#I’m not human enough to exist anywhere

[devilbimboy]

omg guys!!! aroace culture is when your mom asks you if you love her. She doesn’t ask this a lot but frequently enough to make you question everything. She doesn’t say “I love you”, but instead asks you if YOU love HER. She stares at you, oh god she’s staring, and expects you to say yes.

But you say nothing. You search so hard within yourself to know what love is.

“You don’t love me?” She asks with her heartbreak apparent in her voice.

So you lie and say yes.

But you keep searching in yourself a little more, a little harder. You’ve been staring at the floor for about 15 minutes now but you can’t muster up a good description of what love is.

Is love warm? Is love cold? Is love fluttery? Is love still? Is love everything? Is love nothing?

You don’t know, and you will never know. Maybe, you’re broken. Maybe, you didn’t come out right. Maybe, you aren’t human and instead a heartless monster.

There MUST be something fundamentally wrong with you because everyone else experiences love.

But you.

[sunnie-angel]

week 3 (oct. 18) | period sex

✮⋆˙bon appétit (2.2k)

jason's a vampire, you're on your period, and, well a man's gotta eat

tags: f!reader, vamp jason, established relationship, period sex, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, blood drinking, blood as lube, slight size kink, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: for @luvrodite my darling, this would not exist without your encouragement

⊘ this is an 18+ fic. minors do not interact, you will be blocked

Jason Todd is on you the second you walk through the door, pharmacy bag dropping from your hands in surprise. The door’s barely shut behind you before he’s crowding you up against it, cold night air still lingering on your skin, his nose buried in your neck. His lips part along your collarbone and you roll your eyes at the pinprick of fangs already descending from his gums.

“I smell blood,” he rumbles. “Are you hurt?”

With a sigh you dig your now empty hand into the thick mess of his hair and pull him off of your throat. His pupils have already started to narrow into slits, catlike.

“No, and if you’d stop thinking with your fangs for a hot second you’d realize it’s because of my period.” Reaching down for the bag you’d just let go of, you gasp as another cramp spikes through your lower belly and claws up your back. “Right, you can get the bag because you made me drop it. I’m going to find my heat pack in the kitchen.”

Jason’s already waiting for you by the time you hobble into the kitchen, slow and regrettably human. Under your breath you curse his unnatural speed but he hears you anyway and grins. He’s already put your heat pack in the microwave so there’s nothing to do but gratefully take the painkillers he’s fished out of the bag for you and wait. His stomach grumbles.

“Nope,” you declare. “Not happening tonight. I’m losing enough blood as it is, you aren’t getting your hands on any more.”

“Please, baby? ‘M starving over here,” Jason pouts. He’s suddenly behind you, arms around your midriff. He lets out a huff of air right over your jugular, goosebumps rising across your skin. Usually, that would be enough to have you caving, knees weak and and panties wet, begging for his bite. Tonight, you push his face away with annoyance.

“Go get some synth blood from you maker or something. Isn’t she always offering to hook you up with a supply? I’m off the menu tonight, so put those–” you tap at his upper lip, right over where his fangs have descended “–away.”

The microwave beeps, giving you an excuse to slip from his grasp. You moan at the warmth as you shove it down the front of your clothing, the heat already making the cramps reside a little.

“Talia’s out of town and you know nothin’ tastes anywhere near as good as you do,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You want to scream at his perfect dumb face with its stupid puppy eyes.

“Jason. I’ve got a waterfall of blood in my underwear – which is stained by the way because none of the PATH toilets had any pads in any of their dispensers – my back hurts, my stomach hurts, my boobs are pain central, and my ankles are sore for some ungodly reason. I’m not adding “mauled by a hungry vampire” to the list of reasons why I’m destroying my liver with painkillers.”

You know you’re probably being bitchier about it than you normally would be to turn him down, but you’ve just had the day from hell. First your period had started on your morning commute to work. Then the pad you had been counting on to be in your purse hadn’t been there, a casualty of Tamara two desks over last week. There’d only been a single pill left in the bottle of painkillers you kept at your desk, and you’d been so run off your feet with work that you hadn’t had a chance to run out for more. You’re tired and sore, absolutely ready to face plant into bed.

“I don’t gotta bite, you know,” Jason says slowly.

“What,” you retort flatly, already done with this conversation.

“Well if you’re already bleeding. I don’t hafta bite you.” He smirks at you like he’s solved all of your problems. Slowly, your face starts to heat up as you put together what he’s implying.

“You don’t– what. You wanna...” you splutter, unable to string the thought together.

“C’mon sweetheart,” he prowls towards you, predatory glint in his eye “let me put my mouth to good use. I promise I won’t bite.” He’s got you backed against the countertop, balancing on your tip toes. The faux marble is firm beneath your scrabbling fingertips as you let out a squeak. He traces the apple of your cheek with a deceptively gentle finger. “Besides, you always feel so nice and relaxed after you come. Might make those cramps better.”

Cotton mouthed, you swallow down your desire but you can tell from the lopsided grin that Jason can already smell it on you.

“Ye-ah, okay.” You nod and bite your lip. “But if you make my cramps worse, I reserve the right to knee you in the head.”

Jason’s got you undressed and flat on your back on the bed in under 15 seconds in what has to be a new personal record. He’d even managed to put a towel down and reposition the heating pack right over your womb between breaths. Somewhere in the trip between the kitchen and the bedroom Jason had lost his shirt and you’re reminded again of just how badly he can make your mouth water, staring at the broad expanse of muscle covered in a thin layer of fat. He looks down at your bare, bleeding cunt and you swear you see a hint of something cold and predatory tinge his desire.

You reach out to him feeling oddly vulnerable, the rabbit kicking in the jaws of the wolf. He smiles at you, and despite the narrowed slit of his pupils you feel the warmth leech back into the room. Gently, he lowers himself down to cover your body with his. Kisses and laps at your open mouth, careful not to nick you with his fangs. Jason smooths a broad palm along the side of your ribcage until it settles on the plush curve of your hip. Slowly, he starts to kiss at your jaw and throat, purposefully avoiding the lush temptation of your carotid.

When Jason takes your aching breast into the wet heat of his mouth for the first time that night, you gasp and arch your back. Your hips strain with nowhere to go against the rock solid weight of his body. He’s gentler than he usually is, keeps his promise not to bite by laving at the bud of your nipple with the flat of his tongue. Kisses and sucks at the aching flesh until you are mewling from oversensitivity, now wet with more than just blood. He barely reacts to you clawing at his back, nails leaving raw red lines that heal over in an instant.

“Too much too muchtoomuchtoomuch,” you babble, body leaden with a different type of ache.

He pulls off your breast with an audible pop, a thin line of spit connecting his lips to the wet mess he’s made of your tits. Jason smiles as he peppers kisses down your belly, still careful not to jostle the heat pack from it’s place. He licks and kisses at each thigh before placing them onto his shoulders, sucking hard enough to leave bruises in your wake. You start to roll your eyes at him for his obsession with getting as close to your blood as possible when the scrape of teeth across the thin skin has you trying to strangle him with your thighs.

“No biting,” you gasp out, the curve of your spine pushing your breasts into the air.

“No biting,” he says, humouring you.

Jason hands close around your hips and drags you down to meet him. He licks a broad stripe right across your dripping cunt, obliterating any indignant thoughts in your head. Sucks a kiss to your clit that has you grabbing for his hair, desperate to keep his face right there. Your hips struggle to move but the coiled strength in his palms traps you right where he wants you. He’s enjoying this, you can tell from the way he’s playing you like a finely tuned instrument. Alternates long slow licks with taps and flicks of his tongue just to watch you dissolving into a whining and desperate creature.

You’re wet, so wet you can feel it dripping down to the cleft of your ass. Jason slurps – slurps! – up the mixture of your blood and arousal, traces it straight back to the source until he’s sucking right over your entrance. The tip of his tongue traces your cunt before plunging in and you moan, body tensing up at the intrusion. Trying to arch up into him, Jason slams your hips back down onto the mattress, the heating pad sliding somewhere off to the side of your hip.

“C’mon baby, gotta stay still so I can finish my dinner,” he purrs, not even bothering to look up from the blood drooling between your legs.

Arousal and embarrassment flare through you, lighting you up and burning through your cheeks as he goes back to eating you out. The spread of his fangs pinning your hole wide open as he thrusts the slick muscle of his tongue back into you. Uses it to curl into you wickedly until you moan high and reedy in your throat, aching for more. A thick finger prods at your entrance, alternates thrusting in with his tongue, forcing you to clench down around the intrusion. You can do nothing but lay there and take it, as he fucks you on his fingers and tongue. There’s no  escape from him and his questing mouth, pinned down as you are.

Your thighs start to shake when he curls a second finger into you, scissors his fingers wide to make it easier to drink you down. Spreads you open and fucks back in as deep as his hand will go. Hooks those fingers into the soft spongy part of your gut that has you seeing stars and pushes as he sucks on your clit again.

“Right there, Jay,” you whine, fighting for breath as your tummy screws up tight. “Please.”

Jason keeps hitting that spot with his fingers with unerring accuracy, hammering away as he laves over your clit. It’s the barest hint of teeth dragging across it that sends you burning over the edge, vision whiting out at the corners when you come. Chest heaving as you try to breath through it, body turning to jelly, your cramps are long forgotten in the flood of endorphins.

Jason grins from between your thighs, chin red with your blood and sticky with your slick. Leans over to show you the mess you’ve made of his hand, the sticky strings that still cling, connecting it to your twitching cunt. He keeps his eyes locked with yours as he licks it all up, moans at the taste of you and ruts his dick into the bed.

“You taste so good, honey–" you whine at the praise “–just had to have a little taste. And I was good wasn’t I, didn’t even bite to get it, so I think I deserve a little dessert too.”

You nod too fucked out and relaxed to move, body nearly one with the bed as your aching muscles melt. He grins, predatory again, and oh you should have seen this coming. Something about wetting his throat with blood always has Jason desperate to get his dick wet too.

Jason slowly feeds his cock into you, smile still stained red. Moves one of your legs to hook around his waist while he carefully keeps the other one pinned over his shoulder as he folds you in two. He’s big. He’s always big but in this position you can feel every inch of him, can practically taste your hips giving way as he makes space for himself inside of you. Jason sets a pace that has you shaking under him, eyes wide as he steals the air from your lungs with each deep thrust. Filthy, wet squelching noises stream from your cunt as he fucks it sloppy, driven feral by the scent of blood in the air.

He coos at your wide eyes and slack-jawed expression as you clench tighter and tighter around him. Bends his head to mouth at your neglected breasts and smear them bloody. Jason minds his teeth as he laps and suckles at your tits in a crude approximation of what he just did to your clit. All the while his thrusts speed up, jolt you up the bed as he starts to jackhammer. You wail as he comes inside of you, hot spurts of cum painting your quivering walls. Jason works a hand between you and all it takes is the slightest pressure to set off the chain reaction in you again.

Smug, Jason rolls off to lie beside you, head propped on his hand to watch you gasp and twitch like a gutted fish. He reaches down between your thighs and runs a finger through the mess there, causes you to shiver. Jason licks your combined spend off his finger and sighs with satisfaction. Starts to rub the warm mixture of blood, cum and slick into the skin over your womb in idle patterns.

“You know, you tasted good before, but I think I like you best when you taste like me.”

[drdemonprince]

I grew up with abstinence-only sex education, and it did a real number on me. But I’ve shaken off enough of my old cultural programming to realize that the transmission of bacteria and viruses is a thing that sometimes just happens when animals come together, no matter how stringently we might try to prevent it.

I have gotten urinary tract infections when a stray microbe found its way into my urethra after sex. Lube and bodily fluids have disturbed my vagina’s pH and caused a yeast infection many times. So has wearing a bathing suit for too long without drying it, yet another “risk” worth the pleasures of swimming along the sea wall.

Once or twice I’ve had an outbreak of cold sores, just like 80% of humans. If I’m like most people, I probably caught oral herpes when I was very young, sharing a sippy cup or rolling around at a sleepover.

None of this makes me disgusting, irresponsible, evil, or dangerous to others. It just makes me a living creature that exists in close contact with other creatures. I believe I have a responsibility to get tested regularly, to alert people who have been close to me when I get sick, and to use preventative measures like condoms, PreP, vaccines, toys, and masks to prevent the spread of infections as best I can. But I never imagine I can lead a life without risk — or that such a life would even be desirable.

There is no such thing as completely “safe” sex. A friend of mine can’t use condoms because they give her bacterial vaginosis. She chooses instead to fuck raw and take PreP and get anything else she catches treated. A guy I know who masks and tests religiously caught COVID while fisting someone (with a gloved hand!) at an air-filtered party. HPV is so prevalent that most sexual wellness clinics don’t bother testing for it, and can’t do much for a patient if they do have it. Our bodies are teeming at all times with various endemic viruses and microbes that we will never have the power to purge.

Then there are the possible costs of not having sex — vaginal atrophy, pelvic floor weakening, reduced access to endorphins, loneliness, touch starvation, the despair of harboring dreams that one never dares try. I can’t decide for anyone else which dangers loom the largest, but for me a gonorrhea shot is a fair trade for the hours of leg-cramping, bed-staining, hypno-kinky sex that led to it. There’s no guarantee that the next time I have sex it will be anywhere near as much fun, but the potential keeps me throwing the dice.

I hear quite frequently from sexually inexperienced Autistic people who crave an intimate connection, but desperately wish to remain responsible and “safe.” They want there to be a set of iron-tight rules they can follow that will guarantee they remain a virtuous person who never hurts anyone’s feelings, and never catches any sexually transmitted infection.

I understand why they want someone to impose order onto an unpredictable, terrifying world. But I can’t give that certainty to them, nor can anyone. All I can suggest is that they be honest with themselves about what they want, inform themselves of the costs and benefits to pursuing their desires, and then venture forward — proudly welcoming the correct risks into their life, rather than trying to avoid any risks at all.

Life is nothing but a negotiation of risk. If a person has gender dysphoria and they want to combat it, they must risk a transition they could one day regret. If an abolitionist wants to take a stand against the police state, they must plan for the possibility of arrest or political repression. When we open our hearts to love, we expose ourselves to grief — our partners will keep changing and growing, sometimes away from us. Each step that we take forward in life closes off potential paths. There is no avoiding this.

Instead of chasing after the false promise of “safety,” trying to remain completely insulated from harm and challenge forever, we must get better at admitting risk into our lives.

I wrote about all about the messy business of risk mitigation, and how the pursuit of perfect safety is used to justify isolation, theft of bodily autonomy, and political repression. It's free to read (or have narrated to you by the app!) at drdevonprice.substack.com

[fuckyeahisawthat]

I think Crowley falls into two of the classic pitfalls of people who see that the problems are systemic long before anyone else around them does: impatience and despair.

(Yes yes I know, “Crowley was an optimist.” Book Crowley is an optimist. I don’t think that line is particularly useful for analyzing TV Crowley. Stay with me here.)

Let it be said that 95% of the time, Crowley has the patience of a fucking saint (ssh don’t tell him) around Aziraphale. He knows that Aziraphale needs to build his little plausible deniability rationales in order to do something that they both know he wants to do (because it’s right or simply because he would enjoy it) but Heaven wouldn’t approve of. And most of the time, Crowley is happy to help Aziraphale get there, asking the questions Aziraphale is afraid to ask, offering excuses and justifications until Aziraphale finds one he can accept. He does a lot of work of parsing out when “no” means “you haven’t convinced me yet, keep trying” and pushing through all the “I’m an angel, you’re a demon, we’re on opposite sides and mine is the good one” talk that Aziraphale gets up to all the way through s1. Because he knows that Aziraphale doesn’t really believe that stuff, right? He just needs some time to talk himself around his own cognitive dissonance, and most of the time Crowley is not only happy to facilitate that but sees it as part of his role in their relationship.

But then when the chips are down and Aziraphale is still dithering, that’s when he gets frustrated, because HOW CAN YOU NOT SEE what’s been blindingly obvious to Crowley for millennia, that Heaven is just as cruel as Hell and no one is going to step in and fix it because the system is working as intended. And that’s when he says things like “how can someone as clever as you be so stupid?” Which is a surefire way not to convince the person you’re arguing with of anything.

And then there’s the despair. I really think the running away thing is not about cowardice or selfishness or some kind of unhealthy level of avoidance of hard or scary things, but about hopelessness. They’ve spent their lives avoiding very very real danger, and of the two of them Crowley is much more constantly aware of the danger that they are in from both sides. Yes he’s hypervigilant but he is also almost always right about the amount of danger they are in. Trying to get as far away from danger as possible is not an irrational response, even if it’s not always the correct one for a given situation.

When you feel like you’re the only person who sees how rotten the system is, how it needs to be dismantled entirely, but you are also VERY aware of how strong the people in power are and how ruthless they are about crushing dissent because you experienced it personally…well that gets fucking depressing after a while. Because even if you think the whole system needs to go, that feels like a completely unattainable goal when it seems like no one else even sees the problem, or if they see it, they are too afraid to do anything about it. And can you blame them? You know exactly what happens to people who speak up.

So it’s very easy for your goals to shrink from systemic change to just taking yourself and the people you love and finding somewhere for them to be as safe as possible, for as long as the system will let you exist. Because reforming the system is a fool’s errand, and dismantling it entirely seems impossible. I think this is where Crowley is at. Even if on some level he knows it’s an imperfect solution, because both of them have enough compassion that they would feel guilty abandoning Earth and humans to save themselves, and because Heaven and Hell really can find them anywhere in the universe. He just doesn’t see another option.

And look, I think Aziraphale is 100% wrong that Heaven can be reformed. But he is not wrong to want to stay and fight to make things better, even if it means sacrificing the Earthly comforts he loves so much, and even if it means doing it without Crowley by his side.

Ultimately they both need each other. Aziraphale needs Crowley for his willingness to ask questions and to see the scale of the problem, even if it’s terrifying. But Crowley needs Aziraphale for his hope, his stubborn determination to believe things can and should be better, and to fight for that. In the right hands, hope is an enormously powerful weapon.

[kingofbodyrolls]

7 Summers at the Sea | bts | series masterlist

Spending the summer by the sea might bring with it more than just the sweet summer breeze of the salty ocean.

→ AUs: mermaid!au (they are mermen!), fantasy, magical → Genres: slice of life, humor/crack, drama, smut and fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Taglist: do you want to be added to the taglist? Just drop a comment or send an ask (remember to tell me if you want to be tagged in all, one or more members). → Read on AO3? [link] → Author’s note: hi!!!! I love mermaid stories, and I don’t think there’s enough out there, so here’s me creating my own 🧜 This is a collection of mermaid stories for each member of bangtan! They are one-shots and stand-alone, but operate in the same universe ✨

🌊Namjoon You’ve been searching for gemstones deep on the seabed— having found a broken piece of blue aquamarine. Searching for the missing piece and your new rival, you find it and much more with the blue tailed merman Namjoon while on a quest for crystals. → Deep Dive [19.8k]

🌊Seokjin Life as a mermaid is wonderful, especially when your merman boyfriend, Seokjin, treats you just right. But you’re beginning to recall memories that you don’t think are yours from life on land— from a past life maybe? When you do realize that the memories are in fact your own, the world comes tumbling down around you, questioning your very existence. Are you even a real mermaid? → When it Sinks In [13.1k]

🌊Yoongi You know how the story goes; girl meets charming man, only to find out that he’s a merman and the more you get to know him you realize how cold and unforgiving he is. Thinking you can bring the sun to calm his storm you fall deep for him— only problem? He doesn’t love you back. → Of Salt and Shadow [TBA]

🌊Hoseok Hoseok is royalty in the underwater city of Naraeum, and he’s bored. Bored of duties and responsibility, he recklessly searches for fun on land, testing love potions he stole from the Sea Witch. None of them have worked so far, until one day; there’s you, a human he doesn’t know claiming to be in love with him. It might be fun, he thinks, a way for him to rebel against his family because they would never allow him to mate with a human. → Forelsket [TBA]

🌊Jimin You don’t really enjoy your work on a trawler, but it pays the rent. When you hear some ruckus out of the deck, you go out to investigate, only to be met by an unreal sight: a blonde merman with a sparkly golden tail caught in the net, struggling to get free. → To Catch a Merman [17.8k]

🌊Taehyung You’ve always been captivated by the sea—a love as deep and endless as the tides. But when tragedy strikes, that love turns bittersweet, and you find yourself drawn to the very thing that stole a part of your soul. Night after night, you pour your sorrows into the embrace of moonlight and whisper your pain to the stars. Then, one fateful evening, a merman surfaces from the depths—a being of myth and wonder. Will you dare to believe in fairytales and the magic of second chances? In hope, love, and the possibility of forever? Perhaps, he’s here to show you that even in the darkest corners, beauty and light can still thrive. → Moonglade [15.4k]

🌊Jungkook When your childhood friend that you had a crush on, moved away out of the blue— you never thought you’d see him again. A night swim in the ocean will have you feeling delusional, but the voice that fills your ears— sweet like cotton candy, you’d recognize that voice anywhere, it’s Jungkook. → Till We Meet Again [11.4k]

I don’t plan to have them all ready this summer, lol 😂 But they are all in the works, with my other 100+ wips (I really don’t have that many, I’m just exaggerating).

The list will be updated as I post them ✨ 

Also, please, do let me know if you’re excited— I’m struggling with posting and sometimes I feel like there’s no point in posting, because people don’t engage (= I’m losing motivation is what I’m saying).

Are you ready to take a swim? 🌊🧜

[cheqorb]

your mer-love fic was so good and ugh i LOVE mermaid au’s (esp with blue lock but theres BARELY any)!!

anyways u should do a pt 2 of your mer-love drabble/fic with rin, sae, kaiser and ness!! i’d love to read it if you do

MER-LOVE, 1.3

mermaid au! bllk boys with a researcher! reader

featuring. rin, sae, kaiser, ness

notes. thank-you for requesting anon! this might be absolute dogwater but hope you enjoy this…a few months after you even asked this (sorryyyy).

mer-love masterlist here !

any interactions with RIN are short and definitely not sweet. if he isn’t being harassed by any other mers that are interested in him, he normally stays around you because you “don’t bother him as much as the others do”. quoted by rin himself; which is considerably high praise coming from the rather aloof merman.

you probably first meet him simply because he got dragged by bachira or the like, but he’s not much of a conversation starter since he just sorta glared at you the whole time. it doesn’t get much better from that point onwards either, you’d think rin believed the world was against him by the way perfectly normal, well-meaning compliments are thrown to the side as if you’re insulting him.

with time though, he’ll start growing more fond of you! how can you tell? unless you’re freakishly talented at guessing people’s real emotions, who knows.

he (kinda) gets cuter in a way? maybe it’s just you being optimistic but you could’ve sworn that he has this look of pride whenever you choose to spend time with him over the other mers. like, of course you don’t want to hang out with weaklings like them or something along those lines. it takes a while but he’s noticeably softer with you than he is with his friends — he actually calls them lukewarm, but that’s just rin for ‘friends’ you think.

“Rin, ya there?”

He stares at you with mild disbelief, which almost makes you burst into a fit of laughter. “Since i’m very clearly here next to you, I think the answer’s quite obvious.”

You nod, grinning. “Thought you’d say that but anyways,” you say whilst reaching into a bag, “I wanted to give you a present! Take it as a token of my gratitude for you chatting with me.”

He eyes the object you give him coldly, but takes it anyway with a ghost of a smile on his face. How adorable.

SAE is someone very hard to come by, and even harder to start conversation with that don’t end in him just swimming away from you. if you thought talking to rin was like talking to a brick wall, just wait till you meet this guy.

he’s seemingly apathetic to anything and everything, incredibly blunt, and overall not a very nice guy. at least his lil brother doesn’t outright ignore you (he does call you an NPC and half baked though)! speaking of which, if you meet rin first you can definitely see the resemblance between the two. appearance is a main one, you would know those under-lashes from anywhere and now you definitely know where he gets the attitude from.

any signs of him ‘warming up’ to you are basically non existent. he’s as straightforward as ever and isn’t keen on the idea of suddenly being all over you like humans normally seem to do with the people they like.

to give credit where credit is due, he tries? even though he’s still a bit brutal with his delivery, you think he tries to avoid being so aggressive with his tone. he’s not exactly sugarcoating things, but simply not saying what’s on his mind as much as he used to. that whole spiel about if you’ve got nothing nice to say, don’t say anything, right? and besides, just him tolerating your presence should be enough for you to understand he’s trying to be nice (it really isn’t).

Sae has a talent for ruining any positive conversations with his honesty, the aftermath typically being him leaving the person or awkward silence ensues. To give credit where credit is due however, you also think he’s got a talent for somehow making people feel better.

He doesn’t sugarcoat things and while it can be harsh, it also means that compliments from him are genuine.

He listens to you rambling on about some annoying incidents at work, making the effort to nod every once in a while to remind you that he’s paying attention. “Sounds like something you can deal with yourself. There’s no reason to worry yourself about it, that’s a waste of your time.”

amidst a certain merman’s grumbling of someone called ‘KAISER’, you gain snippets of info that paint a less-than-flattering picture of the merman. he sounds like a major jerk. yet, despite his (isagi’s) colourful descriptions shall we say, you can't help but wonder if this kaiser fellow’s supposed villainy is just an exaggeration. but then again, to evoke such hatred from the usually amiable merman, he must be quite the character.

your first encounter with him is unremarkable, only seeing him as another mermaid who decided to show their face and you as some random human.

his curiosity is piqued however when he notices how fond the other merfolk are of you, and in typical kaiser fashion he’s determined to outshine everyone else. from your perspective, he’s just a weird dude. it’s as if he expects you to be grateful for his attention, even though it’s clear that he’s the one vying for your approval.

it’d be somewhat cute if it were anybody else, you think..? on him, it’s aggravating.

and yet, the more you pull away, the more determined he seems to become to disrupt any semblance of peace you have. he appears so often that you’ve grown to actually tolerate his presence and it even amuses you sometimes if the day is particularly boring. kaiser finds you just…okay (liar). he means- you’re nothing special so don’t get ahead of yourself but like, if YOU wanted to, he wouldn’t mind being with you until nightfall.

also don’t mention the sheer disgust and almost betrayal on his face whenever he sees one of your total losers of a colleague on watch duty instead of you. even worse if they’re partnered with you.

Judging by the very obvious glare Kaiser has on his face, you would say that he’s not too pleased with the sight of you and (coworker) together. Still, he could at least try be more discreet about it. You sigh as your companion only spares you a sympathetic look.

What’s annoying is that Kaiser occasionally glances in your direction — of course, whilst still glaring daggers at (coworker). Like he wants you to do something about them tagging along.

Having enough of it, you say, “Kaiser, you’re embarrassing me over here and yourself.” He pauses for a moment before simply turning around, probably sulking over the fact that you do indeed have relationships with other people that don’t involve him. That, or he’s embarrassed he got called out.

you’ll naturally come across NESS if you’ve already met kaiser and at first, you simply took him for the more timid type which could be the reason why he follows the former around like a lost puppy. wrong. not in the slightest.

well that’s a little harsh, but you mean that while he definitely has a bashful quality to him, he also seems to flip completely if you dare make a comment about kaiser. it’s a little scary. in spite of his dedication shall we call it, he’s actually one of the easiest mers to get along with. talk to him normally, avoid the topic of kaiser too often, spare some affection for him and he’s all over you soon enough!

just being generally nice around him is something he’ll appreciate it even if he doesn’t say it outright. poor thing is a little unfamiliar with people showing him basic human (or in this case merfolk) decency. makes you want to pat him on the head and spoil him a bit/squish him until he breaks — depending on what type of person you are, i guess.

when he gets more comfortable with you, ness is also clingy. like, really clingy. practically chasing after the other mers if they dare come within 10ft of you kind of clingy. it’s one of those rare moments where you appreciate the fact that kaiser is there since ness is still able to be reasoned if he’s there with him. sounds a little toxic at first but just set him straight and be patient with him. the end result is (hopefully) a slightly more relaxed version of him.

“…You alright, Ness?” you ask hesitantly. The merman in question is suspiciously quiet, especially after he just got into a mini spat with someone else.

Now, he looks up at you as if you’re a saint which weirds you out even more. He nods his head, before asking, “Are you worried about me?”

You’d think it was intended to be a snide comment, if it weren’t for the fact that you were dealing with Ness here. Besides, he says it so sincerely that you’d feel bad for poking fun at him. Maybe later though. “Of course.”

It seems to light up his whole world.

[prose-for-hire]

Should I stay or should I go? (Part one)

Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Spike x Giles!reader

Part one of four! Be kind please💖

Warning: reader drinks, difficult relationship with parents, especially dad!Giles, reader loses their home.

You had moved to Sunnydale a few years prior with your father, he had tried desperately to train you up as a watcher but you never listened, you hated following orders and ultimately, you failed your observation when the watcher’s council came into town to check on your progress.

It bored you and for the 48 hours that you had been in charge of Buffy, you had all gone to the Bronze and let an apocalyptic rift open in the heart of the town when you failed to investigate or do any meaningful research. In your defence, it was a very minor and basically harmless apocalypse. Well, it was after Angel contacted your father when he couldn’t get hold of you or Buffy and he came back into town.

You hated dusty research and telling people what they ought to be doing. You hated the weird pressure your father put on you to become a watcher just like him and sometimes, you even hated Buffy because of the way your father doted on her so. She could do no wrong, even when he was mad at her or telling her what to do he gave her a much easier time than he ever had with you.

You were a disappointment. You could see that clearly enough.

You stayed in Sunnydale though, for reasons unknown to yourself. You just didn’t have anywhere else to go. Nothing excited you, it seemed.

You had moved back in with your father after you couldn’t make rent. You had let another crappy job throw you out the door. You just couldn’t stick to their stupid pointless rules. They made no sense and they paid you next to nothing at that.

You were sitting on the lid of the toilet as Buffy fed your newest houseguest blood from a novelty mug.

“Willow may have had a very helpful idea. She seems to be coping better with Oz’s departure, don’t you think?” Giles asked walking back into the bathroom, directing his words at Buffy rather than the rest of the room as he walked in. It was like you didn’t exist most of the time.

“Well, she still has a way to go but, yeah, I think she’s dealing”

“What, are you people blind? She’s hanging on by a thread” Spike stated, muttering to himself after and rolling his eyes. Buffy just scoffed and left the room, taking the blood he had been drinking away with her as your Dad followed her out.

You had just been about to say something similar, but in a perhaps more conversational format rather than accusatory.

“You’re quite astute really, aren’t you” You said, scanning Spike’s face. He used to creep you out a bit back when he was trying to kill you and all that. Not that you would admit it.

You had never really studied him this closely before. But looking at him now, he just looked so normal. Apart from the shackles and the almost painfully pale complexion… and the fact he had blood crusting at the corners of his mouth.

“It’s no talent, pet, a man walkin’ in from the street could read the lot of you like a book”

“I like to think I’m not that predictable”

“Don’t you all. Humans, you’re always thinking you’re so original, but you’re all a copy of the last”

“I guess when you’ve been around a thousand years everything gets sort of old… apart from the, uh, obvious” you sort of gestured vaguely at his face, a little glint in your eye as you teased him.

“Watch it” He warned, his shackles clinking against the tub as he pointed to accentuate his words. You waited for a moment in silence, watching the tap slowly drip beads of water into the cool porcelain. You waited about seven drips before you spoke again.

“Don’t you get bored? I get bored of the days here sometimes, it’s always a demon or a spell or some dumb melodrama with Dad’s little protegees”

You were surprised at the way this admittance casually tumbled from your own mouth. You weren’t sure why you were speaking to him like this, perhaps you were seeking some kind of connection. It was very you to try in such a stupid place.

“No” he shrugged turning away from you and staring up at the ceiling.

“Come on, I’m trying to open up here”

“Well close back up again” He shrugged, his eyes still fixed upwards. You shrugged, standing and leaving him in his bathtub. You hoped boredom consumed him for the rest of the day.

You left for a bar and returned late at night, having missed another eventful Sunnydale evening. By the morning when it had all calmed down, Willow had showed up to apologise again to Giles and caught you brewing your morning beverage.

She explained animatedly about your father going blind, Buffy and Spike getting engaged and Xander being a demon magnet. You tried very hard to focus on her words and gasp in the correct places whilst your head spun and you gripped the handle of your mug.

Willow was your favourite out of the Scoobies, she was a sweet kid and you made the most effort with her as you got the sense she knew what not being listened to felt like. You were glad you had missed the evening’s events, not that sitting alone at a bar and nursing a drink was much more interesting.

A few weeks later, Spike had been allowed to roam more freely by this point and he was lying on the sofa in your living room. You had a snack in your mouth and had carried a steaming mug of blood in one hand and a box of Weetabix in the other.

You gestured with your head for him to move his legs and he just stared at you for a moment before moving and snatching the mug and the box from your hands. You settled in beside him in front of an episode of Passions, trying, once again to speak to him but he was cold with you. Not even a thank you for the blood. I mean, he was evil, but did he have to keep it up all of the time?

You had tried talking to him, asking him questions about his past but he only really gave short sentences in reply. Today you were unceremoniously told to shut up so that he could watch Passions in peace.

You huffed but stayed beside him, weirdly drawn in by the stupid show. You missed his eyes lingering on you briefly as you glued your eyes to the set.

Truth was, Spike had a little soft spot for you. One that had grown even slightly since he had become a hostage in the same house you lived in. He tried to keep a distance from you, not directly look you in the eye as if you were some kind of love-inducing gorgon that would turn his resolve into a stone that could so easily crumble.

But he wouldn’t give anything away.

By the time Spike left, you were relieved that you could use your bathroom in peace. You knew trying to talk to him had been a waste of time but he interested you and, more to the point, you had found yourself being incredibly lonely.

You had been distracted lately, trapped inside your mind. You felt like you were missing something. So much so you had maybe accidentally skipped a couple of shifts at your new job. You had been sneaking back into your house when Giles caught you. You winced at his voice, knowing you would have to fess up.

“Shouldn’t you be at the Magic Box?”

“Oh, right, about that…” You began, unsure how to explain what had happened the day before. You had been avoiding your Dad ever since. You didn’t have to say anything, he already knew.

“You really are a bloody-”

“A what? Go on, say it!”

“A liability” He stormed over and poured himself a whiskey.

“It’s not exactly surprising is it, being told I couldn’t even visit my mother, left only with a man like you as a father, hey Ripper?” You don’t know why you said it. Truly, he wasn’t a terrible father. He was just bad at hiding his disappointment which made you feel, in a word, terrible about yourself.

He went very quiet for a moment. The temperature seemed to drop before he finally spoke again.

“I suggest you leave”

“What-?”

“Pack up your things and leave” he repeated, pronouncing each word crisply.

“You can’t mean that!”

“You can’t support yourself, Y/n, and I certainly shouldn’t have to”

“Where am I supposed to go?!”

“I suppose you will have to begin by figuring that out for yourself” He stared through you, downing the rest of his scotch before thundering up the stairs to his room and slamming the door.

You were ashamed to admit that as soon as he slammed the door, you broke down into tears. You knew you had been fucking everything up. You just wanted something more, you couldn’t describe it.

You packed a bag, slung it over your shoulder and walked out of the door, not once looking back. To this day you still don’t know how long you walked for, but by the time that you could see the sun threatening the dark skies through your blurred vision you had found yourself in a graveyard.

You had nowhere else to go and you weren’t above sleeping in a graveyard, you soon discovered You were so exhausted you could barely move another step. You ducked into some old mausoleum, kicking away some dust from the corner and laying out your jacket as a sort of mattress and you bag as a pillow.

You curled into the corner and screwed your eyes up. You had finally began to drift into a fitful sleep when heavy footprints came towards you.

“This ain’t a bloody hotel, bugger off would you-!” He stormed, reaching down to grab your shoulder before he recognised you, “Y/n?”

You bolted up, relaxing only for a moment when you noted you weren’t in any immediate danger before descending straight into embarrassment. You would really rather he hadn’t caught you sleep-crying on the floor of a crypt. Then again, it didn’t really matter what he thought, you reminded yourself quickly. He scanned your face, finding pain written there and seemingly making a decision before he turned away.

You stood up, noting an old couch had been pushed into the far corner of the tomb. You sat on it, bringing your bag with you and noting that it was only marginally more comfortable than the floor.

“Here” Spike returned, offering you a half empty bottle of  liquor. You took it, nodding your thanks and taking two large gulps. His eyes bulged for a moment before pulling a face of slight approval, until you looked back at him and he hid any evidence of expression from his face.

“Why are you being nice?”

“You take that back. I’m not bloody nice”

“No, I know, you’re evil and all that. I’ll admit, I felt a little shiver when I saw you first until, I uh, remembered you couldn’t…” You tailed off, “Not helping my case am I?”

“Liquor’s the cheap stuff so you’re doin’ me a favour by getting rid of it” he shrugged. Spike was secretly pleased for the company. He had felt so alone of late.

You watched his lips, eyes scanning down to his neck and over his leather-clad torso. The way the dim light accentuated his features, the curve of his jaw, that sparkle in his eye, that smirk that was never far from his lips.

Oh God, no. You didn’t… did you?

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (part 11)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught 📍 (this bitch is getting long) Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smutty💦

Horny? Not this story yet but….Don’t worry, just wait a couple days… 👀 💦

Part 11 Caught

Taking time to cast out the line and wait for the big one to take the bait.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem!Reader, jaws theme plays, fishing, sweet as fuck, and then not sweet, prostitution yelled into a crowd, rough hands, I won’t say the word ‘paddy wagon’ because the history seems to be targeted at the Irish in America so it’s called a wagon here」

Minors if you violate the MDNI I will toss you back into the river lie the pinfish you are 💥 🎣

Peaceful. Your head on his chest. Even breathes, strong heart. Corporeal. Real. There with you. A ritual to whoever brought you into his embrace, every morning you lied against him and you stared out the window. Past the greenhouse, where the woods were allowed to run wild and you knew the animals therein were safe to exist as they were meant to. Everything and everyone in their element.

His fingers would make little circles and pattern eights along your shoulder blade. Your gaze out and forward, his intently focused on the ceiling fan; then and there.

Occasionally he’d spell a word across your skin  to see if you were paying attention. Today: B R E A K F A S T ?

He didn’t want to interrupt the sounds of the radio on the dresser with the half hearted question.

He carried your plate out onto the front porch, the swinging bench as much a perfectly suitable place to eat as anywhere else. You both tended to enjoy the back porch, but he felt an urge for novelty.

As you nibbled, he stared at the car. He didn’t really want to leave, but he wanted to go somewhere with you.

“Can I take you to the water? We could fish. I’m in no rush today.” You were unsure, tilting your head a little when he asked. He had offered before but you admitted you didn’t know how. “You’ll have time to shower before work.” His index finger came over and waited for yours to hook into his.

Alastor was beyond smitten watching you and your trousers bound down his steps. Hand in hand, in the early morning breeze of the impending fall, he led you through his property to the water’s edge.

A small cup of earthworms he scrounged up while you changed, two poles from the shed, and a bucket he hoped would have fish soon enough.

As a child he often ran through the woods of his home and played pretend, and as he got older and his imagination shifted he would fish for his mother. When his friends began to date and pair off, he’d hunt animals in a parallel kind of chase. 

They took home gals, he dragged in rabbits.

And when his mother died, and the food he brought home was more than he needed, he stopped venturing past the clearing. That trek home to a bright house, his mother waiting on the back porch surrounded by the chirps of crickets was something he cherished.

But then her silhouette was gone. And the cricket’s song became one of loneliness. The walk to the house now a chore, a thing he had to do to get from Point A to Point B.

Pulling you by the hand past the field and its tall grass, into the shade of the trees where the air was so cool it bordered on wet, he wasn’t so worried about the return trip. No tedium in the navigation now.  

Alastor wasn’t loquacious as it were, but when he did feel like talking he talked. He could, and did, name every species of fish that lived in the river. The ones he liked to eat, the ones he liked to look at, and the fish he didn’t care for much at all. His mother’s favorite was bluegill, and he said it was the scariest fish when he was young.

“The fucker has spikes!” He said it like he was introducing a villain, “I grabbed one once and it flexed these spines and I dropped it. I broke a pole trying to beat one to death once because I was too scared to pick it up again.”

You’d never fished. Not because you didn’t care for it, it just wasn’t what you did. Your mother didn’t take you to rivers or the sea. You stayed in buildings and parks near people. You could see the water, just never really interacted with it. Luckily, Alastor was ecstatic to teach you. 

He saddled up behind you and explained how to cast out. It took a few tries to get it right, the release of the line a little tricky to get down at first. You could see the shine of the reels and could tell they were expensive and unused. Easily they were worth more than three dollars a piece. He bought two of them… when? The thought brought a silly, crooked smile you couldn’t contain. 

“A friend accidentally hooked his own back once.” You watched the way his gaze seemed to soften as he was looking into the distant past.

“I hope he’s gotten better at it.”

Alastor shrugged. 

Oh, right… Alastor had friends in a sense, but never had he really introduced you to someone that was remotely important. No one he lit up for, no one he invited over, no one he completely relaxed his put-on smile for. You had to wonder where they'd all gone.

“Do you ever see him?”

He shook his head, “He has a life now.”

Your chuckle wasn’t meant to be cruel, but it came off a little too incredulous, “Do you not have a life?”

He didn't look at you, which was the loudest indicator he wasn’t fond of the question. He cast out his own line, waiting to reply until he could settle, “Sweetheart, do you really think I’ve been living a life compatible with his? Or any of them?” He pulled back on the line a little to feel the tension, “Wives get uncomfortable inviting over single 40 somethings like myself. And I can only stomach so many surprise female dinner guests at such things.”

You felt like an ass. 

Being a single man at his age, with a good job, a car, and land, made people uncomfortable. A lifelong chosen bachelor is fine, a rake is expected, but someone who seemed to be disinterested in dating and in fooling around? You could imagine the looks on their wive’s faces, asking questions that were thinly veiled insults.

What do you do for fun?

Is it difficult to find respectable dates when you work in jazz?

So, you’ve never been married, is that right? Not even close?

A mood change. You waited a moment to let silence kill the topic and asked, “What is the catch you’re most proud of?”

He thought for a second before a lopsided grin spread and you felt your heartbeat relax. “A gull.”

“A gull?!”

Alastor cackled, doubling over at the memory. “I threw out my line and as it flew through the air, a gull passing by grabbed the worm. It fought me for a minute before managing to get loose.” He ended up squating, blue jeans rolled up at the ankles and covered in spurs you just now noticed. “It looked as confused as I was.”

The morning was spent reveling in new and useless information about each other. Your fear of dogs, his fear of armadillos (someone told them they had the plague). The time you accidentally walked into a stranger’s home, the time he startled an old woman because he was standing too still in a store and she thought he was a mannequin.

Moments of intimacy intermittently interrupted by a tugging of the fishing line and excited easing in of the prize.

The fuckers did have spikes. You reached out for your first successful catch and the barbs pricked you. With a hurried step back, your short heel sank into the dirt and you lost your balance. Your ass hit the ground hard, and you needed a breath before you could reply to Alastor’s worried questions.

“I’m fine”, just embarrassed, you assured him before picking up your shoe and throwing it, “I have to go home and change out these shoes.” Leftie smacked against the tree with a soft pop.

“Bring over a few pairs, if you have them. I’m sure a pair of mom’s could fit you, you can wear them home. We could toss these into the river. Shoot ‘em. Run em over.” He retrieved the thrown shoe before kneeling to remove the other one. He touched your ankle, eyes shooting up to monitor your face for any pained expressions. “Burn ‘em.”

“First my stockings last week and now my shoes? You’ve gone fire-happy.” You wiggled your toes for his peace of mind, “It’s okay, I don’t have many shoes. We’ll reconcile someday.”

Alastor sat down properly on the grass and dirt of the river’s edge and took off his shoes and socks. You thought maybe he was trying to commiserate somehow, until he shoved the socks into the toe box and slipped one onto your foot. 

You warned he didn’t have to do that and he flashed you a look, his smirk alone called you a hypocrite and made you go silent. “You can’t perform with tattered feet or a rolled ankle.” He laced them tightly, “I know where the stickers and ant hills are, I’ll be fine.”

Your eyes wandered over the bucket of water and fish, the worms in their cup, and his bare feet on the grass.

“Who taught you to be such a well rounded gentleman?” A rhetorical question, mostly. 

“My mother, of course.”

“Your father didn’t worry you’d be too soft?”

“Ah, apparently not. He left before I was born,” Alaster fidgeted with the straps of your shoes. “He hadn’t considered,” every word was measured, “the realities of,” you could see him searching for the words in real time; this was a conversation he had never had before, “of being with my mother before knocking her up.”

The ‘family planning’ conversation on the kitchen table fluttered back to you.

“Oh, can I have permission to hate him?” Always the easiest emotion.

He clicked his tongue, hands busy looping your shoes together by their straps and then attaching them to his belt loop.

“He left her the house and the land before going. Kept his promise to help take care of me, in that sense. So, no. I think indifference is fair enough.” He grabbed your fish by the tail and placed it into the bucket. “Kinda funny though, had he stuck around he’d have seen how the only thing I got from him was his biggest worry: my complexion!” A joyless laugh, “But I’m just like her in all the ways that matter.”

It came out before you could think it through, “He didn’t love your mother?”

He winced. “Cowards can love just fine, I think. Maybe they love the hardest actually.” You nodded, knowing this wasn’t a philosophical debate where your opinion was needed. “I mean, what kind of man just gives away his only assets?” Alastor leaned over to fix the collar of your blouse, “A scared idiot in love, of course.”

You wondered about ‘family planning’. In their age it was nothing short of guessing and lamb innards. It was impossible to pretend you knew what his father would have lived through had he stayed. But you knew very well what Alastor lived through because he left. New Orleans was different than many other parts of the country when it came to mixed children, but the attitude was less acceptance and more a baseline tolerance for their existence.

The conversation, and shoe change, brought a natural end to the morning. Alastor helped you up, taking the opportunity to brush off your backside. 

He led you until the clearing, he knew the land was flat there, and slowed down to let you walk a little bit ahead. The view of the house was much more inviting with you in it.

As promised, a shower. Originally alone, Alastor sitting on the toilet seat talking to you about dinner. Then he got quiet. He startled you a little when he peeked behind the curtain but everything settled when he got inside and his hands wrapped around your waist. Kisses for kiss’s sake. Skin on skin just to feel closer than you were before. A hum buzzing his chest as you hugged him tightly and wasted some water. Well, ‘wasted’ is subjective. The warmth radiating off his stomach rivaled the shower’s spray. You knew there wasn’t time for a nap, but the comfort was so deeply rooted you worried you’d fall asleep in his arms then and there. 

His mothers shoes did fit, a pair of her black double straps with a nice wide heel replaced your T-straps and their damned thin one. The offer and action of presenting them to you was bigger than could be acknowledged. It was clear in how he wiped them clean with drilled in focus and set them in front of the bed for you like the main course of a fancy meal. The way they’d been kept packaged and neat in the guest closet. 

“Throwing them away seemed a waste. Glad they could be of use.” He said it so casually but it was more than that. When she died he packed away her items and forgot about them. He couldn’t throw them away. It still felt like her house, after all. Who was he to change anything?

It was a little surprise to himself when he offered them to you. It seemed natural at the moment but as he said it his calm heart backtracked. Was that okay to do? Was it disrespectful to his mother? Was it rude to offer you a dead woman’s things? Would you be uncomfortable?

The little strings of worry all cut loose though when you did the straps and said, “I’ll return them in perfect condition.”

He had thought you’d take them forever. But no, that was better. “I’ll buy you your own just like them.”

You quickly buried the sincere sweetness of the moment with a joke, “Finally this long con is paying off!” What else could you do, threading the strap of your beau’s dead, dearly loved mother’s heels? It was like being on cloud nine with lead shoes. Confusingly wonderful and supremely daunting. You were literally walking in her shoes. The irony made you squeeze your arms to your sides to make sure your sweat pads were in their place.

Alastor thought if all you were getting out of this was a pair of shoes, you were definitely coming up in the red. 

Negative. 

Losing out. 

He knew it was a joke,  but had it been true he’d build a home on his land and fill it with shoes and dresses and whatever else you asked for. A stage all your own if you wanted. He’d clap and throw flowers at your feet nightly. If you’d let him. 

Maybe he could do that anyway. Every night, praise you with his mouth in all the ways he could imagine you’d enjoy. 

The analogy carried through as he drove you to work. What was the price of admission and had he managed to afford it yet? Again, he fretted over what he was giving you in all of… whatever exactly this was.

He knew exactly what he wanted it to be and knew very well what you didn’t want. So, letting sleeping dogs lie, he instead considered what you were actually getting out of the arrangement as it stood now. 

He’d met women who just wanted a home to pretty up. You had your own space you seemed keen on so he doubted that was it. Sometimes women pursued him for his obvious disposable income. Images of you swiping the hundred off the hotel bar played across his thoughts. No, you seemed capable enough to earn more than your job paid. If anything you seemed to enjoy chasing down marks.

You’d made it clear your thoughts on marriage (“I won’t be bought by jewelry and promises of a pretty cage.”)  though he did consider what could ever make you want that legal lock. He’d had friends who would have liked the safety a husband lended their image. Women who didn’t have any need or want for men in general. But things like banking and ownership were easier with a husband. And if he was aware of their preferences, they could still enjoy their love lives as they always had tried to before marriage. Alastor had considered such an offer before. Seriously considered it. It seemed to solve all of the problems he and his lady friend had. 

His hands twisted around the steering wheel. He knew, deep in the marrow of his bones, he was always going to be alone. But the tiniest speck of desire to have someone love him and share his life remained buried in the viscera of his reality. So he turned down the sham marriage. What if he met someone inconceivable? Suddenly he would be an adulterer. Which was just hilarious to him. Such a thing could lead to a loss of employment and social shunning. 

Plus, his mother would shake her head if he opened her very deserved home to someone purely existing to make a pleasant lie for the world. Disappointment could leak straight from her grave and into the floorboards.

Everyone wants something, though. He wanted to be seen in his entirety and accepted as he was.

You?

Well. All the things you seemed to want you had. Autonomy. Adoration. Attention. 

His mind conjured images of you sitting pretty in your trousers in Beth’s. Moments like those, before he knew you, you had all of the things you wanted and seemingly needed. It made you upsettingly attractive to him. 

Alastor didn’t want to be needed by someone, he wanted to be wanted by someone who already had everything.

As the car rolled over the bridge and you both made your way into the city proper, his thoughts wandered back to the notion of rings. His mother never had one, so he had nothing to hand down. Would you wear gold, like the necklace you hung on the mirror in the guest room? Or silver?

He suppressed an embarrassed chuckle, he was getting ahead of himself again. Daydreaming while he drove like he always did. But this time you were in the car with him. 

You caught him blushing, asking if he got too much sun by the water earlier. Alastor’s eyes went wide and he laughed a forced ‘ha ha ha!’, punctuated by a flat and low “No!”

All you could do was laugh in return when he didn’t elaborate. The way he was gripping the steering wheel made his knuckles go pale through the thin skin of his hands.  But the wonky smile he had told you he wasn’t angry. 

He gave you a peck outside the theater’s side door, promised to swing by yours after work so you could grab some shoes, and drove off. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Excuse you, you’re not welcome here.”

You heard it but didn’t really register what that implied. Sometimes people tried to sneak in who’d been banned, but it was…not common. The list of people was quite short. You didn’t stop to think of them all, regardless.

You made a habit of calling Ruth by her stage name as early in the work day as you could remember, to avoid any slip ups. So when you called out to her as you worked the room after your performance, she knew to answer.

“Skye, could you bring me some water?” Leaning on the bar you watched her make her own drink, flashing you a wink. She always got tipsy and ended up behind the bar when she was in a good mood. Which was most nights. The staff didn’t mind, the real money to be made was in liquor and whatever could be passed off as beer. So the extra pair of hands was appreciated.

“You’ve been especially happy lately. Good sex?” The glass was slid to you. All you could do was nod. You’d hadn’t actually had sex in awhile, but that wasn’t anyone’s business.

Your smile barely had a chance to slip off your face, your senses too quick for your body to keep up. The awareness that something was wrong hit you fast and hard, but only milliseconds before you felt someone grab you.

Brady’s hand gripped your shoulder and pulled you backwards, something slipping around your wrists as a uniformed cop came around the corner of the atrium. You struggled to get away from him, shouting general protests to being suddenly manhandled. Your voice erupted, the first cannon shot of the war as women and men began to swarm and berate the detective.

Barely a shocked laugh could be choked out from your tightening throat. 

“You’re under arrest!” He yelled it, looking at you for just a moment before announcing it to the audience. An actor to his crowd.

“For what?!” Johnny pushed Brady with two fingers to the chest. 

“Prostitution.”

A beat of silence as the room collectively gasped. Ruth was the first one to truly lay her hands on him, snatching his hat off and smacking him across the head. The other dancers moved like a school of fish, tucking Ruth into the safety of their numbers with a simultaneous jostling of the detective.

The cop leading you away stopped, “Just her? I thought-,”

Detective Brady dusted his hat off with the back of his hand and shooed the man away. “Just her.”

Before you had reached the glass doors of the theater, you tensed and pulled back. “What the fuck are you doing, Mr. Brady?”

But Brady wasn’t looking at you. He was scanning the room. Staring into the small but fierce roiling mass of regulars, dancers, and staff filling up the doorway in front him and flooding the atrium. 

Johnny sized up Brady, getting nose to nose with him, “Show your face here again and we’ll need an ambulance, not a wagon!”

Brady leaned into the confrontation, “Now sir I’d be careful. That almost sounds like a threat.”

“Sure as shit is!” Someone hissed. 

“Hey! Brady!” You tried again in vain to get his attention.

“Hush. You confessed to it already, no point crying now.” The cop’s voice was harsh, his disgust barely hidden. His palms were calloused and scratched at the exposed skin of your arms.

“Someone! Someone call-,” Ruth snapped her fingers as the syllables teetered on the tip of her tongue.

Goosebumps rose across your shoulders like little tombstones. Your autonomic nervous system came to a crawl. The grip on your arm tightened as you had to be wretched forward and out of the front doors.

Her eyes lit up, “Alastor! Does anyone have Alastor’s work number?!” Ruth was met with confused faces and shrugs from the others.

You didn’t feel yourself begin to cry, it was a reaction to the fact you hadn’t blinked since you became aware Brady didn’t seem too interested in your reaction to this.

This wasn’t an arrest. It was a trap.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

[raysrays]

Fatal Attraction Chapter Four (NSFW)

18+ MDNI‼️

CW for the entire story: Breeding, Size Difference, Size Kink, Jealousy, Scent Marking, Age Difference, Vaginal Sex, Possessive Behavior, Angst, Twisted, Creampie, Angry Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Hair-pulling, Biting, Master/Pet, Light Dom/sub, Violence, Knotting.

Content disclaimer: This story is inspired by the amazing artist @PammyJammy117 on Twitter/X. I in absolutely no way own or claim the idea of the "Cryptid Rengoku" character. Please give credit to the original artist who inspired the story.

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three,

Y/N Perspective.

The walk home was quiet, filled only with the sounds of the woods and the clicking noises he made. I knew where he was taking me: that den. Despite the haze that clouded my mind when I woke up this morning, I managed to recall certain details I noticed while trying to quietly escape.

It was just as you would expect from a cryptid living deep in the woods. The den was secluded, hidden by a tree line, and resembled an ominous cave. It appeared cold and empty, nothing that would stand out if you happened to notice it.

The inside told a different story. It was warm, with the floor lined with coarse furs and wool from other animals. It remained dark for the most part unless a fire was lit or the sun managed to peek through. Towards the back was the “nest” he spoke of; he said he made it for me, for us.

It was exactly what it sounded like: a nest. It was large, with a base of sticks and wood, topped with furs that were different--much softer and plush to the touch. Truthfully, with some blankets, it could be the most comfortable place to be during the cold winter months.

I’ve also noticed that Kyojuro is quite comfortable himself. His fur is soft, and he radiates warmth like any fire. Sure, he’s a ruthless, psychotic monster, but at least he’s nice to sleep with.

It didn’t take long for us to reach our destination. Once we arrived, he led me straight to the nest, sitting me down inside it. Before I could say anything, I felt his tail wrap tightly around my waist, pulling me against him. He curled up around me, holding me close.

"I’m not going to run," I reassured him.

He scoffed, as if I'd just told a ridiculous joke.

"You really expect me to believe that after the stunt you pulled this morning?" His eyes narrowed at me.

"You don’t understand. It wasn’t what it looked like. I didn’t leave because I wanted to escape. I needed to leave because--"

"Tamayo." He growled her name as if she were the bane of his existence.

"You do not belong to this Tamayo woman. You belong to me." His tail tightened around my waist, starting to hurt.

"It’s not like that. She gives me a place to stay. She’s been extremely good to me."

"I also provide for you." His pointed ear twitched in annoyance.

"I will always provide for my mate. No matter what some human can do for you, I can do more!" He sat up straighter, his voice loud and confident.

I glanced over at the opening of the den. Through the vines, I could see the sky turning orange. It would be late soon.

While I’m completely aware I’m not much assistance to Tamayo as a whole, I can’t just abandon her. She has every right to throw me out and tell me to fend for myself, but she doesn’t. She gives me grace every time. I don’t know her well enough to call her a friend, but I can say she is a good person--a mentor with a passion for monster hunting.

I can’t just disappear.

I have to help her, find something, anything to aid her research. I owe it to her. A hundred times over.

I turn back to look at Kyojuro, his red eyes staring holes into me. Glowing red.

“You are not going anywhere,” he said sharply and to the point.

I could feel my body tense up. This was a cryptid’s influence--the influence of a mate.

Even if I wanted to sneak off now, my body wouldn’t let me, or it would make me sick until I came crawling back. If I wanted to make things right, I had to convince Kyojuro it was a good idea.

“Will you please, please just hear me out at least? Just let me explain.” I sounded pathetic, begging like a damn dog.

I could see his gaze soften slightly as he sat back to get a better look at me.

“Fine, I’ll let my mate explain why she needs to go gallivanting off to this woman so desperately.”

I thought for a moment about how to make him understand. I wasn't sure how well a cryptid could grasp human emotions, let alone human relationships.

To him, anyone who interacts with me seems like a threat, someone who could take me away. Of course, that isn't true, but it must be his animalistic instincts.

"Kyojuro, before I met you, I was living alone, just trying to get by on the streets of that village you saw."

I saw a slight shift in his gaze, a mix of confusion and maybe pity.

"My point in telling you this is because Tamayo was the one who helped me. She saw I was struggling and took me in, gave me a place to stay and food to eat. All she asked in return was my assistance."

He narrowed his eyes slightly, the clicking sounds starting up more intensely as I went on. The sob story wasn’t working. I needed a different approach.

"Without Tamayo, it's very possible I would never have met you, Kyojuro. It’s because of her that we found each other."

I saw a slight change in his demeanor; his tail loosened a bit.

"Tamayo isn’t a bad person, Kyojuro. She has helped me a lot, and I haven’t been able to do a single thing to return those favors."

I looked at him desperately.

"Please, I'll be your mate, I’ll come here every night, whenever I can, but please don’t make me never see her again.”

He looked conflicted, seemingly considering it for a moment, until his tail lifted me off the ground to look me in the eyes.

“Y/N, as my mate, you are to stay here. No exceptions. I marked you as mine, I claimed you as mine. And you agreed to it.” His face was so close to mine.

I couldn’t deny it. It was true. All of this, I agreed to it. I wanted to tell myself I did it out of fear, afraid of what would happen if I said no. But I knew that was a lie.

The hard truth is that I am attracted to him. I genuinely have feelings and a sexual attraction to this cryptid monster, one of the nine most dangerous in the region.

"I know, I know I agreed to be your mate. I still want to be. But can’t there be a way for you to meet me in the middle? After all her kindness and patience with me, I can’t let her think I took advantage of that and abandoned her.”

He hesitated, looking at me as if he needed to process my words.

“Please… mate, please let me make this right.”

His eyes immediately softened at my words. He set me down gently on the nest before hovering over me.

“Y/N L/N,” he growled my name in a way that sent shivers down my spine, his voice echoing and causing my heart to race.

“I will allow you to pay your debts that you feel you owe. I am not cruel.”

I could practically feel my body relax.

“However.”

I looked up at him.

“As I said, you belong to me. You are bound to me.” He growled as he leaned down closer and closer to me. “What I say goes. You will be allowed to see this Tamayo woman during the day and aid her in whatever it is she wishes to prove, but at night, you will be here with me, in our nest. Without exception.”

I took a deep breath. His demands would be difficult, but I had to make it work. This was the best compromise I could hope for with him.

"Yes, okay. I can do that," I agreed quickly.

He stared at me for a moment before slowly rising. He looked out and finally noticed the darkening sky.

"The sun is setting. You may return tonight. Blame your tardiness on 'your old friend' from the market," he scoffed.

I stood up, glancing at my tattered clothing. I wasn't sure how I would explain it this time, but I’d figure something out.

I felt his eyes burning into me, making me uncomfortable and a little hot and bothered.

His large hand grabbed my face firmly, his claws digging slightly into my cheeks.

"That man you were with in the market today. Stay away from him," he spoke lowly.

I knew cryptids were possessive, but I never realized they could get jealous. Oh, if only he knew how little Yushiro liked me.

I nodded to show I understood. He let go and took a step back, looking me over.

"Your visit will be brief. You will return here tonight, or I will drag you here myself." The threat was clear and immediate.

“Okay, I’ll return later tonight, you won’t have to come get me.” I reassure.

His intense gaze never faltered. Now that I know kyojuro has a human form he can change to at will, I wouldn’t put it past him to follow me around everywhere.

He gives me the approval to leave.

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

The walk back was just as annoying as I remembered, hiking out of the woods only to return the same night.

This sucked. I know I’m not in a position to complain, but I feel like he forgets I’m human. My body is sore and tired; all I want is sleep.

Once the house was in sight, I made my way in, passing a few of the other people Tamayo has recruited, until I spotted Yushiro.

He looked up and saw me. As soon as he looked me up and down, he gave me his usual look of judgment.

“What the hell happened to your clothes? And where have you been?” His tone was skeptical but with a hint of concern.

“I’m sorry, I was with my friend and…” I hesitated, unsure how to explain my torn clothes.

“…we decided to go for a walk in the woods while we talked. I accidentally tripped.” I gave a sheepish smile.

What a dumb lie.

He raised an eyebrow, glancing at my clothes again.

“I’d say it’s impossible to mess up your clothes that badly from a trip, but knowing you, you’d find a way.” He scoffed.

Before he could walk away, I gently grabbed his shoulder.

“Wait, where is Tamayo? Is she in?”

Yushiro nodded.

“She’s in her study, probably settling in for the night. If you’re going to bother her, do it quickly.” He shrugged my hand off his shoulder.

Before I could say anything else, he was already halfway down the hall.

This shouldn’t take long. I just need to understand Tamayo’s plan and coordinate it with Kyojuro’s demands.

I stood in front of her study door and knocked lightly.

“Come in,” came her faint voice from behind the door.

When I entered, she was standing behind her desk, putting away some books. She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze softening when she saw me.

“Ah, Y/N. How was the market with Yushiro? He said you ran into an old friend,” she said casually.

“It was fine. I’m sorry for taking so long. Did Yushiro give you the supplies I got?”

She nodded as she placed the last book on the shelf and turned to face me.

“Yes, I got everything. I was pleased to hear you have someone to talk to outside of the group,” she said with a smile.

I started to feel awkward. Any time Kyojuro was mentioned, guilt washed over me. Tamayo had been searching for these creatures her whole life, and here I was, sharing a nest with one of them, keeping it a secret from her.

“Yes, it was very nice to see him again. It had been quite some time,” I said, playing along with the story I made up.

Tamayo's gaze swept over me. “Looks like you had a nice time indeed.” Her teasing was unexpected.

Tamayo rarely discussed anything with me other than monster hunting, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. I needed to focus on why I was here.

“Tamayo, I actually needed to talk to you about your next steps for the group. Is there anything you need me to do?”

She looked a bit surprised; it wasn’t often I showed much interest in her projects.

She grabbed a small map off her desk and unrolled it, pointing to the northeast.

“We didn’t have much luck in the northern area, so I think it’ll be better if we start going east. I intend to cover the whole region.”

A worry gnawed at my chest. Kyojuro's demands about what I can and cannot do echoed in my mind. He had expressed his anger with me for going north--the same night he marked me and claimed me as his mate.

“So, how can I help with that?”

“You’ll travel with Yushiro and me. It’ll just be us.”

I couldn’t believe what she was saying. Why me? Yushiro hates me every other day, and I contribute nothing more than eating their food.

“Why do you want me to go? Wouldn’t it be better to send some of the more experienced hunters with you?”

She gave me a slight nod.

“Yes, usually that would be the case. However, those hunters are only ‘experienced’ because they’ve had the chance to gain that experience. You, Y/N, need to get some under your belt as well.”

Well, I guess that makes sense.

“Another reason is I need some of the people who have been here longer to keep an eye on the woods around this place. We’ve noticed some strange noises and activity lately. It’s quite possible there could be something out there, so close, and we wouldn’t even know it.”

I had to keep a straight face, but my heart sank. It had to be Kyojuro; he keeps coming around because I’m here. He’s going to blow his cover and be found out.

I needed to talk to him, to explain that Tamayo and the others were catching on to his presence. I had to warn him to stay away.

Tamayo tilted her head, noticing I was lost in thought.

“Y/N?” She called my name softly.

I met her eyes for a moment before speaking. “When will we start our journey? Is it soon?”

She shrugged. “I’m still working on the details. Give me a day or so to get everything lined out, and I can give you a proper timeline.”

I felt a little relief. At least I had two days to process this with Kyojuro. Maybe with more time, he wouldn’t be as aggressive or angry. At least, that’s what I hoped.

----------

The walk back to the den wasn’t as bad as I expected. It was hard to see in the dark, but I was starting to memorize the path.

Sneaking out of my room was going to be annoying. They weren’t exactly keeping tabs on me, but people would get suspicious if they saw me walking into the woods every night and not returning until morning.

Everything about this felt complicated, but I was sure I’d get used to it. I still didn’t know how to convince Kyojuro to let me go east with Tamayo and Yushiro--probably two of his most disliked humans at the moment.

Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure another Hashira lives in that area, mainly near water. Tomioka...something like that. I remember reading about him in the books I found while trying to learn more about Kyojuro.

The only thing I remember about Tomioka is that he looks like some kind of kraken/human hybrid. Probably like a creepier, more unsettling mermaid. But the book never mentioned he was aggressive or dangerous like Shinazugawa.

Maybe Kyojuro wouldn’t be so opposed to it this time.

I could see the den, a faint light peeking through the vines that covered the entrance. When I walked in, I saw Kyojuro sitting by the fire he had started, which lit up most of the den.

He looked at me, his ears perking up, and smiled with his sharp teeth.

“Ah! So you can follow orders correctly!” he laughed enthusiastically.

I was caught off guard by his demeanor. Before everything that had happened recently, Kyojuro and I had talked casually in the woods. I wouldn’t call us friends exactly, but he was always playful and entertaining.

Given the recent circumstances, I hadn't seen this side of him in a while. He must be relaxing a little bit.

Do I really want to ruin his mood by asking to travel?

He got up from his spot by the fire and walked over to me, his tail wrapping around my waist to pull me closer. He lifted me up in his arms, nuzzling his head against my cheek.

“My mate has returned to me, just as she promised. Now we can spend the night together!” His voice echoed in the den, amplifying his excitement, and his clicking was loud.

Damn, he’s being cute.

He seems so happy; I can't talk to him about leaving right now. I miss this side of him. Sure, his looks are strangely attractive, but what really drew me to Kyojuro was his personality--fun, happy, and confident. Traits I wish I had more of.

I petted the top of his head, scratching behind his ears a little. He started making a growling purr, so I guess he liked it.

“What did you do while I was gone?” I asked, continuing to pet him.

His bright red eyes widened, and he smiled. “I hunted for you. You’re human and very small, so I made sure to bring you plenty!”

I couldn’t help but smile. He’s so happy to do things for me. Even when Kyojuro was angry with me, he’s been attentive since he claimed me. He makes sure I’m fed, that I’m not cold, that I’m safe. He doesn’t let his anger get in the way of being a provider.

Honestly, I know a lot of human men who could use a lesson in that as well...

“Thank you, Kyojuro, I’ll be sure to enjoy it.”

He set me down near the fire where some raw meat and a wooden skewer were laid out.

As I started to cook the meat, his tail draped around me, and his glowing red eyes stared into mine as he smiled. It was a little creepy, but I knew he was just happy.

The meat was good; I didn’t realize how hungry I was until now. Dealing with monsters and monster hunters can make you forget you’re a human who gets tired and hungry.

I could feel myself slightly dozing off as I ate. Curling up in the nest with my cryptid mate didn’t sound so bad right now.

Once I finished, I looked up at Kyojuro, who was still staring at me.

“I’m getting a little tired. Do you think we could go to bed now?”

His eyes flashed, and his expression changed. This smile was different--mischievous and full of lust.

“My mate wishes to sleep already? The night is still young for us, my dear...” He stood over me like a giant, his clawed hand gently grabbing my arm and pulling me up. He leaned down close to my face.

“You forget, I haven’t eaten yet. I’ve been waiting for my meal to return to me since she left.” His growl was low and seductive.

My mind was a mix of fear and arousal at his words. I couldn’t tell if he meant literally or figuratively, but I guess I was ready for either.

“What do you mean?” I struggled to find the right words.

His hand moved from my arm to my face, holding it softly.

“It means I’m going to devour you.”

Blood rushed to my face. I didn’t care which way he meant it, I was ready.

He picked me up again and carried me to our nest.

He set me down gently and leaned back to get a good look at me. His eyes darkened, his smile turning stern and commanding. His claws tugged at my already torn-up shirt.

“Take these off,” he growled lowly.

My heart pounded as I lifted my hands to unbutton my shirt. My mind was racing. I’d already let him fuck his aggression into me this morning after the run in at the market. But I could definitely go again.

I started to remove the rest of my clothes, slowly letting the fabric pool at my feet.

I could feel his intense stare his eyes wide with need, his fur standing on end.

Once I was completely bare I looked back up at him. His gaze was predatory, almost scary.

In an instant I found myself being pinned to the floor of the nest and he towered over top of me. One of his large clawed hands held both my wrists above my head while his tail pulled my legs apart.

His eyes taking me in hungrily. I could feel my body heating up.

"You are perfect," he purred.

Before I could react, his long wet tongue ran over my face and down my neck. I could feel his sharp teeth graze my skin as he moved further down my body, licking and biting as he went.

I arched into his touch, wanting more.

Suddenly his mouth closed over one of my nipples, his tongue swirling around it. The sensation made me moan loudly.

Kyojuro smirked against my chest, clearly pleased with my reactions.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" His clicking starting up again.

"Mhm," I whimpered, unable to form a proper response.

"Good." He kissed his way back up to my face, capturing my lips in a deep kiss. I couldn't help but moan again as his tongue invaded my mouth, tasting every inch of me.

I felt him release my hands, his clawed hands traveling down my body.

My body tensed up as he touched me.

"You're mine. All of you."

Kyojuro's tounge pressed against my folds, causing me to gasp.

"Kyojuro!"

I felt a sharp sting as his claws cut into the soft flesh of my thighs.

His eyes darkened, and his grin grew wider.

"My mate is so wet for me already..."

I blushed, embarrassed by his words.

"Do not be ashamed, love. I will take care of you." His purrs in my ear.

I gasped as his tongue finally found my clit, lapping over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

I gripped the fur on his shoulders, unable to keep my hands off of him.

I could hear him growling as his tongue moved faster and harder against me. My hips bucked against him, desperately trying to gain more friction. My orgasm was building quickly, and it wasn't long before I was moaning loudly, my legs shaking uncontrollably.

"Oh, Kyojuro, fuck! Please don't stop!"

my orgasm came so quick, I couldn’t believe it.

I lay there panting trying to catch my breath. It was so fast, I was almost disappointed.

This clicking noise suddenly grew louder his hand releasing my wrists and moving to my waist forcing me to sit up.

“We aren’t done yet, surely my mate can keep going.” That monstrous smile made my heart flutter again. I wasn’t done and neither was he.

As he sat back I found myself crawling between his legs, his cock was huge, hooked, the large knot bulging at the base.

I was practically drooling for it.

His eyes looked down at me amused.

“Does my mate see something she wants?” His voice echoed lowly.

I had never wanted a cock in my mouth so bad.

I couldn’t resist trying to wrap my hand around it, he growled lowly at my touch.

I knew I couldn’t fit much in my mouth but I was willing to try.

I needed it more than anything right now.

I ran my tongue from the base to the lip, looking into his eyes.

He looked so aroused, so primal.

I started to tease his tip with my tongue, flicking it back and forth before wrapping my lips around it.

It wasn’t much but it was enough to get him to groan loudly.

I started moving my head back and forth, sucking on his tip.

heard him growl loudly again as he gripped my hair in his hand, holding it still.

“More.”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

I opened my mouth as wide as I could, taking as much of his tip in my mouth as I could and started moving my head back and forth.

My gags and moans sounded embarrassing, but the seemed to only edge Kyojuro on.

I could feel myself getting wet again at his pleasure.

I was starting to feel dizzy as I worked my mouth on him. I was drooling all over his cock, spit dripping from my chin.

“My little human, so eager to please me. Get on your hands and knees.”

His voice sent chills down my spine.

I complied immediately.

He positioned himself behind me, his tip pressing against my soaking wet pussy.

“You are so wet, my mate. Tell me what you want,” he demanded.

His hand wrapped around my throat and pulled me back against his chest.

I could barely get the words out.

“Fuck me, please. Fuck me hard, Kyojuro.” I whined.

He chuckled lowly at my begging.

“That’s good, I want you to beg more for me.”

He slid himself in and out of me, teasing me with just the tip.

“Please fuck me, please.” I was desperate.

He pulled out and slammed his cock in me, burying himself to the knot.

I gasped out in pleasure

His tail wrapped around my ankle, holding my legs apart. He started to move in and out of me at a fast pace.

He was going to make me cum again soon and I was sure he would follow suit.

He leaned in close to my ear and started to growl and click as he fucked me.

“Oh fuck, kyojuro...” I moaned, his tail tightening around my ankle.

I was starting to lose control again, my vision blurring as the orgasm hit me again.

His tail quickly moved from my ankle to around my waist, forcing me to stop moving.

Kyojuro’s cock pulsed in me as he released himself, his knot swelling up and locking in place.

I was completely full of his seed, unable to move.

I collapsed forward, my arms and legs giving out.

Kyojuro laid down behind me, pulling me close against him. I was already falling asleep, his warmth and his scent keeping me safe and content.

I had never felt so exhausted and protected in my life.

But I knew tomorrow would be different. I needed to convince Kyojuro to let me go on this hunt with Tamayo.

He wouldn’t be happy and he would probably be angry.

But I couldn’t let him win this time. I needed to be brave enough to hold my own.

I knew Kyojuro didn’t want me to leave, but he needed to understand why I was doing it.

I needed to protect him as much as he protected me.

I knew he would see my point of view.

He just needed to trust me a little bit.

And maybe he would see that I wasn’t going to run from him.

But guess I’ll find out tomorrow.

Next>>

—————

Tags: @fandomenbylover @emmenic726

[mrs-snape5984]

“There is a light and it never goes out…”

“Take me out tonight. Oh, take me anywhere, I don't care, I don’t care, I don’t care…” (“There’s a light that never goes out” by The Smiths)

Overstimulation. Disorientation. Light sensitivity. Chronic pain. Fatigue. These are only a few of those symptoms, which are torturing me day in and day out for the past two years, already. Due to them, caused by a disease, that is called “Myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome” (ME/CFS), I’m currently forced to live a life within the strict confines of my dark and silent room, mostly enduring my daily existence in solitude.

I miss being a part of this world….and fuck, I miss being a part of other people’s lives! Living like this makes me feel like an old piece of furniture, which has been stored away in a hidden chamber…not worthy enough to be used or seen by anyone, and yet still not bad enough to be discarded.

Some months ago, two wonderful people started taking me out to see their worlds by sending me pictures and videos of the places, they’re heading to. Thanks to them, I’m allowed to get a glimpse of places, I’ve always dreamed of being able to explore them on my own.

Furthermore, something else became apparent whenever one of these precious gems of human nature took me with them: I wasn’t just carried around in their phones, but they carried me in their hearts. This realisation blew my mind! It’s not only me, who’s clinging to them as if they’re my lifelines…no, this little German mess, that I am, became important to these people, too! Words can’t express how grateful I am for our connections…and that I was also lucky enough to find true love in this bond (I love you, R. 🖤).

One of those amazing people is my beloved sister in Christ @vulnus-sanare, who will soon come to visit me in my small world. Finally, I’ll be the one, who can show her the beauty of the tiniest things in my environment…always surrounded by the securing gloominess of the nights. Magda, my heart, I’m going to introduce you to the stars above my town, to the soothing sounds of the Moselle River right next to my house and I hope, we will manage to experience the mesmerising dance of the bats in the vineyards, if we take my wheelchair with us. I can’t wait to have you here and pull you into the tightest of all embraces, sweetie!

I’ve commissioned my dear friend @snake-queen7 to create this breathtaking piece of art of Severus and my undeniably self-inserted OC Jules on a nocturnal walk through the vineyards behind my house. Before I caught ME/CFS, I used to enjoy these nightly strolls in order to watch the bats with my children, so I sent her a photo of the exact spot, I want to share with Magda. Since it was Severus and Snapedom, which brought us together, it’s only fair to bring our beloved dungeon bat to this special place as well.

My friend, I’m more than happy with the outcome of your artwork and it’s a pleasure to share it with all those lovely people of our Snapedom. Please take my apologies for taking so long to write this post, but I wanted to honour your work the way, it deserves to be honoured. For this reason, I had to wait patiently for a moment, when my brain wouldn’t refuse me to do its job (brain fog is such a pain in the ass!). Thank you for everything, Natalia! 🥹

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

[mysafetycloset]

Pilot To Instructor Pipeline

Look, I’m not ungrateful. I’d be dead by now if I hadn’t enlisted. There’s nowhere else in Sol I’d have been able to take this shape. But the UGS isn’t a fucking charity; we wouldn’t get to exist if we weren’t useful, and only for as long as we’re useful. There’s a reason every single one of us…sorry, every one of them is terrified to ETS out.

What’s waiting out in the world for them? Best case scenario, their Handler takes them - if they want to, if they can, and if they’re actually at the end of their own contract. Otherwise? The Pilot Transition Program has always been a bad fucking joke. You get hacked up even worse to go work, I don’t know, at some hydrotherm farm down at crush depths or some flash-freeze deep space rig. Most are just too fried in the head to keep a "real person job" for more than six months. And that's being charitable.

Then comes the Instructor program. Finally - a path to a normal life for Pilots who qualify. Just agree to another minimum 4 year contract with “voluntary” renewal, then get ready for Reflash. It’ll be like you never let them put holes in your brain! Just sign right here on the dotted line.

Your average Pilot is too desperate and scared to want to look at the fine print. Yeah, I’m…y’know, I’m okay, right? I get by. I pass for something kinda like a normal human person, whatever that means. How many people didn’t make it? They won’t publish the fucking data, it’s all classified to the gills. I’d say maybe two-thirds of my cadre came out the other side, one way or another, to varying levels of functionality. The other third? Basically fucking vegetables, catatonic in some care home.

Even the best adjusted of us are…y’know, kinda buggy? We’re really cooked, neurologically speaking. Higher rates of psych issues, seizure disorders, acute onset dementia. I'm pretty lucky as far as that goes, for now, but sometimes I’ll be doing something and…just lose time. Minutes, sometimes hours. It’s weird.

The hardest thing, I think, is just that it’s…lonely, I guess. We have a lot more freedom, sure, but we don’t belong anywhere. We’re something separate. Apart. I miss belonging sometimes. Clear orders, no ambiguity, our only responsibility is to the mission, our siblings, and our Handlers. Things were simpler back then.

Moreover, like, I’ve never actually met a former Instructor. We’re all lifers. What the hell would I do after this? Go get a normal job? Get knocked up by some baseliner, raise some kids? Whatever. It’s bullshit. At least the Pilots get a chance to be something else, the ones brave enough to try. We’re more scared than any of them.

But hey. Thanks for the taxpayer funded tits and pussy. That’s pretty cool.

Interview with an Instructor, speaking on the condition of anonymity.

[exactlycleverpirate]

What happened to Lemuria and Rafayel?

A mix of facts and theory. I try to quote where I got stuff from in the game, but let me know if something is unclear.

This is a monster. For TLDR, jump down to the bold words, as this sums up the general idea of this post.

SPOILERS for Main Story, Anecdote 3, and some Memories.

(MS stands for Main Story)

What we know:

Rafayel is Lemurian (Ebb and Flow and MS Chapter 7)

As a child, a long long time ago*, he lived in a Lemurian community in the ocean, specifically in the Deep Sea. He would sneak away from his home to explore the ocean and the surface world. (Nightly Stroll, Whalefall Lament,  Ocean At Night).

*(What is a long, long time ago? 10-15 years? 800 years? He says his age is “24…probably” (promotional video). What does that mean? Has he forgotten exactly when he was born or is he alluding to the fact that he is much older? He made his vow to MC when they were both children (MS Chapter 7.11). Was that current MC or a previous reincarnation of her? If current, then he must be actually around 24. If a previous life of MC, then he could easily be 800 or more.)

Lemuria was believed to be mythical, and/or to have disappeared thousands of years ago. It was confirmed to really exist when, on December 31st, 2034 (the same year the Deepspace Tunnel appeared and the Chronorift Catastrophe occured), a tsunami and earthquake southeast of Linkon opened a rift in the ocean, revealing an ancient Lemurian city (MS, in-game article, and promotional video). When asked how he can be alive today if Lemuria disappeared thousands of years ago, Rafayel says to think of him as “a lost pearl that washed up on the beach”.

Other Lemurians are still alive. Rafayel’s Aunt Talia appears to be a Lemurian herself (his only remaining family) as she has known him a long time, knows about Lemurian ceremonies and other Lemurians, etc. In 2047, a Lemurian named K died. Rafayel attended his Seamoon Ceremony (essentially a funeral of sorts, returning him to the ocean to pass on and return to the water from whence he came), as did other remaining Lemurians (Anecdote 3). 

Now that we have that foundation to work with, let’s start with Louis’ Tale in Anecdote 3. 

For the sake of argument, I am going to assume that Louis got most of the story right, since Rafayel doesn’t contradict him on most points, aside from dismissing him in general, which I feel was to downplay how close Louis was to the truth.

They are discussing the opera Rafayel just performed in, particularly, the Siren’s Ballad. In the opera, the siren is a woman and the human is the man (played by Rafayel). Louis says they got this wrong. The Siren was “a charming, handsome merman”. Presumably this Siren is Rafayel.

Simple enough so far, but now it gets confusing.

The Siren (Rafayel) “met a woman on the beach, but she took his tail and cut off his scales”. This sounds similar in some ways to MC, but opposite in others. MC was a child, not a grown woman. And Rafayel got stranded on the beach (No way out, no hope, and waiting to die) and MC rescued him from death, rather than taking his tail and scales. 

However, if we assume Fragrant Dream was a memory and not just a dream (Rafayel acts as though this dream is significant somehow), Rafayel gave a scale, his blood, and his voice to save MC, and ultimately sacrificed his life for her, in some past life. The perfume (bitter like fermented aquatic plants, the same description as the potion in the dream) that brings the possible memory to MC’s mind is from Your Fragrance. Rafayel has some very strange lines in Your Fragrance when he is under the apparently intoxicating effect this perfume has on him. He says the perfume smells familiar, then goes on to say:

“It must be an allergic reaction. This isn’t perfume. How dare they use such underhanded methods to trap me…”

“Who gave you the perfume?”

“Are you trying to run away again?”

“I’m not going anywhere. You’re gonna lock me up again… You’re with them, I just know it. Don’t think I’m unaware of what you’re about to do. (MC name), I won’t fall for it again. Not this time.”

This all implies that Rafayel was trapped and locked up in the past. And that on at least some level, he feels like MC played a role in him getting tricked. (Which might explains why he considers abandoning her when she is drowning in MS Chapter 7.11. See an alternate theory for this here.)

Back to Louis’ story, he describes the fate of the woman. The Siren is on the verge of death, and he sings the Siren’s Ballad. (Later, we learn this portrayal of the Siren’s Ballad is inaccurate: ““Siren's Ballad” isn't a song of revenge. It's an elegy sung for Lemuria”.) According to Louis, “Ultimately, the woman on the shore passed away with a smile as he sang.” Obviously, MC is currently alive. Did Louis get this wrong? Was this a past life? A different woman?

Louis then describes what he believes those who die by the Siren’s song experience. 

“People lured by the siren's ballad don't die peacefully. Their smiles are just a mask bestowed by the Siren. Instead, as they near death, they witness bizarre visions as they're plunged into endless torment.” 

The man, Mr. Fallon, who died during the opera is described as having died of no obvious cause with a smile on his face. After singing during the opera that Mr. Fallon died watching, Rafayel goes backstage. 

“A searing pain throbs in his throat, pulsating in tandem with his heartbeat, rapidly stimulating his nerves. As he touches his Adam’s apple, he pulls out a new tie from his leather briefcase, a smooth satin entwined between his fingers. The cool texture gradually envelops his neck. It’s like sheathing a blade.”

This strongly implies that Rafayel used his voice for something more than singing, hinting at it being a weapon. I think it is safe to assume Rafayel somehow killed Mr. Fallon man with his song, presumably in the way Louis describes.

Another interesting thing of note in this part of Louis’ description is: “A blue pattern, representing the Siren, appears on their chests. It's a constant reminder of the sins they committed against the sea.” At first, I thought this may be the pattern we see on Rafayel’s chest in Chapter 7.11, implying he sinned against the sea, but on rewatching it, I realized that the mark is red, not blue. So I am inclined to go with my first impression that Rafayel’s mark is related to his bond with MC (since it responds to her calling out to him).

So, now that we are thoroughly confused about what has taken place between Rafayel and MC, let’s move on to the next part of the story. This is when everything takes an even more heartbreaking turn.

“The Siren returns to the sea, believing everything has ended. But he discovers his underwater kingdom has turned to ruins, soaked in blood. His people have either vanished, turned into bloody foam, or were kidnapped. His homeland has turned into a silent, deserted city overnight. Oh, and as for the name of this underwater kingdom - Lemuria.”

(Interesting side note: After this part of Louis’ story, Rafayel’s meal is served: “a fish laying amidst white rosemary”. Rosemary symbolizes fidelity and remembrance.)

Later, in his memories, Rafayel adds to this scene for us.

“The young boy sits alone in the middle of the coral reef, softly humming “Siren's Ballad.” Waves lap the shores, staining it dark red. The color blends almost seamlessly with the bloody setting sun in the distance. Those who deceived him have long since sailed away on their massive ships, laughing all the while. “Siren's Ballad” isn't a song of revenge. It's an elegy sung for Lemuria.”

He also remembers:

“The dying cries of his people echo in his ears, fizzing and crackling like a broken record that's been ground into pieces.”

“In the darkness, the shadows of those he personally laid to rest emerge and drag him down, lower and lower into the depths.”

Now, let’s talk about the painting Raymond bought from Rafayel. 

But first, let’s talk about Raymond. He is a former patient of Zayne’s with a congenital heart disease. In his mansion, he has a giant fish tank with no water in it. Instead, it has a dull and pale skeleton. (MS Chapter 2.2-2.3)

“Fin-like bones protrude from its pelvis. This skeleton lacks legs, its spine extending like a long string. Its pose is ominously beautiful, resembling a girl sitting cross-legged.”

I think it is pretty safe to say this is a real Lemurian skeleton. 

Additionally, Zayne notes that “According to the Akso remote monitor, your vital sign data has improved. The equipment also determined your age to be far younger than what it actually is.” In other words, Raymond’s health has improved, and he is unnaturally youthful for his age. Raymond even suggests he should be dead by now and asks Zayne if he is curious as to why he is not dead. Zayne admits to initial curiosity, but then moves on.

Before K died, he said “They took away my scales and drew my blood. Over and over again. I’m no longer Lemurian.” The doctor told Rafayel that K had endured “such agony”. This appears to be something many of the Lemurians on land are facing or trying to hide from.

In Rafayel’s Myth (Chapter 3), it says that the humans of that time believed:

"Every Lemurian was blessed with beauty. Their tears turn into glimmering pearls, their voices brought dreams of wonder, their blood made one live forever or could even resurrect the dead. Once you tamed a Lemurian, they were the most loyal, powerful servant. They listened to every command, even if it cost them their life."

Even if only parts of this are true, it shows that Lemurians are considered highly desirable as slaves or for parts. And the part about the blood seems to have at least an element of truth, given Raymond's health.

It seems reasonable to conclude that Raymond has been harvesting something (scales, blood, etc) from Lemurians to unnaturally lengthen his life and make him younger.

Now enter Rafayel’s painting. 

He used blood red coral, infused with Metaflux, from the ruins of Lemuria for this painting.

When MC resonated with the painting in Raymond’s house, this is what she experiences:

“A stunning oil painting hangs on the wall opposite of the sofa. It depicts a brilliantly blue sea with cascading white waves. Each brush stroke feels alive as if countless fairies are jumping out of the water.

At the edge of the sea, the water is gradually stained crimson like something is being torn apart, swallowed, and coalescing into a blood clot.

The gloomy weather, the sound of the ocean - a salty humidity slowly creeps into my hair.

A girl by the shore, the lower half of her body submerged in the water. Strange. It's almost like she’s crying and laughing at the same time.

The swirling fog carries a faint, ethereal melody on the sea breeze. It sounds like a song, yet is also a lament.”

Mermaid Song plays in the background while MC is resonating with the painting. The translation of it is: 

“A fish in your hand. Please burn with passion. Nets of moonlight. With coral, a prison. When waves kiss the morning sun. The scent of roses pierce. With a fish in your hand. Blood. Blood. Blood covers the sea.”

When MC visits Rafayel’s art gallery, we learn a bit more about this painting.

“When I was a kid, I had dreamed I turned into a fish.

I swam and swam and swam from the deep sea, seeking a place beyond the water's surface. Only to end up in blood-red seawater.

It was the first time I ever saw such a color. Who knows how many years I've spent trying to recreate it. But I never really could get that same shade of red.

It was always a slightly different hue, you know...”

All of this put together paints a scene along these lines for us:

A young Rafayel returns from an encounter with a human woman on the beach (MC?). He finds that Lemuria is in ruins and empty. He swims to the surface. It is nighttime on a coral reef. There is a smell of roses in the air. As the sun rises, he sees that the water is filled with blood. Perhaps there is a Lemurian girl there singing mournfully, or the girl in the painting is representative of Rafayel’s experience and the experience of other survivors. (Perhaps it is even her skeleton in Raymond's home). Some Lemurians are dead or dying in the water or on the beach. Rafayel hears their dying cries and returns those dead on land to the sea to become one with the water. He then sits alone on a coral reef, surrounded by bloody water, singing an elegy for Lemuria as the sun sets. He knows he was deceived and that his deceivers have already sailed away. Some of the Lemurians have been kidnapped and taken away with the deceivers.

("A fish in your hand" from the Mermaid Song seems to refer to the Ocean Emissaries (little blue fish) that come from making a Lemurian vow (though Rafayel also seems to be able to summon these on command). Is this a reference to the promise between Rafayel and MC? How does that play into the rest of this scene?)

Given how vulnerable Lemurians are on Ebb Day, I think it very likely that this occurred on Ebb Day. (Perhaps this vulnerability was revealed to those who killed the Lemurians by MC or Rafayel himself. Did one or both of them trust the wrong people with this information? This also might be why Rafayel was stranded on a beach in the first place when he met MC.)

So now we have some kind of a picture about what happened to Lemuria. Is this ancient or recent history?

Either way, Lemurians still live and are still being harvested for parts.

Louis concludes his story by asking Rafayel, “When the Siren returns to the beach…How does he exact his revenge on those responsible for Lemuria's destruction?”

To which Rafayel responds, “I think he’d first learn from them. He's gotta study their wits and cruelty, you know.”

Which brings us back to Mr. Fallon dead with a smile on his face at the opera. And also Raymond drowned in his bathtub after carving fish scales into his body. The painting has vanished from his home. (MS Chapter 7.3)

I think this is why Rafayel has a bounty on him, since those participating in harvesting Lemurians are being killed by him, but can't exactly go to the authorities about it.

I also think Rafayel is not solely motivated by revenge. He tells Aunt Talia “Not every Lemurian survivor can wait.” Somehow, what he is doing is supposed to prevent other Lemurians from ending up like K.

Talia notes that Rafayel has changed "After that incident in Lemuria." He seems unrecognizable. Past Rafayel was like a blazing flame, whereas he "now resembled a reef battered by relentless waves - outwardly cold and hard, yet riddled with cracks, vulnerable to crumbling from the next wave." Talia is helping Rafayel gather information for his goal, but she isn't convinced that they are doing the right thing.

What are your thoughts? Was this helpful? More confusing? Is Rafayel ancient or young? What the heck happened between Rafayel and MC? Let me know your thoughts!

[currentfandomkick]

Re-Making Ghost King function

Ghost King is a lot of OP!Danny and skipping other avenues to explore how that could work, so i have IdeasTM to add weight to the role and make it Worse For Ghost King or add costs to acting outside of the role.

Adding possible story ideas to each example i give, and up for grabs just tag me if you do anything :D

Ghost king is a curse and death sentence.

It drains your core and keeps you from your obsession. It is the realm’s denizens deciding ‘fuck this guy in particular’. The draining of the king’s core causes them to go insane (known problem) and the energy goes to sustaining a number of youngers and newly forming ghosts in the Ghost Nurseries.

Yes, Danny’s main area of the Ghost Zone is included in Nursery where ghosts of similar species and backgrounds intermingle with parents of neverborns, form firghts and later move deeper into realms, unless their obsession includes the living. Then they tend to gravitate to portal rich areas, and areas that spawn in their preferred time and regions of living world.

This means Danny? Is possibly going to deal with going insane if he’s crowned, especially as Pariah is around still. Realms are convening on if Danny’s a bigger threat than Pariah after defeating him. Go nuts on court and legal arguments between various ghosts. JLD may be called in by [character] to find a way to save Danny from this BS, while Danny is staging another prison break and probably forming another army on his side that he does not lead and like him enough to keep around but do not agree with him in terms of leadership. So his new friends are kidnapping him for his own good, while a trial is held over if a halfa can be given the cursed role of ghost king, and if Danny should be cursed to future madness

Go nuts on political drama, jail break fun and Danny debating if this makes him a McGuffin, and why his life is Like This

Team ups everywhere

Ghost king is the loosely diplomat between the Infinite Realms. And other realms sometimes.

Pariah decided war was the best way to get everyone to shut up and unite and maybe not make all their issues his problem for five minutes.

Danny is now expected to handle this as physically beating opponents to establish credentials is vital

Danny is shit at remembering his powers. Or how to switch between them outside his main ones…

Cue danny finding mentors to help and runs into hero of your choice for help (yes this means Batman isn’t the best to handle this, if he’s around have him shuffle Danny to another team or frequent meetings with a lot of heroes)

Feel free to unleash him onto Hero Team of Choice and make him their problem as ‘oh its me or the guy who’s main response is world domination! My mirror likes traveling and a few of my friends are activists. I dont want Conqueror McGee in charge of this stuff. I’m just here as the muscle/backup, and engineer. And space stuff. I am not the negotiator, i am the negotiator’s bodyguard.’

Danny is here to play Guard the Diplomat and act like he is not, in fact, the diplomat Legally.

Heroes? Doing their best to train danny up, likely bonding with him and his crew (tagalongs of your choice. But please let Val be there too, and calling Danny out on ‘crap tactics’ in a teasing manner.)

Ghost King is Extremely Limited in living world regardless of previous powers

Ghost Kings only have their full powers in the realms of the dead, and said powers vary by monarch and region they are present in

Yes this helps explain Danny’s weekly new powers if we include Clocky as a previous king who saw Dan become king and thought early intervention on powers might prevent Dan. Did not work as intended.

In the living realm danny acts more as a medium and can answer questions about the dead, but cannot use his powers anywhere but Amity as Amity is a Veil City (city that exists in both the IR and Living Realm) but is anchored more on living side… outside of the city wandering about as it pleases

Danny is mostly human in human word besides having an encyclopedic knowledge about the dead, burial sites, which death realm one resides in or returned from, ect.,

In the infinite Realms he is eldritch though. As a treat.

Danny is not able to be summoned unless he’s in the infinite realms. Pariah is the backup summon though. And he’s bitchy about it.

High crack, comedy and angst potential

Summons can be anyone, and danny is Done with Cultists and makes a point to tell them to fuck off with the power crap. He will take questions about the dead, and only if he gets a burger shake.

As King Phantom he’s basically a Glorified Realms Secretary in his opinion. He makes Pariah the King when he wants to be bitchy to people, and vice versa.

No rule against Pariah and Danny in a weird joint custody of the title as ‘i beat you, i won’ vs ‘you only meet the credentials half the time. We work in shifts’

Ghost King with Serious Limitations the way most monarchs have.

King Phantom cannot help you with… finding your missing friend. Danny Fenton can.

Fenton gets no access to his powers when going against what Phantom is allowed to do. Including his healing factor!

Much whump and angst potential

So many scenarios to put this in, especially if you have another person pissed at danny for not doing more with his own powers and get reality checked with danny seriously injured for Not Following the Ghost King Restrictions

Fenton making tech to help where he cant is highly applicable

I say engineer Danny working with Hero Of Choice as Gadget Guy and finding out powers afterwards and former hero status could be fun too!

And there’s all i got ATM, if anyone has other ideas to make Ghost King less OP or have other angles, let me know so we can circulate other ways this can work.

Tag whoever may be interested or have other ideas to rework the ghost king concept

[becauseimanicequeen]

Don't Ask Me for QL Recommendations Because My Taste is BAD

Bad as in TRASHY.

For your own good, don't ask me for recommendations.

I'm writing this because I've gotten some asks lately for QL recommendations and I wanted to spare you the pain.

If you still don't trust me (because to be fair, why would you? I'm just a random weirdo on the internet), let me tell you how bad my taste is so you'll know why I'm doing you a great favor by sparing you the pain.

(I also watch, and rewatch, series/films for ridiculous reasons, yet another reason not to listen to me. I’ll come back to this in a minute.)

Let's start with a brief rewind to a couple of decades ago (because it matters in this context).

The first queer content of any kind I can remember watching was Xena: The Warrior Princess in the late 90s and early 00s (I was a child/pre-teen at the time). It was such a pivotal point for me, which is why I remember it vividly. Not only was Lucy Lawless (the actress playing Xena) the most beautiful human being I had ever seen at that point, Xena was also queer and I loved her.

The series, though? It’s bad.

It’s over-the-top, contains ridiculous humor, face-palm-worthy fight scenes, etc., etc. (But, it was also the 90s, so it was quality television at the time, no matter what anyone else says.) It was so bad that it was ridiculously entertaining. I would watch it today (if I could find it anywhere…). That’s how bad my taste is (or how attached I am to bad shit).

That’s when the groundwork for my bad taste was laid. I blame THANK Xena: The Warrior Princess for it.

Then there was a huge skip until July last year when I found the Asian QL world, because I had no idea it even existed (I’m from Europe, btw).

(My personal story is that I fell into the queer/gay film world before the QL world, and the queer films I could find were made and released very sporadically. But ever since I found the treasure trove of Asian QL series in July 2023, I’ve watched 291 series/films as of right now.)

The reason I fell into the Asian QL world was thanks to a Short on YouTube with the main characters from Roommates of Poongduck 304 kissing. (Want to know what convinced me to watch it? One of them was wearing blue and the other pink, two of my favorite colors. Yep, that’s the reason. Told you it would be ridiculous.)

Since then, I’ve been exploring this rabbit hole and loving every second of all the bad shit that’s out there (there’s some great shit too, and some great things that aren’t shit at all, but they’re not really my taste because my taste is trashy, remember?).

I quickly noticed what my taste was pulling me towards and, in some cases, the trashier it was, the more I liked it.

(I’m talking about fiction here. I’m mature enough to be able to separate fiction from reality. Just because I enjoy watching a series/film that depicts a problematic topic, and sometimes do it in a problematic way, doesn’t mean I condone it in real life. I’m just putting this here as a disclaimer because people on the internet are easily offended nowadays. And I honestly don’t have time to respond to people who are venting their anger after purposefully misinterpreting what I’ve said, unless there’s a very valid reason, which there usually isn’t.)

So, what are some of my favorites that I absolutely do not recommend you watch?

Unless you want to watch trash, then, have at it. Just don't say I didn't warn you.

(Btw, if you like any of these, I apologize for calling your taste bad and trashy. But, if you like any of these, I think you already know your taste is bad. Also, if you like any of these, hey, bestie!)

Let’s start with the less extreme ones so I don’t scare you away from the start. After that, they’re in no particular order.

(With the issues/TW section for each series/film I include possible trigger warnings, taboo topics, what viewers/commenters have brought up as problematic, my possible issues with the writing, etc. I won’t list everything (because some of them would have looong lists) but I’m including some of the major ones.)

Kiseki: Dear to Me (Taiwan)

Issues/TW: Dubious consent, age gap, “adoptive” brothers becoming lovers, etc.

Both couples in this series have their own set of issues. Ai Di and Chen Yi are the “adoptive” brothers who become lovers while Ze Rui and Zong Yi have an age gap (I can’t remember how big of an age gap but I think it was close to 10-ish years).

(Before I move on there’s one thing you should know about me… I was born into a family with a varying degree of age gaps within marriages, from 2 to 23 years. Even though we’ve talked about the bigger age gaps occasionally, it’s never been an issue. I don’t mind age gaps as long as they’re legal. Does that mean I would hook up with someone in their late teens or early twenties? No. I would rather hook up with someone who has a fully developed brain, which science suggests doesn’t happen until somewhere in the mid-to-late-twenties. But it does mean that age gaps (as long as they’re legal) aren’t something I’ll be bothered by or judgemental of.)

Kiseki: Dear to Me is one of my favorite series because:

It’s from Taiwan, and the Taiwanese QLs are generally great at dealing with more difficult and taboo topics.

Ai Di is the feistiest, most colorful, and pettiest bitch and I love him with my entire ice-cold heart.

Chen Yi looks amazing in black.

The neon lights (because I’m a slut for that).

Also, the kissing (from both couples) is great.

You know, I did say that these would be series/films I absolutely do not recommend you watch. But I’ll actually recommend this one. Watch it. It’s great.

Unknown (Taiwan)

Issues/TW: Age gap, “adoptive” brothers becoming lovers, etc.

This is another one I’ll actually recommend you watch because it’s great.

The main couple (Qian and Yuan) are the “adoptive” brothers becoming lovers while the age gap is most prominent between San Pang (Qian’s business partner) and Lili (Qian’s younger sister). There’s also the fact that San Pang is part of their chosen family and has seen Lili grow up and stuff. So, if that bothers you, then don’t watch it.

The biggest reasons I would personally recommend it to those I know aren’t particularly bothered by taboo topics are because:

The yearning is palpable (and I love shit like that).

Qian would move heaven and earth for his family.

The great story.

The even more amazing acting.

Some moments made me bawl (and since I'm an ice queen, I get obsessed with shit that shatters my ice and makes me cry).

I know I said my taste is trashy… but I would actually give myself a gold star for loving this one.

Now, back to the real trash…

Love in the Air (Thailand)

Issues/TW: Dubious consent, SA, rape, MAME, etc.

Everyone and their aunt (or however the saying goes in English) seem to have an issue with MAME (the original creator of LITA and several other trashy BLs) and for good reason. (I would say that she improved a lot with Wedding Plan, which is the least problematic thing I’ve watched from her and it’s the latest series of hers, as of right now.) If she’s grown, remains to be seen. But it doesn’t change the fact that LITA has some issues.

Honestly, I just watch this for the visuals, as in the motorcycles and the neon lights. That’s it. That’s the reason.

I mean, if you look at the whole first sex scene between Sky and Prapai, you get what I mean with the neon lights. It’s divine. (I recently rewatched LITA for this very reason. A waste of time, you say? Not when you’re a slut for neon lights.)

Don’t watch this though! Just enjoy this gif instead…

I just saved you 13-ish hours of your life. You’re welcome.

TharnType and TharnType 2: 7 Years of Love (Thailand)

Issues/TW: Dubious consent, homophobia, domestic violence, MAME, etc.

Don’t watch this. This is bad. As in, really bad. And all the issues are in the main couple’s relationship.

But, since my taste is really bad, I rewatched this recently for horny reasons (it’s Mew, after all, and he’s got me in a chokehold for some reason). It’s still as bad as I remembered it, but I would still rewatch it for Mew’s sake (and because Techno is ridiculous throughout both seasons, which means I love him).

To be fair there are other, a lot spicier, series that I watch more often for horny reasons (yes, some of them are in this post because they’re trashy too), but none of them include Mew. And since I have to get my dose of Mew from time to time, I return to TharnType (especially the second season).

Big Dragon (Thailand)

Issues/TW: Dubious consent, blackmail, etc.

This isn’t that problematic in my opinion, but there is definitely a drug-induced sexcapade that’s taped and used for blackmail for a while. And that's how the series starts.

I recently did a rewatch of this and it was still bad (in a good way) and I loved every second of it.

What I love about this series are:

The visuals. The set designs are beautiful (especially Yai’s home and the bar, before he demolishes it). As a visual artist, this is speaking to my soul.

The chemistry between Yai and Mangkorn.

Pong and Park. Two idiots I love with my whole ice-cold heart.

And the title track because it’s addictive as hell to listen to.

Also, the sex (which my horny ass needs). Let's not forget the sex. Those scenes were also visually stunning, which made me love them even more.

Honestly, I'll kneel and bow down to this shit because it's that great.

Don’t trust my judgment, though, because my taste is trashy.

Only Friends (Thailand)

Issues/TW: Manipulation, stalking, promiscuity, etc.

This series is messy in terms of intrigue (especially from Boston and then Boeing’s part). The ending had some issues. The sex isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, either. I, on the other hand, would drink a whole pot of this.

Overall, I loved this trash. Mainly because of:

How visually stunning it is.

Sand. He’s a hardworking, good person. He’s also a proud bi!

How they depicted and handled Ray’s addiction and recovery. (I know some watchers were upset that the focus of the series landed on Sand and Ray towards the end while neglecting the other characters, which is a valid point. However, setting that aside, the way they portrayed Ray’s addiction and then his road to recovery in the last couple of episodes was realistic, and I loved it.)

The promiscuity, because I loved it and the mess it created.

Boston being a slutty asshole. The more of a slutty asshole he was, the more I loved him. (I know, it’s a me-problem.)

Boeing coming in and kissing (almost) everyone.

It’s trashy, it’s messy, and I love it!

But, I don’t recommend it to anyone.

My Beautiful Man 1, 2, and 3 Eternal (Japan)

Issues/TW: Dubious consent, obsession, bullying, lack of (or no real) communication, etc.

I love this series (2 seasons + 1 film), but I honestly don’t see it as particularly problematic. But I know others will disagree with me, so here it is on my list of trashy QLs.

I don’t mind Hira’s obsession because I know Kiyoi is just as whipped for Hira (even though he doesn’t know how to communicate it to Hira at first, especially in a way that Hira understands). Would I be okay with someone’s obsession and stalking in real life? Of course not. But, as I mentioned before, I’m mature enough to separate fiction from reality.

Also, I love miscommunicating characters, especially when the misunderstandings they create bring out all the emotions (angst, hurt, anger, sadness, embarrassment, etc.) and even the flight response. I especially love miscommunicating characters when they learn to communicate throughout the series/film. And this series is especially delicious on the miscommunicating part.

But, it’s also problematic, apparently. So, don’t watch it.

The End of the World With You (Japan)

Issues/TW: Blackmail, biphobia, cheating, etc.

I’ll be honest and say that I’ve only watched this series three times. And that’s because the biphobia is fucking annoying. In this series, the bi character is depicted as a cheater (which is common in QLs, btw). It’s an exasperating stereotype. Cheating has nothing to do with your sexuality and everything to do with who you are as a person.

(I mean, you can be a proud bi like Payu in LITA or Sand in OF. They have eyes only for one person as soon as they’re pursuing or dating someone. Give me more bi characters like this, please.)

We could discuss how cheating can be used as characterization in certain stories. But not in this one. Here, they’re basically using Ritsu’s bisexuality as the reason he’s cheating (since he’s sleeping with Masumi while having a thing going on with a girl, and then sleeping with a girl when he has a thing with Masumi), which is why it’s bothering me in this series.

If I’m going to tell you why I like this series, however, it’s for 2 reasons:

It’s about getting a second chance, a topic I love.

The sex (laser-focused horny Ritsu is my favorite Ritsu).

Check Out (Thailand)

Issues/TW: Biphobia, cheating, lazy writing, etc.

(It should be mentioned that I’ve read some comments about some issues involving the company behind this series. I haven’t dug deeper into this so I don’t really know if there’s any substance to the comments I’ve read (like official statements from the company or the other people involved, etc.). But I’m putting this out there in case this might be a potential issue for you (even though I’ve already told you that I don’t recommend you watch any of these because they’re all trashy).)

When I first checked this out at the beginning of this year, this series seemed to have created a storm of bad comments and reviews on MDL since it first came out. So, obviously, I needed to watch it because my taste is trashy.

And, you know what? I loved it!

Besides having the bi character depicted as a cheater (again, the use of this biphobic stereotype is so fucking annoying) and the sporadic clunky and stale scenes, I loved this series because:

It’s about second chances. As I mentioned before, I love that topic.

Best (the actor playing Daonuea) is the best in this series. There’s just something about him that grabs my attention every time. He has me in a similarly tight chokehold as Mew.

There’s sex (and my horny ass needs it).

But, it’s also trash, so don’t watch it.

Pit Babe (Thailand)

Issues/TW: Domestic violence, non-consensual, SA, age gap, etc.

This became popular. Really popular. I saw people comment about it everywhere. And usually, when stuff becomes popular, it’s more than likely reduced to trash quality by the general public. So, obviously, I had to watch it.

Did I end up loving it? Yes.

Honestly, the biggest issue this series had for me was the whole omegaverse thing (this was a new thing for me because I don’t come from an erotic fiction background, my head was rather stuck in fantasy fiction). And, from my limited understanding of this, they didn’t seem to fully commit to the omegaverse thing in Pit Babe, which was unfortunate.

The racing was also so-so for me, which hurt my soul because I usually love racing (cars, mcs, boats, etc.).

What I did like, however, was:

The chemistry between Pete and Kenta (and I’m so sad I only got crumbs of this).

Pavel (the actor playing Babe). I would watch and listen to him recite product placement scripts for toothpaste all day long.

The sex, especially the scene with Babe and Charlie in ep. 9 (even though it was mixed with clips from the racing) and Jeff and Alan’s scene in ep. 13 (because it was sensual, if we ignore the music).

The neon lights (have I mentioned that I’m a slut for neon lights?). I mean, just look at this:

I can watch that pinkish light all day long, even though Babe and Charlie are trying to distract me. (Especially Pavel!)

Dead Friend Forever (Thailand)

Issues/TW: Grooming, bullying, suicide & suicide attempts, etc.

Besides the issues listed above, this also suffered from lazy writing at the end. BUT, I fucking loved DFF anyway.

I never expected to love this series because it’s just a bunch of teenagers stuck at a house in the woods. How interesting could that be? Turns out, very.

DFF wasn’t perfect (perfection doesn’t exist anyway), but what I loved about it was:

The morally ambiguous characters.

The revenge plot.

The poetic justice.

The questioning of what was real vs hallucination.

The visually stunning shots.

The mask!

And Tan’s mask!

The beheading scene.

I could go on, but you get the point. I just love this piece of trash.

But, please, don’t watch it. You will suffer from brain rot. Trust me.

I, however, am currently rewatching this because I choose the brain rot. And my taste is trashy, remember? Or, perhaps I just love watching chaos unfold…

HIStory 3: Make Our Days Count (Taiwan)

Issues/TW: Dubious consent, age gap, tragic ending, etc.

Everyone and their aunt and even their dog have an issue with the ending of this one. And it’s understandable.

I don’t necessarily like or dislike the ending. Obviously, the bury your gays trope is tragic in itself, and, tragically, it’s still being used. That’s why I couldn’t find myself liking the ending, even though I don’t mind tragic endings. (Romeo and Juliet is one of my favorite classics, which people tend to forget is a tragedy and not a romance, btw, but I digress…)

At the same time, though, this series made me cry for a whole episode before tragedy struck because I could feel it. And you have no idea how obsessed I get about shit that makes me cry (since I’m an ice queen).

(Another side note: one of my favorite BLs is Once Again, which made me bawl throughout the whole series. It’s not on this list because it’s neither trashy nor bad, but it’s still one of my favorites because it broke me in the best ways. But, anyway…)

The best part of this series from beginning to end was the other couple, at least for me. This couple is the one with the age gap (which, again, doesn’t bother me) and I fucking love them! One, because Wilson Liu (the actor playing Bo Xiang) is such a gem. Second, because their first time was such a spur-of-the-moment thing fueled by a desire that went from 0-100kph in less time than a Ferrari would. And I loved it (just as much as the squeezing of boobs from behind, which, for some reason, appeals to me).

Also, the twins are so pretty it’s annoying.

Do I recommend it, though? No, because I don’t have time to respond to the clap back I’ll get when you come to the end.

HIStory 4: Close to You (Taiwan)

Issues/TW: Dubious consent, SA, obsession, age gap, stepbrothers becoming lovers, etc.

This one has some problems (especially the relationship between Yong Jie and Xing Si), but I love both the series and its problems (yes, I’m trash). You could say that I’m as obsessed with this series as Yong Jie is with Xing Si. Would I get this series drunk and fuck the living daylights out of it? No. But I would watch it once every 3 months or so. Oh, wait… I already do that. Because I’m trash.

What do I love so much about this series (other than what I mentioned above):

It’s from Taiwan.

Li Cheng is ridiculous, which is exactly why I love him.

Every time I rewatch it, it gets funnier.

The chemistry between Li Cheng and Teng Teng is amazing.

As well as the chemistry between Yong Jie and Xing Si.

The kissing is just as amazing.

The main fujoshi girl, Mei Fang, is so cute I can’t handle her.

And the bathroom scene! In that lighting! It’s iconic!

I don’t care what anyone else says. This is fucking gold to me. But, then again, my taste is trash. So, don’t listen to me.

KinnPorsche (Thailand)

Issues/TW: Dubious consent, SA, torture, Stockholm syndrome-ish, etc.

This is some next-level trash, and I fucking love it.

Two of the major relationships in this series (Kinn & Porsche and Vegas & Pete) are problematic at some point. Especially Vegas and Pete who have this whole captor/captive, torture, BDSM-ish type relationship. Of course, I love Vegas and Pete because my taste is super trashy (yes, it’s a me-problem, but I don’t force my taste on other people, so, for the love of all that is holy, don’t watch this!).

Other reasons I love this series and rewatch it from time to time:

It’s visually stunning! The cinematography is amazing. As I mentioned before, I’m a visual artist, so this is a very valid reason for me to watch it again and again. And again.

The neon lights.

The whole mafia thing.

The sex (because my horny ass needs it).

Playboyy (Thailand)

Issues/TW: SA, homophobia, suicide, etc.

I was debating whether or not to add this to my list solely based on the ending. However, up until that point, I really liked it.

The fact that every episode starts with a whole ass list of trigger warnings tells me this is my shit. And it was.

At times, it was so bad that it was good (until the ending, which was just so bad it was bad). The things I liked were:

The mystery.

Win (who played Nuth). His acting was great.

The chemistry between Nuth and Phop.

The tattooed daddy that’s Aob and his chemistry with Puen (there’s also an age gap here, btw, but as I’ve mentioned before, it’s fine by me as long as it’s legal).

The weird ass sex scenes (and the underwear).

And the not so weird ass sex scenes (like the ones between Aob and Puen and the ones between Nuth and Phop).

But, this series is trashy. Keep as far away from it as possible. If you still decide to dip in, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Red Wine in the Dark Night (Thailand)

Issues/TW: Obsession, blood, human blood bags, etc.

This is a queer film that’s BL-ish with some dark themes. Mainly, it’s about how far Wine would go to help the person he’s fallen for (or become attached to).

What I loved about this film was:

Fluke (who plays Wine). He’s such a great actor and I love him in everything he does.

Wine who is so desperate to love someone and be loved that he ends up doing some weird shit.

The darker and sadder vibe, which I love.

Irresistible Love 1 and Irresistible Love 2 (China)

(This is also called Uncontrolled Love.) 

Issues/TW: Obsession, homophobia, codependency, adoptive brothers becoming lovers, etc.

This is another queer film (in two parts) that is more BL-ish than the films I’m getting into below.

This depicts a weird relationship dynamic between Xie Yan and Shu Nian where Shu Nian was basically adopted into the family to become Xie Yan’s friend/babysitter/lackey. This is some weird ass shit, and I love weird ass shit so I really enjoyed this rare, uncensored, gem from China.

But, it’s also trashy. So, don’t watch it.

The next couple of films I’ll mention are (obviously) trashy, but also complex and deep (which is why I love them).

One Summer Night (South Korea)

Issues/TW: Obsession, dependency, oppression, etc.

This is a low-budget film from 2016 (so, production-wise, it’s definitely nothing like the usual stuff from South Korea you can watch on Netflix), but I love it.

It’s gritty, it’s raw, it’s explicit (an emphasis on explicit because you’ll see dicks), it deals with being a North Korean defector but ending up in an impoverished situation in South Korea, and it ends with a dubious ending you can interpret in different ways.

This is definitely not for the general QL viewers who watch QLs for the cutesy stuff.

And it's trashy. So, don’t watch it.

Dangerous Drugs of Sex (Japan)

Issues/TW: All the trigger warnings! Seriously. I feel like it’s better to say that so you’ll look up the TWs for yourself (if you choose to watch this, which I'm asking you not to) rather than me mentioning a few and forgetting others.

With this film, what others see are all the trigger warnings (and, yes, I see them too, they’re fucking obvious). However, I can see beyond that and watch it for what it is at the core: Two characters dealing with incredible grief.

Grief is a topic that often affects me and I can relate to it because I’ve had to deal with a lot of grief in my relatively short life. Watching a film like this where grief pushes the characters to their very limits will (often) get a special place in my heart, especially if done well. And it’s done very well in this film.

Do I condone the characters’ behaviors? No (especially not Yoden Ryoji’s). But I do understand that grief can send you over the edge (and in some cases throw you off the edge) because I’ve experienced it. I do understand that grief can cause you to make horrible decisions because I’ve done it (though, not this extreme). I do understand that grief can be self-destructive because I’ve been there. This film shows it all. That’s why I love it so much.

Do I recommend you watch this, tough? No. Don’t do it. This is not for everyone. It’s definitely not for those who watch QLs for the cutesy stuff.

But it is for me because I love trash. Especially good trash. And this is the best trash I’ve ever seen when it comes to gay films.

Anything by Scud Cheng

Lastly, I want to mention any film by Scud Cheng because…

And I’m an artist so art means everything to me.

Cheng is a screenwriter and director from Hong Kong. His films, the ones I’ve seen, are gritty, nude, and real. They are more on the art side than the others I’ve listed above, which is why they have a special place in my heart.

They’re also deep and explore themes like introspection (are we doing things because we believe they’re the right thing to do, or because external forces have “brainwashed” us to believe they’re the normal thing to do?), the porn industry and how it exploits young and queer men, death, politics, and love, to name a few.

These are not for the average QL watcher. They’re not for the faint of heart. They’re not for those who want an entertaining watch.

These films require multiple viewings. I’ve watched some once, some twice, and some more times, and I still find new themes and meanings woven into the stories. So, they’re complex and deep.

But, don’t watch them because I know you’ll come at me later. So, to spare us both the time and energy it would take to argue about this shit, just don’t watch any of it.

Now, if you still want to ask me for recommendations after all that, don't tell me I didn't warn you!

[fowlblue]

quick Artemis sketch for a new AU that I’ve been thinking about-

Kinda long and convoluted AU plot but I’ve been listening to TAI and the mental image of Artemis in a big old fluffy coat possessed me, so-

The Fowl Star deal’s been in the works for a really, really long time, and anger between Fowl Senior and Britva appeared pretty much immediately, as often happens with such criminals. Neither want to work with the other and Britva in particular is already planning on blowing the Fowls to smithereens whenever they come sailing over- but then while he’s wandering back down the Manor stairs after another meeting, he actually bumps into young Artemis, who Tim has largely tried to keep removed from Britva’s attention, because Britva is a dangerous man.

A fair caution, as it turns out, because Britva’s solution to hitting the Fowls where it hurts is to just kidnap the little Fowl heir.

Artemis is very young, enough so that he can be raised to believe just about anything, after all, and forget his former home entirely, which is wonderfully dramatic and no doubt a very painful premise to Tim and Angeline. Who knows? Maybe Artemis could one day be raised to kill his father- in the meantime, it’s a living warning not to encroach on Mafiya territory, because their son’s now in the line of fire.

Except Britva is shit at raising anything and largely just ignores Artemis’s existence, passing off his care onto any of his underlings who are free at the moment and making no effort to hide their criminal dealings. Artemis also lacks the sort of bloodthirstiness and toughness that anyone expects, raised in such a violent environment- instead of a potential heir to this new criminal empire, Artemis really just spends most of his time frightened and skittish. He’s also smart enough to easily know he’s “adopted”… he just has no idea who he really is, either, no last name, barely remembers what his parents sounded/looked like… for all he knows, they’re dead, and he’s in big trouble if he starts trying to figure it out.

I don’t know how exactly how Artemis would meet Holly, though he eventually would somehow- and given that Holly has some sympathy for humans, and Artemis wouldn’t be an antagonist to her in this AU and is moreso just… a very scared kid who just happens to be a genius, I’d like to think she’d at least want to help him, even if she can’t, really (not at first, anyways). I’m thinking Artemis wanders off while following around his latest babysitter (who’s probably disposing of some unfortunate victim or another out in the snow) and accidentally stumbles upon one of the few “fairy forts” up north and gets stuck there. Not ideal for a Mud Man, much less a Mud Boy so Holly gets sent up there to let him out of chute dock or what-not.

Foaly gets a little interested in the matter too, once he hears about it from Holly- after all, the Artemis Fowl II case was one of the largest missing persons cases in recent human history

Holly’s struggling with the weight on her conscious about whether or not they should somehow tell his parents (Foaly could always just drop the information in someone’s inbox, after all)- the centaur points out, however, that it’s probably not a matter of the Fowls not knowing who’s responsible- they just can’t get to Artemis safely. And it’s not fairy business.

(It could rapidly become fairy business, though- Artemis meets one, and suddenly, he wants to meet them again. It’s a welcome distraction from everything else he’s dealing with)

Artemis wouldn’t have the same resources, skills or the same criminal history as normal Artemis, since he’s never really been allowed to go anywhere else- this Artemis would, however, likely know how to use a weapon… even if he’s not very good at it. Instead of like… stealing priceless artwork or whatever, this Arty carries around a little box of matches, and whenever the criminal urge hits him, he goes and starts a small fire somewhere (always where there’s no risk of anybody getting hurt)

Other notes:

- Very few people in the Mafiya actually know Artemis’s first name (and they’re not allowed to call him “Fowl” under any circumstances), so a nickname that gets passed around for him is “Matchstick Boy”, due to Artemis’s aforementioned habit of carrying them around.

- What Artemis lacks in classical skills (no violin, piano playing or time spent painting for this Arty, no matter how much he really wants to learn), he makes up for in more street smarts than canon, such as picking locks or pickpocketing. Such skills come in handy for him in such a harsh environment.

- Upon eventually reuniting with the Fowls and Butlers, he’s most unnerved by Butler himself, simply because the bodyguard seems at first glance like someone Artemis has learned to avoid. Arty doesn’t even know where to start with Juliet- he’s interacted with other children even less than in canon.

- Artemis can’t be mind-wiped after meeting Holly due to the difficulty of navigating Russia’s cold and radioactivity for the People, so Holly and Foaly start humoring Artemis’s attempts at conversation in an effort to keep an eye on him and what he knows- the benefit of Artemis being a child is that no one would believe him if he did say something. Eventually, it becomes less about keeping an eye on him and more just checking on him in general, even if both don’t really know how to help him- sometimes, Artemis is injured, or behaves as if he’s in active danger. Sometimes, he just seems desperately lonely. He has no friends, no real parents or family… Holly is one of the few people to ever be kind to him, and actually help him out (if he hadn’t found the way out of that shuttle port, he may well have froze). Usually, Artemis has to look out for himself.

- While he knows he’s not Britva’s actual son (it’s fairly obvious, they look nothing alike), Artemis doesn’t hate him. He doesn’t really know how to. The man and his underlings are undeniably evil and cruel, but that’s all Artemis remembers, so he sees it as less a matter of right and wrong and more a matter of illegal/legal. Still, he doesn’t like hurting people- he knows that much.

And voila! There you go! Idk I just think it’d be a neat twist, “raised by villains” is a pretty classic AU.

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (Part 8)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 📍 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smutty💦

Part 8 - Trust

Detective Brady is sharper than you initially thought, though Alastor is (seemingly) unfazed by the threat. While you both explore the idea of ‘home’ a familiar face shows up at your apartment.

「Warnings/Tags: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, Detective Brady exists a lot and maybe too much, fingering lol, phone calls, almost our first fight, stress, Disney mom rule, Ruth is pretty alright for now, Brenda」

forgot to tag you in the deleted scene for TRDFAHS

M👻D☠️N👽I😈

Your mother always said ‘Anger is your sword and shield’. So you postured yourself as someone mad. One hip out, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

“Sir I don’t appreciate a man in a lady’s space.”

Brady bit his tongue, wanting to say something sharp.

 I don’t see any ladies here.

 He met the glares of the women behind you. “Ah, well-,”

“Do you really expect her to leave in her robe?”

“Aren’t you the man whose been stalking her?”

“Autumn I’ll go with you.”

“You want her to get into a strange man’s car?”

He felt like a fox about to be pecked to death by the hens.

“Now-! Alright I’m seeing I maybe,” he set your shoes down and slid past you and between the other performers, “got a little eager to speak to you.”

“Does Janet know you like to hang around burlesquers?” Someone said as his back was turned.

Like having ice water poured over his head, his shoulders tensed as did his tone. “I’ll be right out the door.”

You tried to hide the tremble in your hands, but failed. Ruth slid beside you, “What do you need?”

A phone. But the cord wouldn’t reach that far. You wanted to tell Alastor. You needed him to know that detective had you cornered and knew of his existence.

“Could you stay with me? I’m not going anywhere. But I’ll feel safer if I’m not talking to him alone. In case he tries to drag me out. He seems a little off his rocker.” You were genuinely scared he would grab you by the arm and pull you out of the theater if he didn’t think anyone would see. 

She patted your back, the others filing in to continue with their work of getting dressed and undressed. You took your time, trying to plan what you would say.

Brady felt an embarrassed blush take hold as the women moved past him with scowls and tsks. He could feel a little bit of his sanity slip back now that you were in front of him. 

“I have some questions about Tommy. I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks. We can head down now.”

Oddly, your mother also taught you, ‘You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.’ 

She didn’t always make a lot of sense, contradicting herself daily. 

Time to use the tried and true tactic, “I am sorry, detective. I had some trouble recently and have been keeping to myself… going home as soon as possible. Just trying to keep my nose clean. So to speak.”

Brady watched you look up at him with a face his daughter often gave him when she was in trouble. But you weren’t a child and you surely weren’t his daughter. “That’s no excuse to dodge me.”

Your turn to bite your tongue, “Of course, sir.”

Ruth was… confused. She’d never seen you so obedient. You had more venom in your voice after taking a hit from Tommy knowing a third could be close behind. Why were you being so small?

“Are you ready to go?” He fished in his pocket for his car door keys. 

Ruth felt the need to interject, “She’s not going anywhere.”

Perfect.

You nodded, “I won’t be out at night, sir. You know better than most about the dangers.” Your dangers. Your darling Alastor.

“No, no no,” an unhinged chuckle from the fraying detective, “You’re not slipping away again. I have my car, I’ll take you there and bring you home.”

Ruth looked to you, then back to the detective, “Is she under arrest?”

Brady rolled his eyes, “Of course not.”

“Then? What gives you the right?”

Technically, nothing. He didn’t need to talk to you. His lead still stood. But maybe you’d slip and say something to expedite his search for the radio man. Maybe this would only end with Tommy. But he felt something tickling the back of his skull. An urge to not stop pushing.

“I’ll meet you at the station tomorrow morning. Is it the address on the card you gave me?” Maybe you would, maybe you wouldn’t. You just needed him gone so you could call Alastor. 

He was shaking his notebook, key looped onto his finger. A nervous habit. “You still have my card?”

A smile, “Of course. In case any news came up. I’d have called but I didn’t realize you were so worked up.”

He scoffed. He wasn’t worked up. He was just annoyed. Maybe a little rougher in demeanor than usual but whose fault was that?

“If you don’t turn up tomorrow-,”

Ruth, taller than most women and some men and wide at the shoulders, leaned in.

Brady’s eyeline adjusted from yours to Ruth’s. Skye Scraper wasn’t just a pun, it was a cruel nickname she took ownership of. “Finish that sentence.”

The conversation ended there, Brady leaving with a huff.

You’d memorized the number the night Alastor gave it to you, too scared to write it down. He warned you though he wouldn’t be the one to answer.

“Is Alastor still there?” You tried to smile so you sounded less panicked. Ruth mouthed his name and pretended to swoon as you held the phone close to your ear. 

“Uhh depends, who is this?” Brenda answered, a voice you’d never heard but a woman Alastor had primed you for. 

“….”, but why hadn’t you thought through this part, what name was safe? Which was recognizable? You didn’t like the idea of this woman knowing your name. “Tell him it’s Autumn.”

“….” 

You laughed at Ruth, waiting still for a reply from Brenda, “Hello?”

“Is this a crank? Autumn like the season? I-,” a commotion, “Hey there! No. I don’t know. Well it’s past hours anywa-.”

Alastor was lying across Brenda’s desk to reach the phone, having wrestled it from the woman’s grip, “I’m here. What’s wrong? I was about to leave.”

“I’ll walk home tonight.” It hurt, physically hurt, to say it.

Alastor tried to keep his face neutral, “Oh.” Nervous fingers twirling the cord, “One second.” 

Harsh whispers, some clicks, and he was back, “I’m in my office. What happened?”

“Yeah Ruth is with me. It’s okay. I’ll call you like normal tomorrow?” 

“Should I swing by your apartment?” He considered doing it regardless of your answer.

“Ah, no. I wouldn’t recommend it. I’ll be heading to the police station early tomorrow so I’ll be asleep as soon as I’m flat.” Putting your hand over the receiver, you spoke to Ruth, “Thank you, we got it figured out.”

His heart sank to his stomach, “Did he finally manage to catch you?”

“Yeah. Or—-,” your voice cracked a little, the fear rolling in as soon as Ruth walked away, “Yeah.”

“I’m coming over to the theater.”

Cupping the phone you curved your shoulders in and turned away from the staff milling about, “Don’t, that’s worse.” Tears stung your eyes. You felt like you’d failed him. You had somehow, hadn’t you? The loose thread Brady could grab ahold of was you.

“If you can’t come to the alley I’ll leave after a couple minutes. But I’ll be there in twenty, same time as our normal pick up.”

“Alastor, that’s reckless.”

“Please, dear, I don’t want our first fight to be over my work line.” A calming breath, “You don’t have to meet me, but I’ll be there. Just five minutes, then I’ll be off.”

You decided the safest thing to do was to wait in the alley. If you saw any signs of Brady or anyone coming out, you’d go back inside and just miss the meeting. But the idea of Alastor being just beyond the wall, waiting all alone, was too much.

But how much harder would it be if the wall was of the prison? Or worse, dense earth under your feet? That’s what Brady was wanting. 

You hadn’t realized you’d been chewing your nails until his car turned down the alley from the back and you tore off much of the length of your thumbnail.

Your arms were thrown around him before he was fully out of the car, “Alastor, he knows I have a guy. He wanted me to go down right now but I managed to push it to tomorrow.” Alastor tried to decipher the words as you spoke them into his vest, “What do I do?”

Normally you’d have your own plans in mind but this was too big, this was capable of hurting him more than anyone else. 

He smelled like ink and smoke, a scent you inhaled as you tried to calm your breath.

A large hand patted your head, “Okay. You go tomorrow. It’ll be fine. Don’t stress.” Pulling you off he placed chaste kisses across your face. “Think about what you want to say to him and we can talk it out in the morning. Everything is fine.”

The reality of you standing in a dirty alley crying into the arms of a murderer set in. Then the little detail you were both killers creeped over your chest and took hold of your throat.

He was impressed at the strength of your hands as you gripped at his clothes. Leaning against the car, he offered you his most charming smile.

“Deep breaths, dear. Do I look scared?”

He didn’t. He looked like a magazine ad for French cologne or razor blades that left the softest skin. 

“No.” You shook your head.

“No.” He nodded. “It’ll be okay. If you don’t go, he will hound you worse. If you do go, maybe he’ll realize he’s got a handful of nothing.”

His smile blinded you. Bright grin as he rested against his car, arms open. 

“Do you really think so? A handful of nothing?”

“Did he say my name?”

“No.”

“Did he–” he elongated the word, lips pursed as he searched the sky for his next words, “have Tommy’s body?”

You laughed, morbid but preposterous, “I didn’t pat him down. Coulda.” 

Alastor snapped his fingers, “We’ll have to just assume he didn’t.” A moment of tension. The act of joking barely traversing the space between your bodies let alone reaching the stress under your skin. His hands came to your shoulders; firm, secure. “Did you want to have that fight now? About me coming over here.”

You rolled your eyes, obviously not. “Ala-,” you started and stopped.

“I’ll admit I’m being reckless but I think we can both agree my way is more fun.” Smile sliding into a smirk, he cocked his head and lowered it to get back into your line of sight. When you stuck your tongue out he took a deep breath in, relief. “Are you sure I can’t take you home?”

To which home, you wondered. He used the word so casually and interchangeably…

Face close to yours. Eyes solely on you. Perhaps the stage wasn’t as necessary as you’d once thought. Lips on lips, the feeling of his smile spreading as he returned the kiss. A second of panic as you realized you couldn’t see or hear or sense what else was happening anymore in the alley. Brady could have had you in handcuffs and you wouldn’t be the wiser. Not as long as Alastor’s mouth was moving over yours.

“I’ll call in the morning.” He said into your exhale.

You hadn’t opened your eyes yet. Not ready to return to earth. A pout from you. A chuckle from him. “I’ll be waiting,” You finally said. 

While you did your waiting, shuffling around the theater and later tossing around in bed, Alastor fell into a different kind of purgatory.

One he hadn’t realized he’d made for himself until you weren’t there. 

The house was quiet, almost eerie. Even with music on he found himself nearly uncomfortable. He shifted several times in his chair while reading, not finding any way to settle in. 

His bed was lopsided. Suddenly one side was too light. Multiple times his hand slid under the sheets in search of you out of habit. 

What a terrible feeling; to want someone. To know you could have them but they just… weren’t there.

It didn't make any sense. He knew he’d see you soon, in less than a day's time even. He typically enjoyed his home and its silence. Being alone was predictable and therefore comforting. Well, it had been. Before you. 

The feeling in his chest, akin to a magnet tugging through his sternum toward a distant partner, didn’t abate.

Only when he heard your voice again over the phone did he find a sliver of peace.

“I’ve decided I’ll deny I have a guy. And, I’ll never tell him about you. It’s safer if he never connects us.”

Alastor was listening, honestly, but he wasn’t really processing. His mind was worried about something else. The detective genuinely didn’t bother him but he had to agree, “I suppose that’s best. As long as we can manage it, to not let him know we’re together.”

Together.

You were together with him. An item. How spectacular you must be to be a part of anything with him.

But for how long? With a certain detective breathing down your neck…, “I’m scared. Actually.”

You could hear the smile in Alastor’s breath, it was odd but eased you. 

“He will never have enough to convict us. He’ll drive himself crazy trying. Trust me.” He soothed. 

Did you have any choice? “Okay. You’re right. I trust you.” Unequivocally so. 

He cleared his throat, “Sorry to change the subject…”

“Please.”

“I want you to come over again tonight. What do you think?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course, don’t even need to ask. I’ll always say yes.” All you needed to do was get through Brady and you’d be home.

But for Alastor, well, he wasn’t done asking the question. A moment of panic from a place unrecognized in his brain, fear of losing himself entirely. But what good was a safe harbor if he never ventured out to sea? That’s just a restraint then, isn’t it? 

Maybe you held a place for him even richer in its comforts than his solitude.

So he let himself drift away from familiar shores, no sails and no compass, “I think it’d be smart to bring over a couple sets of clothes. I can keep them washed and always here for you. Would that be alright?” He had wanted to suggest it while together, but Brady was ruining more than his sleep.

Oh.

The same silence from when he first extended the invitation, the deja vu not lost on you. You struggled to decipher the second meaning you were sure was there. Maybe he didn't know what he had asked. 

“I know it’s boring out in the boonies but, you’re welcome to just stay over while I go to work. I can come back and get you for rehearsals… I’ll enjoy the clubs or come back and make something for a late dinner for us, and bring you home when you’re done.”

He said it. He hadn’t really meant to, so he felt the need to clarify, but you also needed him to clarify just as quickly, “I -,”

“Did you me-?”

“Sorry, go ahead.”

“No I interrupted you-,”

“Not at all pl-,”

“Alastor for the love of God please don’t make me keep talking right now.” You lightly knocked your head with the phone a few times. Your heart was gasping for an ounce of understanding.

He chuckled, glad you were still very much yourself, “I meant, take you home as in, away from work. So, here. Or, there, if you’d prefer.” His face scrunched up, this wasn’t a conversation he had any practice in, “Anywhere really. I’ll drive you anywhere.”

“Alabama?”

He looked at the phone as if you were in it. Alabama? 

“Like— the first time you asked me over.” You added quickly. A terrible joke, a bad callback that made it painfully obvious you committed everything he said to memory.

Alastor rested his cheek on the dining table, laughing into the wood before bringing the receiver back. You always offered him an out of uncomfortable situations, “Well the offer still stands. I'd be willing to even venture at least halfway across Texas.” 

“The best half of Texas is on our side so that’s a generous offer. But, given our work schedules, I think your house would be much better. Time wise.” 

He let his eyes close as he felt the coldness of the wood, “Is that a yes then? To bringing over a couple of items… for ease.” Was it a mistake? Would he regret it? 

You were worth regrets. He had decided. He wanted you to say yes.

The weight of what he was asking wasn’t lost on you an ounce. You could see your window from the phone booth. You took great pride in your little apartment. It was your space and no one else’s. As a child you struggled to have your own anything, so you valued your home. 

But could you call any place so far from Alastor a home?

It’s just a few items. You weren’t giving up your lease. It’s a baby step. One you could easily walk back if you needed to later. It’s not like you hadn’t spent every night possible already since that first offer.

“Yes.” 

It was a plan that took your mind off cops. Have your interrogation, go home, then go home for a relaxing evening of jazz and drink.

The levity ended though the second you hung up the receiver. An obstacle between you and him still stood. You pulled out your bag but couldn’t find the will to pack it. Your hands were too busy as you chewed on your thumbnail again.

Brady noticed the uneven length when you sat down and set your hands on the table.

“Surprised you showed.” He opened his notebook and readied his pencil. “First things first, what is your legal name?”

A chill. You’d gotten your warning the night before to prepare something to say but ignored it. Your mind was flipping through words and images. Piercing all of it were the white reflective eyes of the deer along the road. You decided to lean into what you knew. 

“Autumn.”

“Really? Never heard the name Autumn before.”

“Me either. Made for an easy stage name.”

“I’ll need to see your birth records, just to be sure.”

You sucked your teeth. “Ah, unfortunately…all that stuff was left behind with my mom when I moved.”

“And where can I find her?

“Corner of North Villere street and Piety.”

“And your address?”

You paused. His eyes rose and met yours. The radiant aqua from the cafe morning was now an icy color. “I don’t give my address out. You know where I work.”

“But you’re fine giving me your mother’s address? That’s cold.”

“Not as cold as she is, I’m sure of that.”

“Fine, I’ll find it in the census records.” He flipped the page, “Tell me about the dates Tommy arranged.” He tapped his notepad on the table like it was the starting bell of a fight.

You wished Alastor was with you, but also wished he would never enter that station. “Apparently many of the dancers agreed, got a cut. I had no idea about it until he,” you remembered the man and his ugly tie, “introduced me to a man who was very forward. I insulted him and ran off. Lost Tommy good money, apparently.”

“And who was that?”

You searched your memory, “S something. Mister Stein? I honestly wasn’t listening much after I realized what was happening.”

Brady nodded, “And then he knocked you around?”

You winced without meaning too, “Yeah. Got me good.”

Brady waited for you to continue talking, but you had learned this game. People know silence is uncomfortable and will use that against you. So you let the silence stay. Let the awkward tension build. You had limited time, he knew that.

He caved first. “And… the next date. Last time anyone saw Tommy. Tell me about that.”

Lying was second nature to you. You had killed for Alastor. You could do this. Deep breaths, slink into yourself. You imagined Alastor choked on the park grounds, wet and unmoving. Imagined him cold to the touch.

“Tommy said he’d kill me if I didn’t go. So I did. Promised me he’d stay with me for protection.” Tears welled. Bloody hands and a large rock. “But as soon as he got his money he left.” 

Brady was writing, “And the man? What was his name.”

“Something foreign. Kerr-something. Or Car?”

He looked up slightly, “You’re pretty terrible at names.”

You wiped away your tears, “I had more pressing concerns at the time than trying to remember that man’s name. I was hoping I’d never need to know it.”

Brady hummed, “Yeah. And what did your beau think of this?”

Did you hide it? The flash of panic that rolled under the flesh of your face, “If I had a beau Tommy wouldn’t have made me do that. He said that himself.”

“Too bad he’s not here to confirm.”

“If he was we wouldn’t be having this conversation, detective.”

“Touché. Clever little lady aren’t you?”

Fuck.

You shifted slightly in your seat, looking downward in an attempt at being bashful. “That’s kind to say.”

“So why did,” he flipped through his book, “Beth say you stopped singin’ on Sundays cuz of your radio boyfriend?”

“Ah,” a weak laugh to hide the way your breath got sucked in with panic. The words ‘radio boyfriend’ punched the air from your lungs. “You must mean the rake. Took me for a ride at a club corner and sent me off in a cab to never see me again. Didn’t know he was in radio though.” 

“Well now you’re lying and I don’t appreciate it one ounce ma’am.“

“What?”

“Beth says he’s been coming to your shows for nearly half a year.”

No acting necessary for this part. “What are you talking about? I met him at a club. We arranged a date and he picked me up at—“

“Beth’s dive.”

“…. Yeah. Well.” He’d been there before? So often? And you never noticed…, “That’s news to me, that he had been there for so long, it’s got its regulars though so...” You shifted again, this time with a clear uncomfortable edge. 

“He stopped coming when you stopped singing.”

“….guess he got what he wanted then. A fun time in the swing hall bathroom.”  Anger. Unreal and unfounded. Trying your best to hide how confused you were.

“Sounds like a stalker, miss. Maybe one who woulda been quite unhappy to hear you were selli-,”

You cut him off, eyes snapping up to meet his, “I really recommend you reconsider your wording.”

Brady laughed with a huff, “A man dizzy with a dame can do some funny stuff. Especially if he hears she’s in a pickle.”

“Well, no knight coming to rescue me. I’ve sworn off men. It’s why I’ve been leaving work early. Getting home, reading, sleeping. He really did a number on my heart and my pride as a woman.”

Brady’s pencil stopped moving. 

“And his name?”

You’d never fucking say it. He could walk in on you moaning ‘Alastor’ and you’d still act like you’d never heard that string of syllables in your life. 

“John.”

Brady laughed and tossed the pencil to the table, “Let me guess, last name Doe?”

You shrugged, “We weren’t on a full name basis. He was handsome, he took me out, we fucked, I never saw him again” You delighted in the way his face screwed up at your unladylike language. 

“So, someone in radio named John. You know I’m going to be at every broadcaster talking to every John, right?” The nervous shaking of his notebook again. 

“When you find him let me know.”

“Oh I will.” He said it so quickly, so sharply you could feel it cut at your cheek as the words flew past you.

You pulled your hands into your lap, eyes firmly locked on Brady’s. “You look tired, sir. I hope my answers will help you. So you can rest.”

“I am tired. Of people jerking me around. You won’t give me your address, you don’t remember anyone’s name, not even your own, and you deny having a man I know you have.”

If you screamed would he have you committed? “I’m terribly sorry,” you leaned over the table and pulled a piece of fuzz off his shoulder, “my friend gave you inaccurate and dated information. I am genuinely trying to help as much as I can.”

Upon closer inspection, his eyes were more than just blue. They were dark and light, deep and shallow. Blue so far down it was nearly black. A blue so bright it was a cousin of white. Eyes you were sure would haunt you. 

“Help me then, Autumn.” Your brows rose at the request. He leaned back and away from you, “Just tell me what happened to Tommy. What your guy did. If he was trying to protect your name then we could find a sympathetic jury.”

Sympathy? Your smile was too wide, stare gone too soft. What sympathy did he have or would anyone have for you? Did he think you wanted the tender hearts of strangers? “Tommy ran off with a bag of money. He was a good man with a bad habit. That’s all I know. I have no partner, man or otherwise.”

A standstill. 

Brady felt a twitch in his hands he wasn’t used to. An itch to move. Unlike him, and a little frightening. 

Maybe he had been running himself ragged. 

Back sliding down slightly in his chair, he laced his fingers and rested them in his lap, “You know I’m gonna find out what happened, right?” His tone had shifted to something serious and calm. He said it like he was telling you a secret. Low but firm. Steady and sure. 

Those eyes. No, worse. What was behind them. You could see it clearly; unflappable determination. He absolutely would. 

“I trust you will.” A moment of silence again as you both felt the conversation die. As you stood, Brady did too.

“I wasn’t bluffing about him going to Beth’s for more than half a year now. I don’t know how you think this is gonna end but it won’t end pretty. Whether it was just your boss or all the others on my desk, end it with him and help us bring Tommy home to his mother.”

You adjusted your purse on your shoulder, “I don’t know how many time-,”

“Autumn. I’ve seen enough make up covered bruises to clock em from across the room. That’s the act of a possessive, immature man. Just think about what I said,” You opened the door in an effort to keep your hands from shooting to your neck. “There’s no white picket fence or church bells for you two. He’s a bad man. I think he may even be an evil man. You’re gonna end up hurt, or dead.”

A laugh bubbled up in your chest but you managed to stifle it. With an honest smile you replied, “We’re all gonna end up dead someday, Detective. I’ll call if I have any news. Thanks for your concern and … evident hard work.” You offered a little nod of your head before leaving the room and the station as quickly as you could without running. 

When he set down his notebook after returning to his desk, he couldn’t sit. Energy was buzzing in his limbs. He needed to run or swing or pace.

His desk neighbor watched him immediately pick up the notebook again and grab his hat. A few other men shared a glance as Brady rushed out, an unsettling feeling passed among them. 

“He’s still on that case?” One asked quietly, going back to his papers.

“Not officially….” Answered Freeman, standing at the window and watching Brady flag down a taxi.

“North Villere street and Piety, please.” He told the driver, not noticing his friend in the window.

It wasn’t near the station, nor the dance scene. He wondered if your mother would be any more amiable. What kind of woman would raise such a creature as you?

When the car slowed, Brady clicked back into his surroundings. He looked through every window hoping to see something different.

After a long pause the cabbie asked, “Ya gonna get out?”

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the seat. “No. Take me back to the station.”

His blood pressure rose so quickly he was sure he would black out as the cab turned around and drove back past the sign; Vincent DePaul cemetery.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Alastor kissed away the worries when he took your bag from you. Every detail of the interview was just hummed away. “Even if he finds me, without a body he has no case.” He reminded you like it was nothing short of fact.

“What if he gets one?”

“Not one of mine, I can assure you. He’d sooner need to kill someone himself and call it my fault.” A pause, was that something the detective would do? He shook off the thought. 

He was so confident that even though you knew it was just skin deep it still gave you a sense of calm. The bodies, where they went after he was done with them in the greenhouse, was the last step he hadn’t shared with you.

There was one thing you didn’t mention about the interrogation. 

You waited until you were a few drinks in, Alastor’s bowtie off and shirt unbuttoned several buttons before bringing it up. Uncharacteristically nervous about how he’d react when you broached the topic, you needed several deep breaths to get up your courage. Normally the idea of offending a man with an honest question wouldn’t ruffle you a bit, but once again there was nothing normal about you and Alastor. He made you so unlike yourself but not necessarily worse. Perhaps some consideration of other’s reactions wasn’t a bad thing. 

“This is awkward to ask.” It was dark already, the sun setting earlier and earlier. The buzz of the kitchen light could be heard through the screen door, the light just enough to let you see each other's features clearly. Leaning back on both hands for support, your legs rested in an unladylike spread down the porch stairs. No shoes. No girdle. No pretense.

Would he be mad? Or maybe offended?

“Brady said you had been going to my Sunday shows for awhile. Months before we actually met. Did you really meet me by coincidence?”

“Or was I stalking you as my next victim?” His head fell to the side, eyes closed and smile wide. “I saw you there, yes. And though you weren’t the best singer, I did enjoy your shows.”

You tried to see him without directly turning your head. 

“But yes, it was a coincidence. I had noticed that brute of a man a couple weeks in a row, staring at you so intensely. Word got around he had made a scene some time ago with a dancer.” 

You listened like someone was telling you your own story. It was an odd feeling, hearing someone recount your days from a different perspective. An unknown one. 

“I was surprised to see you at the theater when I followed him there. Even more so to see you in the alleyway.”

If he had said it wasn’t a coincidence, you genuinely didn’t know what you’d have done. You’d be scared and angry. Another predator lurking just past the tree lines.

Your relief must have been visible. “He really got to you, didn’t he?” Alastor asked, leaning over and letting his shoulder bump into yours. He was still riding the high of putting away your belongings in his closet and drawers. 

“Yeah. He gives me a bad feeling. Like…a brick wall barreling toward me.” You kicked a leaf off the steps, “Or like, when you see a big dark cloud on the horizon. Can’t do anything but wait and hunker down.”

How do you wait out a storm so set on burying you?

“Dear,” his hands rose and palms flipped up in a way that said he wasn’t hiding anything, “We get hurricanes annually. We’ve survived every one thus far. He’s just a drip. A sprinkle of a man.”

People have drowned on land before. A sprinkle could lead to pneumonia and that could lead to a wooden box. 

He tried to change the topic, laughing about Brenda’s reaction to the call and making plans for an evening out when things settled down again. You listened, but it was your turn to be half there. 

You could barely muster concern when you realized you’d forgotten your makeup and hair wrap at home when you were preparing for bed. What you would give for going home barefaced with a ruined hairdo to be the biggest stress of your week. 

The distance in your stare was weighing down his joy, how could he relish in the newest addition to his home when you were so burdened? Even in the moonless night he could see the faintest light reflecting off your eyes as you stared at the ceiling. Did you even feel his stare? 

He couldn’t let Brady poison his bed, and the man was clearly there now. Chasing you in your mind still. 

“Could I offer you a distraction?” Alastor slipped up against you, hand finding your hip. He could see your smile forming. 

“I wouldn’t argue against a distraction…,” you’d beg for one if you didn’t want to feel any lower than you already did. 

“Perfect. This bed isn’t made for three, so let’s eject that little nag, dear.” His hands slipped down your legs, “I want to replace your thoughts with better ones.” He pulled you to him, your back pressed into his broad chest. The way his soft hands smoothed over your silk slip felt like foreplay, so smooth and slick. Frictionless and gentle. Those same hands ran down and between your legs, following the line of your thighs until they found your center. “It seems you forgot something else.” Two fingers caressed your lower lips, barely parting them, “Not that I’m complaining…,” his lips found the back of your neck as his fingers rubbed gently at your core. 

It took so very little to get your body on board, wet and relaxed for his practiced hand. Your own fingers coming down to rub at your clit quickly when you felt your pleasure winding up. 

He sighed directly into the shell of your ear, hands working in tandem with yours under the covers. His back pressed against you, hips rolling into your backside in time with his fingers. 

“What are you thinking about?” Barely above a whisper as he said it into your heated skin.

“Fingers.”

“Whose?” His voice was deeper than his usual speaking tone. A tenor that made you clench around him.

“Yours.”

You’d never been so satisfied with hands before. With breath. With the sounds of a man. Never saw stars while clothed and not under the lights of the stage. Warm and wet kisses to your neck as you came down from your high, you’d never considered sex could be more than a man fucking someone. Nor that a man could find pleasure so readily with his cock still in his pants. But the way he hummed and growled softly into your skin was proof of his good time. 

You’d learned a lot from those progressively chillier nights at Alastor’s over the first week of your constant cohabitation. How much you liked waking up with someone just a reach away. How Alastor woke slowly, incapable of coherent speech for at least the first twenty minutes of his day. He’d stare and smile as his eyes blinked out of sync, rolling back occasionally as he fought the urge to fall back into sleep. Hair disheveled and soft.

When the weekend came, Alastor offered again to take you out. A promise to take you somewhere no detectives would be hiding about. A week without a peep, you were sure he had followed up with your mother and was probably steaming to get at you. But, for some reason or another, he hadn’t appeared again in the crowd of your shows. 

A week of going into work unmade and unkempt, you finally gave in and asked to be taken to your apartment early Friday. You’d grab a few items you needed, take them to work, and be back home that night. 

Your eyes were on Alastor when his car pulled up to your building. When he kissed you, your hand scratched at the shorter hairs at the nape of his neck. Eyes closed, you could smell him and feel him so much clearer. Perhaps when you were old together you wouldn’t have to worry about your sight giving out, you thought. Because you’d always know it was him by the way his skin on yours lit you up. 

“Pack something you’d like to wear out tomorrow night.” He reminded you before you pulled yourself from the car and waved him off. You lingered for a moment as he drove away, wondering if maybe the storm had been pushed off course.

“Oooh, who is he?”

Whipping around, you saw a familiar face sitting on the stoop of your building. An unwelcome one, though. 

“What the fuck are you doing here, Mavis?” Your bag fell from your hands as the strength drained from your limbs.

She patted the dust off her dress before bouncing down the steps.  “The names Ephi now.” A half sister, though perhaps a quarter sister would be best to describe the often absentminded, when not literally absent, sibling. 

“That’s not a name that’s a fucking letter of the alphabet. Mama would smack the color of your cheeks if she heard you.” You were sure you’d not see her ever again, not after she ran off to head north before your mother passed. She scowled, arms crossed as you brushed past her. “I don’t have any money so you wasted a trip. See ya in another decade.”

Ephi grinned up at you as you climbed the stairs, “Looked like he had some money. Mr. Big Shot and his shiny bus.”

“Lotsa people have cars.” Your eyes landed on the suitcase poorly hidden behind the steps. Hand halting its search for the building key as you could feel the stare of your mother looking…down? A weight slipping over your shoulders like a man’s heavy winter coat.

“Well I don’t need money or cars. I need a place to crash.”

Your head fell. You could feel it coming. The gust of wind dragging the clouds slowly towards you. No, the storm wasn’t off course. It was just building momentum.

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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