#I know she still views me as going to hell. she’s not a good liar. you can always tell when she’s just being polite for politeness sake

[schmope-is-dead]

so. my grandma’s dying. but I feel conflicted about her death

[mossdoesartshit]

extermination day extermination always irritated vaggie. She had developed a major dislike of it upon being dropped into hell for showing mercy, which shouldve kept her in heaven than get her booted out, but she had found the love of her life here, so she couldnt complain. After the battle during the old hotels time, the exterminations had become far more erratic. sometimes theyd be only a month or so away, sometimes over a year. she had no doubts it was entirely because of lute, which she wasnt too fond of, but what could vaggie realistically do, her old sister in arms had always been a bit of a nutcase. besides, she had bigger fish to worry about right now. she and charlie were doing a headcount of people who had been in the hotel that day, (alastor, husk, nifty, the usual people, along with some hopefully quests to be) and there was one person distinctly missing "do i have to go get him?" vaggie asked, exasparated "come on please? he should be somewhere on the upper floors, i saw him walking up before the bell rang loud, besides you always have your weapon on you!" charlie begged, earning agreed mumblings of the others "If Safety Is Your Concern, Trust Me Vaggie, I Will Be Able To Handle Any Possible Nuisances While You're Getting Mister Bleeding Heart Back" alastor piped up, with that sickeningly sweet grin of his. She rolled her eyes, and groaned out a soft "fiine" as she moved to go up the hotel. Thank Fucking Lucifer that he had installed an elevator into the hotel, because boy howdy if vaggie had had to walk up the flight of stairs just to get Adam she would not have even considered it. Eventually, she found him on the roof, watching the carnage. "come on Adam, i know youre probably so fucking hard about all the destruction and shit, but you wont be safe from them killing you" Adam didnt turn to look at vaggie, instead closing his wings around himself as best he could, and "I can still recognize them you know" "huh?" with one wing, adam pointed down to two exterminators "that right there is lyre, ruthless as ever, but she has that methodical work flow, kind of like a dance. i think they partnered her with a newbie, which is good- well. bad, but. good from a combat standpoint- because she'll get good pointers at the end" vaggie looked down at the next group of exterminators that adam pointed to "over there is janatha, still fumbling with her stabs and pierces as ever. shes in a bigger squad, but they always worked well together, even if theyre a bit chaotic" an explosion blew up relatively near them, and adam looked over to it with sluggish movements "must be lute... say vags-" "vaggie." "-vaggie, do you remember flute?" "huh? you mean lutes sister?" "mmhm, lutes always been pretty ruthless, but that can leave her open at the back, flute would have covered her but. i think she was killed a few exterminations ago, the one that weapons dealer got. i think theyve tried to pair her with others but i always see her alone" vaggie stood there stunned "i. didnt think you were telling the truth when you said you recognized me. i thought you'd been bluffing or that lute had told you, given..." "well, thats the view souls have of me i suppose. liar down to a t. but i do recognize all of them. i just regret that my blind rage cost the lives of several of them and... lutes arm" another explosion closer to them alerted vaggie to grab adams shoulder "come on, charlies going to get worried if you keep me standing here, cant have you getting killed now that shes done so much work on you" "whatever you say vaggie" adam said, solemnly looking behind to where theyd spotted lute, before walking with vaggie to the elevator to get to the more bunkered area

[lau219]

Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

Part 11

Previous part here

***Warning: NSFW. Mature sexual content. 18+ readers ONLY!!! Minors, DNI!!!***

…………………………………………………………………………….

“Is this the typical contents of your fridge, or was the grocery store having a sale on all the worst stuff?”

Y/N was in Emmett’s kitchen, standing in front of the open refrigerator as she assessed what he had. She had come over once he’d arrived home from work and had the intention to make them something for dinner, but every single thing in his fridge was something highly processed and unhealthy. She wasn’t opposed to the occasional processed guilty pleasure or meal of convenience, but it looked like that was what his and the boys’ entire diet consisted of.

“What’s wrong with what’s in there?” Emmett asked as he watched her, leaning against the counter behind her with his arms crossed.

“Well, nothing, if you want to develop diabetes and rot your insides,” she said to him over her shoulder. Then, turning back, she continued. “Seriously, how are you in such good shape? You shouldn’t look that good if this is the crap you eat on a regular basis.”

Y/N hadn’t even really realized she’d said that last part out loud, and she hadn’t meant to. But after a moment, she felt Emmett come up behind her.

“So, what I’m hearing is that you’ve been checking me out,” he said teasingly.

Realizing what she’d said, Y/N blushed, but tried to save face.

“Just some observations made in passing,” she said over her shoulder. “We are neighbors, after all.”

“Just in passing? Or when you take your time hanging around by the fence?” Emmett teased her further.

Feeling the closeness of him behind her, Y/N was still blushing furiously as she looked over her shoulder once more.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, trying to sound convincing.

“I think you do,” Emmett replied. “You’re not as discreet as you think you are, you know. And you’re a terrible liar.”

Closing the refrigerator doors, Y/N finally turned around, slowly facing him.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t look so sexy when you mow the lawn, or any other time, then maybe I wouldn’t linger.”

Emmett smiled, reaching out and placing his hands on her hips, her back gently pressed to the fridge.

“I thought you hated it when I mow the lawn,” he said.

“The noise, yes,” Y/N replied. “The view, not so much.”

Emmett chuckled, highly entertained by her honesty, despite the fact that she was still blushing furiously.

“You offer a pretty damn good view out there yourself,” he said as he leaned forward and hovered in the crook of her neck. “And you don’t even know it.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked quietly, turning into him as he nuzzled her.

Emmett squeezed her hip as he spoke.

“That little white nightgown you parade around in?” he said, his voice heavy with arousal. “Fabric’s pretty thin, princess. I can see everything underneath.” He then raised his hand and gently cupped her breast through her sundress, stroking her nipple with his thumb for emphasis. “Everything.”

“What?! Oh my God!” Y/N said, suddenly lifting her arms between them and covering her face with her hands in embarrassment. “Are you serious?! I’ve had that on when I’ve gotten my mail and taken out the trash! I’ve stood and talked to people while wearing that!”

Emmett laughed, and Y/N stood up straight and pushed him aside, beginning to head for the door.

“How could I not have noticed that?! I’m going and throwing that nightgown in the trash right now!” she exclaimed.

“The hell you are,” Emmett said as he reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her before she got to the door. He pulled her back into him, and she braced her hands on his chest as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“I plan on seeing you in that a lot more. In fact, that’s the only thing you’re allowed to wear around me from now on, so you better not get rid of it.”

Y/N began to smile.

“The only thing? Ever?”

“Or maybe those little shorts and that black sports bra with the zipper. Or you can be naked. Your choice,” Emmett said, nuzzling her neck again.

Y/N giggled and moved her hands, gently grasping his biceps. Turning her face towards his, she spoke, her voice quiet.

“My clothes didn’t stop you the other night,” she said, sounding desirous but a little timid, a combination on her that Emmett loved.

“Nothing could have stopped me, and I haven’t been able to think about anything else since.”

“Neither have I,” Y/N admitted quietly, her heart pounding.

Emmett raised his head and looked at her, his expression serious.

“But I want you to feel comfortable...ready,” he said. “The other night was an exception, but if you feel like you want to take things slow, we can.”

Looking back at him, Y/N answered.

“I am comfortable,” she said. “And even though you also make me nervous, it’s a good kind of nervous.”

“I make you nervous?” he said.

Y/N bit her lower lip, looking at him.

“A good kind of nervous,” she repeated.

“Well, you drive me the good kind of crazy, so I guess we’re even,” he replied.

Y/N smiled, and they looked at each other for a moment.

“I’m comfortable,” she repeated quietly to reassure him.

Pulling her even closer, Emmett planted his lips on hers. It started off gentle, but when Y/N reached a hand up and curled it around the back of his neck and toyed with his hair, Emmett deepened the kiss, his hand sliding down onto her bottom while he placed his other hand on her back to press her chest more closely against his. When Y/N let out a small, quiet moan, Emmett pulled away from her mouth and ghosted his lips over her neck.

“From what I remember, you were pretty eager the other night, despite being mad at me,” he said lowly. He felt her skin heat up as she blushed, and when she didn’t reply right away, Emmett pulled away to look at her, squeezing her ribs.

“Very eager, in fact.”

Her face was burning with bashfulness, but Y/N forced herself to answer him.

“The man who stormed into my kitchen and said he should be in charge might have had something to do with that,” she admitted, confirming Emmett’s suspicions.

“Yeah?” he said, feeling his blood beginning to run south. “Is that what you like, princess? A little bossing around?”

Y/N bit her lip again, pressing closer to him but not meeting his eyes.

“If you take me upstairs, you can find out,” she said in nearly a whisper, her face crimson.

Emmett forced himself to stay collected as he lifted her chin to meet his eyes.

“Is that what you want?” he asked, needing a final confirmation from her.

Y/N slowly nodded her head.

“Yes,” she whispered.

With that, Emmett removed his hands from her waist and instead grabbed her hand, pulling her away from the fridge and walking through the kitchen, past the living room, and up the stairs. Y/N’s heart was racing as she followed behind Emmett, but when he pulled her into the bedroom and the door closed behind them, any thoughts she had were immediately silenced as he turned around and pulled her against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck as their lips met, and Emmett roughly squeezed her, their bodies unable to get any closer as they pressed into each other. When he moved his mouth to her neck once again, Y/N tilted her head.

“Emmett...” she breathed out as he firmly squeezed her ass through her dress.

“You start saying my name now, princess, and I won’t let you stop,” he said. He then let go of her and turned her around, Y/N bracing herself against the door as Emmett pressed into her from behind. He lifted the skirt of her sundress and ran his hands over her bare skin underneath, caressing her bottom as he spoke in her ear. “But something tells me you’ll like that.”

Y/N bit her lip again, her heart racing. This was a side of Emmett she’d fantasized about, but until the night of the block party, she hadn’t known it was actually there. She was thrilled it was, though, and she nearly laughed to herself as she thought about how surprised many of their neighbors would be to find out that, behind closed doors, Emmett wasn’t quite so suburban, and neither was she.

As she felt him caress her bottom again, Y/N stood up straight from the door, wanting to be pressed as close against him as possible. She leaned her back against his front, involuntarily thrusting her ass against him as she felt his erection pressing into her. Immediately, Emmett grabbed her hips and held her there, pulling her against him with more force. When he then reached a hand around to her front and simultaneously ran a finger up the center of her clothed pussy, she whimpered and said his name again.

“Emmett...”

“I told you, I won’t let you stop now,” he said darkly in her ear, his fingers still tracing along her folds. “And I seem to remember you telling me that you can be a naughty girl.” He lifted his hands to her chest and began to undo the buttons down her front. “Is that true, princess?”

Y/N moaned as his lips tickled the shell of her ear and his fingers moved down her torso, and she wiggled her ass against him again. Turning her head slightly over her shoulder, she grabbed his hands as they continued to work at her buttons. She met his eyes briefly before she replied in a breathy, sensual voice.

“For you, I can be.”

In an instant, Y/N saw a fire ignite in Emmett’s eyes, and he immediately gripped her waist and roughly turned her around to face him, crashing his lips against hers. They both moaned as their bodies pressed together again, and Emmett practically tore her dress the rest of the way open as Y/N grasped the collar of his shirt in her hands. Once her dress had fallen from her body, Y/N lifted her hands again and began opening Emmett’s shirt, undoing each button as he simultaneously worked his pants, unlatching his belt and lowering his fly as Y/N reached the final button on his shirt. As she slipped her hands under the fabric and pushed the shirt down his arms, Emmett shoved his pants down his waist and stepped out of them. Kicking them off somewhere, he met Y/N’s lips again as she ran her hands up his arms, gently squeezing his biceps and tracing his muscles with her fingers. The feel of her touch was an insane turn on, and he lifted his hands behind her and quickly unhooked her bra before pulling it away from her chest and dropping it to the floor. He heard Y/N inhale a small gasp as he glided his hand over her chest and palmed her left breast, pinching her nipple and then gently thumbing it.

“Teasing me for months with these beautiful tits,” he said lowly in her ear. “Underneath that nightgown, or barely contained in that little sports bra...I think you knew exactly what you were doing.”

Y/N shook her head as Emmett now stroked her right breast, filling his hand and kneading her as he stayed tucked in the crook of her neck. It was both such a shock and a thrill to hear him talk like this.

“No, I didn’t,” she breathed, and then arched into him as he once again pinched her nipple. She released a strained moan and tightened her grasp on his arms.

“I don’t know where I want these more – in my hands or in my mouth,” Emmett said, still kneading her. “What do you think, hmm?”

Y/N was panting against him.

“Your mouth, Emmett, please! Your mouth.”

Emmett’s cock was throbbing as he dropped his hand from her chest and gripped her hips instead, pushing her backwards toward the bed as he spoke.

“You know what? I don’t think you’re naughty at all,” he said as they bumped into the mattress. “I think you’re needy, is what you are. Desperate and needy.”

They both looked down then as Emmett ran a finger over her clothed pussy again. Y/N’s hips bucked toward him as she felt his touch, and Emmett smiled devilishly at the wetness he felt on her panties. As they both looked up again, their eyes met.

“You need me to take care of you, princess?”

Her legs nearly gave out.

“Yes! Please!”

She must have sounded like a broken record, she thought, but it was all she could say, Emmett making her so aroused and so desperate for more. His control and dominance over her was so erotic and thrilling, and she felt her heart racing as he kissed her again.

Her hands raised to his chest once more, and she tried to slip her fingers beneath the fabric of the wife beater he’d had on under his shirt and was still wearing. She whined in frustration when she couldn’t feel him everywhere she wanted to.

“Take this off,” she said against his lips as they parted slightly and she grabbed the fabric.

Emmett shook his head.

“Did you already forget who’s in charge, princess?” he said.

“Please, Emmett!” she whined again.

He grabbed her hands and squeezed them.

“You want it off? You take it off,” he ordered her as he released her hands.

Her heart pounding, Y/N grasped the fabric once again and pushed it up his body, and Emmett lifted his arms and helped her pull it over his head as she reached up. Once it was off him, Y/N immediately ran her hands over his chest, unable to resist touching him as she smoothed her palms across his skin and ran her fingers through his chest hair, completely undone by how sexy he was.

Emmett let her touch him for several moments, but then he stopped her, grabbing her wrists. As much as he loved her hands on him, he was set on making this all about her. He planned on giving her exactly what she wanted, what she needed, and in the way he wanted to, which was the way she clearly wanted him to do it, too.

Lost in touching him, Y/N’s heart skipped when he spoke again, his words making her melt.

“That’s all you get, princess. I call every shot from here on out.”

With that, Emmett grabbed her around the ribs and pushed her backwards, making her recline on the bed as he leaned forward over her. Hooking his fingers in her panties, he roughly pulled them down her hips and off her, before leaning forward again and lowering his face to her chest, massaging one of her plump peaks in his hand while he filled his mouth with as much of her other breast as he could.

“Ohhhh,” Y/N moaned out upon feeling his mouth surround her. She inhaled deeply, her chest rising as Emmett pulled back slightly, using his tongue to swirl around her nipple and lick torturously slow paths along her skin. Removing his hand from her right breast, he used it to cup her left breast closer against his face, nuzzling her plump flesh as he sucked her nipple again.

Y/N released whine after whine as Emmett repeatedly moved from one breast to the other, his tongue expertly rousing her hardened buds as his hands massaged her. She continually arched up to him, silently begging him to keep going. His big, strong hands repeatedly roamed down her torso, his fingers working and flexing along her ribs and waist as he kept his mouth near her breasts. His touch both soothed and tickled in the most wonderful way, and Y/N flushed as she couldn’t help but wonder if his fingers would be capable of the same euphoric work a little further south on her body.

The entire time Emmett had feasted on her chest, Y/N’s hands had been running through his hair or squeezing his shoulders in pleasure and anticipation. The way she needily dragged her fingers through his strands and sunk her nails into his skin as she whimpered had his dick at total standing attention the entire time. If this was how responsive she was before he’d even paid her pussy the proper attention, he couldn’t wait to see what would happen once he was inside of her. Their first time in her kitchen had been urgent and rushed (although amazing), but now that he’d had the chance to really warm her up, he couldn’t wait to see her totally fall apart.

Upon the last swipe of his tongue over her nipples, Emmett also reached down between their bodies and lightly dragged his fingers through her slickened folds before adjusting his hand to slip his thumb to her crown. In involuntary anticipation, Y/N spread her legs farther apart, and Emmett circled her clit agonizingly slowly.

“That’s it, spread wide for me, baby,” he said lowly, his voice thick with lust. “Give me all of you.”

At his words, Y/N released a helpless whimper of uncensored arousal, and as Emmett lifted his head to look at her, he decided he’d never seen anything more beautiful or erotic as her laying open for him, writhing and panting in need. This gorgeous, sexy woman who was inexplicably loving and sweet, sassy and entertainingly exhausting, and who he was well on his way to falling in love with. Just then, something shifted momentarily, and he felt the need to tell her just how amazing she was.

Y/N could hardly piece together one comprehensible thought as Emmett touched her, and when his fingers ran slowly over her core, she was vaguely aware of the fact that she was a complete mess. No longer having any control over her own body, her legs fell further open as she felt Emmet’s thumb slip to her center, and when he circled it over her pulsing clit with the exact motion and pressure she needed, she writhed on the bed as she tried to remember to breathe. And when he spoke, the raw lust in his voice and the eroticism of his words made a helpless whimper escape from her throat.

Suddenly, Y/N felt Emmett shift, and when she opened her eyes, she saw him quickly remove his boxers before he knelt on the bed and then made his way up to her. Stopping above her, he rested his forearms on the mattress outside of her own, caging her within his arms and hovering over her. As he looked down at her, she lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck, and as their eyes met, she saw everything that was wonderful about him in his eyes. This sexy, heart-stoppingly handsome man who was unbelievably good and kind, devoted and endearingly frustrating, and who she was afraid had already stolen her heart.

Reaching up, Y/N made to brush a lock of his hair out of the way as he looked at her, but instead, Emmett caught her hand, looking at her with a tenderness that put the sensuality of the night on pause for a moment. Gently pushing her hand back down, Emmett then released it, and laid his hand on the side of her face. Stroking her cheek with his thumb, he looked in her eyes for another moment before she tried to speak.

“Emmett...” Y/N started, unsure of what she was even going to say, but wanting him to know what she saw in him. But before she could say anything more, he stopped her.

“I want you to listen to me,” he said as his eyes held hers. “You are the single most amazing woman I have ever known, and there is not one thing about you that I would change. And I’ll repeat it as many times as you need to hear it until it sinks in, but you need to believe me when I tell you: you are perfect.”

Upon hearing his statement, silent tears immediately began to flow from Y/N’s eyes, and Emmett moved his hand up to brush them away. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t contain the sob that escaped her a second later, and, immeasurably affected by his words, Y/N wrapped her arms around Emmett’s neck and hugged him close, clinging to him as her tears continued.

“You are the most wonderful man, and an incredible father,” she whispered against him. “You are too good. And I don’t deserve you.”

Still pressed against each other, Emmett spoke again.

“You deserve everything. Everything that makes you happy.”

Finally reaching to his forehead, she brushed his hair aside as she’d meant to do earlier.

“You make me happy,” Y/N whispered.

After a single beat, their lips found each other’s again, molding together for a passionate kiss. It started off slow and gentle, but soon escalated to urgent and heavy, and when Emmett’s hand slipped from Y/N’s face and traveled down to her hip, she arched into him as he skimmed his palm over her bottom and roughly squeezed her cheek.

When Y/N shifted, it caused Emmett’s cock to brush against her folds, and as he felt her slickness against his shaft, he released a deep groan against her lips.

“Turn over,” Emmett ordered her.

Moving beneath him, Y/N rolled onto her stomach, and as soon as she did, Emmett grabbed her hips and pulled her upwards, and she got on her hands and knees. Emmett then bent forward and grabbed her wrists, lifting her up and briefly holding her against him as they kissed over her shoulder. He then moved his mouth lower, kissing her neck and then speaking lowly as he grabbed her wrists again.

“You’re gonna let me take care of you, baby,” he said as he rocked his hips into her, encouraging her to bend over again as he guided her hands to brace against the bed.

As soon as her palms met the headboard, Emmett grabbed her hips again, slotting his knee between her legs to encourage her to spread them farther. The view of her from behind, her immaculate ass and her back arched in anticipation, made him absolutely carnal, and after a final caress of her cheeks under his palm, Emmett rose on his knees again and fisted his cock, dragging it slowly along her wetness before lining himself up and then slowly sinking himself inside her.

They both moaned out as Emmett’s hips gradually became flush against her ass. Y/N gripped the headboard in desperation as she felt his large cock spreading and then filling her, the pleasure deep and shaking as she clenched around him. Emmett felt every plush inch of her walls surrounding him, and the tug from her tightness was dizzying.

After he had completely entered her and his hips were pressed to her ass, Emmett rocked forward slightly, and Y/N whimpered before turning her head, her palms still braced against the headboard as she met his eyes over her shoulder. Emmett felt his heart race, and he looked at her for only a second before he couldn’t wait any longer. Slowly, he withdrew from her almost completely before then thrusting forcefully back into her, and Y/N gasped loudly as he became buried inside her once more.

“I’ve got you, princess,” he said as he lifted a hand from the bed to squeeze her breast. “You want more?”

Y/N’s head fell between her outstretched arms, and she released another gasp as he pinched her nipple.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “Please, Emmett!”

Withdrawing from her once more, Emmett then once again thrusted back into her, and she cried out at the pleasure as he stilled again, but just as he’d said, she wanted more.

“Please, Emmett, don’t stop,” she begged him.

“I call the shots, baby, remember?” he squeezed her hips. “If I wanna take my time with you, I’m gonna take my time.”

Y/N’s heart raced as she released a desirous, frustrated whine, and in response, Emmett pulled out once more and purposely waited to go back in, the tip of his cock tormenting her as it remained just barely inside her entrance.

“No whining,” Emmett said to her, and he slapped her ass.

Y/N gasped again and arched her back.

Truthfully, Emmett was dying to pound into her, and when her ass thrusted against him as he slapped her, he knew he’d only be able to tease her once more before he’d need to keep going, for his own sanity.

As he slipped back inside her, he leaned forward again to sweep her hair over her shoulder, and then he rutted against her, his cock throbbing.

“You feel that, princess?” he whispered to her. “That’s what you do to me.”

She let out a shaky breath.

“Emmett, I...please,” she begged again. She was barely clinging to the headboard, feeling about ready to collapse if he didn’t start moving. “I need you.”

Her desperate pleas were so intolerably hot that Emmett caught himself squeezing her hips harder than he meant to, leaving the indent of his fingers in her flesh as his thoughts became fuzzy. Forcing himself to lighten his grasp on her slightly, he rubbed her hips under his palms before pulling her ass towards him.

“You’re gonna get what you need, don’t worry,” he said.

Immediately after that, he gripped her hips again and began to violently thrust into her, his own hips snapping with determination as he withdrew and re-entered her again and again, her wetness coating his cock and her pussy enveloping him in tight warmth with each movement. Y/N whimpered with every thrust, still bracing herself against the headboard as Emmett drove into her from behind, his strong hands holding her steady and the sound of his groans mixing in the air with her cries. He periodically slid a hand up her torso to squeeze her breasts, and then let his fingers trail down to her center to stroke her clit. The fullness and pleasure he made Y/N feel was dizzying, and she thought her heart was going to burst out of her chest when she felt Emmett hover over her again, his chest pressed into her back as he began to ease her body lower, pressing her towards the mattress.

Looking over her shoulder at him again, their lips met for a sensual kiss as Emmett thrusted into her several more times from behind, a bit gentler now that he’d lost some of the leverage he had when further behind her. Y/N twisted her torso as much as she could to try and meet his lips more, and Emmett gently stroked her neck as he pulled away from her.

“While I love having you like this, I want to see you when you come,” he said to her. “Turn over.”

Her heart pounding, Y/N rolled beneath him and instinctively lifted her legs around his waist. As Emmett positioned her just how he wanted her, she wrapped her arms around him and stroked the nape of his neck as their eyes met.

“You’re gonna come for me, princess,” he said, and before she could think, he covered her mouth with his as he sank himself inside her once more and began to move.

Clinging to him desperately, Y/N felt every nerve in her body pulsing as Emmett drove into her, his body protectively covering hers as he threaded his fingers through her hair. Their lips were pulled apart as he increased his speed, and when he used his other hand to circle her clit with his thumb, she was practically convulsing as she felt her climax fast approaching.

“Emmett, I...I...Oh, God!”

​Her nails sank into his shoulders as she squeezed her eyes shut, her walls clenching around him as he fucked her through her orgasm, his own trailing right behind. When she pressed her lips to his neck as he groaned, it pushed him the rest of the way, and he emptied inside her with insane pleasure.

​“Fuck, Y/N!” he shouted, and he couldn’t help but collapse on top of her, pressing his lips to hers again in a clumsy kiss as they both panted into each other’s mouths. As he gently ran his fingers up and down her thigh, she stroked the nape of his neck again, her chest rising and falling against his.

​Finally, Emmett caught his breath, and as he pulled away from Y/N enough to meet her eyes, he lifted his hand and stroked her cheek.

​After a moment, Y/N reached up, lifting her own hand to grab his and lacing their fingers together. After pressing her lips to his once more, she felt the vibration of Emmett’s chest against hers as he parted from her mouth and spoke, looking into her eyes again.

“Perfect,” he said to her, their fingers moving and weaving together as he held her hand. “You are perfect.”

Part 12

@nyxxie-pooh @febris-amatoria @natalie--rushman @xsweetcatastrophe @hannibellector

@aphroditeslover11 @beastofburdenxo @garrison-girl-08 @meister95 @scentedbananadefendor

@fuseburner @neonpurplestars89-blog @alltoowellbeneaththemangotree @devotedlyshadowytheorist @betty21rose

[queen0fm0nsterz]

Hey. I knew you're mad at Otto for hurting Noone and Noone deciding to join Nowhere, but have you ever considered hating the Ferryman for being the main reason why all of this started?

Like this man took away Otto's sister, Cici (Sisi? Cece?? or whatever the hell you spell her name as) away from him and making him obsess for answers, then later in Otto's life he met Noone and realize she is going through the same thing his sister did and became insane and thanks to that, Noone distrusts him and became an easy target for the Ferryman to take her away too and making Otto the bait to catch more children.

Blame can be on both sides. In this case, blame definitely is on both sides.

I understand your point of view, and you are right to say that the Ferryman was the one who started all this. But was it right of Otto to push Noone so far into the Nowhere that she "decided" that it'd be better to leave with the Ferryman than to stay with Otto? Who, mind you, deceived her multiple times, repeatedly breached her boundaries over and over again, used her and admitted that he was using her (when he said "I still need her" to the Ferryman taking Noone away) AND who did not show a single ounce of remorse for what he had done?

No. Of course it was not.

The Ferryman is the cause of the trauma. Otto's obsession with him is understandable, frighteningly human. So much so that I find myself disliking him because I have met people like Otto in my life. People who are nice on a surface level only to reveal later on that they capable of being manipulative and cruel, all under the pretense of past trauma causing them to act the way that they do. Trauma is not a justification for one to act like a piece of shit - an explanation, yes, but never a justifier. Which is exactly what Otto does.

You know who else in TSON has trauma and doesn't act like a dickhead? Noone. Noone, the victim in all of this, stuck between a kidnapper who will bring her to her doom and a man who is pushing her into the kidnapper's arms only to cry wolf when she calls him out on it.

I also find myself more upset with Otto rather than the Ferryman for another variety of reasons.

Firstly, I was not expecting anything from the Ferryman. We know how he operates, we know he's not a force of good; he's a liar and a kidnapper, literally a monster, taking children to their doom when they are at their most vulnerable. He was a bad omen from the very beginning and I never expected him to be anything more. Of course I hate him as a person and what he stands for, but considering where he started, I was not surprised to see him do what he did.

But Otto was different. Otto could have been different. He could have been an example of someone who manages to, if not overcoming, at least face their trauma with a positive outcome for both his own sake and Noone's. But no. He let himself go down a road so atrocious that he is now no different from the monsters we see in the Nowhere while not even being there.

Otto is a regular guy. He's not insane and he did not become insane. He, like everyone, has his own set of bad traits. He can be impatient, harsh, dismissive, insistent and immature. At the same time, he also has his good traits: he used to have a morale, kind, understanding, intelligent and friendly. All these things make up him as a person. As he said to Noone: once you are with someone long enough, you let out who you really are. And he did just that. He let his bad traits get the best of him. And as sorry as I feel for his circumstances, I really cannot bring myself to forgive him.

I suppose Otto let us down, like he let down Noone. And the Ferryman is the guy in the white van with its doors open, but Otto is the guy who threw Noone inside and watched it drive away.

He's a wonderfully written villain. My disliking of him as a person does not stop me from really enjoying his character! I do think he's the second best written LN antagonist.

[skywarpie]

Bad Dream

hey, remember this post? @skrimbe gave me an idea.

word count: 753

rating G

Summary: Copia regretting his plastic surgery decisions. 

It’s on quiet nights like this that Copia lets himself get too absorbed in his thoughts. Everyone in the church settled in for the night and his daughters tucked safely into bed with a good night kiss.

He knows he well past the opportunity to regret his decision. Was it his decision though? 

Copia tilts his head back and forth in front of the mirror to allow him to see a full view of his whole face. It had taken a while to get used to his new looks. Truth be told, he was still in the process of that, even a year later. 

He’s never considered himself good looking. Passable at best and even that’s a stretch. But he had been fond of his features. They were his. Sure his sharp nose was compared to that of a rat’s but that was fine. Copia likes rats.

Now as he stares at his own reflection, he sees none of that. The nose is too small. The jawline is not as sharp. His Cardinal painted over his eyes in a mockery of his former self. It’s a cruel joke. On more than one occasion he regrets letting the clergy talk him into this. But he really wasn’t talked as much as forced, was he?

“It’s important for the church members to see someone that resembles their previous Papas.” They had said. “It ensures less confusion. It’s for your benefit.”

The words still leave a bad taste in his mouth. It was clearly nothing more than an example of the power they held, something he was slowly beginning to realize.

Copia lets out a defeated sigh as he pulls himself away from the mirror. He finishes removing the remaining face paint, avoiding his reflection like the plague. He drags himself from the bathroom. He just needs a good night’s sleep. That fixed this issue before. 

It’s only when he’s sitting on the edge of his bed and sees the framed photo he has of his daughters on his nightstand that the dam breaks. They both look so much like him. Well, they used to look like him. The only feature the three of them have in common anymore is the white eye. A cruel reminder that they’ll have to live through this hell once they’re older too. It makes him feel sick.

Copia holds his head in his hands as he lets out a pathetic wail. Why couldn’t he have been more persistent in denying the clergy? Why did he have to be so weak that he was easily molded like clay in the hands of his holders.

“Papa?”

Copia panics. He wipes at his face frantically with the back of his hand and clears his voice in hopes of keeping the trembling out of it. ‘W-what are you doing up?” It doesn’t work and he settles for keeping his back to her. “You should be asleep.”

“Why are you sad?”

“I-I’m not.” He clears his throat another time as his voice cracks. “I’m just tired.” He can see her tiny figure from the corner of his eye and how she’s gotten closer. He’s a horrible liar, always has been. 

“Then why are you crying?” She pulls herself up on the bed beside him. Copia feels her sad gaze on him and it makes him feel even more worthless. How pathetic does someone have to be to have a six year old feel sorry for them?

“My allergies are a-acting up. That’s all.” Copia knows he should scoop her up and carry her back to the room that adjoins his, but he doesn’t think he can do that without giving her a full blown look at his tear stained face. Something about letting her know just what he’s upset about makes him feel stupid. What kind of grown man cries because he and his kids don’t look alike?

“Did you have a bad dream?” And she’s just going to keep asking, isn’t she. 

“I guess you could call it that.” Only he’s not waking up anytime soon from this one. 

Copia feels her tiny hand pat his forearm and it’s only now that he realizes she’s holding the stuffed goat that he brought back from a ritual for her. 

“This always helps me when I have bad dreams.” Athalaiah places the stuffed animal on his lap. “Maybe he’ll help you too.” She wraps her small arms around his and rests her cheek against his shoulder.

Copia hiccups louder than he’d like. “Yea, maybe he will.”

[angstyaches]

If you’re still taking prompts, would you write something with Donnacha looking after Henry? Maybe since Henry doesn’t want to go out and hasn’t been shopping, he eats something that’s gone off and it makes him really sick

CW: depression, anxiety around social cues, idk how to tag this but Henry is repeatedly triggered by things he knows are unreasonable but is triggered nonetheless, food mention, food poisoning, chronic pain mentioned, spicy times (hinted at; happening in another room), stomach ache, nausea, emeto, platonic cuddling, platonic kissing, platonic caretaking, brief mention of break-up (Donnacha and Autumn).

Word Count: 4,500 (yeah)

___ 

Henry slowly moved the fork towards his mouth, barely able to convince his lips to come apart long enough to place a scrap of spaghetti Bolognese inside. Then, it was just a case of convincing his jaws to work so that he could chew. It wasn’t much, but it was honest work, he reckoned.

He’d cooked this three days ago, when he’d been hit by a sudden wave of inspiration regarding taking care of his own basic needs. (Bolognese was one of the only things he knew how to make.) He’d also had an exceptionally long shower and shaved his neck that night. Stubble had already found its way back to him, and he hadn’t felt the urge to cook anything else.

He made a face as he chewed. Had his cooking always been this bland, or were his tastebuds checking out as punishment for the lack of variety he’d been offering them? Or maybe he’d blasted them to hell with the microwaved leftovers without realising it? It wasn’t unheard of for Henry to accidentally damage himself and not realise it until hours later.

Still, the food itself couldn’t be too bad, since he hadn’t automatically retched after taking the first bite. His body just liked to complain.

He glimpsed over a couple of pages of The Catcher in the Rye while he ate. The book was one of the oldest things he still owned, gifted to (stolen for?) him by his secondary school English teacher when the school had downsized their library. It still had a list of names glued to the title page, all of them students who had graduated long before he’d even started at the school.

He looked up as he heard the front door click, eyeing the space in the hall that was visible from the living room table.

A low, tittering giggle made his ears tingle. It didn’t match up with the sounds of anybody who usually came through here.

“Don’t worry!” Lucy. “I would’ve tripped, too, but I’m weirdly well-coordinated. I’m like a mountain goat.”

Henry raised an eyebrow, for no one’s benefit in particular. Lucy was so loud when she was tipsy. And such a liar, too. He’d seen her trip over empty air more times than he could count.

She popped into view, tipping her pink-haired head forward and looking into the living room out of habit. All of the flatmates usually did this, sussing out who was already home and occupying the common space.

She had a ‘friend’ with her. The giggler. She was a good half-foot taller than Lucy, helped by a pair of patent black platform sandals.

“Hi, Henry.” Lucy stood with her shoulders pulled back further than normal, with her hands held behind her back. It always amused Henry, just how differently she acted while she was in the middle of seducing someone. Like him, she was a bit of a social shapeshifter. “This is Cassidy.”

“Hi, Cassidy.” Henry was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was a) wearing a tattered wool sweater on top of yet another wool sweater and b) holding a steaming spoonful of spaghetti Bolognese halfway up to his mouth. “Nice shoes.”

“Thanks,” Cassidy grinned. “They tripped me up on the stairs.”

Henry had guessed as much. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Cassidy took hold of Lucy’s arm. “Ooh, what are you reading there?”

Henry lifted his book to show her the cover.

“Salinger, nice,” Cassidy smiled. Henry didn’t have a good enough grasp on her personality to know if she was being sarcastic or genuine, but what he did know was that she’d just pronounced the ‘g’ in ‘Salinger’ as though it should made a ‘guh’ sound.

He opened his mouth to correct her. “Actually, it’s –”

“We’re going to my room now,” Lucy interrupted. She sounded like a six-year-old bragging about their action figure collection.

Henry nodded sardonically. “Happy for you, hon.”

This was… partly true. He was about five percent happy for his bestie, while ninety percent of his emotional capacity was leaning towards envy and self-hatred. Henry hadn’t brought anyone home in so long that, out of sheer pity, Lucy had stopped outwardly teasing him about it.

The remaining five percent? It was burning with dissatisfaction at not being able to correct Cassidy’s pronunciation of ‘Salinger’.

The two girls continued down the hall, and Henry finally finished bringing his fork to his mouth. His chewing grew a bit more aggressive, and he scooped up some more Bolognese before he’d even swallowed.

His last attempted hook-up had spooked him a little bit, but that had been months ago. Maybe it was time to get back on the apps. Maybe he’d do it tonight. Maybe he’d stay up late, make himself look pretty, take a few new selfies to post –

No. Henry scowled, taking another flavourless bite. No procrastinating. He had a few pretty big commissions on his plate right now, and one of them in particular needed at least a few hours of his attention tonight. And it was already nearing 11pm, as the cat-shaped pendulum clock on the wall informed him.

Shit. Where is the name of all that was holy had the evening gone?

With his stomach relatively full, and his deadline anxiety spiking, Henry started to get up from the table. He grabbed his plate with one hand and his cane with the other, and brought his leftovers (left-leftovers?) to the kitchen.

___

As he settled into his desk chair, Henry pulled on some noise-cancelling headphones to drown out the sounds of t.A.T.u. that were drifting through the wall he shared with Lucy’s room. He didn’t object to Lucy’s music choices in the slightest, but he preferred to block everything out with white noise when he had work to do.

“It’s Salinger,” he grumbled under his breath, knowing Cassidy wouldn’t hear him, but needing to say it in order to move on to the next tasks at hand.

Less than two minutes after he’d pulled up his most pressing project, Henry could feel a steady stream of vibrations beginning just below his ribcage. He briefly pressed a hand against his side, feeling a ripple under his fingers. He didn’t think much of the mild discomfort. Besides a banana and a cup of tea, the leftover Bolognese had been the only thing he’d eaten all day.

He’d have to order groceries soon. He hated how much he dreaded it; he knew he was privileged to live in an age where he didn’t have to drag himself out to the supermarket, but somehow, the mental toll of shopping online was almost as hefty as the physical toll of leaving the apartment.

Maybe he should open a new internet tab and get it over with right now, while he had a vague sort of motivation to do it –

No. Henry gritted his teeth. That was just the urge to procrastinate again. And it was far too late in the day for that.

A streak of light sat across his computer screen, drifting in from the hallway. He always left the door ajar unless he was sleeping. The light hitting the screen swelled now, indicating that someone was opening the door further.

Henry almost screamed at the sudden interruption. Sure, not everybody in the world knew he had just sat down to get some work done, but… they should have!

“What?” he snapped, a little harsher than intended. He spun his chair to face the door as it opened the rest of the way, pulling off his headphones.

Donnacha’s hair was sticking up in the back and sides as he stood there, in light grey tracksuit pants and a Rick and Morty hoodie. He grimaced at Henry’s tone.

“Do you have any spare headphones?”

Henry frowned, his brain still struggling to switch gears. “Uh… yes? My old ones. Why?”

“Well, I left my ear buds at the gym, and… Lucy’s got her ‘getting lucky’ playlist on.” Donnacha grimaced widely and pointed in the general direction of Lucy’s room. “And I’d rather not be hearing it, to be honest.”

“Oh. Well, they’re not noise-cancelling –”

“That’s absolutely grand. I would go and hang out in the living room instead, but it’s freezing out there.” Donnacha pointedly rubbed at his arms, despite looking like a big, comfy marshmallow in his hoodie. “I’d rather be in bed.”

“Mmm.” Henry unplugged his extra set of headphones and extended them towards Donnacha.  

“You’re a lifesaver, Hen.”

“Don’t get the cord tangled,” Henry said, eyeing the way Donnacha immediately began to twirl said cord around his fingers.

“Who, me?” Donnacha grinned pointedly. His eyes flicked towards Henry’s computer screen. “What are you working on?”

“Just… work.” Henry had no desire to elaborate further. One of the most unfair things about social interaction, he’d always thought, was that there was no such thing as a neutral, concise answer. Concise answers were always misinterpreted, either as annoyed, disinterested, or simply rude.

“It’s kinda late to still be working.”

“I suppose it is.”

“’Kay,” Donnacha mumbled. He held the headphones up a little higher, as though waving goodbye with them. “’Night, then. Thanks.”

“Night.”

Henry turned back to his computer, pulled his headphones back on, and slipped back into his work.

___

The stomach ache crept up on him while he was in a fog of concentration, brows in a semi-permanent frown and eyes straining to keep digital lines and text from blurring. It only occurred to him that he should take a short break when a soft belch rumbled up from the pit of his belly and he tasted the tomato and basil from his dinner – much more clearly now than he had when he was actually eating it.

With his headphones blocking all outside noise, he wondered just how loud the belch had just been. Perhaps Lucy and Cassidy had just had their good time interrupted by an eruption from the depths of Henry’s stomach, and he was none the wiser.

He only worried about that for a nanosecond, though.

“Oh – Jesus, really?” Henry whispered to himself as he sat back in his desk chair.

He cradled his belly lightly with one hand. The pain seemed to slam into him all at once. As someone whose body tended to let him down at the most inopportune moments, Henry wasn’t all that surprised or concerned about the appearance of a stomach ache – but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel severely inconvenienced.

Henry snatched his glasses from his face and rubbed at his forehead, too. He wasn’t sure how massaging his head would help his stomach, but it comforted him a little bit. He glanced up in time to see the streak of light spreading across his computer screen again.

He groaned and ripped off his headphones. “Yeah, what?”

“Uh, thanks for the headphones, but they aren’t enough,” Donnacha declared. “I’m enacting Plan B. Retreating to the living room. Do you want to come watch something, seeing as you’re up, too?”

“Donnacha, I’m working, hon.”

“It’s almost one in the morning!” Donnacha chuckled. He tossed the borrowed headphones onto the bed; Henry couldn’t help but glare at the way the cord was wrapped around the top of the headset, and dread the thought of prising it off. “Come on. We can cuddle for warmth.”

“You want to cuddle me for warmth?” While they were roughly of the same height and general build, Donnacha had considerably more padding for combatting the elements than Henry did.

“Offer’s there,” Donnacha shrugged, shivering openly. “I’ll be out here, turning to ice, if you decide to take me up on it.”

Henry sighed. Why not? Lucy was getting some action; a little bit of human contact – even platonic – might ease the sting of jealousy a bit.

Besides, his stomach was bothering him enough that he knew getting back into any kind of flow would be almost impossible. And getting to sleep with Rita Ora lyrics rumbling through the wall didn’t seem very likely, either.

“Fine,” he mumbled, slipping his glasses back on and reaching for his cane. “But not Top Gun.”

“No?” Donnacha exclaimed unceremoniously. “What about Top Gun: Maverick?”

Henry groaned as the effort of standing up not only made his hip protest, but also sent a vice-grip pain through his abdomen.

Donnacha took the noise as one of protest, though. “Hey, I sat through three of your gibbly films –”

“Ghibli,” Henry murmured. What was up with the people in this household refusing to uphold the sanctity of guhs and juhs? How would Donnacha have liked it if Henry had started calling him precious Tom Hanks movie ‘Top Jun’?

“– So, now, you can whisht up and watch something I like.”

“Okay.” Henry didn’t have the capacity to argue, or to make his Top Jun remark. He was barely even sure he had enough energy to get to the living room without needing to stop and curl up in a ball on the floor. His stomach felt like it’d twisted itself up like Donnacha twisted up headphone cords.

He wasn’t getting up any slower than he usually did when his hip flared up, which meant that Donnacha didn’t notice anything was off. Henry was confused at the mild feeling of disappointment this brought on.

“I’m going to make us some tea,” Donnacha decided, turning to make his way towards the kitchen.

___

Henry declined the tea when Donnacha offered to make him some, unsure of how well it would settle in his stomach at this point. The effort of walking from his desk to the living room sofa had shoved the taste of his dinner back up into his mouth again.

He also decided to forgo any further protest regarding Donnacha’s choice of movie; the boy had made a fair (albeit poorly pronounced) point about allowing Henry to choose the movie three times in a row. Plus, maybe Top Gun would finally help Henry understand the appeal that Donnacha saw in piloting.

Three minutes in, Henry knew he’d made the right decision. (Not regarding the movie; it was already as pompous and self-indulgent as he’d predicted it would be.)

But he’d almost... forgotten how nice it was to cuddle, and he wanted to kick himself for not availing of Donnacha’s company more often during the winter months.

Playing rugby and working out meant that his muscles were taut, but his penchant for comfort foods and snacks kept him somewhat soft. His body was in a perfect state of balance. Just like his ability to juggle his career and his hobbies. His city life and his country soul. His athletic side and his intellectual side.

His willingness to watch Studio Ghibli (subbed, not dubbed, as it should be), and his insistence on making Henry sit through Top Gun.

Henry paid as much attention as he could, but it was hard not to let his mind wander in opposite-extreme directions; he was either distracted by the spate of unfinished work that was still waiting for him in his room, or by the fabric-softener scent of Donnacha’s hoodie.

Donnacha was sitting somewhat crookedly with his back against the arm of the couch, with Henry slotted into the space between the cushions and Donnacha’s torso. One arm was locked all the way around Henry’s shoulders, hand resting near Henry’s elbow. Henry had tentatively rested his hand on Donnacha’s stomach at first, but as he curled in closer, he’d reached across and held him by the waist.

With his free arm, Donnacha sipped on his tea, and Henry was almost convinced his stomach was giving off more and more warmth as he drank, even though he knew that was physically impossible.

He had rubbed Donnacha’s stomach once, when it’d been hurting. Looking back, it was definitely one of those times where Henry’s straightforwardness had, perhaps, made the situation more awkward than it needed to be, but Donnacha had seemed to be okay with it.

Would he do the same for Henry now, if he asked?

His closest – scratch that, only – friend growing up had been Lucy, and while they were always there for one another, she had never exactly been the touchy-feely type. They hugged on occasion, but never spontaneously or for an extended amount of time. And as a kid, Henry had had too many experiences of getting something ‘wrong’ – like taking something they weren’t using right out of someone’s hand, or trying to kiss his friends the way his aunts would kiss him on his cheek, or telling someone he loved them… Doing these things meant that he was rude, weird, creepy.

Since last year, it felt like they had started rewriting all of those ‘rules’, just between the two of them.

Henry swallowed and looked up at Donnacha’s clean-shaven jawline. A familiar, yet unpredictable, pang of guilt rippled through his belly. Since he’d been part of the reason for Donnacha ending his previous relationship, Henry couldn’t shake the feeling of responsibility towards him. He wondered if that was all this was. Duty. Compensation. Here I am, a consolation prize.

“You okay?” Donnacha asked, noticing his gaze as he took a slurp of his tea.

Henry held his breath and considered telling Donnacha about feeling sick to his stomach. His mouth made a decision before his brain could.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Donnacha smiled, “Good!” and turned his attention back to the movie.

Henry shifted a couple of times during the next hour, adjusting the pressure on his stomach. There was less of a pain there now, which was a small relief until he forced himself to watch the TV screen. The rotating planes and whizzing backgrounds became a little much for Henry’s eyes to cope with.

Henry turned his head as far into Donnacha’s chest as he could without knocking his glasses from his face. Maybe – maybe he could just fall asleep? He found himself wondering if Donnacha would try to carry him back to bed if that happened. The image of his own lanky form being scooped into a bridal carry should have made him snort in derision, but it actually made a lump rise in his throat.

A lump, or... something a little more acidic.

Henry’s eyes shot open. His head felt like it was being swallowed up by the stinging, mouth-watering certainty that things were not okay. A knot of pressure sank to the bottom of his stomach and then took a sharp, upward turn – like water trying to flow down a drain and finding itself being forced back to the surface.

“Donnacha.”

“Yep?”

“I’m going to be sick?”

Henry must have sounded extremely surprised and confused himself, because Donnacha didn’t seem to understand what he’d said at first.

“Something… something I ate is not – hmrph.” Henry shot forward and gagged, almost puking straight onto his pyjama bottoms.

“Shite, where’s the bin?” Donnacha stood up and idly glanced around, clicking his tongue in annoyance. Through teeth that suddenly ground together in annoyance, he muttered, “Payton’s always taking it into their room –”

Henry whimpered as his belly cramped, sending a surge of gurgling, bubbling heat towards his throat. The sound seemed to fill in for the urgency missing in his tone, since it was then that Donnacha truly sprang into action.

“Right – here. Aim onto the blanket for now,” he instructed, grabbing the couch throw and tossing it towards Henry’s lap. He chuckled nervously. “That can go in the washing machine more easily than the carpet.”

Henry nodded, though he had no intention of letting himself vomit onto something that was communal property. Other people used this blanket. He was fairly sure Lucy had paid for it, along with the other random assortment of IKEA pieces in the living room.

Donnacha ran off to the kitchen and immediately started clattering around under the sink. By the time he emerged – mere seconds later – Henry’s chin was streaked with drool from fighting the urge to puke on the throw.

“Here you –”

Henry was already gagging while still in the process of taking the bucket into his hands. He belched forcefully, eyes watering as his pathetic dinner splattered all along the inside of the bucket. There were still lumps of meat, strands of spaghetti, none of it digested beyond Henry’s disinterested chewing.

He tried to draw a ragged breath in between retches, and almost choked for having the audacity. This bucket was used on the rare occasion that someone decided to mop the kitchen and bathroom floors, and it reeked like a pile of old, musty towels.

Henry heaved again.

He was certain his eyes rolled back in his head and that he moaned at one point, as his body curled further and further forward on the edge of the sofa. Like a toothpaste tube being squeezed within an inch of its existence.

And then it stopped, as suddenly as it had started. The relief was so intense that it was almost its own form of pleasure. Henry grimaced at the tickle of laughter that crept up through his chest and throat. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been that violently ill before, and he was so, so glad that it seemed to be over.

For now.

“Hen,” Donnacha said in disbelief, as though he had been waiting for Henry to stop puking before scolding him about it. He handed Henry a tissue that he’d apparently been holding in anticipation. “Your poor belly. What’d you eat?”

Henry dabbed his chin clean, hand trembling horribly. His stomach muscles burned as though he’d just attempted a hundred push-ups. “Just some leftovers.”

“Left over from when? The Last Supper?”

Henry groaned in a feeble attempt to show his dislike for the joke.

“Anyway.” Donnacha rubbed a hand over the bumps in Henry’s spine with one hand, and took hold of the bucket with the other. “We can talk about your bad life choices another time. Try to catch your breath, yeah?”

“Um,” said a voice that wasn’t Lucy’s or Payton’s. “Hi?”

Henry glanced up to see Cassidy standing in the hallway and peering in. She was wearing a plaid shirt of Lucy’s which was not long enough for someone of Cassidy’s height to wear as a nightie.

Shit. Lucy.

Guilt sank its teeth into Henry’s nerve endings. He’d been so distracted, and feeling so god-damn sorry for himself, that he’d almost forgotten Lucy was only a few doors down, likely hearing him purge his guts.

He knew what Cassidy was going to say before she even tried.

“Um,” she mumbled again, tugging the shirt down at the front as though she’d suddenly become conscious of its length. “Lucy is very distressed, and she sent me to ask you if someone is… vomiting?”

From the way she scrunched up her nose and eyed the mop bucket, it seemed as though Cassidy already had her answer.

“Food poisoning!” Donnacha sounded like he was shouting out an answer on Family Fortune. “Tell her it’s – it’s food poisoning. Not contagious in the slightest. That’ll make her feel… well, a smidge better about it.”

Cassidy nodded slowly, as though she understood but… didn’t fully understand.

“Donnacha, by the way. My pronouns are he/him.”

“Hi. Cassidy. She/her.” Cassidy shook herself. “Anyway. Bye, guys.”

“Bye, Cassidy,” Henry and Donnacha both droned, Henry mumbling it miserably through a mouthful of watery spit, Donnacha furrowing his brow and returning to rubbing Henry’s back.

“Are ya alright?”

Henry shrugged. He slowly began to sit back. The thought of letting himself sink into the sofa cushions was pure bliss. How food poisoning managed to affect every inch of the human body – not just the digestive tract, as predicted – he would never know.  

“Your poor belly,” Donnacha said again, though his tone wasn’t as interrogative this time. He clicked his tongue sympathetically, and slid a little closer.

He then seemed to realise that Top Gun was still playing on the screen, and he reached for his phone to turn it off.

“Sorry,” he laughed softly.

 Henry’s heart skipped a beat when a warm hand slid across his stomach, rubbing back and forth over his bubbling insides. The gesture was so sudden and so casual that Henry barely registered the shift in Donnacha’s actions. It was as natural as a hug, seemingly.

“’Glad you got some of it up,” Donnacha said. “'Least it’s a little bit emptier in there now.”

Henry nodded weakly, entranced by the warmth that Donnacha’s hand seemed to be injecting directly into his organs as he massaged his stomach. He found himself desperately wondering what was going through Donnacha’s head right now, but unable to find the words to find out.

“So…” Donnacha cleared his throat. “Please don’t tell me you ate that dodgy-looking pasta that was sitting in the fridge earlier? Because I swear to the Lord and back, Henry – if you thought that was okay to eat, you are taking the piss, and you need to go back to the optician’s and demand a refund on those new lenses.”

“I was just being lazy,” Henry murmured. “That’s all. Won’t…” He winced, feeling Donnacha’s hand automatically shift across his stomach in response to a sharp cramp. “Won’t happen again. Believe me.”

Donnacha made a noise in his throat – a hum of concern, perhaps, with a healthy dose of scepticism thrown in. He seemed to hesitate for a second before moving his face closer to Henry’s head and pressing a loud kiss into a clump of his hair.

“Hey, listen,” he whispered, stilling his hand on Henry’s belly.

Henry did, holding his breath.

Donnacha raised his free hand to point. “Since they’re not… playing music anymore,” he said, “I guess it means you and me can get some sleep now.”

While Henry had to admit that sleeping off the stomach cramps in his own bed sounded like heaven, ruining his best friend’s night and causing her to have a mild-to-severe panic response seemed like an unfair cost.

“You’re an awful human,” he muttered.

“What?” Donnacha exclaimed. “They’ve had their fun. Hours of it. It’s bed time now.”

Henry reluctantly nodded. His arm automatically lifted as Donnacha shifted his weight and made to put his arm around Henry’s back and help him up. It was a rare feeling, for him to relinquish control of his limbs, even for just a few seconds until he was on his feet and his cane was within reaching distance.

“I’ll give the bucket a rinse-out in the bath,” Donnacha said as soon as Henry was upright and established.

“Hopefully I won’t need it again.” It was a hollow hope, given the rumbling feeling that pressed against the base of Henry’s ribcage. He took a few measured steps in the direction of his bedroom, conscious of the fact that his posture was more curved than usual.

“If you do, I’ll bring Lucy your noise-cancelling headphones.”

A shudder rippled up Henry’s spine at the thought of Donnacha getting his twisty, wrap-happy hands on his good headphones.

“I know you’re joking,” he huffed, “but please don’t touch those. Ever.”

[emmy-dekarios-bg3]

Heart of the Weave - A Baldurs Gate fanfiction - Part 2

Chapter 8 (still Gale’s Point of View)

We make our way across the bridge to Basilisk Gate, which is just one chunk of Baldur’s Gate, and where it seems to be very quiet. I thought it looked rough after defeating the elder brain, but this…this is just a gruesome disaster by itself, even without mindflayers. Normally, you’d hear chattering from citizens on every corner, or the joys of children laughing as they chase after one another, but all I hear is silence. Some guards are picking up trash on the corners of the streets, some are scrubbing off blood from the walls.

When we were here last, while Emmy was at the doctor getting observed, there was a circus, sorcerers and wizards casting magic outside, and people fishing down at the docks. Even when we were dealing with the mind flayers and Chosen Three, it was more lively here. Now? An empty city filled with loss, heartache, tragedy, and a vile amount of thick blood.

“Gods… This is worse than I thought,” I comment as I observe the emptiness of the city. Every building appears to be locked down for reasons of protection, though who knows how efficient that really is. A male guard approaches us as we try to make our way through the dreaded city.

“Halt,” he demands, though his voice has a tint of weakness. He’s terrified. “It’s not safe to be here. I suggest you find somewhere to take cover and quickly. The Stormshore Tabernacle is your best bet.” Lucky for us, we happen to be next to it, though we don’t have time to take cover and not do anything; these Bhaalists need to be stopped immediately.

“Believe it or not, we’re here to defeat these motherfuckers and put them where they belong – in the graveyard,” Karlach mentions with an expression of vengeance on her face. “We were the ones who killed Orin, Ketheric, and Gortash. Hell, even the elder brain. We aren’t scared of these pieces of shit.” The guard’s eyes widen, and the glistening of the tears he’s fighting back shows hopefulness. I wonder if he lost someone dear to him.

“Oh Hells. Thank the Gods. You’ll more than likely find the cult at the temple underground. Too many innocents are being slaughtered by the minute. Thank you.” His voice is breaking, but he’s smiling at the same time. While this entire situation isn’t ideal, I’m at least glad we’re getting involved to prevent more damage than what’s already been done.

I’m trying not to be distracted by how much I miss Emmy and our daughter. I can’t let these feelings distract me, though it does help to stay positive and think: “We will be home soon enough.” It’s only been a couple days, but I can’t stop visualizing Emmy’s brown eyes, the way she bites her lip and closes her eyes when I make her blush, the way she leans her head on me after a long day. Then there’s our baby’s bright smile and thick brown hair, reaching for my face as I feed her a bottle…my favorite moment. Being able to bond with her like that, even though she will never age, is one quality of parenthood I enjoy most.

“Gale? You doing alright?” Halsin asks. I snap out of my heavy distractions and take a deep breath, preparing to move forward in our endeavors. He’s studying my face, realizing I’m not fully there.

“Sorry, I got lost in a deep train of thought. Let’s go.”

“Thinking about your family, huh?”

“No, no, just how we’re going to obliterate these horrible cultists and demolish their evil ways. I can’t wait to make these fools suffer for what they’ve done.”

“Gale, you’re a terrible liar,” Wyll adds, chuckling. Yeah, I never was good at stretching the truth, not even a little bit.

Once we reach the Lower City, I realize this area is actually rather clean and contains much less blood and gore; though, I suspect there are more guards over here to help keep it contained. Or, maybe people are better at hiding.

We find the manhole that leads down to the sewers, which is where the Temple of Bhaal is, unfortunately. The rancid smell causes discomfort and triggers a peculiar tingle within my stomach. Gods, another horrid odor I’ll never fully adjust to, no matter how often I’m around it. An unfamiliar sensation rises within me following the tingle, but not a regular feeling the average person would obtain. It feels to be a rising of power, something held inside me that wants to be unleashed…and it’s growing stronger by the minute. What is this?

“Hopefully we just go in, kill a bunch of Bhaalists, then make our way back home. I’m not sure it will be quite that simple though.” Wyll’s voice is hushed as we step into the dreaded murder temple, where thousands of skulls and corpses lay and screams of death are being heard from below.

“It never is, unfortunately,” I say, followed with a sigh. We’re here, and I am already aware of the Bhaalists ready to rip us to shreds, even though they’re shrouded and unable to be seen. I know when I’m being watched, the feeling is way too familiar. The screech of terror is nearly deafening and all I can picture is gruesome torture and death. I was hoping I’d never be here again.

We approach the center of the temple where we slayed the slayer, Orin. Piles of corpses surround the circular region and, as we get closer, I notice the assassins are surrounding it also. It seems they aren’t afraid to expose themselves. There’s maybe a hundred of them staring us down like prey; at least, the ones we can see anyway.

“Ooh, mmmm…. Another sacrifice to our Lord, our Father. But…but…but…wait…” One of the assassins growl as they approach us, licking his lips as he stares us down with hungry eyes. He looks around us, as if he’s trying to find a missing piece of a puzzle. “SPEAK. Where is she?”

“What the fuck is this loon talking about?” Karlach whispers.

“SILENCE! I’m talking to the Wizard. He’s married to the one we’re searching for. I’m going to ask again: where is she?” His eyes are piercing me as he awaits an answer, and they slowly turn into a vicious crimson as his patience runs thin.

“You want my wife? Why?”

“Our LORD wants her. He desires her. For her skin to be carved and hung up like cloth, for her body to be placed on his altar. Only then, will he have a new chosen. WHERE IS SHE?!” I give him a puzzled expression, wondering in my head why he thinks I’d willingly give him any information about Emmy.

“Why is she in particular interest to her Lord? Is it because we slaughtered Orin and he wants her avenged?”

“YOU WILL SPEAK NO MORE! Whoever slays her will take her place. I will slaughter all of you right here, right now if you do not speak the answers we desire.” I laugh as he continues to spew his pompous nonsense in my face, as he speaks ill of my wife in front of me. The feeling within me from earlier grows stronger and more potent, and it builds up within me as if I’m about to burst with radiant power.

“You can’t kill her, nor can you kill me. It’s physically impossible, you see.” The assassin licks his bloody blade and puts it against my neck, but he looks mildly afraid for some reason.

“And why not? Bhaal won’t like this, mmm no he won’t.”

“Because we’re immortal.” And it’s at that very moment, an intense wave of power flows through me, building up rapidly as rage grows. My body tingles, which leads to a feeling of overwhelming heat, like my body is an inferno.

“Oh shit, Gale’s eyes are…glowing?” Karlach mutters, observing me in horror but also excitement at the same time. I can’t see myself, but I imagine what I’m doing looks rather unsettling to the eyes of mortals.

“I’m going to be following up on Karlach’s statement with my own: Holy fuck, Gale,” Astarion adds. All the assassins move back as my body floats in the air, my entire body overflowing with powerful radiant magic that seems to be coming from the source of my immortality.

“NO, STAND DOWN!” one of the assassins shrieks in horror, but before they have the chance to dash out of the temple, my body releases the radiance held within me, completely disintegrating at least half of the bodies of the Bhaalists, leaving a few others rather injured. What was this power I was granted with? It’s as if my body sensed evil. It knew what was in here.

{view part 1 and part 2 of “Heart of the Weave” on my Ao3! You can find the link pinned on my page}

[mysticstarlightduck]

Writeblr Battle Royale - Round 2 Elyren vs Herschel

Hi, there! I am taking part in @your-absent-father's amazingly fun event, Writeblr Battle Royale, where I and other cool writeblrs choose our most powerful OCs and make them fight in an interdimensional arena. It's chaotic, it's badass, and more importantly, it is FUN (:<

This is also the second round!

Important: These events are not canon to our stories! They're just something very cool we as writers have decided to subject our characters to, for the sake of writing practice and Fun tm, though it is completely unrelated to our projects and the characters' actual experiences in the books.

Check out the rules and other amazing fight scenes at @writeblrbattleroyale!

TWs: guns, blood, gore, graphic depictions of injury, burning/fire, hallucinating about a dead loved one's ghost, suicide, violence, repressed emotions.

In this fight my teenage elven sorcerer Elyren faces off against Herschel (@quisyop's character), in a new, more dangerous arena - a maze filled with deadly monsters.

Herschel’s head was pounding, horrible visions danced at the edges of his eyes. Bodies and death, family and friends burning and screaming. He felt his body shake and swerve, an aura of confusion covering him. His vision went dark. And he woke up to the dark green shades of a vast, vast maze.

Elyren blinked, eyes adjusting to the world around him as a new arena came into view. How great… He thought, before noticing the strange looking woman staring intently at him. She looked like a Fortune Teller, somewhat. He’d meant to ask who she was, but he wasn’t given that time. As she pointed at him, the world around him became blurred, like a strange dark fog. Elyren shook his head. Well, this isn’t ideal. The fog twisted and stretched, spiralling around him. Elyren couldn’t tell where he was, nor could he precisely tell what was happening or where he was going. Until he heard that voice, twisted and filled with hatred, but still painfully familiar.

"You did not save us.” The voice hissed, and Elyren whirled around. “All that happened, was because of you. It’s all your fault - I was foolish enough to believe you could be any different.” Elyren shook his head, speechless, staring at the bloodied ghost, he didn’t know what to say. Memories from that night assaulted his mind, the day that Elyren could never seem to forget playing out vividly before him. “We are dead because of you!”

Elyren bit back the urge to sob, struggling not to look away from the familiar ghost of his brother. “T-that’s not true. You were killed, I tried to save you. I- I am still trying to save you.”

“Liar. You went to that temple. Aeralyn followed you, I followed you. And following you led us straight to that Imperial scout. If you had only listened to me, for once in your stupid life, I would be alive. We would all be alive. But you had to screw that up too, didn't you? You deserved to be exiled.”

Elyren frowned, no longer trying to hold back the tears. He wanted to believe this wasn’t real. Kiran would never say these things, he’d never speak to him with such hatred. But that didn’t matter, because, at the end of the day, Elyren knew the truth. And the truth is that he always screwed things up. Even this. The world began to spin around him viciously, the ghost never once wavering from his accusatory glare. YOUR FAULT. Elyren placed both his hands tightly over his ears as the vision grew in intensity, spinning wildly like a hurricane around him, before it dissipated, fading away just like it appeared. And the winding maze appeared before him. With great effort to stop his hands from shaking, Elyren sighed, wiping away the remaining tears from this horrifying encounter, the rageful voice still screaming at the back of his mind as he steeled himself for the fight to come. Let’s just get this over with.

“Shit.” Herschel’s head pounded as he pushed himself off the grimy floor below him and tried to get a good understanding of where the hell he was. “Shit”. He, still shaking, checked his pockets and supplies. Not much. His gun, a couple of matches, and a small knife. (as well as some cash and things that wouldn’t help) The gun was still missing two bullets. “Shit!” He took a couple of moments to breathe and collect his thoughts. Three things were clear to him.

He was stuck in a maze, presumably by the… thing from the match before.

He would probably kill another at the end of this. Or be killed, a thought that… no, they could work together. He wouldn’t die.

He was having a hell of a bad day.

Herschel stuck his hand out and pressed it against the wall of the maze, ready to follow it to, hopefully, the end. He passed the place he started in 7 minutes.

First, he took a look around, taking in his surroundings. The walls of the maze were high, so climbing them was out of the question. There were multiple pathways he could take, though clearly only one would lead him to where he needed to go - and judging by whatever it was that had trapped them here, those pathways would likely be riddled with traps and gods know what other monstrosities. Elyren shook his head, taking a deep breath. There was no time to be rash or get lost in this place. If he wanted to be out of here, his only option was to get through this as swiftly as possible, face his next opponent and see where this takes him next.

Trying to focus searched his mind for a spell that could help. If he couldn’t go around this thing nor climb up, then his best option was go through. And he knew exactly the spell to guide him to where he needed to be.

With a twist of his hands and a few muttered words, glowing runes appeared before him, flashing a floating mix of purples and greens that lit up the dim maze. Elyren focused his mind at the center of the small glowing ball of light commanding it.

Lead me to the center of this arena, find my opponent. The runes buzzed, small sparks flying from it at the command, and after a small pause, it shot fowards, drawing a glowing line into one specific pathway of the arena and then further. Elyren smirked, and wasted no time following this guiding light towards his opponent. Now it was just a matter of time. Despite focusing on not losing sight of the runes, Elyren knew he should be careful, after all, he did not know what this maze was nor what lurked within it.

So, while running ahead, he kept watchful attention fixed on any signs of threats from his surroundings. That’s why - after what seemed like an eternity of running from corridor to corridor -when he heard that bellowing growl approaching from one of his sides, Elyren was not caught of guard, quickly making a sharp turn on an opposite pathway and pressing himself hidden against the wall, just as a strange looking beast lunged into the corridor he’d been standing moments prior, tracking, ready to strike at any small sound. He peeked over the wall, only ever so slightly.

The monster looked like nothing he'd ever seen before, mutated even. Elyren made himself quiet, controlling his breathing so as not to give away his hiding spot. From the corner of his eye, he could see his guiding spell was still within reach, floating next to one of the doorways, waiting for him. He needs to figure something out. Now.

Herschel had simply accepted that this maze was either

A deeply complex magical construct that shifted and moved with the explorer

Was a circle

He chose to ignore that latter possibility, figuring that he’d just have to explore the good old-fashioned way. With each step on rocky earth that had the texture of smooth marble, he felt his legs shake with more speed and strength. He shouldn’t have been walking so much. But he wasn’t. It was a short walk, probably barely half a mile, but his legs felt weighted down and cramped quickly through his travel. When the texture of the ground turned from slippery marble to a texture like sandpaper, Herschel went cramped up and slowed down, taking more effort in his watchful gaze. Then the headache of the sweetly sick smell of cotton candy found its way to his nose. It made him want to vomit, combined with the heat that he found himself feeling. The noise of a sharp blade on concrete alerted me to the beast that found itself on the corner of a turn. It launched at him, claws like broken shards of glass aimed at my chest. He barely slid out of the way and whipped my cane up in defense. He got a better sight of it, pale skin stretched taut against bones that turned in angles too sharp and pointed to be human. Attached to its body were vague estimations of what limbs should look like, more lumps of flesh stacked on top of each other than neatly designed appendages built from years of evolution. Teeth like freshly molded hot red glassware shined at me in the glaring sunlight from the skies above.

“Oh hell no…”

Herschel charged forward, using his cane as a makeshift staff and swinging it at the leg closest to him. The beast's leg snapped easily, bone poking out of its skin. It reacted in rage, swinging its neck at an inhumane angle and lunging at Herschel, who swiftly shoved the came in its mouth, trapping the teeth shut.

While it whipped its head around trying to free itself, he pulled his revolver out and shot twice in the thing's chest. A thick, viscous liquid burst out of it as if held in by tight pressure, its color remaining Herschel of the dark red of mahogany. Herschel wiped the sludge from his mouth and leaned down to pull the came out of the thing’s open maw. He pulled it out with ease and reached down to break off the teeth of the creature, ready to use it as a replacement weapon. The monstrosity snapped its jaw shut with its final wisps of life, tearing a long wound down his arm as he recoiled his arm.

“FUCK!” It was dead now. But Herschel was close to the same fate. Now without a way to support himself, he found his way to the corpse’s pierced leg, bone still fresh with blood. He steadied himself and pulled on the bone, with as much force as he could with his undamaged right hand (he’s a leftie!) and found himself smothering a cough of vomit as the dripping fragment slid out. So now he had a cane and needed a way to stop the bleeding.

He took an admittedly short glance at the torn skin of the beast before deciding against it. He slid off his glamorous furry coat and pressed it against the open cut. He stifled a cry of pain as the strands of fluff pressed against it and absorbed the pain. After a minute of recovery, he continued onward with his warped bone as a cane and an improvised bandage, deeper into the maze.

With practiced ease, Elyren reached for his runic bow, soundlessly nocking the arrow and pulling the string taut. Peeking behind the thick wall behind him, Elyren could see the beast stalking, mercifully distracted by the glow of his guiding spell - still floating on the other side of the corridor - like a kitten with a ball of yarn.

Carefully, he adjusted his position, placing the arrow on the corner of the wall, taking delicate aim. Elyren narrowed his eyes - the beast just keeps moving. He’d never been a great hunter, but this is ridiculous. Holding back the urge to scoff, Elyren took a cautious step forward, bow string still pulled taut, as he cast flaming blue runes onto the arrow’s tip - as silently as he could manage it, muttering the spell’s words under his breath. After all, there was no telling how good this beast’s hearing was. Once he was sure his aim was somewhat true, pointed carefully to what he assumed was the beast’s heart, he finally let the arrow fly and it lodged itself onto the creature’s thick flesh with a burning hiss. Good, that means the runes worked.

The monster howled, throwing its clawed paws up in the air in pained fury. Elyren was swift to press his back onto the wall once more, hiding himself from the creature’s sight - at least for now. He needed something to hide, and since this terrain provided little in terms of shelter or higher ground, he’d just have to get creative. The invisibility shroud. He’d done it before, in the previous fight, and it worked out well enough. Though there was still no telling whether or not this beast couldn’t track him by smell or hearing, though given it’s inability to find him behind the wall, it was likely that it relied strongly on its sight.

That’s it! He thought, biting back a triumphant laugh. I’ll use the shroud, blind the beast, and then go for the killing blow, whatever that may be. Perfect! As the creature prowled the hallways behind him with increasing fury - the runic spell still burning its necrotic flames inside its flesh driving the beast mad - Elyren knew what to do. It took no time for him to cast his invisibility runes, though he was careful enough to conceal them as well this time. Won’t make that mistake again. He thought, recalling how he amaterishly neglected hiding the runes in his prior fight, and how that cost him dearly. He also carefully placed his now empty bow on his back once more.

Now completely shrouded in invisibility, Elyren moved, steps light as featherfalls on the concrete floor beneath him. Now the tables were turned, he figured, as he was the one stalking the beast that had meant to kill him moment’s prior. That brought a satisfied smirk to his fine features, but he pressed on, reminded of the urgency of this moment as the beast rounded the corner right in front of him. He stopped, and the beast whirled its head from side to side, confusedly looking for the one responsible for the necromantic arrow on its back, but finding nothing.

As fast as he could manage, Elyren quickly got to work on his next spell, the same necrotic flames of the arrow now floated before his hands, hidden by the shroud, ready to blind the beast before him. He just needed the right moment. Unwilling to wait too long, Elyren whistled, loudly bringing the beast’ attention in the direction of the hallway where he was standing, though it still had no clear path to where he was in order to strike. Just as soon as the beast’s sight focused on his path, Elyren struck, blueish green flames flying directly onto the monster’s glowing eyes. And the beast howled, flames searing through it’s flesh like acid burning through paper, melting down it’s eyes closed. For good.

Wasting no time, and taking advantage of the beast’s confusion, Elyren pulled out both of his runic daggers, lunging towards the scrambling beast with a viper’s precision. This, he knew how to do, killing swiftly was second-nature to him after the War.

Aiming for the exposed throat of the thrashing mutated monster, after dodging a lucky strike of the monster’s impossibly sharp claws, Elyren aimed for the bulging veins upon its exposed throat. With another swift sidestep, his daggers plunged onto the waiting neck from both sides. With considerable effort, as the beast continued it’s agonizing thrashing - one of his clawed paws tearing a deep gash on the side of his leg - Elyren was able to sever the monster’s skeletal head from it’s shadowy, lion-like shoulders. As the strange head rolled on the floor, the body went limp, spasming one last time before promptly falling forwards, blood splashing all over his dark robes. Well fuck, this is going to be hells to wash off - Stumbling backwards, Elyren shakily supported himself on a nearby wall as his now-injured leg trembled and gave out, dark arterial blood seeping onto his clothes faster than it should. His invisibility shroud swiftly fell around him, revealing him to any incoming threats. This is not ideal.

Pain shot upwards from the injured leg, and he cried out, hand instinctively reaching out to press onto the wound, and scrunched up eyes going wide as soon as he felt how deep that gash truly was. Looking up at the dead monster’s body, shakily, he confirmed his suspicions. In the monster’s now still claws was a ripped up strip of a familiar cloth, tangled with - Elyren realized with a sudden urge to vomit - strips of his own ripped up flesh. Shivering, Elyren closed his eyes, turning his head away from the gorily unpleasant sight. There were other matters at hand. Like not bleeding to death before the real fight even began.

He knew what he needed to do - he’d done it many times before. It doesn’t mean it is any less horrifying to consider. Before a quick pause, mentally going over the correct spell, Elyren finally made his decision. His left hand glew bright with searing flames - normal ones this time, like what one may find at a campfire - and he moved to hover it above the gaping wound, hesitating for a mere moment. He knew many spells for killing, many more for controlling the dead and causing fatal harm, but he awfully lacked knowledge of how to heal things, especially on himself. I’ll have to work on that, I can’t keep roasting myself everytime I almost die. Gods, I should’ve listened to Kiran when he told me to learn more about alchemy, shouldn’t I?

Gritting his teeth tightly, Elyren decided to be quick about this. The quicker the flame, the quicker the pain. Swiftly, he all but slapped the flaming hand above the wound, beginning to sear it closed. An inhuman howl left him, despite his attempts to bite back his pain, and Elyren barely acknowledge the warm tears sliding down his face, all his thoughts focused on the gash burning closed on his leg.

The godsforsaken smell that rose from it was quickly becoming too much to bear, blood sizzling into evaporation making Elyren want to vomit even more. Swallowing back the bile, as more tears fell from his eyes, it pulled away the hand. Elyren looked down, gasping for air, and examined his handiwork. The wound wasn’t bleeding anymore, and though the burn was one of the most cursed sights he ever saw in his life, his leg was still functional. Good.

Elyren shuddered, taking a moment to steady himself as the white hot pain turned into a dull - equally unbearable - throb upon his leg’s charred skin. After a moment of testing his footing underneath him, Elyren finally felt confident enough to push away from the wall, taking a stumbling step towards the guiding spell still floating next to that strange doorway.

Limping over, Elyren slowly realized how far he was into the maze. The sounds of the cheering audience were distant, but present, and looking up, he could not see the arena’s higher walls anywhere close. He was at the middle of the arena, he realized. And his opponent was likely waiting for him on the other side of this next corridor. Walking slowly became less agonizing, as Elyren forced himself to become used to the insistent pain, pushing it to the back of his mind, determined to win this fight. Quickly.

Crossing this hallway, in his compromised speed as his leg all but dragged behind him, took a long moment, and as he made one final turn left, the spell dissipated. Elyren saw where he was. A wider clearing, in the very center of the arena, or so he assumed. And before him, his strange-looking opponent was waiting. Well, the spell was not wrong, he figured, bracing himself for the fight he knew was coming.

As Herschel’s final gasps of air were about to leave him, he locked eyes with a young… man? His skin was the color of the swirling sea, the undertones a deep indigo. His hair was long and silvery, falling down to his shoulders that were covered in a dark cloak. His leg was torn open and burned from methods that were ambiguous to Herschel. He didn’t know if this thing was another beast, a foe, or a potential friend. But he saw the look in his eye- one he, too, once had. A look of fear, and an urge to strike out at potential danger. He wanted to help this kid.

“Hey! You! You know what I’m saying?”

The strange looking man limping in the arena before him stopped in his tracks, leaning into a short bone for support. Elyren tried not to think where that bone had come from. He was slightly thrown off by this man’s attire, which looked like nothing he’d seen before in Agrannor. Well, he shrugged, still not weirder than all of this. Nothing can be weirder than this fucking situation. He quickly noticed how exhausted his opponent looked, but also did not fail to see how this person seemed to be analyzing him, as if checking to see if he was any threat. Subconsciously, one of his hands reached for the handle of his dagger, but din’t unsheath it. Just placed it next to the blade. Waiting for the man’s next move. Through the ringing of his ears, and the annoying pain shooting up from his blistered leg, he noticed the man was speaking to him. Adjusting himself and his hearing, Elyren finally understood it. “Hey! You! You know what I’m saying?” The man asked, and Elyren tilted his head.

“Yes, I do understand you. Why?” He questions, his sharp accent echoing around the arena. There was deep confusion in his eyes, but curiosity as well.

“I’m guessing you want to kill me? Like all the fucking things here?” Herschel had taken a casual posture, but kept a tight grip on the bone in his hand. “We don’t have to, you know! Violence isn’t the answer, as they say! …you probably don’t know what that means, don’t you… never mind! Just… don’t hit me preferably!”

Elyren narrowed his eyes at the man’s answer. One particular choice of word struck him quite harshly, though he was aware that this might not have been the man’s intention. Thing. “Like all of these fucking things up here?”

He remembered how it was like, in his past. Being hunted for sport, treated like cattle for slaughter. Just another abomination the Temple of Radiance had to eliminate. Just another thing.

Shakily, he shook his head. Now was not the time for this. He needed to think clearly, Elyren told himself, as he awkwardly took a steadying breath in, though it hitched. He didn’t know whether it was at the pain on his leg or the memories the word brought up. What a day.

“... Thing? No. Don’t you ever call me that again!” Elyren said, arms crossing over his chest protectively. “I’m not a thing. I am a person.” He paused, calming himself down and recalling the rest of the man’s response. “And no, I do not want to kill you. But… what choice do we have? How else can I get out of here?”

Despite himself, his lower lip quivered, before he forced his anger to return to his stony facade once again, speaking under his breath. “You’re not the only one afraid here.”

Herschel could feel the sting that his words dealt.

“No, you’re no “thing”, you’re right. You’re a magnificently complex miracle of nature, and whoever has said otherwise is wrong.” He paused when he heard the young man open up, realizing it must have been a hard thing for him to do. Herschel squatted down and placed his weapons on the ground, clearly showing himself to be unarmed. “You need a hug? Because I think I do too.”

Elyren paused, frozen like a statue. “... What?...” The word left his mouth almost without him realizing it. The man had apologized, sincerely in fact, for his slip up. And had offered him a hug. A hug? Elyren thought. What an unusual request for someone trapped in a deadly combat. He frowned slightly, considering if this was a trap or in earnest, eventually realizing it was the latter. A hug would be nice, he figured. No one ever hugged him after Kiran died. Most people just try to kill him on sight, like he is a pest or something disposable. This is new. This is… nice, if it is true. “... A hug would be great, honestly…" He ran a hand through his now tousled hair and shurgged, trying to be nonchalant and not awkward "Sure, why not."

Herschel strides forward, arms outstretched. A look of sad empathy is found in his eyes, but he covers it with a welcoming smile. As he reaches the peak of his stride, the noise a loud howl screeches out into the air. “Fuck.”

Herschel dashes forward and grabs Elyren swiftly, pulling him behind a scenic bush. “I’m sorry for the sudden push, and I’ll get you that hug in a moment, but it looks like we got a bigger problem in our hands right now. You seem like an efficient killer, but please keep yourself safe. If it comes to it, I can kill it. You don’t have to die.

The bellowing roar shrills through the air, chilling his blood within him, as his opponent - or should he call him friend? - drags him to safety behind what looks like a bush, but feels more like metal than anything else. Falling to the ground behind it, it took everything he had to bite back the cry of pain from the impact on his wounded leg, but he managed. In his shock, Elyren listened carefully register the man’s hurried words, as the beast’s footfalls echoed in the arena around him, menacingly.

Carefully, he peeked from behind his shelter, seeing a giant monster with a large toothed mouth. It was green, and grey, and looked like a mix between a praying mantis and a dragon. It was horrible, and he hated it already. Frowning, however, as he slipped back down out of side, he mulled over the man's words. “What? No. You’re not fighting that alone. I’m still breathing, that means I can still fight, and I’m not backing out from this. So, let’s kill this thing. Got a plan?” He said, slipping his bow back into his hands, and steadying their shaking as he moved to nock an arrow.

His words were hushed as he kept crouched down behind the “bush” out of the monster’s line of sight. He hoped. Elyren noticed the human’s worried glances to his injury - which admitedly was horryfying to look at - and tried to give him a reassuring smirk, which faltered into a pained grimace. He wasn’t sure at all. “Don’t worry about the leg. I’ve had a lot worse.”

Elyren didn't know if even he himself believed the words he just spoke, but there wasn't time to discuss it.

Herschel grimaces at the cut, but chooses to trust Elyren’s statement. “I left my weapons on the other side of the room, so I’ll join you in a second.”

As Herschel moves to stand up, Elyren stops him with a firm hold on his arm.

"Rule number one of survival: Never part with all your weapons. No one needs to know how many of them you have in the first place." Elyren says, as he gives Herschel one of his many daggers.

“Thanks! Little rusty, but should be good!” Then, Herschel looked at the beast. It was massive, almost double his height, and its limbs resembled jagged stone in their strange shape. Its natural armor was the color of sea glass, and its head jutted out strangely from the neck.

Without thinking twice, Herschel ran to the other side of the creature, swinging away from the stab of its arm and preparing to strike. “The name’s Herschel, by the way!” He yells out as he dashes towards the beasts side and manages to slice into its underbelly.

Elyren narrows his eyes as his new ally runs straight towards the monster, and sighs, shaking his head.

"I don't know why I am doing this, but alright then." He mumbles under his breath as he casts a shield spell, not for himself, but for the reckless human currently right beside the furious creature.

"Good to know your name!" He yells out, standing up fully to take good aim at the beast's neck, unprotected by its back armor. "My name is Elyren Tyrvommira. Just call me Elyren because yes, the surname is terrible for humans to pronounce, so don't worry about it."

On the other side of the arena, face to face with the monster, Herschel frowns, trying to figure out a way to pronounce Elyren's surname even though he was told not to. "Ty-ra-vom-Ira? … You know what, nevermind”

Elyren laughs, "Told you. Just forget it, oh Gods."

Herschel, now holding on the dagger as it pulls through the insect-like monster, quickly darts his eyes Elyren as strange glowing lines and circles appear around his hand. Herschel stares at them as they float around Eylren’s wrist, and is shocked out of it when he flys backward when the creature slams it's leg against his skull. But he feels no pain. Only the energy of the hit seems to transfer, and seconds later, Herschel is back up and grabbing his cane off the floor. “Thanks for whatever the hell that was!”

Elyren smirks. The spell worked - that's good. He rarely ever had to cast a shield for someone else, and it required a bit more concentration than usual, but at least it gave his newfound ally a fighting chance against whatever this monster was.

As the beast threw its head to the side to try and catch Herschel, it left its long, sinewy neck fully exposed. Perfect. Elyren coated his arrow with necromantic flames once more, and let it fly. The sharp tip lodged itself deep onto the thankfully exposed flesh with a gnarly hiss.

As the flames started to consume the skin and flesh of the very-much-still-alive monster, Elyren suddenly felt a jolt of dizziness, struggling to recover his concentration on the shield spell for a brief moment as his leg flared up brutally. Well, the hazards of being a sorcerer He thought, hand hovering over the burn on his leg as the other still clutched the bow.

After a short moment, his focus on the spell returned completely, but opening his eyes revealed an unforeseen reality.

Upon trying to handle both his pain and the spells, he had forgotten to hide himself from sight. And the monster was currently racing it's bug like form towards him, despite the flames currently eating at its neck. No time to think, just run.

"A little help would be nice! Quickly. Like right now!" Elyren screamed, trying his best to limp away from the quickly approaching monster, which was now furious. He didn't have time to nock another arrow, nor to cast another spell with his compromised focus. His only chance now lied in his ability to find a better position to stab this thing. If he could manage to escape it's claws in time

He stumbled, almost falling to the floor, and his injured leg locked in place, refusing to move as a wrong step shoots more pain through his very core. Elyren looked up. The monster was almost upon him. He braced himself for the inevitable. But the bite never came.

Herschel only had a couple of seconds to process whatever the hell was going down with the glowing runes, because the beast was dashing toward his ally at a breakneck pace. Herschel took a swift breath and dashed at the thing, cane in his torn left hand.

He brought the bone down with all the force he could on the thing’s leg, which was already ablaze with madly flowing, flesh-consuming strikes of fire. A sick pop could be heard throughout the maze as it made contact and the thing’s head twisted as if on a swivel. Herschel fell to the ground, clutching his arm, as the beast shakes and twists beside him.

“You… good? Might have some… I can give you my clothing of you’re bleeding."

Elyren pants, out of breath as he puts all his weight on his uninjured leg. He might have miscalculated the damage his previous encounter in the maze had caused him - his leg was all but torn, held together only by the clumsy cauterizing he'd cast. It was... agonizing.

Watching from afar, he saw as the beast stopped in its tracks, his ally tackling its leg with his cane. He shook his head at his ally's question, taking a shaking, rattling breath to try and think through the pain.

Running had only made it worse, he realized that now, but there was no time. "... I'm not bleeding, I think hng I ... made it stop. It just hurts. A lot" He blissfully keeps out the details of how the previous monster had torn away a chunk of his leg, which was now an open wound, and how he had to sear it closed by himself. There was no need for the other to worry more. He positioned himself out of the struggling beast's reach.

It had been deterred but was recovering remarkably fast, climbing onto its remaining legs as it let out a blood-curdling howl. "But we don't have time. We need... to end this." Elyren choked out, forcing his voice to sound even and strong, clutching his dagger as he scrambled in his mind for a plan. "If I... If I can restrain it, can you help kill it?" He called out, drawing the beast's attention onto him with a whistle as he awaited the other's response.

Across from him, Herschel staggers up. “Hell yeah, man.”

He poses his staff above the thing’s neck where the arrow had pierced, ready to slam it in like a hammer and nail. “This is gonna get bloody!”

Elyren nodded. Closing his eyes, glowing purple runes appeared on the arena's floor, as the concrete stone started to rearrange itself onto chains. Focusing on it, Elyren ordered the chains to latch onto the creature's back, restraining it constrictively. Hands stretched out, Elyren made the stony chains tighten around it, all his remaining strength channeled into keeping the thrashing monster held onto the now broken floor from which the chains had sprouted. This wouldn't last for long, but it was the chance they needed it. He met his ally's gaze and nodded again. New runes - another spell - formed around Herschel's staff, marking its end sharper, giving them a greater chance to kill this thing. Out of breath, struggling to hold both spells at once and ignore his growing pain, Elyren ordered, a panicked lilt to his voice.

"... Do it! Now, do it now!"

With his last breaths as blood poured from his open wound, Herschel’s staff was lifted in a high arc above his head and slammed into the creature’s skull. An explosion of blood covered his lower body, and he felt himself kneel to the ground as his body gave up beneath him. But he rose back up, using his bone as a weight to hold himself. He shakily lifted his hand and brought a thumbs up to Elyren. He managed to cough out, “How about that hug?” before collapsing into the stone floor.

Elyren keened, finally able to let go of the spells he'd been holding onto. His head ached like it had been smashed with a hammer, and he could barely feel his feet. All that he could feel was pain, shooting up from his charred, torn leg.

His vision swimmed, for a moment, and Elyren felt as if the ground was moving beneath him, which he knew from experience was a tell-tale sign of being about to pass out. Closing his eyes tightly, he forced his body to steady, breathing through the pain until the dizziness stopped and the ground felt even once again.

He opened his eyes just in time to see his ally collapse. Elyren felt an unexpected surge of worry. Had Herschel been injured? Elyren analysed the other, looking for visible injuries. The monster's blood was dark as tar, which made it incredibly easy to see the growing crimson stain in the other's clothes, around a wound. Oh.

With his leg dragging behind him, insistently numb and agonizing at the same time, Elyren was able to limp over towards Herschel, who was now waiting for him just around the fallen monster between them. Once he reached the other, Elyren paused. "... Yeah, a hug... sounds about nice... right now," He reached out a hand. "Do you want to... get up... or do you prefer to stay sitting down...? Either way it's - it's fine. For me. You helped out... a lot... in the battle. "

Herschel speaks softly. “It’s fine… I can…” He tries to move himself but his body refuses. “Sorry, I… don’t think I can.” He reaches out to hug Elyren.

Elyren notices the other's struggle and nods. "Don't try to.. get up. I'll get .... to you, sorry." Wincing, Elyren lowered himself into a seated position so that the hug was easier to achieve, Elyren responded with an awkward, distant, but gentle hug. He hoped his lack of practice in such things wasn't so apparent, but he knew it was. Gods, I'm pathetic. How can I not remember how to hug?

They stayed like that for a while. It was nice, Elyren realized, leaning a bit more into the hug before letting go. This was his first hug in years, and only now had he realized how much he'd missed it - being hugged. He stiffled a small sob at the thought, before clearing his throat.

After the hug ended, they stayed on the floor, just sitting side by side. Elyren's gaze wandered upwards, towards the tallest wall of the arena. The wall from where M - and likely hundreds of others - were watching these fights. He set his jaw tightly, thinking.

"... What now? I - I mean. How do we get out of this? We were... supposed to fight, but now, I can't do this, I don't want to do this."

I just want to go home. The thought dies in his throat before he can bring himself to say it out loud.

Herschel takes a breath, one loaded with sorrow hidden by years of practice. “Don't worry. I can fix this.” He slips out his gun and presses it into Elyren’s hand. He guides it up as Elyren stares at it, confused. He presses it against his own forehead, as the young elf holds the gun.

"What is this? I don't understand." Elyren asked, confused, trying to pull the gun away from Herschel's grasp, to pull it away from his forehead, but the other did not let go. Despite not knowing what this contraption was, Elyren somehow felt it was nothing good. "W-what does it do? Tell me what does this do, let it go-"

Herschel whispers calmly to Elyren. “It’s a way for both of us to be happy here. When I say so, you’ll pull the trigger- the little thing on the bottom- and it’ll fix the problems. And hey, the next one that comes along, just point this thing at it, using those fun little glowy things from before if you’d like, and it’ll fix the problem too.”

Herschel, strangely, doesn't feel fear or anxiety. At least for himself. He realizes, after a moment, that he has one last message for Elyren.

“Don’t let anyone pretend that you aren’t a person. That you aren’t a sentient being. Because you are, kiddo, and I know with all my heart that you’ll do good. I… believe in you… if that matters.” With that, he makes a gesture with his hand to signify to press the trigger.

Elyren's hands shook. He listened to the other's words, trying to understand what they truly meant. This didn't look like a nice thing. This... this looked like a weapon. Realization hit him faster than a falcon - Herschel was trying to give him a way to kill him without a fight. Whatever this did, it was - he hoped - an easy way out. For the both of them. Despite still not wanting to do this, despite hating this with every fiber of his being, Elyren forced his hands to obey, moving to clutch the weapon with both his hands, holding it more precisely. Tears were falling unbidden from his eyes, Herschel's last comment made Elyren choke up, more tears following suit. He'd waited for so long to hear those words. That he is not a monster. That he can do good. How twisted is the hand of fate that he now has to kill the person who just said the words he'd been waiting for so long. Elyren stammered, trying to breathe through his sobbing but failing. "...Thank you. F-for what you said. I'm so sorry, I'm sorry...!"

All Herschel did in response is clasp his hand on Elyren’s, holding it firm. He nodded in understanding.

Elyren took a deep breath, steadying his hands one last time. Pull the trigger, Herschel had told him. What is a trigger? He thought to himself, carefully leaning over to see within the weapon, and maneuvers his shaking fingers to clumsily but carefully rest upon what he thought was the trigger. I'm so sorry.

He barely presses the mechanism, and a loud, awfully loud sound echoes around the arena. Elyren screams, ears ringing from the unexpected sound. Blood splatters onto his face due to the proximity, and as Herschel falls limply to the floor, a hole upon his forehead, Elyren watches numbly the pool of blood grow.

He's frozen, unable to move. Everything feels too much, and he feels too numb. His hands are still wrapped around the handle of this strange contraption called a gun. He hates this. He hates himself. Shivering, he moves to lower the gun, but his shaking fingers cause him to drop it, clattering onto the bloodied floor before him, like it's accusing him.

Elyren forces himself to look away from the corpse of his ally, the newfound friend he'd been forced to kill, turning his back to what he had to done. Like he always did. People always died because of him. Maybe the illusion of Kiran's ghost was right, after all. And now, he waited. He had won. It doesn't mean he has to like it. Right now, with the distant cheers of the audience echoing around him and the corpse of his ally beside him, Elyren wished he could just not think at all.

At least for a while, before he would be forced to go through these hells again soon.

[iisasarcasticlittleshite]

Prompt Compilation

I have waaaay too many different pages of prompts, so I'm putting them all here so for future reference, if you request a prompt, this is the number system I'll be referencing.

Sorry for the inconvenience, I'm figuring it out as I go!

1)“My hair is better than yours.”

2)“All I need is a kitten and a glass of warm milk.” “For the kitten?” “No, for me you dipstick.”

3)“Did you just kiss me?”

4)“Did you see that?” “Um…” “The correct answer is no, you didn’t.”

5)“Why are you so red? All I said was “I love you” in Portuguese.”

6)“How come we always end up calling each other when we can’t sleep?”

7)“Bite me.” “Kiss me.”

8)“I vote to make today a pyjama day!”

9)“The day you make me/him/her laugh is the day whales walk on land.”

10)“Stop stealing my clothes.” “No.”

11)“Is that the best you can do?”

12)“You have no idea who I am do you?”

13)“You’re built like the love child of mount Everest and a silverback gorilla, and I’m the weird one?!”

14)“Stop it, your face is doing that thing again.”

15)“I’m gonna do the thing.” “Don’t do the thing. Please don’t do the thing.”

16) "I know I said "Dude" was gender neutral, but that doesn't mean you get to call me dude five minutes after your dick was down my throat."

17)"You're the first one who's ever kept up with me." "Hell of a way to call me horny."

18)"Have you no shame?" "Nope, none. Now get over here and fuck me. Or let me fuck you, I'm not picky."

19)"You've gotta choose one or the other!" "Why? Both are awesome!"

20)"He'll hear us!" "Let him."

21)"Sharing is caring."

22)"I said, sit."

23)"I don't need to be jealous. He's/She's/Your mine."

24) "I'll teach him how to make you feel good."

25) "Goddamn you're good at that."

26) "Now this, this is a view I could get used to."

27) "Don't look at me like that, you'll bite off more than you can chew."

28) "Oh baby, you might just be more than I can handle... I like it."

29) "Try me, lil'lady/pretty boy."

30) "Want me to do that again?"

31)‘I reject your reality and substitute my own!’ ‘I don’t think that’s how reality works.’

32)‘why isn’t there a welcome mat on your doorstep?’ ‘Because I’m not a liar.’

33)‘I am neither caffeinated nor drunk, do you really want to have this conversation right now?’ ‘No ma’am/sir.’

34)‘You need sleep.’ ‘Why? We all die anyway!’

35)‘I’ll be damned, shit went wrong and it wasn’t even slightly my fault!’ ‘The day is young.’

36)‘You can be a real ass sometimes you know that?’ ‘You should hear the things I don’t say.’

37) ‘Fuck you.’

‘Mmm, fuck me.’

‘What?’

‘What?’

38)‘I got you, I always got you.’ ‘But who’s got you?’

39) ‘I love you!’ ‘You have terrible taste.

40) ‘Don’t treat the person I love like that! You rip yourself apart and expect me to watch?! I’ll put you back together as many times as you need me too, but you need to stop being the one ripping out the stitches.’

41) Watcha doin’? ‘Did you know all three of the e’s in “Mercedez” are pronounced differently?’

42) I love you too much to protect you from this.

43) What's your least favourite animal? 'People.' (Based on an actual conversation with a student)

44) Even if you’re faking it, even if it’s a lie, just this once, kiss me like you mean it. 

45) Sit still and let me fix you, you gorgeous mess. 

46) You’ve got to have a guardian angel. Yeah? Well, that bitch drinks. 

47) A thought has occurred to me: fuck this. 

48) Ey, why do we give the important jobs to the guy who’s only brain cell is competing for second place? 

49) For someone who claims not to like guys, you care an awful lot about where other people put their dicks.  

50) You are going to let me go. I'm not asking any more.

51) I want to go home! No amount of begging is going to get you back to a place that doesn't exist anymore!

[renticat]

Yudhistira

okay it's scary and not like me at all when I put names on my post but mostly it's all just common names and ofc I would not put the whole name on it ffs, I am not that horrible.

But Yudhistira is one of 5 pandhawa that is famous in mahabaratha. Okay he has many names, I guess is werkudara the other names. But Yudhistira is also my 2nd grade crush looong back then JAJAJA and today is his birthday (see I remember the date if you're ever been an important person in my life). I just realized many of my crush were april baby like me. I guess it's just like mostly we're weird and it's easy to having fun together (well, don't believe that horoscope shit but still). April people are just silly and fun to be with but they're also dead serious and honest. Yeah I love my april gang

I want to upload videos on my telegram but then they only let me put so little (yeah because why? Because then I know that somebody seeing it even when I don't know whom as I don't really check it but still here thought no one bother to read; and that's why Instagram is popular because people aren't whiny bitch like me also they're don't have anything much to say and I like tumblr because it's more like blog, I can write about any shit I want) even when no one really cares.

Today is beautiful day.

But I haven't sleep a wink because my mind is disturbed. You know actually I don't have to go to other neighborhood to enjoy this view back then, but in my home the forest and the orange garden were being burned down because they're making more and more homes. See too many people and they think ofc it's okay to just kill all the trees cause we're importanter than the 🌳🌴🌴🌳🌲 (grammar error i know i just want to state the silliness of human think they're centre of this universe). And those garden and field were my sanctuary. I kid you not, you know my home isn't always peaceful. It's the opposite of warmth.

More it's just too much drama and I just went there to the field and laid down gazing at the sky. It calms me down. Also gosh I should be screenwriter and making tons of money because when I was sitting alone, I escape my horrible life by creating story of me but in fictional characters when she doesn't get this too much shitty life everyday. And someone said you created something that isn't there, ofc if I wasn't I would probably really end my life when I was just elementary school (that most kids didn't even know what depression is, I already battling with anxiety everyday). The difference I still had hope back then. Ren, is my imaginary best friend, he doesn't have name back then, he's my alter ego that's nurture me but I never talk to him when I was 13 because I was brainwashed that talking too much with yourself is just satan talking to you, so yeah.

When I don't have ren by my side I swear back then I can see those undead. I mean ghost. I guess is just me being so lonely but I swear it was like real and that's what makes me closer to that deadbeat crush of mine cause he can talk to them. I don't believe in hell and heaven now but if it's true, I guess is only hell cause I've never seen any angel. Cause you're disgusting horney teenager. Gosh I thought angel supposed to understand that kissing isn't that big of matter lol lol. Picturing myself kissing all my crush, and some of it becomes reality turns out I fucking despise it.

Love only soft, fuzzy and warm inside my head. In reality they're cruel, harsh and unapologetic. They're selfish, greedy and liar. Okay sometimes is sweet but most of the time I had to deal with the bad part and gosh I think I am better off alone. But then my parents only raise me so I became a good depending wife and I am fucked because I am good but not good enough as I demand love to be put in action and just speak honest thing with me. It's too much too ask, thought it was the bare minimum for every relationship to work out.

I am terrified that nothing will ever works. That I am gonna chasing after something that doesn't exist like sky daddy. I am tired. I am fucking tired. Okay should stop swearing but i love it. It's just like american movies haha. I need to rest my head in somebody else's lap but there's none. Even when there is, it's just temporary satisfy feeling and I am gonna be twice sad because all I want is someone that is always gonna be there for me no matter what as I am gonna be that kind of person too.

gosh tumblr always lagging if I tried to upload video and ugh I had to rewrite the last part as I always. Why don't they fix this bugs.

[mama-ivy]

Whumpril 2024

Alternative Day 13 - You brought this on yourself.

Jeff finally woke up sitting on a cold concrete floor in a large round room. He had no idea how he had gotten there, but his best guess would be the guy that had cornered him with a gun in the parking garage of his office building. His Armani suit was now in tatters and covered in grime. His dry cleaner was good, but not this good. He’d have to trash it. He was sure his lawyer or his secretary was looking for him. He wouldn’t be here long.

It was cold in this room. Not freezingly so, but just enough to send shivers up his spine every few minutes. Just enough to be annoying. He hated being cold. He needed a space heater. Or a hot cup of black coffee. And a quiche. The spinach one from that deli on Fifty-First Street.

He sat by himself for quite a while. Shivering every few minutes and dreaming of quiche. He didn’t know how long he sat before a door opened. He didn’t remember any doors in this room but when he heard the familiar click of an opening lock behind him, he looked around and saw that the circular wall that surrounded him was covered in doors. One right after the other. He suddenly felt a little like Alice.

“Who’s there?”  Jeff tried to turn around towards the noise but found that he couldn’t move. Not a single muscle. Whoever brought him here must’ve drugged him.

“It’s just me again, Jeff.” a deep voice answered. “Though, I suppose with the number of visitors you get, your question is valid.”

“Visitors? I just woke up. I don’t even know where I am.”

The voice laughed. The mystery visitor was moving closer. “Every time you say that, it makes me laugh. Everlasting enjoyment. God, I love this place.”

The mystery visitor finally made his way around to face Jeff. He looked suspiciously familiar, but Jeff couldn’t place him.  “I think I know you.”

“You definitely know me. Think really hard.”

“Common sense would state that you work for me.”

“Honestly, who doesn’t?  Your company owns half the East Coast.” The visitor knelt down in front of Jeff so that he could get a better view. “Try again. Harder this time, Jeffrey.” The F’s in his name were said with force. The visitor definitely had an issue with the man motionless on the floor.

Jeff looked at the visitor intently. As much as he racked his brain, he still couldn’t place his face. “I don’t know.”

“William O’Connell. I usually go by Bill. You called me Thieving Imbecile.”

“Bill.” Jeff smirked in recognition. “I called you that because you stole product from me.”

“I disagree.” Bill stood back up and looked down menacingly. “I simply took home what my wife paid for.”

“Liar. You were caught with unpaid product in your desk and your vehicle.”

Bill chuckled. “My wife paid for my daughter’s life saving medications at the pharmacy. She paid four times what they were worth. Do you want to know how I know that?” Bill didn’t wait for a response. “Because I was the company accountant who you forced to sign off on the price hike. What I took home were the drugs that my wife paid for but did not receive.”

Jeff shook his head. “It still doesn’t give you the right…”

“The right?!? THE RIGHT???” Bill again knelt down. “What right did you have, Jeff? What right did you have to force the public to pay exuberant prices for medications they need to survive? What right did you have to decide who lives and who dies? What right did you have to play God?” Bill paused and took a breath to calm himself. “I’ve met God, Jeff. They are so much better than you ever were.”

“Why do you keep talking about me in the past tense?”

“Because you’re dead. Common sense would have told you that, Jeff.”

“I suppose this is supposed to be Hell?”

“Ding Ding! You always were a smart cookie.”

“That means you’re dead and in Hell too.”

“Try again.” Bill stood back up. “You were almost on a roll there, Jeffy boy. I am dead, sure, but this – “ Bill made a sweeping motion around the room. “This is my Heaven.” He pointed towards the door where he entered. “That door leads to my Eternal Mansion. It’s me, my daughter, and my wife. I would bring them to meet you, but you wouldn’t remember anyway.”

“Your daughter is dead?”

“Did you forget already? She was sick, Jeff. She needed the drugs you wouldn’t share to live. After you had me killed, my wife couldn’t afford the correct dosage. My daughter died shortly after I did.”

“Who else visits me?” Jeff asked in the smallest voice possible. He half hoped Bill wouldn’t hear him, but really needed to know the answer.

“I don’t know all of them.” Bill started pacing in a circle around Jeff. “Sue lives through that door. You remember Sue? The secretary you sexually harassed almost every day?”

“When did she die?”

“She lived to a ripe old age of ninety-five. Had five grandkids and a whole slew of great-grandchildren.”

"Who killed me?"

"I don't know, but if I ever find out, I'm buying them a beer."

“How long have I been here?”

“A long, long, long time, Jeff.” Bill’s voice was getting farther away. “Every time one of these doors opens, time resets for you. You won’t even remember this conversation in a little bit.”

“Wait! Bill! I have more questions!”

“Maybe next time, Jeff. Although, I highly doubt it. We seem to have the same conversation every time I come in here.” Bill closed the door behind him and Jeff heard the ominous click of the lock.

He closed his eyes in the hopes that he would wake up from this crazy fever dream.

Jeff finally woke up sitting on a cold concrete floor in a large round room. He had no idea how he had gotten there, but his best guess would be the guy that had cornered him with a gun in the parking garage of his office building. His Armani suit was now in tatters and covered in grime. His dry cleaner was good, but not this good. He’d have to trash it. He was sure his lawyer or his secretary was looking for him. He wouldn’t be here long.

@whumpril

[fictionfixations]

thoughts about heaven & hell (who goes where?)

(mentioned spoilers for The Owl House, Harry Potter, Naruto, and Hazbin Hotel, adn The Apothecary Diaries)

I might be wrong but as far as I'm aware there isn't a neutral place when you don't fit in either heaven or hell, it's just two extremes. Unless there is one but isn't well known, which oops. At least in like Christianity stuff I think, cause I know in other places there is a sort of middle ground or something like that.

But like. What constitutes who goes to Heaven and who goes to Hell?

Do you add in changes too? Like, would Lilith from The Owl House be sent to Hell because she cursed her sister, and worked on the enemy's side the whole time? Except she regretted her decision, had a change of heart, redemption arch, and also the Emperor had tricked her into thinking there was a cure to save Eda when really he was planning on killing her.

or Amity for being a huge bully, but at heart caring for others and having followed what her parents wanted.

Like... Where do you focus more on feelings instead of actions? Do actions done that hurt people when the person themselves didn't intend to hurt them make them bad?

Or actions from emotion filled moments. Like, you can't tell me you've never gotten so angry that you do something that you regret later.

And when do the ends satisfy the means?

Emperor Belos felt like he was doing right as a witch hunter when he was killing innocent souls, but there were still people who believed that witches were evil. Would you think about biases and prejudice like that, or would you think about actions. Like, 'killed [blah blah blah] people'

Or, take Dumbledore from Harry Potter. Viewed as a hero, doing everything for the greater good, but in the end condemned a child to a horrible fate. Under scrutiny and the pressure of an entire nation watching his every move. First memories being abused by the people who should've loved him, and even earlier would be hearing his parents scream. And then led to die far too soon to end it. (I admittedly think Dumbledore did far too little)

But how do you judge that? Saved like a shit ton of people, but also was a bystander, not often doing much and more or less observing.

Molded a kid to be a savior, to save people so much older then him and effectively ruining his childhood (and while he did have fun, made friends and stuff, he could turn from most desirable to most undesirable. peoples opinion of him could change so easily, and he'd care so much about that and they'd call him a liar to his face and like-- When is that healthy?), except that kid saved everyone.

(also where do you put Draco? Objectively it'd be 'hE's deATh eATer SCUM' but also parents influence their kids a lot and it wasn't like he really had a choice? A lot of mean things he does it was because that was how he was taught, how he was raised. And when he grew up and had thoughts of his own independent of his parents, he got better)

Or like. Do you look at things objectively or emotionally?

Person brainwashed into killing a bunch of people. Do they go to hell or do they not?

I've heard people say that having shame or guilt over an action makes it clear that they care and regret it and that it doesn't make them a monster even for what they did.

At what point do you assign non compos mentis, or basically, 'not of sound mind' and can't blame a person for doing a thing?

Or what about someone who was taught to hate, for example, gay people, and so was homophobic for a part of their life. But then changed and grew? It doesn't make the people they hurt unhurt, but do they get blamed for acting that way, or do they get a pass just because they were influenced to act that way?

At what point does that became invalid? For example, Allison Argent from Teen Wolf, who was told by her hunter family that the supernatural were monsters and stuff like that. And if I recall correctly, apparently went and attacked people she knew, kids the same age as her even if they didn't really do anything. And while it isn't her fault that someone she trusted had such a flawed thought process and shared those thoughts with her, but also like. if you kill someone because you think they're a horrible person, and then it turns out they were innocent, are you guilty?

I mean. Probably. Murder is still murder no matter what, so is it just viewed objectively?

Or, like. Let's go to the world of Naruto, where child soldiers are abundant. They're taught to be entirely obedient, thus Itachi killing his whole clan due to orders. Does he get blamed for that? Probably. But who is to blame?

Also would people be at fault for teaching a child to kill?

For attacking a child, when really they're both shinobi, and both enemies and stuff like that?

Would they all be condemned?

How does the judging system even work? Cause a lot of things that are considered crimes come from our judgment of it, our law. And whatever chooses where we go, do they really care about that?

Would a person be viewed as good for having good intentions?

What is it even based upon? Cause at one point I'm pretty sure marrying kids off was perfectly legal, and that was probably normal at that point. So like, would it just be judged based off of standards from that time?

But then like, how do you get rid of the people who are assholes in Heaven? The sexists??

Like. A line from Hazbin Hotel, Episode 6, from the song 'You Didn't Know',

"If Hell is forever, then Heaven must be a lie.

If angels can do whatever and remain in the sky.

The rules are shades of grey when you don't do as you say, and you make the wretched suffer just to kill them again."

Do you re-judge the souls in Heaven? Because people change. Also, what if someone just acted nice the entire time but on the inside their thoughts were all insults and slurs and was a very hateful person?? And then once they get into Heaven, does it really matter what they do?

Well I guess angels can fall, they can be kicked out. But what if it's a bad thought process, but a process everyone shares? Like, oh, everyone in Hell is evil, they should suffer.

But if you can kick out souls from Heaven, then surely you could kick out souls from Hell right? Cause people in the wrong crowd can always have someone who genuinely cares, but it's like, one person goes down, everyone else goes down with them no matter what.

I just. Angel Dust deserves to be in Heaven and given a shit load of therapy and help and comfort and cuddles istg.

There's probably something that's like, 'rules of Heaven', or there's a description in the Bible or something, except I never read the Bible. The most I remember is like Adam and Eve, and everything else I don't really have a clue. I know Jesus ended up on a cross for I think praying for something else?? Or was that the guy who got put in like a Lion's den and then came out perfectly fine??

You wouldn't think I went to a Christian school with how little I remember from the few years I spent there haha.

ALSO ALSO I HAVE AN ADDITION

what about baby murder?

For one, there's abortions. Which, for one, I don't think is as bad as some people think because like. What if you got raped? I understand that babies are meant to be the greatest thing ever, but sometimes you can't. Or you aren't equipped to care for it and you don't want to send them where they might not even be treated well.

Two, you could also be having an abortion because the pregnancy could kill you. And it's like, does your life really matter less than someone who isn't even born yet??? Hell no. and there's also the if anything grows there that shouldnt be grown but still counting as an abortion

Now onto actual babies. Let's talk about The Apothecary Diaries, where so this girl had put this white powder makeup on the concubine and her son. Except that makeup was toxic, and she basically was slowly killing the both of them (her son died tho), but it wasn't done maliciously cause she wasn't aware it was bad.

Also there's that other person who I don't remember who killed another concubine's son because of honey

Do they get blamed objectively, for killing a newborn. Or pass because it was an accident?

[storytimewithnova]

Captains x Hinata PT3

Hey hey hey Author chan here So this is gonna be new for me as I have no clue if this is gonna work so bear with me on whatever chaos this turns out to be and enjoy

The captains can see the sho was being used by her so-called boyfriends they were just using her for a body petty s*x they never truly loved her where is the captains do so Daishou was not only gonna call the boys are on their bullshit but show sho that she can't be Naive and trusting she can't keep say but they love me When in reality they just love her body

X

X

X

X

X

In what ever dead ass GC this is one where almost everyone has left

Yams is online

Yams:Has anyone seen sho

Kags:No she is ghosting me as well

Yams:Wtf did you do this time

Kags:What do you mean me

Yam:Well its either you or Tsuki and Tsuki has been with his brother Tenma all day

Tsuki:Ha i got an Alibi bitch

Daishou:🎶 Any dolt with half a brain Can see that humankind has gone insane To the point where I don't know If I'll upset the status quo If I throw poison in the water main🎶

Sho:Suguru WDYM?

Futakuchi:See what you are doing daishou cleaver come on sunshine you can't be that Nieve

Tsuki:???

Kags:???

Yams:???

Daishou:🎶 Listen close to everybody's heart And hear that breaking sound Hopes and dreams are shattering apart And crashing to the ground🎶

Kags:What's with negitive Nacey over there

Tsuki:Beats us

Daishou:🎶I cannot believe my eyes How the world's filled with filth and lies But it's plain to see Evil, inside of me Is on the rise🎶

Sho:Listen suguru 🎶Look around, we're living with the lost and found Just when you feel you've almost drowned You find yourself on solid ground🎶

Bokuto:Baby owl you are still being Nieve

Sho:Kota please 🎶 And you believe there's good in everybody's heart Keep it safe and sound With hope, you can do your part To turn a life around🎶

Futakuchi:You're too good for this world princess

Yams:So confused

Sho:🎶 I cannot believe my eyes Is the world finally growing wise? 'Cause it seems to me Some kind of harmony Is on the rise🎶

Kuroo:Kitten you are to soft even when you are being used you want to see the good in the world

Kags:Being used?!

Tsuki:What is that meant to mean

Daishou:🎶 Anyone with half a brain🎶

Sho:🎶 Take it slow🎶

Daishou:🎶Could spend their whole life howling in pain🎶

Sho:🎶 He looks at me and seems to know🎶

Daishou:🎶 'Cause the dark is everywhere🎶

Sho:🎶The things that I'm afraid to show🎶

Daishou:🎶And shona doesn't seem to careAnd soon the dark in me is all that will remain🎶

Sho: 🎶 And suddenly I feel his glowAnd I believe there's good in everybody's heart🎶

Daishou:🎶Listen close to everybody's heart And hear that breaking sound🎶

Sho:🎶Keep it safe and sound With hope, you can do your part🎶

Kita:baby fox can you stop being an angel for five minutes and maybe see it from our view

Daishou:🎶Hopes and dreams are shattering apart And crashing to the ground🎶

Sho:🎶And turn a life around cannot believe my eyes How the world's🎶

Daishou:🎶Filled with filth and lies🎶

Sho:🎶finally growing wise🎶

Daishou:🎶But it's plain to see 🎶

Sho:🎶And it's plain to see🎶

Daishou:🎶Evil inside of me🎶

Sho:🎶Rapture inside of me🎶

Shouhina:🎶Is on the rise🎶

Tsuki:care to explain what the hell that was about

Kags:yeah and what do you mean sho is being used who is using her

Yams:and why are you calling her Nieve

Bokuto:you guys are using baby owl  and  baby owl being the sweetheart that she is lets you because she thinks that is love

Tsuki: .....

Kags: .....

Yams: .....

Sho:wait they were telling the truth this whole time you were using me for my body and just for petty S*X i jumped down their throats and called them liars and defended you guys when in fact they were telling the truth

Yams:i mean come on love who wouldn't use you

Kags^

Tsuki:^

The captains: You 3

this is sho to Yamaguchi

Sho:You vile loathsome  Little cockroach

Yams:ow

Ushijima:deserved come on babe lets go

Sho:oh and you 3 consider your asses dumped i have the captains and they are worth 1000 of you

they left the 3 looking like morons and went back to the captains mansion

[sw4tch]

Omori spoilers/opinions:

SO i finally finished the good ending in omori and i gotta say, it made me experience A LOT of emotions throughout.

The thing is, usually the running theme/joke with these type of rpgs is that “oh it was a metaphor for depression” and in omori it partially is that too but.

But it also is quite literally about Guilt over being an accidental murderer.

And I gotta say, for some reason that makes the last part of the game feel. Off?

The way I can explain it is that, with depression, the demons in your head telling you that you’re right for hating yourself and that everyone hates you are 100% wrong and lying. So when you defeat them, and make peace with them, it feels so EARNED!

...But when it is about you being an actual murderer, then, the demons are partially right? Not as in, you deserve to hate yourself, but more like, they’re right that people WILL hate you and might not forgive you for killing someone they loved. Even if it was accidental.

(And then the game sorta lowkey implies it might have not been accidental too????????? (more on that later.))

So if Mari had killed herself and Omori was about overcoming that type of loss and guilt? It would have punched me harder in the gut!!! That’s tragic!!!

But as it is, it makes me go HMM :/ on how effective it was on making me feel sympathetic to Sunny’s story. (Maybe Sunny isn’t a great person and that might be the point, but then, well, it would make me a little sad that the clearly neurodivergent child IS the Evil one in the story).

...

Now, here’s where maybe the projecting starts or my own interpretation gets in the way of the actual story actually being told:

You know what ACTUALLY makes omori a compelling story to the very end to me? If it was about sunny feeling guilt over killing his abuser.

Now, hear me out, because this is 100% based on my feelings as i played, but even from the very start, the presence of Mari felt so Weird to me. Uncanny? She was so nice, so loved, so cherished and yet so. Oddly Distant from everyone else in the dream world.

Later on you learn she’s actually dead so that feeling for me felt justified, it made me go “ah of course she feels weird, it’s weird to keep imagining your older sister and making her perfect and lovey dovey in your mind” but even then, when you realize the dream world is supposed to be a source of comfort for Sunny, Mari still feels so weird!

“All it costs is your love” is a phrase she tells you each time you want to view your quests and I found that strange, for reasons I can’t clearly explain. It was just a feeling.

Anyway, we’ve established that.

Then we get the Something that follows Sunny in one of the rooms. Constantly telling you “I love you”. But in that same room, you get someone telling you “LIAR LIAR LIAR”. Is Sunny the liar? Or is it Mari?

The Somethings in general are Scary (of course they are, they’re horrible ghosts) but they’re also telling you encouragements, sweet things to calm you down. You can’t ever hurt them too, you don’t get to defeat them in battle in the real world.

Then, everything scary in the omori world is surrounded by HANDS imagery. Hands that are out to get you.

I mean, hell, the fight with Omori has an attack where hand cutouts are “trying to erase you”. That felt significant enough to me.

Then, in Basil’s photos of the truth of the incident, when carrying Mari’s corpse... In one of them Sunny is smiling (THIS IS THE ODDEST THING TO ME, REGARDLESS OF MY PERSONAL INTERPRETATION... WHY WAS HE SMILING, WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN!!!)

“You loved her and you killed her.” Of course Sunny would feel conflicted about it all these years, but, the significance is that he puts himself at the bottom of that list, the list of all the people that loved her sister.

Anyway anyway anyway. After laying down all these things, what I’m trying to say is that. Okay there’s no other way of putting it, given that Sunny views his sister as a monster, and not himself as the monster: it gives me the impression that his sister molested him. And then Sunny killed her, accidentally. The accident part is still important.

It just makes everything make sense: Sunny loved his sister, but Mari still abused him. He loved her, but he feared her, and resented her, but everyone else loved her so much and he still did, he still did love her because it was his sister and she was loving in other ways when she wasn’t being a monster.

Then the guilt after killing her makes sense. Because maybe, a part of Sunny did want to kill her (the smile!) BUT there was no lies in that He Still Loved Her.

It’s also significant that in-game, Omori is named after Mari’s piano. Her instrument to play. And in the good ending, Sunny frees himself of Omori. They hug, and Omori dissolves. He doesn’t need to carry that guilt anymore. No longer Mari’s play thing.

The shame, the self-hatred, the guilt, they all make sense with this in mind. If you ask me. And the hope that his friends will still accept and love him when he comes clean with it MAKES SENSE.

Anyway that’s my own interpretation of the game and I am at peace with it.

THOUGH-! I still need to do the Hikikomori route to see if there’s any more merit to my vision.

[ryosmne]

Special piece.

Tattoo artist! Sukuna x f!reader

I just had random thoughts about Sukuna, I mean the usual so here's this hope you enjoy reading. Also this is based on my Tattoo artist! Sukuna series here's the masterlist for that.

Warnings: Language, usage of the word babe that's all.

Consultations were always Sukuna's least favourite part of his job. Not only because some people took long to voice their ideas, but because some are way too indecisive, they either want too many things packed in a tattoo or they hover all over the place trying to chose from roses to skulls. Boring.

The girl that walked in five minutes ago was no different and even though she hadn't even been in his shop for that long she was already getting on his nerves not being able to choose a design for him to draw so he could get this over with, and much to Sukuna's dismay she also had a friend with her that stirred her away every time she came close to making a final decision.

Nanami had told him that she already had a very specific design in mind otherwise Sukuna wouldn't be wasting his time and maybe the fact that he woke up next to y/n again helped him enough not to give the girls his usual pissy attitude.

"How about a micro tattoo? It would look so good on you." The girls friend chirped up making Sukuna's eye twitch.

"I won't do that, pick something else, if you're having trouble I can just give you a flash book with my work and we can tweak something to make it different." Sukuna offered, his tone was very much bored and indifferent, all he wanted was for this to be over with.

"Yeah that would be nice." The girl infront of him said. She was around his age, early to mid twenties and by the looks of it she had lots of work done, her right arm was covered and she wanted to start her left too.

Sukuna momentarily left his booth to fetch the flash book from the reception and he was already planning to charge the girl, whose name he didn't really care to remember, extra just for annoying him.

Walking back to his booth, he found both girls staring at the pictures he had framed on his wall, specifically y/n's original sketch of the shrine she wanted. Sukuna still called her lines crooked all the time, especially when y/n and him eat lunch in his booth. The picture next to it was one of y/n's arm, by now not only the shrine and the fox covered it but lots more of his designs.

Y/n had always told him with a chuckle that having a picture of her arm was creepy, but Sukuna always justified it saying that it inspires him and he has a picture of them together on his desk cause he knows she's a bit on the shier side. Not to mention Gojo would give them hell had he seen that picture of them together hanging on the wall and both y/n and Sukuna didn't want to deal with him.

"That one, I want that one."

The girl confidently spoke and Sukuna's gears had already been grinding for a while.

"Not that one, here pick something else." He simply said, with a slightly more intimidating tone as he handed her the flash book.

"But I want that one, why can't I have it?"

Whining was his the worst thing to Sukuna pair it with an entitled costumer and you can see smoke coming out his ears.

"That was a piece for someone special, you can't have it, either pick something else or leave."

Y/n once again came through Domains front door, Nanami greeted her at the reception and as usual everyone was working since there was lots of buzzing in the shop.

"Hey Kento, I brought takeout for everyone, hope you guys like Thai food." She said with a smile, dropping the bags at the reception counter. "You shouldn't have y/n we could've ordered something in." Nanami was his usual self talking about paying her back and y/n only laughed.

"Oh come on, I wanted to, everyone's still working?"

"Yeah, everyone's tattooing, Sukuna's doing a consultation and it's not going that we-"

Before Nanami could finish his sentence some girls voice was heard saying

"Aren't you a tattoo artist? You're supposed to do what I ask you to."

And there was Sukuna, he had came out front having decided that even the extra charging he planned to do wouldn't help him deal with that headache of a client. His face said it all and y/n could tell he was done with whoever pressed him.

The two girls came to y/n's field of view and she was now wondering what they asked for that Sukuna was so pissed. She just gave him a smile telling him to hang in there in her own way and Sukuna's whole face lit up just by her presence.

"Just why won't you do it? That's the one I wanted." Ah, why must his moment be ruined that rudely.

"I already told you, now, out." His voice was as stern as ever, y/n didn't interfere, that was his business he can run it however he pleases.

The two girls let out an annoyed huff before one of them turned their attention to y/n

"Just go somewhere else, this guy won't do what you'd want anyway."

"Oh I'll do whatever she asks of me, now get the fuck out of here."

Finally some piece, just as the door closed, Nanami begun to laugh under his breath having heard all the commotion from before.

Sukuna took y/n under his arm giving her a quick kiss, his expression that previously looked like he would blow up any second, softened to a half smile his now lazy half lidded eyes that settled on y/n's face.

"How's your day dollface?"

"Pretty good, hopefully about to be better, how's yours?" That smile of hers never failed to make his insides melt away.

"Pretty shitty, untill you showed up."

Who knew that anyone could get Sukuna this warm and cuddly? Well if you asked his co workers they would've told you that there's no way in hell anyone can make Sukuna mellow with their presence, but y/n was probably the exception that justifies the rule.

"Babe, did you also get these red velvet cupcakes from the bakery downtown?"

Sukuna asked, eyes lit like a kid on Christmas.

"Have I ever forgotten? I got you the ones with the pink frosting you were eyeing too."

Y/n said her smile matching Sukuna's and her heart hummering like it always did when he smiled, that was the least she could do for all the perfect dates he's taken her and all the perfect food he's cooked for her not to mention the gorgeous work that he put on her body, his ink by now creeped up her shoulder.

"That's my girl!"

Sukuna said with a proud tone as his arm pulled her closer to his side.

"So, what did she ask for?"

Y/n pressed not having a clue what could've gotten him so riled up, but he just hummed and took another bite of his cupcake, like he always did after a meal.

"Was it watercolour?"

Sukuna shook his head no, making y/n more curious.

"Micro tattoo?"

Again same answer.

"Then how bad of an idea could it be?"

Y/n asked, her voice was playful as she genuinely wondered if someone asked for Jimmy neutron's head merged with a tiger again.

"She asked for your shrine, I'd never give someone your shitty lines." Sukuna answered half laughing, and y/n did too, that running joke always found its way back.

But y/n knew Sukuna considered all of the tattoos he'd given her one of a kind and an extension of herself, he wasn't about to hand what's hers to someone else no matter how much tweaking he did, these pieces were y/n's and y/n's only.

Bonus Domain shenanigans:

"Y/n brought food? I heard something about cupcakes too." Gojo spoke suspiciously looking at his co-workers. They all ate with y/n about an hour ago but he was too busy finishing up a piece of his, full colour new school takes time.

Sukuna warned them that if they told Gojo about the cupcakes, he would either fire them or tattoo them a stupid design he thought of. The second option sounded terrifying, so after exchanging a few looks Geto was the one to speak up.

"No man, she did bring Thai thought, maybe you misheared, here I left yours on Nanami's desk." The calmness in Geto's voice always helped him seem like he could never lie, making him the best to handle a very nosey Gojo.

All was good, Gojo didn't ask again and was stuffing his face with the food y/n brought, Sukuna should thank her for making his mouthy friend zip it for more than a minute.

That was untill..

"Y/N TOLD ME SHE BROUGHT RED VELVET CUPCAKES."

Yuuji bursting through the front door ruined everything.

"You liars"

Gojo said before racing to the fridge they kept sodas with Yuuji in toe.

"You lay a finger on MY cupcakes, I'll gut you both."

[suicidalslasher]

𝑛𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑡 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑠 ➤  𝑏𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑙. & 𝑠𝑡𝑢 𝑚.

In which the reader comes home, completely broken-hearted and her two friends, Stu Macher and Billy Loomis, come in to put a smile on her face and show her how much they love her.

WARNINGS:  This is a smut but not well written, lol. It’s mainly just oral, both receiving and giving. (male and female.)  Also, if you squeeze your eyes really tight, you may get a glimpse of slight foreshadowing in which Billy and Stu killed the guy that broke the reader’s heart but blink and you might miss it. Anyways. Enjoy.  

(Y/N) lied upon a soft feather mattress, cocooning herself in the silk sheets. A sad sigh surpassing her lips as the realization settles in, hitting her like a ton of bricks, like a cold bucket of water was thrown on her. She's alone. The room feels empty. Wait, no, scratch that. 

It is empty.  It's dark and cold and lonesome. As many blankets that surround her and although she has many draped around her body, her skin still somehow prickles with goosebumps and she's shivering.  

Though, she knows it's not because she's cold. She isn't shaking because of that. Not really. Before she could stop herself, her eyes start to glisten with tears, the corner of her eyes pooling with water and slowly but surely, they slide down her skin, wetting her cheeks. Goddammit. God fucking dammit, she thinks, reaching over and grabbing the duvet comforter,  she slides it over her head. Broken, silent sobs then proceed to escape past her lips, although she oh so desperately tries to hold them back. She fails miserably.  Then, out of nowhere, she hears a little knock, followed by another.   Rolling over to lay on her stomach, (Y/N) buries her face into the nearest pillow, causing mascara tears to soak and stain the cushion as she continues to cry and sob. Before she realizes it or even can acknowledge it, the window to her bedroom is being pulled up and her friends, Billy Loomis and Stu Macher, step inside her bedroom.   "(Y/N)?" (Y/N) is quick to flip around upon hearing her name, her heart hammering wildly against her chest. 

 "S-Stu? Billy? What the Hell are you guys doing here?"  She relaxes, having  seen her friends standing by her bedroom window rather than the man everybody was fearing lately in Woodsboro.  

A masked man with a dark cloak and a spine-chilling voice. She was lucky she hadn't heard what he sounded like, she had enough nightmares as is. It was hard to say whether or not it was a man behind the mask but regardless, whatever sex the person was, they were crazy, inside and out. End of story. (Y/N) makes a mental note, reminding herself to lock her window next time and to keep track of that before she gets comfortable and goes to bed. Especially with what was happening everywhere in Woodsboro. "We wanted to make sure you were okay."  Billy said, walking over to the girl as he sat down next to her,  the mattress sinking beneath his weight. Stu followed, nodding happily as he shows a few VHS tapes, gesturing them over to (Y/N).

 "We brought movies to watch and snacks, too!" He exclaimed as he then pulled out a small plastic bag, dumping out the items onto her bed. 

There was chips and candy and they were all her favorite flavors and brands, too. (Y/N) felt the tears pooling in the corner of her eyes again at the sweet gesture her friends were sharing with her. "Oh... c'mon, don't be such  a cry baby." Stu snickered but he wrapped his arms around (Y/N) and pulled her into a side hug, Billy following right behind, hugging her from her right. 

 "We love you, we've got your back, always, okay?" "What Stu said. Besides, this world doesn’t deserve an angel like you, (Y/N).” "Mhm." Stu nodded.   "I really liked him, that's all..... I should've known it was a set up to get back with his ex." (Y/N) said with a sniffle, running a hand over her face as she tries to rid herself of any left over makeup, especially getting rid of the mascara, although, if she were positive, that and her eyeliner were most likely now resting on the pillow she had cried into rather than on her face. "Well, he's a fucking idiot." Billy growled.   "He doesn't see how perfect you are, (Y/N)." "Billy and I see that, though." Stu said, taking his hand off from her shoulder as he now rests his hand on her thigh, giving her a reassuring squeeze. It made (Y/N)'s breath hitch in her throat and she bites on her lower lip, nervously. 

What were they doing....? She thinks. “We would do anything for you. Absolutely anything.”  Billy said. "We'd do anything just to see you happy, just to see you smile..." Stu continued. "You deserve nothing but the best, deserve nothing but happiness." "So, please... (Y/N)... let us give you that. Let us show you how beautiful and loved you really are. We love you.... we love you so much-" "We love you so much we'd kill for you." Billy looks over at Stu, giving him a questioning glare and (Y/N) goes to ask what that stare meant but her words are loss and any train of thought she had left the building once she feels both hands of Billy and Stu's on her thighs.

 One on her left, the other on her right. "So.... no movies then?" (Y/N) asked jokingly. Her heart, like earlier, was pounding so loud she swore both boys could hear it against her chest. Her body was trembling as it had done earlier but now, it wasn't from sadness or feeling broken but rather hot and bothered. 

She did always have an attraction to Billy and Stu, she'd be a liar to say she didn't. "We can watch them later. Right now, we want to see those legs of yours sprawled out, give us a view of that pretty pussy." (Y/N) whined softly but she obeyed, and while she did, Billy grunted while Stu spoke softly, "Such a good girl for us. You're our good girl, aren't you, sweetheart?" (Y/N) nodded as she stretched her legs on either side of her. All she was wearing was a thin gown, one that matched her sheets, being the fact both were silk.  

 "Oh.... so pretty, so beautiful." Stu purred, licking his lips, his eyes growing darker while Billy's did the same. "Naughty though.... aren't you, baby? Not wearing any panties." Billy chuckled as he stood up, feet landing on the carpeted floor with a soft thud as he walks over to (Y/N), undoing his jeans and the belt that had been neatly placed in the hoops of the pants.  

"Is it okay if you suck me off, darling? You want to be a good girl, don't you?" (Y/N) says nothing, she's unable to speak. It was as if a cat had captured her tongue and ran off with it, and she couldn't get it back from the creature. She feels paralyzed, too. Everything feels as if it's going by too fast.

 What an odd day.... she thinks. She didn't expect this to happen, not now, not ever. But she wasn't angry at it or the outcome of tonight's misfortune. It was just crazy how fast the night changes. "Baby? I asked you a question... If you know what’s good for you, you better answer me.”   "Y-yes." (Y/N) stammered, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.  "I'd love to suck you off, please, may I?" "Oh!" Stu chirped, giggling as he shook his head from side to side, a wicked grin playing out across his lips. "She's got manners, fuck - we really found the perfect girl, haven't we, Billy?" "Mhm." Billy said, pressing his cock to her lips. "Open up, sweetie. Let's see how pretty you look with a mouth full of cock." While (Y/N) parts her lips open, and as Billy pushes himself in her wet and warm mouth, (Y/N) feels heat against her clit and before she can put two and two together, Stu's devouring her pussy with his tongue and she squeaks, bucking her hips up into his touch.   "Fuck! She tastes incredible. Can't believe I haven't gotten to you sooner." Stu said before pressing his face back in between her thighs, licking and lapping her cunt with his tongue, making her tremble and shake. 

(Also makes her almost choke and gag on Billy's cock as he presses his cock further down her throat.) Above, Billy nodded as he rocked his hips back and forth, eyes half-lidded, not quite shut but not all the way open either, as he grunts out an answer; "She's good with her mouth too, Stu." He said.  

"Not sure I can last long, sweetheart..." He warned and right as the words slip from his lips,  it didn't take less than a second until (Y/N)'s mouth is being filled with Billy's creamy, white load.

 "Oh.... fuck!"  He grunts, pulling back  as he drops down next to her on the bed.

 "Go on, baby. Cum for Stu. You wanna be good for him too, don't you? Go on and cum.... cum all over his tongue, beautiful. I'm sure he'll love the taste of your juices, exploding into his mouth." And fuckfuckfuck.....

FUCK~!!

"O-Oh!"  (Y/N) mewls, bucking her hips into his mouth once more as the sweet release of her orgasm floods out of her and into Stu's mouth. Happily, Stu licks every drop up, pulling back with a very much pleased and satisficed smile.  

 "Both her and her pussy are so sweet." Stu complimented, now crawling up onto the bed and resting beside her, tucking his face into her neck as he presses a few  ghostly kisses on her skin. "Love you."

"I love you, too."

"And what about me?" Billy said with a playful pout.

"I love you too, Billy Loomis." (Y/N) admitted, grinning as she scooted a few inches over, patting the empty spot next to her. "Sleep with us?"  

Billy smiled in reply as he plopped down next to his now lovers, curling up in (Y/N)'s side and kissing the other side of her neck, the way Stu had done previously.  

 "I'll treat you to a good time too,  tomorrow," (Y/N whispered, mainly to Stu but she turned and repeated the sentence to Billy as well. The boys look at each other with a smirk, giving one a knowingly glance before they turned back to (Y/N). 

"Sounds like a plan, baby." The smile she wore across her lips falls into a frown and the boys are quick to sit up, having seen the smile turn upside down. "Baby, are you okay?" "Yeah." "Babe....don't you lie to us." "I'm not." She answers truthfully. "But.... this- I mean, us three, it's real, right?" She gestures in the air with a wave of her hand.  "You won't play with my feelings and hurt me-" "Baby." Billy's voice is rough and cold,  and his grip on her is far from affectionate and soft. "We'd kill for you, remember?" "We love you so much, (Y/N) you have no idea to what limits we'd go to prove that to you.” She didn't understand why the two kept repeating that very first sentence but she didn't question it, didn't think anything of it. She smiled and nodded, rubbing at her eyes now tiredly.

 "I love you both, too. Now... before I get too tired, can we watch those movies you rented?" Billy laughed softly as Stu scrambled up and on his feet, grabbing the candy and the films that had fallen on the bed off of the floor and goes to set the VHS player up, clicking the TV on with a push of a button. 

"You're gonna love these, (Y/N)! It's a new horror movie that came out!" "As long as it's not a slasher with a mask like the one that's hanging around in Woodsboro, I'm fine with anything. Whenever that monster goes away, I'll be fine and more than happy to watch slasher films again... just not now." She says with a laugh. "Don't worry, baby. With us around, you’ll be safe and sound. We’ll protect you.” 

“Promise?”

“Promise.”