#⊵ Eternal Darkness | Special Interaction ⊴

[harmcnia-gropius]

[@axhroma] Colress isn't sure how the weird.. link.. thing.. he has with Lady Yamask works, but he needs to speak with her. Here goes winging it. The attempt happens around the same hour, adjusted for Paldean time, that every other occasion occurred. He focuses on the Rotom phone on his worktable. The only noise around him is the faint humming of machinery. "Um.." Arceus, just kill him. "Miss Yamask?"

A beat of silence. "I want to better understand your motivations behind this whole.. thing."

Her voice started as a gentle static, almost quiet enough to make your ears ring, not enough to make out without equipment professional ghost trainers used, an EVP recorder perhaps?

Had she always begun like this? Denial would makes these subtle things easy to ignore, surely..

"You are a brash one, Doctor."

Like a droplet into a pond, she finally speaks in a volume you can understand, though her tone has a hint at true malice in it this time.

"Weren't you too deep in your web to tell the insects apart? Decided to unbury your head to assist my plight, or just to save your skin?"

She seems a fowl mood, her visage flickering like a horror film on the tiny screen.

If your device's Rotom was in control, it might complain of an overwhelming heat. Spirits need energies, and you've offered her a phone battery on what seems to have been a very bad evening.

[calif0rnia-lovers]

safe place.

an: ngl, I wanted to hug jude & bukayo through the screen when England lost😔

requested: I remember seeing that Jude said his mom helps him when he gets "too low with the lows or too high with the highs." Can you do a fic where his gf is that way?

pairing: jude bellingham x black!reader

series: lyrically inspired tales.

if my heart aches, you breathe with me at my pace.

song: safe place by ruthanne

warnings: this is most definitely not edited lol.

The stadium lights had dimmed, and the roar of the crowd had faded into a distant memory, replaced by a haunting silence. Jude Bellingham sat in the quiet of his hotel room, the weight of the Euro final's loss pressing heavily on his shoulders. Exhaustion seeped into his bones—physically, mentally, and emotionally he was tapped. The missed shot that could have changed everything replayed in his mind, a tormenting loop of what-ifs and if-onlys.

He felt utterly drained, each breath a reminder of the effort he had poured into the match. The worst part about losing was feeling like he was at his lowest, despite all the hard work and dedication he had poured in for his country. The memory of the silver medal being draped over his shoulder, the relentless flashes of cameras, and the disappointed faces of fans loomed over him like a dark cloud. He had tried to keep his head up, stopping to hug each of his teammates, whispering words of encouragement, but it still hurt like hell. He had forced a brave face, stifling the sting in his eyes, reassuring his family and friends that he was alright. Keeping up the front until he reached his room had been a monumental task, and now, alone in the dim light, the facade crumbled.

He stared blankly at the wall, the ache of disappointment settling deep within his chest. Hours seemed to drag by, each minute stretching into an eternity. His phone was on Do Not Disturb. Although he knew the messages were meant with the best intentions, Jude wasn’t ready to read the encouraging texts sent to him. He hadn't spoken to anyone since the bus doors closed, needing space to process the defeat alone. The team’s efforts, the dreams of a nation, all seemed to hang on that one moment when his shot had veered just slightly off course.

A knock at the door broke through his reverie. Jude ignored it at first, unwilling to face anyone. If he didn’t call out, whoever it was would go away. But then it came again. 

A single knock, followed by three softer knocks, a distinct rhythm that was all too familiar. It was a special knock. Your special knock, a signal that meant more than words ever could. It prompted him to rise from the bed and cross the room.

Your interaction at the stadium was still a blur. A rushed kiss against his lips, nose, and forehead, a whispered “I love you so much,” was all he could receive before he was moving through the line of friends and family. In the few short hours that had passed, you had showered and changed.

When he opened the door, Jude found you standing there with your travel backpack pressed against your chest.

Jude paused to take you in, grounding himself by focusing on your familiar features. It was a routine he had built over the last six months of your relationship, a way to find solace in the midst of chaos. His eyes passed over your smooth, deep brown skin, which seemed to glow softly in the dim light. He traced the contours of your face, from your cheekbones to your lips that carried a gentle, reassuring smile. The sight of it relaxed the furrow of his brow.

Your eyes, warm and filled with understanding, were his favorite feature. They held a depth of emotion and wisdom that made him feel seen and understood. Your lashes framed them perfectly, long and curled, adding to the natural beauty that always took his breath away. His gaze traveled up to the soft curls, pineappled at the top of your head, his hand instinctively reaching forward.

As he studied you, taking in every detail—his touch tracing the curve of your jaw before settling against your cheek—he felt a sense of peace wash over him.

"Hi," you greeted softly, your voice a balm to his battered spirit.

Jude managed a weak smile, the corners of his lips lifting. "Hey," he replied, his voice rough.

You stepped inside, Jude’s hand instinctively settling on your hips as the door closed.

The scent of lavender and chamomile wafted from the bag you carried, filling the room with a calming aroma. It was a scent that lingered on the sheets of each hotel room Jude stayed in, his bedroom at home, and even in his shirts and jerseys. He associated it with you, and only you—a fragrance that instantly brought relaxation and comfort. Whenever you couldn't make it to his games, Jude would find the aromatherapy tucked away in his bag, a thoughtful gesture that made him feel close to you even when apart.

“My flight leaves at 9:30 tomorrow,” you began as you unzipped the bag. Gathering what you needed, you started towards the bathroom. “So, I’ll probably leave here at 7. I’m sure traffic is going to be insane.”

Jude listened to your voice, the calm cadence soothing his frayed nerves. You didn’t expect a response; you knew him well enough to understand that after a loss, he needed time to recover. So, you verbally went through your travel plans. The turnaround was quick, but you needed to report to work. While slightly annoying, the plan was simple: report home, get back to work, and into your routine. Jude would soon follow.

As you focused on starting the bath, Jude began to look through the items you bought. His hand paused on something small and familiar, tucked beneath his favorite snacks—a stuffed lion. He picked it up, a wave of bittersweet memories washing over him. The lion had a soft, golden mane and big, friendly eyes. Stitched into the pad of its right paw was a heart. Jude remembered the day he won it for you at the Ice Palace, the way your face had lit up with joy, your smile so wide and genuine it had made his heart swell.

"My lion," you’d giggled, hugging the plush toy tightly before wrapping your arms around his neck, your laughter ringing in his ears. “I can keep him with me when you’re away.”

You paused in the bathroom doorway, watching him hold the stuffed lion. "That always makes me feel better when we're apart," you said softly, a smile finding your lips as the shared memory hung between the two of you.

You began to take out and explain the things you had brought to cheer him up—a selection of his favorite snacks, your iPad full of movies, and some comforting toiletries. "I brought these because I thought they might help you relax. And I know how much you love Shawshank Redemption. So...being the gracious, loving girlfriend I am, I will sit through it for the hundredth time. But, only if you promise to share your sour st-"

You were mid-sentence when he moved towards you, wrapping his arms around your middle from behind. For a moment, you stayed that way, the warmth of his embrace speaking louder than words. Jude buried his face in your shoulder, his breath hitching as he tried to hold back the tears that threatened to escape.

You could feel the tremors in his body, his grip tightening as if you were his anchor in the storm of his emotions.

"It's okay," you whispered, turning to face him, the warmth of your palms against his cheeks lifting his eyes to yours. "You gave it everything you had, and that's all anyone can ask for. I'm so proud of you, Jude. You’ve come so far, and this is just a moment in your journey. It's okay to feel hurt and disappointed, but remember that you are stronger than this. Everything happens exactly when it's meant to."

Finally, the dam broke, and Jude rested against you, the tears he’d managed to keep at bay all night came pouring out. He remained pressed against you until the stress of the past few months drained his eyes dry. He allowed you to lead him to the bathroom, welcoming the warm, fragrant steam filled the room, creating a cocoon of comfort. 

He allowed you to help him undress, your movements tender and deliberate, as if you were peeling away not just his clothes but also the layers of his hurt.

"Let's get you in," you murmured softly, as his lips brushed against yours, guiding him into the tub. Jude eased himself into the warm water, letting out a deep sigh as the heat began to soothe his aching muscles and weary mind.

You stepped back to gather the other things you had brought, but Jude's hand gently traced soothing circles into your thigh as you stood by the tub. The simple touch spoke volumes, a silent plea for your presence, for you to stay close.

Jude leaned his head back, closing his eyes as he let the warmth of the bath wash over him. The exhaustion and frustration that had gripped him began to loosen, replaced by a growing sense of peace. He listened as you moved around the room, lighting a few candles and setting out the items you had brought—a fluffy towel, his favorite shampoo, and a soft robe for when he got out. 

You joined Jude in the tub, settling behind him. He welcomed the loofah against his skin, the gentle, rhythmic motion of your hands soothing his frayed nerves. You massaged his shoulders, careful with the one that had been previously injured, as he rested back against you. His hand found its place on his leg, grounding him as he watched the movie playing on the tablet propped nearby.

Your touch worked magic, and you could feel his body gradually relaxing. The tension that had coiled within him slowly unwound, and he seemed to be coming back to himself. The voice in his head, the one that echoed with doubt and personal criticism, grew quieter with each passing moment. Each gentle kiss you pressed against his skin, each laugh you shared from the film, chipped away at the walls of his frustration.

By the time most of the bubbles had dissipated, Jude was completely relaxed. His gratefulness showed in the way he gently squeezed your thigh and the soft kisses he brushed against your knuckles. The warmth of the water, combined with your presence, created a cocoon of comfort and safety. 

He tilted his head back slightly, letting it rest against your shoulder, eyes half-closed in contentment. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, fingers tracing small circles on his chest. "You don’t have to," you replied softly. "I’m here, always."

Jude sighed, a deep, contented breath that seemed to release the last of his lingering tension. He turned his head slightly to kiss your forehead, a silent thank you for being his anchor in the storm. The doubts that had plagued him earlier were now a distant memory.

The kiss he left against your lips was soft, almost sloppy. The physical and mental strain he's been under from Real Madrid and the Euros suddenly registering. His body begging for sleep.

"Let's get you outta here," you giggled. "I don't think I can carry you to bed if you fall asleep."

You press against the corner of his mouth, the action stopping the closing of his heavy eyelids. "Come on, Jude."

"Mmm...hold up..." Jude mumbled, eyes drifting shut as your lips brushed against his. Brow arching, his smirk prompting your eyes to roll. "...I'm not even tired."

"Uh-huh," stifling your giggle, you watch as Jude nods. His heavy eyes blinking before dropping down to your smile.

"'m not," he mumbled, his kiss missing your lips and settling on your chin.

A series of soft and light kiss lingered against your jaw, drifting to your shoulder. As much as he tried to fight off the comfortable sleeping tugging at him, Jude couldn't resist. By the time he reached your lips, a tired and goofy smile stretched across Jude's lips.

"Alright," he relented. "Let's go, but we gonna finish this in the morning."

"I'm sure we will," you smiled.

You place a final kiss against his lips. The brushing of your nose against his pulling out the smile that left you the victim of constant butterflies and euphoria. Before Jude knew it, the words slipped out.

"I love you," he murmured, the words hanging in the air between you like a delicate promise. "Thanks for this."

The words halted your movement of slipping from beneath him, your eyes widening slightly in surprise. It was the first time he had said it aloud. You had never pressured him for those words, knowing that he showed his love in countless other ways. Just as you did for him.

"I love you too, Jude," you replied as his lips found your forehead.

Letting his lips pass over your nose, Jude pushed himself.

[luvgavii]

wet dreams - (pg8)

summary: pedri's special way of waking you up ;)

warning: smut. minors do not interact!!

It wasn't often that you slept in. Whether it was because of uni or because you wanted to make your boyfriend breakfast before he leaves for training, early mornings were a part of your routine.

Today was an exception, you didn't have to go to university until the afternoon, so it was finally the day when it wasn't necessary to put an alarm.

When Pedri stirred, stretching his muscled arms out with a small yawn, his dark brown orbs fluttered open, immediately turning to his side to look at you. You looked so peaceful, your chest rising and falling with every breath you took. Pedri smiled to himself, reaching out to put a strand of hair that was in your face behind your ear, his touch soft and tender, careful not to wake you up.

The moment you laid from your side to your back, the covers slid just enough to reveal your chest, your perky nipples immediately making Pedri's pupils dilate, his mind going to the night before.

He bit down on his lower lip, fighting back the urge to run a hand over your breasts. He wasn't a fan of touching you in such an intimate way without having your consent, no matter how many times you'd told him you wouldn't mind to wake up to his face between your thighs.

You've taken him by surprise when a quiet hum left your slightly parted lips, his chocolate eyes moving from your tits to your face, taking in your messy bed hair. Even in moments like this, when his morning wood physically hurt him, he couldn't help but look at you lovingly, his gaze filled with eternal love.

Pedri smirked, and he stated 'why not?' as he started lowering himself to press wet, open mouthed kisses to your collarbone, moving lower to the valley between your breast.

Your peaceful dream has suddenly taken a turn between dreamland and reality, your mind still half asleep as you tried to figure out if what you were feeling is real or just a dream. Regardless, you hummed, laying on your back more comfortably and nuzzling your head into the pillow, giving him more access to your body. Pedri took this as a sign to continue, he looked up at you, seeing that your eyes were still closed, his tongue darted out to tease your nipple, while his hand took care of the other one.

That sensation alone was enough to convince you of reality, your lips curling into a sleepy smile as Pedri pulled the covers to the side, revealing your bare body to him as he continued to kiss down your body, his tongue tasting your skin ever so lightly as he settled between your thighs, his lips leaving love bites. He finally looked up at you, his hands softly caressing your thighs as you hummed and whimpered, a smirk on his lips as he saw your sleepy-lust filled expression.

"Abre las piernas para mí, muñeca," he instructed and you couldn't help but do so, your thoughts filled with the dirtiest images the human brain could imagine. (spread your legs for me, doll)

Pedri's fingers ran over your inner thighs, his touch light and teasing as he eyed your glistening core, his tongue darting out to lick his lower lip in anticipation. One of his hands moved to your hip, holding you down against the soft mattress as his finger ran over your folds, producing a dirty, wet sound that made his blind go blank for a second before regaining composure, his two fingers spreading your pussy in front of him. He enjoyed how desperate you were for him, how you bucked your hips begging for more, and he was going to give you everything you asked for.

His breaths came out in short pants, seeing you leak your juices around his fingers as you clenched around nothing. Pedri smirked up at you, obviously loving how you responded to his touch, he was filled with pride and arrogance, knowing he is the only one that gets to see this side of you.

Ending the cruel teasing, he finally lowered himself to your pussy, his brown eyes locked on yours, his fluffy and messy hair (😔😔) resting on his forehead. He ran his tongue over your folds, collecting your juices with the tip of his tongue as you moaned and arched your back into him. Pedri closed his eyes for a moment, savoring your taste against his tongue as he groaned, the vibration only making your thighs tremble even more.

His tongue moved up to your clit, flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves with practiced skill as his mouth sucked on it. Pulling away slightly, Pedri tore his eyes from you, instead, he looked at your pussy, his finger teasing your entrance, making you whimper with need. He smiled wickedly, his chin and stubble glistening with your juices as he did so, slowly sliding a finger inside of you and groaning at the warm, wet place.

"Estás tan necesitada, nena. Tan preparada para mí, tan mojada," he groaned, his middle finger starting to move in and out of you at a slow, steady pace. (you're so needy, baby. so ready for me, so wet.)

"Más," you managed to breathe out, looking down at him through your eyelashes as he rested between your thighs, watching his middle finger move in and out of you with sloppy sounds that seemed to fade away in the background of your moans.

You gasped and tilted your head back, your eyes closing shut as not only did you feel him add his ring finger, but also felt his tongue and mouth on your clit again, moving more rapidly this time. You moaned, his name rolling off your tongue like honey as his fingers seemed to hit every single one of your sweet spots, curling in that perfect way to push you closer to your orgasm, your sleep long forgotten.

The knot in your stomach tightened, making you clench around his fingers tightly, your hand tangling in his hair and guiding his movements to prevent him from edging you, your moans becoming more loud and desperate as your body spasmed with the intensity of your orgasm. Pedri helped you ride it out, his fingers sliding out of you as they got replaced by his tongue, licking and slurping on your juice like his life depended on it.

As you panted, trying to catch your breath, Pedri lifted himself up, his glistening lips formed into a grin, clearly pleased by how you two started the morning.

"Creo que podría acostumbrarme a mañanas como esta," he said cheekily, kissing your stomach and chest as he towered over you, coming face to face with you, still grinning as his eyes shined with mischief.

You chuckled, wiping his mouth and chin with your palm before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"Y creo que podría acostumbrarme a despertarme así," you grinned back with a cheeky giggle. (and i think i could get used to waking up like this) "Round 2?"

[deadhands69]

Harder, Softer, Harder

MDNI

Dabi x gn/afab Reader

Dabi helps after you're hit with a sex quirk Contains: consensual sex/non consensual situation I wanted to keep these as consistent to the same story as possible, hence Dabi leaving with two girls even if this one is written as more canon/slightly broken introverted Dabi. (I’m still amused by the idea of him being an absolute slut in the Shigaraki fic though.) Typically, I don’t assign jobs/quirks to the reader unless it’s relevant to the story. This isn’t a crucial part of the plot but a record store reader seemed like so much fun. After seeing High Fidelity too young to understand it, all I got out of that movie was that I wanted to work in a record store when I was older. For obvious reasons, my mom laughed at me and I never ended up with that job. But it seems sooo cooollll. So, record store reader. Maybe you’re there full time or just work there part time for fun or something. [wc: 2.2k]

This is part of an ongoing series: shigaraki version - bakugo version

It was supposed to be a quiet night. The wind lightly blew warm summer air over your skin as you walked through the shopping district with one of your best friends. You were leaving a small cafe and planned to visit a few shops next. Everything would have been fine, if not for - 

A sudden commotion draws your attention to the sidewalk as you’re walking out the door. Out of nowhere, you can’t see. Everything is dark and you would almost assume it’s in your head if not for the screaming and shoving surrounding you. Instinctively, you and your friend grab each other, ducking to the ground in an effort to find clear air. Ten seconds feels like an eternity but just as quickly as it came on, the darkness dissipates. 

A man rolls off the sidewalk in front of you and you immediately know it was him. Having never seen his face before, you connect the dots: he’s the sex quirk villain that's been all over the news lately. He has to be. He has the face of someone you’d imagine looking through the window of a locker room. He winks at you before running across the street towards some dumpsters in front of an alleyway. That brief interaction makes you sick to your stomach.

Sick isn’t all you feel.

Your insides twist in a familiar way, aching. Empty.

Fuck.

Before you can dwell on it, a familiar figure in the crowd catches your eye.

His hoodie blocks most of his face, but you’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

“Dab-” you begin to shout before he cuts you off.

“Hey, quiet,” he looks around, “I gave you that name in confidence. Not to yell in public.” His eyes continue shifting, but he sees that no one notices him in the chaos. 

“You doing alright?” he asks.

“We’re… fine,” you reply, “both of us got hit with that quirk though.” 

You stare up at him expectantly. He does know what that villain's quirk does, right?

“Your friend here have anywhere to go?”

“Yeah, she needs to get to her boyfriend’s apartment.” 

“Alright,” he says in a gravelly voice, putting an arm around each of you, “let’s get out of here before heroes anyone else shows up. Lead the way.”

The walk drags on forever, for how short it seemed earlier in the night. You can’t help but notice how much warmer Dabi feels against your body. It’s like every part of you is drawn to him. He only has an arm around you but you can’t help but want more. 

He follows the directions you give to get your friend to her destination. Her boyfriend is already waiting outside the building to take her in. Once you see that she’s safely taken care of, your mind begins to wonder. Dabi never said he’d help you, he’s just escorting you…somewhere?

“Where to next?” you ask.

“Don’t you need to…” he trails off, his intense eyes looking you up and down.

“Yeah,” you answer, trying to hide how flustered you are by quickly turning the direction of your own living space. 

He follows.

Honestly, you don’t know him all that well. You know his name is Dabi (or Touya, as he sometimes changes it up when putting in special orders) and he’s the cute regular at your work. You could list all of his favorite songs, but you have no clue where he lives. What he does throughout the day. 

Fortunately, you don’t live far. 

Unfortunately, it’s proving to be the longest four blocks you’ve ever walked in your life. With every step, you notice the way your pants brush against you. Turning you on even more than you thought possible for such a mundane situation. It doesn’t help having a hot guy close. And god, you can’t stop staring at him.

 Of course you always found him attractive, but today he’s irresistible. There’s something sweet in the way he smiles. How he looks at you like you’re the only person alive. The way he casually moves through the world as if he's unaware of how insanely attractive he is. It's effortless.

Dabi takes your arm, wrapping it around his to make sure you don’t lose your balance in the street. You look woozy, he’s decided.

The first time you ever talked to him, he was looking for a specific album, which happened to be your favorite band/musician. The two of you talked for half an hour about music before you offered to order the record for him to pick up later. Since then, he’s come in once a week like clockwork to look at the new arrivals and talk about music. Lately, he’d been bringing you coffees after you yawned once at work. When you brought it up, he brushed it off like it was no big deal and never spoke of it again.

All green flags so far though. He seems sweet so you don’t have many apprehensions about bringing him home with you. Besides, he’s your best option and you’ve secretly wanted this for a while anyways.

Before you know it, you’re walking through the door to your own home. Work crush in tow.

Good thing you cleaned up a bit earlier today.

“I like the space,” he says, as you hang your keys by the door.

“Thanks,” you reply awkwardly. It’s nice enough, you think to yourself. Not really noteworthy. He must just be making conversation. 

For how much you couldn’t keep your eyes off him and how painfully turned on you are, seeing him in your living room is still, well, nerve wracking. He seems too beautiful to actually be here, yet there he is. Staring at you with his hands in his pockets. Wearing a slight smirk while he waits for you to invite him into your bedroom. Or your couch.

Deep breath, he knows why he’s here.

“So,” he starts while walking closer to you, stopping less than a foot away. “Still feeling fine?”

Nope. Your face is flushed and you’re overwhelmed.

He knows that too, he can tell by the way you squeeze your legs together. How your breathing is different than usual. But he’s not just going to come out and say it. You never really asked for his help, as much as he’s willing to give it. He can be confident, to a point. But he’s waiting for you to approach him.

The coffee. Showing up every week, specifically during your shift. His arm around you while you walked here. Standing closer than friends typically do, but not fully closing the distance.

He’ll bring himself to you, knowing exactly what you need, but you’ll have to be the one to reach out for him if that’s what you want.

And you do.

You want him.

So, you reach for him.

He’s so close already, his face just above yours as he looks down at you. Gently, you run your fingers up his neck. 

He freezes at the touch.

It's what he wants, really. He’s been waiting for this moment since he walked into the record store and met you. But comfort is a feeling he can’t quite place. Your hand softly caressing over his jaw.  He can’t feel much on the scarred area, but it’s the meaning behind it that counts. He doesn't hate it, it's just a lot at once.

“Are you okay with this?” you ask, his face still blank as he stares at you. “It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“Yeah, I’m fine” he smiles, shaking himself out of it, “can’t feel anything there anymore.”

“Oh,” your fingers trail over the soft skin of his cheek down to his upper lip, “how about here?”

“Yeah, that I can feel.”

You can’t help yourself, you have to ask…

“What about…” your eyes shift down.

“You trying to find out?” he laughs.

“I mean, you did come home with me after I got hit by a sex quirk.”

“Yeah, yeah," he rolls his eyes. "Come on. Which room is you?”

Since you met Dabi, you've dreamed of this. You could never have imagined it happening in real life, but it's finally happening. You haven't even had time to celebrate touching him, now he's in your room. Hands on your hips, guiding you to the bed. Pushing you playfully onto the mattress before climbing on top of you. He leans in closer, nose brushing against yours. You take it upon yourself to close the space between the two of you. Bringing your lips to his, focusing mostly on the parts you know he can feel.

He tenses, but kisses you back. It's interesting watching his typical nonchalance crack away. 

He continues kissing you, slightly awkwardly. Pausing slightly whenever your touch becomes too affectionate. He’s loosening up though.

His warm hands slide up your shirt, resting against your ribs. Occasionally squeezing as he becomes more comfortable with the closeness. Eventually, he takes your shirt off entirely. 

You do the same, pulling his hoodie off to grip his t-shirt underneath.

At this point, you’re so horny it’s painful and kissing him is only making it worse. In desperation, you grab his hips and slam them into you hard for any relief. 

His eyes light up. 

This, he can understand. He's comfortable with roughness. It's not like he spends every night fucking his hand thinking about it, but when he does he imagines it more like this. 

“Like that, [y/n]?” he huffs teasingly, pounding down into you, harder than you'd managed to earlier. 

You only manage to gasp in response. 

It’s like you opened Pandora’s box, giving him permission to live out his fantasy. This sparks his confidence again.

He pulls your bra strap down, flicking his tongue over your nipple. Eye contact never wavering while you melt into a puddle beneath him.

“Dabi, fuck,” you moan at his touch. 

The pressure in your gut builds as he continues to rub against you. Both of your pants begin feeling increasingly in the way. You yank his belt undone, shoving his tight jeans down with it. His dick springs forward, tenting his underwear. 

Looks like you’re not the only horny one. 

“Like what you see?” his husky voice asks. He sounds self-assured, but based on everything else you’ve seen this evening you know there’s a bit of a question in there.

“Mhmmm,” you reach out to grasp him through the fabric. 

Continuing to follow your lead, he pulls your pants off as well. Tossing them to the floor of your bedroom. His hand is softer than you expected when he slides into your underwear. Rubbing intensely against your clit while he kisses you deeply. You’re about to pull the last of his clothes off when his other hand grabs your wrists to pin them above your head. 

Everything in you wants as much of him as possible. 

“Need you to fuck me,” you whine into his ear.

He smirks, pulling his dick out himself. It’s thick. Making you wonder how you’d never noticed it before in the tight pants he wears. How does he hide that?

Without letting go of your wrists, he lines himself up with one hand. Rubbing his tip between your lips before pressing into you. He’s certainly not being gentle, but you can tell he’s holding back.

He pauses.

Wide eyed, for a moment he looks more surprised than you that this is happening. Regaining composure, he begins to move his hips. 

It’s everything you’ve needed all evening and then some.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so good,” he groans down at you. 

Some combination of the heat building in you all night, the stretch of him, and his praising voice sends you over the edge. You’ve never cum so fast in your life but there’s a first for everything. Dabi looks pleased with himself.

He fucks you hard through your orgasm. Pressing your hands into the bed. Your head is spinning as the quirk wears off; you feel detached from everything but him. His eyes are nearly glowing as they stare down into yours.

His hands loosen around your wrists, sliding away from your arms onto the bed. You find yourself chasing them, slipping your fingers between his. His movements stiffen and he glances away. 

It’s interesting. He had no apprehensions around burying his dick in you but holding hands makes him nervous.  

You’ll save that one for another day.

Instead, you run your fingers over his arms. Feeling the smooth scars as you make your way to his shoulders. His movements become less constrained. He fucks into you hard and smooth, building the heat in your body once more.

Your pleasure crashes over you like a wave again, leaving you gasping while you grip his white t-shirt. Pulling him into you. Your hips angling to bring him as close as possible while you feel yourself squeeze around him.

“You feel amazing,” you whisper in his ear, “you’re so fucking perfect.”

At that, he can’t hold back any longer. 

His breathing becomes more erratic. Hips slamming harder into you until he gives one final thrust, filling you with cum. Head drooping as he groans into your neck.

You run your hands through his hair, letting him relax while you both catch your breath. 

The neck of his shirt hangs loosely over his shoulder, oops. You can’t help but kiss the area above his collar bone sweetly. Even if you know he can barely feel it. He tenses and you realize it was too much, pulling away.

“Don’t stop,” he whispers.

m.list

[galedekarios]

thinking about how gale's love language is acts of service.

people have talked at length about how he cooks for everyone at camp.

"the hand that feeds is the hand that's loved. it'll never leave your side now."

but that's not all of it, and it's a red thread that weaves itself through almost all his interactions throughout the game.

"magic is... my life. i've been in touch with the weave for as long as I can remember. would you like to experience this?"

gale shows the protag his world, his life, trying to connect them to the weave as he had once been, when he was still a chosen, still an archmage. it's not quite the same, it doesn't come quite as easy. still.

"i'm so very glad you came. to share this with me. i know this is all unreal, but i created it for you. you must know that you're... that you're very special to me. if things were different, if we were home, i'd have taken time to do things properly. to say it all better. but time is short. i'm in love with you."

gale knew he was living on borrowed, he knew it would run out eventually, even well before elminster came to deliver mystra's instructions.

he can't give the protag something different and they aren't home and they're not going to go home at the end of this. he knows this. time that once seemed so infinite when he was young is now whittled down to a single last night.

a last night that he uses to turn a dark and cursed land into a beautiful forest, northern lights dancing across a starry sky. he can't go home, he can't take the protag home, but he can give them an illusion of the centre of his universe, with all the well-loved things in it. there's no pretention here. books strewn across the floor, across the desk. sculptures, paintings, music. a view of home. the smell of the sea breeze.

baring his heart as well his soul in the little time he still has left to use how he sees fit.

"let me show you more. when you wake, it will be back in our small, dirty, bloody patch of existence. but stay with me now. there are endless worlds out there. countless ways to declare love. infinite ways to express it. too much for one night... but we shall try."

let me show you waterdeep, let me show you my home, my universe. let me show you how it would have been, could have been, if i did have time. let me show you more. let me show you how much i love you in the one night we may have left together.

let me give my soul to you, in confidence.

"i'd actually been thinking of introducing the two of you anyway. over a sumptuous home-cooked meal, if that sounds at all to your taste? i make it to my mother's recipe."

he wants to give the protag a chance to get to know tara, the one constant in his life, the one who became his only friend, his safe haven in the storm, the one that bore witness to his greatest triumphs and most abject failures. he wants to cook for them. he wants to take them home so very badly—

and yet he knows he won't make the date.

"then have me, but have the best possible version of me. [...] think of what i offer: the vastness of eternity to explore, the weave at our fingertips... you would really prefer me as i am?"

he could be more for the protag, if they wish him to be. could be more, could be better.

without all the flaws, without all the things that make gale only who he is. the things that sometimes simply aren't enough. he could be everything that plain old gale dekarios, that even the wizarding prodigy gale of waterdeep, could never be.

[voxslays]

THE SPINDLE

Featuring >>> Lucifer x Reader; In which, an attempt to kill baby Charlie goes south. Resulting in a soporific curse placed upon the reader, who struggles to deal with the aftermath of its affects.

A/N: It doesn’t happen this chapter, but y’all know it’s coming next chapter. Sorry this chapter is so short- I’ll release the next chapter tomorrow to make up for it.

Part Two Part Four

After being told you may never recover and there was no cure, Lucifer and you were distraught. However, years passed without anything happening—sure, you were still tired all the time—but you made it through, and for a while it seemed like you were getting better, like the curse was through some miracle disappearing. As the years passed and you showed no signs of entering an eternal sleep, Lucifer began to hope that the curse had somehow faded or been broken. He watched you closely, waiting for any sign that the tiredness would win, but you remained stubbornly awake. He started to believe that maybe, just maybe…the doctors were somehow wrong.

Yet, despite all the doubt, suffering, and mild depression—you managed to hide the symptoms of your curse from your family. What they didn’t know, couldn’t hurt them…right? Lucifer’s loving gaze follows your every movement, studying you intently - something you've noticed and tried to hide from. The subtle darkness under your eyes, the slight delay before you respond to questions, the forced enthusiasm in your voice when you help Charlie with her homework.

Speaking of Charlie, with the help of Lucifer, you had raised your daughter into a beautiful young teenager. She was now sixteen years old…and in her goth faze…which both you and Lucifer had tried to talk her out of, when she angrily yelled ‘It’s not a faze!’ and you both left her alone. However, it seemed like she was growing out of that emo phase. She wasn’t even wearing black this morning! And today was a very special morning—it was Charlie’s sixteenth birthday!

Outside, your Imp servants were setting up a giant outdoor pool party for Charlie and all her friends while you and Lucifer sit inside and eat breakfast. As you sit at the table, Charlie bursts into the room, still in her pajamas. She rushes over to hug you tightly, nearly knocking you out of your chair. "It’s my birthday, Mom!" She exclaims, her face flushed with excitement. “I know my sweet apple.” You coo as she sits down next to you. “Are you excited for tonight?”

“Yes!” Charlie squeals as Lucifer chuckles warmly, watching your mother-daughter interaction. He reaches across the table to squeeze your hand. "Don't wear yourself out today, sweetness. You've been doing too much lately." He gives you a knowing look, concern evident in his eyes. “Luce, you know I’ve been feeling better lately.” You smoothly lie through your teeth. He narrows his eyes slightly, clearly not fully convinced. "Have you?" His voice is gentle but probing, knowing all too well how well you can hide your symptoms.

“I have.”

Sighing softly, Lucifer lets it go for now. He knows pushing the matter will only lead to an argument, and he doesn't want to ruin Charlie's special day. Instead, he turns his attention to your daughter, who is already bouncing in her seat with excitement. “Alright, alright, calm down.” He says as he watches Charlie bounce up and down. “Charlie go get ready for the party!" Lucifer laughs as he stands up and ruffles Charlie's hair. "I'll go make sure everything is set up out by the pool." He kisses your forehead before heading out. “Lets go, shall we my little apple?” You slowly rise from your chair as Charlie practically jumps out of her chair and follows you to her room.

As the afternoon wears on, you find yourself growing more and more exhausted. You try to hide it, putting on a brave face for Charlie's sake, but it's getting harder. Finally, as you're helping Charlie fix her hair, you can barely keep your eyes open. “Hey mom, can you go get me my dress?” Charlie asks, unaware you can barely keep your eyes open. “Of course, sweetheart.” You quickly leave the room, praying that nobody notices your exhaustion.

You walk down the large red-carpeted hallways, with regal golden design, hoping to find a room to hide in until you’re feeling better. Unfortunately, your devilish lover walks down the hallway at the same time as you. Seeing you stumble slightly in the hallway, Lucifer's concern turns to worry. He quickly makes his way inside, finding you leaning against the wall for support. "Sweetheart, are you okay?" He asks softly, his hand reaching out to steady you. "You don't look so good."

“Just tired.” You yawn, holding your hand over your mouth as if to contain your exhaustion. Lucifer’s eyes scan your face, noticing the dark circles and pale skin. He knows you're pushing yourself too hard, and it's taking a toll. "Tired? You look exhausted. Maybe you should rest for a bit before the party starts." You sigh, not even trying to fight your prideful husband—who was not so prideful at the moment, his golden eyes showing fear and concern. “Alright.” You take his hand as he leads you deeper down the hallway.

Once you reach your bedroom door, Lucifer picks you up bridal style and carries you like a princess to the giant king-sized bed. He helps you kick off your uncomfortable shoes and tosses them aside. Gently, he makes sure you're comfortable on the bed before pulling the covers over you. "Get some sleep, okay? I'll take care of everything else." And for a moment you close your eyes and rest.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Mitsuhide's Sequel Preview

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

Not proofread.

Amidst a chaotic era, I met my destined one and discovered love—only to find that with love came an inescapable sadness and fear.

Mitsuhide: "I can't even find the words to describe what it feels like to be with you like this."

We relied on each other, carrying a mix of happiness and fear in our hearts, but eventually, this fragile yet special bond began to fall apart.

(Huh?)

Mitsuhide: "............"

(I'm pretty sure we kissed.)

Sasuke: "I think this unusual situation can be explained as follows."

Sasuke: "You are slowly losing your ability to interact with people living in this era."

Mai: "As if I'm like a ghost."

Following the blank guidebook, a horrifying change began to consume me.

Just as the anxiety in my chest grew, a blood-red ominous cloud darkened the sky.

Ranmaru: "So, if I got this right, they're planning an attack using the assault of the Kicho-Motonari faction, and now other minor enemy generals are also plotting rebellion."

Mai: "Let's hurry back and inform everyone."

Masamune: "We've decided to lead our forces to quell the rebellious troops."

(It's finally turned into an armed conflict.)

Mai: "Please, stay safe."

Masamune: "Yeah."

Keiji: "Leave it to us."

(I'm glad, it reached.)

(But how long will this last?)

(How long will I...)

Mitsuhide: "Mai, take a deep breath."

Looking back, it was always this person's cold hands that protected me.

Standing at the edge of despair, I felt like I understood his pain as he walked through the darkness, holding on to a thread of hope.

Mai: "I'm okay now. I can stand on my own."

Mitsuhide: "Don't say you're okay."

Mai: "Huh?"

Mitsuhide: "I already know you're someone who can stand alone, but still, let me walk beside you."

(What are we doing?)

(We're both hiding our true feelings, but we see right through each other, pretending to be strong together.)

Because we cared for each other, our paths were starting to separate, but even so...

Mitsuhide: "Mai, I have no doubts and regrets."

Mitsuhide: "It's just that being without you is lonely."

Mitsuhide: "You and the world you live in are dear to me."

(I used to think that to save something, I had to sacrifice something else.)

(But who decided that?)

Even if I can't see, hear, or touch it, I will remain here, holding on to that one light.

And now, the ultimate battle begins.

Mitsuhide: "The path I walk is a one-way road to hell, but if you say you'll walk it with me, I'll push aside the enemy's fangs and the eternal flames for you."

Mitsuhide: "I'll fight them all for you."

[a-spes]

T H E D O G ' S F A L L - One shot.

Words count - 5,2k.

Tags & Warnings - mob boss!Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader, angst, harm/comfort, manipulation, mentions of blood/past abuses, human trafficking.

Summary - Anyone that can beat her in a fight will earn her, and Natasha intends to be the one, working hard to get what she thinks is hers. A dog can't fight for eternity, can it?

Moodboard here.

N/A - It's the longest os I've wrote so far, took me a lot of time but it's enventually here so I really hope you'll enjoy it! If it's the case, don't hesitate to let me know by interacting with the post :)

It is at the back of that popular night club that everything is happening, where no one can see your distress except the one that enjoys it, where everyone is too busy having fun to pay attention to the veritable purpose of this building. On a dark corner that light never reaches, a man is guarding the most important secret of that place, and very few are the people he lets through; only rich and influential men and women get their ticket for this special spectacle that takes place here every night.

Down there, the loud music is replaced by the shouts of excited men that makes her sigh; why do they have to scream like animals? If she gets a few glances, no one dares to say anything as the infamous Black Widow is walking through the crowd to get to her place. She has blood on her back, people are whispering, some from admiration, others from fear, but no one stays indifferent - how could they? One of the most important mafia bosses of the city, but also one of the most discreet, is here. She has her reputation and, even if she is rarely seen, she is well-known, so none of the men dares to protest when she decides to take place in their lodge, chasing them out of the room. 

From here, she has a perfect view of the cage and, most importantly, of the Dog.

It is obvious that there is no way out of the ring, that you are trapped in that cage until one of these men’s victory - or your last breath - but, somehow, you still believe that defeating them will lead you out of that basement. So, not caring about how many of them are daring to step in your cage, you beat them, one by one. You watch the man you just defeated being escorted out of the cage so the next one could take his place - it gives you a few seconds to catch your breath. 

The world is spinning, you can’t even see the faces of your opponents, but you don’t give up. Even if the only thing you want is to curl up in the corner, crying for your mom, you can’t. You can’t because it will mean giving them your life. No, you need to be stronger than them, to pretend that you don’t feel the pain inflicted by their blows, to pretend that you are not bothered by the metallic taste of the blood in your mouth, they need to believe you could do that all night. But you are not foolish and you know damn well that you won’t last long. 

It is hard to focus on anything, even on breathing, because you are overwhelmed by a crew you can't even see, blinded by the lights; you are the spectacle. They all came to see the Dog fighting, hoping to witness its fall. They are shouting, mostly insults in Russian, whistling and clapping everytime something exciting is happening during a fight, but it won’t be enough to save you from that place. 

Oh, at first, they were cheering for you, but it slowly changed, people getting tired of seeing your pretty face every night. They thought you would be easy to break and hated to be proven wrong, and you perfectly know that the stakes have changed. It is no longer about giving them what they want, entertainment, it is purely about surviving and you noticed how the attitude of your opponents changed over the weeks, becoming more aggressive.

You were a champion, now you are just a little bitch they need to get rid of. 

The organization that threw you in that rat hole understood that as much as you did and, tonight, they changed the rules. Tonight, it'll be only you against the world, until they are tired of it. No break, no help, everytime one leaves, the next one is already stepping in the ring, as an endless torture. 

Tonight, she will be one of them. She has been looking at you hungrily since the first time she came here, and she knows that you will be hers by the end of the night, after all she came just for that, to take you home.

Even if she is here every night, you never had a chance to notice the woman. She was always sitting in the last row, observing you from her balcony, where she is hidden by the shadow, but she noticed you for sure. The time she came, it was only because of one of her associates that wanted to meet here specifically, she never left since. From the moment her eyes landed on you, she was unable to think about anything else, the way you were looking so innocent but so feroce at the same time got her heart. 

She sent a few of her best men, knowing they would lose, as a test, waiting for the moment it would be her turn to enter the cage. She never expected them to win and she would have killed them if they had the audacity to: she is the one that is supposed to defeat you, the only one that has the right to own you. The urge to possess you only grew stronger over the weeks, being deeper every time she came here, she wants to see you as you are breaking under her effect, to control every aspect of your life. 

So she patiently waited for the right time to come, she always liked a bit of challenge anyway, having a soft spot for things that are hard to get. She worked hard to get you, spending weeks observing every of your movements: she learned how you are fighting and your habits, she learned to read your body and face as if she was on your mind, and that’s the difference with the others: if you are a game for them, for her, you are a goal she must reach at all costs. 

As soon as your eyes laid on her, you knew she wouldn’t back up, somehing in the way she stepped in the cage already made all the difference. It is her confidence. It is the smirk on her face, a cocky one. It is the way her hands are stuck in her pockets while she is observing you. It is the slight sigh as she gets rid of her leather jacket. It is all these details that give the impression that she is just here to settle a formality, already certain of her victory.

Even the way she is moving has something unrealist. Every step, every look, is calculated and almost imperceptible. Usually, you would step forward, ready to fight even before they entered the cage to show them you are not afraid, but this time? You can’t help but instinctively step back when she enters. The movement was slight, as you were already leaning the grid but she noticed it, the way her aura is pressuring you, and she loves it.

As soon as the door was closed, your fate was sealed.

It all happened really fast because she knew exactly what to do, she prepared for that moment. You quickly realized that you were right: the woman had nothing in common with the men you were fighting against earlier, you never stood a chance to win that fight. The realization is more painful than the blows she is currently throwing at you. Every punch you try to land, she knows exactly how to dodge it. As if she was on your mind, she knows exactly where to hit to get you weak, stealing your breath and your strenght, having you on your knees then laying on the floor in less than a few minutes. 

At first, you tried to get up, to fight, but she is faster than you are, and wiser, and stronger, and more trained. She is being pretty much better in everything. Soon your vision is so blurry that you can’t see anything, you are feeling so weak that even moving your fingers or keeping your eyes open is just too much. 

"Stay still,” she quietly ordered when she noticed you were struggling against her grip - she had you pinned down on the ground by pressing her foot on your back and grabbed your hair to lift a bit your head. "You're going to be mine no matter what, so don't make things harder for yourself, honey." 

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

You hear the countdown but, this time, it is not your victory that is announced, it is hers. As soon as her name is shouted by the crew, her grip releases your hair but you simply don't have the strength to move, the news leaves a void in your chest. The pain, but mostly this feeling of emptiness, is keeping you frozen in place. She owns you, and this simple idea is sending shivers through your whole body. You don't realize yet what is happening, thinking that, maybe, it is just a cruel joke on you, and it explains the lack of reaction when she asks you to get up; she needs to grab your arm and lift to get you on your feet. 

You stumble, fighting the urge to vomit. Your brain can barely process what is happening, especially when you realize that your feet are not touching the ground anymore. In her arms, you are nothing more than a rag doll, silent and motionless, barely having the energy to keep your eyes open. 

"She is not for sale,” she coldly said, her voice bringing you back to reality. As she was on her way to get out of the night club, some men were offering the woman outrageous amounts of money in the hope of getting you, they all backed up once she coldly glanced at them. "No one will ever take you away from me, do you hear that, love? You are safe as long as you’re with me," she then whispered in your ears. 

You drift into unconsciousness as soon as the car starts, despite the woman that kept begging you to keep your eyes open, the way she was cadling you not helping. You just had enough time to notice the men sitting at the front of the black van, both armed and intimidating, before falling into darkness. 

You opened your eyes again when the car stopped in an alley. It is late, the sun gave its throne to the moon a long time ago and, even if you can't tell what time it is, you know it is the middle of the night. How many hours did you spend down there, fighting for your life? The question makes you sick because the only answer is too many. All these hours for nothing because, no matter how hard you triee, you loose. You were never supposed to win their twisted game, you never got a chance and you slowly realize that the promised freedom was just a lure. For weeks you believed them, you played along their rules, thinking it was the only way to get your life back.

And here you are, in the arms of your new owner, a woman you know nothing about but that now has every rights on you, even if you will live depends exclusively on the redhead's choices. The fear twists your stomach, the humiliation clenches your throat and the exhaustion makes your eyes burning, tears threatening to roll down your cheeks.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, you repeat in your head, but you don't know for how long you will be able to keep your tears for yourself.  

The woman is not looking at you at all, she is concentrating on not falling as she is walking to the house, barely seeing where her feet are landing. You, however, can't help but observe every detail of her face, noticing how serious her expression is. You are trying to guess how your life is going to be by her side, but you can't, she is a complete mystery and you hate that.

A part of you wants to go back in that basement. It may have been a living hell, but you had your habits, you knew how to survive, now you will have to learn everything again. 

You notice that two armed persons are guarding the front door and, when you pass by them, they exchange a few words in Russian. You can't understand a word of what they are saying, but you guess they are greeting the woman, beside some insults, you don't know a lot and only because that's how they used to call you.

The inside of the penthouse is exactly as you imagined it: expensive, tidy and minimalist. You never felt comfortable in that kind of environment, it always reminded you that you will never have a place in that sphere, you are nothing more than their animal, a dog that does everything they want. 

Once inside, you almost expected her to drop you on the floor but she didn't. Her grip is strong, as if she doesn't want to let you go, that's because she is scared too. She exchanged a few words in Russian with a woman before heading upstairs. 

Your eyes closed because of the light, you don't see much more of the house, nor of where you are going. You can feel that she climbs the stairs, takes a few turns and walks through a door before she eventually lets you go. It is with care that she sits you on the floor of the bathroom. 

"Here we are," she whispered, "you can open your eyes, love," she added when she noticed they were still closed. If you can't see her smile, you can feel her hand brushing your cheek. 

For weeks you didn't see anything else than pitch darkness and the dimmed light of the basement where you were fighting, it is great to eventually be able to see something else. She even made sure to not turn the big light on, only a small one in the corner that diffuses a subdued light. Somehow, she knows exactly what to do to make you feel comfortable. 

"Let me help you," she said, coming closer to kneel in front of you when she realized you couldn't take your bath alone.

On the way home, she sent a message for one of her maids to run a bath for you to enjoy when you arrived. The mirrors fog up and a scent of jasmine fills the room, but even if the idea of taking a bath sounds good, you don't move. You are curled at the exact place she left you in, your knees against your chest.

You are like a dog, but nothing like a fighting one, she thought when she saw how you tried to back up when she reached for your shirt.

"I am not going to do anything," she quietly said, trying to sooth you by using a gentle tone and caressing your cheek with her thumb. "I am going to help you to get rid of those rags so you can get a bath, okay? Then, we can clean your wounds and have a good meal, does this sound good?" she asked and you slowly nodded. 

She helps you to get rid of your clothes that are closer to rags honestly as they have holes in them, the fabric being soaked in dirt, blood and sweat, sticking to your skin. You never felt so vulnerable than right now, under her serious gaze, what is she thinking about? It is impossible to guess but you can feel her eyes on your body as she looks you up and down. A quick glance which allows her to take a mental note about all your injuries.

"What are you doing?" she chuckled, when her eyes didn’t land on your chest but on your crossed arms - you were trying to hide, how cute. "How silly you are,” she whispered when noticing you didn't seem to understand what she was talking about, "thinking you can hide like that."

Her tone sounded too sweet for it to genuinely be and there is something behind her gentle tone that is rigging alarms in your head. You can't tell what it is exactly, but there is that weird feeling, your instinct screaming at you to be careful when your body just wants to give up and be in her arms, ‘cause what could go wrong?

She takes your hands to pull them away from your chest so you can’t hide from her anymore. Her grip is firm, just a little too strong so you understand that, despite her sweet smile, she won't hesitate to be harsh with you if you don’t behave. However, she still seems to be extra careful while moving you, as if you were a porcelain doll, because for nothing in the world she would hurt her fragile princess. She  slowly takes your arms away so she can give a glance at all your injuries. What she sees makes her sigh, she seems about to say something but keeps her words for herself ; you should have been more careful. 

She helped you to get in the bath and it was a nice moment, a few minutes you got for yourself because, surprisingly, she let you bathe yourself alone. Oh, she wasn’t far away, just at the other end of the room, keeping a close eye on you at every time, but dealing with something on her phone. She would occasionally comment on the way you were doing things, talking you throught it so you can shower the proper way, her way. Once you are done, she wraps you on a soft towel, bandages your wounds and gives you clothes that are hers, a hoodie and a short, and you can’t help but notice how good they are smelling, how comfortable you are feeling in these.

"Did you say something?" she genuinely asked, turning to you because she was sure she heard you mumbling a few words. 

She was talking about your life here, talking almost alone as you weren’t really talkative, but thinking she would miss the words you whisepered was a mistake because she never misses anything.

"Nothing important," you replied, but this answer doesn't seem to please the woman, something twitching in her eyes, coming from soft to sharp.

"When I ask you a question, you reply to it, am I clear?” she said, immediately leaving what she was doing to come close to you and grab your chin.  “You are not the one that gets to decide what’s important, your small brain can't handle big decisions and that's why I am here. I mean, see how it got you to be by yourself …" she continued, looking at you with disdain, as if she was thinking that it is only your fault if you ended up in that rat hole, caught in human trafficking. “I am here to give you a second chance and you better take it ‘cause it may be the last… so don't talk to me like that ever again, did I make myself clear enough?"

The only answer you are able to give her is a whining accompanied by a sniffle and she obviously doesn’t like that. Even if you tried your hardest to not let those tears rolling down your cheeks, you can’t help it, her harsh words only making things worse because you are already hating to disapoint the woman. 

"If I knew you would cry, I would've sold you ..", she sighed in annoyance, her nails digging into your skin, "I hate cry-babies, understand?" she asked, but it wasn’t not a question: it was a warning. "The fighter I saw in that ring must be here when I am back," she coldly added before releasing the pressure she was exerting on your face.

She leaves, slamming the door shut so you easily understand that she is upset with you reacting that way. She has done everything she could in order to help you to be comfortable here : she gave you a bath and clothes, cleaned your wounds, promised you a meal and a bed, even gave you comfort but it still doesn't seem to be enough because you were crying as if she was some sort of monster, and she can't bear that vision. She tried to repeat to herself that you are just tired, that things are going to get better with time but it doesn’t calm her down. Whether you want it or not, she will make sure that, one way or another, you will accept her and she won't hesitate to use the hard way if she has to. 

When she comes back, she notices that didn't move an inch, scared by what the woman could say and impressed by the bedroom. But it didn’t prevent your eyes from wandering around the room. It is really minimalist, there is nothing that could give you a hint about the person she is, everything is exactly where it should be, not a speck of dust and no personal objects. It feels like a hotel room more than hers.

When you hear the door, your gaze settles on the woman. Your knees are bent against your chest as if it could protect you from all the dangers of the world. She probably left you for only five minutes, but they felt like hours. Your thoughts had time to run while waiting for her : what about trying to escape? But it never worked, it’s always a dead end, a path to regrets because they always find you, making sure you won’t even think about doing it again and, if they do not find you, it's someone else. You learned that there is no escape and gave up on going back to your old life a long time ago. It is not even the fear of the armed men that is keeping you here, it's the void in you when you think about what you would do if you were free again, nothing. Nothing because you forgot how to live on your own. So you didn't move, not even a finger because she didn't ask you to do it, only being a dog that lives for its masters' will.

But what piques your curiosity is more the tray in her hands than anything else. As soon as she enters the room, closing the door behind her with her foot, a pleasant smell spreads through the room. You can see many things on the tray she brought back : a glass of water, some pills, a bowl of steaming soup with bread and a plate with rice, vegetables and chicken. When was the last time you ate a real meal? Long enough for you to not remember what it was.

"Eat." she said as she put the tray on your knees.

It smells good. That's the first thought that crossed your mind when you saw the plate. For a moment, you forget about the past hours; when was the last time you got a real meal? You can't remember, not even a fragment of a memory. 

You would eat what your owners give you, eat quickly before they come back, never knowing what you are eating nor when the next meal would be; you learned to not ask too many questions. At first, it was difficult to accept such a fate: you would refuse to even taste the food they were giving to you, but it didn't last long. Eventually, you started to eat - inhale - anything you were given without thinking twice about it.

Tonight, for the first time in years, you are going to eat something else than the leftovers of someone you don't even know. Tonight, you won't have to be scared about your food being stolen. Tonight, you can even see the smoke, a sign that your meal is still hot, freshly cooked and maybe homemade.

"I-," you started, but she didn't let you finish your sentence, your lips barely had time to move that she already cut you, leaving no place for an argument.

I am not hungry, you were about to say, and she somehow knew it. She also knew it was a lie, your stomach has been painfully twisted because of that sick feeling for days, but the knot is also caused by your fears. 

It all feels a bit too perfect. It feels like a trap, a way to encourage you to let your guard down only to break you after, making the fall harder. Some did that in the past, why not her? She doesn't look less cruel than the others. Yet, when she is talking, she seems more genuine, you could believe her when she says she only wants what's best for you, that she cares, she just has a twisted way to show it. 

"Yes, you are, so eat, now," she ordered you with such a cold tone that you don't dare to argue. There are all these warnings she doesn't say out loud but you can read in her eyes: just do whatever I tell you, pretty girl, they say. 

And, for sure, you don't want to face the consequences of your insubordination. So you slowly take the fork, not glancing away for one second, your eyes into hers. You are looking at every detail of her expression as if it would change, telling you that it is a trap, except it doesn't and her expression stays stern. It is impossible to read anything on her face, not even a hint of how she is feeling.

You take the first bit, carefully swallowing and… nothing happens. You don't feel weird, it doesn't taste bad and she doesn't snap at you for a small imaginary mistake you would have made. It is the complete opposite. The food is really good, melting on your tongue, and you start to eat quickly, not because you have to, but because you want to. For the first time in years, eating is a pleasure. 

She sighed when she noticed that you were inhaling your food, but she didn't say anything; she will have all the time later to change that habit of you. So she just stood there for a few seconds, observing you in silence, with her arms crossed, before sitting next to you - that's when you broke eye contact, once she was sure you would eat everything. 

As you are eating, she is barely paying attention to you, at least that's the impression she is giving. One of her arms wrapped around your shoulder, her hand is absently drawing circles on your skin while she is on her phone, dealing with something serious - you can hear her frustrated sighs from time to time.

Except she sees everything and your mistake was to not be careful enough around the woman. A little because of your clumsiness, mainly because of how fast you were eating, you dropped a bit of your food on the floor. You didn't think it was a big deal, picking it up to put it back on the plate. Three seconds rules, dropped on a clean floor, you don't have very high standards anyway - but she does. She turned to you the moment she felt you were moving, a curious, but disgusted, look on her face.

"What are you doing?" She asked, her hand grabbing your wrist before you could drop the bit of food on your plate. She moves your hand on the side of the tray, far from your plate, before you even get a chance to reply. "Drop it," she ordered to you, "that's gross, hope you weren't going to eat that." 

You shake your head, too scared to do anything else, but she knows you are lying; of course you were about to eat it. You spent the past years living like a fighting dog, you would eat anything she would give you, you might even eat directly from the dirty floor if she asked you to. She winces in disgust, not letting your hand go.

"Give me that," she snarled and you can feel how her grip tightened on your wrist to force you to give the fork away.

She then takes the tray that was in front of you to put it on her side of the bed, you are looking at her, scared she would definitely take your meal away. You are about to protest when she notices it and glances at you, daring you to say a word, you don't. 

"Come here," she said, gesturing you to come closer, she even grabbed your arm to guide you when she noticed you were hesitant to move.

She sits you between her legs and you are clearly uncomfortable, wiggling, but if she notices it, she doesn't seem to care. She is so close to you that you can feel her breath tickling your skin, but she keeps acting like nothing is weird here. When she leans to cut your food, you can feel her chest pressing against your back, the contact making your heart races. Too focused on how close you are to the woman, you barely noticed when she approached the fork from your mouth, waiting for you to open. It takes one more second for you to understand what she is waiting for and, when you do, you blush in embarrassment. She takes advantage of you opening your mouth to say something to feed you, and you don't dare to push her away. 

"Can't even eat alone, hm?" she whispered in your ear while you were chewing the bit of food she just gave you, "but that's fine, I am here now," she added, and there is something in her tone that makes you shiver.

Once she made sure you ate everything, she wrapped her arms around you, laying a kiss on your temple. It is strange how safe you are feeling in her embrace: for a few seconds you forget she is the one that beat you earlier. Right now, she is just someone that cares for you, with whom you feel at peace. You can't remember the last time someone made you feel that way, you can barely remember your life before entering the human trafficking circuit.

You don’t really know when you fell asleep, but your eyes were quick to close under the effects of her fingers running on your hair and of her voice whispering sweet words in your ears. At some point, a maid came to take the empty tray away and the woman layed the both of you in the bed, under the covers, trying her best to not wake you up. This night, you slept in a comfy bed, feeling protected in the arms of the woman despite the things she did, not even thinking one second about pushing away her hands that found their way under your sweatshirt, resting on your stomach. 

The Dog fell right into the Black Widow’s web.

[je-suis-applebread]

Wait do the beasts still want their souljams back? Since I see that PV and White Lily are in the au-

I was just wondering if the beasts have tension between the ancients but this also brings up the question of if the other ancients visit as well

mostly text post (that took quite some time)

so, where do i start... beasts-ancients relationships under the cut (there's a lot)

Beasts don't try to get soul jams anymore. They know, that once they get their hands on at least one, they would get grounded once again faster than they can say "world domination" - even though they don't know if Witches are the same they used to be or not, they know cookies would still be able to bury them alive at that tree, so isn't worth it.

But not that they even want to try that again. They've already lost once, what is there to repeat? They are kinda content with what they have now. And I find two of them a special case, actually.

Eternal Sugar and Silent Salt. After everything I came up with, I've found something special about them, something that especially noticeable in "what if eldad faerie died" reactions - Eternal Sugar wants them to be happy, Silent Salt tries to be there for them. They get closer to what their ideals were once. Maybe they're not Happiness and Solidarity per se, but sometimes they just feel like that. Of course, they're not gonna take respective soul jams to become whole again, neither do they have some special synergies with their Ancients, it's just a detail I really like.

Anyway, to relationships we go.

Mystic Flour:

- Dark Cacao: Dark Cacao HATES her for what had transpired during her chapter and - hey, can you really blame him for his feelings?? He just never wants to see her ever again (he'll have to on purelily's wedding, poor soul), he does not know what he will do if he sees her for too long. — She doesn't give a fuck about it or him.

- Pure Vanilla: she doesn't interact with him all too much, however he is terrified by what he heard from Dark Cacao. So he maybe wishes he won't stumble upon her. — She, once again, doesn't give a fuck.

- Hollyberry: she would like to call Mystic Flour out on feeling something because no way she believes Mystic Flour really apathethic to everything. — That's annoying to Mystic Flour, otherwise she also doesn't give a fuck

- Golden Cheese: they forbid her from starting fights because the first thing she did when found out about her doings from Dark Cacao, she started looking for her to at least punch her. She was held back physically, which did not stop her from shouting insults. — Mystic Flour was watching it with her annoyed face, mostly irritated by noise also not fully understanding why Golden Cheese reacts almost harsher than Dark Cacao when it wasn't even her kingdom, why would she feel something that strong when it didn't include her. If Golden Cheese is surprisingly in Faerie Kingdom, she locks herself up so she would not have to listen to her screams for another half an hour.

- White Lily: she really doesn't believe Mystic Flour is okay in any way though. Of course every Beast has their "oof lmao", but everyone is maybe slowly but surely come to senses and Mystic Flour... White Lily knows she must give a fuck about at least something, even if she is "Apathy". So she is mostly worried about her and her attitude. Also hearing about her deeds made White Lily once again think of her doings as Dark Enchantress, so she became quite quiet for a while (and Silent Salt was another quiet one, but tried to be a comforting presence). — Mystic Flour... She doesn't give a fuck to even try to not to give a fuck. Like, with others is mostly "ignore them", but with Lily she doesn't even acknowledge ignoring her

Shadow Milk:

- Pure Vanilla: after all the troubles, he really didn't want to believe a word of his and maybe possibly evade him. But being there with White Lily, he kinda got to know new Shadow Milk - mischievous and still very emotional, but otherwise mostly harmless. Sometimes he wonders if this is some grand deceit of his but then this silly boy hides behind him because he just annoyed Mystic Flour to point of giving a fuck and, well, it doesn't seem that likely. He is not fully comfortable with being around him - at first he wasn't comfortable with Shadow Milk at general, but after he got used to him it was because he didn't really want to be his hiding wall or involuntary coparticipant of his jokes and stuff. — And we all know what Shadow Milk feels about him. For him, Pure Vanilla is absolute bestie, he never let's this poor innocent guy go, for him he's that rat/mouse he picked up and said "youre my bestie now"

- Hollyberry: she kinda likes his energetic and funloving attitude. She gets that he shouldn't be trusted, but hanging around him is never boring for her. She trusts her friends that if Shadow Milk would start deceiving her, they would notice and get her back, so she's kinda chill about him. — He also finds her quite interesting, especially her stories. Especially dragon ones. And maybe she kinda internally compares him and Pitaya because under overall opinions, they're good companions.

- Dark Cacao: he can tolerate him, which already is times better than with Mystic Flour. Not very much aside from this though - Shadow Milk being cookie of Deceit is already a massive con for him, and his personality overall is kinda annoying for Dark Cacao. He can stay in the same room as him, but he's gonna grumble or leave it if Shadow Milk tries to communicate with him with no actual reason or pull some shenanigans of his. — As for Shadow Milk, Dark Cacao kinda reminds him of Silent Salt and a little of Mystic Flour, so bro can't stop himself from annoying this guy. Overall he's fine, but nothing really special standing out.

- Golden Cheese: she's wary of him, she's all like "I'm not letting you mess with my head". She's all ready for hitting him should the need come. Shadow Milk actually finds kinda amusing the fact that she was deceiving herself about her kingdom's fate. — He would like to mess with her about it or at least stir some talk that way but she never lets him.

- White Lily: she was a bit tense about him in the beginning, but slowly started to find his personality kinda amusing. His shenanigans were making her smile when she was sure of nothing, when her thoughts were trying to get her. She could see his obvious attachment to Elder Faerie what raised her trust towards him even more. — Shadow Milk, considering her closeness to Elder Faerie, kinda treats her like some kind of sister. Out of the Beasts, he knows how haunted she is by her past the most. If he was to cheer her up, she would think of it as a lie, so he mostly distracts her from thinking or gets Pure Vanilla's attention to her

Eternal Sugar:

- Hollyberry: drinking buddies. Okay, let's elaborate, she wasn't really trusting her at the beginning, but Eternal Sugar let her understand, that she has no harm in mind as of now. One time White Lily mentioned that Eternal Sugar makes really good wine and then Hollyberry accepted next drinking together suggestion. She slowly started warming up to her and really enjoys their drinking sessions. — Eternal Sugar actually first suggested drinking together right after her defeat. She basically said like, hey would you like to drink with me? i want to cheer over your victory. And of course Hollyberry was surprised aaand of course she was suspicious. But Eternal Sugar didn't stop after that rejection – after all, she knows that Hollyberry likes drinking, so that means they both like drinking the most out there so why not take her in drinking buddies and possibly just buddies down the line, with the way they giggle after first half of drinking session.

- Pure Vanilla: he likes to see how happy White Lily is to chat with her. He gets that Eternal Sugar is, like, mostly harmless when she has no motivation to commit atrocities, so he's actually very fine with interacting with her. He finds it pleasant to talk with her when they're together. — Eternal Sugar finds him cute in terms of personality. Also sis is main purelily supporter in this household, she finds him very good for White Lily.

- Dark Cacao: she doesn't really worry him. He isn't enthusiastic to communicate with her but if she tries to sometimes he entertains it. She's the most chill out of them and Dark Cacao gets it – like, he's not gonna trust Beasts, at least anytime soon, but he's kinda okay with her. — Eternal Sugar can't help herself but think of Silent Salt whenever she sees Dark Cacao, she actually suspects that just like Silent Salt, Dark Cacao also is a "softie"© inside, that's her main theory.

- Golden Cheese: the only Beast she is okay with. Golden Cheese actually finds her wings kinda cool, and maybe she sometimes pouts because Eternal Sugar doesn't agree to flying race. — Eternal Sugar is not a fan of races or such but she totally can't drop the topic of wing care. She had been asking Golden Cheese if she was doing anything with her wings and gave some of her wing care tips in return (and Golden Cheese had actually tried out a few)

- White Lily: she was invited on girls night by Eternal Sugar after a few visits to Beast-Yeast. She didn't really know what to expect, but it turned out just a girls night with her, Eternal Sugar and Mystic Flour. Like, of course, Mystic Flour was in her "i don't give a fuck", but White Lily and Eternal Sugar actually had quite some fun, spending the night by meaningless gossips and different hairstyles (they even made one for Mystic Flour). — Eternal Sugar just adores White Lily. Like, she was kinda intrigued when she met her for the first time, but the she started gradually realising that she wants to befriend her and so she did. Her bestie is Burning Spice, but White Lily is very close second, she's not even second, she's first and a half.

Burning Spice:

- Golden Cheese: Golden Cheese is tense and kinda down around him. Tense because of what he had been doing about soul jam stuff and down because he embodies destruction, he reminds her of her loss just by being there. She kinda tries to play neutrality or still being irritated about soil jam stiff around him, she mostly tries o leave whenever they're in the same place. — Burning Spice actually feels kinda bad because he had distressed an already traumatized person even more. He would like to somehow make up for that, but he can't really get a chance to do so.

- Pure Vanilla: he finds Burning Spice quite sincere person. Like, of course Burning Spice still gets into troubles and creates destruction, but most of the time it happens out of accidents, which makes Pure Vanilla calm about him. He's not malicious since the end of all the soul jam mess, and he finds him a fun person. Way too active to tag along, but fine to have an occasional chat with. — Burning Spice thinks he's a bit frail actually, not in the bad way. Like, if Pure Vanilla would get exhausted around him he would totally carry him (not that he wouldn't for others, but it's even more for Pure Vanilla). He kinda likes to ask him about Crispia, how the world is there.

- Hollyberry: she kinda finds their personalities a bit matching. Like, she had found him quite fine all the way almost in beginning when he crashed in something and was very embarrassed about destruction he caused. She suggested having a spar the very next time they saw each other (of course under supervision but he didn't mind), so she really likes running around with him when she visits. — Burning Spice also likes spending time with her. He actually was surprised to see so much power in such a cookie but oh he's all in for it. Especially after stories about dragons (which may have made him being happy as a little kid whenever he wins a long spar/forest race or something else against her)

- Dark Cacao: he actually gets skeptical half the times Burning Spice gets into another destructive accident but doesn't push on it looking at his friends. He is kinda tense about him, but actually his active yet sincere personality sometimes reminds him of Crunchy Chip and so sometimes he gets lost in fond thoughts around him. — Burning Spice finds him kinda grumpy but also thinks he has his reasons to be that way. He doesn't really try to communicate with Dark Cacao most of the time, knowing he would most likely be turned down or ignored, judging by his personality.

- White Lily: she gets worried about Burning Spice each time he crashes into something or something like that happens again. Burning Spice spends quite some time with Eternal Sugar, so she finds him being her good friend just like Eternal Sugar. — Burning Spice can't think of her any way except as a friend or kinda sister, but mostly friend. He likes chatting with her and Eternal Sugar, sometimes he even participates in their girl nights (and those nights they totally paint their nails(do cookies have those though...? ...does it matter though??)).

Silent Salt:

- White Lily: she was kinda tense and a bit afraid of him in the beginning but slowly she was finding him more and more reliable and just kinda misunderstood. So she stopped worrying about him looking all intimidating and tried to know him closer. She realised he is actually very reliable and the most responsible out of Beasts, so she actually started sticking around him sometimes. — He knows she wanted best and then it turned out into disaster, so she totally wants to comfort her (and possibly relates). He sometimes gets quite worried thinking of what would somebody who don't know her think of her knowing truth about Dark Enchantress(especially worried when he sees the way Golden Cheese still can't get okay with it), also he really wants her to kinda separate Dark Enchantress and herself in her head. She's here and that person is out there.

- Pure Vanilla: at first he was tense as well, but then noticed that Silent Salt does something questionable only when something happens that really clashes with his morals. After he got to know him a bit closer, he started to understand his company. Not really enjoy it, it's kinda uncomfortable for him, but he understood while others were finding it comforting. — Silent Salt is positively surprised that such an actually pure cookie exists in such a world. He respects Pure Vanilla for his personality and morals, for the way he does not waver in his ways and wishes he would stay this way as long as this world would allow him to.

- Hollyberry: she finds his presence kinda unnerving especially with him being that silent so she tries to not interact more than needed. — Silent Salt just thinks their personalities are way too different, no way to actually connect with her. She does not try to do so and so he follows this tactic.

- Dark Cacao: he finds their similarities being kinda unnerving. Since Silent Salt is, well, silent, he had been thinking they would not really communicate, but they kinda got some non-verbal communication in actions, body language and in case of Dark Cacao, eyes. So he got that they both are just worried about ones they care for and can go for great lengths to protect what they have. But otherwise he really doesn't initiate any other contact. — Silent Salt kinda sees through him because of their similarities and he thinks Dark Cacao should get better before it gets worse for everyone. If anything serious would ever happen, he is sure they would both jump to action the very same moment and possibly cooperate way too well.

- Golden Cheese: she's not gonna become unnerved because of him, but she really has no reason to stay around him with him never talking, so if she has nothing to do she mostly leaves if they happen to be in the same room. — Silent Salt, once again, finds it worrying, how she reacts to White Lily. He finds himself wanting to get them through it but he knows he can't make Golden Cheese just change her mind. Otherwise, he doesn't really has a special opinion on her since they communicate as much as him and Hollyberry – that is, they almost do not.

Phew, I think got everything. That took quite some time but I got through it yaay

[dreamofjoys]

𝙄 𝙒𝘼𝙉𝙉𝘼 𝙓𝙓𝙓𝙓𝙓𝙓 ！

♡ A/N: Hello to everyone! I am excited to announce that I will be participating in kinktober 2023! This is my second time participating, so Im quite excited for it. There's a lot for me to write so I seek your understanding that I might not post them on the day itself (school is starting mid october eek but I will try and get it done). Last year's kinktober was focused solely on twisted wonderland but this year there will be other fandoms as well, and it will also be more plot focused? Hopefully that makes it more interesting. Only posting on some days

♡ Brief C/W: Dark themes, kidnapping, drugging, dubcon, pregnancy, double penetration, stalking and many more (will update as it goes by but will state in more details at the start of each fic). Everything is strictly character x fem/afab readers only

♡ General rules: Minors DO NOT INTERACT, No mean or rude comments (why read when I already stated the warnings and synopsis?Just block if don't like or uncomfy) and lastly, DO NOT ASK FOR PART 2.

♡ Participating fandoms: Genshin Impact (Neuvilette, Wriothlesley, Zhongli, Ayato, Alhaitham), Honkai Star Rail (Luo Cha, Jing Yuan, Blade, Nanook, Dan Heng, Dan Feng), Twisted Wonderland (Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Leona Kingscholar)

♡ P/S: Everything is subjected to changes! Some fics are still in progress of brainstorming.. you can try to req and I'll see if I want to take up the idea. Just putting out the masterlist early to test and see how things go. Might make some changes here and there but it honestly just depends on my situation and mood. Also teasing you guys and adding some sneak peaks lol (I genuinely hope it's good) You can literally guess who will be in the fic base on the title. Will only open taglist if there's a demand.

DREAMOFJOYS KINKTOBER 2023 COLLECTION

DAY 1-7 ; 7 minute in heaven? More like 7 days inside you!

— Characters involved: Malleus draconia(TWST), Wriothlesly(Genshin), Ayato(Genshin), Nanook(HSR), Luo Cha(HSR) — Synopsis: After getting officially married, you and your husband decided to finally go to your long awaited 7 days honeymoon in a resort at private island specially reserved by your husband! Those 7 days were meant to be fun and relaxing, but why are you so tired by the end of it? — Story parts: 1 / 2 /3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7

Day 9-11 ; The Demons of Xianzhou

— Characters involved: Jing Yuan, Blade, Dan Feng (HSR) — Synopsis: There has been a legend of demons existing and residing in Xianzhou for a long period of time. Surely, they can't be one of your closest friends, right?

Day 13-15 ; In the name of Justice

— Characters involved: Neuvilette, Wriothelesly (Genshin) — Synopsis: Two of the most well known men in fontaine has fallen head over heels for you. They claim that everything that they do is for the sake of justice

Day 18-19 ; Egg Incubator

— Characters involved: ? — Synopsis: A young maiden was chosen by her village and was sacrificed as an offering to appease the 5 dragon gods who were terrorizing their land. She plots to escape from them, but can she really succeed?

Day 20 ; The General's Slave

— Characters involved: ? — Synopsis: ?

Day 23-24 ; The Princes's Sin

— Characters involved: ? — Synopsis: ?

Day 25 ; The Acting Grand Sage's Filthy Secret

— Characters involved: ? — Synopsis: ?

Day 26 ; The Destruction of Nanook

— Characters involved: ? — Synopsis: ?

Day 29-31 ; Briar Valley's Eternal Ruler

— Characters involved: ? — Synopsis: ?

[themissingnumbers]

[ @pkmn-monochrome - interaction thing i can't send as an ask bc long and images]

The dark of the Pokemon tower is never something that has bothered Red. Never something that would, certainly not after seeing much worse and being much older.

At this point, really, it's a kind of eeriness he'd come to miss. It reminds him of simpler times- days when a young boy only had to fear things like ghost stories, and shadows that lurked in the dark.

He knows very well that this place is not the Pokemon Tower he knew, of course. He's not stupid. This place was only built in its image, the miserable ending of a game dyed in grey and built out of spite.

He runs a hand along the wall of the staircase he descends, feeling the cold stone, yet also the intangible data, dull static and code under the fingertips. Watches in quiet fascination as the textures distort and corrupt under deliberate contact, the broken foundations of Generation 1 reacting to him, (same as always,) but a touch more stable from the fusion of the bastard remakes keeping it grounded.

Any damage caused is meaningless, the existence of it debatable as a whole, as he passes through a loading zone. Half of him watches everything fade to black, the other half just continues down the steps that are as tangible as anything else here is to someone within the game. Everything is right- just as it should be.

Either way, it's not like it's his game to break. That would be plain rude, especially with the risk of killing someone!

Intrigue in this world, curious as it may be, isn't why he's here.

Nah. He's more interested in something else.

Or, someone, to be more precise.

Having finally found who he'd looking for, Red steps off the stairs and into another layer of this endless graveyard, whistling as he finally lays eyes on a certain monochromatic individual.

"Y'know..." he chides from across the room, "A graveyard's a pretty cliche place to spend eternity, don't you think?"

He snorts at his own remark. "Course, I guess it's not like you had a choice. The sadsack that made this game could've picked something a little more outside the box, is all I'm saying. Do you think they'd bury bodies in the Viridian Forest, maybe? Or swimming offa Route 20, try a little watery grave... Oh, Champion's Road could be pretty morbid!"

He sighs and folds his arms, shaking his head at himself.

"... Nah, I'm joking. I can see the vision. I could give less of a shit about this place, anyways..."

His eyes gleam, and a menacing smile spreads across his face.

"I'm more interested in you. A glorified reskin of Pokemon Tower ain't shit compared to you. A little bug told me about some sentient Red-Leaf kinda amalgamation with the memories of a real person, and I just had to look into it and come to see for myself. Lo and behold..."

He spreads his arms out in some kind of almost-mocking grand gesture.

"Here you are! Cody, right? In the flesh, or... I suppose your problem is the lack thereof, heh."

He begins to approach, moving slowly and never once looking away. He stalks forward, every step careful and deliberate, teeth bared in a grin that holds no happiness but oozes with amusement.

"I've got so many questions, I don't even know where to begin. You're really something special... One of a kind, fully aware of everything. Knowing what life both here, and out there, is really like. I've seen players that would kill to even get a chance to stand where we do, but... You want out more than anything."

Scratching his chin, the man walks around them at a slight distance. Red gets the thought that Cody wouldn't want something like him anywhere near them. At least he can respect that.

"Suppose the courteous thing would be to ask a question- that's the tradition around these parts, right? Constantly interrogating you so you don't have to sit here, alone with your..."

His eyes flicker to the two GHOSTs at Cody's side.

"... Thoughts. And the like."

He hops onto a grave nearby, sitting with his ankles crossed. Respect towards the dead be damned, every tomb in places like this were about as sacred as Halloween decorations.

"Here's what I'd like to know, Cody."

His smile widens further- for a brief moment, the glitches on his body seem to spread to the air around him, cutting through the gray with burning streaks of red, white, and yellow.

"You have your hacker's memories. Some of them. ANY of them. It's enough. You'd know what it was like to be them. You know what it was like to be human. You know both worlds."

"What is it like? To be real? To be something more than code. How different is it from this?"

"What was it like to be HUMAN?"

He jabs a finger forward, pointing at them as the static that flared up around him quickly subsides, clearing the air back into the typical oppressive atmosphere of the endless graveyard.

"I want to hear it from you," he finishes cooly, "someone who has been on both sides of the screen. You could tell me better than anyone."

[star-centric]

Heliotrope (Eternal Love, Devotion) || Fyodor

MEANING: “The heliotrope often symbolized devoted and everlasting love, regardless of what the recipient feels or that might hurt the giver.”

A/N: This fic is probably the closest thing I’ll have to Spooktober this year 😅 but who doesn’t love a vampire Fyodor? Also I’m lowkey proud of this ☺️ Reader is gender neutral!

CW: blood (obviously), mention of death

❀ FLOWER SPECIAL MASTERLIST ❀

It was centuries ago when you first turned.

You were nothing but a lowly peasant, working in the church for food and shelter. It was the only place that would take you in, but sometimes you wondered if God truly meant for this to be your salvation.

You would go to bed with your clothes barely keeping together, stale bread and watery soup on your stomach, but you had a roof over your head and forced yourself to not complain and shiver so much in your thin bed. You weren’t on the street anymore alone, so you should be grateful. Even if the others in the church regarded you as trash, you should still be thankful.

You were close to getting put out on the streets again when you met the stranger.

You kept your head down while cleaning the outside windows, trying your best to keep away from the pastor’s wrath and the lead nun’s glare. The sun was already setting, the mix of orange and red hues disappearing from the sky as it turned to dusk. You were enjoying the view, feeling at peace for once in your life at the sight.

“It truly is a wonderful view, is it not?”

You flinched the sound, accidentally kicking the bucket and spilling the water onto the ground below, bleeding into the stranger’s shoes. You gasped, mortified at your clumsiness. You kneeled down, apologies spilling from your lips, ready to hand scrub the dirt from his shoes when he ushered you up.

“There’s no need for that- you should still be enjoying the view.”

The stranger’s voice sounded melodic in your ears, the accent from his words now registering. You glanced up, taken aback by his eyes.

They were so beautiful- a deep shade of violet that twinkled like jewels. You’ve never seen eyes that color before, honestly you didn’t even know they could be that color before until now. It was so easy to get lost in too-

The nun calling your name broke you out of thoughts, seeing the anger crawling against her face. She must have saw the whole interaction, spewing your name out like a curse. You must have looked like a bumbling idiot getting so sidetracked from your misdoings. You apologized again to the stranger, who once again had no concern over your mistakes.

He spoke to the nun that his shoes were in need of a good washing anyway, which calmed down her rage the slightest (but no doubt you’ll see more of it once he leaves). You didn’t want to part ways with him just yet, not only to keep the nun calm, but because you were now so intrigued by him.

But just like in life, you couldn’t get what you always wanted, the woman bidding him farewells and apologies on your behalf. But as she spoke, the stranger looked solely at you, avoiding her gaze. You didn’t tear away from his stare, even as you were pulled inside.

You went to sleep with those amethyst eyes on your mind. It was one of the first good dreams you’ve had since coming here.

You were back on the streets when you’ve learned his name.

It was raining, the dark clouds sharing your sorrows as you tried to shield yourself from the water drops. The bread you stole tasted better than what was given to you at the church, even when it was soggy. It gave you some substance, even if it still left your stomach growling. How long could you last like this?

It was freezing, the clothes on your back in worse wear than before. You kept your head down as the water drops slowly slid off of your bruised skin when something soft was thrown on you, slightly jumping.

Peeking out from underneath the heavy coat, you were met with the same violet eyes, a quick gasp leaving your lips.

“It’s troublesome to see you in this position. Had that much time passed since our meeting for the church to have fallen on hard times?”

You meekly shook your head no, finding yourself curling underneath his coat. “No sir, the church is still flourishing. I just…I was only causing them headache so it was best for me to leave.”

“I’m not under the impression that it was your choice.”

And he would be right, but you were too full of shame to admit it.

“Tell me- do you wish for a better life? One where the so-called people of God wouldn’t leave you to die on the streets?”

You do, you’ve always wished for it. You’ve wished to live comfortably- you didn’t have to be rich, or live like royalty, but you’ve wanted to live securely. Not where you would have to sleep on cobblestone, scrounging for food any chance you could get.

You wanted to live, and not have someone find your corpse underneath a bridge eventually.

“I do.” You were desperate, and if this was your only chance at fulfilling your desire and not death, you’re taking it.

“Then come with me, and I’ll give a life more than deserving.”

He held his hand out, a slight chill shooting through you when your fingers met his. Even if this did lead to your demise, a small part of you was content that you were able to meet this man once more, being sucked into his gaze once more. It was a sight that you felt like you shouldn’t have seen, dark locks framing his sharp features as the rain slid off his skin. He was beautiful.

Was he an angel sent by God?

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Please, address me as Fyodor.” He pulled you up, gently adjusting his coat on you. The rain had seem to calm down as soon as he appeared, and he led you away and to the start of your new life.

The castle he brought you to was far away from the town and deep into the woods, but God was it magnificent. It was just like you imagined from the stories your mother would tell you.

Fyodor gave you everything- warmth, food, clean clothes, your own room. It was enough to bring tears to your eyes, Fyodor noticed. He gently wiped them away, whispering that there was no need to cry anymore. You declared that you would do anything to pay him back for saving you- and he chuckled, saying that the time to take up your offer would eventually come, but not tonight.

You weren’t sure how soon he meant, until he appeared in your room in the late hours of the night. A pang of fear struck through you quickly, but you forcefully swallowed it down. He kept his word even if it was short lived, and you were grateful enough to get that.

Fyodor called your name, ushering you into his arms.

“Your heart is beating so fast- there’s no need for you to be scared.” He whispered, planting a few kisses along your neck, trailing down. His lips brought a chill down your spine. You should have known that he wasn’t human, even before you saw the sliver of his fangs. You went to push him away as he pinned you down on the sheets below.

“I’m simply giving you the life that you’ve always wanted. A life that you deserve- being by my side is more than fitting.”

The pain was excruciating, tears rolling down your cheeks as you couldn’t even choke out a scream. You could hear him slurping, feeling your own throat becoming wet. Your vision went blurry, and it was a battle to keep your eyes open, that you were greatly losing.

You accepted death without a further fight, going limp.

The next time you opened your eyes, something warm was dripping on your lips, a metallic taste filling your mouth. But it was delicious, and you couldn’t stop yourself from trying to get more, not realizing or even caring that it was coming from Fyodor himself, snatching his wrist and latching onto it for dear life.

You looked like a demon, a savage animal with his blood smeared on the corners of your mouth, panting with a hazy look. No further explanation was needed for what you had become. You were horrified while Fyodor remained stoic, not showing any sympathy for damning you. In his eyes, he kept his word- he gave you a better life, even if it was as a creature of the night.

Time had passed, and your new way of living became your new normal. Seeing blood and draining it from anything with a heartbeat made you squeamish no longer- you never enjoyed it, but it became tolerable. Fyodor trained you, showing you the ways to survive while still treating you as before, gifting you new outfits and the fanciest trinkets. It was like before, except now you were both feasting on blood.

You grew closer to him, feeling a pull in your chest that wouldn’t reside if you weren’t with him. He began having you sleep in his room. Your heart would have been beating at the sight of the large coffin, but gripping your chest reminded you that this was fitting for you both. But soon, you began to look forward to it among other things.

You were attached to Fyodor, not having the possibility of even imagining life with another. He had to have know it too, the lingering touches he would leave to your chilled skin. You were in love with him, and him turning you only acted as twisted sort of wedding vows, with endless promises.

It was only the two of you for years, with you doing whatever he needed or wanted, even if he hadn’t asked for you to do it. He was the only one you had room for in your heart, and continued to treat you ever so gently, like a porcelain doll. If this was eternity, you found yourself to be ecstatic.

Until he brought another person home.

Then another.

And another.

To the point where he was sharing his resting place with others, and not you.

You were obviously heartbroken- were you not enough for him? Had he grown tired of you? Had you done something wrong? It was hard to swallow your worries down, especially when they would trail behind him all the time, him sending you away to bring back food for them.

You couldn’t bite your tongue anymore, crying out in distress when he began to retreat back to his quarters. You were bitter, jealous, and above all hurt.

“I thought- I thought you cared about me.”

“What gave you the impression that I don’t?”

“These strangers that you’ve brought into our home,” you crossed your arms. “Why did you turn them? Why did you bring them here of all places?”

“The same reason that I brought you here- to give them a better life.” He tilted his head, giving you that same stoic look from the night he turned you. “They were suffering as you once were. Why would you would be the only person I saved?”

His words made your heart shatter, tears welling up in your eyes. You should have been the only one here with Fyodor, not with other people that would give him the same glance that you do. It was selfish, but you deserved to at least have something just for yourself for once in your life.

It was childish to cry over it, but it hurt. God, did it hurt.

But Fyodor was there to wipe your tears away, just like he did when you were once human. “There’s no need for your tears, darling. I’ve treated you well for your years with me, have I not?”

You sniffled, nodding your head.

“And that won’t change- you’ve done so well for me, even when you were still mortal. You’ve never crossed me wrong, and I still desire you- but there are others that need to be saved just like you were.”

Fyodor brought you close, cold fingers grasping your chin. “They can be of good use to us- place your trust in me as you’ve always done.”

You found yourself getting sunken into his gaze once more. You were blinded by your feelings, shame turning into reassurance. He was right- Fyodor has never led you astray, so you had no need to doubt his words.

So you didn’t.

Even if he said the same to the others, you were special to him- the only one that meant something to him. He saved you, and gave you a better life than you could dream of.

You’ve coated your hands in blood for Fyodor, both mortal and immortal, but it was all in his name, to assure that he didn’t have to do more than he has already done.

Even when you leapt in front of him, a wooden stake driving through your chest, a solemn smile staining your bloodied lips while the one you loved glanced down, sharing a smile that should have been out of place, you had no regrets.

You simply lived for Fyodor, and you swore to see that your love and devotion would save him from death, even if it lead to your own.

[lets-go-hurt-someone]

I love Shadowheart. She was my bae throughout my first (unfinished) Tav run. I abandoned that run because Astarion convinced me I needed to restart as Durge for him, but Shadowheart forever holds a very special place in my… well, heart.

I’ve been thinking about the contrast between them and their arcs and the way fandom interacts with them.

They both start off as characters that by D&D standards are “evil.” Shar is an evil aligned goddess, and vampires are evil aligned creatures.

However, Shadowheart isn’t evil. She disapproves of actively evil decisions and approves of kindness to animals and the helpless. She just doesn’t like it if you seem to be putting do-goodery above your search for a cure to the tadpoles. She is fine with killing the grove, but the contrast between her at the tiefling party and the goblin party shows pretty starkly how she really feels.

Astarion starts off the game evil. I will fucking fight anyone on this. He has very very good reasons to be evil, but so does Shadowheart… and she’s not. Astarion enjoys chaos, he likes murder, he likes hurting people. He thinks being “good” is weak and stupid and that might be a trauma response, but it is how he genuinely feels at that point in his story.

And yet. AND YET. For some reason, I have never seen anyone complain about making Shadowheart a Dark Justiciar. If she likes you, you actually have to encourage her to kill Nightsong. Even on my evil run, she spared Aylin if I didn’t tell her not to. You have to either not care about her or intervene to make her evil, and right up to the end where she kills her parents and Shar wipes her memory again, she is just so miserable and resigned to what she’s been influenced to be.

But people do it to get the hotter sex scene or whatever and that’s fine.

But Astarion? The man who spends the whole fucking game begging you to help him take over an evil cult and murder his “family” so he can become a living vampire as soon as he realises it might be an option? The guy who will throw a fit and leave you if you don’t either succeed in a persuasion check or help him eternally damn 7007 people— no matter how close you’ve gotten to him?

Apparently you’re an evil piece of shit if you find his “bad” ending compelling or, dare I say it, hot.

I don’t really care which ending you prefer for either character— I think the game does a great job on its own telling you what you should think and it’s fairly nuanced for both characters. I just don’t understand why Astarion has to be so woobified and his “bad” ending fans vilified as if they’re naive morons with no media literacy.

Shadowheart, the character, hates her “bad” ending way more than Astarion, the character, hates his. And fandom can’t reflect this because I don’t know…

Oh god. It’s sexism isn’t it?

[empty-vessel-of-a-person]

"Eternal Attachment" Post Zayne Birthday Event Review + Delulu

Note: Please take this with a grain of salt as I cry myself for this one. This is personal opinion and delulu brain working so no need to go violent at me as none of this was confirmed beside the cannon events connected to his birthday. MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS. YOU ARE WARNED!!!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT FOR NSFW CONTENTS

First Things first. Please stop comparing Rafayel's and Zayne's Birthday Event because they are special in their own way. Plus I trust that the dev knows what they are doing. In my opinion, they are basing the stories on the boys personalities and overall impact to the main stories. True we ain't able to give him a kiss on his birthday but we marked him on Misty invasion. All is fair guys! And if the dev give us same plots, then what are we going t look forward to?

Zayne's birthday event left us with warm feeling and overall stronger bond with him. His character development and relationship development is awesome and the fact the he easily smiles now gives me satisfaction. I love him so much.

The most memorable part of this event for me is the recording of Zayne's video message to his parents and him holding our hands in front of everyone. When he mentioned that "they already know you" it means he talks about us to his parents. This is again something so intimate yet so wholesome. He did really love us. And the holding hands is showing that he is taking claim on us. Yes, Zayne! I belong to you!

Zayne and M/C had s3x after the cake scene. Ok this is the delulu me, but M/C subtly offer her self to Zayne when she says "the birthday boy is allowed to be greedier than usual" and Zayne mentioning "my appetite is perfect for handling anything from you", "perhaps, it's because I already taste something sweeter" this might be just my imagination but remember that In the previous Banner he tasted "us" solidifying the fact that we are indeed and not just in a relationship with him but we are already intimate.

Dawn breaker is present in Zayne's body during this event/ This is yet a again a mix of canon and delulu. Canon because in Zayne's anecdote, Dawnbreaker was there during M/C singing happy birthday. Delulu because I feel like Dawnbreaker never left he is the one delivering the line "I wish that in the years to come, I won't have to imagine spending everyday of my life with someone". Think about it his way, Why would Dr. Zayne imagine that he is with us, when he is actually and physically with us? And the more deluded part of my brain tells me he is there as well when we are being intimate with Zayne and Zayne is actually aware of Dawnbreaker.

From here on will be the dark and sad side of the delulu I'm in due to this card. When I mention that Dr. Zayne was aware of Dawnbreaker being present in him, it is because he mention in the Daily Task Episode that "he just stops being afraid in the monster the lurks in them" (his dreams). Perhaps he don't view them as dreams anymore and he as aware that he have another presence/persona in a different time.

That being said, Dr. Zayne might also be aware of Foreseer and Master of Fate causing him to almost always speaks so formally and in 3rd person speech.

Dr. Zayne might also be aware of the killing Dawnbreaker needs to do to people that turns to wanderers. And this might also explain his needs to always save lives not just M/C. Dr. Zayne might be trying to save lives to compensate to the life lost on Dawnbreaker's hands. Oh no I am so so sad about this.

And the finally, Dr. Zayne might also be aware that Dawnbreaker does not have his version of M/C in his timeline. Since (delulu) he comes to terms that they are the same person on a different timeline, he is willing to share his happiness to his other self. And that happiness is M/C. This might also explain the touchiness and neediness from Zayne, cause they are 2 people longing for her.

Final Thoughts. It must really be twisted to have them at the same time. No pun intended. But if Dr. Zayne and Dawnbreaker is indeed present at that exact time, I really don't mind. I'll take any version of Zayne anytime. He have done so much for us and if I'm making him more happy by celebrating the day with both of them, I will gladly do so. Might it be Dr. Zayne or Dawnbreaker, they deserve all the happiness in the world.

[margaretoakgrove]

Volunteer soldier

Warning: the imagine contains mentions of blood, death and physical violence.

That was a late night hour, and Heisenberg still kept working underground of his factory.

This situation wasn't something special. Quite the contrary. Being fully immersed in the process of his work, the Lord rather often tended to lose track of time, completely forgetting about rest and sleep.

But that night in the factory he was not the only one who did not close his eyes. You didn't sleep either. No, insomnia was not the cause of that, just from time to time there were days when you prefered going to bed far more later than you usually did. In the kitchen you put the kettle on the stove to boil water for tea and made some sandwiches with butter and fruit jam in order for Heisenberg and you could have a little snack.

When the water in the kettle finally boiled you turned off the gas and headed towards the elevator to go down to the factory lowest floor and call the Lord to the table.

The way to the workshop where the engineer worked the most you knew as well as the back of your hand because you had repeatedly brought there for him a mug of his favorite strong coffee and something to eat, therefore once you found yourself on the lowest level, which greeted you with its eternal semi-darkness and the continuous loud sounds of various industrial machines, you unmistakably went to its direction.

Quickly having reached a familiar door, you slightly knocked a couple of times and, without waiting for a response, poked your head into the room.

"Karl? Are you still in here?"

The man, whom the question was addressed to, was standing in the center of the working space next to the chair on which in an inactive state was sitting one of his numerous undead creations, namely a mechanical soldier.

"Yes, Buttercup. I'm still in here." Heisenberg turned towards your voice.

"It's pretty late. Were you working? Did i distract you?"

"Not at all. Actually, i've finished working around a half an hour ago. Just talking to Boian*, that's all."

What? Did you not mishear? Was the Lord talking to someone? Did he have a guest in the factory or maybe he was chatting with some person on the telephone? One needs to say that these words of your beloved rather surprised you because as far as you knew that aside of the forced communication with the members of his so called family he had never interacted with anyone of the local villagers for the reason of their ardent devotion to Mother Miranda.

"Talking to whom?"

Noticing the confusion on your face, Heisenberg smiled a bit.

"To Boian. I mean this creation of mine over here." With his hand he pointed to the side of that same aforementioned soldier. "His name was Boian before he became another addition of my army."

"Did you know this man?" Slowly you came into the workshop and quietly sat on a stool.

"Yes, i did. Not personally, of course. I knew him the same way i know everyone in this shithole. From a distance, so to speak."

Having taken another stool, the Lord sat across from you. From his leather hip bag he pulled out a cuban cigar and, having flicked with a lighter, started leisurely smoking.

"During his lifetime Boian was married. He and his wife lived in a small wooden cabin and grew in their small humble garden vegetables and berries. As far as i know they never had kids, however it didn't interfere with their marital happiness. It looked like they truly loved one another because they literally were an inseparable couple. Each time when i came to the village about my business, i saw them together. I noticed them together attending masses in the chapel, roaming around the village arm in arm and working in their garden. All in all, Boian and his wife were the most ordinary people and led the most ordinary life. And just like any brainwashed sheep in Miranda's flock they firmly believed that this goddamn bitch was capable of protecting them from any sort of danger and desease. Yeah, sure. But unfortunately, this blind belief of theirs eventually played a cruel joke on them."

"What happened?" The story of the soldier's fate genuinely caught your interest.

"After some time when i again appeared in the village for the first time i didn't see Boian's wife beside him. That was quite unusual because, as i already said, they were always together, literally inseparable. And all the subsequent times when i met him, he was alone without his devoted spouse. It made me assume that she either got sick to the point she wasn't even able to get out of bed or simply died. And, as i found out later, my assumptions turned out to be true."

Before continuing to tell his story Heisenberg paused a little bit, taking several deep puffs of his cigar.

"One night i made my way to the Forbidden Woods, specifically to the Stronghold. Shit...Still catch myself thinking that it was not a mere coincidence. As if that night i had to be there. Anyway...The closer i came to the building, the clearer i heard the aggressive roaring of lycans and male screams of pain. Once i was inside my eyes fell on a cornered by a large pack of lycans man. He was sitting on the ground with his back against the wall and trying to defend himself from them with a flaming torch, swining it in front of himself. Without a second thought i crushed with my hammer the skull of a lycan just at that moment when it was going to strike its prey with a mace. All the rest immediately ran in different directions. Damn cowards. I decided to come closer to the man and to my surprise recognized Boian in him. As it turned out, he was injured. Someone of the lycans managed to stab a pickaxe in his chest. The poor fellow was sitting in a pool of his own blood and slowly dying. I couldn't help him. Still i was too curious to know what or, maybe, who brought him to one of the most dangerous areas of the village and got even more closer to him..."

"Well, well, well. Who do we have here? Oh, it seems to me that i know you. You are Boian, aren't you? Yes, that's right. It's you. I recognized you." Like a huge mountain the hammer wielding Lord was towering over the victim of the lycans' deadly attack. "What the hell are you doing here? I thought that every local from old to young remembered that one needs to steer clear of this, to say the least, unkind place. Or did your memory betray you, hm?"

"Lies...It's...It's all lies..." The bleeding man by the name Boian, heavily breathing, was hardly pronouncing the words. "Miranda...She...She's not our protector...For her...we...we are nothing but disposable lab rats for her sick experiments...She...She's fooled us all..."

Karl did not expect to hear such an answer. He was just amazed. Did someone of Miranda's obedient puppets finally somehow discover all the truth about what a hellspawn she really was and about all those brutal atrocities she actually had been doing with people in these mountains in secrecy from the outside world for many decades straight? Incredible! Realizing that he was no longer the only one whose mind wasn't enslaved by the Black God's devious prophet for the first time in a while Heisenberg felt genuine joy combined with slight disappointment due to the fact that exactly that same enlightened one right now was dying in front of him, choking on his own thick blood.

"Too bad you understood that too late."

"M-Maria...My wife...My precious beloved wife...She became seriously ill...No one and nothing could help her...Miranda...Miranda was our last hope...I...I begged her to help Maria to become...to become well again...Miranda promised to cure her and...and took her away...That...That was the last moment...the last moment when i saw my wife alive...After...After that day...she...she didn't come back home anymore, and...and i began to suspect that...that Miranda...Miranda did something terrible to her..."

A bloody cough escaped Boian's deeply pierced chest.

"Tonight i...i found...i found Miranda's hidden laboratory...I found...i found a lot of medical reports...I...I read a report about you, Lord...Lord Heisenberg...and reports about the other Lords...Also...Also i found many notes and photographs...All those horrible things Miranda does to people... She...She's just a monster in the flesh...Then...Then i found a report about my wife...She was experimented on, and...and...eventually...she...she died of those...inhuman experiments...Suddenly...Miranda emerged out of nowhere, but...i was not afraid...I swore to her that...that i would tell all the villagers the truth about...about all of her evil deeds, but...but i must say that...she possesses superhuman strength...She took me here and unleashed these...these demons for them...for them to get rid of me...I...I was trying to fight them back, but...but there were so many of them..."

The flaming torch, that the fatally injured one had been holding for all this time, now fell out of his weak hand.

"Maria...My darling...If...If i only could...If i only could take revenge on Miranda for your death...If i only could make her suffer the same way...the same way she made suffer you, but...as...as it seems...it...it, unfortunately, will never happen...Forgive me, Maria...I'm...I'm so sorry..."

The tears of utter despair slowly flowed down the cheeks of Boian, mixing with the crimson blood on his lips and chin.

"Looks like you and me crave the same thing, don't we?" The Lord crouched down before the dying one, who had reluctantly accepted his cruel fate.

"What...What do you mean..?"

"See, the fact that Miranda uses living souls as test subjects for the sake of achieving her own goal under the guise of this fucking religious cult is nothing new to me. About all of this i found out long before you. And for all that vicious shit she's done to me i will never forgive her. In secret from everyone i plan on killing that insane bitch. But i am not an idiot. I realize that alone i unlikely will be able to do that because, as you've rightly mentioned earlier, she is extremely strong and powerful. For this reason i gather an army of special soldiers that will help me to destroy her. And since a common desire unites us perhaps you would like to join me so we could wipe Miranda off the face of the earth together?"

Boian bitterly chuckled and coughed up with blood again.

"B-Believe me i...i would...i would do that with great pleasure, but...don't you see that i am almost dead..?"

"That much is obvious, but in this case your death will not be a hindrance for us. All that's required of you to join my army is to give me your corpse. No more and no less. Of the rest i will take care myself."

"What..? What are you...talking about..? How..? How my corpse will...will be able to...to help you defeat Miranda..? I don't understand...What kind...what kind of army do you gather..?"

With a smirk on his scarred face the Lord held out his hand to the baffled villager, making it clear that he's awaiting for nothing other than his agreement. Meanwhile, Boian's vision became blurry, and the voice of his interlocutor he heard somewhere in the distance. His death was too close, there was no time left to ask questions and seek for common sense, the man understood that, and therefore he fully trusted his intuition which quietly yet persistentely whispered him that to take the Lord's offer would be the most correct decision he had ever made in his entire life.

"Anything...I'll do anything to...put an end to...to Miranda's madness...I'll do...anything...for making her...pay...for Maria's...death...Take...Take my dead body...Do with it...whatever...must be done...From now on...it...is...at...your service...and...and so is...my...whole...essence..."

From the last forces half-dead Boian hardly lifted his bloodied hand and held it out to Heisenberg as a gesture of their partnership, and...and it lifelessly fell right into the Lord's palm, after which the villager remained motionless and silent. It was clear that his life line was cut short, and with his free hand Karl closed the dead man's eyes. Then the Lord stood up, adjusted his sunglasses and old leather hat, and easily threw over his shoulder the still warm body which several moments ago had been a living human being.

"Let's go to my factory, Boian! There i will put you in order and give you everything what you will need in the battle against our shared enemy!"

For a minute there was silence in the workshop.

"You've never told me about this before. When did it happen?"

"It happened before i met you. A long time ago." Heisenberg put out the smoked cigar on a metal table. "You know...Of course, this is just his damn revived corpse filled with artificial blood and scrap from top to bottom. I don't know, maybe it'll sound stupid but, to be honest, sometimes i like talking to it like to a living person."

"It doesn't sound stupid at all. Actually, i personally believe that Boian is here. I believe he is always invisibly present near his body, and i believe he can see everything you do and can hear every single word you say. Great thirst for vengeance keeps him here. Boian is patiently awaiting for that sweet moment when Miranda is once and for all annihilated after which he will finally be able to forever rest in peace together with his beloved wife Maria."

The Lord slightly smiled at your words as in his opinion they were a bit romanticized, but still he couldn't deny that in actual fact some part of himself believed that Boian's restless spirit wandered in the walls of the factory no less than you did.

"Perhaps you're right, Buttercup. Perhaps you're right..."

"The kettle is getting cold. Let's go to the kitchen. I guess we should eat a little bit before going to sleep. How do you think?"

"I think it's a good idea. Completely approve."

Having stood up from the stool, you headed for the door but immediately turned around, hearing Heisenberg calling you out.

"And Buttercup, one moment here!"

"Yes, what is it?"

He approached you and tightly yet carefully cupped your face within his rough big hands, forcing you look him in the eye.

"I want you to firmly remember that i'll never let to happen to you what Miranda did to Boian's wife. I'll do anything-do you hear me?-i'll do literally anything to protect you from her wicked tenacious hands, even if it costs me my life. Did you understand me?"

The Lord drastically changed in his behavior. The gaze of his hazel eyes expressed absolute seriousness, and the tone of his husky voice was stern. The unwavering determination of your beloved to sacrifice himself without hesitation in the name of your safety had left you speechless, and therefore all you could do in the response to his question was to quickly nod your head.

"Say out loud that you understood everything what i just said."

"I understood, Karl. I really understood everything what you just said."

"That's good." The tension in the man's body eased, and he lightly kissed your forhead. "Go to the kitchen now. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Okay." You pronounced quietly, almost in a whisper and, deeply immersing yourself into your thoughts, came out of the room.

"Don't worry, Boian!" The metal army leader's strong hand was laid on the shoulder of his subordinate. "I'll give you a wonderful chance to convert your wish into reality. You will take revenge on Miranda for what she did to you and to your wife. Very soon this psycho bitch will pay the full price for all that hell she, showing no mercy, put not only the two of us through. This will be a spectacular show! Have no doubts about it!"

Standing in the doorway, Heisenberg one more time glanced up at the mechanical soldier. Then he turned the lights off and left the workshop.

*Boian is a romanian male name which means "warrior" or "soldier".

[communistkenobi]

Wrt your posting about the jedi taking on children, I disagree thst the argument about force sensitive people 'need' to be trained for everyone else's safety. It's like Dragon Age mages or BNHA quirks, it's not special if someone can fireball me if they're having a bad day, some random person can already beat or strangle me with just their own two hands in the real world, no fireball necessary.

I mean idk I feel like Star Wars does a fairly decent job of establishing how dangerous force sensitivity can be - it’s not just extra strength or throwing things, but also mind control, healing (which i know is rare tbf), communicating with animals, etc. It also establishes how scary it can be to have those sorts of powers without knowing how to deal with them. I think Rebels does a good job of exploring this kind of thing with Kanan and Ezra.

However I also agree with you that it doesn’t “need” to be a problem, like force users are not inherently doomed to darkness/violence unless trained eternally across all space and time. But I think force sensitivity introduces a wholly organic way to accrue power (both physically in the sense that you’re more powerful and socially in that you have a type of organic ‘capital’ that can be used to gain social and political power in society, either because people adore you and want to follow you, and/or because they fear you), and having that type of power isn’t dependent on class position or family history*, it’s essentially random chance if someone is force sensitive or not. Which creates a threat to the types of societies depicted in Star Wars where there are durable ruling classes who want to maintain power.

And I think the Jedi Order offers a solution to this problem by capturing that type of ‘organic capital’ for lack of a better term; you monopolise an institution responsible for moulding force sensitive people into a particular type of subject - one that is not a threat to the prevailing societal order - and in exchange for being forced to be a Jedi you get massive amounts of privilege via access to knowledge, social status, material needs, and so on. While this creates civil unrest and distrust of the Jedi from a lot of laypeople, it’s a pretty sweet deal in the eyes of the Republic if it means not having to deal with rival force sensitive groups using their power to make political demands, especially through violence.

I think looking at it this way explains why the Jedi don’t really accept or allow any other type of force user, especially as they become more enmeshed with the Republic (the coven in the acolyte is a good example, the dathomiri witches, etc), and why a lot of force users who are not Jedi are labelled Sith, either because they adopt that label themselves or because they’re labelled that by the Jedi. And I’m not saying “the sith are just misunderstood victims” or whatever, but that in a scenario where you have a very powerful monastic order that controls how the rest of society understands and interacts with force sensitivity, force users who fall outside of that are going to be treated as a criminal class who are a threat to the republic (because they are - Maul is treated this way, Dooku and Anakin quite literally topple the Republic, etc). So like in the settings Star Wars tends to play in, force sensitivity is narratively understood as a source of incredible potential power, and capturing that power via an institution like the Order makes sure that power potential is not disruptive to prevailing society and power interests. Which is why I think the Jedi do have a fairly good rationale for taking kids and training them, even if that rationale is tied to the maintenance of the status quo - the Order’s power depends upon the maintenance of their own monopoly

*KIND OF. obviously some of the canon loves doing blood lineages with palpatine and shit, the midichlorian thing, etc. which sucks so bad. But general canon consensus as far as I know appears to be that anyone can potentially be force sensitive