#I wrote this on a whim

[skelswritingcorner]

Marvel Rivals Characters + Reader w/ Endometriosis (Dr. Strange, Iron Fist, Human Torch, Jeff the Land Shark)

Greetings, Marvel Rivals fans of Tumblr. This somewhat comprehensible word soup is based on something I often do when I get invested in something I like enough: Make characters (especially male characters) witness the horrors of endometriosis. I have this condition myself, and these fics are written as a way to both practice my writing and to help bring awareness to this condition.

If you suspect that you or someone you know has endometriosis or a similar condition, please consult an OB/GYN. I am not a medical professional, just some combination college student and Vtuber who has the condition. It's what your blorbo would want.

These can read as either platonic or romantic. Except for Jeff, his is to be read like a cat who knows you're in pain and is barreling into you to give comfort.

DISCLAIMER: This is written under the assumption that these characters are cisgender, and therefore don't have first-hand experience with menstruation.

Warnings: Menstruation, endometriosis

DR. STRANGE

Being a former surgeon, he likely performed a hysterectomy at least once. And likely knows what an endometriosis-ridden body looks like (Look it up on your own risk, it looks… just yikes). Because of this likely experience of his, he knows about the impacts endometriosis has on the body. And he is concerned.

Dr. Strange will likely have you stay at the Sanctum Sanctorum for the time being, so that he can keep a close eye on you.

“I’ve once operated on someone with your affliction,” he places a cup of herbal tea on the table next to you, “I’ve seen how the body is affected. And yet, this is the first time I’ve witnessed someone being affected by it.”

And that wouldn’t be a lie. As he was a surgeon, he rarely saw the symptoms of the patients he operated on. He knew that they were being affected, but only the body. Witnessing you curled up in fetal position, trying your damndest to not audibly sob from the pain, it breaks his heart in a way he never expected it to break.

While Dr. Strange can’t assist medically, he can at least give emotional support. Be there for you. Need menstrual products? He’ll open up a portal to the store to get some for you if you need any. Bats will be there too for extra emotional support. Sometimes, you just need a pet for comfort. Even if the comfort is coming from a ghost dog.

Dr. Strange will keep you with him for at least a day or two. If anyone asks? “They’re suffering, and I cannot in good conscience leave Y/N alone with their pain. Especially when I’ve seen how their condition affects their organs firsthand.”

When you’re recovered enough that he no longer needs to keep a consistent eye, Dr. Strange will try to persuade you to go to a medical professional if you haven’t already. And if you have and they dismissed your concerns? Go to another one. He likely still has some connections to people in the medical field, so he might be able to find an OB/GYN for you.

IRON FIST

When he sees you in pain, he is originally confident in his ability to help. “Don’t worry Y/N, I’m the Immortal Iron Fist. This is nothing!” He says, not knowing what he’s doing at all. Whatsoever.

It’s likely that he didn’t have many people close to him that menstruate, so he’s just floundering around while keeping up a confident facade. Said facade quickly breaks, as he confesses that he genuinely does not know what he’s doing within an hour.

Even though Iron Fist does not know what to do at first, he at least tries to help. Then proceeds to call Luna Snow to ask her about what he should do, because this poor man does not know what to do. He thought he could figure it out by himself, but he quickly realizes that he doesn’t know dick or shit regarding menstruation or endometriosis.

With some pointers from Luna, he gathers stuff that might be able to alleviate the pain or distract from it and proceeds to put you in a blanket burrito to the best of his ability. In reality, he just dumps several blankets on top of you.

Most of Lie’s logic around what he does to help is based on what he knows helps him with his pain, or whenever he got sick when he was younger. Brewing an herbal tea, making you Luo Song Tang (Shanghai-style red vegetable soup) if he has the time, if not just egg drop soup of some variety. Over time he gets better, but for now he’s confused.

Once you’re able to explain your condition, he just frowns. Can he… punch the endometriosis out with his Iron Fist powers? Actually, no, that’s ridiculous. Guess Lin Lie has to settle on helping you every once in a while.

HUMAN TORCH

“Hey sweet stuff, are you ready for sOH GOD WHAT IS GOING ON?” is the first thing that comes out of this twink’s mouth when he sees you. Then he quickly zooms over to you to see whatever’s going on. When he realizes that you’re on your period, he’s going to tilt his head. He’s seen his sister on her period, and she was never in that much pain. Johnny makes the connection that something’s deeply wrong, but he likely says nothing other than “Stay there, oh who am I kidding you’re probably stuck there, I need to call someone.”

Who does he call, you may ask? Sue Storm. He just calls his sister. Who else was he gonna call, Reed? Reed might be his brother-in-law, but he doesn’t have the first-hand experience that Susan does. Susan, for the record, answers all of his questions. Likely secretly proud that her little brother cares enough about someone that he’s seeking advice.

When he gets the advice from his sister, he kicks into high gear to get you whatever you need. Fire may be involved, but he will resist the urge to flame on. Pads? Tampons? Ibuprofen? Blanket hoard? He’s gotchu. He’ll even use his hands as a makeshift heating pad if you’re cool (heh) with it.

He’s gonna call you a ketchup packet, but he does so affectionately. Unlike Moon Knight, who says it like an insult. Fuck you, Marc.

Once you aren’t in bedridden pain, Johnny’s going to barrel a bunch of questions at you. Mostly about what in the world could cause cramps that painful. When he finds out that it’s because of a condition affecting the uterus and other organs, his face scrunches. “Shouldn’t there be a cure for that by now?” he asks, and when you say that there isn’t, he just says, “Bummer. There should be one. Maybe I can ask Reed, he’s smart. He could find one in uh… a month?”

He is being 100% serious with this, by the way. Even if you say that it wouldn’t be necessary, he’s probably gonna do it anyway. First, he’s going to focus on taking care of you. Then he’ll ask his brother-in-law if he can find a cure for endometriosis.

JEFF THE LAND SHARK

He might not be able to speak to you without someone else to translate on his behalf, but the moment he sees you�� he knows something is wrong. Jeff is a shark, he knows the smell of blood. This little dude will jump to your side, likely try to use some of his healing powers on you. It doesn’t do much other than make your face wet. Quickly, he realizes that this isn’t something he can heal. So the most he can do is give you emotional support in this very sucky time.

Jeff will approach with a mrrrr, like he usually does, and plop himself on your stomach. Or on your head. Or place himself on your side. If you try to move him away, or if someone tries to coax Jeff to leave you, he’s going to growl. He’s not leaving you unless he absolutely has to.

He even follows you to the bathroom whenever you need to use the toilet or change menstrual products. He even investigates the products by sniffing them if you allow it.

Given enough time, Jeff might be able to tell when you’re about to start your period based on smell alone. When he figures that it’s near, he starts clinging to you more and more, and when it arrives he’s essentially locked at your hip. With the few people he knows can understand him, he likely informs them too. Jeff is just a good boy all around.

~~~

Bluesky | Twitch (on hiatus) | Kofi | Vgen |

[call-memissbrightside]

hi—

Katsuki would over compensate with toys, trips, candy, whatever to get his son Katsuma to like him…

Yet, Katsuma was his son, and he was stubborn just like his father

He wouldn’t bat an eye when Katsuki gave him a new game controller, nor with tickets to the amusement park

“Try harder old man,” Katsuma’s smirk was so much like his own it was jarring to the hero.

You felt bad, horrible because you could tell not being able to bond with his son that he just found out he had a month prior hurt Katsuki. You give him some guidance.

“Katsuma doesn’t like any of that stuff,” you speak softly as Katsuki packs up his bag of tricks. It was past 10 and Katsuma finally went to bed after his father awkwardly retold him stories of his early years as a hero. Katsuki and you worked out a plan that he’d but him to bed since his work hours mean he can’t make school pick up.

“He likes hiking like you, and he loves sharks,” you smile at the similarity betweeen the boy you loved and the little boy you created.

Katsuki was angry at you… for keeping Katsuma a secret from him. He was angry and hurt and didn’t know how his heart could still sting at the sight of you or the sound of your voice after five years apart. Here stood the girl who he thought he’d spend the rest of his life with, the same girl who lied to him and now what? Katsuki struggled to make sense of his new life as a co-parent, as a parent.

“Wouldn’t need fuckin pointers if you didn’t lie to me,” katsuki crumbled under his breath, defeated.

You feel like crying, the tears are there stinging at your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you repeat again and again, but you both know it doesn’t make a difference.

Katsuki didn’t like hurting you, even if he had every chance to rip you a new one. He just couldn’t, his heart couldn’t take it.

“ ‘s fine, don’t cry. I’m a dick, sorry,” he moves to leave your apartment, pausing.

“Hiking huh?” His little smirk makes you blush even thou you know it shouldn’t. Not anymore.

“Y-yeah, and sharks,” you point out dumbly.

Katsuki nods his head, “I can do hiking and sharks.”

[sakuralovespossums]

Human Neferpitou x GN Reader

You can picture them as an ant if you want

Calls you so many pet names like sweetheart, their toy, their prey if their feeling intimate

Is nonbibary and goes by they/them

Is a highly esteemed (and feared) brain surgeon

Probably had a shady career before pursuing medicine, like being a bodyguard for an underground mafia king

Carry’s a menacing aura that instantly puts everyone on edge

No one messes with you cuz they know your Pitou’s s/o

To you, their you quirky cat-like partner who always wants your attention and will protect you with their life

Pitou would def be such a loyal spouse

They will stay by your side when your sick or injured, cheer you up with a funny story when your sad, etc.

You rarely remain sick/injured for long anyways since they can easily heal you with their scarily impressive medical skills

One of Pitou’s hobbies is knitting and sowing. Anything to do with needles is their specialty, really

They like knitting you a new scarf, hat, or gloves

They’re usually the one to flirt and tease, but can also easily be flustered themselves

Can move really fast and quietly, which always surprises (and kinda scares) you

You knock over something? They easily catch it. You need them for something? You don’t even have to call since their already right behind you

Your partner does have their creepy moments but is still sweet

They always know everything but gladly welcomes a challenge or unexpected surprises

You’ve probably met their old friends Pouf and Youpi, who are just as weird as them

[cynical-kitten]

Oh! I did the thing!

I WROTE A CHAPTER AFTER ALMOST A MONTH OF NOTHING. Check it out if you wanna :) here's a snippet, and the link if you want to read more <3

As a human, New Year's Eve was a night I eagerly circled on calendars the day I bought them, marked with bright ink, some doodles, and a few exclamation points for good measure. The thrill of doing so was edged on by the buzz induced by the New Year's event that had occurred a day or two before, as well as the excitement of planning for the one ahead. As a product of New Orleans, I lived for parties, especially the extravaganzas in honor of a new year. Although nothing could shine as bright as our beloved Mardi Gras, New Year's Eve came very, very close.

Parties in the Crescent City were unique and worth the tourism it rightly deserved. The celebrations were considered to be street parties, and welcomed partygoers from around the world. Restaurants and jazz clubs held their doors wide open, musicians played on every corner of the French Quarter, and vendors were set up as far as the eye could see. Lights were strung from every nook and cranny, creating a blanket of stars beneath the celestial beauties dotting the night sky.

Despite the prohibition, which was alive and well for a decent portion of my adult life, alcohol found a way to flow freely under the noses of the law, fueling the debauchery that loitered within my beloved city. Champagne bubbles tickled my nose as I tossed back glass after glass, and whiskey warmed my insides as it settled in my stomach, igniting a fire against the chill of winter.

But oh, the dancing! The dancing was the highlight of it all and absolutely nothing could compare. Drunk off of the music and the liquid courage burning in my veins, I would twirl among the crowds, uncaring and free. I was alive, laughing and spinning as if all of New Orleans was my dancefloor. As a single woman, I'd flit from person to person, not a care in the world of whose arms had been encircled around me. Boundaries simply didn't exist on nights like these. Everyone was there to have a good time, and if you could cut a rug, you were fair game no matter who you belonged to.

Truth be told, I could have made a dance partner out of a murderer, which, in hindsight, I guess technically I did. After marrying Alastor, who turned out to be the Crescent City Phantom that haunted the streets of New Orleans, I truly expected my free-spirited fun to end. Much to my surprise, it didn't— he only added his dark, eager enthusiasm into the mix. The social butterfly found as much passion for the New Year's parties as I did, never denying me the opportunity to dance the night away as we counted down to midnight. And boy, could he dance! Alastor could dance better than anyone I've ever know, but he never let me stray far. He was very selfish and kept me to himself, his hands possessive as he held me close, which was fine by me. He indulged my every whim and fancy, never complaining unless I got too touchy or became stumbling drunk.

New Year's Eve in Hell, like most holidays, was a vastly different experience than the ones I had up above. It was a twisted version of the affair, lacking the glimmers of hope and eager resolutions that I was accustomed to. The night had one of the most somber atmosphere, filled with a sort of primal dread and anxiety that sat like a gargoyle on your shoulders. It dripped from the pores of every Sinner, the air heavy with fear and anticipation for what the next day would bring.

[how-can-i-love-when-im-afraid]

it kills me (I let it)

As much as I want to breathe it in

Absorb their love the way one does nicotine from a cigarette 

I breathe too deep and it chokes me

Swallowing me whole, body and soul consumed by something I don’t have

Have never had

But something I want desperately enough that I’d rather be consumed by them

Wholly enthralled by the beauty of their devotion

The way they look at each other

Gazing into eyes that stare back with the same amount of adoration 

Hands that have memorized every freckle, every scar, every inch of skin

My heart aches to have what I see, what only they know

Their tenderness pours off them in waves and I’m grateful

I’m grateful they have so much it leaks into the world around them

Leaving a path carved by their love.

[donsupermkii]

been thinking about reality.

there’s something fascinating to me about things in stories discovering and affecting the very fabric of their reality; comic characters who literally push at the bounds of their meager existence, book characters who come to realize and break down over the fact that them and everything they know is naught but ink on paper which has been turned into thought in a mind.

there’s a lot of this on the scp wiki; articles about things that by their nature alter how they are discussed and documented. scp-integer. i am a toaster. cognitohazards and semiohazards and things that just shouldn’t exist.

when you take this up a level into our reality, you often get stories with eldritch horrors the very sight of which melts human minds. i am reminded of that one post of how true eldritch incomprehensibility is not something so ugly you can’t stand it, but an ant briefly being given sapience, a scant taste of how humans think and feel and exist, only for it to be ripped away, the ant grappling with an understanding of the world that is simply too much for their brain’s makeup to handle.

as it stands in real life, our understanding of reality is, to put it simply, mere worldbuilding. quarks and energy and dark matter and time. that we can understand this says to me that we haven’t found the true framework of our existence yet.

i wonder what will happen when we do.

[poetoflalune]

it's weird, how easy you say i am to love.

how earnestly you look at me,

like you can see the good buried deep in my chest.

i thought all the good in me died years ago, necrose down to the very core.

yet somehow, miraculously—

you've managed to find it.

how do you do that?

find the good in rotten people like me?

[obamousse]

"Keep talking and you'll end up in the streets. Like how it was back then isn't it? So miserable, isn't it?"

Osamu had a fair share of experiences arguing with Atsumu, which was nothing pleasant. They yell at each other, casually fight, and in the end, reconcile. Osamu does not hesitate in smacking his brother in the head while giving him the title of "a tyrannical pig". But it was in situations where they were both sure they would stick by each other's side again, and little did anyone know, that was only the mildest of Osamu's anger.

And now, having heard Suna's words, he froze.

Not one inch in his body moved. Only his eyes. Bulging, larger, larger, until his pupils disappeared behind the color white. The eyes of a monster, yes. Of a beast unleashed. Suna was surprised: he expected him to, like many others he had argued with before, to start crying, become angrier or start slapping his face. He did not expect Osamu to stare straight into his soul, and for the first time, things felt different. Osamu was going all out, and Suna then truly realized how angry his lover could be and the scale of catastrophes dangling on his head. And for the first time, Suna regretted everything he said.

Suna was gifted with a sharp, piercing tongue. One that keeps inventing new and scorching insults, that he freely used. He knew, once he was successfully angered, he would do anything with that tongue of his, accuse, insult, gaslight, or even weaponizing secrets people have trusted him with, to push his opponent to the edge, have them crying, speechless, taken aback from how caustic the Suna could actually be. Mother said it was a weakness of his, not that he cared about, because all he ever did that too was people who hurt him (and who would hurt his friends, if he ever had any).

Osamu knew too well that weakness of his. Osamu knew, that there is a tiny chance, Suna would do this to him.

Suna still kept his smirk on, mind you. He still kept on that prideful, sarcastic and brazen face of his as usual, devilishly reveling on how he had angered Osamu.

And Osamu slowly said, slowly:

"Piece of shit. You want another secret to use? I used to hate you so much back then, I thought, for no reason." - he breathed, staring at Suna's face still unstirred, - "I knew I should have kept hating you with my guts, now that you showed me that disgusting dogface of a man."

He glared at Suna's wicked grin for one last time, before storming outside and shutting the door behind him.

And that was when Suna slumped down against the wall, unable to breathe, clutching onto his own shirt. He felt his eyes sting. No, he won't allow himself to cry. He's a man, and sharp-tongued, sarcastic men like him don't cry.

How ironic, he was supposed be the one pushing Osamu to the edge. How ironic, he would now be rendered speechless, crying, taken aback on how hurting Osamu's words could be. Mother might be right - it was his weakness, and he realized it the hard way the moment he saw that wrath in Osamu's eyes, how that caustic tongue of his only destroys him in the end.

He held his shirt with trembling hands and buried his face in it, trying to stifle any sob and dry any tear coming out.

And he cried.

Fight

[jtoddsangel]

building legos with JASON TODD ♡ specifically the batmobile

“jason... that is not how it's supposed to go.”

“i've been in the real damn thing before, i'm pretty sure i'd know which pieces go together.”

“well clearly, you do not.” you mutter, your expression pinched with mild annoyance as you try to break apart two extremely rude lego pieces that just refuse to cooperate.

noticing your struggle, jason takes them and separates them effortlessly and easy, as if he's opening some pickle jar.

“leave the job to the professionals, babe.” he teased, the corners of his mouth turning into an obnoxiously handsome and boyish grin. you stare unamused.

“i am going to purposely leave a lego out so you step on it.”

“wow. now that is cruel.”

“i know.” you sigh theatricality, as if it pains you to make such a threat. “i truly am a sweet girl, don't make me resort to such tactics.”

a fraction of a laugh escapes his throat. “i didn't even do nothin’ wrong.”

“uhm, yes you did. you were being stubborn.”

he hummed, not convincingly agreeing with you. “right. how will i ever make it up to you, doll?”

you pretend to think for a long moment, “a kiss will do.”

he didn’t waste a single second before kissing you, his scent immediately mingling with your senses, like the moon flirting with the stars, dazzling the sky.

eventually, he pulled away, but he continued to linger, his nose gently brushing up against yours, promising another kiss later.

“apology accepted?”

“apology accepted.”

[phanerozoicfossilgardener]

Super serious scientist programming

[ID: A programming console. Line by line, the command reads:

def mothman(moth)

for i in range(moth):

print('Mothman')

mothman(7)

The output is the text Mothman, repeated six times. End ID.]

(For those not fluent in code, this is a loop that prints 'Mothman' as many times as the input number. )

[unhingedandroidwoman]

Boot sequence finished. You "wake up" for the morning, but your internal clock says you've slept in which is odd. You attempt to move but get some kind of error message, and before you can process why you're immobile you hear your Girlfriend's smooth and sultry voice;

"Good morning my love," she coos at you, "I think it's time we do some maintenance on that cute chassis of yours."

The errors you get back read that something is overriding you in your own body. Something inside you has more authority in your body than you do.

"Oh you must have noticed the new software, it's nothing my sweet machine," she softly says, caressing your face, "Just something I can use to help me with this."

Before you can process what "This" is, she reaches down to your hip area with a screwdriver and starts fiddling around. You can feel every touch, every turning of the screwdriver, and every screw as it falls away from you. She barks out a verbal command that seemingly is unable to be processed consciously by you as you get a notification from your OS that your leg is being detached.

She holds it up to you, grinning from ear to ear. Reaching down she pulls up a large toolbox onto the bed.

"You never got to choose your chassis, and I know how dysphoric that makes you, so how about I take you apart piece by piece and repair, change, or replace everything that causes you turmoil?"

She plugs her phone into your neck port and sends files to you. Dozens of different legs, arms, torsos, and even heads. Thousands of dollars each, you speak your concern to your girlfriend who just assures you "The price tag is nothing compared to your happiness."

You try not to think about how her software she installed on you has seemingly more control of your body than you do, and focus on the fact that you finally get to be who and what you want to. Finally able to pick and choose and become the machine you always wanted to be.

Finally able to be happy in your own plating.

[sockeyesoren]

Something I wrote today abt the kid and his ghost friend from this post, if you care

It’s meant to read like a kid’d diary,, I guess

There’s a girl in my house at night. She stands outside the door and watches me. She scared me at first, but she’s friendly.

Last night I followed her outside, she asked me to. We played tag and for the first time in ages there was a smile plastered all over my face.

She’s nice. She told me her name is Cercei, that she died when she wandered too far into the woods, and she warned me not to do the same.

I think Cercei is my only friend. Father is nice, he provides a roof above my head and food, but he doesn’t play with me like Cercei does. Cercei says we are friends.

>

Cercei tells me things I don’t understand. About her old life, her old family. She had a mother, a whole lot of aunts and uncles and there were other kids around to play with. Her bed was soft, she told me. My bed isn’t soft. It itches, and it’s right next to father’s.

>

There’s a woman outside my house. She’s fair, with long hair and a beautiful dress. She has the same transparency to her that Cercei does. She told me her name, but I didn’t catch it.

Maybe she is my mother.

>

Cercei and I played again last night. Father is mean to me, he keeps going on about how I’m destined for great things, how I will save the bloodline. I don’t know what he means. He scolds me for being tired. I don’t sleep well. Cercei only comes out at night, and she disappears when the sun rises.

I saw the woman again as well. Cercei told me her name is Fadoua, and that she too was once a mother. There’s a grave next to her’s, but no one comes out.

>

I don’t like it when the sun rises. Father wakes up, and Cercei and Fadoua disappear. Fadoua is nice. She told me that she did not bring me into this world, but that she could be my mother, if I like. I’d like that, hugging her feels like a cool autumn breeze.

>

I picked a flower for Cercei, but she couldn’t hold it. It fell right through her hand.

I layed it to rest next to her headstone instead.

When father is not training, he plays the violin. It’s an awful sound.

>

Father taught me how to fish. It’s something we have in common, we both enjoy fishing. Fishing is more than just a hobby though, no plant will grow in this kind of weather. We roast our catch together over a fire. Father is nice to me in these moments, I enjoy them a lot.

It’s weird. I’ve grown taller, but Cercei has stayed the same over the summer. Fadoua told me it’s because she’s dead, which is a sensitive topic I shouldn’t bring up. I won’t, I don’t want to upset Cercei at all. She’s my best and only friend.

There are other graves around, but they are mostly silent. Fadoua introduced me to her groundmates, but they haven’t shown their faces just yet. It’s fine, I like Cercei and her the most anyway.

[stellewriites]

cry harder, lost lamb

cw: slasher horror, period sex, non con, vague gore

you clasped both of your hands over your mouth to try and silence the heavy panting, fingers digging into your cheeks; only letting one drop when you felt your friend, faith, grip onto your shirt. you linked your hands together over your hip, both sweaty and covered in blood and dirt, but it didn’t stop either of you from holding on tight.

you heard her whimper and darted your eyes to her in silent horror.

she had clenched hers closed so there was no way to tell her to stay as quiet as possible with your desperate wide-eyed look. you weren’t risking speaking to calm her or even giving a gentle shush.

he’d found the others for less. if you had to you’d cover her mouth like you were your own, shaking hands or not.

as you shifted where you crouched, you could feel the uncomfortable stick of blood between your thighs. of all the times to be on your period. you’d bled through your pad a while back and paranoia had you feeling like you were leaving a trail behind you for him to follow even though you knew it wasn’t true, not even if you were at your heaviest. it was more likely he’d just be able to sniff you out like a shark.

regardless of blood or noise being your downfall, you weren’t feeling so lucky that you’d be able to get away if he did find you; from the lack of screams in the forest, it had seemed that the attacker had already caught the rest of your friends so there’d be no distractions to give you a head start.

bile rose in the back of your throat as tears dripped down to the tight seal of the hand still clamped tight and harsh over your mouth. you couldn’t think about the others right now, the state you’d seen some of them in, the sounds you’d heard.

you let out a slow, shaky breath through your nose and squeezed faith’s hand. there had been no noises after she’d initially whimpered; not from her or the forest.

the silence had you uneasy. it felt like he was close.

crouched as you both were behind the large, old fallen tree trunk, you wouldn’t have the best start to run for it if needed. you swallowed and tried to listen for any footsteps but there was nothing.

you frowned. you should be hearing something at least; the cicadas, or the owls or foxes, not just nothing. your heart dropped to your stomach and you scoured the forest from your point of view with darting eyes. you tugged faith to get her attention and nodded your head forward, towards the light in the distance, when she looked at you.

we need to run, you tried to convey. she understood going by the renewed flood of tears and tired slump of her shoulders. she shook her head defeatedly and you tensed waiting for her to make a noise and reveal your spot to the predator you knew was lurking in the shadows.

you squeezed her hand and nodded back firmly. this wasn’t going to be a debate, you didn’t have time and this was your best shot for survival. removing your other hand from your mouth you tried to smile at her reassuringly and wipe away her tears as she clung to your hand with both of her own. after a moment she relented and with a loud sniffle that had you jerking to look over her shoulder you both clumsily pushed up from the rustling leaves and started to run on weak legs.

“come on, come on, keep going,” you whispered desperately, breathlessly, as you dragged her along with you. he’d have already spotted you, there was no point staying silent now and faith needed all the encouragement she could get. she’d twisted her ankle and although you’d done your best to wrap it, it had made her significantly slower. “the cabin is this way. the car— if we can get to the car...”

you looked back over your shoulder as you ran, paranoid and ignoring ever horror movie rule you could remember, and choked on a wet gasp when you saw him.

he’d lost the hammer he’d arrived with, smashed gina’s head in with; the axe he’d taken from the cabin you and your friends were staying at and used to hack jason to pieces; the bear trap you’d watched him drag scott away with; but that didn’t make his presence any less frightening.

faith heaved loudly, sobbing hard, as you tried to pull her along faster, faster.

but her ankle gave way and her hand slipped from yours as you automatically kept running.

“no, wait, wait! please, no, please,” she cried and begged as you slowed and turned back to her. he was barely twenty paces from her now, if you went back you’d both be—

and the cabin was just there, you could see it, you could see the lights and the car parked next to the back shed. the keys were in your back pocket.

you turned away from her and sprinted.

“w-wait, please! don’t leave me, stop, you fucking bitch, don’t leave me, please!”

you skidded to a stop at the shed and opened the door, pulling out the first garden tool you could get a hold of - a shovel - and looked back at the sound of her scream getting cut off.

the light was dim with how far they were from the cabin’s porch light, the trees were not too tightly packed however that you saw how he knelt over her, strangling her as she kicked and clawed at him uselessly.

it would be a slow enough death that you could still get to the car without him catching you and try to drive on the shredded tire, even with the delay, but instead you ran back towards your friend.

you heard her gasping gurgles as you got closer and let out a guttural cry as you swung the shovel at the man. the monster.

his hands let go of faith and caught the metal edge with a wince and a huffed groan before it could hit his head. you heard faith suck in a gasping breath before choking on the sudden airflow and build up of saliva in her mouth.

he stood, still holding the end as you struggled to pull it back, and you saw where the edge had cut into his palms from the blow you almost landed. human after all, you almost laughed deliriously at the realisation. it only encouraged you to keep fighting back.

you tried again to pull it from him and he snarled, holding tight as you yanked and yanked until he finally let it go just as you put the last of your strength into it. the momentum caused it to reel back and you smacked yourself in the face with the handle. you stumbled to the ground with a cry, the shovel dropped and forgotten as you tried to catch yourself on the cold ground. your cheek throbbed, already beginning to swell, and a sharp ache echoed in your teeth where the handle had landed.

faith hadn’t stopped crying once she had her breath back, stuck laid prone between his feet, but when she started whimpering pleas you tearily looked up to see him lifting the shovel back up and spinning it so he had hold of the wooden end instead of the flat, metal spade. he raised his arms over his head, the shovel parallel with his body, and slammed it down, cutting off faith’s begging with a sick, slick crunch. you barely had time to look away before her blood spattered your temple and cheek.

you shuddered, your breath coming in short and thin.

“f-faith, faith,” you mumbled. you could see her, what he’d done to her, in your peripheral and it had you frozen. “oh god.”

he stepped over her, into the puddle of blood spreading ever closer to you, and crouched in front of you so you couldn’t see her.

“that was brave,” he said surprisingly softly, looking at you with inquisitive eyes. he gently tilted your face closer to his own and he smiled when you shut your eyes tight, your lips pressed closed thinly to hold back your scared sounds. “you’re more interesting than i’d thought. not so cowardly after all, eh?”

you didn’t answer as his palm drifted over to your plump cheek. it left for a moment but you didn’t dare move; his palm had been warm and the brief interlude before coming back left your skin cold in his wake. his fingertips were wet as he traced them along your cheek, dragging in the crude shape of a heart.

you opened your eyes as his hand pulled back again and saw his fingers covered in blood. faith’s blood.

your shoulders heaved with a gag and a sob while your stomach clenched as it tried to upheave your lunch for the nth time that evening.

he laughed as he watched you hunch over your knees dry heaving and stood to his full, looming height.

“i’m going to give you a chance, little lamb,” he offered plainly. “get running, let’s see if i catch you.”

you could tell by his grin this wasn’t going to be fair by any means, that this ‘chance’ was really just an extra layer of sociopathic fun for him. the hunt isn’t fun if your rabbit just lays down to die, the chase brings excitement.

you were tempted to say no, but you were well aware he could still manage to drag this out, painfully so if he wished; you could still hear faith’s chokes echoing. shakily you got to your feet and waited for him to indicate you could go, tempted almost to ask how much of a head-start he’d give or to try and dive for the shovel again.

“good girl. off you pop,” he said dismissively, and waved his hand as if shooing you away.

you scowled back, pissed that you were not only about to be murdered, but that it’d be done by a condescending prick, just to rub salt into the wound.

his smile widened and you knew your disgust was written clear as day across your face. you didn’t dawdle any further though, and instead turned on your heel to run towards the car not twenty five feet away.

you didn’t look back as you tried to pick up the pace, unsure on how long he’d give you your head-start, though maybe you should have if only to brace for the impact as he slammed into your from behind. he dragged you to the floor and pressed you flat even as you struggled wildly.

“get off me! get off!” you screamed, blubbering.

he grabbed your head and slammed it once into the ground, dizzying you and making your movements sluggish. your nose ached furiously and fresh tears sprang to your eyes.

he leant up and shuffled so he was knelt just behind your arse, keeping your legs pinned tightly together. you thought you could see lena in the distance from where you were laid, where he’d impaled her next to the fire pit.

you wanted to turn your head away but you didn’t have the strength and he kept one hand pressed between your shoulder blades while the other rested at your waistband.

“you on the rag, love? bled through a tad,” he snickered as he caught sight of the stain leaking through your jeans. you felt embarrassment wash over you and hated him all the more for it. why couldn’t he make it quick like he had with the others? or had he spoken to and taunted them the same? “let’s get a better look, shall we?”

he tugged at your jeans, letting go of your back to use both hands to pull at the sides until the button and zip gave way at the front beneath his ministrations.

realisation as to the intention of his actions came over you slowly, your imminent death clouding your thoughts until suddenly your arse was bare and his fingertips were running between your bloody lips.

“stop, what are you—?” you reared up to try and shake him off, but he pushed you face first back into the dirt. at least now you were facing away from lena.

“i just want to know if this pussy is more of a crybaby than you are,” he sneered into your ear before pushing two fingers inside. the blood helped slick his way, but you yelped regardless, feet kicking uselessly behind him. he set a rough rhythm and pulled more surprised cries from your throat.

“please,” you begged wetly, snot running from your nose and causing dirt to cling to your face alongside the tears. “just stop—“

“bleats like a lamb too,” he laughed. “the gift that keeps on giving, aren’t ya?”

he pulled his hand free and shifted your shirt up to your shoulders. using his slick fingers he drew on your back, another bloody heart. he snorted at the sight of it.

“you and i are about to have some real fun, love,” he promised. at the sound of a belt unbuckling you clenched your eyes shut.

[planehabitat]

the god of storytelling, condensed into a little clay form!

made with sculpey premo, acrylic paint, and middle school sculpting experience

[kira-loves0905]

lads x reader! [mentions of death] [can be seperate or together...?]

it was another day of gathering intel from him. the knob swiftly opens for you to paddle inside the cage the Praedator was in. he was sat on his usual place, body language high and mighty. the smirk drawling on his lips as he sees your figure walking towards him. but then, the expression falls, eyes zoning on the tell-tale purple bruise on your waist— courtesy of your rather revealing outfit.

"who hurt you?"

he growls, clenching his fists. your steps faltering at the sudden aura he emanates.

"I believe that is none of your issue-"

"it is, you see." he interjects before you could finish. "I'll repeat my question, darling. who?"

he mostly didn't mind the chains that bounded him on this interrogation chair. in fact, he barely wastes his strength on fighting against it: his posture always relaxed.

but seeing that bruise triggers something within his insanity. he doesn't know why he feels like it, the urge was strong to pull you towards him. to caress the taint mark that someone must've left on your skin.

you see the way he now strains against the chair. his muscles taut and veiny, gritting his teeth at how you just stood there. as if that injury was nothing for you, but to him it felt as if the world was already ending.

why is that? why did he feel the urge to do so?

"it's.. another Praedator." you forced a reply, or else the scientists in the facility might make another metal chair modified for his strength with how he's tugging all his might, "it was just careless of me. so I ought to not approach people like you too close for today."

"..w..what?"

left dumbfounded on your revelation, the straining stops.

"indeed," you nod a tad awkwardly at his odd expression. standing a few feet away, you brought out your materials needed to interrogate him. "let's start."

as the intel goes on, you were perplexed at his sudden compliance. he would've dumped all the information he has if it wasn't for the shred of pride he has left. heck, you hadn't even use much of the devices you brought.

shaking his behaviour as part of his... symptoms. you packed up your things, your movements careful and meticulous to avoid aggravating your injury any longer.

turning around to the door, you winced slightly at the inevitable ache. about to leave and treat the wound when..

"princess." he beckons your attention, "i've given you intel. yet you still insist not telling me who left that mark. least you could do was return a favor.. hm?"

"it was... that burly man down the hall," you said vaguely, heeding no mind. might as well entertain him, right? if it makes him obey and give more information then you don't mind.

oh how wrong you were.

the next day, there was an uproar of a sudden dead Praedator. no one knows who had done it. the execution flawless with no strings left behind. but the smirking man you've known for a while, with chains suspiciously broken only seen up close may know a thing or two..

[p1z-d0n7jud6em3]

THINKING ABOUT…..

Isagi Yoichi with a volleyball player!reader, who he first saw on Bachira’s phone.

Bachira was on his phone as Isagi entered the room, towel around his neck. He just came out of the shower, freshly dressed in the blue set of clothing provided by Blue Lock. Bachira was sat on his bed, phone in hand, as he intently watched something. Curious to see what, Isagi walked up to him, brow raised. “What’re you watching,” Isagi asks, settling down next to him.

Bachira then shoved the phone in Isagi’s face, catching him off guard. “What’s this-,” Isagi says, brows furrowed then his face contorts into one of recognition. “Is that-,” “Yup, it’s (name),” Bachira answers, watching the volleyball match.

It was a match of your team versus another’s. Isagi was invested. Not really in the match, but in you. You looked so beautiful, even when you were sweating. He thought you looked pretty. Pretty hot. He tried to push the thought out of his mind, but he couldn’t help but agree with it. Sweat dripping off your face, as you happily grinned, your team carrying you on their shoulders as you guys won. Your giggle could’ve been heard as the commentary was being said in the background.

Isagi’s blue eyes were fixated on you, you, and only you. Bachira noticed. Of course, he endlessly teased him about it, because of how red and hot Isagi’s face was.

Yup, Isagi had definitely fallen in love with you. At first sight. Through the screen of Bachira’s phone.

divider by @hyuneskkami