#I know Link is a strong and capable young man

[smilesrobotlover]

Some phantom hourglass doodles

[shimisstuff]

Terrible sleep paralysis torment you for months. The problem does not seem to be psychological... what really happens at night? As much as you’re afraid to admit it, something seems to torture you... maybe rape you?

❗️I’m not trying in any way to romanticize what will happen in this shot! Everything you read will be quite dark and strong, so please, if you are sensitive to this, do not interact!

18+/ sleep paralysis/horror/gore/mahito rape you

Rape/Non-con ElementsRapeRape FantasyRough SexVaginal SexRough Oral SexPenis In Vagina SexVaginal FingeringFingerfuckingMahito is His Own Warning (Jujutsu Kaisen)Mahito Being an Asshole (Jujutsu Kaisen)Yandere Mahito (Jujutsu Kaisen)Creepy Mahito (Jujutsu Kaisen)Slutty Mahito (Jujutsu Kaisen)Top Mahito (Jujutsu Kaisen)Blood and GoreGoreMild GorePsychological HorrorBody Horror

Sorry for any errors, this fic is translated from italian!

SLEEP PARALYSIS

-Mahito x Reader-

«How long have sleep disorders been going on?».

«Months», your lips had rippled, «about six months», you had corrected yourself, while you made to wander your tired look on the furniture of your doctor’s office.

He called your name, taking you away from your thoughts.

«I read your medical records, you changed more than three psychoanalysts before you got to me. I wonder, are you sure that it is only this?».

Your eyes had met his. Two heavy shiners made you look like a rag, and the young man in front of you, no matter how professional he tried to be, couldn’t help feeling sorry for you.

What I’m trying to tell you is that even sleeping pills don’t work, and you know that? I tried everything, natural remedies and not-», you were angry, you hated, when they suggested that your problem was only in your head, because it wasn’t.

The more you convinced yourself, the more the doctors turned against you, and even this time it was no different.

«I mean the presence and the phantom sensations of pressure on the chest can be a symptom of post traumatic stress. It is easy for you to experience frequent sleep paralysis for this reason. Perhaps if we faced the problem psychologically it would be better. I think you understand, I can not continue to prescribe drugs, without knowing what could be the trigger».

You had sighed, swallowing. Yet another hole in the water.

Coming out of the clinic where you had gone in the morning, you had inhaled the air of Tokyo as if it were the best air in the world- it was absolutely not and your lungs filled with smog and tar.

You swallowed, your throat was dry, your eyes were burning, your head was beating.

All feelings you had begun to endure.

You were a young girl in your twenties, with a wonderful career ahead of you, a capable and brilliant woman, yet, life had decided to put you in front of all this.

As you walked through the crowded streets of Tokyo, the chaos of the metropolis seemed like a distant echo in your mind. The doctor mentioned the possible link between the trauma you suffered and your sleep problems, but it was difficult to accept that the solution could simply be psychological. You had sought comfort in sleeping pills and remedies of all kinds, but nothing seemed to relieve your tormented mind.

The memory of the incident kept haunting you, the details of the horrible day bouncing around in your head like an incessant echo. You had tried to escape reality, but the pain persisted, crept into your dreams and attacked you in the form of night paralysis and feelings of pressure on the chest.

A few months before the accident happened. A terrible car accident took away the love of your life, your sister.

Seeing her half beheaded between the sheets of the car had horrified you to the point of making you vomit on the spot. You screamed desperately, your brow ragged with blood, and his dead eyes now filled your nightmares.

If only that day you had not chosen the wrong path, you were sure, that now life would not be so unlivable.

Your soul weighed like an anvil, dragged you down, and your wings struggled to give you the push you needed to survive.

The nights were all the same: you lay down in your bed, trying to calm down, trying not to think about anything.

And what happened was you fell asleep... but then... then...

At first, you could only feel the languor of falling asleep. However, soon that numbness turned into something more sinister. An invisible but inexorable presence began to tighten your ankles, crawling along your hips and even creeping into your belly. It seemed like a subtle force, unpredictable, penetrating the depths of your bowels.

The sensations became more and more invasive, as if invisible hands shuffled you from within. As you tried to fight against the immobility that imprisoned you in your bed, your ability to breathe was being tested. An invisible but oppressive weight made every inspiration a titanic task.

«We will make it grow», a voice whispered, «we will make it grow», again.

And then the same hands came to your chest, squeezing you, choking you.

Then you’d wake up, turn on the light in panic, your forehead full of sweat, and your heart rate.

The monotonous routine of this anguish was constantly repeated, night after night. Something, a dark, elusive entity, crept into your intimate space and tortured you mercilessly.

It wasn’t just passing visions or post-traumatic stress hallucinations. Reality was carved into your skin, in painful bite marks on your breasts and bruises scattered all over your body. You couldn’t ignore the physical testimony of what happened during those nights of terror.

You looked for answers everywhere, you explored every rational possibility, but the conclusion was inevitable: you were not crazy. Those marks and scars you were carrying were tangible proof that something dark and insidious was happening.

It was a night predator that fed on your terror and vulnerability. And there was no room for rational explanations or psychological excuses. It wasn’t a matter of post-trauma, something real, at night, crawling into your bed, and it wasn’t something you were hiding from yourself: this presence was raping you.

You couldn’t explain how you came to this conclusion, but inside you the answer was becoming more and more obvious.

And so, desperate, you decided to adopt plan B.

The medium you asked for an audience with seemed to be one of the best. You paid her handsomely, and when you let her into your one-bedroom apartment, she twisted her nose.

You had no knowledge of this world, you had no interest in it, and despite your attempts to pretend, you still felt perplexed.

«Miss», the woman in her fifties had called you, while she was searching the living room, «can you take me to the exact place where the "contacts" take place?».

You had gasped, as a slight fear crept into your bowels and appeared in your face.

« I feel your discomfort, how could you not have it? This apartment is full of cursed energy».

Failing to understand what she was mumbling about, you had obeyed her request, making your way down the narrow corridor, and then opening the door.

You stopped in the window and nodded.

You didn’t mean to cross that threshold, just the thought of it made you sick.

The medium, however, had proceeded with her head held high, turning on the lights of the chamber.

The steps resounded muffled in the carpet, while carefully inspecting the desk, then the blankets and pillows of your bed.

«It happens here...», she whispered. She walked the blankets with her hand, until she reached the foot of the bed, «rising from here», she had crouched, as if she were imitating what that presence did to you. Her hands were on the covers. «it blocks your ankles», her hoarse voice resounded in the walls of the room, «it runs through your legs», she crushed the fingers between the unmade blankets, «coming to your belly», she crushed the mattress as if under her there had been you.

«And then...», her hands went up again, cup-locking on those you imagined your breasts might be.

The woman, lowered her head, had no idea what she was actually doing, but you had to admit that her explanation was accurate enough for you to understand that she was not a charlatan.

«It tastes you».

An unpleasant sensation made its way into your stomach, «I understand», she had said to herself, as she was getting out of bed.

He went through her purse, pulling out what appeared to be a talisman.

«In the realization of the talisman it is very important to respect the hourly and planetary correspondences, in fact there is always a specific day and a precise lunar phase to build and consecrate it. You are lucky, today the Moon and the stars are clearly visible», said the woman while consecrating some.

She placed one right under the bed, one above, and another in your bedroom door.

Perplexed, you frowned, «that’s all?» you asked, «three stupid pieces of paper?».

The medium smiled, «do you have other alternatives?».

The question left you motionless, unable to answer.

«no...», you had answered, driving her back to the front door.

«The curse is powerful, but I am sure that this will be able to keep it at bay for a while».

«What?! With all the money you asked me for? Did you manage only to "keep it at bay for a while"? Are you kidding me?» The woman smiled, then gave a small laugh of derision, «maybe you should have called an exorcist?».

You were so frustrated, so... so...

Bitter tears had run down your cheeks, you had dried them almost immediately, trying to keep calm.

Don’t worry, you thought, crashing on the living room couch, wait to see if these talismans work.

***

With wonder and relief, the sleep paralysis that had tormented your nights seemed to be a distant memory.

A week had passed since you could finally close your eyes without the fear of being trapped in a limbo of impotence. Your night’s rest had become a precious refuge, an oasis of peace that you had begun to fully enjoy.

The evenings followed a reassuring ritual: the return home from work, a hot shower that dispelled the accumulated tensions, a satisfying dinner and finally the refuge in the blankets of your bed. Everything seemed to fall into the natural order of things, as if normality had finally returned to claim its place. However, the tranquility you had so longed for was perhaps only an illusion, a prelude to a new chapter of horror.

In the second week of serenity, a strange feeling had crept into the air.

One night, while you slept deeply, the pungent smell of something burning had disturbed your sleep. Your awakening was immediate, and in the darkness, putting the blankets aside, you realized that something was wrong.

Your eyes slowly adapted to the darkness, and before you, the atmosphere lit up with a sinister light. A crackling blue fire enveloped the talisman hanging from your door.

A sense of disbelief enveloped you as a figure began to take shape.

It was a robust body, but its humanity seemed distorted. A man, or perhaps something that might have looked like a man, materialized before your eyes.

Your mind tried to deny what it saw, but terror took hold of you as the breath became disjointed. Your lips rippled in a desperate sigh, while your terrified eyes closed as if they were denying reality. Gasps and sobs were released from your chest as you carried your arms in front of you, as if that impotent gesture could protect you.

You just hoped the last talismans could protect you, but... well...they couldn’t.

You saw it when they both caught fire at the foot of your bed and a cold breath began to move some of your hair.

«You surprised me», a voice made your blood freeze, «closing me out like this...» it was distorted and gruesome as it echoed in the darkness. It had a stamp that sent chills down your spine, and as you desperately tried to move, your impotence became more and more overwhelming.

His scornful laughter echoed through the air like a macabre background. «You tried, you and that stupid bitch», his mocking tone crept into your ears, causing you another sob of terror.

«Go ahead yes, continue to be afraid, it is even better if you cry».

His body locked you in a corner of the bed, leaving you with no way out. You were alone, you and his dark presence, which seemed to devour the air around you. Every word spoken was like a direct blow to your soul, bringing out a sense of degradation and unspeakable terror.

«Did you really think you could stop me from still possessing you? Naive, stupid inferior human», he whispered in your neck, his breath cold as frost on your skin. «I thought you would behave well, like the good pet you are».

His words were filled with contempt, a humiliation that imposed itself on you like a chain, enveloped your spirit.

His words didn’t make sense to you, and yet, you didn’t have the courage to argue, you had the feeling that if you tried to move a muscle, he would tear you apart right in that moment.

You hadn’t yet had the courage to open your eyes to look your tormentor in the face, let alone have the strength to escape from his clutches.

His hands ran down your hips, embedded in their retracting curve.

They put pressure on you, made you scream in fear.

«I had a continuous thought, I have always had it from the first day in which I have seen you», his lips settled languid in your half uncovered belly. Your chest was hurting, your hiccups were shaking and your throat was parting, making it sore.

«Please», you had whispered, «don’t hurt me», your eyes were still closed, full of salty tears.

You had finally had the courage to speak as you laid your hands on his in a desperate attempt to divert them from yourself. You put a little pressure on him, but the guy on top of you didn’t seem to want to cooperate with you. In your desperate act, you saw that his hands presented what appeared to be scars, perhaps... seams?

«Hurt you?» he laughed almost out of control, «I don’t know, I’ll probably do». Your eyes became two saucers, so scared that who was in front of you couldn’t help but notice it.

«Are you afraid? Yes, I imagine it is so, otherwise how could I feel so regenerated?».

Then his face took shape in front of yours.

His two-tone eyes peered at you in the darkness of the night, so evil, so frightening that they cut your breath. His hair covered his sewn face, it was so surreal it felt like a horror movie.

His hands grabbed your wrists with a surprising force, far beyond what would be expected of an ordinary man. Despite your attempt to resist, his grip intensified, and in response to your affront, he gripped your wrists until they broke.

A deafening and desperate scream broke free from your mouth, but the man’s reflexes prevented you from venting your pain altogether, resting his lips on yours.

Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting.

He had the urge to lick your lips and grunt angry when you didn't want to.

With your wrists completely broken by now, you couldn’t defend yourself, so he freed them, putting his big, rough hand in your cheeks.

You were hurt and violated, could something worse have happened?

When his hand slipped in your belly to make room between your legs, you knew there was something worse.

«No!» you cried desperately, «no... no, no-».

«Yes, yes, yes, cute, little…».

Your head was beating, your heart seemed to want to explode in your chest, your sore wrists, victims of a broken fracture, were hurting so much that you missed the air.

«You will love this, you will love to take it, won’t you? Will you become the key to my experiment? You will carry my child so well, yes... you will be perfect».

You weren’t listening to almost anything that was vomiting on you, too traumatized, too aching to focus on his words, and it was bad, since he had just confessed his no longer hidden desire to impregnate you.

His hands stripped you of the oversize shirt you were wearing, lifted it up to your breasts, leaving your sensitive boobs exposed.

«I have raped so many women in my life by curse... but you... you are by far the most beautiful of all».

His hands landed in your ribs, forcing you to settle under him.

With one hand he would block you from the neck, keeping you under control as his head went down into your chest, tickling your collarbones with his hair.

When his mouth closed in your turgid sensitive nipple, you tried to look at the ceiling as much as you could. You just hoped it would be over soon, yeah, it would be over quickly, you’d just be estranged, and everything would just seem like a bad nightmare, right?

You told yourself that, but it seemed more complicated than expected.

His mouth sucked mercilessly, popping into your irritated reddened skin.

Bites and bruises took shape in your body, immediately you were back to being the pitiful girl of a few weeks before, while your body lay untidy between the covers of your bed.

Another sinful kiss reached your lips, but you, once again, had not returned it. Your muteness was followed by some hiccups and supplication but nothing seemed to stop the monster above you.

Your body’s natural reaction to his touch made you felt sick . Your bowels twitched at the thought of pleasure, you hated it, you hated that feeling so much, you would rather die.

«Now you will be a good girl, but there is no danger that you will be a bad girl, isn’t it true, pet?» Your half-opened lips made the curse above you even more aroused.

He bit your shoulder and made you bleed, and then, under your increasingly obvious shock, he took off your shorts and panties.

In a moment of lucidity you had brought your sore hands towards your intimacy, crying like a defenseless little girl and still begging him to let you go, to stop, not to do this to you... but nothing seemed to change his mind.

The curse slowly and forcefully pulled your hands from your most sensitive spot, giggling at you and your despair.

«How rude I am», he smiled , «I didn’t even introduce myself».

You struggled frantically in his grip, «As if I could give a fuck! Disgusting monster!».

The sick look of those who were torturing you became even more intense, He licked away your tears, while keeping you perfectly under his control.

«Oh, then you too have a spirit of survival, I thought you had lost the desire to fight», two fingers crept into your wet folds, surprising you.

You had bitten your lips, unable to restrain your weeping, disordered moans.

«I am Mahito», he had whispered in your right ear, while he was fucking you with his fingers, «keep this name in mind», he said kissing your ear shell.

«I am sure that soon you will shout it of your own free will».

Overwhelmed by his brute strength, you couldn’t help but cry.

Your sexual experiences could be counted on the fingers of a hand, what it was doing to you was something so abominable, and yet, your body could not help but react to unwanted caresses.

Dissociating seemed like something impossible, no matter how hard you tried to prove it, the feeling of his fingers inside of you wouldn’t let you get distracted.

Beyond that, the pain in your wrists grew stronger and stronger.

When you saw the face of the curse dipping between your thighs, settling on your violated pussy, you thought this was the first time someone was eating it, and no, it wasn’t something you wanted to get done; your shyness had always blocked you, but now there were no alternatives.

Still clenching your eyes, salty tears fell down your cheeks, now in a silent cry that heralded your destiny.

It was obvious, you couldn’t save yourself, it was too late, and when his tongue had sunk into your wet folds, you couldn’t help but arch your back to get away from his ruthless mouth.

In that desperate refusal, Mahito grabbed you by the side, trapping you in a cruel vise.

He licked all your excitement, lingering on your little feminine bud, there was nothing more annoying when his teeth grabbed him making your lower abdomen numb.

«No... I beg you, enough... I don’t want it», a guttural lament made you tremble like a leaf while the curse didn’t give sign of wanting to yield.

He sucked, then dipped his fingers in your tight opening.

You would have cum, you would have orgasmed, and you would have hated it, you would have hated yourself so much, so much...

With a choked-up moan you let yourself go into the spasms of orgasm, and as much as you hated to admit, it was painfully enjoyable.

He continued to overstimulate you as your thighs squeezed into his face, prey to a primal instinct that even you didn’t understand.

He caused a few complaints, while, horrified, you had noticed that his hand had rushed to rub the erection in his pants.

With a trickle of saliva tying his lips to your messy pussy, you couldn’t help but think the scene was tremendously erotic. Something made you pulse down there, and you certainly wouldn’t forgive yourself.

«Try to be honest with yourself», his voice teased you, while his hands spread out your legs again.

«And don’t hide», he said by rubbing your clitoris quickly.

Your sighs had become little squeaks of torment.

«e-enough... Enough... Too-»

«Poor little pet», he said slapping you in your core, «you are so desperate... You want more, don’t you?»

You were still crying, louder and louder, as you felt something rigid make room for yourself.

«Indeed...», he said, turning on your stomach, his lips in the shell of your ear, «I want to fuck you like a fucking dog, yes, as if we are two animals».

You were shaking like a leaf, and your wrists were throbbing with pain.

«they hurt me, this position... I can’t...», a slap angrily hit you on your buttocks.

«Shut up... be quiet», he bit you in the lobe, while his hands pushed you in the back, forcing you to adhere to the mattress.

Your butt was high, your femininity completely exposed to him, who was still torturing you with his fingers.

When he penetrated you with his monstrous cock, the squeaking from your throat intensified.

When he had started to move his hips in slow but deep and angry thrusts, you had screamed in pain.

Your pussy opened up to him, wrapping his long and big excitement.

A ring of delicious cream had formed around the circumference of the curse, and the more he stopped to study it, the more his horny cock enlarged.

«Don’t you feel what you’re doing to me?» he pulled your hair, forcing you to suffocate in your pillow.

«Don’t you feel how much we are made for each other?» one more push, one more scream from you.

You were a total mess, so physically challenged, you couldn’t even think straight.

The thrusts had become stronger and faster, his hands now, had run down your delicate neck, clutching him in a vise.

Her teeth sank into your back and shoulders as you trickled blood down and dirty the bed and your shirt crumpled over your tits.

«h-help», you had whispered in terror, unable to think clearly, «please».

«I’m sorry to tell you, sweetheart, but nobody will help you», with three other pushes he had come angrily inside you, filling you with his hot cum. You could hear it drip, while in an animal act, it continued to penetrate you without mercy.

«s-someone... Help me».

As you closed your eyes, you couldn’t help but feel the evil laugh of the curse above you.

«We will be together forever», He kissed your back , imperlated of sweat and blood.

«we will be together forever and you will adore it, you will love me, you will give to me a half cursed son».

Completely unconscious, your vision had become clouded, and even this could not block the cursed spirit.

«Open your legs, it will be a long night, you know?».

[warping-realities]

Building an Empire Part I

Okay, I know I said I didn't plan on writing anything new, but it seems that just by making the new images for Making

Amends the desire to try something new appeared. In reality, it's not that new because I'm not writing anything different from what I've written before and even the way the transformation occurs is derived from another story, albeit with some twists. And yes, as the title makes clear we are talking about a series, but I have no idea when the next part will be ready. Finally, this one is a little darker than my usual, so be warned. Hope you like it!

The Partner

Javier stared at the prison cell wall with hatred so deep in his eyes that it could burn a hole in the concrete in front of him. He had been very stupid to let himself get caught in something as stupid as tax evasion. The police had been looking for years for a reason to place him in that exact place without ever having come close to him engaging in any of the criminal activities that formed the basis of the small fortune acquired through his life of crime. At almost forty years of age he had acquired a reputation in the criminal underworld, several gangs and cartels hired his services with the guarantee of a quick and effective solution to any possible problem. An arrest would irreparably tarnish that reputation. And in his field, a man's reputation was his greatest asset, even more so when he had another reputation, that of an insatiable man-eater, who had only gotten away with his actions and the blatant homophobia in his midst due to his impeccable record. In fact, if a look could tear down a wall, Javier's cell would have been open to the outside world for a long time.

….

"Javier Ruiz, suspect in several cases of extortion, drug trafficking and possible involvement in homicides that have never been clarified. Raised by his maternal great-aunt Isabela Ruiz, his father was a member of a cartel killed in an exchange of gunfire with a rival gang before his birth and his heroin-addicted mother died with him in her arms at the age of 3 in the small apartment where they lived, where he would be found 4 days after the incident, dehydrated but still resisting.

Since he was a child, he was known for his enormous size, which earned him his nickname, Golias, Goliath, a name he adopted in the criminal underworld. We have had reports of his activities for more than two decades but without ever being able to link the nickname to the person. Until now.

Thanks to a rookie mistake we finally have him in custody, an opportunity. " Explained to the room a young dark haired cop.

"Indeed, he has precious information, but it seems no one in here is capable to get him to say anything." Police Lieutenant Patrick Walsh spoke in response, with a hard look at his subordinates.

"An opportunity we just missed. His bail was just paid, he's free." Interjected one of the police officers present, Sergeant Adams, a portly black man in his fifties.

"Shit, a completely wasted golden opportunity." Exclaimed the young dar haired and fresh out of the academy, Officer Anthony DiAngelo who was present there only because he was the lieutenant's wife's nephew.

"Maybe not. Sir, I have an idea." Said a strong blond man of about 35 years old with a rigid look and posture. And his idea made the lieutenant's eyes shine with excitement.

…

"Enjoying your freedom while you can Goliath?" asked the blonde detective in front of the police station when Javier was released.

"My name is Javier. And my taxes and bail have been paid, there's no need to bother me detective...?"

"Fischer. Michael Fischer. And I didn't want to bother you Golias, just warn you."

"Warn me, of what?"

"Unfortunately, it seems that the information that you spent the night at the police station has leaked . The rumor going around the city is that you handed over very important people to save your skin."

"Save me from what, a stupid accusation of tax evasion?"

"Ah, but they don't know that, do they?"

"Son of a bitch!"

"Goliath, this son of a bitch here is your best friend right now."

"I have no friends, let alone a pig like you. And if you think I'm going to fall for that stupid move and turn someone in, you're sorely mistaken."

"Well, I'm sure a lot of people have seen you talking to me in the last few minutes, friend." Detective Fischer concluded as he placed a card in Javier's pocket. While Javier, being in front of the police station, could not react the way he wanted and risk being arrested again.

"For when you realize the value of my friendship, Goliath."

…..

Javier was foaming at the mouth, with the money he had accumulated he knew he could live reasonably well in some forgotten third world country. Still, he needed to take Tia Isabel with him and that would be a big problem. How would he go out the country with an elderly illegal woman with the police and the city's biggest criminals on his tail?

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! You bastards." He shouted at the roof of the car as he headed to the comfortable apartment he had rented for the aunt who had raised him spend the last years of her life.

"Tia sabel, it's Javi, I'm sorry I didn't come to see you yesterday, I had an unforeseen event and we need to talk about... Tia? Tia?" Said Javier, touching the cold corpse of the woman who had created him and feeling a wave of pain, sadness and already the familiar hate and anger invade him."

"They're going to pay, they're going to pay...damn pigs." He said between tears, hugging his aunt's body. And so he continued for a long time. Until a strange buzzing sound caught his attention. Following the source of the sound he came across a shelf full of trinkets. The buzzing came from a small round golden box. He picked it up and felt it vibrate in his huge hand. Opening it he found a coin made of pure gold that when he picked it up dissolved in his hands, and just like that a whole new range of possibilities opened up to him and despite all the sadness of that moment he couldn't help but smile.

……

"Are you sure it's okay to you take care of Jamie, Will?"

"Yes, Mr. Fischer, you know I've been doing this for years."

"Still, I'd imagine you'd want to enjoy your last few days of spring break before returning to college."

"Ah, you know I've never had the most lively social life. And it's a pleasure to spend some time with him, it's like he's a little brother."

"Thank you very much Will, you know I see you as a nephew too. And I'm sorry again, but Lauren is on night shift at the hospital and this urgent appointment came up."

"Like I said, Mr. Fischer. No problem, it's a pleasure." Replied the twenty-year-old boy standing at the door of Detective Fischer's comfortable suburban home, with a smile on his face.

After giving his eight-year-old son a hug and apologizing for his absence, Michael got into his SUV and responded to the message from the unknown number but which belonged to a person he would probably know very well. He just couldn't imagine how much.

….

Michael Fischer was a tough man, with few smiles, shaped by the service to his country, he had served in Afghanistan and seen the horrors of war firsthand. Upon returning he enrolled in the police academy and at the age of 35 he was a detective in one of the busiest police stations in the large metropolis in which he lived. His reputation for being harsh had spread quickly among his colleagues and the criminal population, earning him admirers but also many enemies, even among his colleagues, as everyone knew that he could become ruthless in his endeavor for what he thought was fair.

For him there was no such thing as the spirit of the law, the law was the law and had to be followed, which did not prevent him from using its obscure margins, often bringing him closer to the behavior of the same subjects he sought with so much to penalize. Something that many of his detractors loved to use against him. Mainly old Sergeant Adams, a member of the union and activist for racial equality, who seemed to see some of the positions adopted by him as racist. Which wasn't true, because for him a criminal was a criminal, regardless of social class or color and they all deserved punishment and if Michael was the one to lead them to it, so much the better.

Anyone who knew Michael from work could never imagine that the rigid and tough guy was a loving father and husband, a helpful neighbor and an active member of the Lutheran church where he was loved by everyone and recognized for carrying out social works. The church was indeed a very important place for him, as it had been his home for years and was deeply related to why he acted so stoically.

Michael had been orphaned at a very young age and had known the reality of the streets, he himself had almost been one of the strays he hated so much if it hadn't been for the shelter of religion and maybe that was the reason he persecuted social misfits so much, the notion that he had almost been one of them. And if there was one thing he knew from the bottom of his heart, it was that he would do everything to make sure Jamie didn't have to go through the same thing.

It was this responsibility with his son, the result of his relationship with Lauren, the nurse who had taken care of him after the accident that ended his short military career, that he thought about while looking at the photo that served as the wallpaper on his cell phone, showing him and his son on a summer afternoon.

Michael sighed when he saw his son's face being covered by a message notification on his cell phone screen saying simply: Apartment 416. He knew it was imprudent of him to go alone and talk to Javier, but the criminal represented a great chance of incapacitate several of the city's gangs. An opportunity he couldn't pass up. Resigned, he got out of the car and entered the building, not knowing that the man who entered would be very different from the one who would leave.

….

The first thing Michael felt when entering the apartment was cold, the temperature inside was many degrees lower than expected, as if it were the height of winter. Adjusting his coat to his body, he observed the simple but comfortable living room with attentive eyes, but the room was completely empty. The second thing to hit his senses was the smell of flowers, so intense that it seemed as if he had entered a flower shop. Guided by that aroma, he arrived at one of the apartment's bedrooms and there he found Isabel Ruiz's corpse lying on a bed of flowers.

"Shit..." He exclaimed as he ran out of the room and grabbed his cell phone to call reinforcements, realizing what a mistake it was to go to that place alone. Javier Ruiz was a dangerous man and would certainly be distraught over the death of the only family figure he had ever known, even if he was a total psychopath as Michael was sure he actually was. Which only made things worse, only God knew what that kind of monster would do in that situation, although Michael was about to find out.

Upon returning to the previously empty room he found himself face to face with the man known as Goliath, and at that moment two things became clear to him. The first was that Javier's nickname was justified, sitting in an armchair that could barely contain all of his enormous muscles, he actually resembled the image of the biblical giant. And the second thing was that he had fucked everything up.

Staring at the gargantuan figure in front of him, Michael, without realizing it, let slip the thought that occupied his mind.

"Fuck!"

"Not yet." Was Javier's enigmatic response. As his serious face broke into a terrifying smile.

"Look, Javier, I'm sorry about your aunt, but I had nothing to do with..."

"Spare your words. There is nothing you can say that will change your destiny." Javier interrupted. While Michael faced him while realizing that there would in fact be no chance of dialogue. So Michael tried to take his pistol from his holster, only to realize that he was completely paralyzed. Which led him to be dominated by a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time: fear.

Noticing this, the giant stood up, with the maniacal smile back on his face.

"You're trapped in my net, detective. And because of your own choices. Isn't it curious? How do our choices seal our destinies? My parents' choices brought me to Tia Isabel. My choices led me to your police station and yours choices took her away from me, but they also gave me the opportunity to have everything I ever wanted, to take revenge on everyone who got in my way and finally occupy the place I deserve."

"What are you doing to me, you psychopath?"

"Shut up, I already said you don't need to talk, not yet." Javier replied, while a strip of golden metal closed Michael's mouth, making his eyes widen in surprise.

"Interesting, isn't it? Who would have thought that my poor aunt had in her hands the power to shape the universe at will and never used it. I wonder how many years this power was there on that shelf begging to be used while she resisted. If it weren't for the idiotic work from your team perhaps this power would never have reached me. So for that I am grateful to you... friend. No, no friend, I told you this before, we will never be friends, which doesn't stop us from being other things. " Javier whispered in Michael's ears, who in turn tried desperately to escape, only to realize that his feet were surrounded by the same metallic substance.

"Let's see what you have to offer, Detective." Javier added as the metallic substance liquefied and encompassed Michael's body.

"Interesting." Javier muttered as the substance solidified, forming what looked like a metal statue that vaguely resembled the naked image of the man inside it.

Earlier that day when Javier touched the coin, which was actually much more than that, a wave of information invaded his mind. That simple coin was in reality one of the most powerful artifacts known in the universe, a Reality Warper that transferred into the man's mind everything he needed to know. There were a few more models on our planet, one of the silver ones was even located in a city a few hundred miles away from where they were. But silver mattered little when you had gold. And Javier's gold would allow detective Michael Fischer to be reshaped in any way he wanted, from his personal history, through genetics to the deepest of thoughts. Know that gave Javier the greatest excitement of his life, which was manifested through the immense erection that almost burst his jeans and that would have been very visible to poor Michael if he hadn't been trapped inside his golden cocoon.

"Let's start." Javier said out loud as if Michael could hear him, while he placed his huge hand on the golden figure's chest, causing waves of energy to spread and its face to lose any defining features. At the same time, the figure's body increased in muscle, reacting to one of Goliath's great fetishes, men as big as himself, that he could subdue. and use.

While that transformation was taking place, Michael Fischer's mind and story opened up to Javier like a file that he could alter at will. He saw the orphanhood, the importance of the church, the desire to serve the country, the injury during his time serving abroad, the loving relationship with his wife and the concern for his son. But also the harsh and cruel treatment given to those he considered outcasts and the dubious selectivity with which he treated people of color, although he denied it even to himself. He also saw how the police officer prided himself on rectitude and incorruptibility and did not tolerate colleagues who did not act with the politeness, rectitude and severity that he expected from a police officer. Upon seeing all that, Javier smiled and started working.

He knew that what he was doing would not only alter the man trapped in the cocoon, but all of reality, including his own, and so he took care to create the reality that best benefited him. When he was satisfied with his work he secured another revenge, he will left the police officer consciousness last a few minutes after the work is completed and a completely different person takes that place.

Javier removed his hand from the figure's chest and watched the waves of energy spread through it, reconfiguring it into a very different form. After a few seconds he found himself in front of the image of an enormous man, of clearly Latin descent like his own, of approximately his age and size as large, if not larger.

The smile remained on his face as the golden coating dissolved and revealed the image of the man inside.

"Hello Detective Flores." Javier said, looking at the huge man still disoriented in front of him, but who quickly frowned and looked at him with irritation.

"Ruiz you son of..." Michael started to say only to hear his own deep voice and stop, as he didn't recognize it, just as he didn't recognize the weight of his own body or the hands at which he looked next.

"What did you do to me?"

"Don't worry Miguel, everything will make sense soon."

"Miguel? What?..." Michael began to say until he was invaded by a wave of memories that weren't his but were undoubtedly real.

He saw a Latino boy walking alone through the city streets, until he stopped in front of a church and sat down, only to be chased away by a blond pastor.

"This is no place for people like you!" Said the man.

A new memory, the boy, now around 13 years old, very tall but very thin, wandering down the street and being chased by older boys under the gaze of a police patrol who did nothing to help him.

The boy at 18 enlisting not because he had any patriotic desire within him, but because it was a way to get food and money.

The young man at 21 years old, very different from what he had been until then, now strong and muscular due to finally receiving an adequate diet and military training, not to mention the exorbitant use of anabolic steroids.

The same young man a few months later took advantage of an accident to injure himself and avoid being sent to a mission to the country. After having spent the last few years exchanging sexual favors with superiors to avoid more dangerous missions.

The young man being cared for by a young nurse for whom he pretended to be interested only to guarantee his livelihood. Then a visit of an acquaintance from his orphanage days who sold him the idea of ​​joining the police and acting as an informant in exchange for money.

The man looking at the son he had with the nurse with slightly interest. The intense sexual encounters with random men while he maintained the sham marriage because it guaranteed him a good image.

The man charging the same pastor who had kicked him off the church's sidewalk a monthly fee to ensure that criminals did not vandalize the property. Criminals he had hired himself.

The man being all smiles and jokes, to be seen as a man of warm and pleasant behavior, well-liked by those who didn't know what he was hiding and feared by those who saw what was beneath the facade that hid the selfishness and ambition within him. Climbing the career ladder in the police, demanding favors, blackmailing and cheating. Building an external image of a respectable family man while getting rich with bribes and providing information to his former acquaintance, with whom he had constant and animalistic sexual relations, with both constantly disputing who would dominate the other.

Michael initially observed those images with detachment because they were so foreign to the life he knew and the image he had of himself that there was no possibility of him associating himself with them.

However, he couldn't help but place himself little by little in the moonlight of that other man, in that other life, it was as if an immense force was pushing him in the direction of that life so foreign to him. Little by little he began to feel that boy's pain, loneliness and anger to the point where he was able to justify to himself some of the attitudes of the man he had become, no matter how alien and distant such attitudes were from his way of thinking.

"But were they really that distant?" He thought with the heat of burning anger in his chest, the bitterness of humiliation in his mouth, the joy of victory, of making others feel what it was like to be on the losing side and the pleasure, the immense pleasure in manipulating, conquering, dominating. ...

"No, no... what about Lauren?" A woman to be by his side, support him and meet his needs.

"No, he loved her!" Well, he loved what she had given him, and that was, in a way, a kind of love.

"No, no, no! And Jamie! Jamie!" When he thought of his son, Michael felt that expanding force slow its inexorable advance. But at that moment another thought took hold. It's obvious that he loved the boy, after all he was a continuation of himself and when the time came he would teach the kid everything he needed to do well in life and he would make sure that his son knew his rightful place, above all others. But until then he didn't have much to do for the kid, other than paying the minimum attention to him so that he felt happy until the moment he was ready. With the childhood he had himself, he knew how necessary this was. As well to maintain the appearance of a responsible family father. So if every now and then he had to take the kid to play ball or ride a bike in the park, it would be a small price to pay.

Even more so because those walks had been the perfect excuse for some of the most interesting encounters he had ever had. Last weekend for example, one of the boring afternoons he spent with the boy turned into a memorable day in which he fucked hard a twink in the park bathroom, while Jaime played ball with Will, the neighbors' unbearably annoying son.

It was after the memory of that pleasure start to vanish that a last memory came to his mind: the man kissing his business partner and occasional lover in a familiar living room. And the man's animalistic smile as he undressed in preparation for the usual contest of strength that would culminate in one of the two being brutally fucked by the other.

"Hello Goliath" Detective Miguel Flores said to his long-time partner in crime and in bed at the same time that Michael Fischer's last shred of consciousness disappeared within that corrupted mind.

.....

After the wild sex Miguel watched amazed the dancing golden metal ran through Javier's hand, unable to believe the other man's story. Neither of them seeming the least bit concerned about the fact that they had sex with a corpse in the next room.

"It's impossible for something like this to exist."

"Let me prove it to you then, I'm dying to expand the business, bring me one of your colleagues from the police station and I'll show you."

"It's very risky, Javier."

"You do not trust me."

"Of course not."

"Fine, then let's think of someone. As soon as you arrest some of the smaller members of the Maldonado and Deshaun gangs there will be a drop in the distribution of some places and so I will need people to take over. Let's start small. It would have to be someone whose change doesn't generate too many unforeseen ripples and who has access to potential consumers. A professor? No, perhaps a college student..."

Upon hearing that a wicked smile appeared on Miguel's face, only to be mirrored by the other man when he heard what the detective had to say.

[an-idyllic-novelist]

dark schneider with shinobu!reader headcanons - part two

Warnings: ooc, violence, KNY manga spoilers, Bastard!! anime season two spoilers, strong language, violence, mentions of PTSD.

If you are not comfortable reading this type of story, please push the back button and read something more pleasant.

Hey guys, welcome to part two the fluffier version of the yandere headcanons, featuring the handsome, arrogant wizard Dark Schneider of the Netflix's anime series Bastard!! Heavy Metal, Dark Fantasy and the character!reader who is Shinobi Kocho from the beloved world of Demon Slayer aka Kimetsu no Yaiba! The link to them will be here.

For those who just came here and haven’t read part one, please do so before proceeding. The link to part one is here.

As it is portrayed in the series, there will be multiple references to heavy metal bands. I claim no ownership over them, including the lyrics of Operation: Mindcrime, composed by the American heavy metal band Queensryche in 1988 under the album of the same name.

Special thanks to @ccruzmoon, @anniespostssworld, @enryegotrip, and @mitra555 for their feedback and help with making this one of the best sequels I’ve written for a headcanon series in a long while! :)

So, with that being said, sit back, relax, and let's dive back into a world of magic and musical mayhem!

Golems from the ancient world aren’t much different than the ones used today. They are sentient, programmed to perform certain tasks, and able to regenerate themselves should their bodies be destroyed by an enemy. In fact, they were deemed as prototypes of an ‘AI - Drone’. Yoko didn’t know much beyond what her father had shown her in the temple’s sacred texts, but she did emphasize just how lucky you were to have discovered one in a weapons’ storehouse belonging to the Dark Rebel Army, with its parts and programming still in excellent condition. You have had it for over a year, and you can certainly tell that it wasn’t used for thermal optics or firing weapons at opponents from great distances like the AI-Drones were originally designed to do in war. 

For one, Led Zeppelin was made of metal dripped in gold, with stubby legs and a long feathery tail as well as wings. It could change its body’s mass from the size of a dumpling to a pillow in the blink of an eye, and had a mouth of razor-sharp teeth that served two purposes: storing items in its body, and showing recordings it took from its point of view. Oh, and biting people who came too close to you, its owner. Apparently, according to the technicians in the samurai residence, Led Zeppelin immediately bonded with you, the first person it saw once they had reactivated its factory settings. 

Well…supposed it is still a tad bit rude to keep referring to Led Zeppelin as an ‘it’ when ‘he’ has always been by your side, acting as a personal assistant and a subsequent comfort pet because goldfish have been extinct for the last century. When the night terrors began occurring last month, however, your Zeppelin had been stuck in the mechanical shop for a month because a few of his corroding parts were getting more difficult to find, courtesy of the Dark Rebel’s Army growing power in the country. 

But now the remaining safe haven in A-Ian-Maide was under attack by two Samurai Shoguns and a herd of sphinxes, your golem’s role would be more important than ever. He would keep Lucien Renlen safe, along with the women and children and the samurai who are stationed to look after them. When you gave this order, the golem shook his body rapidly - clearly he wanted to follow you into the battlefield outside. 

You smiled sadly as you shook your head too, cradling the tiny Zeppelin in your hands. “You have to. If there is anyone in this world who is capable of defeating the Dark Rebel Army and preventing them from reviving the God of Destruction,” You looked up, seeing a raven-haired young man in standard leather armor and about to burst into tears as he looked at you with wide, dark blue eyes. “It is the boy you are protecting. This is my final command as your owner.” When you said this, Zeppelin started weeping. You were startled. Since when golems could cry?

“Ara, ara, come now.” You cooed, wiping away the golden, oily tears with your thumbs. “You must be brave for me, Led Zeppelin. Farewell, my dearest companion.” Pressing a kiss against his tiny horns, you reluctantly took a few steps forward and placed Led Zeppelin on top of Lucien’s head. Giving the golem one final pat on the head, you turned around, ready to sprint from the main lobby and toward what might become your tombstone when a pair of wiry arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing you tightly from behind.

“[First Name], please don’t go!” You couldn’t feel his tears through your leather armor, and yet his voice was cracked. Desperate to keep you here behind the safety of the castle’s walls….even when these walls may come crumbling down the longer you are here. Untangling Lucien’s arms from your body, you turned around and faced him, covering his quivering hands with your own. 

“Lucien, I can’t. I need to be there for them, for Yoko. I can’t fail as I…as I had failed the two of you in Meta-llicana, the citizens. If I had only been quicker, stronger….none of this would have happened. And you wouldn’t have taken so long to recover. I’m so, so, sorry.” For a brief moment, you saw a glimmer of recognition in Lucien’s eyes. Perhaps you were already losing your mind? 

Shaking your head, you released Lucien’s hands from your grasp….and pulled him into a tight embrace. “Remember this, Lucien. To be born is a blessing. Do not look back in remorse, because nothing good comes from it. And remember to smile, even when it seems like suffering is coming towards you like an avalanche and it’s hard to breathe. But above all else….never forget that you are loved. Yoko loves you, and I love you. You are strong, and even if something happens to me…I know you will keep moving forward.” 

Leaning forward, you gently kissed Lucien. This is the same ritual Yoko had secretly been performing when she thought no one was around, oblivious to just how many times Led Zeppelin has caught her in action and you’ve seen it via the recordings. As the high priest’s daughter, she was the only other person left who could perform the Accept spell that would release Dark Schneider. Yet for the last two years, Lucien’s second identity never emerged. 

But you had hope. You believe that he will return…because he is the handsome, unsaintly, powerful hero of this universe. The show wouldn’t be the same without its main star, and it’s already been five episodes into the second season. 

Reluctantly, you took a step back from Lucien and Led Zeppelin, then another before you turned around and blitzed down the carpeted corridor towards the sound of battle cries, spell-casting, and the deafening roar of the sphinxes. A genocide opera almost fitting for an Insect Hashira ready to lay her life on the line….and bring her enemies down with her, no matter the cost. 

“Let me out! Damn it you brat, I said let me out! Let me help [First Name] or else she’ll get killed out there! Do you want her to die, or do you want her to live with us as the queen of the world we’ll conquer?!” Dark Schneider screamed inside Lucien’s head, pouring more of his magic through the seal that has kept him imprisoned in this weak body. “I’m ready! I’m strong enough to destroy these bastards now! SO LET ME OUT ALREADY, GODDAMMIT!!” 

The rain made the rocks slick, so blitzing from one area of the crumbling castle to another at your speed was almost impossible without slipping and spraining your ankle.  Leaving yourself wide open isn’t an option either, especially when one of the Shoguns was using wire to incapacitate his enemies, just like what he had done with Jorg. Making yourself scarce wasn’t your fighting style, but you couldn’t always do what you wanted to do on a battlefield. 

Still…the wires….

You carefully thumbed one of them, eyeing it carefully before recognition flashed through your mind. Ah, now  you remember! It had been when that girl who fancied herself as redeemable even after she allowed her little brother to kill so many humans and make them his spider familiars! If that’s the case….

You unsheathed your sword, palming the leather handle for a moment before you swiftly swung the blade, cutting down the wires that kept you from reaching the other samurai, Vai leading them. As you walked towards them, it took all of your willpower to not look down and see the bloodied corpses of the men sprawled at your feet. 

He was surprised, yelling how it was possible that you could see the threads. His statement made you blink in shock, pausing your treatment of an injured samurai. The wires were invisible, and yet you could see them? How odd. You were sure they could see it too. 

Shaking your head, you quickly administered the necessary aid to your patient from the sewed pockets of your haori. 

 A full vial of Dragon’s Breath to cauterize the wound, dried vermillion petals soaked in alcohol for disinfection, followed by bandages. “Believe me, I wish I knew too, but this is neither the time nor the place, Vai.” You said, helping the patient onto his feet. “All right, let’s get him somewhere where he can lay low -“ 

That was when you all heard it: a roar that shook the earth, ripping across the air through the valley followed by warmth seeping down your neck. Fear coiled itself in your stomach as the low thudding of footsteps grew closer. Blinking slowly, you turned your head and saw it. A magnificent specimen of a male sphinx, it’s orange mane bristled and teeth baring. 

Oh, dear. That is not good. It’s one thing to have a magical creature being controlled by a wizard, but an angry one? Definitely not good. You licked your cracked mouth. 

“Vai?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you distract that sphinx?”

“What?” 

“I said, can you distract this incredibly terrifying animal long enough so I can strike it from behind?” You said, patience wearing thin. “Can you do it or not?” 

Vai faltered for a moment, glancing at the sphinx before he groaned. “F-Fine, but be quick! It’s resistant to magic!” He exclaimed, taking the injured samurai from you and passing him to another comrade. 

You grinned. “Good thing what I have in mind does not involve using spells.” Bending your knees, you leaned back and blitzed forward. The sphinx unfurled its massive feathered wings, releasing strong gusts of wind that blew most of the samurai away, and high up in the air. Just where you needed to be. You inhaled sharply through your teeth, spinning your body so you were facing the sphinx, your dominant arm pulled back and holding your gleaming ninichrin blade. 

“Insect Breathing: Butterfly Dance Caprice.” 

You lunged forward, stabbing the sphinx in its backside and hind legs with the poison you had applied to the sword prior to the invasion as part of your weekly maintenance routine. You could have targeted the chest and behind the ears, but it would have taken longer for the poison to be absorbed into its body. The areas you struck in the male were much more vulnerable simply because they were used to attract potential females through an intricate dance, similar to what certain exotic birds did during mating season, at least that’s what you read in the encyclopedias back in your old world. 

Landing on the fractured stones of a destroyed keep, you watched in sadistic satisfaction as the sphinx crumbled into a heap, struggling to stand up for just a brief moment before losing consciousness. Good. It’s working. You thought. 

“I’m going ahead!” You yelled. “I’ll take down as many of these sphinxes as I can, and provide cover! If you see any threads blocking your path, tell me and I’ll cut them!” 

“How are you even doing this?!”

“Strike first, ask questions later!” 

And that was exactly what you did. You struck down the sphinxes who weren’t too high up in the air with your poison and sliced through the wires that weren’t coated with the heavy oil Yoko had released, flying across the battlefield like a butterfly just as you had done as a Demon Slayer. 

Who would have thought that one of the people you had saved during an outbreak of purple fever had been a magician gifted in the art of reconstructing an entire object to its original condition, so long as she had a piece of it? 

But there was no time for being sentimental, even for a second. The samurai were counting on you to even the odds that were in their favor. 

 Darting across the ruins of the castle, you heard a maniacal, grating laugh from amongst the sphinx’s roars. Skidding to a halt, you glanced up and saw a figure dressed in white and balancing himself in midair on a wire, holding Joshua captive in a web. Ah, that must be the Sorcerer Shogun responsible for killing Jorg. 

Supposed….it’s time to also test that too, hm? 

You inhaled a deep breath, closing your eyes as you crouched down towards with your sword by your side. Focus on opening the blood vessels in your legs, pumping oxygen through every muscle fiber and remaining absolutely still until you’re ready. You waited…and then you felt it. The muscles in your legs grew taunt, like a bowstring being pulled back and the faintest trace of thunder crackling beneath your feet. You smiled sadly.  Forgive me for using your own Breathing Style, Zenitsu. 

[Eye Color] irises snapped open. “Thunder Breathing: Thunderclap and Flash!” 

You pushed on your back leg, catapulting through the air as blue-white bolts of lightning swept beneath your feet. You raised your sword, slicing through the threads and allowing Joshua to get free.  Because you were ‘running’ at a high speed, you were not able to stop until you collided with the cliffside. You backflipped, using the momentum from your feet and the remainder of the Thunder Breathing technique to propel from the rocky terrain and propel towards the Sorcerer Shogun.

Dark brown hair matted down, half of it covering the right side, with a single red eye widening in surprise as you flew towards him, smiling and inhaling through the mouth again. 

“Insect Breathing, Dance of the Centipede: Hundred Legged Zigzag. Thunder Breathing: Thunderclap and Flash!”

Using two separate Breathing Styles at once is almost impossible because of the strain it puts on the body and having complete control over both techniques without it faltering either of them. You zigzagged across the sky, and with the lightning under your feet, it allowed you to close the distance between you and the Sorcerer Shogun, sword aimed at his neck. But instead of putting the poor fool out of his misery, you just grazed his clavicle area. 

Still, a graze will allow the poison to seep into his body. Won’t be long before he’s knocked out as well. You thought, landing on the ground on wobbly feet. You blinked, steadying yourself and trying very hard to ignore the black dots clouding your vision. Oh dear, methinks that was a bit too much. Well, can’t stop now. You thought, sheathing your sword just when you heard your name being called. Turning around, you saw Joshua running towards you, his mouth open and….saying something? 

Darkness suddenly enveloped you from behind, yet before you could do anything you felt something heavy and furry collide against your back, knocking the air out of your lungs as you were suddenly planted face-first into the ground. You wheezed. You tried to push yourself up, but the pressure just increased. Damn it, you might have broken a rib. Maybe two of them. The deafening roar that pierced your ear told you what was pinning you down. A sphinx. Not the smaller males. This was a female, and it is the larger one of the aggressive species. More than that, she doesn’t play with her food. 

If she’s hungry, she’ll swallow you in a single gulp. 

Nausea clenched at your throat like a fist, making it difficult to breathe through your nose. Your vision was starting to grow blurry. No. No…I can’t…I need…to get…up! 

“It’s okay.”

You froze, startled upon hearing a very familiar voice inside the recesses of your mind. Lucien? Is that…how did you…?!

“Everything will be okay, [First Name]. We’re here now. Just hang tight.”  

That was when the smell of sulfur hit you. The sphinx’s paw that had you pinned down was suddenly off, allowing you to roll onto your back and let air enter your body, even as the flames were grazing  the sleeves of your haori.  You watched with blurry eyes as the magical creature was incinerated….along with the others that were in the sky…by vortexes of red flames that jutted…from the castle’s baileys and rooftops? 

There’s only one person in the world who could perform magic on that scale. You smiled. It’s him. He’s back, after two long years. 

Dark Schneider is more than a little annoyed right now. 

He might have been able to take over after promising Lucien that he will keep [First Name] once he took possession of the body, but the badass comeback he had been planning to make in this series totally got screwed up by that weird-lookin’ peasant! Royal bodyguard? Sorry, no one gives orders to Dark Schneider, he’s the one that hands them out on a silver platter to his loyal servants. 

And why the fuck did the Sorcerer Shogun with Yorazashi threads quickly recover from the poison that his queen had personally given him?! No one is supposed to have plot immunity except for him, the gorgeous and saintly protagonist! 

He’s scripted to have a flashy battle with these clowns too, damn it! Macapine and Ba Thory are going down. He didn’t care if his salary was going to get cut in this episode, [First Name] needed him, right now. 

Raising his hand, the mighty evil wizard summoned the Goa Cyclone spell, followed by Spears ‘o Stone. The last one impaled the Shogun that had bugs in his body. Macapine was sent flying somewhere, and Dark Schneider hoped he would never come back for the rest of the season. Closing his eyes, he began to channel magic into the next incantation; this was a tricky spell, since it required a considerable amount of concentration for him to be able to accurately track down the person he wishes to find. 

Come, you know that you cannot refuse me

Let me into your mind,

So that we can watch the dragon burn 

Beneath the moonlight and stars of Revolution!

Operation Mindcrime!

Purple smoke and sparks of lightning billowed around him, swirling like a rising mist before immediately sinking into the crumbled stones beneath his feet. Dark Schneider’s magic thrummed as it traveled beneath the earth, driven by his desire to seek out the Insect Hashira, looking for the tiniest spec of her own white magic. Once his magic found that thin tendril, he was able to find her. 

She was being cradled by Kai’s arms while Yoko kneeled in front of her, the high priestess using her holy magic. Dark Schneider almost snarled at the sight of small lacerations on his queen’s face, the bruises on her hands and the sound of ribs being pushed back into place, eliciting a pained groan from her.

That’s enough. He thought, walking down the stairs, past the onlookers and Mifune, towards the battlefield with Lars tagging along behind him…and [First Name]’s golem. Yeah, the little bastard didn't like him one bit, not with how much he’s growling and snapping his teeth. He quickened his stride, almost blitzing through the carnage towards where the others were….wait, what is [First Name] doing?!

Yoko and Kai were yelling at her as she wobbled unsteadily towards a partially-eaten samurai, his lower half covered with what looked like the same creatures Ba Thory summoned to try to use on him, the greatest sorcerer in the world. 

“I appreciate your concern Yoko, Kai, but please let me…see what these creatures are. If they are what I think they are….we still have a chance to save everyone!” She looked at them with wide eyes, tired and desperate. “Please.”

Dark Schneider quickened his pace, almost running towards them with a furrowed brow. “Idiot.” He muttered. What could [First Name] even do in her current condition. Moreover, why is she trying so hard to save nobodies who barely made an impact on the second season of this show? She needed to take care of herself before taking care of others. How many close-calls of collapsing from overworking and suffering from night-terrors is it going to take until she understands that she can’t do everything if she’s weak? 

“Hey -” He called out, wanting to know what exactly is going on in this scenario when someone struck him in the back of the head with a fish. Glancing over his shoulder, the wizard felt annoyance and fear coil in his stomach simultaneously as he saw Yoko glowering down at him. 

“Late, late, late! You are so late!” She screamed, relentless in her assault as she continued to hit his head. “What took you so long?! What have you been up to for the past two years?! Almost the entire new cast of characters and we’re at risk of getting canceled unless we do something!” Her fists were quickly replaced with a mace that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. “But on top of it all, [First Name] says she can save everyone but we don’t even know how or what she’s talking about!”

“And why should I care what happens to them?” Dark Schneider barked as he rubbed his sore skull, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. “I don’t care about anyone else except for [First Name].”

The high priestess shook her fist in the air.  “What was that, you ungrateful little-!”

“That’s enough, Yoko!” [First Name] snapped, kneeling beside the fallen samurai next to Kai. Pulling out a scalpel, forceps and corked vial from her haori. 

She made an incision on one of the worms, causing it to squeal and writhe. Kai immediately plunged the tip of her sword into the leech, keeping it still long enough for [First Name] quickly used the forceps, pulling out a slimy, translucent worm about an inch, two inches long, holding it up in the air. 

“I knew it.” She whispered. “This is it.”

“What is it?” Kai asked. 

“This, my dear friend, is a regeneration worm. Difficult to find due to its rarity, but it is capable of healing wounds that cannot be repaired by magic,” [First Name] shared a hopeful smile with the taller woman. “Maybe…bring back our comrades from the brink of death. Like Schen Karr here.”

“You’re serious?”

“Quite.” [First Name] said. “Yoko! I need him!” 

“What?” 

“Trust me! Darsh, could you come here please? You too, Yoko!” [First Name] asked, waving her hand up and down in the air as she looked at him, hope and determination dancing in her eyes. 

Dark Schneider groaned. He knew that look. She wasn’t going to stop now until she collapses, so why does it turn him on so much? Well….he’ll just have to sweep her up in his arms like a princess and give some TLC later, right? Wait….did she just call him Darsh? He felt his face heat up a little. Damn it. Why does it sound so much better when she says than how Arshes called me that in the past?!

[First Name] quickly explained what he already knew about regeneration worms, and where Yoko’s healing magic comes into play. Kai was all for it and took off to inform the remaining samurai to gather what’s left of their fallen comrades. The high priestess went to work on Schen Karr, chanting blessed spells around Schen Karr while Dark Schneider and Led Zeppelin collected the worms. He had no problems finding the bastard Ba Thory and taking him apart piece by piece to get what his queen wanted, but how and why would a golem help out?

He knew about their storage capacity, nothing else beyond that. 

When he saw its jaws open and devour the leeches on the samurai’s body in three bites and regurgitate the worms on the ground in a neat pile by his feet, Dark Schneider withdrew his previous statement. 

While the handsome hero and his trusty sidekick Lars helped collect the worms, [First Name] would insert them inside her patients after she patched them up the wounds that Yoko's magic couldn’t reverse. The reddish-orange hues of dawn soon appeared over the mountainside as the heavy rain dissipated into a light sprinkle. The samurai crowded around, hugging each other or rushing around to help the citizens who got caught in the crossfire, bringing them to either Yoko or [First Name]. 

However, Dark Schneider could see that the healing process was taking its toll on his queen. She kept rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand, trying to keep them focused on her task. She needed to rest, and yet there was still a line of people who needed treatment. He commended [First Name] for being as patient as she had been, because he would’ve snapped the whiny warrior’s neck in half right now for refusing to lie still. No one wanted a weird-ass worm inside of them, but she would never deliberately endanger a patient. Yoko agreed, trying to coax the man that everything will be alright, yet he remained defiant. 

Dark Schneider’s eyes narrowed when the idiot slapped his queen’s shaky hand, causing her to drop the forceps and the worm to fall onto the ground. Led Zeppelin gobbled up the little bugger so it wouldn’t go to waste, and [First Name] had the patient pinned down by the throat.

 She needed to stop, now. 

He pushed past the crowd, walking right behind Shinobu and carefully removing her hand from the bastard, pressing his chest against her back for a moment before he scooped her up in his arms. 

“And you’re done! Hey asshole,” He glowered at the sniveling rat. “Show a little more compassion that it was my queen treating you second-rate servants and not me, or you’d be dead already. Actually,” The wizard turned to Yoko. “Let them  die if they keep acting like this. The casting department should have more than enough money left in the budget to hire more actors for this season.”

Yoko shook her head, the corners of her mouth tugging into a small smile before someone else, one of the civilians, came forward and offered to take over. The high priestess nodded, with Led Zeppelin reluctantly staying behind as Dark Schneider walked away with [First Name]. 

“Thank you, Darsh. Although if my memory serves me correctly, I did not say that I am your queen.” The Insect Hashira said, looking up at him with an inquisitive frown. 

“So you’re telling me there’s still a chance.” Dark Schenider responded with a grin.He watched in amusement as she just stared at him, wide-eyed before she sighed,  closing them as she shook her head at him fondly. “You haven’t changed a bit. Still…I’m glad you and Lucien are all right.” 

“Why wouldn’t we?”

“The last battle did take a toll on you, the both of you, Darsh, and if I-” 

“That wasn’t your fault.” 

“But -”

“You weren’t the one who summoned the Demon Mail and used it to attack Princess Sheila or me. That was Abigail. You did what you had to do to ensure everyone had a chance to survive. What happened to Meta-llicana was not your fault, so don’t you dare say it is or so help me I will drop you right now.” He hissed, halting in his trek to look down at her. “Do you understand?” [First Name] didn’t respond, instead she just blinked rapidly at him, face frozen with shock from the words he said before he scoffed, turning his attention to their surroundings. 

It’s not exactly an ideal place to rest, but this area wasn’t too far from the others and didn’t have as much debris lying around. Using his magic, Dark Schneider levitated and transformed  two of the largest rocks into a pillow and a small mattress. He remembered [First Name] referring to them as a ‘futon’. He remembered her telling him, as Lucien, the difference between a four poster bed and what she had been used to sleeping back in her old world. This was the closest thing he could create from how she described them

His queen was…well, she was in awe of his greatness. Her hands clenched, fisting and pulling on the fabric of his shirt before he set her down. Well, actually he kept her in his arms as he kneeled down and tucked her under the duvet. “There. All cozy, isn’t it?” He smirked, resting his chin with one hand as he laid on top of the futon while the other stroked the top of her head. 

Laying on his side next to her, the wizard smiled as he saw [Eye Color] irises fluttering beneath his touch, trying to fight off the exhaustion when it was already a losing battle for [First Name]. Then all of a sudden, she sat up from the futon and he felt something warm and soft press against his cheek. Her lips. She just kissed him. Willingly. Holy fuck. 

[First Name] smiled sleepily. “Thank you…Darsh.” Her serene voice muddled down to a soft, drowsy murmur before she laid flat on her back under the futon, her eyes closing. Five minutes later, her breathing slowed to soft inhaling and exhaling through the mouth. All Dark Schneider could do was stare down at her with a wide, goofy grin and pink cheeks while the dog ears on top of his head wiggled. 

[First Name] loves me. She loves us, Lucien! He exclaimed in his mind, the bushy tail behind him wagging in excitement. If everything goes well, we might even hit third base before the second season is over! When all he heard was a disapproving silence in the background, Dark Schneider chuckled weakly, continuing to pet [First Name]’s head gently. Okay, okay, maybe that’s a little too soon, but c’mon, not even a kiss for the handsome hero who busted his ass to save this show from being canceled forever? We gotta give these viewers something!

[Next will be season 2’s famous bath scene 😉 who wants to get tagged?]

Taglist:

@sleep-all-day-everyday

@theanimekid

@saltyfruitbat

@ccruzmoon

@cassanderasblog

@technikerin23

@justamegafan

@harame

@mitra555

@nunezs-stuff

@xoxo-shy

@currentlyinhell

@swallowtailcherry

[thebottomfromhell]

ONE-SHOT

Female Human (later Demon) Reader becoming Muzans lover

Ok, I will be evil with this one. This is the typical "reader/oc is yeeted i to the Mary Sue role because she is oh so special" but done my own way, which is basically destroy the promt into something more in character, so it might not be everyone's taste. Also being Muzan's part from this post.

Warnings: Manga Spoilers, Sexism, Power imbalance, Non-consented body modification (being turned into a demon), Narcissistic character, and Slight yandere behavior.

Muzan would never admit humanity has impressed him more than a fingers count of times. There have been several humans he found himself amazed with, but honestly? That only makes them less special. But the fact is still the same, when a human is capable os such a thing, it means they are worth of being more. Of being... almost perfect. Because no matter how many times he finds himself linked to human, humanity is a desease. The desease of getting tired, old, injured, weak and dead.

Not that he would ever go as far as to get rid of humans completely, what would he eat if he did? And raising them as cattle seems rather cruel, not only that but he must admit he enjoys human's products. The technology, the arts, the arquitecture... it would be a waste to get rid of it.

You were, are, impressive, not at the same level of Tamayo, but still an impressive woman he met as he was passing by as human. There was something about you, something he wanted. He couldn't ignore it, even if he did try, even if he had a hard time recognizing it. Specially because he didn't know why. With Akaza, it was his strengh. With Nakime, it was his wickedness. With Enmu, it was his... oddity. With Gyutaro, it was his hatred. With Gyokko, it was his art. With Rui, it was their resemblance. With Hantengu, it was his will and madness. With Kokushibou, it was his power and pride. For fuck's sake, he transformed Douma because of his shitty eyes! But in every case he knew exactly what he was doing and why at giving them their position in the Kizuki system.

Meanwhile, you can't compare to any of them. You aren't half as strong as most humans who called up his attention, you are sane, you are normal, average. Why are you here? In his head? Why does he let you stay near him, even when he should have killed you after switching to a new life. You met Muzan as a child, an odd one, very mature and smart for his age, but also had something you couldn't describe, but it set you off. Specially as he kept staring at you while you followed your routine.

You always made sure to show him bare minimum courtesy, he was the child of someone rich, after all. You didn't really care, until a young man came to you, he was very attractive and you did consider for a few seconds asking to meet or something. You are already an adult but haven't married yet, so people talk a lot about you, mostly condensending or nosy things. Maybe getting someone would stop the talking, as, depending on particular people, can be from annoying to hurtful. But after considering a few seconds, you decided it's not worth it, since you didn't know this man. You never wanted to come off as "desperate", that would make the rumours about you worse.

The thing is that. You didn't know this man, "Hello, Y/N." and yet he knows your name. He has a sweet voice, but something upseting from... you don't even know from what. "Excuse me, do we know each other?" You ask nerviously, and every second you look at him, he somehow manages to be more scary. There is something in the air, something... almost cursed. "We do, actually. But that doesn't matter. Tell me, dear, what do you think of your life?" He asks, but honestly? It feels that this is more to make up a conversation than to actually know about you.

You answer, lying in some details, saying some things mostly because it's correct to say it. In some aspects, you don't feel like other women, like you are not like the other ladies, hence you are also treated differently, maybe that is the reason you never got a fiance, even is it's considered unsightful that a young lady doesn't get any attention at all. Most men think you are "hard to manage", so they don't. You don't really like it but at this point you learned not to care. You also tell some truths, but not really giving so much detail. You just want to leave. There is something about this guy giving you creeps.

"I see." He chuckles a bit, and while it sounded nice, melodious even, it only made you tense up. "Honestly, I don't know what I was expecting asking such a silly question. But I guess you do have something interesting, you want to scape your life." That is not odd to find, most of his demons felt that same way. Akaza wanted to scape his family's death and lack of purpose, Kokushibou wanted to scape his weakness and sense of inferiority to his brother, Douma wanted to scape the numbness of the cult, Hantengu wanted to scape his criminal record and death sentence, Nakime wanted to scape her life as a poor wife of a gambler, even Rui wanted to scape his sickness.

You are no different. You are not special. And yet, annoyingly, he can't shake off his interest towards you. Maybe, because you are not special, he should enlist you with the others. In the best case scenario, you will join the Kizuki system. At the worst? He will get bored of you when you prove to be useless. Because, while attracked, he doesn't have the patience to stay by when there is so much to do. He can only have the best and the most useful assets by his side. Prove yourself then.

You didn't even manage to blink before you feel a potent sting of pain in your skull, the smell of blood that runs through your face makes you panic, but you can't move. The pain becomes numb as a liquid, an odd liquid, is... injected to your brain. It burns, but every pain is subdued. Then you feel cold air against your flesh as he removes his hand. "Join me, my dear. Prove that you deserve to be at my side." Everything else goes in a flash, as you become more overwhealmed and your body stretches, your skin becomes ick, your blood preassure rises. Everything becomes pain for a moment... and then nothing.

No pain, no cold, no nothing. Just hunger, hunger for more blood. For him. But humans will have to do, because you are just so hungry you can't think straight. Did you ever? Because now. It's just your hunger and him what matter. "You are doing well, Y/N. Prove yourself worth it, and I will have an special gift for you." How could you reject that?

[sass-squat]

Part 1 of the Linked Universe Winged Au! Starting the series off with the bird man himself, Sky!

Next >>>

In my headcanon, I believe that the people of Skyloft have a relationship with their Loftwings that is similar to the Air Nomads and Sky Bison in ATLA. Just like how the Sky Bison were the original Airbenders and the companions of the Air Nomads, the Loftwings were the ones that taught the people of Skyloft how to fly and remain as their "other halves" to this day.

This idea was taken from the canon dialogue in Skyward Sword that states, "Skyloftians consider themselves to be one half of a pair until they are made whole by the Loftwings. When a Skyloftian is young, they meet their bird companion under the Statue of the Goddess. Having a Loftwing and being able to ride it separates the kids from the adults."

This sign of a Skyloftian child turning into an adult is shown as the kid meets their Loftwing counterpart and begin losing their baby feathers. As they grow up, their feathers will gradually molt and be replaced with colors the same plumage as their Loftwing counterparts. Afterward, their Loftwing will guide and teach them how to fly with the help of their parents.

Now you may be wondering, if the people of Skyloft have wings of their own, why do they still ride their Loftwings? Well one reason would be because the children on Skyloft still aren't able to fly for the first several years of their life. As a parent who may have one or more children, having a Loftwing to ride on would be a huge help rather then struggling to carry children and fly at the same time. There are also other circumstances to consider such as carrying large loads such as groceries or furniture, flying far distances, and combat that are all made easier with the help of a Loftwing.

Now back to Sky, seeing as his Loftwing is known for its bright crimson feathers and is modeled after the Shoebill bird you can expect the same characteristics to be shown in his own wings for this au. Despite his poor running stamina, he's a VERY strong flier, if not the best out of all the Links due to growing up in the sky and having a giant bird teach him all the tricks. However, as shown in Skyward Sword, "Loftwings cannot fly during the nighttime since they have a terrible night vision, and only those which have been specially trained can fly in the dark." Sky has most certainly had special training to fly in the dark due to his history at the Knights Academy so he is capable of flying in the dark, but I do believe that his night vision is worse than other Links.

Anyways, that was a lot, so kudos to those who made it through all that lore dump! Let me know if you want to know more and who you want to see next! 😊

[mamasplat]

Why do I care so much about deciphering character ages in Pokemon?

Simply put, angst. Or in long terms-

The art of storytelling is not so cut and dry, anyone with basic media literacy knows this. There is so much subtext and unspoken information that rings loudly in the implications of a story, something as simple as the age of an MC will dictate how heavily their experiences will affect them. Using the Gen6 games as examples (XY and Omega Ruby specifically)

By figuring out where to place Calem Serena and Zinnia in age, the story they live through gains added context. They all share the same bracket of 18-19 meaning they are in they’re late late teens and budding into the incoming subconscious weight of young adulthood, the subconscious urge to be stronger and reckless to prove yourself as capable in the real world; while still being young and having so much to learn. They have further motive to get involved in the heavy actions they take and will fall and break down even harder when they fail. Such is the right of growing up.

And for more adult characters, the same still holds true.

Doing the same thing I did with the kalos protags age by calculating off of a canon characters official age (emma) and then taking into account mannerisms dialogue and design; Admin Tabitha from team magma is officially 27, stated by himself. So going off of the work place hierarchy, Leader Maxie with his experience and status should be in his late 40s to maybe early 50s, making him the prime age for an early onset midlife crisis, linking that to his past relationships with Archie and the reasoning for making his team, his clear strong sense of justice even if misplaced, you have a man who can quickly spiral into a rather pitiful sight if pushed too hard in the wrong direction. First he bares his teeth, then he whines. Like a scared dog trying to protect itself and the image he has made for himself.

Meanwhile Courtney who is evidently more experienced than Tabitha is confirmed to have been with the team longer than him, as his paperwork is still seated on her desk, seems to be in her early 20s, I originally assumed she was in her mid 20s but then she released in pokemon masters and I was able to study her behavior more closely, she has this uncanny glimpse of childlike wonder at times that makes me believe she’s maybe younger than Tabitha, that added to the fact Tabitha seems to look out for her with her social struggles, almost taking on a brotherly role it seems.

Her being in her early twenties adds more weight to her codependency on Maxie as well as her reckless devotion, she’s younger and somewhat impressionable, she’s not against violent action to protect her passions.

And because I was able to gather Courtney had more experience while being younger I can come to the conclusion that it’s very possible Courtney was a science prodigy of some sort, as she is known in her field. And seeing she’s been with team magma longer and has evident close bonds with Maxie, it’s even more possible they worked together when she was younger.

Originally that led me to the thought she might have worked in relation to the Devon corporation, but with the art of visual storytelling in Sea Mauville, it’s not insane to assume Archie and Maxie may have worked together with the Mauville Corporation and that’s what makes them so jaded in modern day, a bad work environment being a stepping stone to their fall from grace. By Sea Mauville’s writings alone I don’t see them being against overworking a young teen prodigy. It’s possible maybe leader Maxie knew Courtney from his time there and brought her onto his team when the company went under. (This also means I need to retcon tf out of my in character Courtney blog.)

This also can explain Courtney’s role playing more into a team disciplinary, her time in Sea Mauville so young could’ve taught her to be more aggressive in order to earn her respect and get better outcome from rookie labor, as it’s heavily shown grunts seem to fear Courtney in some respects.

And ALL of this is merely the writing on the wall I can read when I take into account the age of our cast

[tulipe-rose]

Imagine how ironic, if not hilarious, it would be if yet another ginger took his last breathes while laying between Dazai's arms. I take it to be an interesting scenario multiple accounts attempted writing, and succeeding magnificently at that. I really enjoy reading the bitter tragedy interpreted by dozens of unique perspectives, such that I though I might as well add in my own. (Someone else probably thought of this first, so please don't call me a thief. If you do find a similar opinion, I'd appreciate it if you could politely link the post for me to read.)

Chūya Nakahara. Great Port Mafia executive, and wielder of his infamous gravitational ability; one of the most fearsome abilities out there. Enough to spark terror in the hearts of those whom once dared to oppose him, and survived to witness the light of day by some miracle. Said ability however, doesn't stand alone. The demon Arahabaki, a power that bears great weight on the ginger head's shoulders, occupies the young man's body around the clock. When activated, all sense is lost,and blind rage is left to lead.

Such a devastatingly extraordinary sight, quite fit for the demonic entity.

Finding beauty, or positive significance in such a hazardous display was something unique to the demon prodigy alone.

Chūya never truly resorts to using the Arahabaki demon unless backed into a corner, having complete faith in his partner's capability of halting him when the job was taken care of.

This time was supposedly no different. There occurred a fierce battle on a certain tranquil night, one that'd go down in history. There wasn't much of an option, it was a do or die situation, the stakes being the lives of his comrades. Chūya never hesitated when it came to protecting those whom treated him well, and had a significance in his heart. He'd never abandon them, even if they were to throw him under the bus. He was far too loyal.

Anyhow, Chūya slowly starts reciting the verse he seemed all too familiar with, before slowly descending into a feral state. The battle commences, and it's an utter disaster.

The enemy won't budge, and the corrupted Mafioso would be sent into more of an unintelligible state of madness, desiring destruction.

An issue arises, and that would be the absence of a particular lanky-beanpole, waste if bandages. By now, Dazai would be stepping in to break Chūya free of his corrupted chains, yet he's nowhere to be seen. Hell breaks loose, and the Arahabaki demon inflicts it's final blow.

...

Chūya Nakahara's body would crash to the ground before collapsing. His consciousness returned to him with great strain, and he was aware his last moments were his current. A faint sequence of haggard breathing could be heard. Though not having enough strength to take a glance at them, he knew whom these breathes belonged to. He knew that sound like the back of his hand; they didn't know each other for so long for nothing.

A soft croak escaped his partner, it's goal to grab the bandaged man's attention. The tone of voice was extremely faint and airy, yet Dazai paid undivided attention to every word. "'Agh... Hurts like hell..."

The messy man races over to cradle his partner's body, sensing the consciousness withering away. "Oh Chūya... You..." Dazai repeated to himself more than anything, his face rested into a frown, whispering in a low tone laced with subtle desperation. Regret was evident, and an expression that had been hidden away for far too long adorned his face next; sadness.

Dazai readjusts Chūya's position in his arms, "Now, now, Take it easy." Chūya looks on in mock irritation, before coughing up a handful of blood, causing him to recoil in exhaustion. "Damn it... This is probably it for me... Though I had no idea waking up was an possible... I'm... saying this only once... .. Don't you dare die, you damned Mackerel... That weretiger needs you..." Dazai looked on in muted horror, anxiety, strong denial and sorrow. The moment he never assumd to come, the one that he had happily dreamt of; it's here, and Dazai couldn't help but feel helpless. He held Chūya tighter, never daring to interrupt. "Ane-san..." His speech was sluggish, and his breathing patterns were inconsistent. Most of his words came out incoherent, and much was left unsaid, but Dazai knew what was to be done.

''AUGHHGU..." Pools of blood spewed out, staining his clothes further, his consciousness blacking in and out. "Ugh... I wasn't expecting it to be peaceful anyway... You- know... What to do... So I'll leave it to you..."

Abrupt silence hit, and the ginger's body went limp; embracing a long overdue rest.

The brunette gave his partner a melancholic look, clutching onto the small statured corpse gracefully lumped in his hold.

〜⁠(⁠꒪⁠꒳⁠꒪⁠)⁠〜〜⁠(⁠꒪⁠꒳⁠꒪⁠)⁠〜〜⁠(⁠꒪⁠꒳⁠꒪⁠)⁠〜〜⁠(⁠꒪⁠꒳⁠꒪⁠)⁠〜〜⁠(⁠꒪⁠꒳⁠꒪⁠)⁠〜

(I kind of hate how it turned out ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡. Whatever--, moving on with life.

I personally view this as platonic soulmates/Friendship where bonds go deeper than blood/complicated siblings????(Not really), please don't judge me ＼⁠(ﾟ⁠ｰﾟ⁠＼⁠))

[mekachu04]

21. Battle

Kidd - 15 (not really in this one) | Killer - 19

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Killer's side of the Break-up

How Killer got to be Boss

I kill some OC's again

Kidd is talked about a little but is not present for this one

Killer isn't really a main player either until the end

another blink-and-you-miss-it future!crew cameo

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

Boss Athair may not have time to form an opinion of the Heaps recruit that called himself Killer, but his right hand man certainly does. A man of few words, Ceannard is old enough to be retiring form this whole business, but his loyalty to his Boss means he won't do so without someone trust worthy to take his place.

He's got many a men who make good soldiers, very few that will make good leaders. And even fewer capable of advising a leader.

Solider Brathadair is none of these things, but he'd been at Athair's side longer than anyone, and Athair treats him like a son. Solider Killer is all of these things, but is nothing more then 'Boy' to the Boss. It's maddening to Ceannard  - seniority overshadowing all else. Athair claims to trust Ceannard in all things, but here is the impasse they have stalemated on.

Athair wants Ceannard to train up Brathadair to replace him. Ceannard has been working with Solider Boy for almost three years now and last fall even got him to swear fidelity to Athair and become a made-man. Ceannard knows who the better choice would be; Athair thinks Boy's ties to the new Heaps Boss is a liability, Ceannard sees it as proof that Killer has a good head on his shoulders, and could be a very good tool to have with negotiating, he just needs some refining.

The Heap's Boss is wild and impulsive, and the crew he's gathering have no restraint or etiquette. But he could be a strong ally, and Athair needs one after things fell apart with the young upstarts that have taken charge of the west and south parts of the city. Athair is the old man on the block, and the only one still pretending to respect him in the Big Boss in the City, and Ceannard knows it's only a matter of time before that becomes it's own fiasco.

<><><>

He just wasn't expecting it to happen so soon, a hail of bullets ripping though the hall. Not many are afforded the luxury of fire arms  - and Ceannard would very much like to know what finally caused their last ally to turn on them, and how they got this far with no alarm being raised.

"Soliders!" he's ordering them into position; his men armed with sword and daggers, against unknown numbers with guns and fire - if he had to guess based on the smoke starting to come in though the door. He and Brathadir will fall back to cover the Boss; The rest will likely die here, but hopefully give them time to move.

His next order never leaves his lungs, Ceannard gasping as the air is driven from his body by the blade driven through his back. Athair looks back at him stunned, horrified at the blood now falling to Ceannard's feet. Behind them the soldiers have engaged with the intruders, back to them, unable to see him falter. Athair falls forward on his own accord to catch his man before Ceannard hit the floor, the Boy was kneeling next to Athair and Ceannard, post forgotten as he tried to help Athair stem the bleeding.

It was a hollow endeavour. Ceannard knew it. Athair knew it. Solider Boy likely did too, but it didn't stop him from trying to keep his mentor from bleeding out.

"Brathadair!" Boss Athair summoned, looking for his senior soldier for backup in the unfolding chaos.

"Boss..." Solider Boy whispered, drawing his attention back. Athair watched his oldest friend slip away in his arms, numb. But that's not what the young man was drawing his attention to.

No, he was looking at the blade still sticking form Ceannard's back, a familiar hilt in the hazy light. Athair knows this blade to well - a gift from his own hand to Brathadair. His face is unguarded for a precious moment, disbelieving the man he called son would take the life of his dearest friend. He grabs a fistful of the mask Boy wears over his face - he'd mocked him for that Athair recalls, but it's working well for him in the thickening smoke - and pulls him close enough to glare into those ice blue eyes - "Solider - You find the man coward enough to stab my partner in the back, and you end him. You massacre everyone of those men if you have to, but the man who did this dies today."

"Yes Sir."

<><><>

When the dust does clear, there are clear losers. Ceannard is dead. Most of his men are dead. Brathadair is dead, along with the turncoats who allied with him.

Somewhere in the chaos, Athair took a bullet to the face. Killer's not sure why, the man never really liked him after all, but he still moves the corpse over to Ceannard.

Only one other Solider made it as far as Killer can tell, and even though he's a head taller than Killer, he still some how manages to look up at Killer for directions. He's as pale as Kidd, with a lost look to him, his dark blue frazzled hair sticking out erratically to complete the distressed nervous energy coming off him.

He stands there, looking over Killer, and then their fallen Boss, and their commander. "Now what do we do, Boss?"

[fangbangerghoul]

Heavy Metal Lover

Chapter 3: Delinquents and Discarded Citizens Wc: 2049 Starfield fanfiction Delgado x Ghoul Summary: The Crimson Fleet leader is trying to string all the collected information together. Little does he know there is someone who may be able to complete the pretty little bow of an answer.

New Chapter out! I plan to try to post on Mondays! So, keep a look out every monday for new chapters! Snippet below the cut but you can read the whole version on AO3. (link within the title)

Chapter 3: Delinquents and Discarded Citizens

“Hosita puta!” He expelled with an agitated breath. The slates and notes sprawled in front of him were barely congruent, but the tickle in the back of his brain told him they were related in his cause. The Legacy was still top priority for him. Even with the loss of some informants that worked for the Fleet, he was determined more than ever to bring the Crimson Fleet to an upper echelon within the Settled Systems. His disastrous ragtag of delinquents and discarded citizens were capable enough if led with a strong fist. He had promised himself a long time ago that before he was forced to leave this world, he would bring them the victory they all deserved.

“Boss?” The prepubescent voice of a younger man interrupted his train wreck of thoughts. It was like nails against a chalk board and the interruption was not welcomed for Delgado’s current mood. He lifted his eyes to the lanky man in front of him who ended up being Murdock, of course.

            “This better be good.” Delgado responded with gruff. He was trying to hold back the anger that emanated from his core. The fresh edges and puffy brown top of Murdock’s hair was styled purposely and an odd choice to Del. The Neon City kid had a few of the culture’s usual piercings and had been a part of his Fleet for 3 years now. You could take the kid out of the city but not the city out of the kid. Murdock had not grown completely into his manhood, but the young man at least knew how to follow orders. Most of the time. Murdock shifted subtly from foot to foot and Delgado straightened his posture to look him more head on now.

[11queensupreme11]

Just wanted to ask (not sure if this got sent properly) but how could a loser!girlflop!MC NOT set back feminism?

Especially in the premise of your fic, where, if the tags are anything to go by, the female girlflop mc will lose everything she holds dear including her mental stability and bodily autonomy to five or more overpowered MEN (granted they are gods, but still men.)

The main difference between her and OG!Percy, who got both the love of his life Annabeth and a pretty set future at New Rome College? Their gender.

Just to explain, I for one fully, or at least mostly understood what I was getting into when I began reading Arsenic Blues. I saw the Dead Dove tag, and know how to differentiate reality from fiction.

However, there’s a possibility that some loud mouthed single braincelled men out there (or women with internalized misogyny) that considers a fem!Percy with practically the same strength, abilities, and personality, too pretentious or something, began reading your fic after seeing the tags to get off on fem!Percy being non con fucked out of her mind, traumatized, and knocked down a peg or billion, reduced to a mere common victim of the gods, because they don’t like the concept of a strong fem!Percy. Cuz surely a loser coded girl saving Olympus is just a fluke and she needs to be put in her place by capable men😒

(This possibility is of course not your problem nor responsibility of course, but it still does not negate the fact that it sets back feminism, as some may use it as “proof” that women are inferior idiots that can’t be trusted with power.

“Look at OG!Male!Percy! He saved Olympus and the world twice with little to no major losses, got the girl, and has a bright future! Look at fem!Percy. This idiot managed to destroy her world in her stupid attempt to do what only a male version of her could! I knew that first time was a fluke!)

An example of this would be Zenitsu from Demon Slayer, ( a loser coded cringey but cute badass, first character that came to mind), who has a pretty large fan base despite his loser personality. Make Zenitsu a girl, and all of a sudden everyone is bashing her for being the weak link, dead weight, pick me bitch.

Or using TBOSAS, some people truly blame Lucy Gray for leaving a clearly psychotic person and says that the Hunger Games were her fault for leaving. It’s her fault that Snow turned evil, blaming the woman for the man’s actions.

(you sent this twice, but the only difference is the last paragraph, so im just gonna answer to this one instead of repeating both, hope you don't mind!)

i truly don't believe my fanfic is gonna set feminism back because, as you said, it's not my responsibility if some incel or girl with internalized misogyny sees it and uses it as a "gotcha" that "hahaha girls are weak cuz look what happened to fem!percy".

no normal person is gonna read my fic (or any book like this in general tbh) and suddenly think "omg.... girls are inferior to men! this book told me so and i'm gonna take it as fact!". if someone does think that, then they already had issues to begin with way before they started reading. my fic did not give them those issues.

normal ppl don't let themselves get influenced by a book in such a way because they've already gotten a solidified sense of right or wrong and they should already know "yeah the stuff happening to this MC is bad and not at all their fault. anyway! time to enjoy more of their suffering 🤪".

UNLESS ofc, they don't have a fully solidified sense of right or wrong, meaning they're just way too young to be reading my fic (or books like it). even then, not really my fault because i already gave out the warnings and even ao3 gives an additional "are you sure you wanna read this?" page. people can't control who reads the fics/books, they can just give out warnings

also, about the og male!percy vs my fem!percy thing, i can easily just write fanfic about og!percy going through the same thing. then what are they gonna say? in fact, there already ARE some juicy dark fics about poor og percy, savior of olympus, being reduced to just another victim of the gods (there's actually a lot more dark fics of og!percy going through traumatizing shit then there are fem!percy ones hehe 😍)

[ask-the-nine-links]

Dear little Link,

Are you eating enough? Are you staying warm? You can always come back home to grandma if you want any soup or a sweater or anything you might need. I know I shouldn't worry too much -- you've turned out to be such a strong, capable young man -- but I still can't help but remember how small and fragile you used to be. I was looking through these photos the other day. My were you cute! I bet your friends would like looking at these too, so I've sent some! I always end up making extra soup, so invite them over the next time you visit! In the past couple of weeks, Aryll came by to visit, so I made her favorite soup. I ended up making so much that I invited Tetra and her whole crew inside to have some! You should have seen it -- that crowd can eat! They were all saying, "More rounds of soup, please, grandma!" with soup on their faces! I've saved up some rupees for you, so make sure you search the bottom of the letter.

XOXO Love you,

Grandma

Sky: Aww, looks whose getting letters now~

Wind: YOU FUCKER GIVE THOSE BACK.

Sky: Its only fair I look into yours if you look into mine, yes? Your grandma looks like a very sweet person.

Wind: ...fair enough, and she is. I can't wait to see her again, I miss her and Aryll.

Sky: We can visit soon enough, Sailor. Then we can try the soup you are always talking about.

Wind: HELL YES GRANDMA'S SOUP IS THE BEST.

[mariana-oconnor]

The Yellow Face pt 1

Now and again, however, it chanced that even when he erred, the truth was still discovered. I have noted of some half-dozen cases of the kind; the Adventure of the Musgrave Ritual and that which I am about to recount are the two which present the strongest features of interest.

Aha, so Sherlock isn't going to solve this one. Interesting. I feel like ACD uses this device specifically to make his audience want to beat Holmes at his own game.

Sherlock Holmes was a man who seldom took exercise for exercise’s sake. Few men were capable of greater muscular effort, and he was undoubtedly one of the finest boxers of his weight that I have ever seen; but he looked upon aimless bodily exertion as a waste of energy, and he seldom bestirred himself save when there was some professional object to be served.

This is the most relatable Sherlock Holmes has ever been, and he's been pretty damn relatable. Well, not the boxing thing. But the wanting exercise to have a purpose thing.

Save for the occasional use of cocaine, he had no vices

Just the cocaine. 'He didn't do any drugs - except the cocaine, obvs' feels a bit like saying 'He never drives - except for the drag racing'

For two hours we rambled about together, in silence for the most part, as befits two men who know each other intimately. It was nearly five before we were back in Baker Street once more.

Wow... I'm trying very hard not to do queer readings of these stories (idky, I just feel like it's obvious) but sometimes things come up and I know phrases have changed in meaning. But is there any doubt as to why people romantically link these characters?

“This is Grosvenor mixture at eightpence an ounce,” Holmes answered, knocking a little out on his palm. “As he might get an excellent smoke for half the price, he has no need to practise economy.”

We get to see his encyclopaedic knowledge of tobacco ash in action. Not just a reported skill.

Then he has bitten through his amber. It takes a muscular, energetic fellow, and one with a good set of teeth, to do that.

When I was a small child who had just graduated to glass rather than plastic cups, I used to bite bits out of them. I wasn't particularly strong, although I did have quite good teeth back then. I was just quite stupid and didn't understand the consequences of my actions. However, I have never smoked a pipe, so don't know if biting down on it is a traditional part of the experience.

“It’s a very delicate thing,” said he. “One does not like to speak of one’s domestic affairs to strangers. It seems dreadful to discuss the conduct of one’s wife with two men whom I have never seen before. It’s horrible to have to do it. But I’ve got to the end of my tether, and I must have advice.”

Is this going to be another story where Holmes tells people to talk to their spouses?

From every gesture and expression I could see that he was a reserved, self-contained man, with a dash of pride in his nature, more likely to hide his wounds than to expose them.

Hey, Watson. Look at you reading people. Good for you.

And now, since last Monday, there has suddenly sprung up a barrier between us, and I find that there is something in her life and in her thought of which I know as little as if she were the woman who brushes by me in the street. We are estranged, and I want to know why.

Oh yeah, they need to talk to each other. Communication problems.

She went out to America when she was young, and lived in the town of Atlanta, where she married this Hebron, who was a lawyer with a good practice. They had one child, but the yellow fever broke out badly in the place, and both husband and child died of it.

Well this is already tragic and we haven't even got to the mystery yet.

"I have seen his death certificate."

That's weirdly specific, while also being vague pronoun use - the husband or the child? - and also a totally normal thing to say. I guess it's the husband because... that would be necessary for the marriage? But why bring that up? Like, from a Doylist perspective it makes sense to provide that information to the reader, but it's such a weird sentence to just slip in. I'm sure this information won't be at all important later on.

“There’s one thing I ought to tell you before I go further. When we married, my wife made over all her property to me—rather against my will, for I saw how awkward it would be if my business affairs went wrong. However, she would have it so, and it was done. Well, about six weeks ago she came to me."

That is... definitely a choice she made. It doesn't seem like the best choice, especially since apparently it was all her idea. I suppose there must have been a reason for it, but Effie... not sure it was your best idea.

“’And you won’t tell me what you want it for?’ “’Some day, perhaps, but not just at present, Jack.’ “So I had to be content with that, though it was the first time that there had ever been any secret between us. I gave her a check, and I never thought any more of the matter.

OK, he's already one of the most respectful husbands we've seen in these stories just for this. He agreed to look after her money, but to give it to her with no questions asked if she needed it. She asked for a large sum of money, so asking 'what for?' is genuinely a reasonable question, but when gently reminded of his promise he agrees to give her the money with only a little more curiosity. I'm not going to quibble about him questioning her slightly. According to the Bank of England, she asked for the equivalent of £10,000. If your spouse asks for £10,000 randomly one day it's pretty natural to ask what it's for... or you're a billionnaire I guess.

Now, she's a bit sus right now. That's a lot of money on no notice. I guess she has some skeletons in her past she has to pay off in some way.

But also, if you 'never thought any more of the matter' then why were you thinking of it enough to bring it up now? Clearly you definitely thought more on the matter... It strikes me that I may have praised you too soon. You don't seem to be being entirely truthful.

"I could not tell if the face were that of a man or a woman. It had been too far from me for that. But its color was what had impressed me most. It was of a livid chalky white, and with something set and rigid about it which was shockingly unnatural."

Mask? We're all agreed it's a mask, right? livid white, set and rigid? That describes a mask. Or a robot. But if it's a robot, then this is not the story I was expecting and I've really forgotten a lot about these stories since I last read them.

It's not a robot, right?

In the alternate universe where the 5 orange pips killer is the restless ghosts of the murdered, this is a robot.

She was deadly pale and breathing fast, glancing furtively towards the bed as she fastened her mantle, to see if she had disturbed me. Then, thinking that I was still asleep, she slipped noiselessly from the room, and an instant later I heard a sharp creaking which could only come from the hinges of the front door. I sat up in bed and rapped my knuckles against the rail to make certain that I was truly awake. Then I took my watch from under the pillow. It was three in the morning. What on this earth could my wife be doing out on the country road at three in the morning?

Night running? Probably not. Stargazing? Moonbathing? Ancient rites and rituals? Dancing skyclad?

Probably not any of those things. I agree, it is a strange time to go a-wandering. And she is being super sneaky about it. This is another tick against the 'sus' box. Although I do suspect this is going to be something like her being blackmailed by her former husband who didn't actually die at all or something like that. Not that she doesn't have the right to go walking the country lanes at 3am. She can do whatever she wants. Bit weird though.

Was it usual to keep pocket watches under pillows? I used to keep books under my pillow when I was younger - and stuffed down the side of my bed. And hidden in my duvet cover. But that was because I stayed up too late reading and had to hide them quickly when I needed to pretend to be asleep. Did bedside tables not exist in the 1890s? Internet tells me they became popular in the Georgian period. Why not keep your watch beside your bed then. This is entirely unimportant, I'm just surprised that anyone would keep something like a pocket watch under their pillow. He must have a really good pillow.

"I had sat for about twenty minutes"

That's not very long. So it's either not an affair or her affair partner has some stamina issues. I jest, I jest. That wouldn't really be a Sherlock Holmes kind of mystery.

"Where had she been during that strange expedition? I felt that I should have no peace until I knew, and yet I shrank from asking her again after once she had told me what was false. All the rest of the night I tossed and tumbled, framing theory after theory, each more unlikely than the last."

Well, it's less than 10 minutes walk away, so that narrows down your answers somewhat. Probably the neighbour's house, given your narrative so far, Mr Munro.

“’Ah, Jack,’ she said, ‘I have just been in to see if I can be of any assistance to our new neighbors. Why do you look at me like that, Jack? You are not angry with me?’ “’So,’ said I, ‘this is where you went during the night.’"

I mean, yes. But also that's a perfectly good reason for her to be coming out of the cottage. Visiting neighbours, particularly in more rural areas, particularly during this time period, would have been entirely normal. Unless women still had to be introduced by their husbands/fathers at this point, but I don't think that was the case by the end of the Victorian era like it was in Austen. I get that she's being sus, but this is the least suspicious thing she's done. You're right, but your logic is faulty.

“’How can you tell me what you know is false?’ I cried. ‘Your very voice changes as you speak. When have I ever had a secret from you? I shall enter that cottage, and I shall probe the matter to the bottom.’ “’No, no, Jack, for God’s sake!’ she gasped, in uncontrollable emotion. Then, as I approached the door, she seized my sleeve and pulled me back with convulsive strength.

This is also an entirely reasonable reaction to your husband deciding to invade the new neighbours' house while angry.

Maybe it's her kid?

"'If you come home with me, all will be well. If you force your way into that cottage, all is over between us.’ [...] ’I will trust you on one condition, and on one condition only,’ said I at last. ‘It is that this mystery comes to an end from now. You are at liberty to preserve your secret, but you must promise me that there shall be no more nightly visits, no more doings which are kept from my knowledge. I am willing to forget those which are passed if you will promise that there shall be no more in the future.’

Oh dear, no one's coming out well from this. On the one hand, that's quite the ultimatum she's making. On the other hand... that's quite the ultimatum he's making.

So far nothing she's done has been particularly terrible. I mean... a twenty minute walk in the middle of the night isn't bad. Visiting the neighbours isn't bad. All he's got is suspicions that she's lying to him. Meanwhile, she's emotionally blackmailing him with their relationship. I know this is all going to turn out to be very dramatic, because it's a Holmes case, but at the same time, Mr Munro is definitely overreacting right here.

“On the third day, however, I had ample evidence that her solemn promise was not enough to hold her back from this secret influence which drew her away from her husband and her duty."

Oh no... you're being a dick, Mr Munro. The promise you made her give was completely unreasonable. There is literally no way she can tell you everything she plans to do and even if she could, that's a dick move. And now, based on one night time walk and visit next door you're claiming that her leaving the house is drawing her away from her duty? I believed in you, Mr Munro. She is being a bit weird, yes, but you're being controlling and for absolutely no good reason.

“My mind was instantly filled with suspicion. I rushed upstairs to make sure that she was not in the house."

These are not the actions of a rational human being. This is paranoia. If your wife thinks she needs to collude with the servants against you, then your marriage is nowhere near as happy as you seem to think.

"Tingling with anger, I rushed down and hurried across, determined to end the matter once and forever. I saw my wife and the maid hurrying back along the lane, but I did not stop to speak with them. In the cottage lay the secret which was casting a shadow over my life."

What fucking shadow? The only thing casting a shadow over your life right now is you. You have 0 evidence that your wife is doing anything wrong. And the more you talk, the more convinced I am that she could absolutely have needed to take a walk at 3am just to get away from you. I don't think that's going to be the solution to the mystery, but I wouldn't blame her at this point.

And you did so well with the money! Although I suppose we only have your word for any of that, so who knows what actually happened there.

If it turns out that her child didn't die of Yellow Fever at all, but was just left disfigured and/or disabled and now she's visiting them, it's not going to go well for you, my dude.

"I did not even knock when I reached it, but turned the handle and rushed into the passage."

Fucking rude.

That's how you get a poker to the head, btw.

"The furniture and pictures were of the most common and vulgar description, save in the one chamber at the window of which I had seen the strange face. That was comfortable and elegant, and all my suspicions rose into a fierce bitter flame when I saw that on the mantelpiece stood a copy of a full-length photograph of my wife, which had been taken at my request only three months ago."

Mr Monro is kind of a snob, huh? If I liked him more, I might suggest that he and Watson get together for judging sessions.

FINE the picture is weird and evidence of some sort of weird secret. Congratulations, by trespassing and being a controlling dick you have uncovered one (1) piece of evidence that your wife is embroiled in some sort of secret relationship. But I really do think it's going to be maternal.

"It is the first shadow that has come between us, and it has so shaken me that I do not know what I should do for the best."

Well you sure have handled it well so far. /sarcasm.

If this is the first problem in your marriage and your first instinct was to fly completely off the handle and barge into someone else's house and search it from top to bottom just because your wife *checks notes*... went for a short walk in the nighttime and... visited the neighbours? then you are not stable enough for marriage. Oh and she wanted some money a little while before this, but you specifically said that you'd all but forgotten about it (which I doubt since it was the first thing you brought up) and you didn't know if it had any bearing on anything else.

Again, I have only vague recollections of this one. The only thing I really remember is the face in the window, everything else is a blur.

Current theory: her child didn't die, but survived the yellow fever with serious lasting effects. She couldn't support them alone, so she set them up with someone to look after them and when she was properly settled down with a comfortable a life, a (supposedly) loving husband and enough money, she used that £10,000 to bring the child to her and settle them in the cottage across the way so they would be close to each other.

Why all of that would need to be such a secret, I don't know, however. There must be some scandal involved somehow. If we didn't already know she'd been married before, I would have said the child was born out of wedlock, but even if that were the case surely she could just say it was the child of her first husband anyway and in this time with no internet, no one would have been any the wiser?

[knightconstellation]

Greek Quiz

thank you, @somethingclich8 for tagging me in 'which tragic Greek figure are you?' I chose one OC and two of my own creations.

Will Summers (Criminal Minds):

Cyparissus

young cyparissus, innocent cyparissus, it was all only an accident. your stag, finding relief from the relentless summer sun of Apollo under the forest's trees, did not deserve the cruel wound of your javelin stuck within him, and you did not deserve to inadvertently be the cause of his death. but grief does not care about intent and accidents, does it? even now, your cypress trees cry your mourning tears.

Ouch but yes if Will was any Greek tragedy, this feels fairly accurate. My boy would harm no-one willingly.

Cyrene (the trilogy as of yet untitled):

Odysseus

you are that which men dream to be: strong, courageous, and noble, with more intelligence than you know what to do with. and, like all men, you do not account for your overabundance of pride. you long for your name to be wrapped in glory and honor, and your journey home is only made longer by your search for fights to win and monsters to trick.

I don't think I'd ever use intelligent to describe Cyrene but she would. The rest is very true.

Etena (C.R.O.W.S):

Icarus

what is there to be said of icarus? you were warned, yet you persisted, imprudently. but what of your first taste of liberation? the exhilaration that follows the first ray of the sun to touch you as you are, as a free man, makes you drunk on joy. we all know the foolish things that drunken people are capable of. was the fall as thrilling as the flight?

This one hurts a lil, not gonna lie. Etena, my little rebel, I back you all the way and don't worry I have a good ending planned for you.

I have no-one to tag so if you are reading this, consider yourself tagged.

link here

[bear-boi-5]

Info Sheet

If you're already a follower, don't mind this, this is simply just a sheet for new comers

G'Day! Name's Bear/Beary! I'm the creator of the Other AU, an AU where the Rescue Corps have tragically died but have since been reborn as Creature Leafling Hybrids thanks to Olimar and Louie saving them.

I will post things relating to Pikmin a lot more but I will sometimes post random things about Ocs or other Fandoms.

Some info to get to know me :]

I use She/Her or She/They, idm :3

I'm Australian

I enjoy Fandoms like FNAF, Minecraft, Pac-Man, Super Mario, Super Smash Bros, Pokemon, Cuphead, Danganronpa, South Park, Hazbin/Helluva, SMG4, Baldi's Basics, TF2 and Sonic

I'm the creator of the Shroomy/Anti X Karen ship, ShroomKitty (since I have never seen it done before and I can only presume I created it)

My favourite Pikmin characters are Louie, Russ, Collin and Bernard

I'm working on getting the Other AU to be more well known so I have a reason to sell things like stickers to people who'd like em

Tags I tend to use/For others to use

#Other AU -For anything related to the Other AU

#Yellow-Dog Shepherd -Other AU Shepherd stuff

#Ice-Flake Collin -Other AU Collin stuff

#Rock-Mander Russ -Other AU Russ stuff

#Glow-Wraith Yonny -Other AU Yonny stuff

#Purple-Groove Bernard -Other AU Bernard stuff

#White-at-Legs Dingo -Other AU Dingo stuff

#Winged-Progg Pom -Other AU Pom stuff

#Please I'm lonely -Rambling/Ask box is open

#Other AU Fanart -If you ever make fanart (which I'd be very very grateful for) of the Other AU, just use this tag in conjunction with whatever character you've drawn :]

Adding onto this with the Viral Virus designs so far

-Survivors

Smg4 and Smg3

Whimpu, Saiko and Swag

Melony and Axol Jr

Mario and Karen

Boopkins and JubJub

(Link limit reached, find og post for more info)

Steve and Jerry

(Link limit reached, find og post for more info)

-Infected

Mr Monitor

Shroomy/Anti

Bob

Tari

Luigi

(Link limit reached, find og post for more info)

Chris

(Link limit reach, find og post for more info)

Kaizo

(Link limit reached, find og post for more info)

-Missing

Smg1 and Smg2

Meggy

(Link Limit reached, find og post for info)

Ask Blog for the AU!!

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

Highland Surrender by Heather McCollum

Sons of Sinclair #5

As worthy of being a son as her brothers, Hannah Sinclair is up to conclude the series and will find her happily ever after with a Norwegian Wolf Warrior who stops in on a mission for his queen.

What I liked:

* Hannah: intelligent, capable, protected by her brothers, skilled in several lethal talents, acted as a mother figure to her youngest brother, ready to stretch her wings and achieve one of her main life goals

* Erik: warrior, leader of men, loving brother, strong, wise, won’t deviate from the quest his queen sent him on because if he does…someone he loves will suffer

* That Hannah knows what she wants and is willing to reach out for it

* Erik’s backstory and why he is so committed to the current task though he begins to question whether or not it is “right”

* Catching up with the Four Horsemen, their wives, and families

* Trix and Libby: two young girls adopted into the family who add interest at times and are always willing to “save” someone they feel needs saving

* The plot, pacing, setting, characters, and conclusion

* Wondering if there will be a spinoff series that includes Osk, Niall, Sten…or if the author is thinking of something else entirely

What I didn’t like:

* Who and what I was meant not to like

* Thinking about how difficult it must have been for those without power when those in power chose to run roughshod over them, take what they owned, and harm them and their families

Did I enjoy this book? Yes

Would I read more by this author? Yes

Thank you to NetGalley and Entangled Publishing for the ARC – This is my honest review.

4-5 Stars

BLURB

With his family’s honor on the line, Norse warrior Erik Halverson has no choice but to follow the orders of the royal house of Denmark. Now he must follow his destiny—and royal command—to sail to Scotland, find his enemy’s weakest link, and abduct her. Their mistake, of course, was thinking the Sinclair lass wouldn’t fight back. From the moment her four brothers took control of their clan, Hannah Sinclair has learned to stand tall and defend herself. So when a big, brawny, and admittedly handsome warrior tries to abduct her, she isn’t about to give in. And the more he tries, the more she’s determined to make it as hard as possible...and enjoy it all the while. Now Norway’s greatest warrior has a Highland hellcat on his hands, and Odin help him, he can’t resist her. But with the brutal Sinclair brothers coming after them, Erik is out of options. War is inevitable. And when a man is forced to choose between duty and passion, only one will win…