it along your pink muscle.

“such a good fucking girl,” he grunted moving his hand faster. “next time I’m going to fuck that little pussy. you’d like the, wouldn’t you? fucking slut.” With a deep groan, hoseok nutted all over your face. his hips stuttering as a never-ending flow of cum spurts out.

letting go of the iron-clad grip he had on your hair hoseok falls back onto the couch. wiping away the cum that was on your eyelids, hoseok pushed his fingers into your mouth to which you happily obliged.

a pleased smirk filled his face. “I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

#bts smut #bts fic #hoseok smut #bts fanfic #hoseok x reader #hoseok fanfic #jhope smut

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silentdiacht · 3 months

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Things that keep me up at night: ✨Spider verse edition Part 2✨

Is there a Black Cat on earth 1610? Assuming there is: How do you think she reacted when she found out that Spider-Man (the guy she’s been blue-balling for however-many years) had died and like 3 days later he’s replaced by a literal 13-14 year old child? What kind of relationship would she even have with Miles? Would she go slightly easier on him because he's a kid? Or would she go back to business as usual minus the blue-balling (because, again, kid)?

How did Hobie know Gwen’s address?!?! How was he certain Gwen would even go home if she was sent back to her dimension?? What would he have done if Miguel hadn’t sent her back? Did he even have a plan for that? Most importantly though: WHAT WAS THE CONVERSATION BETWEEN HIM AND GEORGE LIKE?!?!?! HOW MUCH OF THE SITUATION DID HE EXPLAIN TO HIM?!? DID HE CHEW HIM OUT FOR POINTING A GUN AT HIS DAUGHTER THEN GIVE HIM AN HOUR LONG ACAB LECTURE?! How did he convince him to give her the watch?? Can we please get a transcript of that conversation, I never wanted to be a fly on the wall so bad!!!

A more serious question: Gwen eludes to the “Gwen Stacey dies” canon event when talking to Miles on the clock tower. HOWEVER… Shouldn’t this particular canon event not apply to our Gwen? She says “In every other universe, Gwen Stacey falls for Spider-Man” But she is the Spider-Man of her universe! So shouldn’t she be exempt from this particular event? (Unless she falls in love with herself or something idk) Shouldn’t she be in the clear if Miles technically isn't part of her canon?? If not then why is the canon taking Miles into account??? Spider people clearly aren’t allowed to disrupt each others canon events, but at the same time they can trigger each other’s canon events?????

Relating to the last question: If Miles really is an anomaly like Miguel says, then why is the canon treating him like every other Spider-Man? Shouldn’t Miles be exempt from canon events altogether if he was never meant to be bitten? Shouldn’t his universe be collapsing because he replaced it’s original Spider-Man? He technically disrupted 42 Miles’ canon by preventing him from becoming Spider-Man in the first place, yet his universe is also still in tact. Why does Miguel insist that Miles isn’t meant to be Spider-Man, yet in the same breath, expect him to have canon events like everyone else in the spider society??? MAKE IT MAKE SENSE MIGUEL! IS HE AN ANOMALY OR NOT?!

Speaking of 42 Miles: What is his objective? What does he actually plan to do with our Miles?? He seems weirdly calm about meeting a guy who looks exactly like him and was (albeit unknowingly) trying to pass himself off as him. Does 42 Miles know about the multiverse? If so, how much does he know? Also did he just have electricity-proof gloves just lying around for an occasion like this?? Our Miles wasn't wearing gloves before he was tied up and we know they aren't part of his suit because he had to rip them to use his electricity. But why would 42 Miles and Aaron put them on him if they (supposedly) don't know about his powers??

(I swear if it just turns out to be a continuity error I'm gonna be pissed!)

#across the spiderverse #atsv #shitpost #shower thoughts #gwen stacy #miles morales #hobie brown #prowler miles #miguel o'hara #black cat

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genderkoolaid · 1 year

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Hi! I pondered today the post you've reblogged asking people to examine their biases in how they perceive transmascs. My thought was only vaguely related, as it was more related to bisexualism. I hope it's not an issue. I'd like to share it, as I respect you a lot. (Thank you lots for introducing me multigenderism! I didn't knew it was an option and I'm exploring a little! :3)

Specifically I was thinking about the erasure of men perceived as feminine from mlw relationships. There's this... assumption, that feminine men are almost inherently (OOF) unable to be attracted to women? (Putting aside fandom bias to ships involving women in the first place.) What's up with that??I cannot quite put it in the words properly but... it just doesn't sit right with me. Idk, it feels... emasculating? Like, being a femme is a vibe, a presentation, etc, but if it's a femme man it's still *very much a man*. This + typical bisexual erasure and overall assuming you can clock people's sexuality on appearance alone... Probably more that eludes me. I'm still grappling with it. Idk, there's probably much more to say here but... it's upsetting emotionally to me, personally. I'm an afab woman (maybe more) so please, *please* take my input with a grain of salt. It's just that I love men. I adore them. I want to learn more about them, learn their struggles, help them if I can. I might love them even more out of spite when biphobic people scorn at it bc it's not queer enough. Here's the catch: My type specifically is femmes. As a femme woman. So ironically my longing towards men always felt more "broken" and "unachievable" then towards women. Bc for years it felt like... femme men would never want me, by the virtue of who I am. With what body I was born and feel at home in. Idk where I'm going with this at this point. I guess I too wish people would examine their biases. In this case towards feminine men. For the sake of all men, trans, cis, femme/butch... and people who love them. Emasculating men hurts everybody. Even women, such as myself. I hope I haven't at any point sounded as equating "feminine men" to "transmasc", btw! I do NOT believe transmasc are feminine! If at any point I was coming of like that by bringing both in one ask I'm sorry! Here I'll conclude. I still have much to learn thought. I still grapple with naming the issue at hand I would deeply appreciate men insight here. Have a nice day :3

I actually posted an article written by a femme bi man talking about this topic a while back!

This is very much an issue. The way I interpret the different ways biphobes react to bi men/women is that its related to how patriarchal gender roles operate. All bisexuals are targeted by the idea that they are either "really" straight or "really" gay because of binarism. Women are resource objects, so cishet men's access to them needs to be preserved; therefore, bi women must be REALLY straight. Men, on the other hand, are competitors, and queerness is one of the major ways men are seen as failing that competition; as a result, bi men must be REALLY gay because their attraction to men(/feminine presentation, if they are femme) means they could never successfully compete at manhood. (This is ofc just a general trend; sometimes people, especially queers, will insist a bi woman must be really a lesbian esp if shes butch, and cishets may insist a bi man must be really straight especially if hes masc/butch).

I identify as bisexual and as a femme man, although I'm not sure if I would consider myself attracted to women as a man (multigender sexuality is weird but fun!), but know there very much ARE femme bi men out there who would love to be in a relationship with you. I think a lot of mlw who have a preference for femininity have experienced this, queer or not, because there is so little visibility for GNC men who are attracted to women- and because there are women who are queerphobic about the idea of a woman dating a GNC man.

#m.#ask box #antimasculism

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sunflowerandstrawberryspice · 1 year

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The New Ninjago Show

(Please note before you proceed this is all in good fun for the haha funnies okay? Got it? We'll be nice? Okay good yo may go on!)

Me noticing that the main characters who are missing from the new Ninjago show are the most queer coded of the bunch aside from Lloyd himself: 0-0

Okay I'm sure that this is partially me being salty literally all my favorite characters (minus Nya) are missing from the dragons rising as far as I'm aware, but seriously I just find it a little... weird. (Also if I just am dumb and missed one of the characters in the trailers somehow let me know)

So number one we have THE most queer coded of all the characters that being Cole- Like my mans is all but confirmed to be lgbt+ in some way shape or form, come on we've all seen the royal blacksmiths episode aka The Coming Out Episode TM and the entire show + interviews with different crew members are REALLY dropping at least some hints (Honestly Cole's gonna get his own post at one point)

For two I'm actually mushing two characters together cause I have like the same thing to say that being Zane and Pixal- Now they're probably the less obvious of but a lot of people have kinda collectively gone "Yeah they're robots they have no real concept of gender why would they" a statement I agree with. Zane and Pixal also both have their moments of also just generally not being very straight.

Lastly we have Jay whose pretty straight forward- I'm pretty sure everybody and their fairy godmothers have come to the conclusion Jay is bi like Mr. sir has the hots for both the Smith siblings (who also have their moments)

Lloyd of course is his own bundle of queer coding but he's like the main character so they physically could never get rid of are favorite green gremlin.

This is all hilariously ironic since this show is literally coming out on June 1st and honestly if they do confirm Cole (they've really been eluding to him specifically that's why I'm mentioning him so much) only to immediately kill him off/disappear him/generally get rid of him it's gonna be pretty shitty tbh and I have to trust the writers probably know that since from what I can tell they're definitely not detached from the internet or the fandom they created so idk.

Now am I saying all of this was on purpose: absolutely not this is probably just a pure coincidence that kinda sucks and is also kinda funny tbh. I really doubt that the creators/writers did this on purpose it's just something I happened to notice and it gave me a chance to talk about the trailers a little more, I'm probably gonna make a video on it (would y'all watch that?) so yeah.

Also the show is coming out in pride moth, take that as you will. (P.S this is completely detached from the post but I wanted to mention Arin (what a way to spell that name) seems to be a Green Ninja fan but I would love if Sora was like a huge Zane/Pixal fan since she seems to like technology and is like disappointed she didn't get to meet them in like a comedic way idk just a thought)

I've got nothing left to do but wait, and if I got something wrong it's because I'm very stupid. Thank yo and good night!

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plantdad-dante · 4 months

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Book #134 - Jingo by Terry Pratchett

(technically this is a second read... technically... just that past!me wasn't really good at keeping plots straight, apparently)

See, I'm quite sure I understood more of it than when I read this at twelve (who the fuck allowed me-)... but I still feel like something is eluding me. Put this on the list of Discworld books that I need to reread because the central idea hasn't quite clicked.

Literally, I just know that I have read it, fallen in love with Ahmed, and that my brain has gone brrr a lot - at least judging by the amount of post-its now stuck to the pages.

So I guess lets count down some observations again.

At the end of the book, Leonard returns to his cell attic by himself, avoiding the traps he himself built... A little ways before, he sits alone in the Boat, sketching modifications for it and absentmindedly adding a saw to the roof to "cut the hulls of enemy ships"... then he tears up the sketch. So... Leonard knows. On some level. And based on this... it isn't just that people would misuse his inventions for the purpose of hurting one another that forces his isolation. It is rather that being among other people brings inspiration, brings innovation, of a whole new kind than when you are alone, and when that innovation is war - well, then it is better to just lock yourself up again, because fuck that. And Leonard knows. Occasional visits from Vetinari is all the socialization a man needs, when his brain could end the world.

(I'm also convinced Leonard is gay, based solely on the fact that his sketches of the Boat apparently involved musceled oarsmen, given more detail than strictly necessary for a schematic...do with that what you will (or maybe this is widely known fandom knowledge, Idk. am I telling you something new here?))

My brain is also doing funny things with Nobby's dating/crossdressing subplot. I'm not quite sure what, and I feel like I need a few months of therapy to fully be able to parse it, but... it's certainly doing things!

I have yet to fully understand Vimes' and Ahmed's conversation in the desert, partly because I feel it is key to grasping the heart of this book and I just couldn't quite- All I know right now is that I love it, and it is doing things to my brain, and Ahmed is- I don't know. He- hm.

Justice stretched thin over endless sand, him the only one to take care of it, the only executor of law, and what even are law and justice in a scattered place like this, when you are the dog on a leash of an upstart emperor, who is trying to unite by force and force alone and only thinks in terms of war... What do you do when you discover him to be a criminal, when he orders you to help start a war with the place that thought you inferior, yet shaped your killing hands...What is your sense of justice, then, where is the compass to lead you home- or is home not a place, not a specific one, at least, is home, maybe, just an infinite stretch of nothing and everything, with a roof of much the same? Are, maybe, just maybe, duty and home the same thing for you?

Such a fucking character, Istg.

My brain tickles. Onward to The Last Continent. And more desert.

#jingo #terry pratchett #discworld #dante reads discworld #also the scene of the little pocket demon listing off the deaths of vimes' friends #that one nearly broke me

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artisan-king-morleus · 8 months

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SIGMA IS KAFKA ASAGIRI

random theory/thought that turned into a rabbit hole, plz read

Not sure if this will get seen and I'm hella sleep deprived rn but a thought occured.

BSD man...

As of rn we don't know who Sigma is or what exactly he is. New official art, as I've seen, has some already guessing his origins and which author he's based off of.

But I have a dumb lil thought/theory.

He's born from "The Book" INSIDE bsd. So what if...

Sigma is Kafka Asagiri?

Why? Where'd this thought come from?

There's a vampire manga series I read in high school that was a journey of the main character (le gasp) but it was "written" by the character himself. As in the "author" of this manga series WAS the main character. (Honestly the author's last name was shortened for his main character but I think it's still relevant) (plus I think it was a novel before manga...? Idk but I've only read the manga)

As I know, it was written as if the another WAS the main character.

My guess is that he wanted his story to feel like it was ACTUALLY written by the MC but still have his story be linked to him when ppl look in libraries and stuff. I've had a similar thought to as my own story does canonically break the 4th wall so to have the MC's name as the AUTHOR adds to the illusion; the immersion. And I remember that THAT was such a cool thing to do when reading this awhile back.

I have no basis for this "Sigma is Kafka Asagiri" but with him kinda being his own character as of rn (not off of an author or even one we know of yet) he severely sticks out compared to EVERYONE.

Author vs Characters

Plus, this just came to me, his ability is basically "I touch you and know what you know" right?

So, as an aspiring author and comicteer and such, I have some words. Over the years id make characters and stories but it quickly became not my own, like it was alive, the things I created. The characters from my pen would move and do things on their own and by watching them, I'd learn of who they are. And as this continued, it really wasn't ME, the author, making these characters do things.

Yes, I do guide the story but I can't tell them to just do things just because; especially if it's not their nature. It's like forcing them to be what they are not. You can make up scenarios to lean them towards a path. I've have to basically "rehire" new characters because the villain I wanted wasn't in front of me like I hoped for. But that not-villian is someone else in the story.

So basically, even tho I'm the creator, I don't know all that happens. I'm even shocked as to what the conclusions are or who someone really is. Sigma being Asagiri's avatar (per say but not like living a fanfic of his own story/not self insert) would open up a hell of a 4th wall discussion. This could elude "The Book" as being BSD itself but I don't think it is.

The book is blank.

The blank pages are a possibility. They could just act as "sticky notes" to insert in a book to make changes later.

We don't know who brought from from that book either. Or if he was in the first place. Possibly just a simple loophole for Sigma=Asagiri.... idk

Ability =Author..?

Possibly BSD story is as we see it now, a trainwreck of bad news and the world ending but he couldn't find a way or change it. As I said, authors vs characters so Sigma was born into that world to change the outcome. Without Sigma, how different would the story be? We don't even know about him until hella later nor what his existence impacted the story before that.

I think he feels a lot like Atsushi because it's that lost MC thing. Cliche as it sounds, it's not a bad start for an MC, to be naive, lost, hopeless, and running until something changes. All they can go is up despite the monsters in their minds trying to drag them down. How different would the story be if Sigma was the MC instead? Would we know too much without actually knowing what it means?

Sigma's ability I think also taps into that "as an author, I only know what my characters tell me" thing. And if Asagiri did create Sigma to change BSD then following the rules of "The Book", he had to have Sigma fit into the world. Thus an ability based off an author (in a 4th wall sense rather then we in that world sense). And Sigma would then be just as clueless and maybe even hopeless as Asagiri would've felt but he's the only hope.

Again Sigma would be an insert just alien enough and blend in enough to maybe make a change. Plus a world of authors and books and abilities, introducing a character without those is like pulling a +4 uno card on us all. (Sneaky lmao)

Random rabbit hole of Σ, ς, σ (Sigma)

Sigma is the 18th letter of the Greek alphabet (Pheonician). Three ways to write it would be uppercase (Σ), lowercase (σ), and final-word position (ς). Sigma origin (šīn) meaning tooth.

I find this funny as Sigma is not of this world and his name basically means "sin". Kinda like he wasn't meant to be here. Or maybe punishing him for "writing/creating" the world of BSD if he's the avatar for Asagiri. Think that's fits with the thought that he made the world but has to suffer the end of that world but his last hope is Sigma.

(I'm bs-ing so hard rn, I'm so sorry 😭)

Plus, I thought this : sigma is used in complicated mathematics and symbols used often in "covariance matrix" which is basically math to map out MULTIDIMENSIONAL SPACES

"Multidimensional matrix". It's how to calculate data across two dimensions.

Using data to go from one place to another much like from inside the story to the auth-

Daemons and Angels

I had watched a Genshin Impact lore/theory video that had talked about some of the cube bosses names came from the Hebrew alphabet. They explained that these cubes correlate to the gods of the land and the elements they represent. These gods also have interesting names too. They have normal names but but the land and history, they go by names of demons from a book called the Ars Goetia.

These cube bosses and gods both have angel and demon names but besides them relating to one other by elements, their angel/demon names match up.

72 Daemons of Ars Goetia and 72 Angels of Shem Hamephorash.

(I sounded smart there for a sec but it's difficult to find the specific letters that correlate to these beings. There's 22 letters and 72 d/A's. ????)

Hebrew and Greek meaning

Σ (Greek sigma) came from שׁ (Hebrew sigma letter).

It's been flipped and changed to the one we know of as Σ. Which is Greek number for 18. In Hebrew 21 and pronounced as Shin, literally meaning tooth. The symbol also representing flames and transformation. Much like a forest fire, the ashes give way for the soul to reabsorb and grow anew thus a transformation. With flame and essential rebirth, the yin and yan, this ultimately represents balance.

It's the processing of destruction without the evil and rebuilding without the sorrow. Much like destruction can be seen as a sort of chaotic creation.

The way Shin is written is with 2-3 Vavs.

Vavs is the Hebrew number 6 and it means "hook". This letter has the power to bring things together when they've become separated in creation.

With this in mind...

His ability literally is to get info outta people like "their" truths

Sigma relation to D.N.A ➡️ specific names

One article talks of them being both letters and numbers, they have a correlation to human DNA. The building blocks. Relation to animo acids and how to tell the body how to process with 22 amino acids.

http://blog.cristianacaria.com/2014/11/26/the-72-angels-and-the-power-of-the-hebrew-letters/

⬆️ this article goes on to talk about how when we are all born, 3 letters are somehow assigned to us at birth and they make up a name of that daemon/angel. This explains the article for Socrates I found before this that talks of how it was believed that he was watched over by a daemon/angel. And had essentially helped him "change the world" and himself thru his philosophy.

This surely explains the 22 to 72 math problem earlier. (Daemons and Angels paragraph)

https://www.idler.co.uk/article/socrates-and-the-angels/#:~:text=Angels%20can%20be%20linked%20to,realms%20of%20mortals%20and%20gods.

Sigma (BSD) age meaning?

I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT SIGMA BEING BORN 3 YEARS AGO HAS TO DO WITH ANYTHING.

3 years could mean 1,095-1,096 days of living roughly so that really doesn't do me any good.

I'm done now

Purely speculation but this is based of like 3 brain cells, my author nerdy ass and artistic standpoint in crafting worlds and shit plus it's like 3 am rn 😭

Edit: it's 5:42 am now

Simple read rather than read all that :

Other manga gave thought that Sigma is the authors character like another other character in BSD.

Dazai Osamu, no longer human

Kafka Asagiri, bungou stray dogs

Sigma, information exchange

Maybe Sigma made to help world of BSD but not like self insert. And Sigma Greek and Hebrew letters mean to tear down and rebuild. A balance between mercy/kindness and justice/truth.

Letters relation to Daemons/angels and how they can lead one to change.

Thank you for your time 🥲

~King.M.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd sigma #bsd theory #bsd manga #bsd anime #bsd author #bsd kafka asagiri #kafka asagiri #rambling at 6 am #author theories #bsd manga theories #bsd anime theories

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stranger-nightmare · 2 years

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ok but like what bothers me most is that, save for dustin & eddie’s uncle, no one acknowledged eddie’s death. no one asked about him, no one seemed even remotely worried. & yknow, because of that, i want to believe that the duffer brothers are eluding to the fact he’s somehow still alive. we never saw the gang see his body or anything, right? dustin wouldn’t have just left his body in the upside down. he would’ve felt really guilty & gross if that was the case. & why just take his necklace???

that entire situation just feels wrong to me. & ik that his death was heavily hinted at throughout the season. but taking away literally the best character just like that? idk man it doesn’t sit right with me :/

- 🩻

no bc I’m right with you bestie, I’m so so so fucking angry about how it was handled

like first and foremost his death felt completely unnecessary, like who was he really saving / helping by running into the hoard of demobats?? there was literally no shame in running with Dustin, that was literally their plan, he wasn’t buying time or anything for anyone, it was so fucking pointless

but bad death aside, the real kick in the teeth is the way it was handled after the fact

they just left our poor boy down there to rot away in hell, left him as the town pariah and scapegoat, no one tried to actually clear his name, no one grieved or even fucking mentioned him other than Dustin and his uncle

idk, it all just feels so disrespectful for such a beloved character?? like I’m not just upset and grieving about losing him, I’m genuinely fucking angry at how it was done and how it was handled

at least Billy died with dignity and redemption, Eddie didn’t even get that bc him running back into the bats was just fucking dumb and had no real reasoning behind it, he didn’t redeem himself for anything bc he had no need for redemption, he was not a bad character or a villain, he was just a boy who ended up in a shitstorm and ran away, there’s no crime in that seriously

honestly I wish I had better words to explain what I mean and how I feel, I’m just so angry and upset tbh

Duffer brother where are you, I just wanna talk…👊🏻

- hope

#the answer to your nightmare #🩻 anon #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things spoilers #stranger things vol 2 #joseph quinn #joseph quinn stranger things

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threadsun · 11 months

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It totally makes sense! You just keep doing you boo and I’m sure that someday soon those people who belittle the credibility of sex work will see the truth. I’m sure teacher Jack would teach those people a similar lesson about respect, probably not as sexy fun times though lol. Dude, I’m so down to clown that I’m pretty sure any kind of punishment or lesson Jack would deal out wouldn’t work because I’d like it too much 😂 The ONLY one I can think of is based off that breeding kink you posted about before where he threatens not to finish inside, but that’s literally it. She’s a freaky gal! Exactly with Joesph! It’s like almost an inner war with himself where he loves the more positive attention he’s receiving for playing the role of Sunny Day Jack, but he doesn’t want to get noticed too much since he’s so afraid of getting kicked off the show. The kind of guy who tries to play it cool on the outside, but is actually an extremely emotional person who wear his heart on his sleeve (in a literal sense too with the flaming heart tattoo on his arm) and has trouble hiding the emotions on his face. It helps a lot with his acting, but it makes him more vulnerable to those who might use him for less savory means. I see him as a very charming and charismatic person so he naturally eludes a cool guy persona, but his insecurities really might make him feel like he’s not really this great guy. It’s a really weird mix where if you didn’t know him as well, he’d seem like the popular tough guy with a heart of gold, but getting close enough, you’d see just how torn up and insecure he feels inside. I was thinking about how nice it would be for his next life if he was given a better life to make up for his last, but then I realized he probably already feels that way with his sunshine. If only he felt like Joesph was worthy of experiencing such love and happiness. OOOOO! I’d FREEZE if he used his teacher voice on me. I could imagine the smirk he’s holding back on his face too. Jack seeing how much power he has over his sunshine that just his voice could be enough to stop them from continuing whatever bratty behavior they’re trying to do. It probably feels good too, no longer being the one ordered to do this and do that to gain favor from others or earn an extra tip. This is fun! I forgot how much I love writing random scenarios lol. I usually get so lost in making sure everything is smooth and grammatically correct that I don’t enjoy just placing everything down like I’m doing here and just sending it off! I’m sure if I did, all these little headcanons would probably sound a lot more cohesive, but I’ve just been enjoying bouncing off ideas with you that I haven’t focused on if things sound alright grammatically lol.

-🎃

Thanks!! 🥰 thankfully, most of my clients have been super sweet and chill, it's just the handful who aren't that ruin it for everyone.

Oh yes, Jack's #1 threat is absolutely pulling out instead of breeding you~ it simply makes his Sunshine so needy and willing to be good for him!! After all, only good subs get bred~

Yes!!!! Exactly!!!! When I finally get around to writing that fic about Joseph and Jean being trapped in the tape together and how they become Jack and Rory I'll be exploring this sort of thing a lot more. But like, idk the fact that Joseph felt the need to become Jack, and considers Jack a better person than he was... like, it just doesn't track with the idea of him being selfish and cocky and having high confidence and self-esteem? It's the actions of a man who sees himself as a no-good fuckup and wants to change. The actions of a man who wants desperately to be good, but doesn't think he can. Doesn't think he knows how. And someone who feels that way about themself usually isn't actually an asshole or a bad person, they're just a person with self-esteem issues who tries to be a good person and just holds themself to too high of a standard. And based on how he seems to have been treated his whole life (like we see in that detention slip), it makes sense he'd have that view of himself! Idk I just think he's a sweet, soft, goofy guy who is constantly judged for how he looks and tries to be better than what is expected of him. And who has serious self-esteem issues and anxiety about losing the few good things in his life, like his role as Jack.

Yes, exactly!! I feel like that's probably why Jack is so heavily a dom, he's used to submitting to other people as Joseph (and I still headcanon Joseph as being more sub-leaning). So being dominant puts even more distance between who he is now and who he used to be, and also lets him take control in a way he didn't used to be able to! And also because he loves seeing how desperate his Sunshine is for him. Making them be the needy, begging one giving up power for once!

I'm glad you're having fun too!!! I love bouncing ideas around with people tbh, I find that when I actually get around to sitting down and writing things out, it makes the polished stuff better!!

#sunshine #asks #🎃 anon

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cranehusbands · 1 year

Text

red right hand

sylvain jose gautier/hubert von vestra; canon adjacent; vampire au; white clouds, black eagles route; be!sylvain; slight wrist trauma cw. 6739 words

a/n; houghkay i have not posted fic in over a year and idk if this is even how we do this anymore, but i don’t mind. i’m super excited to be writing again and i adore fire emblem so much, i think i deserve a little treat in making content for me in specific. i hope you all enjoy.

likes < reblogs, any comments in the tags are appreciated!

ao3 mirror in the reblogs!

The events of the past month had sent the workings of both the Officers Academy and the monastery that ran it into chaos.

The end of the Verdant Rain Moon found the members of the Black Eagle house, representatives of the Empire of Adrestia, assisting House Gautier in returning its Hero’s Relic after it had been stolen by one of their own. Well, former own, as the Margrave had disowned his eldest son some time ago and, by some indescribable miracle, the man had grown bitter. Especially toward his younger brother, who now resided among the ranks of those outside his holy kingdom, after having transferred houses in the months before. Sylvain Jose Gautier, for what it was worth, had faced Miklan with his head held high, adamant that he was not as useless as the aggressive but equally as irritating man had insinuated. This, however, could not stop the horror that followed. A former noble turned into a beast, a crestless man trying to play in the grounds of gods, so to speak- the lance had turned Miklan into far bigger of a threat than he originally posed, and though he was taken out quickly, they still suffered some heavy damage. Including Sylvain himself, who had taken a heavy hit from the beast his brother became- a bite, even.

Or at least, that’s what Hubert had been told. Being commanded by Edelgard to watch their back line for invading bandits trying to aid their leader, he hadn’t been within view to witness such a thing himself. He’d only heard about it later from Linhardt and Mercedes, who the professor had asked for earlier in the months- and their consensus was that it was a bad wound. One that had to be treated medically, and not just by the white magic they had on hand, one that they said had left him silent (a miracle) and convulsing (terribly unfortunate). He was, of course, more than alive when they had returned to the monastery, but this was where the trouble had started.

No one had seen him in over three weeks.

It would be excusable if Sylvain had the courtesy to inform them, but both Edelgard and Byleth had been worried about his condition and the time he had taken to grieve, and their pleas had gone unanswered. The both of them had made the decision to continue to give him space, but Hubert himself had little patience to wait. He disliked not having all the pieces on the board, and Sylvain, in all his ability to irritate and demean, was a wildcard he could not leave unsupervised and unaccounted for. Even worse, now that the next disaster had been decided as soon as the class returned from that particular ordeal- the younger sister of the Archbishop’s right hand was currently missing, with no trace as to where she had gone, and needless to say, Seteth was in something of a frantic state trying to find her. Lady Rhea herself had assigned Byleth, and by extension her students, to the cause of finding the young girl, but through all the chaos, students and teachers alike were all pointing fingers at one another. Hubert, of course, was aware of the identity of Flayn’s captors, though their reasons eluded him, much to his frustration. He could hardly trust these fiends he and his lady had aligned themselves with, at least for the time, but their hands were thoroughly tied. Their mission to rescue the girl would be unsuccessful if they were unable to devise a plan to cover for themselves in the eyes of the church- and even less successful if they were a man down.

The mage's boots echoed as he ascended the hall of the noble’s dormitory, the one or two students lingering around giving him more than enough room to pass by as he reached the room at the very end in a swift amount of time from his own, staring up at the double doors, pausing for a moment to assess and to listen. There were no noises coming from behind it, unlike in the months before when there would be far too much, from voices most certainly not belonging to the man who was supposed to be occupying it, alone. He grimaced at the thought, raising a fist to the door as he gritted his teeth in a low growl of dissatisfaction.

Hubert knocked with assurance, though it wasn’t particularly hard- simply firm, clear in which door he was knocking upon, in case Sylvain were to think otherwise. A long moment followed that, as Hubert waited for a response, be that an explanation or simply a confirmation he was alive. There was nothing.

“Gautier. I know you’re in there, ignoring me is futile.” If he attempted, the door could easily be picked, and Hubert would let himself in to drag the man out here himself to answer for his absences.

And it seemed the attempt was, in fact, being made. Hubert scowled.

“You have failed to show up to lectures for weeks. Both our professor and Lady Edelgard have been asking for you, and you have continued to ignore them both.” What happened at the tower, as far as he had heard, was a tragedy- literally, in the way the beast that he was told was Sylvain’s brother roared in a way that bounced off of the walls. There was a pang of sympathy, but nothing more, crushed as quickly as it had manifested, as he reached for the doorknob. “If you don’t answer for yourself, I’ll be forced to enter. Do not make me ask again-”

When the door suddenly opened in front of him, Hubert was caught off guard. But the sight in front of him made that twofold. Sylvain was a ghost of the man he once not weeks before. Still broad and well-built, holding his pride in his chest in an almost literal sense, but everything else looked awful. Wide-eyed, pale, a tremor in his hands as he held the door open, perhaps even the kind that wracked through his body and made it difficult to stand. He was unwell. Was this the effect of grief?

“There.” He looked terrible, and sounded as much as well, quiet and rasping. Like a man starved. “I’m alive. You happy now? You gonna go tell Edelgard I’m not dying on her doorstep, bringing shame to her house?”

Hubert scoffed. “You certainly look to be dying. Have you been eating?”

Hesitation. Never in his time at the academy had he ever seen Sylvain hesitate. “…Been trying. It’s hard to keep it down.”

“Have you caught something?”

“Probably? It was- it was raining pretty heavy, so-”

“This isn’t just a simple cold.”

“Let me believe it for a second, ‘Bertie. I’m too pretty to die.”

The mage rolled his eyes at the dramatics, even if he could sense there was more truth to the words than Sylvain cared to admit. He was among their best and brightest, as much as he tried to play otherwise- the first to pass an advanced exam in their house, training to be a cavalier, though he put that down to luck and experience over his own exceptionality. To lose such an asset would be a blow to the house. Hubert kept his hands behind his back, and he peered into the room around Sylvain’s side. It was mostly clean, except for old clothes and plates on the floor, and the way his bed hadn’t been made, likely because he had been laying in it in the hours and days before the disturbance, too sick to move. A hum of consideration escaped him, before he sat up straight again. “Very well. Let me in.”

“What?”

The element of surprise was the only reason that Hubert was able to overpower, in this scenario, and he would not kill himself otherwise- if Sylvain truly wanted to keep him out, or in one place, he would have no trouble doing so. But despite this, he entered the room with ease, inspecting it further now that he was inside, the only response being the sound of the door clicking closed behind him.

The mess was more obvious now, but hardly could be considered abhorrent behaviour. It was still relatively neat, surprisingly so- though, considering the number of women Sylvain smuggled in here for his recreational activities, it should not be that much of a surprise- and could be excused by his need to grieve, if not this mysterious illness that had befallen him. Hubert inspected for a few moments more, running a gloved finger along the counter towards the back of the room, before turning at the sound of the bed creaking. A glance told him that the redhead could not stand any longer, exhaling a breath of exertion and gripping at the sheets to keep himself steady and upright, still pale, still shaking. The mage stood to his full height again, turning fully to watch the way Sylvain rolled his neck, and tried to settle as he looked anywhere else other than his uninvited guest, but it only seemed like he was making himself more restless in the process. It was then that Hubert spotted them, a small and precise set of puncture marks, hidden beneath the collar of Sylvain’s shirt, once wrapped in bandages but now were mostly healed. It was a small, but curious observation- enough to make Hubert step forward, and take a hold of the bottom of his chin between a two-finger vice grip, pulling his head up to observe.

There was a muffled noise of protest from Sylvain as he registered what was happening, perhaps a little slower than he should have (delayed reaction time, to add to his list of symptoms), but Hubert was able to catch the way the pupils of his eyes blew up at the proximity, in the same way the cats of the monastery did when they went about hunting odd mice and fish around the place, before he pulled himself away, rubbing at his cheeks and his face with an annoyed grumble, “Woah, hey, hands off, big guy, I’m not interested in whatever manhandling you’re offering.”

He, mercifully, chose to ignore such prodding. “This isn’t a sickness.”

“Huh?”

“It is some sort of affliction, certainly, but seems more akin to a curse than something naturally occurring.”

Sylvain narrowed his eyes, watching the man in front of him stand back up to his full height again.

“…This was not my doing, if that was your first thought.”

His suspicion lessened slightly, as he leaned back where he sat. It was enough to get Hubert to roll his eyes in response, folding his arms across his chest- hardly a defensive gesture, though it could come across as such to the untrained eye. He’d been accused of far worse. A matter such as this did not bother him.

“Now, if you’re quite done, can you think of anyone that would want to do this to you?”

Sylvain laughed, short and loud, perhaps even bitter. “You want that in alphabetical order, or in order of relevance?”

Again, there was a hum, as he listened to the empty chuckle slowly dissolve into a sigh, as the redhead looked again to the door. Hubert watched his throat bob as he stared off in contemplation, eyes falling again to the start of the injuries left by his brother the previous month. It seemed far less than what one would expect from a bite at the hands of a beast. How curious.

Leaning forward again, Hubert moved his hand to fiddle with the collar of Sylvain’s shirt- enough to get him to look back with the start of some confused address, before his mouth was covered with an open palm, and he continued to pull down the collar of his shirt as much as he was able. He had been told the bite was bloody, and had left Sylvain utterly indisposed. In fact, he had seen the aftermath of the thing on the floor, red pooling where the body of the fallen cavalier had once been, pulled off of his horse like an animal’s chew toy. But this was hardly that. It wasn’t a mauling mark, or even something venomous- just a row of puncture marks along his neck and the back of his shoulder, extending to where he could not see with the shirt in the way. Hubert pressed his fingers into the underside of his jaw, harsh but hardly a jab, though it still got a hiss out of Sylvain- more akin to an angry animal than anything like a reaction of pain. He was irritated, not hurt, and that was perhaps the strangest thing. He turned the cavalier’s head some more, giving him a better view of the wound from this angle, the hissing only getting worse in reaction, but he didn’t pay it any mind- Hubert simply continued inspecting, pinching at the flesh and squeezing, with little there other than these strange indents, despite there needing to be more, from how large the beast was, and how thoroughly it had grabbed on.

He was stopped suddenly by a flare of pain in his palm, which had held Sylvain’s mouth to move his head, and quickly snatched his hand away, checking it with a scowl and a scathing comment of childishness at the tip of his tongue. But Hubert paused, amid these musings, as blood began to pool on the surface of his gloved hand, slowly staining the silk from two evenly spaced puncture marks. Mouth hanging open with no sound falling from it, the mage looked up, slowly, at Sylvain, who seemed to be just as surprised at the mark he’d left behind, seeming to sniff before swallowing and moving his face away, barely masking the glint of sharp teeth underneath.

It all made far too much sense, now. The strange bite marks, the symptoms, all pointing to one thing. Though the origins of the black beasts that came from corruption at the hands of the crest stones was under-researched (more than likely due to the lack of subjects both alive and willing), linking them to those of vampiric origin hardly seemed like an extraordinary leap in logic. Whatever attack Miklan had landed on Sylvain could have corrupted his blood, only sparing his life because of the crest he loathed so much. Of course, this was only a theory as to his current state. Further assessment had to be made to confirm if he had even been turned at all, because this could well be a classic case of jumping to a conclusion and assuming the worst before his feet hit the ground.

“You’re a vampire.”

“What?”

“Do not make me repeat myself.”

“No, no, I heard, you, I just-” Sylvain seemed to be panicking, another odd emotion that Hubert had never seen out of him. He swallowed, trying to turn forward again, but it seemed he could not stop himself from looking at the blood that was still pooling under Hubert’s glove- even covering his mouth and his nose with something of a grimacing sound.

“You can smell it, can’t you? The blood?” As he spoke, he removed his glove, observing the way that Sylvain could not help but stare at the blackened hand corrupted by dark magic, even out of the corner of his eye. As he moved it closer as a test, the redhead almost craned his neck away in retaliation. With his other thumb, Hubert wiped the blood away and onto the front of his pants, inspecting the wound underneath. Evenly spaced bite marks, though they were slowly starting to seal, most likely due to the lack of time they had pierced the skin. He held his hand up, to show the man the thing he seemed so afraid of was gone, and he seemed to lose his tension even slightly, even if he still kept himself recoiled as he moved his hand away to support himself with a hefty swallow.

“So… what? I’m some kind of blood-sucking freak?”

Hubert hummed. “If that's what you want to consider yourself, then yes.”

He watched the way Sylvain tightened his fists around the sheets underneath him like they were a lifeline then, some sort of anchor to keep him grounded in the moment as his mind began to wander to other things, eyes trying to look anywhere but the mage assessing him in silence. This wasn’t the uncomfortable sort of squirming he’d grown used to from other students when he would observe them, the kind where people would try and get away from him in subtle ways, preferring to hide rather than face him. No, this carried a different energy. Sylvain was not avoiding looking at him because he was unnerved- this felt more like he was ashamed. Ashamed of the revelation, one that was still distressing him, clearly, but he still needed to eat- and now that he knew what he could eat, the thought could not escape him. And that in itself, strangely enough, was revelation enough to get Hubert to move.

He swiftly turned away from the bed to undo the front of his uniform, removing the jacket and gently folding it over the back of the chair beside the desk in a clean, efficient motion. Usually, he would sooner have another student dead than to have them see him strip a layer, especially Sylvain, who no doubt would have had a wry comment on the edge of his tongue if not for his current state. But times were desperate and the possibilities for the outcome were enticing. If the Gautier boy was, in fact, turning into a vampire, that could either be a bane to the kingdom for Faerghus that he would return to, a weed to be rooted out and, thus, a bane to the Empire to rid its enemy of their future Margrave… or, perhaps, if they could convince the man to turn from his homeland, to control him, to have such strength on their side would put them at an advantage regardless. And that was simply the first reason- the second, even despite himself, was a curiosity Hubert felt growing, at the prospect of something of legend being close enough to study, to feel. When would he get this opportunity again? As loath as he was to spend time in a room with Sylvain, perhaps his frail state of health that came from his turning would make the experience tolerable.

Hubert turned after smoothing out his uniform jacket to the best of his ability, tugging on his gloves to keep them on and rolling up a sleeve of his shirt, exposing the darkened, magic-stained skin underneath- blackened like wood left to roast on the fire too long, becoming charcoal and ash. This was hardly the full extent of the damage from years of using dark magic, but he wasn’t going to be quick to expose all of that. Especially not under Sylvain’s gaze, whose attention by now has been fully caught. Though he did not squirm underneath it, Hubert certainly disliked it, and very slowly raised an eyebrow. “...What?”

“Ha- eugh- nothing, I just- I thought you said I was a vampire? Not a succubus. Stripping isn’t going to do much, big guy.”

The glare he gives is mostly involuntary, in reaction to the juvenile comment that he really should have expected. It seemed that even if Sylvain was at death’s door, he would still be an annoyance- his simple compliance was too much to hope for. “If you’re well enough to make jokes, I can leave you to control your urges yourself.”

“No- no, hey, let’s not be hasty now.” The panic ran through him swiftly, it seemed, and it put him back in his place just as quick, despite his agonising over the choice moments before. It left him to sit as still as he could manage with the tremors of hunger and weakness that still ran through him, Hubert gave a self-satisfied hum at the silence that followed, finishing cuffing his shirt as he stopped just in front of the bed where the future Margrave still sat, like a sheepish, scolded dog. His weakened disposition was hardly the confidence he would want to exude, now or in the future.

In a slow movement, like coaxing a beast, Hubert held out his arm to Sylvain, who slowly moved his head to stare at it in confusion. He answered the question of what it was for before he even got to open his mouth to ask. “Eat.”

“...What? Hubert, I’m not going to-” “I will not command it again, Gautier. You will die without blood. Slowly, and painfully, hidden away in here because you cannot bear to be in the sun to prey upon the female populace as you’re so used to in your ordinary, pathetic life.” He leans down slowly to meet the deep brown eyes that stared back at him, suddenly coming into focus at what he assumed to be his smell- it was assumed vampires had heightened senses, and judging from the way he saw the redhead’s pupils blow up from the new sensations, he could only guess that to be a correct assumption. “Eat.”

Again, there was hesitancy in the eyes that began flicking away from Hubert’s face down to his wrist, to the floor and back again. But just before he was able to scoff and retract his offer, Sylvain slowly took a hold of his forearm with one hand, pulling down the silk glove slightly with the other, to better expose the veins underneath. His mouth hung open for a moment, tongue slowly running between his teeth, and now Hubert could see the elongated fangs his classmate had acquired in his transformation from human to superhuman in more than just a glint, as if a trick of the light, razor-sharp and dangerous, but very, very real.

He didn’t think about the way his mouth went dry at the sight, and instead grew frustrated at how long it was taking. “Well?”

“Hold on, I’m…” Sylvain didn’t look up, swallowing and pressing his thumb into his wrist, inspecting the veins, even as his hands still shook- perhaps even more so now, at the prospect of a meal being dangled in front of him like a morsel of prey on a silver platter.

It took a moment to realise what he was doing- desperately and stupidly trying to find the right spot to puncture with his teeth, without killing him. Hubert clicked his tongue at the fumbling display, rolling his shoulders from the way he was bending down, as it was beginning to cause an ache in his neck and irritation in his temples from the time wasted here, that could be spent anywhere else. Sylvain could survive another day without food- Hubert could have found anyone to give to the man, rather than offering himself. Intimidate some poor student, perhaps even take out an enemy in one fell swoop, give them to an inexperienced vampire for his first meal, and more than likely his first kill. But he didn’t. He had offered his hand and so, regrettably, he would see it through. Taking his free hand, Hubert wrapped it in the other man’s hair in a tight fist (a noise came out of him at the notion, something of surprise and perhaps even pleasure, but he, wisely, chose to ignore it) before he pushed his head forward towards the offered wrist, lining Sylvain up perfectly with where he needed to be as he himself lowered to one knee to save his aching back. Hubert knew about the lethal places to bleed from, and the safe places for shallower cuts, meant for torture rather than a swift end. The latter, of course, was the intention of his direction, where he now held the man. So long as Sylvain showed some restraint, for once, he would be alright. There was a moment of consideration at such a thought, and after that, the mage kept his fist in his hair, grip looser but still firm. “There. Now stop stalling, or I swear, I will leave you here to starve.”

The eyes that darted up to him for a moment were far different then from the ones Sylvain had been giving him previously. Whereas before they carried reluctance, now, it seemed, that hunger had truly claimed him. Hubert watched his pupils dilate, almost swallowing the warm brown of them in a void of black, looking away again as he began to feel hot breath against the inside of his wrist, almost panting before there was a surge of fire and pain at the ball of his thumb, fangs sinking deep into the flesh. He’d felt worse pain. So he did not flinch, nor did he look away- he simply employed the empirical method, and began to observe.

It was a curious sort of feeling, as the blood came out of him in slivers. While there was the sensation of sucking, what came more than anything was the wet feeling of Sylvain’s tongue lapping up whatever escaped thereafter like a hungry mutt on the streets of Enbarr. Amid the feast were quiet growls of satisfaction, almost yips in their pitch and length, and insistent pulling of the mage’s arm further into his mouth, as if he could swallow it whole, wanting and greedy. It should have been a disgusting display, especially from a man who takes and takes without restraint as much as Sylvain, but somehow, Hubert could not help but to not feel that way. There is pity, even, in the way he observed such an act from a starving man. Pity that a man like Sylvain had been given such a life- forced upon him as most everything else had been, a fact he was careful not to speak about. Hubert had heard it, though- overheard it, more like, from the shadows, never involved directly in conversation but always listening. He’d heard the redhead arguing with his fellow Faerghans when he’d decided to change houses- that swordsman had called him a coward, with vitriol but no malice, only hurt, and the Galatea girl was just as hurt by the gesture, but kinder in her pleas. Surprisingly, this did not make Sylvain fold to their whims and change his mind. He’d remained with the Black Eagles, and the next month, he’d confronted his brother. And now…

And now, here he was. Feasting on the blood of another like a beast.

Hubert watched some of his blood dribble down his wrist before Sylvain was able to catch it, droplets hitting the man’s leg, but he didn’t seem to care. He carried on eating, carried on taking, only concerning himself with that and that alone, tunnel-visioned like an animal amidst a hunt. He was still growling all the while, still gripping onto Hubert’s arm like a lifeline, somehow getting more desperate to eat even when the food was right in front of him. It made sense, of course- it had been weeks since the tower, and between grieving and the corruption setting in, he hadn’t had a chance to eat what would keep him alive. Meals from the dining hall wouldn’t sustain him any longer, a fact he didn’t know until minutes before. And, despite the way he was being fed upon, the mage still felt he had control- control enough to tug on Sylvain’s hair, to remind him to pace himself, which he seemed receptive to, pulling back again with that same little noise as before, if a little weaker as he continued on. Perhaps he would need to curb such a commanding habit, if this Faerghan harlot was enjoying it- then again, he was behaving for the moment, so why did it matter? Just another way to remain in command of the situation.

There was a sudden wave of faintness that overcame him as he continued to look at Sylvain, wavering where he knelt, enough to where he had to close his eyes and actively think about swallowing away the dryness of his mouth. His eyes were slow to open again, hearing his own breath and the beating of his heart as he looked up from the floor to the boots directly in front of him as he remained on one knee, the fire still burning in his wrist.

“Gautier.” Hubert’s voice was far weaker than he liked, as he shook his head and attempted to sit up despite his rapidly approaching vertigo. He gritted his teeth, and tried again. “Gautier, that’s enough.”

It seemed the pleas- no, the demands, because Hubert never pleaded- fell on deaf ears, and the devouring of his arm only grew more frequent.

There was a nauseous pit in his chest now. The mage tightened his grip still in Sylvain’s hair. “Sylvain. Enough.”

Those hunter’s eyes met him again, unrecognisable as the man that once was Sylvain, nose wrinkling in a deep growl so different from the noises of satisfaction in the minutes before. No, these were ones of possessiveness and food aggression- of a starved creature not ready to let go of its prey, not yet full and thus not yet satisfied. He had no intention of stopping now that he had what he wanted- if there was no forceful end to it now, Hubert would be dead from blood loss within minutes.

The mage felt the pain in his jaw from how it clenched in frustration, trying to keep himself conscious, as he used all of his rapidly draining strength to pull the other man back by the hair, unlatching his fangs from the inside of his wrist and spraying loose bits of blood over the both of them and the sheets underneath. Hubert fell on his backside as he moved away, pushing himself away with his feet a few times before clutching onto his wrist to keep himself from losing any more blood. He could hear his heart in his ears as he tried to calm down, and gather the strength to stand.

But in that moment, foolishly letting his attention grow lax, there was a key detail that he seemed to forget. He was trapped in a room with Sylvain- no, the vampire that Sylvain had become. One that was hungry, and desperate, and above all, still not done. Hubert did not hear the beast rise to its feet, only the feeling of a knee against his stomach as it pinned him to the floor, and the hot air and spit that hit his face as his shoulders were pinned in turn. There was a noise of what could only be described as a snarl that forced him to look up at the face that met him. His own heartbeat grew faster still, thumping against his chest as this animal drew closer to his neck, teeth bared. This little experiment- one that should have never been conducted, he realised now, far too late- had gone beyond the realm of danger, and rapidly into one that could mean his end, if he didn’t act on his instincts to defend himself right now.

He cared not to apologise in his head for turning his magic against a potential ally, after struggling under the hefty weight of the man on top of him, as Hubert curled his hands into the flesh of Sylvain’s side and felt the surge of mire pulse through his veins, powerful enough that the brute paused in his trajectory of attack towards his throat, as if to consider what was happening-

The scream of pain released was animalistic, pitched and yowling as he pulled back, hands hovering on the burns in his bloodied uniform, bubbling against his exposed skin in a sickly, disgustingly infected purple. It was enough of a release in weight to get Hubert to sit up and push himself away yet again, his back hitting the drawers of the desk, handles digging into the flesh. His chest heaved with exhaustion, vision blacking as he stared forward at the beast, wincing and holding onto its side- his side, as despite the way the blood stained his face and his shirt, the warm brown of his eyes were visible again, and the way his nose wrinkled was from the pain, rather than the hunger. Sylvain had returned. And he was reaping what his impulses had sewn.

There was the thick smell of sulphur in the air as the spell still burned and singed at the skin, but for a moment, things seemed calm, as if in the eye of the storm. The mage wasn’t stupid enough to believe the danger had passed- though whatever bloodlust had taken a hold of Sylvain was now gone, it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t be angry in his own right from an attack. And it didn’t take any modicum of vampiric strength to assess that to be a threat- he saw it now, in the chest of the cavalier that still rose and fell with heavy breaths of exertion, blood-stained shirt leaving very little to the imagination. He was strong in his own right, built for brute force with the width of his shoulders and his arms carrying most of it. Though he could say with experience now what it felt to have the weight of the other man on top of him, with how the wind had been taken out of his chest by the power of the other man’s legs alone. Hubert looked to Sylvain for a few minutes more, before shooting his eyes down to the floor after making the realisation that his observation was not, in fact, for his own self-preservation and caution, and cursing himself for falling victim to certain thoughts just as easily as everyone else.

“…Ow, fuck, ‘Bertie. You could have killed me.” The laugh is breathless, but it cut through the air enough to get Hubert to look up in a snap, just as quickly as he had torn it away, back at the face that doesn’t meet him. Still clutching his side, still hurting, it seemed that was all Sylvain could focus on. Good.

“That was my intent. You were going to kill me first.” It’s a simple statement, and yet still, there’s a noise of offence, as he glances up again.

The brown of his eyes is still there. “No, I wasn’t-”

“You were.”

A beat of silence. “…Not on purpose.”

“I know.” A normal person would go to reassure him, to tell a person to not feel bad about their mistake, but Hubert keeps his mouth shut. He wasn’t going to coddle Sylvain, much like he wasn’t going to bicker back and forth about the intent of his attack. He was out of control, in the moment, and this would be a lesson to not do that through negative reinforcement. Hopefully.

There was another round of silence, but this time noticeably calmer. The storm had well and truly passed now. Sylvain sat up as he leaned back against the bed, hissing and muttering to himself as he fixed his slouched stance so as to not cause damage to himself further with his posture. He certainly seemed a lot more sombre now, than a few minutes before, hungry and snarling. “…Look, Hubert-”

“Don’t bother.” Whatever excuse Sylvain was about to give was cut off with a bite, something as acidic as the spell that had started to settle in, its damage already being done. Hubert glowered from across the room, still trying to steady himself as best he could to stumble and find some assistance- but for now, he remained seated, back pressed to the desk to keep himself upright, despite the tension in his shoulders that wouldn't lessen with time. “I do not want your apologies. I simply should never have let you do this. You’re too inexperienced.”

“Ha. That’s the first time I’ve heard that complaint.”

“Gautier.”

“Okay, okay. Bad timing.” He fell into silence after that, glancing down at the hand at his side that had still dug into the acid-burned flesh and sinew, slowly lifting it with a quick inhale through his teeth at the stinging pain and the bits that came away on his fingers. From what Hubert could see, the wound was already starting to heal, exposed muscle burned away being hidden as the skin stitched itself together again, and from what he heard- a laugh, disbelieving and breathless, if not a little bit unsettled at the display- it seemed Sylvain had not expected such an outcome.

“Are you really so clueless about things such as this that you didn’t know about your near-invulnerability?”

“Certainly didn’t feel invulnerable, that hurt like hell.” He was still laughing, even now, finally looking back up again to meet Hubert’s face as he slowly raised an eyebrow. His teeth were still stained red. “Wow, guess I really am a blood-sucking freak, huh?”

There is an indecent scoff at the comment before Hubert can stop himself. “That’s what made you realise? Not the fever-like symptoms, or your salacious eating manners, or the bloodlust?”

The redhead shrugged, making sure to keep a smile that, intentionally or not, bared those fangs that were sunk into the other man’s arm not minutes before. There was a flash of something in his eyes for a moment, but it was gone again before Hubert could truly discern it to be guilt.

After that, they did not speak more on what just occurred, or simply much at all. Sylvain stood up again, not bothering to remove his bloody and marred shirt, handing Hubert a half-empty glass of water that stood nearby the bedside- stale, but still drinkable. He did, however, get to work removing his bedsheets, tossing them off into a corner with the rest of his laundry (or around where other items had been thrown, as they were scattered most everywhere in an attempt to get to the corner) before crouching down and replacing them with clean ones again. Hubert did not bother to help him. He did not have the energy, nor the desire to be close to him, and so he took instead to watching the width of his shoulders as he worked, drinking until the glass was empty again. He was not bleeding as profusely now, but the wound still hurt, pinpricks in the wrist burning as he removed his bloody hand, and tried to grip the corner of the desk behind himself to pull himself up, apparently making such a noise of effort that caused the redhead to turn, pillow case still in hand.

“Oh, shit, do you need-”

“Do not touch me.”

The command was simple enough to work, forceful enough to keep the dog in his place, looking the mage up and down for a moment, before turning back to work with a quieter, “You got it, big guy.”

It was a simple affair to rise, then, and cross the room again as he had done to enter. The door had not been locked, and for a moment, Hubert thought about what would have happened if he had realised that, during the attack- if he had tried to run down the hall. Would the beast have followed, released from his cage? Would he have killed someone, had to be put down? Hubert ran his tongue along the back of his teeth, contemplating the reality of having saved Sylvain’s life without intending, before turning the handle and pulling the door inward to exit.

Though he stopped again at the threshold, half in and half out, turning back in for a moment to add, as a final closer.

“This will not leave this room. Your secret, or my weakness. Are we clear?”

Sylvain turned again, from laying the fresh blanket down across fresh sheets, where now the only sign of anything off was the amount of blood- Hubert’s blood, that still covered his body and his clothes. There was a moment of consideration, before a slow nod, as Sylvain began licking away some of the blood that still lingered in one corner of his mouth, despite it being practically all over the bottom of his face.

And with that, Hubert closed the door, and headed straight for his room again, with intent to keep his word and tend to his own wounds. No one would know. This, he would be sure of.

#fire emblem three houses #sylvbert #sylvain jose gautier #hubert von vestra #dahl.doc #//#HOUGH i did it. we did it boys.#now time to melt for the next six months /j

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