#Lug Predator

[chloeesstuff-blog]

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Cage Predator & Davie Falkner

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Jake Muller & Sherry Birkin

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Jedidiah Hewitt & Glen

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Jedidiah Hewitt & Glenda

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Wrong Rose Predator & Ruby

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[rawjutsu]

chapter two.

pairing: snow leopard hybrid!gojo x bunny hybrid!femreader

keep up here

while you’re not fully adjusted to city life yet, it’s getting easier. you don’t think you’ll ever be completely accustomed to living with gojo satoru, but that’s getting a little easier too.

you’ve learned some survival tricks. like always showering before him. and always putting on a sweatshirt—or at least a bra—before you leave your room, because he loves keeping the ac cranked to arctic tundra levels. another thing?

don’t try to befriend him. because he will take it too far.

you’d figured, since you're stuck living with this guy until you can afford your own place, you might as well try to get along. you can’t help it if your rabbit instincts scream predator every time he so much as glances your way—but you can try to ignore them.

it starts with dinner. you’ll never forget the first time you sit across from him at the little kitchen table, sliding over a plate of leftover sushi rolls with a shaky little “thanks for letting me crash here” smile.

satoru freezes mid-bite, blinking like a cartoon character. then he flashes you that grin that makes your fur stand on end.

“aww, how sweet. bunny girl’s finally coming around.”

now… dinner becomes routine.

you still flinch when his knee bumps yours under the table, but the urge to flee has dulled into a low, steady thrum instead of a full-blown siren.

dinner was tolerable. then satoru started insisting on tagging along for errands. he called them “roomie bonding days.” grocery shopping. helping you lug a new dresser up five flights of stairs. even walking with you to the landlord’s office to drop off rent checks.

it was weirdly domestic. and the rabbit part of you—wired to crave comfort and routine—secretly loved it, no matter how hard you tried to stifle it.

like now, when you’re checking out at the grocery store and satoru swipes his card before you even unzip your wallet, the old lady cashier squints at the two of you and makes a little noise.

“you and your boyfriend make quite the pair,” she says, nodding as she bags up satoru’s absolutely unholy mountain of meat.

you laugh politely. “he’s not my boyfriend, ma’am.”

satoru’s already grinning. “nah, but she wishes.”

you scowl, but the old woman completely ignores him.

“oh, that’s a relief,” she says, casual as anything.

you both blink. “��oh?”

she hesitates, then continues, “well… the world’s different now, i know that. but a small hybrid like yourself should really be with others like you. biology is biology,” she adds, like she’s saying something wise, not offensive. she flashes gojo a tight little smile. “it just wouldn’t work.”

you open your mouth to laugh awkwardly—keep the peace, be nice—but then something warm wraps around your waist.

you freeze. it’s satoru’s tail.

it curls around you like it belongs there.

“oh, it works, lady,” he says, dangerously smooth. “matter fact—”

he reaches toward the display near the register, grabs something, and slams it on the counter with a smirk.

“—ring this up for me.”

you look down. your brain short-circuits. a box of extra extra large condoms stares back at you.

the cashier sputters like she’s choking on air.

your mouth opens. no sound comes out.

then satoru hums, looking thoughtful. “hmm… actually, we don’t need ’em.” he grabs your hand and the rest of the bags in one go, then drags you out of the store before you can even breathe.

satoru, to his credit, doesn’t say anything about the deep flush still burning across your cheeks as you storm down the sidewalk, fuming and trying to match his long-legged stride.

“she was an old lady, satoru! you could’ve just ignored her!”

he shrugs, cool and unbothered. “i don’t stand for discrimination.”

“no, you just love humiliating me!”

“humiliating?? that old hag should be the one humiliated.”

“oh my god—the condoms, satoru!”

he stops walking abruptly, turning to face you. there’s that little smile again—and even with his sunglasses on, you can feel the glint in his eyes.

“huh. so that’s what this is about. you mad i didn’t actually buy them?” his voice drops an octave. “don’t worry, little bunny. i’ve got some back home.”

your eyes go wide. "you're an idiot!" you hiss, dropping your grocery bags to the hot concrete. “and you can carry these yourself!”

you whirl around and storm off toward the apartment, small fists clenched at your sides, ears twitching in agitation. your face is burning so bad it practically sizzles under the sun.

you’re back at the apartment, curled up on the sofa and angrily flipping through channels, trying not to feel guilty about ditching him to carry all those bags in the heat.

when he finally walks in, he’s glistening with sweat, white bangs plastered to his forehead, tail swishing like an agitated metronome.

he drops the bags on the kitchen counter with a dramatic sigh. “do you not know what a joke is?”

you scoff. “a joke? it’s a joke to imply you’re having sex with me?”

gojo groans, dragging a hand down his face. “that wasn’t about you. i was putting that crusty old fossil in her place.” he mutters the next part under his breath, “clearly we’re not having sex…”

you don’t hear it.

you frown. “you kept going, even after we left the store!”

he sighs again, this time deeper. “okay. yeah. that was too much. my bad.”

you blink. he looks—ugh—actually guilty. which is disarming. and yeah… he’s still sweaty. you sigh.

“it was a lot. but… i get it. in your own ‘satoru’ way, you were just standing up for yourself. or… for us, i guess. it’s not easy dealing with people like that.”.”

he doesn’t respond, just gives a vague nod, and you grimace.

“also,” you say quickly, “not to excuse your behavior or like… totally erase my anger, ‘cause i am still upset—but i get kind of extra sensitive when my heat’s coming. around certain themes.”

gojo’s expression flickers.

“themes?” he echoes, but his voice is suddenly lower. throatier.

you wave your hands like a maniac. “like—sex themes! i mean—not like sex-sex, just… the concept. and it’s hot! like, the weather is hot! it’s just… a bad combo!”

he lets out a slow exhale and makes a small “oh” sound, lips forming a perfect o. but there’s a tightness in his jaw you didn’t notice before. you think he’s looking at you, but you can’t really tell behind those stupid sunglasses.

“gotcha,” he says a little too fast. “so—no more sex jokes for now.”

“forever,” you deadpan.

“right. yeah.” he waves you off vaguely, turning around and practically bolting toward the hallway. “i’m gonna shower. i’m all sweaty thanks to you. don't bother me.”

he disappears into the bathroom before you can blink.

you frown. that was weirdly abrupt.

later that night, you’re buried in your sheets, eyes wide open as you stare at the ceiling in the dark.

you’ve flipped your pillow three times. turned on the fan. turned it off. even pulled out your phone and scrolled mindlessly through apps you weren’t even looking at.

but nothing helps.

because all you can think about is that damn box.

extra. extra. large.

you groan and bury your face in the pillow.

did he grab it just to mess with the lady? or… had he actually known exactly what size to reach for?

you shift in bed, thighs pressing together as an ache begins to settle deep in your belly. it’s stupid. hormonal. biological. you’re pre-heat, and your body’s craving comfort, intimacy—touch. but even knowing that, your brain still clings to the memory of gojo’s smug grin, his tail wrapped protectively around your waist.

your ears flatten in frustration. you are not going to think about him while you do this.

but ten minutes later, you're digging in your nightstand, grabbing your little pink vibrator. the second it buzzes to life, your breath catches.

you bite your lip and carefully pull your thin shorts down, exposing skin that’s already flushed and damp from the heat. the vibrator presses against your inner thigh first, teasing your sensitive skin as you close your eyes, trying to drown out every noisy thought.

your breath hitches when you finally slide it between your folds, soft and slick. the vibration throbs in waves, teasing your clit, sending sharp jolts of pleasure that make your toes curl.

your free hand grips the sheets tight as your hips start to rock involuntarily, seeking that perfect angle, that perfect pressure. your body trembles with each pulse, hot and sticky with sweat and desire.

you try not to think about him—his long legs, the way his tail sways, those mischievous dark eyes behind the sunglasses—but every memory is like a spark that sets your skin on fire. you imagine his fangs sinking into your neck, his rough tongue flicking over your skin, and your knees clench tighter.

the buzzing grows louder in your ears, mixing with your ragged breathing and the faintest whimpers that escape your lips. your ears flatten, cheeks burning as you squeeze your eyes shut, picturing the way your nose scrunches when you glare at him, how your floppy ears pull back in fear or frustration.

you’re so close now, hips trembling with the delicious tension, your heartbeat pounding in your ears like thunder.

you don’t know it, but just a wall away, satoru’s eyes snap open.

his ears twitch.

and then flatten back against his head.

the low, steady hum of your vibrator is faint—but he hears it. he can’t not hear it. his hearing picks up everything. the way your breathing catches. the soft shuffle of your sheets.

and that tiny, nearly inaudible moan.

gojo clenches his jaw so hard it aches. his fists twist in his sheets. his cock is already hard, throbbing against the band of his sweats, angry and hot and desperate.

but he doesn't move.

he just lays there, teeth bared, tail flicking in agitation.

this is your fault.

you're the one touching yourself.

you're the one being unbearably cute and annoyingly sexy without even trying.

and he's the one losing sleep over it.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

taglist: @satorupied, @mashtura, @auucz, @littlemissfix-itfic, @luv3nti, @sukunawhores, @nx-0w, @rh-tg1, @sugacor3, @victoria1676, @arabellasolstice, @qardasngan, @entr4p3, @maddy24207, @maah-sama, @izzybluebells, @penguingirlanzu, @levislug, @moonlight-inthe-sea, @coffeeluvr96, @surethingmoto, @shokosbunny, @kaboomkayla, @ddumgum, @nanam1nz, @universal-s1ut, @sixtiesweetheart, @sleepyyammy, @ilovebeansyay, @mxlktae, @gojousatoruswifey, @haithamsbb, @storuhrts, @satorugirlie, @aldebrana, @00anymous00, @lilychan176, @xxwelshqueenxx, @misswonderfrojustice, @thikcems, @pickledsoda, @19catspiledontopofeachother, @fanf1ctionislife

[gotaksboyfie]

hi! i love your work so much and that you like so many fandoms that i like too 8D! your fics and headcanons are so fun to read, I may have read a lot of them in a night… 👉👈 and i really liked your Baku/Hyuntak x short reader as a fellow short person who hates it sometimes too </3

is it also possible for a Geum Seongje one but with a short female reader? either fic or headcanons are fine, whichever is best for you :) but maybe with a short female reader who’s insecure with her short height ?

thank you very much and please take as much time as you need too, I hope all is well and thank you for your writing :)

keum seongje with a short partner

general

gif creds: @billornot

» holds back a barely concealed laugh when he first sees you, biting his lip to try and stop it. he didn't even know you could be in high school and still be that height. seeing you get annoyed at his reaction makes him even more interested in you, constantly pushing your buttons

» purposely stashes stuff way out of your reach, so you're forced to ask him for help. so what if seongje spends a little bit of time staring at how your shirt rides up? a little treat for his eyes never hurts

» he acts like he never wants to do things for you, but he's always giddy about it on the inside. like yes seongje, you are the best boyfriend in the whole world for opening the jar of pickles. he lives for your validation—or anything to stroke his ego, really

» rests his arm on your head. c'mon, you can't get mad at him when your head is literally right there. it's the perfect height for it. maybe you should've drank some more milk as a kid

» obsessed with the size difference, and he's very loud with it. never fails to mention how small you are compared to him, or how you basically need him there at all times to help you (especially loves whenever you cry about him "not fitting" during sex)

» if he loses his glasses somehow, be very careful. seongje cannot see at all, so paired with your height..? he's never letting go of your wrist. if you wander off, he will genuinely not be able to spot you unless you're within two feet of him (two feet is pushing it, more like 10 inches)

» picks you up and moves you wherever. he'll just grab you by your shoulders and plop you down where he wants you, kinda like he's moving a life sized chess pawn. sometimes the second hand isn't even required, he'll just wrap and arm around you and lug you like a log

» forgets how fragile you are, and accidentally hits you with the same strength he uses on his friends (if you can even call them that?). panics when he sees the bruise blossoming and has to remember to control his strength around you

» won't notice if you're insecure about your height because he's not very observant with those things. why should you? seongje loves that part of you, so why don't you think the same as him ??? a little self centered on that front but does make an effort to try and ease your insecurities (albeit in rather odd ways.. like sending you links to articles about short people living longer that are obviously click bait. but hey, at least he's trying?)

» jokingly refers to you as a little lamb, but the nickname sticks. you think it's fitting, seeing how he's similar to a wolf (haha) and you're like his prey. don't let him know you like it though, or else he'll go a little feral about the predator/prey dynamics

fin

a/n off topic but did yall see the ateez comeback (っ˘ω˘ς ) they are WHORING OUT!!!!! the amount of shirtless shots oh my lord? and mingi bending over that car??? honda baby flashbacks (ifykyk) i shed a tear down my legs watching it.. such a total 180 from iomt but i loved it nonetheless

[sugardollcurse]

HYELLOOOO!!! I COME WITH SNACKS

hear me out. 60s Paul and John competing over the reader like trying to out-flirt and out-do eachother and it ends in a competitive threesome >;))))

𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆

꒰ pairing ꒱ paul mccartney x reader x john lennon

꒰ contains ꒱ nsfw!! minors dni! female anatomy, overstimulation

꒰ summary ꒱ paul and john are both obsessed with you, and neither’s willing to back down... so they don’t.

꒰ note ꒱ heyy youu!! okay this idea is SO GOOD. thank you for blessing me with this vision... OOOUUUGHHHH

You’d been with them longer than anyone could rightly remember. Before the fame wrapped tight around their throats, before America screamed their names like gods, you were there, lugging gear, jotting half-legible notes in the back of a pub napkin, pulling cigarettes from Paul’s lips to save them for later, rolling your eyes as John flirted with anything with a pulse and half a pint.

Now it’s the studio again. Where you live now, practically. The air is muggy with sound. Paul's hunched over his bass, lip between his teeth, sweat darkening the back of his shirt where it clings to his spine. John’s sprawled on the floor by the mixing desk, strumming an unplugged electric guitar, letting the strings hum in his palm like he’s taming something wild.

You’re sitting cross-legged on the couch, balancing a tea you won’t drink on your knee, pen spinning between your fingers. You’ve got no real job, not really, maybe "handler" if you're generous, but truth is they just won’t let you leave. You’re part of the fabric.

Tonight’s one of those long ones. Midnight’s already come and gone. George and Ringo left hours ago. It’s just the three of you now, and the tape machine whirrs like it’s whispering secrets.

Paul clears his throat, loud, over the quiet riffing of John's guitar. He tosses his fringe from his eyes and glances at you, eyes flickering like a match about to catch.

"You know, love," he says casually, fingers still dancing on the neck of his Hofner, "You never tell us who you fancy most."

John doesn’t miss a beat. Doesn’t even look up.

"That's ‘cause it's me," he mutters, then plucks a sour note on purpose.

You laugh through your nose, shaking your head, but your stomach tightens. A familiar game, but tonight their tone’s off... richer, slower, a thread of something heavier tugging beneath the surface.

Paul narrows his eyes at you, then shifts in his seat, that showman smile blooming like a flare.

"Go on then," he says. "We're dying to know. You’ve known us for ages. Surely there’s some preferences." He flashes teeth.

You blink slowly, sip your tea that’s gone cold. “I like the ones who shut up and play something decent.”

John barks a laugh and finally lifts his eyes. "So not Paul then," he drawls.

Paul gives him a look. "Jealousy's not a good color, Johnny."

"I'm not jealous," John says. Then he looks at you and there's heat behind his stare. "Just curious who gets to make you moan first."

Silence slices the room in half.

Your breath stutters, chest tightening, but you don’t look away. And they don’t either.

Paul stands, guitar sliding off his shoulder to rest on the floor, and stalks closer. John's gaze flickers to him, amused but alert, predator eye meeting predator eye.

"You think it's you, do you?" Paul murmurs, and he’s standing right in front of you now, a hand out to take your empty cup, his fingers brushing too slow over yours. His voice softens. "You think they'd melt for your words, your wit?"

John shrugs, still sitting but sharp now, coiled. "Better than some dumb love song."

"They like my songs."

"They'd like my fingers better."

Your mouth is dry. You set the cup down on the amp next to you and tilt your head back, catching Paul’s gaze with steady defiance.

"Why don’t you both shut up and… prove it?" You add, cheekily.

That does it.

John’s off the floor like he’s been pulled by a string, and Paul’s already bending forward, cupping your cheek with sudden, devastating tenderness, brushing your hair back. Your breath hitches.

“You serious?” John gawks.

You nod once, slow, and Paul’s thumb strokes your bottom lip like he’s studying it. His gaze doesn’t waver, even as John comes up behind you.

Their rivalry is a thing you’ve always danced between. Words, jokes, songs, but now it’s something else, burning between them like a livewire. And you? You’re the conduit.

The room stills, and not because anyone said to. Just because something’s shifted. The kind of shift you feel in your chest before thunder rolls. Paul’s watching you too closely now, mouth parted slightly, like he’s either going to say something or lean in and kiss you. His tongue flicks across his lower lip and doesn’t return. John’s not moving at all, but his gaze is fixed, boring into the side of Paul’s face, then flicking to you like a dare, like you see this too, right?

They’ve done this before... posturing, jabbing at each other, flaunting themselves like peacocks when you’re around. Paul will hold your hand too long while explaining a harmony. John’ll whisper something obscene against your ear while you’re trying to read. But this? This isn’t just teasing.

Paul shifts closer on the couch. Not dramatically. Just enough that his knee brushes yours. He acts like he doesn’t notice, but he always notices. “You don’t say much when we flirt with you,” he murmurs, tone low and careful, like he’s afraid if he speaks too loud it’ll break whatever spell they’ve just managed to cast.

“I say enough,” you murmur back, heart knocking hard under your ribs.

John huffs softly, guitar now lying beside him untouched. “You don’t say no.”

You turn your head toward him slowly. “I don’t say yes, either.”

John grins, sharp, wolfish. “You don’t have to, love.”

The way he says it, rich and sure of himself, like he’s already got your moans in his back pocket and Paul’s growing jealousy in the other, makes you clench around nothing. You grip the edge of the couch with one hand, trying to ground yourself.

Paul’s gaze is darker now. He leans in, slow and deliberate, brushing your knuckles with his own. “Would you say yes if I kissed you right now?”

There’s a breath, yours or theirs or maybe the studio’s own ghost, but you don’t move away. You don’t answer. And the silence? That is your answer.

He kisses you.

It’s slow at first. Not because he’s unsure, but because he wants you to feel it, every soft press and part, his lips molding to yours like he’s studied them in secret, like he’s been building this in his head for years. You sigh into him, hand rising to cup the back of his neck, and he hums low in his throat, the sound melting into you.

John shifts.

Not much, but you hear him. You feel the pull of his gaze like it’s hands already on you. Paul doesn’t let you go, he deepens the kiss, tongue brushing yours, teasing and coaxing, like he’s trying to prove something, and maybe he is. Maybe he knows you’re about to be stolen.

Because John’s behind you now, not touching yet, but close. His breath ghosts against your ear and it makes you shiver, caught between warm mouths and warm hands and all that thick tension finally unraveling into this.

“Let me have a taste,” John says, and it’s not a request.

Paul pulls back with a wet sound, his lips flushed, eyes glassy. “Not your toy.”

John grins. “Not yours either.”

His fingers hook your jaw, turning your head toward him, and then he kisses you too, rougher, needier, like he’s got something to prove and he’s not playing fair. His tongue pushes in deep, possessive, curling with yours like he wants to leave a mark inside your mouth.

You’re breathing hard when he breaks the kiss, and Paul’s watching with his jaw tight, hands twitching like they’re aching to reclaim you.

“So?” John breathes, voice gravel-thick. “Who kisses better?”

You blink at him, dazed and wrecked already, and let out a shaky laugh. “Is that what this is?”

Paul slides a hand onto your thigh, fingers pressing in just enough to make your breath catch again. “Maybe it is,” he murmurs. “Maybe we’re tired of pretending. You always liked us a little too much, didn’t you?”

“Funny,” you murmur, voice shaking as John's hands slide down your arms from behind. “I thought it was you who always liked me too much.”

That hits something.

Paul’s hand tightens on your thigh. John bites your neck, not hard, but enough to make you gasp.

And then it’s like they’ve both decided at once.

Paul moves first. He’s kneeling now in front of you, sliding his palms up your thighs, eyes locked on yours with something hungry. His hands push between your knees, parting them slowly, watching how your legs obey without resistance. Your trousers are still on, but not for long.

John’s behind you, still standing now, reaching for your shirt. “Up,” he murmurs, and you raise your arms.

They undress you like it’s a ritual. Every movement measured, every brush of skin deliberate. Paul unbuttons your trousers, fingers grazing your stomach, and the softness in his eyes nearly undoes you more than the heat. John slides your shirt over your head, kissing each inch of new skin revealed, your shoulder blade, the dip of your spine, the back of your neck.

By the time they’re done, you’re in your underwear only, and their hands are everywhere, warm and reverent and just this side of teasing.

Paul looks up at you, hands still braced on your thighs. “Tell me what you want.”

You open your mouth to speak, but John leans down, teeth scraping your earlobe. “Or don’t,” he says. “We’ll figure it out anyway.”

Your breath shudders out.

Paul leans in, kisses the inside of your thigh. Not high. Not close. Just enough to make you twitch. Then another. Higher.

John presses against your back, his palm flattening over your stomach, fingers spread wide like he wants to memorize the curve of you.

And then Paul mouths over the heat of you through the thin cotton, hot breath making you whine.

“You’re wet already,” he murmurs, the words reverent. “Bet you’ve thought about this.”

John’s hand slides lower, palm pressing down just above where Paul’s mouth works.

Your head falls back against John’s shoulder, moaning softly, hips twitching toward Paul.

You’re not sure who undoes your underwear. Paul’s mouth is too busy, John’s fingers are moving too fast, but then it’s gone and Paul groans low in his chest as he finally licks a long, slow stripe through your folds.

You jerk, crying out. John holds you tighter, his free hand rising to your chest, cupping one breast, thumb brushing your nipple until it pebbles under his touch.

Paul’s tongue is obscene, circling, flicking, flattening against your clit with practiced ease, each movement building tighter and tighter inside you. John’s breath is hot in your ear.

“Sound so sweet like this,” he murmurs. “All needy. Didn’t know you could beg, but I bet you will.”

You whimper. Paul hums approvingly against you, the vibration making your thighs shake.

“Think I’m winning,” Paul mutters into your cunt, voice smug.

John snorts. “They haven’t even come yet.”

“Oh, they’re close.”

Your body’s wound so tight you could break apart from one more flick, one more twist of tongue. Paul sucks your clit into his mouth and sucks, just once-

You groan, legs clamping around his head, back arched hard into John behind you. He holds you through it, grounding you as you tremble and gasp and finally collapse.

Paul pulls back, lips shiny, eyes blazing.

John watches you come down, then grins wicked. “Alright, mate,” he says. “Now move. My turn.”

John’s still behind you, still fully clothed except for the bulge straining against the zipper of his jeans, but his hands, his hands, are already moving with intent. One is curved possessively over your breast, thumb lazily circling your nipple, while the other slips down your belly, fingers greedy and slick with heat.

“You’re still dripping,” he murmurs into your ear, voice molten, lips brushing your lobe. “Think that was for me or him?”

You try to answer but all that comes out is a sound, somewhere between a whimper and a broken plea, as his fingers slide between your thighs and sink in. Two at once, deep and unforgiving, curling just enough to make your knees go soft under you.

You moan John's name and pant, hands bracing against Paul’s thighs for balance. Paul’s sitting back now on the couch, shirt open, chest rising slow and steady like he’s controlling every breath, every twitch of muscle. His cock’s hard in his hand, flushed dark and already slick at the head.

“You gonna suck me off or just sit there shakin’?” he teases, but his voice is hoarse, breathless, betraying how badly he wants it.

You drop to your knees on the couch, shifting so your face is level with him, tongue flicking out to lap at the leaking tip first, slow and teasing, savoring the way his hips stutter forward. John’s fingers don’t stop moving inside you, curling, dragging slick and slow against your walls, knuckle-deep and merciless. Your breath hitches and Paul lets out a strangled sound when you finally wrap your lips around him, cheeks hollowing as you take him deeper.

“That’s it-” Paul gasps, one hand tangling in your hair. “God, your mouth’s perfect.”

Behind you, John’s fingers are soaked, your wetness dripping down his knuckles, obscene and slick. He pulls them free and you keen around Paul’s cock, the absence sharp. Then his hands are on your hips, gripping tight, tugging your ass back toward him. You try to look over your shoulder, but Paul presses a hand to the back of your head, gently guiding you down onto his length again, your moan vibrating around him.

And then,

You feel the head of John’s cock press between your folds, thick and hot, nudging against your entrance. No warning. No soft words.

Just that low, hungry growl from behind: “Stay just like that.”

He thrusts in.

Your whole body jerks forward from the force of it, your cry strangled around Paul’s cock. You’re stretched wide, filled in one slow, possessive push until John bottoms out inside you, balls flush against your soaked cunt. Paul groans loudly as your throat tightens around him, the sensation too much, your moan rippling down his length like a jolt.

“Shit,” John grits out. “Fuckin’ hell.”

He doesn’t move right away. He just stays there, buried deep, letting you feel it, every throb, every twitch inside you, the unbearable fullness. His hands tighten on your hips and you can’t stop shaking, mouth still full of Paul, lips wet and stretched, eyes fluttering half-shut.

“C’mon, love,” Paul murmurs, hand stroking your cheek now, tender even as you’re choking on his cock. “Don’t get shy on us now. You’re doin’ so well.”

John pulls back an inch, then slams into you hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs.

Your cry is muffled again, and Paul hisses through his teeth. “Bloody hell, John. They’ll choke.”

John leans over your back, chest pressed against your spine, lips hot on your neck. “They like it,” he growls. “Hear that? Fuckin’ moanin’ around your knob every time I slam in.”

And he does, he starts fucking you in a punishing rhythm, hips snapping forward again and again, and each time he thrusts, your throat clenches tighter around Paul, mouth stuffed full and drooling. You can’t think. Can’t breathe. Can only feel, John’s cock driving into you from behind, Paul’s pulsing in your mouth, both of them using you like you’re some sweet thing made just for this, just to be taken apart by the two of them together.

“Look at you,” Paul murmurs, brushing your hair back to see your face better. “You gonna come again like this, love? Stuffed from both ends?”

You try to nod but it’s clumsy, helpless, and Paul curses again, biting his lip. “I’m close. Fuck, your mouth…”

John grunts, pace growing erratic now, his grip bruising on your hips, dragging you back into him with every thrust. “Bet they’ll squeeze me tighter when you do. Fuck, do it, Macca."

Paul shudders, hips jerking, and with a gasped "Fuck," he spills down your throat, hot and thick. You swallow as much as you can, eyes squeezed shut, tears slipping free from the effort, but you don’t stop sucking until he’s twitching, oversensitive, pulling away with a groan.

The moment he slips free, you gasp, air flooding your lungs, but John doesn’t stop. If anything, he slams harder, one hand snaking around to rub fast, tight circles over your clit.

You’re crying out now, every noise raw and broken and loud.

“Come for me,” John pants. "C’mon, let him fuckin’ hear it-”

You do.

You fall apart with a sob, cunt pulsing hard around him, your whole body jerking, the overstimulation tipping you over fast and brutal. You hear Paul’s breath catch as he watches you unravel, and then John’s groaning behind you, hips stuttering.

He growls, and he slams in deep one final time, cock throbbing as he comes, spilling hot inside you with a moan ripped from his chest.

He stays buried for a long second, panting against your back, both of you trembling. Then slowly, he pulls out, and a mess of come slips down your thigh, warm and wet.

Paul watches it with hooded eyes.

You’re shaking. Knees weak, arms trembling, throat raw from moaning and choking and everything in between, but they aren’t finished. You know it the second you feel John’s hands curl around your waist again, lifting you gently but firmly off the couch, murmuring something low and almost sweet against your shoulder, something you don’t catch because your ears are ringing with the aftershock of your orgasm and the sound of your own ragged breathing.

Paul’s still shirtless, cock flushed again, watching you like he’s starving. His pupils are blown wide, hair damp against his forehead. He’s kneeling now, back on the plush rug beneath the soundboard, motioning you down with one hand.

“C’mere, love. One more.”

John guides you off the couch, steady hands easing you onto Paul’s lap like you’re something delicate, like you haven’t already been split open and ruined between them. Paul’s thighs are warm beneath yours. He lets you settle, chest to chest, your cunt still sore and leaking from where John filled you.

But it’s not over. It’s not even close.

Paul kisses you soft, almost too soft for how hard he’s already getting again beneath you. “Wanna feel you around me this time,” he breathes, voice low and reverent, like prayer. “Slow, yeah? You ride me.”

You nod, or maybe just don’t shake your head, it’s all you can manage.

He lines himself up, thick and ready, and you sink down onto him with a broken sound, legs quaking on either side of his hips. It’s so much. Too much. You’re already stretched and wrecked and every nerve is burning. Paul groans, hands tight on your waist, guiding you down, inch by inch, his cock sliding up into you slow and steady until your hips are flush and your head is tipped back in disbelief.

You’re barely seated on him when you feel John again, behind you now, pressing close, mouth dragging along the back of your neck. His fingers slide between your cheeks, slick with the mess he left in you before.

“I want in again,” he growls, and the way he says it isn’t a question. “Let us have all of you.”

You freeze. Just for a second.

Paul's hands slide up your back. “We’ll go slow,” he murmurs against your throat. “We’ll stop if you say. But you can take it. You’re perfect.”

Your breath trembles, chest heaving against his. The stretch, the fullness, the burn you can already feel, but your body is betraying you, clenching hard around Paul at the thought, aching and soaked and so willing.

You nod.

And it begins.

John slicks himself up, again, fingers brushing your entrance first, pressing slow and patient against your ass, making you sob against Paul’s mouth. Your whole body’s locked tight, shaking, but you don’t pull away. You push back.

Then he’s breaching you, just the head at first, thick and hot and so much. You cry out, and Paul holds your face, kissing your tears, whispering soft encouragements.

John presses deeper, and it’s unbearable, and it’s perfect, and it’s impossible and real and then he’s buried to the hilt, balls pressed to your ass, chest flush against your back, breath ragged against your ear.

You can’t speak. You can’t think. You’re split wide open, Paul in your cunt, John in your ass, and all you can do is exist, body trembling, walls clenching around both of them so hard it makes them whimper.

“Fucking hell,” John gasps, voice shaking. “They’re gonna make me come just from this.”

Paul’s jaw is tight, hands braced on your hips. He's laying down now. “Move,” he says, voice almost a growl. “Fuck, move, Johnny.”

And then they’re fucking you. Together.

Slow at first, but devastating. They move in sync, one thrusting in while the other pulls back, keeping you full the whole time, never letting you feel empty. Their rhythm builds, steady and brutal, your body rocked forward and back between them, impaled and trembling, your hands clawing at Paul’s shoulders, nails dragging red lines into his skin.

Your mouth is open but no sound comes. You’re past moaning. Past words. All you can do is take it, take them, stretched and stuffed and wrung out between the two people who know you better than anyone, who know exactly how to break you apart and piece you back together.

John’s fucking you deeper now, balls slapping wetly against your skin, his hand wrapped around your throat from behind, not choking, just holding, grounding. “Come again,” he pants. “Come again right fuckin' now.”

And your body obeys.

Your orgasm hits like fire. You seize around them both, sobbing brokenly, cunt spasming around Paul’s cock while your ass clenches tight on John’s. You hear them both curse, feel them both jerk inside you-

John comes first, thrusting deep and hard as he spills inside your ass with a groan that sounds more like a growl.

Paul follows a second later, burying himself deep, cock twitching, warmth flooding you in waves.

And you?

You’re gone.

You collapse against Paul’s chest, the weight of your body barely supported by him as John slips free, both of them panting and spent, mouths open, hands running down your sides in something almost like worship.

You can’t speak.

You can’t move.

Your legs are trembling uncontrollably, your lips parted and glazed with spit, your eyes unfocused, breath coming in tiny, wrecked gasps. You’re soaked, inside, out, thighs smeared with come, your skin hot and flushed and shaking.

John presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Y’alright?”

You don’t answer.

Paul chuckles softly, brushing your hair back from your damp forehead. “Well,” he murmurs. “Guess that’s one way to settle it.”

“Not settled,” John says, still breathless, voice hoarse and ragged. “Not even fuckin’ close. I went second.”

“Oh piss off, you cheated. You ambushed 'em.”

“I earned it. You were too busy makin’ love, mate-s’posed to be a competition.”

You blink slowly, dazed and slack-mouthed against Paul’s chest, as the sound of their bickering rises around you again, like a storm circling back on itself.

“-next time, I go first-”

“Next time you learn rhythm-”

“I made 'em come harder-”

“Wasn’t even trying, mate, that’s natural talent-”

Their voices fade into a distant hum, like static, like bees drunk on your honey, and all you can do is lie there limp and boneless, jaw slack, your mind white-noise and floating, your body too wrecked to care.

You don’t speak. You couldn’t if you tried.

They’re still arguing.

And you’re still glowing.

taglist: @sharksausages, @wavvytin, @wimpyvamps, @finallyforgotten, @lennongirlieee

[sophianightdreamer]

Things that happened in the Official Transformers RPG's lore.

So, I've got my hands on all three rulebooks of the official TF RPG. And also the G. I. Joe RPG, but that's irrelevant right now. My batch did not include the crossover rulebook, sadly.

Therefore, notes on the lore and other details in the "basic" canon, because TFWiki did not go into the details, that grew into this list of odd events mentioned.

First thing first, the general continuity is very close to Cyberverse or G1 Fanon, having the basic outline of G1 cartoon, but with details and chunks of backstory pulled from elsewhere - Optimus is a former archivist/data clerk, Bumblebee is a sportscar, et cetera.

To note, there's a somewhat short introductory "who-is-who" list and basic character sheets with profiles both.

Well, I've already got my whiplash, so it's your turn now.

There's something very funky going on with Devastator. Prowl's introduction blurb directly states that something Combiner Wars-esque/Prowlstator has happened, and reads as implying that Autobots hijacked Devastator. By all accounts, Scrapper is alive, making it a possible genuine canonical instance of Prowlastator with Scrapper alive, but the Constructions as whole are placed with the Decepticons. But, Tergamax mentions that among people that were at any moment replacement parts of Devastator there were five Autobots, Prowl included. What happened?

The "who is who" listing for Autobots includes declarations of jobs/roles/traits. Some of these are notable: 1) Ironhide is a chemist 2) Swerve is in Public Relations 3) Rung is Psy-Ops 4) Perceptor is specifically an engineer 5) Bumblebee is noted as "Hero of the People". Must be popular.

Speaking of roles, monochromatic SIC of the day is Jazz, who is also a strategist now.

All of the people in the introductory list are implied to be the Ark crew, and there are problems regarding space travel for Autobots right now. This means that Anode, Lug, those two kids from IDW2, Elita's team and Glyph are on the crew.

Rattrap is a Decepticon.

Optimus Prime has a thick Iaconian accent in Cybertronian. It turns "Teletraan" into "Teletron".

Character sheets include a list of languages that character speaks. Some of these past the standart English+Cybertronian are completely random. Optimus Prime speaks Dutch. Korean is surprisingly popular. In what could be a nice callback, Slingshot has Arabic. The only two people who know the language of newly-introduced alien species of Catharsians are Ratchet and Wildrider. But the crown is taken by First Aid, who has both ASL and Quileute. Yes, the basically extint language of a small tribe warring legally with Stephanie Meyer.

Speaking of languages, both Megatron and Shockwave are noted passable polyglots, and both lack the Universal Translator perk Soundwave, Blaster and Perceptor have. But while Megatron has vague but limited "languages from across Decepticon territory", Shockwave has "all common languages", implying he knows at least a bit of almost everything manually.

Tracks is a triple changer, apparently.

Decepticons' thing is mass-producing sparkless drone clones of their own members.

There's a general threat level system with lists included, where 0 is a random human civilian, 24 is Optimus and Megatron, and 25 is Omega Supreme and Scorponok. Chosen numbers for some characters are thought-provoking. Jazz is 14. Ratchet is 15. First Aid is 9. Wildrider is 6. Ironhide and Starscream are tied with 17. Lord Zarak by himself is 10.

Transformers The Movie sort-of happened, with no apparent notable casualties except for Megatron, who got Galvatroned, but there is a chance that Cyclonus, while a minion of Unicron, predates those events. He is also in an odd position of formally being a part of Decepticons and not the followers of Unicron, who are technically a separate faction.

Scorponok and Deathsaurus are member of Decepticon High Command/Conclave along with Shockwave and Soundwave. Nobody trusts Starscream, so he is not there, but he has the air force.

Mindwipe is, once again, a sorcerer.

Predacons, the combiner team, somehow adopted a sharkticon.

The evil plan du jour of, apparently, pre-Unicron era is converting Earth into the second Cybertron via several colony sites.

[wholoveseggs]

hi! ik youve done smth similar to this but i'd like to request like an enemy-to-lover elijahxreader with him just being an asshole. with eventual smut and teasing. ty!

The Gardener {Part One}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part One

The relationship between witches and vampires has always been fraught with complexity— a toxic mix of power and revenge. Raised to preserve nature’s balance, you’ve been taught that vampires are a perversion of life itself. You have a duty and a purpose, to eliminate all vampires. You're willing to do whatever it takes to fulfill it, even if that means falling into bed with the enemy.

♡♡ Thanks for the request beautiful anon! This is a story I've wanted to tell for a while, I hope y'all enjoy it...♡♡

3.7k words - Warnings: no smut in this one, but lots of drama, angst, violence and deception... reader is a bit of a fanatic, witches, magic, murder && vervain...

{Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Four}

{Elijah Mikaelson Tag-List }

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

You wiped the sweat off your brow before picking up another bag of soil. Entering through the front gates of the compound, you dropped the bag next to the others and paused to catch your breath. You took a few more steps down the hall, entering a lavishly decorated courtyard. You had always been curious about what the compound looked like on the inside; you were not disappointed. Beautiful ivy laced up the old walls, spanning over arched balconies and expensive antique furniture was thoughtfully placed throughout. It was cozy, fantastical, and a little medieval; the only hint of modernity was string lights artfully hanging about.

It was easy to get swept up in the beauty of the place, so you had to remind yourself of all the evil the people that lived here had done. It was a sobering thought and you felt a surge of righteous anger. Your mind raced back to the countless people who had been hurt by these monsters. The innocent lives lost.

The ancestors had bestowed a glorious mission upon you and you were honored to be chosen. To take down one of the oldest and most powerful families of vampires was no small feat. It was not something you took lightly.

You returned to your task and carried on with your work. Gathering your tools from your car and retrieving the last bag of soil from the trunk. It was all very heavy, and the warm Louisiana weather was making you thirsty. You lugged the remaining supplies back inside the gate, dropping them down into a pile. Letting out a relieved sigh, you leaned against the wall and took a long sip from your water bottle, then another, then a third one to finally quench your thirst. You pooled a bit more of the water into your hands and splashed it on your warm face.

"Can I fetch you a wheelbarrow?" said a smooth voice from across the courtyard.

You spun around to find an amused looking gentleman, dressed in a three-piece suit. The infamous Elijah Mikaelson. He was not exactly what you had imagined, though it wasn't entirely surprising. A good predator hides behind a pleasing facade.

He was attractive, that was certain and he had the sort of charisma that could disarm you. He was smiling, his eyes dark and intense, like he could see right through to your skin and bones.

You put on your best smile, trying to be friendly and non-threatening. "Yes, that would be very helpful, thank you," you said breathlessly, wiping the water and sweat from your face.

He nodded and disappeared down the hall. You watched him go, admiring his handsome features as he left. You had a good feeling about this, he could be your way in.

You stepped further into the center of the courtyard, straining your neck trying to get a look at the opulent rooms beyond the second-floor balconies. What you were looking for was probably up there somewhere, just waiting for you to take it.

Elijah returned, pushing a large wheelbarrow before him.

"Thank you," you said, as he handed it off to you.

"It's nothing," he replied with a soft smile.

"Are you Klaus? I'm the one you hired to plant your garden," you replied politely, extending your hand. You needed to play the part of the naive gardener, clueless to who and what he was.

He chuckled, glancing at the bags of soil piled at the entrance. "No, I'm not Niklaus, but I did deduce what you were here for. My name is Elijah; Niklaus is my brother," he took your hand and shook it gently.

You knew exactly who he was, practically learning his name not long after you learned your own. He was the poised one, the liar, the deceiver. You had been taught to be wary of him, for his soft words and empty promises always led to death.

You didn't let any of this show, smiling back at him and saying, "Well, it's nice to meet you, Elijah."

It was a simple performance, all you needed to do was maintain it, add a bit of sincerity to your mannerisms. You pretended to be flustered by his charm, reaching up and twiddling the piece of verbena you had braided into your hair.

"So do you two own this place? It's beautiful," you remarked, looking up once again at the stunning architecture. "The ivy is incredible."

"Thank you; it's been in our family for years. Would you like a tour of the place?" He said, his eyes on your twiddling hand. You immediately put your arm down.

"I would love to, but I promised your brother I would finish setting everything up before the end of the day," you replied, pointing to the pile of supplies.

"It's quite alright, I will help you."

"Oh no, it's okay, I can manage-"

"Please," he said, his brown eyes looking deeply into yours.

This almost felt too easy, a part of you was suspicious, but you couldn't deny the thrill of playing the game. If you could win the favor of a Mikaelson, it would certainly help your cause.

"Alright," you replied with a nod. "Could you show me to your greenhouse?"

"Of course, follow me," he replied, walking ahead.

You picked up your bag of fertilizer and began the task of wheeling the heavy materials across the courtyard. Elijah glanced back at you with a concerned look on his face.

"Let me," he offered.

"That's alright, I've got it," you said, pushing the wheelbarrow with a grunt.

He didn't look convinced, but he didn't press the matter further. He led the way towards the back of the estate, opening the doors for you. He had a way about him, a posture and stride of a man who had the confidence to do anything.

Because he wasn't a man, but a beast, and the world was his prey. You had to remind yourself not to be intimidated, even if it was difficult. You had trained for this, prepared yourself to face the most vile of creatures.

The greenhouse was large, with old, wooden tables full of tools and gardening supplies. The sunlight shone through the glass, illuminating the rows and rows of empty flower beds. You smiled, admiring the beauty of the space. It was the perfect place to create, to nurture life. The irony of it being located at the center of the den of death made you laugh.

Elijah gave you a curious look. "Is something funny?"

"It's nothing," you replied. "I'm just excited to get started. The weather is perfect."

He raised an eyebrow, looking a bit skeptical, his eyes traveling down your body, taking in your appearance. You looked a bit eccentric, with a pair of overalls covered in colorful patches and flowers braided into your hair. It was all a part of the persona, an act, and it worked. He relaxed his stance and gave you a smile, then he took the wheelbarrow from your hands and unloaded the soil with ease.

"You didn't have to do that. If you keep helping me like this, I might have to pay you and not the other way around," you joked, setting down your bag of tools on the workbench across from the door.

He smiled, taking a step back and raising his hands playfully in mock surrender. He leaned against the door frame, surveying you as you unpacked your things. "How long have you been a gardener?" He asked.

"I've been doing this professionally since I was eighteen, but I've loved it my whole life," you replied honestly, setting the seeds you had brought with you on the table. "I own a shop not far from here."

He nodded, glancing at the bags of fertilizer and plants, then back at you. "Do you enjoy it?"

"Of course. What's not to enjoy? Being able to create something beautiful, nurturing it, watching it grow. I love it."

You were being sincere and honest this time, no need to change everything about yourself. He studied you carefully, then made his way towards you, pulling out his handkerchief and gesturing for you to take it. "You have some soil on your forehead."

You blushed, taking the fabric and cleaning yourself; that was entirely on accident, but it was working well for your act. "Hazards of the job," you said, giving him a sweet smile and handing it back to him.

He smirked, sliding the used handkerchief into his pocket with a practiced grace. "It's no problem at all; I'll leave you to your work," he moved to leave when he suddenly paused and turned back to face you. "I don't mean to be impolite, but what do you have in your hair?"

"What?" You replied, feeling the side of your head where your hair was braided. You knew exactly what he was talking about, but it was important to feign innocence. "Oh, it's verbena, one of the plants your brother asked me to grow," you pulled the flower out of your hair and twirled it between your fingers. "It's an herb, and it smells nice, too," you lifted the blossom towards him.

He didn't make any move to take it from you, and you knew exactly why. Verbena was known for repelling vampires, you had braided the sprigs into your hair and woven it into the band of your hat. They were small enough to be ignored, but they were powerful.

"Out of curiosity, what else did he ask you to grow?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Hmm, let's see," you turned away from him searching for the list you had left in your bag. "Monkshood, Sage, Yarrow, Verbena, and Winter bloom," you read off to him. "Klaus told me he liked the colors together."

You both knew that was utter bull shit. All of the plants were herbs with various magical properties, especially in the hands of a witch.

"Hmmm, of course he did, my brother can be very particular," he replied, looking a bit uneasy.

"It sounds like a diabolical witch's brew straight out of a fairy tale," you laughed, and so did he, but the tension was still there.

"It does, doesn't it." He paused for a moment, as though he was debating whether or not he should say something. "The verbena suits you. You should keep wearing it in your hair."

You smiled, blushing and twirling the flower between your fingers, "Thank you, I think I will."

"I will leave you to your work. My brother will be returning shortly, so if you have any questions, please feel free to ask him."

"Thank you," you replied cheerfully, "I appreciate that."

With that, he walked out of the greenhouse, shutting the door behind him. Once you were alone, the smile dropped from your face. Your hands were shaking and the adrenaline was coursing through your body. You were scared and excited all at the same time, the rush was overwhelming. It had been a risk, to flirt so brazenly with danger, but it had paid off.

Soon you would have your prize and the ancestors would honor you for generations to come.

You had your headphones on, humming along to your music as you worked on planting a row of winter bloom. It had taken a couple of hours to organize all the flowerbeds and fill them with soil. Now, the hardest part was getting everything planted.

You felt a large vibration through the floor, then another. You stood, pulling off your headphones; a blood-curdling scream echoed through the hallway, along with a loud crash coming from the courtyard. You quickly shut off the music and crept towards the door, peeking your head out. You heard angry voices and saw the shadow of a fight moving along the walls.

You stepped out into the open, walking slowly towards the noise, your spade clutched tightly in your fist. You peeked around the corner to find a gruesome sight.

Crumbled on the floor was what looked to be a pile of bodies, blood pooling out around them. Another scream came from above. You looked up to see Klaus on the third floor, holding a woman by her neck as he dangled her over the railing. Her feet kicking erratically as she helplessly struggled.

"You know the rules, no magic in the quarter," he yelled, his voice crackling with rage, pulling the woman close to his face. "You witches think you can make moves against my family and live," he said in hushed fury. "Now I have to use you and your conspirators as an example."

The woman gasped and clawed at his arm. Her face was turning blue, and her eyes were bulging. Klaus glanced down, meeting your eyes. Then he dropped her, her scream cut off as she hit the floor, a loud crack reverberating through the compound.

Suddenly, Klaus was in front of you. You tried to use the spade to defend yourself, striking out in his direction. He laughed and grabbed it from you with extreme ease. He then planted both of his hands against the wall on either side of your head. His eyes were black with murder, blood dripping from his grinning mouth. You tried to look away from his horrifying face, too frightened to even scream.

It was him, the fabled beast, the abomination. You could hear the voices of your ancestors, thousands of voices yelling out in anger, screaming at him.

Kill him, kill him, kill him, they chanted, louder and louder until it was all you could hear.

He grabbed your face, forcing you to look into his eyes and all the chanting turned to screams of fear and agony. Like they were being slaughtered by him all over again.

"Hello love, you must be the new gardener," he said, his words soft and gentle, "I'll be sure to give you a generous tip, for services rendered."

You wanted to tell him that he was the devil, the monster, the bringer of death. That you would be the one to end him. But you were paralyzed with terror, the screams and images were too much. You shut your eyes tight, trying to block it all out, but it was impossible. You started to sob, tears rolling down your cheeks, mixing with the dirt on your face.

"Look at me," he said softly, his fingers digging painfully into your cheeks.

You opened your eyes, your vision blurry and your head spinning. He had a strange look on his face, half amused, half concerned. He brushed away your tears with his thumbs, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"You won't remember anything about today; all you know is that you did another excellent day of work and finished all the planting," he said slowly, staring deeply into your eyes.

He let go of your face and offered you the spade. You looked down, taking it from his steady hand with your shaking one. He believed he could compel you, and you had to convince him that was true. You swallowed, taking a deep breath, remembering your training, focusing on slowing down your heart, relaxing your muscles. You couldn't panic, or you would die.

You looked back up at him, and he seemed pleased with himself, smiling brightly, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Go back to your work," he said, patting you on the shoulder before disappearing down the hall.

You took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you tried to compose yourself. You were so scared you could barely stand. You had faced the beast, and you had survived. The screams in your head were deafening, the images of the dead witches flashed through your mind, the pain of their deaths searing through your body. But slowly, all their garbled words turned into one unifying chant.

Death to all vampires, death to all vampires, you whispered, echoing their words, clutching your spade tightly in your fist.

You half walked, half ran from your car to your shop, scrambling inside. You threw your tool bag behind the counter and headed to the back room. You faced the stone wall, and with trembling fingers, you slid aside the brick that hid the hidden latch. Your hand was shaking so hard you could barely get the door open.

Once it swung open, the scent of incense wafted through the air, filling your nose. The others had already gathered, all seven of them, the other witches who were brave enough to make a stand against the vampire scourge.

You rushed into the small room and shut the door behind you, turning to face them. They were waiting for you, looking at you expectantly.

"Report," Agnes demanded, her eyes narrowed and her hands gripping her cane tightly.

"They don't suspect a thing," you said, your voice still a little shaky. "The abominations bought my act,"

"And the ash?" Agnes asked.

"Location still unknown," you replied.

She nodded, seeming satisfied with the news, "very well,"

"How was it? Facing them, what were they like?" Your friend Beatrice asked, her brown eyes wide with concern.

"It was horrible," you replied, "they are just as ancestors say,"

"We need to plan the next steps," Maeve interjected, she was always impatient, wanting everything to happen as soon as possible.

"Maeve," Beatrice chastised. "If they suspect something is amiss, this could all fall to ruin,"

"We have a way in, that's the first step completed, we should not waste any time," Maeve argued. "Y/n can only plant a garden so slowly, when she is done we will lose all access to the compound."

Agnes was about to reply, but the door chime of the shop rang, cutting her off. "I will handle this," you said, taking a deep breath.

You looked to your sisters and nodded, leaving them and going back out into the shop. You would be right back to finish the meeting, you just had to quickly deal with a customer.

You put a smile on your face and rounded the corner, only to come face to face with one of the monsters you were just talking about.

Elijah.

He was standing by a shelf, looking at a potted plant. You swallowed, composing yourself before walking towards him.

"Mr. Mikaelson," you said as cheerfully as you could, "what can I do for you today?"

He looked up at you and smiled, putting the pot back down.

"I apologize for the intrusion," he said politely. "I wanted to see your shop, it's lovely," he gestured to the display shelves and many plants hanging from the ceiling.

"Thank you, I've spent a lot of time making it this way," you replied, feeling a bit proud.

"Your work in the greenhouse is quite impressive," he said, looking back at you, a curious expression on his face.

"It was nothing," you laughed nervously, rubbing the back of your neck, trying not to meet his gaze.

"I wanted to ask you something," he continued, walking around the store, looking at the various plants.

"Ask away,"

"You're a witch," he said casually, picking up a pot of herbs, taking in their fragrance.

You felt your heart stop, but you tried to remain calm. You had prepared for this, bumps in the road are to be expected.

"That's more of a statement than a question." You said as calmly as you could.

"Yes, well, you've done a very good job of hiding it, so much so that my brother didn't even suspect," he glanced at you, his brown eyes dark, almost black. "It seems strange that you would take a job as a gardener in a vampire's home."

"Why does that matter?" You asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

He stepped closer, and you backed up, bumping into the shelving behind you. Leaning down, his face hovering inches from yours, you could feel the heat of his breath on your face, and you were frozen in place.

"I like you," he whispered, "and I want to give you a chance to explain yourself."

You stared him directly in the eye, trying not to flinch or show any emotion. "It's important to protect yourself in these times,"

He chuckled, looking amused. "You speak of the ban on magic? My brother's rule of the quarter?"

"Yes," you replied simply.

He nodded, a small smile on his lips. "And how would you like to change that?"

You swallowed, the voices of your ancestors ringing in your ears. Lie, lie, lie, they commanded.

"I'm simply trying to survive," you answered, it wasn't a lie, just an incomplete truth. "I have no love for my kind,"

"Hmm," he mused, his dark eyes studying your face. He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from your cheek. "So, tell me, are you planning on harming my family?"

You could feel his energy, his power. He was ancient, powerful, and deadly. "Of course not," you replied, looking up at him, praying your face didn't betray you.

He didn't respond, his gaze searching yours. He was close, so close, you could smell the cologne on his skin, the subtle hints of soap and shampoo. You knew the stories, the horrors, here you were, staring into the eyes of death himself.

You leaned in and kissed him, placing a hand on his chest. It was a wild gamble, but one that you hoped would explain your nervous energy.

He stiffened, surprised at the sudden contact. Then, as if he remembered himself, his hands grabbed you, pulling you in tightly against him. You had been told over and over that vampires were monsters, cold and heartless, but the heat radiating from him was overwhelming. He was so gentle and his lips were so soft. He pulled away, his eyes boring into yours. You were sure that he could see into your soul, see all the secrets and plans you were hiding. But, if he did, he didn't say anything.

"Well," he said, releasing you and straightening his suit jacket, "I'll see you tomorrow then."

You were about to say something when he was gone. You let out a sigh of relief, slumping against the shelves.

"Shit," you whispered.

You could see your path now, the way forward to victory, to eliminate the world of vampires. You took a deep breath and steadied yourself. You couldn't fail, not now, not when you had come so far.

All that was required was that you seduce a monster.

{Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Four}

[phantomsies]

no thots, just going on a camping trip with ace :)

wc: 1.8K

fresh air on a warm summer night, the ripple of small insects and discarded rocks across the muggy lake waters, intermittent gusts of wind passing through the thick trees, the crackle of debris underneath rubber soled shoes…it was all of these little things that made Ace love the outdoors. Being one with nature and exploring the beautiful unknown, one hike, fishing expedition or camping trip at a time!

it wasn’t uncommon for the spontaneous traveler to just up and decide on a whim that he was going to pack up his supplies, load up his old beater of a Silverado with enough food and water to feed an army for the weekend and head out to his next destination. Albeit a spring with glistening water or a forest some sixty miles away from home. His cell phone was only left on so that worried loved ones were aware of his location…

“..don’t worry about me, I’ll be back in a few days!” Otherwise, his only connection was to the furry animals that made his acquaintance and the earth itself. It was something about the whole experience that awakened his primal instincts…

but perhaps nothing awoken said urges more than when he decided to invite his beloved (y/n) (l/n) along for a weekend excursion to the infamous Twin Flames Peak. A recreational park that was known for its incredible hiking areas, breathtaking waterfalls and the stunning view of the stars at night over the campsites. Yes, he was thrilled to have the company of another fellow outdoorsman and one with such a pretty face to boot!

Watching intently as you tie your box braids up in a neat bun in the passenger seat of his truck. Clear gloss smearing your luscious lips and not another speck of makeup on that perfect canvas..a feeling of warmth and sheer happiness encompassing him as he watches you glide your nimble hands up and down those smooth, brown legs with coats of lotion; just in awe of how the sunlight captures the essence of your gorgeous dark skin underneath its rays. “Careful, babe. You get out smelling all sweet and looking this good, you might attract some unwanted guests.” “Well that’s what I have my big strong man for. You’ll protect me, right?” Joking as you thought he’d probably be insane enough to try and go toe to toe with a damn bear!

Despite it all, he knows he’s got nothing to worry about. Ace has watched you handle your own throughout the rough and tumble. Yes, this gorgeous woman who can pitch a tent and lug firewood just as well as she can put on a designer dress and shake ass at the club…would be spending three whole days out here in the wilderness with him. Those once primal instincts that activated when he sensed nearby danger or felt hunger and rations were low..

had now shifted towards you. Like a predator lying in wait on its prey to slip up, he glared hungrily as you strutted in front of him in those biker shorts and tank top. That plump, toned ass swaying with each step as the two of you trekked to the campsite. His mouth practically watering for a taste of what lies between those somehow thick thighs…

the ratio of your proportions would be enough to turn anyone into a rabid beast. “You better keep up back there, I might leave you behind.” “Is that right? Maybe I like it back here.” Tossing him a wink as you wave to him with a beckoning finger. It’s in this moment that Ace realizes he can no longer sate his carnal desires..discreetly cupping at the tent in his shorts before instructing you to stop at a nearby tree with some made up lie about needing to fix something on your gear. It’s then that he makes his move..

launching the first attack with his lips practically melded to yours in a haze of passion. His tongue descends deeper between your jaws with deep grunts and whimpers to follow…sweaty palms ravenously groping at your tits as the bottom half is sent upwards to be pinched between your teeth for comfort. Ace knows you’ll need it for his lecherous plans to defile your body right here in the forest! Nightfall is soon to come so others are scarce, meaning that he didn’t need to hold back.

instead, he’d instruct you to wrap your arms around the back of the tree and hold still..with a gentle suck of his teeth and muttered expletives under his breath, he’d run those fingers down the curvature your torso before not so subtly shoving his hand in the seat of your panties. He can feel your warmth..the arousal already forming only seconds in. ”You’re wet, babe. That’s a lil’ surprising..” Chuckling as the sounds of your stirred up slick met the crackle of the leaves.

two digits slowly make place on that budding clit and your reaction is priceless! An adorable yelp before tossing your hand over your mouth to shield those whimpers. However, you don’t resist..you don’t even tell him to stop. You just continue working the pads of his index and middle fingers..rolling those hips as you peer down over your stomach. Meanwhile, those exposed tits gently bounce each time he jolts a finger in and out of you.

Hell, he knew the thought of lewd acts in a public place was a bit shameful but it was called the wild for a reason. You were merely mammals, acting in the way you were intended to..no need to be bashful of that!

he’d smugly reach for that hand and peel it back from your mouth whilst those pumps grew faster.

“Instead of trying to hide those moans, pretty girl..squeeze those nipples f’r me. You’ll feel a lot better.”

“Ace, we’ve gotta stop this. I’m gonna fucking come—“

in that moment, your breath hitched in your throat and you realized those pleas were futile because that was his plan. To make you reach climatic bliss right under the night sky. “Then do it..why hold back? Because you’re embarrassed?..afraid we’ll get caught?” His words seeped into your brain as his teeth and lips met your neck once more. Like a carnivorous beast, he’d scrape along your skin before gently grazing you with bites. “Because I’m not. Hell, I hope they see us..see me fucking you like a little slut.”

The entire prospect had him so aroused, he couldn't help but to shuffle those pants to his waistline and tease the head of his throbbing cock against your slick folds. Which prompted him to suck his teeth. “Listen at that..it’s like your little pussy is just begging to be stuffed.” Without haste, he’d snatch your head towards him and force you to focus on that thick member rubbing on your clit. “So beg me, babe. Beg me to fuck you.” It was such a different side of him than before. The jovial, wide eyed camper turned deviant animal had you in his claws with no plans to release…and you had no complaints! So you’d fulfill his wish and plead to feel him inside of you. To be pinned against this tree and fucked until your eyes trailed to the back of your skull.

“Please..fuck me. I don’t care if anyone hears us. I need you..”

it was all he needed to feel affirmed. For you to be equally as carefree as he was. Your shorts had been residing at your knees so he’d finish removing them before hoisting a leg to his shoulder and keeping his eyes focused on your own. “Good girl. That’s all you had to say.” In a moment's notice, you’d find yourself impaled on him; split open by that tip and a few more inches. Releasing loud wails, the two of you moved like a well oiled machine. His hips snapping without so much as slowing down and you meeting those thrusts. The sounds of your skin smacking colliding with the ruffle of the leaves underneath your shoes and of course, the foul words escaping those lips.

“You’re so fucking tight, sweetheart..I hope you’ve been taking your pill because I can’t wait to breed all these pretty holes. Make you walk back to camp with all my cum in you…that’ll be so fucking sexy. Maybe we should’ve brought your plug too.”

meanwhile, you were honing in on massaging your clit, even lobbing a trail of saliva down your tummy to aid in those strokes. Giggling at how calculated his plan whilst gasping and moaning.

“How long have you been waiting to get me out here like this?”

“Only since forever.”

and he had no plans to squander this opportunity. Only to make it worth both of your time. Cradling a hand to the back of your neck, Ace keeps your faces glued to one another..eventually drawing you closer for some deep, sloppy pecks. Those lips smacking as loud as the wet skin below; hips bucking..snapping with each movement and the next thrust growing harder than the last. Praising you for the way you took him so easily. His pace quickens and he can’t seem to slow down…hell, he’s insatiable and the only cure is to feel that tight hole squeezing him and squirting all over his shaft. The sensation of that warmth continuously wrapping around him..pulling him back in each time he felt as if he was going to slip out.

it was evident by the tears welling in your eyes that you were close and who was he to deny you the sweet surrender of an orgasm?

“Oh my gosh! Fuck..right there, right there—“

“Come f’r me, pretty girl. Let it out…come all over this dick.”

each stroke from then on brought forth spurts of wetness, until that little bladder emptied all over his shoes and the ground beneath. But that wasn’t the end..no, he couldn’t let up until he saw his earlier promise through. So he’d force himself through that overly sensitive flesh..getting only half of those eight or so inches before it’d begin to snap. Even so, he persists..because the only thing he wants is to feel that seed pouring into your womb. And it’s not long before his wish is granted. You’d pull him in close, pleading with him to fill you to the brim. Marking his back previously and now with those deep scratch marks, signifying that he was your territory and now he’d done the same..all but growling as he empties his balls into you and leaves a stream of that hot white load embedded inside of you. Chest heaving and curse words are still spewing from his mouth, along with a laugh.

“Fuck..I swear you bring out the worst in me.”

“Says the one whose idea it was in the first goddamn place.”

but there aren’t any complaints. It was no secret you enjoyed this as much as he did. And those primal urges were only just beginning to be quelled…

“Well I have a better idea..why don’t we go for round two when we get back to the tent?”

after all, you had a long weekend ahead of you!

[drenosa]

Morals of Perspective

Yang: *Grinning up a storm* Sup, Vomitboy! You got a sec?

Jaune: *Already sulking* Oh great, we still doing nicknames...

Yang: Aha, don't you worry you big lug. You'll earn yourself a new nickname before you know it.

Jaune: Riiiight... so what do you want, Short Fuse.

Yang: Testy today, huh? Anyway what's your favourite predator?

Jaune: *Wary* Why are you asking?

Yang: Just go with it, and tell me your favourite prey animal too while you're at it.

Jaune: Ugh, fine. *Thinking* Tiger and... deer, I guess.

Yang: Good choices, good choices. Now, imagine that predator hunting that prey.

Jaune: *Imagining, eyes closed* Okay...

Yang: Who you rooting for?

Jaune: Uhm... I... *Opens eyes in indecision* I can't really choose.

Yang: Yeah, that's tough. Now imagine the situation as if you're watching a nature documentary. The doc's subject is the tiger.

Jaune: Then... *Closes eyes again, beginning to grin with vicarious triumph* Hell yeah, the tiger's got its meal!

Yang: Now imagine the doc's subject is the deer.

Jaune: What... *eyes closed, concern etching his face* but... Oh gods! *Drops to his knees in despair* Blitzen, noooooo! You had so much to life fo-ho-hoooor...

Yang: Haha... Great succes.

~~~~~~~~~~

Weiss: *Watching from a distance* What are those blond dolts up to now...

Ruby: *Knowing exactly what her sister's doing* Oh, I know.

Weiss: *Sceptical* Really now?

Ruby: Yeppers! So tell me... what's your favourite predator?

[gatorbites-imagines]

ftm wally west 🙏🏽 ion even hav a plot or thought in mind he jus deserves to get eaten out like a king mhm

Infirmary munchies

Drabble

FTM Wally West x Male reader

I think ive set up a healthy way to do my project for religion and still have some free time, so yayyyy.

Mixed terminology used for Wally’s bits, cuz idk. Not sure if I wrote this good, so lemme know what yall think.

Wally groaned softly as his eyes fluttered, head pressed back against the stiff pillows that the infirmary always gave out to the league members residing there. His red hair was tussled, and his body littered in bruises and bandages, a result of his last mission that had ended him in the infirmary in the first place.

He felt lightheaded as your tongue ran up from the bottom of his cunt to the top, where your lips wrapped around his t-cock before you gave it a suck, withdrawing enough to flick the hard engorged bundle of nerves before you dove down again, burying your tongue into his wet hole like a man starved.

His body ached from his bruises, but the pleasure of your mouth moving against him numbed it, causing hot flashes to run up his spine and coil in his abdomen. Wally had to clap a bandaged hand over his mouth as you gave a particularly cruel suck, a wet slurp leaving you as you licked up the wetness that spilled out of his slit, your eyes locked onto Wallys scrunched up face as the lower half of your face was soaked in his juices.

“Y-you’re acting like you haven’t eaten in a week” he breathlessly giggled as he gripped your hair harder, an almost wounded noise leaving him as you cruelly flick his cock with your tongue, just barely scraping your teeth across it enough for him to feel and to have his hips jolting, unsure if he wants to press closer to you or pull away.

Instead of answering you lick into him with more gusto, fingers pressing in beside your tongue and pushing into his wet hole, a lewd slick noise filling the infirmary as you start to move your wrist, curling your fingers and pressing them about inside him. Wally keens as his powerful thighs flex on either side of your head, and if you hadn’t been enchanted yourself, he could probably have accidentally broken your neck with the power behind them, his second hand shooting down to grip onto the back of your neck, almost lugging you closer and pushing your face deeper between his quivering thighs.

A wet spot was gathering under him as you feasted yourself on his cunt, fingers feeling about where your tongue couldn’t reach, as Wallys stomach clenched, his abs tightening from the influx of senses you had crashing through him.

You could tell he was getting close by the way his breath caught and his gasps became shorter, his hips growing even more unsteady as they twitched and jolted, his dick twitching against your tongue as his hole clenched around your fingers. You moaned into him, shaking your head from side to side to slather your tongue all over him, your fingers pressing into that familiar spot inside him that had Wallys vision turning white and a warbled cry leaving his throat.

His entire body tightened and tensed as he came, wetness coating your fingers and tongue as you rubbed him through it, taking in the delicious sight that was your boyfriend climaxing. His freckled chest heaved as he gasped for breath, the grip on your hair and neck still tight and holding you against him as he ground against your lips and face, cunt rubbing his wetness further against your face as if marking his territory to some extent.

Finally, his body seemed to give out, his previously tense muscles going slack as he releases his grip on your head, slumping down onto the medical cot, bleary eyes looking down at you as your lick your lips like a satisfied tiger. He whined jokingly as you crawl up the bed to hover over him like a predator, his hands coming up to push you away as you try to kiss him as he snickers, your face still slick with his juices and tongue still tasting like him.

With a playful roll of your eyes, you get out of the cot as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, moving around to clean yourself up as you find what you need to clean Wally up and replace the covers on the cot so he wouldn’t have to lay in his own mess. It was only after you had washed out your mouth that Wally let you kiss him, your lips meeting in a soft and loving kiss. Some days he lets you kiss him after eating him out, but you guessed it was just one of those days. Now it was just trying to find out how to get him back into one of those medical paper dresses again before someone else barged in.

[tantei-chan01]

Animals Continued

Xxxxx

Once the World Tour is taken care of, with the rock trolls agreeing to help with the damages, the rest of the tribes return to their respective territories. There's just one issue, the wild life have gotten bolder.

Since the attack, many of their defenses have been destroyed, causing the local wildlife to get closer to the residents. There haven't been any attacks, but it does make the citizens nervous.

Techno trolls have sharks, eels, and large squid that are their natural predators. It's also the time of year for the giant mana ray migration, so they need to figure out a way to redirect them without their tech.

The Classical trolls have large preditory birds to worry about, and they're having trouble getting their eighth goats under control.

The Country trolls have many poisoness animals in the desert. Their cattle have been scared off so many times that they won't get close to the town.

The Funk trolls have to stay grounded until repairs are done on the ship, since they haven't been on the ground for so long, they're not quite sure how to deal with many of the creatures.

The Rock trolls also have a problem, with so many of the citizens in different territories to help with repairs. They've neglected their own issues with the lava crocs and boulder buzzards.

When Poppy learns of this, she sends in the one troll who can help them.

Enter Branch.

At first, Branch was a little apprehensive to leave the village, they still have some repairs to do, and it's mating season for the puffalo. The Snack Pack tell him that they can handle the reconstruction and Milton can help with the puffalo. So he packs up his bags and starts heading toward the other tribes.

Xxx

Branch spends a month in each tribe to do his job. He tackles the predators first, spending two weeks studying their habits and memorizing their sounds. Once he finds a pattern in the communication or an exploitable weakness, he makes a strategy and collaborates with the other trolls on how to best go through it. Some animals he was able to convince to move areas, others he had no choice but use force.

Once the predators are taken care of, he gets to the domestic animals. Like before, he memorizes the habits and sounds. Once he has a form of communication going, he'll ask them what they need. He then relays the message to the trolls, and they start making accommodations.

The other tribes notice how their pets and livestock seem much calmer around the once gray troll. Even the more temperamental of their creature become putty in his hands. Many have called him the 'Animal Whisperer', and the more romantic types call him an Angel.

To say thanks for helping them, each tribe gives him an animal.

Techno gave him a Low beat Turtle, similar to Suki's bugs, the have a turntable on their back. They can move on land and can create a low vibration sound that has a calming effect.

Classical gave him three eighth goats as they do better in a herd than by themselves. Their wool is fluffy and warm, making incredible blankets, pillows, and sweaters. They also have a melodious bleat.

Country gave him a dairy Bluegrass Buffalo, they're a sandy blue color cow. They make a delicious and nutritious milk and are very gentle.

Funk gave him a snug-a-lug since Branch can talk to them. He can figure out how to hug it without multiplying. And yes, Branch can make that cute little warble it does.

Rock gave him a Lava Snake, they vary in color from dark red to an ashy gray. Their hide is very tough while their underbelly is quite soft. They can withstand extremely high temperatures, and their skin can be melted to create many things once they shed. The young one likes to sleep in the fireplace.

The animals in Pop village take them under their tutelage to become Branch's bodyguards, unbeknownst to him.

[chloeesstuff-blog]

✨💘 Wrong Predator & Ruby 💘✨

[emo-gremlin]

Okay, I know you’re stance, but hear me out, Mr. Puzzles beating the fuck out of a child abuser? As graphic as you’re comfortable with?

Aight ill do it.

Mr. Puzzles beating the shit out of a Child abuser!

Trigger warnings: glass going places glass should never go, attempted hanging.

I fucking love extreme horror so I definitely pulled from that. Also watching videos on 8 passengers provided motivation to do this, so thank you Anon.

🖥 He's angry, and it's clear to see on his face. Flickering red, with eyes all over his screen, which bursts from overheating anger.

🖥 "You shouldn't have done that you know." He says calmly, picking up one of the shards of his screen. "Not. Around. Me."

🖥 He lunges on them, slashing across their face with the shard of glass, popping one of their eyeballs; it's insides mixing with the blood spitting out of their face.

🖥 His other hand around their throat, adrenaline courses through the showman's veins as he stands, lifting the predator high, who claws at Mr. Puzzles' gloved hand.

🖥 "You know, I've always wondered how accurate the guts and gore were in horror films." He brings them close, whispering, "Why don't we find out, hm?" A crazed giddiness in his voice as he throws them across the concrete.

🖥 A sickening crack is heard as they landed, Mr. Puzzles' stalking closer to them like a cat hunting it's prey.

🖥 The seat-taker tries to crawl away, a feeble attempt to escape as the Showman's foot slams down on their hand, hard enough to shatter bone. He stomps again, bone now sticking out of their skin.

🖥 They sob as Mr. Puzzles crouches down, pinching their chin and tilting their face up to see him. "Vermin like you shouldn't be allowed to live this long. Guess I have to play exterminator."

🖥 Mr. Puzzles pulls them up by their shirt, an action which ends up pulling down their drawers. He chuckles. "Perfect." He grips the shard in his other hand, slamming the glass into their rectum without hesitation. He cackles at their screams, throwing them back on the ground and using his foot to push the glass even further into the Abuser.

🖥 He kicks them over, "Don't run off just yet! We still have the grand finale!" He giggles, going to grab the rest of the shards of glass from his screen.

🖥 They tried to back away, their broken hand not doing them any favors. The blood flowing from their behind making it too slippery to go anywhere fast.

🖥 "Catch!" Mr. Puzzles throws a handful of smaller pieces at them, cutting through their clothes and hitting skin.

🖥 He crouches down again, ripping apart the shirt they were wearing, exposing their chest. "Now then, why don't we take a look inside and see what they got right in the movies, hm?"

🖥 A shard of glass is stuck deep, hitting quite possibly the encashment of the smaller intestines, as Mr. Puzzles drives the makeshift blade up to their collarbone. Their screams left unheard and prayers for mercy unanswered.

🖥 Mr. Puzzles' joints whirred as he tore apart the flesh away from their organs inside, still caged by their ribs. "Hmmm....I'd say they got it...mostly right. I think 1,000 ways to die should've taken notes though.

🖥 He could see the light starting to fade, so he gave them a shock. "Nuh uh! Not yet, Vermin."

🖥 The Vermin was crying, begging for him to stop. "You didn't stop when the young begged you to, so why should I?" Mr. Puzzles replies condescendingly.

🖥 He breaks open their ribcage, their beating heart now open to the elements. "Ah...the heart. Such a powerful thing. Capable of love, strong enough to withstand the harshest heartbreak and pull itself back together....No wonder yours is so withered. You never cared at all."

🖥 He dove a hand into their intestines, pulling out the large organ and looping it around their neck. "Let's see how strong these really can be."

🖥 He lugs them over his shoulder, bringing them to a nearby tree. He's able to hook their intestines around the branch, pulling them up slowly until finally making one last tug. The organ couldn't handle their weight, ripping and sending them falling to the ground.

🖥 He bows to no one, except the dark clouds over the parking lot. He smiles as it begins to rain, washing his TV clean of the blood splatter as he starts his way back home, whistling a happy tune.

I hope this helps anyone who ever had to deal with abuse with finding a bit of catharsis. I know writing this helped me. ^^

[rippersz]

𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖘 𝕴𝖓 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝕱𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖘

Medusa!Larissa Weems x Blind!Reader (wlw/fluffy/mythological)

"You and only you, can make the rest of my life peaceful," ~ Madeleine Smith

~~~~~~~~

A gentle ebb and flow threaded through the leaves and water. The small waves in the river went forward, the green strands of the grass went back, and so in tune they were when the other changed direction. Forward and back and back and forward. They paid no mind to the birds - those of which flitted from one nest to the other. Nor did the rabbits or deer, grazing and passing through, interrupt their little dance. Forward and back and back and forward. The fish swam with no place in mind and the wolves were silent in their daily musings - tasked to do with whatever it was that wolves were tasked to do on such a sweet day.

The snow of the previous season had been shed; soaked into the ground over the past two weeks while the sun stretched her arms over her head and yawned with a big hello. She carried Spring along with her and spread her over the ground, making love until evening so that the fruits of their desire fell into seeds. Figs, apples, berries, nuts, and foliage dotted the bushes, the nettle, and the trees. All slowly growing ripe in their waiting, blooming in large families to match the quick growth of the flowers. White flowers, pink flowers, red flowers, yellow flowers; lilacs and lavenders and daisies and on the far side of the traveled grounds, even roses.

It was picturesque. Undisturbed. Serene in a way that many places weren’t. The breeze was constant and fresh and the sun peeked from behind big fluffy clouds, announcing her presence with a soft whisper.

And so beautiful it was that she was perfectly content with leaning beside the stone wall of the cave’s entrance; eyes trained on nothing but the journal in her hands. It was worn and old, made from leather with a latch clasp that was slowly rusting, but it was thick and good - full of notes and ideas and places and numbers. 1546 years of being alive as she was, tallying each day until the bitterness overwhelmed the distinct pride of prolonged survival and the tallies became a thing of the past. After all, there was no need to count when the days weren’t numbered.

Sure, there was a bounty on her head, but that didn’t matter. Not in the glory of a new Spring. There was no room for bloodshed on such a beautiful afternoon - and so she was not worried about a bumbling blistering fool with a great ego and dull blade. And so she was not worried about a feral creature with no regard for predator and prey dynamics. And so she was not worried about a-

“AGH!”

-woman?

Her head snapped up, rousing small hisses from the slumbering children.

The woman, she quickly confirmed, had fallen into the river. On her hands and knees, she wavered in the current and let out little sounds- huffs and grunts and even a small curse of ‘Gods, honestly!’- while she scrunched up the fabric of her skirt in her hands and struggled to her feet. Her hair, scraggly and unclean, hung over her face, wet at the ends and dry at the top.

A part of her felt the need to offer assistance, but common sense told her to stay put - and only to watch. Eventually, as time would say, the strange woman managed to trip her way over to the river’s bank and press her hands into the mud and rock. Then she scrambled up, her sandaled feet working in earnest to help lug her body over the edge and finally- finally- leave her belly up in the grass, heaving great breaths of air. Up and down her chest fell while she faced the sky. Her skirt, patterned and brown, hung below her knees and stuck to her legs; and the shirt, white and flowing and clearly a bit too big for her frame, turned see-through with the water-lined hem that rested against her sides. Her feet were bare in her simple sandals and aside from a blue worn shoulder bag- one that strapped sideways along her front- there was nothing particularly distinct about the stranger. She was just a woman returning home. Or a woman searching for something. Or a woman on a mission to provide for her family.

But whichever she was, woman with a purpose or not, she was no friend. And so she made no move to leave her cave and instead, sat, and returned to her journal.

So the breeze passed.

And the clouds strolled.

The river went forward. And the grass went back.

And for a good long while, nothing happened.

Then there was a shuffling, and a noise of effort, and a soft simmer of hisses began to rise. Feeling the slow slipping of movement on top of her head, she looked up.

The woman had gotten to her feet, apparently done with her momentary bask in the sun, and began ringing out the water at the bottom of her skirt. The bag she had was on the ground, and everything in it was spread out on the grass. From her point by the cave, a good distance away, she could see a few bits of light clothing, a comb, a small stone knife (which needed a good sharpening), and two wrapped bits of woven leaves and twine. There was no scent of meat in the air, aside from the flesh of the fauna within the forest, so she figured the woman most likely carried berries and nuts for nutrition. Which was, judging by the contents on her person, certainly not enough in an effort to run away.

The woman looked up. Her body jumped - like a spooked young doe, and her own body tensed. Silently, she told her children to hush. Then she thought, wished,-

‘Don’t turn your head. Don’t turn your head. Don’t turn your head. Don’t-’

Apparently deciding that there was nothing to worry about, the stranger kept her back turned to the cave and went back to wringing out her clothing. The hisses and movement had ceased, but the children were still vigilant - watching with perceptive sapphire eyes as the stranger then began to- oh!

She looked away, turning her head so quickly that the children jerked with her. One of the younglings instantly took the opportunity to slide along the shell of her ear and give a mean rumbling clicky-hiss. Absent-mindedly, she reached up to flick the child back into place; paying more attention to her own behavior than anything else.

The woman had reached to take off her shirt- to draw it above her midriff and throw it onto the grass. The river, mixed with the Springtime air, was a good place to stop and bathe, she supposed. It was her plan later anyway to go for a dip herself, if not to feel clean then to at least wash the little companions she carried with her. But the woman beat her to it. And in the silence as she averted her gaze, ignoring the blush of heat on her pale cheeks, the soft sounds of clothing hitting the ground some feet away filled the air. And when that was said and done, a few splashes and small shrieks - drawn from the chill of the river.

When it was quiet, and she was comfortable enough to sneak a look, she found the woman’s back turned to her still. Her hair was wet and slicked, sticking slightly to her neck as she turned this way and that and- oh. She had soap too. So that must have been in one of the two woven bundles.

‘Hm. Smart.’ But not entirely. It wasn’t good to stay long bathing out in the open. Hunters and gatherers and silly stupid mortals had a habit of coming around at the most inopportune times.

She knew that very well.

Though… since the woman was washing up near her cave… there was no harm in observing the scenery. No harm in taking interest in the sun. No, not at all. They would each have their privacy, and as long as the woman didn’t turn around, everything would be fine. And she could keep an eye out… for birds, of course. Not hunters. No no.

So that’s how it went.

The woman bathed, humming to herself, keeping her back to the cave and turning only to lather soap on another part of her body. Completely unaware of the forest creatures watching her. And one creature in particular made it her mission to watch the land, observing and peering; hearing the crackles of branches and chirping of baby birds, listening for footsteps or voices. But none came. And soon enough, the woman was rising from the river, putting on her sandals, and going to sit on the laid out skirt from earlier. She had no cloth to dry off… and so would use the sun.

‘Hm. Not so smart.’ A hiss or two from her children told her they agreed.

It was not right for a woman to be so vulnerable like that. And out in the open. If she weren’t there, the stranger could be hurt. Or worse - killed. But it was good then that she wasn’t alone, wasn’t it? That she had a guardian of sorts… who would kill her too if only she looked her way.

Did- had she fallen asleep?

Like that?

In the middle of the grass with her belongings spread around her and her body, soft and nude, bared to the sun?

‘Is she mad?’

Maybe she was. Or maybe she was just young. Maybe life hasn’t hurt her too severely just yet. And maybe Larissa was being harsh.

Hm.

Well.

It didn’t really matter either way. There was nothing else to do, and though the stranger wasn’t really ‘company’, she was still action. So there was no desire to chase her off and there was no desire to see her maimed - thus, Larissa sat. She tucked long pale legs beneath her, shifted the white chiton to fall on her shoulders just so, and kept her journal close at hand. Night was due to fall soon enough, as it always did in early Spring, so the tools for a fire were already prepared behind her - waiting to be utilized and set later. Hopefully the woman would be gone by then.

But she wasn’t.

At some point, she’d gotten up to change into different clothing; a dress hand-stitched from red dyed fabric. It was pretty, yes, but not very practical for running away.

‘But good clothing was probably the only thing she had.’

Which was most likely true, Larissa mused. Many young women, richer than most, took it upon themselves to run away. Their reason for doing so depended on who they were. The stranger in the red dress, who decided to lay on the grass and fall asleep again, was a woman of status but not to the point of being a royal. If that were the case, there’d be men on horses trailing close behind. Unless they hadn’t found her yet… and were using dogs to track her scent…

The children stirred, hissing with disdain and fear.

She watched the young woman with anxious eyes.

Such a naive thing could lead to her death, once and for all…. and how ironic would that be. A scorned woman with a passion for soft things… destroyed by a soft woman with a passion for a free life. Had they both wanted that at one point? Or was it still something they desired?

The children settled. She continued to watch the land.

But eventually, as Spring would have it, the peacefulness of the quiet had her lulling off to sleep as well. And she only awoke to the feeling of soft kitten licks at her cheekbones. The repeated lap at her skin had her groaning and flicking the offender away - only to have two more slide up and continue twice as hard.

“Ugh, what is it?” She groaned, scrunching her eyes together before pushing herself upright.

The licks turned to urgent hisses- and her darlings started writhing with anxiety- telling her to get up! And if possessed, she stood quickly and looked out into the sudden dark of night. The sun had disappeared. There was not a single light out there in the black. But there was movement. Breath.

The woman. She was still asleep. Dreaming about whatever it was that women liked her dream about.

Larissa frowned.

Well she couldn’t just leave her out there, could she? No! That was- that was… inhumane. Terrible. A fate worse than anything. And if she woke up to the screams of the stranger- if she woke up to her pain… she could risk killing everyone in sight. Literally.

A young king nipped at her ear.

She huffed. Well. It just wouldn’t do. It just wouldn’t do at all.

And so she collected the fabric of her chiton in her clawed hands and marched forward to the sleeping beauty. The creatures were stiff with observation, keeping their reptilian eyes sharp and alert as she moved - quiet as a snake and dangerous as… well. Herself.

When she was finally standing over the stranger, she let the cloth fall from her hands. The woman, in comparison to her, was short. And vulnerable. And maybe she’d just take her to the edge of the nearest village… or something like that. Something far from her cave and her life. But as she finished slipping the woman’s belongings into her bag (which had since dried from her fall in the river), a whisper rumble of thunder from the clouds above had her sighing. Well. A Spring storm was usually a good sign of the incoming year, but to have one so early was… less than favorable. Her plans, too, were foiled. The children quite disliked the rain, and getting her own clothing wet was something she desperately wanted to avoid (the heavier material took much longer to dry than what the strange woman wore - so she’d have to resort to at least another change of clothes for a day. Which she seldomly tried to wear.)

‘Well. We can’t leave her out here. So as long as she keeps her back turned, we won’t have any trouble now will we?’

No, probably not. Hell for all she knew, the woman could sleep through the whole night and then she could put her back outside in the morning and she could tottle off on her way as though nothing ever happened. Or she could wake up in the middle of the night and take Larissa’s head. Yes. Or that could happen. Which would really be quite terrible. Most likely painless, but still terrible.

The thought of that had Larissa pausing. The woman’s sling bag fell limp in her hand.

Was she taking too big of a risk? Never before had she helped a stranger like that, but she was not unfamiliar with such kindness. It was hard to find in her years, but she’d witnessed the sweetest acts of tenderness amongst strangers. Usually between two women.

She frowned. Some of her children turned, peering over to look down at the sleeping stranger.

Her hair covered her eyes and her limbs were spread out like she was sleeping on the comfiest bit of cloud that ever existed. Like she had no cares at all. It was both endearing and confusing. How could a woman sleep so soundly in the wilderness? How could a woman sleep so soundly in the open? Did her lack of awareness make her an omen of danger? Or was she a passing soul Larissa could provide help for? Someone to make her feel like she was human again… Like she was capable of being good instead of being what she… was.

A flash of lightning in the distance, above the forest before her, told her it was time to hurry up. Spring held no qualms about trapping the world in a downpour, and she didn’t feel like trekking through mud before bed.

So making up her mind quickly, Larissa slung the stranger’s bag over her shoulder and bent down to pick her up. She tried to be mindful of her sharp fingers when sliding her hands beneath the woman’s back and thighs; though surprisingly, for all of her mortal weight, she was easy to carry. Strength, Larissa had figured early on into her ‘new life’, was one of the very few advantages she’d gained after her transformation. But never before had she picked up a human. And never would she do it again as she realized how difficult it was to keep from jostling them. She was just so… limp. Her head lolled a little bit and her arms ragdolled and she looked more like a young woman than an adult stranger. But nonetheless, Larissa carried her back to the cave. The children were silent, understanding somehow that they were not to wake the mortal with their clicks and hisses and little rattling sounds. As endearing as their mother found it, the human would not take too kindly to their existence - before she turned into nothing but a statue, of course.

‘Don’t wake up don’t wake up don’t wake up don’t wake up,’ Larissa thought desperately to herself as she padded into the cave and placed the woman onto her bed. There was nowhere else for her to rest, and it wasn’t like Larissa was planning on getting much sleep in her company anyway, so onto the little nest of stolen blankets, wool, and pillows she went. Slipped so easily from Larissa’s pale arms - and then cared for even more when she went about gently turning her around onto her side, belly facing the cave wall, before pulling the mismatched bed coverings up to her shoulders.

The thunder and lightning from the world beyond was growing more intense by the second, striking a worried chord in her heart that had her quickly placing the woman’s bag beside her body and flitting around to get her home comfortable for the evening. The routine followed as it did every night. Gently unwind the twine that holds back the bramble, vine, and leaf-woven curtains to each side of the cave wall; being careful of the sap-gum that held everything in place. Then gently arrange the curtains, as thick and prickly as they were, to cover the entirety of the cave’s entrance. Once that is finished, move around in the dark for the corner in which the fires are conducted - then go about striking the rock and the wood and adding the sticks and gathering a flame and letting out a sigh of relief when the warm glow fills the grey emptiness of the space.

She had planned on going hunting that evening, before sundown, but the stranger stole all of her attention away; and searching for meat during a storm was a fruitless mission. They were both lucky then that Larissa had enough forethought to search for various nuts, grains, and fruits the day previous. They were stored away behind the fabric of her pillow… which was preoccupied by the woman’s sleeping head.

The world rumbled as Larissa propped herself up against the cave wall. There was never much to do besides ponder, write, sleep, and hunt… so she turned back to her journal, deciding to spend some time detailing the woman she came across. Her hand moved with sharp twirls and scritches, writing of how strange the mortal was; how innocent; how peaceful she looked sleeping in her bed, completely unaware of the monster that lurked behind her. Like a daisy in a pretty green field… soon to be trampled beneath the hungry paw of a bastard wolf; left without the gift of seeing so she couldn’t even anticipate her untimely death. It was rather sad. It was rather brutal. No woman deserved a fate such as that - for she was only running away and did not think she would be dragged into the cave of a beast.

As the embers of the flame died, the woman continued to sleep. There reached a point where Larissa thought she was dead. Despite being able to hear the warm thump of her heart, she still stood and loomed over the stranger - only to find that yes, she was still alive. Just resting.

‘Must have been quite a long journey if she’s been asleep for that long,’ she mused to herself, turning away to tend to the puttering glows of their fire.

Though as soon as the rain started, coming down in thick pats upon the mud outside of the cave, the huddle of blankets in her bed stirred, and her children stood - turning to glare at the sound. A soft swishing fell into the thunderstorm’s undercurrent as the woman moved her legs, kicked them out to stretch, groaned softly beneath her breath, and turned onto her back. She pawed at her hair, eyes still closed, and Larissa reached up to wrap her index finger and thumb around the snout of her eldest child.

‘Don’t speak,’ she quietly commanded the bunch, ‘I do not want to be the last thing she sees.’

But the crackling of the fire, paired with its warmth and light, had the woman releasing a confused hum as she shuffled onto her hands and pushed herself up to sit. Larissa watched, silent, while the stranger slowly came back to her senses and regained consciousness.

“Is there- what-” she spoke, soft voice trailing off into a myriad of inaudible questions.

The child in her grasp wriggled, having had enough of its mother’s scolding, eager to rejoin the others in their free scrutiny. She finally let it go, tapping its pale head with the tip of one finger, and then slid the journal from her lap and placed it onto the cave’s floor as quietly as she could. Spooking the woman was the last thing she wanted to do, but as she stood to her full height and gently pulled some of the loose fabric of her chiton closer to her body, the stranger jumped anyway - and instantly got to her feet.

Larissa’s heart stopped, tripping over itself as she jerked her head down.

“Wh-Who’s there?! What do you want with me?! I have a knife!!” The stranger’s voice, scared and loud, full of false bravery, was quieted by the rain and thunder.

‘You don’t have a knife. You don’t know where it is,’ was Larissa’s inner thoughts- right as the woman began murmuring to herself.

“Wait. Where is the knife…” and only when there was the dull sound of knees dropping onto fabric, did Larissa finally bring her blue eyes up.

The woman, in her absence of the knife… went looking for it. On her hands and knees… patting the ground… searching through the fabrics of the bed and slapping her soft palms against the stone of the cave’s floor… frantic and confused…

Larissa frowned.

“It’s in your bag.”

—

You jumped, letting out a harsh breath while your heart skipped up into your throat.

“Who goes there?! Who are you?!” Your voice was shrill, loud and scared as you forgot about the knife and went pushing yourself back up into your feet. “I-I know how to fight!” You yelled into the darkness, putting up your fists.

It was a lie of course- you had no idea how to fight- but that didn’t matter. As long as the person- woman?- thought you were tough enough to hold your own.

But when you huffed and puffed and bared your teeth, keeping your fists up, nothing happened. Complete silence filled the air, interrupted only by the rain and the flicker of a fire nearby. You could feel its warmth on you even in your panic - even as you stepped back and back and back until your shoulders hit something hard behind you. It was a wall; a curved imperfect wall that told you you weren’t in a cabin or home with extremely open windows, somewhere in the woods, but were instead in… in… well. You didn’t actually know. It’s not like you could see and just find out. Though despite that, you still looked around wildly - keeping your ears open for movement.

There was none.

You frowned.

“…How… are… you…?” It was a woman! The voice, spoken in front of you, across whatever space you were in, was smooth and deep. Accented. She sounded strange. Foreign. And also incredibly confused. Almost… astounded? Like she couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

“Don’t make me ask again,” you warned, reminding yourself that some women could be just as dangerous as men, “what do you want with me?”

“Blind…” came the soft response; so quick- it was in the air before you finished speaking; so quiet you had to strain to hear. “You’re… blind.”

Well. Yes. It was a rather defining feature; one that many noticed and took advantage of. One that people thought they could ‘work with’ and use to trick you - but you were clever. And strong. And personable in a way that many didn’t expect. The stranger across from you though… she was still just another potential danger. Still just a thing to be aware of. And so you cleared your throat and nodded, putting your hands at your sides and curling them into fists.

“Yes. I am. And what about it?” You sniffed, tilting your head up, trying to seem braver than you were.

No amount of cleverness, after all, could save a blind woman from a tricky death. If the river you had fallen into earlier was a cavern or a very deep pit, you would have been finished. Thank goodness you took advantage of it at the time.

“…Nothing. I apologize. I have- never met a blind person before,” the woman spoke, stilted and cautious. Still with an undercurrent of awe in her voice. It was peculiar, the way she was acting, but you shrugged it off. The apology was unexpected but not unwelcome. It had you squinting into the nothingness of your vision.

“Well. Now you have.” You nodded, suddenly feeling rather awkward.

—

Yes. She had. You were right.

Right and blind.

Blind. Unable to see.

The children froze, and she felt the way they looked at each other, unsure and confused. No doubt wondering ‘What issss happening?’ They were too familiar with mortal skin turning grey and hard at the smallest glimpse in their direction to understand what was happening. All they knew was their mother and solitude. And she, likewise, had no concept of how to deal with a stranger that did not want to- or simply couldn’t- kill her.

The milky color of the stranger’s eyes, although rare and odd, was beautiful. Like the wispy white of the clouds when they blanketed the moon at midnight. Light and dark at the same time… grey under a matter of circumstance. The cherry on top of the woman’s strange existence. Shocking to a new face but glorious to a trained eye. Her children observed the mortal with unending curiosity; casting violence aside as they slithered to their tallest heights and curled down, swaying their small pale heads. The situation was lost on them, but that didn’t matter. They’d understand eventually. Perhaps when the woman was gone the previous morning and she could muse over the mortal out loud to herself.

But until then,

“Are you hungry?” She wasn’t sure what else to ask.

—

You felt your stomach rumble- speaking to you as though the mention of eating had woken it up from its slumber.

“Um yes… you’re not going to poison me though, are you?”

There was a short gasp.

“Goodness, no. Why would I do that?”

She sounded so outraged- so shocked by your question- that you almost smiled. You couldn’t see her expression, but there was sincerity in her velvet voice. Like she was genuinely surprised, if not offended, that you’d ask her of all people that. It didn’t matter if you’d asked in slight jest or not; she didn’t seem to understand the consequences that came with literal blind trust.

“Some people like to take advantage,” you murmured, shrugging at the same time. Most women understood what you meant. People during that time, men in particular, saw the weak souls of the world and let their eyes light up with the chance to exert power. It was common. It was difficult. The woman opposite you, you were nearly certain, understood the sentiment as well.

“I–… yes. I realize that,” she stated, her voice growing firm. “But I’m not going to poison you. I’m not a m-” There was a soft hissing hush that filled the air, cutting into her words with a sharp strength you couldn’t ignore

What on Earth…

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” was the quick response. “I have nuts and berries I found not too long ago. Will that be enough?”

Your brow furrowed. What was she hiding?

“Um yes- yes that would be lovely… thank you.”

And with that, the stranger let out a hum and went walking around, shuffling along to grab a few things while you stood there on (what you assumed was) her bed. It was soft; pillowed with linens and fabrics and blankets that felt as though they’d come from all over the world when you shifted from one foot to the other. You frowned at the odd feeling and stepped off of the coverings- not wanting to flatten or dirty her sleeping area. It was kind of her to even put you there in the first place; though you wondered if she’d carried you herself or dragged you along. Not many women in your time, or the village where you were from, had the strength or initiative to pick up another woman and carry her anywhere, let alone their own bed. But if you were dragged along the grassy terrain outside, you surely would have felt the bumps and stops, no?

Either way, as soon as you stepped onto the hard ground of- well- wherever- you were at, you turned to the sound of movement and cleared your throat.

“And um… thank you for taking me here. Keeping me safe. You didn’t have to do that, but you did anyway. So- I appreciate it.” You fidgeted; keeping your hands at your waist and picking at the soft skin around your nails.

The shuffling paused.

“…You’re welcome.” The stranger replied softly.

It was almost like she wasn’t sure what to say. Like she didn’t hear the words ‘thank you’ very often. Like maybe she didn’t come into contact with people very often. And perhaps she didn’t. How else could she have found you if she didn’t live away from civilization? It wasn’t unheard of; it was just not very common. But, as you always said, to each their own. There was no room for judgment, after all - the woman probably ran away in a similar fashion as you did. In the very beginnings of morning, before the sun even rose, with everything you could think to carry in a satchel slung across your shoulders, heading out into the world as though it wouldn’t prove to be as dangerous as the life you left had been. The only difference being that nothing could make you want to return to that - not even the scary sounds that came out of the forest at night. The woman, even if only for one evening, was a saving grace.

And still a stranger.

She puttered around some more, dragging soft things across the ground- leaf bowls you assumed- and poured water into clay cups.

“I never got your name, you know. So I can remember you.” It was a hesitant thing to say, but you figured that if you somehow made friends with the woman, you could come back to her one day if you ever needed the shelter. Or the company. The world was tough, after all; and not always did a woman succeed on her own.

That woman had, though.

That woman, who stopped her actions again and allowed the combined ambience of the rain and fire to melt into the space.

That woman, who inhaled sharply before exhaling into one spoken breath:

“Larissa.”

(Thank you for reading! Do let me know if you'd prefer the other layout/way of editing with the text dividers and character gifs. This Medusa thing may become a little series like Cannibal Larissa. Let me know what you think? Until next time, darlings - Rip x)

~~~~~~~~

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[gadzooksgalore]

What are Mip and Ardyn's favorite things to do for fun?

Apologies to the person who sent this ask…it’s been sitting in my inbox for over a month and I fully intended to answer it, but life’s just been very hectic lately X’D But with Mermay ending in a couple days, I figured it’d be fitting to answer this before the month is over!

Mip’s favorite thing to do for fun is collect seashells! It’s a hobby she always wanted to pursue as a (younger) child - unfortunately, she wasn’t allowed to keep any shells because her birth family was nomadic and very paranoid. It wasn’t convenient to lug around shells at her diminutive size, and her parents believed such bulky keepsakes would make them more obvious targets to predators. It wasn’t until the events of “Stronger Than Blood” took place and Ardyn became her adopted brother that she was able to collect shells at her leisure (with Ardyn’s help for some of the larger ones)! Now she has a growing collection in their shared cave c:

Ardyn’s favorite thing to do for fun is race around at high speeds in the open ocean! Despite being chill and generally pleasant while in the presence of other mers, Ardyn can start to feel a bit cooped up in the village and needs to get out some zoomies every once in a while. He loves being able to swim fast and let loose once there are no smaller mers nearby who could get caught in his wake! Which is actually kind of ironic because two yellowtail snapper mer twins from the village (both just a bit younger than Ardyn) enjoy racing with him, and those little guys can keep up! Ardyn appreciates the company and challenge they provide.

[bestworstcase]

Grimm behavior reassessment thought: y'know that sister training session called on account of Rather Tanky Ursa? Could Ruby & Yang have avoided that fight if they'd known to treat the big lug like careful hikers would an 'ordinary' bear encounter? There were a few 'pause & rear/roar' moments on its part which I guess *could* be read as 'hey stop that' or 'my turf, leave'.

yang’s character short has always interested me bc the ursa was there the whole time they were sparring.

like. yang throws a punch, ruby panic-flies into the bushes and then passes out:

on this screenshot i’ve marked ruby’s approximate path in red and circled the clump of bushes the ursa emerges from (using the logs laid around the perimeter as markers):

note the very dense foliage around the grimm; he’s completely hidden. yang gets concerned when ruby doesn’t respond, startles when she hears a twig snap in the area circled in yellow, this is what she sees:

and then he stands up:

which. ok. he’s a really big guy. there is no way he crept up on them and got that close before making a noticeable sound, and most grimm behave like pursuit predators besides—they wander around in the open and give chase when they come across prey. (although there are exceptions: the pack of apathy at brunswick drag the lamp around a corner and go dark to lie in wait, for example.)

the point is, he’s there, but yang can’t see him until his eyes illuminate because he’s lying down in the bushes. his markings are also ‘off’ and only begin to glow as he stands up.

we’ve seen grimm Do That a couple times:

and we’ve also seen in v8 that just because there don’t seem to be any grimm nearby doesn’t mean they aren’t there:

<- same thing happens in the mine. dozens of centinels pop out of the ground when the geist signals for them to screen his retreat deeper into the mine. which suggests that grimm may spend a lot of time… not hunting. unseen, hidden just under the surface or in the densest thickets, crevices, whatever. and no one knows because when grimm aren’t on the hunt they don’t attack unless provoked.

the big guy was just There! taking a nap! and he didn’t aggro until yang got spooked by ruby’s silence.

he also doesn’t seem to be all that interested in attacking after his initial charge and swipe; he knocks yang across the clearing and then turns away, until yang shoots him again:

i do think it’s really interesting that WOR: grimm implies that grimm are most strongly drawn by violence, not negativity per se: “what is perhaps even more unsettling is the basis of their attraction,” and the accompanying image is

a person killing another person with a rock.

i think—much more so than real animals—grimm are kind of emotional mirrors, in that they reflect the energy they’re shown. one thing that stands out to me about both salem and cinder is that while there is obviously an element of magic or kinship or both behind their influence over the grimm, from both of them we see these occasional moments of tenderness toward the grimm; cinder’s very gentle and soothing “shh, this is your home now” when she calms the wyvern, and the way salem softens when she caresses the goliath’s face in the v6 stinger:

and i wonder if there isn’t a meaningful correlation there. the two characters in the story who demonstrably have the ability to communicate and work with grimm are also the two characters who, in private moments when no one else is around to see, choose to be gentle with these creatures. is salem able to command grimm the way she does by magical compulsion or is she their leader, as raven put it, whom they follow because she’s kind to them and protects them.

[lovelettersinc]

A-THANK YOU FRIEND

So @wearesoveryweird

I present to you

The Blood-Lung Strike class

Averaging in a range of 40-45ft long and a weight of 2-3 tons, this dragon is notable for their incredible stealth and speed

Feeding from the blood of their prey, their appetite is similar to a serpents in that it can go long periods between feeding The blood consumed from its prey is stored in the external sacs on its abdomen and drained over a long period of time Do not mistake these sacs as a weak point however. They are extremely thick and elastic, and therefore durable to attacks.

The patterns on their body work to help it camouflaging into mud and underbrush when hunting animals. With the arrival of humans, and the fact they can perceive the color red much better than the Blood-Lungs prey can, they developed quick rapid movements that utilize the patterns on their body as a way to confuse and stun humans. Despite their appearance, a Blood-Lung is naturally docile, if not skittish. It views anything as big or larger than itself as predators, along with humans since they’re more likely to see a Blood-Lung in hiding. Because of this they are easy to train, but not easy to approach, as they prefer to flee any perceived threat after stunning it with their patterns and rapid movements.

Now, one may also expect that the patterns of a Blood-Lung serve a purpose in mating rituals, however this is not the case. The mating performance of a Blood-Lung involves impressing any potential mate with a performance of strength and hunting prowess. Lugging around their weight on the ground is not considered an easy feat, so to showcase strength and hunting prowess, an interested Blood-Lung will approach the object of its affections, and stand itself up as high as it can muster. It will spread its wings for balance, and then undulate its external sacs while they are as full as the Blood-Lung could manage. This showcases incredible body strength and control, as well as the amount of blood it can gather within a single feeding session. Should the other Blood-Lung accept this performance, then it would puff out its abdominal area and undulate its own sacs in response.