#<- due to the wearing dog skull thing

[the-crystal-femmes]

Pearl is a little unhinged. She told me that she'd like wearing a dog skull on her head.

[lay-z]

cotton candy clouds | 4

Synopsis: Due to his rank, status, and many combat achievements, Lieutenant Riley is assigned an emotional support hybrid by the brass; whether he likes it or not.

Pairing: handler!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x dog!hybrid!fem!Reader

Warnings/Info: 18+ MDNI | Reader is a purebred Samojede (dog)hybrid. Despite ears, tails, and their adapted nature/instincts and personalities, hybrids have human features. | bimbo!Reader; hypersexuality; slow-burnish; heavy smut; tw: past (sexual) abuse/manipulation; cussing; fluff/domesticity; humour; angst; hurt/comfort; eventual romance; strangers to lovers; dub-con elements (Mind the warnings for each chapter!)

☁ ccc; masterlist

Whenever Simon spares you a glance to remind himself that this new and strange arrangement is real, he finds you staring right back at him somehow.

Always making eye contact; holding his unwavering gaze with a silent expectation that makes his chest feel tight and his brain go numb, grappling for answers. Multiple times he's caught himself biting the tip of his tongue harshly to refrain himself from barking “What?” at you, demanding an answer in exchange for his cluelessness: What do you want from me?

He's building a mountain of expectations in his mind involuntarily while lacking the gear and a strategy in how to climb it properly. It's too high, and he knows he can never reach the top unscathed.

How can he possibly take care of you if he can barely take care of himself outside of what is required of him? He keeps himself fit, alive, able to function, always ready to follow an order and go in for the kill. That’s what he knows, what he’s comfortable with, but this?

Simon doesn't play house, doesn't know how to handle something so... domestic and delicate. He never experienced it growing up, never witnessed normalcy. If he would care about such things now, he’d have a wife or something akin to one, but he doesn’t–never even had a partner before, never bothered to believe himself fit for dating, for letting someone in like this.

Even the soft clothes you're wearing make him recoil; pastel colours having the opposite effect of red to a bull–so odd and out of place to him, and he knows the callouses on his fingers would simply catch on the fabric if he were ever to reach out to you for whatever reason, like a sheep’s fine wool catching on a thorn brush, scratching and tearing.

“What would you like for dinner?”

Simon blinks twice, thrice, before the question comes through his thick skull, vision slowly clearing despite him having stared at you for the past minutes while you were sitting on his couch patiently the whole time, eager as ever now that he willingly took you back to his flat again.

Why did you even sign the handlership without knowing him at all beforehand? Are you really that oblivious? That naïve? Or did the brass coax you into signing it?

“Simon?”

The way you keep saying his name so casually, makes his chest ache, makes him inhale sharply each time. What would he like for dinner? It should be such a simple question, but it seems like a puzzle to him–a thousand pieces, all in the same bloody colour.

“Why? Ya offering to cook for me, lass?” He snorts humourlessly. It's ridiculous. No one cooks for him unless he goes to the mess hall to get some grub.

“Of course, I'd love to!” You answer immediately, flashing a genuine smile. His eyes flicker to your tail when it starts to wag again and he curls his lips under his mask. Isn't he supposed to take care of you? What even is this bloody handlership? His brows draw together quizzically, making that deep crease reappear between them. Perhaps he should’ve read it before putting his signature on the damn paper.

Then he sighs in resignation. “Do whatever you want, just stay out of my room,” he replies and makes a half-hearted gesture towards the kitchen. “Not sure wha’s in the fridge. Been a few days since I went to the store,” he admits begrudgingly, kissing his teeth in annoyance when his stomach grumbles.

“Well then,” you say tentatively, tail stilling on the couch, “–why don't we go shopping for groceries?”

It’s already late afternoon, when Simon pulls up to the parking lot in front of the local supermarket in town with a truck he borrowed, deciding it’s better for his own nerves to take you somewhere else but the stores they have on base.

He just can’t bring himself to keep you on a leash around his peers, to parade you around wearing a pink collar around your neck with his rank and military ID number stitched into its leather–a ‘gift’ from the bloody gift basket Price had delivered to his flat along with the initial shock of your presence.

And, by god, he wants to drop the leash and run in the other direction as soon as the automatic sliding doors swoosh open and his boots step foot into the store with you in tow–a red shopping basket clutched in his other hand.

What an absurd picture it must be to other shopgoers–a behemoth with a skull mask and cargo pants buying veggies and snacks with a gorgeous hybrid woman on a pink leash and matching collar. Kinky, he muses unintentionally and grits his teeth, cringing at his own stupid thought. It’s then and there Simon decides to murder Price next chance he gets.

“Mummy, look!” A toddler exclaims, pointing at you as he peeks his head into the produce aisle. Simon’s eyebrow raises beneath his mask as the little boy approaches shyly, his wide eyes fixated on you. Civilians, especially kids and women, usually avoid him like the plague whenever he’s out and about in public, looking like, well–himself.

“Hello there,” you coo at the toddler, crouching down to his level while Simon keeps as much distance as the leash allows him to, knowing better than to interfere. “Are you looking for your mama?” You ask attentively, ears twitching as you look past the boy, already searching for his parents.

The boy shakes his head with a big smile, rocking on his feet. “Nu-uh, she’s–”

“Noah!” The frantic voice of a woman calls out. “I told you to stay by–” Her eyes widen, steps faltering briefly as she catches sight of Simon, who has already anticipated the reaction, slumping his shoulders to try and make himself look smaller, less threatening.

“He’s okay,” you chime in swiftly, straightening up to be on eye-level with Noah’s mother. “We were about to help him look for you, madam,” you assure her, and the boy giggles when you ruffle his brown unruly curls briefly. “Isn’t that right, big man?”

The conversation fades into the background just like Simon’s whole presence seemingly does as you go on to hold a friendly and effortless conversation with the mother and her son. Meanwhile, Simon doesn’t quite remember the last time someone approached him so casually and jovially, and he gets lost in his own rotten mind with flashbacks of the past again–seeing the ghosts of Beth and Joseph in these strangers in front of him, and his heart is gripped by icy tendrils of grief and melancholy until your laugh breaks through the vision, pulling him back to reality at once.

“Oh, no worries! I’m sure it is strange to see someone like me in a quaint town like this,” you chuckle softly, giving a small wave with your hand while Simon’s pale lashes flutter as he tries to follow the conversation once more after what he’s missed. He notices how the toddler is giggling, petting and hugging your fluffy tail while you continue talking to his mum like it’s nothing unordinary. “But working for the military has brought me to the strangest places where hybrids are either a common occurrence or completely rare and more like a myth,” you explain patiently.

And the woman smiles coyly, already smitten with your charms. “Well, you certainly are a looker if I dare say so, miss.”

Once Alice, as she'd introduced herself, and Noah go about their own shopping, Simon catches the odd look on your face, something akin to sadness or longing hidden behind your smile, before you rapidly blink it away as a grumpy-looking elderly man approaches you, asking for help as if you'd know your way around while Simon groans internally, already despising all the attention.

You really do turn heads in a rather positive way if you manage to make the most grumpy old geezer smile in a heartbeat.

“You always this chipper?” He gruffs as he watches you add a pound of butter and coffee creamer to the overflowing basket, not that he'd care about that. You've been nothing but mindful of prices and proper nourishment while strolling through the aisles.

“Hm?” Simon snorts, in amusement this time. There's no way you didn't hear him; he saw your plush left ear swivel in his direction. “Ya heard me jus’ fine, lass.” He mutters, grabbing a box of his favourite biscuits as he walks past them and shoving them in between the other goodies, feeling like a child sneaking candy into their parent's shopping cart.

“Oh, yeah,” you chuckle, keeping your eyes trained on the shelves with different brands of toast before grabbing a packaged loaf. “I guess I am.” Then you stop, glancing up at him over your shoulder, and Simon nearly bumps into you. “You don't like people coming up to us to chat?”

Simon's brows furrow. Us? “They wanna talk you, not me. 'm basically–” He shrugs, making a vague gesture at himself as the leash clinks in his hand.

“A Ghost?” You quip, beaming at your little joke while your tail swishes proudly.

“Right,” Simon huffs quietly. “Smooth.”

He's rather thankful for his balaclava as he continues trotting after you through the store, hiding the tiniest crack of a smile underneath the black cloth.

There’s a match on the telly, an ice cold bottle of his favourite ale on the coffee table on a coaster he didn’t even know he owned, though all Simon can really focus on is this bizarre situation he finds himself watching as you go about doing your own thing in his kitchen.

It’s almost mesmerizing, the way you rummage through the cupboards and drawers, taking out pots and bowls to your liking as if you own the place already, preparing a side salad while the steaks sizzle in the pan–all while you’re wearing that frilly, pale pink apron that you’d fetched from your suitcase earlier, the one that makes Simon wonder if one of your previous handlers is responsible for your peculiar wardrobe, or if pink simply happens to be your favourite colour.

He takes an absentminded sip of his drink when another thought pops into his head: What if you wear all of this hyper-feminine bollocks because people forced you to like it? What if they manipulated you into enjoying stuff to state their own perverted fantasies? Would you rather wear something else?

And Simon imagines it briefly–you wearing something cosy, perhaps one of his hoodies that would most likely swallow you whole. He takes another swing of ale and his nose wrinkles, though it’s not the bitterness making him squinch.

“Dinner is ready in five,” you croon suddenly, popping your head into the living room from the kitchen as the savoury aroma of steak and chips wafts through the flat, engulfing the usually sparse space like a warm, comforting blanket.

With a soft groan and a cracking knee, Simon gets up from his seat on the couch. The least he can do is set the table.

@lucienofthelakes @kakashiislut @jggykhug09090 @edgarapoecolouredglasses @kerst666 @whos-fran @d1zzy-r1v3rs @userinaliel666 @annoyingstrawberryballoon @vmaxis @tessakate @dneicjefx @sushiumex @yourfavreggie @cmbghost @brokexintroverted @mysterygrl555 @bunnybeaches @fmlmf @teapartydreams @nachofriess @slut-lmao @sweetnanah @kodzukenwhore @thefutureastronaut @arael-asuka @oliver-1270

[keiluv-s]

“I think the last thing I expected today was to be made a slut by my best friends.” — gojo x fem!reader x geto

cw: oral sex, smut smut smut, anal, double penetration, pet names, english isn’t my first language.

wa: 3,3k

“Ladies and gentlemen! First of all, I want to thank you all for being here celebrating the debut of the first of many Halloween parties in the ancient catacombs”

I laughed, a little humorlessly. I couldn't take Itadori's booming voice over the loudspeakers seriously, and not just because of his extravagant and exaggerated lines. I drank some of the beer in my red plastic cup, the taste bittering the tip of my tongue.

“Itadori is really taking this seriously, huh?” Maki, who was wearing a pirate costume, combined with Nobara, spoke up, messing up his short black hair a bit in the way that it still looked nice.

“It's amazing that he managed to organize all this!” Nobara said excitedly, waving her arms “Come on, a party in the catacombs is awesome!”

“Was this really allowed? Or are there a bunch of teenagers invading an old cemetery?” Megumi, who apparently wasn't wearing a costume, asked in her usual humor, without taking her eyes off her cell phone.

“Who cares, Gumi? Put down that cell phone and enjoy the party!” Satoru Gojo, who looked like a male playboy model with skull make-up, excitedly intruded on the conversation, accompanied by Geto, pulling a lock of my hair in the process. I let out a groan of pain.

“Ouch, you idiot!”

“Huh? What did you call me?” Gojo looked down, due to our height difference, leaning towards me with a stupid smile on his lips.

"Leave her alone, Satoru," Geto, who was wearing only black with a Ghostface mask around his waist, interjected, slipping his arm around my shoulders in a protective way. Gojo just grinned at him.

“Okayyy, let's go!” Nobara took off, pulling Maki and Megumi along the way, and I followed with Geto and Gojo.

“I like your costume, Freddy Krueger, huh?” Geto murmured softly in my ear as we walked through the cemetery in search of the rest of our group of friends.

I was wearing a long-sleeved black and red striped cropped top, with a few deliberate rips; a short, tight black skirt, fishnet stockings and black boots that reached just below my knees.

“Thank you!” I smiled, snuggling up to him.

Geto and Gojo have been my best friends since I was a pre-teen when we met at school and we've never stopped talking. Despite the ups and downs and our three personalities clashing from time to time, I can't see myself without these two. They're the balance I need. Todō turned over a can of beer at once when we met the guys. Inumaki and Itadori laughed loudly, while Yuta just laughed weakly and nodded, saying something to his girlfriend, Rika. Gojo didn't waste any time and jumped in, wanting to join in the fun too; he grabbed a can of beer and came towards me with a look like a pouty dog.

“Could you make a cut in the can for me? It'll hurt my finger and my skin is sensitive” he said like a little boy begging for candy as he ran his finger along the beer can, showing me where I needed to make the hole.

“If I break my nail, I'll kill you, Satoru” I said in warning, joking with him, and then stuck my nail – which was stiletto-shaped – easily through the can and handed it to him.

“You're the best in the world!” he quickly took the can from my hand and drank all the liquid at once, not leaving my gaze for a second and I felt a strange warmth in my stomach.

“Hey, you three!” I heard Itadori calling us “The guys want to go to the catacombs now, are you coming?”

“Of course!” Geto said, pulling me by the waist to walk with him.

“What's in the catacombs?” I asked.

“It looks like they've made some horror tunnels down there, you know, to scare you and stuff, at least that's what I heard Yuuji saying.” Gojo replied with a shrug.

I heard a giggle from Geto and noticed the mischievous look he was giving me, but I ignored it. He knew about my questionable taste when it came to Halloween and that I loved being scared.

[...]

Nowadays, the catacombs were no longer used as much, but they were still a very well-preserved part of the city. We entered the small chapel that gave access to the catacombs' staircase; it was decorated with typical Halloween stuff: bats, spider webs, candles with fake blood and several balloons scattered around, as well as a lot of smoke. Some people danced, even though the music was muffled, and others grabbed each other on some benches. I don't know if it's a sin – it probably is – but it certainly must be morally wrong. I smiled at some acquaintances on the way to the innermost part of the chapel.

“What does it mean?” I asked Geto, pointing to a sign on the portal leading to the stairs.

“Descensus Averno Facilis Est.” he whispered in my ear “The descent into hell is easy”

“Oh, how macabre," I laughed, a little more inwardly than outwardly because of the alcohol I'd drunk earlier.

“And you don't like it one bit, do you?" He squeezed my waist and I shrugged with a sleepy little smile.

The staircase was narrow and spiral-shaped, made of old and dusty stone, just like the catacombs. Geto released his grip on me as we went down the stairs, since we couldn't fit side by side. Gojo went ahead of me, making me stand between the two of them. The air was freezing down there and it would have been pitch black if it hadn't been for the black light there, highlighting the neon dye on the walls: half-deformed skulls, more spider webs, bloody hands and blood splatters shone through. There were also some wooden signs and arrows pointing the way.

“Ok so, this way you'd better go in groups of three” Itadori began “The hallways are narrow and if this fucking thing collapses on someone” he waved his hands: fuck.

Yuuji continued talking, but I confess I didn't pay much attention, busy trying to get a view of the hallway to my right.

“We'll go this way, then” I felt Gojo's arm wrap around my waist and pull me in where I was looking, with Geto on our heels. I said goodbye to the rest of the guys, blowing them a kiss and waving goodbye with my hand, laughing silly.

That hallway was too narrow, leaving Gojo and me very close, his body all over mine, so I guessed that they were fake walls. Above our heads, neon arrows guided the way and fake spider webs stuck to my arms and legs. The catacombs obviously reeked of death, making me nauseous with all those flashing lights, and the drink I'd had earlier didn't help.

“Now comes the interesting part” Gojo whispered in my ear, his warm breath hitting my throat “Playtime has begun.”

I let out a weak laugh: "What are you talking about, Satoru?”

“Well, I'm going to count to three, and then you're going to start running” he said slowly “Do you understand?”

“Are we playing tag now, Satoru?” I felt him nod and I laughed, with a cold feeling in my stomach.

I felt him slap my ass twice, muttering "Go, go!" and stopping to give me space. I laughed and nodded before starting to run, glancing back once to catch just a glimpse of his silhouette. I had no firmness in my steps as I ran, an uneven, dusty floor didn't go very well with heels. The hallway was long and I was beginning to feel breathless and nauseous. I stopped to breathe, my lungs burning inside my chest; I took a deep breath, calming my breathing to try and hear something. I concentrated on the sound of my surroundings: the muffled melody of Chill Bill - Rob $tone playing above the ground, and the heavy sound of approaching footsteps. I started running again, trying not to slacken my breathing so as not to tire too quickly.

I turned a corner and ran into a wall, my nose hurting a little from the impact and not enough, a zombie doll suddenly came out of the wall to my left, making that typical monster noise. I screamed and my throat burned. After the adrenaline rush wore off, I laughed at myself for having been startled by it, since looking at the doll in a better light, it seemed kind of funny and clumsy. I turned around and headed back down the hallway I'd come from at the start and continued for about two minutes when I found myself at a fork in the hallway. I looked from side to side, not knowing exactly which way to go, but I went left anyway. I almost tripped over a rock there, lost my balance and staggered a little, hitting a wall. A wall that held my waist firmly. I gasped in fright and looked up, only to have a white ghost mask staring straight at me. My God, I think I've wet myself.

“Got you," Geto said, his thick voice muffled by the mask.

“Thank God, then" I said a little sheepishly and he laughed.

I heard the sound of heavy footsteps behind me and turned my head to look.

“You dirty bitch, I thought you were going to go right!” Gojo exclaimed behind me with a hearty laugh and fit in perfectly with me.

“It's because I'm the favorite, Satoru” Geto said snobbishly, making fun of Gojo and I could be sure that he had a stupid little smile on his lips behind his mask.

“Nhenhenhe” Gojo threw a childish tantrum, picking on Suguru “You know what a safe word is, don't you, pretty girl?”he murmured against my throat, making me bite my lower lip, already having an idea of where it was all going and I nodded.

“All right, do you want to choose yours?” Geto asked, his thick hand tangling in the hair at the nape of my neck.

“Hum…” I thought “Halloween.” I replied with a broad smile.

“So let's get started" Gojo said.

[...]

Gojo had pushed me onto my knees for Suguru, while he kept a tight grip on my hair in a makeshift ponytail, Geto unbuttoned his jeans and pulled out his thick cock, which slapped against my cheek.

“You know what to do, don't you, love?” Gojo urged, pushing my head towards Suguru's member, if only we could get closer.

I licked the tip, feeling the bitter taste of pre-cum and went down the length, licking his balls in the process and Geto moaned hoarsely above me. It didn't take me long to take him in, my jaw aching at his size. I pulled in a breath through my nose and tried to relax before really getting down to business, but as it was Gojo who had the grip on my head, he pushed me forward and I choked on Suguru's cock, only to pull back completely. I instinctively spat on Geto's cock, making it wetter before sticking it in my mouth again, starting a blowjob. I looked up and, my god, my pussy clenched around nothing watching that scene. I may have somewhat distorted tastes, and that's fine, I can't deny getting horny at the idea of fucking ghostface; everyone has flaws, after all. Gojo forced his grip on me again, this time pulling and pushing my head several times, and I choked on each one, listening to his sadistic laughter as Suguru moaned. The brunette pulled my head back and I felt a little humiliated, kneeling on the floor with my mouth all drooling.

“I told you that little mouth was good for something, didn't I, Suguru?” Gojo said, looking down at me, pulling my lower lip, making me open my mouth, he gathered saliva in his mouth and spat it into mine, closing it and I swallowed. “Good girl” He patted my wet face twice.

Geto replaced Gojo's hand in my hair with his own, turning my face and forcing his cock into my mouth, which was very well accepted. Suguru didn't have the aggressive, euphoric grip like Gojo, letting me revel in his cock and enjoy it however I wanted.

I felt Gojo lift my skirt from behind, the fabric bunched around my waist and the cold wind whipped against my ass. Satoru slipped his finger into one of the little holes in my stocking and pulled, ripping it open. I moaned into Geto's cock in protest.

It was new! :(

“I'll buy you another one, babe” Gojo laughed as he spread my ass, hooking his thumbs in the curve that connected my ass and thighs.

He ran a finger against the fabric of my panties – and I was kind of thankful it was black, since the stain of my own arousal fluid wouldn't be visible there in the dark – and began a delicious massage of my clitoris. That only encouraged me to suck Geto's cock harder, intensifying the back and forth, before moving down to suck his balls, maintaining eye contact; even though it wasn't possible to see his eyes. I rolled over against Gojo when he pushed my panties aside and shoved two digits inside me and I heard him laugh. Fuck, I think the last thing I expected today was to be made a slut of by my best friends. Gojo's fingers were long and slender, reaching places that mine couldn’t.

“Satoru…” I moaned slyly, getting on all fours on the floor.

“Huh? What's wrong, pretty girl?” he asked, pressing down on my clit with his other hand and I moaned a little louder.

“I think she wants to cum, Satoru” Geto said, squatting down in front of me “Don't you, little one?”

I nodded frantically, my face very much against his ghost mask.

“Oh, what a shame!” Gojo pulled his hands away from me in a loud "ploc!" and a sudden urge to cry closed my throat; I looked a little sadly at Geto.

“You're going to make the girl cry, Satoru” Geto laughed and grabbed my cheeks with one hand, forming a peck on my lipstick-smudged lips.

I heard the clink of Gojo's belt falling to the floor and a movement as if he had pulled down his pants.

“She's really going to cry when I put my cock in her tight ass, that's for sure" he said with a sadistic laugh and I looked wide-eyed at Geto, who gave a muffled laugh.

“Satoru!” I spoke with difficulty, due to Suguru's grip on my face, when I felt Gojo brush his cock against my folds, lubricating it.

“I'll be gentle, my love, I promise.”

“Suguru…” I whimpered to Geto, since he was always the most protective.

“Do you want to say your word, princess? You can.” he said, and I felt Gojo's tip in my pussy and the pressure of a finger in my ass.

I pondered for a moment. I knew that if I said, they would stop right away, I was sure of it.

But did I want to stop?

I denied it with my head and Gojo thrust into me all at once, making me moan with his cock in my pussy and a finger making its way into my ass. He thrust slowly but hard, moaning hoarsely. He pulled out his entire member and thrust in again, making me moan. Gojo slipped another finger in, making scissor movements inside my hole to widen it.

It wasn't long before I was a mess between the two of them, moaning and whimpering. The unusual burning slowly starting to turn into pleasure. Satoru pulled out of me, leaving my ass and pussy throbbing with need and my clit aching with horniness.

“Come here, beautiful” Gojo had sat down on the floor and was patting his strong thigh, inviting me “Sugu wants to enjoy that pussy too.”

I crawled onto his lap and Gojo helped me sit down, holding my legs while Geto slid Satoru’s cock into my ass. Gojo's member was much thicker than his fingers, and despite the quick preparation and all the horniness, it still hurt a bit.

I leaned my head on his shoulder, my mouth open and gasping for breath. My legs trembled and I moaned when I felt Geto's tongue circle my swollen clit. He sucked hard on the little bud with a pop. He ran his tongue down my wet length, the tip of his muscle threatening to enter my canal. The pleasure at the front distracted me a little from the delicious pain I was feeling at the back, barely noticing when Gojo's cock was halfway in. It was a new and strange sensation, but it still felt good. Suguru sucked my clit hard three times and that was enough to make me cum. My legs trembled intensely and only didn't close because Geto held them. A hoarse moan came from my lips and Gojo's at the same time as I squeezed his cock inside me.

Geto slapped my thigh and came against my lips. His mask had long since been thrown away. He took my mouth in a wet and messy kiss, his tongue sucking mine greedily and I moaned against his mouth as Gojo sank his cock all the way in. Suguru broke the kiss with a snap, a thick thread of saliva connecting our lips. He lowered his gaze to where Gojo and I connected, taking his own cock and shoving it inside my pussy. Having both of them filling me up there was too much. Too much. I felt as full as if I was going to break, and when Geto started thrusting I thought I was on the verge of madness. Suguru's thrust into my pussy made me feel Gojo's cock getting deeper and deeper.

“You like having two dicks fucking you at the same time, don't you, slut?” Geto moaned and I whimpered, just nodding my head.

Gojo's strong chest vibrated against my back as he moaned. His hands pulled my crop top up and my bra down, my breasts bouncing as they were finally released, and it was only when Satoru grabbed my breasts that I realized how hard my nipples were. Gojo pinched one with his forefinger and thumb and pulled hard, the usual pain spreading across my chest as Suguru licked and nibbled the other. I whimpered louder and more hypersensitive, feeling that delicious pressure in my womb as Geto began to massage my clit with his thumb. I grabbed his wrist weakly with my hand when the urge to pee came over me, but who said I could ask him to stop? I squirted on Suguru's chest as he and Gojo hit very specific spots inside me.

“Oh my… fuck!” Gojo groaned and slapped the curve of my ass and I felt him cum inside me, his viscous liquid warming my insides more and more, as if that were possible. Geto came a few more times before cumming inside me too, prolonging my orgasm. All three of us were gasping for breath.

They both pulled their already soft cocks out of me, the thick white sperm leaking out too, but which they made sure to push back in. I wasn't much more than a crying, wet mess, with drool and tears running down my face and cum leaking from both holes. Gojo and Geto got up and tidied themselves up – Geto's blouse was almost completely soaked by my squirt, that would be difficult and embarrassing to explain. I tidied myself up as well as I could, putting my blouse back on and letting out a sad murmur when I saw my panties bubbling in a pile of dirt, completely impossible to put back on.

“Can you get up, pretty?” Geto asked me and I said no, my legs still too weak.

He lifted me off the ground and held me on his lap, snuggling me into his warmth: “I think we'd better go home.”

“Of course, she's almost asleep there” Gojo said at the same time as my eyelids closed heavily.

[drowsyhope]

NEVER AGAIN PT.2 - POPPY PLAYTIME

summary ; you finally reconnect with your husband

a/n ; popped this out like it was nothing LMAO

part 1 ; here

warnings ; crying, slight fighting, angst? catnap nowhere to be found, poppy and kissy are like “wow that’s crazy but like we are in great danger -“, mention of reader wearing lipstick

alternative title ; i bet on losing dogs

“but nothing was going to make you leave, nothing was going to make you leave your husband once again. nothing was going to let you from not stopping him as he walked out that door to his job. nothing was going to repeat itself once again.”

your pleads were never heard by his ears again, your kisses and smiles were never going to be seen by his eyes once again. his face wasn’t going to be lathered in red lipstick with his lovesick face as he walked into work, his coworkers smiling and giggling at how silly he looked with the lipstick marks all over his face.

he wasn’t going to see your face ever again. he would never experience growing old with you. he would never be able to have children with you. he won’t be able to travel the world with you. instead, he’s trapped down here, his lower half being ripped off by catnap, that cult follower.

never was he going to see his lover again, he wished he had more time. more time to tell them how much he loved them, how much stress he was under and how he apologized for all the time he had snapped at them. all the time he was never there. all the time were he purposely distant himself.

but now, seeing you, in all your glory. your hair was a bit messed up, you had some blood on your upper lip, you had a grab-pack, your clothes dirty due to how much you have been through.

you still looked as beautiful as he last saw you.

he was given a second chance.

“angel ..” he pleaded with you, but you wouldn’t budge. you weren’t going to let this chance to finally reconnect with your husband just go away.

“nah, i’m not letting this happen again.” you said, going up close to him to try and remove the chains, which was not that hard, surprisingly. they were rusty, and easy to just break in half. rich dogday quickly went flying to the floor, before being picked up.

rich dogday looked up at you, finally seeing you once again. he felt like he could cry, but he physically couldn’t. he wanted to do so many things, but he was so weak.

you were quick to walk out of the jail, holding onto rich dogday, who was quiet the whole time. you were surprised, but had to keep your composure. it wasn’t easy finding your husband as a completely different thing, he doesn’t even seem recognizable.

reaching the maze again, you shoot your flare gun at every moving thing, not having a care in the world. thankfully, you retraced your steps, and you were now where you entered this place.

walking out, poppy and kissy missy greeted you, but were slightly shocked to see a dogday in your arms, who seemed equally as shocked.

“rich ..” poppy whispered, making you carefully put him on the floor, your emotions threatening to release. everything happened so suddenly. you were reunited with your husband, and now you have to make sure catnap isn’t out to get you.

“it’s been so long, poppy ..” rich dogday said, grumbling as he tried to get into a more comfortable position.

“yeah. it has.” poppy looked up at kissy, who just looked away. “what happened to playcare?” rich dogday asked, looking around and taking in the new scenery. poppy sighs, gulping. she looked stressed, taking a look around, taking a look at kissy, then taking a look at you.

you looked traumatized, your eyes having dark eyebags under them. your eyes were starting to get watery, just looking at dogday just made you want to dig your fingers into your skull and take your brain out yourself.

you want to hate him. you want to hate what your husband had become. what he made you felt when he went missing and presume dead. you want to hate him for how much tears he made you cried out, how you were alone as you struggled with his ‘death.’

“a lot.” was all poppy said, looking down at her own shoes. dogday nodded slightly, reading the room. everyone else was uncomfortable, it was quite a scene to see.

dogday turned around, taking in your figure, finally realizing how you actually look like. you looked nothing like you used to did when he last saw you. you looked more angrier, sadder, stressed.

“angel—“

“don’t say a single fucking word.”

rich dogday was taken aback by your sudden outburst. poppy took a step back, knowing what was going to happen. she heard the cries you let out when you heard rich’s voice in the video tape, hearing him yell about how he hated his job, how he mentioned you that one time.

“you have no right to call me by anything. not after what you fucking did. you left me rich! you fucking left me! i had to plan your funeral alone! i had to cry alone! even before you become this thing, i was alone! you weren’t there half of the fucking time.”

your emotions were going out, your breathing was fastening every second. rich was taken aback once again, hearing all that you had to endure.

“yeah you got turned into dogday. but for God sake! i was alone! i had nobody to go to! yeah i wasn’t tortured, but mentally, i was. everyday i thought you didn’t love me. every time you left that door i thought you loved me less and less. and when you didn’t walk through that door again, i knew. i f-fucking knew! you weren’t going t-to come back! i was going to officially and permanently be alone! but now, you’re here! and ..and ..”

you stuttered through your rant, your breathing being uncontrollable. poppy and kissy felt horrible for you, they knew some parts about how you felt, but not the whole thing.

rich on the other hand, was completely shocked. he never knew you were personally going through something, he always thought you were happy, because every time you left, you always had a smile on your face.

your fingers made their way to your hair, purposely pulling on it. you screamed, not having a care in the world. all of this you had to take in, being chased by huggy wuggy, almost being killed by mommy long legs, now catnap on your tail? it was a lot of stress built up over time. you wished catnap could just burn alive, you wanted everything to go back to normal.

you wanted to go back when you got married, where you were happily in love with rich, where the two of you had heart eyes for each other, when you kissed him everyday all over his face.

but now, you can’t even recognize him. you don’t even know him. it’s like he’s a completely different person, and so are you.

but yet, your love for him is still there. no matter how much he has changed. you will always be in love with your first love, your first husband, your first everything.

you sighed, seeing as rich was just staring at you, but you can imagine him crying as well. “but alas, i still love you. even though you aren’t here anymore.”

it felt like a knife stabbed him in the heart and kept repeating it. you still loved him, but he wasn’t there anymore. the rich you knew wasn’t the one you were standing in front of. rich was a completely different thing now, it was never going to be the same.

rich wasn’t there no more, it was dogday now, and it was going to stay like that forever, no matter what. never again to be seen as the rich he was once before.

[shotmrmiller]

johnny en las almas

It feels like the man with the skull mask had just left when another person traipses in through the broken front door. He's not as sneaky as the big boy— the shattered glass of your windows crunching under his boots with each step. With each inhale, his breath is ragged and uneven, his teeth clattering together due to the biting cold of the rain pouring outside.

Peeking through the crack of the closet door, you watch the muscle-bound soldier with the mohawk moving cautiously through your home— first going left towards your bedroom, then right towards the bathroom.

"Picked up some tape." Scottish accent. Is he talking to himself?

A brief pause settled in the air, interrupted solely by the faint noise of him rummaging through the cupboard.

"If I have to wrap a gift?" He has a radio, then.

Following that, he falls silent, continuing his search for supplies when the plastic bucket you're sitting on unexpectedly caves in, causing a loud and startling noise. Shit. Shit shit shit—

"Out, palms flat on the floor, or I break yer neck." His voice is like steel— hard and cold, much unlike a few minutes before when he was bantering with whoever it was.

You push the door open with the crown of your head to keep your hands flat on the floor as you fearfully crawl out, craning your neck to look at him.

"Creepin' bloody jesus. Cannae be scarin' me like tha', coulda killed ye."

Perhaps it's the overwhelming stress of everything that has unfolded today— from the unexpected arrival of Americans to the uncertainty of becoming just another statistic that leads you to respond with an unwise touch of sarcasm.

"So sorry, friend. I'll be sure to let you know when I leave for work tomorrow, yeah?"

He surprisingly chuckles, wincing when his shoulders shake. "Aye, sorry, sorry," he extends a hand toward you. "Terrible hidin' spot, though."

With a single motion, he effortlessly raises you to your feet. "If you're friends with a bear-sized man that wears a skull mask, he told me the same thing."

As you glance downwards, brushing off the dust from your knees, you fail to notice the piercing gaze he directs towards you. "He came through here?"

"Mhm," you confirm. "Picked me up like a dog and threw me in this closet behind him. He saved my life, though."

Straightening, you glance up at him, only to finally notice the openly bleeding wound on his right arm. "May I?" you gesture at his injury.

His hesitance is obvious, the corner of his thin lips pulling downward and dark brows furrowing so you confess, "I'm a nurse. Well, was, until I came here. I swear to know what I'm doing. Come with me, I've-" but whatever you were about to say is smothered by his hand, fingers digging into your soft cheeks, and uses his other to place a finger over his mouth.

Silence.

He turns his head to the side; an unsettling stillness descending upon the two of you. Suddenly, he's roughly grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the bedroom, where he presses you firmly against the wall closest to the door.

He whispers harshly into your ear. "Do. not. move."

Trembling with fear, you instinctively curl up, shrinking into yourself as if trying to disappear from sight. Luckily, whoever they were left as fast as they came— merely using your home as a shortcut.

Mohawk man takes no chances, however, so you're effectively pinned under him for a considerable amount of time until he deems it completely safe.

The small grin he gives you after is apologetic. "Sorry."

You irritably soothe the ache on your cheeks. "It's alright. Can't wait to get out of this pisshole, though."

He's acquiescent after, letting you quickly clean and dress his wound. "I have no more bandages so this'll have to do." The sound of fabric being torn echoes in the bathroom. "Get seen for this injury as soon as you're able, otherwise you'll have a nasty infection on your hands."

He huffs out a small laugh. "Dinnae ye mean arm?"

Charming. "Your friend left through the back door. That's all I know."

"Aye. Thank ye." He quickly hops off the counter, jogs to the back door, and with one last glance at you, he disappears.

-

"Gimme a sit-rep." Ghost says over comms.

"Outside...Gated alley."

[ellemaru]

"I Like Your Bike"

Biker!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem Reader

Summary: On your way back to the hotel with friends, a shiny black motorcycle that belongs to a mysterious serviceman catches your attention.

Word Count: 1,289 Cw | Mentions of alcohol and intoxication

A/N: The character is implied to be black, but you can imagine them however you like !

Drunken laughter mingled with the sounds of other chatter on the bustling street as you walked with your 2 girlfriends and talked with each other, recapping your first day in Manchester, England, and the first out of many stops on the two-month-long trip in Europe. Your heels had become uncomfortable long ago, making you ever so grateful that you had been smart enough to think to bring a pair of flats along as you indulged in Manchester’s nightlife. The group had barhopped and chatted with strangers all night, getting the full Manchester experience as everyone explored the city and took in the views.

As the group neared their hotel, something shiny appeared in the corner of your eye, causing you to slow down your walking speed, the swinging heels in your hand slowing down as your strides did. Your brown eyes narrowed slightly as you tried to make out what the thing was, struggling due to the fact that it was night and you were nearsighted. As you tapped your friend’s shoulder and began to walk toward the unknown object, your eyes adjusted slightly, realizing it was a motorcycle, one of the nice, slick, black ones.

You mindlessly began to run your hand along the smooth and shiny exterior of the motorcycle until a voice popped you out of the trance.

“Mate, you can’t just touch random people's bikes,” 

When you looked up, you were met with a brick wall in the form of a man. He stood around 6’3 and was obviously jacked based on the way his compression shirt hugged his pectoral muscles and biceps. His bright hazel eyes practically had you hooked already, was it the alcohol, or were they that pretty? No one knows, but you did know that this guy was HOT.

“Uhhh, I um,” you giggled and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear before remembering that 

You are NOT Debby Ryan and you are NOT on Radio Rebel

You forgot to lay the lace down again by your ear when you installed your wig earlier

The man cocked an eyebrow as he looked down at you, the action slightly concealed by the black balaclava he wore that had a skull print on it, an interesting choice considering the heat.

“Are you not hot in that mask?”

“Did you not notice your friends aren’t here anymore?” he replied with a teasing tone. 

When you turn around, you see that your friends have indeed left you with the mysterious man and continued on to their hotel.

“Lass, I think you need some better friends,” he let out a quick chuckle, like…the personification of haha.

“Your laugh is funny,” you giggle as you lean in closer to him, looking at the metal tags that hang around his neck. 

“Simon Riley,” you read his name slowly as you looked up, tilting your head to the side slightly, wondering if it was actually his name or if he was wearing a deceased relative's dog tags. He nodded as he looked back down at the smaller woman. They sat in silence for several awkward moments before you decided to break the silence.

“I like your bike,”

“Thanks,” annnnd it was back to silence again

“You don’t talk much,”

“Not much to talk about with a random drunk lass I’ve met,”

“Fair point…What kind of bike is that?” that question was all you needed to get Simon’s attention.

That one question led to a whole conversation as he explained the ins and outs of his bike which was apparently a Yamaha R1 but other than that, he was fluent in yapping. The only thing you were focused on was his deep voice, thick British accent, and the way his compression shirt hugged all the right places on his torso. It seemed he didn’t even notice that you were looking at him with hearts in your eyes, mainly due to the fact that you had drunk way too much earlier. 

“Wanna go for a ride?” he asked you as he leaned against his bike.

The first thing that ran through your mind was “What kind of ride”.

“Huh?”

“I asked do you want to ride my motorcycle with me, like, do you want to be my backpack?” he asked again, giving his signature, stereotypical haha laugh.

“Oh uhh sure! I mean um that sounds like fun or whatever,” when you caught yourself seeming too eager, you changed up the way you phrased your sentence quickly.

When he turned around to give you a jacket and a helmet, he patted his pockets like he always does when he’s missing something before groaning from annoyance and pinching the bridge of his nose with his gloved hand.

“Well, I unfortunately don’t have an extra jacket or helmet on me right now so it seems we won’t be doing any riding today, but we could always do it another time I guess, dunno,” he mumbled the last part, “How long will you be here in Manchester?” he inquired, wondering how much time he would have before you would leave the city and the country

“I think we’re going to be here for at least another week,” you shrug as you see him frantically pull out his phone, almost dropping it once before he hands it to you, the contact screen open. Once you two exchange numbers, silence falls upon the two of you again.

“I could walk you back to your hotel if you would like, I don’t like the idea of you walking alone at night, especially as a tourist. Plus my mom would kill me if she found out I didn’t offer,” he laughs as he holds out his arm towards you.

“That would be nice,” you smile as you hook your arm in his, your brown skin contrasting with his pale one. He quickly unhooks his arm to place his leather jacket over your shoulders before linking arms again and heading on your way to the hotel. During the walk back, the two of you got to know each other, learning about interests and current status in life along with cracking jokes and just breaking the ice. It was about a 15-minute walk back to the hotel and once the two of you got back, you sighed, a little sad that your time together was already over for the day.

“We’re here. Thank you for walking me back to my hotel again, it was really sweet of you to do this because you really didn’t have to,”

“Of course, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t offer?” he snapped a flower from a nearby plant and handed it to you, “a pretty flower for the pretty lass,” he winked as you took it.

“Ugh, you Brits are such charmers, I’m quite sad to say that it worked too,” you both laughed for a few moments as he unlinked your arms.

“You free tomorrow at 19:00?”

“I’m so glad I understand military time, and yes I am,”

“Alright lass, I’ll be here in the lobby then, make sure you’re on time,” he gently takes your hand in his gloved one and kisses it through his balaclava. He gives one more wink before he turns on the heels of his combat boots and strides confidently out of the hotel. You stood there, absolutely shocked at what occurred before you realized you still had on his leather jacket. You ran outside to find him and tell him he had forgotten his jacket, but by that time, he had already disappeared into the cool Summer night. At least that meant you were guaranteed to see him tomorrow because there was no way he would just forget the nice leather jacket.

[13minmailman]

.

Ok so I’ve started working on this art piece back when Qsmp was still ongoing, and I saw a theory (whose username I can’t remember or find) that bbh’s angel form was a cherbium (that may be spelled wrong. It’s the multi animal headed angel warriors) which originally inspired me to create this piece. It’s been a long while, and while I’m not entirely satisfied with the coloring/shading, I’ve decided to release it into the wild. Also if anyone wants to take a crack at coloring this feel free.

( this is where I’m gonna put my thought process behind the artistic designs of the fanart. Bbh’s extra heads are skeletons bc of his connection with death/grim reapers/ I think it looks cool, and are a hyena skull (left) and vulture skull (right) for obvious reasons if you know his Qsmp lore both in and out of purgatory. ( aka his dog role in purgatory plus the soul vultures plus his behavior being described as scavanger plus his crazy laugh) he has a scythe for similar reasons plus it was his main weapon of choice in the Qsmp (and aesthetics) even if I don’t have it as decorated as i originally wanted due to not wanting to over clutter the design and this is supposed to be before his fall, thus him having less of an identity that is later expressed in his clothing due to the monolithic nature of heaven (head canon) even if aspects of his personality due shine through. He has four arms bc I think it’s cool and bc I think it fits his overachiever personality. Also you may notice the mild gore of the arms and heads being a bit bloody/sinewy in their formation, which is bc I believe even in the beginning he was a bit of a mashoschit (this may also be spelled wrong. It’s the word for pain lovers) and also had violence born into him (this may be worded poorly, but o well). He has the ghosties in one of his hands bc I like to think that chat was always kinda lurking around him, and also ties back to his relation to death/the afterlife/ that whole ferryman Chiron (maybe spelled wrong. The Greek dead guy driving boats) thing he had going that he never elaborated on (to my knowledge). His halo is of course a nod to his namesake and which I deliberately made to resemble stained glass due to the frailty of his connection to heaven that would soon be broken. He has throng wings bc four was too many to fit and three matched his heads and his children. He is wearing a hood in a manner I based off of the artwork of mother Mary, bc of course. He has long nails bc I want him to. Oh, and he is wearing his robes like that bc this is before the apple bite and the subsequent establishment of nudity as shameful, and also bc I want him to. And he is not naked bc I don’t want to get flagged as explicit (shoutout to bigboobyhalo for being the punch I needed to commit to the bit). Proportions are exaggerated due to 1. Angels are not bound to conventional human forms 2. Makes a better silhouette 3. What are you talking about the proportions are totally normal 👍 (leave me alone body’s are hard)

Yea that’s it

[sschizoid]

Hello again :3 idk if you did something like this in the past (sorry if you did I'm new to the blog :( ) but you ever did the tulpar crew in an AU they survive the crash? Like how their lives are going now?

tbh I've actually never really thought about it! but I'm up for the challenge ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

--

curly

(ignoring the fact that in a realistic setting, his injuries would have most definitely killed him) when rescued, he's got hypothermia, sepsis, blast lung, as well as a laundry list of other complications. it's a miracle he's even alive. his burns are treated through a series of xenographs

he's deaf, as the explosion ruptured his eardrums, and his vocal chords have been effectively fried, so after a series of surgeries and physical/speech therapies, he's left only able to communicate with an eye-tracker until his laryngeal burns are eventually healed. even then, his voice remains scratchy and rough

he's not the man he once was. he has a particularly rough time adjusting to and accepting his new life, as well as dealing with extensive pain and trauma from the crash, but his support system is incredibly strong. he eventually comes to terms with his situation and becomes an ambassador for talking about workplace negligence and the importance of mental health awareness

and he blames himself for everything

jimmy

when initially rescued, everyone is in so much shock that nobody thinks to even mention him being the catalyst of just absolutely everything. but once the shock wears off and people start talking, his deeds are soon brought to light, and he is promptly sent to a maximum-security psychiatric hospital for an indefinite amount of time. he is never charged or held criminally responsible for his crimes on the grounds of insanity

he feels nothing. after months on the ship, his body, mind, and emotions being in absolute overdrive, he can't even find it in himself to feel anger anymore. to feel guilt. to feel anything. its as if a switch has been flipped, and all he hears is a perpetual ringing in his ears as the underlying thought echos that he should have aimed the gun higher

anya

after a lengthy court battle with extensive news coverage, her and the rest of the crew are individually awarded with a hefty sum of compensation due to physical and emotional damages. she's able to take a deep breath, knowing that the medical bills she had from getting her stomach pumped were easily covered, as well as her utilities and rent, for awhile

she miscarries from a combination of stress, malnutrition, and of course, her overdose. her emotions are... well, she doesn't really know what to feel. part of her feels relief, obviously, but the other feels a sick sort of grief that she cannot understand. to cope with these emotions, she finds an online support system for those who have gone through similar experiences as well as a therapist, and curates an environment for healing/moving forward

after taking a few months to herself, healing and spending time with loves ones, she eventually finds the drive to head back to nursing school. while there, she meets a girl whom she grows to be very close with, one who almost loves her cat as much as she does

swansea

just absolutely numb and jaded in every sense of the way. it takes a great deal of effort for him to open up regarding not only the head trauma, but the mental trauma as well. his family eventually drills it into his thick skull that being vulnerable around the people you love isn't weak, and in fact, its one of the bravest things you can do. putting his pride aside, he learns mindfulness, how to open up, and how to accept the help people want to give to him

he has frequent nightmares, mostly revolving what he did to daisuke, but his dog sleeps at the foot of his bed and is quick to wake him up with a few licks to the hand when he's displaying frantic behaviors. after awhile, the two of them finally meet up, and daisuke ensures swansea that he did what he thought was right. and he forgives him

spends a lot more time outside these days. goes on walks, travels with his wife, even has his coffee on the patio instead of somewhere like his desk or couch. he finds that his memory isn't the best anymore, but when he can, he remembers to appreciate the little things in life

daisuke

it all feels like a dream, really. one moment, he's floating through clouds and running through a river, the next, he's awake. in a hospital, and everything hurts. he wakes up with his family at his side, as well as gifts, bouquets of flowers and balloon arrangements. his mother feels guilty beyond belief. daisuke tells her it's not her fault and that he loves her

the surgeons did a pretty bang-up job at patching him back together, the only real evidence of his physical trauma being a faint diagonal divide between his eyes after he's fully healed. he's not quite as symmetrical as he once was, but he says the scar makes him look 'rugged'. he actually hates it, but keeps that to himself

takes a break from the workforce and goes to college, but actually stays in the field of electrical engineering. its what he's found himself to be good at, and passes his introductory classes with relative ease, thanks to the knowledge swansea drilled into him

--

this one actually took me a long time to piece together as I tried to make it as realistic as possible. hope you enjoy!

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

School-side Staycation - Staff Shenanigans

@ashipiko has a super fun 1k follower event going on that reminded me of a conversation I had with a friend a While ago!! I decided to turn it into a drabble, so I hope you guys enjoy some NRC Staff Shenanigans!! (Including my staff/greenhouse caretaker oc, Aspen Zoi - I apologize in advance for the stim word "like" OTL if you don't check out his profile, just know he speaks like your stereotypical surfer/hippie/stoner)

Also apologies OTL I have to write on my phone due to Technical Difficulties, RIP my formatting. Um just as a heads up, there is some food talk in regards to calories and dieting. It's not talked about a lot, but it is in there.

Also also this is my first time writing all the staff together so I hope it's at least entertaining!

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

"Turkey burgers, really Divus, I'd have thought better of you." Mozus scoffed lightheartedly over the younger man's shoulder, watching the black latex clad hands work in a mix of shredded vegetables into the meat.

Crewel raised a questioning brow to his senior, using his shoulder to push away hair from his face for the upteenth time that day. Even with his dark shades on, both the unamusement and the spark of competitiveness was felt to be fanned.

"Well, Mozus, if you cared to ever look past those dusty old history books of yours and indulge in the dietary world, you would know that ground turkey-"

"Sucks. It sucks." Vargas interrupted, shaking his head in disappointment. He was wearing near neon orange shorts and a white tank top, though clearly splattered with some stains from his preparation, shades sat nicely atop his lofty locks. His food was currently concealed in the two heaping platters he had under aluminum foil as he set them down on the table next to the barbeque. "It's got less protein, less iron, less zinc, and more sodium than ground beef. It has a little more 'healthy' fat," the air quotes were heavily emphasized by the gym teacher, "but for Sevens sake Divus, it's supposed to be a vacation sort of thing. Let the kids loose for a little while."

An audible "hmph" left the alchemy professor, moreso at Trein's smug grin than Ashton as he refocused on his work. His UV protectant, black, long sleeve shirt was rolled up to his elbows, a simple red short sleeve button up layered on top. "Not everyone can afford to give up their calorie intake over a vacation."

"Then you may as well have just made black bean patties and volunteered yourself to make the vegan option."

Trein sighed and shook his head at Ashton's apparent naivety as he opened his grill, throwing a few patties on. Perhaps his air of superiority would have been less humorous if not for the cargo shorts, white shirt, the blue, green, pink and yellow tropical overshirt, the matching, tropical bucket hat, and the apron that read "Grillmaster", but Trein continued anyways.

"He's using the leftovers of his dogs food that he thawed and forgot to use."

An awkward silence filled the air between the three of them, save for the soft sizzling of Treins burgers and the distant sounds of their beloved students having fun. Ashton spoke up in near disbelief.

"....Divus is that-"

The older of the two suppressed a scowl, trying to play it off best he could as he waved off his former underclassmans concern.

"Ground turkey is ground turkey, how I was going to use it is irrelevant! Really now Mozus was that necessary?!"

Vargas exchanged glances with Trein, before grinning a little more, willing to 'poke the bear'.

"I know you call them your pups but..."

Crewel felt his eye twitch slightly. Not much got to him, but the implication that 1. His dogs weren't incredibly dear to him, and 2. That his students weren't held to the same regard as his dogs in terms of how he cared for them, was not something he felt he could articulate well enough to get it through Ashton's thick, thick skull.

" It's still perfectly fine food, it's ought to be better than whatever Dire has!"

In an attempt to get the attention off of him for once, Crewel directed his, and his colleagues attention to the approaching headmage, ignoring the soft snickers behind him from Ashton for the sake of his sanity.

The headmage wore a huge grin under the stupid mask of his, dressed in his normal vacation attire. His arms were outstretched, as if anyone there would hug him as a greeting - none of them would, but especially not now that one was grilling, the other had his hands plunged into raw meat, and the third...well Vargas wasn't doing anything that would impede him from doing so, but he pretended to look busy as he fidgeted with the aluminum foil from one of his platters, careful to not lift it up.

Trein glanced at the headmage as he joined them under the white tents, his clawed gloves drawing most of his attention as Dire lowered his arms to his sides.

"Dire. What are you bringing to cook?"

The headmage looked at him blankly before smiling, chuckling a little awkwardly as he took his hat off and held it to his chest. As if he didn't already look pathetic, now he looked like he was going to apologize, and the staff in front of him already looked unamused.

"Ehe, well you see, I was generous enough to allow our students host this event-"

Knowing glances were exchanged between the three as Crowley continued.

"So neeever did I ever think my kindness would be taken advantage of like so! After all the budgeting and set up and organizing and ordering and nights laying awake and wondering how to make today the best success it could be, I didn't think I would be expected to cook too!"

The masked man rested the back of his hand against his head dramatically, trying and failing to gain the sympathy of the staff who all very well knew he had signed off on the event, and being a part of the catering. Hell, he had admitted it himself- he hadn't done any of that. That was all part of hosting, something that had very much not been on his shoulders, like many other responsibilities this year.

Vargas moved to the table across from Crewel, starting to make a protein-packed sauce to go with his still-mystery food, shooting Crowley a bit of a shit-eating grin.

"Well I guess you better go buy hotdogs or something from Sam's and be prepared to lose."

An indignant squawk left Dire, his dramatic display clearly not working in his favour, and he couldn't fathom why.

"Lose??"

"Hot stuff comin' through! And it ain't just me-"

Sam wheeled a tri-level service cart over the grass with ease, thanks to magic, each level with absolutely delicious smelling, but hidden food. Aspen followed close behind, Willow, his Pekin duck toddling after him.

Dire moved out of the way so as to let the trio through, Sam moving next to Vargas and starting to load tray after tray onto the serving table, a determined and slightly crazed expression on his face.

"Ain't nobody beatin' Mama's mac'n cheese recipe. Not even your fancy ass brisket Ashton, don't pretend like that ain't whatchyer tryna hide under there, I know you too damn well fo' you to try an' hide it."

Vargas and Same broke into easy conversation as Aspen hung back with Crowley, who was still visibly confused. He looked down at his hands, as if they held the answer to his questions.

"Lose?? Beating his mother's recipe??? What have I missed????"

Aspen's single, amused "haaah" was rather annoying to the headmage. Despite the sharp turn of his head and the glare he directed at Aspen, he just gave him his same old dopey grin.

"Aww man, you really didn't, like, read anything you signed, did ya? The teacher who like... looses the cook off gets pelted with water balloons by like...the whooole student body. It would really suck if one of us forgot to bring something. It'd be like...immediate disqualification or whatever."

The blond tilted his head a bit and giggled as he watched a few of the students play volleyball not far from them, oblivious to the rising panic on the headmage's face.

"But you haven't brought anything?! So what if two faculty members didn't bring anything?! The penalty is halved, right?!"

Aspen let out a small laugh.

"Hah. As if. Babygirl and I made seven layer salad, which is like, on Sam's cart, and a buncha desserts last night, isn't that right?" He bent down to pick up Willow, kissing her head as he cradled her. "I mean sure, baking isn't, like, COOKING but I don't think anybody is gonna complain about brownies 'nd, like, homemade ice cream, y'know? I just gotta wait to bring it out cuz..like....the ice cream...duh."

He waited a beat, the rising panic from the man beside him finally catching on. He was about to ask, but Crowley was on his knees next to Sam in a split second, holding his hand and groveling.

"PLEASE- no, actually, as your boss, I DEMAND you open your shop and sell me the best cuts of meat- no, actually, I want as many tube's of ground beef, ah, no, Trein is already- ground PORK-"

Sam shook his hand away from Crowley in mild disgust.

"Oh hell no, might I remind ya, I'm on vacation, as are the rest of us and the little imps. If you want to serve hot dogs, you'll have to go into town and move fast. Otherwise you're gonna have to embrace your fate of death by a thousand waterballoons." Sam swapped the position of one of his trays with Vargas' platter, so as to get his jerk chicken onto the grill after changing his glove out for an untouched one.

"With all due respect, your poor plannin' does NOT constitute an emergency on my part, Mr. Crowley, Sir."

Dire let out an undignified noise at Sam's facetiousness and lack of cooperation.

Trein looked down at the rather defeated looking headmage and sighed at the mess of a man, shaking his head again in disappointment.

"For Sevens sake, pull yourself together Dire. You could go ask the ghosts in the Cafeteria if they've got anything they'll lend you to cook."

Crowley looked like a kicked puppy at Trein for a moment before standing back up, beaming and near launching himself at him for a hug, which Trein avoided as if this was something that happened often. Despite not getting what he wanted, Crowley clearly had new vigor.

"Ah! You're right. Of course, if the ghosts are there I could- hm! Nevermind, nevermind, yes thank you my dear friend, I knew you wouldn't let me suffer! Unlike SOME people." He shot a fake dirty look at the rest of his beloved faculty, only to be met with snickers and mildly amused expressions. Yes, even with all their jests and disagreements, these were the people he felt most comfortable around. His expression softened for a half second before he clapped twice and smiled widely again.

"I'll be back with something delicious! I swear to defeat you all!" His voice lilted playfully, before he disappeared in a puff of smoke.

A shared sigh came from Trein and Crewel, amusing their younger colleagues with the similarity.

Crewel wiped at his head with his shoulder again, grinning knowingly at Trein.

"Mozus."

"Divus." Trein kept his focus trained on his burgers, though his voice had an air of amusement to it, and it was clear the corner of his mouth was kicked up in a small smile.

"Were you really trying to be of assistance?"

Crewel finished rolling the last of his turkey blend into disks, turning his full attention to his conniving collegue.

Trein hummed a bit in response.

"Yes. Not to him, to us, but his absence makes it much easier to concentrate."

Crewel shed his latex gloves, put some hand sanitizer on and walked over to 'supervise' Trein's grill, before grabbing a patty that was cooked and looking over it in mild disgust.

"Concentrate on what, perfecting a burn on your patties, oh 'grillmaster'" he mocked, breaking a piece off and eating it, hardly hiding his distaste.

"Ah, I see, you're trying to make up for your lack of seasoning using charcoal, well old man I can guarantee the turkey burgers you were so quick to dismiss will certainly be better than that piece of semi-edible Sahara."

Trein sighed, annoyed, plucking the rest of the patty from Crewel's fingers and throwing it out.

"I always burn my first one. It guarantees I won't burn the rest of them. If you used those astute powers of observation you're so proud of, you'd have seen the rest of the burgers are cooked beautifully."

He lifted the foil just enough to show Crewel the admittedly, mouth-wateringly delicious looking patties underneath, though Divus refused to show any indication that he was impressed.

"They're still bland. The students don't have a grandpa stomach like you."

Trein rolled his eyes internally, huffing, but even Sam and Aspen snickered at the comment.

"It will be fine once I make my sauce to go with them. My daughters love my cooking, I'm sure our students will as well. You have your dogs as reference for your tastes. I would be more worried if I was in your shoes."

Crewel moved towards Sam, who made room for him, moving his chicken to the top rack so Divus could use the main part of the grill to start cooking.

"You say that as if I don't cook for myself either. Really Mozus, I'm hurt by how lowly you think of me. Besides, I understand cooking as not only an art, but from the very chemical bases of it. I have every confidence that if no one else, I will be getting votes from Pomefiorians."

Aspen snorted from behind him, waving his hand dismissively.

"Nahh, Poms are gonna go for Sam's mac or, like, his chicken. They're like, tired of eating that Vil guys super bland food. Ya might, like, get Vil himself? Maybe? But I feel like he's prolly just gonna beeline it to my salad cuz of that new green diet thing one a his freshies said he's on. I only know cuz like, they were getting veggies from the greenhouse. If anything, I think ya might pull a few votes from Savanaclaw, but like, to be honest, even as a vegetarian, Ashton's brisket looks really good and prolly will come in after Sam's food."

Crewel let out a soft sigh, but Vargas was beaming, as Sam and Aspen exchanged finger guns and a wink. Trein squinted slightly at his watch.

"Lunch is meant to be in about 45 minutes. Aspen, Vargas, seeing as the two of you have nothing better to do, I suggest you start cutting up veggies for the burgers and fruit for after. Just make sure to use some hand sanitizer first."

The two exchanged a glance, both mouthing a mocking, lighthearted 'yes dad' behind Trein's back, making Sam snicker a bit.

"Dontchya worry Mozus, they got it covered."

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

And that's where my brain stopped RIP

In case you're wondering, Crowley showed up like 3 hours late and got ambushed. It's okay though his "food" would have put him in last place anyways.

I'm not used to typing things like this out on my phone, and I'm even less used to reading them so this is not proofread or betaread or like. I'm not. Rereading it so here's to hoping it flows okay and it's as engaging as I think it is lol.

ANYWAYS thank you for such a fun event Ashi!!

Taglist: (ask to be added)

@fluffle-writes @my-cursed-brain

[thatdeathwitch]

About King Hades (Haides)

Haides is the god of the dead and King of the Underworld. Even if He rules over the dead he is not death itself, that would be Thanatos as he is the god of non-violent death or gentle death. King Haides also presides over funeral rites and defends the right of the dead to due burial. Because of that and He’s connotations the the earth, he is also considered as the god of the hidden wealth of the earth, from the fertile soil with nourished the seed-grain, to the mined wealth of gold, silver and other metals.

King Haides is the son of Kronos, god of time and the King of the Titanes and Rhea, the Titaness mother of the gods and goddess of female fertility, motherhood and generation*. In the myths, Haides desired a bride and when He asked one to King Zeus, He offered Persephone to Him.

Symbols and Correspondences:

- Main symbol: Royal sceptre, cornucopia, keys, Kerberos

- Sacred plants/trees: Asphodel, mint, white poplar, cypress

- Colours: Black, maroon colours, white, earth colours (mostly greens and browns)

- Animals: Dogs, Screech-owl

- Crystals: Black tourmaline, black onyx, black obsidian, jade

Devotional acts:

Offerings ideas: flowers or herbs associated with him, skulls, pomegranate, art of Himself and things He’s associated with, candles, feathers, crystals, incenses (myrrh, franckincens, mint), milk, honey, red wine, black coffee.

Devotional acts: visit graveyards, honour the dead, meditate with Him, read His myths, write Him letters or notes, sing, dance, take walks on nature, appreciate the changes that the seasons bring us, wear jewellery on His honor, honouring Persephone.

Recommended readings for a better understanding:

- Hesiod, Theogony. It describes the entire cosmology and creation of the gods, including the birth of Haides.

- Homeric hymn to Demeter. It describes the rape of Persephone. It’s probably one of His most known episodes. It also describes the division of the cosmos between Haides, Zeus and Poseidon.

- Plato, Gorgias. Specifically 523a as it also describes the appointment of the judges of the dead and the division of the cosmos.

- Plato, Republic. Specifically 10.614–10.621 as it explains the myth of Er. This myth describes the path of the dead in the afterlife.

[ferret-queen]

a while ago I made headcanons of the harkers so now I'm gonna give y'all ones of the larks <3

Cole:

their a worry wort, like they would stress if they were a minute late to a play. they worry about Kingsley a lot in particular

they bite their nails when stressed, which Perrine gets on their ass about. they will stress eat as well

they take things VERY seriously. even pretend or boardgames

they have a HUGE ass fear of bugs, which doesn't coincide with Kingsley's bug liking. and King will use this to bother Cole by bringing bugs in the house and showing them

their like Charlie Brown and Dipper Pines in personality

their very skittish, which again Kingsley uses it to it's advantage

Cole: "did you hear that? I think someones outside"

Clem: "it's a tree Cole"

they like to give Clemié things like flowers, rocks, stuffed animals, trinkets, etc. and writes songs and poems for them

Clementine:

their like to think positively, though if stressed out enough they will kinda have a breakdown but will just smile through it and continue thinking positively

Perrine: "Clemié, are you okay?"

Clem: "I am fine, I am fine.. everything is FINE"

they like to throw tea parties and Cole will happily join. they don't care as long as they get the spend time with Clemié

has an unGODLY amount of stuffed animals and trinkets. but no dolls..they don't like dolls..

idk the time period yaelokre is set in but they probably wear like those hair curlers. and a sleeping mask and night gown to sleep

they will comfort Cole when their stressed and give them a cookie or smth

they focus on their appearance a lot due to being raised by their parents like that

their like the mom of the group

Perrine:

their the older sister of the group and does most of the things like cooking, outside work, and hunting

they tell Cole to not be so stressed even though their a fvcking hypocrite cause they are the exact same if not worse

their a perfectionist and will stress over the play, and if anybody messes up their like drill sergeant

they have anger issues but will try to control them for the others sake

they rarely take their braids down, only when bathing or swimming. which makes them very tender headed

they make a lot soup..like a lot..

they snort when they laugh but is very embarrassed about it

Kingsley:

they have no inside voice whatsoever

they like bugs and reptiles, and will bring them in the house

they call everyone babygirl, especially Cole just for shits and giggles

they like to be funny and make the others laugh, which is their form of comforting

they are very blunt and will often say things they think and Perrine will have to tell them to shut up

they shed like a dog. like they have a lot of hair. the others will find their hair on them, in the oven, on furniture, in the air, on stage..

one time someone was being mean to it so it flipped them off. and the others were like 😧😦😬

they'll sneak into Perrine's room when their asleep to move around their skulls, but Perrine always catches them

alrighty that's it, hope you like em😊

[gingerjolover]

Sweet Angel - Lucy Dacus x Reader

Sypnosis: Lucy's gf has chronic pain, so she wears many different hats - nurse, dog mom, and sweet angel from heaven above

G's notes: surprise shawtayyy (also I love my tens machine lol)

WC: somewhere around 2k (woweeee)

Warnings: RPF, tooth-rotting fluff, chronic pain, physical therapy marks, no fundamental physical descriptors?

The house is dark, way darker than it should be for the afternoon, automatically sending Lucy on high alert. She sighs softly, putting to the universe that you’re just napping and not having a flare-up. Trying to be quiet as she walks into your shared home, she sees your dog Murphy’s head rising from the couch, immediately knowing that you’re indeed having a flare-up and you've unknowingly shut the door on your poor Murphy in your pain-induced haze. Recognizing one of his humans, he stands up, stretching before wobbly walking over to Lucy, his tail wagging. ”Is mama sleeping, Murph? Hm?” Lucy asks, leaning down and scratching his chin. Lucy treads quietly, placing her keys down on the thrifted hall table. Toeing her shoes off, she puts a Trader Joe’s and her studio bag on the dining room table. 

She quietly pads up the stairs, her heart cracking when she sees you laying face down on your shared head, a heating pad on your back, an ice pack on your neck. 

“Hi, love,” Lucy says softly. 

You groan in response painfully; Lucy notices. 

"Hey," you exhale through clenched teeth. Your voice is raspy, and it takes a few tries just to say that one word. You slowly roll over on your side, keeping close to your heating pad and ice pack.

"Rough day, huh?" Lucy whispers, her heart aching as she sees the state you're in. The pain in your voice is evident, even when you say very little. Lucy’s hand lifts your shirt, checking on your skin, constantly wary that you’ll burn your skin in desperation for some relief. She immediately notices the deep bruised circles on your back, wincing when she realizes you went to physical therapy this morning. 

“Sarah did some cupping, I see… how was therapy?” she asks softly, trailing her fingers over the marks.

“F-Fine,” you slur, teeth chattering from the sheer uncomfortableness. “I was fine all day… had lunch and then I walked Murphy and got home and… it hurts Luce,” voice trembling, tears leaking onto the pillow. 

"I know, I know," Lucy whispers soothingly, reaching out her hand to gently rub your back as she speaks. "I'm so sorry, baby. Do you want me to bring you some ibuprofen or your tens machine? What do you need?" Lucy does her best to keep her voice and tone gentle to avoid triggering an even more intense flare-up. She doesn't want you to feel more pain than you already are and wants to take care of you.

“I don’t know,” you sob softly, rubbing your eyes furiously. 

"Okay, hang on, sweet girl," Lucy says, her voice still gentle and soothing. She leaves the room momentarily and returns with ibuprofen and your tens machine. She helps you sit up more and then puts the tens machine around your back, emitting a subtle buzzing sound. She gently squeezes your hand with her own, offering some support and reassurance. "Would it help you if I made dinner and did the dishes tonight?" she asks.

“I’m not hungry,” you sniffle softly, the pain radiating up your back, throbbing deep into your skull. 

"I know," Lucy sighs quietly. "But you have to eat, love. Let me make you something light, just a little bit of something, okay?" Lucy gently strokes your hair back with her fingers, her tone still soft and caring. "You want some sourdough toast? An apple with peanut butter? I bought those crunchy things from Trader Joe’s that you like…" she offers. 

Your whimpers are response enough, her hand rubbing the back of your neck, knowing food is the last thing you want right now. “Do you want your migraine cap?” Lucy asks gently. 

“No, not now,” you respond, slurring softly. 

“When are you due for another injection, my love?” Lucy asks, rubbing your scalp. 

“Uhhhh….” it hurts to think, your eyes squeezing shut. 

“Okay, okay… I’ll just look at the Google calendar; just relax,” Lucy says, cringing, reprimanding herself for asking so many questions.

Lucy gently pulls you to her chest, your face resting against her chest, cheeks smushed against her shirt. She rubs your hair gently, her other hand adjusting the pads of the tens. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice muffled against Lucy’s t-shirt. 

Lucy holds you close, her heart breaking as she listens to your words. She knows how much this pain takes a toll on you, the unpredictability always throwing you through a loop. She strokes your hair softly, her face frowning when she thinks of how you dealt with this while she was gone. She knows you’re capable, but there’s a part of her riddled with guilt when she’s away having the time of her life touring and traveling, knowing you’re home in a similar position to now. She has to commend you when you are up and moving around again. She’s been home precisely 11 days while on a break before the next leg of the tour, and this is your first flare-up, your commitment to pain management and self-care paying off. 

“What time is it?” you mumble groggily, cheeks wet and flushed, eyes puffy. 

"It's a little after 6:30," Lucy gently murmurs, holding you close. She strokes your hair and your back with her hand, trying to offer some comfort despite the numbness you often feel in your head. She could tell that the flare-up had been particularly rough on you, and she knew that the pain had only exacerbated your exhaustion. She wanted you to get some rest, even though you were likely to toss and turn from the pain. 

“Mhm,” you hum, eyes closing, the ibuprofen and tens finally kicking in. 

“When did you walk, Murphy?” Lucy asks softly to gauge how long you’ve been lying in bed. 

“I don’t know… 3:30… maybe,” you slur, words soft and quiet. 

"That makes sense," Lucy whispers, her eyes on you as you slowly begin to relax and your eyelids droop. She smiles lovingly, her finger trailing down your face. She felt a little better seeing the tension in your face release and the creases between your eyebrows start to smooth out. 

She lays down next to you on the bed, her legs wrapped around yours, wanting to be close to you as you begin to rest. She closes her eyes and whispers, "I love you."

“Love you,” you mumble back, the faintest hint of a smile on your face, eyebrows finally relaxed. 

Lucy smiles softly as you say those words, her worries and anxieties slowly dissipating as she watches you fall asleep beside her. She worried about you and was scared to see you in pain. But the tiny smile on your face and the fact that you were finally falling asleep and getting some rest was a huge relief. 

Lucy watches you sleep for a while, Murphy moving up on the bed and a little too close for comfort for Lucy. She stands, tucking you in softly, removing the melted ice pack from your neck, and adjusting the heat pad further up your back. 

She beckons Murphy to the stairs; he’s staring at you in bed, whining softly. “Come on, Murph, potty time,” Lucy calls, trying to get him out of your bed and out of the bedroom. 

Murphy slowly gets off the bed, his ears drooping a bit. He doesn't want to leave you while you're sleeping, his stance at the foot of your bed almost protective. “Murphy, come,” Lucy says sternly, her tone soft enough to not wake you. He whines again, not wanting to leave but knowing he'll get much-needed attention and love once he goes outside with Lucy. 

"It's okay, Murph," she tells him quietly. She strokes his head and gives him a few scratches behind the ears, trying to gently encourage him to go outside. After a few more moments, Murphy finally gives in and follows Lucy down the stairs.

While Murphy does his business, Lucy can’t help but admire the sun setting, the sky awash with shades of orange, yellow, and pink. The trees and buildings cast long shadows across the skyline, and the view from your back porch was stunning. Lucy couldn't help but snap a few photos to capture the moment, knowing that it was something that you would love.

Eventually, she and Murphy return inside, throwing him a small treat and watching him gulp water as she fills his food bowl with dinner. She returns to the dining table, finally putting away the groceries, wincing when she remembers her perishables, but it hadn’t been that long. She moves about the kitchen, putting dry goods into jars and boxes in the pantry. While cleaning, Lucy can see the exact moment the flare-up started based on the random assortment of things lying out in the kitchen and moving into the living room. 

Lucy makes a quick little snack plate, knowing fully well you will only touch some of it. She fills up your huge water bottle with ice water and walks up the stairs, Murphy at her heels, excited for your bedroom door to be open again. 

Lucy gently nudges the door with her knee, and Murphy rushes in, excited to see you after being out. She places everything on the nightstand before moving to the bathroom to run a hot bath with Epsom salt, throwing some towels in the warmer, a thoughtful gift from Phoebe last Christmas. She returns to the bedroom, greeting you by kneeling on the floor near the bed, kissing your nose and cheek softly, her knuckle gently brushing your cheekbone. 

“Hmm?” you hum, eyes closed, feeling a nudging on the bed, Murphy’s nose gently pushing the back of your knee. Opening your eyes, Lucy is in view, her bright eyes and wide smile, soft features. “You look like an angel,” you murmur playfully, eyes crusty and cheek squished against the pillow. 

Lucy chuckles softly as you call her an angel, her face turning a bright shade of pink as she smiles softly. She gently brushes some of the tears from your face, her thumb gently caressing your cheek. "You need a minute to wake up?” she asks, unplugging your heating pad and checking the skin of your upper back again. You shake your head gently, the position becoming uncomfortable. “Hold on, sweetheart, give me a second,” Lucy says, tapping your shoulder as she pulls off the wires from your tens. 

“Bathtime," she teases, her voice still soft and gentle. She knew you were still in pain, and the exhaustion was catching up to you, but she wanted to make you comfortable. 

“You ran me a bath?” you ask, words still slurred from sleep. 

"Yes, I did," she chuckles softly, her face still flushed as she gently helps you sit up. She takes your hand and helps you swing your legs off the bed, trying to help you get your bearings. "It's just about ready. Do you want some help walking to the tub?" she asks gently.

“Please,” you whisper, eternally grateful for your sweet angel of a partner. 

"Of course, lovie," Lucy says softly, heart aflutter at your softness. She wraps her arm around your back and helps you walk down the short hallway and into the bathroom. She gently supports you until you're sitting on the closed toilet, and then she starts to help you undress. She's careful to keep you comfortable and not push you too much, but she also knows that soaking will help with some pain. “Arms up…atta girl,” she teases, lifting your shirt over your head. 

Lucy helps you slowly into the tub, hissing at the temperature and then relaxing in the hot water. A small smile grows on your face, almost bashful to sit in front of Lucy this way, even though this is common. 

 “Thank you,” you say, voice thick with emotion. Lucy sits down next to the tub, Murphy lying at her feet. 

"You're welcome, my love," Lucy whispers, her voice still gentle and caring. She leans against the tub, rubbing your knee, her eyes on you as you settle in and relax. Murphy’s head lifts to look at you softly, sighing contentedly and enjoying the quiet moment with his moms. The combination of the warmth of the bath and the Epsom salt helps to soothe your muscles and help you relax, and Lucy and Murphy are thrilled to see you finally getting a break from the pain.

[imagoddamnonionmason]

Stephanie “Seraph” Wilde

Basic Information 

Other name(s): Steph

Citizenship: US

Language(s): English

Place of Birth: Detroit

Date of Birth: 15/12/1993

Occupation: USMC (formerly), Shadow Company (Shadow 1-17)

Status: Alive

Physical Appearance

Eyes: brown

Hair: blonde

Skin: neutral fair white

Tattoo(s): lower back, tribal heart design: upper right thigh, animal skull and horns with flowers.

Scar(s): multiple scars, ranging from small to sizable, thin, deep and faded; starts from upper left arm, some over her left side and some spanning down her left upper thigh and lower leg. Caused by explosives and all due to shrapnel. 

Face Claim: Camille Yolaine

Description: Steph stands are five foot five and has an athletic build. Her eyes are almond shaped, deep brown and often gently tired looking, wary. Her brows are slender and nicely shaped, a little darker blonde than that of her hair colour. Her hair is cut in a short-ish style, the length barely finishing at her jawline. Her hair is relatively straight, with a slight flicker of a wave at the ends. A fringe frames her features, somewhat. Steph used to have her hair longer, tied back into a tight military bun, but since leaving the USMC cut it short. 

She tends to wear comfortable clothing everyday, unless she is working, usually consisting of joggers and jumpers, trainers or boots. But, she does enjoy being able to dress up for a fancy occasion, so that she can pull out her more fanciful wardrobe, which has a mixture of jumpsuits, dresses, two-pieces and heels. Other than that, she may also wear t-shirts or crop shirts with bootcut jeans. 

Makeup is reserved for the fancy clothing, where she’ll enjoy a natural look with a smoky liner and slight tinge of colour. 

Personality

Like(s): dogs, animals in general, her found family, rock music, country music, line dancing, fitness, running, the colour sage green, iced coffees (caramel), honesty, honey whiskey, hiking, going on long drives, her kids

Dislike(s): step mom, step sister, people who are entitled, people who are unapologetically and purposefully in your face, being interrupted and ignored, having her things moved without permission, certain people undermining her parental authority

Strength(s): good with animals, patient, calm in certain stressful situations, active listener, kind and strong-willed

Weakness(es): struggles to open up about some things, can be snappy when stressed socially, social battery runs out quick, prefers her own company and can sometimes come off as rude, sometimes her patience can be a weakness because she’ll deal with something for longer than necessary

Relationships

Parent(s): Richard Miller (father), Margaret “Peggy” Miller (mother, deceased), Agatha Miller (step mom), Rhonda Wilde (MIL)

Sibling(s): Rachael Miller (step sister), Ester “Bullet” Wilde (SIL), Phoebe Wilde (SIL)

Spouse(s): Zachary Wilde (deceased)

Children: Zach Jr (son), Finley (son) and Avery (daughter) Wilde

Biography

TW: Multiple Death Mention

Stephanie Miller was born in Detroit to her parents, Richard and Peggy Miller. Her early childhood was happy, filled with love and adventure, and a focus on working through hard times as a family. She has good memories from her early childhood. By the time she was 10 years old, however, her life took its first drastic change when Peggy was the victim of a fatal accident, leaving her father widowed and her without a mother. The loss was felt very deeply by the young girl, but Richard seemed to have moved on very quickly, meeting and marrying another woman within a year of her mother’s death. 

At this new woman’s request, or rather demand, Richard didn’t think twice about uprooting Stephanie and dragging her to New York City, where his new wife and her daughter (who was the same age as Stephanie) lived. While Richard settled into new married life with Agatha quickly, taking on the mantle as Rachael’s father even easier, Stephanie felt ostracised; it was clear that her presence was not fully accepted by her step mother and sister, despite their reassurances to her father. 

Rachael and Stephanie would argue often and school life was made incredibly difficult, with Rachael being popular and Stephanie being an outcast. She worked hard, however, got good grades and never gave her father reason to worry about her education. 

When Stephanie turned 17, she was contemplating leaving home amidst the heightened stress caused by her step family and ignorance of her father to her situation. Her father wished for her to remain in education, to eventually go to college, but reminded Stephanie often that she would have to find her own way of paying for the education (but was coerced by his wife to pay for Rachael). 

One day, Stephanie walked past an event, some sort of recruitment, and only when she got closer did she realise it was to do with the USMC. Speaking with a marine, she made an impulsive choice to join; one thought in her head, however, spoke very loudly “it’s either this or continue to deal with them” and her patience has been 6 years wearing thin. 

So, Steph joins and escapes her homelife. 

She trained as a law enforcement marine with the intention of working alongside a military working dog and throughout her USMC career was attached to the infantry and reconnaissance alongside her Belgian Malinois, Noble. He was a marine corps explosives detection dog and the two together were an incredible team, keeping fellow marines safe. 

However, one patrol would lead to another drastic change in Steph’s life, one that left her scarred both emotionally and physically. Noble identified an IED on this patrol, but was unable to identify its twin which detonated soon after. The injuries sustained claimed the life of Noble and one other marine, while leaving Steph suffering from fragmentation injuries, shrapnel burying deep into multiple areas along her left side. 

Following this incident, Stephanie was medically discharged and retired from the military. 

Integrating back into civilian life, though, was hard; her father allowed her back home but under the condition that she did not bring her problems home with her, as it would upset his wife and daughter. But, she had nowhere else to go and decided to deal with the hassle for the sake of having a roof over her head. 

She also attended group therapy, where she would meet her future husband, Zachary Wilde, who was also ex-military. His family was much more receptive to Steph, his mother being an old friend of her own mother’s, of Peggy’s, but lost contact after her death. 

Then, Steph was approached by an old friend, Philip Graves, who had an idea for starting a PMC and thought her skills would be best placed with him. She was able to find a new purpose and joined Shadow Company, though refuses to handle dogs.

[lizardtheartist]

So I came up with a concept of my own multiverse night at the inventory thing, featuring ghost max….

We have 10 players in total: Sam, Demon Sam, Swap Sam, Samantha, Werewolf Sam, Max, Saint Max, Swap Max, Maxine, and our beloved Ghost Max.

The Sams and the Maxs both play at their own tables, talking to their own groups, like that extremely awesome Ao3 Fic, credit to the writer for coming up with that idea/srs.

Info about these certain multiverse sams and maxs:

Sam: just your average canon Sam, he’s been through all the stuff that happened in the games/cartoon/comics, he’s the Sam ever. Just this time, with a dead Max and an alive Max companions.

Demon Sam: After becoming the new ruler of the underworld, he’s decided to take it easy in life, or unlife? He doesn’t have as many Satan-y responsibilities as he thought he would, so he just hangs out with his very adorable angel husband. He has a more stern demeanor but he means well, I think? Him and Saint Max are called the Freelance Holy Ones. (Despite how unholy the two can really be)

Swap Sam: Sam but instead of being a more levelheaded detective, he’s almost just like normal Max in every way possible, yes, even height wise. Swap Sam is everything you could ever want in a rabid dog, he even probably has rabies. He loves to run around and cause trouble, he gets mistaken for a puppy sometimes due to his height and chubby physique. Him and Swap Max are still called the Freelance Police.

Samantha: Samantha (Sam for short but that gets confusing fast.) is literally just Sam but he’s wearing more feminine clothes. Honestly you could look at em and just assume it’s Sam in his drag persona. Samantha acts a bit more feminine than Sam as well, but not too much to make it obnoxious. I like to think she has a very nice and smooth middle age woman voice? I’m not sure how to explain it. Her and Maxine are still the Freelance Police as expected.

Werewolf Sam: This Sam has been a werewolf ever since he was little, inherited from his parents, he had the ability to transform into a werewolf during a classic full moon, but recently, as he’s gotten older, the werewolf part has since become more prominent and now he’s more werewolf than normal dog. He doesn’t entirely mind this, even though he has violent tendencies more often, he’s still a very wholesome and sweet guy, Max calls him his big ol’ dangerous teddy bear. Max is his werewolf caretaker, after formerly being a werewolf hunter, he decided to give up the job in order to support his Sam.

Max: Everyone’s favorite little lagomorph, he’s the same ol’ max from the ending of 305. We all know him, we all love him.

Saint Max: Saint Max is everything holy and good in the world, which is what he likes to think he is. Saint Max often acts nice and chipper, always seeing the best of EVERYTHING ever but underneath that thinly veiled self, there’s a thirsty little bastard gremlin who can be a brat sometimes. People think that some of Demon Sam had rubbed off on Saint Max, but no, that’s how he’s always been.

Swap Max: Swap Max is basically just Max but with Sam’s personality, but I made this personality slightly more edgy like Noir Sam. Why? Cus I thought it’d be interesting. Swap Max is still a rabbity thing, but he’s much taller now, he’s also bulked up slightly but not much. He still has a comedic side like Sam but it comes out a little less, but one thing I do know, is that he uses long winded words and sentences just like any normal Sam would.

Maxine: Maxine is EXACTLY like Max, in almost every way, she’s just Max with a bow around her neck and some yass queen earrings. Her voice is slightly raspier and her mannerisms have a touch of feminine traits, but she’s still just Max in a cute lil bow.

Ghost Max: Ghost Max is just Max before 305, coming back down from space, he hangs out with Sam and Max as their “ghost buddy” because they still haven’t gotten it through their thick skulls that the ghost is just Max. Ghost Max can play with both the Sams and the Maxs, because no one actually sees him, they just see floating cards that he’s holding. He’s equipped with a red marker, he can write simple words and drawings on a notepad or something. It’s supposed to look like blood but he didn’t have any spare blood on hand. Ghost Max has the ability to cheat and switch cards around. If this poker night game was a real thing, the player would probably be Ghost Max himself.

A quick look at the cast themselves:

(All credit for the multiverse poker idea goes to SofiaTheRandomDemon on Ao3, if you see this Sofia, your shit is written so well on GOD) (also credit to @impostorwhipplesshow for the insane idea of ghost max joining in on the poker stuff)

[mayflora-18]

Fact Drop #2

Sherlock has black-brown hair. When she was in school she had bowl cut bangs and thinner eyes so she was made fun of for being Asian-American (even though she isn’t really Asian-American)

Yellow lab energy

5’3.75”

Wears wireframe aviator glasses when doing paperwork; has a black and silver pair

Favorite toy: grizzly bear plush

Normally prefers violence as a last resort; “Ask first, shoot later” kinda girl but will fight if 💩 goes south

Nik usually keeps her out of the field if he can. If he can’t however then she HAS to either be with him or communicate with him on a regular basis

Incorrect quote #3

Graves: Who’s that?

Nikolai: Her? That’s Sherlock, our resident background investigator.

Graves: Cool, she’s mine now.

Nikolai: The fuck she is!

Graves, hoisting a very confused Sherlock over his shoulder: Try and stop me!

Sherlock, knowing Graves can’t be trusted but he’s got her in a fireman’s carry: Unhand me-

Grizzly bear plush (named Logan) was given to her by Nik as a “signing bonus”. Has another bat plush named Morty that she’s had since childhood and doesn’t leave her desk

Will offer Morty to whoever needs something to hug

Doesn’t receive as much bullying as she thought she would; either because of Nik’s almost constant presence giving her scary dog privileges or because of the slap incident

Has various handmade soft blankets/pillows/plushies

One of the few people that wasn’t afraid of Ghost when she first met him because she loves skulls

She wins him over with jokes

Nikolai’s niece through his little sister ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️

Has trust issues because of mentor in Army

She has unusually high ESP. Price tested it once by calling her a busybody in his head, and she asks him, “Is that a nice thing to say?”

Lucky to get > 4 four hours of sleep due to insomnia

Reads books to fall asleep

Is a night owl and requires a full pot of coffee to fully wake up and go about her day

Counters everything Nik is (Cory Matthews x Shawn Hunter vibes)

Sherlock is that person that will do parkour to get things off the top shelf and ultimately scare the 💩 out of the taller military men

She’s also the person that will pick you up and carry you away if you’re annoying her or there’s danger

Is less a background investigator and more of Nik’s assistant

Incorrect quote #4

*Nik and Price are having an argument over something ridiculous*

Gaz: Should we do something?

Sherlock: I’m already smoking and laughing. What more do you want?

Tries to avoid operating on the field whenever possible

Visits family when on leave (if she has leave)

Breakfast food and dirty chais are the way to her heart

Sherlock is a believer of what she calls Lightman’s Law: “Every Homo sapien can and should be trusted to lie.” As a result it is very rare for her to approach anyone unfamiliar for the first time with any hostility or distrust

König wants to be friends with Sherlock but doesn’t really know how to approach her. He’s seen her interact with the field operators in Chimera and TF141 and really wants her to be his “mom friend”

Incorrect quote #5:

Random soldier: *talking down to König for some stupid reason*

König: *stopped trying to appease them a while ago and is now hanging his head*

Sherlock: *walking by and sees this* Hey! Are we on a coffee break?

*Random soldier and König both turn to look at her and see that she is irritated by what she sees*

Random soldier, dumbly: I-I don’t drink coffee-

Sherlock: Well then I guess the break is over. Get back to work, thank you!

Random soldier: *bolts out of there, embarrassed*

König:

Sherlock: You’ll get there, sweetie, you just gotta put a little zing into it. *walks away*

König, thinking: I can’t believe I just talked to a woman!

(He didn’t talk at all.)

Makes blankets that are soft enough to tranquilize upon drapery

Avoids conflict but will fight/kill when provoked (hit on, friends in fight, loved ones at gunpoint)

Exercise = morning walk + yoga + powerlift

Can carry grown men like toddlers

Abby Sciuto + Spencer Reid love child energy (ft. Penelope Garcia and Radar) at work

Nik & Sherlock = Grunkle Stan & Mabel Pines energy

High tolerance for extreme temperatures/pain/painkillers/alcohol

Her dad loves her. He just doesn’t know how to cater to her happiness and mental well-being

Loves Halloween so she can jumpscare her second eldest brother

Is capable of shovel talk

[matbenetti17]

♡ Name: Amentia Amantis

♡ Name in life: Marilyn 

♡ Age: 40-45

♡ Died in: 1960s

♡ Cause of death: lethal injection

♡ Sin: murder

♡ Species: orchid mantis demon

♡ Gender: female

♡ Sexuality: straight

♡ Occupation: cosmetics expert and hairstylist (often collabs with the Vees)

Amentia, Marilyn in life, ended up in Hell for having shot dead with a rifle her husband and his young lover around the 1960. After this, driven crazy by her grief, she beheaded him and fled with his head for months around the States until she was arrested, prosecuted and sentenced to death by lethal injection.

Having arrived in Hell, she made a name thanks to her knowledge in the commercial field, that was because in life her husband was the head of a famous chain of department stores and she was in charge of the cosmetics department. 

Despite everything, due to her rampant insanity Amentia still considers herself a married woman, she still wears her wedding ring and carries her husband's skull chained to her, as retaliation. She often talks with the skull or plays with it making it talk like a puppet.

Her husband and the lover never ended up in Hell with her, even though they were adulterers, because apparently for Heaven it's enough to ask for forgiveness on the verge of death to access the Celestial Gates. Which is extremely unfair in her eyes. Amentia was never sorry for what she had done, even during her execution she laughed and was proud of having killed them.

Amentia's taste in fashion and aesthetics made her to be noticed by Velvette who made her one of the first collaborators with the three Vees, in particular taking care of hair and makeup for Velvette's fashion shows and Valentino's porn movies.

Every now and then Amentia tries to convince Vox to oust Val and take her in his place but obviously he always refuses. She and Valentino are kinda like cat and dog, or more like mantis and moth.

Amentia has been looking for a new partner for some time but every time she is in bed with someone her madness gets the upper hand and she ends up killing the poor man accidentally with her claws. This is why she is convinced that emotions like love and affections are a weakness. She often frequents Cannibal Town and is friends with Rosie because when she accidentally kills one of her lovers she brings him to Rosie to get rid of the corpse in her own way.

Quotes:

“For the next extermination, be fabulous~”

“I won't be caught dead again with messy hair, dear”

“I'm a married woman!!”

“I'd like to go to Heaven just to find my cheating fucking husband and that little dirty whore AND KILL THEM AGAIN!”

“You need meee~ If it wasn't for me your little cheap movies would look like fucking amateurs!” –to Valentino

“Dont'cha think that the acronym VAV sounds so much better? Vox, Amentia and Velvette, let's discharge the midge, Voxxie~” –to Vox

“Ugh, how do you manage to work with these two, darling? They're two fucking hysterical fags!” –to Velvette

“Love? Love doesn't exist dear, it doesn't exist on Earth and it should be here? In Hell?”

“What did ya say sweetpea? Oh sure, they look horrendous~” –talking with her husband’s skull

“Oh for all the Seven Rings, can I have some cockroach blood in this hovel you call studio??”

Fun facts:

♡ Her hairstyle and the mole on her cheek are inspired by Marilyn Monroe (which is why she also had the same name as her when she was alive)

♡ The "gem" on her chest is used to hear conversations about her at any distance. It takes inspiration from the metathoracic ear capable of picking up ultrasound that mantises have on their chest

♡ When she is in a "semi-demonic" form the designs on her claws and "tail" light up neon pink and another three small eyes open up on her forehead. The three eyes are also present in the anatomy of mantises, called ocelli

♡ The chain to which her husband's skull is attached can stretch infinitely so she can use it to pull things towards herself, throwing the skull which bites

♡ Her design is inspired by the orchid mantis and the pokémon Lurantis